#Rip me I forgot to post this when it came out

[betterthanbatman1]

WAS NO ONE GOING TO TELL ME A NEW EPISODE DROPPED

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

He is like an angel to me <3

[darnell-la]

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗘 𝗢𝗨𝗧 (sᴍᴜᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ)

pairing: dark!project x!wolverine x government employee!reader

warnings: held to work, reader on her period, project x gone wild, killing, hunting/sniffing down, rough sex, oral (fem receiving), creampie, kidnapped, new life, etc.

note: we wish…

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

————————————————————————

𝟯𝗥𝗗 𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡 𝗣𝗢𝗩

Y/n ran faster after hearing the guard and then yelled right after. She knew Project X had killed them. She was scared she was next.

As Logan was fighting, he was fixated on sniffing y/n out. He knew which way she ran, but had to track her down from the way she smelt.

Every second that passed, she smelt better. He’s never smelt that smell in his life, yet, he needed it like he’s had it every day of his life.

Y/n finally made it to her room, closing and locking her door. She hoped he didn’t know where she slept. He shouldn’t. He’s never been outside of that room.

As time went by, it got quiet. The guards yelling at least. The alarms were still going off, but at least the yelling was gone, right? That means they got him. Right?

Y/n said on her bed, looking at the door to be prepared, but nothing happened. No one was near, she thought.

The young lady sighed as she turned her head. As soon as her eyes left the door, it was kicked open. Y/n screamed as she jumped further onto her bed, head turning towards the door.

“Augh,” he growled low with a smirk as he fixed his posture and walked into y/n’s room slowly. How did he know where she was? The man closed the girl's door, locking it, which she thought was going to be impossible by the way he kicked it open.

She thought kicking it open was impossible, but forgot, the door was light metal. Metal he would definitely be able to get through.

“P-Please don’t hurt me. Please! I-I’ll do anything! I’ll break you out. I swear!” Y/n said as her back hit the wall as she stayed on her bed. He ignored her offer, still grinning at her as he stepped closer.

“Please — What do you want from me!?” She yelled at him, pissed off that he won’t speak. Why is he coming after her? How did he find her?

Without answering her, Logan lunged at her. She screamed in the most horrific scream she’s ever screamed. She thought her life was over until he heard the man laugh.

Y/n’z eyes opened looking at what he was laughing at. He was laughing at her. Was he going to laugh while he shredded her body?

“What are you laughing at? Just get it over it!” She yelled in his face. He liked how feisty she got. Actually, he loved how feisty she was. Even though he hated how he got, it looked hot on her. Watching her yell, turned him on even more.

Logan ignored her again as he slowly moved down her body. She watched him, looking directly into his eyes, not knowing what he was going to do.

That was until he sniffed and groaned with his eyes shut tightly. “That’s where it’s comin’ from,” his raspy voice spoke before he ripped at y/n’s work jeans. They were thick, but no match for him.

Y/n screamed, shook at his actions and even his sentence became he’s never spoken around her. She was convinced he couldn’t speak.

Y/n thought she couldn’t be more surprised until the muscular and sweaty man ripped her panties off. She went to yell at him, but her voice got trapped in her mouth after he buried his face in between her thighs.

Y/n’s back arched, not able to speak for the first few seconds until she finally let out a loud moan, eyes rolling back to the point it slightly hurt.

“F-Fuck!” She screamed, head finally popping up to look down and in between her legs. “Fuck — No! No, please!” She kept screaming, but her voice sounded more cracked.

The man growled on her heat, slurping and slobbering all over cunt.

He didn’t know what came to him. He didn’t know why he loved the smell and taste of her. Years ago, he’d get icky when women said they were on their period, but something about being locked up for years and his mutant abilities being boosted made it impossible for him not to have a taste.

“N-No,” y/n’s back arched again, trying to close her legs, but the man used his huge hands to keep her legs separated. He knew she was close. He needed that smell over on his and in his mouth.

The man mumbled on her cunt, praising her but she couldn’t hear him. Her head went blank as she came undone all over his face.

If this was a normal human, he for sure would’ve drowned, but not Logan. He wished he could drown in her sweet juice.

“Fuuck, bub,” the man groaned as he leaned up, now moving over her until he was face to face with her. Her head was laid back on her sheets. He knew he drained her, but he needed more.

“Don’t pass out on me, princess. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten my cock wet, and you’re gonna be the first to drench it,” he said as he leaned back and off of her bed.

He was covered in blood. All of the guards and y/n’s. He thought it would be mindful to wet a towel in her room and wash his face off. He wanted her to faint from the good fuck he was about to give her. Nothing else.

“You know, baby? I always wanted to break outta here — But after I saw you? Fuck — I saw no need,” Logan said as he crawled back over y/n, sniffing up her body. “Not at all,”

“P-Please,” y/n’s low voice spoke. She was tired and needed to rest. It’s been a long week, and the way he just ate her out, made it longer. She’s on the line of passing out. “D-Don’t hurt me,”

“Ian gonna hurt you, bub. Gonna fill you up then get us outta here,” Logan said as he pulled his jeans down, freeing his cock. She had no idea what was going on or what he was saying. She was out of it.

“You’ve been comin’ in my little room for a month. You talk a lot, but I never mind. I find it shitty how these people could keep a pretty thing like you trapped in here with an animal like me,”

“Maybe it’s my luck — Just know, Ian, leavin’ heat without you. You belong to me now,” the man said. What was he talking about? Y/n was so confused that she felt pressure in between her legs.

The man let pour a shaky groan, feeling the young woman squeeze him tighter than he thought she could. It’s been a year, but he worse if it hadn’t, she’d still feel this amazing to him.

“Fuckin’ hell, y/n,” Logan spoke, triggering her slow-thinking mind. How did he know her name? “Have you been restricted from sex for decades too? You’re so fucking tight, fuck,” Logan was surprised.

“T-Too much — Too much!” Y/n gained some energy back to cry out and slap at his upper body. “Ah huh? Really? Can’t take a cock, baby? Can’t take my cock, baby?” Logan sounded more aggressive by the second.

“Been locked up for so long, I don’t give a fuck if I break you. I’ll put you back together, don’t worry. But you wouldn’t stay fixed for long,” he chuckled as y/n struggled to hold her moans.

“Cryin’ on my cock — Might be my new favorite thing, bub,” he said as he looked at her face. She looked so pretty. He wondered how she’d look with his huge cock in his mouth.

Ever since she stepped into his experimental room with one of her dress uniforms, he’s been feeling something for her. She was pretty, and after hearing her speak to him for weeks without him saying anything back, he fell in love with how smart she was.

Now that’s a woman he’s wanted for years…

“F-Fuck,” y/n gripped his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin. He loved the slight pain she gave him. “Names Logan, baby. Moan my name,” Logan said in a desperate voice.

She was confused. His quick switches confused her. “Moan my fuckin’ name before I stuck your ass neck,” he threatened. The man looked down, looking at the way his cock was coated in her blood and cum. She was a squirted and creamer.

“L-Logan,” she cried out, scared he was going to fuck her ass like he threatened. As much of a monster he seemed like now, he didn’t want to hurt her. He knew anal was something he’d have to get her comfortable with one day.

“Logan,” she moaned again, even if he didn’t ask for it. She was so close. Again. “That’s it, bub — Got me so fuckin’ close,” he snapped his hips, building the perfect rhythm to fuck her in.

Watching her mouth part and eyes cross as they rolled back was the last straw. The man’s hips stuttered, wanting y/n he was going to cum in her.

She wanted to freak out, but she couldn’t. She just laid there, moaning his name as she released on him again.

“Oh, fuck!” The man shouted as he spilled in her. Cumming at the same time wasn’t something he was expecting, but that was it for him. He was officially tied to her.

Logan wanted to speak to y/n. Ask her if she felt good, but he noticed she had passed out. “Once you wake up, you’ll be home,” he said, knowing exactly where he was heading.

Logan had slipped one of y/n’s nightgowns on her before picking her up and carrying her through the halls, avoiding the guards who were looking for him. They had cameras everywhere, yet the guards on duty tonight were fucking idiots.

Once they made it out, he ran through the street, trying to find a bus that would leave the city. After running around for too long, he decided to break into a drunk, placing y/n in the back and then driving off before anyone stopped him.

“We’re here, bub,” Logan spoke, hours away from Washington. His parents owned a cabin in the woods next to a highway in Oklahoma.

He knew it would be hard, but he was keeping y/n. He couldn’t let anyone else get what he smelled off of her. He was wild for her.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

[muxshwriting]

never too late

Jake Seresin x reader

summary: jake gets a phone call that changed everything || warnings: hospitals, best friend Jake, pregnancy, childbirth, pushing my girldad jake agenda, but the baby's not actually his || word count: 997 || masterlist

You'd known Jake since you were kids, growing up a few doors down from each other in Texas and spending most of your time with each other. There was nothing more that had happened, despite your wishes. When Jake joined the Navy, you naturally drifted apart but always found the tie to be there for him.

You had made it to his graduation, he had made it to your graduation from college. By sheer coincidence, you had managed to land a job near Jake's stationed post and it felt like nothing could come between you two. Then he got the phone call he had never expected.

"Jake? Can you come and pick me up? I'm at the hospital."

One phone call turned his whole life around. Jake came tearing into your room, his eyes searching erratically.

"You're alright?"

You nod, not saying anything because if you did, you would start crying.

"What's wrong?"

You always forgot how easily he could read you, your emotions, your mannerisms. There was no hiding anything from him. "I'm pregnant."

"Are we happy about that?" Jake asked carefully.

"I don't know." The tears are forming in the corners of your eyes and you can't hold them back.

"Okay." Jake perched on the bed next to you. "Okay. We'll figure it out. Do you know the Dad?"

"I already called him. He doesn't want it, says he'll sign his rights away if I have it. But I don't know."

He pulls you into him, letting your tears stain his shirt. He's whispering anything into your hair to calm you, to reassure you that it would be alright. You'd figure it out, it wouldn't be like this forever. If you needed him, he's there. You only have to ask and he's on your side.

And Jake kept to his word. When you decided to keep the baby and raise it yourself, he was there by your side, promising to teach your child everything he could. He accompanied you to every appointment, cradling your bump as it grew and setting up the nursery for you.

He gripped you hand tightly as the nurse moved the ultrasound wand over your stomach. "Everything's looking good, do you want to know the gender?"

On instinct, you look to Jake but he's already grinning at you. He motioned his head towards the screen.

"Yes please."

The tech turned the screen around so you could see your baby and Jake's grip tightened even more. "Congratulations mom and dad, you're having a baby girl."

The elation you feel doesn't give you a pause to correct the tech and Jake doesn't correct her either as he's pressing a kiss to you forehead and beaming even brighter. "A girl! We're having a girl." In your happiness, you don't have the heart to correct Jake either. And part of you doesn't want to.

As time passed, you regretted not acting on your feelings when you were younger so that Jake could be the father of your child, so he would be part of your new family. But that was delusion, he was your best friend. He didn't love you like that, he couldn't.

You put the thought aside as a pain rippled down your side and a liquid rushed down your legs and the panic set in. You knew this was coming but nothing prepared you for the startling realisation that you would met your daughter today. There's only one person you can call.

For the second time in his life, Jake receives a phone call turned his whole life around.

"You're sure?"

"Pretty sure!"

"You're home?"

"Yes."

"I'm coming to get you."

He's there in record time, fussing over your bag as he practically carries you to his truck, too concerned to let you walk. The concern didn't stop as he rushed you into the hospital and over to the desk.

"Mom, Dad are we ready?"

"I'm ready to get this baby out of me!"

"Let's get started."

Your contractions rip through you, your progress slow ad steady. And when you were finally ready, the uncertainty bled into your bones. "I can't do this."

Jake, who had been diligently guarding your bed side, squeezed your hand. "You have walked through hell to be here, to birth this baby. This will not defeat you." Jake's words sent a shiver down your spine. "You're undefeatable. Say it for me."

"I- I'm undefeatable?"

"You're undefeatable." He agrees. "You're gonna have this baby."

It's as you're staring into his eyes, unaware of the situation around you that you find the strength to confess. "I love you."

Jake smiles but it's not a smile of pure happiness. It holds a subtle sadness like he thinks you don't mean your words. "I love you too, but let's have a baby, yeah?" Without another word, he clambers up onto the bed behind you and settles so your leaning against him.

A contraction ripples through as you focus on the feeling on Jake behind you, his hands cradling yours as he presses constant kisses into your hair. You're sobbing by the end of it, catching your breath as the doctor looks up at you.

"We'll push on the next one, okay?"

You nod but turn to face Jake. "I love you, I'm sorry but I mean it."

A light bursts in his eyes but the pain returns before he can answer. You're pushing with all your might, unsure if you can actually do this. Then his voice is in your head, echoing through your mind.

"I love you, I've always loved you. You can do this, I love you, you can do this. Please, we're gonna have a baby. I believe in you."

With a final breath, your daughter's scream fill the room and you slump back onto Jake. She's brought to you and placed on your chest, the picture of perfection as you can't take your eyes off her.

"She's perfect." You whisper.

"She's you, of course she'd be perfect."

[whatswrongwithblue]

Reader does actually try to walk off a cliff and Alastor catches them and gets furious and sexy about it and pounds Vexi... I mean reader into the mattress so hard she can't walk anymore and he ends up laughing saying 'let's see you try to do that again now your legs won't work'

Beta'd by @inuhalfdemon

For my darling @redvexillum, I know you're Overtime Vexi right now; working hard on the Discord server, keeping up with daily Kinktober posts, and also literally working an IRL job. This is a no pressure gift to you. Read when you have time and need a little pick me up. I even based Reader off of your avatar on your blog and used language specifically from my favorite fic of yours . . . you know the one *wink wink*.

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: suicide ideation, suicide attempt, depression, mental illness, dissociation, possesive Alastor, Alastor owns Reader's soul, sex as punishment, angry sex, oral (fem receiving), p/v sex, shadow tendrils/tentacles, bondage, use of a gag, overstimulation, lack of aftercare, begging, dom/sub dynamic.

Falling

The warm night breeze ghosted through your hair; a gentle lover’s caress across the back of your neck. It calmed your nerves as you looked down at the drop below and you closed your eyes, thinking you could almost hear the wind telling you to take that final step.

Just one little step.

A few seconds of falling.

Then darkness. Nothing. Peace.

The wind kicked up a little harder, fanning out your wings, and nearly making you lose your balance. You gasped and flailed your arms, catching your balance before you fell.

A stupid lingering human instinct to save yourself. Your body’s nervous system fighting against what your mind desperately wanted.

You took a deep, steadying breath in, and tucked your wings in. They were tiny; pink and membranous things that seemed more for aesthetic than any kind of purpose. It’s not like you could fly with them. They were no more useful than your asymmetrical horns when it came to that skill only very few Sinners were lucky enough to have. And they weren’t even very demonic looking, as far as demon appendages went. Both your horns and your wings were pink, slightly darker shades than the pastel of your skin and hair. Even your fucking irises were pink.

While you quite loved pink as a human, it just felt insulting down in Hell. Like every other aspect of your demon visage. Useless. Infantile. Boring.

Nearly making you fall to your death by being caught in a sudden gust of hot air was the only favor your wings had ever done for you.

Not that you would permanently die, you lamented. Eventually you would re-spawn somewhere within the city. But re-spawning took hours, sometimes even days. And in that time would be nothing. When you were alive you always joked about wishing that you could just take your brain out of your skull, like a temporary death, just to quiet the awful thoughts and feelings your malfunctioning organ plagued you with day and night.

Here in Hell, you could actually do that. Again and again, if you so chose to.

All you had to do was jump.

Maybe it wasn’t worth it. When you came back, Alastor would certainly hunt you down and find you. And you could just see the disappointment in his face. Hear the disgust in his voice. How lowly he would think of his darling then, that she would perform such an empty and pathetic act.

But then again, he was going to find out who you were at your core eventually. Better to rip the bandage off and make him face just how truly damaged you were before you continued to waste his time further. He was bound to get tired of pulling you out of your depressed funks after enough time had gone by. And what good did you bring to his life anyway?

You were a distraction.

He had snapped that to you earlier that evening when you had interrupted his work at the hotel. Those last stinging words echoed through your mind, branding themselves into your grey matter so that you never forgot them.

Well, you wouldn’t be distracting him anymore after this stunt. He wouldn’t bother with you afterwards.

And if you found you really did enjoy the nothingness that came between death and re-spawning, the extermination wasn’t far away. All you had to do was stand in front of an exorcist and simply not move as they brought their blade down on you. Then it would truly be an eternity of peace and quiet for you.

No more distractions.

The thought came to you bitterly as you considered that Alastor was the one who had been distracting you. All these months of his attention, of him making you his darling, of him making you fall in love with him, had just distracted you for a while. But now the pain was back, worse than ever, with one small argument between you two and you realized if it wasn’t for him, you likely would have jumped off this roof months ago.

You could have let it all go during the last extermination, while everyone else was huddled safely inside the hotel.

What a waste of time. A useless, boring, distracting life.

A deep breath. A single tear sliding down your cheek. A last thought of warmth and safety whispering through your mind . . .

“Alastor.”

His name left your lips like a prayer and an apology.

You took a step over the ledge.

The street below became your entire field of view as you lost your footing entirely.

And then the world glitched.

Colors blended in choppy formation and static screamed in your ears, threatening to burst your ears drums. Everything was fuzzy and going dark and a strange tingling filled your body, like your very blood had turned to static.

And then you were back on your own two feet, standing face to chest with the red and black pinstriped suit you knew so well.

Unnaturally large claws had you by the shoulders and you tilted your head up, taking in the full view of a very angry Radio Demon.

Alastor towered over you, his antlers spread wide, his eyes turning like radio dials, and he lifted you up like you weighed nothing until you were face to face and your feet were dangling several feet in the air.

“What the fuck was that?” he snarled, his voice even more full of static than you were used to.

Your eyes went wide at the use of vulgarity from him. You could count with your two useless wings how many times you had heard him swear before and never had it been directed at you.

When you didn’t answer right away, he shook you, calling you by your real name rather than darling, which he never did. He demanded an answer but all you could manage was a little whimper before you broke.

Your chin quivered and you felt the swell of tears in your eyes as a sob squeezed your chest and erupted out.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out and then slowly, ever so gently, you felt yourself being lowered to the ground and then your face was pressed against the soft fabric of Alastor’s suit. His bow tie tickled the side of your face and his scent, heady with Spanish moss and cypress, and some other uniquely Earthy smell that was entirely him, filled your senses.

“Darling,” he said quietly, “my darling . . . why?”

You could barely breath through your sobs, let alone speak, so it took you a moment to gather the strength to answer. Clutching at the back of his jacket, you pressed your face into him harder, trying to hide your reasoning, bury your shame, pretend like every pathetic part of you didn’t exist.

But he had seen, hadn’t he? He had watched you take that step, had come up here to find you and seen that final microsecond when there was nothing but air between you and the ground below.

And he had altered reality to bring you back to him. To save you.

Half of you hoped that meant he really did love you like you loved him. Like he promised every day that he did, even though you never quite believed it.

The other half of you whispered an insipid little lie that was too tempting to not consider  . . . that this whole stunt of yours was just another distraction.

“I don’t want to be a bother anymore,” you finally whispered, hiccupping and choking as you struggled to speak.

Alastor went stiff around you, and you thought then that he would finally push you away. Agree that you really were just a bother. That if he were to ever shackle himself to another soul, it certainly wouldn’t be to such a weak little wretch as yourself.

Instead, his long, clawed fingers grasped you by your chin, forcing you to look up at him. And though his expression was often hard to read, the strain in his smile showed anger while the burning in his ruby eyes showed pain.

“What gave you the idea that you could do such a thing? That I would allow it?”

“Wha . . . what?”

“You’re mine now, darling.” He pulled on your chin, forcing you on tip toe as he brought your face closer to him. “You belong to me and I don’t let what belongs to me just fly away. It seems you have forgotten that.”

His claws were digging into your cheeks and along your jaw line, stinging and threatening, even as he brought his lips down and gave you the gentlest kiss on the forehead.

 

“Perhaps I need to remind you of that,” he whispered to you, his voice low and tender, crackling with a passion you couldn’t misplace. He was angry, you realized, oh yes he was furious with you. But as the world went fuzzy once again, and you felt the familiar sensation of melting into shadow, and your soul blended with his, you could literally feel that burning rage inside of him being twisted and morphed into more direct emotions. Lust and desire filled what was left of your identity as Alastor transported you through the ceiling and walls of the hotel and into your room.

Now this was flying.

Alastor had sat you at the foot of your bed, making quick work of removing your underwear, lifting your pleated skirt above your hips, and kneeling before you, all before you had come down from the bizarre and disorienting high of being nothing but shadow with him.

Now you were reduced to a shell of a person, thoughtless and detached from your feelings and in the best of ways, as Alastor’s tongue made your nervous system aware of nothing else but the bundle of nerves between your legs.

Your knees were resting on his shoulders and already shaking as his tongue twisted and lapped at your clit, occasionally giving the swollen pearl a hard suck, as two fingers pumped into your core, working to pull a second climax from you.

Distantly you were aware of the flutter of your wings; a helpless reflex, along with the tremble of your legs. Tears streamed down your cheeks, though you paid that no mind either. Even if you had noticed them, you wouldn’t be able to place which emotion was drawing them from your eyes.

You only knew that this feeling; the intense physical sensation of Alastor turning you into a whimpering, wanton mess, allowed you to dissociate in the best of ways and everything that had tormented you to the point of standing on that cliff’s edge was completely forgotten.

The fingers of one of your hands wrapped themselves in a white-knuckled grip around his antler while your other hand found purchase in his red locks and you sobbed out his name as you came again.

Just as your walls began to clench, Alastor pulled himself from your clutches, leaving your cunt to clench needfully onto nothing. The abrupt lack of touch right at the beginning of your orgasm was torture and in his absence you pressed your legs together, searching for any friction that would allow for a fraction of the satisfaction his tongue and fingers should be giving you.  

“Now, now, dear,” Alastor tutted, and you felt your legs forced back apart. “Remember, I’m here to make a point. And that point is . . .” You looked down to see tendrils of shadows spreading your legs farther open, tangling themselves around your thighs and hips. “. . . You’re mine.” He began undoing the top of his trousers. “And  any rash decisions,” he pushed his trousers down below his waist, “like trying to jump off buildings,” he pulled his cock free and you salivated at the sight of its red and swollen tip already weeping pre-cum for you, “or pleasuring yourself without permission,” he leaned over you, his tense and wicked smile inches away from your lips as his took a painful fistful of your hair, “will be met with severe punishments.”

You swallowed, daring to meet his eyes with your own submissive, watery ones, and nodded.

“There’s my darling I know and cherish,” he said sweetly. His fingers left your hair and traced along your jaw until they came to your lips.

“And now that we’re at an understanding,” he snapped his fingers and your clothes vanished, “let’s see how well you can take your punishment.”

His cock thrust into you as black tendrils slithered their way up the rest of your nude body, pinning you in place. They teased and stroked every erogenous zone with lovely tenderness, their touch soothing and affectionate even as they forced you to near absolute stillness. In stark contrast, Alastor pounded into you, stretching you to the point of burning and igniting the still burning embers of your last orgasm that Alastor had left unfinished.

You came within seconds, your walls spasming hard against the fat width of his cock. Alastor drove on as if he hadn’t noticed, deep enough to hit the blind end of your depths with every forward thrust. The bruising combination left a dull cramp in your belly as your climax went on for several more moments, an intense combination of pleasure and pressure.   

After the quaking within your core subsided, you went limp within the clutches of the shadows. Three orgasms as intense as the ones you had just experienced were more than enough to placate your mind and body and your teary eyes now began to droop with sleepiness.

And yet Alastor was clearly not finished with you.

“Alastor,” you pleaded, knowing he still hadn’t come but you intended to beg for him to be a little gentler with you until he had. Instead of letting you speak, however; a tendril that had been near your throat laced itself through your open mouth and synched itself around your head, effectively gagging you.

The only response you got from your lover was an angry red glow of his eyes as they narrowed onto you, before he gripped your thighs with his claws and continued on with his brutal pace.

Too much, too much, too much, you internally screamed, a fresh torrent of hot tears burning down your cheeks. Your teeth sunk into the meat of the tentacle between your lips and you strained against the ones holding your wrists down to the bed.

The brutal pace of your punishment went on for several more minutes; an eternity for your overstimulated sex. Everything between your ribs and your thighs burned and ached from the ceaseless, intrusive rhythm of Alastor’s body against yours. Inside and out, he continued to savagely ravish you, until there was nothing else for you to do but begin to silently cry and take the punishment he was dolling out.

Alastor pulled out of you with a suddenness that both relieved and confused you. Your throbbing cunt ached from what it had just been through but as your eyes met his, you felt an emptiness within you. Still wrapped in tentacles, you glanced down at his glistening cock before you looked back up at the sharp tooth smile on the face of the man that you feared and loved above all else.

He still looked as pissed off as ever but there was a softness at the corner of his eyes that hinted at concern and you knew him well enough to know he was worried he might have taken things to far.

As you felt the shadow tentacles begin to loosen around you, you felt a emotion so long-forgotten you almost didn’t recognize it.

Confidence.

And with that thought, you wordlessly turned yourself around until your lay on your belly, exposing your backside and the tiny pink wings you knew Alastor loved to play with whenever he was angry.

A moment came and went and you were just beginning to wonder if you had misread the owner of your soul. You opened your mouth to speak his name once more but before you could utter a syllable, you felt your arms yanked back by the wrists and a powerful tendril wrap around your throat, holding you face down into the mattress.

The shadows that were still around your hips tightened and forcefully lifted your ass into the air and you braced yourself a second before Alastor’s cock slammed back into you, filling you back up to completion and eviscerating that feeling of emptiness.

Tired and spent as you were, you moaned aloud and squeezed his member with every last bit of strength you had within your spongey walls.  

You felt the long, slow drag of his retreating cock sliding against every sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you before another snap of Alastor’s hips had it rocketing back into you.

“Say it,” he commanded and you shuddered with your whole body, knowing what he wanted to hear.

“I’m your darling,” you replied, breathless and yet moaning again as he rewarded you with another thrust.

“And?”

“I belong to you.” He matched this thrust with a gentle stroke of a shadow across the membrane of one of your wings. “Mmmmmm, more,” you begged, as your wings gave a tiny, involuntary flap at the feather light touch.

But he had stilled behind you, waiting for your needfulness to build until you were begging.

“Please,” you sobbed out, feeling your chin quiver as all the emotions of the night came rushing back to you. “I’m sorry, Al’. I’m so sorry.”

As you spoke, the touching of your wings and the powerful movement of his cock began anew. You blabbered on, afraid if you stopped talking, the pleasant sensation of his touch within you and above you would end.

“I love you. I’ll never leave you. I’ll never even think about leaving you ever again. Not in anyway. Not even when your angry with me. Not even when I hate myself. Because I’m yours and I’ll always be yours. I’m so sorry, Alastor. Please don’t stop. Please, you feel so good. Fill me up, love. Because I’m your darling and I’ll be good from now on, please just fill me up. I’m your good girl and I love you and I want to feel you inside me. Please, please, oh God Al’, you feel so good, I’m – I’m – I-”

With a painful pull on your wrists you felt all the way into your shoulders, you felt him spill his seed within you as his body tense and every shadow of his went impossibly taut around you. The heat of his cum burned your walls and spilled down your inner thighs, coating you and marking you as his, and you came along with him, screaming into the sheets. Every tendril bruised into your skin, leaving marks around your throat, breasts, wings, hips, and thighs, as Alastor lost all control, even as he continued to pound into you with an uneven and desperate pace.

Everything blurred as you came down from the high together. You felt your muscles turn to jelly and give out in the final moments of your climax, just in time to feel Alastor finally still and begin to soften before he pulled out.

After several serene moments had gone by, the sheets beneath you began to move and pull away. As if in a dream, you felt your body being moved up the bed and then Alastor’s weight joined next to you as you were tucked into bed. Without being cleaned and without a word of praise or love, which he usually included in an aftercare routine for you.

But you knew, deep within the fog of your exhausted mind, that you deserved this. You would wake up in the morning marked by the bruises and the sticky mess between your legs, and only then would you be allowed to shower and heal yourself.

“Thank you,” you murmured with closed eyes as he finished tucking you in. “I don’t think I can move after that, let alone walk.”

An amused, deep chuckle came from Alastor before he pinched your cheek hard enough to make your eyes snap back open.

He got up from the bed, now fully dressed, and straightened his bow tie and monocle before marching towards the door with a pleased and arrogant look on his face.

“Good, my darling. That’s good. Let’s see you try to pull that nonsense again now that your legs don’t work. Sweet dreams,” he added as he opened the bedroom door and gave you one last warning smile before he slammed the door behind him, hard enough to knock a few decorations off the walls.

You sighed as you heard a lock clicking into place, knowing his point was made, and that he was still very much angry with you. But the storm had passed, for both of you. You relaxed into the soft pillow and closed your eyes, the first smile in days touching your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

You're Mine

Title: You’re Mine

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Dark!Daddy!Geralt x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Prompts: Geralt of Rivia + Female Reader + Daddy Kink + “Can you feel how much I want you?” + Darkfic, requested by @chibijusstuff

Summary: After coming back from a hunt, you find out that Geralt isn’t himself.

Warnings: Daddy Kink, pet names for Reader (little one, my sweet), Darkfic, dark!Geralt, drugged!Geralt, choking, biting, scratching, manipulation, Geralt rips Readers underwear off, non-con, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids, memory lapse, bathtime as aftercare, cuddling, possessiveness, dead dove: do not eat

A/N: Unbeta'd, because I was impatient about posting this. All mistakes are mine.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Sweet Treats Event 2024 Masterlist

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You’ve been watching him for hours from your spot in a nearby chair as he kneels in front of the fire. The silver wolf's face on his medallion shines brightly from the flickering embers, suspended from his chest. The remnants of the potion in his system show themselves in deep, black cracking lines on his ashen skin that radiate from his closed eyes. He has never taken this long to shake off the effects of any of the mixtures he carries in his pack, and your concern is beginning to grow.

He barely acknowledged you when he came home in the early morning hours. He placed his swords in their spot by the door, shed his armor, and took his place in front of the fire to warm himself and meditate. The longer he remains in that spot, the more you wring your hands with concern.

You were but a commoner; you hadn’t much knowledge of the Witcher lifestyle before meeting Geralt in that tavern. And even now, Geralt wasn’t the most forthcoming with things he deemed ‘unnecessary for you to concern yourself with’, as he put it. You hadn’t the faintest idea of what was in his potions, let alone how to make them.

You only knew that he was usually back to himself by now.

Another thing you noticed was that his scent had changed. He tended to keep the smell of whatever beast or monster he had slain. But all you could smell were flowers, and more specifically, the aroma of tuberose.

Heady and exotic, the scent of tuberose is one you are accustomed to. Your mother would use tuberose oil as a perfume, saying it would lure in men with its sweet honey and warm spice combination. Your poor father had died years prior, and your mother barely waited for the dirt in his grave to settle before she was out with other men. But that’s a story for a different day.

Even though the oil performed just as she promised, you couldn't quite grasp why she never revealed the source of that unique blend to you. Of course, you called it magic, but she would always shake her head and say there was no way it was magical. She claimed it was a gift from an elderly beggar woman to whom she had once given a handful of orens. You knew well enough not to push any further, but that doesn’t mean you forgot that story.

Or that smell.

You were so in your thoughts that you almost missed Geralt’s grumbling. Your eyes returned to his face, and this time, his eyes looked at you. Gone was the golden yellow iris you had come to love, only to be replaced with full, black eyes. Black, like you never saw black. Nothingness.

Rising from the floor, he bares his teeth and growls lowly. You stand up from your chair and raise your hands in front of you.

“Geralt?” You attempt, moving backward when he takes a step forward. “Daddy...” you trail off as he smiles at you, a devilish grin showing his sharp canines.

“My sweet little one. Don’t you look delectable?” Geralt coos, crowding into your space as you are backed into the wall behind you.

His hands rest on either side of your head on the wall while he noses at your neck, no doubt smelling the fear-induced arousal that is shooting through your entire body.

“Daddy? Why don’t we take it slow? You’re not yourself yet-”

His hand flies to your throat, tightening at the sides. “You wish to refuse me that which is rightfully mine?”

“Geralt, I-”

“Ah, ah. Try again, little one,” he cautions, his grip on your neck ever sure.

“Daddy, I’m scared,” you breathe, tears falling from your eyes.

“I know. I can smell it on you,” he confesses, leaning back in to sniff under your jawline. He stoops to pick you up and brings you to the bed, lying his body on top of yours. He doesn’t waste time in rucking your dress up and pressing his clothed sex against your own. “Can you feel how much I want you?”

His voice, so delicate as he speaks to you, sounds like your Geralt. But those eyes, the way he takes without asking, and his smell only serve to repel you. It feels like your partner has been swapped out for a harsher, more unkind version of who he used to be.

His hand reaches between the two of you and rips away your undergarments before unbuttoning his pants so his thick and ready length can fall free. As soon as his shaft is uninhibited from its confines, he is pushing and prodding at your entrance.

Without preparation or care, he enters you swiftly. You aren’t given a second to adjust to his girth before he withdraws his cock and forces himself back inside you. By the third thrust, you are crying and begging him to stop. Your hands are balled into fists as you pound on his chest, his shoulders, anywhere you can land a blow.

He only laughs at your feeble attempts to thwart his actions. He also teases you when your body eventually betrays you.

“Look at you, being torn apart from the inside out, and your sloppy little cunt can’t get enough of it. Always so soft and warm for me. Stop fighting and take it, little one,” he soothes. His warm, rich voice invades your ears, and you cease efforts to push him away from you.

Once he has you malleable and compliant, he focuses on chasing his release. Unconcerned with your pleasure, he fists one hand in the sheets of your bed while the other tangles in your hair to expose your neck. Biting and sucking at your skin until blood is brought to the surface, he takes pride in marking you.

Soon, your neck and chest are littered with bite marks and bruises. You can feel every welt as he takes his time poking them as he drives into you over and over. His first orgasm is so intense that he lets out a feral growl, slowing down for a bit before it’s evident that he isn’t done in the slightest.

Realizing your fate, you begin to hyperventilate. Your chest is heaving as you inhale and exhale shallowly; you feel as though your heart could beat out of your chest. But only momentarily as Geralt leans down to speak into your ear.

“You’ve never looked lovelier than you do tonight. I can smell your fear; I can taste your panic. Just have to hold out a little longer for me, my sweet,” he sighs, nosing at your neck.

By now, you can feel nothing but pain from the bites, the scratches, and his relentless pounding into your battered and bruised heat. The stuttering of his hips is a gift, alerting you to his impending climax. You’d already given up on experiencing your peak.

“So close. I can feel it coming, little one,” he whispers, his voice strained and gruff as he forces his eyes shut. He thrusts into you one last time, his hips flush with yours as his cock paints your insides. Once he stops spasming, he lets out a heavy breath and opens his eyes.

You watch as he comes back to himself, the black veins disappearing from his face and his eyes returning to their golden hue. Frozen where you are, you observe the realization on Geralt’s face as he looks down at your marred skin and wet eyes.

As he relaxes just enough to pull away from your body, he quickly adjusts himself back into his pants and settles down onto his knees. He’s unsure of what to say; what can he say that would make this situation any easier? His eyes are drawn to where his semen drips from you.

“Daddy? Are you back?” you ask, your hands pushing your dress down over yourself as you sit up.

The sound of your tiny voice washes over him like a cold shower. He finally looks back at you, and a single tear falls from his left eye. As if a switch were flipped, Geralt appears smaller than before. He shrinks into himself, hunching his shoulders.

“I did this to you?” he guesses, nodding to the angry marks on your skin.

“Geralt, I think you were poisoned. What’s the last thing you remember?” you question, raising your hands to show him you mean no harm.

“The wyvern nest. There were druids; they surrounded me. I felt pain in my neck and then smelled flowers before everything went black. Next thing I know, I’m in bed with you,” he replies.

“You weren’t yourself, Geralt. This wasn’t you,” you insist, feeling the urge to comfort him.

“Poisoned or possessed, I am the reason you’re hurt right now. I could have killed you if I hadn’t come back to myself,” he frets, holding up a hand when you try to move closer to him.

“I’ve already forgiven you, if only you would forgive yourself,” you plead, trying to hide your distress.

“You should have a bath. Let me draw it for you,” he suggests, leaving you on the bed before you can say anything in response.

After he fills the wooden bath with enough water, he uses Igni to warm the water to your liking. He helps you into the water, washing your body and hair when you ask him to stay with you. When you are done, he helps dry your skin. You don’t exchange many words, and neither of you knows how to start a conversation.

After you are dressed in a nightgown, you climb into bed and pull Geralt in behind you. He reluctantly lays next to you, afraid that he will hurt you again somehow. Turning onto your side, you face away from him. You sniff, holding back tears and the lump in your throat.

Before you could clear your throat, Geralt was pulling you into his chest. His strong arms wrap around you, and he inhales your scent. While he can still smell the faint echo of fear on you, the most prevalent fragrance is overwhelming love.

You were pushing down your fear with all your might and thinking only of good moments of Geralt. Images of a smile pulling at his lips, your hands in his, and a stolen kiss cloud your vision.

You snuggle into his embrace, his body heat keeping you warm. He peppers kisses over your hickeys on your neck, lulling you to sleep. But just before you can give in to the draw of slumber, you hear his voice in your ear.

“I wouldn’t get too comfortable,” he whispers, laughing lowly. “You’re mine, little one. And I won’t let you escape.” His hand goes to your mouth, and you know your night is far from over.

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this story. It took so long to write, but I am happy with what I have created here. Also, I feel like there are very few dark!Geralt or Daddy!Geralt stories out there. Is it because we don’t like these or it’s just too taboo? Let me know, cuz I could write more dark versions of this man.

[whiskeynwriting]

Good Soldier

Captain John Price x Female Reader

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Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Age gap (20ish years - it’s so delicious), secret relationship, alcohol consumption (Price is drunk), dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, brief spitting, mentions of oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, squirting. 

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A/N: Drunk daddy Price babyyyy YESSS

Also, ty SO much to @thesleepingmusicneek for proof-reading this. I wrote this at 3am on a random whim and it was embarrassing how many errors it originally had🥲😂

Also also, I completely forgot to post this on Monday 🙃

◆

Captain John Price Masterlist

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It’s early in the morning when he wakes you, rough hands pawing at the covers and soon your chest. At first, you’re not sure what’s going on; all you can feel is the weight of his body on top of you, the rough scratch of his facial hair rubbing over your face and neck. His back arches forward, curling around you, arms strong in their embrace. 

“Price?” Your voice is quiet and wispy, rough from sleep.

“Don’t call me that.” Comes his immediate response. “You know my name.”

And you smile at that, a sinister little smirk he can’t see through the darkness. He’s too busy pushing his lips against your cheek to notice it, anyway. 

“Sorry, sir.” That smirk is everlasting, body resting against the mattress as John works his way to your bare skin. “Didn’t realize it was that kind of moment.”

“Why the fuck else would I be on top of you?” He’s snarling, finally ripping your top from your body so he can grab a fistful of your tit. Breathing heavily, his mouth hangs open beside your cheek before closing with a deep inhale. The entirety of his presence is clouded with the smell of cigar smoke and whiskey, nothing you’re surprised by. And you’re not sure if your body is so limp and pliant because of your sleepy state, or your unwavering desire for him. 

“Wish you came tonight.” He then says in a rare moment of sweetness, almost cuddling into your body. 

“You told me not to.” Finally turning your head toward him, your noses meet, brushing over the other’s. “Don’t need your boys seeing us interact…” 

He frowns at this, your repetition of his earlier words. You’d wanted to go out with him, with all of them, but John was getting paranoid. He already felt like all eyes were on him when it came to you. Every chance he got, he went easy on you, gave all the hard paperwork to the other recruits, let you take as many breaks as you’d like during training, even made a habit of calling you into his office one too many times throughout the day. 

Reaching forward, John grabs your jaw, fingers pinching into your cheeks. That authoritative tone then makes an appearance as he demands slowly, quietly, “Behave.”

And that makes your cheeks run hot, a girlish little smile forming on your lips. Innocently, you reply with a whisper of, “Just repeating your own words, sir.” 

“Christ, you’re a sassy little thing.” With one quick motion, the hand on your face dives down to your thigh, squeezing its softness before moving to your ass. But even though he sounds genuinely annoyed, he’s still pulling on your panties, and it’s now that you realize he’s without his shirt. His chest presses down against your own, firm and full of hair and fuck if that didn’t turn you on more than anything. 

“Say my name,” He requests, mouthing at your neck. John is beyond sick of hearing that title, specifically when it came from your lips. He liked giving you this piece of him, liked creating this intimate space. 

Burning in the best of ways, his beard scrapes against your skin, soothed by the soft press of his lips. John seemed to be entranced by your entire presence, in the way you smile, the way you move. He’d never felt a sensation so ravenously delicious before he met you, so intensely carnal. 

Dropping his head down, John’s lips find your chest, mouthing at your soft slopes. It’s now that you fully give in, hands rising to either side of his face while arching into his touch. Both of those strong hands come up to grab you, too, molding your tits to fit perfectly in his palms. 

“John,”

“There we go,” With a broad smile, he praises you. “There’s the good girl I know.”

Those words make your head spin, make your center pulse and your body run hot. He knew what words like that did to you, even in the most mundane situations. You each had your triggers, particular words or phrases that made you weak in the knees and absolutely dumb in the head…

John liked to be called captain on the field, and when he heard you address him by said name, he had to fight the hard-on growing in his pants. But in bed, he liked John, he liked giving you that piece of him. And you, you fought for his attention, for the reward that made your eyes shine like stars in the sky - his praise. There have been too many times where John commended you for your hard work, even in front of the others, speaking words so innocent that no one but you could interpret otherwise. Good soldier, strong girl, even his favorite recruit. 

Days with extra praise ended with John pulling you into the locker room, bodies sweaty and sore but desperate for the other’s touch. He’ll lift you against the lockers, cold and rough against your back but it’s hard to notice when he shoves his cock between your legs. Heavy breaths and deep, quiet moans fill the smaller space, John’s sweat dripping onto your body. And you cling to him, too, with every limb you have, face burying into his neck to kiss and lick his sweat-slick skin. It happened often, way too fucking often. 

Other days, when he wouldn’t see you as much, that’s when he’d call you into his office. Little is said when this happens, John’s strong arms manhandling you over the side of his desk. He’d yank your cargos down and spit on you from behind, rubbing his fattened tip over your delicate lips. 

At times, he’d take you in the shower, too, his strength preventing you from slipping. Sometimes it’s up against the tiled wall, but more often than not, he took you from behind. Your cheek would press up against the cool tile, John’s front pressed firmly to your back. Shower sex was usually a more sensual experience, John’s hands roaming your body with an incredibly loving touch, lips obsessing over your jawline and neck. You’d sway back against him, feeling him throb inside your body while steam filled the room. You only got away with this when it was late, when no one else was in the room. 

But fucking in your room, this is new. 

“Perfect fucking tits,” He’s nibbling on your nipples now, wrapping his lips around them and sucking harshly. 

As if it’s your natural instinct, your hips rock up toward him, your blood rushing with excitement when he finally moves to settle his pelvis between your legs. It’s clear that he’s completely wasted, his movements both erratic and sloppy, but that’s never stopped him before. If anything, it makes everything that much more enticing to you. Even in his inebriated state, he wants you, he finds you. 

“Gorgeous girl, my gorgeous girl.”

With an intrigued grin, you return with, “Yours?” 

And that’s when his head shoots up, face inches from yours when he declares, “Mine.” Grabbing your jaw in one hand, he stares into your eyes as best he can with the darkness surrounding him. 

“You think any of those others boys will fuck you like I do? Think they’ll take care of you like I do?” His head tilts as he asks you this, free hand dipping to the space between your legs. “You’re my girl…” And then, his eyes are drifting down, watching the pad of his finger trace the damp trail on the center of your panties. “My good little soldier…”

“John,” The whimper that comes out sounds helpless, and he likes it that way. Lifting his head alongside a sweet smile, John leans in, finally reuniting your lips. He’s got you now, and he knows it. 

It’s been a few days, nearly an entire work week since you’ve last had each other. John was out with the task force for most of it, using tonight to celebrate a successful mission. And while it’s amazing he’s able to do that, amazing that he led another successful operation, to say you missed each other was an understatement. 

The hardened muscles of John’s chest press into you, pelvis grinding between your legs while he kisses you breathless. The hand on the back of your head keeps your mouth against him, his eyes closed in bliss. And when you moan, that liquor-soaked tongue takes advantage, shoving its way into your mouth and he’s moaning when you reciprocate the action. 

“Let me fuck you.” That raspy voice says, hands already on his pants. Looking up at him, you nod, no longer feeling like the fearsome soldier you know you are. With him, you can be soft. 

His own words prompt John to lean back then, undoing his belt and side-stepping out of his jeans. It’s quite the sight, watching this large, muscular man undo his jeans while towering above you. The bed dips with his weight, and you feel a brief chill in his absence. But it’s not for long. 

He doesn’t even bother taking your panties off, just slides them to the side before cramming his fingers into you. It makes you moan, makes you shriek when he curls them. And then you’re grasping at his shoulders, scratching over his freckled skin. Your captain doesn’t start slow, it’s quick and firm, the way he fucks you with two digits. 

“J-John, baby.” 

“Hush.” Is all he says before quieting you with his mouth, moaning into your throat when he finally tastes your tongue. “God, you’re so good like this.” Taking a breath, he shakes his head, scissoring his fingers into your dripping cunt. “Such a good fucking slut when you’re like this.”

“Fuck me,” Your eyes are rolling back, earning a proud grin from your partner. Is he your partner? Has it grown that deep? 

Before your sleepy mind can even comprehend it, he’s replacing his fingers with his cock, his head popping in. At such an early hour, it’s almost impossible for you to have a single coherent thought in your pretty little head, other than the sensation of his girth filling the space between your legs. It’s heady, and he’s heavy, throbbing against your warmth when you release such a cute little squeak. 

“Christ, just give it to me.” He grumbles above you, the scent of liquor and cigar smoke wafting through the room. That scent just does something to you, especially when you watch him smoke. Late at night, you often fantasize about blowing him while a cigar hangs from his mouth; maybe another time. “Ngh, just lay there while I take this tight little pussy.”

It fills you so completely, his warmth consuming your being. Every time you take him, it’s a perfect stretch, not enough to hurt but just enough to sting. Your hands don’t leave his shoulders, either, clinging to him and urging him down, closer to your skin. Happily, he complies; he’s been waiting for this all night. 

“Fuck, I wish you were there tonight.” John repeats, feeling you bite into his neck. “I really do.”

He tries desperately to keep his composure but he can’t, not when you’re squeezing him so sweetly, warm walls wrapping around him so tightly. It’s mere seconds before he’s moving his hips, not allowing you to take in the full sensation of him. 

“What if the boys see me?” Your question is breathy, lips kissing the hinge of his jaw and whining when he sinks back into your heat. 

“Y’know, sometimes princess…” Leaning back, John grabs onto both of your hips, staring down at you. And the window allows you the perfect view, far off street lamps illuminating the room. “I wish they would.” 

It’s then that he’s pulling your body back and forth onto his pelvis, forcing you to meet his movements. He can’t help but pound into your soft body, sinking in as deeply as he can. And wouldn’t you know it, the old man is already panting, blue eyes staring down at you with voracious desire. 

“Fuck, it’s so good. You make me feel so good, so fucking good.” John’s words, his moans, they’re louder than you’d anticipated they’d be. And honestly, it feels amazing to be able to do this to him; to be such a young woman and have this captain’s attention. 

“Baby…” Whining quietly, your hands reach back, holding onto the pillow beneath your head. It’s all you can do, really, while your body rocks against him with every thrust he gives. And John didn’t just plow into you, no… his hips swayed, plunging deep, hitting hard. “Please.” 

“Taking it so good for me, lovie.” You’re practically on display for him. With your arms raised, it leaves your entire torso vulnerable, presenting your body, as if to say use me, use me however you want. 

“Bragged about you today, princess.” 

“W-What?” The way your hips rut against him forces a groan from his throat, brows furrowing. 

“My good little soldier,” He explains, breathless, running a gentle hand down the skin of your stomach. “How well she’s done, how strong she is…”

“They’re,” Laughing briefly, you sigh. “They’re gonna figure it out.” 

“It’s like I told you… I don’t know if I care anymore.” Glancing down at your chest, John watches the way your tits bounce with his movements, the way your nipples harden when he leans in to spit on them. “Perfect fucking girl…” 

“Baby, please.” You don’t know what you’re begging for and John knows it’s just because he’s fucking you dumb, hitting that delicious spot deep inside your cunt. “Please, more.” 

With all your strength, you manage to wrap your legs around his waist, watching the reaction it pulls from him. Letting go of your hips, he lays both palms flat on the bed, dropping down to your chest. The moan that comes from John’s mouth is deep and needy, resting his face between the slopes of your breasts. He was such a sucker for that move. And that, combined with your sweet begs for more, please, John’s picking up his speed. The bed begins to rock from it, your hands leaving the pillow and finding the back of his neck and head. 

“Gorgeous fucking thing,” He says, kissing your nipple. “Sweet little girl… all for me.”

The way he moves is utterly devastating to your body, your nerves alight with that wonderfully erotic heat. Every time felt like the first with him, so passionate and erratic, quick movements and forceful kisses. He just wants you, wants to fuck you full until he physically can’t, to mark you from the inside out. 

“I fucking love it, I love this, baby.” The way your nails scratch down his back makes him shiver, strong legs supporting his body as he plunges between your legs. “You’re right.”

“I’m right?” John immediately asks, heavy breaths damp against your cheek. 

“You, you take care of me.”

And that fills him to the brink with pride. He really does try to, he always has the best intentions in mind when it comes to you. 

“Yeah, I do… because what am I, sweetheart? Who am I?” 

Fuck, you knew he’d bring this up. You fucking knew it. Of course he held onto that, your slip up from last week, before he left for the mission. But honestly, you haven’t been able to let go of it, either. The name left your lips in quiet pleas throughout the week, playing with yourself and imagining it to be him - in bed, in the shower, after workouts in the gym. And you wouldn’t have even thought of whispering that title if it hadn’t spilled from your lips the night John left. 

“I asked you a question.” He demands, punctuating it with a sharp shove. 

“Daddy.”

“Fucking Christ.” It punches out of his chest, the muscles in his body flexing to their limit. Both hands find your skin then, one securing to your hip, the other holding the back of your head. Leaning in, John rests his face against your neck, moaning freely. 

“Again.” 

“Daddy, please.” Your fingers rake through his hair, stinging his scalp when you pull on the shorter strands. “Please.” 

Tossing your head back gives him perfect access, his teeth digging in. Here, John sucks on your skin, rutting his hips against yours hard enough to slap against your ass. It rings throughout the room, alongside your collective chorus of pleasure. And he drinks in every little noise you make, every cute whimper that slips from your mouth. 

“Daddy.”

“I love it,” He can feel you sucking him in, can feel the way your slick drips down his shaft. “Oh Christ, I love that. I take care of you, yeah?”

“Yes, yes and,” Swallowing dryly, you sigh. “I wanna take care of you.” 

Together, your hips grind against each other, forcing him in as deep as he can get. Here, he pauses, breathing against your mouth before biting at your lower lip. 

“Yeah?” John questions, hand lifting so he can pull at your bottom lip with his thumb. “And how’re you meant to do that, hm?”

Moving slowly, your captain trails his facial hair along your cheek, your jaw, breathing airily against your neck. It runs a flurry of shivers down your neck and chest, arousal curling tightly in your abdomen. 

“I want you in my mouth.” Finally, you admit it. 

“Oh,” His surprised chuckle makes you feel hot in the face, sheepish. “What an offer that is. But… it’s not gonna happen, not tonight.”

“Why?” It’s a full-on whine; you can’t help it. With how wonderful he feels inside your cunt, you can’t even imagine how delightful he’d feel on your tongue. His heavy girth filling your mouth, leaking down your throat. 

“When I’m inside you, princess, feeling you raw,” Now, that ravenous pace returns, that broad body leaning back again to grab at your waist and ass. “I’m not pulling out, not until I’m done with you. And you want daddy to cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, baby. Yes…” 

Releasing a harsh grunt, John continues his movements, rutting into your core and throbbing against your welcoming warmth. 

“Can feel you dripping down my dick, sweetheart. You wanna cum?”

“John,” Arching up toward his body, you release a high gasp. “Yes! I want more, daddy, please. Please, I want more!” 

“Oh, god, you just love it, don’t you?” Snarling, John runs his nose up the column of your neck, taking in your scent. “My lovely little girl wants my dick, doesn’t she?” 

He’s whispering in your ear now, listening to your shrill cry of yes while your hand is grabbing at his ass, pulling him further into you. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, he’s grabbing your face and shoving his mouth over your own. It’s rough, mostly tongue and teeth, feeling overcome by his desire for you. 

John can feel every twitch of your velvety inner skin, can feel the way your slick drips down his balls. Christ, you get so wet for him, so wet for such an older man. 

“So sweet for me,” John huffs beside your cheek, kissing your soft skin obsessively. “Tight as a fucking virgin, aren’t you?” 

In the darkness of your room, your body rocks against the mattress, feeling John’s weight keep you down. All you can hear is his voice, his grunts and groans. All you can feel is the firm warmth of his body, his hot breath, his skin damp with sweat. 

“Cum for me,” Comes your small whimper, wanting to feel him inside you, wanting to know he’s inside you. “Please, John.” 

“No, I need you.” He insists, reaching down between your bodies. Here, his fingers toy with your clit, circling it, squeezing and rubbing it. “C’mon, princess.” John requests, lips beside your ear as he groans. “Cum on this fucking cock.”

“Fuck,” It comes out as a whisper, eyelids pinching shut with your lips falling open. 

“Feeling my little soldier… squeezing around my cock.”

“John, John.” The way he touches you makes you see fucking stars, a delicious little heat burning up through your belly. 

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby?” John can feel the way you spasm around his length, the way your breathing becomes shallow and erratic. “C’mon, lovie, be good for me. Cum on my cock, cum like you're supposed to. Just make a mess on me.” 

“I’m gonna,” You reply, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. Then, your body relaxes, hips jerking up in an involuntary act. And when John feels it, that hot rush of liquid on his pelvis and lower abdomen, he all but loses his goddamn mind. 

A groan punches from his chest, stuttering out through his mouth. Your girlish shriek forces his eyes back, feeling you tear skin with how hard you’ve scratched him. And he can’t wait for the boys to ask, he genuinely thinks he’ll tell them this time. Because… it won’t be the first time they’ve inquired about the marks on his back. 

At this point, he can’t hold back, he’s grunting into your neck while he absolutely floods your heat. Every spurt is accompanied by a sharp jerk of his hips, his body tensing and flexing and he’s doing everything he can to keep from falling on top of you. His arms hold you, squeeze you, rubbing the hot slick of your cum over both your bodies. 

“Mm…” He’s groaning, laying lightly over your chest. Your wetness has bathed his lower stomach and pelvis, the sight and feel and smell driving him mad. “Baby…” 

Gently, lazily, he kisses your neck, eyes closed in contentment. And for a moment, you wonder if he’ll stay. You’ve spent nights together before, parting in the morning to fulfill your separate duties. But will he allow himself to leave from your room? To allow the possibility of someone seeing? 

“You’re so warm.” Caressing his back, you sigh, drinking in the intimacy of this moment. He’s still inside you, flaccid and just resting. Your combined slick begins to drip from your folds but neither of you seem to care enough to clean it up, not yet. 

After a few minutes pass, John releases a saddened breath, muffling into your shoulder, “Should I go?” 

“No,” Instantly, you’re tightening your hold on him. “Stay.” 

A cocksure grin forms on his face from that, eyes drooping with exhaustion. “You want me to stay?” 

“Yes,” It comes out as a small giggle, fingers now running through his hair. “Stay, John.”

[pennycat83]

Take Me Home

Curly (post crash) x reader

This got 1,103 on AO3 so I decided to share it here as well. I'mma also warn for described graphic imagery and the usual Mouthwashing suffering

5 months, almost 26 days since your last job. Your legs slumped limp against the control panel, arms folded lazily against your stomach as you dozed. Your ship was far from desirable, nothing more than a scrap ship you used to get what little change you could gather from abandoned ships. Old habits died hard, you joked. 

That being said it wasn't anything to sneeze at. Despite only really holding one person most of the time, it still had a quaint medical bay, storage unit, washing facilities and two sleeping quarters. You often forgot you even had a home on Earth with how cosy the place felt. 

You jolted at an abrupt sonar ping. Another ship, you grunted, straining your arms behind your back, you set the auto pilot to maneuver closer. Heading to a beaten up locker in the back for something other than a tank top and shorts. You let the jumpsuit hang around your waist, tightening your bootlaces before zipping it up. Rummaging around further, you retrieved a well beaten axe from the back, tucked haphazardly between a few boxes, you slipped the holstered axe around your belt loop.

A Pony Express Ship, it looked like hell. Foam coated most of the exterior, making it had to identify the original entrance. You grumbled something regarding how incompetent the crew must've been.  Making your way to the ship was enough of a challenge for such a simple 'job', hacking into a bit of the foam in an attempt to weasel in, you knew too much would mean the goods would spill out. Your breath hitched, carefully sinking your axe bit by bit until you made a decently sized hole. Finally, you tumbled into what was most likely the storage unit. 

The ship groaned as you tucked your axe back into its holster, whipping out a flashlight to inspect the hull. Walls of boxes surrounded the modest space, what little lights that remained flickered above, you continued on. Moving through the endless rows until you reached the steps to the exit, you noted a few of the boxes had been ripped open, bottles of mouthwash littered the floor, dribbles of the remains sticking to your boot heels.

"What the fuck?". You scoffed before exiting, the  doors were open. That was enough an indicator that something wasn't right, moving through the rest of the rooms confirmed your suspicion. The hallways bathed in a harsh red, foam tripped you up at points, beloved items were scattered haphazardly, until you finally entered the main area. 

Jesus Christ, you froze. A large T.V. system flickered the same piercing error message as darkened patches of...you sighed shakily. Looking over to the table, a party. "Shit-fuck-s-sorry to intrude! I...I just-I'll...". You faltered, noticing the violent lack of a reaction. Your legs hesitated forward, moving one of the bodies closest to you. It slumped forward, slamming hard against the plate. You had to stifle a scream as you watched the neck loosen slightly. You looked around the table, almost all of the bodies were in some different state of decay, the one across you drenched in blood, her hair matted hair almost withering off her head. You almost choked on your own shaking urge not to freak out. 

Quivering, your legs shuffled away from the party. Moving onward, you found yourself hugging the axe slightly. Unfurling only when you entered the medic bay. You noted a now bloodied gurney resting against one of the false windows. The crimson lighting only intensifying the horrifying feel ."Least this'll be one of the more interesting stories". Your voice wobbled as you tried to twist this into some kind of joke. You remembered why you came here, moving around the space to grab anything of worth. You hesitated on the computer but decided on most of the medical supplies. 

You nodded at your new pile of bounty, finishing up your rounds by finally entering the engineering room. The darkened hallways tightened your nerves  Another body, this one slumped against a few rows of pods, a gun nearby. You kicked the body with the tip of your boot, almost expecting it to lurch like a slasher and attack... Nothing. You moved around once again. Finally contempt you..

You paused, someone was here. Your head whipped instinctively towards the row of cryogenics, a piercing blue eye watched, unblinking. Finally, you let out a heart dropping scream in shock, dropping a tool kit in a jump against the wall. The eye remained fixed on you, you moved forward carefully. You noticed that it almost looked like a corpse, bandages covering most of the face. You looked around hesitantly, scuttling back to the toolkit before making your leave. You dropped it by the pile, you cursed yourself out slightly as you had to whittle down your carrying size for the passageway back. Sighing as you looked around once again, someone must've gone mad, you pondered if the person in cryostatus wasn't the culprit but, given the body next to it, you almost questioned if it wasn't him. 

You let out a weak chuckle at the idea as you pushed another  pile of loot into your own ship. Turning to finish up, you hesitated. Looking towards the flickering lights. You were stupid, so fucking stupid for this. Once again hacking into the foam to make the exit big enough, and making sure your own medic bay  was loaded with all the things you had grabbed, you stormed back towards the cryogenics. Moving the slumped body against one side of the wall, you consulted the pod. You fiddled with a pin pad aside it, frowning at the absurdity of the idea before finally giving up and cracking out your axe on the poor thing.  The door slid open in a hiss of dry ice. The man slumped forward, drooping slightly as you slid over to grab him, struggling with the abrupt weight as you finally noticed the state of the body. 

Burnt, bloodied flesh stained your jumpsuit, you noticed the body was essentially a torso. One leg shorter than the other, you let out a shuddered gasp as you stumbled for support. Finally, your leg gave up, letting you and the body drop against the wall with a thud, what remained of his legs getting caught between yours slightly . "Ah! I am s-so fuckin' sorry sir!", nothing. You got back up shakily, moving the person around awkwardly until he was resting in your arms, part of his chest resting against yours. 

You had no idea where to begin, leaving the ship had been a pain in it of itself but you barely remembered CPR procedures, let alone any actual medical practices. For now you carefully redressed the body as you could and waited, making sure not to jostle it too much and slid a pillow under his head. He twitched slightly, you ignored it. Going about your organization of the items. You felt shitty pocketing someone's Gameboy, but you at least hoped the owner would've been proud it got to be enjoyed again...maybe. You had also decided to grab some of the mouthwash as a joke, putting it in your bathroom alongside one of the first aid kits. Some cute Pony Express safety posters now also blessed your sleeping pod and main work space.

You smiled, moving through the rest of the haul, until a series of weak croaks and groans made you jump, whipping to return to first aid over the finally awake body. "S-sorry 'bout that bud!", you turned to consult him. Turning around to fumble with the first aid kit as he began to writhe, "alright alright cool it!". You hesitantly let a few pain killers slip into your hand as you attempted to drop them in, his mouth remained shut. Your fingers padded delicately against his jaw. "What's wrong?".

He stayed silent, you sighed, putting the pills on the side of the bed, you made your way to the sink. You were honestly amazed you hadn't considered this before, then again you were the kind of madman to dry swallow anything that was smaller than a penny before. You placed the cup to one side and put the pills near it. Turning to watch your patient, he seemed somewhat antsy over the meds. "Look I'd rather bring a living person back if that's ok so...". He remained tense, jerking his head around as you tried to hold it. "So you don't like it when I touch ya...".

You lent down to meet his eye, your gaze softening. "I promise to be gentle 'kay? Just...". You faltered, you didn't know how to approach this. He watched in paranoid silence. "I'll be careful ok, if I hurt you I won't prod any further". He stayed silent, a feverish wheeze punctuating the silence. Finally, his mouth cracked open slightly, your fingers carefully sliding the pills far back down his throat, a trickle of  water washed them down more as you lifted his head slightly. Finally he relaxed, you let him rest back on the pillow as you sat back, "y'good now?" he choked out an affirmation. 

You sighed, you knew what this meant, instant u turn to Earth, you let him be as you went back to alter your course. An automated voice confirmed your command as you went back to the medical bay. The man continued to stare at the wall, watching your own T.V windows in a daze. You lent against the wall, letting your arms fold over themselves. You watched silently, he didn't seem to be in any additional pain aside from the burns. You couldn't help but feel slight guilt over his  bloodied gown, not wanting to remove for fear of hurting him. You faked a cough to get his attention. His bloodshot eye turned to watch you, slightly panicked, as you made your way to the chair once again.

  "Set a course t' take us back to Earth...this is way too outta my hands for me to do anything. If you need anything though I won't be too busy". The unblinking eye burrowed into your lazy gaze as you stifled another cough. "I'll let you be then-". The stub of his arm had moved towards your resting elbow. It flinched away on instinct before hesitantly moving back. Carefully, you let it rest against the stub. "Guess it's been a while huh? S-speaking to anyone I mean". He let out a groaned sigh (you assumed at least) of longing. You nodded solemnly, "Y'want me to sleep here for the night then?". You left before he could answer, grabbing a sleeping bag from within your wardrobe and  returned, cosying it against the medical bed. 

The soft glow of the artificial moon now seeped into the room as you went through your nightly tasks, sorting anything else you had forgotten. You let your jumpsuit soak in the washroom as you cleaned up, returning to the medical bay just as you watched the torso flop onto your sleeping bag. You trotted over and helped him back up carefully, holding him once again in your arms, "you good?!". He squirmed in your arms, hugging your chest whilst his head burrowed into your neck, almost avoiding eye contact with the bed. 

"Damn bud w-what...". You sighed weakly. Moving him back onto the bed as you grabbed your sleeping bag to form a makeshift blanket over you. Pulling the chair close enough, you struggled to hop over the man so you were facing the window. You couldn't help but sleepily close your eyes. The man shuddered again, you turned to face his back, letting your hand rest delicately against it. He winced, your hand retracted just as quick. Struggling to pull your head against the pillow properly, you found yourself rambling. "Y'know...I kinda like the beds here better than the ones in the sleeping bay". You chuckled slightly as you continued, "way nicer". 

Your eyes shifted to watch the breathing of the man. His movements ragged and visceral, you hesitated. Resting a hand against the fabric of his gown. He jolted, a sharp dry shriek of pain, your hand retracted. "S-sorry! S...so it...hurts less with the painkillers?". A faint grunt that confirmed your question. You nodded, turning once again as to not stress him. A faint comment seemed to grab your attention, 's...stars...'. You hummed in agreement, you didn't remember why you felt the urge to douse the medical bay in glow in the dark stickers, but you supposed it made you feel more comfortable. "I like 'em". Your voice was softer, almost light as you began to slip deeper into a sleepy lull. 

You shuffled slightly in your sleep, pressing up against the wall as the figure turned. Your eye slid open, meeting the glistening bloodshot view of him. You flinched, a mirrored response as you let out a breathy chuckle, "asshole". You laid on your back, watching the false stars shine softly overhead. "Gotta be hard to sleep though...". Your arms folded under your head, propping it up tightly as to not touch the flesh beside you. "I got a sleep mask if that helps...". He continued watching, an unreadable gaze that irked you slightly. "Can I...I know this sounds stupid, but...". You got up. 

Dragging the sleeping bag along, you flicked the nearby table lamp on. Looming over the now frozen form of your pseudo patient, he immediately began to writhe, bucking in fear as he watched your hands. You paused, relaxing your shoulders, you rested your hand onto his jaw, your cold fingers ghosting over his burned cheek. You could've sworn his cheek weighted slightly into the curve of your palm for a bit. Carefully, you re adjusted the pillow under the his head, before cautiously scooping him back into your arms.

Carefully, so carefully, you zipped him just enough into the sleeping bag. The thick padding seeming to muffle most of your contact with him. You couldn't help but let out a proud scoff, moving back to the window as you watched him wriggle slightly. "Feelin' better?". No comment, you smiled softly. "Y'know, I never managed to get your name". It took a bit before you got an answer, albeit punctuated by infrequent wheezes. "Curly...kinda ironic now huh". Another unamused grunt retorted your quip.  You slipped closer, your chest  resting against him tenderly. You lay there for a bit once again, the cold groaning of your own ship echoing slightly as you lay. Some stupid part of your brain finally kicked in when you embraced him, wrapping your arms around his chest. He writhed under your embrace. Attempting to free himself, his back spasmed and a series of frantic wheezings escaped his weak jaw. You hushed him slightly, nuzzling your head into his padded chest. "It's ok...you're ok...". You continued to soothe him softly.  He froze, sighed pathetically after a while, the fatigue finally sinking in for him, resting his chin softly against your neck. Your grip remained soft, gently reassuring him he was safe.

He was going home.

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

2 months 29 days before reaching Earth. 

You frowned from your calculator to your pile of perceived valuables. Just under $90 in estimated value. Sighing, you put the calculator back to one side and slumped forward, cradling your head between your hands. You were already struggling with keeping Curly alive long enough before you reached Earth. Your own quantity of painkillers now dwindling. His state and breathing getting more ragged and feeble.

Some morbid part of you considered killing him in a twisted form of sympathy. I mean, you were almost always alone in space, you hadn't alerted that many people to your plight aside from a friend's lawyer for a legal chew out on what remained of Pony Express, and an awaiting hospital. Your hands physically coiled at the very concept. You'd done this on a whim, letting out a quivering huff, you returned to your own miniature dining area.

The table was one you had managed to save from wood rot, and it was sure as hell obvious. Some of the new legs looked to be from different makes, despite a fresh coat of wood dye. Curly sat on one side, you felt bad just letting him wither in bed all day, allowing him to move from space to space kept him somewhat upbeat. Even letting him sit next to you on your usual naps in the cockpit.

He seemed to be as frail as you felt, still wheezing pathetically, staring ahead whilst his mouth silently gasped. You moved over, his body shook ever so slightly, but relaxed once you pulled up the chair across from him.  Your fingers fiddled between each other in a grip. "We're running low on painkillers". Your tone dried, you felt stupid admitting it out loud but given how he could still react via often jerky movements. It felt like having a mute puppet living with you, one that at least seemed to acknowledge your small talks. "I'm not sure if this will affect anything but I might have to start cutting you down to one, just in case". 

His head turned away. You frowned weakly, "I'm sorry if this hurts but, I can't risk anything before we get back". He stayed silent, you looked out to where he was staring, the 'living room', two beaten sofas and a busted radio resting beside a small lamp, you had played a few songs for him already that he liked, he always preferred your softer ones over the more aggressive music you played during work (at least when you were alone), maybe... "We can relax if you want...", nothing. You wearily admitted defeat for once, "I'm....I'm going to sort a few things out if that's ok...". His arm moved towards yours, resting tenderly against yours for a bit. You cocked your head slightly, "I...I don't wanna sound corny but.. y-y'know if there's anything wrong you can tell me". 

He stayed silent, his ragged breathing filling the space as you waited hesitantly.

'Sc...a...red'. His voice almost sounded timid, "of what, going back?". No reply... you looked back down at his stub, you swore if he had hands he'd be frantically trying to grasp yours. "welp, I won't pry if you don't want-". You paused, both of his stubs rested against your arm now, almost trying to pull you back towards the chair. You looked back at him, for once he made direct eye contact, his burning gaze moistening slightly. Your mouth quivered, you felt your heart sink in weakness. Getting up slowly, he seemed desperate to keep you near. You beside him, what remained of his legs shifting slightly as you knelt next to him. 

Without saying anything you slowly rested your hands on what remained of his, your finger pads gently stroking them, he continued. An uncomfortable pathetic wheeze of a cry that made your heart ache for his unintelligible plight. "It's ok...", the same drying comfort. His already strained voicebox struggled as he let something slip. 'P...pl...ease...I'. You pulled him closer, his body slipping away from the chair slightly as you continued to console him. His arms rested at his sides, his voice quivering harder from the slight pain. He went limp, you froze. His breathing remained ragged against your ear. Your own breathing began to weaken, moving him back to the medic bay in a daze. You rested him rest gently on the bed as you checked him. 'he must've passed out from stress...'.

Finally, you gave up. Sitting back down on the chair and waiting for him to wake up. Once again, you got up after what felt like hours and sat back in your armchair, playing a random song.

1 month before reaching Earth. 

He seemed emotionally shell shocked, falling silent whenever you brought up himself. You tried to think of  any reasons on why but you assumed, still remembering the haunting scent of decay and iron on the ship, that he had witnessed something. You tried to keep his spirits up as well, still coming in to check on him with a friendly tone and playing songs for him. But he remained silent, you felt your stomach sink ever lower. Catching him wake up in a panic or trying to hide his gaze from the blazing warmth of the artificial sunset when it began to dip into the night. You managed somewhat to keep yourself going with something-anything else, but your mind continued to linger on him.

You found yourself resting against his bed as you dozed. The day had dragged harder than normal, not being able to get a full contact going with the hospital for any advice. Alongside the usual feeding of one pill causing Curly to nearly choke. You slept before him, too tired to move away.

His arm fidgeted near yours, his eye resting on your face. He watched. You shifted slightly, your head nestling further between your arms. His arm strained until it reached your head, petting the top of it gently as you slept. He turned away, looking up at the static moon that washed over the room in a melancholy light. She would've like you, he struggled to smile slightly at the notion. He was sure Daiskue would be ecstatic to know you had managed to beat his own high scores. His eye warbled slightly as tears began to trickle down his cheek at the thought. You shifted, he turned over to watch as you sat up, blearily rubbing your eye. "Guess I'll go back t'my room...". Your voice sounded softer than usual. 

His mind went blank, his voice hoarse as you began to make your way back to your roo- "d-don't go...". You almost screeched at how humanly coherent the voice was. Your head instinctively whipped back around into the room to a splutter of coughing and wheezing from Curly. "Y-you...". You slid back into the room, flicking the bedside lamp on, looking over him as he tried to maintain his breathing. "A-are you ok?!". He tried to maintain his breathing for a bit before nodding. You sat back down in your chair, almost feeling guilty for waiting so hopefully for another response. He motioned with an arm something. 

"You wanna talk?". He nodded, you smiled weakly. "Y'wanna nod?". He paused, sheepishly nodding with a small chuckle. You sighed, sitting beside him, "le'mme guess, you're annoyed you can't do much right now". He paused, his eye tracing your face before nodding. You smiled slightly, you hit him with a few light hearted ones first. Slowly building up the courage before you blurted out something that was gnawing at the back of your mind since his episode. "You don't want to talk about your crew but you feel terrible about them". 

He froze, then slowly nodded. "I'm also gonna assume you feel responsible even though your like this?". He stopped for a bit, looking back down at his hands before turning back and shaking his head slowly. That genuinely caught you off guard. Finally, you had a gut churning thought. "You feel responsible for not helping them because you got yourself like this?" His nodding began to grow timid, finally you got an answer. "But the burns aren't your fault?". He shook his head, "you did something wrong?". Another nod, you felt your chest heave as you made your biggest leap in assumptions. "Someone else did this didn't they? but you're talking the wrong blame". 

Your eye caught a near nod as he jerked upwards slightly. Once again, slumping back in bed. "Whatever you did, it's ok to feel guilty for. It's natural but...you can't blame yourself for another persons fuck up if they were in full control". He looked back to you, his eye once again wavering. He motioned for you to come closer, leaning in hesitantly for another hug. You stayed in his embrace for a bit until you had the same idea from when you first picked him up, once again writhing out of his embrace before moving back to the window. Slipping onto the bed alongside him as you continued your soft embrace. 

Your hands found themselves resting on his back, stroking his back delicately, you lulled yourself slightly into a sleepy daze. His strained, rapsy voice slipped out in-between the gentle strokes, but you understood what he said perfectly. 'I don't want to go back...I'm scared, please...you're the only thing I've been able to keep close for this long...I...I want you to hurt me, I...', he let out a slight wheeze of a laugh as he continued his gentle rambling. 'I want to know I've done wrong...to my crew...to my friend. I-I...I'm scared of facing what I've done". 

He motioned you to pull away for a bit. His eye fixating indefinably on your face. Your brain did it again, another stupid impulse as you melted into the rotten kiss he suddenly pulled you into, your lips struggling to stay gentle against his vulnerable teeth and flesh. 

'please...'. He panted his plea out weakly between the moment. 'T...take me away'. You almost nodded, before realising what that would mean, you pulled away, looking into his soft gaze. "I-I can't...I told you...you can't be responsible for everything, but...but you have to own up to what you've done, I swear I won't let the world see you if it's too much, I promise".

You raised a pinky and let it dink delicately against his nub of an arm as his embrace weakened. "You're ok, I told you before...", your voice lightened with a small smile. "You're going to be ok". 

0 months 1 day from destination.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Not a bad decision

Summary: Dresses are stressful.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: A short lil blurb like thing which was supposed to be posted during @/starfallweek, but i decided the other fics were better, so you get this now

(also i feel like i wrote this when i was sleepy even though i did not because this fic's writing feels a lil different from all my other ones 🤷🏻‍♀️)

well well guess who forgot to name the fic. IT WAS MEEEEE

anyways, Enjoy!

Dresses were not something Y/n was interested in, that much would be clear to anything with a pulse and a brain.

They were something everyone around Y/n was interested in though, and she felt like a rabbit among deers as Feyre gushed about the new seamstress the high lady had hired with her sisters and Mor.

"Oh mother, I am telling you Mor, she makes the most wonderful dresses. The dress I wore last week that you loved? She made it."

Y/n tuned them out, or tried to anyway. They were too loud, so loud that even the mother would have begged them to shut up.

"Y/n?"

Y/n blinked, glancing up from where she was sharpening her daggers to keep them ready for if she had to go to a mission in the near future.

"Yes?"

"Elain asked you what you were going to be wearing to the party." Mor told her, a knowing gleam in her eye.

"Oh." Y/n straightened, clearing her throat as she tried to think of an excuse to what she knew was coming. "Um, I think I'll be getting some new leathers, maybe a new shirt-"

"A shirt?" Nesta questioned, her eyes incredulous.

"Uh yes?" Y/n's cheeks were blazing, and she understood why it was shocking to the newer additions in the Inner circle like Nesta and Elain as they had only recently been made fae, and even then it had been rare for the to attend family parties.

"Y/n hasn't worn dresses in centuries." Mor explained, making Y/n deflate a little in relief.

"But why?"

"That, I don't know."

Y/n rolled her eyes at that. "Wearing a dress is not convenient. I can't fight in it."

And she looked weird in them. She never thought herself beautiful enough to look good or even begin to compare to the other beautiful females, so she never tried to wear anything other than her trusty leathers.

Nesta gave Y/n a look, and having become very close with Nesta to the point where Y/n had even started to consider her a sister, Y/n knew that look meant no good.

"No one is going to try to rip out your throat at a high lord's party you know."

Y/n smiled at Nesta, playing coy as Feyre announced that the seamstress had arrived and was waiting for them in the sitting room. "You never know Nesta, you never know."

"You are wearing a dress for this party. I won't take no for an answer."

Y/n's eyes widened when she realised Nesta was not bluffing. "I- I can't-"

"You will." Nesta muttered, her sentence ending in Y/n's cry of shock as Nesta grabbed Y/n's arm and dragged her over to where the other ladies had disappeared into the sitting rom.

Mother help me.

Nesta knew about Y/n's harmless little crush on Azriel. Of course she did. She knew everything.

She also insisted that this crush was not harmless, giving some stupid reason how Y/n was getting shyer and more concerned about what Azriel thought about her, leading to her becoming more secluded.

Y/n did not believe Nesta's wild accusations though. She was sure this little infatuation would go away with time, even if it hadn't in the past three hundred years.

"Y/n, are you coming or should I arrange your funeral?"

Y/n rolled her eyes at Nesta's absurd statement as she began walking towards the door.

"And why would you do that?"

Y/n found Nesta glaring at her when she opened her bedroom door.

"Because it sure seems like you were taking your time dying in there."

Y/n laughed, but the sound was short lived as her previous insecurities came rushing back as she glanced down at what she was wearing. She was so scared of how weird she would look she hadn't even glanced in a mirror, and now felt like it was a bad idea to be completely unaware of how she looked because now, she wished to die.

Maybe Nesta should arrange a funeral.

"How do I look?" Y/n questioned, and by the soft look on Nesta's face, Y/n knew her concerns were clear in her voice.

"If I were Azriel, I would kill myself if I wasn't the one removing that dress tonight, I'm just saying." Nesta muttered, shrugging. Y/n gaped at her.

"What- I- I don't even know what to think-"

"Good then. Stop thinking and just enjoy the party. You're already late. All the guests have arrived, and starfall is about to begin soon. We need to hurry."

Y/n nodded, and with a last skeptical look at her dress, she hurried after Nesta.

Starfall was considered a sacred night, and more so in Velaris. Plus add to that the extra and huge show off that was Rhys. The party was bound to be extravagant.

And sure enough, when Y/n stepped into the main ball room where everyone was gathered, drinking and chatting and dancing, Y/n's eyes widened in amazement. It should not have been a shock, considering Y/n had been attending these parties as part of the inner circle for the past three centuries. But this was a party thrown by Rhys, and he had an unbeatable streak of always shocking Y/n with his over the top arrangemens.

"Y/n!" Came the whining voice of Cassian, and Y/n turned to find him running towards where Nesta and Y/n stood, his head turned to look at someone behind him.

Y/n smiled. "What happened?"

At that, Cassian turned to look at the two females, an adorable pout on his lips. "Azriel is not being very nice-"

Cassian's eyes were fixed on Y/n, wide and shocked. She blinked at him, glancing down at herself, doubt again creeping in before she made herself meet his eyes.

"Cass?" Nesta mumbled, a self satisfied smirk on her face.

He blinked, glancing at Nesta for a moment before turning back to Y/n. "You- you look good."

Blood rushed to Y/n's cheeks at that. "Thank you."

He nodded, his eyes running down her frame quickly before he seemed to remember what he came here for. "Azriel. He's fighting with me."

Y/n blinked. "Fighting? For what?"

"I begged him to drink with me, and he said no. And then he was being mean and not nice at all."

Y/n laughed, patting his shoulder. "I'll take care of him, don't worry."

He seemed satisfied. "He is right next to the refreshments table."

Y/n nodded uncertainly, then went off to find Azriel.

She found him exactly where Cassian had said she would, and she walked up to him with a deep breath.

"I heard you were bullying Cassian."

He turned to meet her eyes, then froze. Y/n had to stifle the urge to cover herself somehow with the way he was studying her form. He himself looked ravishing, clad in a tight shirt and a coat.

To get some semblance of control back, she snapped her fingers in front of his unfairly handsome ace, and he startled.

That in turn startled Y/n.

She, a mere fae, had managed to startle the spymaster of night court? This was certainly new.

"I- what? Did you say something?"

He... was he... blushing?

No why would he blush?

Was he?

"I heard you were bullying Cassian?"

His brows furrowed. "I haven't seen him since this morning though."

Y/n blinked, then whipped around to glare at where Cassian and Nesta were standing, off in a dark, secluded corner, and giggling among themselves.

Y/n folded her arms across her chest, feeling betrayed, but before she could think more about that, Azriel's voice broke her focus.

"Um, Y/n? Will you- can I have a dance?"

Y/n stared at his nervously shifting form, speechless. "You- you want to dance... with me?"

He nodded, his confidence seeming to increase as he extended his hand, his gaze boring deep into Y/n's eyes. So deep it seemed to touch her soul.

Blushing, she slid her hand into his scarred one, and, in a burst of boldness, ran her thumb over the back of his hand. The move seemed to shock him, but still, he led her to the dance floor, his back straight, wings high.

As she followed behind him, she could not help but glance around in search of Nesta, a wide smile on her face when her best friend gave her a thumbs up.

Maybe this was a good idea after all.

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175 @starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady @lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @gardenofrunar

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @azrielsmate3 @celestialend @stqrgirlies-blog @tele86 @bakananya @xyzmeh @st4r-girl-official @caraaaaugh @nacho-nat @allllium

[lexirosewrites]

This is for Slick Sunday!!!

So. I was watching this voice over of some random Tumblr post about how Vampires are to carpenters what furries are for artists(allegedly), bc they can make the ideal coffin for each individual and things like that, and like??? I got inspired. So this is what I have:

Totally established ABO situation, where Steve is an unusual Omega, simply for the fact that after his family disowned him he became a carpenter and if being a jock had given him some muscles, being a carpenter made him ripped.

But no one wants an Omega like that, no matter how sweet he is whether in scent or personality, it also doesn't help that Steve has a shit taste in Alphas.

Anyways, enter Eddie, a Vampire (whether he has a designation and/or what it is up in the air (although I prefer him as an Alpha)) who's looking for a new coffin for his Uncle Wayne, an incredibly old vampire (probably a beta) who met him when he was young and adopted Eddie before turning him at the age of 25 (Eddie was dying, and there wasn't a cure for him yet, but that was Wayne's kid, he couldn't let him die so young), because his Uncle's coffin is like, old, Eddie asked and the thing is a certified antique, it's at least a 100 years old and almost falling apart no matter how much care Wayne puts into it.

So Eddie finds out about this carpenter, the guy has never worked for vampires before, but Robin (a local witch and another Omega) recommended him so strongly Eddie agreed to check him out.

Eddie gets immediately infatuated with Steve, the guy is handsome, with a sweet personality, and a body Eddie just wants to sink his teeth into...

So they get talking about the request, and it ends up being a long collaboration, since Eddie didn't actually go prepared for the appointment, so he keeps visiting Steve to make adjustments to the coffin's design and stuff like that.

And if he also uses that time to get to know Steve better and maybe flirt a little? It's nobody's business.

(and maybe Steve also answers sometimes, with

So anyways, Steve finishes the task and is sad he won't see Eddie again, won't get to bask into his amazingly comforting scent again, thinking that the guy probably will leave him behind like so many other commissioners before him who came by, sweet talked him, that even got him into bed one time, and then left once their product was finished, only to never return.

So When Eddie comes to pick up the finished coffin he finds an incredibly sad Omega , and of course he immediately asks what's wrong, does Steve feel bad, should he call Robin? But Steve is so overwhelmed by this simple show of care that he confesses on the spot.

And Eddie is obviously overjoyed by this, corresponding to Steve in that exact moment, zero doubts in his mind that he'll be with Steve for as long as Steve wants him.

Plus: Steve finds out a week into dating that Eddie is a vampire and is very offended that his boyfriend (soon to be mate) tried to hide something so important from him, meanwhile Eddie is like "Babe. Baby. Sweetheart. I literally asked for a bed coffin, I told you my uncle was more than a hundred years old, I once got into your workshop fully bloodstained, fangs out, because I was running late and my last feeding was rough"

"I thought that was paint from those minis you told me you were working on!"

And then they recreate the twilight meme for the funsies.

(and maybe a long time from now they'll be mates, and Steve will turn into a vampire after being Eddie's part-time bloodbag for years, and they'll have a coven full of kids, some theirs, some adopted, but all of them wholly loved and cherished)

And that's all I have in me rn, I really hope you enjoy Lexi, happy day!

(also, fun fact, halfway through writing this I got so distracted by the romance that I forgot about the ABO part of things, and then I tried to revise it, but I'm not sure I did a good job, this could probably be way more abo than it is, lmaoo)

hehe monsterfucker steve is very dear to me, especially when he’s an omega and willing to submit to an alpha as their prey in more way than one💕

[sunshine304]

FTH Fanbinding: "Concord" by Deastar

@youhideastar won my FTH auction and gave me a great gift: She wanted me to bind her CQL fic "Concord" including the thorough author's commentary she'd done. I was so happy when she chose this fic because I'd loved it so much and had pondered doing a fanbinding of it at some point anyway. 😄

Now that the book has finally arrived (spending two days in the air even, I guess, at least when one looks at the tracking info 😆), I can show it off here!

I tried some new stuff on this bind and also some things that I'd only done once before and that definitely need some, uh, perfecting. 😅 But overall, I'm very pleased with how this book turned out, as it's pretty close to what I'd imagined when I started it.

The fic is set in Cloud Recesses and Dea and I agreed that the colour blue should be prominent in the design, as it not only fits the setting, but also is of significance in the story itself. As the rules and traditions of the Lan sect also are quite important, I wanted a very clean, simple style for the case, a bit reminiscent of traditional Chinese bindings.

I did the title as a cut-out and used Japanese transparent paper for some extra flavour. The paper shows up inside the book as well early on and I liked the recurring motive of it. I'm also really pleased how well the hot foil came out on it! I was a bit scared that it might rip or something, but it's quite sturdy, after all.

I thought about doing a faux stab binding with red thread to get even more of a traditional feel, but then decided against it as I'd wanted to use two different blue book cloths and I felt that it might get too busy. Instead, I used the red ribbon as a nod to Wei Wuxian.

The little cloud illustration is used several times in the typeset and I like how it comes out in the title. I didn't even mess up this title, yay! (Mine's got a few tiny blotches but uh well, better mine than Dea's!)

I painted the edges with metallic watercolours - the second time I tried painting edges, but this time with several colours and trying to do a little illustration as well. Big thanks to @zhalfirin who quickly answered my question about how to get the paint to actually stick. 😆 I'd read several posts about how awesome water colours are for foreedge painting, but none mentioned that this kind of paint just rubs off again (I am no artist and have no knowledge of different kinds of paint). Zhalfirin told me to mix in glue and also wax the edges afterwards, which I both did and I think it's fine now. At least my fingers didn't turn blue. 😅

I really love how the shading came out on the head/tail; it could've been better on the foreedge and it looked great while the paint was still wet. Steep learning curve, this thing. I also died trying to sand the edges and I didn't get them completely smooth, but at least smooth enough to work with. That also needs some more work, I guess.

First time I sewed endbands with four different colours! I think they came out quite well! I also forgot the second row of dark blue on Dea's book and had to unravel half the endband again when I noticed at the very end... 🤦‍♀️

Nice marbled endpapers. For the title page spread, I used part a very famous Chinese painting, as it not only reminds me of the Gusu mountains but also, again, is very traditional. I played around with the colours to give the picture a bit of a bluer tinge.

The typeset itself was very straight-forward. There's the fic without commentary, and then the second part with it. I used a grey background for the comment parts to make it stand out from the actual story.

I had lots of printer issues with this fic (my copy actually had even more issues because the printer treated every page as an image for unknown reasons and therefore it not only took forever, it's also a tiny bit blurry. Hmpf.) and the greys tended to have a bit of a blue tinge, which was not my intention. But at least it works with the overall theme, I guess! 😅

I also did an extensive Appendix with all the meta links mentioned in the commentary as well as cut scenes and a little "praise for the author" section.

Last but not least, I decided to try making a slipcase for the first time! DAS_Bookbinding on youtube has good tutorials on that and I used one of them. It worked well on the first try. The second try, I used sturdier cardboard and should've added a few millimetres to the width, because the book didn't fit - the ribbon got stuck and I feared that it might get damaged. So I had to redo the case and then it was perfect.

I used wallpaper as cover material. 😄 The one you see on the outside? That's my living room wallpaper, a light blue with a lovely pattern and soft shimmer to it. My camera unfortunately is refusing to get the colour right.🤷‍♂️

The assembling process went well, for the most part. I'd forgotten to shorten the endpapers a bit which I only realised after I'd started casing in my copy. I carefully separated the textblock from the case again and then, in a moment of complete mental blackout, tried to cut the wet paper. 🤦‍♀️ That didn't go well. I managed to salvage it, mostly, and of course didn't repeat the mistake with Dea's copy, but ugh. 😆

This was a super fun project and I'm very happy with it! Thank you again, Dea, for your faith in me and your super generous donation! 💙

Materials used:

Printed on Clairefontaine DCP 100g

Case and endpapers:

booklinen Colibri cornflower

booklinen Paradise aqua

marbled paper 120g

transparent Japanese paper

Hot Foil (Memory Keepers)

Slipcase:

fleece wallpaper Newroom Nisa lightblue

fleece wallpaper grey glitter

[reallyromealone]

Inspired by this post that @writingsbymo-mo

Sleepovers with uncle ran

Ran x toddler nephew reader

Fluff

(Name) was excited as he ran into his uncle's arms "unkol Ran!" He squealed as the elder Haitani lifted the little duckling up "my, you only saw me a few days ago" he teased as Rindō held his sons overnight bag with his clothes and stuffed toy along with any medications that may be needed "you behave for your uncle alright?" He knew (name) would be and smiled when the little one nodded seriously "I will papa!"

Sleepovers with uncle ran were the best, the little boy was practically vibrating when his papa told him he would be staying at the others for the night.

"(Snack)!" He squealed as he ran towards the coffee table, his uncle having the good set up and having toddler portions as to not overwhelm the kid who slipped on his little house slippers and the two plopped on the couch "so what do you wanna do first, lil man?" The littlest Haitani thought for a moment, really thinking about it before looking up at his uncle with determination "I wanna fight!" The tot said and Ran looked pleasantly surprised "you really are a Haitani!" He said excitedly before getting up and rushing to his room.

When he came out, he was holding a police baton and (name)s little track suit from when (name) wanted to join rans fitness routine "let's fight" Ran said with an almost manic glee and (name) looked back with determination.

"No no little one, you have to go for the jugular" ran showed as he hit the fitness dummy in the throat "don't forget kneecaps alright? Your enemy won't fight fair so why should you?"

(Name) nodded as he let out an angry yell and began beating the dummy with the baton as Ran recorded it, pride filling his being "Atta boy!"

"Now, let's order food and get cleaned up" the two had been practicing for two hours at this point and (name) looked a little winded as he let his uncle lift him up.

A bubble bath with toys and a set of comfy pajamas and (name) was ready for dinner and a movie, sitting before the coffee table as he ate dinner with his uncle-- (name) getting to choose the take out tonight.

"She inked!" (Name) laughed as he took another bite of his food, absolutely entranced and ran smiled at him, happy his nephew was having such a good time.

"Your dad forgot your bedtime story, so uncle ran is gonna tell you some stories" Ran said as he tucked the tot into the guest bed that was basically just (name)s room, the boy having toys and such in said room "what kind of stories?" (Name) asked hugging his stuffed toy and Ran smiled "I'm gonna tell you stories about your papa as a teen"

"PAPA!" (Name) yelled happily as his dad came to collect his kid, the little one having a more western breakfast as a treat "you have fun brat?" Rindō asked as he stole some strawberries off the kids plate "yeah! Unkol ran gave me this!" (Name) held up Rans old police baton and Rindō snorted amused "use it wisely kid"

"And he told me about how you ripped your pants doing the splits!"

"What."

[noblehouseofgay]

Polyjuice

Black Brothers microfic

Mentioned jegulus and wolfstar

Hurt/comfort

Based on this post by @yesiamprocrastinating but dw I gave it a happy ending

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Regulus had died two years ago. Or at least that's what people thought. In reality, Regulus had faked his death and has been living off polyjuice ever since. He works at a bar, one hidden away from the usual crowds and chaos. It's quiet, he honestly enjoys it.

Except tonight. Because tonight. His brother is a customer. He hadn't even seen him first come in, only felt a strange chill down his back. When he turned around to see the familiar figure, he dropped a glass.

"You alright there, mate?" Gods, he hadn't heard his brother's voice in so long. He'd missed it.

Truthfully Regulus had planned to find his brother again after he faked his death. Tell him the truth, make amends. But Sirius had moved on. He had a good life. Regulus couldn't bring himself to ruin it, not again.

"Yes. The glass just slipped." He bent down, cleaning the shards up, trying to keep his hands from shaking. When he stood back up, he looked everywhere but at Sirius. "What can I get you?"

"Something strong, your choice." Regulus nodded.

And then he had a terrible idea. One of his worst yet. This might be his only chance to talk to his brother again. Even if it was with the face of a stranger, he couldn't miss the opportunity.

"Rough night then?" He started mixing a drink, one he knew Sirius used to like.

"Family stuff, always such a fucking mess, y'know?"

"I do. Believe me....I do." Turns out, Regulus was in the mood to make terrible choices tonight. "You have any siblings?"

Sirius nodded. It felt like a light was flickering back on in Regulus' chest. "I did...I- I do. A brother."

"What's his name?"

"James."

Regulus swore his heart stopped in that moment.

He felt like his entire body was going to collapse into itself. Maybe he should've actually died. That would've been better than this.

He bit his lip, hands shaking. He shoved the drink towards Sirius, letting liquid slosh over the side. "Don't lie. It's unbecoming." His voice was venom, using the words their mother had used against them both so many times.

Regulus ripped off his apron and stormed off to the back room, reaching for the door to the alley behind the bar. He gasped for air as the chill of outside hit him.

He threw the apron at a wall and fell to his knees.

It doesn't matter if he was alive or dead. Regulus meant nothing to his brother.

He choked out sobs, digging his nails into his arms. What was even the point anymore? Yes he had lived, but what for?

"You made a mistake, using her words." Sirius was in the alley now. Regulus didn't look. "It's really you...isn't it?"

"Does it matter? I'm not your brother." Regulus dragged himself to his feet, wiping away tears with his sleeve.

"Yes you are, Reg."

"Well I wasn't two minutes ago apparently. Just because you found out I'm alive doesn't change what you said. Dead or alive, James is still my replacement."

Sirius sighed. "Did you even stop to consider I didn't say you because it hurt too much?"

"THEN HURT! I'D RATHER THAT THAN FEELING LIKE YOU FORGOT ME!" His words broke as they came out, he stared at his brother, tears making him blurry. Regulus leaned against the wall, using it so he didn't fall again.

Sirius slowly walked closer. "Reg...why didn't you come find me? I mourned you. I thought I'd lost you for good."

Regulus stared at his brother. He sighed. "I was going to. I really was." Regulus worried at his lip. "But you seemed happy. And I had ruined that once before, I couldn't let myself do it again."

Regulus took a breath in, closing his eyes as he felt the polyjuice wear off. He looked up at his older brother with his own eyes once again.

Sirius' face softened, taking in the sight of his little brother once more.

In a blink, Regulus felt Sirius' arms around him. He froze, he had forgotten what this had felt like. But the feeling quickly felt familiar as he pushed his face into his brother's shoulder. The smell and warmth of his brother felt like home, something he hadn't known since Sirius ran away.

"Come to my flat," Sirius spoke quietly, gently even, like he did when they were kids hiding under the sheets at night, "we'll talk...we'll catch up....because I am not losing you again, Reggie. Never again."

Regulus nodded, body still sagging into his brother's embrace. Sirius kissed his head and helped him stand.

They walked out of the alley in a comfortable silence. "Remus lives with me, but if I remember right, you liked him. I think he'll be happy to know you're alive."

Regulus was always fond of Remus, they were similar in a lot of ways. It would be nice to see him again.

"I'll have to see James again too won't I...." Sirius laughed a little. "Yeah, probably." Sirus had a sly smile. "But you might be happy to know he's single."

Regulus' eyes went wide and his face flushed. He shoved away from his brother. "I do not care if that oaf is single or not."

Sirus laughed. "Yeah, sure, Reggie. I know you hated him at one point, but I also know what your 'hate' can be a disguise for."

Regulus rolled his eyes and scowled. "I hate him. End of story."

Sirius ruffled his hair. "Keep telling yourself that, Reggie."

[topherwrites]

FIC RECS: TOP GUN: MAVERICK - 2!

Okay, so there was shit I forgot in my year in review rec list. I posted it and a minimum of about 10 other fics immediately came to mind. so, part 2! I also didn't put many WIPs on the first one, but I think currently in progress fics should get some love too. I'll be marking them with an asterisk.

If I made a little comment about every single fic or series here, it would be inhumanely long, so I've refrained from doing so and have just put the summaries for each.

I hope that anyone who reads this list finds something that they love on it just as much as I do! Happy reading!

P.S. If I missed anyone, I'm sorry, there was a lot to sort through!

(P.S.S. reblog the fics you like, it makes writers happy.)

part 1, if you missed it.

SOME OF THESE ARE 18+, PLEASE HEED THE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS!

JAKE SERESIN

Parking Lots and Matcha Lattes by @withahappyrefrain

In an attempt to get coffee, you meet a grade A asshole whose head you want to rip off. Meanwhile, Jake Seresin is pretty certain he just met his future wife in the parking lot of a coffee shop. AKA Jake Seresin likes mean women, pass it on.

The Hangman Special by @hangmanssunnies

On a night out with your friends at a fancy cocktail bar, you are just trying to keep your head down and ignore the girl that your ex cheated on you with. The night only seems like it's going to get worse when you are dared to kiss a stranger at the bar. However, it seems like the odds might finally be in your favor when you notice a familiar set of broad shoulders. If you can be convincing, you think you might just be able to get your brother's friend Jake "Hangman" Seresin to help you out with your little problem.

*she is both hellfire and holy water by @chemistryread

you should take it as a compliment, that I'm talking to everyone here but you.

Birds Away by @wombtotombx

You’d known Jake since you were kids, bonding over the shared experience of being military brats overseas. You were the perfect pair - he was reckless, you followed the rules; he didn’t care what others thought, you were a people-pleaser. You both became the best of the best in your field - he through sheer talent and skill, you from demonstrated grit and determination. For over two decades, everyone around you - parents, friends, even teachers - had assumed you’d both end up together, despite the fact that somehow, you never did. The Navy always had its way of keeping you two apart. Whatever possibilities there might have been, it was just never in the cards. Until you got to Fallon.

*The Backup by @ereardon

No strings attached sex never works, right? You and Jake Seresin have fallen into a bad pattern of seeking each other out for sex after dates go awry, but a year of being friends with benefits with Jake hasn’t been good for your dating life. Especially when the two of you are hiding your antics from your lifelong best friend Coyote and the rest of your tightly knit friend group. But what happens when you decide to take a step back and end the cycle with Jake to focus on your dating life? And why is it that all of the sudden Jake looks more irresistible than ever when you know he’s off limits? 

Take Care of Business by @honkytonk-hangman

The last time you met Lieutenant Jake Seresin, the war was still ongoing and you’d been in a floundering engagement. Back then you’d seen the possibility for more in his eyes, and now? Well, now you could explore it.

When Jake Met Polly by @/honkytonk-hangman

Jake likes to flirt with his Air Traffic Controller or Jake Seresin has never seen When Harry Met Sally.

How It's Done (Oneshot Version) by @/honkytonk-hangman

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Twenty-Five Going on Forty-Seven by @sehnsuchts-trunken

Flirting with the guy who fixed your car turns out to lead to much, much more when you find out he’s actually not just some random guy, but your new neighbour and father’s new best friend, Jake Seresin.

BRADLEY BRADSHAW

*fever pitch by @greenorangevioletgrass

Arsenal and USMNT captain Bradley Bradshaw attends the mononymous music sensation Y/N's concert with a friendship bracelet and a dream. Little did he know that they soon embark on an epic love story fit for pop royalty...

This Love Came Back to Me by @beyondthesefourwalls

You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could even truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him into a kiss, he thought maybe it was the perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of you realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply just wanting it.

I Like Your Cinema by @sometimesanalice

Bradley wasn’t sure why you wanted to see the movie again, especially when neither one of you had particularly liked it the first time you’d seen it together. But when you’re tugging down his zipper, things start to make a lot more sense.

‘cause no one breaks my heart like you by @heartsofminds

“Last times always make him uneasy. He thinks that he should be used to it by now from his track record of being abandoned (willfully or “out of their control” situations alike). None of this should hurt him as deeply anymore.” or Bradley Bradshaw is terrified of commitment and he decides to stop being selfish (even though it’s hard to see).

the periphery by @youvebeenlivingfictional

You’d met Bradley a few times before the happy couple had announced their nuptials, and you’d always gotten a pretty good vibe from him. He was sweet, he was easy to talk to—and it helped that he was easy on the eyes. In fact, as soon as you’d been told that Bradley Bradshaw was going to be the Best Man, you were well on your way to having a crush on the guy.

*Hotter Than Texas by @tongue-like-a-razor

Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin’s baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley’s dream girl worst nightmare.

*flight risk by @ofstoriesandstardust

In which you and Rooster got married while at UVA for the military benefits. What started out as a mutually beneficial deal between friends years ago turns into a point of interest for Maverick, causing Rooster to have to haul you out to Fightertown to get him to shut up. While Maverick’s fussing over a marriage he didn’t know existed, Rooster’s focused on getting the ball rolling on divorce papers because really, the Navy does not need to be calling some poor girl from his college that he’s died in a horrendous accident. It’s proving to be more difficult than he expected, especially when Hangman and Phoenix take it upon themselves to encourage a friendship to become more. 

How You Play the Game by @roosterforme

Bradley always loved October because of the World Series. He never expected a mix-up with the ticket he won to bring something as spectacular as you into his life. But time is fleeting, and now baseball is the last thing on his mind.

*The Intern by @/roosterforme

You barely have a minute to yourself after graduating at the top of your Ivy League class before your father insists you find an internship. Your days of lounging by the pool and partying are numbered as he has an endless parade of his colleagues visiting the house. But one of them is familiar to you in a way that warms your skin just like the San Diego sun. And it turns out, Bradley Bradshaw may just have the answers to all your problems. And those answers might be waiting for you on a yacht in the Mediterranean Sea.

there was something 'bout you by @bussyslayer333

bradley bradshaw didn’t fall in love, especially not with uptight girls in his english lit class and especially not the ones being forced into tutoring him.

*Ultraviolence by @babyonboard

You and Bradley loved each other, and Jake was just your old friend from high school who you tried to pay no mind to. At least that's how it used to be.

All Too Well by @bradleyfuckingbradshaw

You’re at dinner with your boyfriend and some of his colleagues at a restaurant he chose when you look over the menu and realize there’s no vegetarian option, but he’s too busy with his friends to realize that. Bradley isn’t.

October 3rd Promptober by @familyvideostevie

you go to a tailgate with your friend bradley.

If You Met Me First by @tip-top-cloud-surfer

Rooster confessed to Echo that he was in love with her before the mission. One minor problem: she has a boyfriend.

Home for the Holidays by @mothdruid

Bradley might have lied about having a girlfriend. His best friend, you, decide to help him out and go home for the holidays with him. As the trip unfolds, so does your and Bradley’s feelings for one another.

BOB FLOYD

*I bet this would look beautiful on film by @coridotmp3

Honey desperately needs a photographer, and Bob desperately needs a break.

Robert from Next Door by @attapullman

You've lucked out with the perfect neighbor, a kind and overly helpful WSO. He puts up Christmas lights, lends his lawn mower, and grabs your morning paper. But what happens when he's out of peppermint tea one night?

If Only the Neighbors Knew by @/attapullman

A month of stolen kisses culminates in Robert hosting the HOA meeting and getting you on his couch. The ladies of the neighborhood may make him blush, but only you can make your sweet neighbor weak in the knees.

*Golden Hour by @/ereardon

Willow, Georgia. Barely even a town, just a speck on a map that you tried to wipe off, mistaking it for a crumb. You’re the outsider: a fancy New York doctor, fresh out of a failed engagement, with zero primary care experience. You’re also the new town doctor, taking over for a recent retiree who was beloved. His son, Bob Floyd, is the other physician at the practice, and takes an immediate dislike to you. But you were looking for a fresh start, and Willow doesn’t seem all that bad if you can get past the fact that there's only one restaurant in town. It helps that you've caught the eye of Bradley Bradshaw, the town attorney, despite the fact that you vowed to take a break from dating. How long until you start to make friends in a town where social circles have been set in stone since elementary school? And what will it take to make Bob Floyd see you’re not as bad as he wants to believe you are?

Ruin the Friendship by @withahappyrefrain

The night before Bob leaves for Boot Camp, he’s learned no one has gone down on his best friend. He’s determined to fix that.

International Bob Floyd Fucks Month Masterlist

a january writing event hosted by @/attapullman

Bob from Stats by @/attapullman

College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.

[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

More of the brain worm that has taken me over, gonna probably post it to Ao3 here before too long. Already got another part started and so many ideas for additional stuff, someone please send help I've been consumed by this thing lol

Sorry if Waller seems out of character, outside of fandom I'm mostly familiar with her through Justice League the animated show & Justice League: Unlimited and her vibe there has always struck me as "deeply incredibly unlikable character that also kind of has a point but also has done so much fucked up shit in the name of her goals that you don't really care about her point anymore." So you know, complicated lol. If she's completely unrecognizable let me know, but I'm hoping she feels at least somewhat like Waller.

Forgot to say this in the last update, but still feel free to use all this as an overly long prompt if yall want. Literally anything I throw out to the void should be treated as a prompt lol If there's anything at all interesting to you in any of this nonsense go for it <3 <3 <3

---

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Ruthless, heartless, vicious, cruel.

She’d been called it all. Wore the words thrown as insults as a badges of pride and valor. Because at the end of the day, when it came to the problems she was given to face, the issues she was meant to solve, those words meant she’d done what others had been too squeamish or cowardly to do. Life was a never ending slog of trolley problems and she the only one unshakable enough to pull the levers that needed pulling.

It wasn’t so simple as a matter of greater good.

Greater good was what the weak willed muttered to themselves after having feelings over doing the bare minimum. A justification used by people on all sides to do what they wanted with fractured, faulty logic thrown around like truth was a thing immutable. To assuage their guilt when they were forced to make a call they didn’t want to.

It wasn’t a matter of greater good. It was a matter of preservation. Of protection. Of digging through the filth to find the threats skittering beneath and crush them with ruthless abandon. Of facing a god and not blinking because if you did it could cost the world.

Of doing what needed to be done, no matter how underhanded or atrocious it was.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the throat of something that could threaten to destroy it all.

When the Ghost Investigation Ward had been shoved her way with it’s sucking wound of a budget, it’s bloated incompetent staff, its asinine methods she’d seen a rotted limb in need of hacking off. It hadn’t been until she’d been conducting her inspection, digging through the trash for a few pearls of effective agents she could snatch up and put to work elsewhere, that she’d truly seen what they were working on. The potential.

Potential to better arm themselves with in the forms of the strange new weapons being created.

Potential for threats far greater than anything even she had thought possible before.

The GIW as it had been when she’d first come across it was a fetid waste of time and resources. A laughing stock agency only secret because no one took them seriously enough to look. Made stupid and useless with its own conceited delusions of importance it didn’t actually have. Yet.

She went to work on it. Hacking away as she’d originally intended, but this time with a different goal in mind. She ripped out the weeds with bare, calloused hands and planted proficiency and loyalty in their place. She took over as director herself, tossing the self-aggrandizing fool that had been running the place into the ground to the dogs as the culprit for misappropriate spendings, saving the agency by tweaking things until their ballooning budget was pinned neatly onto the former director as an embezzling charge.

Then she got to work.

The Fentons were brilliant, if entirely insane. But Amanda could work with that. She’d reigned Harley Quinn in - more or less - she could do the same to the two deranged scientists that so eagerly wanted to be apart of the fight against the dead. Especially when the benefit came in the form of the inventions they threw together so easily, especially when those inventions were weapons.

It took very little to get them on board with her plans for the GIW. Keeping their focus could be a chore, at times, but she didn’t even have to really do much in the way of pressing to get them back where she wanted them. They craved knowledge and understanding nearly as much as they craved the eradication of the entities themselves. Letting them have the first look at a new subject here, free reign over a vivisection there, it took so little to fuel their fervor and keep them busy working on the projects she set for them.

Things had been going smoothly.

For a time at least.

Until Phantom.

He’d been the main focus of the previous director’s attention, the big fish he’d so desperately wanted to catch and put up on his wall. Amanda wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a tempting prospect, but not one she’d put above the other projects she had set in motion since taking over. No, Phantom was powerful, enough to be a real problem one day, but she could the awkward youth in the way he held himself, the inexperience in how he handled situations. She had time to get everything else in order before focusing on getting Amity Park’s would-be hero brought to heel.

And he would be brought to heel. One way or another.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the Core of a fledgling god and bending him to her will.

An artifact, old an powerful, recovered with some effort. A means of controlling specters, of chaining them to the will of the artifact’s wielder. Dangerous in the wrong hands. Dangerous in the right hands.

It was shattered, and even whole and functional Phantom was resistant to its power. But Amanda Waller prided herself in her ability to see the potential in things. It could be repaired, be made better. Even gods could be bound, be made to kneel, with the right pieces, with the right application of force.

It was just a matter of time to gather everything needed.

Phantom didn’t know he could single handedly destroy every last member of the Justice League. The baby fat, the innocent eyes, the split-second hesitations when he fought. He knew enough to be confident in fighting the usual ghosts that haunted Amity Park, but he still very much saw himself as a little fish. Maybe it was the part of him that was still Daniel Fenton, gangly teenager not quite sure what he was truly capable of yet.

She had time before the Fenton’s son truly became an issue. Time to judge if his parents’ obsessiveness would overcome their - rather shoddy, by Amanda’s estimation - parental instincts and continue to hunt him once they knew the truth. Time to get as much out of them as she could before hand, should they falter at the idea of attacking their own son. Time for the staff to be repaired and returned to working order, to get the other items needed for the truly big fish hidden on the other side of the veil between worlds.

She had time.

Until she didn’t.

Pariah Dark had not been something she thought she’d have to account for - not yet, at least.

If he wasn’t already dead, she’d ring the Ghost King’s neck with her bare hands. His arrival had opened Phantom’s eyes to what he was capable of, of just how big of a fish he was. Worse still, Phantom’s defeat of the war mongering King changed the state of play. Phantom was no longer an impressively powerful half dead teenager.

He was King Infinite.

He was an Ancient.

He was getting on her last damn nerves.

Phantom’s rogue gallery were now firmly under the boy’s control. Still distinct nuisances around Amity Park, but no longer considered true concerns. They were loyal to their boy king, delighting in ruffling his feathers but never crossing the line into treason or attempted regicide. Which meant that the GIW was the only thing that held his attention.

Amanda took the time to send a care package to the former GIW director in his tiny, dank prison cell. As thanks for his carelessness in revealing to the entire town - both living and dead - of the agency’s existence and their intentions. Had he stuck to standard protocol, Phantom would have been none the wiser to their presence. Would have scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders at the ghost that went missing upon occasion. Would have been boredly uninterested in the people his parents had begun working with. Would have been taken by surprise when they finally came for him.

But no.

No that self-obsessed, fame chasing imbecile had to go and announce to everyone and their dead mother that the GIW existed and exactly what it was they were in Amity Park to do.

Phantom knew what they were there to do.

They could only count on his naive certainty that he could broker peace with them for so long.

Peace. As if he and his people weren’t the invading force, the monsters slipping in through the cracks between worlds, the latest threat that had to be accounted for. As if he himself hadn’t rent their world asunder himself in another world, another time. No. Peace was not something they could hash out with this baby-faced monarch with his too-big crown. Peace was the assurance of safety, security. Of control of the situation.

There could be no peace.

The higher ups were somehow surprised when Phantom took that to mean there would be war.

Amanda Waller was not.

The Fentons, as suspected, took the right side when all was revealed. Steady hands and flinty eyes as they crafted the weapons that would be needed for the coming fight. Minds even sharper in their maddened grief, hearts set on revenge for the son lost and the entity that stole his face and friends and sister in his garish pretense at humanity. They were blinded to the reality of the situation in its entirety, the potential in what their son truly was, but at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. They did what she needed them to do, they could believe whatever it was they wanted so long as they did.

By the time the boy king and his armies marched upon the Amity park facility, preparations had been put into place. The base in Amity had been stripped back to bare essentials, everything of importance moved to more secured locations.

The weapons labs.

The artifact.

The girl.

All tucked well away from the front lines where Phantom and his motley crew could not reach. Their time to be put in play would come, but not yet. First she needed to gauge what Phantom and his people were capable of, what they were willing to do in the name of what they wanted. Amity Park was a pawn well sacrificed on that front. As were the other facilities she’d left easy to find.

The problem with making children gods, with giving them crowns and calling them King and giving them armies to play with, was that they thought there should be rules. That even in the trenches tearing apart their enemies, there was a certain level of playing fair that everyone was held to. They thought there was a way the world worked, of how things should be that blinded them to more effective options even as time stretched on and desperation set in.

It was the Dead’s problem though, not hers.

She reached out to the Justice League. Sour faced, unhappy, bitterly reluctant to accept that she needed their help. Stone faced and barely containing their rage at what little they knew of the situation, they agreed to a meeting.

She didn’t let herself smile until she was well and truly alone in her office.

Greater good. A lie people told themselves. A fairytale told to children. A means of convincing the weaker willed that they had no choice, that they had a noble duty to bend to. A belief that could be wielded like a weapon if the fantasy of the idea had dug in deep enough. And there were few it had dug into so deep as the members of the Justice League.

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands clenched tight on a victory long in the making.

---

Part Four

[instant-delusions]

OH MY GOSH are you a rafayel lover too 😭 i swear, i love him so much! and im happy that l&ds comnunity is growing here that a new ff of raffy is posted everyday when i refresh the tags! im glad u seem enthusiastic to accept requests 😔 my raffy brainrot is so bad i need my fix!

can i request? we know rafayel has some sort of "abandonment issues" and we know where it stems from and how it manifests (where he says mc can do what they want as long as they come back to him or let him know what they're doing 😭) and imagine that mc GENUINELY forgets bc she's tired from all the work as a hunter, and when she meets raffy again, he's quiet and she's trying to prod a word out of him but he won't budge cuz he's hurt 😭 and u can go on from there! aargh i love hurt/comfort so much.

happy valentines!! (in advance) 😔🎊🎂

YES rafa is my babygirl. my muse. my glubglubglub. my everything. HE'S SUPER RELATABLE TOO ??? HELP my abandonment issues are literally the same, I'm almost offended 😭😭💔 tysm for the request & happy early valentinesss 💓💓💓

ʟᴏ$ᴇʀ=ʟ♡ᴠᴇʀ !

rafayel x reader

cw: burn-out like symptoms, wounds/blood, arguing, cursing, hurt & comfort

𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧𓇼

6:00 a.m., you skimmed over rafayel's last message and told yourself to reply later - of course, as fate does, a super strong wanderer appeared which occupied you for an excruciating, multiple hour long fight. it was night when you returned home, stripping off your uniform and throwing your gun on the kitchen counter. You barely made it to bed, soaking your sheets in a bit of blood before completely passing out.

it was noon when you woke up again and evening when you were done with your report and bandaging your wound. finally, you were able to check your phone, and it doomed on you. rafayel's message stayed unreplied. you scrolled down his other three texts.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

11am rafa: are u ok?

12am rafa: (y/n), can I come over?

1pm: are u serious? not this again.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

you furrowed your eyebrows in regret, but exhaled painfully right after. your wound opened again.

you were forced on another, quicker mission that night, but it still left you exhausted, your former wound nagging at you still. once again you came home late, passed out, and woke up around noon. opening your phone, there were no new messages.

quickly, you pressed the call button and were shocked to find the artist wasn't picking up.

𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧𓇼

5:00 pm y/n: hey, sry rafayel. work has been a lot lately.

5:01 pm y/n: I'm rlly sorry

𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧𓇼

wincing, you sat down, your heart beating anxiously for some reason. 'what if this is it? I broke his promise. there's no reason for him to stay. it's fair, but I need him around. because...'

because you like him. it's selfish, you want him around although you barely fill his needs. suddenly, a very familiar dark cloud forms in your stomach and you feel depressed. deeming another relationship ruined by your work, you open social media to drown out the silence.

several hours passed until a knock at your door ripped you out your daze. quickly, you got up and open it. "rafayel." you say, his name coming out almost like a sigh of relief before you could register it. he was dressed in his white shirt, and white pants adorned with an intricate silver belt - he looked put together as always. you, on the other hand, were in an oversized tee, messy hair and deep eyebags with chapped lips. "hi." he simply greeted, making his way into your apartment.

you followed him, breathing anxiously at his unreadable aura. "listen, rafayel - I'm sorry, I wanted to reply and text you but.."

"you forgot." he replied, crossing his arms. there was a look of hurt and disappointment in his face. "it's not that simple." you argued, breathing in to continue, but he emotionally cut you off. "it is, though. (y/n), if you'd like me enough, a simple task like keeping me updated would be easy."

"rafayel. I like you, I like you a lot but..." you breathed in deeply, the harshness of his words getting to you enough to make your eyes teary. defeated, you sat down on your couch, burying your face in your hands. "these past days have been a lot, I could barely take care of myself and most of the time I was either fighting, passed out or tending to my wounds..." you trailed off weakly - due to your eyes being covered, you couldn't see rafayel's eyebrows raising in shock at your reaction, his arms slowly sinking.

"I swear if I'd have a normal life, I'd text you regularly, but it's not." slowly, you raise your head to meet his eyes - yours were puffy and red, tears streamed down your face. rafayel stayed silent, waiting for you to continue.

"it'd be selfish of me to wish for you to stick by me while i don't fulfill your needs, i know i'm not a good...friend. I try to do my best, rafa. you mean a lot to me, but i understand if you want to leave. you deserve someone better."

at this point, tears were streaming down your face freely, and soft sobs escaped your throat. rafayel lowered his gaze, afraid he'd sink to his knees and beg for forgiveness instead. after a while, he sat next to you, slowly intertwining his fingers with yours and brushing his thumb across your hand as he watched your body move with your sobs. "(Y/N), there is not a single part of you that is selfish."

gently, he holds your cheek and makes you look at him. his hand remains there as he continues talking.

"rather, it is me who is selfish. i crave your attention and validation, and feel hurt if i don't receive it. i'm sorry for being petty, i should've come over sooner. and..."

rafayel moves his hand to wipe away your tears and softly kisses your forehead, he smiles as he hears you breathe out softly.

"i could never bring it over my heart to part from you."

you gaze into his rich, magenta eyes and feel your heartstrings pull towards him. it's as if there were a bridge between your chests. closing your eyes, you feel your love for him blooming in the valleys of your bloodstream and bubbling out of your skin, and it weirdly feels as old as millenia, as if you'd known this love all your life, and all the lives you lived before.

"i'm glad." you smiled wobbly, "i feel the same." with a sigh, you leaned your head on his shoulder and let your body relax.

"i dunno how to feel about you calling us 'friends', though."