#THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!

[erwinsvow]

uuuh love the kook!best friend idea??? the trio would be so overprotective of her??? at keggers she would just make small talk with some pogues and they'll be 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️like right next to her!

- 🔮

rafe is getting weirdly possessive over you, you think for a moment, standing near the keg and waiting patiently for your turn to get a drink. you don't think he's ever been so.... territorial. or maybe he has been, and you've just been ignoring it, thinking that he's been a really good, really close friend—looking out for you the way he does.

you can feel eyes burning holes into the back of your head, three sets of eyes in particular. your friends are funny—charmingly stupid, annoying arrogant, and a whole host of other things, but they've always been funny. it's why you guys get along so well, you return their jokes and comments at the same pace, more often than not even cracking jokes that make rafe break his stoic facade.

but he has been, you reflect, stepping up to whichever pogue is pouring the beer today—breaking his facade. you thought you were going a little crazy, thinking that he's actually being nicer to you, until kelce and top comment on it too. even today, he picked you up from your place first, letting you crawl into the front seat even though the other boys complain about being smushed in the back endlessly. he complimented your dress, even asked if it was new, which it was. he even got you your first drink without you asking for it, the strawberry seltzer that you're sure the pogues hosting didn't have lying around.

you feel surprisingly giddy about it—after all, you're still a girl, still their newer friend. like any other girl, you worry your new friends won't like you or that there's some ulterior motive going on. rafe's being a little weird, but he's always thinking about something that he doesn't talk about until days later. you think it'll pass like it always does.

"ah, ah," the blond pogue boy says—the cute one some of your girl friends buy weed from occasionally, when rafe can't deliver. "what's the magic word?"

you giggle at his antics, your worry about rafe floating away. you keep chatting with him, reaching in for the red cup twice, that he pulls up and over his head—impossible for you to grasp.

fifteen feet away, rafe watches jj tease you with the beer cup, jaw clenching while top and kelce see what he's staring at.

"see, boys. now that is not okay." he gestures to you with the cup in his own hand, watching your tiny dress ride up as you jump to get your beer from jj. "that pogue is disrespectin' our girl."

"rafe, i think it's just a joke-" top interjects, but he gets interrupted himself.

"nah, nah, man. these pogues. they think it's funny. i'll show him funny. c'mon." rafe stalks over, and the two boys follow. you don't notice but jj does, lowering the cup and staring at something—or someone—behind you.

"havin' fun, huh?" rafe questions, and you spin around. the jerk scared you—kelce and top surrounding you like bodyguards.

"guys, what are you-"

"i think she's all set, pogue. you can fuck off now."

"don't you have some store to rob?"

"guys, c'mon, it's a beer-"

"it's alright, princess, i see these three musketeers have an issue, so i'll just catch you around, hm?"

jj walks away, leaving the beer he poured for you on the log. you smile apologetically at him, fist clenching in anger at your stupid, stupid friends.

"you idiots. what the hell was that? i can't even talk to someone now-"

"what the hell's that mean, i'll catch you around?" rafe says, cutting you off. "you talkin' to that pogue?"

you pick up the beer and splash it over rafe's head.

"no, you asshole. it's a figure of speech and we live on the same island. jesus christ."

[unnamednarrator]

rockland always felt very second chance romance everlark to me

broke your every heartbeat

‘I’m glad you came,’ I say, taking a step towards her.

One corner of her mouth quirks up. ‘You only turn twenty-one once.’

surprise! gracie song everlark oneshot! now see, if you had excellent taste like me & anon you would get how culturally significant this was!

thanks for beta reading this on super short notice @thesunpersists 💗💗

read on ao3 now

[thevalkyriesshadow]

🦴 for Azriel

🦴 I think it’s broken...for Azriel

Oh anon, I put Az through the ringer in this

TW: for depictions of broken bones and small medical procedures

I'm practicing my whump so send me any tips or tricks so I can give you all the best gwynriel whump of your life 😈

Also this may or may not have turned into a two parter soo.....

💖 Enjoy! 💖

The cold, blustering winds batted the strands of hair that fell from Gwyn’s braid. The sounds and smells of battle assaulted her senses. The fae Courts fought the fae from Rask. 

The war they'd been preparing for was in full force. 

Every court was working day and night to rally their warriors. After the Raskan’s first attack on the Dawn Court where they destroyed the Palace on the eastern coast, forcing thousands of fae to evacuate and running either inland or into Day Court. 

A High Fae meeting was called immediately and a plan was hatched.

Each court was to have a unified force ready to defend the coast at a moment’s notice. The Valkyries and Illyrians were ordered to split up and send out six separate battalions that would aid the other courts in their war efforts. Day sent a legion of Pegasus scattered along the coast. Autumn Court infantry, known for their brutal hand to hand fire fighting, were sent in droves. Winter Court sent two giants and bear riders to each court’s front. Summer Court provided each coastal front a fleet of ships. Wild beasts hid and waited to pounce out in every woods along the eastern seaboard. 

The Illyrians and Valkyries had been training together for two years before the order, a short time for the span of their lives, but they moved together with the practice of a hundred years. They had to. Or else everything they loved, their homes, would be gone. The Illyrian’s quarrel with the Night Court was snuffed out with the joint efforts of the Valkyries that led to Azriel’s newfound leadership amongst them. They trained long and hard, combining their fighting techniques in unique ways. Making them a formidable front. The assault from the Eastern lands was brutal, quick, and unforgiving. Their ships loomed on the horizon. Never sailing in further or making a move. Just waiting. 

All along the coast this was reported. The day they moved, was the day everything kicked off. 

That was yesterday morning. They’d fought all day and into the night. Now, on the dawn of the second day, things seemed to finally be coming to an end. The fae of the courts appearing victorious. Gwyn wiped the sweat and dirt, and blood from her face and glanced around. Nesta and Emerie were back to back, facing a small group of eastern fae, easily handling them.

Gargoyles soared above. Their massive bodies, formed with rock from the eastern mountains, dwarfed the Illyrian warriors who fought them. Cassian was cutting through the stone beasts effortlessly, his sword and magic blazing left and right.

And Azriel….

Where was he? 

Gwyn didn't see the brilliant blue streaks flying through the air, didn't see the wisping tendrils of shadows thwarting enemies. 

Her heart raced. Her stomach turned.

There.

There he was. Popping in and out of the shadows of the low clouds that hung in the dark gray skies. A winter storm was rolling in, looming like a massive beast over the ornate, white stoned castle between the Winter and Autumn Courts where they fought - The very center of the battle.

With battle dissipating around them, Gwyn took a moment to breathe and watch Azriel, her mate, soar through the sky and fight every single foe effortlessly. Azriel may not realize they’re mates yet, but every fiber of her being knew it. She could feel his triumph through the bond as he knocked another gargoyle to the ground.

Gwyn looked away for one moment when she felt it, searing pain running through the bond and filling Gwyn with dread.

She spun back around searching the skies. Her heart leapt in her throat, her stomach dropping as she watched a gargoyle - who had Azriel in its stony hands - throw the Shadowsinger through the air. He slammed against the castle wall near them, pain shot through the bond again.

Then Azriel fell.

Gwyn waited for one heartbeat, but the Shadowsinger didn’t return.

She turned swiftly and ran over the ridge behind the battlegrounds where the Valkyrie’s pegasi were kept. Her mare stepped out from the equestrian group, as if sensing its rider was close. Her long, dark gray mane swayed in the breeze, her charcoal wings flapped behind her. The muscles rippled under the powerful body as the white and gray speckled mare ran towards Gwyn.

Fear. Pain. Helplessness.

She was feeling all of Azriel’s anguish, his emotions. It pulled at her like a tether, urging her to run faster to push harder. 

“Fly Mistie, Vilya!” 

Gwyn guided Mistie to the castle, towards the steep precipice Azriel fell into. The pegasus swooped down gracefully and with stunning speed, following Gwyn’s touch on the reigns with immaculate precision.

She pushed through the bond, feeling for any sign of him. 

A pulse.

A small twinge on the bond. She followed it, pulling Mistie down further to the snow covered logs and earth below. To the dark shadow that lay crumbled amongst the fallen branches from trees above. 

Gwyn’s heart pounded against her chest, in her ears. He wasn’t moving, his siphons a soft glow. She dismounted before Mistie had even fully touched the ground, and began to climb over the logs and branches to Azriel. To her mate.

“Azriel…AZRIEL!” Her panic began to rise, to crest as the Shadowsinger made no movement. She’d know. She’d know if he was dead. She’d feel it.

Another faint pulse through the bond. “I’m here, Azriel - I’m here!” She tried to control the fear that rippled through her - her fear, and Azriel’s…

She jumped over a large tree trunk, landing gracefully on her feet and stilled. 

Azriel lay face down, his wings and limbs all at odd angles. Gwyn stumbled forward onto her knees, next to Azriel, placing delicate hands on him.

“Azriel,” She breathed. Azriel sobbed, relief washing over her through the bond, an all encompassing feeling that wrapped around her and she felt her fear begin to eddy away. 

“I’ve got you, shadowsinger - I’ve got you.” Tears slid down Gwyn’s cheeks as she assessed the situation. If she could roll him out from between the two small tree trunks he landed on, she could get him flat on his back -

Gwyn reached for Azriel’s right arm and hip, but as she applied pressure to pull, he screamed, his hands clenched into fists.

“Sorry -” her voice wavered as the pain washed over her as well.

“I think it’s broken…” Azriel gritted out.

“What is?”

He breathed heavily and grunted as he tried moving his right wing, “Everything…everything on my right side.” He winced.

She looked closer at his extremities. His elbow was bent at an odd angle and although she couldn't see any broken bones, his leathers were torn along his upper thigh, a deep cut underneath. Then there was his wing. It was crushed, crumbled against him. The beautiful curve and slope of it mangled. His other wing hung limply over the trunks and logs. 

“Okay - I’m going to need to splint your wing before pulling you off the logs. It’s going to hurt for a moment, but then I’ll be able to heal you after we set and tend to your injuries.”

Azriel took a few deep breaths, his brows furrowing. His amber eyes were swimming with anguish until he looked up at Gwyn and nodded. Only assuredness gleaming back at her. 

“Do it,” he ground out.

Gwyn didn’t hesitate. She tore her cape off and ripped a few thin strips, using them to hold his broken wing steady. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the branches beneath him and groaned through his clenched jaw as she moved his wing, setting it into a stable position and wrapping it firmly. 

This time, when she went to turn him over, she placed a flat palm on his chest, the other his middle, Gwyn heaved Azriel off the debris that littered the ravine floor. He let out an agonizing cry that echoed all around them. With Azriel tightly in her arms, his back to her chest, she walked slowly backwards, pulling the shadowsinger with her. His sobs and groans of pain shot straight through her, chilling her veins and seizing her heart. 

She pressed the side of her face to his, “I’ve got you. Just a few more steps.” His scarred hands clutched at hers, wrapping around her wrists. Steadying himself. 

They were both panting as Gwyn set him down. She rushed over to Mistie and tugged her healer’s kit from the saddle, her bedroll, and waterskin.

She placed the bedroll beneath Azriel’s head and tore more cloth from her cape for his arm. She silently thanked the gods for all the available wood to use. Finding two sturdy sticks Gwyn gingerly handled his elbow, placing the sticks on either side of his swollen and crooked arm. 

Azriel watched her with intensity, marking every move she made. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, wincing as she slid the fabric of her cloak beneath his arm. 

“Yes. Well, comparatively - I got hit a few times, but I’m okay,” she replied, tying off the makeshift sling around his shoulder. She shuffled back to tend to his leg. The wound wasn’t gushing blood, thank the gods. It had just missed the major arteries, and her healing may negate the need for stitches.

Grabbing the fabric, she ripped open the leg of his pants and gasped. Realizing now that the deep gash was in fact due to his upper femur breaking. Gwyn could just make out the white of jagged bone protruding from beneath layers of muscle and skin.

“That bad?” he asked.

“Well, you were right. Everything is broken and you’ll need stitches.” She grabbed the healer’s kit, pulled out the gauze, and pressed it against the wound. Azriel cried out, his back arching at the pain. 

He let out a breathy chuckle, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were enjoying my pain, Berdara.”

She smiled, grateful he still had his humor, “Only now that I know you’re alive,” she teased. She uncorked her waterskin and poured the water over his wound, washing out the dirt and debris that gathered in the sinews of muscle that showed. Azriel hissed in. His fists clenching at his sides. 

Working quickly, she pushed his legs together and wrapped the remaining fabric of her cloak around his legs, binding them.

“How are you going to get us out?” Azriel asked as Gwyn kneeled next to him, placing a hand on his chest, the other just under his ribcage.

“We’ll figure that out after I heal you. I’m pretty spent so It won’t be much, but it’ll at least help you feel a little better.”

Azriel lifted his good hand then, placing it on top of the one she had laying on his abdomen. Her gaze drifted up to his and he smiled, “Thank you, Gwyn - for a moment,” his words wavered and cut short. He cleared his throat and held her hand tighter, “For a moment I thought nobody saw me fall and I’d be - I’d still be sprawled on a stack of sticks bleeding out, alone…” Tears swam in his eyes.

Gwyn reached up, cupping his face in her hand. He sighed into the touch, his tears pooling under her fingers. She leaned forward, resting her forehead to his, “I’ll always come for you, Azriel.”

She went to pull away, but his hand came up to hold the back of her head, pulling her back down to him. She met him with no resistance, their lips crashing into each other’s. 

It was soft and sweet, that first touch of their lips. Until it wasn’t and it was all consuming and greedy, passionate, like it was their first and last kiss ever. His fingers curled in her hair, her hand, now free, slid up his torso and came to rest on his chest as their kiss deepened. 

The bond pulsed and expanded, growing bright between them, tugging relentlessly at their souls.

Gwyn pulled back, their mouths a hairsbreadth apart. Their breaths mingled together in the cold air and she could’ve sworn she heard music between them.

Azriel’s cheeks were flushed, tears and adoration welling fresh in his eyes as he gasped out, “Mate.”

To be continue…

Surprise! The mate thing just kind of happened and then I decided this needed to be a two-parter…👉👈 hope that’s okay anon 👉👈 …the next part will be full of caretaker!Gwyn! 😉  ​tehe

[arvandus]

Helloooo~

This goes without saying but congrats on your followers and you deserve every single one and more 🖤

For your follower event may I request Alkaline By Sleep Token with either Inumaki (jjk) or Dabi (mha) whichever one you’re feeling- dealers choice!! Tysm and as always- thank you for writing amazing things!

Inumaki didn’t know what to do with you. You were a wrinkle in his organized life, an anomaly that caused his mind to glitch whenever you were near.  You were a distraction, a problem, and yet he couldn’t deny that a deep, secret part of him enjoyed it. There was something about you that brought color into his world of sorcery and curses, that eased the crease that rested between his furrowed brow and lightened the weight of his shoulders.

You liked him; he knew it in how you acted around him, the way your gaze always caught his with your affection for him framed in the laugh lines around your eyes.  It was evident in the way your hand lingered on his arm when you touched him, in the closeness of your body when you stood next to each other.

It both terrified and excited him.  It made his mind fog over, made his eyes stare too long at the shape of your lips, and his flesh to goosepimple at the feel of your fingers against his skin.  It was a guilty pleasure, and torturous.  So very, very torturous.

Because he could never bring himself to give in, to reciprocate your affections. Not with the cursed speech tattooed across his tongue, a cage of lines and circles that kept him isolated, separate from others.  It forced the burning words of love and wanting to sit behind his teeth, souring his palette until he thought he would choke on them.

Inumaki would have to learn to be content with what he had (or in this case, didn’t have).  You were with him now, as a friend, and it was enough.  It had to be enough.  That was what he told himself, at least.

Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t a sentiment you shared.

It was a star-filled, cloudless night as you two sat upon the rooftop.  Inumaki often came up here by himself to enjoy some alone time, and to relax from the constant pressure of having to be cautious with his speech.

Except this night, you had found him.

“Can I join you?” you asked.

He didn’t have the heart to say no, despite his logical brain warning him of the dangers, so he nodded.

You sat yourself by his side and looked up at the stars.  You didn’t engage in conversation; you didn’t ramble about your day, talk his ear off, or force him to answer questions he couldn’t answer.  Instead, you were quiet company, and Inumaki felt himself shift from alert to relaxed within a matter of minutes.

After a long while, you finally spoke, your voice quiet so as to not disturb the night.

“I see why you like to come up here...” you commented as you stared at the sky.

“Salmon,” he affirmed.

“Thank you for letting me be here.”

He stared at you for a long moment, the tips his fingers humming with the desire to follow the curve of your jaw, to memorize the angle to memory.  Instead, he returned to gazing up at the night sky as he fought the flush that threatened to creep across his cheeks and paint his ears in the moonlight.

After some time, he began to stand in preparation for leaving, allowing his body language to speak for him. Let’s go in.

But instead of following him, your hand reached out to his, your fingers interlocking.  “Please... can we stay just a little longer?” your voice was soft, your eyes slightly downcast.

Inumaki returned to his seat next to you, his eyes watching you carefully.

You sighed as you fiddled with your fingers.  “I guess... I wasn’t entirely honest about my reason for joining you... but there’s something I wanted to talk about.”

Inumaki’s heart skipped two beats before quickening to a battle drum pace beneath his rib cage.  No... surely you weren’t going to...

“Toge, I—”

“Stop.”

Your words stuck in your throat and you stared at him in shock, your eyes brimming with hurt tears. He’d used his cursed speech on you.  You, his best friend, stripping you of your agency.

Inumaki instantly cursed himself.  “Caviar...” Shit.

He hadn’t intended to use the ACTUAL word.  But he panicked, and it escaped out of his mouth before he could catch himself.

This was all wrong.  It was all going wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this at all.

You stood up to leave, but his hand shot out to catch your wrist.  You turned to look at him, and he could only hope that the apology in his eyes was loud enough for you to understand.

I’m sorry.  Stay.

Through some blessing, you understood and sat back down; but Inumaki’s cursed speech was still in effect.  He needed to release you.

“Speak.”

“I love you.” The words blurted out of your mouth before you could shape and mold them to your liking, yanked forth by the power of his cursed speech.

You stared at each other dumfounded – none of this was going how either of you had hoped.

This was why Inumaki never spoke.  There was too much room for error, and the consequences could be far worse than a love confession.

Your eyes began to water as you looked down in shame.  “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this...” you whispered. “I didn’t mean... I didn’t want to...”

Guilt twisted every nerve in Inumaki’s body, and all he wanted was to figure out how to fix this, how to make it right.  He kept your hand in his and placed it on his chest as his other hand tilted your chin up to look at him.

“Tuna.”  Look.

You did, your eyes meeting his.

“Tuna mayo.”

Your face scrunched up in puzzlement.  To communicate his point, he let his thumb lightly ghost over your lips, his gaze soft. Your mouth parted slightly as you gasped.

“... Really?” you asked.

Inumaki nodded.  A slow smile spread across his lips, and he tapped his own lips with his index finger.

“Whaaa?” you flushed.  “Here?  Now?”

“Salmon.”

Your heart was dancing somewhere between your chest and your throat.  You leaned in towards him and he waited patiently.  But you hesitated halfway, your lips inches from his, as you began to second guess yourself.  Were you sure that’s what he meant?  What if you translated it wrong? What if he meant something else-?

Your thoughts were cut short when Inumaki closed the remaining distance between you, his lips capturing yours.  You leaned into it, allowing the soft feel of his mouth to chase away your doubts, like the sun chasing a morning fog, leaving nothing but warmth in its wake.  After a moment, he pulled away slowly, his nose inches from yours as he looked into your eyes, his thumb on your chin.

“Tuna mayo.” He repeated.

“Tuna mayo.” You replied back.

[literateowl]

hey there, i’m trying to spread some positivity after yesterday’s news, here’s a nice ask for you

what kind of tea do you think is each character’s go to?

Hellooo thank you so much for this delightful question 🩷💜🩷💜

Starting with Marjan because our home girl is probably the QUEEN of tea, like she is of many other things. She likes all of it and definitely has at least a mint plant for cooking and tea brewing, if not more of a little tea/herb garden going on. She has her own Moroccan Mint recipe that she tweaked and experimented with. I also just came up with the hc that she's the reason TK and Carlos have that large box of tea selection when they're setting up to talk to officiants. She gave it to them as a housewarming/glad you're not broken up anymore gift. Also she got almost everyone to expand their tea horizons too.

We know TK and Owen like to drink green tea. And I can totally see Owen with a whole fancy matcha set up that he uses at home on his days off.

TK's favorite is jasmine green or white tea with honey and lemon or Marjan's Moroccan Mint tea (<-that's very cute alliteration I just did)

Carlos also likes a variety but I imagine his favorite is something spiced with cream or milk like Chai or Thai tea

Mateo is obsessed with Marjan's mint tea recipe but he likes it iced and Marjan lets him do it even though she thinks it's weird because he's her little brother now.

Nancy likes a chamomile or Earl Grey blend with vanilla. She adds only a little bit of honey.

Paul's favorite is either ginger tea or sweet tea. Depending on the vibe.

Tommy drinks a hot toddy after a stressful day or when she feels like she's starting to get sick. (Link to a recipe if you don't know what that is)

Grace canonically loves English breakfast (or she did when she was pregnant at least) but she bothered Judd until he got her a peppermint plant too on Marjan's suggestion.

Judd only likes Texas sweet tea. He thinks all hot tea just tastes like grass even though he is polite and will try it again if offered to him.

[figthefruitfaeth]

zoey yknow i GOTSTA ask for some words for caller, you're on air!!! mwah!!

KK!!! and i gladly give it to thee <3 MWAH! an extra long section cause i couldn't bear breaking it up

Caller, You're On Air (chapter one)

The one cardinal rule of music radio is to never let it go dead. That means a song, an ad, a jingle, god even an on-air hold up before silence. To Eddie, who talks even in his sleep, that’s a job he can handle. But, of course, on principle, he does like to push the boundaries.  Eddie kicks at the counter, sending his chair into a tailspin as he introduces the next section of the night. The mics here are pretty good for community radio, but he knows there’s a chance he’s still cutting in and out with every rotation, and an even greater chance that Dug (not Doug, Dug), the station’s night manager, will give him shit for it.  But, in both the good and bad of running an alternative pop-rock emo adjacent community college radio station between the hours of 1am and we-live-in-a-simulation-c’clock, is that nobody fucking cares. Dug—asleep. The approximate three to five people actually listening—so wound up in their own shit that even a perfectly enunciated Eddie comes out as nothing more than static before the show.  So, Eddie spins his chair. Just long enough not to throw up.

[flutter2deceive]

respectful, quiet, passive observers of the truth

when acclaimed murder mystery author nicolas hunter checks in at woodstone b&b, no one knows he won't be checking out. with the local cops barking up the wrong tree, it is up to the ghosts to help sam and jay solve this murder. it makes no damn sense to jay... compels him, though.

My gift for @https-hunter for the Ghosts Fic Exchange 2024! Inspired by Knives Out, and featuring a ton of Ghosts Chaos™️ 👻😊

[giggly-squiggily]

Hello!! I saw that the candy heart event is back so I just gotta make a request to my favorite writer🤗 Do you mind if you could do 💚Cutie & 💙Smile with Reo and Nagi from blue lock?

Aww! Thank you so much anon! I appreciate it! And jlaerjkajklrjaerj Heck yes!!! I really like these two! I've gotcha covered! :D

Cutie: "I'm gonna get you!" + Smile: "I didn't know you were ticklish here!"

“Reo.”

Silence.

“Reo, stop ignoring me.”

More silence. The purple haired soccer player turned his chin up when Nagi tried to peek at him.

“Reo.” Nagi poked his back. Then he poked his shoulder. Then he poked his hip.

“Ah!” Reo yelped, slapping at the hand with a glare. Nagi blinked.

“No way…” He poked again. Then again. Each jab earned him a smack and a glare. “I didn’t know you were ticklish here. Hell, I didn’t know you were ticklish at all.”

“Nagi, stop it!” Reo fumed, turning to catch the pale haired boy’s hands. “I wanna be mad!”

“I don’t want you to be mad.” Nagi responded, easily breaking out of Reo’s grip before pushing him on his back. “I’m gonna get you to stop being mad!”

“No! No, Nagihihihiihiihi!” Reo yelped, his scowl starting to turn into a smile as he pushed at the hands massaging his hips. “Gehehhhet ohohohohoff! I’m ihihihihihgnoohohohring youhuohohohu!”

“Nope. I don’t wanna be ignored anymore.” Nagi climbed up on him, sitting on Reo’s thighs as he clawed at Reo’s belly. “Besides, you’re done ignoring me anyway.”

“Nohohohohoho I’m nohohoohohoohot!”

“Sure you are. If you were really still ignoring me, you’d have left the room when I came in. Instead you huffed. Repeatedly.” Nagi smiled, enjoying the squeaks and squeals he got out of his boyfriend. “I take it you're mad I was face timing Isagi?”

“Shuuhuhuhuhut uhuhuuhhp! Dohoohohohon’t brihihihihng him uhuuhhuup!” Reo whined through his laughter, kicking his feet against the couch cushions.

“Bingo.” Nagi nodded. “If it counts, I was only helping him plan a present for his boyfriend. No need to be jealous.”

“I’m noohoohoohot jehehahahhhahalohohoohohus!” Reo lied through his titter fits.

“Sure you aren't.” Nagi mused, shoving a hand up Reo’s armpit. “Ready to stop ignoring me?”

“FIHIIHIHNE!”

“Wanna watch a movie with me?”

“OHOHOOHKAY!”

“....Can we order pizza?”

“YEHEHHEHS ANYTHING YOU WAHHAHANT NOW STAHHAHAP!”

“Heh, yay.” Nagi smiled softly as he pulled his hands back, giving Reo a much needed break. “Glad to have you back, Reo.” He went to get up, but a hand grabbed the front of his hoodie, pulling him down. “Whoa!”

“Eheh…hehe…sthahay awhile.” Reo huffed, wrapping his arms around Nagi’s body, hugging him close. “I mihihissed you.”

“You’re the one who wouldn’t talk to me.” Nagi rolled his eyes, burying his face into Reo’s shirt with a gentle sigh. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~Send me a pairing and a candy heart phrase~

[demonangelgarden]

"Um, hold up, Astro One."

The space station seemed to constrict around your body, the stale, metallic air scratching your lungs. Your legs ache for the support of the ground, but you make yourself stand still and wait for further instruction, even though every fiber of your being wants to leave.

"We've done a scan of your ship, standard protocol, and we found something. I'm calling for a more thorough investigation."

"Wha...why? For what?"

You hear someone sigh on the other end, and you can practically see the operation rubbing their forehead in exhaustion. It's been a long decade, for everyone involved. All you want is to see your husband again, have some real food instead of the colorless, flavorless shit that you've been consuming.

"We've found an Unidentified, Avery."

Your heart drops into your stomach. The only time Mission Control uses and astronauts real name is when something really goes down. Trying to compose yourself, you nod and inhale another gulp of the rust-tinted air.

"Okay. What do you need me to do?"

"Stay on the ship, Astro. My team is coming on now, and they'll just be searching the area where the blip showed up."

There was a silence on the other end, just a beat too long, so that you start to think they've disconnected.

"Have there been any odd things you've noticed? Any voices, or seeing things that weren't there?"

You think for a moment. You've heard the stories of deep space astronauts who've gone crazy from the loneliness, but you've prided yourself on not joining that club. The only thing you've done to help the loneliness is....

"No, I don't think so. But I have, um, started talking to someone. An imaginary friend of sorts. Just to keep me company."

You wait for the operator to continue talking, to assure you that everything is going to be okay, that you can go home and be with the people you love for a long time. You know that finding an Unidentified on your ship would surely doom you to at least another year on this hellhole, but at the same time, it won't happy. It can't happen.

"Mission Control? You still there?"

The phone was silent.

"Is this imaginary friend a little less than 6 feet tall with red hair?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

Another silence, this time longer.

"Shit."

You’re an astronaut sent on a solo deep space mission. To combat the loneliness, you’ve created an imaginary friend who you interact with every day. Upon finally returning, mission control stops you. An unidentified lifeform has been detected on your ship.

[almondpiglet]

ppl were drawing mikus from all over so heres habesha miku and her lil twin sibs rin and len!!

[kyle1]

Jesus holds hands with trans people during their hrt shots sorry

No apology is necessary. He absolutely does... because HE loves all of [you], but do not disregard that HE also does this -and gives His love in these moments with tears of pain pouring from His firey eyes

-because you are willfully choosing to abuse HIS SACRIFICE , His shed blood, given to absolve you and me both of such sordid mistakes and lessons in morality and faith -just so you could engage with and/or enable the trans-delusion & all the depths of self-hate that you wittingly glorify by doing so...

It breaks HIS heart that you would still choose to hurt yourself when you are so loved and cherished in such ways- because the act of transitioning it is not a spiritual dying TO self, but a vicious, painful, murdering of the Spirit of the self, AND the adopting of a deceptive, false, limiting persona & traditions in a ghoulish reanimation of the dead[name] -specifically meant to spread confusion and sow discord and virtually create hell on earth,

-and furthermore being in every way a vehicle for hitting the mortal accelerator on a fast track to death in a direct, contrarian affront to one of the original laws of the Old Testament in <Deuteronomy 22:5> which have been further expanded on by our salvation from sin by Jesus' death and resurrection ...

Truly, Jesus is for everyone, and God's love touches us all with each and every breath... But you simply cannot bite the hand that feeds and still expect to live a blessed life. There are still rules... And so to all who willfully disregard the times about them~ God have mercy upon your souls. . . unless-

its never too late to repent . .

today..

tomorrow..

a month from now when you call on Jesus begging for a way out of your own life when it doesn't love up to all you've been dreaming of...

Anytime is a good time to come to Jesus.

Sooner is better.

..but Jesus saves.

just call on Jesus' by name. . .

amen. 🙏

[black-quadrant]

sometimes all you need is one passionate person who goes berserk for your work to keep you creating

[obsesssedblerd]

Smau: "I want you back." ☹️❤️‍🩹

The guys getting you back after a breakup. ♥️

(nanami, geto, choso, toji, sukuna, and gojo)

contains: angst w/ happy ending, fluff, a bit of crack

a/n: thank you all so much for 100 followers! here's a little treat. 🥰

[umblrspectrum]

i love learning cursive just to write text for exactly one character

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

At the Emperor’s Word -Viktor x Reader x Jayce

Summary: Sneaking around the academy after hours sounds like a good idea right up until you get caught; then, it becomes a great idea.

Pairing: Dom!Viktor x Sub!Reader x Switch! Jayce

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Explicit (PwP)

Tags: Threesome, Kissing, Handjob, Voyeurism, Obedience Kink, Praise Kink, Slight Cuckolding, Edging, Degradation, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Masturbation, Voice Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Lap Sex, Light Punishment Kink, Big Dick Viktor, Pet Names, Begging, Slight Choking, Vaginal Sex, Teasing, Rough Sex

Notes: A little fashionably late, but here is my absolutely filthy piece in celebration of Viktor’s birthday 🎉!! Viktor, my dearest, thank you for being my beloved husband and the devoted father of our many children. Glorious ovulation everyone ✌️💕.

You try to stifle a chuckle.

“Jayce, we can't-”

He's warm, so warm. You always feel yourself melt under his touch.

“C'mon, just a minute…” he insists.

You can't help but giggle breathlessly as he brings your hand into his pants, a large hand wrapping your fingers around his already half-hard cock. His body presses yours against the workbench, the firm wood digging into your lower back. His other hand slides against the fabric of your skirt, cushioning the strain, and not so subtly placing his palm over your ass.

He nuzzles his face against the top of your head, letting out a pleased groan when your fist starts moving. You suppress another laugh, trying your best to remain quiet, but you're positively enamoured of those sounds he makes when you touch him. Without even seeing his face, you know the content smile hasn't left his lips; he's so easy to please.

He's twitching under your grip, gripping your cheeks to the rhythm of the strokes. You quicken the pace, and he lets out a low moan that echoes through the empty lab.

This wing of the academy is always empty at this time of night, but there's something exciting about having to stay quiet. You can feel how close he's getting, the slight rutting of his hips a now familiar sign. His breath hitches, he's almost there, just a little more-

“I hope I am not interrupting anything.”

You yelp in surprise, pulling out your hand from Jayce's pants so fast your arm hits the wooden desk behind you. Jayce lets out a confused, frustrated shout at the sudden loss of friction as you wince in pain.

There, at the entrance of the lab, stands a looming figure, holding one of the large doors partially open. The light from the corridor obscures his face from the darkness of the lab; but there is no mistaking who this silhouette belongs to.

Viktor makes a single step forward, the metallic sound of his crutch against the tiled floor making you wince, as he lets the door close behind him. The room falls into obscurity again, the pale glow of the moon and the distant city lights only faintly shining through the windows.

“Ah, Viktor!” Jayce almost bellows in an overly cheery tone, walking backwards to put some distance between the two of you. “I- We were waiting for you! Got a bunch of interesting notes about today's experiments to show you !”

Viktor's face is blank, his eyebrows slightly furrowed in cold annoyance. He is neither amused nor does he seem the believe Jayce's jovial act. He nods curtly at the other man's pants, which are obviously, painfully unbuttoned. Jayce cringes as he quickly stumbles to reattach them, sliding the buttons in the wrong slits. You're frozen in place, eyes wide in fear, incapable of looking away from Viktor's frigid expression. But his focus is not on you; it's on Jayce.

“So,” he starts loudly, not bothering with whispers, “You barely spend any time working in the lab anymore. You have not even checked any of the upgrades I have suggested for the hexgates in the last month.” His voice is apathetic and dry, and his eyes narrow when he says the next words:

“And this is what you've been up to?”

Jayce opens his mouth like he's ready to argue, but the glare from his work partner seems to change his mind. He lowers his head silently, like a puppy being scolded. Viktor's golden pupils slide to you, and you now understand exactly why Jayce prefers looking at the floor.

“From Jayce I could expect,” Viktor remarks, the weight of his stare making you shrink, “but from you? I'll admit I'm disappointed.”

You bow your head in embarrassment. Your cheeks are burning, and you know there's no way to pretend like this is only a misunderstanding. You wish you could vanish on the spot.

Jayce, always the hero, comes to your defence quickly: “Viktor, it wasn't her idea-”

“I'm so sorry sir,” you interrupt him, stepping forward. You know Viktor well enough to recognize he's not a fan of poor excuses or avoiding accountability. “I swear this internship means the world to me. I know how many other students dream of working on hextech. It won't ever happen again.”

He seems pleased by your answer, although his expression stays perfectly stoic.

“That's good to hear,” he hums, walking closer to the both of you. He stops a few feet away, a ray of moonlight passing through a coloured beaker catching in his auburn hair. It illuminates him in an eerie, reddish glow, like he's not quite human, almost a phantom. “Well then, do not let me stop the both of you. Keep going, as you were.”

You have to assume he's joking, even if his tone sounds anything but, and you let out a confused, nervous giggle. But he isn't laughing, and neither is Jayce.

“Viktor…” there's uncertainty in the taller man's voice. It's not fear, or alarm, but he's apprehensive about something.

Viktor lets out a small sigh of lassitude, discontent evident. He looks at you again, with these amber eyes that make you feel like the world around you vanishes. Like there's nothing but him, and the words about to leave his lips.

“It would appear my partner is suddenly hard of hearing. Were my instructions unclear to you as well?”

You swallow. Your lips feel dry. Jayce is still unmoving next to you, still as a board, watching your interaction with his lab partner with an uneasy look.

“…No sir,” you mutter, just loudly enough for both men to hear. Viktor gives you the shadow of a smile.

“C'mon Viktor, you've humiliated her enough,” Jayce argues softly, raising his hand in a gesture of peace. But the other man has clearly decided Jayce hasn't gained his favour for the night, barely sparing him an icy glare.

“I do not believe I was talking to you,” he states matter-of-factly. The man of progress makes a strangled sound of protest, clearly insulted, but Viktor seems to have all but forgotten about him, now. It's back to only you and him, and the teasing smile dancing on his lips.

“He's always like this. Begging for attention,” Viktor tells you in a tone of confidence, like the topic of the conversation isn't standing less than a foot away from you with a baffled look on his face. “One has to wonder if he is compensating for something, but I figure you are in a good position to tell, right?”

You can’t prevent the corners of your mouth from lifting at the underhanded jab; Viktor seems emboldened by your reaction, voice louder when he continues:

“I certainly hope he's been more of a gentleman to you than this. Or does he only bend you over in our lab like an animal?”

The comment is enough to pull Jayce out of his stupor, and he raises his arms in protest.

“Hey, I'm not that-” he starts heatedly.

“Jayce.”

It's just his name; nothing else. You've said it to him hundreds of times. But there's something different in the way Viktor says it, the slow pronunciation of the syllables, the hardness of the accent, the deepness of the voice. Whatever it is, Jayce is compelled by it just as much as an order. He stops right in his tracks, his arms falling uselessly back to his side, like a dog listening to a command.

Viktor hums in approval, but his stare is no less punishing.

“I was not talking to you. When it is your turn to speak, you will know.”

Jayce's mouth is slightly agape, his eyes wide, an expression you can't quite read on his face; but he obeys. He stands there like a puppet, unmoving, drinking Viktor's words. You can't help but notice the still present strain in his badly buttoned pants.

The thinner man's gaze softens once more as it falls on you. He makes another step forward; close enough that you could reach him with your hand if you tried. He looks at you encouragingly: “Answer the question, sweet thing.”

The room feels like it's shrunk to barely a tenth of its size. Your breath has become shallow without you noticing. But isn't quite from fear anymore.

“T-twice in the lab before,” you stutter, the embarrassment of recounting your adventures to your direct supervisor burning your cheeks. The arousal in the air is undeniable now, and he's visibly aware of it. “And in the library. Once in my bedroom.”

Viktor hums pensively, studying your answer. It almost feels like you're passing some kind of final exam; the world's most sexually charged exam, undoubtedly.

“So he is aware of the basic notion of privacy behind closed doors, then,” Viktor concludes, the thin smirk now fully on display. “Who would have thought.”

He doesn't look away from your eyes when he finally speaks to the other man again.

“Jayce. How close are you?”

You glance at the taller engineer; he's started palming himself through his pants, his breathing irregular. His hair is dishevelled from your previous activities, and his cheeks are a bright crimson against his caramel skin. He's usually so dominating, on top of things, handling you like a chiffon doll up and down his dick with that cocky smile of his. You've never seen him like this; flustered, desperate, seeming so small despite all of his stature.

“Pretty close,” Jayce almost moans out, voice raspy for exertion. He's biting his own bottom lip so tightly it might start bleeding. “Just a little more.”

Viktor finally gives him a slight smile, though it's dripping with self-satisfaction. He's close enough to you that you can smell him now, that you could brush away the wayward strands of hair on his forehead. His face has been marked by the passage of time and countless hours of work, heavy bags under his eyes, cheeks almost gaudy. And yet, there is no sign of him ever losing control of this moment. Nothing could change the hypnotic power of his eyes, the controlling tone of his voice, or the subjugating effect of his slightly crooked smile.

“I suppose we should oblige,” he suggests lightly, his free hand brushing your cheek. His fingers are thin and lithe, cold against your skin, and you lean into the touch. He gives you a moment to pull away, if you want to; but you don't.

The kiss is slow at first, gentle, just the way little girls dream their prince charming might one day give them. He lets you decide when to pick up the speed, and you initiate after a few seconds by slipping your tongue in his mouth. It's messier, now, teeth clashing every now and then, saliva pooling where your lips meet. He tastes nothing like Jayce, his flavour of dark coffee and fresh mint; Viktor is sweet, like milk and honey, like a slice of lemon cake in the summer heat.

When he pulls away for air, you feel like time has started to move once again, as if you've just emerged from a dream. He's smirking confidently, still, but not entirely unfazed; his pale cheeks have turned pink, his breathing is slightly laboured, and there are traces of smudged saliva on the corners of his mouth.

A foreign whine makes you both turn towards Jayce, who is clearly on the edge of orgasm. He's abandoned any pretence of innocence, his cock fully pulled out of his pants as he rubs it furiously, eyes locked on the two of you.

“Stop,” Viktor only says.

Jayce groans in frantic frustration, slowing his rhythm but incapable of removing his hand. He's harder than you've ever seen him, his tip almost a painful red.

“No, no, c'mon V, don't do this. Please keep going,” he begs, looking at you with pitiful eyes, pleading silently. You want to touch him, to let him touch himself. But you know it's not your decision; it's Viktor's. And he's made his ruling, so you're not about to get on your research director's bad side again.

The head engineer offers a proud smile at your lack of answer to Jayce, the kind he usually reserves for reports submitted in advance or ingenious schematics. You recognize him more like this, strict, but never unappreciative of your efforts. He never forgets to slip a word of encouragement when you're stuck, never hesitates to reread your notes with you when the math isn't quite adding up. The cold anger seems to have fully passed, and now only the teasing, taunting satisfaction remains.

“I believe you may have forgotten that as per her contract, she is my assistant. Meaning she is under my direct command.”

He's looking at Jayce now, whose hand is still wrapped around his length, but unmoving. His cock is twitching in his grasp, desperate as the rest of him. His whole body shifts to the rhythm of his respiration, large shoulders slumped in defeat. Viktor doesn't turn to you when he asks you the following question, choosing instead to stare deeply into Jayce's citrine eyes.

“Is that not correct?”

You don't hesitate with your answer this time.

“Yes sir.”

His focus is still on the other man, but he strokes your cheek again with his left hand. He rests his weight comfortably on his crutch, like he doesn't have a single worry in the world in this moment.

“Good girl.”

You feel yourself tighten at that. That voice could tell you to find a way to harness the power of the goddamn stars before figuring out the hexcore, and you would comply.

“Jayce, could you bring the chair over here? The larger one.”

Viktor points with his chin towards a wooden chair with a flat backing, in a corner of the lab. Jayce looks back and forth between the chair and his partner, like he's unsure if he's joking or testing him. When no additional directions come from Viktor, he sighs in discomfort, clearly disgruntled, unceremoniously shoving himself back in his pants to go fetch the chair. The thinner man hums in appreciation when he brings it back and places it next to him.

“Thank you, Jayce.”

He sits, using his crutch for balance as he shifts slightly to find a comfortable position. His hand leaves the burgundy handgrip, instead settling on the metallic upper section. He looks like the king of a forgotten kingdom, resting on his wooden throne, sceptre in hand. You and Jayce, his obedient consorts, can't do anything but await his next command.

It comes in the form of a simple motion of his hand, beckoning you closer. You only stop when your legs bump against his, standing above him. His fingers caress the fabric of your skirt studyingly, like he's committing the feel to memory. They eventually catch on the waistband, tugging it questioningly. His golden eyes look up at you, the colour of the sunrise etched in his pupils. You nod earnestly in approval, and he lowers the skirt down until it reaches your knees, letting it fall to the floor. You're suddenly very thankful you dressed up this morning knowing you would see Jayce.

The design is simple, a line of flowery lace hugging your hips, and curving to the shape of your ass. It's the kind of thing Jayce loves; he'll even make you keep your panties on sometimes as he fucks you, just pushing the bottom of the fabric to the side to fit himself inside you. It's the lace he can’t resist, you think, the way it barely covers anything and rests against your skin like a present for him to unwrap.

It doesn’t seem to have the same effect on Viktor, but you can tell he’s still appreciative, cold hand sneaking under the lace to squeeze a cheek firmly.

“This is fucking torture,” Jayce groans in complaint, standing still just barely a few feet away. He's obviously aware he's not supposed to interfere with the two of you, or to touch himself for relief, but the glistening sweat on his forehead and down the prominent vein on his neck indicates how difficult this is for him.

“And you should know better than to have sex next to a table covered in explosive materials and one-of-a-kind prototypes,” Viktor retorts, sparing him a slightly displeased glance. “What if you had broken something irreplaceable?”

Jayce seems genuinely embarrassed by that; he may not show it as often these days with how busy he is, but you know he still cares about the academy's research and the state of hextech.

“I'm sorry Viktor. I wasn't thinking…”

“I am aware you were not thinking. And that is exactly the issue. You forget how much of our profession relies on thinking, not talking.”

It's crystal clear that's going to be the end of the conversation, for now. Viktor's fingers slide to your hip, following the shape of the panties until your inner thigh. A small tap with a single digit tells him everything he needs to know.

“Look at this,” he smiles, taunting but affectionate, “Already so wet just from a kiss. Or was it the sound of my voice that did it, I wonder.”

Both, it's both, and every single thing that has happened in this lab since he entered it. You tremble when his finger moves slowly against the damp fabric, not quite oversensitive, but a little on edge.

“I, um-” Jayce hesitantly speaks up from the side. “I fingered her a bit earlier. I… think she should be alright?”

This time, Viktor doesn't reprimand him for talking; he seems surprisingly pleased, eyes boring into yours for confirmation.

“Is that so?” he exhales softly.

You nod breathlessly. Why is it always so difficult to talk when he's studying you like this?

The teasing finger slips under the fabric, gently making its way into you. You let out an involuntary sound of eagerness as he verifies if you've been loosened up, analyzing you with the precision of a machine. He removes the digit with a crooked grin when he judges you've passed, and you whine at the loss; it was barely anything in the first place, but it soothed the feeling of total emptiness in your core.

“Color me impressed,” Viktor declares, half genuine, half mocking. “I do not think I have ever seen Jayce do his work in advance.”

Said man groans in defeated complaint:

“You're turning her against me.”

Viktor lets out a wry snort:

“You do that well enough on your own. You touched her without even making her cum?”

He pats your pussy comfortingly, and you almost sing to the feeling. Your panties get lowered swiftly, and you discard them with little decorum. Viktor's assertive expression has softened enough that you feel emboldened enough to try to join in the banter:

“Jayce thinks foreplay is watching him get undressed. He's not exactly an expert.”

Viktor laughs at that, a charming and genuine sound, and you feel yourself glow with pride. The topic of mockery doesn't seem as pleased, his cheeks red, his lips thin:

“See? Told you. You've already worked your fucking magic on her.”

Viktor starts unbuttoning his pants, the teasing smile still etched on his angular features. His fingers work nimbly, swiftly, with the precision only the best engineer in Runeterra could muster in such circumstances.

“It is not magic, Jayce. Simply talent and practice.”

He does quick work of lowering his pants, just enough to expose his underwear. The confirmation that he is indeed not as unbothered as he still may seem is poking through the fabric. Judging by the defined outline and the sizeable tent, you can instantly confirm a hypothesis you've had since the start of your internship: the Assistant to the Dean of the Academy is packing.

He's not unaware of it either; his golden eyes follow the movement of your own, playfully examining your reaction. It's different from Jayce's endearing ego and constant need for praise; Viktor knows his worth, but he revels in the admiration, the stares filled with awe and devotion.

If Jayce needs to feel worthy, then Viktor needs to feel wanted.

He finally frees his cock from the restrive fabric, letting the member bob slightly. He's not even fully hard, and he's huge, the length imposing, the bulbous tip a pleasant shade of pink. The skin is as pale as the rest of him, blueish veins marking it like porcelain; only a few well-trimmed auburn curls at the base remind you he's not sculpted from actual marble.

Jayce lets out a low, tentatively playful whistle as the other man’s slender fingers wrap around the shaft.

“Flattery will not get you far, Jayce,” Viktor comments absentmindedly. “You and I both know this is nothing you have not seen before.”

He moves his hand in an open, loose fist, evidently without any real intent to finish himself off; not with the way he's made you stand right above him, not with how he's looking right at you. You swallow with difficulty, licking your lips for moisture. The energy between the two of you is tangible, electric, as he keeps working himself tantalizingly slow.

“Darling. Sweet thing. Do you want this?”

You nod vigorously, the words stuck in your throat again.

“Tell me, then. Please. Tell me how much you want this,” he requests, and it's hard to tell whether that's an order or a plea with the way his voice lowers, just barely louder than a whisper.

You feel like you're high, your mind a jumbled mess of adrenaline and lust. There are no sentences that could possibly express how he's got you under his spell. How many times have you imagined a scene like this, in only a year of being his assistant? The stolen glances, the passing touches, you had no reason to believe they were anything more than figments of your lustful imagination. The very idea that he could be the one doubting your interest in him is laughable, and yet his gaze is probing you for a response, his lips parted with bated breath.

“I want this. I want you,” you swear to him, staring back so deeply into the amber irises there could not be a single question left. “Please, sir.”

You bring a hand to the crook of his neck; the coolness of the skin under your palm, the sharpness of his collarbone against your fingertips, the beating of his heart below your thumb. He has to know this is real.

Viktor smiles slightly, the little mole above his lips shifting alongside his dimples.

“I would ask you to be weary of my right leg, then. It is not quite as strong as it used to be, although that is not saying much.”

You've never seen the emotion that crosses Viktor's face in that moment, gone in under a second. It's so subtle one might have missed it; bitterness, regret, defeat. The tragedy of a man brilliant enough to change the whole world, but who wouldn't live long enough to see it. If Janna truly watches over the lost children of Zaun, then she is turning a blind eye to the brightest of them all.

You could say something, try and comfort him, but you choose not to. There's nothing that can be said to change things; there’s only the present, and there are only actions.

You sink down on him slowly, the both of you moaning in unison. You can't help the array of whines escaping your pinched lips. The heat from where your bodies meet is overwhelming, the stretch delightful and filling. He's not fully inside you and you're already wondering how much more you can take. It's dizzying, the pain making you grit your teeth, but you persist, fingers clenching on the back of the chair. When you've fully bottomed out, you let out a shaky breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Viktor soothingly pats your back, and you hang on to him for dear life, wrapping both arms around his back.

“Are you alright?” he whispers softly, worry evident in his voice. You want to answer, but you're quite certain if you open your mouth you'll only get confused gibberish out, because fuck, he's filling you so much it's hard to even think. You shift your grip to his shoulder blades, trying to anchor yourself, absentmindedly noticing the cool feeling of metal under his uniform. You trace the intricate patterns with your fingers to ground yourself, recognizing the shapes of bolts and screws, as you feel your breathing slowly even out

“I’m ok,” you eventually manage to exhale. “I just- need a second“

Viktor makes an understanding hum, his hand caressing the valley of your back like you're doing with his, his strokes mellow. He moves his head slightly to look at Jayce behind you, throwing him an irritated glare.

“So much for your preparations,” he points out with irony.

Without needing to see him, you know exactly the kind of disgruntled face Jayce is making: “She only needs three to fit me, you're just stupid big.”

“I can move,” you interrupt them, the pain now only a vague tingle; all that remains is the yearning for him.

You place both hands on the back of the chair to balance your weight, being careful of Viktor's weaker leg. You bring yourself up slowly, tantalizingly, before letting yourself fall back on his length. There's no other way to describe the broken moan you release than dirty.

“Eh,” Viktor remarks slyly, groaning when you start moving again. “S-she does not seem to think it’s stupid.”

You fuck yourself on him with abandon, fast, rough, not caring of how debauched you may look. If anything, Jayce seems very appreciative if his moans and curses are any indication.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants somewhere behind you, too far to feel his warmth, but close enough to hear he's pumping himself to the same rhythm you're riding Viktor. “You're doing such a good job taking him, princess…”

He's truly begging when he calls the other man's name again, delirious from the unending edging:

“V, please, make her turn to my side, I have to see her face.”

Viktor's hooded eyes bare into yours, his raspy pants echoing through your head as you thrust up and down his length.

“Do you think he is truly sorry, now?” he asks, the ever-teasing glimmer in his pupils shining despite the clear physical effort from his body.

You can't even remember what Jayce has to be sorry for; you whimper a positive ‘huh-uh’. Viktor nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck for a moment, gently bitting the sweaty skin in a surprising hint of possessiveness, but he does finally agree to free Jayce of his torture.

“I will trust your good judgment. You can come here, Jayce.”

You yelp in surprise when two strong but familiar hands suddenly grab you at the waist and turn you around, almost pulling you off Viktor's cock and into a messy kiss. The slight tickle of Jayce's stubble is pleasantly itchy, his tongue desperately searching for more of your taste. You moan wantonly against his mouth when you feel Viktor twitch inside you, but the man under you doesn't seem fully pleased: a thinner but firm hand brings you back against his chest, and he throws Jayce an irritated glare.

“I give you an inch and you take a mile. Typical,” the older man accuses him with a bitter tone, his accent more pronounced, rigid. “You do not get to touch, and you are only allowed to cum on her.”

His lips come to your ear in the ghost of a kiss, velvety smooth:

“Would that be agreeable to you, sweet thing?”

You just know you want to keep going, really; so you do exactly that as a reply.

This position is harder for movement, since without the support of the chair’s back, you would have to rely on putting pressure on Viktor's knees. Thankfully, with Jayce’s proximity, you can use his muscled chest for balance. He certainly doesn't mind being used like this if the expression he’s wearing is any sign: his entire face is crimson, his eyes heavy, laboured breaths escaping his abused lips. He's still following your pace, pumping up and down every time your ass meets Viktor's hip bones. It has to be painful by now, with the way he's been rubbing himself raw for so long without release, but he's either too entranced to care or getting off the burning friction

“So obedient,” Viktor praises you, his free hand moving to your lower stomach, long fingers digging gently into your skin; you wonder if he’s trying to feel himself move inside you. “We might still be able to make a top student out of you. What do you think, Jayce?”

Much like yourself, Jayce seems beyond the capacity for words. He's looking at you like he wants to devour you, like he wants to take you off Viktor's lap and fuck you right on the floor. But you both know he wouldn't do that without Viktor's approval, at the risk of getting on the other man’s bad side again.

Viktor's cock hits a peculiarly sensitive spot inside you and you cry out from the sudden shock, loling out your tongue involuntarily. Jayc makes a strangled sound at the sight, and it visibly takes all his self-control to not shove himself into the warmth of your throat.

“For once, I cannot get you to talk when I actually want you to,” Viktor tsks in disapproval, but it's clear he's not frustrated; rather, he seems to enjoy the trance-like silence Jayce has been reduced to.

“F-fuck, I think this is the hottest thing I've ever seen,” the younger man sputters, delirious, his fist moving with a frenzied pace. “I can see your cock in and out of her every time she bounces like that. Her tits look so good…”

You recognize that slight pitch in his voice, the rumbling in his throat; he's close again.

“What else?” Viktor hums, not letting him have a moment of respite. You can hear ragged gasps next to your ear, parts of heaved curses indicating he too is nearing his end, but he's still firmly insistent on being the one in control of it all.

Jayce whines in struggle, but it's hard to hear with how loud the sound of your own moans echo in the room. You've been using Viktor's cock to hit that one spot over and over, chasing your high without restraint, the familiar clenching of your walls maddening.

“She looks all fucked out. Like she -fuck- like she's so close to cumming around you…”

The other man seems pleased by that if the way you feel him twitch inside you is evidence. “Good observations,” he replies in playful irony. “Perhaps there is still a scientist in there.”

The hand on your stomach leaves its comfortable position to wrap around your neck, the pressure light, just barely restricting airflow.

“Sweet thing,” he calls out to you once more. “You can pick up the pace a little. I want you to never look away from Mr Talis's eyes.”

It's a hard request to fulfill considering how badly you want to squint your eyes shut in the agonizing pleasure; but you try your very best, unshed tears of exhaustion starting to pool and blurying your vision.

The sight of you so desperately trying to obey Viktor's order to focus on nothing but him is what finally undoes Jayce, who lets out one final loud curse:

“Shit-!”

He cums all over your academy blouse with a shout, little droplets reaching as high as your chin. It barely takes three more thrusts against Viktor for you to join him, crying tears of relief as an intense wave of bliss rocks your entire body. With your limbs reduced to nothing but putty, your head falls forward in exhaustion, thankfully stopped by Jayce's strong torso; the fabric of his dress shirt feels like satin against your face, burying your sobs.

Viktor takes a moment longer to reach his peak, fucking into your exhausted body with concentration, thick eyebrows furrowed. It's too much, too rough, and you throw your head back to whine against his neck pitifully. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath before he finally unloads into you with a long groan.

“Shh, good girl,” he compliments you soothingly as his warmth settles into your core, kissing your neck leisurely in praise. “You have done so well.”

He bends your head back slightly more to catch your mouth in an open-mouth kiss, slow and tired, sloppy from your mutual exhaustion. Jayce groans, his hand somehow still on his softened cock, pumping it lazily; his stamina is utterly unbelievable.

“Okay, actually, this might be the hottest thing I've ever seen,” he comments hoarsely, absorbing the way your tongue dances with Viktor's with every inch of his capacities.

Viktor concludes the wet kiss with a small peck on your lips, smiling as your head falls back on his shoulder in fatigue, your eyes shut close.

“Because you managed to get yourself all over her?” he throws back at Jayce, as calm and confident as if he hadn't just made you go through the most intense orgasm of your life. “Your ego will never cease to impress me.”

The stars behind your eyelids are still spinning; you weakly try to move an arm, finding it almost completely unresponsive.

“Sir?” you ask, and you almost don't recognize your voice with how rough and broken it resonates in the empty lab.

“I think we have reached the point where you are allowed to call me by my name in private,” Viktor amusedly hums close to you.

“Viktor, I…”

You want to open your eyes, to look into his golden eyes again and see the way he looks right after sex, but they're sealed shut from how worn out you are. “…I don't think I can move right away.”

That earns you a content chuckle from one man and a disbelieving laugh from the other.

“Jayce,” Viktor asks, now with a tone of request rather than command, “be a gentleman for once and carry her to her bedroom. The poor thing is exhausted.”

Jayce snorts, for once tonight the one hitting back with irony:

“And whose fault is that?”

Viktor’s fingers, still loosely wrapped around your throat as lightly as feathers, slide down to massage the tender muscles at the base of your nape. You moan brokenly into the touch. You couldn't move even if you wanted to.

“Undeniably yours. I am not the one sneaking around in the academy for nefarious purposes,” Viktor retorts playfully, tiredness noticeable but skillfully hidden in his voice. “But if you were to have a bad idea like this once more… I believe I can offer you my services as her supervisor. For both your sakes.”

[ear-motif]

fanfic is so good bc the premise of some genres of fic are just inherently funny. I want these two grizzled crime drama protagonists to have some fucking fun for once, so they go to a water park. I dont care how i have to logic my way into them going there i dont care who has to drag them Theyre Going