#The rest is kept a little open basically so i have space to play with the routes and content when i write

[doriana-gray-games]

Hi dori!! I don’t mean to be annoying if you like didn’t answer on purpose or anything but just in case since I hear tumblr eats asks a lot I was gonna send my old ask again; has mc read Watson’s books on them? And if they haven’t, will they get to? In romance route, does Watson’s writing change at all? Like, be more adoring or something? Thanks!!! Love the game so much! And the new chapter is so amazing!

It's just a generally low chance of me answering any ask I get. Sometimes tumblr does seem to lose things, but its more that I... Unless I have time and an idea just as I see the ask, I'm unlikely to answer. Partly because I am inclined to forget, but mostly becuase I feel when I spend a lot of time and effort on tumblr I have the bad habit of fooling myself into believing that I was being productive on the game 😂 (when I wasn't really...)

MC has read some of Watson's tales about them. I might make it a choice at some point on just how much, or I'll decide that all of it has been read by Sherlock. A little unsure. But it's safe to say that some has been imbibed (even if MC might protest otherwise...)

I remember I talked somewhere about how fun it would be if the love was sort of... very clear on the page. Haha. We shall see if that happens or not.

❤️ Thank you for playing

[elliesfireflys]

Little Secrets

bbf!Ellie Williams x Reader

Summary: Your older brother swore to her that if she layed a finger on you, she’d be in some deep shit. Let’s just say neither of you listened to him.

2.3k words (i’m sorry)

warnings: Smut (😮) oral, fingering, tit play (r! receiving) swearing.

a/n: havent wrote smut in so long sorry i’m rusty oh my.

It was a warm sunny august morning. August of course being the hottest month where you live, you were relaxed on your bed in a tank with some random pair of shorts you picked out of your laundry.

Your older brother barges through the door with sweat dripping down the crown of his head.

“Hello? Do you not hear me screaming your name downstairs dumbass?” he huffs out raising one of his eyebrows with attitude.

“I have my air conditioning blasting, and my door closed. So no I don’t hear you, dumbass.” You say emphasizing ‘dumbass’ at the end of your sentence, mocking him.

“Well, Ellie’s coming over in 10. So don’t start none of your bullshit when she gets here.”

Ellie Williams. Your brothers best friend since the 3rd grade, she was attractive to say the least. Her auburn hair always perfectly framing her face, those green eyes that get your cheeks dusted with pink when she looks at you.

“Hey. Did you hear anything I just said?” Your brother annoyingly snaps you out of a trance.

“Yeah yeah, Don’t start with my bullshit.”

——

About 15 maybe 20 minutes passed after you had your conversation about Ellie with your brother when you heard the doorbell ring.

“Ellie’s here!” Your brother yelled from downstairs, which u heard him this time as you kept your door open and air conditioning low this time because you wanted to hear when Ellie came in.

“Hey, what’s up.”

Ellie. Her low voice could send shivers down your spine (it has before). You make your way down the stairs and greet her. As you reach the bottom of the steps you see the girl herself. She’s wearing a pair of black sweats and a black shirt with rings adorning her hands. She takes notice of you, eying you up in down taking you in. Her eyes rest on your chest for a second too long as you feel your face heat up.

“Hey Els.” You bat your lashes a few times at her, feeling a boost of confidence.

“Hey.” Is all she says back to you. An awkward silence fills the space between you, your brother, and Ellie.

“Okay well, me and Ellie are gonna play video games down here so you can go upstairs now, bye.” He says motioning his hand in a ‘go away’ action.

“Actually i’m going to heat up the left over pizza from yesterday, do any of you want some?”

“I‘ll have a slice, left over pizza sounds good right now.” Ellie practically whispers, scratching the back of her neck. She does this when she gets around you. You don’t know why, but she just does. It’s cute.

To Ellie’s defense, she has always had a thing for you. Ever since she met you she had always found you attractive, even before she knew she liked women. And as you both grew older, and you developed more. Her little crush on you had only gotten worse, your brother though, had basically made Ellie swear to not do anything with you. That was the one thing holding her back from telling you how she truly felt.

“Okay, i’ll go heat it up now.” You turn on your heels towards your kitchen behind your living room where Ellie and brother had been seated, setting up his playstation.

A while had passed and the pizza was done heating up, as you were about to call Ellie to come get her pizza you hear her and your brother scream as they both died in whatever game they were way to into.

“Hey Ellie the pizzas ready!”

She quickly gets up from her seat on the couch half whispering an “I’ll be back” to your brother as she makes her way to the kitchen.

“Smells good, do you have any ranch?” She says as she grabs your hip with one of her hands and grazes her hips against your ass as she gently moved you aside so she can open the fridge.

You stand there frozen in the spot she moved you to for a second before speaking up, stuttering over your words for a moment.

“Uhm… you use ranch?”

“Yeah, it um. It just taste better than plain cheese pizza..” She says, seeing you both visibly flustered from the encounter just moment ago.

“El! You said you’d be right back but take 20 years to grab a fucking slice of pizza, i’m already on the next level!” you hear from the living room as your brother raises his voice to grab Ellies attention.

“Bro. I’m coming!” She raises her voice louder in reply. “Thanks for the pizza, and the ranch” She thanks you, holding up the bottle of ranch she found.

“Yeah, no problem.” You say as you take your slice and rush upstairs to your room.

Putting on something to watch but not even paying attention, as the only thing running through your mind was how Ellie pulled that stunt today.

You just had to get her back.

——

A few hours passed as it was dark out and you could still hear your brother and Ellie talking, they’ve moved on from video games to colleges.

You take your pizza plate and bring it downstairs to throw away. When you pass the couch in the living room, you and Ellie make eye contact. You both wanted each other, it was so obvious.

“Hey, Ellie’s sleeping here tonight, so don’t do anything. I mean it.” Your brother try to use a stern voice to you.

You make your way over to the couch, on Ellie’s side, leaning your hands on the arm rest of the couch purposely pushing your tits towards Ellie’s face. Her breath hitched as she took notice in how close you were to her.

“And what would we do?” You wait for either one of them to answer. “Exactly. Don’t get your dick all twisted.” You end the conversation by going upstairs for the night. Or at least until your brother was asleep.

Ellie had slept over many times before, she sleeps on the couch for some reason. Your parents were out tonight and we’re going to be gone till morning, all you had to do was get Ellie in your room. More specifically, your bed.

It was quiet in the house meaning your brother had gone to bed and Ellie was downstairs, she doesn’t sleep that fast so she had to have been up. You make your way down to your kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Looking towards the couch, Ellie wasn’t there, blankets were messed up so she had to have gotten up to use the bathroom. Proceeding to the kitchen is where you find Ellie, she’s turned around in her white wife beater which make her muscles pop and her sweats from today. She finally turns around and notices you, jumping back startled.

“Jesus. Fuckin’ scared me, why are you creeping around?”

“I’m just grabbing a glass of water calm down.” You grin finding it funny.

“It’s not funny, what if you could’ve been a murder?” She says in a low voice, the one that sends shivers down your spine, she moves towards you slowly, as if she’s testing you.

You hum “Maybe a little funny, you wanna know what’s not funny though?” she nods her head for you to continue “You pulling shit like what happened earlier.” You step forward meeting her green eyes slightly looking up as she was the taller one.

“What do you mean, babe?”

Babe. She knew what she was doing. And she was doing it well. “When you just had to move me by yourself and couldn’t just ask me to move? Yeah, shit like that.” You move your face up to Ellie’s, still holding eye contact as your lips brush against each other.

Soft breaths are shared between you too, both wanting to give in and just go for it. “I can’t.” Ellie pulls away fast and leans on the counter crossing her arms looking down. If it wasn’t for the little night light your parents set up in the kitchen, you wouldn’t have been able to see Ellies red cheeks.

You move closer to her, still not wanting to give up, eventually being almost chest to chest again. “Why can’t you give in El.” She breathes a long sigh before speaking “Your brother. He always told me to never do anything with you. And to show respect to him, and you, I always listened. It feels like hell trying to not give into you. But you’re his little sister.”

Your brain is moving a lightning speed trying to take in what Ellie had just said, so she has had feelings for you, just never voiced them. “Ellie, you’re 19. You can decided if you want to give in or not. You’re not my brothers puppy. And I am not that little girl anymore.” You move your face closer to hers again, chest to chest, her hands snake towards your waist. Resting them there lightly, as if you were delicate as porcelain; going to break at any moment.

“Give in.” You breathe against her lips. And that’s all it took for her to finally give in. Pressing her lips hard against yours, eventually slowly moving each others lips in a rhythm. The kiss was sloppy, tongues intertwining with each other, spit starting to drip down chins. It was like it would be your last time kissing. She grips your hips harder against her own hips, practically grinding you down on her, giving you small friction.

“Ellie. Please.” You whine out as you move from her lips to her neck leaving a trail of kisses, softly sucking on a spot, not hard enough to leave a mark. “What do you want baby. Say it.” She breathes out, tugging at your hair with one hand. “I need you. Ellie please I need you.” You pull back from her neck looking deeply in her eyes. “Fuck. Let’s go to your room.”

You take her hand and lead her to your room immediately shutting and locking the door. When you turn around Ellie pushes you against the door attacking your neck with kisses and bites. “You have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do this.” She says in between kisses. She waste no time and starts lowering herself, landing on her knees in front of you. Her calloused yet gentle hands run up your thighs, reaching your red lacy panties as your breath hitches. “Can I take these off?” looking up at you doe eyed and pupils blown out with lust. You nod fast as she almost rips them off.

She hooks one of your legs on her shoulders holding you up as she moves her middle finger to rub tight circles on your clit, making you moan from the sudden action. “Fuck, you sound so pretty.” She says as she removes her finger and replaces it with her tongue, circling your clit and going side to side, she starts to suck on your bud leaving you moaning from pleasure. “Ellie- oh my god. fuck, more.”

“Yeah?, what do you want baby, gotta hear you say it.” at this point her mouth on your sensitive clit was enough for you to barley form a sentence, yet you still yearned for more. “I want your fingers El. want em really bad.” You trail one hand down your body to her head, grabbing her hair pushing her deeper into your pussy. “Since you asked so nicely.” She barley gets out as you’re holding her close, she takes 2 fingers and gently pushes them in. Waiting to see if it’s too much for you. Of course it was not and you moan louder from the stretch of her fingers filling you up, she starts to move in and out of you. Hitting the spot with her long fingers every thrust.

Her other unoccupied hand moved up and underneath your sleep shirt squeezing at your tit and pinching your nipple which is enough to get you to the edge. “Oh fuck. Ellie i’m so close.” she hums into your pussy. “I want you to come on my fingers baby, give it to me.” she says looking up at your fucked out face. A few more thrust and you cum all over her fingers, making a mess on her hands, which she wasn’t complaining. If it wasn’t for your leg on her shoulder holding you up, you would’ve collapsed as you come down from your high.

“Oh my god, you did so good for me.” She says kissing your thigh and standing from her knees, she couldn’t help but suck your juices off of her fingers, holding eye contact with you. You pull her in for a kiss, lips molding with each other as you taste yourself off of her tongue. You both pull away and stare at each other with smiles.

“I should get downstairs.” Shes reaching for the door handle as you grab her wrist. “Just sleep up here tonight, please.” you give her a pleading look but it doesn’t seem to work on her. “Your brother wakes up really early for no reason, and if he sees i’m not there and i’m up here, he’ll kill us both and you know that”

You sigh, moving out the way so she can get through and open the door, as she’s about to close the door and go downstairs she turns around to you and gives you a passionate kiss. “Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning when we have to act like nothing happened.” She earns a giggle from you “Yeah, goodnight El.” she closes the door and heads downstairs to finally go off to bed.

In the morning, you and Ellie would not stop looking at each other and slightly giggling. “Guys. What the fuck is up with you two today.” your brother questions looking between you too as you turn to look at Ellie and she turns to look at you.

“Just. Long night I guess.”

[serpentface]

Question for Faiza: what does the average day for an Odonii priestess entail?

We wake before dawn, and most of us spend the morning working around the temple. We maintain the shrines and grounds so- tending the hearths and burning the offerings, collecting water from the spring, feeding the lions. And there's always lay visitors milling around the temple while we're doing all this, but our attendants take care of the general public interfacing so. We can mostly focus on our duties.

There's always going to be some pregnant women or the odd soldier stopping in, so you might give out blessings once? Twice? On any given day. Rarely any more than that. But sometimes, you'll be right in the middle of something important- it's always when you're in the middle of something - and then, suddenly, in wanders an entire troupe. And you hear them before you see them. They'll have brought every single weapon and piece of armor they own, so they're clanging loud enough to wake the dead. And you'll just be standing there thinking, well, this is going to be my entire morning now.

...But it's very important work of course, attending our soldiers. Give a man Odomache's blessing, and he fights more bravely alone than twenty without.

Once the temple closes, we usually spend most of the afternoon just preparing the amenchalme. So- grinding the maize, then blessing the maize, then grinding the salt, then blessing the salt, then mixing the wine, then blessing the wine, then mixing the oil, then blessing the oil... It's a little tedious, I won't lie. But I think this is our most important duty, in a way. Out of every rite we perform, day in and day out, this is the one that serves all our people. The amenchalme that blesses a whore's nameless bastard daughter at birth and the amenchalme that blesses a great lord at his wedding is the very same, made by the very same hands. So when I see priestesses shunting the task off to initiates so they can go nap on the grounds or play with their muskets...

I digress.

So, when the rest of our duties are complete, we end the day with training. This is mostly practicing the six dances. Ideally, every Odonii in the temple should be assembled and practicing in unison. But in practice, there's usually some stragglers. So you'll be out in the yard and everyone is following the same drumbeat, but you'll see one group dancing the spear, another dancing the musket, and then another who's already finished and running laps around the grounds just to kill time.

Our core duties are over at sundown, and we're free to do as we please. Dinner is served at the temple, so most of us will spend an hour or two in the hall, you know, socializing, having a little wine, unwinding. I like to go down to the ocean after dinner, when I can. I prefer the quiet.

Uh, so that's an average day for the vast majority of us. It varies throughout the year, of course. Things get busy when we're approaching festivals. Or during wartime. And I'm a senior Odonii and liaison to the Usoma, so-. My duties tend to be considerably more complex, year-round. Sometimes I miss those long afternoons just mindlessly pounding maize, haha.

---

Notes:

-Temples to Odomache are open to the public from dawn until noon, and closed throughout the rest of the day. The temple consists of a great shrine that is publicly accessible by all, inner walled grounds that are prohibited to the public outside of certain festivals (tame lions are kept here), private spaces only Odonii and temple staff can enter (the Odonii's quarters and bathrooms, a dining hall, library), and ritually private spaces that only Odonii can enter (an inner shrine reserved for internal cult practice that is forbidden knowledge for non-Odonii)

-Odonii-attendants are high ranking servants to the priesthood. They start out as child servants given to the order by their fathers who perform most of the basic labor (this is a very attractive position to poor families in particular, as the family is paid until the child comes of age, and the child themself can acquire a degree of security and potential for class mobility that is otherwise difficult to attain). Those who choose to remain with the order upon adulthood (they have no choice in the matter beforehand due to children being under full legal jurisdiction of their fathers) may eventually graduate into attendant positions. This is a well paid and esteemed job, with attendants managing most of the practical logistics of maintaining a temple and interfacing with the public.

Servants to Odonii are only women and eunuchs. Those considered male are forbidden from this role (which entails entering some ritually private spaces, and sometimes seeing them naked in the course of bathing/being armored, etc) - the Odonii's body is sacrosanct and an analogue to the power and the security of the Wardi nation and God Itself, and the male gaze is considered uniquely dangerous to a metaphysically vulnerable female body and thus to be fundamentally violating of this sacred state.

-Outside of certain festivals and rituals, Odonii only perform blessings for royalty, soldiers, and pregnant women. Odonii also bless soldiers' weapons and armor.

-Amenchalme is the basic material used in public rites for blessing and purification. The finished product is a paste that is daubed on the body to give blessings, and consecrates animals/humans for sacrifice. It is exclusively produced by Odonii, but used in a broad variety of contexts.

-'Nameless' in the context of 'nameless bastard daughter' means not having a family name - ie an orphan of unknown parentage, or not being claimed by one's father, and therefore not having access to and the protection of the family as the foundational social unit in Wardi society. Namelessness itself is stigmatized, and its implications invariably entail ostracization and lowered status. Faiza saying 'whore's nameless bastard daughter' is her conjuring up like, the lowest possible status Wardi citizen she can imagine.

-The six dances are the core weapons-dances used in rites and for combat training, centered around the key weapons techniques- spear, sword, handgun, musket, spear and shield, sword and shield. Bow dances are still practiced by most soldiers (given that firearms are limited enough in access to have not fully replaced them) but are no longer part of the Odonii's core retinue.

-Faiza privately ascribes to a niche quasi-atheist strain of Wardi philosophy that posits that God fully died during creation and can no longer directly affect the world, and thus does not believe that the majority of rites her Entire Life is built on performing have any intrinsic divinely sourced effects. She is very good at not letting any of this slip, but tends to frame the benefits of rites around their practical effects (ie- soldiers who believe they are protected by God fight more bravely).

Her emphasis on the importance of amenchalme as is partly rooted in sincere conviction that all* (*Imperial Wardi citizen) people should receive the practical benefits of the state's religion regardless of class and she finds the ubiquity of the substance to be an equalizer, and partly because she absolutely believes in bad luck, ghosts, and evil spirits, and amenchalme protects people from those.

[da-rulah]

Hello :)

I would love to request the Papas with a s/o who is basically a Disney Princess with animals and is constantly bringing home something new and unusual. Like ducklings in the bathtub or baby opossums in the dresser drawers. They think they get used to it until they bring something new and unusual, forever keeping them on their toes.

This is such a cute idea. 🥹 I've given it some thought, and I hope you enjoy!

Primo

It started when he found you hiding a stray puppy in one of his sheds. There was no way he could ever be mad at you; he wonders why you'd hidden it from him to begin with.

He'd given you the space to nurse the puppy and watched on with a softness in his eyes. This was one of those things he loved about you; your soft gentility.

One morning, he found you in the same shed with a box full of newborn fox cubs. They'd been abandoned, and you couldn't leave them out in the cold...

Primo relented easily, smiling to himself and offering to help.

This continued - filling the shed with animals you kept finding in need. They seemed magnetised to you. It astounded Primo...

He surprises you one day, having emptied the old shed of any of his gardening supplies and instead, asking the Ghouls to build you your own little animal sanctuary.

He figured you needed a less cluttered, cleaner and friendlier space for all your little rescues.

Secondo

He tries to argue with every new animal you bring home, but you've already overrun your shared quarters with three rabbits, two ferrets, a wounded crow and a raccoon

That raccoon was the last damn straw; they were supposed to be vicious! You couldn't keep that here?

But the thing just sat around blinking at him, eating scraps most of the time.

He grumbled and groaned about it like an unexpected new father would.

But you come home from your duties one evening and find him knelt at the edge of the bathtub, shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows, cigarette between his lips as he coos and whispers to the ferrets who are playing in the water beneath him.

The rest of your furry friends are surrounding him, avoiding the water but calmly enjoying his company too.

He looks so soft, fussing over all of them as if he hadn't been grumbling over their very existence.

"See, you do love them," you smirked, leaning against the door frame.

"Amore, I would kill or be killed for them. But no more..." he told you sternly.

He was not going to like what was waiting for him in the living room.

Terzo

Total enabler.

He becomes aware of your little obsession very early in the relationship and his favourite little trick, is to tell you "you only got one? But it'll be lonely" and give you puppy dog eyes.

Obviously, you cave every time, finding friends for your rescues.

Your apartment is like Noah's fucking Ark - two by two of everything.

He loves it though, and insists that you name the first, he name the second, every time.

He must say, the weirder the animals get, the more difficult life in your quarters becomes but hey, he likes the challenge.

He figures that soon enough he'd be able to open up "Papa's Petting Zoo" for the Ministry children.

He does indeed make a joke to you about Papa's "Heavy Petting Zoo" that was saved for you and you alone. He couldn't resist.

Copia

He started it.

He had two rats when you first started dating, but he just kept bringing them home with him.

And so then, every time you came across a rat that needed shelter, you would bring that little guy home to an ever-growing adoptive family.

Copia's face would light up every time, and together you'd spend the entire evening brainstorming names.

Eventually the enclosures you had for them had to keep getting bigger and bigger, until eventually, your apartment was overrun and their enclosure was the entire living room space.

Neither one of you minded of course, happy to give them the freedom they desired.

[the-californicationist]

The Missed Deadline

Gaz/FReader - virginity pact, childhood besties, explicit consent

AO3 Link

You and Kyle had a pact. Ever since you were teenagers, you pinky promised that if you were still virgins by the time you turned 21, you’d do it together. He’d gone off to war and lost his virginity immediately, but when he comes back to help his mum for the holiday, he learns that you still have yours, and you’re way past your deadline. 

!!! MDNI/18+ NO EXCEPTIONS !!

To anyone who has not yet lost their virginity: THIS IS FICTION AND IT IS NOT A GUIDEBOOK. Fuck responsibly, everyone.

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

You couldn’t believe your eyes. Your neighbor, Mrs. Garrick, had been moving all of her old furniture into storage, prepping for a huge remodel, and now, here he was. He was back. It had been years since you’d seen him. 

“Marco?” You called out from your open bedroom window.

He looked around for a moment, resting after helping move a dresser out of the front door, so you called again,

“Up here!”

He looked up at your window, and his face lit up when he found you. 

“Polo? Bloody hell. It’s you,” his face softened with amused wonder, and he started to take off his leather work gloves, “I’m coming up!”

Kyle moved through your garden in the same way he always had, ever since you were kids. You heard your front door open, and then you listened as his heavy boots trod up the stairs, and finally, you watched the old brass knob to your room turn, pop, and open with a soft creak. 

He stood there in the doorway, one hand still on the knob, frozen in time. Only, he was much older than he should’ve been. 

He should have been 15 again, showing you how to work a two-way radio so you could play recon with him in the fields next to your house. 

He should have been 16, trying to learn how to kiss, telling you and himself that you were just doing it to practice, that it didn’t have to mean anything. 

He should have been 17, sitting on your bed, head in his hands, telling you he’d joined the army and that he didn’t know when he was coming back, but that he had fallen for you and he knew that you couldn’t be together. 

He should’ve been 18, back from basic training, telling you about all of his adventures, asking if you still liked him, making you promise that if you were both still virgins when you turned 21, you’d lose it together. 

But, now, here he was, 22 and staring at you, making you feel like you were still 15, making promises to him that you were never meant to keep. 

“Marco,” you whispered, standing up and reaching out for him.

“Polo,” he whispered back, crossing the room to hold you in his arms. 

He was wearing a tee shirt without its sleeves, sweaty and dirty from moving furniture all day, and he stared down at you like he expected you to kiss him. Remembering himself, he broke the hug and moved back, suddenly aware of his body in your small space.

You went through the little dance you were supposed to do: hi - hi - how are things - how’s school - how’s your mum - blah, blah, blah. It was nothing, and you knew it was nothing, and so did he. So, you stopped. 

“Did you keep your promise, then?” You knew he hadn’t. He was a grown man in the army for fuck’s sake. 

He blushed, and shook his head,

“No, I didn’t. Go a little carried away on leave with the lads once or twice.”

“With the lads, hm?” You teased him.

“No! I mean, it was ladies. But, uh, it was also lads. Sometimes. Uh…Christ,” he rubbed his hands down his face in embarrassment. 

You raised your eyebrows and smiled wide,

“Ah! So, you have been practicing, haven’t you?”

He grinned,

“Yep. Just rehearsing for the big performance. How about you?”

He grabbed a towel from the stack by your closet, knowing where you kept them and put it on the bed so he wouldn’t get your sheets dirty when he sat down on them. The mattress creaked under his weight. You could smell his sweat and laundry detergent. 

You shook your head,

“None for me. Just haven’t found the right one, I guess.”

Kyle gasped,

“You’re past due, Polo. What are we gonna do with you?”

“Throw me out?” You laughed, trying to ease the tension.

The tension did not ease. He was so close to you, and he was staring at you in a new way, studying you like he didn’t know you by heart. 

You reached out to touch his cheek, finding a fresh scar on it where there had not been one before. You felt his skin shudder so gently beneath your touch, and his breathing quickened. You rubbed the scar with your thumb like you would a stain, trying to get it out. Then, he lunged for you, kissing you deeply, so different and so much more sure of himself than he had been at 16, 17, and 18. All of those kisses tasted just like this one though, and the memory of your feelings for him came rushing back, fresh as the day they were borne. 

You remembered when you had decided you were in love with Kyle Garrick. He was about to turn 16, and you and he and a few of his friends had gone down to Brighton beach for the day to celebrate. You’d played Marco Polo in the waves, blind, hands out, feeling for bodies in the current. You were Polo and he was Marco this time, and you were swimming away from him, but a wave caught you and shoved you into him. He had wrapped you in his arms to steady you, and since you were the only girl, he knew it was you. 

He’d lingered on you with his eyes still wrenched shut, rubbing his palms down your body, touching your breasts beneath the water, cupping your ass and touching your belly. You’d lingered on him as well, getting as far as the band of his pants before the next wave hit and broke you apart. You’d swam to shore together, and you didn’t speak for the rest of the day, but you had stared at each other like your life depended on it. Enthralled.

That next evening, while your parents were out at dinner, you’d used the two-way radio to call him over, but you couldn’t help yourself, and you called him “Marco.” When he called you “Polo,” you knew he liked you, and that was enough. 

He broke the kiss, and he whispered into your gasping mouth, 

“I’m sorry, I just… I wanted to… sorry…”

“Are you going to make good on your promise, Marco?” You tested him.

His gaze shot up to find yours, and you got lost in the deep chocolate brown of his wide, bright eyes. He was searching for the jest and finding only earnestness.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I think it should be you. Seems right. You don’t have to… be with me or anything. I get that you have your army thing, and I don’t want to distract you from that, but I —”

“No,” he said, shoving a stake through your heart. Or at least it felt like it. 

“No?” You confirmed, praying you’d heard the simplest word wrong.

“No, I mean, not like this. Tonight. What are you doing tonight?”

“Tonight? Nothing. I was just here helping bring my mum’s things to her sister’s house. She lives there now, and I’m watching their place while I’m on holiday from uni. Didn’t even plan to stay this afternoon, but I can.”

“Tonight, let me take you to Five and Ten,” he stood up suddenly, straightening himself out, looking proper as he could in his mess of work clothes. 

“Why? You don’t have to do all that. Just forget I said —”

“Please. Let me take you. Six o’clock. I’ll drive us.”

So, he did. You wore an old dress from when you were young, and you thanked all the gods that it still fit. He looked much sharper than you in a burgundy suit and a shining tie. He’d become quite fashionable in his adulthood, it seemed.

The food was exquisite, and he ordered expensive wine. Kyle held your door and pulled out your chair, and he even paid for the whole meal. It was magical. You’d only been on a few dates, but this one blew the others way out of the water. 

At the end of the night, you ended up back where you started. The towel was still on the bed. But, now, you were in your dress clothes and he was in his, and you were just as nervous as you were when you were 16. 

“Look,” he said, placing his hands on your shoulders, speaking softly as though you weren’t the only people in the house, “I need you to know that this stops the moment you say it does. If you think, even for a moment, that you need me to stop, all you have to do is say so and it stops. Okay?”

“Okay,” you sounded unsure. 

“Hey,” he took your chin in his hands and lifted your face to his, “We don’t need to do this. I loved… I had a wonderful time tonight, and I’m happy. You’ve made me the happiest man alive. Please don’t say yes just because you think —”

“Kyle,” you dropped his nickname in favor of his real one, needing him to know you were serious, “I want to, if you want to.”

“Bloody hell, I want to,” he groaned. 

It was all a rush, then. He was kissing you, and you were pulling off his coat. He was running his huge hands across your bare back, and you were tugging at his buttons. He was laying you on the bed, and pulling off your heels. You were unzipping him and unzipping you and unfurling into each other like two roses blooming face to face, your petals bending and pushing and mixing and slipping together as you opened and opened and opened to each other. 

Finally, there you were, naked and shaking. He paused, whispering to you,

“Marco?”

You smiled, kissing his full lips to taste your memories again, 

“Polo.” You whispered back. 

He kissed down your neck,

Marco?

Polo.

He took one of your nipples into his mouth and began to suckle from it, pulling the skin and nipping at your taut nub. 

Marco?

Polo.

Traveling down your belly…

Marco?

Polo.

Licking up the side of your navel…

Marco?

Polo.

Burying his nose in your folds and taking in a long, deep breath…

Marco?

Polo.

He plunged his mouth onto you and ate you like he was still hungry, like he hadn’t had dinner, like he’d never tasted anything so good in his whole goddamn life. All of the lapping and the laving and the sucking came to a crescendo again and again. Adding a finger, he began to stretch you open. He was careful with you, too careful. 

“Kyle,” you rubbed his shaved head encouragingly, “Another, babe. Please.”

The groan that came out of his mouth sent powerful vibrations through your body. You felt him add another finger, and the delicious stretch that came from it made your core flood with wet, hot slick. 

“You’re so wet. So good,” he moaned against your lips.

“Will you… please?” You begged, not sure how to ask for what you wanted.

Kyle smiled,

“Still impatient as ever, Polo. You haven’t changed.”

You whined, begging with a twist of your hips and your body. 

“Shh, shh, baby,” he kissed your pussy again, wetting his lips on you, “Gotta open you up for me.”

You arched your back as he sucked on the tight nerves of your clit, pulling an orgasm from you as his fingers pumped inside of you, creating wet noises that filled the quiet room. Your moans and his breaths became your call and his response, and the more you rocked your hips against his jaws, the hungrier he seemed to become. Eventually, his tongue joined his fingers, feeding itself into your clenching hole as a third member, stretching you through your pleasure, readying your body for his intrusion. 

“God,” you reached down to him, searching for a hand to hold, “Oh, my God.”

He grabbed your hand tightly, holding you as you trembled against his mouth.

Finally, he was satisfied, and you were deeply pliant, dripping for him, and you felt the warmth pool inside you. You felt ready. 

He positioned himself between your legs and lay his cock along your pussy lips and up onto your belly, showing you its length. You put your hands on him, touching his hardness. Kyle whimpered, shocking you with the noise he made, steadying himself on your hips, breathing hard. 

“Are you going to put it in me?” You whispered, hearing your voice but not realizing you were saying the words. 

“Yeah, baby, I am,” he promised, “You ready?”

You nodded, watching as he placed his head at your entrance, feeling the pressure he applied as he pushed forward. The first inch or two felt wonderful, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn’t until he sank deeper into your pussy that you started to feel the pressure he was creating with his girth. It stung, and then, there was a quick release. He slipped forward, no longer impeded, and he caught himself, aware of you and your pain.

He was gasping, trying to hold himself back,

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you pulled him into a long kiss, bending your hips to encourage him.

“Fuck, okay, okay…” he groaned, pushing into you deeper. 

He moved slowly, carefully, and with his gaze pinned to your face, watching for any signs of pain or displeasure. His hand worked your clit for you, building your pleasure as your body experienced this new, full sensation. You felt like you were using muscles within you that you’d never used before. 

Unable to hold himself together, he rested his nose and mouth in the crook of your neck, kissing you, whining for you, telling you a million sweet nothings about how good you were and how you were making him feel. You cradled his head, enjoying all of the sensations he was crafting within you, hanging on every word.  

The way that your body was taking him was painful at first, but the fullness had made up for it. You reveled in the sensation of his cock’s hardness as it parted your walls. You had an implant, and you were looking forward to feeling his come in you.

“Can you go faster?” You asked into his ear, ready for another orgasm and needing his help. 

He looked up at you like you had asked him something impossible, or at least something insane, and he furrowed his brow, cupping your chin in his palm, looking into your eyes to see if you were telling the truth. 

“I can, baby,” he kissed you, sucking your bottom lip between his, licking against your tongue like an invitation.

“Please…” you begged. 

“Mmmnghh,” he cried, forcing his hips to thrust into you with a quicker rhythm, listening to the wet slapping noises it made on your body. 

The bed creaked, and you watched as his whole body contributed to his work. His strong core and huge shoulders helped him rut into you, and you could see the red flush coating his cheeks and neck. His intensity was making you feel like you were static, like you could call down lightning to strike you at any moment.

“Kyle, oh, fuck… you’re making me come. Fuck!” You called out for him, feeling yourself tumbling over the edge from his new speed. 

“You’re making me come,” he growled, staring down at where you were joined together, his huge body tensing like he was trying to hold onto you in a torrential storm, like you would fly away from him if he didn’t hold you tight. 

You tried to hold back, but you clenched down around him, unable to help your reaction. He thrust forward once, and then once more, in a stuttering, slow fashion, and you felt his come pulse into you, hot and sticky. It was subtle, but enjoyable, and you clenched again to draw out another sigh. 

“Fuck, that was… it was perfect. Your pussy is perfect, baby. Holy shit. You held me just right. I’m so sorry, I couldn’t stop it,” he was mumbling, still thrusting in and out of you as he softened, trying his best to calm down. 

You ran your hands across his wide chest,

“Thank you for keeping your promise.”

“Wanna make another one?” He smiled down at you, kissing you as he slid out of your body, turning you over so he could hold you close to him.

[rivangel]

hello! how r u doing?

can u write something angsty with either no comfort or comfort at the end (whatever u want). basically, reader has been having a pretty shitty week and has been working nonstop, and is the type to not about what's bothering them until they can't contain it anymore or they're calm enough to talk about it because they know they can get snappy and say some very sharp words that can be very hurtful. levi of course knows that, because he is our observant pookie, and leaves the reader alone, just acts normal. one night, let's say levi maybe says something snarky or whatever, that the reader has been some pretty bad attitude which is unlike them, and usually reader wouldn't take his words seriously and know that he's perhaps trying to help them open up. this time, it doesn't go the wau it's supposed to, and reader just fully snaps at levi and say some very harsh, petty and hurtful words to him. the rest is up to u!

and thank u btw, i love ur content❤️

yes, yes i can. ty for such a detailed rq :) this became angstier than intended😭but it's ok bc it was 10x more painful to write being mean to levi.

reader/us also has a distinct personality kind of built off the way you described, so i hope it's what you expect😅

➥ pairing: Levi x gn!reader

➥ c/w: college!au, Levi pov, Levi not realizing he has trauma for 1400 words, apologizing, selective mutism...?, heavy hurt and some comfort

➥ wc: 1.4k

If ever he ranked cleaning activities in his mind (which he has), organizing isn’t very high, but it doesn’t occur to him not to help you out with the little things when your week has been poisoned with the dual evils, shitty and exhausting.

Ever since you got back from class, you’ve sat there at your desk. He’s kept you in the corner of his eye, and that same scowl from an hour ago is still there, illuminated by the light of your laptop. You’ve paid it more attention than to anything else—which is not at all, even to your basic needs. 

It’s best to give you space when that look is on your face, and has and will continue to, but not when it comes to eating and-or sleeping. Other than that, he’s content in the background. Whatever he does to help out, you always notice, and tell him thank you with a weak smile, but not today—today when you look particularly like you’re at your wit’s end.

When he finished organizing the apartment (including the fridge), he bypassed your desk and sat on his computer playing solitaire for a solid half-hour. Inevitably, he gets bored, and he’s giving you as much time as he’s willing to before he drags you out to eat something.

Unsatisfied without the job completely done, he rolls up his sleeves and starts at the end of your desk by emptying your pencil sharpener, making a face at how full it is.

To his satisfaction, your focus hardly wanes. Which is good, but he knows how you like everything anyway. With an undistinguishable but distinct fondness, he notes your quirks; even the way you hold your pen melds with your existence in his mind. 

Or no, maybe that’s wrong. You’re a part of him; not a visitor, or even a resident, of his heart and mind.

“Levi, I need those pencils; leave them there.”

You’re referring to the plastic tin of a few colored pencils in his hand, which sat near the middle beside your computer. He looks at you, but you’re definitely serious about it, so he sets it back down.

“If you say so.”

You say nothing and go back to your work. Skipping the tin (which he wants to wash because of all the gross graphite smears and shavings at the bottom), he takes the pencil case beside that, and pops it open. An eraser found its way into a sea of colored pencils somehow somehow, as well as crayons—probably Hange. Not too long ago you had them over working on a class project. He starts picking out these imposters.

“Levi,” you huff, your expression severe as you look daggers at him. “Just leave it alone.”

“Tch, you’re kidding. You’d rather I waste my time sorting the bookshelf in reverse alphabetical order instead? That’s stupid, so why?”

He always gets ‘Are you okay?’ wrong, but this time you turn towards him with your fist tightly curled over your notebook. He doesn’t look startled, but he barely catches the beginning of your revile.

“Stop messing around!—I just told you to stop fucking with it, so quit being a fucking idiot and get out of my space!! This is so stupid, do you not see I’m busy!? ‘Cuz you clearly can’t listen!”

Ironically the angrier you sound, the less emotion shows on his face. Only at the end—you already look guilty—amidst silence like a bomb’s fallout, he wears the scowl of a frightened animal.

He waits until your lips start moving to turn around and leave. 

At the door, he stops again with his hand clutching the knob, and glares at you over his shoulder. When your lips go to form his name, he slams it harder than necessary.

This is so stupid.

That was far from the first time someone has yelled at him in his life, and besides, is getting yelled at not an experience absolutely everyone’s had?

Even so, he can’t seem to make himself do fuck-all besides quietly sit, sit in your dark kitchen at the dining table, his legs folded to his chest. He feels like a gargoyle—odd, ancient, and unthinking. 

Maybe he just never expected you would ever lose your temper, which is naive of him.

He doesn’t know what to do, until, your voice speaking softly makes him bolt up straight. 

“I’m sorry, can I turn this on…?” you ask softly.

For now, your profile is merely a black shadow in the doorway, with your back illuminated by the one in the tiny hall. The switch you’re gesturing to would light up above the oven, rather than the whole room.

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. But it’s not a no. 

Despite the nature of turning on a light, it feels so slow.

He must’ve sat a while, because he even cringes, blinking feverishly. Before his vision even adjusts, the guilt etched into your expression is almost painful for him to look at, like a cavernous gorge shoveled into the earth miles wide and deep. You’re holding something to your chest.

“I’m so sorry for snapping like that. You didn’t do anything wrong at all. I’m so sorry, Levi. I’m never, ever too busy—fuck, I was frustrated and I never should take it out on you, not in any way, ever. I’m the one who’s an idiot.”

As you speak, you come until you’re by the table, standing like a magnet constantly being repelled from it. 

Then you set what you were holding down in front of him—one, an expensive piece of paper (the kind that bends, not tears) with a drawing of some sort he doesn’t want to look at right now, and a rice cake wrapped in clingy wrap. 

His favorite. 

“I’m so so sorry,” you continue apologizing profusely. At this point your eyes are wet, but they keep darting away, with your nails surely leaving half-moon-shaped indents in your knuckles. You pray very quietly, “I’ll do anything ‘cuz you’re everything.”

Wide-eyed, he can’t seem to respond except for a raw sound in his throat after you say that. An instinct seems primal, as much as pumping blood is, that if he says anything, the likelihood that you’ll leave him will increase an unknown amount. 

Normally he’s so calm under pressure, and he didn’t say anything before either—you’ll get the wrong idea. The best thing he can think of is to robotically slide the offerings closer.

You’re still trying not to cry when you go. 

He stays there, just as he was, for another little while. He’s not really feeling anything, but at the same time, he’s running out of breath from the effort to calm down. 

Ugh…

The way you clearly felt is probably what you get, but he doesn’t want that for you anyway. Even if you did mean any of it.

But you didn’t.

It’s midnight or so—too early for Levi to usually be asleep but very late for him to be coming to bed—when he taps the bedroom door open with a few fingers and slinks inside. To prevent from waking you up, he did most of his business in the bathroom in the dark. 

It now helps him make out the shape of you under the covers on your side of the bed. He comes like a wraith, so much that he’s near-silent crawling into bed beside you, and using the edge of the covers to slip under.

Your back is in front of him. He wants to make sure you know it’s okay… but he doesn’t know how. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead right between your shoulder blades and the thin material of your tank top, the only place you’re touching. You’re warm, you smell good. 

By the slight hitch in your breathing then, you know he’s here. 

After a while, he brings his hand up to your waist, or rather a bit before it. It’s not long before you gently rest your fingers on top of his. He lets them slot in-between.

His eyes are heavy. He doesn’t bother opening them as he reaches around, bringing you his way, with your head nestled in his chest. That’s the only time you make a move, since he made it clear it’s okay for you to.

He holds you tightly and breathes you in. You both relax.

Levi masterlist | main masterlist

[analogwriting]

The Other Side of Paradise

Chapter One: Poplar St

Killer x gn!reader word count: 1.6k first|next a/n: i know this is shorter pls bear w me as i get back into the swing of things trustttt the rest will be longer kinda laying the land a bit

As you pulled up to your house, loud music was playing from the closed garage; as it always did. You climbed out of your car, stretching a bit before heading inside. Once inside, you headed down the hallway to the door leading into the garage. You couldn’t open the large door as things were hanging on it and it wasn’t like there was any room to park in there anyway. It was more of a large hangout space than a place to park your vehicle. Besides, you had plenty of driveway to park in.

As you opened the door, the music grew tenfold. You didn’t mind, however. It was something you were used to at this point. Kid had done exactly what he had set his heart on all those years ago. He formed his band with your friends once everyone reached their teens. He was the vocalist, sometimes playing the guitar. Heat was the lead guitarist and backup vocals. Wire was the bassist, sometimes playing the keyboard. Killer played the drums, also helping write a lot of the lyrics and composing the music.

They also were pretty good. They traveled to nearby cities and towns, playing in all kinds of places. Maybe you were biased, but you just knew they were going to be signed any day now.

The moment the door opened, Killer looked back at you, a large smile forming on his face as he kept playing. The others hadn’t noticed you as they were facing away and too lost in playing to really notice, but Killer always could tell when you walked in. It was the deep connection the two of you shared. At least that’s what you told yourself. He was your boyfriend after all, even after all these years.

You walked over to him with a large smile, leaning down and kissing him softly. He didn’t miss a beat, still playing his drums as he kissed you. The two of you knew better than to interrupt practice, Kid had yelled at you plenty of times for it. So, Killer became very skilled at multitasking. Well, at least in the form of kissing you while he played.

You pulled away, smiling at him for a moment, him returning the smile. You kissed him one more time before letting him be. You had homework and he needed to focus. When you turned, you noticed Hop sitting on the couch, reading with a sleeping Dive slung across her lap. You snorted at the sight, settling in on the other side of the couch.

Hop looked at you, waving. You returned the wave before diving into your homework, wanting to finish it before practice ended. You couldn’t exactly talk when the music was as loud as it was. 

During the duration of their practice, people came and went. Gig and Pomp stopped by, dropping off some snacks before heading off to their afternoon classes. Hip and Bubblegum popped by, sitting and chilling for a while before heading back out as well. 

That’s the way your house worked nowadays. Your mother passed a couple years ago, leaving you the house and a good enough inheritance to keep you comfortable. Kid had always lived with you and your mother, so of course he was always at the house. Killer had stayed with you most of the time after your mother passed, knowing how close the two of you were. It had been rough of you. He had also been close with her, of course. He eventually just…never left. He had a spare key since your teens, so he was already a part of the household basically.

Your friend group had grown so much and with everyone having crazy schedules, it wasn’t like you could just…hang out in a big group like you used to. Sure, sometimes the stars aligned and you were able to have some kind of get together with everyone, but this more casual way was easier for everyone. People came and went, hanging out for as long as they liked or as little as they liked. The fridge and cabinets were always full of snacks and food that people brought. There were different game consoles, tv screens, the likes spread throughout all the rooms. It was just one giant hangout spot and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You left the backdoor unlocked at all times. You had a fenced in backyard, but there was always someone you trusted at the house at all times so you didn’t have to worry otherwise. Besides, you’d been in this neighborhood for so long, you knew everyone.

You suddenly felt strong arms wrap around you and lift you up. You slowly woke up, not even realizing you had fallen asleep. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” Killer’s voice was low as he pressed a kiss to your temple. You yawned, shaking your head. “It’s alright. I didn’t even realize I fell asleep. How long was I out?” You snorted, looking up at him and kissing him.

“Not too long. We just finished up.”

“How was practice?” You looked over, seeing that Hop and Dive had left. It was just you and the four who were just playing.

“It went good as usual, but there’s something missing,” Kid said, drawing your attention. You immediately rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where this was going.

“Tungsten, I’ve already told you. I’m not joining.”

Kid groaned loudly. “But why not! Your soft vocals would provide the coolest dynamic!” He flopped into the recliner across from you, slightly pouting.

“You know why.” You rolled your eyes, folding your arms. “Singing and all that in front of you guys and our friends is one thing, but it’s completely different going on stage in front of tons and tons of strangers.” You shook your head. “The pressure is too much.”

“Laaaaaame.” He huffed, cracking open a beer and drinking it.

“You guys are doing just fine without me.” You shook your head.

“We’d do better with you,” Kid was definitely pouting at this point. It was like he was still a child sometimes. Always pouting when he didn’t get his way. He decided to switch topics, talking to Wire about something or another, you stopped paying attention as you rested against your boyfriend.

“I love it when the light sits on you just right,” Killer randomly mused. You looked at him, confused by his words. He always said the most random things, but they always ended up being really sweet.

“What are you saying right now?” 

He handed you his phone and you slowly took it, still unsure what he was getting at. The lockscreen woke up as you held it and it was a picture of you. He had clearly just taken in as you were wearing exactly what you did in the picture. You were also asleep. He was right - the light that came through the highset windows in the garage hit you just right, illuminating you in a way that made you look like a sleeping angel.

You immediately felt your face heat up and he spoke again, “Good picture, isn’t it?” He was right. It was a good picture. It was almost unbelievable that it was you. A lazy smile stretched across his face. “Still doesn’t compare to the real thing, though.”

“That’s it! I’m not watching this!” Kid stood up, flinging his hands in the air and heading inside. “I’m seeing if anyone happened to make some cabbage rolls.”

“I was gonna make some tonight!” you called as he left. You weren’t even sure if he heard you. You snorted, shaking your head.

“Oh, by the way. Be ready on Friday.” You looked to Killer with a confused expression once more. He was really pulling things out of thin air today. He was just hitting you left and right today. “What’s Friday?”

“We’re gonna have a date night. It’s been a couple weeks and I can’t remember the last time we went out - just us.” 

He was right. Usually when you went out, someone was always tagging along. You were typically always accompanied by one or more of your friends.  You didn’t hate it, but sometimes you just wanted it to be just the two of you. “I have some news to share, too.”

You immediately perked up. “What news?” You searched his face as if it were written on him somewhere.

“I’ll tell you Friday.” He shrugged, a smirk on his face and you groaned. “Killi, that’s not fair. That’s three days away! You’re killing me!” You flopped against him, folding your arms and pouting.

You might not have been much better than Kid sometimes. It seemed some things ran in the family.

“Oh, you’ll be just fine.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I figured we could go to a movie then go to that new smoothie place you’ve been wanting to try.” 

Your face brightened as you sat up, turning to face him. “Really?” A new smoothie place had opened up downtown and you’d been dying to try it. You wanted to try it with Killer because you always tried new places together, but Kid had been hounding on practice even more as of late, so you didn’t get to see Killer as much.

Killer chuckled softly, nodding. “Yes, really. We can go to the movies right after you get out of class. Or we can go to the smoothie place first then go to the movies.”

“I like that plan better. A smoothie after a long week of school work sounds like a good treat.” You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck and relaxing against him.

He grinned right back. “It’s a date then.” Then he kissed you, leaving you all sorts of excited for Friday.

first|next

[cerridwen007]

Put him in his Place.

        

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word count: 3k (18+)

Summary: Javier comes home from a particularly hard day at work and instead of being able to help him relax and take his mind off work like you usually can, he snaps at you causing you to put him in his place.

Notes/warnings: SMUT,established relationship,oral (female and male receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, slapping, rough sex, switch reader, switch Javier, powerplay, dirty talk, Javi being a cocky little brat.

A/N: This is the very first smut I've finished and am posting to Tumblr, so please let me know what you think/ what I can improve on. I'm pretty shit at editing but I looked over it a few times so hopefully it's okay/easy to read. Also when I was writing the start I kept thinking the song Sunny by Bobby Hebb would work really well with it for some reason. Like I was picturing it like a scene in a movie,(spoiler) Javi and reader just aggressively making out to that happy song haha, which I honestly don’t know if it's been done before. So if you wanted to maybe play that song just as you are about to start reading and see if it fits. Sorry for the long author's notes. Hope you enjoy it!

Javier and you have been rocky ever since Pablo Escobar got put in prison, a jail of his own design that was basically the opposite of a jail. Yes, Javier has been stressed since you met about work but now more than ever his stress has been through the roof.

Usually you were able to calm him down with a drink and some "relief" and he would be fairly relaxed till something else at work came up. You understood it was a stressful job and a stressful case. You just hoped it would be over soon because seeing Javier stressed all the time killed you a little inside. Although you didn't mind one bit helping him relax in more ways than one. Tonight was a bit different though.

Javier opened the door hard, making a loud bang, he slammed his fist against the door shutting it. "Fucken hell!" You cringed a little at the loud noises before walking over to greet him in the most soothing voice you could. "Hi Javi, baby, how was your day?" It didn't work. Instead of responding "not the best but atleast I'm here with you now" like he usually did before giving you a big long kiss, he angrily walks past you.

"I need a drink"

Before you can go to pour him one he grabs himself a full glass of whiskey and knocks it back in one go. He then starts pouring himself a second glass. You chime in trying to calm the lion. "Honey I made your favourite tonight! And after dinner maybe I could run you a nice hot bath, and then maybe I'll let you have a little show of my new lingerie set!"

Instead of scooping you up and taking you to the bedroom with a sly smirk on his face like you expected him to do he scoffs and shoots down his second drink of the night. He gets up and walks over to the door not even making eye contact with you.

"I'm going out, don't wait up."

You grab his wrist gently, "Hey I don't know what happened at work today, we can talk about it if you want but we don't have to but I don't think it's a good idea to drink your troubles away.

"God, nothing happened at work okay, stop mothering me and leave me like the rest do okay!"

His words hurt a little and they hurt hearing knowing he is hurting and that for some reason he doesn't want to confide in you about it or let you help him. But still you brushed them aside knowing that Javier struggled to open up sometimes.

"Okay I understand your upset Javi but please don't take this out on me okay I'm just trying to help you cause I care about you."

He pulls his wrist away from you  and looks into your eyes with an anger you haven't ever seen in your shared home, a look that is only used when dealing with the most terrible criminals in Bogota.

"I’m not fucken taking anything out on you okay bitch, you're just being a clingy whiny child that won't leave me alone, for God's sake I need my space."

Something overcomes you, you are not ever an aggressive person even in the bedroom, and you knew that it was not the normal Javier speaking, no disrespecting, you like that and that he must have had a hell of shitstorm day at work but still, you needed to put him in his place.

You raise your hand and slap him fairly hard across his cheek. You immediately feel bad and go to apologise. " i...i...sorry I didn-"

"Do it again"

"What?"

"Slap me again, harder this time"

" if this is trap I don't want-"

"It's nothing like that, don't get me wrong I love how much you care despite what I said but this what I saw in your eyes as you slapped me, that passion, made me wanna ravage you all night."

Each word he speaks you see the desire grow in his eyes and the wetter you get.

"Stop talking."

You slap a little lower and harder on his jawline leaving a red mark that stings his smirking face. You both lunge at each other holding each other's face in your hands, lips pressed firmly against one another's, tongues slip in and out of eachothers mouth dancing around, encased in wetness.

Javier pushes you against the wall hard, smashing the glass of the picture frame behind you. You moan out in pain and pleasure. You push off the wall walking Javier backwards and your hands start roaming to each other's bodies each trying to get each other's clothes off as fast as possible. Your lips only break to catch your breaths and to get a better look at the buttons.

You push him up against the wall this time keeping you body close to his. He groans a little in pleasure as you do. He pushes off the wall and the shirts come off. In one quick movement he undoes your bra and hoists you up so your legs wrap around his hips. Throwing you against the wall harder times you both moan, you can feel his hard cock pushing against your waist.

He kisses down your jawline, down your neck to your breasts where he fondles them in his hands and sucks on the left nipple, the stimulation of one of your most sensitive areas causes you to moan loudly. You brace yourself with one hand on the wall palm flat. The other hand on the nape of Javi's neck moving up to his soft dark short hair.

He switches nipples, you grind against his cock hinting you want more as the desire builds up in you more and more. He takes the hint and pulls you off the wall putting his lips back against yours, hot and wet. His hands go down you back to your ass where they hold on for dear life. He backs into the bedroom. Your hand that was on the wall now holds his jaw. He turns around and throws you both down on the bed, him on top of you.

He strips your pants off you quickly before doing the same to himself. The heat between your legs rises seeing his toned tan arms flex as they literally rip your panties off you, pulling the shreds down your legs out of the way. He looks like a wild animal about to sink its teeth into prey, eyes alive with anger, hunger and lust. But you're not backing off in fear.

You pull him close to your body and roll so you're on top of him, and grab his member in his boxers firmly, he raises his hips and head up, his brows crease together overcome with pleasure with a tinge of pain. You grab the top of his head, his soft warm brown hair gripped between your white knuckles. Pulling a little you put him in his place.

"You won't do any of that till I tell you to.” you harshly whisper into his face, releasing his cock from your firm grip.

He stares in your eyes not breaking contact, his lips slightly turning into a smirk while his eyes are still very much alive with passion and hate.

"Oh yeah?" He growls

He flips you over so he is on top now. He grabs your wrists with one of his hands and raises it above your head. This is a play for power now. Javier liked your fire and control just as much as he likes having his own. So he wants to test to see how far you will go before you give into him.

"You're going to regret that" you say with a firm tone.

"Make me" he smirks

You lift your head to kiss him. He goes in for the kiss. You swerve and sink your teeth semi lightly into the crevice between his neck and shoulder, leaving a mark that will last a while. Javi pulls away and groans in pain, but is turned on more than ever. While he's distracted you pull your wrists apart from his hold and flip so you're on top again, straddling him.

"You're being a very bad boy," you hiss.

"Can't help it" he smiles, grinning.

You push firmly down on his chest and go to kiss the mark you gave him seconds before. You leave a trail of kisses and bites into his skins down his chest and stomach. He groans with every contact, each making his cock pulse in need of release. You make it to his boxes and pull them down slowly. You lick your lips and purse them around the tip of his dick. He whimpers quietly.

"I haven't even started yet baby and you're already whimpering, can't wait for you to start screaming my name."

You say smirking before putting your lips back on his throbbing dick, pushing the tip past your lips and adding a hand to his thick cock.

You start slow but quickly build momentum and his dick becomes slick with your spit and his precum. He fights the urge to buck his hips up and instead grips the sheets with one of his veiny hands and pushes some of your hair behind your ear with the other.

"F...fuck sweetheart.... you're too good at that!"

You smirk around his cock, your teeth lightly graze him for a second causing him to groan loudly. You fasten your strokes as he moans in total pleasure. You smirk to yourself knowing you almost got it out of him. 

Moaning your name turns into incomprehensible whimpers as you bring him to his high, but you're not finished till you milk out every last drop with your hands firm around him, licking everything he has to offer.

Both of you breathless, you go up to his face and passionately kiss, exchanging the taste of him and his pleasure to his own tongue. He goes to sit you up and switch positions before kneeling in front of you so he can offer you some release now.

"Oh... no baby you don't have to do that... tonight's all about making you feel goo-"

"Please... let me... please let me make you feel as good as you just made me feel... let me taste your sweetness."

He was begging you to let him stuff his face between your thighs. God it made you feel powerful, to have a man like Javier on knees before you, you couldn't say no to that. Not to mention that everytime he ate you out, (which with Javier was often because he couldn't get enough of you) he left your legs trembling for the rest of the night from his fucken godly tongue.

"Okay baby, you've begged enough." You tease.

Before you can say another word his face dives between your warmth, head first into your wet folds. He licks a tender strip up your pussy before teasing your pulsating clit with the tip of his tongue. You throw your head back and uncontrollably moan out.

“Fuck!”

He wraps his hands around your thighs and pulls your centre closer to him. He slips a thick finger into you slowly causing you to arch your back into his touch.

"Javi" you breathily moan, totally succumbing to the divine pleasure that this man was devoted to giving you just with his mouth and hands. The pathetic whines you make as he slips a second finger into your hole, pumping them in and out of your pussy make his cock twitch. But he pushes down the need to be buried deep inside you till he fully repays the pleasure you gave him.

Knowing how close you are by the more strangled and loud moans coming from your pretty little mouth, he fucks you harder and deeper with his fingers and further stimulates your throbbing clit with his tongue, very gently biting down occasionally, blending the lines of pain and pleasure.

"Cum for me cariño, give me all your sweet essence to drink.  He breathes against your wet centre.

Those words push you over the edge. A series of loud breathy moans escape your mouth, your legs trembling, threatening to crush Javi's head, but he doesn't care or notice. He is too busy working you through your high, licking up every sweet drop of your liquid pleasure he can get from you.

He eventually comes up and crawls up to you cradle your reddened face between his hands, passionately kissing your plump lips.The taste of both of your pleasures are exchanged, dancing around each other tongues. You break away, both of you still out of breath from the previous activities. He lies down on his back next to you.

Your mind flashes back to the start of the night, the events that ultimately led you here. You feel the heat rise in your cheeks once again as the anger you felt overcomes you once again. You think Javi still needs to be taught a lesson, and just thinking about putting him in his place makes your pussy ache in need for his cock to fill the emptiness his fingers left moments ago filled.

Noticing a shift in the air, Javi asks you what you're thinking about.

"Oh just how I still think you need to be put in your place Peña." You growl.

He smirks, loving every second of this new power dynamic he gets. "Oh you gonna teach me a lesson baby" he teases waiting for a reaction out of you.

"Oh you fucken bet, smartass" you snap back. Quickly you move on top of him again and slap his face. 

“Your a very lucky man Javi, to be blessed with such a patient partner who is used to dealing your shitty attitude, offering every ounce of love and care she has to you every time you have a bad day at work, sucking your dick so hard you forget all you problems for the night.”

“Oh yeah I sure am lucky-”

You push your thumb to his lips while holding his chin in the rest of your fingers, shushing him. 

“I wasn't finished talking!” you snap.

“Someone better teach you a lesson about manners before someone permanently shuts that dirty little mouth of yours.”

Javi gulps, his cock straining against your warm weight above needing more and more to release his show of affection in your tight wet cunt.

You tip his chin up, pulling your thumb down his lips slowly. You push your face close to his, mouths almost touching. 

“What, cat got your tongue?” you whisper seductively in his mouth, licking your lips. Your hot breath causes his cock to pulsate even more and goosebumps to emerge over his neck. He swallows hard, a quiet moan escaping his throat.

“Good boy, you finally learnt that it's best to shut up then let your sly tongue ruin the fun for you.” you joke.

You once again firmly grab his throbbing boner and stroke it a few times before guiding it to your entrance, you slowly sit down on it, letting your cunt adjust to his wide length. Breathy moans fall out of both of your mouths. Once you reach the base, you let half of his cock fall out before taking it all again. You fasten your pace, arching your back as the angle his cock hits every time causes your breath to hitch in your throat, making strangled moans. 

He becomes a whimpering mess below you, both from the pleasure you were bestowing upon him and because of his overwhelming need to turn you over and fuck the shit out of you himself, fueled by the need to appease and pleasure the one good thing in his life.

“Please let me fuck you baby make you feel way better than you can make yourself feel bouncing on my dick.”

You stare at him, at first annoyed but then smile knowing that nobody can make you feel as good as he can, even yourself. You felt you had teased him enough tonight not letting him take full control like he usually did. You smirk nodding and give a playful slap on his chest.

“Okay but you better fuck the shit out me pretty boy, make my cunt ache for days after this.”

“Oh mi amor, you won’t be able to even walk for days after this.” he said with a smirk twisting into a devilish smile.

He swiftly sits up to embrace you tightly, his pace quickly surpassing that off your own. The new angle hitting you somehow even deeper than before, causing your eyes to roll back into your head. You now are the one who whimpers pathetically, love-drunk on every mind numbing thrust Javi provides you. Chills run throughout your body as Javi brings you closer and closer to your orgasm. In between his deep grunts and breathes he whispers dirty, dirty words into your ear. 

“Yeah that’s right… nobody can make you feel as good..as…I can cariño.”

“I love your tight little cunt….and those little desperate sounds you make… when I fuck the shit out it.”

“God you look so fucken pretty…. when you're about cum on my cock… wanna stay like this… with you forever.”

The both of you are so close, to help you finish he squeezes to tighter, closer to him, kneading one of your breasts with one hand and circling you clit with the other, using his hands as the anchors to enter your pussy as hard and fast as he can. Your hand reaches up to behind his head as you both simultaneously reach your high.

“Ahhhh…. fuck…. Javi…. you feel so good!”

You turn your head and look at him, he leans forward and kisses your forehead, panting hard as he rides out his high. He carefully slips out his softening dick out of your aching, sensitive pussy. You both fall into the bed holding each close as you catch your breaths yet again. 

“Fuck I think i’m going to need you come home from work angry more often.” you laugh out of breath.

He laughs against the back of your neck. “Yeah also feel free to slap me whenever you want cause fuck… that was hot.”

You both laugh, nodding. This night turned out better than expected, and you wish to be nowhere else except here entwined closely with the love of your life, hot,sticky and tired after you extraneous activities, slowly drifting to sleep with nothing but the sounds of busy Bogotá and Javi’s deep breaths caressing your neck.

[seriouslysnape]

The Noise and the Silence

Severus Snape x Fem! Reader

Tags: Angst. Depression. Grief. 

A/N: Okay soooo I typically don’t do this, and I try not to...but this is a one-shot from my Hannibal Lecter blog (I am INSANE, I know) that I have remastered for this blog. Here is the original work. It’s quite literally the same thing...but I thought that this idea would fit so well for Severus. Please do not roast me.

Word Count: 2.9k

“I just....I just don’t know what to do.”

The pounding in your ears hadn’t stopped for weeks. The constant, repeated thud of your heartbeat playing in your head had been relentless. It was a loud drum, and if you sat unoccupied for too long, you would catch yourself beginning to count each thump. Oddly enough, there was another sound that seemed to be in competition with the steady booming of every rush of blood to your head. 

It was the loudest of sounds, and a noise that you did not welcome with open arms. It was a silence so loud that it was close to painful. The ring of utter nothingness was beating away at your mind space to the point of near insanity. It seemed that had been your world for the last several weeks. It was either boisterous chatter, or complete emptiness.

To be honest, you weren’t quite sure which one you preferred. 

Today was a silence day. The moment that your eyes had opened from your night of restless sleep, you knew what kind of day it was going to be. The silence days were different from the loud days. The silence days were slower, and they were much hazier than the loud ones. Silence days meant you were functioning on autopilot.

Everything that you did was purely muscle memory and basic functions that your brain had signaled every day of your entire life. There were no out of the ordinary or special tasks to switch up your day-to-day life. Silence days meant existing, but just barely.

The few words that you spoke on these kinds of days were hardly even comprehensible to your own self. The little conversations that you were able to have with others was forgotten and lost just as quickly as it was had. It disappeared into the fog that clouded your consciousness. It was drowned by the sea of anguish that flooded your veins.

The loud days were different. Your awareness level was a tad higher, your conscious just a bit clearer. There was some variety in these kinds of days. This meant getting up early and spending the entirety of the day running errands and completing a list of missions to check off your to do list. Many of these tasks were pretty meaningless. Just filler activities to kill time and take up space.

Loud days meant pushing yourself as far as your physical energy would allow. The “go go go” attitude kept you on your feet without rest. As long as you were busy and occupied, then it was a loud day. It usually ended with you crashing at the end of the day with hardly feeling accomplished in any way.

Your world had become so quiet, yet so roaring. Your life was categorized as feeling nothing and feeling everything all at the same time -- and it was a lottery system as to which one you were going to get. 

This wasn’t you.

This was the furthest that you had ever strayed from yourself. You were so distant. You were a shell of yourself.

The person that stood before your loved ones was merely an imposter. A stranger had infiltrated your body and was maneuvering it like a worn out puppet. They had all reached out to you, offering their love and services to assist you in whatever you needed. Some of them had been shocked when you pushed them away, while others were unsurprised. 

You didn’t want the help. You refused it, in fact. So, there wasn’t much else they could do outside of leaving their offer on the table free for you to take. 

Severus was the only one that you had welcomed to stay, but even then the invitation was hardly obvious. It was hard to see the light in front of you when every bit of your had succumbed to darkness. His efforts had been persistent. Again and again he held his arms out to you, and each time you had turned him down.

There was a battle between the noise and the silence, and you were caught in the middle of this tug-of-war. You had been drained of emotional and mental energy long ago. At this point, the opposing sides were fighting over a ghost of a human. Severus had watched you crumble and fall apart in the last several weeks. There was very little spirit and soul to be sought after at this point. At the end of the day, the winner would really have a whole bunch of nothing. 

That was what Severus was most afraid of. 

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone but himself, but he was worried. He was terrified that you were close to having nothing left to cling onto. He feared that you would have nothing to build yourself back up with. Once you were completely chipped away, there was no coming back -- and that would be the end.

It didn’t help that Severus was a chronic worrier, and anyone who knew him personally knew that he had a tendency to be anxious…particularly when it came to the person he cared about the most. 

But other times, he was pretty cool and collected, which made sense that he had all kinds of things that needed to be kept under wraps. 

But this was a different kind of situation. You were a part of his life that was disconnected from the more secretive parts. You were the light that shined over the darkness, so in a way, he felt like he had a right to be concerned. He knew that you needed time and space. He had given you as much of it as he possibly could’ve without seeming as if he wasn’t there for you. 

In the beginning, he had been there for every initial breakdown, meltdown, and sob fest that you erupted into. Looking back on it, that had been the easy part. He had comforted you as a lover, and guided you through the emotional storm as a man who empathized with you. He stayed up many sleepless nights with you when you couldn’t settle down enough to fall asleep. He soothed every sense of panic and anxiety with ease. 

He had not once taken the curt words and the lack of any kind of affection personally. The distraction of your heart was clear to him, and he knew that your reluctance to offer him any kind of attention was not intentional. 

He wanted to do nothing more than support you through this process. He was there for you at every step of the initial impact, and after a while, he thought that you were getting better. 

He observed you carefully, never once letting himself get too comfortable. The intense emotions ceased, and you began to somewhat return to a day-to-day routine. Suddenly, you weren’t reacting or talking about it at all. Your demeanor had completely shut off from the life that you had around you. It was as if your brain had stopped processing the incident completely. 

And that was when he knew that you were actually getting worse.

He partially blamed himself for your deteriorating state. He had dealt with this sort of mental fragility before. He knew the signs, and he could identify them from personal experience. 

He found himself wondering if there was something that he could’ve done differently. Was there something that he could’ve said that he didn’t already? Had he not utilized enough of his attentiveness and patience? All kinds of questions had crossed his mind, and none of them had been answered.

He knew that dwelling on what he could’ve done then would only get in the way of what he could do now. He had to do something now, or else he feared he’d lose you completely.

****

It was a bitterly cold February night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It had been an abnormally frosty winter, which was alarming considering that the winters were already very wintery. Despite the frigid temperature, it hadn’t deterred you from taking yourself to the dock of the boathouse by the lake to sit in the open air.

The school had been your safe zone for all these weeks that had gone by, but now it was beginning to feel more like a nest of misery that you had created for yourself. 

The boards were cold underneath you from where you sat. In all honesty, you had hardly even noticed it. A little chill wasn’t going to rattle you enough to matter. 

Your attention was focused on the inky black canvas painted above you. It was dotted and speckled with glittery stars from one end of the horizon to the other…and the water in front of your painted a picture to match. It was the clearest night that you could imagine. There wasn’t a single flaw or imperfection to taint the night sky that you were so infatuated with. In any other time or circumstance, you’d find joy in this scene in front of you. 

But not now. 

You weren’t sure what you were looking for in that sky above you that seemed to be rolling over you. There weren’t any answers to your questions bouncing around up there. In reality though, you really only had one real question. Over the course of your life, you felt as if you had never gotten a good answer to the age-old question of “why?”. It’s the simplest, yet most complex question in the universe of human language. It seemed rare that anyone ever had a satisfying answer for it. 

You hadn’t gotten any real answers or resolutions yet, and tonight was proving to be no different. Just another silence day had come to a fateful end. Nothing had changed. Everything was the exact same.

You exhaled a long breath -- the kind that sank your shoulders to their lowest physical point. The rush of air that escaped from the depths of your lungs was transformed into a white condensed cloud that dispersed into the environment just as fast as it had formed. Sometimes you wished that would happen to you. Exist for a moment, and then vanish into nothing. Nothing lost, and nothing earned.

Your head lowered behind your knees that were bunched against your chest. Just your eyes and the top of your head were visible from the bundle of a shell that you had made for yourself. Your lashes fluttered each time you blinked, and every time that your vision returned upon reopening your eyes, you were met with the same starry sky.

There was a brief commotion from the behind you. The footsteps of a person approached from behind, and they were familiar to your ears that were now cut with sound again. You knew those heavy, slow footfalls anywhere.

An immediate rush of warmth and security flooded your senses when a blanket was wrapped around you securely, covering any exposed skin on your body from the harsh wintery cold around you.

“Darling, it’s freezing tonight,” Severus remarked. “I would hate for you to fall ill.” 

An extra layer of warmth was added when Severus joined you in sitting at the end of the dock. His body heat was much more than yours as his radiated to you through the thickness of the blanket. It was greatly appreciated, because you hadn’t realized how cold you had actually become. 

“I’m okay.” You returned without offering any more of a ticket to a real conversation.

Severus didn’t mind the quiet. In many scenarios, he preferred it. His introverted nature thrived off of it. Silence allowed time for self-reading and understanding, which he was all for. 

However, he didn’t like this silence. This silence wasn’t the good kind. 

His legs were folded under one another rather than planted on the boards. His lanky legs would be too crammed if they were bunched up at his own chest. His hands were clasped together in the open space of his lap, his forearms resting on his thighs as he scanned over the view in front of him.

The landscaping of Hogwarts always looked so depressing during the winter months. But in its own way, it was beautiful. It was typically blanketed with snow and ice, little flurries and snowflakes fluttering from the gray skies. 

His vision didn’t remain on the landscape long, however. His sight eventually diverted to you, which was what he was more interested in.

He saw the way the stars twinkling above reflected off of the glassy sheen over your eyes. Those very same stars above were the ones that he often described as being trapped behind your eyes with the way that they stunned him when he looked into them. It hurt his heart to know that it had been far too long since he had seen those dancing stars in your eyes. He missed that.

He missed you. He wanted you back.

“I know that reminding you of this isn’t necessary…but darling, wishing on a star won’t change what happened.” Severus’ words cut through the still beats that had passed and disappeared into the past. 

His voice wasn’t cruel or unsympathetic. Just the opposite actually. He knew where you were right now, and what you were feeling. 

“I know.” You answered, the hurt dripping off of your words.

The desperation for relief to be delivered to your heart was unlike anything you had ever experienced in your life. It was a pressure in your chest that damn near made it impossible to focus or feel anything else. It was so beyond uncomfortable. It was inescapable no matter what you did to try to get away from it. It had seeped through you and over you to the point where you weren’t even sure who you were anymore. 

How were you supposed to live like that?

“No one in your life, including myself, expects anything from you right now,” He went on once he got the sense that you were warming up to talking. “No one expects you to be okay. It’s a plain statement, but it’s all right if you’re not okay.”

He knew that you weren’t okay. Everybody knew. Severus never wanted to tell you (or anyone for that matter) what you should feel. He knew that you needed to figure it out for yourself. 

Because that’s where real, fruitful healing came from. 

“I feel so confused....amongst other things.” You confessed.

“Understandable. You’re navigating a rather bewildering path.” He encouraged you to keep talking.

He wanted you to get better. He wanted to see you thrive and be the happiest that you could ever be. This was the first time in the weeks that had passed that you sounded like you wanted that too.

“I just....I just don’t know what to do.” You answered with full transparency, a crack sneaking into your sentence as you turned to look at him.

Tears had formed and come forth in your eyes. It hurt him to see it, but in a way it was a relief because he knew that you were feeling something.

“You don’t have to know. It’s more than okay to take each day minute by minute,” He shifted closer, taking a bit of an initiative to wrap his arm around you and pull you into him. “But this? When you keep it to yourself, it only makes it worse and pulls you down with it.”

He was right. You knew it. You weren’t going to get better by not dealing with it at all. Moving on without attempting to patch the wound would only come back to haunt you later. You wanted to do this right. You needed to do this right. 

“I feel too far gone. I don’t know if I can ever feel okay again.” You admitted, double lines of tears streaming your face as they left a stinging chill on your cheeks.

“You can. You absolutely can,” He encouraged, even a little bit desperately. “I know you can.”

That statement brought a sound out of you that Severus had been longing for so dearly. As weak as it was, hearing you laugh brought a firework of joy exploding into his chest.

“You have far too much faith in me.” You joked, and he returned a smile. 

“I have to disagree. I have just the right amount,” He said. “I’m here for you. Just say the word and consider it done.”

“I want to be here for you in whatever way you wish. Just say the word and consider it done.” He said.

Your first request actually surprised him a bit. He had expected you to play shy and turn down his offer or even ask for more advice. Instead, you asked for something much sweeter and much needed.

“Kiss me?” 

And kiss you he did. It was the most uplifting, comforting kiss that he’d ever given you. It spoke a thousand words and pumped him full of more hope with each passing second. You were going to be okay. You’d be happy once again and you’d be stronger than you ever were. He’d be back to throwing flour on you when he cooked meals and chasing after you around his house dripping wet and naked after you stole his towel from the bathroom counter.

Life was going to return to the way it was. He was going to be able to love the  woman that he loved so dearly even harder now. You were going to come back to him. He had all the patience in the world waiting for that. 

Because you were worth everything.

[cadencejames87]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Stark Reader

Summary: You help Bucky with his nightmares.

Honestly, if you read this, I apologize. It's basically word vomit that could have been trimmed. I focused on areas that didn't need to be focused on and glossed over bits that could have been more in-depth; my brain is all over the place these days.

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: House fire, death of a parent, PTSD, talks of trauma, hostage, abuse, sad Bucky, sorry if i missed any

*not beta'd thus any and all mistakes are my own*

~Dividers within story by @firefly-graphics~

"You should have seen his face," Clint mimicked the dumbfounded expression that wavered heavily on Tony's ordinarily know-it-all smug mug when he wandered into Clint's safe house not too long ago. "And all this time he's been hiding you from all of us." Clint sets down a large bowl of popcorn and falls onto the couch with the rest of the team, minus Cap and his wingmen, currently on their way back from an extended mission.

Tony wasn't absent in your life, though he wasn't really present either. You were a surprise after a one-night stand with a pretty face changed his life.

Your mother was a nursing student, waiting tables at night. She enjoyed that most nights were quiet enough to sneak in studies. At least they were until an extremely intoxicated Tony Stark stumbled into her diner seeking shelter from the rain, cover from the paparazzi, and a burger with a side of fries to soak up the alcohol.

You could call it love at first sight since he stopped in every night after until she finally agreed to a date. Your mother knew he was a playboy, nothing near marriage material when they met, yet, a girl could dream. Maybe she might be the one to change his ways. She quickly learned how much the man needed to grow up, and those fantasies soon died, but not before she was pregnant with you.

Though your mother refused to jump into a relationship because of one hurdle, which Tony had been slightly relieved to hear, she accepted his need to be a part of your life. No way would she deny that from either of you. He had been nothing but wonderful to her from the moment they met. He was simply not the right fit at this time, and if they would never be anything more than co-parents, she could not have asked for a better partner in raising you.

Of course, Tony being the man he is, tried to pay for her schooling, debts, and even rent when she found her dream space, for a steal, in the heart of Soho. She would never know it was all his doing. He had bought the brand-new building originally advertised as potential office space, had the interior quickly remodelled, and slipped a flyer into one of her books. He even personally screened each and every one of her neighbours and kept the best unit open, denying all who applied until he saw her name on the list.

She rejected his help in her personal finances, though when it came to you, she planned to do everything 50/50. Naturally, he completely squashed that plan, whether it was pettiness or pride, the moment you took your first breath, he was there 100% for you. He covered medical and dental, paid for the finest education, and spoiled you with toys, clothes and whatever else he could think of, despite your mother's objections over lack of space. His presence in your life wasn't just money; he wanted to be there for every school play, graduation, and birthday, even if it meant sending Happy with a camcorder when he was otherwise engaged. He saved all the videos of every milestone, your art projects, and pictures as you grew up.

When it came to college, he set you up with your own downtown apartment in Vancouver, Canada, after receiving a scholarship to one of the top film schools. {Which you turned down so they could offer it to someone in need and kept that little secret between you and your father.} You graduated after a two-year program and chose to continue your education at Stanford. Tony happily helped you relocate. He was so proud of you for going after what you wanted and knocking it out of the park by getting into another top school. He paid the tuition in full and even bought you a car, despite telling him you could take transit if needed. I mean, you did live within walking distance of campus. Anyway, the years flew by, and you graduated with a major in astrophysics and made your way back home to NYC, where you picked up a job as a barista, refusing any more handouts while searching for a more permanent job that fit either of your studies without your father's influence. You wanted to prove you could make it on your own.

After the attack on New York, Tony started rethinking everything. He wanted to keep you safe, which meant protecting the world from more attacks. Maybe he would convince you to work in Stark Tower or a new building he could have built overnight. He also began re-evaluating his current relationship with your mother. Was there hope to rekindle what could have been? A near-death experience will do that to a man. He was finally ready to quit his partying ways and take things more seriously, and all of this over Shawarma with the team.

As he flew over Washington Square Park down Broadway, he could already see the dark clouds of smoke filling Soho. Sirens of fire rescue ring out as people run for safety, shouting about an explosion, bombs, and aliens. Stark makes it through the thick smoke and fights through the flames of your mother's building, searching desperately for her. He finds her in the bathtub, covered in a wet towel, choking on the smoke. Against Friday's advice, Tony removes his suit, places her inside, and sends her out the window.

He scrambles back through the apartment to find the entrance blocked by debris. He searches blindly for the window to the fire escape and breaks out, basically falling down the steps as he scrambles to his escape. As he drops the last couple of feet to the pavement below the fire escape ladder, he searches the street filled with emergency vehicles and first responders. He spots your mother on a gurney receiving oxygen, climbs to his feet and hurries over with a faint limp. The EMT nursing her burns gives him a grim look. “We have to transport her immediately. It doesn’t look good.”

“Well, what’s the holdup?” Tony helps load the gurney and climbs in, taking her hand in his. “Hey, sweetheart. We’re going to get you help, okay? You are so strong! Just hold on a little longer, for our daughter; for me. I love you.” He brushes her hair with his hand and kisses her forehead softly.

“Tony?” She pulls her oxygen mask down to speak. “Take care of our girl,” she breaks into a coughing fit, and the EMT jumps into action, pushing Tony aside to suction mucus and intubate. Tony watches on, eyes filling with tears, feeling helpless as the mother of his daughter, the woman he loves, fights to breathe. The EMT keeps an eye on all the monitors as he pumps air manually into her lungs. When the heart monitor flat lines, Tony feels his own heart stop. He can’t seem to breathe, there's a ringing in his ears. The EMT yells at Tony to take over so he can start compressions.

After your mother’s funeral, you distanced yourself. Tony figured it was probably for the best. How could he keep you safe if his enemies ever figured out who you were to him? The building you grew up in had only been a target as it was a property owned by Stark.

Unfortunately, some enemies were closer than he realized. They knew of you and your mother and why her death hit him so hard that even those closest to him struggled to keep him sober. You were grateful he had Pepper when you disappeared while he was still mourning. However, you didn’t know it until Cap carried your limp body from a room he had seen before, a replica of one he dragged his best friend from before losing him on a mission. He blamed himself for years after for roping Bucky back into the fight. Learning what really happened when they were reunited did nothing for the guilt.

Once Tony finished clearing the building and made it on the jet, you told him you did not want to go home or to the tower, expressing your fear those who took you would know that is where you would be. You needed space and time. Tony understood that, yet his need to keep you safe outweighed everything else. He settled you into a room at the new compound, freshly reconstructed from the old Stark Industries warehouses. You witnessed the evolving relationship between Tony and Pepper as Stark Tower was gradually moved into the new facility before the Avengers would call it home. You loved the impact Pepper had on your father, and seeing him in this new light, taking on more responsibilities, with a newfound passion for his work and the positive changes saving people had created in his demeanour.

It was possible his over joyous personality was in reaction to finally having you home after being gone for three years and presumed dead right after losing your mother. You hated to ruin it, yet you failed to feel comfortable enough to speak about what you went through to anyone, not a therapist, Happy, or your father, who used to be one of your best friends, other than your mother. Ultimately, you decided to distance yourself further from this new life he had built. Whether it was the fear of falling victim again to one of his enemies or just the space and time you needed; without Tony encroaching. He gave you what you needed and set you up in a cabin in the countryside of upstate New York. Naturally, the whole proximity was wired with motion sensors and hidden cameras and had a few suits as security measures stowed in the garage.

Tony still popped in occasionally to catch you up on Avenger gossip, including the falling out with Steve, who you kept in touch with over text. You understood both sides, though if you were to choose whose back you would have, it would be the man used as a weapon, held hostage and tortured for years.

They were unprepared to lose you again so soon when Thanos snapped away everything he fought mercilessly to defend. Though, Tony wouldn't know for sure if you had been victim to the snap for nearly a month after. So when he finally got you back, he promised to hold on tight. You had a new sister and finally sat down to thank Pepper for being there for your father and being just what he needed to keep going all these years.

You all stayed together in the cabin, though you migrated to the studio above the garage, where you often escaped to craft dreamcatchers; a craft you learned in your early childhood from your mother who had learned from her mother. Your studio sessions started with one for yourself when you struggled to sleep before the snap, and another for Tony, when he opened up about his anxiety after you returned. Then one for Morgan, when you caught her admiring one hung in a studio window. One your mother crafted, kept safe in your Chelsea apartment when the fire wiped away everything, pictures, baby clothes, art, report cards, your mother's memories of a life before you, and dreamcatchers she made every year of your life; even the ones you crafted alongside her. After a short conversation with Pepper over tea under the stars, in which she complimented the beauty of your dream catchers and what a shame it was that more people couldn't enjoy them, you made over two dozen more for a farmer’s market.

Tony popped into the studio for his daily chit-chat, wandering the room and appreciating the collection of dreamcatchers hanging all over. “Word on the street is the Capsicle is planning on jumping ship again after this mission.” You had been the one to convince him to stay when no one else could, not even his best friend. Though you had your suspicions, he never really tried, and you planned to ask him when you finally met him.

Now you are sitting in the Avengers compound, getting to know the team and waiting on the man of the hour. Except when he finally walks in with his team, your attention falls to the brunette on his flank. Something about him seemed so familiar, his face, those eyes, that walk. Had you seen it all somewhere before? I mean, you knew of the man from stories and history lessons. In more recent years, the news and Tony's personal ghost stories. Also, Steve had come to visit, the only Avenger who knew of your existence, and of course, he shared a few memories from both the past and present of Sergeant Barnes. He said Tony might be a little indifferent, less sympathetic than he should be, considering their history. He only wanted to give you a chance to hear how he saw him, and when the day came, you could form your own opinion.

As far as first impressions go, he has yet to say hi, and you are drooling over this God of a man. Nope, no, down girl! You take a moment to glance around the room, hoping no one noticed your internal freak out just then. When your eyes return to James, he freezes. He looks at his friend for help, but Steve obliviously continues on as Bucky searches for an escape. He swallows, eyes falling to the floor as he backs away, glancing up with sad eyes once more before turning back the way he came. What the hell was that? “Y/N, I’m sorry about the outfit. I wanted to come and say hi as soon as we touched down. This is Sam.”

Sam smiles flirtatiously, takes your hand, and bows to kiss it. “Down, birdman! That’s Stark’s daughter.” Banner warns.

Sam backs away, hands up in surrender as Tony stares him down. You smile politely and look back to the empty hall. “I was only saying, hi. Besides, I think Cap’s already called dibs with how much he gushes over her.”

“You realize I’m right here.” Stark questions Sam, who immediately mimes zipping his mouth closed and tossing away an invisible key.

“I’m sorry about him. He was raised in a different time.” You turn back to find Steve giving you a shy smile. “And what he said, I never—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, Steve.” Your eyes move to the hall again.

“Oh, and this is…” Steve finally realizes Bucky is no longer with them. “Well, if you saw him, that was Bucky. I promise he is the sweetest person you will ever meet. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Not even his own face.” Steve shoots Sam a look. “You know what I'm talking about. That staring thing he does. Where it looks like he wants to kill you.” He turns to the others in the room as he searches for backup, quickly finding it as Nat shrugs and nods back. Steve gives them both a look of disapproval.

"Alright, that's enough. You're going to kill Grandpa.” Tony jokes as he pushes through the group to meet Scott and his tray of milkshakes. “The burgers?”

“Almost done, Mr. Stark. Thanks again for inviting me.” Scott sets the tray on the coffee table and rushes back to the kitchen, wiping his hands on his frilly apron.

"Was that Ant-Man?" You ask in confusion.

"Don't worry, he's getting paid." Tony looks over at Banner and shakes his head.

"Dad?!"

"The point is, he is enjoying himself, and he offered."

After the brief intros, Sam and Steve excused themselves to unload the jet, write their mission reports and freshen up before dinner. When they returned, Bucky was still nowhere to be seen. “Don’t take it personally. He gets in these grumpy old man moods after missions. You’ll meet him soon.” Nat settles in next to you before Steve has a chance.

“I’m not –”

“You were obviously keeping an eye out for Barnes. It's totally fine. You should know he and Sam are in your wing.” You turn quickly, brows furrowed. “It used to be Steve, Clint and myself and one empty room. Well, not empty. It was decorated and off limits, and now we know why.”

“Where did you go?”

“Clint’s not here as often as he used to be, so when Sam joined, he moved to one of the loft spaces on the upper floors. Then we found Barnes, and I gave up my space when he moved in, thought it would be an easier transition after everything.”

You stayed up as long as you could with everyone, but you were pretty tired after a long day of driving, and the anxiety of just being back in the city was exhausting. You slipped out of the room as everyone watched their second movie of the night after dinner and wandered the halls.

As you approached your room, a terrifying sound had you spinning fast and your most traumatic memories flooding back. Memories you had repressed. It was an all too familiar scream. One filled with anguish and fear. You stood frozen against the wall next to your room, staring wide-eyed at the door across from yours. The screams echoed in your memory as they faded in reality and turned into soft whimpers. You felt your trembling legs step forward before you could stop yourself. You took a deep breath and leaned gently against the door, listening.

You heard shuffling and then footsteps, pacing back and forth and suddenly growing louder as they came closer. You scrambled back and tried to flee into the safety of your room, but your back hit the wall again, and you stared up at Bucky as he stepped into the hallway. The much smaller than you remembered a second ago, hallway. “Sorry."

"I didn’t mean to scare you.” His eyes avoid yours as he escapes to the common area down the hall with his head hanging low. You hear the kitchen sink turn on and water filling a glass. Your heart rate finally returns to normal, as you let out the breath you had been holding. You scold yourself and turn to your room, dragging yourself to bed.

The following weeks went on with Bucky avoiding you while you continued to get to know the team. Your sleep schedule was thrown off completely, waking each night to Bucky's screams, mind racing with your own traumas while wanting so desperately to reach out and comfort him. You never did, of course, instead, you kept your distance and gave him his space. When you woke in the middle of the night, you turned to your dreamcatchers.

Meanwhile, for the ex-assassin, most nights were filled with cold showers and sitting alone in the dark with his thoughts, shivering; like he was punishing himself. Other nights, he would find himself in the training room, lifting weights and doing pull-ups until his muscles screamed. And some nights, Steve would keep him company and remind him there was no way he would have done any of the things Hydra made him do without being tortured and lied to. It wasn’t really what he wanted to hear or could even believe, no matter how many times anyone told him. Those nights usually ended with an early morning run.

He still remembers his years with Hydra vividly, the terrified cries and screams, titanium wrapped tightly around innocent throats, lifeless eyes, blood, so much blood, fire, gunshots, explosions. He was hyperventilating when you walked into the common area. Having a full-on panic attack as he stared at his hands, shaking, and mumbling, “It was still me. It was still me. It was still me.”

“Bucky?” You approach him slowly, unsure if you were being cautious for his sake or yours. You clear your throat, ”James?”

He freezes slightly, eyes watching from the corner, trained on your feet as you round the couch. He presses his back further into the sofa behind him, hands gripping the floor beneath him for purchase.

You pause at the corner, looking down at the broken man on the floor. “I am James Buchanan Barnes. Sergeant with the 107th, 32557038. I am James Buchanan Barnes.” You slowly kneel next to him. His rambling fades lower. “3255…” His eyes dart to you and back at the floor. “70…” You scoot a little closer. “38.” He wills himself to look at you. “I’m sorry,” his whisper comes out shaky, eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry.” You shake your head and pull him into a tight hug. He clutches onto your shirt and cries into your chest. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Shhh, it’s okay.” You rub his back.

“They made me take you.”

You brush your fingers through his hair. “I know.”

He pulls away to look you in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You wipe his tears. “I forgive you.” He breaks again, this time though, it is relief that fills his eyes before he buries it back into your shoulder and holds onto you for dear life. He cries himself to sleep, and you continue to hold on, leaning your cheek on the top of his head.

Sam and Steve enter the kitchen in need of water, Sam panting as he downs his glass. Steve smiles at his friend as he leisurely sips his own. Steve opens his mouth to poke fun at Sam’s endurance when a deep sleep-filled breath grabs their attention. “I got him, I’m sure you need a moment to catch your breath,” Sam says sarcastically and sets his glass in the sink before crossing to the living area.

Steve lets out a soft chuckle. “I could use a shower,” he shrugs.

“Steve.” Sam stares down at the two of you still wrapped in each other’s arms, though you are now snuggled into Bucky's chest as he leans into the corner of the sectional, protectively holding onto you. “Sorry, man,” Sam apologizes to Steve as he joins him.

"It's like our childhood all over again."

"Maybe there's a reasonable explanation for this."

"Either way, Tony's not going to like it," Steve says with a shake of his head.

"Not going to like what?" It comes out in a raspy whisper as you stretch and look back at the men over your shoulder. They stand in shock, unsure how to proceed. You look around, realizing where you are and then look at the man beneath you. "Oh, right." You quickly get up, "Let's just not tell Tony." You push past both men as you make a mad dash for your room, hiding your face as it burns with embarrassment.

Bucky startles awake with the slam of your door. He lets out an exasperated sigh as he climbs to his feet, “I’m not going for a run.”

“Neither are we.” They keep a close eye on him as he crosses to the kitchen.

“You know I could have killed you, standing over a guy as he sleeps, lucky I wasn't armed," he mumbles. "What’s wrong with you?” He grumbles as he grabs himself a protein bar from the cupboard.

“I have the same question for you. Your best friend pines over a girl for years, and we find you wrapped up in an embrace, sleeping with the woman of his dreams out in the open.” 

“Seriously?” Steve stares at Sam like he revealed his deepest secret.

“It’s not like she’s in the room, man.”

“We’re not sleeping together, and it wasn’t a romantic embrace or any other kind of embrace. We were... She--" He lets out a frustrated groan. "Never mind, you wouldn’t understand.” Bucky exits the room before they can say anything more.

Sam turns to Steve, still staring at him. “What?! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Maybe we read into it.” 

The following night Steve woke with Bucky, and instead of sitting with him in the living room, he suggested they hit the gym.

You turned to your dream catchers, the newest wrapped in black suede, weaved with black sinew and gold beads. It was time to add feathers, and you couldn’t decide if you should add navy blue and red or even gold to the bunch of black feathers you had already carefully selected.

“I can’t do this anymore. I need a shower.” Bucky turns to leave.

“Come on, Buck.”

“No, you want to talk, let's talk. Stop pretending this is anything more than that.” 

“Bucky, I’m just trying to help.”

"No, you're upset with what you saw yesterday and I know, I heard you and Sam talking, if Tony would have walked in, I wouldn't have woken up." He grabs a towel from the bench. “Maybe it would have been for the best. None of this changes anything.” He storms out and returns to his room, though just as he steps into the hallway, he is hit with a fond memory. One of hardly any he has of his time with Hydra, he leans into the memory, drawn closer to your soft, melodic humming.

You lay on your back in the tall grass, watching a meteor shower. “You know you’ll get in trouble if they find out.”

“Their torture is better than hearing you go on and on for weeks on end about a bunch of stardust,” he grumbles from his perch behind you on the back of a quad. Successfully masking the fact he enjoyed your company and the show in the sky.

“That’s not true,” you whisper, “you forget they have me observe and—” You sit up, hugging yourself. “I know you have nightmares.”

He snaps a branch he had been absentmindedly fiddling with. “We should head back.”

You quickly turn around on your knees, “No, please. I don’t want to go back, not yet.” You spot the discarded branch and pick it up. “I can make you something. It will help with your nightmares.” Your chin quivers as you fight to hold back your tears.

He checks over his shoulder, sighing heavily when he turns back and gives you a quick nod.

You take the lantern next to Bucky and comb the beach for materials, Bucky sticking close to your side. You find plenty of feathers scattered along the pebbles and grass. You kneel on the ground in your tattered skirt, wincing as the varying rocks and debris dig into your skin. “What are you doing?” You look up, studying the man above you for a moment, and then you return to the pebbles, “I need one last thing. Do you see these bits of colour? It’s sea glass. I love these pretty blue ones, my favourite colour.” You hold up a small piece of glass the same colour as his eyes.

He catches the blush tinting your cheeks before you can hide your face and kneels beside you on one knee. “How many do you need?”

“I need one red one, but it has to be at least this big.” You hold up your thumb and forefinger about the size of a dime. “It’s the most important piece.” Bucky sweeps a hand through the pebbles and helps you search. “You keep looking, I’ll get this started.” You tuck the feathers into your sleeve as you pick at a loose thread on your skirt. In spite of your careful movements, the thread breaks, and yet you continue to collect more. When you finally gathered what you needed, there was a wide slit into your skirt. You knot the ends together, blow out the candle in the lantern, and dip the material into the wax.

“Are you done?” Bucky feigns annoyance as he relights the lantern and moves it closer to himself, a safe distance from you.

You let out a quiet giggle. “Two questions, do you trust me? And can I borrow a couple of things?” You cautiously reach for the tact knife on his thigh. Bucky eyes your hand and readjusts his position, pushing his thigh into your palm as he rakes his fingers through the pebbles again, seeking a suitable piece of sea glass. “I don’t understand why you need all of these straps,” you take hold of one of the offending straps on his tact suit and bring up the knife. You look at him for consent. His jaw clenches as he gives you the same quick nod he did when he agreed to stay longer. Watching you from the corner of his eye as you gently cut through the leather strap and unfasten the other end. “I need one more.” He gives you better access and you repeat your actions as he returns to his search. When you finish with his knife, you place it back in the sheath and gather all your materials.

You wander back to your spot in the grass, humming a tune and get to work. Picking up the discarded branches, you braid them, form a circle, and tie the ends together with the waxed thread. You wrap the branches with the leather straps and begin to weave a web within the circle of wrapped branches with the waxed thread already attached. Bucky makes his way back to you, keeping quiet so as not to disturb you. “Did you find it?” He holds out a perfect piece of sea glass, larger than a dime, maybe even a nickel. Your smile fills him with warmth, and he struggles to hide the twitch of his lip. You'll never know he found plenty of red bits that he deemed unsuitable. Whatever piece he found needed to be perfect, like you in his eyes.

Clearing his throat, he stands and returns to his perch on the back of the quad, taking out his tact knife to pass the time. You wrap the sea glass into the final weaves, knotting the end in the web and securing the sea glass a little more until you run out of thread. You let out a huff as you hold out the dream catcher. “It’s not the greatest, but, it should do.”

Bucky takes the dream catcher, admiring the finished product. “What do I do with it?”

“Smuggle it back in and hang it by your bed.”

“They won’t let me keep it.”

“Hide it under your pillow?” You shrug.

 “What about here?” He opens his jacket and tucks the dreamcatcher close to his heart.

“Well, I guess the straps are good for something.” You smirk.

“You can come inside if you like.” You heard him, thought he would return to his room, but his footsteps slowed and altogether stopped between your rooms.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not.”

“Did you make all these?” You nod. “Gorgeous.” His fingers brush the feathers attached to one of the dream catchers. “Softer than mine.”

“You remember it?”

“It gave me hope,” he moved to your bed and sat down. “When I helped you escape, left you at that facility,” he swallows a lump in his throat. “They stripped me down to wipe me, found it in my gear. They took it and burned it in front of me.” His eyes filled with tears. “I used to look at it every night. Hid it under my pillow, like you said. Carried it with me everywhere.”

“Did it help?”

He nods. "It reminded me of you. A bright light in all that darkness.”

You turn back to your desk, pick up the dream catcher you were working on, and join Bucky on the end of your bed. ”I didn’t think you made it out of there with the other.” You hand him the new dream catcher, inspired by his new arm, the black and navy-blue feathers hung with gold sinew and red beads to tie in his new tact suit. “And you can actually hang this one without fear of anyone confiscating it.”

The tears fall freely as he accepts the gift. He tries to give you a smile, sniffles and wipes away the tears with the back of his hand. “Thank you.”

You pull him in for a hug. “I can make you a small one for your keys that you can carry everywhere.”

“I won’t need it, I’ve got you.”

“Do you now?”

“I’ve also got this.” He removes a small object from his pocket, the sea glass he found. He takes your hand and places it inside. “It’s not blue.”

“This one is more special. You found it.”

"For you."

You turn the glass over in your hand. "Did you know that penguins search for the perfect pebble to gift to their love?" You turn to kiss him softly, you meant to aim for his cheek, and he looked up last minute. When you pull away, he follows and deepens the kiss.

Steve lifts his hand to knock on your door, pausing when a soft moan escapes your lips. “James.” His heart breaks as he tears himself away from your door. I guess his best friend is willing to risk it all for you, and this moment is what solidifies his choice to go back in time.

[gumy-shark]

ok gumy, i actually would like some more elaboration in this moon big season such as:

The cults, what the fuck is up with that?

something, something bdubs’ last stand as the moon crash down on him (bc almost every king tag in the last 101 mentioned that and my ears are perked up)

the graphic of the moon crashing into world looks so pretty where we’re you when this happened 🎤 ?

hehehe you’ve fallen into my trap >:D

THE CULTS:

there were at least two cults formed in response to the moon big: the Mooners and the Order of Octa.

the Mooners cult was formed by mumbo jumbo at the end of november. mumbo believed that the moon was angry because hermits kept sleeping to skip through the night, so he gathered the other members of boatem village (impulse, pearl, scar, and grian), and they and cubfan135 all decided to stop sleeping in hopes of appeasing the moon.

as they went longer and longer without sleeping, the mooners got a little. silly. and by silly i do mean insane. their skins got more disheveled, eventually turning out to look like this

(in order: grian, mumbo, scar, impulse, cub, and pearl. i know you aren’t v familiar with these guys and what they normally look like, but i think you can get the picture)

the mooners even resorted to human sacrifice to try and appease the moon, but nothing worked. eventually they gave up, tried (and failed) to blow up the moon with a missile, and started sleeping again.

the other cult i don’t remember as much about. the Order of Octa, comprised of rendog and docm77, had been doing an ARG all season, which culminated in them getting a little bit possessed, shaving their heads into monk tonsures, and going around beheading people while chanting their names. for their finale, they gathered all the heads together and input a code? i think? that opened up a portal out of the simulation that was season 8 (note: the season being a simulation is only canon in ren and doc’s storyline)

BDUBS’ STORY:

okay yeah this one’s pretty tragic. for bdubs’ finale, he rides his horse around the server, collects the profits from his shops, business as usual. except the moon is giant, the ground is basically disintegrating underneath him, and for the large majority of his episode there’s just nobody there. he doesn’t seem afraid of the moon or the chaos at all, instead spending the whole time talking about how everyone’s leaving, so that means that really, all this stuff is his now! how fortunate for him!

all his friends are already gone. his only companions at this point are his horse and his pet parrot. he does his usual outro, saying goodbye to his audience and telling us he’ll see us in the next episode! and then he turns around, and the animation of the moon crashing into the server plays- it is clear from the animation that he could not have survived the impact.

that on its own is sad, but what kicks it into high gear is tango’s finale. in tango’s final episode of season 8, he’s on the moon trying to figure out a way to knock it back into its usual orbit, and he receives a transmission from bdubs. this message shows bdubs a couple days pre-impact, and he is panicked, yelling about how everything’s going to shit (static cuts off the “shit” part bc this is a pg server) and everything they’ve built is about to be destroyed. as he finishes the message, he urges tango to stay in space, because things are so bad on the ground, and talks about trying to find a way to escape.

in this context, the general consensus/implication of bdubs episode is that he tried to find a way to escape the falling moon, failed, and decided to live out the rest of his hours in total denial before dying in a massive fucking explosion. which is significantly more tragic.

WHERE WAS I WHEN THIS HAPPENED?

in the kitchen. i remember being super excited for new episodes, and then got gut-punched by nearly every hermit i watched uploading their finale at the same time.

[scekrex]

Hi (●’◡’●)ﾉ 💕💕💕💕

Another request 💕💕💕 sorry if my another request was too over bearing (◞‸◟ㆀ) I will try to make my requests to you has sample has possible!

So for my request while listening to my play list I was thinking ftm teen reader x Adam were reader has gender dysphoria and really hates when his shark week comes around?

If you can thank you 💕💕💕💕

Nah hun, don't worry. Sometimes I just take a lil longer than other times, it all depends on life n what plans I have, I've been quite busy the past few days. But here ya go xoxo/p

Let me live/Let me die

pairing: Adam x trans!male!reader

warnings: language, body dysphoria, reader thinks about self harm

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

It was a bitch, really. When you had been back on earth there had been no way for you to get your hands onto hormones so your voice always stayed high pitched, your body never started to grow facial hair, there was no t-dick, no muscles and your shark week busted open the gates every fucking month. Not even in heaven you were free from that monthly bleeding, for Christ's sake, who the fuck made that decision?

So when it was that time of the month again you pushed yourself away from Adam - physically. You had been cuddling with the leader of the exorcists all night and it had been fine but now? Now everything felt wrong, your body, your voice, your soft facial features, the curves that made your body look elegant instead of bulky. The physical pain that shot through your body not to mention.

The second you pushed yourself away and turned your back towards Adam the man woke up to check where the warmth of your body went only to find you on the other half of the bed, curled up tight in one of the blankets. His confused expression softened and he scooted towards you, only for you to flinch away again, growling a low, “Don’t fucking touch me.” Adam stopped in his movement and looked at you in concern. “It’s that time of the month again, huh?” he simply asked as he finally moved backwards a little to give you the space you needed. A low huff escaped you and you wrapped the blanket even tighter around your body.

Your own nails were digging into your skin, it was the only thing that kept you from ripping open your stomach and pulling out all of your guts - including that fucking bitch of a uterus that you weren't even supposed to have. You were supposed to have a body like Adam, to look the part, to sound the part. Yet you were stuck in this female body you didn't ask for.

“Babes,” his voice was tired yet soft as you felt the mattress shifting, he just got up. He walked around the bed to kneel down in front of you, dressed in nothing but a boxershorts. You wanted to push the blanket away and cling onto him, to bury your face in his neck and breathe in nothing but his scent for the rest of this nightmarishly week. And so you did. The blanket landed somewhere on the floor and you basically launched yourself into his arms, your arms wrapped around his neck, nails dug into his back once you were steady. Your legs were wrapped around his hips and he placed a big, warm hand on your back to steady you while his other hand softly petted your hair. “I hate this, I hate this so fucking much,” you whimpered against his neck as tears started to well up in your eyes. You didn't want to cry, you wanted to stay strong, to live through it without complaining. But you couldn't. It was just all too much.

Adam shushed you as he pressed a loving kiss to your cheek, “I know you do babes.” Adam never really knew what he was supposed to do during dysphoria breakdowns, you either isolated yourself from him and his touch until it wore off, or you clung onto him like a newborn baby. He liked you clingy better but would of course give you space if needed. “Watcha say about pancakes, huh? Sounds fucking great?” You lifted your head a little to look into the golden eyes you adored so much, a small, weak smile on your face, “Sounds fucking great.”

So the day continued. And the brunette was not going anywhere without you, hell might burn brighter today, he even canceled band practice and told Sera to “Fuck off, my babe needs me,” when she had called and asked him to meet Emily. Most of the day you two had been spending in bed, it was the most comfortable and cozy place to spend shark week at. And while tomorrow would be yet another day for you to walk through the hell of dysphoria, today was okay because Adam was there. Adam had wrapped his entire body around you so that all your senses could focus onto him and him alone. He was also singing a song, you were too zoned out to notice if it was the same song over and over again or if it were different ones. But Adam's voice calmed you down and Adam's touch made you feel less like tearing open your stomach and pulling out your guts.

While tomorrow would be yet the same painfully disgusting experience, today Adam was there to take it from you for at least a couple hours.

[wrongcaitlyn]

been a long time since i did a snippet from my writing before the update bc i kept having to finish the chapter on the saturday right before posting, but!!! i actually managed to write ahead this weekend so here's a little snippet from the beginning of ch 2 of the fierrochase two-shot :)

“Oh, he’s thinking about him again,” Blitz’s voice pulls Magnus out of his thoughts, and he turns around to glare when—

“Thinking ‘bout who?” Alex pops up right behind Blitz and Hearth, the front strands of his green curls falling into his face. He’s wearing this neon green eyeliner that drags Magnus’ focus straight to his eyes, as if he wasn’t drawn there immediately in the first place. 

Blitz opens his mouth to speak, and Hearth is already signing a response, so Magnus, for once, hopes that Alex isn’t able to translate it. “Blitz,” Magnus quickly interrupts, elbowing said guy in the rib while signing for Hearth. “And how much of an idiot he is.” He tries to smile at Alex, and hates the butterflies that erupt in his stomach at Alex’s smug smirk.

“Bold words from you,” he quips, then turns to introduce himself to the Blitz and Hearth, which Magnus knows he hadn’t been able to do back in LA. Still, Magnus had basically given them the rundown of everything important and unimportant (not that there really was anything unimportant about Alex Fierro) through various ramblings when suggesting music to play at the Chase Space. He used to very rarely recommend music, usually wanting to let the kids choose something comforting to them—but that didn’t extend to the office room where he, Blitz, Hearth, Mallory, and the rest of the crew worked, in which Jack usually liked to play whatever was on top of Pop Radio and sing along. Loudly. 

Magnus can’t help but smile watching Alex interact with his friends, who thankfully drop the teasing. For now. 

“We’re gonna need to head backstage soon,” Alex tells them when he checks the time, a bit after Nico has left the stage. “You guys wanna watch from a different angle this time?”

I’m sure Magnus wants to, Hearth signs, making Magnus narrow his eyes. 

Blitz responds, “I think Hearth and I’ll want to stay in the ADA section. But Magnus has always wanted to watch a show from backstage!”

“Wh—”

“Oh, really?” Alex grins in his direction. “Come on, then!” He promptly grabs Magnus’ hand—his hand, this time, not his wrist, fingers interlocked and everything—and leads Magnus around the barricade. 

[witchersmistress]

Snooping and Library Sex 2.0

Hello my Darlings! Im in decisive af so i have here another version of Snooping, i changed the characters around and added some details but its basically the same.

Trigger Warnings: rough sex, orgasm denial, destruction of books, back sassying

Word count: 4K

as usual my darlings, you do not have my permission to copy, translate or use my work in anyway. if you do i will haunt you for the rest of your days k?

I can feel the angry energy roiling under my skin after my encounter with Napoleon, all the sated, relaxed feeling from the self induced orgasms is nothing but a distant memory already. I’m on edge and pissed off, and I hate it.

It’s like the ground is shifting out from beneath me, like I can’t find solid footing anywhere, and that unbalanced sensation makes me want to lash out. It would make the most sense to go up to my room and hide out until I feel better, but for some reason, I don’t want to do that. Being idle sounds shitty, so after depositing my shit upstairs, I stalk around the house instead, feeling defiant. So far, I haven’t poked around their space too much. I go from the room they gave me to the kitchen and sometimes to the living room, but not really beyond that. Now I don’t stop myself from doing what I want, striding from room to room as if the whole house is my personal domain.

 I yank open a door down a corridor off the main entryway and find a well-kept baby grand piano inside. I roll my eyes at the fucking luxury these assholes clearly live in and look the instrument over. One of them must play. Even though they have so much nice shit, it would be stupid to have a whole-ass piano in here if it didn’t get used. Which one is it, I wonder? Staring at it doesn’t yield any answers, so I march back out, closing the door behind me. Another couple of doors just lead to closets, and I bypass them, not caring enough to rifle through coats and boxes and shit. But the next door I try reveals a small library. That’s the only good word for the room full of books. There are shelves lining three of the walls, and an armchair with a small end table beside it tucked into a corner. It looks like the kind of place that gets a lot of use, which is surprising as hell since none of the guys seem like the intellectual types. Just the thought of Napoleon or Syverson sitting in that chair with a cup of tea and a thick book is almost enough to make me laugh. It’s a toss-up with Napoleon, and August could go either way too. There’s a set of encyclopedias on one of the shelves, and I roll my eyes because apparently we’re back in the dark ages or some shit.

 I move on from those and find a stretch of classic books. The titles stand out in gold on the spines, things like The Works of Edgar Allan Poe, The Prince, The Odyssey, and The Iliad. Books like they make you read in high school, full of shit you’ll never care about again. I take a couple off the shelves and check them out, running my hands over the smooth leather of the covers and the embossed letters of the titles. I flip through one, The Odyssey, and am surprised to see little notes in the margins. Whole passages have been underlined, and the handwriting is cramped off to the side, but I can just make some of it out. I don’t know anything about books, but reading the stuff in the margins feels like getting a peek into someone’s soul. Whoever wrote these notes had a soul full of rage and pain, and they were connected with the pain felt by the characters in the books. Each book I pull off the shelf to look through is like that, with little notes off to the side and underlined parts. Some words are circled, others crossed out. It’s like whoever did it dedicated themselves to reading each book and finding the parts that either pissed them off or resonated with them the most. I’m putting a few of them back and reaching for another one when someone steps into the room. “What the fuck are you doing?” a deep voice intones behind me. August. And he’s pissed. As usual. I turn around to look at him, and something in the way his face looks so guarded and angry makes me pretty damn sure these books are his. I’m still on edge, feeling exposed from what happened with Napoleon. I hate that 2these men have gotten under my skin. That was never supposed to be part of the plan. I was just supposed to fuck with them, not let them fuck with me back. “Just exploring,” I tell him, shrugging. “Seeing what there is to see in here. Found these books.” “You shouldn’t go poking around in other people’s shit,” he snaps, his broad frame looming in the doorway. I shrug. “It was all just here, so I figured, why not? They’re yours, aren’t they? Or at least, you’re the one who wrote these things in them.” His jade eyes flash with irritation, and I know I’m right. He wouldn’t care so much if they weren’t his and he wasn’t the one who’d gone through all the trouble to make these notes. “So what’s all this about, then?” I ask, flipping open one of the books to a random page. It’s got so many notes on it I can barely make them all out, and I lift an eyebrow. “There’s some heavy stuff in here. One of the characters is talking about… I don’t even know what. The suffering they’re going through. And then you wrote a whole tiny little paragraph about how they don’t even know what true suffering is.” “Stop it,” he grits out, a warning in each syllable. I don’t stop, though. Because this feels good. More addictive than any drug. I want to poke at him, want to get under his skin the way they’ve all gotten under mine. “This part right here about the ‘darkness that you can’t escape’ is pretty poetic,” I say with a little smirk. “Maybe you’re in the wrong business. You should stop abducting women from alleys and take up writing full time.

 It seems like you’d have a lot to pull from for inspiration, judging from what you wrote here.” That seems to be the last straw. August moves forward, marching up to me and yanking the book out of my hand. He crowds into my space, pressing me up against the shelf until the wooden ridges of it dig into my back. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he hisses. “So you should shut your mouth.” He’s so close, but I don’t back down. “Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I want to know more. Maybe I want to figure out what makes you work, August. How you ended up the way you are.” “That wasn’t the deal,” he snaps. “Fuck the deal,” I reply. “I’m guessing you used to live in that shithole apartment building you took me to.” “What?” “I’m not an idiot. You knew it way too well for it to be somewhere new to you, or somewhere you only go when you need information. Plus, Meredith talked to you like she cared. That shit takes time. what's up with that?”

“None of your fucking business.” I can feel the rage pouring off him, but I don’t back down. He’s not going to hurt me—that wouldn’t be in his best interests, considering he needs me alive to kill Ivan—and if he did try to, I could just hurt him back. So all he can really do is stand there while I push his buttons, getting more and more pissed off with no real outlet for it. It feels good to be on the instigating end, finally, to be the one doing the pushing instead of getting pushed. And I keep riding the waves of that, leaning into August and not letting him get away with his non-answers. “What was it like?” I press. “Living there? How old were you? Young?” “Shut up.” His expression closes down some, fury blurring out any other emotion. He’s uncomfortable, but relying on anger to get through it is a tried-and-true method. I know that well myself. “Why don’t you want to talk about it? You took me there, so it’s not like I don’t know.” “That was for a purpose,” he spits. “Not for you to go digging around in my life.” “Oh, it sucks when the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?” I shoot back. “Maybe I don’t want to let you off the hook that easily.” “Maybe I don’t give a fuck what you want.” “Well, that’s obvious. If you did, I wouldn’t be here. You’re holding me hostage in your fucking house, and you won’t even give me anything entertaining to keep myself occupied. Tell me why these books.” “I’m not telling you anything!” The words rip out of him, and there’s pure rage behind them. His eyes are snapping with it, and he’s practically growling at me. “Just a little hint?” I ask, putting on a pleading face. “Small one? Were you some kind of nerd in school? You don’t seem like the type.” Before I can get out another taunt, he grabs my upper arms in a tight grip. I can feel the strength and anger in the press of his fingers, and I know I’ll have marks there later. I half expect him to shove me forcibly out of the room, but instead, he drops his head and crushes his mouth to mine, kissing me hard enough to bruise.

August kisses me hard, biting down on my lower lip and dragging it into his mouth to suck on it before releasing it with a loud pop. A little noise of frustrated pleasure spills from my mouth, and I grab his shirt, hauling him back in for more. He doesn’t resist, devouring my mouth with his, hot and slick and messy. It’s the same thing I did with Napoleon earlier, kissing him to get him to shut up and stop saying shit I didn’t want to hear. I know that’s what he’s doing right now. But somehow, I don’t care. His hands roam over my shoulders and down my arms, finding their way around to fit in between my back and the bookshelf I’m still pressed against. He manages to grab twin handfuls of my ass, groping me hard, and I moan into his mouth all over again. I can’t control my reaction to it, and I don’t even try that hard, really. It’s all happening too fast. All the anger and hate between us is coming out as this hot, intense sexual desire, and I feel like it would burn me up if I tried to ignore it. I can feel how hard August is as he presses forward, grinding into me. I press back against him, rubbing against the hardness of his body. With a little growl of desire, his mouth moves from mine down to my jaw, leaving biting, open-mouthed kisses as he blazes a trail to my neck.

 I gasp when he bites at just the right spot, arching against him and tipping my head back. That seems to give him an idea, and one hand releases my ass to fist in my hair, yanking it enough to one side that he has complete access to my neck. His mouth is hot and wet, and it feels like it’s everywhere as he kisses me, my body responding eagerly to his touch no matter what my mind might think about him. My nipples go hard and tight, and my pussy throbs with need. It still feels too empty from when Napoleon rejected me, and it’s almost like it can sense that there’s a chance to fix that right now. “Fuck,” I groan, pulling against August’s hold on my hair just to feel the sharp pain that comes from the resistance. He doesn’t say anything, releasing my hair after a moment and letting the silvery strands fall over my shoulders as his hands start roaming again. They find my nipples, and he pinches and tweaks them through my shirt at first before sliding his hands under the fabric and shoving my bra out of the way. His mouth trails down lower, and he presses those hot, feverish kisses along the skin of my chest and my tits, tugging down the neckline of my shirt until he finds one nipple and takes it between his teeth, biting down and none too gently.

 I cry out at the sharp sting of it, squirming against the shelves while he practically feasts on my tits, leaving even more biting kisses in his wake. Pinned in place, it’s all I can do to stay upright against the shelves, letting him run his mouth over my skin and my nipples. My pussy is wet again, so desperate to be touched or filled or something, and I grind even harder against him, searching for the friction to take the edge off. August finally looks up again, and his jade green eyes are dark now. There’s still anger there, but it’s being crowded out by the raw lust emanating from him. It’s a damn good look on him, and I reach up to grab ahold of the back of his neck, pulling him down so I can kiss him again. He grunts out something that might be a curse or might be my name, but I swallow the sound either way, shoving my tongue into his mouth and almost daring him to keep up with me. And he does. He kisses back with equal intensity, matching my pace until we’re both breathless. I’m the first one to pull back, needing to catch my breath while my head spins. August takes advantage of the moment and rips my shirt over my head, exposing my bare chest to the air of the room. He yanks my bra off, and I half expect him to go back to my tits, but instead, his hands go down lower, undoing the button and zipper on my jeans so he can drag them down. August’s already dark eyes turn almost black as he stares down at me. 

Without saying a thing, he drops to his knees in front of me and takes those kisses down to my pussy. He sucks and licks at it like it’s the best thing he’s tasted all year, his tongue working itself along my folds and circling my hole with precision. I can’t help the way I shiver at how it feels, the heat and pleasure of it shooting through me. I still feel sensitive from Napoleon making me fall apart so many times less than an hour ago, and August’s mouth on me feels amplified, as if every sensation is turned up to eleven. He’s messy with it, eating me out and making his face and my thighs slick with my arousal. I look down at him while he drags his tongue over me, breathing hard and still feeling spiteful. “You’re lapping up Napoleon’s cum, you know,” I taunt breathlessly. That’s enough to get him to jerk back, but he doesn’t seem disgusted or squeamish about it. Instead, his eyes are dark with anger again, and his face twists into a mask of fury. “You fucked Napoleon?” he demands. I can’t tell if he’s mad about me fucking Napoleon in general or me fucking Napoleon instead of him. I could easily lie and say that yeah, we fucked, but it bothers me for some reason that the answer is no. I was right there, mostly naked and still a mess from the rolling orgasms Napoleon gave me, and he didn’t want to finish what he fucking started. It sits sourly in my belly, the sting of rejection still present and irritating. So I refuse to answer August, just raising an eyebrow and shrugging one shoulder. Let him think whatever he wants about that.

 He narrows his eyes, a hard look coming over his face. Then he slaps my pussy hard with one hand. I jerk and moan in surprise, taken aback by the sudden harshness. When he does it again, harder, a flash of pain bursts through me before my clit starts to throb with need. “Fuck.” It’s basically the only thing I can think to say to express that it felt fucking good, but August doesn’t seem to need more than that. He dives back in, hands gripping my hips hard while he licks me with even more vicious determination than before. Even with the knowledge that he’s licking the remnants of Napoleon’s cum out of me, he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t seem like he’s put off at all. It’s more like he wants to lick me clean or something, to overtake what Napoleon did to me and wipe it out of my memory.

And he’s fucking good at it, too. I don’t know where August falls on the spectrum of Syverson to Napoleon in terms of how often he likes to fuck, but he knows what he’s doing. His tongue curls along my clit, teasing it and working me up. I thread my fingers into his hair, holding on tight and rolling my hips as the sensation builds and builds and builds. I can feel my orgasm rising, threatening to overtake me. And then, when I’m right there on the edge, about to tip over into a fucking amazing orgasm, August stops and pulls back. “What the shit?” I gasp out, sounding hoarse and breathless. “I was close.” He doesn’t say anything, just gets up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. My legs are shaky, and I’m ready to be pissed off as hell if he thinks he’s going to walk away without getting me off after all that. But then he grabs me again and turns me around so I’m facing the bookshelves. He grabs my hands and braces them against the wood, moving me where he wants me. I should be pissed off. I am pissed off. But that’s not the only reason my heart is racing. He grabs my pants where they’re pooled around my ankles and pulls them up just enough that they wedge my thighs together, keeping my legs tightly closed so I can’t open them. Just how he wants me. I’m about to turn around and tell him to get the fuck on with it, when he drives into me hard enough to leave me breathless. Like this, with my legs pressed together, I’m even tighter than usual, and it’s like I can feel him everywhere, pressing against my walls, filling me up.

 August isn’t gentle with it either. He grabs my hips hard, fingers digging into my flesh as he fucks me even harder. His cock drives into me with punishing force, the sound of our skin slapping together ringing out in the room. I don’t bother to hold back my sounds of pleasure. I probably couldn’t even if I wanted to. Not with the way he’s fucking me hard and dirty, making sure that each thrust sends the whole length of his cock slamming into me, hitting that spot inside me that makes me cry out almost every time. Heat and electric sensation curl through me, radiating out from my center to spread into my whole body. I was already on edge before, from his mouth on me, and this is just another step closer to throwing me into an orgasm headfirst. I move my hand, ready to rub at my clit until I come from it all, but August growls behind me. He grabs my wrist and puts my hand back where it was, holding it down with almost bruising force. “No,” he pants. “You don’t get to touch yourself.” It flashes through my mind to tell him where he can shove his bossy bullshit, but then he slams into me so hard that it’s all I can do to stay upright. My heart is pounding almost as forcefully as the way he’s fucking me, bashing against my ribs and making it hard to catch a full breath. Books fall from the shelves around us as my tight grip on the bookshelf makes the whole thing shake. My back is arched, my eyes half closed. My whole body is on fire. I’m so close, right there on the edge, ready to tip over into that well of pleasure that’s been building steadily, but August doesn’t let me. He doesn’t give me that last little push I need. Instead, he starts fucking me more shallowly, letting his cock dip in and out of my pussy without driving all the way in. A noise of helpless frustration spills out of my mouth, and I ball my hands into fists against the wood of the shelf. August doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even taunt me for being needy and desperate. He just keeps his hips moving, turning those shallow thrusts into long, slow ones that still don’t give me all that I need. He’s holding out for as long as he can, clearly, and it’s driving me fucking insane. I thrust my hips back, trying to take him to the hilt, trying to get more, and he just makes a low noise and digs his fingers in harder. 

Maybe it’s a warning, maybe it’s a reaction. I don’t know and I don’t fucking care. All I know is that if I don’t come, I’m going to go insane. My core throbs, spasming around his dick like it’s desperate to milk it dry once I’m allowed to come, and I whine low in my throat, feeling all that sensation keep building like it’s going to snap. Finally, he seems to be at the end of his tether. I can feel his hips stuttering, the stamina he’s been using to drive me nuts finally giving out. He reaches around and down and pinches my clit hard. The pain and stimulation are enough to set me off like a bomb, and I nearly scream, getting a hand up over my mouth in time to muffle it as I explode in pleasure. I can barely breathe, barely keep my body from shaking itself apart as I come, gushing on his cock and squeezing it hard. August follows me over the edge, letting out a low groan as he pumps me full of his release. I’m breathless, slumped against the shelves, trying to remember how to move or do anything. My body is still trembling from the force of my pleasure, and I nearly stagger when August pulls out and steps back. By the time I can turn around to look at him, he’s pulling his pants up and tucking his cock away. Even though I’m positive he was just as into that as I was, he looks more put together, since he’s dressed and not oozing cum the way I am. “Clean up the fucking books,” he says, back to that angry, flat tone. Then he turns and walks out, leaving me there with the mess. Whatever bliss I was feeling a second ago evaporates instantly on the heels of my anger, and I’m pissed off all over again. Not about fucking him, but about the fact that it feels like he’s won something. Like he’s the one who came out ahead and has the higher ground now, even though I’m the one who instigated the confrontation.

 He walked out like he was fine and nothing had changed, but I’m the one slumped against a shelf like I’ve lost my equilibrium. August definitely had the upper hand while we were fucking. I needed him at that moment, and I hate that more than anything. He practically had me begging, poised on the edge of an orgasm I could only get from him, and he knew it. “Fucking asshole,” I spit, even though there’s no one there to hear it. I don’t need anybody. Least of all August. Or any of these fucking guys. “I’ll pick up your stupid books,” I mutter under my breath. I gather up the ones that fell off the shelves and make sure to smear his cum on the pages before slapping them shut and putting them away. The pages will get stuck together, and it’ll serve him fucking right.

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ N o t e ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ I got inspired by some art I saw on Twitter (I think it was from @teaforgods), and I said, why not write a smut about it? I hope you’ll like it! Your feedback is appreciated ♡

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ P a i r ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ Gojo x F!Reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ T a g s ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆smut, dub-con, roleplay, mention of knives, crying, p in v, unprotected sex.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ P l o t ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ A mysterious man with a Ghostface mask chases the reader around the house. His intentions change at some point 👀.

Check my Patreon for early content ♡

Your heart was racing as you ran through the corridors of your own house. It was a two-story building, so you had plenty of space. The main problem was that you couldn’t hide anywhere, as the intruder was always behind you. He was insanely fast, making it very difficult for you to trick him.

“Leave me alone!” You shouted in despair as you saw him dangerously close to you. Luckily, you entered the bedroom and shut the door in his face. Sounds of scratching could be heard on the other side, accompanied by loud bangs as he forced himself through the door.

Suddenly, everything became quiet. The only thing that you could hear was your own breathing.

“Is it over?”

The ringtone of your phone made you flinch. Hesitantly, you brought the phone to your ear and listened. For a few seconds, it was quiet, then a menacing voice spoke.

“What about the window, you fucking moron?”

You looked terrified at the window you forgot to close, and before you could react, a tall, buffed figure climbed inside wearing a tight, dark shirt with sweatpants and a Ghostface mask. He was holding a knife and waving it in the air in a taunting manner.

You were cornered in your small bedroom. You didn’t have time to unlock the door, and you’d rather not turn your back on him.

“Please…” you said in a croaked voice as you walked backwards.

“Beg harder,” he said as he kept closing the distance between you. Suddenly, your back hit the door, and seeing that you’re cornered, the intruder let out a devious chuckle. He kept coming towards you slowly, as if he wanted to agonise you. When there were mere inches between you, he placed a hand next to your head and hunched a little to be closer to your face. He brought the knife to your cheek and pressed the blade lightly on your flesh, urging you to look at him.

“Such a pretty face," he said. The truth is, you were gorgeous, even when you were crying for your life. “It would be a shame to slash such beauty into pieces.”

“Please…I’ll do anything…” you said between sobs.

“Anything…?”

You nodded. A devious smirk formed under his mask.

The hand that rested near you slid slowly on the wall, and then it stopped near your face. Then, as his thick, long fingers danced across your skin, his big thumb began playing with your lower lip. As he did so, you stopped crying and watched your intruder with half-lidded eyes. He gently ran his thumb a few more times over your lips until he urged you to open them, a moment in which he slid his digit inside, playing with the inside of your mouth.

“Hmmm, so warm... so wet…” he said in a hoarse voice.

You closed your eyes as you wrapped your pretty lips around his fingers and began to suck. This made him drop the knife on the floor. The clink made you open your eyes again.

“Don’t think of anything stupid.” He said this as he forced his finger deeper down your throat. You somehow liked how intrusive he was with your body, and you began to suck again as he went in and out.

You liked that you were cornered. You liked how little space you had, and you liked how he basically pinned your body on the wall with his much larger frame.

Lost in your own filthy pleasure, you began to suck one of his fingers in the most dirty ways possible, twisting your tongue around it and letting out quiet moans occasionally. You also wrapped your hand around his wrist to prevent him from moving.

“You dirty whore, look at you. I wonder if this is how you deal with the real thing too.” He said it with a hint of amusement in his tone.

He pulled out his finger in a rough way, grabbed your hair, and pushed you down on your knees. He got a strong grip on your scalp, and he was much more powerful than you, so he made you kneel in front of him with no effort.

Your face was at his crotch level, and your nose was inches away from that bulge. You got the idea, and with steady hands, you began to untie his sweatpants, and then you pulled them down slowly, revealing those toned thighs.

You pressed your palm over his boxers, teasing his erection. His heavy breathing could be heard even when he had that mask over his face, and soon they transitioned to groans as you began to stroke him. Your hand went up and down on his erection, your fingers getting all over it. He was thick—so thick that you could barely wrap your hand around him—and he was long too.

You raised your head to look at him, and with big doe eyes, you pulled out your tongue and gave him a slow, long lick along his shaft, starting from the middle up to his tip. Some of his precum were smeared on your tongue, having a salty taste.

“Stop being a tease, or else I’ll shove it down your throat.”

Your cunt throbbed a little at his threat, but you didn’t want to go to such lengths without preparation, so you closed your eyes and took his tip in your mouth. You twisted your tongue and sucked as you struggled to go deeper. With every inch that’d pass your throat, he would moan louder and louder.

Not having any more patience, he tightened his grip on your hair and pulled you onto your feet. Then, he roughly pushed you to the vanity desk you had, knocking off all the make-up on the floor before slamming you on the surface. You barely straitghend your legs when you felt his big, calloused hand ripping off your shorts. In a matter of seconds, you felt some fingers spreading your lips apart. If you didn't know better, you could swear that he was admiring your throbbing, puffy cunt.

“I knew you were into this type of shit.” A loud smack was heard in the room. His palm made a print on your cheek.

“I knew from the start that you were one of those kinky bitches.” His tip began to stretch your cunt as he pushed inside slowly. You gasped at the intrusion as you began to fill up really fast.

“And I knew….” He took a deep breath, followed by a groan, signifying the deep pleasure that your tight cunt brought him. “God… I knew you’d be soaked by the time I stripped you.”

He was halfway in, and you already felt full to the brim. With one hard thrust, he buried himself inside you, causing you to let out a high-pitched scream. Your mind was dizzy, and your body felt weaker and weaker with each thrust. He went slowly at first, so you can get used to the length. His cock shifted back and forth, massaging your interior with its girth, and I started to feel so good…any discomfort that you felt was now replaced by bliss. Greedy and neediness took over as you wanted him to fuck you for hours. All the fear was gone, and all you could think about was how bad you wanted him to go faster and harder.

He let out a grunt of satisfaction upon seeing how his shaft would disappear inside you, and as if he read your mind, he picked up the pace. In a short time, he was slamming his cock inside you, driving you to the heights of pleasure. With eyes rolling back and mouth agape, you weakly said his name as your nails were digging in the wooden edges of the desk.

“F-fuck…Gojo…”

The desk was shaking and hitting the wall, creating a loud sound with every thrust of his.

Feeling that you were approaching your climax, he grabbed your hips and raised them a bit so he could go even deeper. You are basically standing on your tiptoes now.

His breathing was becoming more erratic, his grunts deeper, and the grip left red marks on your skin. You came first, hard, while screaming his name. Your body began to shake from the intensity, but he wasn’t finished yet. The few more thrusts resulted in overstimulation for you, but you didn’t mind once you felt his warm, thick fluids spilling inside you.

Exhausted, he took off his mask and tossed it on the ground. He took a deep breath and wiped some sweat from his face.

“It’s very difficult to breathe with that thing…” he said as he pulled out. He gently grasped you by the waist and helped you straighten your body. “You ok?”

You raised your head and saw his beautiful face watching you with concern. He is not a fan of role-play, especially one that involves him chasing you with a knife, but you were a die-hard fan of classic horror movies, and you also happened to ask him so nicely that he couldn’t refuse.

"Oh, fuck yeah…” you said, ecstatic. You wanted to try this for a very long time. “How about you? Did you enjoy it?”

“Hmm, it wasn’t that bad.” He said it with a smirk as he placed a kiss on your forehead. “Let’s take a bath; what do you say?”

He took good care of you for the rest of the night. Before falling asleep, you two watched Halloween. After all, you wanted to give him inspiration for the next chase.

[ruvviks]

teehee hi. spare a vitali fact. i need to hear abt him <3

HIII THANK YOU SO MUCH >:^)

after the broker arc vitali gets a nightclub at his office! it's in the basement of the building (his office building is called the crest by the way) and it's called club dysnomia :^) it means anarchy / lawlessness which ties in with vitali's central themes but in the opposite way since he's actually got a very strong moral code and is very composed but also there's so much rage in him. you understand

the club is semi-private which means it's mostly open for business with mercs and clients that have been to the office before but new mercs and clients are welcome too :D it's open to the public in the weekends too to generate more income and while it Is on the fancier side, it does have a very laid back atmosphere and it's a lot more chill than most bars and clubs in night city. the music isn't too loud (vitali is hard of hearing and he's trying to listen to viktor's advice a little better) and it focuses more on the hanging out together part than the dancing part (there's still an area for dancing but club bodytalk (aubrey's club) is a LOT more focused on that)

the place becomes the main working place for the ex employees of clouds. in my canon they manage to keep the place running without the tyger claws for a while by themselves but end up feeling unsafe which prompts vitali to open his own club so they can work there instead. the place doesn't use BDs and/or doll chips but employees Can do sex work there safely without any risks

the last part is important to me because vitali back in college used to go to clubs a LOT, went to every party he could go to and did sex work on the side to make enough money for rent and his meds and later his surgeries as well. it was a very bad time for him and clubs were generally just. a bad place for him to be but at the same time they made him feel Alive in a way; him now having his own club with all the positive effects they used to have on him but none of the negative effects is very important, and for others to be able to do the work he used to do himself but without any dangers or risks adds to this too. he just wants to create a safe space for everyone basically

bonus fact added to all this is that later on in like. 2083-2084ish vitali starts an alliance with club bodytalk, so with aubrey :^) he generally doesn't work together with other fixers that much (except for like. the council. but that's just meetings he goes to and he doesn't collaborate with any of them directly except for with rogue every now and then) but aubrey seems a lot more laid back than all the other fixers out there. which is true. and that's how the extended blorboverse ends up all together basically :^)

that's also how vitali ends up meeting. well. reuniting actually. with andrew colton (@reaperkiller's freak of a man) who was like. the director of the serpent projects back at arasaka and at some point head of special programs altogether. the cause of everything bad that happened to all the test subjects including sebastian vidal which is where the extended blorboverse story comes in play. vitali worked at counterintel at the time and kept fighting off maxtac attempts at getting into special programs so naturally vitali wanted to know what that was all about and kept bothering andy about it for a couple of years before he got fired and became a fixer instead and everything

yeah so basically andy isn't with arasaka anymore either and funnily enough his younger brother jesse who he hasn't spoken to in years is working for vitali as nightclub manager so they also get to reunite. and also vitali and andy kiss. vitali and aubrey too if that wasn't clear yet i mean look at them. the rest of the clown brigade is just making bets on who's next on the list