#a hurricane in human skin

[goodbye432]

I made RPR memes bc I realized im a little bit obsessed again

[dragon-ascent]

(inexplicit nsfw!)

Let's be honest, Zhongli and you would be so mismatched in terms of stamina; this man can go for hours at a time while you can go maybe two rounds before you're out cold. It's partially your lover's fault anyway - a powerful divine being like him can get rather intense, even if his caresses and movements are sweet and gentle. Besides, his teeth might tell another story, judging by all the bite marks and hickeys you'd have, scattered across your skin like constellations of lust.

Not to mention his tail, his long scale-adorned tail that wraps around your thigh, your waist, your wrists, wherever he feels he needs you to be held in the heat of the moment.

Zhongli might be masquerading as a human, but there is nothing mortal about the way he takes you. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure with the intensity of a landslide hurtling down a mountain, catapulting you straight to the stars and back. A heated hurricane of wanton words spill out from the lips of this otherwise polite and chaste-seeming man, reaffirming in no uncertain terms that you are his and he is yours.

Sure, he might gently embrace you come morning light, tend to your aches and sores, and prepare you a wonderful nourishing breakfast in bed, but the moment you think all is well and both of you are satiated, Zhongli would slyly suggest a sequel to the night's schemes.

Sorry, but you'll need days to recover.

[woollypoison]

Bedroom warfare: part 1

Itzy Yuna x m reader A/N: Angst, smut is for the next part! Word count: 2,434 words.

You’re looking forward to this. A rare night off, some drinks, catching up with your best friend, and finally meeting the girl who has him acting like she hung the very stars in the sky. He talks about her constantly, non-stop bragging. How she’s different, how she keeps him on his toes. You can’t remember the last time he was this into someone, so yeah, needless to say you were curious.

The roads are getting bad, snow already piling along the curbs. You should’ve come earlier, but fuck it, you made it.

You step up to the door, stomp the snow off of your boots and knock twice before letting yourself in. The second you touch the handle, time stops. The cold hits you, but it's a different kind of cold from the snow. A voice in your head screams that opening this door will certainly lead to doom.

The feeling is so sharp, so visceral, you freeze.

A warning.

You ignore it. This is ridiculous. Staying outside any longer might actually make you freeze. You push the door open.

And then you see her. The voice was right.

Yuna. 

She’s curled up on the couch, leaning casually into the cushions like she’s not a demon wearing human skin. Like she hasn’t detonated a nuclear bomb just by existing in this room. There’s no flicker of shock on her face, no moment of hesitation. Just a perfectly practiced smile as she glances up at you, eyes alight with smug confidence and feigned warmness. She was prepared.

“Hey, man!” Your friend’s voice cuts through your brain’s searching for an escape route as he claps a hand on your shoulder. “Glad you made it. Roads are getting bad out there.”

“Yeah,” you manage.

Your friend smiles that big, dumb smile of his, completely oblivious to the way Yuna’s gaze hooks into yours like a knife. “Come in, man. Get comfortable.”

You step forward on autopilot, hanging your coat by the door like you’ve done hundreds of times. Yuna watches without a single crack in her facade, her body language relaxed, deliberate. As if she’s making sure you understand—play along. Do not fuck this up.

“This is Yuna,” your friend continues, gesturing proudly. “Babe, this is my best friend. The one I told you about.”

The one she already knew. The one whose hands were once all over her, whose voice whispered filth into her ear, whose name she moaned as he took each hole of hers as his, whose life she set on fire and walked away from without looking back.

Yuna smiles, tilting her head just slightly. “Nice to finally meet you.”

The fucking nerve on her.

Emotions swell inside you, a festering wound ripping open, but your face doesn’t betray it. You match her smile with an empty one of your own. “Yeah. Likewise.”

You sit across from them, forcing yourself to ignore the way she’s curled into his side, the way his hand rests on her thigh like a claim. It’s all too much.

Your friend, completely unaware of the hurricane tearing through the room sweeping up only you and Yuna, leans back with a content sigh. “She’s incredible, man. Like, seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like her.”

Yuna meets your gaze, and you’d have died if looks could kill, then smiles at your friend. “You exaggerate too much.”

“Not even,” he laughs. “I told him you were different. I mean, look at you.”

You do. She stares back at you. Right at you. Like she’s daring you to say something.

You force a smirk. “Yeah. I’m happy for you.”

The night stretches on, a slow suffocation wrapped in forced pleasantries and underlying malice.

Yuna brushes past you as she walks to the kitchen, her nails grazing your wrist just enough to feel like a scratch. It’s intentional, a silent reminder that she can still reach beneath your skin whenever she wants.

You let your expression remain neutral, but when she returns and settles beside your friend, you decide to push back. You swirl your drink in hand, voice casual but with deadly precision. “You ever think about loyalty?”

Your friend laughs, oblivious. “Deep question, man. What, you been betrayed by someone?”

Yuna knows. Her grip on her boyfriend’s hand tightens, her jaw flexing for the briefest second before she smooths it over with a small, cutesy sound. “Is that something you’re struggling with?”

A sharp retort, coated in molten sugar.

You grin, eyes transfixed on hers, where her soul would be if she had one. “Nah. Just thinking about how rare it is these days.”

She tilts her head unimpressed, expression unshaken by your taunt. “Guess it depends on who you’re with.”

Your friend laughs again, oblivious to the daggers flying inches from his head. “Damn, this is getting deep for a casual night.” Bless his stupid heart.

Yuna goes on to laugh a little too hard with one of your friend’s jokes, her fingers running over his arm as she throws a glance your way. It’s like she wants you to know. See? I can be happy without you.

While your friend isn’t looking and off to get another drink, you lean in slightly, whispering just loud enough that only her ears catch it. “So how long will it be before you cheat on him, too?”

Yuna’s smile doesn’t waver, but her eyes flicker with something dark. “Didn’t know you were still this bitter. Having a hard time getting over me?”

Your friend is none the wiser, sipping his drink and rambling on about something you aren’t even listening to. He doesn’t see the silent war happening right as he returns, doesn’t feel the tension stretching thin enough to snap.

And Yuna? She sits there, composed, graceful, effortlessly charming. Like she hasn’t spent the entire night digging her nails into old wounds just to watch them bleed.

You can’t wait for this night to end.

Your friend’s phone buzzes against the coffee table, cutting through the forced, suffocating conversation. A moment of relief. He barely looks at the screen before answering.

“Hello?”

A pause. His expression shifts. It’s subtle at first, then tightening with concern.That big, dumb smile evaporates.

“What? When?”

Yuna straightens beside him, her fingers curling slightly on her lap. You watch the way her entire body goes rigid, instinctively responding to the shift in energy. The room tilts, like the balance of power is about to change. A ceasefire is called, as your common concern grows ever more concerned.

Your friend exhales sharply and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. No, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He hangs up, already moving towards the door.

“I have to go,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter. “It’s my mom. She’s in the hospital.”

Yuna blinks. “Oh my god?”

The snowstorm outside has only gotten worse, and the roads are probably a nightmare. You’re sure he knows that, but there’s no hesitation in his movements. You can’t blame him, you’d be much the same. He’s already halfway to the door, shoving on his coat.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says, then glances between you and Yuna. “You two will be fine, right?”

Like hell you will.

No. No, you won’t be fine. Not alone. Not with her. Anything but that.

You clear your throat. There’s not enough time for an excuse, and you’d feel even worse using one in this situation. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, man.”

He frowns, halfway into pulling on his other sleeve. “What? Are you serious?”

“The roads are bad. You shouldn’t be out in this. Or I could come with you?”

“It’s my mom,” he says, like that explains everything. And in a way, it does.

You swallow any goodness you have left in yourself, attempting one final protest. “Still—”

“Please, stay here, just in case something happens. Yuna doesn’t know what to do if the power goes out. It’d make me feel more at ease.”

If only he knew half of it. But this is not the time to be selfish. He’s your best friend.

Your jaw tightens. Yuna doesn’t react, doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say a damn thing. She doesn’t need to. Everything she wanted to say, you already did. She wants you nowhere near her. But your friend was right. This was the better solution.

Your friend claps a hand on your shoulder. “Just stay, alright? Keep each other company.”

You nod in reluctant agreement. “Yeah. Sure.”

And just like that, he’s gone. The door slams behind him.

A rotten silence taints the air.

The performance shatters instantly.

The false smiles, the polite distance—it’s all destroyed the second his car pulls out of the driveway.

You exhale sharply, rubbing a hand over the back of your neck as you peered over to Yuna. “Fucking hell.”

Yuna scoffs, her arms crossed. “Yeah, I’m not happy about this either.”

She walks past you, and you hate that you recognize every little sway, tilt and strut her body makes. The controlled tension in her shoulders, the barely concealed hostility humming in her eyes. She’s coiled tight, inches away from snapping.

You don’t give her the satisfaction of speaking first. If anything you’d prefer to just sit in silence, minding your own business until your buddy is back.

“Guess it’s just us now.” She laughs. Fuck. So far for silence. It’s sharp, bitter. Venomous. “Like old times.”

Your hands clench at your sides. “Not fucking funny.”

Yuna turns to face you fully, her lips curling into something devious. “Never said it was.”

A charged tension crackles between you, thick with unresolved filth. You can’t look at her without the memories flooding back. The way she felt beneath you as you pounded her down to where she belonged. The way she used to moan your name, confessing her filthy desires and so-called love. The way she made you feel like the only person worthy of her in the whole world—before she tore it all apart.

And yet, despite it all, despite your veins burning with hatred, you can feel it. You know she’s thinking the same thing. Seeing the same memories.

The past isn’t dead between you. Far from it. It’s alive, thrashing, screaming, demanding to be acknowledged.

Yuna tilts her head, breaking your introspection. She’s studying you like a bug nailed to the wall. “You look like you want to say something.”

You exhale sharply. She’s wrong. You don’t want to say something. You want to stay silent. You have to say something. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then fucking say it.”

Your hands tighten into fists, your venomous glands activating. “You cheated on me.”

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look guilty. Just crosses her arms and raises a brow. “Yeah. I did.”

The sheer lack of remorse in her voice sends you over the edge. You expect her to at least soften, to at least pretend like it wasn’t that bad, saving her own skin. But she doesn’t. She stands in it, owns it, like she’s daring you to throw it in her face. Daring you to do something.

She knows just how to press your buttons. It never works out in your favor, but you bite back.

“And yet I’m still the villain?”

Yuna steps forward, voice razor-sharp, knowing exactly what you’d say. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, right. I forgot. Because you think what I did was worse.”

She doesn’t agree, and the snap in her scowl all but confirms it. “It was.”

You step closer too, closing the distance between you until there’s barely a foot between your bodies. She won’t get the best of you. “You spread your legs for another guy, Yuna.”

“And you turned me into some sex trophy to fucking show off,” she spits.

She’s right, both your words serving as the flame used to light a fuse burning toward an explosion neither of you cares to stop.

Yuna’s voice drops lower, more venomous. “You think fucking me over behind my back was okay? At least I had the decency to keep it private. At least I didn’t—” She cuts herself off, centering herself before continuing. She knows her strikes will land harder if she’s calm to deliver them. “Do you have any idea how it felt?”

You don’t respond. You can’t respond, and she doesn’t stop.

“I found out months later,” she says, voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. “Randomly. Just—stumbled across a conversation between you and your drinking buddies. ‘Look at her tits, isn’t she fucking unreal?’” Her eyes are burning now, the reflection of the impending explosion clearer than ever. “And they agreed. Told you how fucking lucky you were. All while I had no idea you were passing those pictures around like a fucking trophy.”

She had you dead to rights, but you didn’t care. “I was drunk.”

Her laugh is pure ice. Unamused and willing to kill. “Oh, fuck you.”

You began forming something that barely resembles an excuse. Against your better judgement. “I didn’t think—”

“That’s the fucking problem,” she snaps, stepping forward until she’s practically in your space. “You never thought. You never cared.”

You snapped back, your version of the truth different from hers. “That’s not true.”

Her head tilts again. It’s her tell for being in disbelief, her eyes dark. “Isn’t it?”

Silence. You wanted it not long ago, but now it’s suffocating.

You don’t have an answer.

Or maybe you do, but you don’t want to say it. Maybe there is some truth to you being an asshole.

Yuna scoffs at your lack of response, then turns away. You expect her to storm off, to put as much distance between you as possible, but she doesn’t. Instead, she walks to the counter, grabs the bottle of whiskey sitting there, and pours herself a bottom. She knocks it down without effort.

You frown, knowing what kind of omen this was. “Drinking already? That’s a bad idea.”

She scoffs, pouring herself another. “Yeah, you’re famous for being good with alcohol.”

You don’t respond to her accusation. There’s no point. What she did was worse anyway. “Alcohol makes you messy.”

She smirks bitterly, raising her glass in mock salute before taking a slow, deliberate sip. “Yeah?” Her eyes drift to yours, heavy-lidded and absolutely unimpressed. “And whose fault is that?”

You don’t answer.

Because you both know exactly whose fault it is.

And now, there’s nothing left between you but impending destruction. It wasn’t a matter of ‘if’, it was a matter of ‘when’.

[theveryworstthing]

on patreon Convoluted asked for Gender Plasma and Hypothemya mentioned gay heathen deities which summoned Strike, or Lady Stormfather if you're being formal, from the Small Guide world.

Strike is associated with ocean storms, hurricanes, ruined maps, strange new courses, terrifying beauty, shapeshifters, and generally wild sea phenomena near the surface of the water. She is commonly worshiped by queer sailors and seen as a symbol of queer exploration due to stories of Her ever shifting gender presentation whenever She takes human form (She uses she/her in god form purely because Girl Time is her favorite and mixes it up to fit her current human form the rest of the time) and how She's always as gay as possible no matter what she's shifted into. this doesn't have a lot to do with her powers, She's just Like That.

She also seems to reveal Her hidden havens to queer people more often. there are many tales of Her storms sweeping ships to islands that shouldn't exist, and the sailors who feel compelled to come ashore returning to the boat Changed by whatever blessings they find among the patches of glassy sand and the smell of lightning charred trees. some of the changes seem small. a bit of added confidence in their body language, a strange infectious lightness in their eyes like a great weight had been removed, the warm glow of of some satiated need dripping from their every movement. others seem grander, as they greet their old crew mates with altered bodies still flush from being shaped by the wind and rain and new names that taste like the air before a storm. some even come back with guests, emerging from the brush hand in hand with new lovers and friends, all with Lichtenberg figures etched into their skin and stray hairs unruly with static electricity.

some never come back at all. that's how it is with the sea sometimes. the ships are eventually driven back out by a fresh storm and lightning-bright eyes watch the departure from the dark between the trees.

random fun facts: Strike is one of Bathomet's casual on again, off again, paramours and Her sigil animal is a ribbon eel. this is why you'll find artwork of ribbon eels outside of things like seaside gay taverns or tattooed on coastal dwarves. Her favorite offerings are flower petals thrown into the wind right before a storm, shallow dishes of fruit juice or alcohol, and small pieces of metal, preferably silver or copper.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nik being strong enough to pick Price up when he's in a bad mood and just put him on the bench of his workshop.

Price is in air jail and now at the perfect height for when Nik tugs the zipper of his flight suit down to reveal that fluffy chest, those burly arms, that glorious belly and happy trail that leads to the weapon between his legs.

Honestly I don't think John could work those cargo pants off fast enough, maybe Nik forgoes that entirely and cuts a neat hole right in the crotch and rips to get at his prize.

Price is walking (Maybe a little bow-legged) out of there a hell of a lot happier than when he walked in.

The lads chip in for a nice takeaway for Nik for helping them out (Dealing with Price's shitty mood)

Nik uses his dick as a captain tamer.

cw: anal sex, mild brat taming, a little rough.

John’s temper was nothing new. Nik had experienced it in its various permutations through the years. It was like a hurricane; loud, destructive, and indiscriminate in the damage it caused, taking out friends and foes alike. But it eventually ran out of wind; surviving it was simply a case of moving out of its way until the inevitable conclusion. And, just like a storm, it wasn’t personal, but a natural byproduct of all the pressures and stresses weighing on John’s shoulders. He was only human.

Sometimes, however, the bad mood would fail to wear itself out and John would become more cantankerous as time wore on and his frustration built. If he was particularly tired, stressed, his body wound tight, feeding his brain a continuous flow of cortisol and catecholamines, then his grizzly mood was liable to last for days. A dark cloud hanging over the base and Task Force, suffocating.

It was day three this time and Nik’s patience had worn out. It was time to give the feral bastard what he needed. The lieutenant called it ‘a good seeing to’ and the sergeants, while not quite brave enough to say it to John’s face, said he was always a bit more human after he’d been stuffed with cock. Nik had worked out it was the act of having control stripped out of his hands, his mind emptied of all but pleasure, and his body flooded with endorphins from an orgasm. It stopped the spiral in its tracks. Even if it was only a reprieve to simply clear his head, it was often enough to give him the breathing room he needed to resolve the problem. He would deny it, of course, but John surrendered every time.

Nik finished the maintenance he’d been performing on the Black Hawk’s main rotary engine and washed his hands clean in the workshop sink, careful to remove the grease and grime from his cuticles. It was late. Most of the base had either retired to the barracks, gone home to their local residences, or headed out to the pub, but John was still here, huffing and growling over the laptop on the nearby workbench. “I can’t fuckin’ believe they’re takin’ Simon for another trainin’ seminar, puts him out for three fuckin’ days—“

Nik had invited him in to discuss some intel, citing his need to continue maintenance to stay on schedule as the reason for the location and, ever diligent, John had arrived on time with his laptop in tow, unknowingly sliding right into Nik's trap. Nik turned off the taps and returned briefly to his heli to dip into his duffle bag for the lube before he approached John at the bench. He slid his hands around John’s waist just as he closed his mouth over the soft skin beneath the hinge of his jaw, sucking a mark into soft skin.

“Ah, fuck, Nik—“ John went rigid in Nik’s hands, almost knocking the laptop off the workbench as he span to face him. “You randy bloody bastard, ‘ve got work t’ finish."

Those fierce blue eyes, the stern set of John's face, they would have struck quivering fear into the heart of many a man. But all Nik saw was the stress, the tension, the bone deep exhaustion, all locked up tight behind a safety valve that needed a practiced hand to release it. “Nyet, you are done for the evening.”

“Oh fuckin’ reall—“

He didn’t finish. Nik leaned forward and swept the laptop to the side, before grabbing John’s narrow hips and lifting effortlessly him onto the bench. He shoved his way between John’s knees, not letting him clam up, the expanse of one big hand staying at the base of John’s back to keep him from wriggling away.

John wrestled with him, fists bunching in his flight suit and shoving against his chest, their first kiss more teeth than tongue or lips. But as the heat of Nik's body enveloped him, their crotches pulled flush, chests together, John stopped thrashing in Nik's arms. Nik took it as the first defeat, drawing back to nuzzle John's beard.

"Lemme up, ya muppet."

"Nyet " Nik straightened a little, creating a gap between them even if he remained between John's legs.

"Nik," John growled his warning, but it was a hollow threat.

“You will do as you are told, captain. Good boys get rewards.”

Nik knew the low rumble of his voice, the manhandling, it stirred something primal and receptive in the back of John’s mind. He watched those bright baby blues widen before they dropped to Nik’s hand, following it like a hawk tracking a mouse as Nik grasped the zipper of his flight suit and tugged it down, deliberate in the glacial pace of its progress.

John’s mouth dropped open as curls of black chest hair emerged between parting metal teeth, Nik’s dusky nipples peaking in the cool air, and John’s greedy hands slid across the heat of newly revealed skin, following the firm contours of his tits. Nik leaned forward to kiss John’s neck again, encouraging his touch, and this time his captain relaxed, his legs spreading a little further apart as his hips tilted. He was begging to be fucked. Nik would take John here as planned, and then he would take him to his bed to exhaust him into complete surrender.

Nik tugged his flight suit open to its fullest extent, his cock arching up in readiness where he hadn't bothered with underwear knowing his intentions with John that evening. He popped a few of John's shirt buttons to kiss the furry perk of his pecs, smiling against John's skin as he squirmed, opening his belt and fly with practiced ease. "Oh, fuck, Nik, no, not here..."

"Da, here," Nik replied, listening to John's tone, his body, rather than his words; the way he gasped so desperately and arched into Nik's heat screamed please, please, please. He didn't resist when Nik slid his arms beneath his thighs and grasped his waistband, lifting his arse for a moment to yank his Carhartts and boxers down his thighs.

John hissed as his flushed skin settled back on the cold surface of the workbench, eager for the return of Nik's palms around the upper curve of his cheeks and the dip of his tailbone. John had an exquisite arse; firm, muscular and round. Perfect for bouncing on a cock. Nik kneaded the top of it as he nipped along the edge of John's jaw to his ear lobe, relishing the powerful body writhing enthusiastically in his arms. Who was Nik trying to kid? John was perfect in every way, even with his penchant for sulking.

Nik earned his first needy moan when he let the tip of his cock kiss the tight furl of John's hole, the slightest pressure rubbing his wet slit against the fluttering muscle in an insistent tease. He nuzzled John's beard as he fished the lube out of his pocket and flicked the lid off with his thumb. John's hands pushed beneath the fabric of his flight suit to grip his shoulders, one looping behind Nik's neck to play in the curls at the nape of his neck. John flinched when Nik squeezed the lube onto his balls, the tube clattering on the workbench when it was cast aside. "Bastard..."

Nik smirked, smoothing warm fingers gently down the seam of John's sac to his taint, circling, teasing his rim with little tugs at the opening. When the first finger dipped inside, Nik swallowed John's groan with a kiss, tongue licking into his mouth when it fell open in a shock of pleasure. John didn't need much coaxing, his body opening eagerly around one and then two probing fingers. Nik crooked them up, John's cock flicking as Nik's fingertips rubbed over his prostate. John panted, his head falling back, the filthy noise of Nik's fingers squelching into his hole accented by his soft whimpers. Blunt fingernails dug into Nik's skin as John clung to him, his leaking cock fully hard against the unblemished milky softness of his inner thigh.

"Ah, ah, Nik... Mm, fuck... Ah..."

"Da, solnyshko. Just a little more and I will give you what you need."

Nik could make John come like this, but his balls ached and there was only one place he wanted to empty them; to watch John unspool on his cock was a privilege he deserved. He pulled his fingers out slowly, his thumb tugging down at John's slick, puffy hole as he smeared lube and precum over his crown and down his shaft, tongue between his teeth as he groaned at the sweet anticipation of what awaited. He was so hard, cock throbbing in his grip, balls already tight, and he took a moment to steady himself before sliding his arms beneath John's thighs again, John's booted feet dangling either side of his back, his trousers bunch just shy of his knees.

His fingers pressed into the flesh of John's hips to keep him still as he ground the tip of his cock over the slick skin of John's taint, lower lip between his teeth as John shivered in his grasp, hips tilting again, urging, begging with his body. Nik's tip notched against his hole and Nik held him firm as he thrust inside, John's body gaping wide around the flare of his crown and thick shaft. John quaked in his arms, thighs trembling, his soft, tortured noises nursing a primal delight deep inside Nik's chest.

Nik kept going, sinking into John's body, inch by aching inch, even as it bore down around him in desperation.

"Fuck, Nik, Nik!"

"Da, my love. Surrender to me as you yearn to..."

It wasn't simply the act of sex. Penetration itself was not surrender and John had ridden Nik's cock from above many times, in complete control as Nik ceded, leaning back into the pillows with his eyes closed. But this act, of letting the tension and frustration melt from his body, of giving in to the pleasure of sex with a man who knew how to pluck every string, of finally letting his mind empty and his muscles relax. That was surrender.

Nik pressed deeper, achingly slow, clutching heat struggling with the girth and length. Every time John's channel fluttered, pulsing between relaxing and gripping, Nik seized more ground. John's eyes rolled back as Nik nestled in his guts and finally bottomed out with a satisfied groan, John's stretched hole pressed against the dark curls of his pubic hair. Nik kissed trembling, spit slick lips, rocking gently, staying deep as he hollowed out his place in John's body. "Mm, detka. You are so tight. Relax, breathe..."

"Nik, ah, fuck, Nik. I'so much, hng."

"Ssh, I know, but you are... mm, taking me so well. All you have to do is let go."

Nik didn't give him any choice. He drew out until John's body sucked on his tip, clenching around it in greedy throbs, before he thrust his full length back in. John bit out a soft, startled cry, back arching as his nails bit into Nik's shoulders. Nik leaned into his lover's neck, the downy curls of his chest hair pressing to the warm swells of his firm chest as he clutched his hips tight to pull them into his cock. The next thrust was just as firm, just as demanding, shaking the table on which John sat.

Nik picked up a bruising pace, forcing John's body into submission with each deep thrust, wet skin slapping wetly as the table rattled under the force of Nik's hips pounding against John's arse. John clung to him, unable to find purchase anywhere but Nik's shoulders as he was fucked hard, Nik's palms providing a softer cushion for him to be pressed into, keeping him from being shoved away so that he was made to take every thrust to the hilt at an angle that sent relentless curls of pleasure arcing up the length of his body.

John shook apart so beautifully, his first orgasm was dry, triggered purely by the insistent, relentless drag of Nik's cock over his prostate. Nik felt the first tremors of it and leaned in to coach him through with whispered encouragement, "da, John, such a good boy, let it happen..."

John's body milked him in tight pulses and Nik watched in awe as John's pleasure unspooled through him, his limbs shaking, broad chest heaving in rattling breaths through loud, high-pitched whines, completely overwhelmed at the full body experience of coming on Nik's cock. It was like a molten heat that burned away the last of the tension and left him pliant and open in Nik's arms.

John's hole relaxed, sloppy with lube and wells of precum, the perfect sheath for Nik's cock, still sucking hungrily on Nik's length every time he withdrew before slamming back inside. Nik chased his high, growling into John's neck, nipping at his hammering pulse to taste the sweat on his skin. His climax crept up his spine, a vine of tension pulling him tight, and he nipped John's ear. "Touch yourself, detka."

John grabbed his cock obediently, pumping down its slick length in furious jerks that matched Nik's pace, his moans reaching a crescendo as he was trapped between two pleasure centres. Nik felt John tighten again, another orgasm, and it teased him over into his own. His hips jerked, stuttering against John's arse, as his cock pulsed its first load deep in John's body. John followed him over the brink, the flood of heat inside him making his eyes roll back as his cock painted his hand and shirt in thick ropes of cum as he was filled with it.

Nik's vision greyed, the force of his own pleasure leaving him breathless as his cock twitched in John's channel. He hadn't realised how pent up he'd been, his balls offering a seemingly endless breeding. He panted hot breaths against John's skin, the tip of his nose resting in the bristles of his beard, lips placing soft, fleeting kisses as his body finally finished. When he finally gathered enough coordination to draw out, the filthy noise of his cock withdrawing made him growl with pleasure, his seed welling at John's hole to drip down the curve of his arse to the floor.

When he lowered John's feet, his legs shook, and he lifted him off the table by the hips. "Go to your room. When I get there, I expect to find you naked in bed," Nik said.

John might have argued if he hadn't been completely spaced, his eyes soft in post-orgasmic bliss. Nik helped him right his belt and trousers and then watched him hobble out of the workshop. Once his captain had disappeared from sight, Nik turned his attention to tidying his tools, a little jelly-legged as he strolled about his workshop.

Nik would find John showered and snoozing, naked and warm beneath his blankets, about an hour later. He washed himself, removing the grime and sweat of the workshop, and slipped in beside him to rub his back and shoulders. John roused slowly, content to let Nik ease his aches, legs spreading when those strong fingers slid between them for a second round, his hole buttery soft, eager for Nik's touch. He was impossible to resist.

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 25

(Art of Harpy Neige done by the very talented @ironicallyenraptured )

Warnings; yandere, multiple yanderes, different levels of yandere, mostly story driven chapter, hurt/comfort, snuggles, semi-aftermath, mention of attempted assault, wisdom from past Humans, explaining things, shock is one hell of a drug, cuddle puddle, tears, Hellcat, Ghost, Harpies, Dragon, mention of various species,

~~~~~~~~

Things were quiet far away from the crowd of the arena. The world felt a little smaller and a little more bearable as you lay in the nest, your nest, in Ramshackle. There was something familiar about the old building that soothed your heart, feeling much more relaxed in the familiar bastion.

Idia confirmed no one had managed to get into Ramshackle while you were away. He also mentioned something about adding a lock down mode to the building.

Now you were given something you have not managed to have in a while; solitude.

Of course, that didn't include little Grim who slept next to you in the large nest, not too far from you but curled up in arm's reach. He had suffered the brunt of Erikír's magic and was feeling after effects from the paralytic force that overwhelmed him. Crowley assured you Grim would recover, he was just recovering at a slower rate due to his age and size compared to the others.

Though you knew something terrible had happened and you were still reeling from it, you felt oddly numb. It felt like the world was rushing around you but a strange calm had overtaken everything and you were simply sitting in they eye of the hurricane that raged around you. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, the lack of physical injury, or both that kept you in such a state.

You figured you should check in on Che'nya and Neige given what happened. Most of the Housewardens waited down in the common area of the dorm, letting you decompress from the events that took place. Everyone that had fought or joined the fight before it ended was resting in Ramshackle but you were allowed a blissful moment of quiet to yourself.

Luckily you weren't physically harmed by any of the events, but it still made your skin crawl to think of the Merman prince. It meant more to you than you could describe to have those blessed moments to yourself to just think. Lilia had managed to convince Malleus to let you breathe and have some room but you knew the moment you left the room the Dragon would be by your side.

You stared at the ceiling on your back wondering about where you should go next in this madness filled world. Showing affection seemed a decent enough way to get these monster men to calm themselves. Perhaps you would even have to hold a quick meeting to talk with the various professors and Housewardens about what exactly took place. As far as you were aware, they were all in your dorm anyway and were simply waiting for you to show yourself.

A faint sound of whispers drew your attention and you glanced over to the mirror. You could just barely see the faint glow of the reflective glass and next to it was the thin Human ghost.

Moving as carefully as you could, you got up from the nest, letting Grim sleep off the effects of the signature spell Erikír had used on all of you. The Ghost seemed wary of the door to the room, so you silently ushered them into the adjacent bathroom connected to your room. Hopefully the beasts would all be none the wiser.

"Hello again, my friend. I am glad to see you live another day unbound."

The Ghost greeted quietly, his reedy voice still very faint to keep from being heard by listening ears. He smiled gently at you and you were honestly thrilled to see him again. Though you knew not what the many Ghosts were named, you were happy to know their one visit was not the last.

"Likewise. Though, I wish it was on better terms..."

"We saw what happened. Are you alright?"

"I guess..."

"No, I want to hear a 'yes' or a 'no' for certain. That was an awful thing that prince planned to do to you. I saw the prince talking with those Fae, promising them something that was not his to promise. We tried to warn you before the Tournament, but you weren't here when we arrived."

"I've been in another dorm because of the increased visitors on the island due to today's events. ... What exactly did Erikír promise them?"

"Do you truly wish to know?"

You felt a kind of bile in your throat as you considered your options, feeling more than you had in the last hour. Truly, you didn't want to think about that monster or what he meant by 'our eggs' when he spoke earlier. At the time, you had just wanted to escape and didn't focus too much on what the insane fish was ranting about.

"No, but I should know about it anyway."

"He promised to have you bear several egg clutches for him. The warm water Merfolk tend to have larger clutches, so he promised each one an egg of their own to keep and raise in exchange for their help today."

A shudder ran down your spine when you heard this, knowing the awful monster wouldn't take your feelings into account. If he was so willing to kidnap you, you had little doubt he would be willing to force you into having his young. He was awful, and you vaguely hoped you had the chance to weigh in on what punishment he deserved.

"I'm not okay. To think they would be so willing to see that happen to me... Even for their own benefit. How could they be okay with any child being brought into this world only to be traded away for the imprisonment of their mother? Why would any of them agree to that?"

"Because of our aura."

"What? What does that have to do with any of this?"

"We were interrupted before we could tell you, this aura of ours protects us... To an extent. But it is only as helpful as the species you surround yourself with. It is like a soothing lullaby to the minds and instincts of the other species. Their instincts are like shards of glass spinning around in their heads, always present and always at the forefront of their decisions. Our aura calms that whirlwind of glass and smooths the edges."

"How?"

"Many ways. Magic reacts in interesting ways with the aura of a Human. For some, it makes them more agreeable and calm. For others, it strengthened and enhanced their magic. There were some cases where a Human's aura attracted powerful magic users. Humans were once called Beast-Tamers or Peace-Keepers. Our aura alone was enough to soothe instincts, cool tempers, even end generational conflict."

"So, why were Humans hunted then?"

"That aura is a double edged sword. Though it impacts magic and can soothe instincts, the lack of that aura can have the opposite effect. Those used to the calming presence of a Human's aura can become reliant on it. To many, it didn't matter how they got this aura, from being around Humans to consuming their flesh, it all had the same effect. What was meant as an evolutionary trait of survival, became an addiction for the others that drove our species to extinction. I don't know how you have that same aura or how some of us must have managed to escape to wherever your world is, but you are here now, and your aura draws the others in."

The words of the Ghost weighed heavily on your shoulders, to the point it felt like it was too much. If he was right, then that meant you were both what kept your life safe and what endangered it. These beasts were driven to be in your presence and- thankfully- you had mainly encountered those who could either mostly control themselves or had strong enough allies to keep the other kind at bay.

"How do I stop it?"

"You can't. None of us could figure it out. Only in death could we see what we never could in life."

"So, what? I'm making them addicted to me?"

"Yes. That is why it is crucial we find a way out for you, sooner rather than later. The Dragon already yearns deeply, but that is the way of a Dragon's instincts, they posses and they yearn for those possessions. He is a strong ally, but understand he will only become more determined to entangle himself in your life as time progresses. They all will."

"And Grim?"

"Your feline companion is not the same kind as the species of beasts around you. Our aura is not as strong on those like him. It can impact him, but nowhere near the same level as the others."

"So, Papa Hades..."

The skinny Ghost looked truly sad when you mentioned the old Shinigami, a kind of wistful look in his eyes. He was silent for a moment before he rest a hand over his chest where his heart would have been. It took a moment for the Ghost to speak again, and you refused to rush him as it clearly hurt him to think of the kindly Shinigami.

"He... He is impacted by our aura as well. But even still, he is one to trust more than the others. He was always very kind to us all, perhaps too kind. I was one of his Humans, he let me leave when I wanted but alas... I was too foolish to recognize leaving was only one part of the journey and fell to those that lay in wait just beyond the isle. I couldn't bring myself to face him again after I failed so long ago... If you asked him to help you escape, I would like to think he would help you, but even I don't know for certain. He loved us Humans. Cherished us, even. But I fear the isolation has hardened his heart and the pain he felt at our loss may keep him from letting you become lost as well."

You nodded and glanced back to the door, knowing if you took too long in isolation, the others would surely seek you out. They were smothering and suffocating, but they were your only chance to survive long enough to escape this place. It had been such a short amount of time, but it was no less important for you to understand how desperately these beasts yearned for your presence.

~•§•~

"-should have never been left up to chance! I know you trust your students above my own, but even you should know to trust me when I sense foul play on the horizon."

Crowley was fully fluffed up, his feathers standing on end and his voice sharp as he cawed angrily at the fellow Headmage. Ambrose refused to meet the heated stare of the angered Crow, keeping his gaze downcast as the Crow continued to screech. It was true, Ambrose should trust Crowley's instincts on such things, he had been Headmage of Night Raven College for centuries and knew when to be wary.

"To think, you let him assault my chick, assault your students, and Overblot all at once. All of this, for what? To try and have faith in the goodness of your students? Ambrose, it is not often I am the one to chastise anything you do, but even you must admit it was stupid to think Mr. Helmsman would not try his luck given his prior actions. He showed who he was and you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt!"

Crowley hissed and squawked angrily as he stomped around and paced in front of the Owl. This was the inverse of the typical interaction between the two as it was often Ambrose reprimanding Crowley. Though it was vindicating for the Crow, it was not worth the potential emotional and physical harm that almost befell his chick.

"What prior actions?"

The Dragon growled lowly, his voice impacted by the fire he had breathed out earlier and scratchy from the smoke. Naturally, no one wanted to actually tell Malleus what happened during the Photoshoot, especially considering the fact he was already furious. He had been pacing back and forth between the common area and the stairs that led up to his Human's room, ears perked keenly for any sign his Human or their beloved kit stirred. Vil was the one to break the news.

"Erikír got handsy with (Y/n) during the Photoshoot, he even placed his hands on her stomach."

"So that is why she asked Lilia about it last night. She assures me stomachs are not inherently linked to mating for Humans, but it would explain her discomfort on the subject. Still, this 'prince' assumed such falsehoods were truth and thought to try such brazen disrespect towards (Y/n). He should have been banished from her presence the moment he dared take such action."

The Dragon was agitated and it was obvious in the way he frowned and the subtle twitching of his tail. His wings were tensed on his back as if prepared to fly at any moment should he be called. So much was on his mind that he barely even remembered the unfinished Spelldrive match that declared no clear winner. He really didn't care much for the game or the outcome, only dragging it out for the sake of his dear Human's entertainment.

"I am of a mind with Mr. Draconia, that prince should have never been allowed near her after his clear lack of discretion. Next time I get a feeling about any of the students- yours or mine- you would do well to heed my words, Ambrose!"

During the angry huffing and cawing of the Crow, a soft figure slowly descended the stairs with a groggy Hellcat kit in hand. The kit was yawning and the presence of the Human did not go unnoticed by those in the dorm. Naturally, Malleus was first to head towards the oddly calm looking Human.

It had been one hell of a day thus far for her.

"(Y/n)," Malleus was quick to greet the Human that looked at him with almost distant and shell-shocked eyes, seemingly wanting to hold or otherwise pick her up but barely restraining himself from acting, "are you... Well? Do you need-?"

He cut off as the soft Human he adored walked into his waiting arms, letting the Dragon wrap his tail and wings around her. The hold of the Dragon was secure yet gentle as it seemed even the beast needed that moment simply to calm himself. Despite the beseeching words of his mentor and caretaker, Malleus found himself far more soothed with his Human in hand than he did without her.

Grim also seemed rather keen to lean into the affectionate grasp of the Dragon, his tired eyes struggling to stay open. Erikír's signature spell had mostly worn off of the students it impacted but Grim was clearly struggling to overcome the effects. Neige and Che'nya were both present among the many other students as it seemed more than Housewardens decided to camp out at the Ramshackle dorm. From what you could see, most Vice-Housewardens were present as well and you figured now was as good a time as any to speak with them as a group.

"I need to talk to everyone before what happened truly hits me."

Malleus let you pull away from his hold but kept close behind you like a perpetual shadow that loomed nearby. It was clear the others were keen to hear what you had to say, Che'nya and Neige moving so you could sit between them. Though your Dragon guard seemed less than pleased at the location between those that failed you, he was not going to force you to sit among the Hoard despite his wishes. Your needs were greater and he understood it in that moment.

Grim slowly lifted his head to sniff towards the Harpy that gently cooed to him, almost seeming worried as the kit struggled to stand. You were similarly concerned but the insistence that Grim would recover in time somewhat soothed your worry. At least the kit seemed alright despite his clumsy attempt to nuzzle the hand of the Harpy that sat next to you.

"We will continue this later, Ambrose. (Y/n), my dear sweet innocent chick, we are ready to hear what you have to say."

"Thank you, Headmage."

Crowley seemed somewhat bothered by the formal title, but he allowed you to continue without complaint as it was clear to him something was wrong. From what you gathered, all of the beast men would at least be unwilling to abandon or betray you if you kept an eye on them and divided your attention among them. Your aura should see to the rest when reality decided to hit you full force.

"I assume you all are already aware of the basics as to what happened today, so I won't rehash what we know, but there is something I need to share. Those Fae didn't see an opportunity and just choose to show up, it was planned and orchestrated. Erikír- after he used his signature spell and pulled me from the room- let slip how he gained the favor of those Fae, and what his plan was going forward."

A shiver ran through you as you thought about what had happened and the disgusting feeling it had given you. The faint feel of feathers over your shoulders told you Neige had rest one of his wings over your back, likely as a comforting gesture. You were thankful for the gentle touch of the Harpy that had earned a certain level of trust from you. He did not see the betrayal coming, but you trusted in Grim's judgement more than you could say.

"He said the Fae joined him for the promise of an egg. A half-Human egg. I doubt all of them joined for only one shared among them, so he must have promised them each one of their own. I'm sure I don't need to say where he planned to acquire these eggs. I honestly don't think he really cared if I wanted such things or not, he had made a deal and intended to make good on his word no matter what. This was before he Overblotted. He wasn't Feral when he planned to take me, he turned Feral when I got away from him. I don't feel safe with him nearby, even down the coast at Royal Sword Academy, not after what he has done."

Thunder suddenly boomed and shook the entire building. The air itself seeming filled with electricity as the Dragon among them hissed deeply, his body shaking with rage. Malleus was unaware of these finer details, but learning Fae from his own Kingdom had been so willing to trade what was not theirs to claim had white hot fury filling his veins. This was all in addition to the brazen and frankly disrespectful acts committed by the prince.

Most of the time, Lilia would be the first to make an attempt to calm down the Dragon. He was not keen to stop Malleus from ripping these poachers to pieces for even thinking they could get any young from you, especially when you so clearly belonged in the Hoard. Most of those present were of the same mind as Malleus; riddled with rage.

Ramshackle itself groaned and creaked from the force of the storm outside and you worried for those who may still be in or near the arena. The Tournament was either recently ended or just paused and that meant many could be out in the storm. You were quick to stand, immediately approaching Malleus and resting a hand on his head between his horns. He had almost seemed confused by your actions before you began to gently pet the upset Dragon, almost all tension leaving his body. In a way, he seemed to be fighting the immense calm that your presence brought him.

"He must pay for daring to take what is not his."

"I know, Tsuno, but there are still innocent people on school grounds, you can't drown them in a storm for the crime of being nearby. Save your anger for those that deserve it."

"He deserves death. The Rat is first and his crime was less. I see no reason he can't be next."

"Yeah, but something tells me because he's a prince they will try very hard for a lesser punishment."

"I want him dead."

"I know. You can't kill him. Not yet. We can do nothing about him right now, so I need you to calm down and hold onto that rage. I have no doubt he will lie and try to discredit or back-track on what he said to me. What I need from you is one of the Fae he coerced or several if you can, and they need to be alive. Their attestation is more damning. Evidence is what we need, not a storm."

Malleus made a sound then, like a mix between a whine and a growl. The Dragon was frustrated and didn't want to listen to reason, but he knew what the logical next step was. You were right.

"All Fae in the arena were caught and are going to be questioned. They have all agreed to answer any question and answer honestly, so long as they get to be questioned by you."

Ambrose spoke, his voice resigned and laced with guilt. He refused to meet your gaze and simply continued to look down at his hands, which were balled into fists. You figured he was wrestling with the idea of one of his own students going so wrong so quickly.

"I don't want to talk to any of them. I don't want to talk to anyone who would agree to leave me with a man that intends to use me for his own gratification. I don't care what they've lost or how they are hurt. Pain doesn't excuse their willingness to let horrible things be done to me just so they can sleep easier at night with a bought and sold child born as a result of their inability to control themselves or have a modicum of morals regarding others wellbeing."

"They won't speak to anyone but you."

"Fine. I will break their hearts and their fragile sanity. I want Tsuno, Lilia, and Headmage Crowley present for the questions. They can stare down their own prince and try to beg for the mercy they would have never given me."

There was lasting silence and you could see the fear in the eyes of the beasts around you. It was as if they were trying to decide if you were being serious or not. You could feel the tears forming in your eyes and felt the slow pull of emotions, drawing back to soon drown you in a tidal wave.

There was only moments of clarity left and you could feel the headache forming from the tears that had yet to be shed.

"I can't do it right now. Any of it, really. Right now, I need someone- anyone of you, I don't care- to hold me. I need to be held for several hours and someone needs to make me drink and eat because I won't want to. Honestly, I-"

Your voice faltered and your tears began to fall. Despite your desire to speak and give these clueless monsters the information you needed them to know, there was no more time.

"I-"

You figured Malleus would be first. He was closest after all, but you really didn't care who it was this time. Those in the dorm were those who have proven themselves trust worthy. You just needed to collapse and cry.

Emotions were strange like that, so terribly absent in the height of stressful situations yet so vicious in their return they knocked your knees out from under you. You vaguely registered the feeling of scales, feathers, fur, and flesh as your world seemed to implode. Every breath was difficult and your body shook with more than just the force of your tears.

Horrible things seemed to happen around you and now you knew you were the unfortunate cause and cure. At least you could face it later, but for the time being you had built quite the defensive group of guards. That same group who now let you sob and cry with no judgement, just gentle affection.

Everything could be dealt with at a time you could calm down and assess it properly, so you simply let the many beasts try to comfort you however they could. Warmth and softness all around was a tempting lullaby to your frazzled brain. One you embraced wholeheartedly as your world faded from the madness and into tranquility.

~•§•~

"Ambrose?"

The Crow Harpy watched the mixed group of students from both schools and various species all gather together. Some were species that hated each other by instinct alone. Some were naturally solitary. All of them valued comforting the Human more than their own instinctual dislikes and desires.

"Yes, Crowley?"

"He sought to trade away her eggs, Ambrose."

"I know."

"... This cannot happen again."

[wanderingcritter]

Being a lesbian and nonhuman at the same time feels.. strange.

Because, like, human girls are these absolutely stunning, almost unreal beings. They're beautiful beyond words, the kind of beauty that can only ever be conveyed through the careful plucking of guitar strings, or through a vibrant splash of paint against barren canvases. They hold the stars in their eyes and flecks of gold in their hair, as if the forces of the cosmos themselves hand crafted their forms. They're soft and gentle and warm, but also strong and fierce and an unbelievable force to be reckoned with. Once when I was young, I got caught outside during a tropical hurricane and was almost lifted into the air by the winds; that is the closest thing I can compare to the feeling of falling for a girl. They are everything that a human being should be and more.

And then, there I am. A beast. This.. thing that stalks the woods in the darkest hours of the night, with dirt coated matted fur and piercing amber gaze, unseen and uncomprehended by man. Constant yearning, hunger. For flesh, for bloodlust, for isolation and freedom, to be feared, to be whispered about in hushed tales around a withering campfire. The creature in the forest, didn't you hear? If it catches you alone on a full moon it will peel your skin away from your body with fangs the size of your hand. Stay close. Your measly pocket knife won't do much in its wake I fear. A wild, snarling thing that flinches beneath humanity's touch and rejects their "civility" in favor of the murmuring creek that sings old and long forgotten hymns to the ancient mountains above.

I know when they look at me they see one of them, a human with soft skin and kind eyes, a human who smiles at them and perhaps offers a passing compliment, a human who always tries to coax the timid street cat and watchfully steps around sidewalk slugs. A human. But that is not what I am, at least not in the way that they are. And when I look back at them, with my green eyes that I wished glowed amber, I can't help but wonder "How could someone so divinely human find companionship with something so desperately unhuman as me? How long until you realize the humanoid body you see before you is merely a flawed disguise? Will you still grasp my hand with fond affection when it warps into a mangled paw?"

[majorbuckegan]

prettier than a peach (john "bucky" egan x reader)

In which you're his favorite nurse, and John Egan tries his hardest to win your heart.

Words: 1.8K

Warnings: Bucky Egan is a warning all on his own. Fluffy, fluffy fluff.

Disclosure: Please do not copy my work on any other sites. I will be posting this here & on ao3 shortly. This fic is based on the characters brought to life in the Apple TV series Masters of the Air, not the real people the characters were based on.

Note: Peach!Reader is going to make many appearances, I'm going to make this a series. Without further adieu, enjoy.

It all started on a Saturday morning. It was early—really early. You hadn't really expected to have anyone walking around near the infirmary, but at half past 0300, you heard the sounds of heavy footfalls, with slurred speech and another low voice arguing.

 You get up to look out the window, and not a second goes by before the door swings open. You recognize the two men instantly: Major Gale "Buck" Cleven is half dragging Major John "Bucky" Egan into the infirmary. 

"Morning, ma'am." Major Cleven's blue eyes zero in on you immediately, and he offers you a kind (and apologetic) smile. "My buddy here had a bit too much to drink and got himself into a scuffle with some guys at the bar." 

Your gaze flickers to Major Egan, studying him with a calculating gaze. He's going to have a black eye, you notice, and he's holding onto the left side of his ribs. It's not the first time you've heard of the Major getting into a fight, but it's the first time it's happened on your shift. 

"Alright, Major." You're addressing Egan now, coming to his side to support his left side. "Let's get you settled in bed so I can take a look at those ribs." 

You are wholly unprepared for the absolute human hurricane that is Major John Egan.

"Tryin' to get me in bed already, doll?" His words are slurred from too much alcohol, but his voice is deep and husky, and you hate the way it makes you shiver. "I don't even know your name."

Major Cleven sucks in a breath and rolls his eyes. "John Clarence Egan." That accent drawls his friend's name, and his tone is very much annoyed. "You're in the presence of a lady—a nurse—for crying out loud. Behave."

"Oh, c'mon, she walked right into that one." He insists, "She thought it was funny. You thought it was funny, right, doll?"

Stormy blue eyes are suddenly fixed on your face. It's almost like time stops for you; of course you've seen him around before, but the moment you really look into his eyes, it's like you can see your whole life ahead of you. He's quiet now, just watching you, and he finds himself absolutely anamored with the delicate blush working its way onto your face.

"It was a little funny." You admit it, but you don't meet his eyes again. You're too afraid of what you'll see on his face, because while you're falling hard and fast at first sight, he's only flirting with a woman. That's all it is to him, you're sure of it.

His chest is warm when you open his jacket and roll up his shirt. You have to ignore how beautifully masculine he is on order to focus on your job. Your eyes flicker to his abdomen, and sure enough, there are wicked bruises starting to show on the skin that covers his ribs. You're pretty sure they're not broken, but you have to be sure.

"This may hurt." You warn him, your fingers prodding gently at his side, and he hisses quietly under his breath. You don't feel anything out of place, but he'll definitely need a few hours of rest and something to ease the pain.

"Your hands are freezing." He grumbles, and before you can say anything, he's got both of them in his much bigger, warmer hands. "There, that's better."

"You're unbelievable, John Egan." Major Cleven speaks up from behind you, his tone more exasperated than anything else.

You carefully extract your hands from Major Egan's, and you try to ignore the way he pouts when you're no longer touching him. "I'll keep him overnight for observation, Major Cleven. Make sure he rests and heals up a bit."

Major Cleven looks strangely relieved, but still, he frowns. "Are you sure? I can handle Bucky; I don't want him causing you any trouble."

His gentle demeanor makes you smile. "I appreciate that, Major, but I've dealt with far rowdier men than Major Egan here. You go on and get some rest; I'll handle this."

Major Egan looks irritated that you and his best friend were talking about him like he wasn't even there. "Just call me Bucky. Or I'll take John." He tells you, his tone demanding, his lips pulled into yet another pout.

"You behave yourself." Major Cleven points a finger at him, his face stern. When he turns back to you, he offers another warm smile. "You might as well call me Buck, too, since you're saving me from trying to sleep in the same room as that one while he's drunk."

You offer your name in return, and you offer a comforting smile as you shoo Buck off to bed.

It's quiet for a moment after the other Major takes his leave. You wonder if the alcohol has made Major Egan fall asleep. You're surprised to see his eyes open and staring directly at you when you turn around.

"Can't remember if I've ever seen you around before." He says, his words still slightly slurred as he speaks. You can't recall ever having heard a voice like his before. Gravely, warm and steady, even with alcohol in his system. "I'd remember that face; you're so pretty."

"And you're drunk." You answer, turning away before he can notice that you're blushing. You've dealt with flirty airmen before, but this is the first time it's really gotten to you. "Get some rest, Major."

He's quiet for a moment, and you're grateful for a reprieve from the flirting as you mark the log book with a pencil. The only noise for a few moments is the lead scratching against the paper as you write.

"I'm gonna call you Peach."

When you turn back, his lips tug into the most heart-stopping smirk you've ever seen. "You could just call me Nurse." You point out, and for some reason, that only seems to egg him on.

"Well, I like Peach. You're prettier than a peach. Sweet as one too; look at that blush." You're sure you've forgotten how to breathe.

"You're a menace." You answer after you've finally gotten a hold of your emotions. "And it's early; you need rest. Sleep."

"How about a goodnight kiss first?" You almost toss the log book at him. Almost. "Just one on the forehead, and then I'll sleep. Scout's honor, Peach."

You sigh, your eyes darting over his face for a moment. Sure, he's a flirt, but you've never heard of him ever harming a woman. So you walk over to his bedside and lean down.

His forehead is warm, an errant curl tickling your cheek as your lips press against his skin. You feel him shudder under the touch of your lips against him, but then his breathing evens back out as you lean away.

"Alright, Major, you got your kiss. Now sleep." He doesn't miss the way your eyes flicker to his lips and away again, but he does as he's told and rolls over onto his side.

After he falls asleep, the morning is quiet. Your shift at the infirmary ends at 0600 and the nurse who comes to relieve you doesn't seem surprised to see Bucky there. She rolls her eyes and huffs a laugh as you explain how he came to be in a bed in the infirmary.

He's shifting awake as you're leaving, and his blue eyes have just enough time to focus on your retreating form before you're gone. He was a little saddened; he'd been hoping for one more kiss.

Outside, the air is still cool, and the sun is just beginning to peek beyond the horizon. The inky blackness of the sky is lightening to a shade of blue that looks like Major Egan's eyes, and God, you have to stop thinking about him. You really didn't need to get attached.

You pass Buck on the way back to your quarters, and he waves at you with one of his dazzling smiles as he passes. He's wearing his uniform, and you know that means he'll be out in the sky soon enough. You return his smile and wave happily.

Exhaustion sweeps through you as you enter your quarters, and you make quick work of taking your hair pins out and wiping your makeup off. By the time your head hits the pillow, sleep pulls you under. The only things on your mind as you fall asleep are dark curls and blue eyes.

***

Hours later, you blink awake. There's still sunlight flittering in through the curtains over your window, and you sit up to stretch your arms and shoulders. It had to be close to dinnertime, and your stomach rumbles as you slip out of bed and dress in your uniform. Sometimes you missed your dresses back home, but you always felt a sense of pride in your olive drab skirt and jacket. You make sure to swipe on your Victory Red lipstick before you leave.

Placing your cover under your arm, you slip out of your barracks just to come face-to-face with a man. Not just any man, either.

"Peach!" He's still loud, his face wide and warm and friendly. His breath smells like the peppermint gum he's chewing, and his eyes are clear. "Don't think I didn't see you slip out of the room before I could ask for my morning kiss."

He's smiling so brightly that it's like looking at the sun. He's all white teeth and dark curls and blue eyes, his cover tucked under his arm. He's got a single flower in his free hand. You've never seen someone look so devastatingly beautiful.

"Major." You greet him, and it's a good thing you didn't put on blush when refreshing your makeup because your face is hot now. Just from looking at him. "What brings you to the women's barracks?"

"I told you, Peach. Call me Bucky. Or John." His grin never falters. You want to kiss the corner of his mouth, nip at the jawline. He's got so much energy and vitality, and your heart beats so loudly that it's a wonder he can't hear. "Well, I came to offer you this gorgeous flower I found on my way over here and ask if you'd like to dance with me tonight."

You'd forgotten all about the party tonight. A crew completing their 25th mission—you hadn't really planned on attending, but you find yourself very tempted to go. "I'm not really the party type." You admit that, and that dims the light in his eyes a little. You regret the words immediately.

"Just one dance." He steps in closer, taking up more space. He's so tall and broad-shouldered; the man takes up so much room that it makes you feel small in the best way. "For your favorite patient? After all, you did give me a good-night kiss. That's gotta count for something."

Your mind rewinds to that moment, when he was fever-warm and shivering under your lips, when you'd wanted so badly to let him kiss you all over. If you weren't blushing before, you sure are now. "Alright, Bucky," You have to ignore the way he lights up when you use his nickname. "One dance."

[celesterayel]

midnight secrets | luke castellan

pairing : luke castellan x nyx!reader

request: can you write about luke and a daughter of nyx? <33

IN WHICH — he knows only one true thing: you put all the stars to shame.

"now I just wanna stay here and fall into midnight. Want nobody else now, only you, feel right" - a.

w.c. 1.9k

warning(s) : soft ゜✭・.

✩ ‧₊˚ author's note can you tell when I was younger I had fallen in love with the night and the idea of it? cuz I did. very much so, I'd say. also water, always loved the concept of it--the fragility and softness of it, like a balm against my skin.

long, long ago you learned of the sea of stars and their stories, from which rose their beginning and end. the stars were beings of heat and fire; they were beautifully mortal and alive.

they danced upon the domain of zeus; showering the sky with lights when night fell and befitting the world with their glow.

but as the sands of time bade the next and the corners of the sky dulled, the toll of living and breathing became too much. and so in the vast space of nothingness among the empty silence, the stars took on the duty of protecting a human and god: following where they might go, to every lifetime and universe as if they could erase the tragedy of the divine that swam through their blood.

and when each stars’ child died and their soul followed its ache to finally rest, the star would fall out of the sky in a blazing trail of destruction and divinity to taste freedom one last time and meet them in the next life.

there had been something raw and gruesomely alive about the stars when you learned of the story and so everyday, you’d trapeze the mortal line between night and sleep to watch them in absolution. you yearned to find an answer as to why? why would such immortal and imposing celestial beings like the stars willingly ruin themselves for us humans, for us beings that hungered for war and found pain like a symphony?

you learned your answer when you met luke castellan, your own tragic star who would follow you when the blood of the gods stopped flowing through your veins and your existence came to its calamitous end.

you had spent most of your life curiously confused as if there was something missing that made you feel broken; a piece of the puzzle that made drizzles seem like hurricanes and everything seem like an unsolvable mystery, constantly itching at your skin as if you just needed to pull back the layers and scratch.

and then, one day it stopped.

the buzzling in your head faded and you seem to finally just be.

luke castellan was the rain before the storm, the pain before the raw scream; every fatal, holy thing that meant absolution and destruction in the same manner. a price you were willing to pay if it meant loving him.

and you did–love him that is. every part of you ached with love for your golden boy who had weathered storms like they were his prison and had wanted like it was a fatal wound that might never heal.

you first met the golden castellan boy nearly a year after coming to camp where you were claimed to be a child of the night and stars, the goddess nyx; an absolution of divinity that you would be every dark, enchanting thing he would know. you were the only thing that would allow the hurt in him to finally cease its dance and just allow him to simply be.

while the blood of the gods flowed through your veins, the peace only night could bring was your cover. it was every paceless sleep spent at the docks praying to your mother for one more star to keep its dance, it was heaven and heartbreak in the same measure.

when both man and monster fell to slumber, it was the knowing that eventually everyone would cease their dance sooner or later.

people would watch you like you were a painting come to life as the moon basked you in waves of starlight and the forest came to life in your presence. when the night grew tired of its waiting and the stars lost their way, it was you coaxing them back to life to the restlessness all beings underwent.

you were a creature of presence and peaceful destruction, misfortune and desire–every loud, unsaintly thing the brown-eyed, dimpled boy had thought.

and he was your exact opposite: bold, bright and charming like the sun. it was as if hermes had threaded gold through his veins and ichor had poured forth to create whatever celestial thing luke was. a type of burn only the sun could bring when you went off to your death.

the night had settled upon the camp long ago and so nothing but the loudness of silence and pensive dreams continued its echo. except for the child of the night and her sun who seem to find balance between the bumbling and the glow of the soft moon.

luke grabbed your hand and threaded his fingers, clutching you tightly as if you’d disappear with the breeze and never return.

he guided you to the docks where the river reflected back the divinity of the night sky and lapped gentle waves against the shore. you sat side by side, silently basking in the quiet.

breaking the silence, he asked, “what’s wrong?”

what was wrong? you didn’t quiet know. there was just a sort of cloak of discomfort that had settled over you that you couldn’t seem to shake off.

“do you ever wonder what’ll happen next?”

you settled his hand in your lap and grabbed it like it was a lifeline, tethering your aching body back to the living when all you wanted was to fade. he only rubbed the back of your knuckle, soothing the skin and the bone-deep itch all at once.

you turn to gaze at him, and suddenly you were jealous of the moon and how it shined so beautifully on him like it was made for him to bask under.

he turns to look at you, “before no. now…every moment, i begin to think what makes us so different from humans that we suffer tragedy while they can live how they please and without the cruelty of the gods. I think about what will happen when i finally pass on from this life to wherever my soul may go.”

you don’t think you could handle leaving this world after him. it was a type of pain that would kill you inside out, you decided. you knew it.

there is vulnerability in him that speaks out, “and then i dream that none of that matters because someday you and i make it out of here. out of this place and away from gods and monsters.”

you only grab his other hand and the one you currently have trapped and place a kiss upon each of the palms, embedding all the affection you have for him in that moment. it is something so humanely lived that the world stops moving and the gods see a love for the ages.

he plucks you up from his side and merely places you in his lap, wrapping you tightly in arms like there is no war spreading and reaching it’s claws from the horizon toward the two of you.

you simply close your eyes, soaking in the boy who's holding you like you are a divine being.

“open your eyes and show me the stars, pretty girl.”

all he can think is the moon and stars, which you've fallen in love with so many times has nothing against you. and suddenly your staring the biggest star in the face, wondering if in another life you were the moon and he was the sun king.

but when he kisses you, you realize no. he is simply the star that will follow you when your bodies turn to ash, being picked up by the breeze. and there is only the secret that luke castellan would allow himself a thousand years of destruction if it meant following you where ever you go.

you two are simply a star and his love.

[murderandcoffee]

avatar oc ideas so far:

eye avatar who feeds on the gossip and secrets of the people in his small town

slaughter victim (veteran) turned avatar (serial killer)

stranger avatar who embodies the fear of running into someone you never want to see again by adopting the visage of said person (idea from @melandrops)

end avatar based off of the washer at the ford/bean-nighe (a passive omen of death rather than an active bringer of it)

flesh avatar who performs gender-affirming surgeries on people with transphobic families (and uses the "disposed of" materials from said surgeries to build a "child" of sorts)

spiral avatar who turns horrors from people's nightmares into real things

inclement weather-themed desolation avatar (hurricanes, blizzards, tornadoes)

dark avatar who drags people into caves and mutates them to resemble cave-dwelling creatures (colorless skin, no eyes, etc.) until they are barely human anymore

buried avatar who lives at the bottom of the ocean and sabotages submarines/drowns divers

web avatar matchmaker who pulls people into bad relationships

vast avatar who untethers people from gravity and either lets them float endlessly upward or who makes them fall to their death (it depends on their mood)

hunt avatar who turns prey animals into predators and vice versa

extremophile extinction avatar who leads a doomsday cult

corruption avatar who withers/decays/erodes anything they touch

lonely avatar who disappears lone hikers in deep wilderness

bonus: spiral avatar who is a compulsive liar, but whose lies become true for whoever they tell them to

[with-my-calamitous-love]

I’LL BET THESE MEMORIES FOLLOW YOU AROUND / BURNING IT DOWN

touya x reader

thoughts on how touya would act in a very messy, non defined relationship

inspired by wildest dreams

touya todoroki, who, for all of his life, has never known love. if humans existed to love one another, touya was sentenced to death from the moment he opened his eyes. sure, his mother did love him (key word- did) and his father didn't always see him as nothing, but touya todoroki was given a vessel destined to burn endlessly. his father gave him the flame of eternal anger, the kind that does not flicker even in the face of hurricanes and hailstorms. his mother gave him a body ice cold, one that could withstand the coldest nights of his life. sure, touya could endure the penetrating frost of eternal lonesome, but he could only force his body to handle the inferno of suffering embedded in his soul from the very start. he could see it only grow as he did, the hatred, the pain, the ever-increasing thirst to be something more than a failure. his body was merely a metaphor for his insanity. his skin that screamed for salvation, the cold metal whose attempts to bond what was dead together growing futile, and the blazing blue eyes that were his last anchor to who he once was- if there was ever truly someone there.

dabi, who stumbles upon you while you're walking home one day, late at night. at first, he ignores you, and you do the same. but its hard to ignore the sight of blood seeping out of his thigh, as he attempts to clutch the wound closed. silently cursing yourself for even letting it cross your mind, you slink him over your shoulder and help him back to your apartment. he wants to relent, knowing that you're probably just like the rest- if not a hero intending on arresting him moments later. but its likely the blood loss driving when he allows himself to sit on your washroom floor as you attempt some form of first-aid. you're doing a shitty job and you both know it, but its enough for the sirens in his mind to finally quiet down. you both sit there, covered in his blood, not knowing what the hell this means, or why you feel more safe around him than you reasonably should be.

dabi, who now has your address in the back of his mind. washroom window is the easiest way to get inside. he knows you come home late, so whenever he decides to stop by he flicks a light on as not to startle you too bad. too late. at first he didn’t know why he would come by. you lived alone, not a boyfriend to pester him about breaking in, and for whatever reason- you never ratted him out. whether you knew about his atrocities or not was unbeknownst to him. he insisted he came for your cooking, if not for you to do a ‘shitty’ job at patching him up. you should be scared and you both know it, but there’s something about the way he goes to you and only you- you wonder if anyone has ever taken care of him before.

dabi, who would murder anyone who tries to even touch a hair on your head. he doesn’t understand his own feelings, why or how he suddenly has someone he cares about, but what he does know is that burning down the world for you suddenly seems 10x more appealing. you’re the one thing in the world that makes him feel okay about his existence. if he were to burn this city down, he’d trust you to salt the dirt afterwards.

touya todoroki, who doesn’t understand how you calm his flames. who tells you his real name, the first person to ever hear it in years. who tells you about his past, not trying to justify his actions but trying to tell you that he was once human too. who expects you to leave, to run, and who wouldn’t blame you for it. whose teal eyes widen in surprise when you stay.

touya todoroki, who has an existential crisis when you challenge his plan. when he finds himself wanting to stay, to stick around just to eat your food, get your treatment and be with you. he doesn’t understand he suddenly reconsiders everything he set his mind to, all the vengeance he swore. he planned on going down if it meant causing his father pain- but the thought of causing you pain burned so much brighter. he suddenly couldn’t bare the heat.

touya todoroki, who never truly grew up from a traumatized child. who woke up from a 3 year coma only to learn that his family didn’t forget- they were just never affected. who wants to be heard, to be felt, to be seen as anything but a failure. who screams to the gods every night, thinking its so cruel. cruel that they made him fall in love. cruel that they gave him a reason to stay when he was already nothing but ashes.

touya todoroki, who wishes you were kids when you met. maybe things would have been different.

touya todoroki, who could always hold onto a maybe.

touya todoroki, who knows you deserved so much better.

touya todoroki, who tells you to forget him.

touya todoroki, who selfishly hopes you’ll remember him.

[loversmantra]

cardigan.

synopsis. when you are young they assume you know nothing. but...

content. gojo satoru x gn!reader. fluff. pet names (he calls reader baby). a kiss at the end. they hug. yeah.

wc. 965

listen to. taylor swift, cardigan.

message from noe. this is oooooold as fuuuuuck, but i lowkey cooked in the old version so i thought i'd rework it for my glorious blue eyed king. i guess i was in love with this song back then? i kinda like it and i also kinda hate it. eh.

There’s nothing quite like being in love with Satoru, you’ve come to realize.

Hurricane of a boy. Snatched you from the comfort and safety of what was familiar, took you away without you seeing anything coming.

There’s nothing quite like him, like the tenderness of his touch and the tenderness of his words, like the feel of his skin and the taste of his mouth, so human, so him. Sometimes you wonder how exactly it started, when exactly you allowed yourself to get swept away, blown away by his radiance, never to be the same again. You don’t particularly care to remember; all you care about, all that mattered was the now, the present, the reality of what it was to love him and be loved by him.

Many times, you’ve heard the same phrase. Young love… isn’t wonderful?

You don’t know. You’ve never known anything else. It sounds bitter, and you hate bitter. You like sweet things. You like Satoru.

You hate the venom that drips from their mouths, relentless, eager to tear you down, all because they’ve grown up and grown old, all because they’ve lost an age they’ve wasted. Their venom never reaches you. You’re thriving. With Satoru, you’re thriving.

He likes to call you at night. That’s when he’s the most restless, his mind racing a mile a minute, his thoughts howling so loud even he gets swept up by the strength of the wind. He likes to hear your voice, to help settle his thoughts, and you like to hear his, to soothe you to sleep. Sometimes, he wants to see you, and your phone is bombarded with texts begging for pictures.

show me your cute little face baby i miss u :(

You didn’t expect, however, to see Satoru climbing through your open window.

With a jerk and a barely repressed cry of fear, you slide off your bed, landing on the floor with a loud thump. Satoru snorts and reaches out his hand to help you up.

“Falling for me again?” he teases. You scowl, but take his hand, nonetheless.

“What are you doing in here, ‘Toru? It’s, like, two am.”

Satoru smiles. It’s a crooked imitation, far from the real thing. He’s showing too many teeth to be honest. He walks off to inspect your desk. There’s nothing to see there, but you let him, only because you can tell he has something on his mind.

“Can’t I want to see my beautiful partner?” he says, light and airy, like he can ever hope to fool you. The desk clearly isn’t enough of a distraction; he comes back towards you soon enough. You sit on the bed and bring him down with you, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Well,” you breathed, “you’re seeing me now. What’s up?”

He doesn’t answer. For a guy who can’t shut up, he’s always quietest in the moments that matter most. But you don’t rush him. He can come to you at his own pace, ask for comfort in his own way. Tonight, he simply wraps his arms around his shoulders, rests his cheek on your head. Takes a deep breath. Lets it out. His shoulders relax.

“Satoru,” you start, cautious, gentle, “what’s wrong?”

Satoru simply shrugs. Like how he feels isn’t a big deal. Like he isn’t consumed by the love he feels. Like he isn’t sick of hearing he’ll grow up and grow out of it.

“Just tired,” he settles for saying.

But you know what he really means. You’re tired, too.

Young love is fleeting and uncertain. Your youth is precious, and you shouldn’t waste it, you should enjoy the best years of your life before they’re behind you. Seventeen is a very inconvenient time to be in love, you’ll see how foolish you were when it’s too late.

They’re ruining what they’re telling you to enjoy, and the bitterness is making you sick. You hate bitter. You like sweet things.

“We don’t need them, ‘Toru,” You look up at him, to find him already staring down at you, his jaw slant. “We don’t need anyone.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know that. Still pretty annoying, though.”

“I know, but…”

You trail off, lost for words. You don’t know what to tell him; you’re hurting, you’re fed up, you can’t take this off his shoulders. Satoru seems to sense your distress, because he pulls away, facing you and dropping his hands on your shoulders.

“You’re right, we don’t need ‘em,” He starts lightly. You give him a look, and he smiles. Less teeth. So much sweeter. “All I need is that cute little face, baby.”

You roll your eyes and lay back on the pillow. Satoru fumbles with your CD player for a moment and lays down next to you. The low sound of a guitar fills the room. His arm comes up to wrap around your waist, his nose against your cheek, his warmth inside your chest. The wind howls outside.

Calloused fingertips stroke your cheek, and soon you hear Satoru’s voice again. “Hey.”

“Hm?”

“You know I love you, right?”

“Of course, ‘Toru,” you reply, eyelids heavy. “I love you too.”

“I know. I just… needed to remind you.”

You peel your eyes open. Satoru’s admiring you, still caressing your face with his fingers.

“You don’t need to remind me,” you say, and his eyes drop to your lips. “But I appreciate it.”

The taste of him is your safety. It’s familiar, sweet, real. No bitterness in sight. Just the warmth you feel in your chest, meeting the warmth in his.

All those things no one could ever have, because he’s yours. And you love him, you love him, you love him.

There’s no point in hating those who are bitter. You’re thriving.

With Satoru, you’re thriving.

LOVERSMANTRA © 2024, all rights reserved. do not translate, crosspost, or copy. steal my work and i'll steal your kneecaps. bitch.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🖤 Black History Month ❤️

💛 Queer Books by Black Authors 💚

[ List Under the Cut ]

🖤 Felix Ever After by Kacen Callender ❤️ Under the Udala Trees by Chinelo Okparanta 💛 Warrior of the Wind by Suyi Davies Okungbowa 💚 I'm a Wild Seed by Sharon Lee De La Cruz 🖤 Real Life by Brandon Taylor ❤️ Ruthless Pamela Jean by Carol Denise Mitchell 💛 The Unbroken by C.L. Clark 💚 Labyrinth Lost by Zoraida Córdova 🖤 Skin Deep Magic by Craig Laurance Gidney ❤️ The Death of Vivek Oji by Akwaeke Emezi 💛 That Could Be Enough by Alyssa Cole 💚Work for It by Talia Hibbert

🖤 All Boys Aren't Blue by George M. Johnson ❤️ The Deep by Rivers Solomon 💛 How to Be Remy Cameron by Julian Winters 💚 Running With Lions by Julian Winters 🖤 Right Where I Left You by Julian Winters ❤️ This Is Kind of an Epic Love Story by Kacen Callender 💛 The Weight of the Stars by K. Ancrum 💚 This Is What It Feels Like by Rebecca Barrow 🖤 Son of the Storm by Suyi Davies Okungbowa ❤️ Black Boy Joy by Kwame Mbalia 💛 Legendborn by Tracy Deonn 💚 The Wicker King by K. Ancrum

🖤 Pet by Akwaeke Emezi ❤️ You Should See Me in a Crown by Leah Johnson 💛 Once Ghosted, Twice Shy by Alyssa Cole 💚 Cinderella Is Dead by Kalynn Bayron 🖤 Let's Talk About Love by Claire Kann ❤️ A Spectral Hue by Craig Laurance Gidney 💛 Power & Magic by Joamette Gil 💚 The Black Veins by Ashia Monet 🖤 Treasure by Rebekah Weatherspoon ❤️ The Sound of Stars by Alechia Dow 💛 Black Leopard, Red Wolf by Marlon James 💚 Full Disclosure by Camryn Garrett

🖤 The Black Flamingo by Dean Atta ❤️ Meet Cute Diary by Emery Lee 💛 A Phoenix First Must Burn (edited) by Patrice Caldwell 💚 Rise to the Sun by Leah Johnson 🖤 Things We Couldn't Say by Jay Coles ❤️ Black Boy Out of Time by Hari Ziyad 💛 Darling by K. Ancrum 💚 The Secrets of Eden by Brandon Goode 🖤 Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé ❤️ Off the Record by Camryn Garrett 💛 Honey Girl by Morgan Rogers 💚 Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

🖤 How to Dispatch a Human by Stephanie Andrea Allen ❤️ Black Girl, Call Home by Jasmine Mans 💛 The Essential June Jordan (edited) by Jan Heller Levi and Christoph Keller 💚 A Master of Djinn by P. Djèlí Clark 🖤 A Blade So Black by L.L. McKinney ❤️ Clap When You Land by Elizabeth Acevedo 💛 Dread Nation by Justina Ireland 💚 Punch Me Up to the Gods by Brian Broome 🖤 Masquerade by Anne Shade ❤️ One of the Good Ones by Maika Moulite & Maritza Moulite 💛 Soulstar by C.L. Polk 💚 100 Boyfriends by Brontez Purnell

🖤 Hurricane Child by Kacen Callender ❤️ Quietly Hostile by Samantha Irby 💛 Coffee Will Make You Black by April Sinclair 💚 The Death of Vivek Oji by Akwaeke Emezi 🖤 If It Makes You Happy by Claire Kann ❤️ Sweethand by N.G. Peltier 💛 This Poison Heart by Kalynn Bayron 💚 Better Off Red by Rebekah Weatherspoon 🖤 Friday I’m in Love by Camryn Garrett ❤️ Rainbow Milk by Paul Mendez 💛 Memorial by Bryan Washington 💚 Patsy by Nicole Y. Dennis-Benn

🖤 Sorrowland by Rivers Solomon ❤️ How to Find a Princess by Alyssa Cole 💛 Yesterday is History by Kosoko Jackosn 💚 Mouths of Rain (edited) by Briona Simone Jones 🖤 Dead Dead Girls by Nekesa Afia ❤️ Love's Divine by Ava Freeman 💛 The Prophets by Robert Jones Jr 💚 Odd One Out by Nic Stone 🖤 Symbiosis by Nicky Drayden ❤️ Thanks a Lot, Universe by Chad Lucas 💛 The Passing Playbook by Isaac Fitzsimons 💚 Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin

🖤 Little & Lion by Brandy Colbert ❤️ My Government Means to Kill Me by Rasheed Newson 💛 Pleasure and Spice by Fiona Zedde 💚 No Gods, No Monsters by Cadwell Turnbull 🖤 The Stars and the Blackness Between Them by Junauda Petrus ❤️ Filthy Animals by Brandon Taylor 💛 The City We Became by N.K. Jemisin 💚 Peaces by Helen Oyeyem 🖤 The Beauty That Remains by Ashley Woodfolk ❤️ Every Body Looking by Candice Iloh 💛 Bingo Love by Tee Franklin, Jenn St-Onge, Joy San 💚 The Heart Does Not Bend by Makeda Silvera

🖤 King and the Dragonflies by Kacen Callender ❤️ By Any Means Necessary by Candice Montgomery 💛 Busy Ain't the Half of It by Frederick Smith & Chaz Lamar Cruz 💚 Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo 🖤 Sin Against the Race by Gar McVey-Russell ❤️ Trumpet by Jackie Kay 💛 Remembrance by Rita Woods 💚 Daughters of Nri by Reni K. Amayo 🖤 You Know Me Well by Nina LaCour ❤️ The Summer of Everything by Julian Winters 💛 Butter Honey Pig Bread by Francesca Ekwuyasi 💚 Gingerbread by Helen Oyeyem

[lvsjuno]

MIDNIGHT SKY CH. 01

pairing: rafe cameron x thornton! fem reader - John b x thornton! fem reader

navigation: 01 - 02

main masterlist - story masterlist - request/thoughts - wattpad (spanish version)

Hurricane Agatha, that was all that could be heard across the island since the news arrived.

In Outer Banks, storms are not just a natural phenomenon; they are a reminder of how nature doesn’t follow human rules. For some, like the Kooks, storms are something to watch from behind reinforced glass windows, like a beautiful and catastrophic summer postcard. But for the Pogues, sometimes it's an opportunity.

Chaos never comes without leaving something useful behind.

But the storm wasn’t something that scared the Pogues at all; there they stood with their boards ready. The wind began to lash harder, and the waves rose with fury, perfect for those daring enough to challenge them.

"Are you really going to surf in this storm? It's pretty dangerous, and I don't think you can handle it, B" you commented with a mischievous smile, teasing him slightly. Your tone was full of challenge, but something in your eyes showed that the idea of a challenge intrigued you.

John B gave you a playful look, as if he had been expecting your question.

"That's what makes it more interesting," he said, his voice full of amusement and a spark of mischief.

You raised an eyebrow, enjoying the moment.

"Are you going to leave me here alone while you risk your life?" you said, crossing your arms, unable to hide a smile you couldn’t suppress. In the distance, the waves crashed with fury, but what truly captivated you was the way your boyfriend's gaze was fixed on you.

John B walked toward you with slow steps, his smile still present.

"I could never leave you here alone, princess" he replied, getting closer, close enough to feel their breaths crossing between them. "You know what they say? The storm gets much more interesting when you have company."

"Yeah, I've heard that, but if you're at home lying in your bed, not in the middle of the beach eating all the sand."

Without warning, he grabbed you by the waist, his fingers brushing your skin lightly, and in a quick move, he pulled you closer. You didn’t even have time to protest before your lips met in a fleeting, but intense kiss, as if the storm itself had been just a prelude to what was to come. It was a kiss in harmony with the storm that surrounded them, chaotic and wild in a way only you both shared in that moment.

When they pulled apart, you looked at him, breathing a little heavily, your eyes sparkling with adrenaline.

"You’re gonna make me lose my mind, John B," you whispered, your tone playful and slightly nervous.

"Lose your mind? You can't lose something you never had, darling" the boy said, smiling again, this time with more mischievousness.

And before you could say anything else, your boyfriend took your hand firmly, and without thinking, you both began to run toward the sea. The storm roared, but nothing mattered more than that moment between you.

A few meters back, Pope watched them from the shore, his face marked by uncertainty.

"This isn’t right" he murmured to himself, looking at the waves with doubt. He knew John B wouldn’t stop, but that didn’t give him the courage to follow.

"What are you waiting for, Pope? The water’s amazing!" John B shouted, his voice resonating through the wind.

Pope bit his lip, unsure.

"These aren’t waves to surf, John B..."

John B looked at him with a confident smile.

"You’re missing out, Pope!" he yelled toward the shore before turning to look for the waves.

☆

The storm had calmed slightly, the waves had settled, but the air was still charged with electricity, as if the ocean and the sky were holding onto the last traces of their fury when they decided it was time to head back to the Chateau. When they arrived at the cabin, the door closed behind them, and the silence of the house enveloped them.

JJ was asleep in his bed, unaware of everything that had happened on the beach, resting with a beer can by his side. John B and you exchanged a glance before dropping their backpacks beside the couch, while you took off your soaked shirt, leaving you in just your bikini, as John B watched you, a slight smile curving his lips.

"It’s incredible how all the fun can be so exhausting, my whole body hurts" you commented as you collapsed onto the couch, looking at John B with a calm yet knowing gaze.

"Well, if you need to relax, I know a skilled masseuse" John B said, smiling mischievously as he approached you. "I can tell you I’m really good with my hands... but let’s go to bed, you’ll have neck pain tomorrow" he continued, not giving you a chance to respond, getting closer without hesitation, as if there was no world outside of them.

John B lay beside you, wrapping his arm around you, feeling the closeness as something natural, while Maeve rested her head on his shoulder. For a moment, the sound of the storm faded, replaced by the beat of their hearts.

"This... this is all I need," you whispered, not wanting to think about anything other than the safety of that moment. "I love you, John B."

"I love you too, babe" John B murmured, kissing you gently on the forehead.

The night continued peacefully, without further words, just the sound of the storm far away and the murmur of your shared breaths.

☆

The noise of the waves entered through the window along with the daylight, revealing that the climatic disaster had already left them.

The island was covered with fallen branches and trees, scattered leaves, and the echo of destruction in every corner.

You woke up first, your head still on John B’s shoulder. You stayed silent for a moment, observing everything around you, how the sunlight began to clear the darkness left by the storm, and how the rays passing through the window fell across your boyfriend’s face.

"We need to do something to fix this mess" you murmured, sitting up slowly in the bed, watching as John B checked his phone for a signal and electricity in the room.

There was no power in the Pogue’s area, and the situation wasn’t favorable for anyone. You knew they needed supplies, you already knew how things were on this side of the island, and it was the least you could do to help.

"I’m going to go to my house to grab some things" you told your boyfriend, preparing to get up. John B looked at you, a bit worried, but you continued, "It’ll be fine, I just have to hear some shouting from my mom, and that’s it."

"Let me take you at least," John B quickly responded, getting up too and walking toward you. "Then we’ll go looking for you with the others."

You smiled, touching his arm gently.

"Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I promise everything will be under control. I’ll bring you those snacks you love."

John B looked at you for a moment, as if wanting to say something more, but in the end, he nodded.

"Alright, but I’ll be waiting for you at the dock. I love you..."

With one last soft kiss on your lips, you walked away, ready to face the chaos of the storm and make sure the guys had what they needed. As you left the door, the sound of the storm was now just a distant echo, and all that was left was to face the disaster that Agatha had left behind on the island.

[mmavverickk]

The children of the big three are painfully beautiful.

beautiful as poisonous flowers.

One touch and you're dead.

they are though—they’re venomous creatures, poisonous flowers, forces of nature. the world itself runs through their veins. gods treat them with caution; mere humans don’t stand a chance.

Percy is a riptide. he’s the calm of ocean, moments before its rage. he’s the sun on the beach, the warmth of the sand, the calming, constant crash of the waves. he’s the smell of the salt in the air and the cold of the water against your skin. you can swim, you think, you’ll be fine. he smiles and it’s more beautiful than a sunset over the shore. and then the pull starts. in seconds, you’re farther from shore than you’ve ever been before. trying to swim back tires you out and sees you no closer than before. in fact, now you’re even farther out. the water pulls you under, still as beautiful as it was from shore, and you can’t find your way back up.

Thalia is the eye of the hurricane. the deceitful calm at the end of the storm, luring you out from your shelter. there is nothing more peaceful, more still and tranquil. the sun peeks out from the clouds that surround you from all sides. the wind and rain have died. there’s a rainbow in the sky. the storm is over—except it isn’t. one moment is all it takes, and the hurricane is back with a vengeance. the wind tears at you, rain lashes at you, thunder shakes your bones in place. you walked too far from your shelter, and you might not be able to make your way back.

Jason is hail. the rain is beautiful. it’s a breathtaking storm: impressive thunder, streaking lightning, howling wind. the house shakes around you and the lights go out. the concussive sound of the rain on the roof is soothing, until it isn’t. until it isn’t rain, and the roof isn’t whole. now, the storm is invading your home. the hail is punching its way into everything it can reach. car alarms spring to life outside; those who were watching in awe are now fleeing in terror. it only takes one hit, after all—one lucky piece of hail—to end a life.

Nico is an earthquake. the planet is ancient; the ground was old before you were here and it will be old after you go. it’s sturdy, and supportive, provides life and food and shelter. long ago, when the ground danced, when it shook itself free and sent cities tumbling to the ground, they called it the gods’ wrath. now, it’s called plate tectonics. no matter what it is, no matter why it happens, it is lethal and dangerous and uncaring of those it affects. nowhere is safe when the world turns on you, and if it decides you and your shelter should fall, you will.

Hazel is a sinkhole. the appearance of stability, of rock-solid ground and firm foundations. nothing is wrong, will ever be wrong, she’s the rock that holds everyone up. and then that rock is gone, and you’re falling, down, down, down—your home collapsing around you, your belongings claimed by the morbidly hungry earth. there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but is it sunlight, far, far above you? or is it magma, far far below?

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nikolai proposes to Price.

cw: mention of past and present homophobia in Russia and the UK.

The rotor blades hadn't even stopped spinning when Nik clambered out of his cab, his hand fumbling through his pocket in search of that velvet box. The gravel of the broken tarmac scratched under the soles of his boots, his knee grazing through his jeans as it hit the ground.

He'd almost lost John.

Two meters between his head and a steel beam falling from a nearby building as an IED had detonated.

As the smoke had cleared, Nikolai had heard and felt nothing. Like someone had reached through his ribs and pulled his heart and lungs out. John Price had always seemed invincible, unstoppable, like a force of nature. But in those few moments when Nik had believed he had been killed, the reminder of John's mortality had stunned him cold. John was not immortal, not a god or a hurricane, but a human man; vulnerable, killable, and Nik's entire world.

Nik had only started breathing again when his helo had swung round and the downdraft had whisked the cover of smoke and ash away to reveal the captain hunkered down, Ghost's arm thrown across his shoulders, Gaz and Soap guarding the rear.

The lieutenant had regained consciousness on the flight home, his concussion slurring his speech, his arm broken, but he was alive. They were exhausted, slumped against each other as the danger receded and Nik carried them to safety. Soap helped his lieutenant out now, supporting his weight as they staggered over the tarmac with Gaz following, his head low.

It was in the gap between Task Force 141 and their captain that Nik knelt, his shaking hand clutching the box against his knee as the adrenalin caught up on him, his words stuck. He had planned this. A dinner at the nice steakhouse John had seen in town, and then a walk through one of the big parks to the lake where they had spent many a night fishing. There, Nik would have asked. No audience, no public display, just them in the peace.

Their love was private. Not because it was shameful, but because it was theirs. It was a place John could tentatively explore the parts he had buried to survive, and Nik could be himself without apology. They could discard their defences and show each other the soft underbelly they guarded so fiercely from others. The vulnerability, the intimacy that came with it, belonged to them and only them; one of the very few things that did.

But what if he never got the chance? What if John had died today? What if John died tomorrow? Or the next day? What if, what if. There was no waiting for them because there might be no tomorrow. They had to live here, now.

Price dropped onto the tarmac, pushing his M4 behind his back as he looked down with a quizzical expression. "Nik?"

Nik drew in a shaking breath, his gaze lingering in the smear of black ash and crust edging a cut on Price's face. He'd lost his boonie hat in the scramble to rescue his officer, so his scruffy brown hair and beard formed a wild mane around his head, framing those blue eyes that were all the brighter as they shone from the sweat and grime on his skin. Nik started talking without thinking. "Lyobit tebya - eto kak dishat… s toboi bremya ostanablibaetsya e ya shivu lish mnovyeiyami pyadom toboi..."

"I can't speak it that well yet, ya muppet, and my brain was just shook inside my skull like a maraca," John said, his voice gravelly and dry. The corners of his eyes crinkled in wry amusement, and Nik's heart ached. He lifted the box, his thumb sliding beneath the lid, and watched John's expression fade from amusement to shock.

"Ty vyydesh’ za menya?" Nik clenched his teeth, irritated at himself, but before he could open his mouth and find the English, John's hand slid over his and he dropped to his knees.

"What is this, Nik?" John croaked, those beautiful blue eyes that so reminded Nik of a summer sky over Kiev glistened.

"A promise," Nik replied. "A... plea."

John leaned forward and their foreheads met, his fingers tightened over the box and Nik felt the coarse material of John's gloves against his knuckles. His hand shook. He was keeping the ring covered, like it would vanish should he look at it, or believe for a single moment it was real.

They had talked so many times about their experiences as young men. In the early hours of the morning, when scotch and exhaustion had worn down their defences, the rawness and the hurt had surfaced. Nik, who had hidden what he was lest he face a bullet or prison, acknowledging his very existence criminalised even now; John, who had grown under Section 28, made to feel degenerate and filthy, his lack of worth reinforced by a slighted father's retribution.

Never for a moment had those boys dreamed of a happy ever after, and both had fled into the arms of violence and bloodshed to lose themselves. Both had tucked their hearts away and buried their dreams until they existed only as dogs of war; weapons of the states that had failed them.

And now there it was. Represented as a single tungsten ring with a thread of vibrant blue in the metal. Like his eyes, Nik had thought as he had purchased it.

They shared the same quivering breaths, the promise clasped between their palms, and Nik watched as the low light of dawn caught the first tear as it escaped. Those soulful eyes closing as John caught himself. Nik stroked his cheek with his free hand, thumb brushing through the tear track. "You own me, body, heart and soul. I only ask for your hand in return," Nik whispered, so very meek compared to what he had imagined.

John threw himself forward and Nik caught him, wrapping his arms around his back as John's face pressed into his neck. He smelled of char and blood, sweat and pain, and Nik held him as he sought strength and stability. There were injuries beneath the Kevlar and padding of John's body armour, and Nik would care for him tonight no matter his answer. They had lost men today and John would need convincing to rest before he embarked on the sombre task of informing their families.

When John sat back on his heels, he sniffed, wiped his nose and face on the back of his wrist and then uncovered the ring in Nik's palm. "S'nice," he said, soft and boyish despite the gruff rasp of his voice. Nik could see that young boy in John's eyes, still uncertain, still struggling to believe that someone would love him enough to want to spend the rest of their life at his side.

"Da," Nik said, "it suits you, no?"

"I like it."

"I am glad."

John smiled, the lines at his eyes returning and making Nik's heart ache. "So this is for real, then."

"Da."

"For keeps?"

"For keeps," Nik said, running his thumb over the cool metal. He remembered fondly the first time John had asked him that. Many years ago, when they had only really just met, still circling, still probing tentatively lest they reveal their secret to someone who would react badly. He had offered John a cigar and John had stared at it suspiciously before asking the very same, and Nik had been endeared by it even then. Lieutenant Price had been even rougher around the edges than Captain Price. They had already done so much healing together.

John huffed a soft laugh, wiping at his eyes before glancing at the sky, and then back at Nik. "Yeah..." He cleared his throat, another sniff, "Nikolai, I want t'... bloody 'ell," he took a breath, "I want t' marry you. Yes, I... I'm sayin' yes."

Nik barked a laugh of relief and Price echoed it, watching as Nik ran a hand through his hair as his heart settled. John pulled at the velcro of his left glove with his teeth, tugging it off between his thighs so that Nik could slide the ring over his weathered knuckle. He pressed a kiss to John's open palm, nuzzling his face to it with a contented sigh.

John leaned to the side to see Soap and Gaz gasping at them from the edge of the tarmac. Ghost was, of course, unreadable, but Nik had already talked to him about his intention. Who did you ask for a man's hand in marriage when his father was unavailable? The loyal lieutenant that had fought at his side through the worst the world had to offer, of course. "The whole base will know by lunch," John muttered.

"Da. I... I am sorry. I could not wait any longer. For a while there, I thought I had watched you die."

John lifted Nik's chin and then gathered his hand to his chest. "Ay, I'm here, aren't I? We got home, we made it. Because of you, Nik."

Nik could only nod. There was no point thinking of next time, not when John knelt before him, battered but alive. "You need a medic."

"I need a shower..."

"Medic," Nik insisted. "And if you are a good boy and don't swear at the nurse, I will shower with you."

"Hmm," John smiled, bashful and soft, "seems a fair exchange."

Nik helped John to his feet. Now that the adrenalin had faded and his men were safe, John was limping, an arm folded across his torso. He submitted to inspection with only a minor grump, and then checked on Ghost, Soap and Gaz. They were sound, as John liked to say. Ghost had to stay the night and Soap remained in the chair at his side, but the nurse was happy John's sprains and cuts were manageable with a little support from Nik.

As they stood in the shower, Nik's lips on John's skin, his arms around his waist to hold his body close, Nik let the hot water disguise the tears running down his face. Happiness, relief; they were as heady and overwhelming as anger and sadness sometimes. Nik let himself feel it, knowing it would leave his mind clear for enjoying John later.

"You solid?" John asked, warm hands stroking down Nik's forearms.

"Never better, solnyshko."