#and always what makes me let's say chill about things is the separation between a public persona and the real human behind it

[bluewinnerangel]

.

[thehighpriestess1]

do you still do saiki smut fics? if so I would like to request Saiki who can’t keep his hands off you, he’s always touching all up on you like making u sit on his lap and have you shift on top of him. even in public, he just can’t get enough of u 🫣

sorry if it’s too much 😅

I hope you like this anon :) I hope I didn’t go overboard :)

Theme : Saiki using his powers to his benefit ;) All characters are aged up.

Warning : smut. 18+ only. Minors do not interact. Public smut.

Everyone who comes across Siki would probably describe him as a man of few words. His stoic face and calm demeanor made everyone believe that he was just a ‘chill’ guy. Even now, when he calmly agreed to have you sitting on his lap in Hairo's overfilled car. Before Kokomi could offer to switch places with you Siaki had already pulled you on his lap. You smiled at her hesitantly as you tried to adjust your short black tennis skirt.

Unbeknownst to everyone, you and Saiki had some sort of a secret relationship. Though you did not know the full extent of his power you had a vague idea that he was just different. When everyone went their separate ways after school you often found Saiki walking you to your home even though you lived on the opposite side of the town. When you forgot to do your school work, the class always ended up getting canceled. You did not know how it was happening but you had a feeling that Saiki had something to do with it. Eventually after one too many of these coincidences you confronted him and instead of confessing to making things work for you he confessed his feelings for you with a straight face. You didn’t say anything but you didn’t have to. Saiki knew.

Saiki was a completely different man behind closed doors. When in public, he did not want anything to do with anyone but behind closed doors he could not keep his hands off of you. His arms were always either wrapped around your waist or buried knuckles deep inside you. Another difference between Saiki outdoors and indoors was that while he showed a lack of energy around everyone, inside the bedroom his stamina was unmatched. He would tease and edge you for literal hours and when you’d eventually crumble at just the right touch Saiki would take you over the edge for as many times as he pleased. Somehow he knew your body perfectly, he knew when to stop and when to push for more. Never, even for a second you felt uncared for in his presence. He would groan and whine and praise you as he snapped his hips to yours. He was a passionate lover and calm best friend to you.

Even right now, On your yearly friends trip you should be talking to Everton and asking about their college life but you sat at the back quietly and watched everyone bicker over something trivial, Saiki’s arms were rubbing smooth circles over the soft skin of your thighs. He knew what he was doing. You turned your head sideways and saw Nendo passed out with a bag of chips open on his lap.

“No one will know”. Saiki whispered in your ear as he gently rocked you over his lap and you did not doubt him. His other hand snuck inside your polo t-shirt and cupped your beast over the lace bra. He put his one foot between yours and spread your legs to have you sit on top of him with your legs dangling on either side of his’. His other hand that was resting on your thigh slid in between your legs and he groaned when he felt the sticky wetness on his knuckles. He kneaded your breast with one hand and stroked your clit with the other, all the while rocking you gently over his hard on. Your mouth hung open and you swallowed your moans but Saiki didn’t want that. He wanted to hear you.

“They can’t hear us”. He whispered as he trailed kisses down your neck.

“Are…are you…sure?”. You whimpered.

Saili sucked on harshly at the juncture of your neck and shoulder and whole body twitched. “Need to hear you..trust me”.

You did. You did trust him. You let out a groan as he pulled down your lace bra and the cold air perked your nipples. No one turned around. “Fuck..Kusuo!”. You moved your hips on your own to get some friction. You clenched around nothing as Saiki continued to rub your clit over your lace underwear at an agonizing pace. “Please…need more”. You whimpered.

“You'll have to wait till we reach the hotel baby”. He smirked against your skin.

You let out another moan when you felt his clothed tip bump against your entrance. “”Tis..unfair…hotel is soo…far..fuck!”.

“What’s unfair is how you were stuck by Hairo’s side when your own boyfriend sat next to you”.

You groaned in frustration, “I was just…talking”.

“Why don’t you talk to him now? Should I let him hear you right now?”.

“No no no. Please”. You closed your eyes in frustration and decided that two can play this game.

You brought your legs forward and snuck your hand under your skirt and lifted up your ass to pull down the garment. Saiki kept his hand on yours but you swatted it away. You shimmied it down and when it reached your ankles you slowly bent down, causing the back of your skirt to lift up and give Saiki the view of your plump butt that he oh so loved and at the same time you grinded against him. When you straightened up you put the underwear in the pockets of his track pants. Saiki let out a sinful groan and you knew you had him.

“You’re teasing me”. He breathed out, running his finger through your folds.

“You started it”. You knew that his resolve was not going to crumble but you were not going to make it easy for him either. You rolled your hips and moaned his name while your one hand gripped his over your breast your other stroked his hard length.

“Fuck. You’re not making it easy for yourself”.

You chuckled. “No. I am going to make it so so so hard for you”. You spread your legs wider and leaned back on his chest and opened the top buttons of your polo giving him a view of your tits underneath. “Like what you see?”. You winked at him.

“Fuck..yes”.

“I wish you could suck on them as you filled me with your cock..”. You said sweetly.

“Don’t..stop it”. He warned.

“Why? I just want you to fuck me so hard that I pass out”. You arched your back and pouted at him. “I know you like it when my tits bounce,don’t you?”

He groaned plunged two of his fingers inside you and it made your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Is this what you wanted?”, He teased you.

“Fuck..yes yes yes..please”.

“You know that you can’t cum till we reach the hotel, right?”.

“Mmmmmm I’m about to Please let me..please…”.

“What will I Get ,baby?”.

“Anything…anything..please don’t stop..so close..please”.

Saiki smiled. He didn’t even want anything from you. He liked you like this. So dependent on him. He curled his fingers just right and with three more pumps you were gushing all over his finger and screaming his name.

“Such a good girl. My good girl”. He whispered as you caught your breath. Your body was still twitching and your mind felt fuzzy.

“Now, you are going to fall asleep and when you’ll wake up we’ll be in our hotel room and I’ll get what I want”. He winked and kissed the side of your head and your passed out.

[sylviathejester]

TIRED.

maybe it’s time to say goodbye, ‘cause i’m getting pretty fuckin’ tired.

PLATONIC!JOHN PRICE x TEENAGER!GN!Y/N

warnings: mentions of death, foster care (this is my first time writing about foster care, excuse me if there’s any imperfections), attempted suicide, slight swearing

author note: this is separate from the poll. please tell me if the spacing is a turn off, it’s for aesthetic purposes in this oneshot, slowing your reading like Y/N’s world momentarily stills at the thoughts.

word count: 859.

Death. You’ve been thinking about it for days on end, what does it feel like? Your foster father, Jonathan (or as everyone calls him, John), says it’s Cold. Chilling. Scary. But what if it isn’t? Some people die with a smile on their face, so perhaps it could be the same for you?

Foster family after foster family. Abusive, neglectful piece of shits who only foster for the money. You’re afraid John might be the same.

The poor man, however, actively tries to convince you he isn’t like them. He does movie nights every Saturday, he actually listens when you talk, every word you say doesn’t go unnoticed. And his efforts don’t go unnoticed by you, not at all. He’s gentle. He’s a gentle man.

But you’ve had enough.

You’re scared shitless, some families acted like they were “mental health advocates” until you showed signs of burnout, depression, and even a tinge of anger issues, that’s when they threw you away.

And you’re just at your limit with John. The mask is.. slowly.. cracking.

John’s been a sweet guy, and he does everything in his power to make you feel okay, safe, happy. But you don’t budge. But you don’t show that you’re not budging, you show him a happy person, someone you’re not. And you’re getting tired.

”Mama was a bit naïve, and her daddy was a blinded thief. He went and stole away what was left of the remains of a family. “ Another Empty Bottle by Katy McAllister plays, you forgot the last time you heard this song, but it was one of your favorites when you were younger, more innocent, unaware of the shit going on between biological Mom and Dad. Unaware of the abuse. Perhaps your soul always felt like something was wrong, and your brain caught up later.

You sit on the couch, the TV on. You briefly look at the movement, the show must be some silly romcom, how cute.

Your phone’s music and the TV served as background noise, initially done to shut away the thoughts, but they’re.. lingering..

John was out of the house, buying groceries. He tried to persuade you to tag along; “You haven’t been out the house for a couple of weeks now, Y/N. you better go out!” He said, in that sickly sweet and kind voice of his. But you insisted on staying. Being tired from staying up was your excuse, and he let you off.

You paused the music and turned off the TV, and laid down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. It wouldn’t hurt to.. at least try. If he comes back before you actually do it, you can act like you never even tried, it’d be fine.

And if you succeeded?

But wouldn’t he be upset? Sad? He’d feel like he failed you. He never did, he never will.

He’d understand, surely he will.

Suddenly, you find yourself in the kitchen, in front of the knives John kept hanging on a shelf. For some reason he leaves them out in the open.

You grab the sharpest one, or rather, the newest knife. You look at it, and your reflection stares right back, as if to plead with you to not do it, think about it.

You ignore its pleas.

You slowly place the knife right under your wrist. Your breathing’s heavy, your heartbeat’s accelerated.

Should I do it? Should I do it?

Should I-

Warmth, but not from your wrist.

Your shoulder? Is it the grim reaper paying a visit?

You look over slowly, and your stomach drops. It’s John.

You look behind him, the grocery bags are on the floor, the different things he bought scattered across the floor.

“Hey.” He speaks a little louder, which causes you to look at him. He puts two fingers under your chin, keeping it in place.

He slowly takes the knife from your hand, sliding it across the counter; away from your hands.

“Are you okay?” Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Warmth, but not from your wrist.

Your eyes? You must be going blind.

Warmth, but not from your wrist.

Throughout your body, are you in Heaven?

No, you’re in John’s arms. Maybe that’s your own, twisted little version of Heaven. Isn’t Heaven the place where you feel eternal peace? John gives you peace, albeit not as eternal as Heaven, but he’s your Heaven on Earth.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“ You sob into his chest. He merely shushes you, running his hand up and down your back.

It’s 11PM. You and John are on the couch, you’re holding onto him like a koala hugging a tree. It’s been silent.

“What made you want to do it?” He breaks the silence as he whispers the dreaded question.

“John, do you- will you still want me here?” You look at him.

Silence.

“Pardon?” He raises a brow.

“Will you still want me here? You won’t- give me back, right?” You look at him: expectant, hopeful.

“Of course not, Y/N.” He hugged you a little tighter. “You’re stuck with me.”

Maybe he won’t leave like the others did.

At the realization, the world felt a little brighter.

[astrologylunadream]

Sweet Messages From Your Person ୧⍤⃝💌🍰🍨🎀 (Pick a card/Tarot love reading)

Hii it's Lunadream🥰💖 We're going to see what your person wants to say to make your day~☀️ hope you find your message🌸💫

Notice: Only take what resonates because the most important thing is your own judgement!♡ If anything doesn't resonate, don't worry! It's not your message right now <3 (Entertainment purpose only. All rights reserved)

Now, shall we begin~? ^w^ Think of the your person, and pick whichever pile that fits the energy you're feeling~💖

Pile 1💌

Pile 2🍰

Pile 3🍨

Pile 4🎀

Take your time and choose carefully with the heart~♡

On to the readings —> 💕

Pile 1💌

Sign energy: Tsundere, Separate ways, One and only, Water, Indecision, Water, 2nd house, Virgo, Libra, Aquarius, 🎓🧡😭⚓

💞Your person's energy: Aww so my pile 1's person is very cuteee >w< I can see why this pile is thinking of them right now you guys think this person is so cute!! They could be heavy Taurus, Virgo, Libra or Aquarius energy in their chart, I'm getting very physically attractive energy from your person. They have little things about them that make you blush >///<💗 Omg you guys are so soft for this person🥺 They may get nervous easily and especially around you my pile 1's, I sense they could be your only crush right now like they are the only one on this pile's mind <3 You could be separated from this person and you guys don't know very well what's going on between you or what to do about this connection with them!! Internet or social media may be the one way you can reach them. Your person is very emotional on the inside but they may act like the opposite because they are often indecisive, very hard to read I'm hearing.🤔 Orange may be significant, I'm getting they cry behind closed doors. Analytical and responsible vibes but they are also a bit of a softie.💓 by the way if any of my pile 1's are anime lovers this is your pile and you may really enjoy the tsundere archetype or see that in your person (meaning they act more cold and distant to hide their feelings for you)😌💗

💌Messages from your person: I think you're a great person, Can we be together? I wanna marry you, What's so wrong with it? You drive me crazy, There's not much to say, They might hate me for this, I would kill whoever hurt you (Omgg pile 1 your person wants you that is their message!!🥺💖) Extra cards: High standards, Pull, Siren, Show, Pink

Thank you my pile 1's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🥰

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 1 with the love note emoji~💌 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞

Pile 2🍰

Sign energy: Vision, Present, Competition, Big, Trick, Cancer, Neptune, North node, 6th house, Libra, 😎🤝🧠😏

💞Your person's energy: Ooh okay so for my pile 2's we have some masculine energy for your person💫 They might be physically big or bigger than you in some way. Cancer, Pisces, Virgo and Libra are signs for them. This is someone you are currently dreaming of, you fantasize about them in the most sweet and loving way. My pile 2's want to be loved by this person!!🥺💗 Now they have some very mischievous aura I'm getting like they tease and trick you often, or you are always confused by them. You see them as someone very caring though, and someone very familiar and safe to you. Your person may be very competitive with you mentally, testing you and trying to see if you slip up or say something when you get nervous. They are the type to challenge you almost as a way of flirting omg😳❤ They are very chill with their competitive nature, this person is definitely intellectual and self assured. I'm getting that this person is a more emotional and intellectual stimulated person rather than a physical, and I think they are more attracted to a person's mind than looks. Personality means a lot to them and they themselves have a really cool personality😎

💌Messages from your person: No one feels like you, I don't know if this will work, You can rely on me, I want to make you mine, Everything makes sense now, There's nothing else to worry about, I can feel your love, Don't be surprised (Aw😇💞) Extra cards: Angel, Pet, Longevity, Mental, Ability

Thank you my pile 2's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🥰

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 2 with the cake emoji~🍰 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞

Pile 3🍨

Sign energy: Know, Sunshine, Unicorn, Entertainment, 9th house, Sun, 3rd house, Neptune, Moon, 5th house,🗒🧚‍♂️🔑🥠

💞Your person's energy: Alright my pile 3's your person is someone very bright and they make you smile for reall☺💫 This could be someone some of you know from college or studying together, I'm getting very knowledgeable and creative vibes fore your person!! Sagittarius, Gemini, Pisces, Cancer, Leo are all signs for them, for some of you it's heavy Gemini sun or Sagittarius moon.⭐ Unicorns may be significant to you or them, but I definitely see that your person is very special and unique like the creature.🦄 They have sparkle in their eyes that makes you feel so inspired and happy, ohhh for some of you this person is studying in the field of entertainment, they could be practicing creative skills such as vocal or writing, even dancing. I feel like your person loves to learn a lot especially for fun and for creative pursuits🎭🎨💖 They dream of entertaining many people, especially through their words or speech. Very kind and compassionate individual for my pile 3's!! Aww some of you feel a twin/sibling energy with this person. Only take what resonates but for some of you this is someone you may know from traveling or they could also be an entertainer from far away or a foreign country (neptune influence) ^w^

💌Messages from your person: Why would you? What now? I need your good vibes, I like your dark side, I do, I feel bad, It feels so good, Love me please (Omg pile 3 your person just made a confession..😳) Extra cards: Marriage, Order, Matching, Water, Mouth (Okay so they literally want to tell you to marry them!!😖🥰💗💞 Omg like it may actually come out of their mouth too they want to initiate things with you awww💗)

Thank you my pile 3's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🥰

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 3 with the sundae emoji~🍨 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞

Pile 4🎀

Sign energy: Aquarius, One of a kind, Down, Change, Lips, Venus, Neptune, 12th house, 11th house, Moon,⭐⚖😳💤

💞Your person's energy: Aww this pile is such dreamy vibes for your personnn🥰 They have very unique lips for starters LOL Some of my pile 4's may have even told people around them like "omg have you noticed how unique this person looks??" omgg noo😂😭 But for real you fantasize about this person, they are so special and unique to you... like they are the only one of their kind.💖 This person could be an Aquarius venus or moon, but a lot of Aquarius energy is coming out in this pile. Taurus, Libra, Pisces, Cancer placements. You are definitely questioning whether or not you could find someone like them ever again😭😭 They really feel like a dream come true to you.. this pile definitely daydreams about this person A LOT😇 They make you so emotional and in love.. all sorts of feelings mixed together, I don't feel really called to say friends for this pile but maybe for some that could resonate🤔 Definitely a huge crush on your person pile 4!!💞💗 So sweet omg this person is so caring and soft too they may have many admirers online, and secret ones too. Omg I feel like you stare at this person and think like- 👁v👁 "hey... thank you for existing" omg tell me if that resonates for any of you🤣💗 Your person feels so rare and amazing, and to you they are the only one.

💌Messages from your person: I have fantasies about you, You're on your own, I'm obsessed with you, Give me a sign, You make me feel safe, I won't tell anyone, We can totally make it, I still love you, (That is so sweet🥰💗) Extra cards: 7th house, Shoulders, Honey, Girlfriend, Trickster, (7th house lover energy💞🙊)

Thank you my pile 4's! If you feel this resonated, you may tap the heart to claim this message!🥰

I hope you enjoyed your reading! ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ If you did be sure to let me know pile 4 with the bow emoji~🎀 Thanks for scrolling through, Hugs hugs hugs!! See you in the next reading💞

Wanna see more readings like this? Check out my tumblr for accurate readings for you!💗🌊🌸

Thanks for reading! \(*^w^)/💌 -Lunadream <3

[motelsnleatherseats]

Sam's always been possessive of Dean, from the way a child is possessive of their parent. It made sense, considering his big brother was always his constant, always the one to take care of him and save him from the heartache of parent abandonment. He never liked when Dean would take too long talking to someone, or when his trips to the store always ran over time, but Dean thinks it's normal cause Sammy's always been a little clingy.

Things start to change once Dean's showing more interest in girls, and Sam is no longer pouting from a distance, but starting to interject, sometimes physically. It starts with him gluing himself to Dean's side, making his presence and annoyance known with little huffs of impatience. Then he starts to pull at his sleeve or bump into his side, trying to coerce him to get out of whatever company he has so he doesn't have to share.

It completely catches Dean off guard when Sam comes back from the bathroom and suddenly sits on his lap as he's chatting up the waitress. The look of surprise is evident between them both and Dean attempts to scoot back to push Sam off of him but he doesn't budge, and he doesn't stop staring down the waitress either until she walks away, and it's only then that Sam takes his spot across from Dean without another word, refusing to respond to brother's 'what the hell?'

There are nights when Dean tries to take advantage of when Sam's extra tired, knowing that he'll sleep through pretty much anything or at least be dazed enough to blur the edges of his reality. He risks bringing a girl into the motel room and having a make-out session on the couch while Sam's in the far end of the room in bed, but he feels uneasy, and with a glance back towards his little brother, he swears he can see his eyes even in the dark.

Sam says nothing about it the following day, but he watches Dean like a hawk and is quick to stand whenever he looks like he's getting ready to go somewhere. It's only when Sam literally backs himself up against the door to keep him from leaving that he calls him out on it.

"Sammy, what the hell, man. You're actin' like a yorkie with separation anxiety," he sighed, not with frustration, more so concern. Sam's been acting more out of pocket lately than usual, but he hasn't been talking about it. Then again, Dean hasn't been asking either.

"Why do you need to go and see girls?" Sam asked not even a beat afterward, straight to the point. Dean inwardly groaned. It wasn't like his little brother was a kid anymore, he was 15 and had surely gotten the sex ed thing from school at some point. Plus it's not like he wasn't a good lookin' guy. Sure, he was a little gangly, maybe a little too nerdy for some, but girls sometimes liked the bookish ones.

"Because a man has needs, little bro. Between my libido and your puberty, there's a little too much testosterone in here for my liking."

Sam doesn't appear phased but his eyes are intense, like he's looking for a sign to act. Dean's caught off guard by that look, and his expression reflects his confusion with a small tilt of his head and a furrow of his brows.

"I can take care of your needs."

"What? Sam, no. You're not getting it--"

"You want to get your dick wet, I get it. I can do that."

Dean's face drained of blood, the rest of it rushing through his body like a cold chill. Sam's suggestion, let alone choice of words, had him caught like a deer in headlights.

"I see the way you look at me sometimes, Dean. Like the way you look at girls. When you think I don't notice," Sam continued on, and Dean gave a nervous laugh, his brain scrambling to come up with some kind of rebuttal. A denial. Anything. He took a step back when Sam moved towards him, feeling like it was some kind of a trap. It had to be.

"S-Sam, you don't know what you're talking about. I don't look at you like that, you're my brother." His feet are moving back on their own accord as Sam matched his pace, like he's cornering his prey. His heart pounds, making his entire chest feel like it's vibrating.

"It's okay, Dean. I like it when you look at me like that," Sam replied, reaching a hand out towards his big brother that Dean tries to avoid, but the backs of his knees make contact with the bed and all the sudden Sam is right up against him. "It makes me feel good. I can make you feel good too."

Sam pushed Dean back to sit on the bed as the last word left his lips and he's quick to climb onto his lap, causing his brother to try and lean back and away from it, hands anchored into the sheets, white knuckling them to prevent them from doing anything stupid. Shit, shit, shit. This is really happening.

"Sam, don't--"

"Don't you want to feel good, Dean?" Sam asked with a voice all too sweet and pleading, straddling him as he moved to run a hand over his chest and Dean can swear that Sam can feel the heavy thumps of his heart against his palm. His breath is so shallow, he can't even really tell if he's breathing at all. "Don't you want to touch me?"

Dean swallowed hard, his lips parted and feeling dry all the sudden as he stared as his little brother with disbelief in his eyes. Did he? Would he admit it? All questions vanished as he felt Sam curl his fingers around the amulet he gifted him, giving it a little tug as if to tempt him further, to lure him in, and he reached up to take Sam's hand in a silent request to stop.

"Sammy, we can't, we're--"

"Brothers, I know. I don't care," he interrupted, shifting his fingers to curl around Dean's hand to prevent him from pulling away. "I want you to touch me, Dean. Please." He pulled out the big guns, his features softening; that damned puppy-dog eyed expression worked wonders on his brother. "Touch me."

Dean closed his eyes and gave a small squeeze to his little brother's hand, exhaling a defeated sigh through his nose.

"You can't ask this of me."

"I'm not asking, I'm telling," Sam replied, moving his free hand to the back of Dean's neck, leaning forward to push their chests together, doubling down on his efforts as he nuzzled against his cheek, corners of their mouth mere millimeters from each other. "Dean," he whispered and Dean tensed, his resolve a pendulum, swinging heavy in the direction of his little brother.

Much to Sam's delight, Dean caved and curled his arm around his waist, pressing their lips together in a kiss that had them surging together, any and all resistance to their sordid feelings disappeared in a millisecond. Sam gave a mix between a whimper and a moan against his brother's lips and Dean's back went rigid, nearly gasping at the sound. With things now set in motion, it was full steam ahead, and Dean twisted their forms to lay Sammy down on the bed, positioning himself above him as their lips and tongues eagerly explored new sensations until their lungs ached for air.

Dean leaned up after breaking the kiss, gazing down at his little brother with flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips, glossy with saliva and decorated with a smile. A genuine smile. Something Dean hadn't seen in a long time and it made his chest tighten. He watched as Sam moved his hands down to grip the hem of his shirt, lifting it off of his form to expose his slender torso, newly forming muscles under soft, unscarred skin that was just begging to be touched. Dean followed suit and remained hovering above him, the amulet swinging between them until Sam angled his chin forward to let his lips catch the adornment.

Dean shuddered. He literally felt his limbs go weak at the action, his cock suddenly throbbing as his body pulsed with heat. He leaned down to capture his lips again, letting his hands finally do as requested, touching over Sam's torso with reverence. Everything happened so quickly, yet it felt like time had suspended around them, their every sense flooded with each other.

The wet sounds of their kiss were decorated with moans and whimpers, their hands touching and exploring before buttons were being undone and the rest of their clothes were being dropped on the floor. Dean slotted between Sam's thighs and pressed their hips together, undulating and grinding, earning the prettiest sounds from his brother's mouth that rivaled even the most desperate of girls.

"Dean.. De~" Sam whined between kisses that were growing a little sloppy, his cock leaking messily against his abdomen, the rutting becoming even more slick as Dean gave heated grunts and breathy sounds. He wasn't going to last much longer, not with the way Sam was coming undone underneath him.

"Sammy, fuck, gonna cum.." Dean spoke, his voice broken, barely able to get the words out before he was shooting a hot, thick load across his little brother's tummy, Sam right behind him. His pretty pink lips fell agape, labored breaths and whimpers dripping from them like warm honey as his eyes unfocused and his lashes fluttered, his smaller form trembling as he came while panting his brother's name like a mantra or prayer.

They remained pressed together in the aftermath of their orgasms, catching their breath and letting the waves of pleasure slowly come to a dull tingle throughout their bodies. Sam enjoyed the weight of his brother pressed down on him, and Dean enjoyed the way Sam's arms stayed around him to keep him there, basking in his warmth and the scent of sweat and cum.

"Don't go out tonight," Sam requested, and Dean gave a breathless chuckle, reassuring him with a hand through his hair that those plans had long since been abandoned.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sammy. Just wanna stay right here with you."

[badgyalshii]

WANNA TRY IT WITH ME?

word count: 3.1k?

warnings! smut, maybe some typos, oral (f) and missionary, overstimulation, some dirty talk.

pairing! only fans!timothee chalamet x (f) friend!reader (ALWAYS SAFE FOR POC + PLUS SIZE)

a/n: hereee goes my long awaited apology for the finale of its never over🙄 i hope you guys enjoy! two hands on the phone please😏 the “xxx” is a divider btw i just got lazy lmao TELL ME IF IT SERVES CUNTTTT (requests are open)

have you read the series? check it out!

like shii’s writing!? check out her masterlist for her future imagines/series! (that needs to be updated, come on shii wtf r u doing😒)

It was no secret that timothee owned a onlyfans, he didnt really talk about it though. He didnt want it to be the main conversation between him and his friends, he kept the subjects separated but he was very close with his fans. You said you would always support what he does and even registered for an account to follow him, he tried to fight it and block you from his page, but you said it wasnt really that big of a deal considering you would never open the app and just to let you love him, to which he sighed and let it go, but convsersations were awkward because in the back of his mind he didnt know and was wondering you ever watched his videos. It was only a side gig, but he wanted to focus on college and small acting.

One day, you decided to initiate the conversation with timmy while you both ate chinese. ¨i just felt like if i talked to you about it then it would be hard for you to separate me from being a normal sensitive person from being ya know….that¨ he explained, you shrugged. ¨i mean, i wouldnt look at you differently- not that ive watched but i know you, and how could i judge such a sweet person like you? The only thing that i would have questions about is, like, is it awkward? On camera? Im not even comfortable with myself so put myself on camera and do that-¨ ¨if you dont like yourself, trust their is someone to appreciates you like ten times more than you do on a good day. Theres no reason for you to feel like that¨ he said looking over before eating the rice with a fork. You let out a hum and things fell silent as you both watched a movie, but it was clear you both were thinking. ¨would- would you like…¨ he looked over at you, your eyebrows lifted as you looked at him, he seemed nervous as his cheeks were slowly turning rosy, he cleared his throat before finishing his question. ¨like try it?¨ he asked, ¨erm¨ you said before thinking to yourself, ¨maybe with someone i trust, could be fun¨ you smiled before asking for the rice, taking a forkfull bite off of the same utensil that timmy used. He shrugged, becoming more comfortable, seeing as you were rather chill about the situation, it was a joke to him, what he was about to say, but the tone that came out otherwise said different.

¨wanna try it with me?¨ your eyes widened in surprise, to which he laughed, ¨joking, im joking¨ he let out with a nervous chuckle leaving his lips, his face was visibly warm now, a big grin on his face trying to fight off the fact that he said that. You chewed and swallowed your rice carefully, not saying a word and looking at him while he looked at you, itching and waiting for your response. You shrugged, ¨fuck it¨ your stomach was doing flips, what were you saying? Are you fucking serious? You thought after you said that, your eyebrows high and a side smile on your lips. His mouth parted, ¨when-when would you wanna do it?¨ he asked, ¨its your page, shouldnt you make the rules?¨ you muttered, setting down the rice. ¨tommorow maybe?¨ he let out, watching you get up, you said yeah and said you had to use the bathroom.

When you made it to the bathroom you looked at yourself in the mirror before letting out a sigh and putting a hand on your face is disbelief, what had you singed yourself up for? Why were you just talking? Were you just talking? It was clear that you both were very attractive, so imagine what people think. Your shared friends already think you guys have something casual going on, so would they really be surprised if you both busted out with a cake saying ¨we did it! We fucked! (and recorded)¨? You bit your lip before running the water and washing your hands, before exiting out of the bathroom and sitting next to timothee again.

XXX

You both shyd away about the idea even if it was just the next day, but here we are. You sat ontop of timothees bed, fully clothed and your hair out of the way. You bit your lip, you were anxious, you didnt know how to feel about this, how would others take it? What if they didnt like you? What if you didnt like it. Timothee sat infront of you the entire time, telling you that it was okay if you didnt want to do it and reassuring you the entire time and double checking in with you. As nervous as you were, there was a small burst of excitement that jumped in your stomach.

He bit his lip, ¨you ready?¨ he asked, holding up the camera, about to record you. On the nightstand sat a white viberator, body oil, and lube just incase. He raised three fingers behind the camera, initiating a count down, he very soon pressed the record button, you saw the red small light from the camera flicker. A smile played on your lips from awkwardness but you tried your best to cover it up. ¨this is y/n. One of my closest friends who wanted to join us today¨ he chuckled, ëyes on the screen as he looked through the camera to see you. ¨but ill let her introduce herself¨ he finished, your eyes widened, you didnt know what to do. ¨im nervous¨ you let out with a pity smile and you both let out a laugh, ¨just get undressed while you introduce yourself¨ he let out a small grunt as he watched you immediately catch on and start pulling up your top.he bit his lip, he couldnt deny you looked fucking great, the way your breasts were laid pretty in that bra and how your hips sat with the hidden treasures just waiting to be touched. You watched as he slowly palmed himself and continued to record. You decided this was the right time to speak up.

¨my name is y/n, but timothee told you that¨ you laughed as you stripped your shirt off, muffled music played in the back but you both werent too focused on that, you wore a matching set for the circumstance, and when your bra was revealed he let out a muttered fuck and applied more pressure to his clothed cock. T̈his is my first time¨ you continued, looking over at the oil before reaching over, your ass in the air as you reached for it he let out a sigh, and watched as your back arched and when you came back at sat correctly, he lended his hand out, ¨i wanna do that¨ he said, and you complied, handing him the oil, he let out a small groan, he was as hard as a rock and youve barely even started, he had no shirt on but he had his grey sweatpants, he took the camera and set it up on its stand on the end of the bed.

When he looked back at you, you sat there innocently, you sat on the back of your calves, legs closed and looking up at him so lost, it turned him on that he could take control and lead you. He softly grabbed your neck and pulled you in for a slowly soft to passionate open mouth kiss, pulling your head towards himself before letting you go and moving behind you, his warm touch on your arms, following all the way up to your neck and you tilted your head back on his shoulder as he now kissed your neck and uncuffed your bra. ¨shittttt¨ he muttered, looking at your tits and taking them into his hands, to which they fit perfectly, your nipple between his first and middle finger, rolling them around as soft sighs of pleasure left your lips, he looked at you the entire time before applying a kiss to your cheek, then your lips. You closed your eyes and let him lead you, you felt like you were falling in his arms and allowed him to take you anywhere, you swore this is what you needed, you almost forgot the camera was even there. He put his hand on your waist before he reached for the oil and while he did that, you stripped yourself from your shorts, revealing your matching thong before getting back into pisition and you looked at the camera, thinking you should be more seductive, you looked at it and let out a moan as the warm oil hit your body, he rubbed it over your chest, your stomach, his touch was gentle the entire time, ¨can you bend over infront of the camera for me?¨ he asked gently, you looked at him and nodded, your ass was pointed to the camera and he moved behind you and to the side, his eyebrows raised as you arched as your already glistening cunt was soaking the thin material of the thong, he applied oil over your ass and rubbed it in before his hands crawled up to the sides of your thong, ¨is it okay if i pull this down?¨ he asked, you nodded and he looked at you before dropping your panties, he let out a sigh of satifacation and rubbed over your entrance, you let out a hum and arched your back further before he plunged a finger into your soaking wet cunt, your mouth dropped as he slowly fingered you, he watched as your walls tighten around his fingers, his mouth dropped and he couldnt wait to put his dick inside.

He lifted up your ass as he started to apply pressure and finger harder, your eyebrows furrowed as you looked back at him. ¨like that?¨ he asked as he continued to finger, you bit your lip and nodded your head, your hips moved back into his hand as a small smirk played on his face before he stripped his fingers away, you let out a whine, wanting him to keep going before he surprised you and applied his tongue to your clit, your mouth dropped, his tongue was circling and you let out a moan.

¨timmy” left your lips, fuck. Is this what you were missing out on? Your stomach has butterflies as you leaned back wanting more, he let out a chuckle against your lips in cockiness seeing as you were enjoying this. He shook his head against your pussy and you moaned his name again. ¨dont stop, make me cum timmy¨ he let out another hum against your pearl before pulling away with a pop. ¨make you cum? Want me to make you cum baby?¨ he asked, pumping his fingers.

You looked back at him and seen your juices covering his lips, you could finish just now, looking at his low eyes, looking at him made it seem like he was clouded with ecstasy. He licked his lips and you nodded, letting out a soft please. He kissed your ass before getting on his knees and pulsing into your pussy harder, your eyebrows furrow as you close your eyes, opened mouth gasps and a deep moan just rips away from your lips, fuck, you couldnt take it. And the way timothee looked at you didnt help, ¨shit¨ he muttered, taking his thumb and rubbing your pearl in complete circles. Your mouth hung low as your belly started to heat up, you could feel yourself about to explode. You let out a whine and he bit his lower lip, ¨look at me, look at me while i make you cum¨ he circled faster, you looked at him desperate, desperate to finish.

And suddenly you did, ¨timmy!¨ you let out, your eyes rolling and the way he tried to ride your high out was overstimulating for you so you jerked your body from his fingers, to which he laughed at. ¨shut up¨ you laughed, putting your heand in your hands as your stomach continued to burn from the release. ¨you okay?¨ he asked again, you nodded yes and it was okay and that you were ready for the next round, he smiled at you, and you smiled back, before something else caught your attention. He was clearly breathing heavier and as you shamelessly panned his body, and something else was clearly looking at you.

He didnt try to hide it, instead, he grabbed it while he looked at you, ¨missionary? Or?¨ he asked. You shrugged in return, you liked that he mentioned missionary first, “is that a good angle?” you asked, “any shot with you in it is a good angle, y/n” he said, stripping from his sweats and boxers before coming over to press a kiss on your lips. Once again, the kiss became heated, he leaded you to lay on your back while your lips were still together. He came down and laid firm on you, pressing up against your bare pussy. You held onto his curls as his soft lips were on yours, his tongue entered your mouth, shamelessly clashing against yours, your teeth. It was so hot, he pumped himself before pressing up against your entrance. He rubbed his dick messily against your clit, looking at you jutter under his touch, he kissed your head before he entered slowly, a soft sigh left your lips as you made eye contact with him, watching his eyebrows press together from the easy slip in, to the tight satisfying feeling of your pussy wrapped around his hard throbbing dick. He looked at you for approval, and you nodded.

“y/n, fuck you feel good” he muttered, his mouth opening as you opened your legs further, wanting more. A throaty moan left your mouth as you leaned up on your elbows to watch him fuck you, his dick hit your spot everytime and he only moved faster. “Timmy, keep going” you moaned, your head tilting back from the euphoria. He reached up and grabbed your tit, massaging it as he continued to let out moans, “fuck, like that? You like that?” he muttered, now focusing and putting his hands on both sides of your head. He rocked his hips thorough, his mouth agape and low groans ripping away as the headboard of the bed clashed against the wall time and time again.

“yes! mmph-“ you were cut off by how deep his dick was inside you and how your sensitive nipples tickled in his touch, the way he looked so focused and lost in the moment only made you more wet, you tilted your head back and let out a cry, he was hitting the same spot over again and fucking you harder, you felt your walls clench desperately and that only motivated him more. “timmy!” you whine, putting your hand on his stomach and closing your legs around him, the sound of skin on skin became more relevant as he didnt stop, “i got you” he let out in a breathy, low and seductive tone.

he slapped your hand out of the way before taking it and your other and placing them ontop of the pillow, holding your hands by the wrist as he came down and kissed your sweet spot, “oh my- mmm!” a high pitched hum broke and tried to hide your neck, this was all so overpowering and it felt so good, “where do you want me to cum, y/n” he whispered in your ear, “fuck!” he closed his eyes and his hips rutted slowly, still having powerful strokes, “inside” you let out, he looks up at you before letting out a laugh, “are you crazy? you’re gonna get pregnant- shit” the pleasure took over, canceling his sentence.

“i wont” you shook your head, fuck thats all you wanted, for him to fill you up, give himself to you fully. he looks at you and presses a kiss to your lips before letting out an okay, he takes one of his hands off of your wrists to come down and rub your clit, but it was difficult considering how wet you were. your body was overstimulated and tried to fight his hand off by moving your hips, but when you moved them it just made him go deeper, past your spot, you froze in that position, your body shocked as he hit a point you didnt know anyone could. “fuck! dont stop!” you scream in a whiney tone, keeping your hips where they were. “cum for me” he said, his jaw clenching as he looked at you with all seriousness, “take it, take it from me make me cum!” you cry, his hand moved faster against your clit and more rough groans left his lips, your mouth suddenly became agape and he looked at you, your eyes pouring into his as you came. “timmy, im, im cumming” your eyebrows furrowed, it felt like the world stopped, your body jerked and released all the knots in your stomach. he came down and you both shared and open mouthed sloppy kiss, he bit his lip and and looked down at you, fucked you harder and the bed creaking and the camera was so close to flipping over.

“mmm” his lips pursed together, fucking you faster now, “timmy!” you cried again, before his mouth dropped, a whiney moan left him lips “y/n, y/n, aw, fuckkk y/n” he said over and over again, feeling his seed shoot up in your stomach as he looked at you, both eyes were desperate for each other, so hazed in the stars. he let you go and your arms went under his, holding him as he let out “uhs” as he finished cumming inside you, and making sure you got all of it as he messily rutted his hips until failure. your back came off the matress as you accepted the cum shooting up your pussy as your chest uncontrollably heaves.

his head falls into the deep of your neck, still breathing heavy but applied kisses there. Once he catches his breath, he sits back up and pulls out, a curse leaving your lips as he grabbed the camera and pointed it at you, you looked at him behind the camera, he was still breathing heavy and he reached his hand to your lips, his thumb brushing over them before you took it into your mouth and sucked, a smirk and a small chuckle left his lips before he took out his thumb and traced it along your body, you were covered in sweat, your body glistening heavenly, or at least he thought so. the camera following, all the way down until he zoomed in on your fucked out area, seeinng the cum slowly leaking from your hole and your clit visibly swollen. he separates your folds from each other, “man i could really eat you out again” he joked.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 91 (Conrad's Strange Trip)

cw: drinking, ingesting a mind-altering substance

Conrad pulled his cruiser through the gates of Bella Goth's estate in Cavalier Cove. The coastal mansion gave little indication of the paranormal-obsessed inhabitant who owned the property, but Conrad still always felt a chill when he walked through the front door.

Bella swore the house wasn't haunted. Conrad had never seen a ghost so he had to take her word for it, but the home did have two new permanent residents since he and Heather had last visited with the kids. In addition to Alexander and Lydia's newborn son, Jagger, Bella had welcomed a new pet.

"She's a gift from Grimmie. He's off reaping so often, but this crow can travel well enough to send messages between us when we're apart."

"She's beautiful, Mrs. Goth. But don't you worry about things like...bird flu? Especially with a newborn around."

"You don't really think I'd endanger Alex and Lydia's son, do you? My own grandson! Crows are among the most hygienic of all birds, you know. And she's a great little mimic. Watch."

The crow jumped from her wooden pedestal and onto Bella's hand. She spoke a few words in basic Simlish, waiting for her new pet to croak back, 'Nay-doo.'

"What's her name?"

"I haven't decided yet. Do you have any ideas? I thought Grimbella was nice, but Grimmie says we shouldn't name her after ourselves."

Conrad broke a smile across his tense cheeks. "I can't help you, Mrs. Goth. I didn't even name my dog. And, Solomon Wolff, my first partner back in San Myshuno, named him after me."

Bella shrugged with a gentle smile for Conrad and her crow. "I'll sleep on it. Maybe her name will come to me in a dream, or maybe Solomon Wolff will tell me what her name is."

(Surprise! Thank you @deardiaryts4 for making this headcanon canon with me! These two helped bust a puppy mill together as young officers, and Conrad ended up raising one of the pups who followed him back to their cruiser. Solo called him Gord because he was attached to Officer Gordon, and the name stuck. How Bella exists separately and prominently in overlapping storylines both totally makes sense and is outrageous but it need not be explained right now. Just enjoy the ride! Also, taking suggestions to name that crow! Grimbella isn't officially off the table, either.)

Conrad cleared his throat. "River dropped by and told me to come see you. But...I don't really know what I need to talk about."

"Conrad, you look tired." The words were accusatory, but there was only concern in her voice. "Let me mix you a drink. Text Heather, let her know I insisted you stay a while to relax. I'll watch your kids soon to make it up to her. Sometime when you're working late again."

"It's been a long few months," he admitted, following her to the long wooden bar in the dining room. "I know everyone's worried about me."

"So why won't you talk to anyone about it?"

He wavered. "Because sometimes the less people know, the safer they are. I shouldn't talk to you about this, especially since I can't figure out how to tell Heather, but if I don't talk to someone I might lose my damn mind...Have you ever heard of Los Tigres de Selva?"

She nodded. "My grandmother, Enriqueta, was from Selvadorada, but her family got her to Sunset Valley when she was small. They didn't want her to stay because of the cartels."

"I walked away from a case involving them today."

"They're in our ports?"

"They don't smuggle much through here. Probably because our ports are jammed with ice too many months of the year and it's not profitable, but this case...it's sorta personal."

"If you keep pursuing the case, will your family be in danger? You've told everyone you were handling it."

"I've tried. But last night Heather noticed how hard it's been to keep the case separate from everything else, and after River visited today I realized what it's been doing to me."

"This doesn't have anything to do with the woman Heather saw sneaking around outside your house before your daughter was born, does it?"

"She told you about that?"

"No, Cassandra told me because she wanted me and her brothers to be careful if there were any dangerous people lurking around town. And it sounds like there were...Are they still?"

"I really hope not."

Bella nodded. "So they are."

"Why do I always forget you spent a bit of time working as a secret agent?"

"Because they spent more time trying to figure me out than letting me do my job so I rarely talk about it. When Dex came along I said, 'Screw it.' Nothing's more important than family, and that's been my life since I quit."

"Well, you got more out of me than anyone else without much effort, so just know you've still got it."

"I don't know all your secrets, Conrad. I still don't know why you kept it from Heather, but my gut says you're ashamed of something."

"I feel shame about my past. And I feel shame because I should have told her months ago and I kept putting it off. I should have told her years ago. It just got harder and harder to say anything because no matter what, it'll look like I didn't tell her because I have something to hide."

"Do you?"

"There's a lot she doesn't know. There's a lot nobody knows, after my father died."

"Secrets are important to keep sometimes, and I understand wanting to keep her safe if the truth puts her in danger, but you know Heather. She likes honesty."

Conrad stared at the empty glass on the bar. "Heather's the love of my life. I can't lose her because I made stupid choices until my dad bailed me out with what amounted to his dying breath."

Bella thought quietly for a moment, taking a seat at the empty barstool. "You're a fascinating man, Conrad Gordon. Your father would be proud to see what you've made of yourself despite any mistakes of your youth, but something is causing you to go backward. I could press and I'm quite sure you'd tell me everything because you clearly need to talk about it, but..."

"But if I tell you before I tell Heather, I'm an even bigger ass than I've been. And still, knowing that, it doesn't make me want to run home and tell her."

"You know who might be able to provide better guidance than anyone who lacks the hindsight of death? The mentors."

He shook his head with snide laughter. "How did I know you were going to suggest travelling? Mrs. Goth, I have to work in the morning."

"And you know it only takes a few minutes!"

Maybe it was the liquid courage, but Conrad found himself agreeing and followed Bella upstairs. The seance table had been moved into their upstairs hall, with the old attic room turned into a nursery for Alex and Lydia's newborn son.

Conrad took a seat across from Bella, letting her lead just like last time. She chanted her Omiscan summons, with Conrad's palms open on the round wooden table draped in purple and gold cloth. A blue flame flickered above their heads, and Conrad was transported to the Realm of the Dead. He knew Bella wouldn't pull him out prematurely, so he walked cautiously toward the flame.

When he'd returned, he asked how long he'd been gone. A cold sweat broke on the back of his neck.

"You were gone much longer than usual - about twenty minutes. What did you see?"

"I need a drink, Mrs. Goth. The strongest drink you know how to mix."

"Don't you work in the morning?" she countered, but his pained expression gave Bella pause. "I know one drink. It clears your mind of all the jumbled thoughts you can't take with you...when you pass on. Only the most important thoughts and memories remain while you're in this state. But I can't let you drive home if I make it for you."

"Mrs. Goth, what I just saw...I don't understand it. If it'll unscramble my thoughts, I..."

"You can stay here for the night, and I'll tell Heather you helped me with a computer virus."

"I thought I wasn't supposed to be lying to Heather."

"Do you want to tell her you're going to spend the next few hours living as a ghost?"

"Living as a what? Are you going to...kill me?"

"Of course not! Think of it a bit like, oh, I don't know, ayahuasca. It's an out-of-body experience, but it can be mentally transformative! It helps give perspective on the things that really matter to us when our world is clouded with too much fear and worry. It's made with gin and crushed death flower petals, but it won't leave you hungover. Once the effects wear off you'll be fine to head to work tomorrow morning."

They headed back downstairs and he called Heather. Because he was with Bella, who they'd come to trust like family, she made no complaint over him taking a night to combat his stress by getting stuck into a computer problem. Though guilt pecked a hole in his stomach, they exchanged their usual 'I love you' before he hung up. Bella mixed him another cocktail - this one bright green and glowing with spectral gases. "When you travelled for twenty minutes, you must have been gone for close to a year..."

"Almost exactly twelve months."

"What could the mentors have wanted to show you for a whole year?"

"I didn't meet any mentors, other than the professors I already had. I relived my first year of college."

"Fascinating! I've heard of this but never experienced it. I used to hope the mentors could show me where I went when I disappeared and lost all memory of my time away. The mentors let people relive the past if they have an opportunity to make amends for something or if they're sending a warning, so maybe my time away was just boring and uneventful."

"Seems pretty unlikely with you, Mrs. Goth."

As she spoke, Conrad sipped the glowing green cocktail. When he'd finished his drink, he looked down. The empty glass appeared to float on thin air, and he could scarcely make out the faint lines marking his fingertips. He really was a ghost.

Bewildered, he set down the glass on the bar and turned around. Bella watched him with excitement, trying to read his face for a reaction. "Jump-scare!" he shouted, and Bella gasped.

"You're getting better at that," she said with a laugh.

"Jump-scaring feels easier without a body to drag around. But I can't let Heather and the kids see me like this. How long does it last?"

"The sofa's all yours until you've sobered up, and you'll be back to normal by then. But tell me: who are you thinking about right now?"

"Heather and the kids, like always."

Bella smiled. "Good. That's the most important thing. Now go ahead, possess some of the furniture and get this out of your system. I know you want to."

He knew it was time to tell Heather the truth, but tonight, his mind - and body - wasn't right for such a serious conversation. After Bella and her family had gone to bed upstairs, he floated around the house with the cats tailing his every move. Finding the piano open and unattended, he grinned mischievously. Bella was right. He felt an uncontrollable urge to possess the sturdy instrument and jumped inside.

Possessing furniture was a lot harder than it looked, with the treble strings catching on his broad shoulders each time he floated upward. Still, he'd rather possess a grand piano than a litter box.

He had his fun before he passed out on the sofa. For a few hours, he had practically forgotten Ximena's name. But as morning came, he woke remembering what Bella had said about the mentors. He thought finding Rafa would make amends for his past, but it had only caused trouble and he still couldn't find him.

As Conrad headed to work, he wracked his brain trying to figure out what the mentors had wanted him to notice. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

NOTE: Thursday's flashback will let us all see what Conrad saw!

NOTE 2: Not the most responsible night for ol' Conrad, but the stress is still there despite telling Ximena to take a hike. Between fearing her and knowing Heather needs to know the truth but fearing how that conversation will go, dude's cracking! We may judge. Also I wasn't entirely positive what the drink would do before I had Bella make it for him. I had an inkling but didn't look it up, so this was technically an unplanned night of dropped responsibilities for Conrad, who's built a very responsible rep!

[junedenim]

still a trace

the heat to melt the cold

warnings: cheating, piv, handjob, blowjob, etc.

word count: 5.5k

You pat the snow off your coat. The ice is sticking to your gloves and your snow boots shuffle away at the doormat. Alex is somewhere in the house, maybe in the kitchen. You can hear the murmur of his music that muted your entrance. You're freezing but the house is warm. You slip off your shoes and roll your gloves into your coat pocket before hanging it on the rack. 

The tips of your fingers are frozen numb so you stick them under your armpits. You follow the trail of music into the kitchen where he stands cutting tomatoes at the counter, his back to you.

You think about sneaking up on him but he has a knife in his hand and it's better to stand in the archway and watch him than risk either of you getting cut. He hums to the music and there's a slight sway in his hips. He's wearing a ribbed sweater on which he's rolled up the sleeves. He taps his foot, sock-clad and fuzzy, on the tiled floors, where you can feel the chill through your socked feet.

It's not often you can look on at him unobtrusively. There are little slivers in the late night and early morning but you can rarely stare at him unknowingly with the lights still on. The last time you were able to be this observant was when you first met.

It was at a wedding. You'd never crossed paths before. He was close friends with the groom and you were a distant relative of the bride. Somehow that meant you ended up at the same table. You were lonely, your date ditching you, and sat beside Alex. You were drunk and he was good-looking. Then, he went up to the open bar and you stared and stared and stared. He came back, two drinks in his hand and a breath that smelled like whiskey, and you talked and laughed. You can't remember ever laughing that much even with alcohol.

At the end of the night, he offered to walk you to your hotel room. You were drunk. He was drunk. You had sex. Unplanned and quick and it was a mess. The whole thing was a mess. And now you're here watching him cook dinner.

He began to whistle to the music and that's when you had to laugh, covering your mouth with your hand but it proved no use. He turned around at the noise. "Ay! You surveilling me now?"

"I'm just admiring," you choke out in laughter. "Do you often whistle while you work?"

He shakes his head like he can't believe the sight. "Hush, you. How long have you been watching me?"

You shrug, arms crossed. "Only a few." He's smiling, deep and wide. It's coming home without actually being home. Or maybe this is home now? A place of comfort that has been your place for far longer than you want to admit.

"How long are you going to keep me waiting?" Alex asks.

You raise your eyebrows. "For what?"

He puckers his lips and taps his finger on his bottom lip.

"You could come here for that."

Alex points to the stove. "I gotta watch the pot." He stirs as the flame burns bright, blue ripples of fire.

You slowly walk with a small foot tap on each cold tile. He's impatient, taking a big lunge forward, and wrapping his left arm around your torso, the other still stirring the pot. It's the greeting kiss, deep and hard like always. A message of making up for all that lost time you've been separated for. 

Your arms are stuck between you two, squeezed between your chests. Your cold hands touch down and make him hiss at the frigidness. He pulls away, grabbing your hands. "We gotta warm you up, babe." He rubs his two warm hands over yours, sitting palm-to-palm. He holds them over the pot, the proximity to the stove fire provides heat. 

He lets go and you keep them steady there. One of his hands goes back to stirring and his other reaches up and pushes a chunk of loose hair—wet from the snow—behind your ear. "How was the walk over?"

"It's snowing," you simply say. You watch the pot, waiting for it to reach its boiling point.

Alex lightly chuckles. "I can tell. Dinner will be ready soon. You want some tea?"

You nod and take to watching him again. He reaches to the very top shelf, his body stretched, a fragment of his pale winter skin showing. It pleases you that you're familiar with the sight of his bare skin. It distresses you how much you long to touch.

He grabs your mug, hidden behind all the others. He grabs his mug from the front, a big A on it. The first time you slept over, he grabbed it and said, "It's A for Alex." It has always been easy to love him, that's what has scared you so much. His childish wisdom and his need to explain everything but the big things. The way he kisses you on the cheek when he walks by to the kettle. Especially that.

The mug is exactly what your hands need if you can't hold Alex's heated touch. You sip away, sitting at the kitchen table, watching him. You talk and he nods along that humming continuing softly. The glow in the room melts all the coldness away, everything that was dark and freezing is lost beneath this incandescent light.

He brings your plates over to the table and you grab the wine glasses. When you try to open the wine, he offers, "No, no, I can do it."

You giggle at his chivalry but insist, "I can uncork a bottle, Al." You pour each of you a glass and sit the bottle between the two of you. His chair is meant to be across from yours but he's moved it closer so your knees touch one another. There are hidden glances, even though here in his house just the two of you, there are no secrets to be kept.

"This is delicious," you compliment the dish. It's soothing going down your throat, the perfect relief. This whole evening heals an illness you didn't even know you had.

 He kisses the back of your hand. "Perfect. I was thinking maybe Friday you could come over again."

Your smile drops and it feels like the lights have dimmed slightly. Not in that sensual kind of way but that annoying office lighting that puts you to sleep. "I can't. You know."

Alex nods in perfect understanding. "Alright. You let me know."

You nod in return. He stands to clear the plates but you beat him into picking them up, demanding that you wash them. "You could, at least, let me clean."

He smirks. "Does that mean I get to watch you now?"

You shrug playfully. "Maybe." It lifts the demeanor of the room but not back to its former state.

The dishes are easy to clean. Dinner wasn't very messy but you take your time cleaning them. The water feels nice on your hands and you zone out at the sight of falling specks of snow. They stick to the window pane, slowly clumping together and growing in size. It's easy to get lost in them.

Whether intentional or not, Alex copies you, sneaking up behind you. His chair pushing out, his figure approaching you, and his feet hitting the ground all went unnoticed by you until his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your back to his chest. You jump at the touch. He chuckles into your neck. The vibrations are sent down your spine. "Did I scare you?"

"I just wandered off in my head," you explained. "Sorry."

His head sits on your shoulder, peppering the lightest kisses to your neck. "That's alright." His grip is tight on you, so fearful of you floating away. He reaches around you, shutting off the flow of water from the sink. "Come on, let's go to bed."

"What about dessert?" You ask seriously. It's a deflection thing. You don't care too much about whatever cookies he bought at the store. You just can't outrun your thoughts no matter how hard you push.

He pushes hard against you. "We have to work off dinner first," he jokes. You hate that you aren't laughing. He knows you, recognizes this shift in you, and knows exactly what to do. His hand brushes up your side and you have craved that touch so much. "Let's go to bed, love."

Alex pulls back, his touch gone leaving the cold to spread all through you. You look behind you, his back to you walking away. His hand touches the railing and he stalls for a moment at the bottom of the steps. You think he's about to look up but he doesn't, he just climbs up the stairs.

You're left in the kitchen, now silent and cold. You could stand here and think about your shame for another hundred years or you could join him upstairs in a warm bed. You wait, minutes pass by. You hear him shower all alone. You hear the shower shut off. You dry your hands on a towel and join him upstairs.

He's in bed, back against the headboard, a book in his hand. You wonder if he was actually reading it or if he's thinking too. He looks up in a slow rush, staring. Both of you, back-and-forth staring.

"You got me an extra blanket," you comment at the fluffy cotton on your side of the bed.

Alex looks down at it. His gaze is so tender that it breaks you in half. "God knows you'll need it."

You're standing in the doorway, not yet crossing the threshold. His eyes don't leave you, looking in tightly at you. It's always been the hardest and easiest thing to give yourself over to him. It's routine for you to stand here and eye that side of the bed. 

"You coming to bed?" It isn't sweetly said like it was downstairs. It's desperation now. A question that was lodged in his throat and is now lodged in you. You will never get rid of the sound of his voice, replaying every syllable in your head. 

You place your hand on the wall. Your eyes drift to him. His eyes steady, directly on you. It's unforgiving. You never feel like he is judging you but he's pleading for you, begging for something you can't fully give him. But you can go to bed with him and that's what you want. 

"Yeah. Just gonna brush my teeth first." You walk to the bathroom but look back first, attempting to alleviate the air, telling him, "Don't fall asleep on me."

"Promise," he swears.

And when you come back out, dressed for bed and clean breath, he's in the same place, reading. At the sight of you, he shuts the book, placing it on his nightstand. His hair has roughly dried from the shower and his eyes now stare brutally, requesting a different kind of bedding from you.

It's easy to slip under the covers into the fire below them. Nothing is suffocating about this smoke as he takes you into his hands bringing that heat back to your body accompanied by a kiss that shoots right through your core, down into your center. You get completely lost in each other and it's impossible to ignore this. You don't understand how anyone could ever reject this. Sometimes it feels like the reason your blood keeps flowing. 

His hand chases up your thigh and you could die. Die right here in this corner of the world, rot here with him. You'll long for him forever, even when you're reaching down into his pants and taking him into your hands. He warms you up and you cool him down and there's nothing that can make you feel like this ever again. 

In the halting of time, clothes escape both his body and yours. You rub him in your hand and he mouths at your boob, but it's clear the rabid need for more. The need to be inside one another, to feel the other completely.

He is your moon, bright and pulling you into him with the kind of gravity you can’t fight. The kind you never want to fight. You feel like waves as you rock against him. Your hands move up his back, his neck, are in his hair, and you make this desperate whining sound. He cradles you close and you hide in his neck. Sometimes the want overtakes the need, but this feels more like the latter. Alex moans, letting himself, not fighting it either. His grip tightens on you because you like that and he knows it, uses it, puts a palm on you, and strokes the column of your throat with his thumb as your head tilts back. He leans down to kiss your neck. Your pulse jumps and skips against his mouth. “Alex,” you breathe out. 

Alex looks down at her, his chest heaving, lips parted. You both like it like this when they’re face to face and you can feel all of him against you, skin warm and smooth. When he moves you onto your stomach you grip the sheets with this satisfied grin. Behind you now, sternum to curved spine, he grabs your hips and pushes inside of you. 

He trails his one hand up your chest to stroke your breast and you gasp. He is deliberately slow with every roll of his hips just to drive you crazy, to rile you up. Wants that, wants you begging, wants to take his time because being inside you is sacred even if fucking each other feels like a sin. 

He finds that spot that always untames you that only he has ever been able to find. It has you biting down on something to muffle the sounds you can’t help making. At that he changes the cadence, hands on your ass, all need, pulling you up and against him. You whimper and your head tilts when he moves to kiss your neck again, but it’s all tongue and teeth this time, biting and licking because if you want it rough and raw this way, he’ll give it to you. 

You shiver as his lips trail up to nip at your earlobe and suck at that secret place behind it. You moan out, "Fuck yes," and he’s very much inclined to agree. He gives you a hickey on your collarbone but you can't think about that. He keeps stroking your breasts and moving inside you until you crash in his arms. You feel like glass shattering and he cradles the broken pieces just as much of a wreck as you.

You both end up panting against the pillows. You shift to face him, shaking, goosebumps everywhere as he skims his palm from your thigh to your ribcage. Your mouth curves up into a shy, small smile. "You're pretty good at that."

"Yeah?" He asks softly, matching her expression. He moves closer until the tips of your noses are brushing. "I like being good for you. That's all I want."

You reach down to cover his hand with your own, palm pressed to your warm skin. He strokes his thumb over your smooth skin and your eyelids flutter shut with a more vulnerable kind of pleasure. "What time do I have to leave tomorrow?"

He sighs. You know he doesn't want to talk about it and you don't either but it's the unavoidable. It's the obstacle that has been standing in your way ever since you got together. Whatever "together" is. "She comes back at noon."

You turn onto your back and nod, your hair rustling against the pillow. "I'll leave at 10."

Alex looks over at you but your eyes remain up on the ceiling. "You don't have to leave so early."

You spare a glance he knows all too well. "Yeah, I do."

He falls onto his back and those touches from before are gone. It's stiff, raw, and cutting now. Nothing keeps the cold from entering. Everything quills the fire. "He's coming back tomorrow." You nod, ceiling stare. "That's why you can't come over Friday."

"Yeah."

It's empty and all the love that was made before is negated. This often happens after you do it the first time. The questioning pounds in each of your heads reflecting what you just did. The betrayal that felt so right and understandable a minute ago has given way to guilt. You've been feeling that more and more lately, swallowing up your insides. Maybe that's because he's coming back tomorrow.

"God," Alex breathes out. You aren't sure if he's praying or begging. It feels just the same. The hope of forgiveness that is drowned out by lying naked next to a man who isn't your husband. 

Husband. The word makes you dizzy and it hammers nails into your head. You feel like you're going to be sick but you don't move. It's too cold to move. It's overwhelming the overflowing you're feeling and something has to give so when the dam breaks, it's not unexpected. You cry. 

"The fuck am I doing?" You weep. You turn over into his pillow that smells like his girlfriend's shampoo and you cry your heart out. His thawing touch lands on your back, stroking it up and down but you can feel the shake of his hand. The panic in his movements. You aren't sure if it's over his girlfriend finding out or you leaving. You don't ever want to know the answer.

You take breaths, deep breaths. You steady out to soft cries and slowly lift your body, turning onto your back. He isn't looking at you. He's sitting up, uncomfortably hunched over with his head in his hands. "Can we not talk about that now?" His tone is unstable, muffled by his hands over his face.

"Then when?" It's been a ball that has been kicked down the road for years. You've fought about it but you're not going to be unmarried anytime soon but you don't want to stop this ever. The arguing died down when Alex got a girlfriend, something he didn't have when you first fucked. You can't help but think how cruel it is that she was brought into a relationship where her place was unknowingly already taken. But it's a topic Alex refuses to talk about. 

You saw her picture once on his desk and commented on how beautiful she was, a completely loving remark, no threat to it. He came over and shoved the picture in a drawer. You haven't seen any pictures of her since. 

Alex looks over at you, eyes red. The cruelty this has all brought to every party rips you up inside. Your husband, while vicious and brutish, has always looked after you and it eats you alive how ungrateful you've been for that. Alex's girlfriend, who excitedly came over and taught him how to cook, unknowingly did that for you, making every dish taste of shame now. And your poor Alex, who isn't even your Alex, who would have never even got a girlfriend if you just figured your shit out, sitting with his wet eyes and turbulent stare, storms breaking in them.

"Can't I just..." He's trying to find the words. He licks his lips like he'll be able to taste them there. "Can I just look at you tonight?"

You want to sit up. You want to touch him. But it would feel like you're torturing him if your hand grazes his cheek. As if you are bringing the ice inside and making him feel it, covering him in it. "You're looking at me now and you're crying."

He turns away, running his hands roughly through his hair. "I can't—this can't—it can't be the—it shouldn't be it." You sit up, unable to hold back, touching your hand to his bare shoulder. He turns back with a dysphoric look. "I'm not ending this and I'm certainly not ending it with you sobbing into my pillow. I deserve better than that. You," his finger taps hard on your exposed chest, "deserve better than that."

His touch, even the tip of his finger, brings you warmth you don't deserve. You bundle up the sheets pulling it over you, covering your breasts, covering your back, covering your shoulders. "We're lucky enough they haven't found out yet." Delusion, it's an easy solution.

His brows furrow hard. "Lucky?" He spits out like it's a toxin. "You've got a twisted mind." He stands up like he can't stand your touch. He walks away, standing at the foot of the bed, still naked but in the most hurtful way.

"What we're doing is twisted!" You argue back. "You can call it making love all you want, Alex, it's cheating! It's an affair and it's an ugly one."

He's pacing around the room like wearing a hole into the floor will wear one into his brain and give him a solution. "Maybe that's what you're doing but it's not what I'm doing."

"It's an affair whether you're married or not. We're cruel people and we shouldn't be doing this to them."

"What's done is done," he insists. "We can't change what we did."

You cross your eyebrows. "So, what's the point of stopping now? Alex," you shake your head in disbelief, "we can't go on like this forever."

"I know. I know." He ruffles his hair even more, a perfect mess.

"What did you plan on?"

He snaps his head over, finally looking at you in the eye. "I planned on more time. If I knew that I would have planned something..."

Your face softens. "What? A going away party?"

Alex lets out a wet chuckle, looking down at his feet, hands on his hips. "Don't make me laugh. Not now."

You frown. You're stuck. You want it back. Back before you got into your own mind. You want to go back to when you were drunk at a wedding reception and the cute guy next to you made you laugh and your husband was nowhere to be seen, not in your presence and not in your thoughts. "It was never going to be nice. Maybe it's best we just rip off the Band-Aid and leave this for what it was."

He shakes his head, biting his lip. You can tell he's trying not to cry. "Uh-uh, I'm not doing it. You can't make me."

"Alex—"

"I'm not letting you leave and never seeing you again."

"We'll see each other again."

"What? Across the room from each other at some baby shower. We're never going to talk again. You leave and we'll never talk, we'll never laugh, we'll never see each other again."

"We'll talk," you insist.

He scowls. "What? Like we're going to go on some double date. You're ridiculous."

"This is all ridiculous. These trysts, these hideouts. It's not a relationship, Alex—"

"Well, it's better than whatever else I'm going to get and you know that."

"She loves you."

"What? Like he loves you. Give me a fucking break. Don't lie to yourself to make it seem like you're doing a good thing. We already did the bad thing. Going back to him, not telling him, you're just making it worse."

You don't speak. You don't feel like you can. You hug your knees to your chest and duck down your head. You can't bear to look at him.

You feel him sit at the foot of the bed. His hands touch your feet over the covers. His thumb traces your ankle joint. He squeezes it repeatedly and then lets go. "Just give me a night, okay?" He whispers. You lift your head slightly, his brown eyes looking straight up into you. He begs for your touch. He's the only one who has ever been able to handle it. 

You lean forward, placing your hand on his chest. His hand lands on top of it, so fearful you'll remove it. But you flip your hand over and squeeze his warm one, intertwining your fingers. "Course." You brush back his hair and lean down with a kiss, one you hope stays permanently.

You touch him for real now, moving down his chest. Your noses brush, but you don’t kiss. Instead, you bow your head to take him into her mouth. He reaches up, grabbing a fistful of your hair in his grasp, rasping, "Fuck."

You suck him off for a little while, playing, teasing, tongue against his tip and moving it carefully, deliberately, trying to give everything you can while you still have the chance. He pulls your head off of him. You look up at him so clearly and he looks down at you, vision blurry.

You sit up and straddle him, sinking down onto him with a little whimper that has him almost losing it right off the fucking bat, gripping your waist and closing his eyes, heart pounding. When you roll your hips forward it’s too soon, he’s too close to the edge, and he moans when you keep rocking, can’t help it, feels his pulse everywhere and even inside her. 

You reach back and grip the headboard for leverage to ride him, and he digs his nails into your hips, feeling the heat of it, listening to the way your breath catches, the way you sound together. You keep lifting up and moving back down, taking him into you all over again and crying out when he finally finds the right angle, that spot that drives you crazy. "Yes," you moan, rolling your hips again, chasing it, your pace quickening. 

Alex, with more of a handle on himself, reaches up to grab your head and pulls you down to him. Kisses your neck raw while you set a slick rhythm. He puts his other hand between your legs to tease you, making you gasp and moan. When you come, you're stunned by it, like you've never had it so good before, except every other time you've done this.

He’s not done though, and he pushes you down so he can set the pace this time. You're all sensitive, singed nerves, and his every movement has your head tilting back. Your knees at his ribs, him braced over you and gripping your thigh, your eyes on his and your lip between your teeth. Alex winds you up again, fucking you deep and hard but there's a tenderness that has never been there before and you know you'll never feel again. You can feel that hole inside your heart opening up and you know you'll feel it every day from now. It burns like he took a cigarette to it and burned it out right on the flesh.

Your spine arches and you cry out, feeling the friction, and he keeps going until you're gripping the sheets and moaning his name. He comes, all erratic movements that match yours, everything hot and electric and alive. The lights are still burning for the last show.

Your heart is pounding. He can feel that. It takes you both a second to catch your breath. When Alex manages to lift his head it’s an exhaustive motion. He uses both hands to push your hair from your eyes and cradles you while he kisses you, soft, on her nose and chin and lips. Each one stings you. It all hurts so much.

But, like what usually happens after the second time you do it, he falls onto his back and wraps his arms around you. He smiles down, satiated, and you return it up at him. You hum as his mouth moves to the place between your brows. "I'm tired," you tell him.

He nods. "Let's go to bed." He shuts off the light for the last time.

In the morning, right after the sun rises, you wake up. He's not in bed, you can hear him rattling away in the bathroom. You slide your arms under your pillow, waiting for him, watching the bathroom door.

The door clicks open and he walks away, unaware of your gaze. He's slipped his pajama pants back on to combat the cold. His eyes are swollen from sleep and emotion. His hair is roughed up, puffs of fluff that you want to fall asleep with your hands in. This often happens in the morning. The regret of ending things but you're committed to making this goodbye even if you've said it before. But last night was raw and you feel like there's no chance of going back on that. You've severed it and you can't attempt to reattach it. 

"Quit watching me, alright," he says. He crawls back under the covers with you, his arms moving tight around your bare back.

"I can't help it," you say.

He smiles down at you, so close you can barely see the smile that spreads across his face. "Okay," he whispers. You're adjusting to the idea that if you ever do see him again, you're in for a lifetime of staring. 

And then it's the last time. It's gentle and calms that overwhelming dread. You hold on tight to him as he crawls over you. His kiss isn't rough, it's a soft touch. His hands are warm and tender and you wish to hold them tight in your hands but you let them scale your body instead.

You reach down and yank his pants down, he kicks them off the rest of the way. You play with him, feeling him get hard in your hand. His kiss travels down to your neck. His hands reach your stomach, one reaches down to your center. His fingers slip through your folds and your grip on him tightens making him groan. 

"I want you inside me," you tell him. "Okay?"

He nods, kissing your neck. He enters you slowly then all at once. It's tender, so tender it eats right through you, he chews away at you, taking bits for himself and you happily let him. He delicately moves, not wanting to rush it. He takes it step by step like he's having sex for the first time. 

He is delicate in every sense. His touch and his demeanor. You want to reach up and touch his face but you worry he'll shatter then you'll shatter. It leaves you chanting in your head. This is the last time. This is the last time.

You try to ignore it but you can't. It keeps pounding. He thrusts quicker into you, holding every inch of you and you feel like grains of sand escaping from his grasp. "Fuck," he mutters quietly. You're not sure if it's the sound of release or despair. 

You itch away at him as that bundle inside you bursts and you crash around him. It's too much. This is all too much and he's slipping. You can feel it. You hold his hands down on you, needing him to keep his heat there. He bucks into you once more before collapsing, deep in you.

He hides his face away and you can't let him do that. You need to look at him for as long as you can. You take his head in your hands and hold onto him. "I love you," he says. "I just need you to know that."

Your whole body feels choked up. You nod slowly and his hand rubs on your cheek. "I love you too," you whisper. If you speak any louder, you think your voice will ring in this room forever. You sit up slowly. "I should probably go. It's getting late."

He follows you. "Okay."

You turn around as you pull your underwear on. "Let me walk myself out. Okay?" The tears in your voice are evident. There's no ignoring it. "Please."

He nods, staying under the covers, in that heated glow. You slip the rest of your clothes on and lean down, not able to make eye contact with him and kiss him. "Sorry," you utter. There’s nothing left to say and you feel like you’ve said nothing.

Alex squeezes your hand but you can't look at him. You have to stare at the door. "Don't be. Get home safe."

He lets go of you and you're gone back into the snow, in that deep cold. There's no escaping it. 

She comes back at noon and it's different for Alex. Everything has been different in the hours since you've left and he wonders when he’ll feel normal again. If he'll ever be able to act properly again. He wonders if she's picked up on his different behavior just like he's wondered if she's ever noticed before.

If she's noticed her mug tucked on the top shelf behind all of the ones they share. The store-bought cookies went uneaten. How there are two dishes and two wine glasses from last night's dinner sitting on the drying rack. Does she smell you in their bedroom? He changed the sheets but he's now sleeping on the pillow with your scent. 

When they go to bed that night, he doesn't want to have sex, but she doesn't question it. She used to question it, but now she doesn't. He thinks she knows.

*

a/n: i quite like this. other than, you know, the whole affair thing.

[azrielandhisshadows]

taste

pairing: former azriel x reader, azriel x elain

word count: 1.5K

summary: azriel left the reader for the elain and she is having trouble getting over him. she wants him to remember all their moments when he is with elain.

warnings: sexual tension, vengeful reader, and azriel not knowing what he wants

a/n: this is loosely based off 'taste' by sabrina carpenter and i've needed a fic written for it. the reader is in her revenge era! this is my first fic in a very long time so let me know what you think!

-

Oh I leave quite an impression, 5 feet to be exact. You’re wondering why half his clothes went missing. My body’s where they’re at

It’s been 3 weeks since Azriel ended your relationship to crawl back to Elain. 3 weeks that have left you confined to your bed unable to sleep, unable to do many things except cry about what could’ve been. The shadow of your former self haunted you - the person you were with Azriel. You were a bright star to his darkest night. You were at your happiest with him. He destroyed the happiness for a female who was mated to another male.

You reached into your drawer for the pieces of Azriel that you had hid away before the end of your relationship. Sliding on the oversized shirt, you were reminded of how you used to be the center of his world. The faint aroma brought a flood of memories—missed training sessions, family dinners—spent in the intimacy of his arms. Azriel’s instincts always seemed to overwhelm him whenever you wore his clothing, his desire evident.

You smirked at your reflection, a resolve hardening in your eyes. Tonight, you intended to make sure Azriel never forgot those stolen moments.

As you entered the dining room, a sudden hush fell over the table. Azriel’s breath hitched, his cheeks flushing with a mix of surprise and embarrassment as he took in your appearance. Elain’s gaze darted between you and Azriel, her confusion clear as she did not understand the significance of this moment. The room was charged with unspoken tension as eyes followed you, and you took your seat between Nesta and Amren, the weight of your gesture hanging in the air.

“y/n, the Shadowsinger looks as if he’s seen a ghost,” Amren remarked as she leaned over to you. Taking a sip of your wine, you smirk before saying back “That was the plan. To remind him of the ghost of our relationship and remind him of our best moments.” Amren leaned away, a small satisfied smile present on her lips. 

Nesta looked at you disapprovingly before muttering, “I know that Azriel and Elain hurt you, but this is not the way to get over it. You are better than this, y/n.”

You looked over Nesta’s shoulder, relishing in the tension of Azriel’s jaw as he tried to regain his composure. His shadows swirled around him, revealing his inner turmoil. Azriel’s gaze met your own, his eyes dark with longing and regret. The memories you shared in this shirt seemed to haunt him.

“Nes, I don’t care. I need him to remember. For my sake and his own.”

Now I’m gone, but you’re still laying, next to me one degree of separation

The bedroom door shut behind Elain as she stepped inside. A chill coming into the room from the open balcony. The fresh air acting as a cleansing breath from the events that occurred at dinner. Azriel was already on the balcony, the moonlight highlighting his sharp features. His posture was tense as he rested against the rail of the balcony. He sighed, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. 

“Az, are you alright?”

His attention shifted to Elain as she stood expectantly as the door. “I’m fine,” Azriel paused, debating how much he wanted to share, “I can’t help but think about the past.”

Elain’s breath hitched as Azriel moved to the bed, his head slumped with sadness that made Elain’s heart break. “I saw how you looked at her tonight. Does she still mean something to you?” Elain’s voice trembled as she asked the question her heart dreaded to know the answer to. 

Azriel’s gaze moved to the floor, “No.” Azriel’s voice was barely a whisper and filled with regret and sorrow. “Y/N was important to me. She helped me through some tough times. Seeing her in my shirt… it brought back some of our good memories. But, I’m with you Elain. I love you.” Elain stood between his legs and took his face in her hands. Azriel couldn’t meet Elain’s gaze as she lifted his face up.

“I want us to be happy, Azriel, like we were before Y/N. For us to work, I need you to be honest with me.” Elain pleaded, tears welling in her eyes. Azriel nodded and placed a kiss on Elain’s hand. Elain placed a gentle kiss to his lips and laid in their bed.

Elain stared at the ceiling, her mind uneasy with anxiety and sadness. She saw how Azriel looked at Y/N tonight. His gaze was filled with longing and she couldn’t forget his conflicted expression when asked about his feelings. Even his shadows were troubled by the events of the evening and Elain noticed stray shadows lingering around Y/N as everyone left the dining room. 

Elain struggled to put thoughts of Azriel and Y/N’s relationship away. She couldn’t help but wonder how their relationship worked. Her mind drifted off to her version of their most intimate moments. She could picture Azriel whispering admirations in Y/N’s ear before he kissed down her neck and learned her best kept secrets. Elain could picture everything Azriel did to her and everything he said to her, but Y/N being on the receiving end of Azriel’s love and affection.

With a sigh, Elain turned to face Azriel who was asleep and her heart ached at the thought of Azriel sleeping next to Y/N.  The thoughts of his former relationship clung to her thoughts, leaving her restless and uncertain. 

I heard you’re back together and if that’s true, you’ll just have to taste me when he’s kissing you. If you want forever and I bet you do, just know you’ll taste me too.

The days following the dinner had been filled with tension through the Inner Circle. Azriel giving you the cold shoulder and shooting you withering looks from across the room only fueled your resolve and your need for revenge. Tonight, you were going to make your last impression unforgettable. 

The cool and crisp air hit your face as you stepped onto the roof of the House of Wind, knowing Azriel came here to work out his frustrations. The sounds of fists hitting punching bags confirmed your suspicions. You hid in the shadows, watching the sweat drip down Azriel’s toned figure. Your heart fluttered at the sight of your former lover.

“Azriel,” you whispered, stepping out of the shadows, clad in another of his old shirts you kept at the end of your relationship. Azriel’s attention snapped to you. “What are you doing here, Y/N?” Azriel huffed, his surprise evident at your presence in the training ring. “I thought you could use some company. Remember all our late nights on this roof? Sometimes training, sometimes talking about our future, and other times, you having to cover my mouth so I wouldn’t expose our rendezvous to the rest of our friends,” you said as you brushed his hair out of his face. 

Azriel stiffened, his desire overwhelming his scent. “You should go. This isn’t a good idea.” Azriel said, his tone lacking the conviction of his words. You reached out to him, your fingers brushing his cheek and his walls dissolving at your gentle touch. “Az, I’m not here to make things more difficult. I only want you to remember… us. I need to remember how much we meant to each other.

The air was thick with desire and longing as Azriel closed the gap between you. Your lips melding with his, the intensity matched the kisses you once shared. Your breath caught in your throat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly, as if you would disappear if he let go. The kiss deepened, both of you pouring the years of passion into this single moment.

Azriel’s eyes were dark with sorrow as he pulled away, “Why are you doing this?” You lifted your hand to his cheek once again and stroked gently, looking into his hazel eyes. You breathed softly, still recovering from this moment you had longed for, “because, I need you to remember me when you kiss her. I can’t bear the thought of you forgetting what we had.”

“I could never forget you, Y/N.”

You gave him a small, vindictive smile before turning away. “Maybe that’s your problem,” you said over your shoulder. “You’re always clinging to the past. You were so focused on Elain while we were together, and now you’re haunted by me when you’re with her.”

You walked away, leaving him on the rooftop with his regrets and unresolved feelings. The cool night air felt like freedom, and you felt a sense of vindication. You had made your point and left your mark. Now, it was time to move on and forge a new path for yourself.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Ok so now that I've spent some time thinking about the whole "Chuuya was never a vampire" twist, I... still don't like it. For many reasons.

Here's my explanation; if you want to read it, please do. I strive to be fair. I want to wait for the manga release before making a verdict on whether it's bad writing or not, and I also want to see the start of next arc to see where they're going with all this.

If you don't want to read it, and you're having fun with the twist (it is funny. I will admit that much), then skip this and keep having fun! I don't want to ruin anyone's enjoyment.

First of all. It makes no sense. There are things that just do not add up. There was never an indication this was a possibility.

Bro. Did you put on costume makeup for the texture under your eyes? Did it wash off after nearly getting drowned and you had to frantically reapply it behind Fyodor's back and that's why we couldn't see your face for several chapters. Did you take it off again for your dramatic reveal here at the end? I demand smeared undereye makeup Chuuya in the manga when it releases hbfsdjhbfv

Ok this was more a joke. But here's what really irks me.

From what I can recall, this is. True. He needs to have made contact to manipulate gravity. It's also re-established in this very arc.

Great. So how the fuck did he slow the elevator? He was with Fyodor in a separate room! This makes no sense. Did he leave to stop the elevator and Fyodor was like "oh chill. ok come back soon"??? What?!

Here's another thing I want to address:

@ticklinglady I had this same question. However, on thinking on it again, I do have an answer that makes sense - they had to buy time for Sigma to use his ability on Fyodor, to gain knowledge on him about what he knows, and what his ability is. <-I feel confident in saying this is going to be important later. Sigma will still have a role to play and we will find out more about Fyodor!

Alright. Moving on to the themes, and why this also doesn't work (at least for me).

The theme in this arc is very much to do with the contrast between trust vs control. This is Fyodor's failing when it came to Dazai, and it is established very early on as the major contrast between them, in the Sky Casino arc. The vampires, though it seemed silly and random, fit nicely into that theming. And the conclusion, where Dazai showed extreme faith in Sigma and the Agency members (and what an interesting contrast that is; to have someone show faith in ordinary humans when his foil is a man who has faith in god but not humanity), that fits into that theming also. Ok, so this was an extension of that right? Showing faith in Chuuya, as always.

Yeah, no. I want to direct your attention back to this here.

This line is the one that had everyone going "oh man skk is going to fuck you up for that". I made an entire analysis back when this chapter first came out about the themes that we saw, and Fyodor's utter devaluing of the effectiveness of people beyond just their skills and abilities (it's here, if you're curious). This is why I suspected that, since Dazai and Fyodor are intellectually matched, it would have to be Sigma and Chuuya to catch Fyodor off guard - because he only values what people can do, not who they are.

Well, we got a little with Sigma, before Fyodor took control of the situation again. (Rip buddy.) Sigma's tenacity and unwillingness to fall for Fyodor's manipulating him away from helping the Agency was based off his personal choice and free will. He managed to shoot him! Fyodor was reduced to a cheap trick to get close enough to stab him! There was a certain level of payoff.

But Chuuya? I want you to think for a second. What did he actually do? Not a single part of this was Chuuya's idea. It was Mori's - he was at the very least sent undercover under orders, if not sent to Meursault under orders. He didn't even glue his own fangs in apparently. Now let's go over what he did. Why was it so necessary that it be Chuuya there? Well, obviously because gravity manipulation was needed to slow the elevator and the bullet. Oh... hm. So. His ability. Was what was needed, huh?

But it was necessary for it to be Chuuya because of the bond between him and Dazai, right? Oh. Wait. So, Chuuya's personality and goals don't matter - only his ability to read Dazai.

This twist makes it so Chuuya as a person doesn't actually throw a wrench into Fyodor's plans at all. All that matters is that he is Mori's executive and Dazai's partner. I guess he was "utilized" after all. I thought, with his characterization in Fifteen and Stormbringer, that we were moving away from this characterization of Chuuya only by his bond with Dazai. Do you want to scream.

You might be saying, okay, but at the very least it showed the depths of Double Black's bond! ...did it? Not really, at least not to me. The only impressive part of any of this was Mori's preparedness. This was barely an skk plan. It was a Mori plan. Double Black placing their lives in each other's hands is a Tuesday for them. This is nothing we didn't already know. And truthfully, it goes nowhere near the level of sheer trust we saw in Dead Apple. Mori sent Chuuya in sure, but it was only after everything settled down that he realized that Mori suspected Dazai would need help. Before that point, it seemed everyone thought Dazai was dead except Chuuya. Chuuya chose to jump out of that plane. Chuuya chose to risk his life. It showcased his personality, his free agency, and the level of trust they had far, far better. And it was emotionally satisfying! Dazai was extremely grateful that his trust paid off! Chuuya was somewhat conscious during Corruption, enough to weaken his own punch and shout Dazai's name! Dazai prevented Chuuya from having his ability be separated from him by the fog! They are an unbeatable team... but they were still left exhausted, and had to rely only on each other. How does what happened in this latest episode compare to that in a way that makes me believe they've actually outmaneuvered Fyodor?

Listen. I'll take twists that don't really have a great build up if they further the themes or character development, or it just makes for good drama. There's an interesting pay off, at least, so I say "okay, okay. Could've been done better, but I'll let it slide for the intrigue." But here? Nothing. It was boring. Are you bored.

Anime watchers were probably more fine with it. Maybe it was a little disappointing, but oh well. But manga readers have been having this plot dragged out for years. A lot of said fans (including myself) were excited to see Chuuya become main series relevant and receive present day development - and it seemed like we were going to get that with the recent publication of not one, but two Chuuya backstory novels, and the drama of this arc pitting Dazai and Chuuya against each other. Instead, this did absolutely nothing of interest for his character. Why was he even here?

Which brings me to the last point, which is the characterization.

Going back and re-reading this entire arc now, it becomes one big stage performance. Ok, fine, it's a little funny. But now there's hardly anything of value to these interactions. The only ones that actually matter are Fyodor and Sigma, and Fyodor and Nikolai. All that buildup to drama between Double Black, to another incredible display of trust, to something shifting and changing from the status quo... all that build up, and nothing has changed for Chuuya, or for Double Black. The show of trust wasn't even that dramatic really. Are you bored still.

This also weakens Fyodor's character to me. Fyodor witnessed their incredible show of trust in Dead Apple. I assumed he was prepared for skk-typical bullshittery, you know, being a genius on par if not greater than Dazai. You're telling me he was so overconfident he completely missed that Chuuya wasn't a vampire? Really? Fyodor really had nothing in place that would verify whether the vampires were actually under control? He wasn't constantly checking for a plan? It really was just red eyes and fangs, and he thought that was fine? That's it? Ok.

Truthfully, I was kind of :| about several of the preceding twists in the Meursault arc, particularly the dagger Fyodor pulled out when he started acting to Sigma, and the door railing being preemptively crushed by Chuuya before the drowning started. The dagger was actually ornate in the manga, which raised several questions - it couldn't have come from a guard. It made me think there was more to that interaction than just Fyodor pretends to have a split personality and that there was actually something to that knife. Well, it was made to be a regular knife in the anime, so I guess theorizing across those lines are dashed.

What bothered me the most though was the crumpling of the rail to stop the door from completely closing. There was no indication of this in the manga. None. No one could've predicted that - because it's stupid. The water filled so fast it couldn't get out of the crack in the door, even though it was huge??? Dazai was in the control room - you're telling me that there was no security camera focused on the door??? You know, where you would position a security camera??? It was dumb to me, but I was willing to roll my eyes and move on because I was expecting a good payoff to all this, and well, it was funny.

But now, the whole arc is one extended joke skk were playing on Fyodor. And you're telling me that's how our major antagonist goes out? Our major antagonist of several arcs? Be for fucking real.

And depending on when Dazai figured it out, it may even cheapen earlier scenes. If he found out after the elevator slowed like people have been theorizing, I could accept that. That's fine. But I need people to recall: in the actual episode he states "it was all an act".

Is Dazai probably lying to save face? Sure. But as of this moment we actually have no evidence it wasn't an act from the beginning. Remember that Ango was communicating the whole time with Dazai. Remember that Mori was involved and helped Tanizaki and Kenji get to safety. It's entirely possible it was all premeditated.

One last suggestion: the plan name was "Good-bye" as suggested earlier. This means that even if Dazai didn't know from the beginning, he knew by the time of his speech to Chuuya as he was drowning.

This means that his whole scheme with Sigma was not an extremely dangerous, life-risking play on his part at all (@daz4i has gone to explain why this sacrificialism isn't good for a suicidal character, which I recommend reading, but nonetheless it was still notable characterization for Dazai). And what about this?

Even his own flashbacks and memories were, what? A lie? A performance? For whom? Not for Fyodor, that's for sure.

For us. The readers. For the people who are invested in these two and their dynamic. For the people who wanted development between them, because there are actually issues there that have not been resolved. People wanted Dazai to show real concern. Chuuya is still bitter, even if Dazai thinks everything is fine and the same since he left. There was a tease that we're going to get how Chuuya felt when Dazai left the Mafia at some point in the future. People were making angsty art and writing and getting really excited because all the prior interactions had appeared to be set up for the payoff of this drama.

We get an introduction in the dungeon. We reveal their partnership and fearsome reputation during the Lovecraft fight. They perform flawlessly in Dead Apple. Throughout all this, they need no communication. They read each other and respond in tandem, always... but there's still an underlying tension in the way they do not talk to each other. I, and many others, had thought the prison escape arc was the breaking point for some development, since their prior appearances were all meant to establish them as a team, and this arc dealt heavily with the breaking of established things.

But no. Deus ex skk is perfect. They have no issues or flaws. Do you want to scream again.

Anyways. I recognize I'm probably just very disappointed right now and by tomorrow, I probably won't care anymore and will just roll with it. I think I was extra disappointed because while I tempered my expectations for, say, Yosano and Kyouka's involvement (sigh...), I fully expected skk would be handled well, being the fandom faves and where the money is at, so I guess I took the disappointment that much harder.

However, I'm eager to see how the manga tackles the ending, and if we will get any extra cues or better pacing there that may make me not quite so bitter. If it's any consolation, I do think we'll be getting Chuuya focus at some point in a future arc, and while I do think Fyodor is dead, I doubt he will have stopped haunting the narrative. He'll be back in some capacity. I'm pretty certain he's still the mastermind.

And I'm curious about the next arc and what's happening there. Maybe some things will be revealed later that will help smooth out the flaws here.

[bree-cheesy]

Forbidden Pleasure

Joseph Quinn x fem!reader

A/N: So here I am with another fic after like almost a month. Sorry y'all. I get excited to write for like a week then don't want to for a month. Hope I make up for my absence. And I hope you guys like the fic. Took me a lot of effort to make honestly.

SIDE NOTE: Messed something up so I had to delete and repost! Sorry!!

Credit to @nowadayz for the gif

Warnings: SMUT 18+!!! Minors just go away. (dirty talk, mutual pining, intense kissing, slight sub and dom themes but only if you squint, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, cockwarming mentions, finger sucking.) Some fluff, co-star friends to lovers, not very plot heavy, reader and Joseph practice kissing for a scene. No use of Y/N. Think that's it. It's not proof read either.

Word Count: 2093

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Joseph was your costar. You both were starring in a romance movie about two ex lovers. They were separated when they went to college and recently ran into each other when your character got a new job in the character’s old town. It was pretty cliche, but it was your first film you were starring in so you were excited. Joseph played the love interest. It was your first film where you had to act out a sex scene. You were so unprepared. It’s not like you’ve never been with someone intimately, but acting a sex scene was so much different then actually having sex.

Joseph was nothing, but kind to you about the whole thing. He knew you were nervous about it and was super supportive. He was nervous himself because he was too afraid to admit he was attracted to you. He was head over heels for you almost. He wanted to make the whole scene perfect for you because he had a small amount of hope something would happen between you both. He would have to wait to say anything until filming was ended because you both could be kicked from the movie. He didn’t want that for you.

You were in your trailer, preparing for the scene. It was only you and Joseph and the filming crew on set that day, but you were still nervous. What if you were bad at it? What if you forgot to brush your teeth beforehand? Thoughts were zooming through your head so bad that you almost missed the knock on your trailer door. You got up and opened the door. Joseph was standing there.

“Oh, hey Joe.” You let him in and shut the door behind him. Your palms felt sweaty around him. He was hard to be around. It was almost intimidating.

“Hey, just thought I’d check on you before the scene. See how you’re feeling.” Joseph ran his hand through his hair and gave you a weak smile. Even if the smile was fake, it was still beautiful. God, that smile. It was something you saw in your mind at almost every waking moment. Completely tormenting you all day every day. Everything about it was perfect. Not to mention his eyes. Goddamn he was just a beautiful man. “Hey, you there?”

You shook out of your thoughts and looked up at him, gulping nervously. “Yeah, yeah. I’m nervous honestly.” You walked back to the desk you were at and sat down. “Scared I’ll do bad. Haven’t really had very many praises on my kissing skill in my life.” Joseph looked at you confused. You shook your head. “It’s not important. Don’t worry about it.”

Joseph sat down on your couch in the corner, sitting back and manspreading in a way that made chills go down your spine. You usually hated when men did that. Why is it so attractive when he does it? “I understand. I haven’t necessarily had complaints about my skills, but it’s different in front of a camera. Always a little nerve wracking.” He smiled at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Especially when the girl you’re kissing is pretty.”

You blushed and rolled your eyes, peeking at the time on your phone. “It’s no secret that people don’t want me to do this movie. There have been complaints since before we started filming. One little mess up and I’m fucked, Joe.” You groaned and held your head in your hands. Joseph rolled his eyes.

“Don’t even worry about that. You’re gonna do fine.” Joseph looked at you, an idea suddenly crossing his mind. It was a stretch so he was scared to even ask the question, but you looked desperate. “Uhm, we could practice.” You looked up at him confused. Practice? Practice what? Fake sex?

“Practice?” You asked, still terribly confused.

“Yeah, like practice kissing or something. Like, if you’re so worried you’ll mess it up, we can practice to see how we work together.” He shrugged and sat forward a little. “In my opinion, it’s worth a shot.”

You bit your lip nervously, your cheeks heating up. Kissing Joe out of character? What was he thinking? This is dangerous. Who knows what would happen between you two? The attraction between you two was undeniable. The kiss could spark something dangerous. Something forbidden. “A-Are you sure?” Your voice was meek and shaky.

He nodded and stood up. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to. Not gonna force you to do it.” He held his hand out and you took it, standing up in front of him. “Look, you set the pace. If that means I don’t touch you, or if there's no tongue, I don’t care. All up to you. I want you to be comfortable.” He looked so kind and gentle. You are lost now. Unable to let the chance of feeling his lips not in front of a camera pass up. It was a need. Not a want. A need. A need clawing at your insides that was getting almost too much to handle.

“U-Uhm, okay.” you gulped nervously and he smiled.

“Okay, what’s the rules then, m’lady.” He held his hands out like one of those wooden dummies you’d draw. “Guide my hands wherever.” You pouted a little and gently took his hands, putting them on your waist. Seemed like a secure spot. He’d have a grip on you in case the kissing was just too much and you passed out.

His hands flexed against your waist, aching to slide under your t-shirt so he could feel your skin. He needed more, but he was going to stay true to his word. The pace of this was up to you. He looked down at you with such patience that it almost made you melt into a puddle at his feet. You usually were not the kind to want to bend at every command a man gave, but for him, you’d do almost anything. His head went down a little, just to get closer so it wasn’t awkward trying to start the kiss. His breath gently fanned against your lips. It smelled minty with a slight hint of cigarettes. It was sinful.

Gently, you pressed your lips to his. His hands tightened ever so slightly on your waist and you stepped closer. Mentally cursing at yourself for kissing like a scared teenager, you deepened it ever so slightly. Both your eyes fluttered shut, noses bumping a little. He couldn’t stop himself. Your lips were just too soft. He needed more. He pressed his lips harder against yours and you let out a soft whimper, pressing more against him. He wouldn’t go too far. Not unless you did. He felt your tongue gently swipe his bottom lip and he opened on a sigh, hugging his arms around your waist.

Reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck, the kiss turned sloppy. Hot and wet. Teeth clashing. It was primal. A need deep down in the both of coming out after one simple kiss. You moaned into his mouth when he pressed you up against the wall, slotting his mouth hard over yours. You were so fucked. So absolutely mega fucked. He tasted like pure sin. Better than anything you could’ve imagined.

His hands went down to your ass and squeezed softly, groaning and slotting his thigh between your legs, making your knees buckle and fall into him. His hands went down your belly and roughly unbuttoned your jeans. You wiggled your hips slightly as he stuck his hand inside, welcoming the gesture with open arms. His fingers slid to your aching pussy which was now completely soaked. It always was when you thought about him.

“Fuck… so wet…” Joseph groaned into your mouth and moved down to kiss your neck. His fingers found your clit in record time and you moaned a little louder than intended. Just as he was about to go further, your phone rang. He gasped and pulled away. You scrambled to grab the phone and looked at the contact. It was the producer. He was calling you to get ready for the scene. Joseph fixed his clothes and you hastily buttoned your pants back up. No words were spoken between you two and you both awkwardly walked to hair and makeup.

--2 hours later--

The tension was sizzling between you two after the scene. Everyone could tell, but no one was going to say anything. As you got back to your apartment that night, your phone buzzed. It was a text from Joe. You bit your lip nervously and looked at it.

Joey: You better open your front door.

Confused, you opened it and were met with Joseph standing there, out of breath and holding onto the doorframe. Before you could get a word in, he rushed at you, kissing you with such urgency you'd 've been convinced the world was ending. You weren’t going to stop it, though. His hands ripped your shirt and pants off before picking you up and carrying you to the couch. Your ass landed in his lap facing away from him. You took a deep and much needed breath. You hadn’t really gotten one since he tackled you.

He kissed your neck while you shimmed your panties down your legs. His hand went between your thigh and he groaned into your ear. “God, the most perfect pussy…” His middle and ring finger slipped through your soaking folds making you whine and squirm in his lap. He lightly slapped your thigh. “Be a good girl and hold still.”

You nodded and whimpered softly, lolling your head back against his shoulder. He gently rubbed your clit, whispering dirty nothings in your ear, slowly making you come undone. You felt his hard on growing under your ass, making it so hard to not wiggle against it. His fingers were so gentle and talented. Your body quivered against his chest, breath coming out in hard pants. “Joseph… I need.. please!” You whimpered, feeling yourself getting close.

“Cum for me, baby… I want to see it.” he slipped his middle finger inside your pussy, his thumb working against your clit in time with his finger’s thrusts. You felt yourself squeeze around his fingers, Joseph whispering encouragements into your ear. Finally, you cried out and came hard around his finger. He pulled his finger out and pressed it against your lips. You sucked on it obediently, wanting to please him. He reached down between you two and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling his aching cock out.

“Joseph… please….” You whined, wiggling against his cock. You just wanted him inside you. He wouldn’t even have to move, just put it inside you and let you warm his cock. Anything for him. He gently lowered you onto his cock, stretching you out so good. It was a little painful, but it felt so good at the same time. It was a forbidden feeling running through your whole body. Without even thinking, you started bouncing on his cock. It wasn’t even something you knew you were doing.

He grabbed your hips and helped you up and down his cock, grunting and groaning. Your moans echoed through your apartment, a beautiful song only you two would be able to make. You pressed your palms on his knees and rode him harder, whining and moaning, your eyes shutting at his tip pressed against the spot inside you that made you weak.

“That’s it, baby. Use my cock… Use it, baby…” Joseph slapped your ass, making you yelp and go faster, chasing the release you so desperately needed. Joseph moved his hips up against yours, meeting your thrusts and driving you wild. He felt your pussy walls clench around his cock and gritted his teeth. “S-So tight…” Joseph stuttered out.

“I-I’m gonna cum, Joe-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before cumming hard for the second time. Joseph groaned and felt his release snap, filling you up. You fell back against his chest, your breath coming out shaky and hard. Your eyes shut and your hand went back to behind his head, snaking your fingers through his curls. He breathed heavily and gently lifted you off his cock, setting you back down on his lap, too tired to get up. Turning his arms, you snuggled into his chest and fell asleep. He just hugged you close and shut his eyes.

It was a forbidden thing for the two of you. No one would know until they had to. Forbidden, but so amazing. Forbidden pleasure.

[grapejuicestyless]

The Tide Always Goes Out

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

ANGST

Summery: You were sick. You had always been sick. But you looked so healthy, so it couldn’t be true. Conrad could live in denial of his best friend’s inevitable death but there was nothing he could do to stop it and he has to accept it.(Inspired by the book Little Women specifically the scene in the 2019 film between Beth and Jo.) Mentions of illness and death.

We sat on the beach squished on a small blanket. wrinkles from our shifting and creases beneath us from where we sit. We talk about everything and anything all morning. Not minding the grey overcast of the clouds covering the usually very blue sky. Or how the waves are more violent than they usually are. I know this because I remember it vividly. It wasn’t that long ago I was really there. Making sure it would last forever. Only now I wish I hadn’t because it haunts me more than it comforts me. And the entire way it played out still makes my heart ache with regret.

Somehow I end up with her lying over me. She lays her head in my lap, the thin blanket woven together with faint reds and oranges creating a little hammock for her to rest on. I can feel the way her heartbeats erratically over my thigh. The way her lip’s curl into a soft smile. The ocean reflected in her eyes. If it weren’t for the heavy eye bags and the slight tremble in her bones, she’d be normal. A normal girl with no issues. You wouldn’t even know how deeply her suffering ran. Sometimes, on the better days, I let myself become fooled as well. Playing dumb hurts less than facing the truth.

“Con.” Her eyes flick up to mine, and I can’t help the way my own avert her gaze. I am too afraid to face her. Even now. The girl who I worship day and night. I never did pray before her, but now I pray that when I wake up, she’ll still be beside me. And we can enjoy the company the other has to offer just one last time. I can’t look down and see how much she’s changed. It scares me, because the traces of the illness torturing her is evidence to how real it is. And I would rather live in oblivious bliss.

“I want you to know I’m not really scared anymore.” It’s not what I expected to come from her lips, but it’s what she lands on. Theres no room in her wording for me to deny what she’s trying to say. My eyes flick down to hers, and my hands moves the hair blowing in the wind messily across her face.

“Y/n, come on. Don’t say shit like that.” I smile, but I don’t really mean in. I don’t find her words funny, and I don’t like that my best friend is sick.

“No, Conrad. I’m serious.” She breathes out, hands pressing against my skin to lift herself up. I feel a chill run through my body without her warmth to ease the morning chill. More than that, I can feel the coolness in my heart when she separates from me, and I long for the next moment I’ll feel her gentle touch.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this and I’m certain that I’ll be okay.” I continue to look at her, but only this time, she is the one looking at the sand, tracing her fingers in it as they stretch past her ankles to the floor.

“And I’m only so sure because I know you’ll be there.” Her eyes flicker up to the sky and I swear I see the sky brighten for just a moment. The blue underneath all the grey breaking free for a split second. “I’ve known you my whole life, and I’ve felt things for you that I have felt with no one else. I know you, and I trust that you’ll come find me in the next life.” Pulling at her lip, she waits for a response.

“But I want to keep you in this one.” My hand finds hers and all I can do is squeeze onto her desperately. Wanting nothing more but to keep her close. So I can watch her. Make sure shes okay. She’s lost all of her fight, her will to stay. And I know it’s because of the pain. I’ve heard her sobs just down the halls and the hushed whispers of my mother and her’s. But part of me wonders if it’s simply because I did not do enough. If I wasn’t enough reason for her to stay.

“It’s like the tide going out. It goes out slowly, but it can’t be stopped.” And we both know it. Theres no stopping what will happen to her. Theres no wish or medicine or fight that could keep her here beside me. It makes me want to cry, but I don’t. It would be selfish of me to get so upset when I am still here. Well and alive. Promised many years to age and achieve things she never was given the chance to.

“I’ll stop it.” I don’t look down at her, but I can feel how she shifts. The way her frown only deepens and the bags in her eyes get heavier. She sighs heavily into the silence, shaking her head slowly. She refuses to cry though. Partly because I know she knows she’ll have plenty of time to cry in the darkness of her room, when the ache in her bones is too much and theres no way of stopping it. And the other part of me recognizes that it’s because there’s no reason to in her eyes.

Y/n knew it better than all of us. She had lived a good life. She could do things and want things some children could never even dream of. She had a warm home with a glowing fireplace that her family often gathered around. A loving sister and a great brother. Her mother and father were healthy and she had the best friends she could have ever asked for. Her only regret is that she had to make her own mother pick out the details for her headstone.

When I pull her into my body, I have no idea it will be for the last time. I have no clue that her sobs won’t part from her lips. Because when she closes her eyes, she doesn’t drift into her usual place of rest. Her eyes don’t flutter open at the soft creak of the stairs when Jeremiah decides he wants a late night snack. Nor does she stir when Steven laughs, following behind him not as skillfully.

Not even when her mother screams early in the morning, hands clinging to her limp wrists, cold and lifeless. The tears from my mother mixing with her younger sisters don’t even make her flinch. And it’s chilling because it almost looks like she was smiling. The lift of her lips is barely there, but it makes me feel better knowing she went in peace.

I remember that day more clearly than ever. How the grey sky haunts me and the way she spoke so surely about her death still sends chills through my veins. I could have only wished to have looked at her a little closer that day. So that even in her darkest moments, I could be as certain as she was that the image of her would never fade, and I would always be able to memorize each wrinkle in her skin.

So I tell myself that when it’s my time, I’ll do what she said I would. I’ll find her in the next life. And I’ll look a little harder at her, and I’ll admire her for longer.

[baxndaid]

ive been wanted to ask for a while but i was so scared 😭😭

do you mind doing redson x reader (friends to lovers type deal) and both of them r absolutely smitten but doesn’t want to tell the other (the mk gang sees right through them)

sorry if this is too specific lmao 💀

red son x reader

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ! this is so cute PLEADSE hey guys shock of the century but i have never actually watched lmk 😔🙏 just going off clips i find on yt

• he’s not even that awkward at first tbh

• he’s just stiff

• you’re definitely a bit more chill about it, on the outside of course, but in the inside? chaos

• whenever your shoulder’s accidentally brush together due to MK’s bone crushing hugs you can’t help but ignore the pain and focus on the fire user next to you

• he isn’t much better by the way

• he’s so much worse what am i saying i’m LYING to you all

• he’s so blatantly looking between you and the spot your shoulders are touching so frantically, his lips pursed and a noticeable red hue on his face

• when MK is done with his murder attempt, red son will push him away and hastily fix his clothes and hair, avoiding eye contact with you

• let’s be real your doing the same

• at first he would be polite (as polite as he could be) when you first met

• but as time passed you saw more of him and he saw more of you

• you would exchange stories and laugh together which was something that made the gang’s jaws DROP

• like?? get together already???

• Mei always liked to tease both of you, trying so hard to make it obvious that you both feel the same way about each other

• doesn’t work you’re both stupid

• most of you and Mei’s texts go kinda like,

mei: “hey y/nn you planning on marrying yknow who today?? ❤️”

y/n: “loll Mei your so funny lol like i would ever like him lol he’s so stuck up and mean sometimes like LOL like so what if he’s really really cute and actually pays attention to me and makes me feel special like it so doesn’t matter or anything lol mei your so silly lol !! you need to be put down!! lol!!”

mei: “therapy y/n”

y/n: “lol… 😔”

• anyway! Mei (and the rest but let’s be real mostly Mei and MK) are eating this shit UP

• they like to do this thing where they tell you both (separately) that something urgent is happening and they needed you there asap

• and when i mean “there” i mean a weirdly nice park with a strange already set up picnic with MK (with a poor disguise that consists of a paper mustache and a black shirt) playing the violin horrifically and Mei clearly in the tree near by, listening in with a excited grin plastered on her face

• you and red son looked at each other, you gave him a bashful smile, fiddling with your hands that you could feel already sweating

• he gave you a small smile back and sat down, patting the empty space right next to him for you to sit down

• you leaned your head on his shoulder as he leaned his on your head, he was stiff, but he relaxed as you both started to converse

• despite the eerie feeling of being watched and the screech of MK’s violin, it was a peaceful, or dare i say it, romantic, day for the both of you

lego monkie kid masterlist

[maerinhearts]

King Pt. II

Part I.

Here it finally is. The long awaited part 2!

Warnings: slight choking, fingers in mouth, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of alcohol, fem!bodied reader.

Word count: 3.7K+

Smut is below the cut, as always.

Minors, do not interact with my shit.

A/N: I'm looking forward to all of your reactions for this...

You’re shaking hands with the other team after the much-anticipated championship game. Emotions are high after a hard-earned win. Tsukishima somehow ended up next to you, his back rigid. You pay him no mind, shaking the next players hand with a smile on your face. You and Tsukishima hadn’t spoken a word to each other since the night before. That was fine with you. You’d rather forget the whole thing ever happened. It would mess up the whole team dynamic if things escalated.

You’re shaking the last players hand from the other side of the net when you make eye contact with him. You feel a chill rush down your spine under his gaze, something just feeling off about him when he leans closer to you, free hand coming up to grab the net. He tightens his grip around your own hand, bones nearly rubbing together as he yanks your body closer to him.

“How about you show me what you look like on your knees later?” he asks, tone slimy. You flinch, trying to pull your hand away from him.

A hand shoots out from beside you, grabbing the player up by the front of his shirt and yanking him away from you. He drops your hand in surprise. You cradle the hand to your chest, now throbbing, and glance up to see Tsukishima nearly nose to nose with the player, the only thing separating them is the net.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he nearly shouts at the guy.

The gym goes silent before chaos breaks loose. The other team comes up to defend their teammate, your own team coming up to defend Tsukishima.

“What is going on?” Yuuji, the team captain, asks loudly around the commotion.

Tsukki tightens his grip on the guy’s jersey. “This mother fucker just asked Y/N to get on her knees for him.” Those words alone cause your own team to go up in flames as Tsukki then pulls the guy to the other side of the net, fist pulling back to land a punch.

Without thinking, you jump in between the two. If a fight were to break out, your team would be the ones in trouble. To the crowd and referees, it looked like Tsukki was the one who started it.

You look up at him to see a look of displeasure cross his face.

“Stop, please,” you beg. “We’re never going to see them again. It’s fine. Let’s just get our stuff and go.”

He stays still for a long moment before letting go of the guy’s jersey and shoving him away. He walks away from you and leaves the gym completely. You then spend the next ten minutes calming the rest of the team down, faking a smile and reassuring every last one of them that you really are okay. You finally exit the gym with them, heading back to the bus to go home, trailing behind the group.

“Man, I can’t believe Tsukki jumped in like that for Y/N,” you hear one of the team members say from in front of you.

“It was wild,” another team member says. “I’ve never seen him get so fired up over something before.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at their conversation and train your eyes down on the ground. Did he do it for you because you’re his team manager? Or did he do it for you cause he likes you? Or maybe he just felt obligated to defend you because you guys slept together last night… Whatever the reason, it caught you off guard, too. You’re sure that had you not stepped in between them, Tsukki would have for sure broken that guys nose. The look of pure rage on his face said it all. Had you touched him, you probably would have felt him shaking.

As your team boards the bus, they comment how Tsukki was already there and settled in. When you look up to find him, you see him all the way in the back, tracksuit zipped all the way up with his chin dipped inside the collar, headphones already on.

Your stomach does somersaults at just the mere sight of him and you angrily throw yourself into the first seat on the bus. How dare your body react that way to him? This was precisely the reason why you hadn’t looked at him once all day. You were trying to be strong. If he even said a word to you, you would have been putty in his hands right now.

The bus ride back to campus feels short. The team was rowdy behind you, high off their win and passing around the trophy. Listening to them was quite entertaining. You found yourself stifling some giggles at their antics.

“Hey, Y/N,” one of them shouts out to you.

You turn in your seat to address them.

“We’re having a party at Yuuji’s to celebrate, you in?”

“Oh, thanks for the invite!” you beam. “But I’m actually really tired and have some homework. I’m just going to go home.”

They all boo you before turning their attention to the back of the bus. To the usual party pooper. They were all nudging each other, daring each other to be the one to ask Tsukki to the party. It was laughable almost. Until they talk Jiro into it and Tsukishima accepts the invitation. The bus goes silent before erupting into cheers. Tsukki had never been to one of their parties before. Although, he was only accepting because he really needed a drink. He was still angry about that guy’s comment to you. His own reaction surprised him. His body moved before his brain could even register what was happening.

He kept stealing glances at you from the back of the bus when you weren’t paying attention. If anyone noticed, they knew better than to say anything. He was suffering. He was respecting your wish to not talk about what happened the night before, but it was killing him on the inside. So, he was going to go to this party and drink until he forgets.

Before you know it, you’re back in your apartment and flopping yourself onto your bed after a bath. You spent the better part of your evening home catching up on some homework before rewarding yourself with a relaxing bath. The party had started a little over two hours ago. Yuuji gave the team enough time to get a shower and change before starting the festivities. You’re sure things are in full swing by now, everyone drunk and having a good time.

Your heart clenches in regret, suddenly feeling like you should have accepted their invitation. They were your best friends, after all. They were the ones you spent the most time with.

You heave a sigh and get up to start shutting lights off for the night. Just as you turn your kitchen light off and head to the living room to do the same, a knock sounds on your door. You take a look at the time displayed on your stove to see that it is currently one in the morning… and you weren’t expecting anyone.

You pull open your front door with a frown that quickly turns to surprise as butterflies erupt across your chest. There he was, just out of your reach, drunk.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, voice icy.

“We need to talk about last night,” he says, a slight slur to his words.

Without a word, you move to close the door in his face. No way. No way were you talking to him right now. He is clearly drunk. His hand catches the door, keeping it open.

“Seriously, Tsukki?” you murmur, annoyance evident in your voice. “We aren’t doing this. Go home.” You try to shut the door again, but he doesn’t let you.

“No,” he answers, “we’re gonna talk now.”

“Why?” you ask. “You’re clearly drunk and not thinking straight, just come back in the morning.”

His lips pull up into the sexiest smirk you’ve ever seen on him, confidence radiating off of him in waves. “Not thinking straight? On the contrary, sweetheart, I’ve never had a thought more straight since we had sex.”

You feel your face heat up in embarrassment. “That’s- That’s not even what I meant! Go home!”

You push on your door harder, but to no avail. Tsukki pushes into your apartment, grabbing the door out of your hands and shutting it himself. He turns back to you, hands reaching out and grabbing at your hips to pull you flush against him. He goes in for a kiss but you turn your head away, causing his lips to press into your cheekbone. You half-heartedly push him away.

“Seriously, Tsukki, we can talk tomorr-ah!” you gasp out as he bites down on your ear.

“Didn’t I tell you to call me Kei?” he asks, annoyed.

He dips his head down. “I really doubt we are close…” He presses an open mouthed kiss just below your ear, tongue darting out to lap at your skin, causing a soft moan to pull from your throat. “Enough to let me call you…” You’re trying really hard to finish your sentence, another moan making its way out into the room. “By your first name.”

Tsukki groans into the skin of your neck. “Can you just shut up already?” he practically growls before he crashes his lips into yours.

You waste no time opening your mouth to him and letting his tongue explore. He tastes like beer and mints. Almost like he tried to cover up how much he had been drinking in your absence. You’re almost embarrassed by how quickly your body responds to his touch. Both of his hands move to grip your ass and pull you flush against his body. His tongue wraps around yours in the most delicious way, lighting you on fire. Your hands somehow find their way into his hair, pulling him even closer to you if that was possible. His mouth finds its way back to your throat and your head falls back, letting him explore your skin.

“This isn’t exactly talking, Kei,” you tell him, voice breathy as arousal pools into your panties. His hands have found their way underneath your shirt, fingertips pressing into the skin of your back to hold you to him. The feeling of his hands on your bare skin has you feeling light-headed, it almost feels too good to be true.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he drags his tongue from your collarbone up to your ear, causing a shiver of desire to course through your body. Your mind practically empties itself as he continues dragging his tongue across your skin, all thoughts of talking suddenly gone when he pulls your mouth back to his. This kiss is somehow hotter than before, mouth pressing into you harder until he suddenly pulls away.

“Still wanna talk?” he asks you, voice playful as he smirks down at you.

You shake your head no before moving your hands back into his hair with full intentions of pulling him back down for a kiss. Instead, he squishes your cheeks together with one hand, holding you in place.

“Use your words,” he demands. “Tell me you don’t want to talk anymore. Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

You gulp, unable to form words as you squirm beneath his heated gaze. He presses ever closer to you, lips barely touching yours as he speaks his next words into your open, waiting mouth. “Come on, Y/N. Tell me you want me to fuck you right now instead.”

His words alone are enough to make you cum, arousal dripping into your panties at an alarming rate. The sound of his voice mixed with the look in his eyes has you weak in the knees.

Without much of a second thought, the words come spilling out of your mouth. “Fuck me,” you tell him. “Fuck me instead.”

He smirks against your mouth, a short breathy laugh making its way between his own lips before he is hoisting you up. You let out a small shriek, locking your legs tightly around his waist, arms wrapping tightly around his neck as his hands rest comfortably on the underside of your thighs.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he mutters, carrying you back to your bedroom where he lays you down on your bed, hands immediately diving under your shirt to knead your breasts.

You arch into his touch, eyes falling closed as you savor his touch. You weren’t sure when you would feel it again after this, if at all. Would things go back to the way they were? Is that why he wanted to talk to you? To tell you to quit being the team manager so that he never had to see your face again?

Suddenly, his hands still and he moves to hover above you, pushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. You’re surprised at how gentle his touch is for some reason.

“Where are you right now?” he asks, voice soft.

You almost tear up at how gentle he is being, how gentle he sounds.

In truth, Tsukishima noticed that you had stopped responding to his touches and it scared him. He had a hard time turning his sarcasm off when it came to you, but he came here in haste to let you know how he truly felt. But the moment you opened that door… he had to have his hands on you. He couldn’t control himself. He had to have you. He had to devour every inch of you. Leave marks on every inch of you so that everyone would know who you belonged to. He felt so possessive that it scared him. He wanted you. And he wanted to tell you.

“Why are you here right now?” you suddenly ask, eyes brimming with tears.

A confused look crosses Tsukki’s face before he fixes it. You almost wonder if you saw any emotion at all.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, why are you doing this?”

Tsukki sits back on his knees and ponders your question for a moment, hands comfortably resting on your thighs below him.

“I thought that was obvious,” he muses as he makes eye contact with you. “I’m here to fuck you.”

You flinch at his words. Is that all you were to him? You’re ready to retaliate as the tears threaten to fall when he speaks again.

“And ask you to be mine and mine only.”

Your eyes widen at his words, and he scoffs.

“Come on, Y/N,” he mutters. “Why are you so surprised about that? You think I’d fuck you just once and not come back for more? No, no, no.” He leans down until your practically nose to nose, his hips hovering just above yours, hands coming up to gently cup your face. “I plan to fuck you every single night from here on out. And I plan to brag about it.”

You swallow thickly. “Brag about fucking me?” you ask, voice small.

He smirks. “That, and brag about snagging you right out from under every single one of my teammates noses.”

Your heart skips a beat. You knew this was Tsukki’s weird way of confessing his feelings for you. Tsukishima and feelings don’t even really belong in the same sentence. Just his usual sarcastic tone being gone was enough to send your anxiety skyrocketing to new highs.

You aren’t sure who kissed who first after that, or whether the two of you moved together. The next thing you know, he’s moving to take your clothes off and you’re moving to do the same. As he covers your naked body with his own, he presses his lips so gently against yours, you almost starting crying at the simple action. You could tell exactly how he felt in just one singular kiss. And the way he slowly pressed forward into your heat for the first time in over 24 hours.

He groans as he enters you, eyes falling shut. He moves to kiss you again as he fully sheaths himself inside you, your mouth gasping open as he buries himself to the hilt just as his lips touch yours.

“How are you still so tight?” he comments as he presses his forehead to yours.

You feel your face heat up, ready to tell him off, but then he begins grinding his hips into you, hitting a spot inside you so deliciously, it rips a moan from your throat. You bite down on your lower lip, determined to not let him hear you embarrass yourself as he rolls his hips.

Tsukki frowns when he pulls back to look at you. His thumb moves to release your lip from the grip your teeth had on it, fingers immediately shoving into your mouth. “Let me hear you, baby,” he says, lips pressing against your cheek.

“Actually,” he starts as he stills and pulls out. He takes his fingers from your mouth, gripping your hips and suddenly flipping you over. He pulls your hips up and enters you again in one stroke. “Let the whole neighborhood hear you,” he whispers into your ear as he leans his body over yours.

He shoves his fingers back into your mouth, other hand finding your clit as he begins rocking his hips into you again. His mouth is leaving love bites all over the back of your neck and shoulders. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, unable to bury your face into the mattress beneath you. Drool is coating his fingers and dripping down your chin, but you didn’t care. He is fucking you so good, there is not a single thought in that brain of yours.

He sits back up, pulling you flush against his body as he hammers into you. Your head falls back to his shoulder, crying out as he repeatedly hits that spot inside you that has your orgasm approaching at lightning speed. The fingers in your mouth move to wrap around your neck, other hand not stopping the assault on your clit.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs. “You love it when I fuck you, don’t you? How could I not come back for more? Your pussy keeps sucking me right back in, almost like it was made for me.”

You try to warn him of your approaching orgasm, but “Cum” is the only word that you are able to form before your orgasm tears through your body, harder than ever before. Tsukki groans out from behind you as your walls flutter around him, cursing as your body goes limp in his arms. He lays you gently back onto the mattress before he flips you back over to kiss you. You kiss lazily, body spent from the orgasm you just had, until Tsukki enters you again.

Tears prick the corners of your vision as he begins fucking you again, hands caressing your body, never staying in the same place for too long.

“So pretty,” he groans out. “You feel so good. I could fuck you all day.”

“Nooooo,” you whimper. Just the thought of going like this all day was enough to send you into a coma.

“Shhh,” he shushes you, planting his mouth back on yours. Your hands find themselves back in his hair, fingernails pressing into his scalp as he picks up his pace. He buries his face into your neck, unable to pull away from your grip.

Your moans become louder as the cord in your belly begins to tighten again. “That’s it, baby,” he says against your skin. “Cum for me again.” He hooks his right arm under your left knee, pulling it up and reaching a new depth inside you that has you seeing stars.

Before you can warn him, another orgasm washes over you.

“Fuck,” he curses from above you as he continues fucking you through it. “Look so pretty when you come.”

Tsukki is on the brink of his own orgasm and just as he begins to pull out, you wrap your legs tightly around his waist.

“Cum inside me,” you gasp out, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in for another kiss.

How could he say no? Seconds later, he empties his cum inside you, moaning into your mouth through it all. Your pussy clenches around him at the sound of his moans and he hisses at the feeling.

Instead of pulling out, he drops his body onto yours, burying his head into your neck and pressing gentle kisses into the skin.

It’s silent for a while and you’re about to drift off to sleep until Tsukishima opens his mouth.

“So when do I move in?” he jokes, pulling back to look at you.

You glare at him and pinch his bicep.

“Ow!” he exclaims, glaring right back. “That was unnecessary, Y/N. Apologize to me.”

“No,” you reply. “You’re not moving in with me, Tsukishima.”

“It’s Kei to you,” he grounds out.

“Okay, you’re not moving in with me, Kei,” you repeat.

He rolls his eyes. “And why the hell not?”

“We haven’t even been dating for an hour!” you tell him.

He looks at you with a confused face. “I don’t see a problem here.”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“Although,” he begins, smirk pulling at his lips. “You did just admit that we’re dating.” He covers your body with his own once again.

“What, did you think I was going to turn you down?” you ask him as his lips find their way to the skin on your neck once again, genuinely curious but finding it hard to stop the smirk that was pulling at your own lips. You then become very aware that he hasn’t pulled out of you yet when he suddenly begins hardening again inside you. You feel your eyebrow twitch. “We are not fucking again tonight.”

“Don’t tell me no,” he replies simply, a hand moving to hold your chin aside, giving him better access to the expanse of your neck.

“Kei, I swear to God…” You trail off as his lips begin suckling on your skin.

“Yes? That’s me,” he says, “Your God.”

You resist the urge to punch him square in the jaw as he continues his assault on your neck. In the end, you fail miserably at stopping him, and you continue like this until the sun peeks through your bedroom window.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 7 - Trapped

The rogue fails a perception check.

On AO3.

She’s going to leave him. She’s realized her folly and it’s too difficult to drag him around, a dog on a leash, and she’s taking her chance to leave him behind. She’s just “scouting.” It’s “for their benefit.” All tactics he’s used before (or near enough).

Yet he cannot see. Can’t go scrambling after her into the icy water (gods, his front is completely drenched now). She might take more drastic measures to abandon him, and coward that he is, if he’s to be left to rot in the dark, he’d rather do it without the addition of a gaping neck wound (she does go for the neck, he’s noticed).

And in the very slim off-chance she’s telling the truth (ha), he’ll look even more pathetic scurrying after her like some mother’s skirts.

Or she’ll die over there. Be decapitated by some beast, torn to shreds, crushed or drowned or maimed by the godsdamned cave itself and he…he will be left here.

He thinks his eyes are open. It’s rather difficult to tell, as useless as the damned things are. But his hearing…he’s always had sharp hearing, though he’s never paid it much mind. Only for the first, few weeks after crawling out of his own grave, he thinks. He doesn’t remember those particulars, though, but he’s seen a handful of his brothers and sisters grimace and startle, so that must have once been him.

The sounds of his illustrious leader moving are clear. He can pinpoint her exact location. Can practically hear the shape of the hideously narrow tunnel surround her. The splash of water. Her low hiss and a grunt as she shuffles about on a knee that pains her now and then. The rapid beat of her heart—both from his previous blood taking, and from what is likely very sensible fear.

It…nearly helps that she has enough brains to be afraid. She’s not some reckless dolt nattering on about happiness and a buoyant attitude (he’s dead; he can’t float). They’re both lost and alone in a cave and she knows it.

(It’s why she’s going to leave him, being the sensible thing she is.)

The water sound echoes strangely. She makes a tiny sound (a fear sound). Takes a couple of breaths. Her next inhale comes out high and sharp—heart still pounding, so nothing bit off her arm. Then a thrash, a scuffle against stone, water splashing.

She sputters.

Should he even call out to her? Or save them both the embarrassment and let her sever him off, clean and professionally—

“Eleanor?” he says to the hells with clean.

Another sputter. He leans forward, one hand on the smooth ceiling.

She won’t answer. She’s found a way through, and she’s going to slip away and leave—

“Fuck.” Her reply sounds flat and hollow.

And something light and bubbly nearly makes it out of his own mouth—he manages to bite it back before it can escape. Because things could still go wrong. He’s still back here, separated, and she still has a chance—

“Shit and goddamn.”

She’s not going to leave him. He might smile. Barely. And anyway, he’s alone in a cave in the Underdark and it’s not as if there’s anyone to notice.

“That shit is tight,” she says. “It looks like it opens up, though. Gimme a second to make sure before you come slithering through.”

She actually is just…scouting. Trying to save him time and effort. It’s such a novel feeling. He’s not sure what to do with it.

And so he smashes it down and says, “No, no, leave me here in the freezing water, darling. You take your time.”

He can almost imagine the flat look she gives the stone between them. Another variety of blank, except her dark eyes will be dripping with scorn.

The water flows past him. And there’s another novelty. He’s on all fours (or threes, anyway) in moving water, and the only thing it does is numb his already chilled flesh. No burning, no skin peeling off or cracking into ash. Just the cold. And his soaked clothing, but he can’t exactly blame that on their illustrious leader.

He listens to the scraping and the occasional clatter of rocks. His leader’s little grunts and mutterings. She leans into the vulgarity almost as badly as a dock worker. Yet she seems to have been educated to her own people’s standards, and he’s heard her use complicated vocabulary.

The scraping gets quieter. The cold claws start to tap against the inside of his ribs again. Then, “It’s clear. I think I see a way into a big ass room down the way a little. But it’s a tight squeeze to get here. Think you can make it?”

He scoffs. There’s only one way to go. It’s not as if he’s going to get lost.

“Yes, mother,” he says.

He focuses on the water. That’s the novel part of this whole, wretched experience. He’s been near-blind before, trapped before, forced to grope around before (this time there’s no audience to pile on the humiliation). But the water…if he can think about that, how cold it is and how miserably his clothes cling to him, how it smells so strongly of stone and minerals…

Hand and knees, he shuffles on. Fingers trail along the ceiling, cool stone sculpted perfectly smooth.

It keeps dropping. Which is fine. He’s a two-hundred-year-old vampire, this won’t kill him. Then his shoulders brush the wall. The water is flowing over him, now. Not lapping against his belly, but halfway submerging him. Astarion does not need to breathe (he forgets to, at times), but his focus on that aspect suddenly turns on him.

It’s the way the stone closes in on him like a fist. Squeezing, pressing, waiting to crush him. It’s the cold, cold stream flowing around him, up and over him if he lowers his head too far. And it’s the godsdamned dark.

The floor dips beneath his hands. He stops. His dead, cold heart tries to climb right up his throat.

He has to submerge to continue. His hands flap about, trace the passageway. Just large enough for him to…she’d said “slither.” And it wasn’t a metaphor, it turns out.

He cannot show his panic. He cannot let the others know.

He clears his throat. “It’s rather flooded, darling.”

“Yeah,” she says. That word, all grim and heavy. He pictures her struggling through this, the splashing and the gasping. She actually needs to breathe. “It’s not far, though. You can kinda worm under it. If you hold your breath—er, y’know. You can actually feel around it from where I think you are. It’s still a little tight past that, but it opens up pretty rapid. It’s kinda like a sink trap.”

Which means nothing to him. A trap to drown uninvited guests? Not a bad solution. Unless the guest is undead. Or a fish.

But he does as she suggests; sticks his arms through. Has to lean in slowly until his cheek is pressed against the rock and yes. She’s correct. The whole tunnel bends down and then back up.

This time, he does breathe deeply.

It doesn’t help.

Well.

He lowers himself. Water closes over him. He has no sight, and now his nose and ears are covered and he’s truly blind.

He moves quickly. Presses through arms-first. Has to turn midway because even his flexible spine doesn’t arch backwards that far, and he’d rather not come up scraping his face against the other side.

The ceiling drags over his chest. The walls press against his shoulders. He has to wriggle (hands torn and shredded by wooden splinters, fingernails broken off clawing at the dirt; it’s in his ears, his eyes, up his nose and he’s gagging on it and all around, the press of cold dirt, grave dirt).

Then his face breaks the water’s surface and he comes up sputtering.

(and he is waiting)

“Astarion?”

Astarion coughs. Water comes up much more smoothly than dirt and congealed blood, how nice. He’s through. She said he’s nearly clear. He gropes and—

Stone. Stone all around. Stone pressing in, squeezing in. He’s twisted and half submerged, the dip in the tunnel pressing his waist, trapping his legs.

Trapped.

Trapped in the dark.

“Astarion?”

The voice is muffled. Master laughing, taunting. He’d learn his lesson, by the gods. He already had. He’d never do it again, never run, never disobey, never ever.

His shoulder slams to the side. It’s too close. All too close. He scratched his nails off. Scratched his fingertips, the exposed nail beds and all down to bone and kept digging, kept digging like a rat. Like vermin. The vermin he wasn’t even worthy to prey upon.

His legs are pinned. Shoulders pinned. Not some tomb, this time. He’s in a sarcophagus. Sealed away in this silent, stone box and left to rot.

No. No! He’s sorry! He won’t! He didn't’! He’ll never again master please!

Something makes a noise but it doesn’t matter. The stone won’t give. It’s a terrible force, pinning him in place. He thrashes against it, knowing it’s futile—it never lets him out will never let him out—but he cannot control his own body (has never controlled his own body because it isn’t his; he’s property, a spawn, something to pleasure the master’s guests, nothing but an extension of his master’s will).

But he’s got to get out. He has to.

A part of him registers something wrong. Tries to argue against this, but the rest of him is too much. It’s far too much and the panic is all-consuming.

His hand brushes something warm. Something soft, something that gives when he tears at it. He has to get out, he cannot be here again master please, please.

“—starion you stupid cunt bitch!”

Words. A voice. A rude voice.

He’s panting. His throat is dry. Fear buzzes through him and wraps around his bones.

“Hey! Hey, you fucking shit lord!”

“Wh…” He has to swallow. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. “What?”

“Hey,” the voice—his illustrious leader—is far gentler this time. “Astarion? Can you hear me?”

“I…yes.”

Still stuck. Still pinned. His teeth chatter from some ancient memory of living cold (and not terror, oh no).

“Okay, I’m right above you. Here.”

Her hand brushes his and he scents blood for some reason. But there’s too much going on inside him, too much panic and too much touching.

“Don’t touch me,” he snaps.

A terrible idea. He’ll be punished. Not allowed to speak like that. He needs her. Needs all of them and he must be the perfect seducer, they the willing prey.

But she only says, “Alright” in that same low, calm tone. As if he’s some godsdamned horse. As if he’s a howling babe.

A shuffle and a rustle. The sound of leather creaking softly and his knees hurt. He realizes he’d been thrashing around, trying to bring them up and curl inwards, and he’s smashed his recently healed one once again.

“I…I need out,” he says and hopes she won’t notice the pathetic tremble to his voice.

“I know. I got half a length of rope here, one second.” More rustling. It’s her bag. She’s digging through her bag of holding. “Got it. If I drop this down and help pull, can you manage to get the rest of the way through? You ain’t stuck nowhere?”

Yes, anything, he wants to say.

Instead, he forces another swallow. “I suppose that will do.”

He must not think on it. Must not think how wedged he is and how it’s his own worthless fault. The weight pressed against his belly because he’s an idiot and always was. The pain begins to filter in from his knees and his hands, and their illustrious leader was wrong when she said he was only good at two things; he’s only good at one, and it doesn’t involve stumbling about in a cave.

A soft sound, and the rope smacks him in the face. He barks a sound.

“Shit! Sorry!” their wise and glorious leader says.

Rope. He never had rope in that grave. Or later in the tomb (he wonders what he might have tried if he did). It’s a difference, cool and sturdy in his battered hands.

“Got a good grip?” she says.

Better than she knows. All her life force taken in through her blood and he uses it to wrap that rope around his aching hands and cling.

“On three,” because she cannot use the sensible four.

He gives a little tug. She holds. Counts.

Three.

He…slides out quite easily. Legs slip, lower back scraping, and then his shoes catch. But a kick of his feet and he’s being pulled head-first up through the tunnel, away from the water, kicking along as it rapidly widens.

Then he’s on his back, scooting along with nothing but chilled, open air around him.

“Any injuries?” she says.

Minor ones. His shins must be absolutely purpled by now. But most of all, it’s the fact that she saw him. She…heard him. He has no idea what he said. And her silence on the matter is somehow both soothing and dreadful.

An easy weapon should she ever wish to wield it.

A weapon he would certainly pocket for later use. Just in case.

One she doesn’t even need. She could have left him thrice over. And thrice over, she’s dragged him after her. Literally, this time.

He has no way to repay this debt. No way to squelch that cold dread seeping through him at the thought.

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[andkisses]

♡ always, promise | sunoo ♡

you decide, snuggled up as the weather turns colder, that sunoo deserves all your love

♡ sunoo x gn!reader | wc. 1.4k ♡ genres/tropes: domestic, fluff, two dorks in love who say it ♡ mentions of/warnings: sunoo calls reader a pet name ♡ a/n: this is a rewrite of a fic i wrote and posted YEARS ago; unfortunately it was eaten up when i accidentally deleted my blog :’) it was originally for mingyu from svt ♡ masterlist ♡

Rain showers the roof in soft pats, sliding down the walls and running over the windowsill before continuing it’s journey downward.  Outside, the trees and grass and flowers have become an electric shade of green, with the leaves glowing in the fresh water.  Wind blows the light raindrops around in swirling circles, creating a delicate mist that moves and breathes at a moment's notice.

Just inside, separating cool from warm, is the fireplace, flames licking and crawling around the logs. They crackle and spit when the wind rushes or when raindrops slip down the chimney. A warm glow casts around the living room, where the heat keeps the winter chills at bay.  Soon, the weatherman figures on the television, the rain will change into sleet and then into snow.  By tomorrow morning, he determines, there should be a good foot of fluffy white snow blanketing the ground. Double check your plans, he warns, because some things will have to change.

But you don't have plans.  You hardly even hear let alone register what the weatherman is droning on about over your heartbeat.  And you swear you can hear his, too.

Every single blanket the two of you owned, including the fluffy comforter off the bed and the soft throws from the couch and every extra one from the linen closet, were tossed onto the floor between the couch and the fireplace. The coffee table has long been pushed aside and forgotten along with the cooling mugs of cocoa and coffee resting on top.  Every single pillow has made its way down with the blankets, too.

And then there’s the two of you, snuggled up in borrowed hoodies and long pants and warm fuzzy socks.  You're in one of his hoodies—you "borrowed" and never returned (partially because it's warm and partially because smells like him) but he never asked for it back (partially because he knows you love it and partially because he loves how it looks on you).  You're both buried beneath the blankets and pillows, but still close enough to feel the fireplace's heat to feel delightfully toasty.

Close enough to feel each other's warmth.

Your hands find their way to cup his cheeks, and he leans into your touch, eyes closed with a soft and peaceful smile on his face.  A frown shapes your lips.  “You're still cold,” you say, pinching his still-red cheeks.  “You shouldn’t have come over in the rain.”

He laughs, giggles turning his cheeks warm beneath your touch. “What are you? My mom?” He reaches out to boop your nose. “I distinctly remember you saying you were lonely and asking me to come over.”

You make a face, scrunch your nose–because he’s right. You were lonely and you did ask him. And you had been paying attention to the weatherman earlier, imagining the snow and ice and what it would be like to build pillow forts with Sunoo and keeping each other company. He’s already closed his eyes again, melting into the touch of your hands. God, you’re so in love with him.

But you don’t let him know that. That would be embarrassing. Instead, you counter, “You could get sick.”

One eye slowly peers open mischievously, the matching eyebrow quirking up. “Me? Sick?” He laughs again, shuffling closer to you.  His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in, and you end up with your own arms around his neck.  He plants a gentle kiss on the crown of your head, and even though you can’t see it, you can feel his smile against your skin.  You must have me mistaken for someone else.  I'd never get sick.”

You stay there like that for a while, a smile secure on your lips, you nestled in his arms and safely tucked under his chin.  He curls into you, almost like a kid who’s spent too long from home.  A drowsy state falls over the room, and you see everything through warm, hazy vision.  Outside, the rain had turned to sleet, just as the weatherman predicted.  It pinks at the windows. From behind the clouds, the sun begins to sink below the horizon, taking the little light with it. The streetlights turn on.  The flames of the fireplace continue to flicker, casting everything in a moving orange glow.

“If we fall asleep now, we’ll ruin our sleeping schedule,” you murmur, already feeling the warm hands of sleep coaxing you away from the land of the awake.  “We’ll wake up at like four in the morning.”

Sunoo pulls you a tad closer, hands spread out, one splayed against your ribs and the other running soothing patterns over your back.  “Or,” he begins, eyes glittery in front of you with firelight, “we fall into a deep slumber and don’t awaken for thousands of years, but when we do, we'll be rulers of a magical land.”

You blink, eyes tired. You can’t help the smile on your lips. “Would you be the king?”

“Yeah, but I'd let you do whatever you want.”

A lazy laugh escapes your lips, and you move your arms from his neck to wrap them around his torso, to hold him close, face tucked into his chest. He's precious, you realize suddenly, and you feel as if he needs protecting.  You think back to when you first met, and he was a cute, bubbly, adorable hot mess trying to start a conversation with you.  His confidence clashed with his nerves about you. His cheeks had flushed red hot and he could hardly look you in the eye, but when he did, all you saw was genuine sincerity and child-like curiosity.  When he finally asked, "would you be my friend?" you couldn’t fathom how someone could possibly say no.  The next memory, the one where immediately after you said yes he jumped and giggled like you told him Santa was actually real and on his way right then.

“You're smiling, I can sense it,” Sunoo coos, drawing more circles onto your back with his fingertips.  “What’cha smiling at, honey bee?”

You shake your head, slightly embarrassed by how such a simple, faraway memory could make you feel so giddy and lightheaded.  It pairs with your feeling from earlier–how madly you love him–and you know your face is red. “It’s nothing.”

Sunoo pulls away slightly, a small smirk across his lips, mischief in his eyes.  “Nothing, hm?” he echoes.  He quirks his eyebrow up again.  “If nothing does this to you, I'd love to be nothing.  I’d be able to make you smile all the time.”

You can’t get your hands to cover your cheeks fast enough, so you bury your face in his hoodie, listening to the charm of his giggles as he laughs at your antics.  You pull him even closer, and you feel him do the same, enveloped in his warmth.  

Then, he whispers, soft and tender. “I love you,” he says, and you’re convinced your heart is about to burst. “You don’t have to say it back yet; I know it’s big, and—”

“I love you, too.” The joy in his eyes, growth of his smile, how his touch holds you that much more. It makes it all worth the nerves you felt building those worse, convincing yourself to say them before you took Sunoo up on his offer of not saying it back. You really lucked out with a boy named Kim Sunoo.

“Always?” he asks, a tone of seriousness. You know there’d been people before you; you know they weren’t always as kind or as protective with his heart. If they were, you wouldn’t be here, and he wouldn’t be in your arms pleading with you. “Promise?”

Kim Sunoo, you decide, deserves a soft, good love. Before you kiss him, you see snowflakes falling outside. You imagine the two of you, bundled up, running around and playing. You can see snowflakes landing on Sunoo’s lashes, imagine him laughing as he pulls you in for a kiss, hands on your waist. You can imagine helping give him everything he deserves.

“Promise,” you reply. You kiss him then, soft and delicate, ignoring your crazed heartbeat. When you pull back, you move your hands from his cheeks to the back of his head, carding through his locks before moving him to be tucked beneath your chin. Sunoo curls against you, a happy hum against your throat as you continue to stroke through his hair. “Always.”