#but deep down it's about my yearning a 'home' that will not be fixed with a simple physical house because it's about who lives there

[yameoto]

being caitlyn’s lil stress-relief toy

tw; dom!caitlyn, fingerfucking, girlcock, cumdump, lots and lots of cum, she literally pounces onto you

caitlyn has a stressful job. even with passing her seat on the council over to sevika, she’s almost always swamped; whether it be with cleaning up the streets, piltover’s (her own) messes, or this that and the other. she can get as tightly coiled as a wind-up toy.

you could already tell she had a shitty day today; what with the way she roughly kicked her boots off at the door, slamming it shut with more force than you’re accustomed to. all of caitlyn’s movements are executed in that fluid, patented grace of hers—almost more subconscious than calculated.

today? caitlyn is pissed off, overworked, muscles screaming and the beginnings of a migraine throbbing at the left-side of her head. the only thing that’ll fix her?

her dick, inside you. effective immediately.

the moment she catches sight of you; gorgeous and lazily sprawled out on the sofa, legs kicked up behind you as you idly flick through that novel of yours—caitlyn is shameless to say, her more debauched instincts completely overcome her.

“oh, love,” your eyes crinkle, head tilting upwards at the sight of your lover, “you’re home. you wouldn’t believe—“

that’s all the time it takes, for caitlyn to wrench you up with ease and thrust you on top of her desk, hands clasped tight on your waist, pupils blown and breathing shallow. “wouldn’t believe what, dear?��� her voice is rough as teeth drag down your shoulder. your body tenses in startle, though it relaxes almost just as quickly. caitlyn is clumsier than usual in jerking down your underwear. hastier, still.

your knees widen, like the good little girl you are. hers. all hers. caitlyn loves you. loves how easily your legs spread open for her cock. loves how your pussy takes her when she sinks inside you with an almost rabid groan. your walls tighten; briefly resisting the throbbing intrusion of her length before she pushes. a ripple of satisfaction throbs though her body and pools in your cunt, as she drives herself as deep into you as she can. her nails dig into the working muscles of your shoulder blades, and she pushes you right down against the desk, knees splayed far apart. an audible whimper escapes the both of you.

“so tight,” caitlyn gasps, a full-body shudder of relief thrumming through her body as she slumps forwards, lithe figure cacooning your trembling back, as she fucks you full. “like you made for—my cock.” gods. she’s needed this.

her grunts are low, echoing deep and breathy. you can feel it rumble against your back, though it’s nothing compared to the excruciating jolt of white-hot pleasure as her hips thrust, fucking into you. she cums, twice, before you do.

“mm. you smell so good,” caitlyn slurs, nose pressing against your nape. she breathes you in, hands sliding up your shirt, each slam of her hips sending a disgustingly, deliciously wet slapping sound reverberating about the room. “is that my perfume?”

you can’t respond, mental space particularity preoccupied by trying not to buck back wildly into your girlfriend like some fucking animal, the sounds of sloppy fucking resonating loud enough you’re almost sure the whole estate can hear. caitlyn muffles a sharp moan into your shoulder, before drawing out. you whine, urgent and despairing at the loss, and caitlyn’s eyes almost roll back at the strings of cum trawling from your pussy to her head, coated and shiny.

you’re the most beautiful sight she’s ever laid eyes upon. balanced precariously at the edge of her desk, pussy wide and wet and begging for her. caitlyn’s never been able to deny you.

she plunges two fingers into the your pulse, gaping open on her desk, clenching around a grand total of nothing as you bend, jutting your ass out like a mindless slut. yearning to be filled up again. caitlyn’s chuckle ghosts against your nape. she scoops out the gooey remnants of her cum, eyes hooded and glittering as thick, milky liquid drips obscenely from your hole to the likely very-important, extremely-life-altering documents filed meticulously upon her desk. the heavy lids of your eyes briefly widen.

“cait—“ you sound so pretty when you whine, “we’re—hnng—we’re makin’ a mess—”

it’s cute that you care. caitlyn certainly doesn’t—but she’s not above using it to fuck with you.

“i know. aren’t you terrible?” she teases, mildly, like she doesn’t delight in seeing wood darken with the splats of cum trickling down your thighs, her fingers coming away coated in the evidence of her. “leaking all over my paperwork.” your hips jerk, strangled noise elicited when caitlyn yanks her fingers out and replaces the curl of her knuckle with the familiar thickness of her cock. you swallow her back in, easily now, and the pressure pushes out another spurt of whiteness that oozes out from your pussy like a shockwave. your hands scrabble against the edge of the desk, moaning in reckless abandon.

caitlyn muffles a sharp cry, burrowing her face into the crook of your neck as your lower torso digs into the table, and the both of you cry out, at once. you’re ruining about a week’s worth of paperwork, reglazing mahogany. caitlyn only moans, louder, fervent and breathtaking.

she bites into your skin, and you release the most deliciously eye-rolling croon as her hips roll and she cums, once more, stretched to your limits. you’re hers, and she’ll damn well let everyone know it.

[elysianightsss]

Mouth watering sundress

Summary: John gives you a ride home from work, and his phone number…

It was the car ride from hell.

John drove with one hand on the steering wheel and one on the clutch, his truck smelled just like him. Oak wood, cigars and spiced oranges. It had a musky undertone that made you shift in your seat, thighs clenching uncomfortably. The Chevy he drove somehow didn’t surprise you and the country music quietly playing from the radio didn’t surprise you either. 

His plaid button up shirt and loose blue jeans had you staring. You could see where the muscles were too big for his shirt when he changed gears it looked like it was going to rip. You wondered what it would feel like to have those muscular arms wrapped around your body.

You played with the hem of your floral sundress, tracing the little flowers while you scolded yourself for thinking such things about your gorgeous neighbour. 

“How was work?” John asked with gentle curiosity, his big hand moving the clutch to change gear.

“It was okay.” You shrugged glancing out of the window only to look back at him and see a frown on his face.

“Just okay?” His eyebrows rose as he watched little old Doris pull out in front of him in her mini with no indication whatsoever.

“Yeah. I mean my job consists of listening to people complain on the phone and trying to fix their issues. It was pretty boring, only gets good when you get the screamers.” You laugh, watching the forest trees pass by as he drives.

“Screamers?” He asks, a small laugh coming out himself, though you picked up the concern dithering there. Tricks of the trade.

“People who start shouting or screaming down the phone as soon as you answer. Mostly cause they haven’t got they wanted from the company yet.” You explain, saying it so casually.

“That doesn’t sound too fun.”

“Maybe not fun but definitely an interesting change. Gives me something to think about on the weekends too. Maybe if I should have responded differently. How can I better my answers for next time it happens.” Your brows furrow slightly realising how pathetic you just sounded.

“No friends to make your weekends interesting?”he cleared his throat hoping he wasn’t too obvious here, “or boyfriend.” He glanced quickly at you out of the corner of his eyes to catch you cracking a small smile making one grow on his face too. So infectious.

“Some friends but they work on the weekends. And I don’t have a boyfriend.” That had John shifting into the wrong gear the car making a loud scraping noise, he scrambled to quickly rectify the situation before the car stalled.

“Fiance? Husband?” He grimaced saying it, if felt like a dirty word on his tongue, leaving a bitter after taste that quickly disappeared when he spotted no ring on your finger.

“Nope. Completely and pathetically single.” You sighed, not dramatic, but simply a deep breath that showed how tired you were from everything. And boy you were tired. Exhausted from the emotional stress of life.

“Oh?” His interest clear, just as much as his curiosity was.

“Every time I like a guy or even think about entering into a relationship, it always fucks up in a monumental way and I always end up hurt. Every single time.” You let out another tired sigh. It was hard to be single when both your friends had partners, always the third wheel. It made you really hate life at the moment. Though you suppose you’d been in worse positions than in a Chevy with your large, handsome neighbour.

You pulled up to a traffic light, John pulling up the hand break before turning to look at you with a deep seriousness gleaming not only in his eyes but on his face, his body language, his entire demeanour had become the embodiment of seriousness.

“I would never hurt you. Ever.” He was so earnest. It made your heart ache, yearn for the kind of man you’d always wanted but never had. Always boys, never men.

The light turned green just as you let out a shaky breath, fingers lacing together in your lap picking at your nails in nervousness. Heat rising on your cheeks when his hand reached over to lay itself on top of yours for a few moments before pulling your hands apart, “Don’t do that. You’ll ruin those pretty hands.” He lets go just as he looks deep into your eyes, “and we can’t have that can we.”

You didn’t know what to say, the glint in his eyes, the way he tipped his head to the side a bit. Fuck, he looked wonderful. You steeled yourself and consumed every bit of self confidence you had, “You think my hands are pretty?” You stared at him, blinking a few times, definitely not fluttering your lashes. Your eyes flickered to where his jaw seemed to clench tightly for a few moments.

The intensity was building as he leaned in closer to you, it had a burning feeling building in your stomach, a fluttering you’d never experienced before the longer he stared into your eyes

Before he could even open his mouth in reply the beeping of horns from the cars behind started going off. You cleared your throat turning to face the front of the car, “The lights green John.”

“Mhm.” It’s short. Sweet. And so fucking sexy. His voice gravely and low, rumbling in his chest as he hums. Prolonging his gaze upon you just a few more moments before he turns back to the steering wheel and begins driving off.

You quietly let out a breath you hadn’t realised had built up, it did nothing however to ease the fluttering in your stomach. Only seemed to make the nausea worsen. You made a point of not picking at your nails, instead you lay your hands over your thighs, the feeling of your skin and the material of your sundress distracting you enough to not see smirk that graced John’s lips.

John lips, those luscious kissable lips that seemed almost hidden away by the full beard that had grown around his mouth. Like some forbidden fruit hidden just enough in the garden of Eden. He seemed like some forbidden fruit.

He stopped the car just outside your house, getting out to open the car door for you to get out. “Thank you for the ride home.”

“Anytime sweetheart.” He gazed down at you, his height even more daunting now that he was standing. His whole being was just large. That was the best way to describe him.

-

Honestly, you thought about him for the rest of the evening and all night. You thought about his muscles, the way they stretched the fabric of his shirt over the skin. The way his hands seemed to dwarf everything, you wondered how big they would look holding yours. You thought about the way he smirked after calling your hands pretty. You thought about the way his blue eyes glistened when he gave you his phone number.

It was all you thought about. All that was on your mind with no way to get rid of it, no sign that the brazen thoughts would ever leave you. It was like your own personal brand of torture.

Even when you finally managed to drift off, you dreamed of him. Dreamed that he would touch you the way you wanted him to. That he would kiss you desperately, achingly. You were hungry to be touched by him, so hungry that even the very thought of tasting him made you feel nauseous. It had been so long since anything had touched you, that your body had grown accustom to the emptiness that gnawed at you day in, day out.

But maybe it was just what you needed, to push past the sickness. To hold on tight to the warmth that wanted to cover you, that wanted to wrap itself around you. But you couldn’t help but push it away, say no in cruel anticipation of the inevitable. Love is a tender kiss for most people. For you she saves her sharpest axe.

Waking up was humbling, how groggy and unhinged you felt after a night of thinking and dreaming of John. Rolling over in bed you unplugged your phone and began to scroll through your notifications. Your heart jumping in your chest at the sight of a new text; from John.

John: Hey pretty girl. 7:36am. read.

Holy shit, he’d text you this morning. Was it when he first woke up? He was he thinking about you all night too? This man is something else.

John: No reply already? I thought I would’ve had to say something stupid first before you ignored me sweetheart. ;) 9:41am. read.

You: Sorry, got distracted. How’d you sleep? 9:42am. read.

John: Like a log. You? 9:42am. read.

You: Could use a couple more hours honestly. 9:43am. read.

John: What do you have planned today sweetheart? 9:45am. read.

What did you have planned today? Rolling around in bed thinking about a well built beast with thick mutton chops. So enthralled with the simple idea of John.

Fuck you’d never met a man so….well manly. His big muscles and his thick musky scent that screamed masculine in the most primal way possible. In every circumstance, in every part of the world and every century, he would be the ideal mate. To protect and provide-

The ringing makes you jump, the phone vibrating in your hand as you see the unfamiliar number only just added to your phone. You breathe in sharply for a moment, blowing out shakily, hands beginning to sweat. And it’s not even him in person, it’s just a phone call.

“It’s just a phone call. You can press the end button at any time.” You tell yourself, reassuring yourself before sliding your thumb along the screen, the answer swipe turning green. You put the cold screen to your ear. “John?”

“I got impatient.” His voice sounded so low and deep, must be that its first thing in the morning.

“Sorry. Got lost in my thoughts.” You mumble picking at the sheets surrounding you.

“Anything you wanna share? Or is it too soon to be prying into that pretty head of yours.”

“God you’re forward.” You breathe out a little laugh, a hot feeling fluttering in your stomach.

He laughed, heartily. “I’m just wired that way love.”

“I’m not sure if I like it.”

“Oh?” John voice was light and soft, if you were really leaning into it you’d notice the tinge of disappointment in the sound.

“It’s catching me off guard. I like to keep my cards close to my chest.” You swirled your finger along the pattern of the crocheted pillow in front of you.

“I’d happily let you play me.”

“John.” You breathe out another laugh, your heart skipping a beat.

“Like that,” he huffed low and wild, “like when you say my name. Sounds so nice coming from you.”

“It does?”

“Well with a pretty voice like that, I’m sure you can make anything sound nice.” He chuckled. And fuck you had to mute with how you giggled, kicking your feet with giddiness.

“So you want to go for lunch?” The rumbly bearish throaty sexy voice melted your knees until they felt like jelly.

“Again with the forwardness.” Your flushed cheeks hurt, couldn’t wipe the grin off your face, and he could hear it.

“I’m a man who knows what he wants and goes for it.” John answered without so much as a thought, the answer coming so naturally.

“I’ll consider it.” You pressed the red button and jumped in the shower, cold and brisk. It was the only way to bring your burning body temperature down.

John was unlike anybody you’d ever met, definitely better than an of your exs and you hadn’t even gotten to the deep stuff yet.

You wrapped a towel around your body and began to dry your hair with your other towel when you noticed your phone light up, a nervous grin tugging at your lips as you picked up the device and read the text.

John: Considered it yet? 10:02. read.

You shook your head, teeth biting into your smile. He was so unashamed and so bold. It made you question yourself, made you want more than you had once had. Made you want him.

You: I’d love to have lunch with you. 10:04am. read.

John: I’ll pick you up in an hour, wear that mouth watering sundress again ;) 10:04am. delivered.

Mouth watering sundress? Fuck, no one had ever said that to you before. Hell no one had ever offered so many compliments in one conversation before. He was truly a man of different breed. You giggled again falling into your bed and kicking your feet in the air, he was such a flirt. You loved it.

[ihearthayden]

HOLO-HOOKUP

ANAKIN SKYWALKER

MDNI SMUT 18+

PAIRING: master!anakin x padawan!reader

WC: 2.9k

SUMMARY: you and anakin are in a secret relationship, since it’s against the jedi code. you couldn’t go on a mission today with your master and his team, because you got the fever. he decides to call you during a break, just for a quick check up—but the conversation will last longer than he expected.

CW: phone/hologram sex, masturbation [ f and m ], improper use of lightsaber/lightsaber play, degradation, dom!anakin, age gap, dirty talk, master kink, semi public, slight edging, name calling/pet names

A/N: hey guys! this is my first post/fic so i’m pretty nervous, but i hope you will like it. [ btw my inspo came from CW S7E2 ] my requests and dms are open so feel free to txt me, i’m in a need of hayden/sw enthusiast moots lol btw english is not my first language, so i’m really sorry if something is grammatically incorrect.

now enjoy the story! <3

The halls of the Jedi Temple were eerily silent as you rested in your quarters, the faint hum of Coruscant's bustling cityscape a comforting lullaby in the background—although it was muffled by the thick walls. From the bed, you could hear the distant whir of passing speeders, and their voices always made your mind wander into its blurry maze—to craft different imaginary scenarios. They fed your delusions with the false hope: maybe your master had finally arrived home from his mission. You were supposed to station on Anaxes with the rest of the team, but a morning fever confined you here, far from the frontlines, far from him.

The aftereffects of the illness weighed heavily on you, your body was sluggish and weak, yet it was your heart that ached the most. You couldn't stop thinking about Anakin's suffocating absence and how he should have been caressing your overheated frame instead of fighting on a different planet. You fantasized about him wiping away the beading sweat from your shivering, fragile body with his caring, large palms. You sighed, leaning back against the cool pillow. Every fiber of your being yearned to be by his side, battling droids and facing the galaxy's chaos together, but your condition had left you stranded here.

The hum of the holo-communication device broke the silence of your desperation. You froze stiff as a statue—just like the ones surrounding Naboo's lakeside, and your heart leaped into your throat. You rushed to the device, fingers trembling as you activated the connection.

And there he was.

The flickering light revealed his face, your heart ached at the sight of him. His face bore new scrapes and smudges of dirt, his hair tousled from the battlefield, but his eyes—those molten orbs of fire and tenderness—were fixed solely on you. You got goosebumps as a shiver went down your spine, but the medicine had already started to work, so the fever didn't cause it.

"Ani," You whispered—a breathless relief flooding through you at the mere sight of him. You hadn't even realized how badly you needed him until now. 

"Chee-ska anota," he murmured, the Huttese term for "my dear love" falling from his lips like a prayer.

"I didn't expect to hear from you. I thought you'd be too busy saving the galaxy." You teased him softly, but deep down, you were glad you were on his mind as much as he was on yours. He chuckled—the tone low and warm—a balm to your frayed nerves.

"What's the point of saving it if you're not there to see it?"

But before he could continue his sentence, his words faltered for a second as his eyes traced over your face. 

"You look—your face is still red, and your eyes..." He shook his head, his brow furrowing. "Your eyes are shining, but not in the way I want them to. You're still burning up, aren't you? Fuck." You noticed him curling his hands into a fist, his fingers dug into his palms. "I could already barely focus on this duty because of you, but this was the last straw. I'm going home." 

Even though his concerns melted your heart, you didn't want to ruin their mission by making their strongest Jedi vanish or risk the option of the others discovering your little secret relationship.

"Honey, my fever is already gone. I just need to regain some strength." You were hoping this would change his drastic decision, but it only made him raise his voice at you firmly. 

"It was already a huge mistake to leave you alone in such a helpless state. But I promise you, Chee-ska, I won't abandon you again. Ever." Worry pooled in his eyes, a silent storm brewing beneath his lashes.

God, he's always so stubborn.—you thought to yourself.

Your body craved every molecule of him to be close to you—but you knew you had to do something to calm him down and make him stay there with the troops. You brushed your curly locks away from your face and leaned forward on the bed so that your robe opened slightly in the front, revealing the lacy top of your satin nightgown, along with your rosy cleavage. 

His features immediately loosened up, while a small sigh escaped his mouth—since he's aware that you never wear any lingerie under it. 

"Don't try to manipulate me, Snips. I'm still your master, which makes me the one in charge. I make the rules." He tried to appear serious, but he couldn't mask the sound of longing that filled his voice.

You knew that he wouldn't be able to resist you—since he could never hold himself back. When you find a way to flick the switch in him, he sheds his cautious, caring personality and transforms into a predator. When he got aroused, he became a bloodthirsty beast—and you embodied the prey in his eyes. Just like a starving animal, ready to maul and devour any living creature in sight. 

Since your goal was to push him over the edge, you bit the pink flesh of your pouty bottom lip and reached out to his other lightsaber—which was accidentally left lying on the nightstand next to your bed. It was the only thing that resembled his present, and as you slowly ran your fingers over its surface—you quickly figured out your plan. 

"If you are the one making the rules, why don't you make them fun?" These words left your glossy lips as you drove the weapon up to the right corner of your mouth. 

"Stop being a brat and fix your behavior, youngling. I command you as your superior, not your partner."  His tone carried the weight of authority, a warning you might have believed—if not for his eyes, smoldering and unashamed as it lingered on your chest.

You loved to lure out his raw dominance with your attitude so he would use you to fulfill his sickest, secret, intimate desires. His mechanical arm and the force combined allowed him to take advantage of you and have more control over you than anyone else could ever do—and you enjoyed it more than anything.

"Are you sure that is what you want? Because if you change your mind and stay, you could see me doing this." You kneeled and grabbed the saber with both of your hands so that you could lick it all the way from the bottom to the very top of it. You started swirling your tongue around the tip of it and throated every inch of it without any warning. It wasn't a challenge to take it—your esophagus had adjusted from everyday use to Anakin's significantly bigger size—but it still drew a quiet gag out of you. Your teary eyes never left his surprised gaze, which hunger quickly overtook.

You saw him reach out one of his hands towards your hologram—to pretend to grab your hair—and started bobbing it in the same rhythm as you did with your head. You noticed his growing bulge through the thin fabric of his Jedi uniform—and you couldn't help but sit back on your heels and start rocking your hips a little for some stimulation. This lustful view strikes a tingling sensation in your abdomen. Your brain flooded with the picture of his trembling, overstimulated tip as it stained his pants with his sweet, milky, smeared precum—waiting for you to clean it up with your tongue. 

You snapped back to reality, and a streak of saliva remained attached to the object as you released it from the hot cave of your mouth—while trying to catch your breath.

"I wish that it would have been you. Even though it's your lightsaber, unfortunately, it still can't cum down my throat like you." You said with sad puppy-dog ​​eyes while trying to stop panting, but an unexpected statement struck your ear.

"Ride it." 

A naughty grin appeared on your face as you tried to tease your boyfriend for a tiny bit longer.

"I thought you were worried about your sick little girl, but now you want to use her?" You said with a mocking tone, but he immediately growled at you.

"I said ride it." The harsh order made you stare at him momentarily, but he instantly broke the silence.

"Don't play stupid now. Just obey." He aggressively unbuckled his belt with one hand and rolled up his sleeves while he continued his monologue.

"I lied to the team that I came to this empty warehouse to strategize, so be a good slut for me and don't waste our precious time." He gently ran his fingers over the prominent outline of his size, which made his voice tremble with desire. 

"I saw my needy baby grinding while putting on her little show, so don't you dare to deny how fucking wet you are for me." You squeezed your thighs together, and they remained stuck from how sticky he made you. "You knew exactly what you were doing, so now it's your job to finish what you started, sweet little thing."

You realized how Obi-wan or even the enemy could catch him at any millisecond, so you quickly tossed the lightsaber on the bed, placed your hands in front of yourself and positioned your tiny body above it. 

"Yes s-sir!" You stuttered, but before you could start masturbating, you heard him say—

"Stop. Did you just go dumb on me already? You forgot something. Words, sweetheart, words. What do good girls say?" His serious side always made your core drool. You remembered the missing essential and said it without hesitation.

"Thank you, master!" His mean face finally released a small smile. 

"Now you can continue."

You shifted until your painfully throbbing slit hovered directly over the part that was covered in ridges. As you slowly sank into it, the cold touch of the remaining saliva sent a jolt through your body. You started humping on your little "toy" back and forth, dragging your clit across the whole length of it. The friction made your breath come up in ragged gasps. You tried to glare into his lustful iris but couldn't make contact with his gaze—Anakin had already rolled his eyes back. A heavy moan escaped from your plump lips as he revealed his fully erect member, slamming it against his muscular abs. A puddle of precum pooled around the base of his dick, and some of it already ran down to his thighs. The liquid glistened as the light reflected off it, but he spat in his palm to lubricate it even more. He started gliding his hand on his most sensitive area while watching you chase your high. The holopad was set up to make it look like he was towering over you, ready to finish on your face.

"You are the filthiest whore in the whole galaxy. I mean, look at you, tiny Padawan of mine…skipping your stationing duties to pleasure yourself at home." He kisses his teeth, making a quiet 'tsk' sound." You're fucking pathetic." He threw his head back as he degraded you. You tried to fasten your pace, but your legs started to shake unintentionally to let you know you wouldn't last long. A knot began to form in your stomach, but Anakin shouted at you.

"Oh no, don't even think about it. Don't you dare to cum yet. I didn't give you permission. Don't be greedy."

You whined, your fingers curling desperately into the sheets, the fabric twisting between your trembling hands as you fought against the inevitable. Every muscle in your body was drawn tight, quivering under the weight of restraint, but it was futile—you were at your master's mercy. The heat between your legs was unbearable, pulsing, demanding release, but you knew better than to give in without his approval. Your breath hitched, a pathetic whimper slipping past your lips. You felt helpless, wholly unraveled under his control, but deep down, you knew his cruelty had a purpose. He wasn't denying you out of malice—he was building you up, drawing out your pleasure until it consumed you, until you shattered so thoroughly you wouldn't recover for days. The way he edged you was deliberate, precise, and designed to wreck you in the best way possible. Every second he made you wait, every teasing word, every denied climax—it all led to something greater. He wanted you mindless by the time he allowed you to break. He wanted to pull every last drop of prurience from you until you were gasping his name like a prayer. And when that moment finally came, when he finally let you fall, it wouldn't just be pleasure—it would be devastation.

"See? That wasn’t so hard, was it? At least not for such a good girl. Now, my princess gets rewarded for finally being obedient." He looked up at your face, then down to his old weapon in your hands, and his lips curved into a smirk.

"Slide it in your pretty pussy. Ride my lightsaber as if it was my cock." Anakin's penis was aching, his whole body was shaking while he jerked off. 

"Spread your legs wider, angel, will you? I want to see what's mine. Your warm cunt belongs to me." After his request, your hole pulsed as if it had its own heartbeat. You aligned the "dildo" to your entrance, and with one sharp movement, you rammed it into your opening. You reached up to your chest to cup both of your breasts in your hands and gave them a rough squeeze before you pinched your nipples as Anakin's replacement kissed your cervix. You saw that he trusted into his palm faster than before and became much more vocal.

"Yeah, that's it, that's my girl. You are taking it so good for me." His praises helped your orgasm to build up even more. 

"A-ani, mhh, I'm close; I can't take it anymore! " He heard your shutter, which made him look up from under his eyebrows. You could see that pearly sweat streaks started to run down from his forehead, and their route followed the scar mark on his eye.

"Do you think you deserve it? Beg for it. Can you do that, little one?" He questioned. "How much do you want it, hm? Show me. Make me proud."

His hips hadn't stopped since the call started; he fucked his palm restlessly, so you knew that you had to trigger his weakest spot to get the job done.  

"I promise that I'll be your slave, your fucktoy when you come home, okay? I'll let you use me as a cumdumpster anytime, just please let me finish already.  Anakin, it hurts! " You whimpered while tears ran down from your cheeks to your chin. You started rapidly circling on your swollen clit and pumping into your soaked folds, sliding in and out his "stunt double" that rubbed against your G-spot repeatedly. This was all he needed to hear and see.

"K-kay, let it happen baby, cum for me. Cmon, give it to me. Give me what's mine." He commanded, his words are law.

Your back arched with grace as you went crashing over the edge. You collapsed on your bed into a puddle that your squirt made, mind blank as waves of pleasure rolled through you. The world around you blurred into nothingness, consciousness suspended in the aftershocks of ecstasy. This meant the main attraction to Anakin, the sight of you undone, the way your body trembled and spasmed. His breath hitched, muscles tensing as climax washed over him. His cock throbbed violently in his grasp, spilling thick ribbons of his release over his fingers as he choked out your name. Ropes of his load painted his v-line, dripping down toned his stomach and pooling in his lap.

"Fuck, you are something else. Good job, kid." He panted as he dragged his pants back on. 

"See, I told you that you don't need to leave work for me." You stuck out your tongue while giggling and kicking your feet. 

"You are not sick anymore, that's for sure. The only sick thing is what you promised me in return for your orgasm." He winked at you with his ocean-blue eyes. "Good thing that Rex's helmet recorded everything, so I will have proof." 

Your eyes widened, and you couldn't believe what you heard.

"OH MY GOD—ANAKIN SKYWALKER, YOU FUCKING FREAK! Why didn't you tell me you made the call from his helmet?" You screamed in anger, but your boyfriend just laughed in your face. 

"More risk, more fun, doll." 

Before you could respond to his answer, a sharp knock echoed from his end of the connection. You could see the sudden shift in his expression, the way his shoulders stiffened. From offscreen, you heard Rex's voice, low but clear—

"General Skywalker, you've got company." 

Anakin cursed softly, his free hand running through his already messy hair. He turned back to the holo-projector, his face conflicted. 

"The team found me, I have to go. I'll be home soon, so don't forget our deal. Ni chuba du," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, the words in Huttese heavy with meaning. "I love you." 

Before you could respond, the connection flickered out, the blue light vanishing, and you were left staring at the empty space where he had been.

[ivy-elle]

In Shades Of Gray In Candlelight

Synopsis: With his old life left behind Wanderer has established somewhat of a new home in Sumeru. But the wind decided to rekindle lost days of the past…

Wanderer x gn! reader

“I really don’t have the time for this…”

The burning candle illuminates its light upon his downcast face while the fire carries along the faint smell of jasmine and something sweeter he can’t quite place yet. The fragrance dances on the tip of his tongue, deriding him in a mocking, taunting manner.

He scoffs. How irrelevant.

Yet somehow it still tags on his heartstrings.

His pestering thoughts get disturbed by a cough belonging to an overly excited man rushing closer, eyes fixed pointedly on him. With apprehension, Wanderer realises he hasn’t moved in time and is now stuck to the dooming consultation.

“Sir, I can give you a great deal if you buy the candle as a pair! Let’s say… “ The vendor pretends to ponder for a moment as if the script in his mind hasn’t been written yet. “Thirty per cent off! Perhaps even five per cent on top for that immaculate hat of yours, my dear Sir.”

The Wanderer’s eyes fall back down on the candle, that holds the power to open a pit in his stomach and a familiar feeling of anger rushes into him. He almost welcomes it. “Already bargaining offers without stating the price. Sounds quite questionable.”

His unrefined tone doesn’t seem to dampen the vendor’s enthusiasm at all – even the opposite – the grin on the man’s face widens even more. “My dear Sir,” he says, a fond glint adorning his dark eyes, “this is Sumeru, I assume you must be new. Well, then let me allow you to introduce you-”

But Wanderer turns a deaf ear to the jabbering as his thoughts’ increasing weight suddenly threatens to crush him beneath. Why hasn’t he just moved past like he usually does? He has places to be.

And he is definitely in no mood, nor state of mind to endure Nahida’s disciplinary and integrational lessons. He longs to return to his confinements near the library, where he’s hidden most of the time recently, not disturbed, not to be talked to, preferably for the next couple of days.

Yet, he is still not moving away from the booth. Perhaps he isn’t ready to part yet.

“I take the candle,” he suddenly states more harshly than he intends to. The vendor halts and Wanderer adds with a stern expression. “Just one.”

He pays the full price and it’s not long before he is back striding through the market, the box with the new candle in one hand, as if he expects it to light up on its own and burn down his skin.

What has gotten into him?

He clenches his teeth as the strange anger rises up again, and his feet keep carrying him faster along the paths, just wanting to get away from here as soon as possible. Suddenly he has half the mind to toss the candle box over the cliffs, along with the gut-wrenching sensation of utter yearning annexed to it. As anger threatens to turn into fury he tosses his arm up, about to follow through, to let the wind take his emotional tumult, when he is suddenly knocked down to the ground.

“What-“

“Oh Archons, I am so sorry!”

Wanderer’s face scrunches up in irritation as the voice of apologies sounds through. Normally he’d brush it off. Accidents happen. But today his frustrations got the better of him.

“Are you unhurt?”

He brushes away the dust and rises back up, just as you are about to reach for him. Glaring at you his mouth opens-

But then closes again as the wind carries the fragrance along.

Sakura.

How could he forget?

Jasmine and Sakura.

The unknown and yet familiar smell of your perfume pierces like ice-cold needles into his chest, his gut. Somewhere deep inside his mind the sombre wall fractures a little.

“No harm’s done,” he hears the sound of his own voice answering. For a moment he is taken aback at how raw his voice sounds.

And when he sees your relieved smile the anger in his stomach dissolves into agony.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

You shake your head, the vision on your clothes jingling along gently. “No. At least unless you’re from Inazuma too?”

Wanderer’s throat has gone dry at this point. “No," he replies, his hand clenches onto the box of the candle, which he still clings to like a lifeline.

“I’m just a wanderer.”

[triciawritesstuff]

Content: post-break up with Juntae

Pairing: Seo Juntae x reader

Cw: angst, lowkey insecure reader, tears

You mindlessly walked through the streets of Seoul for what felt like hours. The sun had gone down, disappearing into the west. A stark reminder of the early sunsets and the icy darkness that would be soon to consume you. The sight of your own breath lingered intermittently between each exhale. Somehow, the winter in the city felt colder this year.

You dont know why you thought this would work out. Like somehow , it would be different. It always ended this way. The endless cycle of self sabotage was relentless.

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket; for what felt like the nth time today. Your cold hands fumbled to reach for it, clicking it on, the light from the screen illumining your features through the darkness.

Hundreds of missed calls filled your notification bar. All from the same boy. Seo Juntae. Even just reading his name made you feel a deep ache in your heart. You hated feeling responsible for the pain he was feeling. He will just move on—he has to.

The wind whipped at your cheeks, infiltrating through the gaps in your thin sweater. If he was here, he'd definitely scold you for not wearing your coat. Recalling the time you'd once recklessly forgotten it during a late evening date, stupidly not taking into account the rain predicted on the weather forecast. You remember the warmth you felt inside you– as he wrapped his thick woollen scarf around you both. Drawing you both closer together.

You catch yourself smiling, forcing your mouth into a tight-lipped grimace. Trying to remember the biting frost that continued its advances on you. Fingers aching, hurting to move, as you attempt to open your texts.

Juntae

–hey

–can we talk soon

–I don't want it to end this way

–hello????

–just lmk where u are just wanna make sure ur safe

–ring me when you can okay?

The guilt pangs through you in waves. The constant feeling of not being good enough served as a reminder of why you ended things. Even now, you were letting him down.

You shifted awkwardly, trying to regain the feeling in your legs. Shifting from one foot to another, pushing through the pain. You weren't sure if there wasn't any part of you that wasn't succumbing to the icey feeling.

The phone vibrated in your hand again. The screen lighting up. It was him. Calling. Your brain told you to ignore it– but your heart yearned to just hear the soft tone of his voice. You picked up the call.

The sound of wind crackled through the other side of the phone. You stood there, in silence, waiting for him to say something–anything. "H-hello? Can you hear me?" The sound of his voice poured into your ears, and you're sure it reached your soul.

"Hi juntae," You wisper, mouth dry, not prepared to speak.

"I haven't heard from you in days. None of us have—Are you outside?" He questions, concern clear within the words. You wonder if he can hear the wind through your side. "It's dark out– you should be at home, just let me know where you are." He begs, almost a hint of desperation.

"Just go home, Juntae." You spit out through gritted teeth. Jaw clenched. "You're not my boyfriend– not anymore." The malice evident in your voice. You hope he doesn't push it further because you know it will all come crashing down if he sees through this lie. Tears prick at the back of your eyes.

"I still care about you. Why are you being like this– I don't understand what I've done–" He pauses, "but I'm sorry." You can feel cracks forming around your heart. Feeling like it was about to be split into two. You can feel the tears cascading down your cool cheeks.

"Don't apologise. it's not your fault—please don't blame yourself." You say through quickened breaths, hoping he can't hear the pain in your voice.

"Just tell me what I can do to fix this– we can figure this out together." He murmers. The emphasis on together stirs something inside you. "P-please, just tell me where you are. I need to see you."

His words make you melt. It's always been your weakness. You falter for a moment, debating whether you should let this happen. "Okay." You pause. "I'm by the river."

You can hear his breathing speed up and the sound of quickened footsteps through the other side of the line. He was running. "Stay where you are– I'm coming." He says in-between breaths.

You listen attentively, gazing up at the sky. The wind stilled. The absence of light may have been unforgiving, but the stars were out tonight.

[fligniuz]

your building’s on fire (and i’ll catch you)

luigi mangione x reader

｡𖦹°‧ your boyfriend feels bad. you take care of him. ‘nuff said.

word count: 3k • sfw • read on ao3

tag list : @mangionebabymama , @mangobabygirl , @jenisaswift13 , @mangionesdaisy , @iinfinitelimits , @daydreamingwithluigi , @nephris

warnings : none really! gender neutral reader; some language; hurt/comfort; soft sweet fluffy good times :-)

notes : this was written after gi’s feb. court appearance and i think that mullet had crack in it or something like i was on one…also title frommmmm:

Luigi has been down lately.

It only makes sense, of course—the past few weeks have been nothing to write home about. Work is slow and family is still as complicated and annoying as before and sleep has not come easily of late.

And his back, as is typical, has been of no help whatsoever. His back, as is typical, has made his problems worse, rubbed and irritated them, like salt in a wound; some might think he would be quite used to his entire mood being hampered by his condition for a month or so, a slump every once in a while, but the truth is that it’s never “familiar” for him. His pain is not “familiar”, not a daily obstacle he manages to break through—it’s invasive, violating, downright sadistic. It’s overbearing and petty. It sucks the passion out of him, locks even his dearest comforts far, far away from him, leaving him to bang against the cage with his fists and chew his way through its metal bars to escape.

What is one blessed with a jacked-up spine and a heart that yearns for activity meant to do? Fuck all, apparently, since there’s no magic pill he could take that can fix a slipped vertebrae, and getting his back sliced open for a fusion sure as hell hasn’t proven itself to be of much use (so far). Luigi has always been welcome to a challenge, but chronic pain is a beast with no solution, and he’s had about enough of dealing with it.

So much for pain management.

It’s safe to say that Luigi has quite a lot to complain about—but Luigi doesn’t complain. He internalizes. He carries his burdens deep inside of him.

You find him on the couch when you come downstairs, curled up on his side and mindlessly watching Seinfeld reruns on the television. This was nothing unusual, but still never any less heart-wrenching to see; you’ve always tried to be as supportive of Luigi as you can be, especially during his dark days—you accompany him to his appointments, remind him to take his meds when needed, massage him with your gentle hands, encourage and reassure him every chance you get. But the one thing you can’t do is take his pain away from him.

“Hey, babe,” you greet softly. “Whatcha doing?”

Luigi makes a sound between a grunt and a sigh, a little harumph. “Moping,” he says simply.

Kneeling down to meet his height, you ask, “bad day?”

“Not a bad day,” he clarifies. You cup his face with one warm hand and he burrows into your palm, long lashes fluttering. “Just feeling bad.”

“Hurting?”

He nods, meekly. “A little.”

In Luigiese, “a little” tends to mean “a lot”. And there isn’t much that helps him when he hurts a lot. Not much but you.

“Why don’t you let me run you a hot bath?” you offer, smiling tenderly. “You can relax and I’ll wash your hair for you.”

Luigi usually does quite like it when you join him in the shower and help him care for himself—but right now he slumps further into the couch, looking sort of guilty.

“You don’t have to do that for me,” he says.

You sigh. “Sweetheart, I want to.”

He cringes, like it’s physically too much for him to come to terms with how much you love him. Truly. Not the fake, choreographed shit in movies and romance novels and even Seinfeld, for god’s sake—whatever it is you feel for him is as real as the heart in his chest, beating with an intensity that could stand a chance against a tsunami.

“But it’s weird,” he protests. “I’m not a baby.”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“It is not weird for me to take care of my boyfriend, Luigi.” You tilt his chin up slightly so that he can look you in the eyes, watch your lips move as you speak. “And you’re not a baby. You’re a grown man with a disability and you deserve to be tended to when you need it, and you certainly shouldn’t feel wrong for accepting that from someone who cares for you.”

Well, he feels a bit like an idiot now. Sometimes you say things that leave him speechless, which is rare—but it’s one of his favorite traits of yours. Always has been. You blow him away.

“Oh, and another thing:” you add, “so what if it’s weird? I’m weird; you’re weird; we’re fuckin’ weirdos, baby. We’re the weirdest people in the world and I love it. Why should we be normal?”

Luigi smiles. Chuckles to himself. Kisses you. “Go start the water.”

And you do, skipping to the bathroom to turn on the faucet and prepare some towels for him. You grab his Sun Bum shampoo and conditioner from the tub to have them closer to you and when you leave briefly to grab a cup from the kitchen you pass him with a grin—but ultimately you beat him back to the bathroom, fingers testing the water as he walks in.

“Hi,” you greet. You’re sitting on a stool right next to the bathtub, sleeves rolled up above your elbows.

He blushes under your stare. “Hi, baby.”

It takes him a minute or two of lingering and looking around, like he’s never seen his own bathroom before, but eventually he starts to strip, ducking shyly into the filled tub.

“How’s the water?” you ask as he sinks into it.

Warm. Warm and like a salve for his spine, holding him tight between invisible arms.

“Good,” Luigi nods. “Splendid.”

So you come closer to the tub with your cup and scoop some water up, guiding him to tilt back so that you can wet his hair. He winces slightly at first as you begin to pour it over his head, but he eases quickly, eyes closed and pretty face rested. Yes, this is nice. The water is the perfect temperature, enveloping his strained skull, soothing the headache that’s been slowly building all day long—and your hands are like magic, so delicate and kind. He could almost fall asleep right here in the tub, but he resists the urge so as not to drown. You would be quite upset if he were to be so clumsy during a moment like this, he thinks.

And sleep will come later. Easily. Always does when you take care of him like this, when he gets to fall asleep in your arms knowing that even if the world were crumbling to pieces you’d be right here, in this apartment, waiting for him.

When his hair is sufficiently wet you set down the cup and reach for the shampoo, squeezing a dollop into your palm and then rubbing your hands together. You work them into a lather quickly and slather your fingers through his curls—you can only guess that he hasn’t paid himself such attention in a very long time, so you make sure to wash him right, scrunching the froth into his hair thoroughly, sluicing each individual lock until not a single spot on his head is left untouched. Eventually you move your hands up to massage his scalp, curling your fingers slowly, and you smile with pride and overwhelming fondness when Luigi’s eyes flutter shut in tranquility.

“Lean back, my love,” you murmur, coaxing him with a soapy hand on his chest.

And when he does you collect water in your cup again, dousing his curls and taking extra care to rinse the shampoo meticulously. With his face so close to you and his eyes closed you can admire him all you want; you resist the temptation to trace the light freckles on his cheekbones, his strong nose, further down, just to feel the uneven stubble growing on his jawline against your palms. His furry eyebrows are neutral and his soft lips are set in a straight line, pouting slightly. If you weren’t bathing him you would be kissing his face all over.

You dip your hands in the bathwater to rinse them clean before you reach for his conditioner, again working it into his hair, just a little at a time. As you brush it through his curls from top to bottom he speaks up:

“You’re very gentle,” Luigi says, hardly more than a whisper.

“Yeah?” you smile. “Is that a good thing?”

He hums, a soft mhm rumbling in his throat. Then:

“I’m sorry about what I said before,” he adds. “This isn’t weird. It’s really nice.”

He’s the sweetest boy with the most tender heart. You hold his head steady and lean forward to press a kiss to his forehead, catching soap on your lips.

“You can have this anytime you need it, sweetheart,” you whisper.

And then you rinse your hands again and stand, turning towards the cabinet.

“What’re you doing?” Luigi asks.

You retrieve his shaving cream and razor, smiling. “You’re getting hairy. You need a shave.”

He blinks, heart swarming with the knowledge that you’re willing to dedicate so much of your time to grooming him and helping him look his best. “You’re not going to rinse my hair?” he asks.

Sitting next to him again, you shake your head. “Not yet. The conditioner needs to sit for a few minutes.”

“It does?”

You nod.

“I guess I’ve been using conditioner wrong until now,” he says, grinning. And he soars when you smile back and lean forward to kiss him, this time on the lips, quick and soft.

His face is somewhat damp from having washed his hair, but you dip your fingers into the bathwater and bring them up to his cheeks, jaw, and neck, wetting his stubble to your liking. Once the lower half of his face is sufficiently slick, you grab the can of shaving cream and pump foam along his jawline, smearing it into his skin.

Luigi has never had anyone shave him before, most certainly not you—and he likes this quite a lot. It feels candid, domestic, sickly sweet like nothing he’s ever experienced before, and he’s starting to think that he might be perfectly fine with letting you shave him all the time, for as long as you’re together. And he feels more like himself when he’s clean-shaven; crisp and handsome. He’s definitely not complaining if it’s you helping him.

You hum a little tune as you drag the razor along the slope of his jaw—something that’s been on the radio recently, for sure, because it sounds fresh to his ears. He relaxes under your touch and puts all his effort into sitting still, more so for his sake, but your hands are careful (if not a little shaky) and slow, moving with utmost caution.

“You don’t like me when I’m hairy?” he jokes when you move to swirl the razor in the water.

“Babe, I’d like you if you were a werewolf,” you laugh. “It just gets in the way sometimes. You know?”

With two fingers you tilt his chin up so that you can stroke his throat with the razor.

“I’d be a very hairy werewolf,” Luigi says.

You make a quizzical face. “Do you think your wolf self would carry over your Italian genes? Like, would you be an Italian werewolf?”

“It’s not like I’d lose them when I transform.”

Smiling, you shave the other half of his neck and ask, “well, would your fur be as curly as the hair on your head?”

“It would have to be,” he answers, like it’s obvious. “My hair type wouldn’t just change, just like my genes wouldn’t change. I’d be a curly Italian werewolf and I’d howl at the moon for you.”

“You’ve thought a lot about this,” you quip.

He smirks. “You’re the one who brought up werewolves.”

Shaving him does not take long. You finish up the other side of his face easily and wipe him clean with a damp washcloth, admiring the smoothness of his skin under your hands. There’s already much more light and color in his face than when you found him sulking on the couch—the thought brings a pleased smile to your lips, and at the sight Luigi leans forward to kiss you, now bare-faced and feeling back to himself again.

“Mmm,” you hum with delight when you pull away. “Now I don’t feel like I’m kissing a cactus.”

Luigi giggles like a child. “You’ll never guess what my Reddit username is.”

“What? Something about cacti?” You roll your eyes playfully. “You’re a dork, babe.”

“That’s Mister Cactus to you.”

“Oh, I see,” you nod with faux disapproval painted on your face. “I suppose I’d still love you if you were a cactus.”

He kisses you again. And again. And again. Until you pull away.

He whines.

“Hold on,” you whisper. “You can kiss me as much as you want once I get you out of this bathtub.”

You grab your cup again and fill it up, guiding him back and soaking his slick curls in water. The wild hairs at the nape of his neck and over his scalp get the most attention as you rinse him, stroking his sensitive skin with your blunt nails, and Luigi can’t help but smile to himself at the feeling of it. Everything you do to him feels so right. Feels like it’s meant to be, like he’s never known anything else other than this, you taking care of him. He feels silly for trying to deny himself this peace when you first offered it to him—he had never imagined how much relief your loving hands could provide.

“All done,” you announce, running a hand through his clean, wet curls, glistening under the bathroom light. “Feeling better?”

“Good as new,” he confirms. For the most part, it’s true. You can’t take away his pain, but you can make it easier to forget about. And you’re really, really talented at that.

“Want to stay in the bath a little longer?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “Water’s getting cold. And I want to cuddle you.”

“Okay, sweetheart.” You plant a kiss on his lips and grin at him. “C’mon. Let’s get you dry.”

Luigi stands up and you are quick to hand him a fluffy towel, giving him room to step out of the bath. He sweeps over his arms, legs, and torso and wraps it around his hips, sitting down onto the toilet seat as you come close to him with another clean towel.

The sound of the tub draining fills the room as you speak. “Let me know if I hurt you,” you urge him, and he nods.

And then you bring the towel up to his hair and ruffle it over his head, working it in your hands like you’re drying a wet dog. His giggles are muffled under cotton. Precious. You want to bottle them, wear them around your neck like a music box. After a while his curls begin to lose their moisture, so you throw the towel into the hamper and disappear quickly to grab some comfy clothes for him—but not without muttering a “be right back”, of course.

When you come back to the bathroom he’s looking at himself in the mirror, smiling like an idiot.

“What are you giggling about?” you ask, handing him his clothes—boxers and lounge shorts first, “You had me at Hello World” shirt next.

“My hair,” Luigi says, pointing at it simply, like the humor is right in front of you. “I look like Kramer.”

“That the one who dresses like a thrift shop?” you ask.

“Kramer?” He looks at you curiously, then shrugs. “I guess he dresses kinda weird. But he’s got crazy hair. Looks like he got struck by lightning.”

“I like your crazy hair,” you say, reaching up to thread your fingers through it. It’s still a little damp and leaves your hands feeling slimy. “You’re cute.”

He blushes, blooming mauve pink in his cheeks and his marked nose. One of your favorite views in the whole world. “Whatever. Let’s go to bed.”

You lead him to the bedroom by his hand, not even bothering to tidy up the bathroom—it can wait until tomorrow, because it always can. When the two of you are tucked away in your safe space you go to pull down the covers, gesturing toward the bed, and he follows your directions without question, laying down on his back.

And as you pull the sheets and the duvet on top of him, he asks, “are you tucking me in?”

Chuckling, you shush him. “I’m making you comfortable. Don’t be a grump.”

Once Luigi is settled in bed you shuffle around the room to get changed yourself (your shirt is quite damp by now), sneaking glances over your shoulder between each article of clothing you pull off and on; he’s already quite cozy, eyes shut, blanket rising and falling with the force of his breathing. When you’re finally in your pajamas you crawl into bed next to him, and he flips onto his other side to face you instinctively.

“Hi,” you smile, pulling him close to you under the covers.

He smiles back. “Hey.”

For a while the two of you bask in the silence—Luigi particularly enjoys the feeling of your hands in his hair, petting softly, the sound of your own breathing slowly lulling him deeper, deeper, deeper into sleep…

But before he’s out entirely, he speaks:

“Thank you for tonight.” He nuzzles into your warmth, presses his forehead against yours. “Thank you for caring so deeply. Not that you don’t always care, but tonight it felt especially strong for me.”

And, after a beat, he adds, “I really appreciate that you take time for me. I’m not used to that. I’m trying to handle it better, I guess.”

Your thumb traces his brow bone, strokes over his cheek and beside his eye. “I love you, Luigi. I love taking care of you.” You kiss him and conclude, “I hope you let me do it for as long as we live.”

A lazy smile spreads across his face. “Love you,” he murmurs, already closing his eyes again.

Your hands still brushing through his hair doesn’t help keep him awake much longer.

^ divider by cafekitsune

[neuvislover]

☆༉ — 𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝔂 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶𝓼 𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓷. 𝓘'𝓵𝓵 𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮.

pairing. neuvillette, wriothesly, lyney, chlide, cw: slight sexual themes, no smut, gn!reader genre: fluff, established relationship

about. genshin men having baby fever

request. Hiii, I saw your requests open, so I was wondering... Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Thoma, and Childe + baby fever, showing it as rubbing/kissing reader's belly or being clingier than usual

note. I apologize that this took so long and that I've been away for quite some time but I hope u enjoy this

𝓦𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓵𝓮𝔂 — the realization hit him hard, and it hit him deep. he wanted a family, and he wanted it to be with you. the mere thought of you all swollen up with his child in your stomach elicited all sorts of emotions inside him. the vision of you rocking your baby to sleep as returned home after a long day made his heart light up. the thought of you sleeping side by side with a mini him brought a dimension of bliss. He couldn't wait to see you having his child, couldn't wait to build up a family with you.

𝓝𝓮𝓾𝓿𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮 — the thought of having a child had been lingering in his brain for days. he is trying to ignore it, pushing it aside yet every time he sways his thoughts it is just getting stronger day by day. his hands were wandering around your stomach rubbing and caressing your soft skin. taken aback by the sudden affection neuvillette showed you because he was typically not the first one who gets needy in the morning. so you fixed your position to see his face properly. cupped both of his cheeks with your palms and laid your forehead on top of his “neuvi what’s wrong?”. he didn’t answer you albeit he pulled your waist closer to him and ran his big palms on your stomach.

“just thinking, my dear”

𝓣𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓪 — he has always had a soft spot for children. whenever he sees kids playing in inazuma city he can't help but smile and feel a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. he’s always quick to help a child who’s fallen down, offer them treats, or entertain them with funny faces and stories. thoma reads books and articles about parenting, wanting to be well-prepared. knitting up adorable baby clothes, He enjoys every second of it, thinking about the day he’ll dress his own child in them. he often finds himself smiling at the thought of little everyday moments—like walking through the market with a baby in a carrier or tucking a child into bed with a bedtime story.

𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓮 — grinning as he watches your smile widen at the baby in front of you both at the store. a playful giggle fills the air, warming his heart as he imagines a future home with you and the baby. childe is already very family-oriented, often talking about his younger siblings and how much he loves them. his baby fever stems from this deep familial bond and his desire to create a family of his own. despite these thoughts, his eyes remain fixed on you as you bag the groceries. you ask if everything is okay, and he responds with a gentle smirk and a kiss on your temple

"Hmm, just perfect, sweetheart."

𝓢𝓾𝓻𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓖𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽!:

𝓓𝓲𝓵𝓾𝓬 — tho he doesn’t openly show his feelings but often watches families and children with a soft, contemplative look. He sees parents with their kids in mondstadt and feels a deep yearning for a family of his own. diluc yearns for a family of his own and starts making small gestures hinting at his baby fever, like buying cute trinkets or toys when he sees them. he prepares himself mentally and emotionally for fatherhood, practicing patience and empathy. diluc carefully discusses his dreams and hopes for a family with you and secretly plans how he would decorate a nursery in the winery.

[sparkriddledfever]

I am not sorry for this...maybe a twinge :)c

Old mech Rodimus, save the old mech Rodimus-

Warning: have them tissues on standby. Please excuse any incorrect grammar or punctuation.

Reader is loosely mentioned. Can be seen as human or cybertronian.

Rodimus was now understanding Kup straight down to the core. His joints hurt, they creaked each time he sat or stood for too long; he can practically hear the old sergeant bleating in his audials with a smug tone, "told ya, kid."

He could deny it all he wants but he missed him. Some nights, his processor made him stayed up late with the harsh need to remember what the mech looked like. He wished to see that old mech standing in front of him again. Nagging, smacking the back of his helm when he pushed it too far, patting his shoulder as a reminder to keep going and put up a good fight. Always believing in him when others didn't, trying to keep him above the waters of his own processor that threaten to drown him.

Rodimus could only remember bits and pieces of their last conversation before the sergeant passed away quietly. He really tried to be there and be present during the funeral but the death of Kup took a toll on him. He kept running, running far til the plating on his pedes became worn down, new cracks and chips forming on what was once his maintained frame. There was Drift- wait, who was Drift again? Ah, whoever the mech was, he must've been very important to him at some point in his life.

He counts every day a blessing to be able to wake up yet a part of him yearned for that peaceful darkness to welcome him. It felt like many pieces were missing from his spark; parts that he wanted to go differently if his own race wasn't so destructive. Faces come and go that's for sure though he knew deep down he had a family once. One he called with such pride before it was ripped away from his servos.

He shed many tears until they became all dried up when recognizing he still had a job to do. His race was responsible for almost all of the stars erasing, for the destructions of homes, tearing and ripping apart loved ones without a care. He's not a prime no more, he has no more bots to lead. Not after he took them all out. Both sides regardless.

He's tired, he wants to sleep. He wants to go home yet where was it? Nyon was gone so is the Lost Light.

"You alright there Rodimus?" He blinked rapidly to clear the haze that overtook his optics, shifting them down to the young blonde female sitting next to his pedes. He grins weakly down at her,

"I'm alright Shib, m'just tired is all."

"That's what you always say, Rodimus," her lips quirked that slowly turned into a frown, "you've been staring off into space for a while now. Is everything okay?"

He clicked his glossa, "don't worry too much about it. You think this old processor can't handle a few things?"

A unamused glance had him hissing a bit, "sheesh, tough crowd here."

"You don't have to-"

"I know. I know, Shib. It's just still feels a bit raw to me."

"Oh."

The sun began its descent on Donnokt. His spark clenched at the sight of the shadows growing bigger, the sky reminding him of Earth. He misses that planet and the memories it made both good and bad.

"I miss them," he began, "I miss...everybody. I miss my home, my friends and...them."

Shib glanced at him, "them?"

He huffed, "them. I was conjunxed or in better terms married. I had a partner, I can't remember quite well if they died peacefully or you know."

"Rodimus-"

"And yanno what's worse?" His voicebox crackled, "is that each time I power down. I wanted to go, they keep appearing to me. Waiting in a distance, asking if I'm ready to go. If I'm ready to see everybody. I could see my reflection and I looked young as I once was. I wanted to, but I kept telling them no. My job is not done yet."

"Roddy-"

"Please," he grits, "just...just don't call me that, Shib. I lost that privilege of being called that many years. I've done things I'm not too proud of. I'm fixing this, the mistakes my people done so you can all live without the worry of a threat."

"...I didn't say anything?"

"What?" He blinked in surprise. Shib stares at him warily, teasing lightly yet worry was etched into her features, "I think it's far past your bedtime, old mech."

He stared long. A tired soft snort left him, "might be and so for you kid."

He nudged her side with a digit, smiling shakily at the giggle she gave and smacking his offending servo away. Rodimus glanced towards the sky one last time before shifting to let Shib in, silently sending a prayer of sorts to whoever was listening.

'Not yet please. I'm almost done I swear then I'll come home to you guys. Not yet. Not yet.'

"Roddy, I miss you and love you. We all do. Please come home." The voice echoed in his processor, the sound of it sent his spark surging. Sorrow and yearning pouring through him.

"Not yet."

[improbable-outset]

📂 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭.𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞

I think it’s about time I post the SFW version of this HC collection. Just like the NSFW version, I’m going to try and make this as accurate to his character as possible while putting my own input too. I wrote the NSFW back in September so there might be some HC that will be slightly different. My interpretation on Miguel’s character will evolve.

Also since the NSFW alphabet was written with a gn Reader, it’s only fair I do the same here too. Fair warning, going through these head cannons is NOT going to be a walk in the park 😭 just a heads up

𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

📄 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

There’s a lot to cover here but I’m going to try my best to summarise this headcanon. Given the fact that Miguel has experienced a complex family dynamic in the comic books, especially from his mother ridiculing him, I think he’ll have a hard time expressing affection

And on top of that, he’s been isolating himself to keep the multiverse in balance. So having receiving affection like that will be foreign to him since it’s not something he grew up with

I mean you could point out that he showed Gabriella devotion and affection as a father because he didn’t want her to experience the same shitty childhood he did growing up

After the dimension collapse, he’s more closed off and reserved. It’ll take a lot of effort to build that trust in someone again and openly express his emotions

Going back to his background now, even after Miguel tried to fix his relationship with his mother, he was always brushed off and was seen as self-centered. This would definitely reflect in his relationship having grown up being misunderstood

📄 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I think this depends heavily on the timeline on when you actually meet him. We’ve all seen the post credit scene in the first movie when he was testing out the gizmo for the first time

I know we've only seen a glimpse of his character but I can’t imagine him being as cold and bleak back then as he is now, after he broke the canon

That being said, I think it would’ve been easier to be friends with him back then. Sure, he would’ve been a sarcastic asshole sometimes (affectionate) but at least he wasn’t closed off and easily irritated as he is now during ATSV

But if you’ve met him after the incident of Gabriellas’s dimensions collapse, let’s just say it’ll be a rocky road. It’ll take a while for him to break that outer shell (do not underestimate when I say a while). I think Jess is probably the only person that could get through to him, possibly Peter too.

It’ll take time. It’ll always take time… you can understand why he’s angry and stressed

📄 𝐂𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

We can collectively agree that this man is touch starved and I don’t just mean sexually. As much as he hates to admit it

Once you both made your relationship official, it’ll be you that would rest on his chest first whenever you would need comforting. He’s used to being relied on— whether it’s serving his partner or when leading the Spider Society— not the other way around. He can’t bring himself to be dependable on someone just yet

But later on, when he does break down that barrier and swallow his pride for once, you’ll get him to rest on you. Initially he does deny that he needs such comfort but if you coax him enough, he’ll give in

He’ll be stiff at first with his head on your chest and your arms wrapped around him, but with each passing second he slowly relaxes his muscles under your embrace

Sooner or later, he’s melted under you and if you're lucky, he’ll fall asleep. Poor guy needs a break

📄 𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Deep down, underneath that hard exterior he secretly desires to settle down with someone. He yearns to come home to someone that will be excited to see him and just be present in his life. I haven’t read the comics yet so I’m basing this off ATSV Miguel but, he hasn’t experienced anything like that. I feel like he has fantasised to be in Peter B Parker’s shoes a few times where he can go home to a family

He’s grown accustomed to coming home to an empty apartment with nothing but his AI assistant to keep him company. But just because he’s used to it, doesn’t mean he likes it that way

After he lost Gabriella, the gravity of his loneliness really hit him. Especially given the fact that it wasn’t his official family, it was his variant’s and he was just replacing him

The grief still stayed though. He knows he’s never going to have that family again and now he’s back to everything being hollow

Once he does finally get to settle down I can imagine him struggling to adjust to his new lifestyle, now that he’s living with his partner

At first he’s barely home, always in HQ and busting his ass keeping everything in order because that’s what he’s used to

But after he realises his old habits, he tries to amend himself. He’ll try and put more effort in domestic tasks just to be around you more. Sure, he still has that underlying stress and he’s still getting used to not being cooped up in his office. But that feeling will subside once his habits change

📄 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I think this depends on who’s at fault here, the reason why your relationship has ended. But it’ll highly likely be because of Miguel’s overworking habits and not putting priority on the people he cares about

Sure the multiverse is important but he can get another Spider Person like Jess or Peter to take care of it while he takes a break. But he doesn’t

Throughout your relationship, you try to help him change his habits and his routine so he can live a healthy and more fulfilling life. Even grow a family together if that’s what you want. Unfortunately there’s only so much you can do and everything just feels like one step forward, two steps back— even after you communicate that with him and give him so many chances

He’s probably too blinded by his stress to even realise the harm he’s causing in your relationship. He finally gets that wake up call when he comes home to see you pack your bags

It’s up to you where you want to go from there…

📄 𝐅𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I know in the comics, he did propose to Dana and as much as I’d love to see him as a husband and be his pretty little housewife, he can’t make that sort of commitment unless he heals from his past

If he wants something solid with a healthy and long lasting marriage, he needs to sort himself out otherwise there will be consequences later on down the line. Unresolved emotional baggage can lead to him being emotionally distant and unexpected outbursts

Even if he doesn’t mean to hurt you, there’s still a part of him that’s still wounded and he’ll bleed onto people that don’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his heated outlet. He needs to be able to be open with his partner if he wants to commit to them

Didn’t expect this sort of turn lol. It will take time but I think Miguel might want to settle down and if he truly wants it to happen, he’ll put in the effort

📄 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Miguel knows that he is a big man and he’s aware of his strength which is why he’s always careful with you. Obviously the last thing he wants is to hurt you physically

However, when it comes to emotional, I think he’s the one that needs to be handled with care. Like I mentioned before, he’s living a post tragedy so it will be hard for him to be vulnerable at first

There are times where he’ll have outbursts but he’ll never in a million years resort to hurting you. He’ll regret even reaching his tipping point afterward though. You don’t deserve that when all you’ve been doing was looking out for him

📄 𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I wouldn’t say he’s much of a hugger. Not openly anyways. He’s not good with PDA and would rather show his affection, both physical and emotional, privately

But if you do initiate the hug, he wouldn’t refuse. He probably needs it anyways. He would slowly wrap his arms around you and gently embrace you. I think he does squeeze a little after

With his big broad arms, he can easily wrap around your body. His hugs are warm and they always make you feel secure in his arms. His height makes it easy to envelope you too

📄 𝐈 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Oh boy….I could see this go either two ways.

One: he’ll either have a barrier around himself that will prevent himself from being emotionally vulnerable to avoid getting hurt. So he would have a hard time expressing his love vocally but will show you through other ways like act of service or being protective over you. He won’t directly say I love you unless you initiate it first.

Or two: he’s so distraught from his grief that the fear of loss still lingers. So he’ll take every chance he can get to remind you that he loves you with all his heart

“Te amo mucho.” “Te quiero.” “Eres el amor de mi vida.”

There’s that underlying fear that he’ll lose you, either by being snatched away from him like Gabriella or you’ll leave him one day. But at least you’ll know how much you mean to him while you were together. That will give him a sense of ease

Either way, both situations are driven by his tragic past. Though personally, I’d prefer the latter

📄 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I think Miguel’s jealousy will stem from the fear of loss again and the desire for stability in the relationship. Sure, he has support from his colleagues from the Society but that’s not the same as receiving devotion and love from a romantic partner

And because of that, he’ll be more vigilant about perceived threats to your relationship, driven by the fear of losing you. The vigilance could exhibit as jealousy if it means preserving that special emotional connection you both share and a tinge possessive over you too. It’s possible that this could be a defence mechanism for him after everything he’s been through

Not saying that he doesn’t trust you or anything, but I know that he will give anybody a death glare if they even look at you the wrong way. He knows his height and physique can be intimidating. This does go hand in hand with security that we will cover more on later

📄 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Awhh my absolute favourite prompt. I know Miguel loves kissing his partner on the forehead, giving his height and all. It’s just so sweet and tender and he’ll probably do it throughout the day when he can’t vocally express his love

He loves watching you try kiss his cheek especially if you’re shorter and stuggling to reach. He just finds it so endearing. He’ll bend a little so you could reach his face and peck his cheek of course. He loves your kisses too

The first time you both shared your first kiss was after the third or forth date. He bent over to reach your eye level while you lifted your head up

He held your face gently and titled his head before he leaned in. God bless Kris Anka for giving this man such smoochable lips by the way

📄 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

You would think that after he lost his daughter, Miguel would be eager to be a father again. He would love to have children of his own.

Yeah…think again. I don’t think he’ll agree that easily. You can’t tell me that the idea of having children again wouldn’t trigger some sort of relapse. He’ll either think he wouldn’t be a good father or he wouldn’t want to replace Gabriella.

Call me bleak, but he just watched his daughter disappear in his arms (and committed omnicide) and is left emotionally traumatised.

Even if we all know he’s not at fault and he was unaware of the consequences at the time, that’s not going to stop him from blaming himself.

Initially he would probably abstain from having children until you came into his life. Seeing your character, not only as a partner but your personality in general, will probably shift his perspective a little

The thought of being the father to your children will probably motivate him into being better for your sake. He can’t imagine having children with anyone else now especially seeing the way you interact with other babies like Mayday

An added bonus if you’re carrying his child. He will place his hand on your bump to feel the baby kick and I think that momentary bond with his unborn baby will resonate with him.

📄 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Morning routines can be pretty peaceful, especially with you around now. Waking up next to you makes everything better for him ten folds

He’s usually the first to wake up (no surprise) and goes to the bathroom to get ready for the day

By the time you’re up he’s already in the kitchen. Unless you’re an early riser too. Before you got together, he’s breakfast would consist of instant coffee and maybe a toast if he’s lucky

But now with you around, you make sure he has a proper meal before he starts his day. And he has noticed that he’s more alert and aware after a nutritional breakfast. He’ll always be grateful for that

📄 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Night routines aren’t as blissful though. There are some nights where he wouldn’t be home, probably in another dimension tackling an anomaly again. It comes to no surprise being in a relationship with a superhero

But that doesn’t make it any less lonely for you. Your heart does ache for him and you’re always worried about his safety. Some missions take days and it’s hard to predict when he’ll be back home

But when you finally do get to share a night together, things are more content. You would either spend the evening cooking together or watching a movie. Either way, you’re grateful that he’s safe at home

📄 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Initially, Miguel was reluctant on expressing himself with you. He doesn’t want to put his burden on you even though he constantly remind him that you’re his partner. You’re there to support him, yet he still insists that he’s fine

And because he bottles everything in, his behaviour is effected whenever you’re together. Easily irritated, uncharacteristically quiet and only giving one word answers

He quickly realises that keeping everything in is doing your relationship more harm than good and you’re only getting hurt in the process

Slowly but surely, he eventually opens up, revealing layers of himself to you overtime. This could include sharing his past, his fears and his dreams which builds a deeper connection between the two of you

📄 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

You know, the first time I was introduced to Miguel, I saw him as a ticking time bomb. Ready to burst any second. But it didn’t take long to realise his perspective on things

The only reason he was pissed off in the movie was because he was challenged. Imagine busting your ass trying to keep the multiverse in order so you wouldn’t have to repeat one of the biggest mistakes you’ve done and then someone comes in and puts it at risk

Sure, the way he acted out was uncalled for but like I mentioned before, unresolved emotional baggage

However, when if comes to his partner, he’ll put more effort into being more patient with things. Building that trust and intimacy will take time but it’ll be worth it. When it comes to your relationship, he’ll avoid rushing into expectations and let things happen organically

I know he’ll be good when it comes to respecting boundaries, especially the fact that there will be moments where he would want to be alone to collect himself. He will know you would follow through and it’s only fair that he would respect any of your wishes too

📄 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐞𝐬.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I think he’s pretty good when it comes to remembering what you like. I know that later on in the relationship, he’d love to learn more, what makes you tick, the good and the bad, and what will instantly boost your mood. I wouldn’t say he would remember the nitty gritty details about you but he will remember the important things.

It’s the least he can do after everything you’ve done for him and giving him the safe space he needs

However, he’s not very good when it comes to keeping up to date with special events. I’ll get into more details later on so you can understand where I’m coming from

📄 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫.𝐝𝐨𝐜

This is going to sound a little corny but Miguel’s favourite memory with you is when he finally built the courage to be emotionally vulnerable with you for the first time

You can imagine how this was a massive step since it’s all foreign to him. He was hesitant when he was venting to you for the first time, with his head resting on your lap and your hands running through his hair

That was when he felt the weight being lifted from his shoulder. Being a leader and having people rely on him for everything was draining but you saw past all of that. You managed to see the man inside him after unravelling the hard exterior. A momentary bliss in his blaring background noise of his life

That was the first time he realised he had found his person. Someone who saw the gray instead of seeing things as black and white

📄 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Being a superhero and a leader of an elite force, Miguel will naturally be protective over you. His commitment to you also means keeping you safe from any danger not just as a civilian but as a devoted lover too

This also ties in to his fear of loss just as I mentioned earlier about his jealousy. Except this extends beyond mere jealousy with a genuine desire to shield you from harm

There are different ways he will express his protective nature such as creating a safe space for you or anticipating potential threats that could put you at risk before it could even happen

📄 𝐓𝐫𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Does this man put effort into your relationship…

You guys might hate me for making him look like a terrible partner. I’m just trying to be realistic here… but I think he won’t be best when it comes to remembering special events like anniversaries, birthdays and whatnot. It’s not that he doesn’t try

This guy is literally dimension hopping throughout his daily routine at work as well as keeping the Spider Society together.

I know that going to different dimensions is probably gonna fuck up with his internal clock and he’ll lose track of the days very easily

I’m not trying to make excuses for him or anything. He’s a busy man and overworked (like I didn’t reiterate that enough). But if it really upsets you, I think you should really communicate with him. Remind him of those special days because I know it’ll probably slip his mind. If he cares about you he should try to make time for you, right?

But on the other hand, he might even surprise you when you least expect it. You’ll probably assume that he’ll be in another dimension that special day and you come home to see him surprise you with gifts and such. I can imagine that happening too

📄 𝐔𝐠𝐥𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Wouldn’t really call this ugly but this is a huge flaw that isn’t talked about enough

After the broken canon incident we already know he’s left traumatised but I think he has some untreated PTSD too and he refuses to get the help he needs

He doesn’t want to be seen as a ‘broken leader’ (his words maybe) when he has so many people from the Society relying on him (toxic perfectionism?)

Unfortunately for him, if he doesn’t tackle these issues now, it will affect his relationship in the long run

📄 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I think we can all agree that Miguel naturally does put effort in his look, whether he’s single or not. He’s clean shaven and his hair is slick back everyday. So I can imagine a morning routine with him making himself look good. And I think he knows he looks good too

But when it comes to going out on dates and stuff, he will definitely put more effort in his appearance

I can see him asking Lyla for advice on what to do on the first date and how to make himself look more presentable, especially if you’re someone he wants to take seriously. He’s a little rusty with these things but he’s a quick learner too

📄 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I can’t see Miguel having the whole “my partner is my other half” belief. I think it’s an overstatement to him.

But if you’re both compatible enough, he will be aware that you bring out the best in him. Whenever he’s on the verge of overworking or overly stressed out, you’re always there to keep him grounded and give him the pep talk he needs to hear. He’s never been supported and loved while simultaneously reprimanded for his bad habits like this

Without you he realises that he’s a mess but now that you’re here, he has that drive to be better not just for the sake of your relationship, but for himself too. He has somebody special to look forward to seeing after work now

So sure, his partner doesn’t make him ‘whole’ but you do make him a better man and that’s all he needs

📄 𝐗𝐭𝐫𝐚.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Finally, I can say something wholesome about this man. So I know that he has a personal gym near HQ where he would train and keep in shape.

I have a strong feeling that he enjoys it when his partner watches him work out. It’s a serious ego booster for him. At first he was a little weirded out that you would just stare, it wasn’t something he wasnt used to, but now he loves it when you admire him from afar.

It gives him that extra motivational boost to do better. He loves it when you steal quick kisses between each sets too.

Speaking of which, you can’t tell me that one scene in the movie when he flawlessly destroyed those grenades from the vulture that he didn’t do it with a smirk under his mask. He knew he ate that.

📄 𝐘𝐮𝐜𝐤.𝐝𝐨𝐜

Something that he wouldn’t like in his partner. I can’t lie, it was pretty hard to pinpoint with this one but after brainstorming, I think I know what he wouldn’t like

This might be controversial since this trope is pretty popular but I don’t think the whole sunshine x grumpy trope will work with him

Maybe in a different universe where he’s not responsible for the stability of the multiverse, something that is a life and death situation, while leading the Spider Society and already has a lot on his plate. But unfortunately that’s his life now. He’s given up too much to stop now

The last thing he needs is a partner who’s overly optimistic and doesn’t see from his perspective. The fate of the multiverse is in his hands after all

He’s been misunderstood his whole life. He needs his partner to just be present and listen to him and not tell him to keep his chin up when he’s not in the right state of mind for it. He needs someone who understands the gravity of his responsibilities

📄 𝐙𝐳𝐳.𝐝𝐨𝐜

I’ve mentioned this before but I’ll say it again. Miguel suffers from insomnia and gets repetitive nightmares of the multiverse collapsing one day. Sometimes his mind constantly relives the moment of his daughter fading away in his arms.

He just can’t get a rest from that.

But after being with you, they do eventually calm down. Listening to your steady breathing as you sleep, nestling in his arms or on his chest really helps calm his nerves.

Call me Miguel’s psychologist the way I yap about his fucked up mental state. I wanna write Miguel having some sort of melt down while reader comforts him but I know no one wants to read that 💀 properly will post it on ao3

Here’s the NSFW version if you’re interested

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @patchesofwork @monarchberrysblog @miguelbaby @swiftyangx12 @tarjapearce @smokeywhalee @lazyjellyfish300 @ghost-lantern @jadeloverxd @scaleniusrm @wandasfifthwife @ultravioletrayz @theorphicangel

Anyways, I’m logging off and going to bed

- Ayrus xox

[niceboyeds]

are you free next week? (e.m)

eddie x fem!reader

WC: 2.9K

18+ MDNI

contains: explicit content, 18+ only (minors do not interact), sexual content, dream sequence smut, light dom!eddie, soft/rough dynamic, yearning, suggestive language, swearing, semi-public setting, some delusional levels of pining

a/n: this is what happens when you combine bed chem delusions, eddie munson’s hands, and my last remaining brain cell. hope you enjoy🤍

masterlist

"Robin! please wait up!" you stumble through the crowd of partygoers, desperately trying to keep up with your intoxicated and flight-risk friend.

focused solely on keeping an eye on her whereabouts you lose the ability to pay attention to your surroundings, fully body-slamming the person who moved into the doorway on your way out. your head meets his chest with a noticeably loud thud.

“shit! sorry sweetheart.” his voice is soft but present, two large hands reaching to cradle your face so he can get a good look at you.

“n-no you’re fine. you’re…” you look up and finally notice his face, its gentle. a head of dark, messy curls and soft button eyes. but it’s the smirk on his face that makes a shiver run down your spine. yeah, he was fine. “sorry for running into you…”

“Eddie.” he smiles, releasing you from his hold and allowing you to take a step back from him, fully able to admire the rest of him.

hell, you’d let him take you right there in the middle of the party in front of everyone. he was built to perfection from what you could see, your imagination ran wild thinking about what’s yet to be discovered.

“Eddie.” you repeat, smiling back and holding his gaze. that was until you remembered what made you run into him in the first place. “shit— i gotta, sorry my… Robin!!” you spot her in the front lawn of the house across the street, attempting what you can only guess is a cartwheel but will surely end in a grave injury you had no capacity to deal with.

wrapping your arm around her waist gently you sneak a glance back into the party, locking eyes with your newest infatuation— Eddie.

you lay your drunken friend into your couch once you arrive back at home, the stench of party still lingering in your nose. you help set up Robin with a makeshift bed and wander down to the restroom, your body aching to be consumed by hot water in a proper shower.

but still, you find yourself surrounded by thoughts of Eddie. the way his soft smirk lit up his eyes, his strong hands holding onto you.

you blame the tequila. and those fucking dreamy brown eyes. and the way he said sweetheart like he’d known you forever.

you don’t remember falling asleep, just the sensation of warm water hitting your skin and the heavy ache of tired limbs sinking into bedsheets.

somehow you’re still at the party. the same dim lighting, same brass thudding in the background—but everything’s slower. softer. there’s a golden haze hanging in the air, like you’re walking through a memory dipped in honey.

you turn around and he’s already there. leaning against the wall like he’s been waiting for you all night. curls wild, eyes dark and fixed only on you. he doesn’t say anything at first, just offers a hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“thought you’d never show,” he says, and god, that voice— low, teasing, familiar like a song you didn’t realize you knew by heart.

you don’t speak, just let him pull you closer. his hands land on your waist like he owns the space, like he’s meant to be there. you press your palm to his chest, feel the steady thrum of his heart beneath your fingers. everything else melts away.

his lips ghost over yours skin, sending a spark straight down your spine. you think about pulling away, surely this is impractical. but it doesn’t matter— your body’s already answering for you, tilting into him like a magnet.

his mouth finds yours like he already knows what you taste like— deep and warm, yet careful. but then his hands are everywhere. calloused palms dragging over your skin, down your waist, gripping your thighs like he’s been waiting to touch you forever.

he pulls you down the hallway, opening a bedroom and cautiously locking it while still fully attacking your face. somewhere between the kiss and the gasp you don’t remember giving, your clothes are gone, all but the lace panties you’re soaking though this very moment. you stand there in front of him as he takes one painfully slow look up and down your frame.

he lifts you up without hesitation, flipping you over and pushing you into the mattress on your hands and knees. your lace panties are halfway down before you can blink— yanked off you with the desperation of a starved man— but you can’t help but giggle when he gets caught up removing them at the ankle.

“i don’t think you’ll be laughing when we’re finished here, babydoll.” you can hear him smirk from behind you, hearing a zip from his pants and a small clink from his belt dropping onto the carpeted floor.

you go to say something snarky back, but your back arches before you can answer. your mouth opens but nothing comes out— just a sound, half a moan, half his name. your body betraying you as you groan loudly while he slams his thick cock into your soaked pussy.

“holy shit!” you finally scream, pushing back to meet his heavy thrusts, filling you completely. his large hands grasp your shoulders, raising you from the mattress so your back is flush against his bare chest.

“there you go— take it. take it like a good girl.” he whispers in your ear, his lips suckling down your neck. his ringed fingers find their way to your breasts, toying with your nipples before slinking down to your needy clit.

he rubs his fingers purposefully, like he knows your body better than you know it yourself. “you gonna cum for me, baby? huh? you gonna cum around my fucking cock? god look at you, fucking beautiful and a complete mess around my dick.”

his fingers move faster as you feel him twitch inside of you, "c'mon sweetheart, cum with me."

you're right at your breaking point, both of your movements becoming sloppy and you cry out, "fuck yes! don't stop— yes, yes, yes..."

a loud thud causes you to sit up, a sweaty mess in your bed— alone. embarrassed and equally frustrated you crawl out of bed and investigate the noisy intrusion.

"Jesus Christ Robin! you scared the shit out of me!" you whisper, pushing her playfully. she stood in the doorway, half asleep and still drunk from the nights' events.

"sorry! i rolled off the couch and forgot where i was." the two of you giggle before you just drag her into your room and crawl into bed together.

"can i tell you something— no judgment..." you whisper into the dark room.

"of course, spill it!"

"i had a dream about that guy from the party... Eddie." you feel your face flush, but a smile creeps onto your face despite the fear of embarrassment.

"wait like Eddie, Eddie?? Eddie Munson??!" she squealed, turning over in the bed to face you, you know she's grinning ear to ear without even seeing her.

"ugh yes! i don't know what it was, but the way he looked at me and the way he touched me— Rob i... i think he and i would have really good bed chem..."

days came and went, but you'd still randomly find yourself thinking about Eddie. and like those days— today was no different. slouched over the counter at Family Video, head resting in one of your hands as you flip through the magazine you hoped would distract you.

maybe it was the way his eyes lit up when he smiled, or the way his ringed fingers held your face, or the way his voice sounded when he called you sweetheart. something about him weaseled its way into your brain and you were completely infatuated with him.

"welcome to Family Video." you mumbled when the bell on the door chimed, alerting you to a customers presence.

"hey sweetheart." the new yet familiar voice rang in your ears, waking you from your daydream.

"h-hey! how are you?" standing up straight and admiring the smile fixed on his face.

"good, good. just returning these.. a couple days late, I'm sorry." his hands pushed the movie rentals towards you, his hands still wearing those damn rings you had thought about so many times. how you wanted them to hold yours, how you pictured them around your neck and—

"y-yeah, of course." you cleared your throat, trying to appear less distracted by him simply existing. "and don't worry about the late fees this time, i never return mine on time and i work here."

he chuckles at your words, a larger smile forming on his lips and what appears to be a slight rosy color creeping onto his cheeks. "thanks, i appreciate it. and maybe i'll uh.. see you around more often?"

"yeah, maybe." you don't even need to guess, you know your face is as red as a tomato. he turns to leave the store and you wonder if you should say anything more.

the bell on the door chimes once again and you find yourself with a sudden burst of confidence. a voice in your head urges you on, say something. do something.

you follow him out, opening the door, repeating to yourself "don't be a coward."

"hey Eddie?" he spins around, it feels like a movie— slow motion as he takes a couple steps back towards you. "are you free next week?"

[rottenmeatsack]

Girls on Film || Boothill x AFAB Reader (NSFW)

Prompt || The life of a galaxy ranger is one where you work alone, so Boothill wants a little something to keep him company on the lonely nights (Can be considered a continuation of Phone Call) - NSFW UNDER THE CUT / MINORS DNI

Warnings: Filming during sex, masturbation, penetrative sex, general weird cyborg anatomy (again), AFAB reader so she/her is used once again, slight belly bulge reference but nothing extreme, creampies yet again, I’m sorry all I write is Boothill so far 3 Duran Duran if ur out there I’m so sorry I used ur song to title my freaky robot smut forgive me.

***

Boothill is lucky to find shelter.

Tracking down the scumbags of the universe comes easy to him, but it’s only at the end of the hunt when he could finally find some rest.

As a Galaxy Ranger, he knows that he should be thankful for any place he can lay his head down, although this body of his no longer tires. It doesn’t sleep, it doesn’t need to eat, and it certainly doesn’t need a bed to rest in. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t indulge, this is a luxury and he knows it. 

So he truly relaxes when he finds some shabby motel to hole up in for the night, the bed is nothing to brag about but it does the job when Boothill sits back and kicks his heels up. Although deep down maybe he’s grown spoiled, because he notices how the bed creaks underneath his weight and it makes his nose wrinkle. He knows there’s somewhere else— someone, else —he’d much rather be giving his company too right now. 

“Her bed is always comfier,” he mutters, but it doesn’t matter, it’s one of those lonely nights and he’s itching for just a taste of luxury again. He reclines back on the mattress that dips beneath his metal’s weight, his hand reaching into the pocket of his chaps and prying out his red-cased cellphone. In this new life there are only a handful of things that truly give Boothill the warmth of the living again, the burning taste that comes from whiskey, the acrid smoking scent of gunpowder, and most of all the special companionship from another person’s body.

He mutters her name as he unlocks his phone, the blank screen coming to life and illuminating the mostly-dim motel room. He can’t help but grin as he opens his albums, and in that moment he misses her more than anything.

He can’t say he has a home to come back to, but if he had to say he’d call that girl of his the closest thing to it.

Although he’s left her behind for days now, the path of a Galaxy Ranger is one walked alone, he couldn’t take her with him even if he wanted. It would be selfish of him to even think of it. She has her own life, her own career, her own cozy home— and it makes Boothill jealous in a way, because while her door was always open to him he couldn’t dream of settling down with her. Not when he had this path to walk. 

The separate roads they take doesn’t stop him from indulging in the luxury of her warmth, and on these lonely nights where his only company isn’t her but instead the stars, he likes to remember her— and yearn for her. 

He opens a certain album on his phone, it’s only unlabelled like the rest of them, but he knows it’s the one he’s looking for when he sees her smiling face looking back at him. Her ___ eyes gaze at him tenderly through the phone screen. There had to be dozens of photos of her by now, taken by him, sent by her, it didn’t matter so long as he got to keep them. He stops, finally finding the one video he was looking for, “There it is.” he murmurs, his thumb pressing down on the small thumbnail, when he releases it the video expands to full-size and fills the screen. It automatically starts playing without him so much as pressing anything else.

-

The camera-work is amateurish, shaky at best, but it does the job. When the blurry lens finally fixes on her face, her skin is flush with sweat pebbling above her brow. She’s entirely bare, for a second the shaky camera’s hold catches a glimpse of her clothes on the floor before the camera focuses on her and only her once again. She looks at the camera, her gaze flickering down to the ground for only a moment before turning up to the person holding the phone itself— she smiles at Boothill. “It’s still a little embarrassing.” she admits, but she leans back against the bed and spreads her legs. “But I don’t mind, if you want to keep recording,” she says, tucking one hand underneath her knee and raising one of her thighs up to her chest.

The camera focuses on her dripping cunt, she’s already soaked, it’s obvious that they’ve already been going at it for a while before she reaches her free hand down and spreads her pussy apart, revealing her hot and wet hole to the camera. Although her bashful expression is still caught on film, her eyes are unable to stay locked with the phone as she glances away.

From just out of frame Boothill’s own hand reaches in from behind the phone and traces along her jaw, she leans into his palm, resting her cheek in his touch while his thumb traces along her bottom lip. She gives the digit a brief kiss, before his thumb slips into her mouth and pressed down on her tongue. She closes her mouth around the intruding metal, “You spoil me too dang much,” Boothill’s static-laced voice says from the film. "You sure, baby?" he asks, and she nods her head, giving a little "Mhmm," in turn.

He shifts his weight on the bed, and presses his cock up into her dripping pussy. He rubs it against her for a moment, grinding the fat underside against her swollen clit all while catching it on camera. The way he thrusts his hips up against her is slow and languid, he takes his time as he adjusts himself with his one free hand, pressing the tip just slightly against her wet hole. He makes sure to savor every inch sliding into her warm cunt, slowly but surely stretching her around the thick girth of his modded-cock. She cries out around his thumb in her mouth, her head tilting back into the sheets beneath her as she’s overwhelmed with the dull burn of being filled all over again.

Whatever patience Boothill had disappears, he immediately begins a vicious pace of fucking her into her own bed. Her body rocks up and down, the sound of metal hitting flesh mixing with her soft little moans and the bed creaking, all emphasized by the bed frame groaning in protest.

-

In the motel room Boothill’s chaps are opened, it’s haphazard and sloppy, but it’s enough for him to slip his cock out and immediately begin pumping it desperately. His metal hands aren’t comfortable, but they’re warm enough that if he tries to keep his focus on his phone in front of him he just might be able to finish. His eyes are trained on the screen, his lips curled as he grunts and groans along with the audio coming from the speakers. He’s watching himself fuck her all over again, and he can’t tear his gaze away from their joining. Watching and remembering the way it felt to fill her cunt up with his fat cock had him drooling, and by the Aeons, he could see the slight swell in her navel from how far he reached— he groans, the hand between his legs increasing its furious pace while the other grips his phone a little tighter.

-

She’s crying out, her sweat slick body bucking up into his hips just as desperately as he’s driving her down into the sheets. Her thighs tremble and twitch, hands uselessly clutching onto anything they could before Boothill’s free hand— the one not recording —reaches down and grabs her thigh, making it join the other against her chest as he begins to drive into her with everything he had. She’s a wreck, hair splayed out beneath her while Boothill relentlessly pounds her poor but well-loved cunt. “Fudge, you’re so pretty.” He says in the recording, although it’s nearly buried under the grunts and groans that fill the room. “So, so pretty, baby.” 

“Mmfh— Ohh—” she slurs her words around his thumb, he slips it out of her mouth and runs the spit-soaked metal over her bottom lip. “I’m gonna— cu— cum—” she pleads, and Boothill responds by giving her a hard slap of his waist against hers, making her whine as their hips are pressed flush against the other. “Right here is where you like it, right?” he mumbles almost to himself, tilting his hips and driving deep until he’s sure he’s slamming into her g-spot. Her eyes go wide before she’s tossing her head back into the pillows, chest pushing out and towards the camera while she cries out from his relentless pace. He lets go of her thigh only to press his palm flat against the bulge that’s pressing up against her navel, he can feel himself through her tender  flesh and her hips jolt and she screams through her teeth. 

Boothill continues to fuck her through her orgasm, now desperately chasing his own to the point the camera shakes near violently until he has a better grip on his phone. He curses— at least he tries too, tracing the shape of himself through her navel before his hips still against her own. He presses as deep as he can, muttering censored curses thanks to his synesthesia beacon, but before he knows it he’s filling her up until she’s absolutely dripping from the seams. Streaks of blue translucent fluid begin to drip out of her stuffed cunt, until Boothill pulls his slick cock out of her now open hole with an especially wet ‘pop’. She gasps as each inch drags out of her, groaning when he finally slips out.

Her hips are twitching in the aftermath of her orgasm, and it doesn’t take long before his cum spills out of her and stains her bed sheets. He reaches down between her stained thighs, using his thumb to spread her pussy apart and she whimpers at the contact. He focuses the camera on her fucked-out cunt, making sure to catch every second that his cum drips out of her in thick globs. He runs his metal digits over a thick strand that spills out of her, only to press it back inside with his middle and index fingers. 

- The video ends just as Boothill does, his phone is thrown aside while he continues rutting up into his hand. It’s messy, the blue fluid running down his fingers and staining his own navel, but he doesn’t care in the moment so long as he can chase that fleeting high. He drops into the bed with a huff, the heat in the room is suffocating but he’s sure that’s his own systems being near overload. He uselessly thrusts his hips up into the air, wishing that it was her that he was fucking this desperately and not his own hand. He can almost taste her warmth on his tongue all over again, the idea making him groan before his hips drop into the bed and he’s left in his own mess.

It takes him a moment, but when he finally comes down from his high he finds himself slack in bed with his cock limp against his lower-stomach plating. He'll have to clean himself off later but right now all he cares about is how good this shitty motel-bed feels, there's a bang on the wall behind him, whoever is neighbor is in this rundown lodging is surely going to complain about the noise coming from Boothill's rented out room. Boothill could care less, he lays in bed with his eyes closed and his phone laid by his side. The video plays on repeat automatically, "It's still a little embarrassing," he can hear her voice from the speakers again. That soft, sweet, voice of hers.

“Fudge,” he breathes out in between ragged panting breaths, face red with blush and his cables buzzing with heat that still had not been dispelled from his frame. “I need to pay her a visit again.”

[drunkenlionwrites]

Hi!! Saw that your asks were open for Vash stuff 👀 "Decay" always gets me in my feelings. Your writing is so good 😭🫶

What would Vash look for in a partner? Green flags? Red flags or icks? What's his tolerance threshold for a partner's pet peeves?

oh my god! thank you so much! it's been like 2 years since I've written that short ficlet, but I still remember how it felt writing it. thank you for reading my stuff! 💖💖 as for your questions, i tried to answer to my best ability. hope you enjoy 😅 Red and Green flags in a s/o for Vash

Green Flags – What Vash Would Love in a Partner

Compassion, even in the face of pain This is something pretty on the nose and obvious, but this is huge for Vash. You don’t have to follow in his footsteps and be the one who deeply cares about every single person they meet, but if you’re someone who can show empathy even when they’re angry or hurting—someone who chooses mercy or understanding instead of vengeance? That’d feel like home to him.

Patience and emotional availability Vash doesn’t open up easily, not because he doesn’t want to, but because he’s scared. Scared of pulling one more innocent person into chaos of his life. Scared of being the cause of your hurt. On a deeper level – scared of revealing his true monstrous nature to you. A partner who’s gentle, who gives him space but stays close—that kind of person could earn his deepest trust.

Playfulness He loves to laugh, tease, and find joy in little things (donuts, right?). A lighthearted, fun spirit would be a balm for his heavy heart. Someone who can meet his silliness with warmth and play along would ease into his heart much faster.

Stability without control Vash carries so much chaos—internal and external. A grounded partner, someone steady but not controlling, would be like an anchor for him.

Red Flags – Things That Would Make Him Pull Away

Cruelty or casual violence Vash might seem carefree, but he has an incredibly low tolerance for people who hurt others, even in small ways. Someone who mocks people, lashes out when angry, or takes justice into their own hands violently? Total dealbreaker.

Manipulation or dishonesty He’s been betrayed and hurt too many times, he’s seen people at their worst. He would totally try and look at the situation from your side, be understanding and forgiving. He could be the person to push you to be honest and earnest. But deeper connection and trust? Would need to be earned.

People who mock or belittle his ideals Vash’s pacifism isn’t just a belief—it’s a century old wound, a vow, a lifeline. Someone who ridicules that or tries to "fix" it would shatter the bondsignificantly.

A savior complex Ironically, while Vash devotes himself to helping others, he’d have a hard time with someone who sees him as a project.

His Tolerance Threshold

I strongly believe that it would take years for Vash to actually enter a romantic relationship with someone. First comes yearning, then his desperate tries to just bury any inconvenient feelings deep down. Cause it’s not a suitable time for such frivolous things. Then it’s cause he’s not a suitable person for his romantic interest in his mind. He’ll confess or accept a confession when the agony of not being with the person he loves outweighs the agony of being in constant fear for their safety and feeling like he’s letting them down by being selfish and keeping them close. So, by the time Vash is actually in a relationship – he knows his s/o like the back of his hand and if there was anything he slightly didn’t like - it was not to the point of being an actual ick.

But for things like pet peeves? He’d be endlessly tolerant. Snoring? Fine. Weird hobbies? Cute. Being clumsy? He’ll trip with you on purpose just to make you laugh.

[littlest-w01f]

Guilty As Sin

Elain Archeron x Azriel

For @elriel-month

Music fic Masterlist

Days 8-11: Guilty As Sin

Summary: Elain and Azriel thought Winter Solstice with the visions that follow the Seer at every glance

Cw: Smut visions, yearning, angsty ending Smut 18+ MDNI

a/n: I wasn't really planning on this, but the prompt was kinda asking for it cause I do songs, and I couldn't stop thinking about this sooooo this is a gift.... Enjoy <3

Drowning in the Blue Nile

He sent me "Downtown Lights"

She stood on the balcony of her room in the Town House, sighing as she gazed at the full, hanging moon and the twinkling stars. The chill air of the Winter Solstice kissed her skin gently, giving the hairs of her arms goosebumps.

The beauty of the Night Court still caught her by surprise at times; it was all too beautiful, so much so that she felt it was a fantasy. She waited for when she'd eventually wake up from this lovely dream and return to the human lands, waiting to marry her human Lord.

Elain looked to her side, the beautiful dress that Feyre had laid out for her, a soft pink, with ruffles on many skirts and flowers embroidered on it, a light puff on the sleeves. This had to be a dream, she'd never seen such a beautiful dress before, she picked it up, placing it over her form to admire in the mirror, "Aww..." She cooed at herself, already imagining herself wearing it later for Solstice.

I hadn't heard it in a while

My boredom's bone-deep

With soft steps, Elain Archeron padded down to the main halls bustling with activity, Feyre and Cassian already two bottles deep on wine, Azriel and Rhysand reprimanding the pair as they tried to fix the decorations. She found herself smiling at the scene, even if a hollow filled her, she wished to join them, her family, and laugh with them. Still, she sneaked past them and into the kitchen to find her new friends, Nuala and Cerridwen, already cooking.

In the latest days, baking and cooking brought her peace. Donning an apron to begin kneading dough, feeling it melt under her hand, she loved showing her love for her family through food. As she watched the dough rise in the oven, Feyre came to talk to her, her words bringing up memories of her talk with Nesta.

This cage was once just fine

Am I allowed to cry?

She shook her head of the memories, not wanting to think of it. She sliced through bread, giving Feyre quick and short replies, not wanting to think of how Nesta had just left after the war. How she stopped reaching out, and when Elain tried to reach her, she'd yelled at her like never before.

She turned away, telling her sister she was fine, everything was alright.

I dream of cracking locks

Throwing my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks

As the rest of the Inner Circle walked in, Cassian approached her, pressing a kiss to her cheek before he lifted her out of the way, and Elain smiled despite herself.

She greeted everyone as they went by, Amren nodding, Mor greeting with a kiss to both her cheeks, Rhysand simply shaking his head at his brother, giving her a smile.

Crashing into him tonight, he's a paradox

Then he walked in, a glass of wine in hands, wings folding back to reveal a simple pair of black pants and shirt, his shadows melting to the corners of the room, to reveal his face fully to her.

Elain's throat went dry, stilled as she looked him over in all his beauty, the way he carried himself, the way he turned to her. She didn't even realize when Feyre left to take a seat.

"Hello..." She whispered, as if time itself stood still.

He stepped closer. Her eyes were white.

I'm seeing visions, am I bad?

Or mad? Or wise?

His hands, those scared, beautiful hands over her waist, drenched in combined sweat, back arched, moans falling from her lips. She could feel the thick length of his cock driving home inside her wet, warm, cunt. Home.

An imprint of his cock pressed in her abdomen, he was too much, too much in the perfect way as his hands gripped the plush skin of her hips, pulling her closer as she cried, almost painfully, lost in pleasure, "Ah- Ah- Ah-"

Breathy moans in the air as she covered her face to drown the sounds.

What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

His hands scratched down her thighs, wrapping them around his waist for a better angle to go deeper, as if it was even possible, his cock pressed against her walls, kissing her cervix with each thrust.

He moved his hands between their bodies, finger rubbing circle's around her clit. Her legs trembled as he put pressure on her sensitive clit, the inner muscles of her cunt gripping her tightly.

They moved as one, sounds of skin slapping against skin, her moans, his grunts, the only sounds audible.

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

Her hips bucked wildly, meeting each powerful thrust, taking him impossibly deeper. The stimulation on her clit sent shockwaves through her body, pushing her closer to the edge.

With a guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt, his hot seed erupting deep inside her spasming cunt. Waves of intense pleasure crashed over her, making her toes curl and her back arch off the bed.

They rode out the aftershocks, gasping for breath as he collapsed on top of her, still buried deep within her quivering heat. Their sweaty bodies stuck together, heartbeats syncing in the aftermath of their passionate coupling.

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss, how I long for our trysts

Elain blinked, snapping out of her vision, a blush colouring her cheeks as she looked at a now concerned Azriel, hoping he wouldn't be able to scent her arousal.

"Sit. I'll take care of it." Azriel said instead, taking he dish she was holding.

Elain stood silently with her hands still out, as if still dazed, heart hammering from the vision she had of his—their future. "I—I’ll be right back."

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

She rushed out, breathing heavily as she closed the door to her room, looking at herself in the mirror, the vision still clear in her head, of his hands, her body pressed into hers, the way he touched her.

Shaking her head, she entered the bath, washing her face, and sighing. She let her eyelids flutter shut, allowing the cold water against her skin to calm her racing thoughts. But the vivid images persisted, seared into her mind. The feel of his strong arms around her, the taste of his mouth, the sound of his ragged breaths.

I keep these longings locked

In lowercase, inside a vault

She sat at the edge of the tub, letting her hair fall over her shoulders, threading her fingers through it. Slowly, she soothed her heart, calming it of the feeling she held so close to her heart, slowly braiding her hair as she tried to empty her mind of it.

She stepped out of her room, apron off, hair redone, with a nod to herself as she made her way downstairs, to where her family was feasting

As she descended the stairs, the savory aromas wafting from the dining hall filled her senses, grounding her in the present moment. She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering haze of desire that clung to her like a second skin.

Someone told me there's no such thing as bad thoughts

Only your actions talk

"Please don’t wait on my account," Elain took her seat at the head of the table, noting how no one had started eating. Cassian glaring a Azriel. Azriel ignoring him.

She looked around, feeling a layer of tension in the air as she reached out to start filling her plate with food, Cassian only starting until she was done, making her wonder if something had happened, with the way Cassian had glared at Azriel, if the shadowsinger was behind none of them eating before she returned.

"Still getting used to it?" Feyre broke the silent tension, asking Amren, the ancient being, now a normal High Fae, Elain relaxed.

These fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath

Taking all of me, we've already done it in my head

Elain stood silently on the night of Winter Solstice, studying the darkness of the sky, looking deep into the abyss. She'd had another vision during dinner, nights before, him and her, tangled together, declarations of love were said, of commitment, of belonging.

And all that had triggered the vision was her stretching before getting up, her feet nudging against his.

He stirred slightly, then wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he murmured, "Always. You and me."

She smiled, turning her head to capture his lips in a slow, sensual kiss, pouring all her feelings into it, wanting him to know how much he meant to her. They stood there for a long while, lost in each other, the world fading away until they heard the distant chime of the clock tower signalling midnight.

If it's make-believe

Why does it feel like a vow we'll both uphold somehow?

Elain caught Feyre moving towards her from the corner of her eye, but the voice she heard wasn't her's.

"Happy Solstice." Azriel whispered from the opposite side, his voice soft, gentle, no sigh of the scary warrior she'd heard he was.

She turned to face him with a smile, finally looking away from the snow.

What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

Azriel tipped his head back and laughed, deep, joyous as he held the gift Elain had got for him, headache powder, since he rubbed his temples so often. The sound was unlike anything anyone in the Inner Circle had ever heard.

Cassian and Rhysand joined in, Cassian held the bottle from his brother's hands, turning to Elain, "Brilliant."

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

Elain blushed at his words, at the way Azriel now looked at her, hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. "Thank you. This will be invaluable."

Elain's breath got caught in her throat, his gaze never leaving hers, as if he was drinking in every detail of her expression, the flush on her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes. In that moment, Elain felt seen, truly understood, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

My bedsheets are ablaze, I've screamed his name

Building up like waves crashing over my grave

Groaning above him, she went up and down his thick length, in the secrecy of his home, her cunt swallowing up his cock, her hips moved downwards, moving in a sensual rhythm as she rode him, taking him deep inside her with each downward motion. The leathers creaked softly with the friction of their joining, the only sound amidst the stillness of the night.

His hands gripped her waist, guiding her movements as he watched her, mesmerized by the erotic dance of their bodies entwined. His breath hitched as he felt her clench around him, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure through his veins. "You're more than invaluable to me."

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

His words were a whisper, a vow, a promise of things yet to come. And in that moment, surrounded by the quiet intimacy of the night.

His hands tightened on her waist as he pulled her down harder onto his thick shaft, burying himself to the hilt inside her tight, wet heat. He groaned low in his throat, overcome by the intensity of their connection, the way her body seemed made to fit perfectly with his.

Their eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between them—this was more than just physical attraction. There was a depth, a richness to their bond that neither wanted to ignore or deny.

What if I roll the stone away?

They're gonna crucify me anyway

She stood in the River House, quite after the Winter Solstice, her soft steps padding alone, when her eyes landed on Azriel. She halted, her breath catching in her throat.

"I..." She swallowed, a gift in her hands, "I was coming to leave this in a pile of presents. I forgot to give it to you earlier." She lied.

The gift, something to put in his ears, to block the sounds Cassian and Nesta undoubtedly made

What if the way you hold me is actually what's holy?

If long-suffering propriety is what they want from me

Her mate was just a level up, but the way Azriel chuckled, with him was where she wanted to be. "I wasn't sure if I should give you your gift." He whispered.

He couldn't do it in front of him, of their family, and Elain understood, feeling a tension shift in the air as he pulled a velvet box from his shadows.

Elain sucked in a breath, exaling softly seeing the pretty necklace nestled between the plush cussions, his shadows shifting off him and into the darkness.

They don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly

I choose you and me religiously

"It's beautiful." She breathed, taking the necklace, admiring it, a thing of secret, lovely beauty. Hues of red, pink and white. She looked up at him as his shadows took the box away, "Put it on me?"

She exposed her back to him, feeling him sweep her hair to the side, exposing her neck to him. Scarred fingers on his neck, almost melting at his touch. Azriel took his time to clip the necklace around her neck, making Elain shudder softly. She turned on her heel to face him, standing so close yet so far, his hand flat against the back of her neck.

What if he's written "mine" on my upper thigh only in my mind?

He knelt in front of her, face hidden in the layers of her dress, licking and sucking at her cunt, his tongue delving deep into her folds, lapping up her juices as he savored her sweet flavor. His hands roamed her curves, caressing and kneading the soft flesh of her hips and thighs. He loved the way she tasted, the way she smelled, the very essence of her.

His tongue circled her clit, flicking gently before applying steady pressure, drawing out her pleasure. He could feel her trembling, hear her soft moans echoing, spurring him on to bring her to the brink of ecstasy.

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

She moaned, gripping his head through the dress as he continued to feast on her cunt, his tongue probing, swirling, suckling, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. Her grip on his hair tightened, nails digging in as she struggled to stay upright, overwhelmed by the intense sensations coursing through her body.

His tongue plunged deeper, fucking her with long, slow strokes as he devoured her dripping core. He could feel her walls clenching around his invading tongue, her juices flowing freely, coating his chin and lips. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, urging him on as he relentlessly pleasured her.

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss, how I long for our trysts

His fingers dug into her hips, holding her steady as he drove his tongue deeper, faster, revelling in her complete surrender to pleasure. Her taste, her scent, her very essence consumed him, igniting a hunger that only she could satisfy.

With a final, bold stroke, he sealed his lips around her throbbing clit, sucking hard as he felt her climax crash over her. Her scream echoed through the chamber, music to his ears, as her body shook and convulsed in his grasp. He drank in every drop of her release, savouring the sweet nectar as he brought her down from her high, his own need growing with each passing moment.

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

"Yes." Elain breathed. Just a taste, where only the Mother could see them, in the dead of night, where no one else might see them.

His hands laced through her thick hair, tilting her head up, he wanted it, she wanted it. She parted her lips slightly, eyes searching his before they closed. Giving him both offer and permission. He lowered his head towards her.

He sent me "Downtown Lights"

I hadn't heard it in a while

"This was a mistake." He said, voice forceful as he stepped back, hand pulling from her hair.

She opened her eyes, wondering if she'd heard him wrong, about what he wanted, "I'm sorry." She whispered, hurt in her eyes shining

"You don't—Don't apologize," He said, "Never apologize, it's I who should..." He shook his head, "Goodnight."

Am I allowed to cry?

She rushed back upstairs, the door to her room slamming as she sank down on her knees, sobs leaving her lips almost painfully as she cried, hair framing her face as she curled into herself, trying to hide from the world, she felt a shadow shift from her before it rushed to wherever it was Azriel had left.

{General Taglist- @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-angst @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo @mellowmusings @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tele86 @thelov3lybookworm @romanticatheartt @inkedinshadows}

[moonlight-prose]

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE

a/n: all i'm gonna say is this song is so benny coded i'm losing my shit over it. he's absolutely the man to leave you in tears by the end of the night. also someone stop me from writing heaps of angst for him, because i genuinely can't stop making wips in my drafts for him. this is entirely unedited because fuck it and i'm nervous he doesn't sound right, but oh well. the divider is made by the incredible @saradika-graphics.

summary: benny cross was trouble, he was a storm waiting to cause damage, he was everything you wanted. but men like him have a tendency to break hearts without even trying.

word count: 2.6k+

pairing: benny cross x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, crying, benny is a toxic man in this, emotionally constipated men, reader's favorite color is red. stupidity, violence, blood, fixing up wounds, makeup getting messed up, thigh riding, spitplay, he's filthy.

"He'll get you into trouble honey."

Five months ago you wouldn't have thought anything of the words Johnny said over a glass of whiskey, his eyes trained on the way you looked at Benny. The far off gaze that he'd seen cross his lady's face more often than he expected. At first it meant love—hope that you might finally meet the one you longed for—but reality always seemed to crash down around you quicker than you expected.

You laughed as if he told you a joke, a funny one liner that would be a distant memory on the day of your wedding to the man by the pool table. You thought nothing of his words and found yourself lost in the gaze of blue eyes and red knuckles.

You should have listened.

The door slammed shut with a resounding bang as you stormed through the small house—your jacket discarded over the leather chair Benny claimed belonged to him. Anger burned in your chest at the realization that one day...it wouldn't sit there. One day he'd leave and you would finally have the gall to throw that piece of shit outside. You glared at it as he followed you, shutting the door with a soft click, a distant sigh leaving his lips.

"Baby—"

In all the months you'd known him, Benny being scared was unthinkable. He was a man who made more trouble than he sought out, the same man who came home bruised, bloodied and begging for mercy. The man you promised to love forever. Yet when your gaze fixed him with a look that could have killed him if you weren't weaponless, you watched that small inkling of fear cross his eyes.

Benny was scared.

And not because he nearly got killed in a fight. Not because he leapt across the bar, a blade in his hand, and a smile on his lips. He felt terror at the thought that you—the person he found his little inkling of peace in—might finally be the one to turn him away.

Tonight very well could be your last straw in this relationship, the thing that finally cracked you in half, and Benny felt his heart drop to his stomach.

He swallowed thickly around words that would never leave his mouth, a cold sweat beginning to form along the back of his neck as you stayed silent. There was nothing either of you could say to fix what broke tonight. He threw the first punch and felt satisfaction at the crack that followed when his knuckles met bone and blood stained his skin.

"I'm s—"

You huffed, fingers curling into fists. "I swear if you so much as say a single word I will break your nose."

The grin that crossed his lips wasn't helping your anger—merely fanning the flames of something catastrophic—but he couldn't stop the thrill that nearly flipped his heart at your threat. His girl, so pretty and dolled up, ready to send a fist flying towards his face. Maybe he should talk to someone about why that made him smile. Why he wanted to kiss you senseless all of a sudden, until neither of you could breathe.

He should have realized it was fucked.

Instead he licked his lips and yearned for more.

Exhaling a deep breath, you closed your eyes to the image of him with blood still smeared across his knuckles and a bruise forming on his cheek. Johnny warned you. He told you Benny Cross was trouble. Yet even now, you found yourself unable to unravel the tangled thread that tied him to you. That set in stone your future with this man. You gave your heart over without thinking about the consequences. But wasn't that supposed to be what love is?

Weren't you meant to fall fast and quick and pick up the pieces later?

"Go sit down, I'll get the bandages," you muttered.

Thankfully, he didn't give you a fight on that front. He nodded silently, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, as he took a seat in his chair. You half expected him to let your jacket fall to the ground. Instead he folded it gently, placing it on the couch with enough care to break down a small bit of your anger.

He wouldn't speak. Not until you asked him to.

But he could show you he loved you in ways that went unnoticed by others, yet meant everything to you.

You returned silently, handing him the first aid kit as you poured alcohol on the once clean towel. A feeling he often fled from began to eat at his insides, clawing up his throat, as you bent down to evenly wipe at his open cut. He didn't flinch, barely even registered the sharp sting of pain. His mind was reeling, heart pounding, with the knowledge that he felt guilty.

"Johnny warned me," you sighed, seeing the beige towel begin to turn red.

Benny hummed, blue eyes meeting yours—that soft gleam of an apology shining through. You tried to avoid looking at him, knowing your resolve would break. Not even you could deny how irritating his gift for softening you up was. Yet somehow...you always let him get away with it.

"He said you were trouble."

"Johnny says that about everyone," he sighed. He wanted to touch you, to place his hand on the back of your thigh as you stood between his legs.

The harsh and final swipe at his cut sent pain down his face. Enough to have him reaching for you blindly, a soft grunt falling past his lips as you began to clean his bruise. You should have pushed him off, maintained your level of anger, but with Benny things became complicated. Anger bled into your love until you couldn't discern between the two.

Love and hate toed that invisible border between the two, but with him...the line simply disappeared.

"I asked you to stop fighting." He handed you the bandage softly, still trying to meet your gaze. "I don't like you coming home broken. Bloody. Do you think this is fun for me Benny? Stitching you up every time?"

His breath washed across your wrist, eyes falling shut as the guilt practically ate him alive. You could see the conflict on his face. A struggle he didn't know how to win. Fighting was all he knew, all he could count on most days, and whether you liked it or not, it helped him keep the control he desperately needed. The one thing in his life that remained unwavering.

"No," he murmured into the skin of your wrist.

"Then why?"

"I just gotta do it baby."

Bullshit always sounded prettier coming straight from his mouth. More often than not you took it without a second guess. You let him be the wild man they needed—the person who would fight without question. But tonight as you watched him pummel a man into the ground, you caught a glimpse of your future. Of the path that you willingly said yes to.

And it terrified you.

"I know the club needs you," you sighed, cupping his face and finally meeting his soft gaze. "I know Johnny needs you. But so do I."

The sting of tears wasn't unfamiliar when it came to Benny, but you wanted it to be different. You didn't want to cry over his mistakes anymore, you didn't want him to be the reason you were like this. He let out a breath, his hands reaching for hips with a gentleness that gave you whiplash. There was no resistance in your body left, no arguments to be had, because this was just how things were.

Benny Cross remained himself at the end of all of this.

Even as you broke in his hold.

Tucking your face into his neck, you allowed your worries to slip into the background. What more could you do? When you loved a man so reckless he barely remembered to breathe before jumping headfirst into danger. His hand ran down your back, lips finding your temple, as the night began to settle, and you found yourselves back in the same spot. In a position that felt familiar.

"You've got me," he murmured, feeling the collar of his shirt grow damp with your tears.

"The club comes first though."

"I don't know what you want me to say—"

You shook your head and pressed your face into his palm, his thumb running along the top of your cheekbones. "That's just it Benny...you can't say anything I haven't heard before."

A flicker of something foreign creeped along his face, peeking its head out before sneaking off again. A part of him that he'd never share with you. The trepidation, the grief, the worry that he barely let himself feel. How could he give that to you? How could he let you see it all without scaring the shit out of you?

Keeping that to himself was what kept him there. It stopped him from running at a moment's notice. And you knew that.

You figured it out the day you met him.

"C'mere," he mumbled, gripping your chin with the softness of a lover who yearned to apologize but didn't know how.

So you fell into his touch and let his lips slide along yours. You kissed him back with a worn out sigh of pleasure, your hands creeping along the neck of his jacket—until your skin pressed against his. Benny didn't kiss you with passion or fervor. He kissed as if he had all the time in the world to do nothing but. To tease out every manner of sounds that might be trapped in your chest.

His tongue dipped into your mouth, hand gripping at your hip as his breathy grunt was swallowed by your lips. By the moan you fed him—the need that echoed from your chest directly into his.

"You taste like me," he groaned, his hand finding the back of your neck at the same time he gripped your ass, pushing you a bit closer. Until no space remained but the clothes you wore.

You smiled, stealing a quick bite to his bottom lip he felt right down to his cock. "I taste like cigarettes."

"My cigarettes."

"You all smoke the same cigarettes baby."

He mumbled something you couldn't hear—not because you didn't try, you did—because he chose that moment to press his thigh between your legs, catching you in a kiss before the sound could escape. What you might have recognized as a soft warmth that spread through your stomach, suddenly burned you on sight. A whine spilled from your mouth, your fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck, and yet he merely smiled against your lips.

Whatever argument that might have continued long into the night, died in the back of your mind the second he guided your hips along his leg. The rough fabric of his jeans catching along the seam of yours. You wanted to focus on him, to see the slightest bit of crimson dust his cheeks, but the haze of bliss began to bleed into your vision. Blurring anything but him and his thigh and the open mouth kisses he tracked along your throat.

"B-Benny—"

The squeeze on your ass let you know he was listening, and perhaps you were too far gone to realize how your heart fluttered at the touch. Maybe he knew that this was too much for you to give up on. The unconditional pleasure he was willing to give you.

The ache he could fill with ease.

"That's it," he mumbled against the corner of your lips, gripping your chin in his large calloused palm. "Ride it. Take what you want."

Soft panting breaths was all you could get out with each stunted grind of your hips along his leg. With any other person you might have felt ridiculous. Like you were the show they were paying for. But with Benny...you existed beyond whatever this was; you were the person he'd ride to hell and back with. The person who gave him a reason to come home.

He watched you with awe in his eyes, his thumb rubbing along the eye makeup that you cried off. The mascara that you'd later have to remove with his help.

"How do you feel?" he finally said, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

If he wanted coherent sentences, he wasn't getting them. And some part of him knew. He could see the effort it took to even keep your eyes open as blinding pleasure began to course through your body. Ripping at what anger might have remained and replacing it with want.

His name was a soft sigh on your lips, eyes glazed and begging for that final push. When it came to you, he willingly gave in, gave you the need that he could feel in his own body.

"What do you need?"

He knew what would push you over the edge; could practically see the plea in your eyes. And his lips curled at the sight. Your hips dragged along his thigh in short stunted thrusts, working yourself past the point of feeling that blistering ache in your legs. Pulling your face closer, he pinched your cheeks slightly, silently waiting for you to follow his move. He wasn't a patient man, but when it came to you...he'd endure centuries if it meant getting to have you like this.

"I know," he murmured, sliding his nose along your cheek. "Lemme give it to you."

With a soft moan, your lips parted open, fingers grabbing onto the front of his vest in the hopes that it would stabilize you. He dipped down licking into your mouth with a groan, before the all too familiar sensation of his spit landing on your tongue sent heat flaring towards your stomach.

"That's a good girl." Your eyes fluttered, body trembling. "Swallow."

Few things existed that made him feel that flutter in his chest. The sight of your eyes rolling back as the release you'd been aching for finally spilled over and down your spine, was at the top of his list. He'd watch it on repeat without ever tiring of what he could bring you to. A feeling that if taken away from him, would bring a sane man to madness.

"Benny," you sighed, feeling his forehead press to yours, his chest heaving with deep breaths as he tried to settle his body. You needed a moment to gather yourself before he dragged you back to that comfortable bed you made him find the first week you began dating him.

"I'm sorry."

The words weren't a promise, nor a confirmation that a future spent with him would change. Or even be easy. But you took what little he could give. The pieces of his heart he let you have, even as he fought everything screaming at him to leave.

"I know," you whispered, giving into his hug, and soaking in the affection he offered.

You came to the conclusion that this is where you differed. You loved with everything, all that you could give of yourself. And Benny loved like the wind. There for moments of the day, but gone by the time the moon began its ascent into the sky. You never knew when you'd finally catch him for good—perhaps you never would.

His hold tightened, lips finding yours, and it was then you finally settled on the answer you'd been searching for. You didn't want to find out the future, because this right here...this was enough.

[miley-citrus]

🝮Helping Hand🝮/PartOne

Pairing: !fem reader x Maki Zenin

Word Count: 2.7k

CW: clit stimulation and more coming..

꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟

It's been almost a year and a half with your “wife” Nobara. You don't even know if you should call your relationship a marriage anymore. It just feels like the longer you're with her the further apart you guys get. Things were going great during the first three months of your marriage. She showed the right amount of affection,selflessness, and intimacy. There was nothing that could prepare you for the big shift in yalls relationship in the upcoming months.It was normal for Nobara to work late nights at the office but she'd always text or call to tell you if she wanted you to wait up for her or not. But then it just stopped. You'd be in bed and text her asking if she'd be home late tonight and what time but never received a message back. So you just ended up falling asleep in the cold space next to you in bed.

The silence was deafening in you and Nobaras apartment when she wasn't there. It killed you when she wasnt laying next to you in bed with her legs entangled with yours and the slight coldness of her breath on your neck. You try not to let a tear hit your cheeks but your body wouldn't allow that. You decided not to make a big fuss about the next morning when you woke up to the smell of her making coffee in the kitchen. You still wanted to talk about some things you've been noticing the past couple of weeks in yalls relationship. The sex.

There had been very little and when there was sex it was quick with no affection or aftercare. You were yearning for her touch when you layed in your shared bed with her but at the same time you wanted it to be loving and tender. The sex was great in the beginning..AMAZING even. She knew all your right spots but it's just like when you engaged in sex it was just to make you stop making a fuss about it or she'd just use it as her chance to relieve her stress.

You gather strength to pull your legs out the sheets and sit on the edge of the bed thinking about what you were going to say to Nobara. You knew you needed to bring up your concerns but you didn't want to make her upset or start an argument. It never fails anymore to start an argument over something minor that can be solved. You stand on the cold wooden floor making your way to the kitchen where Nobara is standing in the kitchen digging into the freezer for some blueberry eggos to throw into the toaster. “Oh you're finally up” she says turning her eyes towards your figure.

She takes a glimpse of you just in a T-shirt and your underwear looking you up and down in the process but she doesn't say anything waiting for your response. You look up at her nervously replying “haha yea I had trouble falling asleep last night” you say remembering how long it took you to fall asleep with her there next to you. “Why's that?” she replies, reaching up to the cabinet and grabbing two plates. Her shirt slightly lifting in the process showing off her happy trail leading to something you've been longing for.

Retreating your eyes back to her face you whisper “ i don't know, you just weren't there so i had trouble” She looks back at your face forgetting about the food to take a quick look at you then back at the plates. “Yea i know, i'm sorry… the office was late night and i wasn't looking at my phone so i didn't see your texts” You nod. You stand there awkwardly not moving any closer to her debating if you should discuss your thoughts now or later tonight.

“Is there something else that's bothering you y/n?” You stop twiddling your fingers and take a deep breath before speaking. “Yes, I wanted to talk about us.” Putting the remaining dishes in the sink Nobara finishes fixing the plates of food and lays them on the counter grabbing two forks. Taking a small bite of the scrambled eggs she replies “ What about us? You have to make it quick because I have to be at work in a few”

Of course, you knew either you needed to say it now or risk not being able to say it later because who knows if she'll be home late tonight again. “Our sex Nobara, somethtings off” you say. Continuing to take bites from her plate she looks up at you responding “ what do you mean something's off. I thought you loved our sex” You frantically reply “ I do. I do. It's just that things have been differently recently and I think we need some kind of help.”

You walk up to the counter to take a bite out of the food she made. “ What kind of help y/n. “ she sighs. Nervously you utter “maybe..a therapist?” Nobara slightly chokes on her food before wiping her mouth and shockingly responding “ Like a sex one?” You nod. “Absolutely not. I don't want a random old middle aged woman getting off to the details of our sex life “

You stare at her shocked by her reply. “Therapists don't get off from their clients' issues. I just can't think of anything else that would help baby” Pushing the plate of food in front of you away from your site you say “Everytime i try to bring up anything I find wrong in this relationship it always turns into an argument” Nobara scoffs standing up putting her plate in the sink grabbing her bag replying “The answer is no. I'm not doing that y/n. If we have problems we can fix it “ she says making sure to enunciate the word we.

Tired of her making the decisions of yalls relationship you take it upon yourself to go yourself. “Well I'm going. You don't want to go and that's fine but I’m going to find a solution to this problem since you don't bother even trying” She walks to the front door turning the knob before saying “ So go. It won't fix anything y/n.” Slamming the door on her way out the noise echoes throughout the apartment leaving you in a silent room standing there in disbelief.

You immediately walk to the bedroom grabbing your laptop leaving your untouched plate on the counter. Browsing through the internet you finally find a website that does same day bookings for therapy sessions. You quickly book one for 11:30 am needing time to get dressed. You booked an appointment for a session with a woman named Maki. You chose this person because regardless of what Nibara said about therapists getting off to their clients sex details you refused to tell a man your concerns.

Quickly getting in the shower you get dressed and lock your apartment door behind you. Walking down the streets of Shibuya you get your thoughts together on what you're going to say to this therapist. You never thought you'd have to do this so you had no idea what questions were going to be asked.

Finally making it to the building you take a deep breath before walking through the doors. The cold air hits your face, burning your lungs in the process. I wonder why they keep it so cold in here you thought to yourself. Walking up to the reception desk you see a woman with long brown hair typing on her computer fixated on her screen, she speaks“ Who are you here to see today? Or are you making an appointment? “ “I’m here to see Maki at 11:30 today”

She takes a quick scan of your face before returning back to typing on her computer . “Y/n Kugisaki?” she replies . “Yes” you say looking around the lobby of the building. It had a dark vibe with luminescent lights creating a warm feeling throughout the front. “You can follow me to the back now” the receptionist says standing up from her chair finally allowing her fingers to leave her keyboard.

You follow her to the back making your way to a room. The receptionist knocks on the door waiting for a reply. You look around observing your surroundings checking out the sign with Maki’s name on it. Eventually receiving a reply to come in the receptionist opens the door ushering me in before shutting it. You stand there awkwardly looking around the room before your eyes catch a woman with her legs crossed and jotting down words in a notebook.

She has long blue hair hiked up into a high ponytail. Her glasses catch a glare from the lights making your eyes squint before you hear her speak. “You know you don't have to stand there. You can sit down” she says, not looking up from her notebook. You move slowly to the beige cushion chairs before sitting down. Waiting for her to speak to you twiddle with your figures thinking about the first thing she's gonna ask you is. “So what are you here for today Mrs. Kugisaki” You reply “ Well me and my wife our having issues with our ..sex”

She chuckles before replying “I know that's what everybody comes here for but I need the details Mrs. y/n” You take a deep breath before replying “ Well I’m not sure. The sex was perfect at first. Everything checked my boxes and there were no issues but it was just like a sudden change in the pleasure and affection department” She continues writing in her notebook replying “ and what do you think is causing this?”

You sigh “well my wife comes home late all the time because she works in an office and it just leaves me alone in our bed at night. I guess I just get needy at times but there's also times where when we do have sex it just feels rushed and not for pleasure.” She hums “ have you tried self pleasure when you're at home alone on the nights she's not there “ she comments finally looking up at you. Shocked by her blunt question, you freeze.

You never thought about touching yourself nor did you know how to. You grew up in a strict household so those thoughts never ran across your mind. You were a virgin oblivious to the details about sex until you met Nobara. Maki, noticing you didn't reply she puts down her notebook and pen before asking “or when you did engage in sex with your wife did you try using toys?” You finally muster up some courage to answer “No..i've never touched myself and we haven't used toys during.

My wife isn't really a big fan of toys because she believes all we need is ourselves” Maki sighs before speaking “Mrs.y/n its normal for lesbian relationships to involve toys in their sex. It's also common for women to pleasure themselves because it helps you discover what you like and what you don't like. “

“It also helps when you don't have access to your wife on some nights” You nod , looking down at your hands. Picking back up her notebook and pen Maki starts writing again then asking “So im guessing dildos are also not associated in you and your wife's sex life “ You nod once again. “Okay in order to figure out a solution to your and your wife's problem we need to fix some things before that” she continues jotting down in her notebook.

You reply “Okay that's fine. What are the things we need to fix?” “Well first, are you not touching yourself because you don't want to or is it because you don't know how to.” You nervously reply “It's because i don't know how to” Maki hums replying “ Do you want to learn how to ? “ Embarrassed and also confused on what she meant by her question you reply “yes I do.”

Putting down her notebook Maki gets up walking to the beige chair next to you. You nervously stare at her face inspecting every detail your eyes can catch. “ In order for me to teach you I need your permission to touch you.” Shocked you shout “WHAT. I just came here for a therapy session not this. “ Maki laughs, throwing her head down to her lap.

She looks back up at your face in disbelief before reply “ This is an interactive therapy session.” You look at her confused. “ I'm guessing you didn't read the fine lines when you booked.” You're still looking at her confused on what she meant not believing anything that's coming out her mouth. She grabs a paper on the table sitting in front of you two handing it to you.

“No.” you say. “No, what mrs. y/n” Maki stares stuck on the way your eyes make her heart skip a little faster. “No, I don't want a refund. I want you to help me. I want you to teach me how to touch myself.” you say finally making eye contact with her for the first time since you walked in the room. “ So you're giving me permission to touch you?” “Yes” you reply.

You sit the piece of paper down squirming uncomfortably in your chair. Maki touches your thigh before saying “Just relax, you can tell me anytime you feel uncomfortable in this process” You nod. You've nodded so much during this session you feel like your heads gonna fall off. She stands up walking to her door locking it. She walks back over to you hovering over you. You sit there not looking up at her staring at her firm legs. “I need you to take your pants and underwear off for me Mrs. y/n”

You shakingly stand up unbuttoning your skinny jeans and pulling down your pants and underwear. You lay them on the table and sit back down squeezing your legs together feeling yourself get the beige chair underneath you wet from the way Maki was staring at you. Maki sits on the table speaking “ Now mrs. y/n I need you to open your legs for me and lay them on the sides of the chair arms” You listen slowly spreading your legs apart.

The cool air hits your clit making your pussy clench from the act. You refuse to make eye contact with Maki looking everywhere but in front of you. She leans forward some “I need you to take your hand and sit your finger on top of your clit. You listen, grabbing your hand and feeling how wet you're getting from this shirt interaction. Maki can see how wet you're getting and it's making her squirm on the table.

Oh the things she wants to do to you right now but she pushes the thoughts to the back of her head. “Now I need you to move your finger around in small circles.” You start moving your finger on your clit but you don't feel anything really. “No not like that” Maki scoots closer to your pussy replacing your hand with hers. You jolt from the sudden touch of her finger on your clit. She circles your clit earning quiet moans from you. “ Like this. Does this feel okay?” She speaks. You try to reply without breaking out in a loud moan. “Yes this feels okay” You're getting used to the feeling when you hear a ding from your phone. At first you ignore it then you hear another. Maki stops her movements, handing you your phone allowing you to answer back. It was a text from Nobara.

Nobara- how's the therapist going?

Nobara- lol hope it's actually working..i'll be home late tonight again don't wait up.

You think about what you're doing for a second and debate on if you should continue.

“Would you like to continue Mrs. y/n.” Maki says

꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟

Let me know if you want a part two. :)

[brickeater712]

sweeter than blood

summary: her coffin finally creaks open. she's so hungry for you and your love.

cw: vampire!garofano x fem!witch!reader, fing/ering, cunnil/ingus, bloody sex, but not the period kind, soft sex, sciss/oring, a little plot at the beginning

a/n: born from my phd in yearnology. i am yearning for a woman who will call me darling

minors dni

the sound of soft footsteps echo through the little house. you scuttle around, sweeping up the dust off of the floor- it’s been quite a while since you’ve cleaned. 

without garofano, who’s been asleep, to ask you to help her clean up, the small house the two of you currently live in has gotten a little bit messy. well, it was more messy, but some clutter here and there wasn’t something a little magic couldn’t fix. 

hours ago, you heard rustling from the coffin in garofano’s bedroom- which made tears well in your eyes. your beloved was finally waking up- after 7 months of waiting. you walk to her coffin, tenderly caressing the polished wood grains. you close your eyes, and recall the fateful incident that had occurred.

arrows whiz past your head as you run through the forest. you almost lose your balance and fall as the whistle of a projectile rings though your ear, the sound too close for comfort. 

“kill the witch!”

“burn her at the stake!”

the villagers continue hurling stones and shooting arrows at you, far into the deep forest.

i’m going to die here, you think, as you feel your legs beginning to cramp, sharp branches growing off of the tall trees scratching away at your robes. i didn’t even get to say goodbye to-

your thoughts are cut off, as you stop dead in your tracks. your path is blocked, a wall of dense, thick trees in front of you. your head whips around to see the horde of villagers already approaching you. the leader of the horde carries a pitchfork, but not for long- your eyes widen as you see him pull back, and swing forward- the weapon flying directly at your head. 

before you get the chance to react, a figure jumps in front of you. the scent is unmistakable- garofano, with the prongs of the pitchfork stabbing straight through her body. she stares down at you, making sure you’re not hurt. you’re unable to scream, only widen your eyes in fear. 

she gingerly reaches around her to pull the weapon out of her back, dark blood oozing out of the holes in her body. 

“it’s… it’s the vampire!” the man who threw the pitchfork yells. “everybody, run!” 

the humans scatter like flies, tripping over themselves to get away from the bloody vampire in front of them. 

garofano stares at you gently, amidst the pain in her body. she strokes your cheek with a bloodied hand. 

take me home, sweetheart. i must rest.”

those are the last words you had heard before she collapsed into your arms. she had already spent her energy looking for you- getting a fork through her body was the last thing she could handle. you had brought her home and laid her to rest in her coffin- and yearned for her for the past seven months she was recovering her energy.

you’re stronger now- you often think back to that day, knowing you’d have been able to take all of the villagers out with a flick of your wrist. or maybe two. 

but now is no time to reminisce about the past. you sit patiently by the coffin, waiting for the coffin to creak open. you don’t have to wait long before the lid of the coffin is nudged gently, pushed open from the inside. you help her, and peer in. 

garofano lay there, just as beautiful as you remember. a tear escapes your eye as you see garofano’s own eyes open. 

you’re barely able to hold in your sniffles and cries. “gar-garofano… i’m, i’m so sorry…” you choke out, words shaky, “you shouldn’t have came to rescue me that day.”

her soft eyes are fully open now, only staring up at you with a gentle smile. a trembling, scarred hand reaches up to stroke your tears and cup your cheek. her thumb is soothing, and you lean into her touch while hiccuping out apologies.

she shushes you, thumb running over your shaking lip. “it’s okay,” she murmurs, “it wasn’t your fault.” her kindness only makes you sob harder. 

“but, b-but i-”

“no buts, darling, i wouldn’t have left you there to die.” she slowly props herself up in the coffin. “and besides, i’m awake now, okay?” 

she doesn’t miss a beat. she pulls your head down and kisses you on the lips. the action takes you by surprise, but you don’t hesitate to reciprocate. you melt into it, more tears falling from your eyes as you’re finally able to experience her taste for the first time in years.

“i’ve missed you.” you mumble, in between wet, messy kisses. “so, so much.”  

her grip on your face tightens ever so slightly. 

“me too,” she says, “i’ve had so many dreams about you in my time of rest.” 

then, a nip on your lower lip.

“but now is not the time for reminiscence.”

a finger comes up to drag down the fabric covering your neck. 

“i’m hungry.” she whispers.

she doesn’t miss a beat. her fangs extend immediately, driving her teeth into your skin. you gasp- first in shock, then in pain, as warm, red blood trails down your collarbone. she wraps her arms around you greedily, your body going limp in her hold. the pain doesn’t last for long- a warmth spreads from the area of the bite swiftly, coursing through your veins. 

her tongue laps voraciously at your dripping blood, feeling energy fill her limbs. “been longing for a taste of you.” she groans into your skin, vibrations amplifying the heat in your body. 

you can only respond with a little whimper, the sensations feeling brand new after way too long of not feeling them. 

when she pulls away from the appetiser, her face is bloody- but a huge grin resides on her face- she had just had a taste of her favourite meal, after all. 

“i have just a little more strength now, darling…” she extends her hand, “why don’t we move somewhere softer?” 

you nod, taking her tender hand, and she climbs gracefully out of the coffin. she turns to look at her bed, sheets messy and pillows strewn.

“i’ve slept in your bed every day you were gone.” you say, blush rising to your cheeks. 

“i hope it smells just like you.” she comments amusedly, pulling you gently along to the bed. 

she sheds herself of her clothing, tossing them aside.

she lies down on the bed, arms outstretched. “come here, dear.” 

you climb onto the bed, slowly crawling into her soft embrace. 

“just now was the appetiser. now it’s time for the main course.” she declares, before going for another bite at your neck. 

this one is stronger, more primal- the venom she’s sunk into your bloodstream courses through you rapidly. it gets you heated, beads of sweat forming at your temple. your core starts to burn just a little, your clothing suddenly feeling hot and stuffy to be in. 

ever the attentive woman garofano is, she takes notice immediately- how could she not when you were squirming atop her? 

she takes your robes off without trouble, the motion having been practised a thousand times before. she tosses the robe off, and you’re left in your underwear- something she easily rips off and throws to the side as well. you’re left bare, straddling her thigh. 

she licks the blood at your neck once again, that’s dripping down and staining her clothes. she moans as she feels the mana from your blood strengthen her. oh, how she has missed this sweet, succulent, taste. 

subconsciously, your hips grind down on her thigh- each lap of her tongue only making your arousal heavier. 

blood stains garofano’s face, down to her neck. she pulls away from your wound, looking up at you with a smile on her face. the venom in her bite leaves you dazed, mindlessly grinding down on her thigh, wetting it with your slick. 

“so needy… you’ve been waiting for this for a long time, hm?” she asks, watching you nod so desperately for her touch. “i won’t disappoint you, darling.”

with that, she surprises you by hoisting you up by the hips, bringing you forward until you’re kneeling just over her face. you look down to see her licking your blood off her lips. but the semblance of cleanliness doesn’t last long, as she tilts her head to bite directly next to your pussy. 

you whine out, leg twitching from the pleasure and pain. slick only gushes harder from you, and you reach down to relieve the pressure, rubbing on your clit. 

“need you, garo…” you slur out, motions faltering. her venom is so potent- even the sensation of your own blood running down your thigh is enough to almost push you to orgasm. 

she sucks your thigh so gently, coaxing more blood out of the wound. now that she’s had her fill of your blood, she wants something sweeter. she doesn’t bother to wipe her mouth off, and thrusts her tongue right into your dripping cunt. 

you squeal out, hand faltering its motion on your clit. the sudden stimulation makes you fall forward, your other hand going to grip the headboard. 

“garo!” you whimper out her name, “too- ngh, much!” 

“aw,” she pulls away, cooing at you. “my little witch is so sensitive…”

you haven’t been touched in so long, after all. you’ve spent countless nights shoving your fingers deep into your pussy, trying to mimic the feeling your lover had given you so many times in the past. but it was never enough- nothing could replace her. 

“i’ll make you feel so good…” she mumbles, and forces your hips down on her face once more. her tongue reaches deeper this time, hitting every good spot inside you. it has you gasping, crying, and whining out for her, and your hand on your clit speeds up. 

“c-cumming already-” you choke out, clenching around the tongue inside you. 

she hums, letting vibrations roll through you- encouraging you to cum on her tongue after so long. she shifts an arm to move her hand, pushing two of her fingers into you, making you cum immediately. 

you throw your head back, eyes wide open, and your hand falters once more. garofano notices, of course, and pulls her tongue away in favour of licking your clit instead. she curls her long fingers deliciously, making sure each stroke pushes you further into the throes of pleasure. your legs tremble uncontrollably, threatening to clamp around her head. she doesn’t mind, sucking your clit harder. 

you pant above her, gripping the headboard to make sure you don’t fall over. you ride out your orgasm for a few minutes, before slumping forward. you look down and see garofano licking her lips clean- or as clean as they can get, bloodstained- once more, as well as a bloody mess between your thighs and her neck. 

you’re dazed. so beautiful, you think. you could never tire of this sight under you. you shuffle downwards and lean down, and now you’re face to face with your lover. 

“i love you.” you declare softly, before kissing her. she moans into it, letting you taste your own cum and blood on her tongue, but you don’t mind- this wasn’t the first time. 

when you pull away from the sloppy kiss, garofano stares at you, adoration in her eyes. you wish this moment could last forever- but you’re still needy. the venom hasn’t worn off, it seems. 

garofano knows this too, as she asks you to sit up on the bed. “my turn to be on top,” she says, flipping positions. you’re lying down on the bed this time. she spreads your legs, and slots herself in between them. she’s straddling one of your legs, thigh pressing against your cunt. 

“we’ll both feel good now.” she sighs, moving forward to press her already wet cunt against yours. a shaky sigh leaves your lips, grinding back against her. the sound of slick against slick fills the cosy room, the intimate noises only serving to spur the both of you on harder. 

garofano rolls her hips delicately yet forcefully, propping up one of your legs onto her shoulder. “i’ve dreamt of this so often, darling.” she whispers, kissing your ankle. 

“me t-too, my love,” you respond, already feeling another orgasm rise in your core. your actions are filled with affection, each grind back against her getting wetter by the second. 

garofano chuckles lightly as little “i love you”s drop from your mouth repeatedly, babbling away as you grind your clits against each other. she takes your hand and intertwines your fingers. “cum for me whenever you’re ready.” she commands, tightening her hand around yours. 

you look up at her, tears welling in your eyes. “ h-ng! i- i’ll never let you get hurt like that again- promise! ” you wail out, wanting to convey all your love and regret to her. “i’ll protect you from now on!” 

it’s as good as a declaration of eternal love for her. and it’s one she’ll remember forever. 

“and i promise i won’t leave you alone like that again, my little witch.” she leans over, before the final climax, and in a shaky voice, “i love you”.

the moment the words hit your ears, you cum. you wrap your arms around her and pull her close, whining and whimpering. the pulse of your cunt, and your pretty noises push her orgasm forward as well. 

cum stains the bed, and movements become sloppy. when your pussy gets too sensitive, you  collapse onto the bed. garofano moves to lie down on the bed with you. 

you’re already drifting off to sleep, but you don’t want that just yet. and of course, she knows.

“don’t worry, sweetheart, we have so much time ahead of us. rest now, you’ve lost a lot of blood.” she reassures you, putting your mind at ease.

you declare your love for her one last time in a soft murmur, making her smile, before falling asleep in her soft arms.