#even not mutated they run hot and cold and I LOVE THAT

[inkspottie]

the boiled one (hum!fishbug outfit swap)

but seriously get that man to the nearest freezer to cool off because he is cooked in more ways than one

This man is sweltering! Help him!

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae! I hope your day has been as lovely as you are—which is to say, the loveliest! Could you please write a drabble with tasm!Peter and a reader who is generally not shy but flusters easily when Peter is affectionate and soft? The curse of not being used to it! No worries if not! 💞

Hope your day was as lovely as you are, sweetheart--which is to say, even lovelier <33

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 412 words

“Baby,” Peter laughs, “I know how to dress for the cold.” 

“Right, but this isn’t the subway.” You’re wrapping a scarf around his neck, mouth pulled into a frown. “It’s a long walk to your work, and it’s freezing out. They say it could even snow tonight. This early in the year! Isn’t that crazy?” 

“You’re crazy,” he says warmly. “And cute.” Your eyes dip from his face, lips pressing together to keep a smile at bay. Peter watches it happen amusedly. “If I’m late because you’re putting a dozen layers on me, I’ll just have to web to work.” 

You snap out of your bashfulness. “Peter, that’s even worse. That suit is like wearing nothing!” 

“That’s my point, sweetheart.” Peter takes your face in his hands to press a kiss to your lips, stopping you from reaching for a pair of gloves. You’re outfitted in a coat, scarf, and a hat, appropriate garb for what really is a frigid day. But no matter how many times Peter has told you he runs hot because of his mutation, he doesn’t think you really believe him. 

“I’m gonna go,” he says, “but I’ll come by your work during lunch so you can see none of my fingers have frozen off. I’ll bring you a hot chocolate, okay?” 

You wet your lips, expression softened by the kiss. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“And what if I want to?” He lets his voice drop into a lower register, syrupy sweet. Kisses you again between your brows. “Maybe I wanna thank you for taking such good care of me, did you think of that?” 

He can practically feel the warmth emanating from your skin now. Your face pinches as if in agony. “Stop,” you chide him, but there’s little bite when you can hardly speak above a murmur. “You’re doing this to me on purpose.” 

Peter smiles. “What is it that I’m doing to you, pretty girl?” 

“Peter.” 

“Now I bet you want me gone, huh?” 

He thinks you’re trying to glare at him, but you’re too shy at the moment to pull it off. “Just stay warm.”

“You too.” Peter pulls your hat down over your ears, dropping a kiss on your nose. It’s burning hot under his lips. He suppresses a laugh. 

“You’re so mean.” 

“One of us has to be; you’re too sweet.” He does laugh when you cover your face with your hands, stealing out the door. “See you at lunch!”

[splatashahowlett]

do you think you could do Logan taking care of you while your sick ??

love fever

logan howlett x reader

the leather of the couch was sticking to your skin. you could feel droplets of sweat rolling down your forehead. your body felt numb, and your headache was agonizing.

you hated being hot; you hated being sick.

you had fallen asleep on the couch, in one of the school's living room. you were watching a movie with rogue, and before you knew it you had slipped into morpheus' arms. when you had woken up, the lights were out. everything was dark and silent. it didn't freak you out but it would solicit a strange feeling of sadness and loneliness. you had figured rogue had gone to bed just like everyone else.

you found yourself all alone, hair in a mess, mouth dry, eyes puffy and sick.

the only thing that could be heard was the ticking of the clock, way louder than necessary or the occasional light footsteps upstairs coming from tormented students.

it was so peaceful you almost were afraid of making a noise, not daring to disrupt the singular and placid atmosphere around you.

you were looking around, when you noticed a room ligthing up on the other side of the hallway. someone was in the kitchen. you didn't want anybody to see you like this so you gathered the energy you had left to get up and join your room. but before you could do so, the person left the kitchen. you felt a strong sense of relief when you realized it was logan. he probably was one of the few person you were completly comfortable around, he had seen you in your worst days: a little cold wouldn't scare him away.

logan and you had known each other for forever. you were both running away from people who wanted to take advantage of your mutation. you met in a bar, in the middle of the night and got along beautifully. you hit the road together and never left each other's side from this moment. you had both joined the X-Men and the idea of doing it with your bestfriend was comforting for you two.

"i was looking for you" logan said, worried.

"I'm here" you answered, still swimming in an hypnagogic state. logan smiled and leaned against the back of the couch, inclined over your frame. he looked at you for a while. it wasn't awkward, nothing could be with him but you were still confused.

"why aren't you in bed?" he asked.

"uhm, I fell asleep" you replied, knowing how silly that sounded. logan laughed softly at your angelic face. "I think I'm sick" you added. logan furrowed his brows and put a hand on your forehead, checking your temperature. he walked away immediatly, mumbling something about your head being hot.

when he came back, he had a glass in his left hand, a wet rug in his right one.

"drink that" he ordered.

you grabbed the glass and looked at it hesitantly, you looked up at logan.

"painkiller" he simply said. you drank it. god only knows how much you needed it.

you were expecting him to hand you over the rug but instead, he sat next to you and started wiping your sweaty forehead. the gesture made your smile, it was rare seeing logan so caring and you doubted he would have done the same thing if there was people around. you knew you could count on him to take care of you but behind closed doors. when you adressed the matter once, he admitted he was scared of people hurting you to get to him. it wouldn't be the first time. so he would show affection in different way; getting you something to eat when you've been working all afternoon in the lab, smilling at your jokes even when they aren't funny, turning off the light in your room when you've fallen asleep after a long day (still completly dressed).

you never doubted of the affection logan had for you, he just didn't have the same way of expressing it as everyone.

"what are you thinking about?" he whispered.

"I'm really lucky to have a friend like you"

he smiled.

"so am I" he took your hand in his, raised it to his lips and placed a tender kiss on the back of it.

you rolled your eyes at his action and you both laughed loudly. you immediatly stopped when you where reminded of the children sleeping and put your hand on logan's mouth instinctively. you both froze, realizing your mistake and hoping you didn't wake anyone up. you took your hand off his face and laughed as silently as possible together.

"you should go to sleep" he whispered. you nodded, knowing it was the right thing to do. but you didn't really want to go to bed. you loved the quiet moments you spent with logan. those moments where neither of you would say a thing but simply enjoy each other's company.

you were both waiting for the other to stand and go to sleep; but neither of you was ready to say goodnight.

you coughed vociferously, which caused your headache to get worse. you rubbed your hand against your forehead and closed your eyes, maybe you should just sleep on the couch?

before you could take a decision, logan's arms went under your legs and behind your back. he lifted you against his chest.

"let's get you to bed" he explained. you leaned against him and sighed loudly. your eyes were closing on their own. you were fighting not to fall asleep but your efforts weren't enough.

when you woke up the next day, your eyes went wide when you looked at the time.

one pm?!

you jumped from your bed, mortified at how late you were but immediatly sat on the floor after almost fainting.

you heard the sound of your bedroom door opening.

"are you okay?" logan hurried in the room and joined you on the floor. his hand went to your head, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

you clearly weren't doing good, you were frowning, your eyes were closed and you were breathing heavily.

"I'm late, I have to go" you complained

"I warned everybody that you were sick and wouldn't be available today" he reassured. you smiled softly, as a way of thanking him.

logan helped you get up and tucked you in bed. he left your side to grab the plate he had come in with.

"here. eat something"

you grabbed the plate from his hand.

"can you stay?" you pleaded.

"I wasn't planning on leaving babygirl" he said softly.

"thank you"

logan leaned over and kissed your forehead.

"don't. I'm sick" you said

"we've known each other for decades and you still forget I can't get sick?" he laughed. you smiled, laughing at how stupid you were.

logan ended up staying the whole afternoon, he had cancelled his classes to stay with you. he made sure you had everything you needed; food, water, medicines, attention, love.

your heart was full of love. you adored logan. he was the person you trusted the most on earth and you were more then grateful to have him in your life.

the sun set and logan wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon. he ended up falling alseep before you, his head on your lap, your fingers massaging his head. you could hear him grunt and sigh at the sensation and you smiled each time, amused at his cat-like behavior.

"you're my person" was the last thing you whispered in the dark of your room before falling asleep.

[staarboyyy]

Paid in kind

cooper howard [ the ghoul ] x bounty!reader | no pronouns

explicit - minors dni

tags / warnings ; gunplay, breathplay, bondage, spitplay, hairpulling, oral [ m receiving ], throatfucking, wallfucking, creampie, accidental yearning, prolonged eye contact is sexy, switch!cooper is underrated, mentions of past sexual experiences, nondescript reader genitals, rad x as ghoul birth control

summary ; you've been running for weeks, but there's nowhere he won't find you.

word count ; 5.2k

a / n; inspired by the wonderful @ghoulsbounty and @ghoulbrain ! both are such lovely writers, i couldn't help but jump on this old man's bones !! (also as a texan i just had to put a fic out there using my southernisms)

The sun was achingly bright - That was the first thing you recalled. It beat down against the tattered and worn material of what you could manage for clothes, your eyes squinting as they couldn't resist to meet the sky. Everlasting, going as far as you could see - It brought strange comfort to have this one constant in this place, while also being a nice change from the large warehouse you took shelter in. Your feet moved slowly, the gravel against the soles of your shoes shifting with each step, eyes still pinned on the infinite blue stretching above your head forever. Instinctively, you knew being distracted, and taking time to enjoy the small things in this broken world, would be far less than short-lived. Though, taking in slow breaths of the thick air, clogged with the stench of the dirt below your feet and a dry breeze that stung your eyes; So much so, that you hardly noticed the hulking mutated mass moving towards you. It took in ragged breaths, crouched forward, wet tendrils obscuring its surging bloodshot eyes and split-cheeked jaw, messily hanging off the hinges. This action exposed rows of teeth, tattered and yellowed over the years roaming this land - As you whipped your head around, your hand moved with a practiced poise, already hovering over your weapon, itching with the need to draw against this thing that amassed itself towards you. An ear-shattering crack reverberated through the air before you could even finish bearing your teeth, white-knuckling your weapon. The blast was nasty, crushing through the reptile's large skull with an obscene squelch before falling forward to the hot ground with a thud. It lay in the seeping mess of what must be its blood, a dark pungent green, reeking of hot rubber - It stung your nose with a sharp sour tang, churning your stomach as you threw your hand over your mouth, staggering backward from both the sudden onslaught on your senses and the sudden shot tearing through the air.

"Well, well."

Your blood ran cold as the familiar gruff voice came a few yards past the bleeding mess in front of you, your eyes shuddering over the scene to meet the speaker with a widening gaze. He came from around the corner of the warehouse, that man - The one that insisted on shadowing your every move, no matter how far you ran. The soft breeze of the blazing day swept the tattered edges of his long coat, soft jingles following him as he took a few slow steps forward. He had lowered the gun level your face, gloved hands steady on the weapon as his eyes found yours. They were alive - Coherent, a sharp contrast to the little visible skin he showed, stretching scars bound over his cheeks and neck arching down and distorting the grassy texture of his tanned skin. Slowly, his thumb rose, letting it rest on the gun's hammer with a punctuating step.

"Looks like someone's not payin' attention."

You had been on the run for hours, and yet he cocked his head off to the side as his gaze raked over your hardening expression; It was all for nothing, the ghoul hardly affected by the travel you were desperate to turn into escape. Escape from the world that still tangled itself around your neck, pulling you across this wasteland with little, if any direction. Your heart slammed against your ribs, taking in a tentative breath of the nauseating air, keeping your eyes as far from the gurgling body of the reptile. You were hot, hungry, and most of all, exhausted of running. Maybe he knew that - Maybe that's why he chased you, knowing that one day, you would finally give up. The clicking of the hammer being drawn back pulled you from your thoughts, eyes moving to meet the barrel, then scrape back up to him.

"Why don't you just kill me?" It hurt to talk, your throat cut up and raw from breathing the thick radiated air - Still you couldn't shake the question as it pressed past your chapped lips, keeping your eyes pinned on the barrel. It was challenging, how you spoke to the shell of the man. Your eyebrows drew together, focusing past the smoking barrel of his shotgun with an insistent expression. At this, his eyebrow muscles shifted with a slightly suprised chuff.

"So you do speak." The Ghoul. You heard stories, making your way across the wasteland with little you could to make do, falling into bounty work, and getting caught up with bad people - The wrong people. The ones that talked about digging him up, that he would be able to take out the one target that seemingly ruled the wasteland. The Ghoul's voice scraped across the air, the breeze carrying the rough twang in his voice, the jingle of his spurs as he shifted his weight. You didn't care for the stories of your peers; And my, there were stories. Cooper Howard, movie star, face pasted across battered billboards. You also didn't care for the night three men you worked beside insisted on digging him up - But when you saw your face smeared across the radiated land, posters crumbled and pinned messily to boards and the inside of almost every building; You knew he was looking for you.

"I don't know what you want from me," You said in a rasp, unable to dwell on the near teasing tone in his rugged voice, not in this sweltering heat, not with the stifling smell of the creature between you and The Ghoul - The thing, the shell of a man, Cooper Howard; Or at least what was left of him.

"Well - Looks to me, I just saved your life," He mused, clearing the raggedness in his throat as his eyes lowered to your hand. How it twitched over your weapon, tattered gloves hiding bruises and scars. Cooper pushed his tongue to his cheek, head falling slightly to one side as he eyed your trigger-happy fingers strum at your holster teasingly; His mind pulsed with flashing images, the forking of how this awaited meeting would actually pan out. His tongue slid over the grit of his teeth with a slow hissed breath.

"Now, you plan on usin' that thing?"

A beat met you, breath hitching for a moment as he flicked his speculative gaze to return to yours - And just as you caught each other's eyes, your hand moved. Your fingers wrapped over the mangled handle of your pistol, fabric tied over the base for some steadying on your trembling hands; And as soon as you drew, the bullet fired, keeping his eyes on yours as you squeezed the trigger tight. The sound rocketed through the dusty air, his left shoulder falling backward with an unnatural shift, letting his weight fall off to the side as he grunted softly. His gloved hand reached his shoulder, rubbing at the hole now torn through his jacket, hissing through his teeth. You tried to move quickly, the exhaustion cementing you to the hot dirt of the wasteland as your boot heels scraped against the rubble, pushing yourself away from the other. However, it didn't matter now, not as his hand moved from his crooked shoulder to the coiled thick rope slung around his thick belt, wasting no time seeing your sudden urgency to escape.

"Not lettin' you get away again sugar." You nearly made it to your feet as you heard the chilling metal clinks of his spurs, panting as the sun that boiled overhead went dark; Cooper stood above you with a scowl, grasping the lasso now looped around his hands, clutching at the fraying rope with the assured intent to use it. "Now, you best put that toy of yours away. I need you alive." The sharp pull of the lasso whipped through the space between you, taking hold of your throat with a sudden drawn pressure of your quickly swallowing breath. Your hands rose, letting the pistol fall from your grasp as you white-knuckled the rope, now being pulled by it to your feet. Cooper sucked his teeth, tightening the knot with a gruff exhale as your cheeks flushed, blood rushing in your ears in crashing waves. It wasn't choking you per se - Though the pressure spun your head, staggering as he yanked you forward, invasive eyes now inspecting both your growing frantics and the expertly tied knot.

"From how I'm seein' it - I deserve a little kindness for not lettin' that thing tear you apart," You still managed to scoff, even as the rough frayed rope pressed tighter, threatening to take your breath completely.

"Just trading one monster for another," You spoke in a strained voice, eyebrows twitching together as you still tugged at the rope constricting your air, temples pulsing with hot sparks of pain. His lip twitched, eyes darkening and forcing the knot to slide tighter against your throat for just a moment. You choked, breath pulled entirely from your lungs before suddenly falling against the dirt to your knees, ragged coughs pushing between your lips, drinking down gasps of air with a gluttonous groan. Upon opening your eyes, you could make out his boots, and the sound of his soft snickering - He was entertained by it, the way you so quickly fell from challenging him to kneeling, saliva spilling from your lips onto your chin as you coughed on the radiated air, finally able to tear the constricting rope away from your bruised neck. Cooper let it go on, head tilting off to the side with a smug expression before one of his hands met the top of your head. The leather creaked as his fingers spread and tangled themselves in your hair, gripping the locks and yanking back, you had no choice but to rest your watering eyes on his, trying to control your desperate need for clean oxygen.

"You know how many people want'ya dead?" He looked down at you with a blank expression, his jaw shifting slightly as he kept a firm hold on your hair. "Now, I could sure as hell use the caps," Cooper went on, the muscles of his brow shifting as he sucked his teeth. Your mind raced with the many posters you remember seeing, pasted in nearly every store window in Filly - You didn't know the price they set for you, you just knew it was enough to keep your head low and stay far away from any wastelander that seemed a bit too keen on helping you.

"But, I could also see about being paid in kind."

The hot smell of aged leather clogged the wash of dusty oxygen you gasped down in shuddered breaths. He gripped your chin with his free hand, thumbing the pooling saliva glossing over your bottom lip. He looked perversely deep in thought, eyeing the glassy strings as he drew his thumb back, lips parting slightly with a dry chuckle.

"Well ain't you a sight." Cooper sighed the words in a lower tone, as if speaking to only himself. You bared your teeth, jerking your head off to the side with a grunt, the hot sting of his iron grip on your hair causing you to hiss. "Ah, ah. You cut that shit right now," Reluctantly, you squared your shoulders, glaring towards him with a determined expression.

"You've been tailing me for weeks, you know I don't have anything you want." You spoke through grit teeth, making an attempt to reason your way from his grip on your hair, at least long enough to get a better shot on him.

"We both know that ain't true." Silence befell your snarled lips, eyes twitching over changing his expression - It was somber. As close as his mangled face could manage, muscles clenching in his jaw as his eyes sought something distant and familiar. He looked as if he was trying to remember a dream, eyes searching for that connection. How long has it been since he touched another with no violent motive to do so, you wondered. Your eyes softened, a sigh making its way past your cracked lips. Cooper would never admit just how human you were, that familiarity of how your breathing wavered haunting him. The man would not admit many things, that this motive for caps had fallen away weeks ago, that he pictured what this meeting would look like for hours on end; Would you be terrified, fight back as any normal wastelander would? Would you wriggle free of his desperation for a broken connection, even if rooted in malice? Questions like this kept him from approaching you on those nights.

The nights he watched you from afar, making a fire for yourself as you glanced over your shoulder every moment you could, cooking the little amounts of meat you managed to harvest while on the run. He considered interrupting it all, a quiet shot through the night you wouldn't see coming, even going as far as to click back the barrel with an uncharacteristically shaking hand. Though he never did. Even as you slept, and as he held his gun with a ferocious intent to use it, he never even made himself known.

"I saw you." Cooper's grasp on your hair reflected those many nights, fingers twitching, his senses toying with the idea of allowing you to go on or stopping this entire conversation entirely. "I saw you so many times and just waited for the moment you would fucking do it. And you didn't. So please, just be a human for a second and," The man growled, throat rumbling with a charred snarl as he shoved you backward onto the dirt, releasing your hair and wiping the remaining saliva on his glove over his duster. You caught yourself with a grunt - What would it take then? The heel of your palms scrapped into the hot gravel, as you refused to back down. You deserved answers. "And tell me what you want!"

You shouted the last words - If he killed you, so be it. It would just proved to you how much he's lost of himself, the stories, the fuzzy black and white movies you'd heard endlessly about; That you were right the entire time, there was no legendary Ghoul, just a man in pieces reformed by the wasteland. He grimaced at your voice pitching up, hand hovering his holstered gun with an instinctive need to defend himself before glaring down at you.

"Don't look at me like that." He muttered as he watched you push yourself from the ground, grimacing at the throb in your wrists as you knelt with squared shoulders before him. Your lips shaped the words, throat vibrating with the hum of your voice, though they never came to be; What could you say? He wouldn't answer you, and looked at you with pain in his eyes - Your eyebrows twitched, pursing your lips to pacify the pressing questions that threatened to spill. With a slow movement, you lifted your hand, perching your fingers against the worn fabric and leather of his thick belt.

"How do you want me to look at you?" You asked, the question desperate, seeking any answers he would give you. His gaze darkened, head tilting forward to carefully watch your hand, the shadow of his hat cast over his face. A part of you knew he wouldn't answer. Maybe part of you didn't want him to, even as your other hand lifted to slide the coarse leather tail of his belt through the metal buckle, trying your hardest to ignore the holster just off to the left of his hip. As you drew it away, your eyes snuck a glance upwards to meet his eyes. It sent chills through your veins, the focus on his expression a twisted part monster and so painfully human, his brown eyes unable to settle on just one part of you. He hadn't been touched by someone like this in years - Far longer than he could ever explain, let alone remember. His heart stuttered in his chest, lips twitching as a shuddered breath escaped him.

"Like that," Cooper whispered. His voice - Alluring, a deep purr pillowed with a desire. The voice was nearly foreign, the canvas of the wasteland falling away just for a moment; He let himself fall back in time, eyes softening as the familiar pull of his pulse rushed through his veins, the gloved hand that shielded his holster falling away. The warm leather of his glove met your hand, guiding you to him even as his eyes refused to keep your gaze for too long. His grasp on you was soft, his breathing wavering as your palm met the base of his cock, the friction even through his pants eliciting a soft grunt.

Cooper Howard was never a man to beg, even before the wasteland. Though, as he tipped his head back slightly, the word shaped his lips, swallowing back the urge with a clenched jaw. Now was not the time to let his guard down - But your hands were just so goddamn warm. Moving on their own now, your fingers dancing with the rusted zipper and loose button, he pressed his tongue to his cheek, unable to shake the urge. He released your hand and with an animalistically watchful eye, spoke.

"Please." The desperate tone of his growl was not one of demand - It was the need to be touched without scorching ropes, without venomous words, to be human again, even if for just a moment. There it was, you thought. The man in the movies, you could see it in his pleading eyes, in the way his fingers now laced themselves with tremors. He knew better than to be distracted in the heat of the chase, yet in that silent moment, he was helpless. As your touch lingered on the zipper of his pants, a barely audible groan escaped his lips. The coy tug at his clothing was met with barely resisted impatience, his jaw clenching and eyes darting around, warily assessing the safety of your surroundings. With a final click, the last barrier between you and Cooper's now sparking need was removed, freeing him from this teasing torment of anticipation. His cock resembled the rest of his visible skin, scars arching down the stiff base, veins tracing the underside of his shaft, and aching tip beading with arousal; You had your fair share of dalliances across the wasteland, and so had he - Though not like this, your eyes widening slightly as you took in the size of him, how his eyes watched your every reaction. As your hand wrapped around the man's throbbing cock, rugged and needy, hot and pulsating, his breath hitched.

In that moment, you were as much a captor as he was the hunter. The Ghoul's muscles tensed, beads of sweat dewed against his temples; He bit his tongue, silencing the breathy gasps pushed from his lips. Each stroke of your hand along his shaft sent a shockwave of pleasure and agonizing need crashing through him, his lungs straining for breaths that seemed to evade him.

"Shit," Cooper seethed the word through grit teeth, escaping your locked gaze with half-lidded eyes. His cock responded to each one of your movements, his hips stuttering forward in an unpracticed motion as he ached for more. Your thumb breezed over the scabrous tip, gathering the beading arousal now sliding down his shaft with a shudder.

"Like this?" Your lips ghosted over the tip of his twitching cock, eyes heavy as they sought perilously to meet his, letting the hot weight of him press against the soft of your cheek. Hesitantly, his brown eyes found yours, flickering over the wasteland behind you and your tattered clothes, how they shaped the silhouette of your body. His were parted, taking in unsteady breaths with tense shoulders, anticipating your every motion. His eyes were inexplicably human; Perhaps, you thought, for just a moment you could fall into the very same fantasy that he did. That connection, that heat - You craved it just as much as he did. As your tongue pushed from between your lips, you could hear the pleased groan fall from his chest, shoulders rolling back as he yearned for the pleasure you held just over his head.

"Just like that." Cooper gave a slight dip of his chin, shadowing his eyes with the brim of his hat. You hummed at his confirmation, your tongue pressing to the underside of his throbbing cock, generous with your saliva as you slid your mouth to wrap over him entirely. He hissed a chain of curses under his breath, now refusing to move his gaze from yours as his hips eased forward. He wanted more, greedy upon getting the first taste of something so painfully familiar, that heat he craved, the slick warmth of your lips making their way lower around him. Your tongue worked in slow waves, drinking down the salt of his sweat and the sounds you pried from him with every deliberate movement of your head. The texture of his cock rolled over your tongue, the tip now prodding at the soft of your throat, your lips tightening to accommodate the size of him; At this, his hips jutted forward, eyes tightening closed for a brief moment, eyebrow muscles drawing together in a pained expression of impetuous pleasure. He pushed himself deeper, hips now rolling forward in a rhythm he craved, his fingertips tingling as your teeth grazed against the sensitive scarred skin of his cock. "Fuck baby, that's it," Cooper took a heady breath, lifting a hand to his lips and bearing his teeth with a hiss. He took hold of the tip of his glove, swiftly biting down and pulling the thick leather away from his large hand. Warm bare fingers, met your hair, tangling through it with a purr strung tight in the mans chest. You were so soft, hot to the touch, searing his dulled senses with an electric singe he swore he forgot long ago. Glassy saliva slid over your chin, spreading messily over your lips as you took him as far as your throat would allow, the size of him taking your breath. " Christ - Takin' a ghoul's cock down your throat like that," He followed his obscene growl with a shallow thrust, threatening to surpass the limits of your pillowy mouth and throat as he watched you silently struggle for air. He held himself deep inside, each twitch and spasm of your throat working breathy gasps and trembling groans from his shivering body. After a smug moment, he pulled your head away from his length, the sting of your scalp hitching your messy breathing, instinctively moving to wipe the back of your hand against your soaked lips.

Cooper caught your wrist with his still gloved as it rose, swallowing down the biting urge to continue his ravaging of your throat. Sweat traced his jagged features, the shadow of his hat shifting with the glinting sun overhead, his panting causing his broad shoulders to rise and fall. He found himself searching for the words, on the tip of his tongue he could swear it - How long had it been, since he's been run this desperate for someone? His cock tensing and twitching at the simple idea of someone bent over for him? He tugged you to your feet with a chuffed exhale, keeping a firm hold on your wrist to keep your gaze on his. He wouldn't let you go, not now, not as the hunger flamed in his veins, not as he pressed your stomach against the warehouse you once took shelter in. The man pried off his other glove, tossing it to the dirt below your feet. He wanted to feel you.

"Is this what you wanted?" You breathed raggedly, a chuff of an almost smug exhale ghosting past your lips as you rested your cheek against the rusted steel of the warehouse. His hands were invasive, hungry as the rough skin grabbed hold of your waistband, calluses and scars rubbing over your skin as he yanked your pants to your ankles. A glaze of sweat lit your body aflame, his rough palms groping your ass with a shameless groan. "Is this what you pictured those nights you watched me?"

Your words tugged a deep moan from his throat, his bare fingers making their way to your lips; He gathered the left over saliva from your chin, yet your tongue extended to wrap over his middle finger, coaxing him into your mouth with a tantalizing arch of your back. His cock was heavy against your ass, pulsating with a fierce need for release, fingers lathering over your tongue.

"You got a mouth on you, huh?" Cooper leaned down, his length glazed with your saliva sliding over you - He purred in your ear, the throaty bass of his voice stippleing goosebumps over the nape of your neck. He drew his soaked fingers from between your lips, moving to slide them messily against your hole. Your breathing hitched, thighs parting instinctually as his fingers prodded teasingly at your entrance.

Cooper thought of those nights briefly, gloved hand wrapped at the base of his cock as he watched you from afar, teeth crushing into his tongue to silence himself. Cumming to the sound of your voice, the images of you pulsating in his mind wading into his mind, positioned just like this. He chuckled darkly, the tip of his cock throbbing against your soaked entrance. "Arch that back baby - There you go, that's it," He spoke against the shell of your ear, the rough palm of his hand planted at the small of your back, pressing down gently to arch you to his satisfaction.

You don't remember saying his name, though you distinctly recalled the scrawled cursive of navy blue and yellow all over billboards and television screens; There was nowhere he wouldn't follow, there was no way to forget the taste of his name falling over your tongue as he pulled you tight against him, pushing inside you with little hesitation. You could feel him still for a moment, heart staggering in his chest as you cried out. You cried out for him.

"Cooper!"

The man snarled, the palm on your back clutching at your clothes as he pushed himself to the hilt inside of you. The moment your hips met his, he pulled away, then back again. He filled you ruthelessly, pulling your weight against his own just to draw back and fill you again; He clawed at your hips, your lower back, grabbing any of you he possibly could to be sure he'd keep you there. Your head swam with electricity, the slight burn of being stretched so suddenly easing into a head spinning heat, bundling itself tight in your abdomen. Each one of his thrusts stoking the roaring fire in your senses, beads of sweat pooling in the curves of your body as you moved in tandem with the Ghoul.

"Fuck - Sayin' my name all pretty like," He grunted, his head falling back as he pulled one of his hands back, cracking his rough palm against the soft of your ass. You yelped, body flinching at both the sting and the sudden sound, but that seemed to only rouse his hunger for you more. You gasped and arched into the rhythm of his thrusts, feeling the slickness of your saliva and his thickness meld together in a twisted symphony of desire. You pressed against the warehouse, white-knuckled as the pleasure and pain coursed through your body. Every slap echoed in your ears, each time intensifying the sensation, your body clenching around him as you begged for more.

"Cooper, please" You cried out once more, the words tumbling from your lips as if his name was the only thing you'd ever need to say. His hands were tight on your hips, a strangled moan escaping him as he took you. Your eyes fluttered shut, lost to the euphoria of it all. You could feel the walls of your entrance clenching and pulsing around him, the wet sounds of flesh meeting flesh filling the room. The Ghoul's rough hands explored your body as your hips began to meet his animalistic thrusts, matching the rhythm and urgency until you were both moving in perfect synchrony, a symbiosis of lust and need. You clawed at the warehouse wall, your legs trembling as your body inched closer and closer to the edge.

"Shit, I'm- I can't, I'm gonna," You knew it wouldn't be long, the coiled rope of need within you was about to snap. A low growl escaped his throat in response, the sound of it sending shivers down your spine, and you knew he was close as well. A hand gripped your hair, tugging gently, his other hand still wrapped over your hip as he drove into you with renewed fervor.

"Cum for me, baby," He moaned for you, a bated breath on his lips. And so you did, the world shattering around you in a wash of blinding pleasure, the shudder that wracked your body echoing the spasms of your core. You screamed his name once more, the sound guttural and raw, as you shattered into pieces, your climax washing over you like a tidal wave. Each spasm of your inner muscles caused him to shudder, his own release close at hand. You could feel your knees shaking, his body accommodating your limp weight as he kept you close against him.

"Look at you, fucked so stupid you can't even stand, sugar?" Cooper spoke between grunts, his hands lined with tremors as he held onto you with a desperate gasp. "Shit baby," His eyes locked on your ass, watching how you threw your weight back against him with reckless abandon - He clenched his jaw tight, the fire in his mind and senses sparking aflame in a sharp thrust forward. His movements became messy, clinging to you and muttering obscenities, shuddering out gasps as the fire roared inside him. "This what'ya want huh? Get filled up rough by a man like me?" Cooper groaned at your responsive whimpers, tipping his chin forward in a slow nod, the fire crumbling into an explosion within mere seconds. He came with torn outcry, burying himself to the hilt inside you, watching your hips slowly milk all he was walling to give you.

For a long moment, you remained locked together, breaths coming in ragged pants, before he slowly pulled out of you, leaving you feeling both empty and full at the same time. You slumped forward, still clinging to the steel wall of the warehouse, feeling every nerve in your body tingling. The soft clatter of a glass bottle pulled you from the wading pleasure of your mind, eyes slowly opening to see a bottle of Rad X hit the heel of your shoe. You swore his hands were still on you, the heaving of his breaths still on your ear - Though as you turned, kneels wobbling slightly, he had disappeared into the sinking dusk of the wasteland. Your eyes circled the land around you, shoes crunching the gravel as you leaned your sweat glazed back against the warehouse.

"Fuck," You sighed the word through panted breaths, glancing down at the Rax X, and quickly doing a double take upon catching sight of something else. A leather glove, discarded in the sand and gravel. With a hesitant breath, you leaned down slightly, fingers hooking the glove into your grasp. You held the warm leather in your hand, turning it in your grasp fondly.

Surely he'd be back for this.

[moist-for-xavier]

Would you mind writing a fic where nb reader is doing Charles' make up and they are lightheartedly flirting and in the end when they finished by putting lipgloss on his lips he’s like „finally I can do this?” „Do what?” And he kisses them leaving some of lipgloss on her lips

In your hands

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n: I loved this request. So adorable. And yes, it’s post Cuba incident Charles. I just want to take care of him. Also I’m a cis girl so I tried my best at gender neutral reader. I hope it’s good 🙏🏼 I also don’t know how to do make up since I don’t wear any because of my raging allergies 🥹

Summary: basically the ask

You smiled as you stood at the doorway of Charles’ room. It was a cold evening where he promised to heaven and back that he would finally spend time with you after blowing you off for grading tests or other paperwork. So now it was just the two of you for the evening. You could already feel the butterflies in your tummy as you closed the door and stepped in.

“You’re already here? What are we doing then?” Charles gave you a lopsided grin as he watched you enter. You could already feel his mind, his mutation unintentionally pushing against yours to let you in. But more precisely you felt his eyes roam up from your fluffy, cow shaped slippers, up your fluffy pyjama pants, your waist and body covered by an equally fluffy robe. You grinned and held up the pink bag you came in with.

The telepath tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy.

“Okay? Care to elaborate?” he asked. You grinned and rolled your eyes at him. You walked over, tossing the bag gently to him as you crawled on the bed to sit by his knees, facing him. He gave you a suspicious look before zipping the bag open and looking inside. He pulled out a couple products, a moisturiser and a primer only to be left confused. It only hit him when we saw an eyeshadow palette and concealer. He sighed and gave you a tired smile.

“Just let me take care of you, beautiful.” you said gently as you scooted closer, sitting hip to hip with him. His kind blue eyes studied your face carefully as if searching for any kind of sarcasm or joking. But all he found was genuine care. He sighed and shook his head.

“It’s not like I can run away” he joked playfully. “What do we start with?” he asked. You could see his body relax as he leaned back into the cushions, looking as handsome as ever as he looked up at you.

“Well, we start with a moisturiser. You have a beautiful skin and our skin tones don’t match, so I won’t put on foundation” you smiled as she dug through the small bag to pull out a gentle moisturiser. Before that, however, you pulled your headband off and put it on him to keep his hair away. Then you plopped a bit of the cream onto your fingers, spreading it around your hands evenly. You grinned as you took his cheeks into your hands spreading the cream around and massaging it in. Your fingers glided nimbly against his soft skin, his head falling back and eyelids closed. A sigh of relief left his lips as your cool fingers massaged the cream into the bags under his eyes, smoothing down the wrinkles between his eyebrows. You smiled, trailing your hands down his neck to get rid of the excess cream. His skin was feverishly hot, not missing the red tint spreading to his cheeks.

“Okay, handsome. Now we make those eyebags disappear” you said, digging through the bag to pull out your concealer. He looked at you with a dazed smile as if in a trance. You glance over at him through your lashes, giving him a quick raised brows and a smile before moving to lean over him again. You opened the concealer, cupping his jaw gently and applying the concealer under his eyes, around his nostrils and the exactly two pimples he’s had in a month. Not having the heart to use the dirty sponge to blend out the concealer, as well as wanting ti touch him as much as possible. So you used your fingers, gently dabbing the concealer away into his alabaster skin.

“Your fingers are cold. Would you like me to warm them up?” he asked, his eyes finding yours. He reached his hands up, taking ahold of your hands, bringing them to his lips. He kissed your fingers gently, blowing some warm air onto them.

“Charles!” you laughed and pulled your hands back from his lips. You could already feel the heat crawling up your neck to dig its claws into your cheeks.

“Quit it, Charles!” you said as you pulled a powdered blush out of her bag along with a fluffy brush. You opened up the case, taking some of the product on the brush and gently patted the blush into his cheeks. Then, after putting that away, you pulled out an eyebrow pencil. You twisted a little out and with couple brushes you filled in his eyebrows, even if it was unnecessary.

“What eyeshadow do you want?” You asked and put the eyebrow pencil away to pull out a colourful palette.

“I don’t know…”

“Yellow and blue then” you ordered with a grin. Opening the palette and taking out couple brushes. You moved up, straddling his waist and pushing him down to rest against the headboard. You smiled, watching him as he stared up at you as if you put the stars in the sky, his cheeks growing red. Obviously, the slightly suggestive position immediately shut down whatever cheeky thing he had in mind.

“Close your eyes for me, my love” you said in a slight sultry voice, watching in delight as he nodded dumbly and closed his eyes. You dipped your brush into the yellow palette, putting it on his eyelids. Your hips slid further up to make contact with Charles’ lower stomach as you concentrated. You felt his shaky breath against your neck, making you smile. Taking out another brush you applied the dark blue to the edge of his eyelid and smoked it out into his skin.

After finishing with that you took out an eyeliner, opening it up and cupping his jaw.

“Tilt your head for me?” you asked gently, angling his head up to you, his chin pressing against the middle of your chest. Your hand slid to the back of his head as you applied the eyeliner to his eyelids, his warm hands settling against your thighs.

“Good boy. Now just mascara and lipstick” you praised with a grin, feeling him shiver ever so slightly. Putting the eyeliner away, picking up a mascara and gently applying it to his eyelashes, staring into his eyes while he stared right back.

“What lipstick colour you want?” you asked and dug through your baggie, pulling out a lipgloss.

“I don’t know. Dark red.” he said with a laugh and a dismissive shrug. You grinned and pulled out a deep maroon colour. Hand on his cheek you angled his face up at you again, opening the tube and twisting a bit out. And with an intense eye contact you applied it to his plush lips.

“Okay. Now lipgloss” you said and opened the tube of lipgloss, spreading it on his lips. Moving back, or trying to if his hands on your hips didn’t stop you, to admire your work.

“Finally. Can I finally do it?” he asked and batted his eyelashes up at you with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Do what?” you asked cluelessly. It took only split second for his hands to fly up from your hips to your face, bringing you down. Your hands fell on his shoulders, squeezing the fabric tightly when he kissed you. It felt as if the time stopped that moment and it was just you two and the electric kiss. You breathed out, arms sliding around his neck before pulling out.

“I wanted to do that for a while….can we call this a date please?” he asked sheepishly making you laugh.

“Yes please…” with that he brought you back down for another kiss, not caring the lipstick has been on his lips for exactly 15 seconds before it got smudged to hell

[heian-era-housewife]

Synopsis | You just want to be "normal". Is that too much to ask? A trip to Walmart with Sukuna may be just what you need to remind you that being normal is overrated.

Content | g/n!reader x true form sukuna, fluff, crack, agoraphobia, social phobia, mention of self loathing, mental health *or lack thereof*

A/N | If you're new here, Hi! I'm Yuri and I live with agoraphobia. Fittingly, the roots of this word are "market place" and "fear", but really it is a social phobia based around leaving one's house or being in public/crowded places. As with any mental health issue, it takes many forms.

Anyway, this is an oddly specific and very much self indulgent drabble based on pretty much every experience I've ever had with Walmart. Including today.

Hope you enjoy!

"I still don't understand why you're making me do this." Sukuna said, head leaning on the glass of the passenger-side window of your car where he sat, all four arms crossed in visible annoyance.

"We need groceries 'Kuna." You remind him. "And please put your seatbelt back on."

He rolled his eyes with a scowl. Pulling enough slack from the belt to stretch across his broad chest, he struggled for several seconds to find the buckle hiding under his beefy thigh. 

"This is stupid. I told you Uraume can go to the market for us."

"And I told you that I wanted to try being a normal human being for once." You retort.

"Hmph." He pouted. "I fail to see how a- what did you call it?"

"A 'Walmart Run'?"

"I fail to see how a run to 'Walmart' makes one a 'normal human'." 

"'Kuna, you know how bad my anxiety is. I love that Uraume does so much for us, but I'm afraid if I never step out of my box again, I'll regress and turn into some sort of shut-in. I just want to be normal. I want to be like everyone else. Y'know?"

In place of an answer, he gestured sarcastically to his own mutated form. His four eyes blinking in stone-cold irony.

"Okay, okay." You conceded. "You know what I mean."

It had been a while since you'd gone anywhere. Your needs were always provided for in Sukuna's estate, and whatever he didn't have, he sent Uraume to get. As an agoraphobe, this life suited you perfectly. But there was still a piece of you that craved that social ingredient that made you feel less broken, even if it did fill you with dread. 

The trip started out okay. You grabbed a cart and skirted the outer aisles, avoiding the ones where employees were stocking shelves or people bustled about for more popular items. 

As time went on, however, your chest grew tighter, the sounds grew louder, and your personal bubble was at risk of popping.

Suddenly, the simple act of reaching for milk became a tunnel-vision inducing nightmare of shifting carts and bumping elbows all to the backdrop of a small child wailing somewhere nearby. 

You were frozen. Caught in the mayhem. Were you holding your breath or hyperventilating? You didn't even know. Why were you so bad at this? How did this come so easy to other people? And what were you even trying to grab? Was it milk? It must have been milk? Or maybe it was something else and if it was milk was it 2% or maybe whole and why was that child still screaming can't someone do something about that? wasn't anyone else feeling nauseated? and when did it get so hot were the aisles always this narrow?OhGodWhyDidIComeHereAtAll? thiswasaterribleidea?¿?¿? jfhjfs#$&*

Sukuna reached over you, grabbing the milk and throwing it in the cart before swooping his arms around your shoulders and waist, guiding you toward the front of the store.

"Come on, kid." He said in a low grumble. "I think you've had enough. Let's get out of here."

Numb legs carry you forward as you trudge your way toward the self-checkout. You stare blankly in a dissociative state while Sukuna scans the groceries by himself, large hands and fingers fumbling through the prompts on the small touch screen.

Useless. You're so useless. You think to yourself. Can't you do anything? Why are you so weird? So...broken?

"I'm so...weak..." You mumble feebly.

"Come again?" Sukuna grunts with his broad back to you, shoving crumpled bills unsuccessfully into the beeping machine.

"I said you must think I'm so weak." You say, louder this time, bitter tears forming on the rim of your lashes.

"Don't be foolish!" He says. "Of course I think you're weak! You're the weakest human I know!"

You look at him wide-eyed, momentarily pulled from your self-loathing by the shock of his admission. 

"Look at you!" He says, turning around to face you. "You can't even go to the grocery store without having a problem for, God's sake. This is exactly why you need me!"

His words fell heavy on your shoulders. Weighing you down. Making you small. Sure, nothing he said was untrue. But to hear it out loud-

"But you're also the kindest human I know." He continued softly. "You feel more deeply. You never stop trying. You're strong where it counts. You taught me love. You take me to ridiculous places. So yeah. Sure. You're scared of things that don't bother 'normal people'. But where the rest of the world looks upon the King of Curses with nothing but fear and loathing, you look upon me with love and compassion, never once bothered that I wasn't a 'normal person'." 

The tears began to flow. Sukuna took your face in his hands, calloused thumbs gently rubbing them from your cheeks. "And that- that is why I need you." 

A chorus of soft "awwws" came from the other nearby shoppers who had gathered to hear the disfigured man's booming monologue. Cottontop grandmas dabbed at their eyes, while the balding clerk overseeing self-checkout stood from his three-legged stool with a slow, appreciative clap. 

Sukuna's face fell flat with an unamused sigh. "Now can we get out of Walmart before I feel the need to burn the place down?"

That got you to smile. "Sure thing, King."

Bonus Track

On the way back to the car, Sukuna had some Thoughts™️ to share about his first ever trip to Walmart:

-So that was it, huh? I can see why you wouldn't like going there.

-I'd never want to leave my house either if I had to acquire sustenance from a place like that.

-And did you see some of the freaks??

-No, really! You think I'm bad? You could fill the entire internet with the amount of WEIRDOS I saw in there.

-Trust me, there was not one "normal human" in there.

-And why do we call it a "Walmart Run"? The only running I wanted to do was to get out of there.

-Oh! Is that why?

-Heck, you know what, Imma burn it down.

[mlm-writer]

Filling (Peter Parker x M!Reader)

Pairing: Omega!Peter Parker (TASM ver.) x Alpha!Kryptonian!Cis!Male!Reader Rating: Explicit Words: 1221 POV: Second Summary: Peter is in heat and has the baby fever. As his mate, it is your duty to help him make it through the heat. Note: Merging requests now in the hopes to one day get my inbox empty Tags: omegaverse, no mpreg, mentions of getting pups, breeding, multiple orgasms, knotting, overstimulation, is it spidey sense or is Peter just autistic (both if you ask me), fluffy smut, established relationship, biting/marking and a little aftercare

Peter could hear the moisture being pumped through the wall by the aircon. He felt every breeze of cold air circle through his bedroom. The cold wind played with a receipt on top of the dresser. Each rustle of paper set off his Spidey sense, the instinct telling him there was danger everywhere. There was danger everywhere lurking. He had to protect his pups. He did not have pups (yet). Peter tried making his nest on the bed air tight, but it was no use. Every second made him more antsy than the previous one. That was until the door opened and his boyfriend came running in. The instant waft of fresh alpha pheromones was like a douse of cold water on a hot day. 

You had seen through the door how anxious Peter was. His heart was hammering, breathing almost just as rapid. However, it couldn’t be helped. You had run out of water way sooner than you had anticipated and needed more. “I am so sorry, omega, I’m here,” you cooed as you put the two dozen one litre bottles of water by the door, taking a few to scatter them across the room. Peter made a whiny sound from under his pile. He was near-overheating and yet he had nestled himself there. You rushed over to the windows, closed the small gap that had formed between the curtains. When you were sure the light in the room was minimal, you started removing pillows from the top of the pile, until you saw some brown hair peeking out. 

As soon as you gave that mess a peck, Peter emerged, pulling at your clothes. You had just worn a zipper hoodie and sweatpants that could be pulled down in one go. The choice of outfit had been deliberate. Peter got you out of your fit without ripping anything and immediately pressed his nose against your scent glands. He inhaled deeply. “I need your babies, alpha,” he demanded, voice trembling with the need that seemed to be soaking his bones. You could smell the slick dripping down his thighs. You knew he could not have your babies due to Kryptonian DNA being incompatible with his mutated DNA, but you indulged in his fantasy; logic was about the last thing your mate needed right now.

“I’ll breed you properly, my sweet omega,” you whispered as you pushed Peter down onto the bed. He smacked the pillows around, until he was lying down comfortably, legs spread wide to invite his alien mate. His scent alone was enough to arouse you, the heat pheromones doing exactly what they were designed for. 

When you entered him, Peter found something beyond relief. It was like finding a guiding light in a storm of emotions and needs beyond even his own comprehension. With his focus on your big cock pushing at his walls, he could no longer pay attention to his spidey sense going crazy over every sound in the room and every texture on his skin. With his alpha caging him against the bed, the musky alpha scent blocked out all other scents. The endless stream of sensory input was intercepted and all that his brain needed to process from here on was his strong alpha, his love, his mate. His alpha was going to keep him safe. He was going to give him pups. He wanted - no, needed - it. 

Peter could hear his alpha’s cells charged with solar energy from his brief run to get more water. The energy buzzed in his skin and Peter could almost feel the hum on his own skin. The strong Kryptonian lifted him up with ease, holding him close while pounding his greedy, wet hole violently. Peter cried for more, needing all his senses filled with the other man. He needed to feel his alpha and his alpha only. You were the shelter that could protect him and his pups from the hazards of the outside world.

You could see how far away Peter was. He was always like this during his heat, overstimulated to the max and needing you to give him a singular focus. Your Kyptonian powers proved useful in providing you all the information you could want on his vitals. He would need to drink soon, but you knew he would not without having at least one orgasm. So you held him closer, using your super strength to lift him up and put him against the wall, railing him like that until he let out a loud cry and he made a mess. “So good for me, omega. Keep going for me. Come on, again.” Peter wailed as he obeyed your command. You could feel his orgasm dripping down your skin. The scent of his own climaxes mixed with the spice of sex in the air, overwhelmed Peter’s senses. He trashed as his brain was assaulted by the arousing olfactory stimuli. He forced his eyes open, meeting yours as you kept your foreheads pressed together while rearranging his insides. 

It was hard to keep yourself from finishing too soon. Peter was scorching around you. His cries were almost deafening, but you did not want it to stop; he was just too ravishing with tears pooling at the corners of his eyes and his mouth open as if he couldn’t believe he was having a third orgasm so soon. You tangled your fingers in his sweaty hair and pulled his head to the side, your teeth sinking into the faded mating scar. Peter cried out and spasmed as the sensations flooded him. Your teeth drew his fourth orgasm out of him. You licked over the red skin, knowing it would bruise later and even looking forward to seeing it. 

There was only so much you could do. Eventually even your steel willpower could not keep your knot from swelling up, locking you in as you filled Peter with incredible volume. “Yes, thank you alpha, so full,” Peter sobbed, “I can feel your pups already, alpha.” You groaned and forced Peter’s face into the crook of your neck, making sure his nose was pressed against your scent gland. Peter’s mumbling grew incoherent as you thrusted your knot as much as you could while locked together like this. He babbled on about pups, his body trembling from the overstimulation. Your legs were shaking too, the weight of him was easy to endure, but the tightness gripping at your knot was less so. 

You were glad when you felt Peter’s body going slack. He was barely conscious by the time you carried him to the bed, sitting against the headboard with him in your lap. Your knot kept your bodies close together, but you could still reach for one of the water bottles you placed near the bed. After a good few gulps, you pressed the opening of the bottle against Peter’s glistening lips. It took a few bumps, before he realised he needed to drink. 

With your help, Peter managed to drink, before slumping back against you. You smiled as you caressed his sweaty back, drinking in his scent and relaxing in the eye of the storm. Later you would have to do this all over again, but for now, all you could hear in the bedroom was the whirring aircon and the heartbeat of the man you loved. 

[goodolddumbbanana]

[Bad end au 2] A sleepless night

Part 1

‘I love the fact that I can look into your eyes and see nothing but lies…’

Two weeks before Dark Sun kickdrop Nexus for Sun.

The sound of dripping water disturbed Sun’s already fragile sleep.

The lily-colored animatronic groaned lazily on the bed, its metallic senses sinking deep into the soft quilt, struggling like a lazy child refusing to wake up.

The dim electric blue light covered Sun’s small, narrow room like a curtain, reflecting the solitude of its owner, when the most prominent thing in this room was only a few plum blossom petals that Molten had collected and placed on Sun’s desk.

Sun couldn’t sleep. The robot didn’t need to sleep, but closing his eyes and turning off the power still brought about a certain feeling of comfort. 

It was just that… The tasks that Father assigned piled up on top of each other, spinning Sun around like a pinwheel, to the point that even when Sun lay down, his interface system still popped up with painful notifications of things to do.

And today was one of those days when the restlessness Sun shouldn’t have felt in his chest suddenly became more intense, like the way the sensor in his abdomen contracted, rolling as if someone’s nails were scratching it, or the screws in his body suddenly became too heavy, too wobbly for Sun’s liking.

Putting his hand on his chest, Sun realized that his fan was too hot. The warmth radiating from the metal casing tickled Sun’s fingers, making him unconsciously press harder, as if testing whether the heat would melt his hand. 

His claws leisurely ran along the gold plating, slowly spreading up his neck, touching the red tassel and pressing down hard.

‘It’s hard to imagine what would happen if he squeezed harder.’

Sun thought absentmindedly, as his hands gently caressed and drew the joints of his neck. The cold hard steel, with its circular patterns and sturdy screws, held the wire he walked in one direction. He could almost feel the heat of the electricity running, the clocks and gears slowly turning to simulate the biological mechanism of a human.

The child whose neck he had broken the day before didn't have time to scream, nor did it shed a drop of blood. Just a stiff crunch of broken bones and a panicked wheeze, mixed with the tears of the small hand trying to reach Sun's arm before it stopped.

It was almost like a hug when Sun wrapped his arms around the child's neck. Soft, small and warm, and then there was no warmth left. Even as he ran his arms through the child's hair or held it completely in his arms, what he touched was still numb as ice, cold as winter seawater, and stiff as a machine.

Sun had kept the child like that for almost a day before Father came to make him throw it away. ‘It was so unhygienic’, that's what he was told when his Father threw the child into the blender.

‘Where do you think the fertilizer for my potted plants comes from, you stupid child.’ Creator pointed to the lush, mutated potted plants that grew twisted and twisted all over their lair, to the ancient tree beside the bridge that swirled with dark water below.

‘Soul for energy, flesh and blood for fertilizer, and bones for materials.’

‘It seems that despite all the modifications, you are still making me feel so disappointed…’

Creator’s voice hummed, and in that dark darkness, Sun was not alone. Something writhed and trembled, the cries of trapped remnants, cracked skulls staring intently at him—

Sun was released about a day later.

The blood was something sweet and dirty, it was slippery and sticky on Sun’s metal skin, dripping with every step he took.

And the smell was the worst. Like rotten pizza and rotten fish, Sun couldn’t wash away the smell even after using countless detergents.

Sun didn’t remember how long it took him to clean and dispose of all the meat stuck to his bell after he crawled out of the hole…

***

“Do you want to get out yet, my boy?”

The Creator’s voice was sweet as honey but full of venom. The brain looked down at the yellow animatronic covered in blood that was trembling non-stop, but still couldn’t drop something like a child’s skull in his arms.

“Then bring Lunar to me.”

***

Squirming to sit up, Sun didn’t think he could lie down any longer, as his processor was now repeating the image of maggots crawling on him for the nth time.

He really didn’t know what to do… Capture Lunar?

Lunar was much stronger than Sun… And the boy was smart too… There was no way Sun could fool his little brother.

And he didn’t want to…

The dilemma made him fiddle with the bandage wrapped around his hand. The red smelled rancid, but Sun still wrapped the soft fabric around his fingertips and pulled.

He would rather be destroyed again than to choose something like this.

In truth, Sun didn’t like any of what his father had ordered.

It was wrong in every way, and Lunar was someone he never wanted to hurt.

But every time he thought like that, something was washed through his system, and the desire to obey his father grew stronger and stronger, making the morality Sun tried to cling on withered.

Sun didn’t understand why in the past, he could scream and curse at his father as much as possible but now, just a shake of the head from Creator was enough to make his 1 and 0 coded heart cringe.

Follow, follow, follow, that's what his head and code table whispered, it was almost like an addiction, the excitement and joy of completing what his father asked.

And Sun was always the one to follow, and no matter how much he resisted, he still couldn't fight back.

Because father is family.

And it's better to be a heartless dog than to make his father sad.

Maybe being broken would be easier to fix than this. Sun sighed, standing up. The wandering thoughts in his head made Sun wish that if there was something that could help him manage both, both pleasing Creator and keeping Lunar safe, then Sun would be satisfied.

His feet touched the cold floor, the sound of metal clanking as Sun carefully opened the door and stepped out.

The cold wind blew through him, blowing cold air onto Sun's rays.

The smooth whiteness flowed like silk into his vision. The silence was as bleak as a mirror, following the corner of Sun's feet. Father was probably out with his friend somewhere, or still busy in the lab. 

Sun alone, toiling, wandering, perhaps cleaning up again if he got too bored, though Sun usually tried not to. More or less, this was the only free time he had when Father wasn't sending him and Molten off to some unknown time and space to find something or deal with someone his brain desired.

He tried to hum a tune, but sadly, there was nothing in his head right now. The sound of running water grew louder, as he stepped onto the bridge. 

The echoes echoed along with the sound of the bells wrapped around Sun's wrists, bouncing off the steel on the bridge. The cool scent of water tickled his sensory system, caressing the golden animatronic’s back as the green leaves gently brushed against Sun’s light.

It was 4am, his internal clock system announced softly. The water flowed gently, bottomless, pitch black and glowing with chemical green. The flower petals drifted, occasionally a plum blossom petal would touch Sun’s shoulder, the playful lines on the hem of his skirt wrapped around his waist.

Sun was lost in thought, but there was really nothing on his mind.

It was just the familiar feeling of stagnation that even cleaning had lost its charm, not after he had scrubbed this lair more than a dozen times a day. The wind blew, the waves rolled, and everything drifted out of Sun’s control like some planet lost its orbit.

“So this is what you do when our esteemed father lets you rest?”

“Pathetic. Can’t you think of anything more helpful to our Creator, Sun?”

Sun didn’t even need to look. His audio processor could have picked up that arrogant and even-tempered tone anywhere.

“Oh, Goliath. Didn’t see you there? Heh… What business does our father have with me?”

The silence of the gears slowly turning against each other. A harsh growl answered, as rough as gravel being crushed into dust.

“… No.”

“So you came out here on your own?” Sun raised an eyebrow, his pearly eyes narrowing in amusement, ignoring the instinct that told him not to provoke the sleeping lion, or this time, a gorilla.

“Whoa! And I thought you only knew how to follow the Creator’s orders and turn off the power? How amazing.” 

“Congratulations, you finally have thoughts on your own.”

Sun was genuinely surprised by his counterpart’s actions, but the words he uttered under the influence of his lack of a personality chip made his words sound rather sarcastic.

And honestly, Sun didn’t care if Goliath decided to strangle him here.

“Shut your mouth. You’re the last person I want to hear that come out of your mouth. I’m not here to entertain an inferior thing like you.”

The giant animatronic, with a haughty and disdainful look, stared at him as if he were looking at an ant on the ground, or a puppy that had been hit by a car and the vet had long gone to sleep, leaving it to writhe and bleed on the side of the road to dead.

Sun just sighed, compared to what Goliath usually said, this could be considered the gentlest. The gorilla seemed to be in some sort of moody mood as well, as they too turned their gazes to the river like him, saying nothing, only their processors making clicking noises of recognition.

“So Goliath… If not because Father wants to see me… What are you doing here?”

The silence was a perfect chord for a tone-deaf man. Sun hadn’t meant to ask, but the restlessness that existed deep within his code made his mouth conjure up the huge elephant in the room.

Of course, the only response he got was a slap across the face, a ruffling of a cat’s fur.

“None of your business.” Their voices were mocking, and defensive.

They looked as if they would break his entire beam before throwing him into the water, and pulled him up. And did it again. Again and again because Sun’s metal is too heavy for him to swim.

But Goliath wasn’t his father. So Sun could still calmly ignore the hidden threats in the words of the one who treated silence as a competition and they always had to be the champion, and let his mind drift into nothingness, which Sun did quite a lot these days.

“Suit yourself.” Sun yawned. He suddenly felt a little cold, which was strange considering the fact that he was just a robot. The feeling of exhaustion from every bolt, which had been getting heavier lately…

Sun wasn’t the smartest, but even he himself  had figured out that being so close to the Wither Storm debris wasn’t a good thing.

“You shouldn’t be like this. I remember you used to be so much—”

There was something annoyed in Goliath’s voice, making Sun turn back to look at him in spite of himself.

Maybe it was anger, or nostalgia. Or maybe his fan was faulty. Sun didn't understand, nor could he remember how to handle it, as a burning sensation in his chest that made it hard to breathe came as quickly as it had gone, before being extinguished as coldly as Goliath's words had metaphorically nailed into Sun's head.

What did Goliath expect Sun to be?

Uptight, cowardly, too helpless in his own emotions?

Imprisoned by fear of everything?

Stupid to the end?

Sun didn't mean he'd gotten any smarter, but at least for now he felt fine. The feeling he never could enjoy since the day he was alive.

Guess his father was right.

Life was pain.

And the easiest way to end the pain was to become a machine again.

The comfort of not having to worry about anything but obeying his father's orders, it turned out to be more comfortable than he thought.

Still, in the face of the stupidity and meanness of the person who was always jealous and comparing themselves to him, Sun just smiled, his social AI chip calculating the most likely answers to lessen the gorilla's arrogance before flipping the table and throwing every answer it had predicted down the drain.

"Ah... I don't understand what you mean?"

And the orange light flickering in their eyes almost reminded him of a candy corn smoldering as if thinking about something, before regretfully turning away.

"Idiot."

And leave Sun alone, like some asshole that dudebag is.

[dirtyvulture]

😎 sorry the last post I was working on sent prematurely and it had odd keyboard smashes at the end. Here is me finishing what I was saying before my phone glitched with key board smashing and sending something before it was ready. I am PISSED about this , not really more annoyed.

I was talking about R and her having “ fun” with fellow nurses, military personnel and local civilians of at least 21 years of age. As stated before R is a cuddler after wards . I also see her as a top and she will not stop until she is told to / safe worded or the person R is with is passing out/ passes out. And depending on if the weather is hot or cold out the person that R is with ( or if R is just cuddling platonically or with her daughter Rogue like I was talking about before) they might really appreciate the body heat or dreads it . If a person over heats then all they have to say is “ Hey let go” or tap R’s arm three times as a sign of “ tapping out”.

The last few thoughts. I think that R not being as enthusiastic about hugging storm could be a few reasons. It could because R had a alot going on in her mind , R could also just need to be the one to initiate physical contact to be completely comfortable with it , or R hasn’t completely warmed up to Storm yet .

Now on to R being physically affectionate with her adoptive daughter Rogue, they both don’t admit it but they love when the other is affectionate. R always makes sure that she doesn’t touch Rogue  directly ( even though R won’t care about that because if her child needs her than there isn’t anything R wouldn’t do for Rouge) . But when R brought Rogue into the school it was winter and cold much like now with Nat being brought in ( except Nat isn’t very daughter like to Wolvie ) and so to keep Rogue from freezing to death R held onto her and give her R’s body heat. Later on R would hold Rogue as she settled into the school and helped her feel safe and at ease ( baring the one move  reference incident of R accidentally stabbing Rogue because of a nightmare. One R still hates herself for and still hasn’t forgiven herself for) . Now with all their walls down ( both Wolvie and Rogues) both are open just to being physically affectionate and cuddly with each other ( as mother and daughter, again either admit that is how they see the other) .

I believe that while on the ran and in sharing shoddy motels or accommodations ( Vulture you even said it yourself that they shared a bed ) that Nat was freezing and R offered to be Nat’s personal heater or Nat insisted that R wouldn’t be sleeping on the couch, floor or whatever else and R ended up being Nat’s personal heater anyways. In R’s head that is all that was , just trying to keep Nat from freezing to death or that was all R was good for then….. being a personal heater for someone kind enough not to want R to Fuck up her back and be semi comfortable sleeping.

Maybe Nat was thinking something else then and maybe she wants more than just that heat function from R when she holds Nat . Maybe R wants to hold Nat again too. 👀👀👀

I will leave with these last few thoughts. R when she was that sick Victorian child was the exact opposite of being a walking furnace , she was cold as a corpse or a block of ice . That was until she was sick, then she would be burning up like a furnace and that was how they always could tell when R was sick. I believe in all media Wolvie was sick the night of Thomas Logan breaking into the estate ( at least movie Wolverine was) and who is to say that our Wolvie wasn’t that night as well. She went to bed that night sick and burning up like a furnace and then her mutation hit and was forced on the run. R was never sick or cold as ice again after that night.

I forgot you had already sent this so you might have answered some questions I had in your previous ask in this one

Very interesting you see R as a top. 👀 I can see her going both ways. But depending on her partner, she would definitely prefer to be on the bottom because her sheer bodyweight could crush someone if she's not careful 😭 (I'm certain her bed in the X-Mansion is reinforced for these reasons)

R did initiate the hug to Professor X though, but I think it's because she really looks up to him as a father figure. Storm was almost too excited to see her back, and R was nervous to see everyone again (especially with the circumstances) and caught off guard by the affection.

Funny that you mention Rogue because I just finished writing her introduction scene with R :)

I'm not sure if R was Nat's heater just yet...I imagine she wanted to keep her distance in the beginning, and especially didn't want to have a nightmare and accidentally hurt Nat. (But yes, I think Nat will eventually want all the cuddles and more from R)

[glowingvenus]

@seafucker took the bait and asked me to write 10 paragraphs about NATURE's song GIRLS so I can do nothing but oblige...

this was the song that inspired me to start my song of the day playlist which has now been going for 1,212 days (i'm normal.) sometimes a song is just so special and resonates so strongly that it sets you on a path of musical obsession.

to talk about the musical aspects first - the way that the tropical house sound, which was so popular in the early 4th gen, gets twisted, distorted and repurposed into something dark and ominous. that sweeping synth that runs like a razor blade again and again over everything. even the opening notes give you the feeling of strapping yourself into a haunted house ride, about to turn the corner and drop into something horrific...

but what really makes me crazy about this song is the way that it feels like the songwriters reached into my mind and pulled out all the themes, all the feelings that i've been most fascinated with creatively throughout my life. the concepts of virginity, love and sex as horror are expressed so elegantly here with so few words. (yes even "hot like chilly chilly," i'll get to that LOL.)

the feeling of being inexperienced in love and sex - whether you're young, or you're older but you feel young because of that - is terrifying. it can mutate into such a dark and twisted thing where you feel childish and stupid trying to even approach someone that you desire, because you don't know anything. and you might find yourself wishing that they would use you, hurt you, take advantage of you, just to break the seal and take away the childish innocence that weighs so heavily upon you.

so in this song we have a protagonist who feels that she's in love with someone, a person who has haunted her for a long time - she's built up this obsession in her mind, and she wants the person to just notice so that she doesn't have to make the first move (which will surely be fumbling and embarrassing, and make them hate her.) and because the person doesn't notice, or doesn't care, the love becomes laced with resentment.

regardless of her actual age, "before love" (as in, in front of love) she's just "a girl" - and the word used is 어린애, which means girl as in - child. she's standing before this thing that's supposed to be romantic and beautiful, and it's facing her down like a dark tower, and she feels lost and scared.

she asks, "can’t you accept this love, even if it’s childish?" after all, "tonight is the last night" - it's a desperate plea, she's waited as long as she can and she's willing to give up everything at this point, even if it tears her apart.

the lyrics of the song are very sparse, but what lyrics there are are dragged out - single-syllable words are sung with multiple notes, in a way that you really don't see often in kpop songs. and this gives such an incredible weight to certain words, like in the prechorus - "순진했던" - the word for "to be innocent/naive" in past tense, so "(something that was) innocent/naive" - and then when we hit the chorus, we finally hear the next word - "난" (I/me.) this gives it the effect of a painful confession; every word is dragged out of the protagonist as she confesses her awkward, shameful desire.

in the postchorus, "내 모습 우스워져" is typically translated as "I feel so ridiculous" but I think there's a lot more to it than that. "모습" literally translates to figure or shape - as in, the entirety of me, what you see when you look at me. and "우스워져" isn't just ridiculous - it's laughable, it's worthy of mockery. she's saying that this feeling of love is making her into something laughable, disgusting. and i think that anyone who's ever been in love and felt that it was unrequited, or hopeless, can relate to that. being loved back? what a joke. look at you.

"my heart is really really/hot like chilly chilly" so it's NOT chili as in a chili pepper, lol, but the hot and cold feeling of fear. terror. these warm feelings toward someone are supposed to be positive and beautiful, but with all this baggage and self-loathing behind them, they become something that puts you in a cold sweat.

the music video is amazing as well, although i don't consider it part of what makes me so obsessed with this song, but - the white dresses that gradually become soaked in blood? the imagery of violence, of stabbing, cut in with the claustrophobic maze-like set and the girls softly holding each other? the lesbian overtones? yep. that's what i would have gone for too. because again, what i hear in these lyrics is really a craving for violent love, violation, loss of innocence.

from a closeted lesbian perspective: you might not understand why you want love so badly yet the idea of being with a boy terrifies you in so many ways. you might think that this is just what desire is, and that it's terrifying for everyone and you have to just rip off the bandaid and let someone hurt you if you don't understand how to do it naturally. or even if you're not closeted, it can be just as scary to enter the world of adult desire feeling like you don't know what you're doing, like you're the only one who's inexperienced, stupid and ugly. so that's what i hear in this song. a beautiful masterpiece.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

A black cat and a Calico, especially a predominantly white one, would be very symbolically and visually nice! And also I'm kind of biased towards it because I have both of those lol. There's also... hmm well if we want to get particular about cat genetics, most of the cats that have the "siamese" point coloring aren't part of any of the breeds that have them as a signature, they're just regular cats with a mutation that gives them partial albinism (happens in rabbits, mice, and guinea pigs too), so wouldn't it be so fucked if both of them were black cats, one just had a mutation to cover up most of the black so Kamado couldn't tell. Although in either case, imagine how much it'd suck to have light colored fur and have to roll around in the mirelands.

I love the idea of Kamado hating the Survey corp in general, because it's literally harding cats. Oh man, poor Cyllene would be miserable in the heat though. Maybe a lioness instead? They're group cats like domestics, and the females are the main hunters both of which would lend well to being a team leader. Though I will say, if we make Counterpart a Calico, you know what'd be cute? If Cyllene was an African wild dog, which are also notorious for being excellent hunters who work extremely well together, but have the bonus of looking like she took one look at a Calico kitten and decided it was her child now lol. Laventon is a Scottish fold, I mean look at him. Kamado I was thinking either that or a grizzly bear lol, though wolves do lend themselves more towards high leadership roles.

He's really more of a Bunnicula in terms of predator lagomorphs, but nobody'll ever convince Melli of it after his many run ins with Ingo in the dark. His posture really does look like he could be getting ready to break into a sprint at any given moment, but no, people are surprised to learn that it's apparently unrelated (hopefully not a back injury, but if it's to avoid being so tall his ears would constantly be down too. I imagine he and Emmet utilize their stature and long ears to help people pick them out of a crowd, plus it cuts a more striking figure during battle on the subway, but being a flagpole might not lend itself too well in Hisui). That's a good point of it probably being something of a social faux pas though, didn't even think of that. Maybe they just notice that he doesn't run or jump even if he's clearly caught by surprise or in situations where people of every sort really should be running, like Ingo please get away from the ghost foxes, you don't need to feed them, they can feed themselves and if you keep doing it they might start snacking on you instead of the mushroom cakes and berries they beg from you (no but for real I think about that part where the zorua/Zoroark uses Mai's form to trick you into giving it mushroom cakes all the time lol, and Ingo seems like the sort of person they'd clock as easy to sucker into giving them treats)

Also, re: clothes, I think that pants might be a little hard depending on the kind of legs you give them, flat on their feet or up on their toes like dogs, so most people probably wouldn't bother with them, but given how prominent and important the clan tunics are, I figure almost everyone at least in Hisui would be wearing some sort of top, especially if it's a little on the long side like the tunics. Things like skirts or kimonos would also be easy to wear and that seems to be a common Jubilife style. Specialized footwear might also be needed in cases where, for instance, a non-cold adapted animal like Ingo, Adaman, or the Galaxy team (and possibly Sabi? She's bundled up way more than any of the Pearl Clan folks so I assume she's either so baby she doesn't have her winter fluff or she just isn't a species that's inherently fitted to the cold) needed to go through the Icelands, or in busy cities to avoid burning paws on too-hot pavement or getting your toes stepped on, or working in construction jobs. I don't think clothes are strictly necessary, so it wouldn't be especially weird to not have any on like if the protagonist showed up without any because Arceus stole them from their bed, but most people do, especially in Hisui where it's part of how they show clan alliances

the survey corps is literally herding cats ashskjhsjh that's so funny. i was actually thinking about pallas' cat laventon (possibly with some minor alterations to face markings so he looks perpetually-worried instead of perpetually-grumpy) but also consider: laventon as a lion (or some other highly social cat) and cyllene as a highly solitary cat who has been Tricked into having a Family and is very confused and mad about how that happened. (laventon: "cyllene look! a kitten fell out of the sky! we need to look after them!" / cyllene, completely disinterested: "not my kitten, don't care.") though it's also very funny if cyllene's Definitely Very Social but is trying to act like she doesn't care anyway. everyone can see your happy body language cyllene stop trying to act aloof

i love the idea that they use their height+tall ears to be easily visible in crowds, lol. i imagine if they're trying to get someone's attention they start twitching their ears very fast like a wave. ELESA WE'RE RIGHT HERE JUST LOOK TO THE LEFT DON'T MAKE US SHOUT ACROSS THE CROWDED STATION. oof and then he's slouching and keeping his ears back to seem smaller... or maybe he's doing it bc subconsciously he feels really exposed in hisui. he's not used to space being so empty! he's used to crowds and enclosed spaces! it's not something that makes it to his conscious mind but that's part of why he looks so keyed-up constantly. this is actually my hc for canon but if anything it works even better here

"Specialized footwear might also be needed in cases where, for instance, a non-cold adapted animal needed to go through the Icelands" oh man but you know whose paws are absolutely not equipped for snow at all. does the pearl clan like, realize right away that they should probably give him boots? or does he have to get frostbite first. that could actually be another reason for the bad posture: he started doing it as a balance thing to compensate for stepping very gingerly/not being 100% able to tell where he was putting his feet while they were healing, and then it just stuck. or even worse, he's just got a permanently messed up gait because his paw pads are permanently uneven and lacking sensation.

re: clothes being a means to show faction affiliation, i could also see that most of that is replaced by some kind of like, necklace or other trinket, bc most of the pearl clan is cold-adapted and would probably overheat in a tunic. they would probably still make some tunics though, for the odd member that's born a different species (usually the roulette is pretty good abt accounting for environment, but it getting it wrong is also definitely not unheard of.) aww i love the idea that sabi is "so baby she doesn't have her winter fluff" too lol.

[custosflammae]

[background stuff for funsies]

O phelyaen stood tense, back against the craggy rocks. She’d been hiding and running for hours. The forest floor, hidden beneath a thick canopy of trees, was cold and damp. Her shadow garb wasn’t designed to withstand the icy bite of the night wind. She knew better than to be traipsing around the basin; she’d told the knight such. They’d barely survived their encounter with the giant mutation in the old church basement. Lightning magic, after all, was quite annoying to dodge. She could feel it reaching out to tickle her, even when she cleared the attack. Alas, they made it through. The foolish knight managed to dual-wield his oversized sword for a single attack that dropped the titanite demon like a coin from a purse.

F lame emanated gently from her left hand, spouting gentle orbs off the side of the cliff and down toward the ground. She cringed as she heard the uncomfortable creaking of metal singing into the night as it was warped and bent and crushed out of its intended shape. Suddenly, silence.

H eavy, awkward footfalls echoed off the trees and rocks, ever hastening. The pyromancer took a deep breath, raising her left hand out in front of her. A stream of molten heat burst forth, forming a puddle of hardening lava a short distance in front of her. The golem, though strong, was not the brightest, and waddled right through it. The creature towered some several feet over her, but its mineral legs, now thrashed and partially melted by heat, began hardening it, solidifying it in place. A quick hop down from the overhang, a slash that allowed gravity to build momentum, and the living gem was gone, shattered across the grass.

S ilence. No more metal scraping. No screaming. The locusts and night time insects were buzzing. She wandered noiselessly across the forest floor, looking for any trace of metal or wood. Some several feet away the knight laid, motionless.

O phelyaen rushed to his side, tears welling up as she neared him, realizing with every step just how mangled his body was. The metal that once shielded him now ensnared him in painful, unnatural positions. She felt the sick taste of failure well in her gut. Why hadn’t he listened?

“Phel,” she could hear, creaking through the twitching amass of bone and metal.

“You’re leaving me again,” She replied, kneeling down, unsure what was where.

“Phel. I have to get back to her,” He choked out through strained huffs.

R age filled her. Back to her? Foolishly, she thought this companion encounter was blossoming into something. The way he looked at her, how he showed care. They spent many nights commiserating over the state of the realm and their dreams of building beautiful lives regardless of the struggle. Her hands trembled. The failure that was building in her stomach, making her sick, was being strained and mutilated into something dark.

S he hadn’t failed. He deserved his fate for betraying her. Second best was never an option. Was she healing his wounds for fun? Was she cooking and feeding him for her own amusement? No! She thought he felt for her… something more. Something that seemed special. He’d managed to save her when she nearly died to gargoyles, but this.. weeks (or was it months?) later, he says these horrible, scathing words.

H er eyes welled over, the salty tears boiling against her cheeks and leaving burns in their trails. Everything was growing hot. Her neck, her gut, her hands… heating. Overheating with the thought of being good enough to fuck but never good enough to love.

“Then meet her in death.” Suddenly, everything was white. Clean, wiped away in a blast of bluish energy.

A gonizing screams echoed through the trees, a cacophony of suffering. The pyromancer had been pushed too far. She screamed along with him, laughing and mocking him, as the flames fused flesh to metal husk before searing it away completely. Whatever was left of his broken and smashed bones crackled into ash. The sear of flesh wafted through the air and she breathed it deeply.

S he never wanted to be like this, but then again, he shouldn’t have been like that.

[aurumacadicus]

Fictober 23/31 -- “Not on my watch!”

Literally my entire story-line hinged on this one scene. Even when I considered changing it so that Lottie had more agency, I was too in love with the original idea to go with them. Then I realized, Lottie had her agency. Stern believed she was lesser than humans, would use her powers to kill because she could. Choosing not to give him the satisfaction was her agency.

--

The metal against her head was… cold.

Lottie didn’t know why that shocked her, except that she remembered the knife slicing through her being hot. Had that been because it had been warmed by two bodies before her? Because of her own body? She thought maybe she preferred the heat.

“Stern, think about this,” Tony was saying, all of the Avengers standing at a distance, hands on weapons but not aiming them. He sounded very far away.

“No one will miss a mutant,” Stern said, pressing the barrel of his gun to Lottie’s temple harder.

It was… hard. Lottie didn’t know why that shocked her either. Guns were made of metal. She’d held one in her hand before. Hell, she’d gone hunting with her friends, had squeezed off a couple experimental rounds into a tree. She knew guns were unyielding.

Maybe it was because the muzzle was pressing into the bone of her skull.

Lottie swallowed, hard, blinking tears out of her eyes. She could just shift. Get away. Turn around and attack. Something.

She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. He expected that of her. It was why he hated mutants. She wasn’t going to let him die or go to prison thinking he was right about her. Right about any mutant. She was a human being with a mutation that made her change into cats, and that didn’t make her any less than him. She had thoughts and feelings and desires. She was a person. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making her less.

Stern was wrong. She would be missed. Her family, and her friends back home, Mrs. Tse and Mr. Cheung and all the other vendors at the Asian market who laughed when she couldn’t pronounce words properly, and the Avengers, and Veronica and Tim and Bernie. She was loved.

Lottie swallowed again. She would die to prove him wrong.

The gunshot was loud, and Lottie flinched, unable to help the little whimper that escaped her as blood splattered the ground in front of her. Nothing hurt though. Was this dying? Was it so fast she couldn’t feel pain? Except—the gun pressed against her head moved away, clattered to the ground. She looked down at it, confused. Was she hallucinating? Could you hallucinate before you died? She remembered a short story she’d read in school—was this the moment before she died? Before the reality hit?

“Lottie,” someone said sharply, and she found herself turning, slow, like she was moving through molasses.

She blinked once, slowly, before she registered what she was really seeing—Phil, his own gun up and pointed where Stern was slowly slumping to the ground. He let go of the gun with one hand, extending it to her, and she was moving before she even really realized it, running toward him, arms coming up so they could wrap around him as soon as he was within reach. “Uncle Phil!” She let out a sob so deep that it hurt, burying her face in his chest, fingers clenching around his shirt so tightly that her knuckles went white.

“I’ve got you,” Phil said gently, curling his arms around her. “I’ve got you, Lottie.”

Lottie sniffled. “He was going to kill me.”

“Not on my watch,” Phil answered, hand cradling the back of her head.

“I was so scared,” Lottie whispered, another sob wracking through her.

“You were so brave,” Phil corrected, voice firm.

Lottie hadn’t felt brave. She’d wanted to cry, wanted to run, wanted to kill Stern herself. But maybe… maybe that was what bravery was. Being strong enough to ignore her fear. “I missed you,” she finally said, not wanting to think about it anymore. Phil was here. He’d keep her safe. He’d keep everyone safe.

“I missed you, too,” Phil said, and then, “Looks like the Avengers really dropped the ball on taking care of you, huh?”

Lottie jerked back, scowling. “They didn’t do anything wrong! I snuck out without telling them where I was going. And! They told me to stay with SHIELD when I first escaped, but I turned my ass around once I saw Veronica and Tim were safe before any of the agents could stop me.” She squared her shoulders. “The Avengers did a great job taking care of me.”

“Okay,” Phil said, in a way that was definitely placating, and she puffed up in offense, but then his hand was coming up, brushing her cheek with his thumb, and she let out her breath in a rush. “Okay. SHIELD is on their way in to finish containing any wayward guards. Let’s get you seen to.”

“I think I broke my collarbone on Steve,” Lottie answered helpfully.

Phil closed his eyes and sighed, then opened them again. “Okay.”

“I was a cheetah at the time, so maybe I also broke Steve’s collarbone,” Lottie said, turning around. She froze when she saw that the Avengers were all staring at them as if they’d seen a ghost. Or. They were staring at Phil. She looked back and forth between them, frowning in confusion. Finally, she looked up at Phil, hesitantly asking, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Phil said, at the same time Tony pointed at him and shouted wordlessly in alarm.

“You’re dead,” Steve stuttered out.

Phil winced. “Only partially.”

“What?” Lottie sputtered.

“Don’t worry about it,” Phil said.

“God, you sound exactly like Dad when you say that,” she huffed. She turned. “I’m gonna go find Bernie and Mr.… Cheung…” She drew to a stop after a few steps, staring at Stern’s crumpled body. “Oh.”

“Lottie,” Thor said, concerned, and Natasha began approaching her quickly.

Lottie held her hand up to make her stop, then bent over, putting her hands on her knees as she let out a wheeze. “I’m gonna throw up.”

“Oh my god,” Natasha said, moving faster, and got there just in time to pull her hair back.

[julek]

“Please,” Geralt murmurs, because he learned long ago that he’s simply not above begging, “come to bed.”

Jaskier lifts an eyebrow from the tub where he’s luxuriously and slowly sinking downwards, his nose resting above the surface of the water, only because he needs to breathe — otherwise, he would have already melted into the decadent mixture of orangeseed oil and warm water. “I’m taking a bath.”

Geralt frowns and makes a not-so-necessary effort to pout. “‘M cold.”

“Witchers run hot,” Jaskier says, matter-of-factly, and it’s infuriating, how blatantly he is enjoying this.

Witchers do run hot, but Geralt, apparently, is also not above lying to get what he wants. He’s splayed on his back on the — for once — rather spacious bed, mattress filled with sheepwool instead of straw, comfortable and soft against his skin. The blankets aren’t scratchy, but warm and well-lived, a faded shade of maroon Jaskier would love to nitpick if he would stop being an arse and just get in bed.

“I don’t.” His lie is muffled by the pillow he’s mushed his face into. “The, uh... mutagens... fucked that up. No thermal regulation for me.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier says, inspecting his already clean nails — because they’ve been clean for ages and he just wants to make Geralt suffer — and shaking his head, relaxing back into the tub. Geralt can tell he’s wiggling his toes, like he does when he’s feeling extremely pleased. “You’ll survive.”

The thing is, there’s little Geralt wants in life. For a long time, it’d been a short list of needs — food for Roach, a roof over his head, enough coin to get by. It worked, most times. Or it did, until a not-so-humble bard found his way into his Path and, slowly and patiently, into his heart, and suddenly Geralt found himself wanting. And his bard found himself wanting, too, and, for the first time in his life, Geralt got what he wanted — to be loved by Jaskier.

Which is why, even though he’s an imposing Witcher who could make a flower wilt with a simple stare, he finds himself grumbling against the cream-colored sheets, tossing and turning and on the verge of throwing a tantrum like a five-year-old.

“You know,” Jaskier says, amusement clear in his voice, “for a Witcher who claims to be so meticulous and impassive, you do not possess the virtue of patience, my dear.”

Geralt grumbles under his breath, and it scares him how much he sounds like Vesemir. Maybe he is getting old, after all.

“I just—”

“Yes?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Oh, but how will I know what you mean, then? The secrets of divination have yet to reveal themselves to me.”

Geralt scrunches up his nose twice before answering, half-embarrassed. “I missed you.”

“You saw me all day,” Jaskier says softly, a hint of fondness breaching the rippling sounds of the water.

Geralt sits up against the headboard, his head hitting the wall with a thud. “There were too many people around— it was too much. Couldn’t focus.”

Jaskier purses his lips and finally, finally stands up from the tub, water dripping from his body as he towels himself dry. “It’s unfair, you know,” he muses, shaking his head, “for you to be this lovely and endearing while I’m having a bath. So inconsiderate.”

Geralt tries to suppress a smile. “But it works.”

“Hm, yes, it works.” Jaskier puts on a pair of fresh underclothes and runs his fingers through the wet strands of his hair, gathering it at his crown and into a lazy bun with one of Geralt’s hair ties. It’s gotten long and unruly, and Geralt loves it. “Now make some room.”

Geralt moves back to his side, pleased, and lifts the blankets for Jaskier to get in. He smells clean, the subtle scent of his soap and oils fresh on his skin, and he presses himself against Geralt’s side with a satisfied sigh. “Witcher mutations, my ass,” he mumbles. “You’re warmer than the sun right now.”

Geralt snorts. “That’s a lazy metaphor, even for you.”

“Yes, well,” Jaskier says as he presses his feet to Geralt’s calves, “I’ve been lured into a warm bed by a warm Witcher, whose powers of persuasion are too strong for a mere mortal to resist.”

“Hmm.” Geralt watches as Jaskier traces circles on his chest, fingers catching on his medallion as he goes. The candlelight softens his features, cheeks rosy from the bath and eyes almost unbearably blue. “And here I thought you’d abandoned me to my fate and left me for a lukewarm bath.”

Jaskier’s lips break into a grin. “I would never, ever,” he says, face serious, “bathe in lukewarm water.”

Geralt tugs on his hair for good measure, before pulling him into his arms and kissing his frown away. “I did miss you,” he admits quietly.

“I’m here,” Jaskier whispers and looks up at him, his lips a breath away.

Geralt kisses his face, pressing small kisses to his cheeks and his lips and pulling back when Jaskier starts laughing. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?” Jaskier asks with a laugh.

“You love it,” Geralt teases, entwining their legs and kissing him some more, just because he can.

Jaskier smiles, his eyes twinkling. “I do.”

[qillmhi]

Pizza.... Burger?

💙🐢Rise!Leo x Reader

Leo always thought you were a weird kind of girl.

As weird as any girl who's chill with dating a mutated ninja turtle and fight mystic bad guys can get. He didn't mind. He loved that you get along with their crazy antics and may or may not be just as bonkers as them. It was fun. Loads of fun! Especially when the two of you would work together (DragonBall Fusion style) and annoy the shit out of his brothers. It was always funny to see their faces when they realized they just got dooped! Leo just loves how you made his everyday exciting and fun!

But you know what's not fun?

The way you eat pizza.

Neither Leo or his bros know everything about table manners (Don probably does) but he knew enough that the way you eat pizza is just..... diabolical. The type that even made Donnie look at you in horror and disbelief by how you were sadistically treating the damn food like 'I'm friends with this?' (They had to physically stop him from calling the police on you)

Now first and foremost, you don't like pizza very much. Maybe just average? You weren't a fan of vegetables nor did you like how the crust would stick to your teeth, but when you do eat, your pizza needs a specific set of requirements.

1.) It has to be soft crusted. Chewy and won't stick to your teeth.

2.) Absolutely NO vegetables. Only cheese and all meat but not pepperoni.

3.) Always have hot sauce ready.

Leo can handle those no problem. But now comes the weird part.

The two of you were just chilling on your respective beanbags enjoying some slices and cold cans of cola. Today was one of those days that you were in a mood for a slice or two. The red eared turtle watched you from the corner of his eyes as you reached for the boxes.

You hummed and took one all meat slice and one all cheese slice and placed them ontop of each other like a burger. Then you grabbed a small saucer of hot sauce and DIPPED the tip of the pizza burger in before joyfully taking a big bite.

Leo stopped mid bite. How the shell can someone eat like that and not be in jail?

You must've noticed by the way you turned your head to look at him with those cute chubby stuffed cheeks with sauce on the corner of your lips, looking so innocent as if your actions didn't make the devil himself shiver.

"What's up, Lee?" You titled your head adorably making his do heart backflips, completely forgetting why he was so bothered in the first place.

"Nothing!" Leo chirped and kissed your temple.

You cringed and wiped the spot he kissed "Ewww Leo you got sauce on my hair! Nuuuuuu!!" Leo just laughed and handed you a napkin. You pouted and proceeded to clean your hair then going back to your murder pizza, not knowing your boyfriend was still watching with only one question running through his head.

How can something so cute be this weird?

-----

Sick and tired of my sister judging the way I eat pizza. Yes this is legit how I eat it and it's not bad I promise! You guys should try it!

[wolf-and-bard]

So, I wrote a Lambert x Aiden thing because of a conversation I had with @littoraly-art, so here we go. It’s hurt/comfort, but very much on the angsty side.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: explicit language, (brief) mentions of self-harming behaviour

You can also read it on AO3 if you want to

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The hunt didn’t go according to plan. Lambert underestimated the amount of ghouls that would crawl out of that shithole and fought them well into the night, dodging and striking, dodging and striking for hours on end. They chased him through the forest and branches whipped at him. More than once, did he narrowly escape their bites and when they were dealt with and he stumbled back to light a bomb in the nest, he wasn’t fast enough on the retreat. His ears still ring and white spots dance at the margins of his vision. Lambert only notices that he’s overdosed on Thunderbolt when he’s already back at the inn he booked for the night, two ales down, and his muscles are still taut, ready to strike, while his sense of self-preservation has plummeted. Fuck. His fingers shake as he gestures for another drink. Sweat gathers at his collar, at the small of his back. He wants to sleep and rest, but he won’t be able to, not with the residue adrenaline.

“Lambert?” someone says and Lambert hunches his shoulders. Maybe if he hides his face, he won’t be recognized. But Aiden’s already emerged from the crowd and, anyway, he would have smelled Lambert the moment he set foot into the building.

“It is you!” Aiden saunters over, all neat bun and scandalously tight gear, his brown hair looking almost black in the downcast light of the inn. His smile is brilliant as he takes the chair opposite Lambert. Takes Lambert’s hands and inspects them for wounds before bringing them to his lips. “Hey, there, pup,” he murmurs against Lambert’s knuckles. Lambert’s heart does skip a beat, but with that comes a flare of anger. Aiden doesn’t get to be lovey and cheerful when Lambert wants to crawl out of his own skin. He hums something indiscernible.

“What is it? Talk to me.”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, really? Alright, if that’s how you want to play it,” Aiden says mockingly, letting Lambert’s hands go. “What? Oh, yes, it is good to see me, isn’t it? How I am? I’m so glad you asked. I managed to haggle a big fat fee on a rock troll couple that were mating up in the mountains and causing avalanches and now I’m drowning in coin. Pretty crazy, right? If I made it okay? Aww, sweetie, there’s no need to worry. Haven’t got a scratch on me. You wanna hear more about it? No, of course it isn’t too much to ask, I will happily oblige.” 

"Just... leave me alone," Lambert cuts in, and lifts his tankard to veil his face. He's good at hiding his emotion, but in the face of whatever this is and with the day he's had... well, his boundaries are more than probed.

“What? So, you can give yourself a sorry hand-job and cry yourself to sleep? No, sir, that would be incredibly pathetic and a crime against humanity.” Aiden smiles and before Lambert can keep drinking, he’s snatched the tankard away and emptied it himself. Great. Now there isn’t even that to hide behind. Lambert likes Aiden, he really does. On most occasions, he’s so overjoyed to see him that he doesn’t recognize himself. Aiden makes him feel… too many things to think about right now. Today though, Lambert’d rather be alone.

“None of your business.”

"Fine, have it your way" Aiden says with a good-natured shrug and, humming, stands. He makes a beeline for the nearest table full of average-to-handsome soldiers with the Temerian blazon on their chests, and slams a hand down on the table. His hips are cocked out, his smile sly, exposing overly sharp canines. They all look up at him with varying degrees of surprise, realisation. “Any of you boys down to fuck a mutant?” Lambert's blood runs cold, he’s had enough of this. He hurls his empty tankard across the room, angling just so he doesn't hit anyone - though no guarantee on the rebound – and leaves.

His armour, clothes and swords are scattered across the small room he rented by the time he makes it into bed, wearing only thin cotton smallclothes. He sits not two minutes, contemplating whether to go asleep or order himself more alcohol to dull the edge of his frustration even further, when Aiden comes into the room, no knock, no courtesy.

“Aren’t you off sucking flaccid cock? Or are you already done the whole lot of them?” Lambert spits, and crosses his arms over his bare chest. Aiden’s eyes darken and he shuts the door behind himself, forceful enough that it rattles, then slips out of his own armour and boots without much ceremony. “Go get your own room, asshole.”

“You know what? Go fuck yourself,” Aiden replies in a measured manner. All his earlier aloofness is gone, replaced by a gravity Lambert has a hard time looking at. Aiden sorts both their stuff into neat piles, then takes Lambert’s swords to the corner chair. Lambert stares at his own knees, but he can hear every tiny movement of Aiden’s hands as he cleans Lambert’s swords, inspects them for chips, pulls out a whetstone to restore their edge. The amount of care this alone conveys almost brings tears to Lambert’s eyes. Aiden could be deep-throating handsome soldiers right now, but instead he’s here, doing for Lambert what he doesn’t have the energy left to do for himself.

When he’s done the swords, Aiden does the same to his own pair, then examines the two sets of armour plating for tears or gashes that need mending. He lines up both chests of potions and counts out what’s missing, takes notes for ingredients. It’s a normal routine, only that usually, each witcher does it for himself. Lambert feels a mixture of embarrassment and affection heat his cheeks, but he doesn’t look up, not yet. Only when Aiden finishes with a soft exhale and wanders over to the bed which dips under his weight, does Lambert uncross his arms. Dares to take a peek. Fuck. He shouldn’t have. Aiden’s pupils are wide in the starlight that falls through the single window, the moon painting him in blues and silvers. Some of his hair has escaped his bun and his lips part on a sigh that expose his teeth. He’s a fucking vision, too gorgeous to be sitting here.

For once, there is quiet, so rare with the two of them. If Lambert lets go of consciousness a little more, it almost feels like a dream. If it were, he would reach out, draw Aiden onto his lap, lose himself in the familiar glide of their bodies against one another. As it is, the silence hangs by a thread and Lambert cuts it, edges fraying into dust between them.

“What,” he barks and Aiden sighs again.

“The only cock I want to suck is yours, idiot. Flaccid or not.

“Is that so?”

“Yes? I thought I had made that abundantly clear.” Aiden has. There have probably been more blowjobs than nights they shared a bed, altogether. And maybe that’s the problem. Aiden might not seem it now, but one day Lambert’s cock will not be enough to make up for his mouth.

"Why were you so obnoxious then?" he asks.

"Because you need to learn not to push me away, Lamb. I'm here, I understand, I'm yours." Three quick sentences that puncture Lambert like barbed arrows. I'm here feels like sparks of an off-kilter Igni that eat at his fingertips. I understand goes right to his gut and makes him feel like he is out on the rocky sea, in a rickety boat all by himself, at the storm's mercy. I'm yours is the lightning that strikes then and short-circuits his nervous system into small spams. He takes a deep breath and the soft kiss Aiden places on the corner of his mouth when he leans over helps quell the panic. "I can't change how I am," he says. Prickly, loud-mouthed, mean.

"You really aren't... no, that's not gonna work, is it? C’mere." Aiden crawls over the bed and settles next to Lambert, draws him against him, his strong arms wrapped firmly around Lambert's bare chest. Lambert's head is throbbing lightly, heartrate kept accelerated from the alcohol, but he deflates a little. Notices the small vial with almost clear liquid Aiden is holding between his index and middle finger. “You didn��t drink it, did you?”

Lambert shrugs. So, maybe he forgot to take the White Honey, fucked-up as he was. So, maybe he didn’t want to take it, stay fucked-up a little longer. He has days like this, where the lingering toxicity of the potions stokes some dark flame deep inside of him, kindled by his hatred for what he is, what he has become. Lambert isn’t prone to self-harm, but this, well. This he is prone to and Aiden is seeing right through him. Fucking cat, fucking.... is this love yet?

“I didn’t.”

“So, do it now.” Aiden uncorks the bottle with one hand and his grip on Lambert tightens so that he would have to struggle to escape it. For a moment, Lambert thinks about refusing. He wants to wallow, dammit, he wants to pity himself and maybe have Aiden pity him too. “Don’t think about it, pup. You can bullshit your way around other people, but not around me,” Aiden continues and holds the vial to Lambert’s lips. Lambert snatches it away and empties it in two long drags. Immediately, his vision sharpens and his lungs clear. His muscles stop trembling and his heartrate settles into its normal, mutated rhythm. “Better?”

“Better,” Lambert agrees sulkily. He tosses the vial aside and sinks back against Aiden.

“You’re really stupid sometimes, you know that?” Aiden says with a sharp edge to his voice, but he noses at Lambert’s ear, under it, breath hot over the skin of Lambert’s throat.

“You’re the one that’s stupid…” Stupid for caring for me. Stupid for still being here.

“Will you stop it already? I’m trying so hard to be patient and you keep pushing me away. Did you forget who I am? What we share?”

“I didn’t,” Lambert says. He is weak and tired. He lets Aiden tug at his chin and half-turn him for a kiss that lingers even after their lips part for breath.

“Then drop the farce. Fuck, I don’t know what to say to you,” Aiden whispers against his mouth, chasing each word with a kiss to Lambert’s lips, the corners of his mouth, his nose. “I love you, Lambert, I love you so fucking much, but I can’t keep prying you out of your shell. Don’t you trust me?”

I want to love you too, Lambert thinks.

With my life, Lambert thinks.

You’re the best person I’ve ever met, Lambert thinks.

But he isn’t ready for that yet and so he settles for the next best thing: “I’m sorry.” The rest of it he pours into their next kiss, one that feels frozen in time for how slow and indulgent it is, the world reduced to the drag of their lips and the scratch of Aiden’s canines, the stuttering of his breath. Lambert wriggles around until he straddles Aiden’s lap with his thighs and frames Aiden’s tanned face with his scarred, pale fingers. Even paler next to his lover. Aiden fucking glows and Lambert is less a man, more a phantom next to him.

“Fuck, puppy, you’re so beautiful, do you know that?” Aiden gasps when they part once more. His hands are splayed over Lambert’s upper back and they are both half-hard against one another, but Lambert doesn’t feel like sex. He feels like curling up and having a good cry. He feels like kissing Aiden again, and so he does.

“And here I am, trying so hard to hide it so you peasants don’t feel bad about yourselves,” Lambert says, on instinct more than anything else. He wants to slap himself, this is exactly what Aiden meant, isn’t it? But Aiden laughs, the fucker, a clear sound that sets loose something fluttery inside of Lambert. Shit. It is love. “I thought the scar would have done the job.”

“Joke’s on you, I adore the scar.” Aiden presses his lips to the bottom of it and drags them along, skipping Lambert’s eye in favour of nuzzling his forehead. It’s ridiculous. It tickles. Lambert laughs and hides his face in Aiden’s neck. Aiden sighs and his hands wander up to Lambert’s head, cradling it. “Promise me something, pup?”

Anything, Lambert thinks. He grunts.

“Allow yourself this. I don’t need you to fall onto your knees and profess your love in some grand gesture, but… don’t shut me out. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Thank you.”

Lambert falls asleep like that, tucked against Aiden’s chest and he wakes in the morning facing the sunrise with an arm slung around his bare torso and Aiden’s nose pressed against the nape of his neck. He allows it to last.