#guys i wrote a fanfiction

[robinsgrl]

rafe with a weird and clingy girl pt. 2 y’all i have a lot of these you don’t even know how weird of a gf i can be.

weird girl masterlist

main masterlist

it’s not just cute aggression. although that is a main factor. you need to be touching him at aalllll times. like all the time.

you’re both in bed, the night a cold one for the outer banks. he’s on his side of the bed reading a lame book that you can’t care for. and despite being under the same blanket as him, he feels warmer.

you place your cold hands on his abs and he lets out a tiny yelp and shoves you away. “god, why are you so cold?”

“as my boyfriend it’s your job to warm me up!”

“no way, then i quit”

you put your hands back on him and despite how he tenses from the cold, he doesn’t push you away again. this gives you to the idea to trail your hand down and put them in his shorts.

“what the hell are you doing?”

“that’s the warmest part of you”

“what?”

“it’s like when i put my hands in my bra cause it’s really warm”

“you put your hands in your bra?”

“shut up, you put your hands in my bra all the time”

“to cop a feel not to get warm”

“don’t move my hands!” because he’s trying to get your hands out of his shorts

“baby, you cant grip on me because you want to warm up”

“okay then pretend im coping a feel!”

“get off of me weirdo!” he laughs, attention now on you as you practically wrestle

you like to slap his ass. it’s hard not to. he’s so tantalizing. even when he isn’t trying. you go to the gym with him once and he’s lifting weights as you drool behind him. up and down. up and down. You let out a wolf whistle as you watch him and he tries and hold back his smile.

“just like that” you coo

“you sound like a pervert”

“im a pervert for you”

“that’s not as romantic as you think it is”

“what would you do if i squished a cheek right now?”

this alarms him and he drops the weights, giving you a scolding look. “you can’t squish a guys cheek while he’s lifting”

“im not going to.” you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. you were definitely going to.

he gives you a careful side eye, making sure you’re on your best behavior. a few minutes later and he’s back at his task. you sit, bored, still just watching him. you sigh loudly as you get up off the machine you were sitting on. “you’re boring. im leaving”

“wait for me, angel, im almost—“

you giggle and run away as you send a smack to his ass, “sorry! i had to!”

“jesus, you’re an animal!” he calls out after you.

you don’t even stop at family events. cameron events are usually stuffy. you hate them. but you do what you can for rafe. it’s the end of the awkward dinner and you two are washing dishes. “surprised you didn’t make the help do this”

“we gave him the day off”

“spoiled brat” you tease him as he rinses a dish under the water. you finish drying off the plate and put it in the cabinet, eyes trailing over him. his ass looks good in his dress pants.

with a hop to your step, you stand behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. “what are you up to?”

you scoff, “can’t a girl hug her man?”

“you’re hugging me like a broke boyfriend. you only do that when you’re up to something”

“would it surprise you if i said im trying to cop a feel?”

“nothing about you surprises me anymore”

“so you won’t be mad?”

“i’ll be pissed.”

“too late” you bring your hands behind him and give his ass a squeeze. he tenses at this, pushing himself forward to get away from you.

“you’re perverted!”

“you have cake! i can’t help it!”

“cake? god, you gross me out”

“stop running away!”

he’s threatening you with a wet hand towel but you dodge him as you keep chasing after him. dinners at this house are always the worst but not as the two of you run around the kitchen, laughter filling the air.

“uh, what’s happening?” wheezie’s voice cuts the two of you off.

rafe’s got you draped on his shoulder, your hands on his ass from the upside down angle you’re in. you both pause. “we’re touching butts.”

“jesus, baby, don’t tell my sister that”

[matcha-milkies]

CONTENT WARNING: Body Horror, Toxic & Abusive Billford

MY "MARRIED LIFE" FIC HAS A FAN ANIMATION NOW?!!!!

PLEASE GO WATCH IT IT'S SO SO SO SO GOOD

(fic link below the cut)

Also: The Tumblr-Posted Version That I Still Need to Update

[mrsmangi]

Freesia 🌸

secrets - luigi mangione

♡ flower prompt: freesia - telling a secret of which they've told no one else - meaning: during the victorian era, freesias were seen as a symbol of trust & used to send secret messages. ♡ w.c.: 980 ♡ a/n: thank you, faye! this one is short & sweet, just for you. 💋 hope you enjoy!

♡ send me a flower & i'll write a drabble based off the prompt ! (plz, i love flowers)

The room is quiet. Moonlight spills through your curtains, casting silvery patterns across the walls and sheets. You’re in bed, laying half-draped over Luigi, your skin warm where it presses against his. The heat of the summer night makes the minimal layers between you feel like too much.

He’s shirtless, chest rising and falling in a continuous rhythm beneath your hand. One arm is tucked behind his head, the other wrapped around your shoulders. You lay clad in only your bra and a pair of shorts, thin straps digging slightly into your shoulders as you shift closer to him. Your finger traces small, lazy stars across his chest, the motion absentminded.

The cool air from the open window brushes against the skin of your back, a deep contrast to the warmth radiating from his body. His skin is firm, but soft beneath your touch. Every so often, you feel the faint twitch of a muscle beneath your fingertips.

You love moments like these with him: quiet and intimate. They don’t need words to portray their significance. You feel no pressure to make conversation. His voice breaks the silence anyway, low and steady.

“Do you always do this?” he asks, his large hand brushing against the small of your back, settling at the curve of your waist. His touch is light and delicate. Luigi always has a way of treating you gently.

“Do what?” you murmur, not looking up.

“Draw stars on people,” he says, a teasing edge to his tone.

“Only on people I like,” you reply, your lips curving into a small smile. You prop yourself up on one arm, palm laying flat against your right cheek. Your left hand remains on his chest when you meet his eyes. They’re darker in the low light, but tender.

He mirrors a smile that matches your own, laughing quietly. His hand moves up to trail a lazy line along your spine. “Good to know.”

A comfortable silence falls over you both. You take advantage of the moment and lean forward to capture his lips on your own. He reciprocates the gesture immediately, hand laying flat on your back to push you closer. His lips are plush and moist, slowly ravishing the taste of your lips. His scent is filling your senses, making your head dizzy with pleasure. Oh, how you wish you could kiss this man forever and never run out of breath. When he pulls away, you pant softly–as does he.

As you catch your breath, you lean your forehead against his and close your eyes. He closes his own, silent until his breath is even.

“Can I tell you something?” he whispers.

When you open your eyes, his eyes are already open, gazing at your face.

“Anything.”

He stares at you for a long moment before sighing, head tilting. “I know I come across as,” he hesitates, thumb brushing against the curve of your hip nervously, “Contrarian. Opinionated. Maybe even arrogant.”

“Maybe?” you laugh quietly, fingertips stilling on his chest. “What ever gave you that idea, my dear?”

He rolls his eyes, but smiles faintly. “Okay, fine. Definitely, but the truth is…” His voice trails off, eyes wandering to the farthest wall in the room, pensive. Then, they flick back to yours. “I really don’t give a fuck if people agree with me. I just want to know they’re paying attention to me.”

Your fingers begin to move again, tracing a heart on his chest. “What makes you say that?”

His thumb resumes its movement, brushing beneath the fabric of your shorts, on your hip.

“I don’t know,” he says softly. “I was just thinking earlier today about the way you look at me when I talk. It’s like you’re not just hearing me. You’re listening. You actually care about what I have to say, even when I’m being…me.”

You laugh again, but it fades once you register his words. Your gaze drifts from his face to your hand on his chest, heart spiraling into a shape that’s less defined. “Isn’t that how everyone wants to be understood, Luigi?”

“Maybe,” he replies. “Not all people have the patience to do that for another person though.”

“You deserve it,” you say simply. It nearly comes out as a whisper.

“So do you,” he replies, immediately.

You smile, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. You lay your arm to rest, head falling back onto his chest. “Big bad Luigi isn’t as contrarian as he wants people to believe.”

He huffs a laugh, hand sliding up to cradle your upper back. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold..”

“Your secret is safe with me,” you whisper.

His hand shifts, sliding slowly from your upper back to your chin. His touch is firm as he tilts your face upward, guiding your stare to his. His fingers linger, brushing along your jawline, thumb resting just below your lips. Within a second, his other arm wraps around the back of your neck, hand cradling the curve where it meets your shoulder.

“C’mere,” he murmurs.

Then, his lips are on yours. The kiss is tender and unhurried, just as the one from minutes before, but it’s intensity leaves you breathless. You melt into him, heat of his body grounding you as his lips move against your own. If he keeps kissing you like this, you won’t be able to take much more without ending up between his legs. He pulls back, and you have to fight off a moan when his teeth graze your lower lip, tugging gently as he ends the kiss.

“Your secret is safe with me,” you echo in a daze.

He smiles. “I’m counting on it,” he mutters, voice just as tender as the kiss he’s given you.

Wrapped in the warmth of his arms, you know you’ll keep it for as long as you live.

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Welcome Home

Pairing: Dylan O'Brien x Reader (Female) Synopsis: Traveling. Any annoying but necessary part of any actors job for the non-traveling party. But the welcome homes? They are oh so fucking sweet. Tags: it's filth with some cute plot, shower sex, kisses, more banter than is reasonable in polite society Rating: Explicit (obviously) Author’s Note: Y'all listen. I know. Okay. It's been a while, and to be honest? I started this in fucking January, but hey. It's here now, right? We're all chill? No one's upset? Good. LOVE YOU!

He’d been away for days, but it felt like weeks. Your feed has been covered in photos of him. The algorithms have you pretty much figured out. You’d been keeping up with his interviews, watching clips of his adorably awkward award acceptance speech. It wasn’t a surprise award, but it didn’t matter that he was prepared for it. He was incapable of being acknowledged for his achievements without turning into the equivalent of a turtle hiding in its shell. You’d have reached out to hold his hand and ground him if you could, but you’d been here. Alone. Missing him. But all that was soon to change.

He was on his way home. Annoyingly, his flight had been delayed, but as you stared up at the JFK arrivals board and it read: ‘Arrived’, you couldn’t help the bubbling up of excitement and giddy nervousness. It seemed like Tony was picking up on it as well because he stood against your leg, pawing at your thigh until you picked him up. He’d been missing his dad and had taken more comfort in your presence since he’d left. 

Your ears perked when the announcement that the baggage from his flight was about to begin its rounds through the baggage claim area. Your phone vibrated in the thigh pocket of your leggings. You gave Tony a quick squeeze before setting him back on the floor and taking your phone out. You smiled at the preview of the text you’d just received before you swiped to see the rest. 

‘Your fine ass better be waiting for me down there.’ 

You smirked before typing out a teasing reply. 

‘Got stuck in traffic a few times but I’m here. I hate Newark btw.’ 

You watched the dots appear and couldn’t help the audible laugh that escaped when you read his next message. 

‘Newark!?’ 

You interrupted him with a quick ‘I’m joking!!!’ before you could see what he was typing next. Then after a brief pause, the dots reappeared before his reprimand. 

‘You know you’re this close to the find-out stage of fuckin around?’ 

‘Oh? What if that’s exactly what I want?’ 

‘👀’

‘Not that I want to rush through the fuckin around part 😏’  

“I’ll be taking my sweet fucking time…don’t worry.”

You startled at his audible reply and your eyes shot up from your phone and met his as Tony pulled at the leash in your hand to reach him. He looked a bit tired but happy. His smile was wide across his stubbled face, quirking up at the corner when you smiled back. 

“Hey buddy!” he said, handing you his pillow before bending down to scoop Tony up into his arms. “I missed you!” he swooned in the adorable baby voice he reserved for his furry son. “Did you miss me too?” He rubbed Tony’s head and then his tummy. “Such a good boy!” 

You smiled at the two of them, pulling Tony’s leash from your wrist and handing it to Dylan. Tony would be stuck to him like glue now. 

“Hey, baby,” he said softly before he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips. One just long enough to make you the tiniest bit dizzy and eager for more. 

You blinked away distracting thoughts. “Do you have much luggage?” 

Dylan shook his head. “Just this,” he said pointing at his backpack, “and one bag on the turnstiles.” 

“Should be over there, they just announced it,” you said, taking a few steps toward the baggage claim area.

“Nice!” he said, hiking Tony up onto his shoulder a bit before he followed after you. 

His bag passed in front of him and he hefted it off the belt and popped out the handle and you took it from him so he could focus on the excited ball of fur in his arms. You set his pillow on it and wheeled it behind you toward the cab that was waiting out front. As much as you hated early morning airport runs, you were glad his 4 AM delayed arrival made the whole airport experience a lot smoother. Fewer people. Less traffic. You’d been able to get in and out without so much as a sideways glance from anyone else. 

“Hey you,” he said as he slumped in the seat next to you, Tony taking up the little bit of space between you. 

“Hey,” you said, smiling back at him. 

It was just after 5 AM and you’d only gotten a couple hours of sleep. Originally, he was supposed to have gotten in at midnight and had been scheduled to arrive at Newark, but his flight had been canceled. When he called you to let you know, you were already getting ready to catch the Uber you’d called to take you to the airport. You had a habit of being too punctual. But that also meant that you had a hard time settling and only managed a short nap before you got up to head to JFK. You were a bit tired, but feeling his warmth next to you for the first time in a while was enough of a comfort to fight off the droop of your sleepy eyes. You wanted to see his smile, the upturned tip of his nose, the lopsided smile he sported as he pet Tony. Sleep could wait. 

The drive back to the loft was rather uneventful. Traffic was light, you weren’t sure you’d ever made it the Carey Tunnel faster than you just had. When you hopped out of the car, Dylan gathered his bags from the back of the car and you headed up to the apartment. Home. It was always a comfortable place, but it was warmer when he was in it.

“Smells nice in here…” he said with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment as his shoulders sagged in relaxation. “I missed it.” 

“And I missed you.” You stepped into his space and wrapped your arms around his waist and he quickly pulled you to his chest, looping his arms over your shoulders and pressing a kiss into your hair. 

“You did, huh?” he chuckled, the heat of his exhaled breath warming your skin. 

“Mhm…” you hummed, laying your cheek against his chest. The loft was dimly lit by a single lamp near the sofa in the living room and the streetlights that filtered in through the large windows. It added to the comfort you felt in his arms. 

“I missed you more,” he whispered.

“Impossible.” 

He sighed out a long breath, holding you tight to his chest before he pulled back, his hands clasped around your waist, eyes locked to yours. The warm, honey-brown hue of them sent a shiver down your spine, of course, it didn’t help that he’d begun to work his hands under the hem of your shirt, his fingertips pressing just a little more firmly into the bare skin covering your ribs when he leaned down to kiss you. 

His lips were insistent, the kiss at the airport clearly not satiating the need that had built during your time apart. It was a comforting reminder that his infatuation with you must be at least somewhat comparable to your own. 

You moaned when his lips wandered along your jaw and latched to your throat just below your ear. Not to be outdone and wanting a little audible thrill of your own, you were satisfied at the deep groan that emanated from the back of his throat when one of your roaming hands slipped down between your bodies to graze across the front of his thigh until it was cupping him through his sweatpants. 

“Definitely missed that,” he breathed out across your collarbone before pushing your hair back and sliding the collar of your shirt aside to access more of your skin. 

You laughed softly before it morphed into a half-whispered moan of his name when his teeth grazed along the sensitive skin above your breast. “Fuck…” you breathed, squeezing your hand around him eliciting an appreciative grumble from him that you felt vibrate the aching bit wet skin he’d been sucking on your chest. 

When you released your grip to slip your hand behind the waistband of his sweats, he grabbed your wrist. “Not yet…” he chuckled when he pulled back to see you scowling at him. “Don’t worry,” he said, smiling at you, brushing an errant hair back from the place where it hung in your eyes, “I’m gonna make you scream…” 

You swallowed thickly. 

“I’d just rather not reek like a man who’s known only seat 23A for 10 hours when I do it.” 

You chuckled softly. “Well…” you smiled back before reaching both hands around behind him, “then you better get this,” you squeezed his ass, “fine thing in the shower then.” You gave him a gentle spank. 

He laughed and pressed a kiss into your hair. “Thirsty little monster,” he said, running his hand down your arm. “Join me?” he said, pleading gaze meeting yours. 

You nodded and he took your hand, lacing your fingers together and leading you through the apartment toward the bathroom. The gentle squeeze of his hand in yours sent a satisfying ripple of warmth through your body. Just as you’d made it through the door to the bathroom, you tugged on his hand and swung his body to pin him against the counter of the vanity. 

He let out a soft huff at the gentle impact and smiled down at you as you grabbed at the hem of his shirt and yanked it roughly up over his body. His bare chest heaved as your eyes roved over him, your hands following your gaze across his pecs, through the soft hair, down his abs, settling on the waistband of his sweats before you began to crouch in front of him as you slid them down his thighs to pool at his feet. 

You looked at him from between his thighs and watched as his brown eyes turned near-black, crouching there longer than was necessary to achieve the task, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Fucking tease…” he muttered under his breath before he hauled you up in front of him and stripped your top off, tossing it across the room before he latched onto your throat and bit down. 

While you writhed in his arms, his hands warmed up your back until his fingers worked open the clasp of your bra. He slipped his fingers under the straps and slid them free of your shoulders and let the garment fall to the floor. 

“Mmm…” he mused, looking down at your chest before he leaned forward and captured your lower lip between his teeth and pulled it back slightly before releasing it to kiss down the column of your throat. He cupped you breast and brought his lips to the peak and flattened his tongue in a wide sweep before sealing his lips to suck your nipple until it was taut and pebbled.

“Dylan…” you groaned, your hands tangling into his hair.

He held you against his body and swapped your positions until your lower back was pressed against the vanity. He nipped at your chest before he finally pulled back and lifted you to sit on the counter in front of him. He quickly unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them from you, throwing them into a heap with the rest of your discarded clothing. Then he slotted himself between your thighs. “Shower’s right there…” he titled his head in its direction, “and yet here we are…” he smiled, his fingertips trailing down from your arms, along your ribs and waist until they teased at the elastic of the last piece of clothing you were left wearing.  

“Here we are…” you repeated, looking down your body at his hand as it slipped into your underwear. You fell forward into his chest when you felt his teasing, barely there touch where you were now aching to feel it. Your sharp intake of breath didn’t go unnoticed.

He leaned in and grinned against the skin of your throat before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the tendon running the length of it. “Something wrong?” he teased, still not touching you the way you wished he would. 

“Please…” you whispered. 

The little amused noise he made only frustrated you more, because Instead of giving in to your need, he hooked his fingers around the band of your underwear and stepped back from you to slide them free from your legs. He twirled them around his long index finger before letting them slip out of his hands to the floor. His eyes roamed over you, exposed to him now, perched on the counter. “Fucking perfect…” he breathed, giving his head a slight shake.

You flushed under his attentive gaze, your own eyes catching on the obvious sign of his own interest tenting the front of his boxer briefs. “Talkin’ about yourself?” you finally managed. 

He smiled and shook his head. 

“You should be…” you sighed, “but you could stand to be just a bit more naked…” you pointed to his underwear. 

He laughed. “Fair,” he said before turning around to turn on the shower. He looked back at you, smirking as he hooked his thumbs in the band of his boxers. When he slid them down his thighs the need you felt for him was almost unbearable. He held out a hand to help you down. “Time to get you wet,” he said with a smirk. 

“Too late.” 

His brows shot up his forehead. “Fuck… me…” he muttered

You stepped past him, your hands gliding over his naked torso, and into the shower. “That’s the plan.” 

He followed after and closed the door, the glass quickly began to fog with the steam as you stood under the spray of the faucet. Even though you knew the water was hot, it almost felt cool on your heated skin. Dylan watched you as you ran your hands over your body before he reached out, gripping your hips. He shoved you back against the wall and his lips crashed into yours. 

You reached up clasped around his neck, your hands tangling into the wet strands of his hair, deepening the kiss and tasting the faint hint of mint on his tongue. His teeth grazed over your bottom lip, pulling it taut before he kissed along your jawline. 

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath against your throat.

“Soap’s over there,” you sighed, jutting your chin to the shelf in the corner. 

“Right… showering…” his teasing mouth paused and he pulled back from you. “You’re so fucking distracting…” he groaned, his grip on your hips shifting to your ass before he squeezed it in both of his palms. 

You grinned and wet your lower lip with your tongue. 

“Not helping.”

You laughed before you pushed him away enough to grab the body wash from the shelf and squeeze it onto his loofa. “Lemme help then,” you said, gesturing for him to turn around in front of you, the water now striking him in the chest. 

He didn’t protest, and quickly spun around as you took a small step closer, so your wet body was pressed briefly against him before you began to scrub his shoulders and upper back. 

“Mmm…” he hummed, rolling his neck. 

You tickled him enough to raise his arms so you could wash them both thoroughly. You smiled watching him noticeably relax his shoulders. You washed down his back, sliding the loofa down to the dips in his low back and over his perfect ass. 

“Taking your time back there…” he chuckled. 

“Stop having such a nice ass and maybe I’d make quicker work of it.” 

He shook a bit with a contained laugh. “Noted.” 

You finally relented, taking one last look at his soapy cheeks before you reached around to scrub his chest and stomach, not spending too much time before reaching down and squeezing the loofa at his belly button and letting the soap begin to run down his body. Your free hand followed after it until it was teasing at the coarse hair, brushing just where you knew he was dying for you to touch him. 

“Relentless fucking tease–” 

You cut off his complaint by wrapping your hand around his sudsy length and pumping him just once. “You were saying?” you breathed against his back before you kissed his shoulder blade before you pumped him again. 

He groaned, his head falling forward. “I’ll shut up… just don’t fucking stop.” 

You beamed with pride. It wasn’t like he never begged, but it was far less common than your own pleadings that more frequently bounced off the walls of this room. You rewarded its rarity by picking up the pace with your hand, pinning him against you with the other hand pressing against the front of his thigh, the loofa long forgotten at his feet. 

He stuttered forward, one hand coming up to hold his weight against the tiled wall the other grasping gently at your wrist, not stopping you, but guiding your hand. “Fuck,” he cursed, the last consonant of it coming out shuddered and low.

You were growing more and more impatient with each second. The ache between your thighs was forcing you to squeeze them together for some kind of relief. You moaned in frustration, your pace faltering. 

Dylan squeezed your wrist and stilled your hand. “Someone sounds needy…” he whispered, pulling your hand free of him and swapping your positions. He pressed you back against the wall and grabbed your body wash from the shelf, squeezing some into his palm. 

You watched him warm his hands together, lathering the gel into foamy suds in those gorgeous fucking hands that you knew he was about to touch you with. 

He smirked at the audible sound of you swallowing before he cupped one of your breasts, his other hand snaking around you, his fingers teasing the dimples of your lower back. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his nose nudging your chin up enough for him to run his tongue up the length of your throat before he kissed you. 

Your heart hammered in your chest, your skin pebbled with goosebumps, your body sang under his touch. You’d missed him. God, how you’d missed him. It should be against the Geneva Convention for him to be away from you this long. Torture, pure and simple. But this? This was as close as you could imagine to what it might feel like to be moments from dying of thirst in a vast desert only to stumble into the cool waters of an oasis.

He slid his hand down your body and, without a hint of teasing or pretense, rubbed your clit with the pads of two fingers. 

“Holy. Sh–!” you cussed, only getting half of it out before it devolved into a strangled moan. 

Dylan nudged at your chin as your head lolled in pleasure, his lips skimming across your skin, breathing out praise as he continued to swirl his fingers over the sensitive bundle of nerves that had you writhing against him. “Missed the way you sound…” he nipped your neck, “the way you feel…” he groped at your chest again with his free hand, “the way you taste…” he kissed you again, his tongue demanding entry into your mouth. 

His talented fingers had you approaching the edge, that warm feeling building up inside you, that pressure that made you feel like you were electrified. “Dyl… please…” you softly begged when he gave you a moment to finally breathe. 

His lips slipped from yours, your noses touching, both of you panting in the same air. Then you whined when you felt his fingers disappear from you. He stepped back into the stream of water and pulled you with him, kissing you everywhere his lips could reach as the hot spray of the shower rinsed you both clean of suds. 

You looped your arms around his neck and he gripped the backs of your thighs, hauling you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. 

His eyes were wide with the same wonder he somehow still held for you even though he’d had you so many times there was no way to keep count. It made you feel warm and wanted. Desired and beautiful.  

“Could stay in this shower for the rest of my fucking life…” he said as he pinned your back to the wall and bucked up against you, slickening himself in the folds of your body, driving the head of his cock into your already sensitive clit. 

Your eyes rolled back at the contact, your hips rocking forward to meet the roll of his. “We’ll… we’ll get all pruney….” you finally breathed out. 

He laughed against your throat before he kissed, nipped, and sucked what you knew would be an impressive little bruise into your skin. “So be it,” he said, and then he shifted his hips, met your gaze, and slid into you to the hilt. 

The stretch, the fullness, it was almost as shocking now as the first time you’d felt him buried inside you. It was perfection, blissfully indecent perfection. You moaned his name, your fingernails clawing at his shoulders as he began to set a punishing pace, driving up into you hard, rutting his body against yours enough to stimulate you in just the right places, inside and out. 

“Shit!” you swore, letting your head fall back against the tiled wall. 

He fucked into you over and over as you felt yourself edging closer to the brink. You felt your thighs begin to shudder as his pace grew more erratic an unpredictable. 

“So fucking tight…” he groaned before he kissed the valley between your collarbones. 

The strangled need in his voice, the feel of his breath against your skin–all of it coupled with the delicious way the end of his length was pressing into that perfect spot inside you that made you feel like you were losing touch with reality–you were ready. “Fuck, Dyl–” 

He raised one hand to press on your chin enough to force your gaze back to his, the pad of his thumb dragging across your lower lip. 

You moaned and flicked at it with the tip of your tongue. “I’m so close… please!” you begged.

He drove his thumb between your lips and when you sucked it into your mouth, he slipped the hand on your thigh between your legs to rub his finger over your clit just when he drove a final thrust against your g-spot. 

You’d had your fair share of fantastic orgasms at this man’s hands, literally, but this one was up there standing proudly on the podium collecting its medal. It was a rush of pent-up need and desire that washed over you like a crashing tidal wave. Every single cell in your body felt like it was vibrating with pleasure. Your muscles clamped down on him as you felt him join you in his own release. The feel of him spilling into you, the sound of your name falling from his slack lips, making it all so much more intense. It was perfection. Pure and simple. Absolute. Unadulterated. Bliss.

Your chest heaved against his, both of you softly laughing between kisses before you felt him slip free of your body. His hands warmed up your arms before they cupped either side of your neck. 

“I love you so fucking much.” 

You smiled at him, leaning in to run your nose along his throat until your lips were at his ear. “I love you too.” 

He sighed and his lips found yours, but he held back from the kiss long enough to speak. “Hell of a welcome home.” 

[xanvasofxords]

“Huh what?”

Natsu tilts his head in confusion. She’s furrowing her brows in a cutesy way. The dragon slayer feels something in his stomach flutter because of it. It doesn’t bother him anymore though, for this has happened way too many times before.

Hands on her hips, Lucy asks, “Do you ever think before speaking?”

Natsu rolls his eyes with a shrug. He didn’t say anything wrong, in fact he corrected the guy by pointing out how genes work. Their kids will either have pink hair like him or blonde hair like Lucy. He thought she’d be happy knowing he’s more intelligent than some salon-guy.

“What did I say wrong?” He crosses his arms and leans into her space. Lucy’s face heats up from the close proximity.

The celestial mage was actually very surprised when her idiot of a partner started talking about genetics. But that really isn’t the issue. It’s just moments like this give her false hope. That maybe he feels something for her, maybe he does see her as more than a friend. But she knows he’s not on the same page.

Natsu loves her too much but it’s the same way he loves any other member of the guild. And honestly, she’s happy just being his closest friend for the rest of her life. Their friendship is the most important thing and she won’t ruin it for the sake of her feelings.

She just doesn’t want him to make things harder for her. She’s trying so hard to move on and it hurts when she constantly has to remind herself that he doesn’t feel the same. She doesn’t want him to talk about their future kids knowing it will never happen, no matter how much she wants it to.

“Earth to Lucy?” Natsu waves a hand before her, “What’re ya thinking about?”

Lucy sighs and looks up at him again. “Nothing. Leave it, Natsu.”

And he doesn’t, instead pulls her closer to him and kisses her forehead. Lucy relaxes into his chest, almost forgets about the mental storm from a moment ago. She knows he’s trying to comfort her as always. It means nothing...

“I didn’t know your favorite color changed from pink to blue.”

“What?”

“It’s okay. We can just adopt a little one with blue hair, if that’s what you want.”

[doodlewizardry]

Have you ever wanted to find your old Ao3 comments? Easily keep track of which (and how many) fics you've commented on? Rediscover a fic that you left a time capsule of a gushing essay on?

Well, you can! And it's simple! (* Note: it only works for comments written after you turn this on.)

Go to your Preferences:

There's a checkbox labelled "Turn off copies of your own comments". This is selected by default. If you deselect it (and save your preferences) then you receive an email for every comment you leave.

But I don't want to get my inbox flooded by Ao3!

Understandable! Luckily, most email clients allow you to set up rules for incoming mail depending on their sender and contents. For instance (using Gmail), I've made it so that these emails skip the inbox, are marked as read, and moved to a label I call my "Comment Collection".

The result? A complete, organised and fully-searchable repository of any comments you leave from this point onwards! Search by fic name, author, date, that one sentence you vividly remember leaving!

I've set up other rules, too, like starring emails that are replies to my comments - I'm always excited to receive them!

I love this system, and I think it's motivated me to leave more comments. I hope that others find it useful too. Happy commenting!

Original preferences trick from this Reddit thread. Tagging @justleaveacommentfest, which motivated me to write this post!

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

Hi, how you doing, luv? I saw your requests were open so here I am!

I told this idea to a friend and we liked it so much I needed to see it written, and I love how you write Arthur!

I don't usually request/like low honor Arthur but hear me out! Low honor Arthur with a female reader and he's user her as his alibi whenever he goes on a killing spree. But she happily applies, smiling at the officers when she gets questioned like "it ain't him officer. how do I know that, you say? he was with me the whole time🤭" while Arthur quietly cleans the blood splatters off his guns

Samy!! Here it is!! I really hope you'll like it😭 Also, hell yes, what an ask! Loved writing it. Makes me want to write more Low!Honor. And ngggh the best compliment ever telling me you love how I write him I can't

˖✧ Pretty lies

✦ Pairing: Low!Honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader  ✦ Warnings/Tags: Blood (obviously), guns, cursing, canon era speech, ending is suggestive. Therefore, MDNI, please! ✦ Words: 1,8k ✦ a/n: Okay so, this is my first attempt ever at a Low Honnor Arthur. I guess I just made him bolder, extra cocky+extra flirty? Hope it’ll fit! ALSO, as always, English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if anything sounds weird. Please if you notice any mistakes, reach up to me! ✦Credits. First pic is from Reddeadcomfort on Pinterest, gun pic from Pinterest too. Second one from my playthrough; blood stains and dividers by me.

Arthur’s violence wasn’t a secret to anyone. Not to anybody in camp, not to you, certainly not to himself. 

Not even to numerous people at this point, considering the large number of poor fellas who had the bad luck to cross him and ended up beaten to a pulp, covered in bruises, head in a drinking trough, riddled with bullets, or even worse.

But you loved him, no matter what. You knew about his flaws. Knew about his brutal, crude side. But around you, this heated aura was turning into something else entirely. And you liked it.

So, when a panting Arthur had rushed to you on the porch of Strawberry’s hotel, blood covering his entire self, face and hair included, blue eyes shining sapphires in a tide of rubies, you weren’t that surprised. You were even less when he asked you to be his alibi for whatever the Hell he just did, as he had taken the habit of doing lately. Lying for Arthur’s crimes could have looked like an immoral thing to do, but as a member of the gang too, you clearly weren’t a saint either.

And you really were enjoying this little game.

The subtle grin Arthur had every time you would lie in front of the police for him, asserting with absolute conviction you had been together all day. The rosy tone his cheeks, ears and neck were displaying when you felt bolder and added some details in your alibis. Details about fake, steamy nights or afternoons you were supposed to have shared, swearing to the Lord you had the unholiest of times together. Oh, the look he was giving you. Knowing, amused, dreamy and so, so proud and debauched. Lustful, even.

You were sure he was enjoying it too.

“Alright, I’ll cover for you again. But at least go take a bath, I can’t do miracles.” You ordered him, a devilish smile on your face. 

“Thank you, sugar.” Arthur quickly answered, his voice just a low, breathless mumbling, barely letting you distinguish his words.

He quickly entered the hotel and you heard the receptionist gasp from where you were. You chuckled to yourself, imagining his outraged face rapidly losing all its composure under Arthur’s hard gaze piercing through the layer of blood, ordering him to prepare a bath as gently as if he was doing a hold-up.

Poor man must have liquefied on the spot.

You leaned against the patio’s fence and breathed in the fresh late afternoon air of Strawberry, alpenglow golden and rosy on top of the mountains, a peaceful scenery under your eyes. Contrasting with the horror and brutality Arthur must have left in his trail.

He was quick to join you again, looking fresh and neat as if he were a completely normal gentleman. His messy hair and dirty beard long gone, a nice black shirt, shiny boots, and a scout jacket on, probably to match Strawberry people's clothes. 

The only things that hadn't benefited from a change were his eternal Gambler hat and his holster and revolvers, both still painted with blood stains, a red and morbid Appaloosa coat on shiny metal.

“Policemen won’t be too long to arrive. ‘Hid my face but they chased me down all the way from Flatneck Station.” He informed you, voice calmer and shoulders less tensed.

“What the Hell were you doing there?”

“Robbin’ a train.” He replied with a cocky grin, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“More like slaughterin’ a train, uh?”

“Smart mouth.” He retorted, amused by your remark. “Too many of ‘em bastards had irritated me.”

“And how much did you get exactly?”

“Seven hundred.” His smirk widened as he patted his satchel, which was probably full of stolen money.

“Damn, Arthur! All by yourself? You never cease to impress me.”

His eyes wrinkled in a genuine smile, a rare sight. He didn’t add anything, silence enveloping both of you, as often in his company. But you knew he had loved your praise. 

Arthur casually sat on one of the chairs behind you, legs open to be more comfortable, and took his guns out of his holster, as relaxed as if he had sat to draw in his journal.

He knew the Law had absolutely no proof against him, and that you were charming enough to lead them up the garden path as easily as if they were children. 

As he had planned, two terribly worn-out lawmen arrived, clothes soiled and face tired. It looked like they didn’t have the time to take a good bath contrary to your companion, probably interrogating the whole town before arriving here. One of them, the shorter of the two, climbed up the wooden stair treads and spoke.

“Sir, Missus. We’re searching for a dangerous criminal. He has been described by several witnesses as a tall man with broad shoulders, brown hair, blue eyes, and a black leathered hat…” His words slowed down and turned into a whisper at the end of his sentence, lost in the air, as his gaze landed on Arthur. His eyes narrowed realizing he matched the description perfectly.

“Oh, I’m really sorry, officer, we haven’t seen anyone like this…” You said with your most angelic smile, your body turning politely from the fence to face the policeman.

You were now standing right next to Arthur who didn’t look bothered at all. 

All the contrary, he had given a simple salute by nodding his head to the man, the tip of his hat shaking nonchalantly in his direction, and had begun cleaning his guns, blood visible like porcelain dipped in a vibrant red paint.

The officer frowned, clearly not convinced.

“You, where were you-

“Him? He was with me all day officer."

He does not believe you. Yet. You took his arched eyebrow as a personal invitation to give him a good show:

"To tell you the truth, we’re on our honeymoon here, so we took the time to enjoy our day together…”

While speaking, you put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, to emphasize your words, to look convincing. But you would have lied to yourself telling you weren’t appreciating this, fingers caressing his muscles through the thick jacket, traveling innocently to his neck where you brushed the base of his hair, just underneath his hat, pampering him as if he was a cat.

And Arthur? He had the biggest shit-eating grin you've ever seen on his face. He loved it, the pure audacity of it all, your teasing touch on the back of his head, his own hands busy with his guns, oil and piece of fabric wiping the fresh remnants from his killing spree of a few hours ago, in the most carefree way possible, all of it under the Law’s nose.

A rush of adrenaline spread through him, tingling and warming his body. He tried to fight his own blood from gathering more and more between his legs, but after all, looking all giddy would just make it all more convincing, right?

“But this man really looks like…” The policeman tried to object, before being cut by you once again.

“Officer, I assure you we was here all day…” You asserted, honeyed voice soft to the ears, eyes as innocent as a dove.

“Oh, except for this morning though, we was out. We tried this really special spot, you know? The one in the mountains, where you can bathe in these hot springs… We had a good time there, didn’t we, honey?” You fibbed with perfection, adding even more details to your tapestry of lies.

The hand you had on Arthur slowly pushed his head against your chest, his face ending up cheek against your cleavage. His devilish smirk almost cracked from widening, and the tip of his ears got all red and hot. You could feel it against your skin, both of you relishing in your juvenile, corny lovers play.

Inside, he felt like he was on top of the World right now.

“Yes baby, ‘t was definitely a good time…” Arthur agreed, playful eyes adverting from his revolvers to look at yours from down there, his slightly crooked teeth visible through his gigantic grin.

“A-arlight, I erm…” The lawman coughed, visibly uncomfortable because of your behavior and finally convinced by your pretty little speech. “I’ll leave you to… To "it" then. Good evening Sir, Ma’am.”

He walked back to his colleague who had smoked a cigarette while waiting for him. Arthur and you kept on playing your naive role until both of them were far enough, the last echo of their conversation sounding exceedingly comical into your ears:

“Shit, we lost this asshole…”

 “Told you this couldn’t be him. Who would be stupid enough to strut around right next to the sheriff’s office?”

Yeah, who would be, uh?

You giggled a bit, eyes still locked on the stupid man in question. He hadn’t stopped smiling the whole time, a low chuckle shaking his chest, joining yours.

“This was a close one. You’re getting more and more reckless…” You warned him gently, hand still wrapped around his head.

“But you, on the other hand, are a brilliant actor, darlin’.” He added, his deep voice showing a hint of amusement and mischief. “And you're getting bolder too. A honeymoon, really?”

“The damn bastard wouldn't let it go…” You shrugged with an innocent smile.

It looks like he was comfortable like this because he wasn’t making any effort to pull away from your soft flesh. All the contrary, a sneaky arm curled up around your waist, pushing you onto his lap, his guns and the piece of fabric ending up on top of your thighs.

“Ya know, alibis are fun an’ all but… Maybe we could have a good time for real, sometimes.” He whispered in your ear, big hands handling you gently, one resting on your legs, the other holding your back.

“Yeah? You tired of lying, Arthur?”

“Am tired of doin’ nothin’ while havin’ the most gorgeous woman in town pretendin’ to be my wife…” His thumb slowly strokes your thighs while answering in a low, passionate tone.

This wasn’t just pretty lies anymore. His voice wasn’t joking, it was filled with desire; his hands warm and demanding on your body.

“Mmh… I see… Maybe we could actually book a room here for the night then…” You answered in the same quiet register, betraying your own needs.

One of your hands grabbed his guns, the other the blackened piece of fabric damped with oil, and you finished cleaning up his revolvers for him, fingers delicate and attentive.

His eyes are locked on your hands and their movement, completely hypnotized by them, his ears turning entirely red, this sanguine color spreading less and less subtly on his face and chest too.

You can't help but notice the hardness growing between his legs, pressing under your body. 

And he can't wait for the moment when this won’t be the barrel of his gun you'd be holding and caressing between your hands…

“Sounds pretty good to me, “Missus Morgan”.”

[paperultra]

eye to eye.

Pairing: OPLA!Monkey D. Luffy x Reader Word Count: 781 words Warnings: None

He’s been staring for five minutes now.

Five minutes and thirty-three seconds, to be exact. Twenty-seven more seconds and it’ll be six minutes, and you don’t know if you can handle six minutes of him looking at you; everyone on this ship has fallen prey to those big brown eyes, and you are certainly no exception – how many times have you scraped off the last portion of your meal onto his plate, or let him trail after you and chatter away while you did inventory, or sat on the figurehead with him despite your fear of heights because of those eyes? The answer is more than once, and you know you’d do it again in a heartbeat as you finally look up from your newspaper.

“You need anything, Luffy?”

“Nope,” he says.

He continues to stare at you, that achingly wide, sunny grin on his face. You blink. He does too.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“... Well,” you say slowly, more befuddled as the seconds tick by – surely, it’s now been over six minutes – “do you want something?”

(There is always a ninety-two percent chance that Luffy wants something, concrete or not. Seventy percent of the time it is concrete, and the thing he wants is food.)

Luffy shakes his head. He props his elbows onto his knees and rests his chin in his hands, and you swear you see his eyes sparkle underneath the tattered brim of his straw hat.

“I just like looking at your face,” he chirps.

The force of those few words is enough to stop your heart in your chest. It stutters in place, then starts again, jumping with glee.

“H-Huh?”

“I like looking at your face,” he repeats as if you didn’t hear it the first time.

You lick your lips, grappling for something to say in response to such a strange answer. “It’s … it’s not much to look at,” you finally say, curling up out of habit. “There’re better faces out there.”

“But I want to look at yours.” Luffy jabs a finger towards you. You shrink back a bit, cheeks beginning to warm. “And there’s lots to look at, like your nose and eyes and stuff.”

You wonder if you should take that as a compliment. But Luffy doesn't do compliments; he only does the truth, and maybe that makes what he’s said infinitely more valuable.

"Thanks for noticing," you reply, awkward but fond. He nods happily, and you find yourself adding, "I like looking at your face too."

It's not a lie, nor an attempt to return the favor. You do like looking at Luffy's face. You like the wild, coal-black curls framing it, the perpetually goofy smile, the scar, the eyes that turn into dark honey in the sunlight. The eyes that look back at you and promise freedom and joy and everything good the world has to offer.

"You do?" He sounds very pleased and scoots closer. "That's great! We can look at each other."

"Won't that get boring after a while?"

"If it does, we can go and eat something."

You snort, face now very hot as you move to sit cross-legged. "You're funny, Luffy."

And so you look at Luffy, and Luffy looks at you, knees touching and the room still with a few rare seconds of contemplative silence. A few seconds, because that is all you can take before you dissolve into giggles, half flustered and half entertained. (This is how you often are around him nowadays.)

It isn't long before Luffy joins you, and the two of you end up lying on the floor, cackling until you're out of breath.

"Ahhh! That was fun," Luffy gasps once he can speak coherently again. "Now let's get something to eat!"

"You're bored already?" you ask in between gulps of air.

"No, but I'm hungry." With a grunt, he rolls back and catapults himself onto his feet, then picks you up and sets you down to stand before tugging on your arm. "Let's ask Sanji to make us a snack."

You nod, and soon enough, the floor of the Going Merry thrums with the sound of two scruffy pairs of shoes running over it, laughter bouncing off the walls as Luffy's hand grips yours. It's the same way he holds your heart, tightly but kindly. You squeeze back.

Three words balance on the tip of your tongue. You swallow them.

One day, you think. One day, he will look at you like he did today, and you will tell him how much a person like him means to a person like you.

But right now, you're going to ask Sanji to make you and Luffy something to eat.

[seraphimankh]

The Last Midnight

Chapter 18.

[my-castles-crumbling]

"You don't get to tell me about sad."

~ Taylor Swift (Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?) (Nonromantic)Pairing: Black Brothers Angst- Rating: T

"C'mon, Reggie! Merlin, it killed me to leave! You know that!" Sirius cried, tears streaming down his face.

But Regulus couldn't even look at him. Couldn't find an ounce of pity in his bones for the brother who'd abandoned him. Couldn't even keep a straight face.

He laughed derisively, a manic grin on his face. "Killed you?"

After a beat, he looked up, face contorting with rage, slamming a fist on the table. "Sirius, you got to leave! Forgive me if I don't feel bad for you for being able to spend your summers with the Potters and their manor and their bloody perfect life! Meanwhile, I-" he cut himself off, thinking of those years without Sirius. The stifling summers filled with anguish and pain and loneliness.

"You don't get to tell me about your pain," Regulus nearly growled, advancing on his brother, who looked almost scared. "Not when you chose to walk away from mine."

Then he stood there, chest heaving, staring at his brother and begging him in his head:

Apologize. Please. Come back to me. Save me. I don't want this.

But Sirius, nothing if not consistent, just nodded and turned wordlessly. Leaving again.

[oldbutchdanielcraig]

i love you beautiful horny game

[sydneighsays]

More quick Jee doodles 🎉

[knifeforkspooncup]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Additional Tags: Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Touch-Starved Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley is Angry at God (Good Omens), Scared Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Mutual Pining, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Song: Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want (The Smiths), Romantic Fluff Summary:

A soft footstep falters close behind him, signalling he’s not alone. Aziraphale.

Crowley knows he should pull himself together, turn to the angel with an expectant smirk, inviting him to start their next round of banter on the merits of modern music.

Let himself be carried into the afternoon on a river of wine and good conversation, muffling the anger and longing under his friend’s expert guidance. Follow Aziraphale’s cautious lead like he’d promised to 18 years ago, you go too fast for me, Crowley.

It was enough most days. It had to be.

But Crowley can smell the lavender and mint notes in his cologne, can picture his hands grasping the wine bottle at the neck, the soft way his waistcoat wrinkles when he sits. He’s not sure it’s enough today.

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

It's 1985 and Crowley is settling into what promises to be another afternoon of excessive drinking and banter at the bookshop. Both he and Aziraphale are tenderly getting back to a shaky semblance of normal after a century and a half of renewed terror and revelations about their relationship. But it's a fragile existence.

And they want more.

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

Oh hey look! It’s my first fic!

Thank you to my amazing beta reader and DM debauchery gremlin @aspiring-pansy​. I probably wouldn’t have finished this without your hype.

I hope y’all enjoy this little emotional rollercoaster!

(Also none of you music kids come for me about the music notes ok, I don’t know anything about anything about music notation)

(Also also shamelessly tagging anyone and everyone who said they wanted my ao3/wanted to read this fic last week - NO PRESSURE TO READ)

[abrandnewshadow]

my husband wanted to cheer me up so he out of nowhere wrote me this insanely era accurate bullets yaoi and i'm sobbing

(takes place as they're leaving hellfest 06/22/2003)

"It was a surprisingly pleasant July day as the van rattled its way west bound on I-90. The mountains to the south were barely a hill from this distance, the rolling farmland whistled by through the barely cracked window. The air-conditioning would be on had it still worked, but the breeze would have to suffice. Suddenly the vehicle jolted to the side with a loud whack as the tire briefly left the road over a pothole before quickly slapping rugged pavement once more.

“What was that?” mumbled a voice from the back. The curtain drawn shut to block out the light. They had barely slept in three days. 

“Just a pothole, this road out of Syracuse really sucks. Go back to sleep”

The voice mumbled some more before falling silent. 

“I might like him better when he’s asleep,” Gerard said to Ray. He flicked his cigarette one last time before dropping it and rolling up the window.

“I should probably get some sle-” he was quickly cut off as Frank roared from behind the curtain.

“Seriously? You hit me in the face with that stupid cigarette!”

Gerard hadn’t realized he wasn’t the only one enjoying the breeze. 

“That isn’t the only thing I’d like to hit you in the face with” Gerard groveled quietly to himself. It was exhilarating to speak it out loud, even if no one else could hear him. 

“Sorry little guy, go back to bed,” he said.

Hellfest had been an intense three day fiasco. The crowd had been overwhelming, the lights and sounds felt like a blur. It was through all this chaos and turmoil that he had one thing keeping him planted firmly on the ground. As much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself, and certainly not to the others yet, Frank had become his rock. His punk. His own personal brand of crack. Frank may not have known it yet, but Gerard intended to find out if his feelings were more than his own.

He couldn’t help but hear Geoff’s lyrics in his head, “we’re betting on our own lives, making up for all the time we lost in this house of cards.” Feeling unsettled by the thought of the time he missed, the time he hadn’t spent with Frank. He was getting ahead of himself, this was all just a fantasy. He needed a distraction.

“That Thursday sure knows how to get the crowd going, don’t they?” he tried to break the silence.

“They really have some punk moves,” Mikey piped up, sensing things felt strange."

[petruchio]

ordinary world - 2k

Ten years after the war, Katniss and Peeta get invited to Gale's wedding in Two.

[ofthemorningstars]

Delicate Work

TerzOmega ~ Smut below the cut 1.8k words A continuation of an idea explored in Water's Edge

Ao3 Version

Terzo and Omega try something new. ---

Omega had been waiting for this moment for a long time. 

Of course, he didn’t know he was waiting for it. He didn’t expect it to happen at all. Yet here he was, about to embark on a new adventure, after all these years, with the only being he wanted to take along for the ride. He couldn’t believe it’d taken more than two decades to find an answer that had been literally staring him in the face every day.

He certainly felt more than a little silly, standing there in his human form, completely naked save for his mask, but he needed its glamour magic tonight. He couldn’t do what he had in mind with his claws. No, this was far too delicate work for those.

If Terzo felt similarly silly, if he were uncomfortable at all, he didn’t show it. He, too, was completely bare, spread out on the bed of tonight’s hotel room, his calves dangling off the side. His face and chest were flushed. His arms were up above his head, the perfect frame for the dreamy smile on his face. He was visibly excited, already rock hard and throbbing with anticipation. The sight made Omega’s heart skip a beat. “Mio caro,” Terzo spoke softly, reaching out a hand to Omega. Omega took it in his own now smaller, much more human hand, the back of which Terzo smoothed over with his thumb. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t hide the slight tremor. “It’s alright. I want this. I promise.” 

Omega desperately wished he could kiss him. Instead, he reluctantly pulled away after a moment to grab the bottle of lube from the nightstand. He coated the fingers of one hand with a generous amount, but then hesitated, looking down at Terzo for reassurance. Terzo’s smile was warm as he nodded, spreading his legs. Taking a breath and trying not to have an out of body experience as he watched those strange, alien hands doing something so intimate to his mate, he reached out. His slicked fingers found their target, carefully slipping inside Terzo, starting with just one digit. Terzo’s eyes fluttered as Omega entered him, groaning softly. Slowly, almost shyly, Omega began to move, sliding in and out. He could hear his breath echoing harshly inside the mask. Oh, but if there was a heaven, surely this was it. Terzo felt even better than he’d imagined.

Taking great care, Omega added a second finger. Terzo gasped, nearly causing Omega to withdraw out of fear that he’d hurt him, but Terzo caught his hand. He guided Omega into fingering him, flushing deeper, breathing hard through his nose. Omega was aching, obscenely turned on by just how excited Terzo was, by how excited he had been from the very beginning of this entire process. Terzo had said yes practically before Omega could even finish explaining the idea the night before; Terzo’s face had turned such a lovely shade of pink at just the thought of it. His teasing on stage had been exceptionally unbearable that night, and Omega kept catching Terzo staring at him, those big eyes twinkling with mischief. More than a couple of the other ghouls had picked up on the tension, had snickered as Omega passed by. If Omega didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn that Terzo wanted this even more than he did. 

Omega began curling his fingers, eliciting a long moan from Terzo, his back arching. Omega shivered. Terzo began to move his hips in time with Omega’s motions, making soft sounds that grew a little louder with each sweep. Omega knelt on the bed next to him, cock dripping onto the sheets. He wished he could kiss every inch of skin on display, could lick up the precum that was pooling on Terzo’s stomach. The mask was feeling increasingly heavy and oppressive, but oh, Terzo felt so good under his fingers. So tight, so warm, so responsive. This was an experience he thought was barred to him, and he wanted to savor every second. Terzo reached out and grabbed the side of Omega’s mask, forcing him to meet his gaze, his eyes glazed over with a feverish lust. He held it until Omega gave a particularly forceful thrust, causing Terzo to close his eyes, raising his own hand to his mouth and biting his finger against a whine as he squirmed. 

“Omega,” Terzo panted, eyes pleading. Omega could feel the heat coming off of him; Terzo was going to cum soon. Omega wanted to bury his cock in Terzo in place of his fingers, but he was too mesmerized by the sounds Terzo was making to stop. Wanting to hear more, he grabbed Terzo with his free hand and began to stroke. Terzo’s hips nearly arched off the bed at the added sensation as he cried out. He was so close. Omega picked up his pace, beginning to sweat, waiting for Terzo to shatter. And then came the absolute last sound he wanted to hear at a time like this: a knock at the door. They both froze. “Just– Just a minute!” Terzo attempted to shout with a hoarse voice, forcing himself off of the bed and onto shaky, unstable legs as Omega pulled away reluctantly. Terzo looked around frantically for his robe as Omega hid in the bathroom, heart racing and ready to attack if necessary. Dammit! Who the hell would come barging in at 1 in the morning?! On a Wednesday, no less! What if a crazed fan had followed them back to their hotel room? What if one of the other idiots had gotten hurt? Worst yet, what if the ministry had finally caught up to them? Omega felt nauseous. “Oh, what the hell!” Terzo whispered, voice filled with anger and confusion. Cautiously, Omega peeked around the corner. There was no one else standing in the open doorway, but there was a white envelope sitting on the floor in the hallway. Terzo quickly looked around and picked it up, shutting the door behind him as softly as he could. They huddled around the envelope together. Inside, they found only two things: one of the Ghost-project branded condoms from their tour, and a note that read, “Have fun you two, remember to wrap it before you tap it!” followed by a crudely drawn winky-face and two hearts. At the bottom were all of the ghouls’ signatures, save for Omega’s. Omega felt his face heat up, his normally even temper threatening to break, but before he could open his mouth, he heard Terzo begin to swear like he’d never heard before, in English, Italian, Latin, and something else that he bafflingly couldn’t identify. He stood slack-jawed, the wind taken out of his sails as Terzo spat enough vitriol for the both of them and then some. His back was turned to Omega, glaring at the paper still clutched tightly in his hands as though it held some secret. Omega finally took his mask off, dropping it to the floor with a thud.

“And that is another thing! Even if it were any of their business, why would those idiots think that we need this?!” Terzo spun around and waved the condom around in the air, eyes wild. “We have been together for ages, and it’s not as though I can get pregna–” Omega cut off Terzo’s ranting, pulling him forward by his robe, their lips meeting in a crushing kiss. Terzo froze for half a second, dropping the condom, before kissing back furiously. Not wasting any time, Omega stripped Terzo in what felt like one smooth motion. Terzo backed Omega to the edge of the bed before pushing him down onto it. Omega pulled Terzo down with him. 

Straddling Omega’s hips, Terzo broke away from Omega’s mouth to suck at his neck, leaving possessive marks in his wake before biting at Omega’s earlobe. Heat speared through Omega. Clearly, he mused, Terzo was just as horny as before, only now also frustrated and aggressive at being denied release over a stupid prank. He saw with a thrill that Terzo was already hard again. It wasn’t what he had pictured for their evening, but with the things Terzo was doing to him with his mouth… Satanas, he’d take it. As Terzo was licking and biting his way down Omega’s chest, he reached up with a now-clawed hand to leave marks of his own down Terzo’s back. It was nice having his own body back, even if tonight would have been earth-shattering, were they not so rudely interrupted. 

As though reading his mind, Terzo growled against Omega’s skin, “We’re doing that again,” staring Omega down before taking him in hand and roughly stroking him. Omega whimpered.

Terzo briefly dismounted him to reach the lube that had managed to roll to the floor at some point during the night. Bottle in hand, he hurriedly prepared Omega, moving like he was on a mission. Climbing back on top, Terzo lined himself up before sinking down on Omega’s thick cock, throwing his head back and letting out a shuddering sigh of relief. Omega groaned and involuntarily bucked his hips in overstimulation. Terzo took a moment before he began to move, and then he was riding Omega mercilessly, bouncing and grinding, moaning loudly. His hands roamed over Omega’s body as though he didn’t want to leave a single inch within his reach unexplored. Terzo was making such intense eye contact that Omega almost wanted to look away, but he was hypnotized. Terzo finally broke the spell by leaning forward to catch Omega’s nipple with his mouth. Omega shivered, quickly taking over thrusting, desperate for friction. Omega was reaching his limit, but he refused to allow himself release until Terzo was satisfied. Gently he encouraged Terzo to sit upright enough that he could slide a hand between them. Breathing heavily and trying to hold on, he took Terzo in hand, jerking him off while thrusting harder. Omega could see Terzo was quickly unraveling, he just needed one more push…

With one last powerful buck of Omega’s hips, Terzo came across Omega’s chest with a sob. Omega tumbled off the edge right behind him, his hands clutching at the sheets, claws tearing the fabric. Terzo pulled himself off of Omega while he still had the strength before collapsing in a heap beside him, Omega’s cum trickling out of him. Omega gathered him up in his arms. They lay there together for a long while, catching their breath.

Omega was the first to speak, audibly winded. “I take it you liked it, then?” Terzo lifted his head weakly, eyes full of exhaustion but overflowing with adoration. He threaded his fingers together with Omega’s. “Si, amore mio. Very much.” Omega’s face lit up. He stole a kiss before sheepishly asking, “Does that mean we can do it again?” “Si.” Terzo had that twinkle in his eye that made Omega’s stomach do backflips. “I want you inside of me, mio caro,” he purred, kissing Omega’s fingers, never breaking eye contact. Omega’s heart skipped several beats. “But tonight, we rest. I have several ghouls to kill in the morning.” Omega laughed in surprise, having completely forgotten about the note in his ecstasy. “I’ll help you bury the bodies.”