#haven't had time to draw these past few weeks

[cattosleep]

Ignoring opla like the black plague since im too busy to even watch it atm😞

[cowgirls-blues]

hi i just want to say that im obsessed with all of your art, its so good and i love seeing you on my dash!!!

Aaah thank you so much!! I'm very glad! It's been so nice to see positive reactions to it on here <3

[mementoasts]

oouughgh i'm suffering so many ideas can't draw anything oouguugughhgh

[bessa-ta]

Bubbles and You

bf!Viktor (arcane) x reader

Summary - You decide to help Viktor relax from his stressful work at the lab with a warm bath, which leads to you two becoming intimate :)

Genre - smut, fluff, intimate, shower sex

Warnings - mdni!, unprotected sex, cockwarming. I have no idea if i should add anything else. Let me know if so.

Attention: Bessa's first post! + I'm not really fluent in english, if there are typos and mistakes just close your eyes ❤️

Midnight. Another day in which you patiently wait for your Viktor to come back home from the lab. But tonight you had something in mind - a way to spend some relaxing time together when he arrives.

It's been like that for the past 2-ish weeks where Viktor comes home really late at night, and it would be a lie if you said that you weren't pissed off by now with this routine. Spending your nights alone until late in the shared bed of your shared little cozy house, missing the presence of your loved one, isn't something that you or anyone else would wish for but sadly it's what you are put to deal with.

For the short time Viktor returns back home to have a meal, take a quick shower, and finally get some sleep for a few hours, you can see the stress he is put into. You knew he had a hard time with the new device he is working on, so you could never be mad at him. You are not this type of person, you respect his hard work and ambitions even if the lack of attention to you hurt you.

Today you had something in mind though - helping him relax with a warm bath together.

Time - 12:41AM. Viktor is finally on the front door, removing his shoes. You go running to him, giving him a tight hug and a peck on the lips.

"You are finally here." you say with a smile. He smiles back at you as he closes and locks the door behind him.

The night passed as usual until Viktor made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. You followed him there, starting to undress with him. He paused for a bit, processing your actions.

"Y/n what are you.. doing, my love?" he asked with confusion since you two have never showered nor bathed together. Why were you undressing together with him in the bathroom was a big mystery he couldn't solve right now, woah.

"Will take a bath, with you." a simple reply you striked him with, which made him look at you with wide open eyes. It's not like you haven't seen each other naked before. Oh, you did (even did the freaky, not once). But having such an intimate moment together as bathing? Haven't done it.

"Stop staring.. undress finally." you say as you were fully undressed now, but Viktor stayed as if he was frozen in time.

"Is there something wrong? You don't want to?"

"N-no, no, no, I'm undressing! Done!" and for a second he got completely naked too.

Man's heart beats fast like a rabit's. He got so excited but also shocked about the idea of bathing with you that at this point, he just waited for your commands of what to do.

You filled the bathtub with warm water, added the bubbles, and together stepped inside, you helping him. He hates bathtubs, and he never bathes because of his leg. He would difficultly step in and out of one, but with you beside him to help, it was alright.

You two sat comfortably there. Your back pressed against his chest, warm water with bubbles touching your bodies in the dark bathroom where you put a few candles to make the atmosphere more romantic. Your hand was drawing circles on Viktor's (good leg) thigh and he rested his head on your shoulder.

"I really enjoy this. Thank you..." he said quietly and leaned to leave a kiss on your shoulder. One, two, three more, and he went up kissing your neck, slowly and softly.

"You work really hard... I want to help you relax." you said and turned around to face him.

"You do it everyday already." His eyes sparkled from the light of the candles. He looked at you with a sotf smile on his face. "After all the hours in the lab, coming home to you always gives me peace. Sleeping in your arms makes me think about nothing but feel your warmth and care. I love this." he took your hand in his and raised it to his lips, giving it a kiss. "I love you." he looked into your eyes again and pulled you into his lap.

You rested your hands on his shoulders while his rested on your waist, holding you there and kissed you softly. You kissed back, leaning in more into the kiss that your chest pressed against his now. The kiss grew hungrier, leaving you and Viktor breathless. He pulled away just to move down to your neck, leaving wet kisses and bites, marking you as his. You moaned and grabbed his hair, pulling it not to harshly. This made him suck on your neck harder, forming red to purple marks everywhere around it, down to your collarbones.

One of his hands reached up to grab your breast. He squeezed and played with it as his other hand still held you by the waist. Since you were sitting in his lap, you could feel his bare hardness against you. You felt so hot and worked up already that all you wanted was to take him in.

You raised yourself slightly on your knees, which surrounded him, and grabbed his shaft so you could position it on your entrance.

"Wait babe, a condom?" he stopped kising your chest to mention the miss of protection you needed to continue.

"Not this time." you were needy and couldn't wait any longer, he waited in front of your entrance damn it.

"Are you sur-" he couldn't finish his question because you were already positioning yourself down on him slowly, taking his length just perfectly. He moaned and rolled his eyes back to the sensation, grabbing your waist with both his hands and hips slightly bucking up to feel more you. Oh, you felt so heavenly, all wet and warm, just for him. He got dizzy, and he could see stars.

You started to move up and down, your hands still on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you felt him deep inside you. Viktor being a whimpering mess beneath you, moving his hips up because he wanted to cum so bad after not doing so for days.

You continued riding him but increasing your spreed by a little. The water in the bathtub moving restlessly with your rhythm.

Viktor could feel his climax approach, making him try to rut up into you desperately. You can feel your own approach too, so you didn't stop nor slow down your moves. Thankfully, the water surrounding you helped you not feel as tired as you would feel by now.

Viktor buried his face into your neck as his orgasm was about to hit. "Close.. so close, don't stop." he murmured breathlessly but a few seconds later now he was milking your insides. Hot seed filling you up, which triggers your orgasm too, and you two come together in sync.

You still feel him twitch inside you, and you lean to give him another sweet, tired kiss. "So good..." you whisper in between and pull away to rest your head on his shoulder.

Viktor hugged you tightly as you were still there with him buried inside you, kissing the top of your head. "That was so good, love, I agree." he smiled and closed his eyes. The water in the tub calming its movement too. You two could really relax now in each others embrace.

Hello guysss hope you liked some of my brainrot writings. It's the first one i ever post so please support me for more. If this one gets some positive attention i might post another one very soon. Feel free to request too! I'm open to write about your ideas too :)

Like and Follow me yeah 😎

[biteyoubiteme]

study break

fem!reader x han jisung

synopsis: you take a study break with your boyfriend

warnings: 🔞!! slightly innocent reader, some nipple play, fingering, oral (f!rec), prob forgot some sorry

wc: 2k

an: this was a request but my inbox ate it ;-; hope i got everything anon asked for :)) not proofread sorry :( feedback appreciated! [m.list]

You have been at your desk for over six hours studying for your next exam. Hand cramping from all the notes you were copying down from slides you missed a few weeks ago. Ones that you finally remembered you needed to go over. You had only stepped away for a shower a few minutes ago to try and calm your mind after nearly crying over a worksheet. Pacing back and forth before you caught sight of your shower caddy deciding that if the shower didn’t work as a refresher then you would just take whatever grade you got and would have to live with it. 

It wasn’t until the knocking at your door that you realized how stressed you had been. The evening you had planned with your boyfriend was forgotten until you pulled open the door to see him standing in the hallway of your dorm. 

“So you are alive,” Han smiles as soon as you open the door. His hair curled around his ears, dotted with droplets of rain. 

“nooo I missed our date,” you softly whine leaning your head on the door. The past couple of times you've studied you turned on an app that locked your phone to help with distractions. Only now it was backfiring because Han had been trying to reach you to remind you of your night out. “I'm so sorry Han I swear I didn't do it on purpose I haven't even thought about anything else besides this exam,” 

“it's okay i kinda figured so I picked up dinner,” he holds up the paper bag in his hand. 

“I'm the worst,” and he only smiles shaking his head, “You perfect, I should have known that scheduling a date the night before an exam was not the best idea,” 

you wave him into the small space, your books a mess on your desk, the bed rumpled and unmade. Your roommate's side is just as lived in even for her off staying at her boyfriends most of the time. You're sure this is the first time hans been in here besides you picking up something but he never made it past the doorway. 

The two of you have only been seeing each other for little dates for a few weeks now. You shared a class together, working next to each other in silence for most of the semester before he asked for help on an assignment he didn't need help with at all. Confessing later that he only just got up the courage to speak and used the work as an excuse. You're closer to friends than you are really dating with how slow the two of you are moving. Neither of you moved past holding hands and one interrupted make out session. But you were new to everything and Jisung was patient. 

Han kicked off his shoes, setting the food down at the edge of your desk. “Have you taken a break at all?” 

“I mean I showered,” you shrug, your hair is still wet, droplets of water soaking your tank top. You didn't even notice how the fabric was wet enough to leave nothing to the imagination. The outline of your nipples draws hans eyes right to your chest. 

“You are all wet,” he smiles, biting the tip of his tongue. You can feel your skin getting hot, trying to play off his stare by rolling your eyes.

“Usually what happens after a shower,” you collect a few of your books, closing and stacking them up to make room. Shuffling papers around and making sure to check you have everything turned in before the exam. You're leaning over your chair looking at the assignments calendar online when you see you forgot to submit last week's discussion post. Your light sigh is enough for Jisung to place his hand on your back leaning next to you to see what you are now focused on. 

“It's already late, maybe you should save it for the morning,” he suggests, warming up your lower back as he rubs soft circles against your skin. 

“it's only one question, it better to just get it over with so I'm not stressing more than I already am,” although it's the last thing you want to do, already you have given up after your long day. But you rolled your chair out sitting down to work out one more question. “you should just start eating so your food doesn't get cold,” 

“no no I picked up sandwiches from the cafe by the library I can wait,” he stands behind you, hands on your shoulders, fingers flicking over the thin straps of your tank top. 

You pull up the post not realizing the link attached was for a document you had to read consisting of six long sheets of tiny text. Your sigh is more of a groan this time, hans chuckle right at your ear as he looks over your shoulder. “I think that's the kind you need the magnifier tool for,” 

“why the hell would anyone use text that small,” you can feel the weight of the day landing heavy right at your feet. Just when you hoped to be done, to only have to overview notes you hated this. Your teeth sink into your cheek trying to will yourself not to cry over something so stupid. You were so close to finishing not only the day but your class, one assignment wouldn't kill your grade but just knowing it was going undone would kill your pride. You let your head fall to your hands, the heels of your palms pressed to the sockets of your eyes like that would will your tears away. 

“Hey,” Han whispers, pushing a few strands of hair behind your ear, “come on let's take a longer break than just a shower, we can worry about that later,” his hands slip over your arms, sliding up and down, chin on your shoulder, nose bumping your ear. 

“Sorry, I've just been so overwhelmed with everything,” you say, rubbing at your eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed. 

“That's okay, you just need to relax, lay back, and forget school for a second,” his breath is ghosting over your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. His hands go to your stomach, finger tracing the seam of your top. “you know I could help you with that,” his nose brushes down behind your ear and down your neck, lips leaving slight pecks on your skin. 

“t-the assignment?” It's a stupid question but you're not past the brain fog, now worsened by Han giving you the softest kisses on your neck. Your head falling back, eyes closed as he fell into the feel of you. 

“no,” he kisses at your jaw, “not the assignment,” one hand slipping up your stomach, knuckles brushing your nipple. “is this okay?” 

“yes,” you nod, reaching up behind you to twist your fingers into his hair. Your back bowed as he cupped you over the thin material of your shirt, fingers rolling over your pebbled nipples, his lips sucking marks onto your skin. 

His free hand starts to slip past the waistband of your shorts, your breath catching in your throat, “you don't have to do that,” he pulls his hand back to your stomach. 

“Do you not want me to? We can slow down or stop, whatever you want,” now you're more than a little bit embarrassed. 

“No it's not that I want you to stop, I just- I've never really had anyone do that before,” you confess, face hot enough to thank the fact your back is to han. It wasn't that you were against it, only that you spent most time inside studying instead of going out and meeting guys to hook up with. And from what friends have said some guys don't like going down on girls with their mouths or hands. “and I know some guys don't like it,” 

“yeah the wrong guys,” he chuckles the rumble of his laugh right in your ear before he kisses over the mark he made on your neck, “I on the other hand have been thinking of devouring you the second you sat down next to me that first day in class wearing that little skirt,” 

“Really?” his fingers tugging the waistband of your shorts before letting it snap back in place. 

“uh huh, thinking about how good you would taste, how pretty you would look cumming on my tongue, how perfect you would sound,” your hips instinctively roll at the idea, Han's hand slipping back under your waistband. “Would you like that?” 

“Yes,” the whisper is enough for Han to pull your chair out from under the desk, kneeling before you looking up like you set the best platter before him. 

He kisses your knee hands sliding up the side of your thighs to tug down your shorts and panties. You should feel exposed or even a little bit shy but Han is licking his lips, eyes flickering between your glistening cunt and your face. “Even prettier than I imagined,” hooking his hands at the back of your knees he pulls you to the edge of the chair, slotting your legs over his shoulders as you lean back gripping the seat watching what he’ll do next. 

“Are you just going to like...kiss it?” 

“I plan on suffocating between your thighs so maybe a lot more than kissing,” he peppers kisses all along your thigh, your legs already trying to close at how each kiss sends a tingle straight to your clit. 

When he finally leans down and his lips brush over your swollen nub you know you're done for. His light kiss was enough to send all thoughts and stress right out the window. And when he licks up your wetness from your entrance and swipes up to your clit latching on and sucking your head falls back and you let out a moan that doesn't sound like you. Jisungs hands move to hold your hips in place. 

You swear you see stars as he sucks before he pulls away your whine making him chuckle, “Do you like it?” 

Your hand moves to his hair wanting to tug him back down, “please don't stop now,” 

“Look at you trying new things,” he gives light kisses to your folds, loving to watch your hips try to work on their own to get his mouth back on your clit. “already doing so good at being responsive to my touch,” 

“Hannie please,” you beg and he doesn't hold back. He sucks your clit into his mouth, letting one hand free from holding you down to raise in front of you.

“suck my fingers and get them all wet and ready for me to get you to cum on them,” slipping them into your mouth you follow his orders letting them roll on your tongue before he pulls them back to rub on your pussy. 

Your orgasm was building in the pit of your stomach, every flick of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge. Your legs jolt at the feel of his finger prodding your entrance, knees pulling in before he shakes his head, “Relax baby,” letting your other hip go he presses the pad of his thumb to your clit rubbing at a soft rhythm until your legs rest back on his shoulders. He's slow to slip his first finger in, dragging it out before adding the second. His smile is starstruck, feeling along your gummy walls like he found heaven, “look at that, you're doing so good for me,” the slow pumps of his fingers take up more of your mind until he leans back down to suck on your clit. 

Thighs trembling your head rolls back, eyes shut trying to catch your breath before you're cumming, Han pressing his fingers into your g-spot like he's always known your body. Han is swallowing all your cum down like he can't get enough of it, burying his face in your pussy as you pulse around his fingers. Your hand on his hair starts to tug harder, your hips thrusting into his face, knees closing in around his ears. He is slow to pull away from you but knows he shouldn't overstimulate you the first time. “now if you ever need me to take your mind off of anything, you don't even have to ask I'll be right here on my knees ready for you,”

[attapullman]

Pretend | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You aren't sure what's worse: having to share a bed with the boy who was your first boyfriend who you haven't seen in years, or having to pretend he's your boyfriend when you wish he actually was.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: f!reader, light smut, 18+ only as always, unprotected pinv, fake dating trope, one bed trope, lots of switching between present and past tense whoops

A Note From Mo: It's Choose-a-Fic! Thank you to everyone who voted and has been part of my 500 Follower milestone! Hopefully you like the fic I wrote just for you (with a little extra one bed trope as a special thank you)! 😘

Coupe glasses tinkle and laughter rings out as the rehearsal dinner draws toward an end. Everyone’s had a little too much of the hotel’s signature white sangria. On your left, Isabel and Reuben are frozen in blissed smiles, the outdoor lights casting an ethereal glow. An idyllic night before the wedding.

You should be relaxed. You’ve had a little wine, the most delicious dinner, and tomorrow your college roommate is getting married at this stunning resort. But every time that big hand grazes your shoulder or his breath heats the skin of your cheek, you’re reminded none of this is real and you desperately wish it was.

The only difference between six-year-old Robert Floyd and the man standing in front of you is the broad shoulders. Those pink cheeks are just as prominent and his eyes are wide behind updated corrective frames. Sandy hair politely brushed off his face. Even his thin lips warp in that same warm smile that instantly relieves tension. The only significant difference is those shoulders that fill out the entire doorway as he checks his rooming assignment with Isabel.

From where you stand behind her, suitcase in tow, you feel your cheeks warm and your gaze drop. You haven’t seen him since the engagement party where you muttered, “it’s a small world after all” more than once. It seemed all too coincidental that your college roommate would be marrying a guy who just happens to be in the same Navy squadron as your first grade boyfriend. 

To be fair, you had “dated” Bobby Floyd for a total of a week before your parent’s divorce landed you on the opposite side of the country. There hadn’t even been a formal breakup. He’d simply been the guy you jokingly referred to as your “first love” at wine nights. Occasionally you remembered his collection of vintage Coke bottle caps. 

He was practically a figment of your imagination until Isabel introduced you to the man in the nicely ironed pale blue button down and you sputtered out that you already knew each other.

You’re so lost in how bizarre the coincidence of it all is that you zone out through Bob’s check-in and the next few guests that arrive. It’s not until her line of relatives has dwindled that she remembers you’re sat behind her, sorting out the favors for after the reception. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have given you your card earlier!” she apologizes as she flips back over her clipboard to find your room number. It’s all forgiven, you were waiting to finish up your bridesmaid duties before checking in. Get the work out so you can slip on your bathing suit and enjoy the amenities - pool, sun, and cabana boys - before dinner tonight.

She hands you a room card and walks you through the map of the hotel. You miss the second half while gathering up all your items, mentally trying to remember exactly how many rights before a left. Dinner is at seven and anything else surely she will remind you. With a kiss to her cheek, you head off to your room to begin the fun part of this destination wedding.

The property is stunning, all sun-washed sandstone and lush tropical plants. Deep blue terry cloth draped over the sun loungers you would live on all weekend. Some sun to compliment what should be a flawless wedding weekend. Maybe you’d get lucky and one of Reuben’s hot Navy friends would join you for some eye candy. You deserved a little one-weekend-in-paradise romance.

Suite 4. It’s a little deflating to remember that you’re in this big suite alone because all the other bridesmaids have dates. A least you have some privacy. The intricately carved door accepts your room key and you push the heavy wood open, ready to change and relax.

W-why was Bob in your villa?

Standing amongst the floor-to-ceiling windows draped with ochre that overlook the ocean, white oak furnishing topped with plush linen bedding, and a trailing pothos overtaking the wall, was Bob Floyd - right in the middle of changing his shirt. Equally wide eyes taking you in as he held the bunched heathered grey cotton right in front of his head, thumbs through the head hole, mouth open in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

What was he doing in here? This was your room. “Why are you in my room?”

Despite knowing he’s not in the wrong, his cheeks tinge a deep pink. Takes a moment to pop his head in the hole of his shirt and brush out the wrinkles. You cling to to the annoyance of him interrupting your afternoon instead of focusing on how toned he’s gotten as an adult.

“This is my room. Suite 4. See?” He holds up a card identical to yours, the glossy ‘4’ reflecting the sunlight. The same ‘4’ that looks back at you. 

Clearly there’s been some sort of mistake, someone at reception accidentally typing in the wrong number while going about their busy day or Isabel reading her meticulous list wrong. An easy fix. 

You bite your lip. “Oh. Maybe I grabbed the wrong card. I’ll go find Isabel and sort it out.”

“I’ll come with you, she might have handed me the wrong card. Probably supposed to be sharing a bed with Fanboy.” He’s impossibly sweet as always. 

You have no idea who or what a Fanboy is, but you accept his company back to reception, leaving your bag in the room purely because the bridesmaid dress alone weighs a half ton. The walk back there - with a few long turns - is a tad awkward as you both walk in silence, occasionally jerking your heads in the direction to turn.

Isabel has wandered away from reception, and is now soaking in one of the poolside bars with Reuben, their lovesick smiles contagious. She gives you the warmest smile when you approach, face splitting in two as she takes in your companion. “Hey, you two! You get settled in okay?”

God, this is awkward. Thankfully before you can muster the courage, Bob steps in. “I think there’s been a mix up with one of our rooms.”

Her eyebrows furrow as takes in what he said. Eyes flit to her lounger where her clipboard of rooming assignment lies within her tote. Reuben sips his frozen margarita in casual interest, not involved in the logistics.

“Which room are you in?” Even without her clipboard, Isabel is pretty sure she knows who is in what room. She spent months perfecting these details.

You hold up the glossy ‘4’, now slightly sticky with your sweat.

“Four? Hmm, I’m pretty sure that’s right. Was there a problem with the key? Both your keys?”

You give her a bewildered look. “One of us has the wrong key. We’re not sharing a room.”

“Why not? Your prude parents aren’t here to care if you share a room with your boyfriend.”

Every muscle in your body freezes. What is she talking about?

And while you’re paralyzed on the spot, Reuben looks like he’s about to throw up the margarita. Because he knows exactly what just happened. And not only is it his fault, but he does not have a solution.

Before you can question Isabel, the pilot is throwing his arm around your shoulders and grabbing Bob’s elbow, whisking you two away, calling out to his confused fiancée not to worry, he’s got it handled. The controlled hands of a fighter pilot steering you back in the way of Suite 4 while his face reads like he’s watching a plane crash.

Reuben won’t answer any of your questions, holding up a palm while you sputter out the who, what, where’s? of what is going on. Bob silently allows himself to be directed, confusion upon his brow, but patient enough to wait for an explanation. 

Once you’re privately within the confines of Suite 4, the soft scent of bergamot and sandalwood wrapped around your bodies, Reuben finally confesses his mistake.

“Isabel thinks you two are dating.”

You expect to see eyeballs on the floor from how violently they pop out of your head. What? Bob doesn’t look much better. You two have barely spoken in decades, let alone are in a relationship! Why in the hell would Isabel think that?

Reuben drags a hand down his face, wishing he was back in the pool drinking. “When Bob over here told me that you two dated way back, I casually mentioned it to Is. When she asked the other week if he’d be good sharing a room, I thought she meant Fanboy or Harvard.”

You skip over the fact that Bob has talked about you to other people to focus on the details. “She meant me.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” By this point he’s rubbing the skin on the back of his neck raw, eyes wildly desperate. “Can you two share? It’s only two nights.”

Your eyes meet ocean blue as you both look at the single bed, then at each other. Bob intervenes calmly. “Why can’t you just tell her we need another room?”

Reuben crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly defensive. “We don’t have any other rooms. We booked the place out entirely. Short of Aunt Muriel keeling over, one of you would have to be at another hotel.”

“That’s fine,” you quip, grabbing your suitcase and ready to get the hell out of this situation.

“There’s nothing within a half hour drive. And you’re both in the wedding, that is not going to fly with Isabel.”

You’re tough, you can do hard things. Two nights at a gorgeous resort where you have to share a king-sized bed with the sweetest man on the planet? Could be so much worse. From a look at Bob’s face, he’s having the same realization.

And right as you’re about to tell Reuben that it’s not a big deal, he sends in the clincher. 

“You’re also gonna have to pretend you’re dating.”

“You’re joking.” Your tinny voice rings out in the room. You can do a lot of things - go to a wedding alone, sleep in the same bed as Bob - but you draw the line at pretending you’re dating someone you hadn’t seen until an engagement party six months ago. Nope, no way.

You look at Bob, standing with his hand resting low on his hip, watching this entire scene unfold. Giving him an expectant look, he smooths out his face and gives you a little nod. He’s on whatever team you’re on.

And just as you were about to tell Reuben to get lost, Isabel’s sweet face floods your mind’s eye. That happy smile she always greets you with, and her dismay that something had gone wrong with your room. Her perfectly planned out wedding weekend ruined by her misunderstanding a minor detail. She would insist that you have separate rooms, even if it interfered with plans, and she’d be upset - the smallest tinge of disappointment clouding her bridal smile.

Isn’t the job of a bridesmaid to make the bride not have disappointment?

And now, sitting here at the rehearsal dinner, warm conversation all around you, you can still hear yourself let out a large huff of breath and agree. “Alright, we can pretend for the weekend.”

It’s a decision you stand by, but doesn’t make the subtle way Bob has been playing your boyfriend the last 24 hours any easier. He plays devoted partner a little too well. Carrying your beach bag down to the water that afternoon when everyone wanted to sit by the pool, sweetly rubbing sunscreen into that spot on your back that you can never reach. Grabbing a drink for you when he went up to the bar. 

Your lonely wedding weekend is suddenly filled with this broad-shouldered Navy man who gives you a shy smile every time you make eye contact.

There wasn’t time to put in ground rules before Reuben threw you you to the wolves to socialize with the rest of the wedding party. When Isabel saw you, standing a healthy foot away from Bob and her sculpted eyebrow raised, it was the first test of this “relationship”. Your heart slamming in your chest as you slipped a hand around that thick bicep and rested your hot cheek against his shoulder. His own face fighting anxiety as he allowed you to set the pace. Isabel’s smile brightening as she beckoned you closer, instantly fawning over the two of you and the way Bob’s hand fits a little too nicely around your waist.

Thankfully the copious amount of relatives and friends constantly interrupting Isabel and Reuben prevented your friend investigating too close into this development in your love life. Happy to believe over some intentionally placed hands and the casual way he throws sweetheart in when asking if you want a drink.

“Now that I have you alone, why didn’t you tell me you were together? First loves reunited?!” Isabel drags you away to the other bridesmaids, Bob giving you a small wave as he joins the men. 

You shrug, making a show of looking at the hibiscus to avoid her eyes. Desperate for a believable lie. “I didn’t want to…uh, distract from your big day?”

She wraps you in a warm hug you don’t deserve. “Not distracting in the slightest. He’s the best, you’re so lucky!”

You throw a glance his way, watching his good-natured grin as Reuben’s groomsmen, mostly aviators he’s worked with over the years, joke and jostle on the other side of the lawn. It’s side glances like these that carry through the night; when he pulls your chair out for dinner, asks the waiter to refill your water, and offers you half of his dessert. When your eyes do meet, you drown in the twin oceans that twinkle back at you.

By the time you’re heading back to Suite 4 to share that big bed, you’re pretty sure you’re not pretending to like him anymore.

You’re regretting not putting up the pillow barrier Bob so kindly offered to set up. It seemed childish at the time - you didn’t need a divider to stay on your side of the bed - but now you’re lying here in your little cotton pajamas you did not expect anyone to see and you can hear him breathing and the room is a little too warm. Every sense is on high alert and a pillow barrier would give you an inkling of privacy.

In the silhouette of the moonlight peaking through the curtains, you watch the planes of Bob’s face as he peacefully sleeps beside you. If he’s good looking in the daytime, he’s breathtaking at night. Pale eyelashes against his cheeks, lips slightly pouted, hair mussed from changing sides. You wish you could smooth your fingers over the planes of his face, appreciate the sharpness of his jaw, the roundness of his cheeks.

Tomorrow you have to pretend all over again to be in love with him. A feeling that’s already starting to creep inside you. A whole day of his gentle touches and laughs against your cheek. He was the perfect boyfriend that week in grade school, and even more perfect as an adult. Holding his hand made you want to never let go…which promptly made you want to jump out of your skin. 

This was a tiny white lie to get through Sunday morning. That was it.

You keep replaying the last moment before you retired back to your hotel room for the night. The drunken group sitting around the fire pit, a bottle of tequila making its way around the circle. Not enough chairs so you ended up in Bob’s lap, body cradled in the firm comfort of his chest. 

He made it so natural, the way his hand ran up and down your arm when you shivered in the night chill. You knew he could feel the shock up your spine when you noticed how intently he watched you during your story of how Isabel found a rat in your dorm room. He made you feel like the only person out there by the fire pit. The only person on this island.

When even the tequila couldn’t keep you warm any longer, the group disbanded in favor of cozy beds and hot showers. And even when no one else was in sight he still kept his arm around your shoulder to share his warmth, the pinching heels you’d shed in his hand as he asked whether you wanted to shower first.

Lips accidentally brushing your ear when he said he liked your dress; it matched the bougainvillea.

While you hadn’t spent much time together since your parents moved you away too long ago to remember, you were continually floored by how thoughtful he was still. He remembered how Isabel didn’t like ice, and that a few members of his squadron had allergies. Giving up his water because the woman next to him was without. Not to mention how he seemed to go the extra mile with you. All the years of boyfriends before this and not a single one had ever noticed you picked the pine nuts out of your salad; your new fake boyfriend requesting a fresh one sans nuts.

And it was borderline torture watching him get ready for bed post shower. Face and chest red from the scalding water and slick hair pushed back, towel slung a little too low as he dug through his suitcase. You were still speechless as he offered to put up a pillow barrier or something if it would make you more comfortable, making sure you knew he respected your boundaries.

His eyes were so blue without his glasses…

Caution to the wind, you run a finger over his cheek, brushing away a rogue eyelash and promptly turn away from him. Only one more day and you would be free of wanting a man that wasn’t yours.

The Fitch wedding day was perfect. Wide smiles, bridal lace, stunning hydrangeas, and not a dry eye in the house when Isabel and Reuben officially became husband and wife. It was the storybook start to a happy ever after. 

The sunlight blessed ceremony was followed by a lantern-lit reception, dancing and drinking overtaking the sprawling beach-front lawn of the hotel. You stayed out until the evening ended, the wedding party laughing and overfilling glasses of champagne until the last lantern was blown out. 

You barely remembered your rooming/relationship situation until a warm hand was on your forearm, asking if you were ready to go back to the room. It’s entirely unfair how good he looks in his suit. All day you’ve admired it, from the moment he emerged from the bathroom asking for help with his bow tie to an hour ago, when the wedding party did one last rendezvous on the dance floor. 

Bob has an ease on the dance floor, clearly practiced, the hand on the small of your back gently guiding. A hand big and warm and more distracting than trying to remember your own footwork. The dark-haired woman he seems close with whooping out, “Look at those moves, Floyd!” every time you get close, her own date cheering along. 

You shake the memory from your brain as Bob walks you back to the room. Keep the pining to a minimum until you can get to the airport and not have to see him ever again. You’re doing this for Isabel, your own emotions have no place. Even as you watch him open the door to the room and welcome you inside, looking so perfectly boyfriend-shaped.

Your skin feels too hot, your head clouded by bubbles and loud poppers exploding into the sky. Shedding this satin dress and getting into a warm shower sounds like heaven, washing away the buzzing ill-content flooding your body since you joined the wedding group that morning hand-in-hand with Bob. But a broken zipper interrupts those plans.

“Bob?” He stills on his way to the bathroom, bow tie loose around his neck. You indicate to the stuck zipper you’re fiddling with, warmth flaring at the top of your cheeks at your predicament.

The tips of his ears flush as he walks to you, chest a breath away from your back, admiring the way the satin flows over your curves and dips. Takes a moment to gather your hair over your shoulder before reaching for the zipper. The skin of his pinky accidentally brushes your neck, twin breaths catching at the shock. 

Firm fingers guide the zipper onto the track. As they guide the cool metal down your back, the boiling point that has been simmering below the surface since yesterday afternoon comes to a head. The lace of your bra is visible. Now the silken band of your underwear. The air of the room is still, eagerly awaiting what happens next.

While his voice is shaky, his words are firm. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your head turns to the side, eyes catching his profile, too scared to look at him directly. 

“What are you pretending to do?”

His face falls into the crook of your neck, fingers tightening along the satin of your hips. “Pretending I’m doing our friends a favor. Pretending I’m not falling for you. Pretending every time I touch you it’s not the best part of my day.”

Your hand wraps around his, rough skin and satin beneath your fingers. Needing to tether yourself to reality to make sure this isn’t a champagne-fueled dream that he’s professing against your neck. 

“In that case, I don’t want to pretend anymore either.”

While you can’t see him, you can feel his realization against your skin. Brow furrowing, lips parting. The soft brush of his nose as he straightens up, uses his hands to turn you to him. Finally forced to look at each other amidst the information divulged.

You aren’t sure who leans in first, who braved the waters of uncharted territory. Time stills and speeds up as his face grows closer. The scent of sandalwood and bergamot that’s followed you all weekend replaced by the woodsy mint of his cologne you’ve treated yourself to when tucked into his side. Anyone outside can hear two hearts beating erratically, anxious and excited. 

His lips are warm and comforting, just like everything else about him. Pressing delicately against yours, taking his time and letting you set the pace. You’re torn between the shock of how divine he feels and the greedy need for more. Senses overwhelmed by him; you want to taste more, feel more, see more.

When he pulls away, a gentleman not wanting to overstep, you’re breathless.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” His confession is paired with pink cheeks and large hands playing with your fingers. 

You can’t help but to tease him, the banter from your childhood coming back. “Did it live up to expectations?”

“Way, way better.” Your smile is swallowed in his kiss, chins knocking as you trade off enthusiasm. A groan leaving Bob as you grab his hands and walk back to the bathroom. That hot shower still sounds amazing, but you need more of him.

The travertine tiles glow in the soft light as you watch your childhood love remove his suit, taking time to fold the pieces on the counter, letting you indulge in unbuttoning his crisp shirt as you share another sweet kiss. His own hands twisted in the dress barely clinging to your skin. The sounds that escape him as your hands explore his chest are purely sinful, meant only for your ears.

He barely lets you bask in his body, honed from years of Naval training, before he’s stripping the satin from your frame. You beg for another kiss, but he denies you. He can’t be distracted from watching every inch of skin being revealed. From letting his fingers follow the fabric as it pools at your feet. From kissing his way back up your body until your head falls back against the wall, fingers beckoning him to the shower.

“You’re so beautiful.” It’s more breath than words, but ignite the goose flesh along your skin as he adjusts the hot water and shower head to your liking.

Minutes or hours passed as you reacquainted under the steam. Your fingers tangled in wet strands of sandy hair, fingers slipping along any skin you can reach. His own hands tightly hugging your body, holding you close as he appreciates your nude form. Swallowing each other’s moans as his fingers dip between your folds and you run your palm along his shaft.

The universe has ceased to exist by the time Bob kisses you against the shower wall, fingers wrapping under your thighs to hoist you to his level. Loving the way you giggle as your arms wrap around his neck, trusting him wholeheartedly. Eyes trained at where he lines up with you, relishing the way your breath catches in anticipation. He kisses your forehead as a promise to take care of you, a promise you know he’ll keep.

Once he’s seated deep in you, the moment about connecting rather than getting off, he tilts your head up to check in with you. A kiss as his eyes search you for discomfort. The flames of his eyes burning the brightest blue. One final clench around him and he knows he needs to move; if not for his sake, for yours.

It’s the most glorious dream as he fills you completely, hips rocking into yours as sweaty foreheads meet.

When he brings you to orgasm, a steamy moment punctuated by your muffled screams against his shoulder, there’s nothing fake about the affection as he peppers you with praise. Or when he fills you with his own release a moment later, exhaling thank you, thank you, thank you.

A pillow barrier isn’t even discussed as you lay in his arms that night, cheek against bare chest. His arm trails down your arm like it had the night before, a mindless action you now recognize as meaningful to him as to you. Sated and content, as it should be.

You sit up a little to run your nose along his neck, producing a low groan from him. “You need something, sweetheart?”

“I was wondering, after that,” you gesture to the shower, cheeks heating, “does this mean we’re, uh, dating again?”

He smiles at your flush, cupping your face with one of his large hands. Presses the sweetest kiss to your lips.

“You know, we never had a break up. Technically we’ve been dating this whole time.”

taglist: @bella-maria2018 @berryvanille @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @desert-fern @drxgxnslxyer @hangmanapologist @hiireadstuff @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @mariaenchanted @maryelizabeth13 @petersunderoos96 @roosterforme @seitmai @senawashere @sometimesanalice @sorchathered @sweetwhispersofchaos @topherwrites @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld

join the taglist for any fic

[inkedinshadows]

Unraveling Truths

This is a bonus scene for my miniseries "A Helping Hand". You can read part 1 of 3 here. I know I wrote it in August, but I got a few requests for more so here we are.

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: Azriel finally explains to his mate what the wingspan business is all about.

Warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), written in 3rd POV (matching the rest of the series)

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: I love time zones because it’s 2am here but it’s still the 16th in the US so I’m technically not late :) This fic is just another proof that I can't write drabbles lol. Anyway, hank you @azrielsshadows42 for the inspo 🫶🏻 and thank you @azrielappreciationweek it was so much fun writing for this event 💙💙

“You still haven't told me.”

She watched him from his bed, the sight still so new that Azriel's heartbeat quickened each time he saw it.

For the past week, she had spent every night with him, usually in his room. Yet walking in to find her reading a book while she waited for him was something he was still getting used to. And something he would never take for granted.

Azriel sat on the edge of the bed, leaning closer to brush a kiss to her temple as she set the book down. “Told you what, beautiful?”

The corner of his lips curled up at the small blush that colored her cheeks, even after a week of hearing that nickname. He was never going to stop using it.

He began to take off his boots, holding his breath as she knelt behind him and unfastened the latches of his shirt. Her fingers brushed the base of his wings, and he had to muster all his self-control to keep his body from reacting.

“About wingspan,” she replied casually. “You still haven't explained it.”

He froze, sitting a bit straighter. “Why do you want to know?”

She undid the last latch, and though the shirt now hung loosely around his torso, he made no move to remove it.

“Because I want to know all about you.” She moved to sit beside him, seemingly unaware of his slight change in demeanor. “And because you said you'd explain, but you still haven't.”

Azriel swallowed thickly. He'd been happy to hold her in his arms every night, knowing she'd be the first thing he saw in the morning. His hands had never wandered too freely over her body. He wanted to take things slow with her, not only to respect the trauma she had endured, but also because she wasn't just another girl. She was his mate, and he'd be damned if he ruined things by rushing them.

But he couldn't deny he had thought about how she would feel. How she would taste. How she would look while he pleasured her.

Her question about wingspan certainly didn’t help.

And if she was bringing it up again after a week, her curiosity wasn’t likely to fade anytime soon.

“Alright,” he finally said, and she rewarded him with that beautiful smile of hers—the one that never failed to make his heart skip a beat. “Rumor has it that the span of an Illyrian’s wings reflects the size of… certain body parts.”

She frowned, a small crease appearing on her brow. He resisted the urge to smooth it away with his thumb.

“What body parts?” she asked, her gaze wandering up and down his body as if she could see the answer somewhere.

He was glad she wasn’t looking at his face when he replied, “Intimate body parts, Y/N.”

Her eyes shot up to meet his, wide with surprise and shock. A faint blush colored her cheeks as she looked down again. Straight at his crotch.

Azriel had to draw on five hundred years of composure to keep himself from shifting—and, more importantly, from hardening under her gaze. She’s just surprised, he told himself. That’s why she’s looking. Nothing more.

When she met his eyes again, her voice was quiet, as though she was too shy to ask but couldn’t help herself.

“And, uh…” She paused, clearing her throat before finishing. “Are those just rumors?”

The words slipped out before he could think. “No. It’s true.”

She studied him for a moment, and he feared he’d said too much and made her uncomfortable. But before he could apologize, she spoke again.

“Does Cassian really have the largest wingspan?”

He couldn’t stop the smirk that spread across his lips. “He likes to brag about it, but no, he doesn’t.” And though he knew he probably shouldn’t, he added, “I do.”

Her eyes widened, dropping to his crotch again. This time, his body reacted before he could stop it, and he felt himself beginning to harden in his pants. Her cheeks flushed an ever deeper shade of red.

“Hey, it's alright,” he murmured, tilting her chin up so she would look at him. “I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

To his surprise, she gave him a soft smile. “You didn't. I asked. It's just…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked away for a moment before returning her focus to him.

“I just don't have much experience,” she whispered.

Azriel needed to change the topic immediately before his mind began running wild, thinking of all the things he could show her, all the sensations he could make her feel, all the possibilities. He reeled in his thoughts.

Sliding an arm around her waist, he pulled her closer. “It's alright,” he repeated, pressing another kiss to her temple. “We don't have to do anything. I don't want you to feel pressured.”

“But what if…” She hesitated, but as she bit her lip, she placed her hand on his leg, just above his knee but close enough for Azriel to be acutely aware of every small movement of her fingers. He was caught in a suspended moment, where everything hinged on her next words.

“What if I want to do something?”

His heart pounded in his chest. “You… want to?”

Despite the blush still coloring her cheeks, she held his gaze and nodded, a shy smile playing on her lips. He struggled not to kiss her right then and there and let his hands explore every inch of her body.

“Tell me what you want, beautiful,” he said instead, keeping his voice quiet and steady. “Anything you want, you can have it.”

She looked down, her gaze landing on the erection he could no longer hide. “I want to help you with that,” she murmured, her hand sliding up to his thigh and squeezing gently.

Azriel sucked in a breath. Unable to stop himself, he shifted, spreading his legs slightly to bring her hand closer to where he wanted it.

“Are you sure?” he asked. He needed her, desperately, but he didn’t want her to feel obligated.

Instead of answering, she stepped off the bed. Her eyes never left his as she moved between his parted legs, her fingers reaching for his shirt. He didn't stop her as she tugged it off, revealing his tanned chest.

“I'm sure, Az,” she whispered, her finger tracing the swirling lines of his tattoos. She'd done it many times before, but now it felt more intimate, more intentional. “Let me do this for you.”

He couldn't hold back any longer. Not when she looked at him with rosy cheeks and eyes full of desire. They both wanted this, and he wasn’t going to turn her down.

Cupping her face in his hands, Azriel pulled her in for a kiss. As their lips met, the bond between them came to life, glowing bright and golden in his chest and filling him with warmth that had nothing to do with the heat of his growing arousal.

“Go on, then,” he murmured against her lips when he finally found the will to break the kiss. “You can do whatever you like.”

She smiled, and under Azriel's attentive gaze, she knelt between his legs. From where he sat, the neckline of her nightgown left little to the imagination. He swallowed, his breath catching as she began unbuttoning his pants. He lifted his hips just enough for her to slide them down his legs, along with his underwear, leaving him bare before her. Her eyes widened slightly as the took him in.

“You weren't lying about it,” she murmured, glancing up at him. “I didn't expect you to be… this big.”

His smirk turned smug. “You certainly know how to flatter a male's ego.”

She chuckled, averting her gaze for only a moment before reaching out. Her hand wrapped around his aching cock, making him gasp audibly. At the sound, a smile of delight appeared on her face, and she began to stroke him slowly, her movements gentle and exploratory.

His eyes locked with hers, and, encouraged by the connection, she grew bolder. Her grip tightened slightly, and he instinctively bucked his hips forward. Still, he held back as much as he could, letting her set the pace she was most comfortable with. But she leaned closer, her eyes searching his for permission, a silent question lingering in them.

Azriel brushed her cheek, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. “Whatever you like,” he repeated in a whisper.

She nodded, and as his hand slipped away, she leaned in, her tongue flicking out to run along his cock before her lips closed around his tip. He sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to push himself deeper into her mouth and holding his body still. The only sign of his impatience was the faint rustle of his wings behind him.

She continued to stroke him slowly, teasing him with gentle squeezes and soft touches, her tongue swirling around his head until precum leaked out. But with each of his sighs and the small, involuntary twitches of his hips, her confidence grew. She took him a few inches deeper, hesitating briefly sliding before her lips farther down his cock, stretching her jaw to fit as much of him as she could.

“Fuck…” he groaned, the word escaping his lips as she hollowed her cheeks. Her mouth was warm, wet and impossibly tight, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to thrust into her. Instead, he tangled his fingers in her hair—not to guide her, but to ground himself, needing the connection, needing to feel her any way he could.

His little outburst seemed to wash away the last traces of her shyness. She began to bob her head, still using her hand to cover what her mouth couldn’t take, her tongue swirling around him with ease. Her eyes stayed locked on his, and Cauldron boil him, Azriel could have come right then.

His mate was on her knees before him, pleasuring him in a way he had never dared to dream of. Over the last week, he'd fantasized about it once or twice, but he’d assumed she wasn’t ready to take that step and relished the simple intimacy of a gentle, teasing touch while cuddling.

But here she was, her boldness lighting a fire inside him.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, a moan spilling from his lips.

She blushed again but only moved faster, taking him deeper. His eyes rolled back, and his fingers tightened in her hair. When she whimpered softly, the sound sent a shock of pleasure through him, clouding his mind and driving him closer to the edge. He rocked his hips once, unable to hold back any longer.

“I’m… I’m close, sweetheart,” he panted. He didn’t care if he didn’t last long, didn't care that she’d been working him for only a few minutes. His release coiled tighter in his gut, his breaths coming faster, and he knew he couldn't hold it back. “You should stop if you don’t want me to come in your mouth.”

But the desire in her eyes only burned brighter, and she didn’t stop. Instead, she put even more effort into it, her free hand resting on his thigh while the other one squeezed gently at the base of his cock. When she hollowed her cheeks again, her warm mouth enveloping him so perfectly, Azriel’s control shattered.

With a groan, pleasure crashed over him, his release spilling down her throat. She swallowed every drop, the rhythmic contractions of her mouth around him drawing out his pleasure for a few more moments before he relaxed again, loosening his grip on her hair as he struggled to catch his breath.

After a moment, she pulled back, and Azriel immediately felt the absence of her warmth around him. Her hand slipped away as well, and for a beat, they simply looked at each other, twin smiles of satisfaction on their faces.

“You were wonderful,” he said eventually, helping her stand and guiding her to sit on his lap. “That was incredible.”

Her blush returned, deepening at his praise, an endearing sight he would never grow tired of. It made him want to keep complimenting her, especially after the pleasure she’d just given him.

He kissed her, savoring the softness of her lips and the familiar taste he’d come to cherish over the past week, now mixed with a hint of own release. His tongue slid into her mouth, entwining with hers while his hand drifted down to her thigh, brushing the hem of her nightgown. She didn’t pull away, but Azriel sensed the sudden tension seizing her body, despite her attempt to hide it.

He immediately withdrew his hand, silently cursing himself for assuming too much, especially after being so careful to let her dictate their pace.

Pulling back from the kiss, he searched her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I should have asked.”

She shook her head, but she didn't look at him. “No, it's my fault. When I said I don't have much experience, I… I actually meant I don't have any experience.”

Azriel did his best to mask his surprise, not wanting to make her feel more self-conscious. Gently, he placed his hand on her waist, drawing slow, soothing circles over the fabric of her nightgown.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked softly.

Her eyes remained fixed downward as she nervously fidgeted with her fingers. “Because you're five centuries old,” she whispered. “You must have so much experience with these things, and I don't, and I didn't want you to be disappointed if I—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, unwilling to let her continue down that path. Tilting her chin up with a gentle finger, he waited patiently for her to meet his eyes. When she didn't, he murmured, “Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

Slowly, her gaze slid to his. Azriel offered her a soft, reassuring smile, hoping it would ease her worries.

“I don't care if you don't have any experience,” he said, his hand still caressing her side. “I'm not disappointed. All that matters to me is you and whether you're comfortable with whatever we're doing.”

She nodded, though some tension still lingered in her body. He could tell she struggled to believe him, but he wanted to make it clear that he would respect any boundary, any hesitation. She came first, and she always would. Everything else could wait.

“We can take things as slow as you want to,” he continued. “I won't rush you. You're in control, Y/N. Always. Okay?”

At last, he felt her body relax, a relieved smile appearing on her face. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

“Good.” Azriel smiled back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Will you let me get up for a moment? I'll wash up quickly, and then we can go to sleep.”

Her smile grew, a hint of playful anticipation gleaming in her eyes. “Can we cuddle?”

He chuckled. “Of course we can cuddle, beautiful.”

As she slid off his lap, he stole one last kiss before getting up and heading to the bathroom. He could feel her eyes following him, and he couldn't help but smirk.

He wanted her, but if she needed more time, he'd give it to her without question, even after what she'd just done for him. After all, her trust and comfort were more important than his need, and he knew that waiting would only make the moment she was truly ready even more special. The wait would be worth it.

Because she was worth it. She was worth everything.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[colleendoran]

Great Big Good Omens Graphic Novel Update

AKA A Visit From Bildad the Shuhite.

The past year or so has been one long visit from this guy, whereupon he smiteth my goats and burneth my crops, woe unto the woeful cartoonist.

Gaze upon the horror of Bildad the Shuhite.

You kind of have to be a Good Omens fan to get this joke, but trust me, it's hilarious.

Anyway, as a long time Good Omens novel fan, you may imagine how thrilled I was to get picked to adapt the graphic novel.

 Go me!  

This is quite a task, I have to say, especially since I was originally going to just draw (and color) it, but I ended up writing the adaptation as well. Tricky to fit a 400 page novel into a 160-ish page graphic novel, especially when so much of the humor is dependent on the language, and not necessarily on the visuals.

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Anyway, I started out the gate like a herd of turtles, because  right away I got COVID which knocked me on my butt. 

And COVID brain fog? That's a thing. I already struggle with brain fog due to autoimmune disease, and COVID made it worse.

Not complainin' just sayin'.

This set a few of the assignments on my plate back, which pushed starting Good Omens back. 

But hey, big fat lead time! No worries!

Then my computer crawled toward the grave.

My trusty MAC Pro Tower was nearly 15 years old when its sturdy heart ground to a near-halt with daily crashes. I finally got around to doing some diagnostics; some of its little brain actions were at 5% functionality. I had no reliable backups.

There are so many issues with getting a new computer when you haven't had a new computer or peripherals in nearly fifteen years and all of your software, including your Photoshop program is fifteen years old.

At the time, I was still on rural internet...which means dial-up speed.

Whatever you have for internet in the city, roll that clock back to about 2001.

That's what I had. I not only had to replace almost all of my hardware but I had to load and update all programs at dial-up speed.

Welcome to my gigabyte hell.

The entire process of replacing the equipment and programs took weeks and then I had to relearn all the software.

All of this was super expensive in terms of money and time cost.

But I was not daunted! Nosirree!

I still had a huge lead time! I can do anything! I have an iron will!

And boy, howdy, I was going to need it.

At about the same time, a big fatcat quadrillionaire client who had hired me years ago to develop a big, major transmedia project for which I was paid almost entirely in stock, went bankrupt leaving everyone holding the bag, and taking a huge chunk of my future retirement fund with it.

I wrote a very snarky almost hilarious Patreon post about it, but am not entirely in a position to speak freely because I don't want to get sued. Even though I had to go to court over it, (and I had to do that over Zoom at dial-up speed,) I'm pretty sure I'll never get anything out of this drama, and neither will anyone else involved, except millionaire dude and his buddies who all walked away with huge multi-million dollar bonuses weeks before they declared bankruptcy, all the while claiming they would not declare bankruptcy.

Even the accountant got $250,000 a month to shut down the business, while creators got nothing.

That in itself was enough drama for the year, but we were only at February by that point, and with all those months left, 2023 had a lot more to throw at me.

Fresh from my return from my Society of Illustrators show, and a lovely time at MOCCA, it was time to face practical medical issues, health updates, screening, and the like. I did my adult duty and then went back to work hoping for no news, but still had a weird feeling there would be news.

I know everyone says that, but I mean it. I had a bad feeling.

Then there was news.

I was called back for tests and more tests. This took weeks. The ubiquitous biopsy looked, even to me staring at the screen in real time, like bad news. 

It also hurt like a mofo after the anesthesia wore off. I wasn't expecting that.

Then I got the official bad news.

Cancer which runs in my family finally got me. Frankly, I was surprised I didn't get it sooner.

Stage 0, and treatment would likely be fast and complication-free. Face the peril, get it over with, and get back to work. 

I requested surgery months in the future so I could finish Good Omens first, but my doc convinced me the risk of waiting was too great. Get it done now.

"You're really healthy," my doc said. Despite an auto-immune issue which plagues me, I am way healthier than the average schmoe of late middle age. She informed me I would not even need any chemo or radiation if I took care of this now.

So I canceled my appearance at San Diego Comic Con. I did not inform the Good Omens team of my issues right away, thinking this would not interfere with my work schedule, but I did contact my agent to inform her of the issue. I also contacted a lawyer to rewrite my will and make sure the team had access to my digital files in case there were complications.

Then I got back to work, and hoped for the best.

Eff this guy.

Before I could even plant my carcass on the surgery table, I got a massive case of ocular shingles.

I didn't even know there was such a thing. 

There I was, minding my own business. I go to bed one night with a scratchy eye, and by 4 PM the next day, I was in the emergency room being told if I didn't get immediate specialist treatment, I was in big trouble.

I got transferred to another hospital and got all the scary details, with the extra horrid news that I could not possibly have cancer surgery until I was free of shingles, and if I did not follow a rather brutal treatment procedure - which meant super-painful  eye drops every half hour, twenty-four hours a day and daily hospital treatment - I could lose the eye entirely, or be blinded, or best case scenario, get permanent eye damage.

What was even funnier (yeah, hilarity) is the drops are so toxic if you don't use the medication just right, you can go blind anyway.

Hi Ho.

Ulcer is on the right. That big green blob.

I had just finished telling my cancer surgeon I did not even really care about getting cancer, was happy it was just stage zero, had no issues with scarring, wanted no reconstruction, all I cared about was my work. 

Just cut it out and get me back to work.

And now I wondered if I was going to lose my ability to work anyway.

Shingles often accompanies cancer because of the stress on the immune system, and yeah, it's not pretty. This is me looking like all heck after I started to get better.

The first couple of weeks were pretty demoralizing as I expected a straight trajectory to wellness. But it was up and down all the way. 

Some days I could not see out of either eye at all. The swelling was so bad that I had to reach around to my good eye to prop the lid open. Light sensitivity made seeing out of either eye almost impossible. Outdoors, even with sunglasses, I had to be led around by the hand.

I had an amazing doctor. I meticulously followed his instructions, and I think he was surprised I did. The treatment is really difficult, and if you don't do it just right no matter how painful it gets, you will be sorry. 

To my amazement, after about a month, my doctor informed me I had no vision loss in the eye at all. "This never happens," he said.

I'd spent a couple of weeks there trying to learn to draw in the near-dark with one eye, and in the end, I got all my sight back.

I could no longer wear contact lenses (I don't really wear them anyway, unless I'm going to the movies,) would need hard core sun protection for awhile, and the neuralgia and sun sensitivity were likely to linger. But I could get back to work.

I have never been more grateful in my life.

Neuralgia sucks, by the way, I'm still dealing with it months later.

Anyway, I decided to finally go ahead and tell the Good Omens team what was going on, especially since this was all happening around the time the Kickstarter was gearing up.

Now that I was sure I'd passed the eye peril, and my surgery for Stage 0 was going to be no big deal, I figured all was a go. I was still pretty uncomfortable and weak, and my ideal deadline was blown, but with the book not coming out for more than a year, all would be OK. I quit a bunch of jobs I had lined up to start after Good Omens, since the project was going to run far longer than I'd planned.

Everybody on the team was super-nice, and I was pretty optimistic at this time. But work was going pretty slow during, as you may imagine.

But again...lots of lead time still left, go me.

Then I finally got my surgery.

Which was not as happy an experience as I had been hoping for.

My family said the doc came out of the operating room looking like she'd been pulled backwards through a pipe, She informed them the tumor which looked tiny on the scan was "...huge and her insides are a mess."

Which was super not fun news.

Eff this guy.

The tumor was hiding behind some dense tissue and cysts. After more tests, it was determined I'd need another surgery and was going to have to get further treatments after all.

The biopsy had been really painful, but the discomfort was gone after about a week, so no biggee. The second surgery was, weirdly, not as painful as the biopsy, but the fatigue was big time.

By then, the Good Omens Kickstarter had about run its course, and the record-breaker was both gratifying and a source of immense social pressure.

I'd already turned most of my social media over to an assistant, and I'm glad I did.

But the next surgery was what really kicked me on my keister.

All in all, they took out an area the size of a baseball. It was  hard to move and wiped me out for weeks and weeks. I could not take care of myself. I'd begun losing hair by this time anyway, and finally just lopped it off since it was too heavy for me to care for myself. The cut hides the bald spots pretty well.

After about a month, I got the go-ahead to travel to my show at the San Diego Comic Con Museum (which is running until the first week of April, BTW). I was very happy I had enough energy to do it. But as soon as I got back, I had to return to treatment.

Since I live way out in the country, going into the city to various hospitals and pharmacies was a real challenge. I made more than 100 trips last year, and a drive to the compounding pharmacy which produced the specialist eye medicine I could not get anywhere else was six hours alone.

Naturally, I wasn't getting anything done during this time.

But at least my main hospital is super swank.

The oncology treatment went smoothly, until it didn't. The feels don't hit you until the end. By then I was flattened.

So flattened that I was too weak to control myself, fell over, and smashed my face into some equipment.

Nearly tore off my damn nostril.

Eff this guy.

Anyway, it was a bad year.

Here's what went right.

I have a good health insurance policy. The final tally on my health care costs ended up being about $150,000. I paid about 18% of that, including insurance. I had a high deductible and some experimental medicine insurance didn't cover. I had savings,  enough to cover the months I wasn't working, and my Patreon is also very supportive. So you didn't see me running a Gofundme or anything.

Thanks to everyone who ever bought one of my books.

No, none of that money was Good Omens Kickstarter money. I won't get most of my pay on that for months, which is just as well because it kept my taxes lower last year when I needed a break.

So, yay.

My nose is nearly healed. I opted out of plastic surgery, and it just sealed up by itself. I'll never be ready for my closeup, but who the hell cares.

I got to ring the bell.

I had a very, VERY hard time getting back to work, especially with regard to focus and concentration. My work hours dropped by over 2/3. I was so fractured and weak, time kept slipping away while I sat in the studio like a zombie. Most of the last six months were a wash.

I assumed focus issues were due (in part) to stress, so sought counseling. This seemed like a good idea at first, but when the counselor asked me to detail my issues with anxiety, I spent two weeks doing just that and getting way more anxious, which was not helpful.

After that I went EFF THIS NOISE, I want practical tools, not touchy feelies (no judgment on people who need touchy-feelies, I need a pragmatic solution and I need it now,) so tried using the body doubling focus group technique for concentration and deep work.

Within two weeks, I returned to normal work hours.

I got rural broadband, jumping me from dial up speed to 1 GB per second.

It's a miracle.

Massive doses of Vitamin D3 and K2. Yay.

The new computer works great.

The Kickstarter did so well, we got to expand the graphic novel to 200 pages. Double yay.

I'm running late, but everyone on the Good Omens team is super supportive. I don't know if I am going to make the book late or not, but if I do, well, it surely wasn't on purpose, and it won't be super late anyway. I still have months of lead time left.

I used to be something of a social media addict, but now I hardly ever even look at it, haven't been directly on some sites in over a year, and no longer miss it. It used to seem important and now doesn't.

More time for real life.

While I think the last year aged me about twenty years, I actually like me better with short hair. I'm keeping it.

OK. Rough year. 

Not complainin', just sayin'.

Back to work on The Book.

And only a day left to vote for Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, and Sandman in the Comicscene Awards. Thanks. 

[earthchica]

On The Run

terry richmond x black, fem! reader

summary: Terry is hired by Mara, your queenpin stepmother, to track you down in exchange for intel on his cousin Mike's killer. But once he see you, he becomes captivated and torn between his task and his feelings. When he uncovers the real motives at play, the question remains: will he save you or abandon you to danger?

warnings: light smut 18+, lapdance, kissing, dirty talking, angst, violence, slight AAVE, queenpin, guns, mention of blood, on the run, nicknames [ baby, baby girl, sweetheart & more ] words: 4k

note: This had been in drafts for a while lol, I know I used the picture already, but he looks so good. I hope you enjoyed it; there may be some errors.

songs darling nikki by prince grip by normani just us by DJ Khaled, SZA

-

You've been running away from the web of the notorious queen pin Mara, aka your stepmother, for almost five months now. She killed your father and took over his family business, which rightfully belonged to you, and she still hasn't stopped looking for you.

To keep a low profile, you haven't stayed in one place for too long and have used different names, jobs, and identities. During your escape, you traveled to at least 20 other states and met some great people who knew your father; they provided you with tools to survive and taught you how to fight, use a gun, and protect yourself.

You are currently in New Orleans, where you've taken a job at a strip club and changed your appearance and name to Nicole, though everyone calls you Nikki. You're friendly and kind to everyone, but you never get too close to anyone—though tonight, that might change.

You adjusted your honey blonde lace front wig in the mirror and breathed deeply to steady your nerves for the upcoming performance. The locker room smelled of perfume and hairspray, a scent you had grown accustomed to over the past few weeks.

Your bold makeup was flawless—smoky eyes, long lashes, and deep red lips that matched your crimson lingerie. Standing up, you admired your hourglass figure in the full-length mirror.

The push-up bra lifted your ample breasts, while the thong connected to the bra emphasized your wide hips and short legs. You ran your hands down your sides, smoothing the delicate lace.

Despite the confidence your appearance gave you, you couldn't shake the constant undercurrent of fear. How long before Mara found me here? Would tonight be the night I had to run again? You ask yourself that all the time.

A sharp knock at the door startled you from your thoughts. You froze, your heart racing. "Who is it?" You called out, trying to keep the tremor from your voice.

"It's just me, love. Candy," A voice came from one of the other strippers. "Um…you're on in five,"

"Oh! Thank you," You replied, releasing a breath you didn't know you were holding. You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, adjusted your wig, and headed to the main floor.

The club was dim, hazy with smoke, and pulsing with the rhythm of the music. You entered the crowd, your heels clicking against the hardwood floor.

As you approached the stage, you saw him—the mysterious man who had been coming here all week. He sat alone at a table near the front, his intense greyish-blue-green eyes fixed on the stage.

Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed he had gotta cornrow braids that made him undeniably fine; you had fallen for his strong features and full lips.

The opening chords of "Darling Nikki" by Prince filled the air, your cue to take the stage. You sauntered up the steps, your wide hips swaying in time with the music. As you wrapped your hands around the pole, you locked eyes with the mysterious man.

His gaze was magnetic, drawing you in. You began your routine, your body moving fluidly to the provocative lyrics. You spun around the pole as you twirled around the pole.

You felt his eyes following your every move. You arched your back, running your hands down my body, your fingers grazing the lace of your lingerie.

The music pulsed through you, guiding your movements as you danced for him. You slid down the pole, your legs spreading wide as you hit the floor.

His eyes widened slightly, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips. You crawled towards him, your hips swaying hypnotically. The rest of the club faded away; it was just you and him.

"What's your name, handsome?" You purred, your voice low and sultry. He leaned forward, his muscular arms resting on the edge of the stage.

The beautiful man paused momentarily, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "It's…TJ," he said, his voice rich and resonant, flowing with a warmth reminiscent of aged whiskey poured into a crystal glass.

It had a soothing, almost inviting quality. He glanced at you expectantly before continuing, "And yours?" His gaze was steady, a mixture of curiosity and intrigue illuminating his features.

You rolled onto your back, lifting your leg high in the air. "Nikki, sweetie. So…TJ," you said, running your hand along your thigh.

"I've seen you watching me all week. What brings you here night after night?"

TJ's eyes traveled the length of your body before meeting yours. "I think you know, Miss. Nikki. Just enjoying the show, and maybe something else."

"Wow, really? Interesting," You drawled, rolling your hips as you pushed yourself up to a standing position. "Most fellas are throwing out all kinds of lines, but you playin' it cool."

TJ's pretty eyes never left yours as he leaned back in his chair, a slight smirk on his lips. "I ain't most fellas, mama."

You strutted closer to the edge of the stage, your movements fluid and sensual. "I can see that. You got that look about you like you've seen some thang."

"Could say the same about you," TJ replied, his voice low and smooth. "Pretty girl like you, dancing' in a place like this. Bet you got stories to tell."

You chuckled, bending down to meet his gaze. "Oh honey, you ain't even ready for my stories." You said softly. "Try me," he challenged, raising an eyebrow.

You ran a finger along his jawline, feeling the rough stubble beneath your touch. "Maybe I will if you stick around after my set." TJ caught your wrist gently, his thumb brushing over your pulse point.

"You ain't gotta worry 'bout me leavin, darling Nikki'," TJ said, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly. "I've been waiting all week for this moment."

You leaned in closer, your lips barely grazing his ear. "Well, ain't you just the patient type? I like a man who knows how to wait for what he wants."

The music faded, signaling the end of your set. You pulled back, giving TJ a wink before sauntering off the stage. You could feel his eyes burning into your back as you went to the dressing room.

Once inside, you took a deep breath, your heart racing. Despite your better judgment, something about TJ drew you in. You quickly freshened up, changed into a short black dress, reapplied lipstick, and brushed your hair.

When you emerged, TJ was waiting by the bar, and you ordered a drink, and he offered you a toast. "Preciate you, boo," you said, taking a sip.

The alcohol burned pleasantly down your throat.

TJ leaned against the bar, his eyes roaming over you. "So, Miss Nikki, you gon' tell me what a fine thang like you is doing in a place like this? 'Cause I can tell you ain't like these other girls."

You took another sip of your drink, savoring the burn. "What makes you say that, TJ? Maybe I'm just tryna make a livin' like everybody else."

TJ chuckled, the sound profound and rich, making your heart flutter. "Nah…you got that look in your eye. Like you runnin' from something Or somebody."

You felt your heart skip a beat but kept your face neutral and cleared your throat. "You sure think you know a lot about me, considering we just met."

TJ leaned in closer; his cologne smelt so damn good that you had to bite your lip. "I'm good at reading people. It's what's kept me alive this long."

"Oh yeah, really, huh?" You challenged, arching an eyebrow with a light smile. "And what exactly have you been doing, that's got you worry 'bout stayin' alive?"

TJ grinned, revealing a perfect set of pearly whites. "Now that's a story for another time, baby girl. Tonight, I'm more interested in hearing about you."

You laughed, tossing your hair over your shoulder. "You sure know how to sweet talk a lady, right? But I ain't spilling my secrets to anybody, no matter how fine they look."

TJ's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Aight, aight, I see how it is. How 'bout private dance?" he asked with a smile, and you smirked, considering his offer.

"Alright, big spender. Follow me." You led TJ to one of the private rooms in the back, your hips swaying with each step. Once inside, you gently pushed him onto the plush velvet couch.

"Now baby, you just sit back and enjoy the show," You purred, dimming the lights. As the sultry beat of "Grip" by Normani filled the room, you began to move.

Your body was rippled to the rhythm, hands sliding down your curves. You turned your back to TJ, looking over your shoulder as you slowly unzipped your dress.

"Damn," TJ breathed, his eyes glued to your every movement. "You finer than frog hair split four ways."

You chuckled, letting the dress fall to the floor, revealing the beautiful black lineage that highlighted your curves. "You got a way with words, don't you?"

You straddled his lap, grinding your hips against him, and you could feel him hardening beneath you. "Mmm, somebody's excited," you teased, running your fingers through his cornrows.

TJ's hands gripped your waist as you rolled your hips slowly and sensually, feelin' his grip tightened on your waist. "Shit…you gon' be the death of me," he groaned, his voice husky with desire.

"Oh baby, you ain't seen nothin' yet," You purred, running your hands down his chest. You could feel his heart racin' beneath your fingertips.

You stood up, turning your back to him as you bent over, giving him a perfect view of your ass. You looked over your shoulder, catching his hungry gaze.

"You like what you see, handsome?"

"Shiiit," TJ breathed, adjusting himself in his pants. "You know I do, baby girl."

You straddled him again, this time facing away from him. You ground your hips in figure eights, feeling' his hardness pressed against you. TJ's hands roamed your body, caressing your thighs.

You continued to grind against TJ, your movements slow and deliberate. "You like that, baby?" You purred, looking over your shoulder at him.

"Mmm…yes," TJ groaned, his hands gripping your hips tighter. You chuckled as your body undulating to the rhythm. You ran your hands down your sides, over your breasts, down your stomach.

TJ's eyes followed every movement, his gaze hungry. "Damn, girl," he breathed. "You finer than frog hair split four ways," You smirked, stepping closer.

"You already said that, baby. You runnin' outta lines?" You teased, and TJ grinned, his teeth flashing white in the dim light. "Nah. I got plenty more. You just got me, girl."

You laughed, the sound low and sultry, pressing your ass against him as you started to twerk. Your cheeks clapped against his lap in time with the beat.

"Sweet Heaven," TJ muttered. "You shakin' that thang, shaking that ass for me" You looked over your shoulder, giving him a wink.

"You like that? Want some more?" you whispered in his ear, brushing your lips softly against his ears. "Yes," he breathed, eyes glued to your ass.

You stood up, turnin' to face him again, and bent over, puttin' your hands on his knees as you shook your chest in his face. Your breasts bounced against his chin, and TJ's breath hitched as he struggled to stop himself from what he was about to do next.

His phone buzzed, reminding him of his purpose for being here. You looked into his eyes, already locked on you, and you grew confused by the change in his expression.

The door swung open with a smash that echoed like thunder in the small room. My heart dropped, and you whipped around to see your half-brother, Myles, striding in with an intensity that could slice concrete.

Two bodyguards flanked him. "Good job, Terry," Myles said, his voice calm and composed despite the intensity in the room. You got off TJ—or Terry, whoever the hell he was—and put your dress back on.

"Hello, Y/N… it's so great to see you again, sister," Myles says bitterly. Your heart begins to race as fear crosses your face, and you look between Myles and Terry in disbelief.

You tried to escape, but Terry grabbed you by the arm. You looked up at him in fear and pleaded, "Please don't do this! They're going to kill me. You don't know-."

"Hand her over, Terry. You're working here; it's done," Myles said, moving in closer, but Terry was hesitant and still looked at your pleading eyes.

"What do you plan to do with her?" Terry asked, looking at Myles with his jaw clenched. Myles laughed as he glanced between the two guys behind him.

"Why does it matter to you?" he replied, puzzled. You were looking between Myles and Terry, your heartbeat racing and struggling from his grip, and Terry's eyes frowning.

"A deal is a deal. You want Y/N; I need that fucking information now." Terry said, raising his voice. Myles pulled something from his jacket and tossed it onto the ground.

"There, now give me her; I'm not about to ask again," Myles demanded, stepping closer while his bodyguards braced their guns. Terry appeared conflicted.

You couldn't wait for him to decide whether to help you. So, you bit his arm, punched him in the gut, and made a run for the other door to the dressing room.

You escaped, quickly grabbing your bag before you bolted toward that exit door, your heart racing still like a wild stallion, and chaos erupted behind you.

The sound of gunshots rang out, sharp and jarring, slicing through the air like a knife. People screamed, their voices blending into a cacophony of panic.

You could feel the chaos vibrations pulse through the floor under your feet—like an earthquake of fear. Finally, you skidded to a halt outside, breathless and wide-eyed.

You ran and ran until suddenly, a hand clamped over your mouth from behind, pulling you into the shadows of a dark alleyway. You fought against it instinctively, adrenaline surging through your veins.

"Relax, it's me, Terry!" Terry hissed urgently, his breath warm against your ear. His grip tightened momentarily before he loosened it slightly.

He said it like you should be happy.

You shoved him away and punched him in his jaw, and Terry grunted in pain. Terry asked, "Fuck, what did you do to make going through all this trouble over just you."

"You should know since you were hired to find me," You snapped, your voice shaking with anger and fear. "Don't play dumb now, not after all this."

Terry's eyes narrowed, searchin' your face like he was tryna solve a puzzle. "I swear. I was hired to find a girl who ran from her family. Knew nothin' 'bout any of this. This is some next-level shit."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Oh, so now you wanna act like you don't know? You think I'm gonna fall for that…I know my psycho stepmother hired you. Fucking bitch killed my daddy and took over his business. Now she wants me dead, too."

Terry's eyes widened slightly. "Damn, that's some heavy shit. I swear on everything, I ain't know none of that." you stared at Terry, your mind racin' as you tried to understand what he was sayin'.

"You didn't know, huh?" You asked, crossing your arms while looking him up and down, and Terry winced. "So what are you…shitty…bounty hunter from Craigslist?"

"You know what…" Terry grunted, his breath coming out in short gasps. "I'm not trying to get caught up in no family drama with psycho killers. This way above my pay grade."

You noticed the dark stain spreading on his shirt, realization hittin' you like a ton of bricks. You covered your mouth, "Shit, you have been shot!"

Terry looked down, seemin' surprised by the blood. "Dammit," Terry grunted in pain, his face contorting as he pressed his hand against his side.

He muttered something under his breath, stumbling slightly as he turned away from you. "Where you goin'?" You called out, your voice echoing in the dark alley.

"Away from you," Terry growled, his voice strained. "This whole situation's more trouble than it's worth." You reached out, grabbing his arm.

"Hold up, you can't just walk away. You need a doctor, Terry. You're bleedin' bad." You said softly, and he yanked his arm away, wincing at the movement.

"No doctors. They ask too many questions." Terry grunts; you can see the blood seeping through his fingers, staining his shirt a deep crimson.

"Then let me patch you up, " you said, moving before him. Terry's eyes narrowed as he studied your face. You could see the internal struggle playing out in his expression.

"Look… I get you don't trust me, and I don't trust you, but maybe we can try; both of us need each other right now," you assured him, raising your hands in a calming gesture.

Finally, Terry let out a long, heavy sigh and nodded, his jaw clenched tight. "Alright, then. Fine. Follow me." Both of you moved through the city's shadows, Terry leading you down a maze of back alleys and narrow streets.

The neon signs and distant sirens faded away as you both delved deeper into the forgotten corners of the urban sprawl. Finally, you stopped before a dilapidated brownstone, its windows boarded up and its facade crumbling.

Terry fumbled with a set of keys, his hands shaking slightly from the pain or blood loss - maybe both. He managed to get the door open and ushered you inside.

The interior was a stark contrast to the building's exterior. It was clean, if sparse, with mismatched furniture and a few bare necessities scattered about.

Terry collapsed onto a worn leather couch, his breathing labored. "The First aid kit's in the bathroom," he grunted, gesturing towards a door on the far side of the room.

"It's under the sink."

You hurried to retrieve it, your mind racing with questions you knew better. You rushed to the bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest.

The first aid kit was right where Terry said it'd be, and you grabbed it, hurrying back to the living room.

Terry had removed his shirt, revealing a muscular torso and a few tattoos. The gunshot wound was on his left side, still oozing blood.

"Alright, big guy," you said, kneeling beside him. "This is going to hurt, but I gotta clean it first," you added, and Terry nodded, his jaw clenched tight.

You poured some antiseptic on a cloth and started cleaning the wound. He hissed in pain, his muscles tensing under your touch. "So," You said, tryna distract him from the pain. "How'd a fine thing like you get mixed up in all this mess?"

Terry chuckled, then winced. "It's a long story, sweetheart."

"Well, we got time," You replied, focusing on the wound. "That bullet's still in there. I'm gonna have to dig it out." You said, grabbed a pair of tweezers.

You sterilized the tweezers with some alcohol, your hands shaking slightly. "This is gonna hurt like hell, Terry. Are you ready?"

Terry nodded, his jaw clenched tight. "Do what you gotta do, baby girl." Your heart flutters at the nicknames, and you take a deep breath and start probin' for the bullet.

Terry's body rigidified, and a low groan escaped his lips. You could feel the sweat beading on your forehead as you concentrated and tried to be gentle.

"Almost got it," You murmured, more to yourself than to Terry. "Just a little bit… there!" You pulled out the bullet, droppin' it into a small dish with a metallic clink. T

Terry let out a long, shaky breath. "Damn, girl," he panted. "You got steady hands. Do you do this often?"

You chuckled, applying pressure to the wound. "No…now hold still while I patch you up, " you said, working on cleaning and dressing the wound and stitching him up.

Terry watched you intently; his eyes were clouded with pain, but there was a mixture of something else there: lust and curiosity. You finished patching up Terry's wound, securing the bandage with medical tape.

"There," you said, sitting back on your heels. That should hold for now, but you really should see a doctor." You said, taking a breath, and Terry flexed his side gingerly, testing the bandage.

"Where'd you learn to patch up bullet wounds like that?" Terry asked, and you shrugged, avoiding his gaze as you packed up the first aid kit.

"Let's just say I've had practice," you said with a light smile, and he returned. "Thanks," Terry said softly, his hand touching your arm.

"I mean it. You didn't have to help me after everything." Terry said gently, and you nodded, finally meeting his eyes. "It's fine! If you don't mind, I need to change out of this dress, and I'll be on my way."

You stood up and paused when Terry's hand tightened on your arm. "Wait," he said, his voice low and urgent. "You can't go out there alone. It ain't safe."

You scoffed, pulling your arm free. "My life ain't been safe for a long time. I can handle myself." You turned to face Terry, your eyes searchin' his face for any sign of deception.

All you saw was genuine concern and maybe something else, a spark of interest that made your heart skip a beat. "Look," Terry said, his voice low and deep.

"I can't let you walk out that door knowing what's waiting for you out there. You need protection, and I can offer that," Terry explained. Of course, you hesitated.

"And what makes you think you can protect me any better than I can protect myself?" you questioned, and Terry stood up slowly and towered over you.

His broad shoulders blocked out the dim light from the single bulb overhead. "Because I know things, I can help make you disappear. And right now, that's what we both need."

You chewed on your bottom lip, considerin' his words. The smart thing would be to walk away, to disappear on your own like you'd been doin' for months.

But somethin' about Terry made you want to stay. "Okay." Just as you said that, you felt Terry's hand on your shoulder, gently leaning down towards you.

Before you could react, his lips were on yours. Terry's kiss was surprisingly gentle, his full lips soft against yours. You found yourself leaning into it.

Your hands reach up to caress his cornrows. The tension that had been building between you both finally broke like a dam bursting open.

Terry's strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his body. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin and smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and the metallic tang of blood.

His tongue traced the seam of your lips, asking for entrance, and you granted it with a soft moan. As the kiss deepened, Terry backed you up against the wall, his body pressing into yours. One of his hands tangled in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head back. His lips left yours to trail hot kisses down your neck, and you gasped at the sensation.

"Mmm," Terry murmured against your dark brown skin, his voice low and sexy. "I've been wantin' to do that all week. Watching you up on that stage, movin' like you do… you had me mesmerized."

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers tracing the muscles of Terry's back. "I… I thought it was all an act," You admitted softly. "That you were just playin' a part to get close to me."

Terry pulled back slightly, his intense eyes searching yours. "No! That wasn't an act. I was hooked when I saw you up on that stage. Couldn't take my eyes off you."

His thumb caressed your cheek gently, and you leaned into his touch. "But… your job. You were hired to find me," You whispered, still struggling to reconcile everything.

"Yeah, I was," Terry nodded, his expression serious. "But I didn't know the whole story. And the more I watched you, the more I realized there was so much more to you than what they led on."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. "I saw the fire in your eyes when you danced. The way you carried yourself with such strength and grace. And I knew… I knew I had to know you."

Your heart raced at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest as you gazed up at Terry, your heart pounding. His words had stirred something deep inside you, awakening something.

You reached up, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingertips. "You don't know what you're gettin' yourself into," You whispered, your voice husky with desire.

"They won't stop coming for me. Am I worth all the trouble ahead?" You asked, and Terry's eyes darkened as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Baby girl, I think you're worth every bit of trouble and then some." His words sent a shiver down your spine. You tilted your head back, exposing your neck to him.

Terry took the invitation, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat. His hands roamed your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

"Terry," You gasped, arching into his touch, and he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Do you want me to stop?"

You bit your lip, deep in thought. Every instinct told you to run and protect yourself, but how Terry looked at you made you feel like the most precious thing he had ever seen. It was as if he was determined to protect and cherish you.

It made you melt. "No, don't stop, Terry, please don't stop!"

Haha cliffhanger, I'm so mean, lol part 2??

[literaila]

three things

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: a fun trip to the grocery store (how do you raise children?)

warnings: a bit of anxiety, a bit too much of gojo

last part | next part

*

year one.

"no, satoru." 

how many times have you said that today? 

how many times has satoru pouted--like he's doing right now--and put back whatever he'd plucked off the shelf, grumbling something about how you hated him or you weren't his mom or how he was the one buying everything? 

oh, too many times to count. you stopped after five. 

megumi rolls his eyes with you, already familiar with this routine, looking at everything in the cart again with the same analytical eye he's had since you all walked into the store. you're pretty sure he's counting the total cost.

it might be cute--the way his frown deepens just a little bit after each new item is added--if it didn't worry you completely. 

because it's the first time you've taken the two of them to the store, and the first time you're trying to recall everything their eyes trail over, the things they want but neither of them will say.

you're trying to remember yourself as a kid--if you begged your parents for anything you could possibly want, or if you stood there and stared longingly. but your childhood has always been a dull memory you keep hidden in the attic of your mind. 

so you're not sure what to expect. 

because neither of them has asked for much, since the first night. tsumiki requested a notebook she could draw in, and megumi asked if you could get gojo to stop talking to him. 

the first which you did immediately, even letting gojo get her some expensive pencils to draw with, the second which you... tried. 

it hasn't been easy, the past few days. settling two kids into a dysfunctional house didn't exactly fit into your schedule for the week. 

"why not?" satoru demands, walking right along slide you, pushing the cart because you'd forced him to. "we need dessert." 

"there are seven different types of dessert already in there. i'm hiding at least three of those, by the way." 

"i'll find them," satoru grins mischievously, but waves a hand. "we've got two extra people in the house now. i'm not just shopping for me. do you want them to starve?" 

you roll your eyes, again. then pull on his hair, which he squeaks at. "you're only shopping for you. i've seen your pantries, you know. and i lived with you for three years. we all saw your grocery lists." 

satoru is about to say something, but tsumiki giggles. maybe at the stupid way his face looks. 

the way he's almost smiling, even in denial. how his eyes show from just behind his glasses, his brows moving like a separate entity on his face. 

you haven't really talked to him, the past couple of days. nothing beyond a question about megumi's technique, or where the two of them went to school. 

how long will it take before you finally ask him--

you look over to tsumiki, shaking your head at satoru and smiling back. 

"megumi doesn't like sweets much," she adds to you, easily.

you add it to the mental list of things you know about them.

you look at the little boy, and he nods, looking straight ahead. his shoes catch on the ground every couple of steps like they don't fit right. 

satoru gasps like this is an outrage. because not drinking straight sugar is offensive to him. 

"what?" he asks, stopping all three of you so he can grab megumi by the shoulders. "were you cursed?" he inspects the boy carefully, peering over the glasses on his face.

megumi seems to sink back with each glance of his eyes, his face turning red. 

"cursed to deal with you, maybe," you tell him, pushing him away from megumi. the boy fixes his hair--which had been pushed over his eyes--and glares at satoru.

"he doesn't like sweets?" the man repeats, mouth open, glancing at all three of you like he's not sure that any of you are sane.

"you say that as if you don't eat enough for all four of us." 

"i need the calories," satoru whines, fluttering his eyelashes at you. you ignore him--and the funny way you feel about the gesture.

you look at both of the kids, observing the two of you closely, and give them a look. a look as in, he's crazy. 

megumi swallows. "i like dango." 

"great!" you nudge satoru to keep walking. "we'll get some." 

"that's it?" satoru prods. "what about--" 

you pinch his hip and shake your head, glaring at him when he pouts at you again. 

you step on his heels as you walk through the aisles, still watching the kids with sharp eyes, trying to figure out anything they might want. 

tsumiki murmurs something to megumi every once and a while, but beyond that, they only walk alongside you and satoru, stepping out of the way of any other adults that pass by. 

honestly, you might as well have taken them to the park. they don't even glance at any of the shelves--except when satoru pushes one of them away to grab something. at least at the park, they'd be getting some fresh air. 

after you sigh in--what? frustration? disappointment?--for the fourth time, satoru gives you a look, raising his brows. you shake your head. 

he nudges you with his shoulder but doesn't say anything. whistling while he sneaks more sugar into the cart. 

after the fifteenth minute of this, megumi falls in stride beside you and you look down at him. his eyes evade yours, focusing on the necklace you're wearing instead.

"um, i have to use the restroom," he says to you, soft and embarrassed. 

"okay," you place a hand on his back, gently turning him around, "i think it's just over here," you say, listening as satoru follows along idly. 

"me too," tsumiki says, trailing on your other side. 

the store is almost completely empty, so you tell the two of them that you'll wait right outside the door, and lean against the wall, watching the both of them disappear. 

satoru is already looking at you. 

"what?" you groan, glaring at the doors. 

"what what?" 

you sigh. his voice is annoying. "why are you looking at me?" 

satoru is too close for comfort, his arm brushing against yours--uncomfortably of course because he is the worst--without a care in the world. "what's up?" 

"what do you mean?" 

"why are you acting weird?" 

"i'm not acting weird," you look at him, frowning. 

he's wiping his glasses on his shirt--like he can actually see out of them--and looking at you quizzically. "oh, so you staring at tsumiki and megumi like they're a science experiment isn't weird?" 

you ignore him and his stupid blue eyes. 

"if i was doing that you'd push me down a flight of stairs, but okay..." 

you sigh again, rolling your eyes. and then again. and then you relent because satoru's silence will inevitably break you. "they haven't asked for anything," you say, almost whining to him. "you told them they could pick out whatever they want." 

satoru shrugs. "so they don't want anything." 

"everyone wants something, satoru. especially kids." 

"everyone?" 

"yes. i'd expect you to know better than anyone," he laughs but you frown. "it's a human trait." 

he smirks, leaning down towards you. "what do you want, then?" 

you scoff, flicking his forehead. "i want them to feel comfortable. and i want you to stop bugging megumi." 

"but he makes it so easy," satoru says, pretending to be innocent.

"you're the adult, here," you say, even though you don't really believe it--nor should you. "act like it." 

"all the kid does is scowl," satoru complains. "i'm just trying to make him comfortable." 

"by invading his space?" 

"you stare from far away, i stare from up close." 

"you antagonize." 

satoru grins, crossing his arms, very pleased with himself. he's silent again. 

the past year has almost made you forget that satoru knows you like this. he's always known how to keep you talking, how to read your face and your hesitant glances. 

it's not like time could make him forget. it's not like you've forgotten anything about him. 

"you aren't worried?" you ask, after a second. 

"about the kids?" 

"yes," you say, obviously, "that we're already messing something up." 

he gives you a dubious look. "it's been four days." 

and he's right. you can't expect to understand either one of them after seventy-two hours of merely knowing about their existence. but you don't know how to treat kids like these, because any mistake you make--anything you say--will inevitably come back to haunt you. 

"it's--" you shake your head. satoru doesn't worry about anything, so you don't even know why you're bringing it up. "it's like when you play with someone else's kid and feel like you're breaking some unspoken rule. except this time we're the ones making the rules. there's no one to tell us if we mess up." 

"i think megumi would tell us," satoru answers, almost sarcastically. 

"he's the kid, idiot," you groan. "he doesn't know." 

"rude," satoru is still grinning. "what could you have messed up, at this point? all you've been doing is asking them questions. that's pretty straightforward." 

"maybe it's too much, too fast." 

satoru snorts, shaking his head at you. "grocery shopping?" 

"everything." 

satoru raises a brow at you, watching as you deflate. you feel like each move you make takes a little more air out of you, and who's to say when you'll finally run out? 

how many mistakes do you have to make to finally get it right? 

and you know--and you know that he knows--that it's not just about them, but about you. is this too fast? is this too much?

satoru rests a hand on your head. "you're too in your head about this." 

"well, i have to do it for the both of us." 

he ignores that. "if they need something, they'll ask," the words are soft, genuine. he's completely sure like he always is. "you made it clear that we're just here to help. it's been four days." 

you sigh, nodding reluctantly. 

"we'll figure it out," he says, simply. "you don't need to worry about anything. i mean, i'm here, so..." 

you push his hand away, glaring. "megumi doesn't even talk to you." 

"hey, yes he does." 

"to call you a freak, maybe. or tell you to shut up." 

"don't be jealous of my relationship with megumi. we're bonding." 

you roll your eyes but find a laugh making its way out of you. 

he's always been good at this, too. making everything seem easy. 

when tsumiki comes out of the bathroom door, she smiles at the sight of the two of you still there--both talking animatedly, with similar glares in your eyes. she settles in beside satoru, copying him as she leans against the wall. 

"you think i'm great, don't you tsumiki?" satoru asks her, goading. 

she nods immediately. 

you snort and look away while tsumiki giggles when satoru leans down to smack a kiss on her cheek. 

something inside of you warms, just briefly. 

and then megumi comes out, rubbing his hands together. unlike tsumiki, he glares at satoru and chooses to stand beside you. 

"okay," satoru clasps his hands together. "are you both ready to go?" 

"um," you turn to him. "satoru we haven't--" 

megumi nods immediately, looking a bit brighter at the prospect, and tsumiki furrows her brows, questioning. 

"great! both of you pick out three things that you want and then we'll leave." 

megumi glowers. 

"three things?" you clear your throat. "they need more--" 

"three things," satoru repeats, looking right at megumi while he says it. some words pass non-verbally between the two of them. you might have to tell satoru not to talk to megumi about anything without you. "we'll get everything else we need." 

tsumiki runs alongside megumi and grabs his arm, which he allows, though you watch his eyes roll. 

"go on," satoru shoos them away, smiling all proudly. when they're gone, he turns to you again. "there. now you don't have to worry about picking something they like." 

and he reaches his hand to grab yours, as a simple habit. 

satoru has never tip-toed around the line of physical contact. even with shoko, even when she would push him off.

something passes between the two of you. holding his hand is familiar; egged on by four years of standing alongside him. 

you try not to flinch away from the contact. 

and, sure, satoru probably just lost both of them in the store, and you don't actually have everything else you need, or know what those things are, but he's smiling at you. 

he's trying to be reassuring. 

so you smile back and let him hold your hand. 

"we'll figure it out," he whispers to you, and you push the cart this time while the two of you try to find the children he just lost.

*

later that night--after forcing satoru to put away the groceries with the rest of you--megumi lets you sneak into his room with a (third) bag of candy that satoru grabbed last second, acting like you wouldn't notice. 

"where's the best hiding spot for this?" you ask him, looking around.

it's pretty doubtful that satoru would risk going into megumi's room just to look for it. and, you're sure, that megumi probably wouldn't let satoru open the door, nonetheless go through his things.

the boy points at his dresser and moves some clothes so you can hide it at the bottom of one of the drawers. he doesn't even question your motivations.

as you back out of the room again, you make him promise not to tell, and, for a single second, megumi smiles back at you, crossing his heart. 

*

next part

[captainsamuelmorrigan]

Poolverine NSFW [mentions & talking about sex acts]

Logan isn't exactly 'secretive' about his sex life. He just thinks everyone is a little too blasé about revealing details about their private life. Call him old-fashioned, but he is perfectly happy to keep his experiences between him and his lovers.

Of course, Wade has to poke the bear, or rather, the Wolverine. He's desperate to know what over 200 years of trudging through the world as a hunka-hunka burning love produces in the bumping uglies department. What kind of kinky shenanigans could a mutant Edward Scissorhands get up to? And that healing factor? That meant all-nighters to him.

"Peanut, have you ever heard of 'pegging?'" Wade leans over the couch, encroaching Logan's personal space in a way that would be concerning if Althea hadn't made a rule about drawing blood in the tiny apartment.

Logan nods, not looking up from his book. "Yeah."

Wade fist pumps. "Someone in some universe owes someone five bucks for that one. Hell yeah, feminist king. Have you ever tried it?"

"Why do you care?" He licks his finger before turning to the next page.

"I'm curious like a cat, Wolvie-bear. Except satisfaction has nothing to do with me coming back. Who was the lucky girl?"

"I'm going to stop talking now. I suggest you do too." Logan remarks with a flash of his middle claw.

Several days pass before Wade brings up something like that again. Waltzing into Logan's room, an interdimensional add-on that was part of the perks from the TVA.

"So, Babygirl, do you pitch or catch?" Wade mimes the baseball gestures. "Are you more of a gun or a holster? Gifted or receiver? One or a zer-"

"Depends on the person."

"Ooooh~, look at you using gender-neutral language. What makes you decide?"

Logan closes his laptop with a sigh. "Bub, listen, I really don't talk about this stuff with people I'm not sleeping with. It's nothing personal, I just really prefer not to get a reputation."

"So if I blow you, I can ask about the past of the X Mansion pass around party bottom? Deal." Wade starts in on Logan dramatically.

"I'm not that easy, Bub. We may have had some moments in the car, but I'm not a cheap date. You haven't even told me about your past."

"I've joked about Scout Master Kevin many times!" Wade flops onto the bed, jostling Logan a bit.

"That shit doesn't count, and you know it. You haven't mentioned anything to me that wasn't horribly traumatic. I'm starting to think you don't even like sex." He teases lightly.

Wade shouts. "How dare you! Vanessa and I had a great sex life." He drives his pointer finger into Logan's chest.

Logan bats it away, rolling his eyes. "I never hear about it."

"Well, that's..."

He looks at Wade, meeting his eyes. "Bub, I'm perfectly happy to talk about this kind of thing, but I need you to start taking it seriously. I'm not entirely sure you have taken anything seriously, but I'd like to know what you're into in a way that isn't you joking about mortal wounds giving you a stiffy."

"That one is only half a joke." Wade mumbles, smiling nervously at him.

"After the Honda, I know, Bub."

They begin to have more serious conversations over the next few weeks. Wade opens up about some of the things he's done, with Vanessa, past girls, and even a few guys. It takes a while of Wade being vulnerable, for real this time, but eventually, he starts to get some information out of the Wolverine.

Wade sidles up to Logan on the couch. "Okay, so, who introduced you to pegging? I have to know? I told you about Vanessa wanting to try it out." He waits with baited breath, hoping he's done enough to earn Logan's trust on this.

Logan raises an eyebrow. "Clarification, are we talking strictly about a cis woman using a prosthetic, or are we including trans women using their own?"

"Great question, let's say the store-bought kind."

"I think I heard about it from a couple of bra-burning girls in the 70s? Tried it out with one of them, probably around 78'. It was pretty okay. I think it got a lot better around the early aughts."

"And Jean?"

"Oh, you wanted specifics? Not there yet, Bub." He pats Wade's leg before getting up to go to the kitchen. His hips swinging just a bit more to add a sassy emphasis.

"Logie-bear! Wolvie! Peanut! C'moooonn!! I've been a good boy!" He begs.

Wade begins to plan date nights. Logan said he wasn't a cheap date, so Wade's going to make sure he feels respected. Wade even breaks out the second-cheapest wine from the nearest liquor store. The good stuff. He makes a full meal twice a week. He even brings home some yellow roses for Logan.

One night, over dressed-up ramen, Logan looks at Wade with something hungry in his eyes.

"Jean used to peg me while Scott watched. It was a whole thing."

"You're fucking kidding."

"Nah, I'd take it, then he'd take it from both of us. Plus, with Jean's powers..." He whistles. "We'd all feel what the others were feeling. It was some of the best sex I've ever had."

Wade barks out a laugh, shaking his head. "Are the rumors true? Were you really doing everyone on the team?"

Logan smirks. "Well, there were teenagers on the team, so obviously not everyone, but it was a pretty good possibility if they liked men."

Wade squeals like a teenage girl, lightly kicking his feet before leaning in closer. "And what about Ororo? That must've been crazy."

Logan shrugged. "She didn't like having her private life gossiped about, so we're gonna skip that one, Bub."

Wade nods. "Kurt? Hank? Anyone else?"

Logan thinks for a moment. "Kurt was a bit young for me. Hank was a little stuck up, but if we both had a few drinks in us, he was likely to want some action. They all..." He pauses, that deep frown that furrowed his fuzzy brow taking over his expression, something internally catching his attention. "Well, y'know."

Wade's shoulders sag as the weight of the loss that this Logan had suffered pulled at him. "Oh man, Logan, I'm so sorry."

Logan shakes his head, getting up to go to the kitchen and grabbing a beer, ending that conversation. He stays quiet, with that far away look in his eye. He goes to bed early. Wade worries late into the night. If he still had hair, he swears most of it would've been pulled out by morning.

The next day, Wade makes breakfast. Plenty of greasy sausage, just like they both liked it. Eggs were placed in such a way that the sausage smiled up at a groggy Wolverine. "Morning Sunshine, the Earth says, 'Hello!'"

Logan hums in acknowledgment.

"I was thinking about our conversation from last night." Wade worries the hem on his 'Suck the Chef' apron between his fingers. "I... I'm sorry if I brought up anything too painful. Really, I am. We don't have to talk about your sex life anymore if you don't want to."

"That wasn't your fault." Logan puts his silverware down, wiping his mouth before looking up at Wade. "I wanted to tell you."

"You said you didn't usually talk about your sex life to people you weren't bumpin-"

"If you call it 'bumping uglies' one more time, I'm going to break Althea's 'no blood' rule, I swear to God." He flashes his slowly protruding claws at Wade.

"Noted. My point is, we're not doing anything physical, though. You said you only talked about that with people you were physical with."

Logan shrugs. "I was planning on being physical with you. I just got cold feet when I realized that would've been the first time with someone I cared about since the X-Men."

Wade slides into the chair next to Logan. "Peanut... yeah, that totally makes sense. Besides some really poor choices, you would've been my first since Vanessa."

Logan sighs. "A breakup ain't the same as dyin, Bub."

"No, not at all. I'm just saying that that was still a raw spot for me. You waited until I was ready to talk about it, and you were patient. Even though you've got the most rockin' bod I've ever seen, I'm not trying to jump your bones if you're not into it too, Wolvie. We could just be roommates forever, and that's fine." He puts his hand on Logan's shoulder.

Logan huffs out a laugh. "I'm certainly not saying never. I've got needs, Mouth."

Wade pulls his apron off his lap a bit to hide his rapidly growing erection. He squeaks out a "That's fine too," before fist pumping once again. "Also, calling me 'Mouth?' You're gonna have to do that again once sexy things have started."

Logan laughs. "It's a date."

[viperkalas]

After spotting a human in the crumbling ruins being chased after the few monsters that were left. He quickly held up the collapsing ceiling with a strength that belied even his size and scooped up the human in his six fingered hand.

Hello again! Sorry I haven't posted in a little bit, I had a bit of art block then got sick multiple time within the past two weeks. This one was done pretty quickly, simply trying to figure out what works and what doesn't, though I apologize if it doesn't look as good as usual, I was sick while drawing these. Also, while drawing this, I didn't realize until after I was done with the knight's cape that his color are pretty much the exact same as Asgore from Undertale. (´。＿。｀)

[marc-spectorr]

𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒘𝒊𝒎

pairing: duke leto atreides x fem!reader

summary: It's the night before your wedding to Duke Leto Atreides and he finds you struck by panic about your future in Caladan.

warnings: 3.1k wc. arranged marriage, panic attack, anxiety, mentions of conceiving. my limited dune-lore knowledge. soft!leto.

a/n: first leto fic ahhh!! i may or may not write more parts to this in the future. i had so many ideas but if i wrote them all in one fic, it would be a long one (not to mention it would take 1001 years to finish and post). anyway, feedback is very much appreciated! hope you enjoy :)

—

Caladan.

There is a beauty to it that you cannot deny. It's captivating from the very first glance. An indescribable sight, unparalleled to anywhere else in the universe.

Of all the worlds you could be in at this moment, a part of you is glad it's Caladan. In spite of the circumstances that brought you here, you try to be grateful for it. Surely, there are worse places to live on than this.

Here, the ocean is vast, stretching far beyond the starlit horizon. A fresh breeze carries the salty scent of the water towards you. It tickles your skin as if it were a feather, the light coolness sending goosebumps along your arms. You tug your shawl more closely around your shoulders.

It is far from the hot desert landscape you know and love. Despite its recent hardships, that planet was once home to you. It still is. You wonder how long it will be before you consider Caladan as such. It's been one week since your arrival, and you're in a period of adjustment, which in truth, has not been too easy.

The beach is empty, unsurprising as the moon has moved far past its highest point in the sky. You can't sleep. You haven't for so long. Similar to all the nights prior, you had tossed and turned endlessly under silken sheets before deciding to go for a walk. You found no comfort in your bed despite the mattress beneath you being the softest there ever was.

It could be the chambers themselves, surrounded by four dark walls that are still very much foreign to you. You must get used to it, you remind yourself. In fact, it's more than just a room that you must get used to.

Tomorrow, your life will change more than it already has when you moved to Caladan.

Tomorrow is the wedding—your wedding. Many esteemed members of the Great Houses will be in attendance, alongside your closest family and friends, who are now worlds away from you. They will all be present to witness you exchange vows with Duke Leto Atreides, a man you barely know.

You exhale a deep, long sigh and draw your knees under your chin. Gentle waves lap onto the shore, the white foam almost reaching your toes before ebbing away. You watch in comfortable silence, the hypnotic rhythm of the waves creating a sense of calm.

Unwittingly, your mind combs through recent events. You spent plenty of these last few days surrounded by those more interested in your upcoming nuptials than you are. You've grown weary of feigning smiles every second in their company, of pretending to be okay when you are far from it.

You feel alone. You are alone.

It’s a sacrifice—leaving behind the life you had to help your struggling home world. Things are changing faster than the time you have to process them. But you can't afford to wait—the sooner you marry Leto, the sooner your father and your people's burdens will go away.

You are doing the right thing. The noble thing. It's what you were raised to do. The last thing you wish is to be seen as a disappointment.

Still, it doesn't mean you have your worries and doubts. You lack experience, having never courted someone before. You question whether or not you would be fit to be a wife to the stranger who is the Duke of Caladan. You're well aware of the responsibilities you would have to uphold, the expectation that one day you will need to bear him an heir…

You shut your eyes, trying to push past the feeling of your heart starting to pick up and thud heavily against your ribs. But the pit of anxiety gnawing at your stomach grows and grows, and it's a losing battle. Not even the ocean waves that mesmerized you moments ago could distract you from the mounting panic inside.

Your thoughts batter you from within like a storm raging out of control. The pressure and expectations others have on you— that you have on yourself— can't be stopped. 

They're too loud; they refuse to be ignored this time around.

Your body trembles, your breaths are short and shallow, and it feels like you are drowning; you're helplessly caught in a dangerous current that pulls you under the water. The weight in your chest drags you down and deeper, sinking and sinking until you hit the very bottom of the depths of your own mind, deprived of any air, any light.

It's only until a voice calls out your name over and over again that you resurface. Warm, gentle hands urge you to sit right back up, and you don't have it in you to fight against them. You don't remember curling up on your side, wound in a tight little ball, nearly burrowing yourself into the sand bed as if wanting to be swallowed whole.

"Breathe, darling... Listen to my voice and just breathe, alright? One... two... three..."

You can't see him, not through the hot, stinging tears obscuring your eyes. But you can hear him. His voice's hazy, soft lull is strangely familiar, yet you cannot place whose it is.

He coaxes you repeatedly, and you focus on his words as if they are your one and only lifeline—as if they are the calming waves reaching the shoreline. 

You do as he says. You breathe.

"One... two... three... That's it, my lady. Deep breaths for me, and again— one... two... three... Good girl, and again. Breathe..."

You're unsure how long has passed by the time your heart slows, and your breathing evens out. Your blurred vision clears once your tears have settled, and your eyes widen when you recognize the face before you.

Duke Leto Atreides kneels beside you, dressed in a manner you have never seen him in. He has on a loose white shirt and dark lounge bottoms, his graying head of curls mussed by the wind blowing past.

You're uncertain why he's at the beach alone at this late hour despite being seemingly ready for bed. Perhaps concerned guards informed him of your wandering about the castle in the dead of night. Did he come all this way in search of you?

Leto’s dark eyes search your face for the reason of your distress. Embarrassment sweeps over your cheeks— you cannot imagine how much of a pitiful mess you look. God, what if you've ruined it? What if seeing you this way, so weak, and frightened, and pathetic, has Leto wishing to rescind his agreement to marry you? What if, what if—

"Hey, shh… Relax. There is no need to fret," Leto soothes. He must have seen the worry in your eyes, but instead of ridicule as you anticipated, he looks at you with concern.

You cast your gaze down, catching sight of your hand in his. He hasn't let go of it since finding you, and when he notices your muscles tense up from the anxiety that seizes your body once more, he squeezes.

Leto squeezes your hand firmly but nowhere near the point of pain. His words are a quiet murmur in your ears. "Don't go back there, darling. Stay here, on this beach. Squeeze my hand back so I know you're here with me. Can you do that for me, please?"

With his other hand, Leto places a finger under your chin to tip it upwards, meeting your eyes. Again, he holds your hand tightly and brushes his thumb over your knuckles. You concentrate on him, matching your breaths to his. The tension starts to slip away bit by bit, and when it does, you finally squeeze his hand back.

"There you go. Just breathe, you're alright," Leto murmurs with a small smile. It dawns on you how close he is when the sound of the ocean becomes second to his voice. "Better?"

You swallow, then nod following a brief pause, not trusting yourself to speak.

Moving slowly so as not to startle you, Leto picks up your shawl from the ground, dusting it clean of grains of sand before draping it over your shoulders.

You expect him to leave, seeing you have regained some semblance of composure. You much prefer that he would. You can't handle explaining to Leto what was wrong. Is wrong.

The air turns silent as you face the water, wiping the dried-up tears from your cheeks with your fingers. You don't see Leto in your peripheral vision, but he's there, watching you. You can feel it.

"Here," you hear Leto say. Glancing to the side, you find him still sitting next to you. He offers his handkerchief, gently motioning it toward you when he senses your hesitation.

With the slightest smile, you accept the piece of cloth, whispering a "thanks" and looking away. 

It occurs to you then that this is your first true moment with Leto. Before today, you had only seen glimpses of him. The most time you have spent with him was during your first encounter, and even then, it wasn't for long.

You chalked it up to Leto having no genuine interest in you. Why would he? He has duties that are much more pressing than entertaining you.

It's not much of a surprise. It would be wrong of you to expect for more. Ultimately, this marriage is not one for love but born out of necessity. A political alliance. A guarantee that your people will be well taken care of. That's the agreement.

Not to mention, you've heard them— those hushed talks amongst the servants and guards about how Caladan does not stand to gain anything from the union.

They are not wrong; many have supposedly expressed concern, including members of the Duke's inner circle. You wonder if he will come to regret his decision one day.

"You've had quite a fright there."

Leto's voice cuts through the silence between you. He shuffles from behind, sitting where he can better see you. You stop yourself from glancing down; it would be rude, and you don't want to tarnish both your image and your family's name even more than you already have.

"I-I am deeply sorry, my lord. You shouldn't have to see that," you manage to get out, catching the way Leto's brows knit together in response.

"There's no shame in such. Why apologize?" he asks you in a soft tone. "And please, there's no need for formalities. Call me Leto. After all, we are betrothed to one another."

Your throat suddenly dries at the reminder that the man before you is your soon-to-be husband. You wring your hands in your lap and give him a nod, skirting from answering his earlier question.

Leto is quick to pick up your nervousness. You can almost see his brain working to piece it all together and grasp what was happening when he stumbled upon you.

You dread what words Leto might say, fearing they will be judgments made against you. You hide from his piercing stare, picking at your nails until a pair of rough yet gentle hands gathers yours, halting you.

Leto squeezes your hands softly, very much like he did before, and it soothes the part of you that has always ached but you could never get rid of.

"You do not have to carry your burdens alone, my lady," Leto murmurs, leaning to catch your eyes once more, and he does. "Whatever it is, unload it on me. Now, tell me what's wrong."

It's almost cruel that your instinct is to doubt him. But if the sincerity bleeding into his voice wasn't enough for you to give him a chance, then it's the tenderness in his gaze. You see the understanding in them, the concern and genuine desire to ease your troubles away.

Your initial perception of Leto has been wrong. You've been wary of him. Intimidated. But this is no man holding no care for you. He could have easily walked away after finding you amidst a fit. Instead, he stayed. He's here when you were convinced he would never find the time to be.

You open up to Leto like a floodgate, admitting to him the thoughts that plagued your mind from the day you learned about this marital arrangement, your nervousness for tomorrow's wedding and your fear of solitude in Caladan in the days that would follow.

You feel selfish, guilty even, for saying all of this out loud. You have no right to complain when the locals here have treated you with only kindness. Others would dream of being in your shoes—of living in a beautiful land, gaining an honorable title, and having a husband who would make you the envy of many.

Why must a blessing cause you great grief?

Leto listens to every word with undivided attention. He lets you speak freely and honestly, never once interfering between your sobs and sentences. He clears his throat only when the whispering waves of the ocean have lingered in the space between the two for some time.

"You are right when you said some of my advisors opposed me marrying you," Leto begins softly, gauging every bit of your reaction as he speaks. "They told me it would bring no benefit to House Atreides—that all we'll do is use up precious time and resources for a dying planet already beyond saving. Their words, not mine."

There is a quiet beat. Leto glances towards the horizon, where the first faint inklings of dawn break through the skies. He continues: "I realized then that those men do not uphold the same values I believe in. Caladan has more than enough riches to go around. There is no humanity in turning a blind eye to people's suffering—especially when we have it in our power to provide aid.

"I've had plenty of disagreements with my advisors, but I couldn't allow those without hearts to remain on my council. My lack of presence is not because I had no interest in getting to know you. Rather, I was ensuring those who showed little care for my bride and her ancestral land no longer served as advisors of mine—a task that regrettably stole time I would have spent with you."

You fall silent. The breath that leaves you seemingly takes more of the load on your being. Your respect for Leto grows. You see now the kind, thoughtful, benevolent man he is. 

How could you have been so wrong about him? You'd been irrational, too assuming. So afraid he would turn out to be the complete opposite when he gave you no valid reason that he's such. You should not have been quick to judge his character when you had known nothing about him in the first place.

"I... thank you, my lor—Leto," you eventually say, turning to him. Shame and remorse cling to your tongue. "I am terribly sorry again. Had my mind been sound, I would've realized my distress is unwarranted."

"Nonsense. You're overwhelmed; your worries were reasonable. All I want is the two of us to be on the same page," Leto replies. The warm smile that adorns his lips when you correct yourself and address him by name lingers. “Let's start over, shall we then?"

You watch as he stands on his feet, reaching out his hand towards you. With Leto's help, you pull yourself up from the sandy floor, shaking off the pins and needles stinging your limbs. He holds his hand out once more, this time for a handshake.

"Hello, I am Leto and welcome to Caladan. It is a pleasure to meet you and an honor to have your presence here."

A smile blooms across your face as you shake his hand, formally introducing yourself to Leto the way he had. "I cannot thank you enough for agreeing to this. I, my father, and our people are eternally grateful for your generosity."

Leto makes a small bow of his head, capturing your hand between his own. Something inside you feels lighter now. The air around you, once thick like water, isn't anymore.

"You will no longer have to worry about your home world. I will make certain they receive all that they need—as for you, as well. I am here for you, even if it's simply as an ear to listen."

A pause. Leto's voice melts a touch softer. He looks at you with eyes deep and brown as the bark of a pine. "In a matter of hours, you and I will wed. It's merely for formality's sake. What goes on between us as husband and wife is nobody's business but ours. Please know that I ask for and expect nothing in return for agreeing to this arrangement. You will never be forced to do anything you do not wish to. Ever. Is that understood?"

You take in Leto's words, becoming aware of the unspoken ones, those hidden between the lines. Their implications settle on you, and you let out a quiet breath of relief into the air.

"I do," you assure before adding, for what could be the hundredth time since Leto has joined you, "Thank you."

“You’re welcome, my lady.”

The sun peaks over the skyline, casting bright golden rays over Caladan. Leto briefly glances in the distance, the silver strands of his mane and beard catching the light, and they glimmer before your eyes. He smiles wide, the lines on his face crinkling as he watches the sunrise.

You also find yourself smiling, spending a moment more studying Leto's profile before turning to what's ahead of you.

Caladan takes your breath away, even more so in the daylight. You can fully appreciate it now that the storms in your mind have passed, and it's as clear as the skies.

"It's a beautiful day to get married." Leto remarks as the two of you gaze out to the water. After basking in the peaceful silence, he meets your eyes again, offering you his arm like a gentleman would. "Come, let me escort you back to your room. We both should rest up a bit before the festivities start."

Nodding in agreement, you quietly say goodbye to the ocean and allow Leto to guide you away from the beach. The sand beneath your shoes eventually turns to a rocky pathway at the foot of Castle Caladan, its grandeur towering over you.

A warm hand slips into yours.

"From now on, you will never feel alone," Leto says, pressing a soft squeeze to your hand. His hold is comforting, and reassuring. “You will always have me at your side, darling. I promise you that."

You smile at Leto, feeling something tender unfold in your chest when he returns a smile of his own.

You believe him, and for once, you think you will be okay.

—

taglist: @pigeonmama

please note that i’m starting a new taglist for my fics. if you would like to be included, let me know :)

[writtenbymisunderstoodnerds]

Are you sure they like each other? (Alyssa Naeher x Reader)

Barely edited and I don't know if I happy with this, but I wanted to put something out. I hope you enjoy :)

Summary: Alyssa and reader are together, but very stoic and not affectionate in public. Think the team know they're together, apparently not. Start to question if they even like each other. Alyssa and reader turn into soft, love sick people when alone.

Warnings: Tiny bit suggestive, some swearing

Words: 3.3K

Alyssa had slipped out, taking our bags up to the room while I was surrounded by some of the team. I had offered to help, but she had insisted I stay to catch up, leaving before I could protest. Neither of us would be considered extroverts, though I was the one who liked to talk a bit more. Kristie pulled me into a tight hug before a few of the girls following suit, "How was your break Y/n?"

"It was pretty good. Alyssa and I just took it easy. Spent some time fixing up some of the stuff around the house I haven't had the time to do. Visited family, that sort of thing."

Confusion covered their faces, Kelley being the first one to speak up, "Wait. You spent the break with Alyssa?"

Now it was my turn to be confused. Alyssa and I had been together for almost 5 years, living together for 3. It wasn't something that had been hidden. Our relationship wasn't public knowledge, but friends and family knew we were together, or so I thought anyway. We weren't an affectionate couple in public or even with our friends, barely ever touching past an occasional hand on the back, a short hug after a game or if we were going to be apart. Occasionally, we would hold hands at home with family or I would lay with my head in her lap during movie night. I loved Alyssa more than words would describe, there was no doubt in my mind she felt the same. Public affection just made us both very uncomfortable.  

"Why wouldn't I? We live together."

"Wait what? You and Alyssa live together?"

"You didn't know? We weren't hiding it. You know we're together right?"

Kelley looked as if I had grown a second head, "You and Alyssa are dating? No we didn't know that! What the hell Y/n?"

Alyssa's hand touched my lower back, letting me know she was there before dropping back to her side. "What's happening here? Why is there yelling?"

"Apparently they're just finding out we live together and have been together for the last almost 5 years."

"5 years?!? And you didn't tell us?"

Even Alyssa looked confused at this point, "What do you mean didn't tell you? It was never hidden. We assumed you knew."

Accusatory glares were sent our way while Alyssa and I just stood there confused. This was not how I expected my morning to go. "You've never kissed, held hands, cuddled or done anything remotely couple like. How were we supposed to know?"

"We've held hands a few times and I sleep against her on the bus sometimes. I get her coffee and breakfast every morning, Alyssa gets me flowers every week even at camp. Pretty sure we've mentioned our anniversary before. We say 'I love you' to each other all the time. Did none of you find that weird?"

"You're always sitting next to each other on the bus so no and we just figured you were close friends or something. I think there's been one time that you've gotten flowers from her in front of us."

"I've seen that a few times actually, but its always when she seems to have a bad day," Tierna spoke up. 

Alyssa shrugged, "Well yeah, I get them every week, but if she's having a bad day then I'll get them on that day to cheer her up. Look, we just don't like PDA, we weren't hiding anything from you. We really thought you knew about us. And before you even ask, no we're not going to prove it. Now we're going to our room."

As soon as we entered our room, I flopped down on the bed, scooting over slightly when Alyssa lay down next to me. I pushed myself into her arms, leaving kisses on her jaw, her hand slipping under my shirt to draw random patterns. "You unpacked my stuff."

Alyssa held me closer, kissing my forehead. People held the impression that Alyssa disliked physical touch, which she did with most people. In reality, Alyssa loved cuddling with me, she loved holding my hand and kissing me. Just touching in general actually. When we first started dating, it was a welcome surprise. I expected some affection, but not as much as I received. There was definitely no complaints from me, I loved cuddling with my partners. "I always do, don't I?"

"You do and I appreciate it, but you don-"

She cut me off with a quick peck before speaking up not giving me the chance, "My love, how many times have you said I don't have to, yet I do it anyway?"

"Pretty much every camp," I mumbled against her neck, knowing what her response was going to be. It was always the same.

"Exactly. I do it because I love you and I want to make your day a little bit easier so how about you just accept it and let me do it."

It wasn't that I didn't like it, in fact I loved that she did it. I just always felt slightly bad when people did things for me. "Fine. I still can't believe they didn't know about us. I really thought they did."

"So did I. Maybe they just don't listen to us at all. It was all kind of entertaining though."

"It was, I can't believe they were so clueless. I have a feeling Emily is going to be annoying though. She had her mischief face on."

Alyssa's hand traveled further up my side as she rolled on top of me, "Unfortunately, I think you're right, but right now there are other things I would rather do than talk about Emily."

---

Just as I sat down for breakfast, Emily and Kelley slid onto the chairs in front of me. They just stared at me until I snapped, asking what they wanted. This was not what I needed early in the morning especially when I had only been awake for like half an hour. Alyssa was always down for breakfast after me, preferring to take her time to get ready and do her puzzles, while I just wanted coffee. 

"So you and Alyssa are together right?"

"Uh yeah, why?"

"Just checking. How long have you been together?"

"Almost 5 years."

"How did you meet?"

I looked at between Emily and Kelley, trying to figure out why I was being interrogated once again, about my relationship. At this point, I was pretty sure the team believed we were lying or something. "You know this already."

"We forgot."

Alyssa approached, giving me a quick smile which I returned, "Perfect timing. I'm being interrogated about our relationship again."

"Why?"

I shrugged, pushing Alyssa's breakfast in front of her receiving a quite thank you. I didn't answer Kelley's question, instead deciding to eat breakfast before it got cold. "Are you two being forced to be together?"

Both of our heads shot up at that. It was such a ridiculous question. There would be no logical reason for us to be pretending to be together especially considering we weren't public knowledge. I bit back my laugh before answering, "What? What makes you think that? Why would that be a thing?"

Emily shrugged, "You just don't seem to like each other like that."

"Go away Kelley," Alyssa mumbled before going back to her breakfast. I ignored her again, getting up for Alyssa's coffee instead. When I returned, Kelley and Emily were still there, giving Alyssa a suspicious look. I handed Alyssa the cup before sitting down again.

"Thank you love."

Emily narrowed her eyes at us, "Suspicious."

Alyssa rolled her eyes while I flipped Emily off. This whole thing was starting to get old. "Go eat your breakfast."

Later that day, we were back in our room, enjoying the time we had before practice. Alyssa was reading, while I lay in the sun on the balcony. I started to want cuddles. I wouldn't say I was clingy because it was true. We could spend hours doing completely different things. Sometimes though, I just craved touching or being held by her. I gave her a few minutes before calling out to her, knowing she would come to me without hesitation.

Alyssa groaned, but got up, slipped off her shirt and sat down behind me with my head in her lap. We met in the middle, lips connecting briefly before I wiggled around to get into a better position. Alyssa eyebrows raised, amusement shining in her eyes, "Comfortable?"

I smirked, lacing my fingers with hers that rest on my stomach, "Very. Do you like me Lyssa? Is someone forcing you to date me?"

"Not even a little bit. Don't you know I'm only with you for your body?" 

"That's what I thought. Maybe I should confess that I'm only with you for your abs."

She smirked at my response, "I had my suspicions. You're obsessed."

"Not my fault they're great abs."

Fingers ran through my hair as Alyssa leant down to kiss my forehead, "You know I love you right Y/n/n? I don't want you to ever doubt that because I don't show you affection in public."

"You know how I feel about PDA, I don't like it, I never have. I have never once doubted your love for me Alyssa and I hope you haven't doubted mine. I love you."

"Good. I have never doubted your love either."

---

Anger and worry coursed through me when I saw Alyssa go down. It was always my worst fear during games, but it didn't really happen during practice. I know we got competitive, there was no reason for it to happen during practice though. I ran up, kneeling beside her, hand grabbing hers, "Are you okay Lys?"

"This ones going to hurt," Alyssa winced, but quickly grabbed my arm when I turned to Rose who had taken her out. "Hey, it's not her fault, it was an accident. Go see if she's okay and be nice."

I took a breath to calm myself down before walking up to Rose. Rose started fidgeting nervously as I walked up to her, "Hey, are you okay Rose?"

"Y-yeah. S-sorry"

I hugged her, feeling her relax against me. Hugs weren't necessarily my favourite thing except when it was with Alyssa, but I knew Rose liked them and I didn't want her to feel bad. It wasn't actually her fault. "Rosie, it was an accident. Don't beat yourself up because of it, but maybe don't make a habit of taking out out keeper during practice, we kinda need her."

---

"You guys coming to dinner?"

"Uh yeah, just going to drop our stuff off."

Once we were in our room, Alyssa sat on the edge of the bed as I knelt behind her, arms wrapping around her shoulders loosely. She lent back against me with a sigh, kissing my hand. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Think my shoulder might bruise, but I'm okay hun. Don't worry so much."

I lift her shirt over her head, lips meeting the spot that was already starting to bruise then moving around to her neck, cheek and lips, "You know I can't help worrying about you, even if it's a bit ridiculous."

Alyssa turned around, pushing me back and hovering over me, "Well, I'm the same so I can't really say anything. I love you Y/n/n."

I looped my arm around the back of her neck, pulling her down so I could peck her lips, "I love you Lys, but you need to get off cause we need to go down for dinner."

She rolled off me with one final kiss before standing up, "Fine."

"Shirt."

---

My eyes fluttered open to the feeling of lips being pressed to every part of my face and neck. I giggled, arms wrapping around her neck to bring her lips to mine. You wouldn't guess it, but Alyssa always kissed me softly, as if I was something precious. It honestly drove me crazy. 

Alyssa pulled away slowly, grin plastered across her face, "Happy anniversary love."

My grin matched her, as I pecked her lips, "Happy anniversary Lys. I love you."

We spent a little longer in bed than usual, lazy kisses and cuddles shared before reluctantly dragging our selves out of bed and into the shower. Unfortunately, we had training today so we couldn't give in to the clear desires we both had, instead rushing through the shower and downstairs before there was anymore temptation and we ended up late. 

Alyssa and I were discussing dinner plans when we walked into the meal room. We never went out on our anniversary, always staying in and just being with each other in the comfort of our own home. This year was different because we were in a hotel, but we would make do. Just as we sat down, Kelley sat across from us, our conversation ending as we waited for her to say something. "Do you guys even like each other? I mean you guys just seem so indifferent around each other, sure you talk and even joke around sometimes, but it's no different then if you were talking to team mates, we've never heard you talk about anything remotely relationship like."

My arm rest on the back of Alyssa's chair, playing with the baby hairs at the base of her neck. That wasn't a usual occurrence, but it was our anniversary. I was feeling a mix of different, slightly overwhelming emotions from love to happiness, and nerves from the fact I was proposing tonight. I just wanted to be close to her right now and the usual leg against mine wasn't enough. Alyssa must have sensed it because her hand rest on my thigh under the table, squeezing gently as I spoke, "Of course we do. We were literally just talking about our plans tonight for our anniversary."

"That was talk about your anniversary? It sounded like you were talking about grocery shopping."

"We were, but in relation to our anniversary."

"So what are you going to do for your anniversary?"

"Chill out in our hotel room. We never do anything big."

"Yeah okay. That tracks with the appearance of your relationship."

Alyssa had gone back to our room after training while I had gone to the store to pick up a few snacks to sneak in and some flowers for her. She always got me flowers so I wanted to return the favour for once. We were planning on ordering in and watching movies before likely ending the night doing inappropriate cuddling.  It was our favourite way to spend our anniversaries. Thankfully, we had an off day tomorrow so we could get away with it. 

After placing the bag down on the table, I called out for Alyssa, getting a response from the bathroom almost instantly. My arms wrapped around Alyssa when she emerged from the bathroom, leaving a lingering kiss against her lips. Her eyes dropped down to the bouquet in my hand, a small smile appearing. "This isn't your actual gift, but you always get me flowers so I thought it was my turn. Your gift is running late."

"They're beautiful, thank you Y/n/n. You know you didn't have to get me anything."

"I know, but you also always get me something despite me saying the same thing, therefore shut up."

Alyssa laughed, pushing me away gently and taking the flowers, "You speak to me so romantically my love."

I pulled her back into me, peppering her face with kisses, "I love you."

"I love you. I ordered dinner already, it should be here soon. Also here," Alyssa handed out a small wrapped box. Inside was a gold chain with a small keepers glove attached. It was something I had mentioned wanting, a way to have her close when she wasn't there physically. 

"You remembered. I love it Lys."

"Of course I did."

After a short make out session and dinner, we cuddled up in bed to watch a movie. Maybe 15 minutes had passed before I started getting restless. My focus dropped from the movie, instead playing with Alyssa's fingers. I never was the best at staying still. My mind soon drifted to the pool downstairs, it had been a while since I got to go and the urge was suddenly there.  

When I shifted position once again, Alyssa chuckled and paused the movie, "I've lost you haven't I?"

I grinned up at her, kissing her softly. Alyssa always knew me so well. "Do you want to go swimming? It's late so no one will be around."

Alyssa knew I loved swimming so she agreed pretty easily, after some teasing of course. We made our way down to the pool, both wearing tank tops and shorts. No one was around so it didn't matter what we wore. I jumped straight in, swimming around a bit while Alyssa sat on the edge of the pool. After a few minutes, I swam up between Alyssa's legs resting my arms on them as I lent up connecting our lips in a lingering kiss. 

"Come in."

"It's cold."

"Love, it's a heated pool."

"Okay fine, I just enjoy watching you swim around."

"But, if you come in then we can cuddle, kiss," My hand ran up the inside of her thigh, "Touch."

Alyssa instantly slid into the pool, arm wrapping around me and pulling me against her. "You're a tease."

My hands slipped under her tank top, nails scratching down her back and over her stomach, "It's only teasing if I leave it at that. Just wait until we get ba-"

A loud voice interrupted the moment, annoyance crossing Alyssa's face as she stepped back slightly, but didn't let me go. "Oh my god! They really are together."

I groaned, turning to glare at Emily and Kelley, "Fuck off and stop ruining our anniversary."

Once they were out of sight again, I pulled myself out of the pool, Alyssa rest on my legs as I had done earlier. "What are you doing?" 

I pulled the towel that I had hidden the little black box in closer. Inside was a a plain gold band with a round cut diamond. Alyssa didn't often wear jewelry and she liked simple things so I knew she would love it. "I have something for you."

"You waited until we were at the pool to give it to me?"

"Well it wasn't the original plan, but I got nervous." My fingers laced with hers, Alyssa looking up at me curiously. "Never in my life did I think I would fall for someone as hard or fast as I did with you. From the boring, quiet days at home spent doing housework or errands to the movie nights and dinner dates, I love living life with you. I love the adventures we've had, I love working with you, fuck, I just love being with you Alyssa. I look forward to every new day because I get to do it with you. With you by my side, anything is possible. This is a shit speech, but I'm nervous and you love me anyway."

Alyssa chuckled, tears already forming in her eyes before I revealed the little box. "I love you Alyssa, I love you so much more than I thought possible. I want to live life with you forever. With that being said, Alyssa Naeher will you marry me?"

Arms wrapped around my waist tightly, lips connecting with mine, in a soft, emotional kiss, "Yes, yes I will marry you Y/n."

I slipped the ring on her finger, connecting our lips again. Alyssa pulled away too soon for my liking, reaching for her own towel, pulling out a black box similar to the one I had moments before. Alyssa opened it, revealing a plain rose gold band with three small gems set into it. I soon realised it was both our birth stones and one I wasn't quite sure of. "You beat me to it, but will you marry me Y/n?"

"I suppose I can't say no seeing as I just gave you a ring."

Alyssa laughed, sliding the ring onto my finger before kissing me again. "These are our birthstones, what's this one?"

"When we first started dating."

"I love it, I love you."

A crash from behind us instantly caught our attention. About half the team stood there, sheepish smiles in place and a phone pointed in our direction. Seeing as they were caught, everyone started talking over each other, congratulations being thrown our way. I rolled my eyes, turning back to Alyssa. "Let's get out of here before they surround us. We have celebrating to do."

[sunshine-theseus]

Fools | Kyra Cooney-Cross x ND!Reader

Words: 4.3k

Summary: no one understood your mind, until you met Kyra.

Notes: Guys I have no knowledge of how Emirates is laid out, how meeting players off the pitch works etc, so I’m completely making this shit up I’m sorry. also sorry for the super long introduction, and the shit writing, I haven’t written in months.

Warnings: mentions of abuse - not proofread. i'm so sorry if this is so shit i genuinely haven't written in months. i wanted this one to be good so bad but i just don't think it is

the person who requested this has since deactivated so i actually feel so bad that i didn't get this out while they were on here. i'm genuinely so sorry for the past like 6 months.

I always struggled with social interactions. I didn’t understand it for a long time, why I always had to smile and hug people, why I had to lie about certain things like how I thought my aunt’s bright green hat looked, why I couldn’t ramble about Star Wars or the new penguin facts I just learned.

Then there were the sounds, and lights and the way things felt. Everything had to be specific, or I couldn’t focus. Sometimes if it was bad enough that I would have a breakdown, unable to do anything. My parents tried to scold it out of me when as a kid I couldn’t eat certain foods or wear the clothes they wanted. Sometimes if they deemed it worthy, I’d be met with the flesh of a palm against my cheek or bottom.

-

When I was 12, I presented the idea that maybe I was autistic to my parents. I’d researched it at school for a social emotional learning class we had to take, and I couldn’t help but notice the similarities I found within myself. If I think about it hard enough, I can feel every burning outline of the dark red hand marks that bloomed on my skin hours after the interaction, and the burning of my eyes as my stomach rumbled, drowned out by the music rumbling through my headphones.

-

At 17 I emancipated from my parents and moved to North Watford, renting out a small studio apartment above a record shop. I completed my final year of high school, working part time in the store, building a much-desired routine. The man that owned the shop and my apartment, and his young daughter, were migrants from Cuba, and more than happy to accommodate to my needs. They even chipped in to help me pay for my autism screening after I graduated high school.

I think they were the first people I willingly hugged ever.

I stopped masking when I moved, so the daughter, Elena; 5, took a few months to understand why I didn’t like touch or loud noises and why I didn’t understand some of the jokes she said that others usually laughed at. Not that I’d had the diagnosis at that time, but she was happy to just spend time with me. Every afternoon when I came back from school and started my shift, she’d beg me for more penguin facts, asking which was my favourite penguin. In return she’d spend the 2-hour shift drawing me something, usually a penguin, to pin on my corkboard at home.

I’d then help with her homework while Camilo closed shop and posted any online orders. It was a routine I cherished deeply.

-

Now, 3 and a bit years later at 21 years old, they managed to drag me to a football game. Equipped with headphones and a couple small sensory toys, as well as a hoodie under the “Miedema” jersey, the material of which originally had me tugging and prying the shirt away from my skin.

Elena and Camilo had been big fans of Arsenal for as long as I’d known them, going to every home game, begging me to join them every week without fail. I finally caved during a break in my uni courses, with nothing to do and Elena’s birthday falling on the day of a game, there was no other choice.

The newly 9-year-old basically imploded when she saw my printed ticket stub, tucked tightly into her birthday card. I gently ruffled her hair, which had become my version of hugging her, and showed her the 3 matching red and white #11 jerseys I purchased not long ago. She’d talked a lot about this Vivianne Miedema and how she wanted to be just like her when she grew up, but she’d never gotten a jersey, or seats on the bottom tier. Today was the day.

~

“Come ooonnn I want to get to our seats!” the pinky of her left hand links with my right one as her other hand is holding her dad’s, and she’s dragging us down the lane toward the entrance.

“Slow down Pollito! We have 20 more minutes until we need to be seated.” My special schedule for the day runs through my head as I check my watch. Plenty of time as long as the crowd keeps flowing.

“I wish you didn’t learn Spanish. It’s such a silly nickname.”

“But you’re my little chicken.” I send a joking frown her way and she replies with a toothless grin.

With the abrupt end to the conversation, we arrive at the gate. Showing the stewardess our tickets to be scanned, we then head toward our seats. As Camilo and I take our seats at the very front, instead of make way to their usual seats a tier up, Elena stops and looks back and forth between us.

“There’s no way you got us these seats.” Without a word I pull the girl in between us and she begins to ramble about how excited she is to be able to see the game so close, still able to be clearly heard through my headphones I manage to slip over my ears.

~

The game is drawn 1-1 just after half time, but Arsenal is close to having the upper hand. From across the pitch, Elena spots the tall and lanky number 11, Vivianne Miedema, pulling off her fluoro yellow bib and warm up shirt and lining up next to number 32 behind the fourth official who is prepping her sign. With a couple of whacks to my arm and an aggressive point of her finger, Elena makes me and Camilo very aware of the impending entrance of her favourite player, and another really attractive girl who is very obviously wearing her socks on the wrong feet. The thought makes me squirm but a shot on goal quickly manages to take my focus.

“Who’s the one coming on with Viv? You’ve never told me about number 32.” It’s hard to take my eyes off the girl as she jumps from one foot to the other, anticipating her entrance.

“Oh that’s Kyra Cooney-Cross! She’s Australian, she transferred at the start of the season. Jonas should play her more.” I acknowledge her words with a hum and a nod before we join in cheering Viv and Kyra on.

My eyes are glued to Kyra the rest of the game. Without any knowledge of how football works, I’m left to assume she’s good with the way she dances around players and passes the ball. It was weird, but her movement was so free flowing it would not be atrocious to confuse her with a ballerina. Elegant and calculated, no hesitation.

~

“Where are we going?” my pinky is once again linked with Elena’s as I drag her and Camilo through Emirates.

“Papa where is she going? The exit is that way.”

“I have no clue chica, but I suppose we should trust her aye?” with that, the father-daughter duo track behind me.

Eventually I stop just where the opening of the tunnel leads out on to the pitch and show a lady the pass I’d been carrying around all day. She smiles and begins walking down the tunnel, waving behind her as a sign for us to follow.

“What’s going on?” Elena asks once again, but I just follow the lady onto the pitch, where multiple members of the Arsenal squad are now loitering around, obviously waiting for something, or someone. At the front of the group is Viv, and when she spots the small girl behind me her eyes light up.

“Hi! You must be Elena. We’ve heard a lot about you!” she sends the girl a smile, but Elena doesn’t make any move to continue the conversation. My head whips to her and I nearly have to laugh from how adorable she is. Her jaw has dropped open and her eyes are welling up with tears, so I ruffle her hair and bend down to her height, removing my headphones.

“What’s up buttercup?” I lightly tap her head.

“That’s really her.” she whispers to me, her eyes not leaving the Dutch woman, who lets out a chuckle.

“Yes it is.”

“How?” I tap the side of my nose at her question indicating it’s to be left a secret.

“Can I have a hug?” Viv kneels on one knee and opens her arms and Elena suddenly breaks lose from her trance and runs up to her hero.

“It’s nice to meet you liefje, I hear you’ve been a fan for a long time. And today’s your birthday. How old are you turning?”

“Nine!”

“Oh wow, you’re growing up!”

“I know, but Y/N still calls me Pollito. I’m not a little chicken.” Everyone looking on bursts out laughing as Elena frowns, and while I join them, the loud sound simply reminds me of the lack of protection on my ears.

~

Elena gets whisked off to talk and play around with Viv and some of the other girls, who seem to all have taken a genuine liking to the young girl, Camilo following to watch over them. I stand firmly on the sidelines, fidgeting with an infinity cube and trying to forget the sudden scratching of my hoodie’s tag on the back of my neck and the tightness of my socks, when a now familiar face pops in front of me.

I don’t notice her at first, my eyes are closed and I’m trying breathing patterns in hopes that the overstimulating sensations with dissipate. It’s only when I open my eyes to check on Elena that I get the shock of my life. Number 32 is just standing in front of me, staring, waiting for me to notice her. no less than a minute ago she’d been spinning Elena around and laughing with her, which I’d found alarmingly adorable, how’d she get here so fast?

She doesn’t say anything, she just smiles and waves, and I realise she must think I can’t hear her with my headphones on, which many people tend to ignore. Wow she’s much prettier up close.

“Hi, I’m Y/N” I return her smile, but don’t make any move to remove the headphones.

“I’m Kyra.” Her voice is muffled but her accent is incredible and like music to my ears.

“You played really well today.” Is she blushing? Red creeps up her neck and finds home on her round cheeks as she smiles brightly.

“Ah thanks, I try to give it my all. Hoping to prove I deserve more game time.”

“You don’t get played often?” another chuckle passes her lips and I feel my stomach tighten.

“Uh no. I take it you’re not a big football fan?”

“What gives you that idea.”

“Well rocking up to an Arsenal game with blue nails for a start.” I cock my head to the side and give her a confused look. I did a lot of research for today, there was no room for me to mess up.

“Chelsea, our biggest rivals, their colour is blue. It’s basically forbidden for an arsenal fan to wear blue to a game. Trust me, I learnt the hard way.”

I’m quick to hide my hands in the pocket at the front of my hoodie, fidgeting with my nails. How did I manage to fuck that up?

“You don’t really have to worry, just maybe keep it in mind if you ever come to another game. I hope you do by the way.” She flashes me a smile that makes me feel warm and I can’t help myself.

“You’re very pretty.” She’s about to reply when I glance down and notice her socks are still wrong.

“And I’m not sure if you know but your socks are on the wrong feet.” It’s quiet for a moment and I’m not sure if my common candour has once again overstepped. I can’t even open my mouth to apologise before she giggles.

“I knew there was something wrong. I keep doing it but no one tells me until after the game… and you’re quite beautiful yourself. If you don’t mind me saying.” My eyes continue to avoid her face as I bounce on the balls of my feet and try to refrain from shaking my hands, my most common stim.

“Thank you.”

We’re silent for a minute or so, which I don’t mind now that I’m more familiar with her. I continue to watch Elena and Camilo, who are now playing in a 5v5, Viv carrying the girl halfway down their makeshift pitch before helping her kick the ball. When her laughs echo through the stadium, joy breaking through her screams and from the yells of her dad who is playing a rather poor referee, I’m reminded of how much I love this family. I can’t help the smile on my face.

“Your sister is very adorable.” I glance to my side where Kyra now resides and contemplate telling her she isn’t my sister, but the words get stuck in my throat. If I were to say they weren’t my family after all they’ve done for me, then I’d be lying.

“Yeah. She’s basically my whole life.”

“Hey can I ask about the headphones? I mean you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want but-“

“I’m autistic. Struggle really bad with sound and other stimulants. I wear headphones to dampen sounds, especially in public. And stadiums are full of sounds.” My palms sweat a little and my breath is laboured for a moment. This is usually the part where people decide I’m a freak and never talk to me again.

“Oh cool. I totally get that, the sound thing.” That warm feeling returns. She doesn’t question anything, she just agrees.

~

Eventually the meet and greet had to end, but I manage to get a few of the girl’s numbers, including number 32’s. Something I hadn’t expected was that the team would love Elena so much that they wanted to organise season tickets and some more passes to meet up after home games. I couldn’t help but be a little proud of myself as the young girl rambled about how amazing it was to get to hang out with her idols, and the prospect of seeing them again.

~

Uni starts back up the following week, so I don’t join the two for a game for quite a while. Despite that, I find myself texting Kyra most days, a good morning and goodnight routine quickly being established. We ask each other questions about each other. ‘What did you want to be if football didn’t work out?’ ‘What made you want to study your course?’ ‘what’s your favourite thing about Australia?’.

She liked to ask me about parts of my autism every now and then. She wanted to know what things to avoid, what topics made me ramble for ages, safe foods. The only other people who had ever cared this much were Elena and Camilo. The two of which had definitely taken note of how happy I’d grown since the game.

“Who are you talking to Angelito? You haven’t smiled this big in a long time.” Camilo takes a seat beside me behind the desk of the store

There is no need to hide the blossoming relationship from him, so I turn my screen to show the messages between Kyra and I, a bold ‘No. 32’ under a very weird but unmistakable picture of the girl. He hums and smiles, lightly nudging our shoulders together.

“She likes you.”

“Pft no she doesn’t.”

“‘you’re so cute.’ ‘I really like you.’ ‘I’ll save that for when I take you on a date.’ With a winky face emoji. She literally admits she likes you. Twice.”

“I thought that was that flirty thing people do with their friends.”

“I know when people like each other.”

“How Milo?”

“I have a gift.”

“A gift hmm?” he just smiles widely down at me before taking my phone again. He begins to type something.

“What are you writing Milo? Milo!” I glance over his shoulder.

‘I really like you and would like to go on a date if you’re free.’ I’m about to scold him but three dots appear as Kyra begins typing.

“If this works you owe me an extra hour this week.”

“You are an evil schemer Camilo.” I say before squeezing his shoulder, a common sign of affection we’d developed.

‘I’d really like that. Tomorrow’s our day off if that works.’

I can’t help the squeal I let out as Camilo writes a response in confirmation.

“I’m going on a date.”

“You deserve this kiddo.”

~

Kyra and I agree on a dinner date at a restaurant I’d mentioned really enjoying a few months ago, that I hadn’t had a chance to visit since. I’d made the reservation, asking for the specific table I’d sat at the last time I came, and I’d already decided on what I was getting before I even hoped in the car to drive there.

I’d planned everything perfectly. The place, my outfit, what time I had to leave to arrive there 10 minutes before our agreed upon time. I hadn’t taken into account the car speeding through a red light and crashing into the car in the right lane beside me. Or the fact that due to the momentum I’d get caught between the 2 cars and the building on the corner of the street I was just about to turn down. No more than 15 metres from the restaurant but I’m trapped and the seatbelt is too tight and my head hurts. I’m crushed between my door and the centre console and all the sirens and ambulance lights approaching are too much and all I can do it cry.

If I could just reach my bag in the footwell of the passenger seat I could get my headphones to relieve some of the stimulation, but I can’t bend that way without my ribs screaming and whatever is poking my hip in my back making itself known.

I pray to every god I can name that I pass out, but no one hears as the jaws of life pry open my door. When were the other cars moved?

“Ma’am we have to cut you out. my colleague here is going to hold you up. Is that okay?” I don’t have any energy to say no, so I nod, waiting for some scissors to snip away at the seatbelt. Instead, I hear an electric saw whir to life.

“W- what’s the saw for?” my words are barely recognisable as they slur together.

“Ma’am everything is okay, just stay still for us okay?”

The sawing is over quicker than it begun, and the paramedics make an effort to move me as carefully as they can onto the stretcher, then into the ambulance. I make no move to complain about how the neck brace is itchy and feels suffocating.

A minute passes and through the newly developed ringing in my ears, I hear someone calling my name. they sound so far away but when I open my eyes again, Kyra is standing above me, next to the paramedic who’s hooking me up to monitors,

“Do you know this lady ma’am?” she asks me as I stare up at the girl I was meant to be on a date with.

“Yeah she’s my girlfriend.” A voice in the back of my head is worried that maybe that will freak Kyra out, but I know they won’t let her ride with me if we don’t have some close connection and for some reason friend does not cross my mind.

They allow her to take the extra seat beside me and she loops her pinky with mine. She keeps glancing down toward my stomach and taking deep breaths as we make our way down the streets of London. I try to see what she’s looking at but the brace doesn’t allow me to look that far down.

“You’re going to be okay.” She whispers as they roll me out of the ambulance, and she manages to quickly kiss me before I’m gone from view.

~

I don’t know how long I’m out for, but when I wake up there is a sterile white light beaming down on me and I have to instantly close my eyes. I’m quick to take note of the horrible feeling of the hospital gown I definitely wasn’t in when I’d gone under.

“Papa! She’s awake!” I let out a groan at the yell but and quick to smile once the voice registers in my head.

“Pollito.” My voice is no more than a whisper, hoarse and dry.

“Hey Angelito. How are you feeling.”

“Horrible. The light’s too bright and the gown is so itchy.” Neither Elena nor Camilo leave my side, but the light is off within seconds.

“I more meant physically. You were hit pretty hard.” The screeching of tyres, the smell of burnt rubber, the flashing lights, all rush back to me. So does the pain.

“Now that you mention it. What’s the damage?” it’s meant as a joke but I’m trying not to cry.

“3 broken ribs, 2 fractured, a torn vastus lateralis in your thigh, a lot of muscle damage in your back. It’s going to be a lot of physical therapy kiddo.” The thought has bile rising in my throat.

“Fuck me.”

“It’s okay, we’re going to be here the whole way. All of us.” By now I could know the voice in a crowd of people.

I turn my head and there she is. Kyra is sat in one of the uncomfortable hospital seats with her hand on top of mine.

“If it’s okay with you, Camilo, me and some of the arsenal girls are going to sort out a schedule to take turns helping you with PT. Viv was really hoping she could give some tips considering how long she spent doing PT.”

“That sounds perfect. But please tell me one of you has my pyjamas. I need to get out of this gown.”

~

There was no lie in how difficult rehab was. I had an hour appointment at the hospital every day and additional work at home that Milo, Kyra and some of the arsenal girls happily helped with. The hardest hurdle was amount of physical touch that was required. My physical therapist, Jordan, always made sure I knew when she needed to touch my leg or something, but that did very little to sooth the feeling that crawled beneath my skin. She was able to dim the fluorescent white lights and allowed me to wear my headphone which did help a small amount.

Kyra basically moved into my room above the shop. Milo insisted he could do all the work of getting me around the house and the shop, but we knew he couldn’t while maintaining the shop and looking after Elena. Elena tried her best to help by making me breakfast. She gathered pre-made versions of my safe breakfast food and carefully place them separately on a plate, with a glass of orange juice every morning. After the first week she realised I’d be in a wheelchair and struggling to move around much for much longer than she thought, so she quickly gave up on that idea and began making me penguin drawings at school.

I’d adapted to having Kyra around much quicker than I expected to. When I moved in at 17, it took me months to get used to the layout and the fact that I was alone, despite Camilo and Elena living in the house across the road. I adapted to Kyra’s presence within weeks.

After the second week we’d decided it was easier to share the bed rather than her sleeping on the couch, which had been the biggest change. I struggled with it the first few nights. I had a sleep routine that was already disrupted by the injuries, now I had to take another person into account. But she was so warm, and I felt so safe in her arms. Whenever I woke up from a nightmare about the crash, she grabbed me an iced tea and my headphones and would ramble about whatever interests she had recently developed or whatever was happening at training.

It was in the second month things took a more serious turn. Well serious for our relationship. I was sitting at the table chopping the vegetables for dinner while she begins cooking, when I took a minute to just look at her. The warm lighting softened her features, her quiet humming to whatever song was playing carried throughout the room, the smile that seemed to never leave her face sat perfectly on her lips as she listened to me ramble about the newly discovered yellow king penguin. She was so radiant and attentive, and she was never annoyed at me when I was overstimulated or wanted to infodump. She was seemingly unaffected by my rehab and most importantly unaffected by my autism. After a life full of negative interactions and losing people because of one thing I couldn’t control, I’d found a family and a partner who embraced me.

I didn’t realise I was crying until she turned and asked me what was wrong.

“I’m just grateful.”

“For what?”

“You, Milo, Elena. I love you all so much.” I didn’t realise I’d said it really. I was just being candid, as I always was.

“You love me?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation even as it dawned on me.

“Well, I love you too.” There is a split second between the end of her sentence and the meeting of our lips in a kiss.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” I ask as we pull away.

“Wait- I thought- when you called me your girlfriend on the ambulance I kind of took that as you asking me to be your girlfriend.” She begins laughing.

“What? This whole time I’ve been nervous about actually asking you and you already thought I had?” I can’t help but join her laugh.

“We’re such fools.” She whispers, and we kiss again.

I'll always be a fool for her.

[abcjxyzyeo]

What a freak.

AN; I haven't written in a whileeee omgg.. But I was thinking about this and wanted to write for it!! This might be really disgusting buuttt... Enjoy!!!

Pairing; Perv!Shigaraki x Fem!reader

summary; Finally getting some time off of work after weeks of having pent up sexual frustrations, you decide to blow off some much needed steam. Well, until you realize some of your toys are missing.

warnings; not proof read!!, masturbation(f and m),eating dried cum, oral(m), sex toys, piv, unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it!!), loss of virginity, riding, using underwear as a gag, degrading, slight voyeurism, overstimulation, sub!shigaraki and dom!reader. Reader calls Shigaraki baby. reader also refers to self as mommy once or twice. quirkiness AU, the LOV is just a group of criminals. Plot? What plot??

1.8k words.

"Finally!!" you silently celebrated to yourself.

A complete day off. It was incredibly rare that you would ACTUALLY get a whole day off. For the past week you barely even got sleeping, running around doing missions for the LOV. You can't complain you love your group and the cause but you needed a break once in a while. Especially because of how sexually frustrated you've been recently.

Plopping down to your knees, you open the bottom drawer of your dresser in the corner of your room. Grabbing the bullet shaped vibe before getting up and laying on your bed. You didn't care you just needed release, turning it on the highest setting and putting it on your sensitive bud. Letting out the most erotic sounds, again you didn't care if anyone heard. (Which the whole LOV can definitely hear you.) Building up the heat in your between your legs, pooling at your center. Feeling that familiar knot in your core forming, just as it's about to snap you stop hearing vibrations and you lose the feeling. You vibrator died. "Fuck!" You yell throwing it against a wall. You had another one, but you didn't favor it. It didn't have as many settings and it was quite big in size. But you had to deal with what you had.

Standing up with a groan you shuffle back to the place in front of your dresser and go to grab it. It wasn't in its normal place. Searching through the entirety of the draw, and it wasn't anywhere. "Damn Toga." You roll your eyes at the internal thought. You and her were pretty close, you often shared bras, underwear, and even toys. So you simply thought she took it.

Making your way down the long corridor, you eventually find Toga. "Toga?" you say it almost in a whisper. She's playing a card game with Jin and Shuichi. She sets her cards down and the three of them look over at you. "YN?" She responds in a quite playful tone. You were hoping she was alone, not wanting to talk about this in front of any one other than the blonde girl you swallow the spit pooling on your tongue. "Do you um, happen to have my toy? The purple one?" You watch three completely different reactions from the group in front of you. But Toga simply smiles and shakes her head "Nope, sorry! You should ask Tenko though, I saw him go in your room earlier. You smile drops and your brows knit into a furious look. Gritting your teeth you thank Toga for her time and advice and find your self storming down the hall to Tenko's room. "What a freak! What a creepy incel freak!" You think as you nervously stand in front of his room.

You don't even bother knocking, cracking the door open and pushing it slightly. Standing there in utter disbelief at the scene in front of you. Tenko had his black sweats pooled at his ankles, shirt bundled in the middle of his abdomen, cock in fist, frantically pumping and hips bucking. But what shocked you more was the fact your purple vibrator was in his mouth, biting and licking the dried cum you had left the last time you used it. You stand there for a good few minutes, squeezing your thighs together because oddly enough the sight before you was making you incredibly horny. He lets out a guttural moan and opens his eyes that had been clamped shut. Shifting his sight over and making direct eye contact with you.

Just the sight of you was enough to push him over the edge, ropes of white cum shooting from his angry red tip, onto his exposed stomach and thighs. He was quick to grab his blankets and cover himself. "Shit YN. Didn't see you there." you barely even heard him, he muttered so quietly, his face creeping with pink blush. "I guess you're here for this, sorry I took it." he picks up the toy that's now covered in spit. But you're still standing there, shellshocked. Before your brain registers it, you're shuffling to the edge of his bed and sitting down by his thighs. "You're actually a whore." You spit at him. "A filthy disgusting cum-driven whore." wrapping your small hand around his dick, it was longer than you would expect but it wasn't too girthy. Pumping your hands up and down, your face was still laced with irritation. He let out the most pornographic grunts. "I bet you just love this, fucking mutt." Giving his length a good painful squeeze. Just that was enough to make Tenko cum for a second time, to be fair he's never been touched there by another person before! You let out a laugh coming deep from your core. "You came from that? What are you? A virgin?" you cackle at him, but he gives you an uneasy look. His red eyes shifting between your face, your tits accentuated in your low cut tank top, and his own dick. A dark red crept over his face as he slowly nodded.

"Oh shit, Tenko. Poor baby, never had a woman to touch him." You were obviously mocking him in fake dramatic sympathy. You lean down to kitten lick his tip, taking some of him cum with you. Surprisingly, it didn't taste too bad considering his diet of energy drinks and junk. Pumping him again as his tip entered your mouth. You giggle as he wraps both hands into your h/c locks. Twirling them between his finger grunting loudly as the vibrations from your own laughter sent shivers down his spine. Swirling your tongue around his tip and moving your lips up and down. You felt like you were on ecstasy. You never thought you would ever be giving your boss a blow job but it felt so right when you were currently doing it. Releasing his tip from your mouth with a disgusting pop noise, you pumped your hand along his cock at the fastest pace you could. "Shit Y/N d-don't go so fast!" He moans loudly gripping your wrist. His tip was a red color that screamed at you, you knew he was extremely overstimulated and you savored every drop of his exhausted grunts and moans.

And just like that he was cumming all over your hand, with a string of profanities and grunts spilling from his lips. You grin as he watches you through his ashy blue hair, which was starting to mat and cling to his forehead with sweat. "Aw, is mommy making you feel good?" You coo at him "Am I making your disgusting dick feel worthy?" you stand up and pull off your pajama pants in one quick motion, your tank top being added to the pile soon after. Tenko stares at your figure, which was only covered by a laced black thong with a matching lace bra. Finding your place back on Tenko's bed you straddle his hips. Lifting his long sleeve shirt over his head and into the discard pile. You beam with joy looking at his scrawny torso, rubbing your hands up and down the thin muscle on his body. Slightly grinding your clothed cunt over his re-hardening dick. You reached your hand behind your back to unclasp the bra that felt suffocating in the moment. Letting it slip off your body, you slid the thin material under Tenko's pillow before attacking his jaw and neck with your lips. Leaving dark purple hickeys and bite marks. After a while of grinding on him, you lifted off of him and pulled your panties off of your body. Sitting back down on his lower abdomen you stare at the balled cloth in your hand before reaching up and shoving it in Tenko's mouth with little to no protest. You could see his jaw flexing as if he was sucking all your flavor out of the used cloth in his mouth.

You reached behind you and lined him up with your entrance, pushing him all in in one swift motion. You'd be lying if you said this was your first time riding a guy. You feel calloused hands travel over your body, one stopping at your right tit and the other at the mound of flesh on your ass. Both of them kneading and working your sensitive skin. You begin to bounce up and down at a rather concerning pace. Yours moans mixing with Tenko's muffled grunts making an almost angelic harmony. Staring down at him you realize he hasn't stopped making direct eye contact with you this whole time. His piercing red eyes causing gears in you to turn, edging you closer and closer to the finish line. Falling over onto his chest, your tits pressed against his skin. Wrapping your arms around his neck you continue to glide your walls up and down his length. Moaning in his ear and biting at the lobe causing him to grow stiffer under you as the time passes. As you feel the knot in your lower belly start to form your feel Tenko's hands harshly grip your hips pulling you to a complete still. He lifts you up into the air a bit before roughly pounding into you, sloppily with no rhythm or set pace. And just like that your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave with a scream like moan, clenching your gummy walls around him was all he needed to be spewing white ropes deep into your cunt. He thrusted into you a few more times, making sure his cum was deeply fucked into you before letting you go. You sat there for a moment catching your breath and admiring how beautiful Tenko was. You never really noticed it before, maybe it was the way his hair clung to his forehead making his eyes slightly more visible, or it was the fact his jaw, neck, and chest were covered in your spit and love bites leaving beautiful hickeys that he wouldn't be able to cover, having to show them to the entire LOV.

Once you realized you were both staring at each other you quickly got off his, now soft, dick and to your feet. You didn't bother getting your panties or bra back from him as you eagerly pulled your pajamas bottoms and top back on and making your way to the door. But not before turning around, and flashing a cocky grin. "Hope you enjoyed that, you filthy mutt. Cuz that's the first and last time I'll let your slutty dick near me."

You quickly escaped back to the main room where the trio was still playing cards. They all shared differentiating glances as they knew exactly what had just happened. Standing behind Toga and wrapping your arms around her neck you kept thinking to yourself how badly you want it to happen again. Maybe you'd even make him your boyfriend so that disgusting incel dick was all yours.

I hope you enjoyed!! Likes, comments, and reposts are greatly appreciated!! <33 x333