#he used to sit up on the radiator cover in my old apartment so I thought he’d appreciate it

[minotaurapologist]

Gave Elwood a new Platform in his pen and he has been up there literally the entire day

[lostloveletters]

Sunday Eve (John Brady x OC)

Summary: On a freezing night blanketed with snow, John and Woody know how to keep each other warm.

Note: It’s been in the 80s here, so naturally I wrote a soft, smutty, post-war winter fic for them. I’m sorry if the formatting is weird, I’m posting this on mobile. Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Period typical attitudes. Sexually explicit content involving vaginal sex (light breeding kink elements, but I wanted to mention it just in case). Do not interact if you’re under 18.

John privately wondered if his Californian sweetheart regretted moving to Upstate New York for him when he found her sitting next to the radio in their small living room, bundled up in not one, but two of his sweaters, with a quilt from his grandmother on her lap. Woody’s eyebrows furrowed as the newscaster announced more snow overnight. He figured she would be used to it by then. England was no stranger to snow.

But the way she reacted to their first snow day together brought the magic back into it. She threw her arms around him and pulled him back into bed when he told her the schools were closed, which meant he had the day off of work. They spent half the day in bed, the other half dancing around the apartment and drinking whiskey they’d gotten as an engagement present, all hopeful attempts to mitigate the heating bill while money was still a little tight.

After two days of scattered snowfall, she appeared baffled that it wasn't coming to an end for the foreseeable future. She knew to expect it. Saw firsthand the rush of people bringing their cars into the shop for snow tires and chains. She got the hang of it quickly. ‘You’d hardly know she was from Los Angeles,’ her boss, an old friend of his father’s, had told John after mass one particularly chilly October morning. ‘San Francisco,’ John reminded him, to which he received a shrug in response.

“Ready to head to bed?” John asked. “We’re meeting my mom for lunch after mass tomorrow morning.”

His family adored Woody, especially when she shared her intent to convert to Catholicism. He didn’t know how to feel when she confided later on she was doing it for him, rather than out of spiritual conviction, which he suspected, anyway. He never wanted her to feel as though he were forcing her to do anything. ‘It’ll make things easier for us,’ she assured him.

The part that bothered him just as much was that it did. His family suddenly weren’t making as much of a fuss about them living together. Probably assumed they wouldn’t push their beds together or keep condoms in the nightstand. The monsignor promised them a wedding mass in the spring, the most coveted time of year to celebrate the sacrament of holy matrimony—provided she completed catechism by then. She was on track to, so long as she kept showing up to mass.

“Will the roads even be cleared?” she asked.

He smiled. “We’re used to it here, sweetheart. You’d be surprised.”

She turned off the radio, getting up from the armchair and throwing the quilt over the back of it. He reached for her hand, taking it in his and pressing a kiss to her calloused palm.

Their bedroom was chilly when they slipped beneath the covers together after rushing through their respective nighttime routines, brushing teeth and changing into pajamas. In Woody’s case, taking off one of his two sweaters she’d requisitioned for herself, not having much of a winter wardrobe of her own.

Compared to the Stalags and freezing night marches, though, their drafty old apartment felt like heaven with the radiator buzzing and Woody in his arms. John dreamed about such a moment so many times, he needed to remind himself it was real. Pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, her hair soft and smooth against his lips. She trembled against him, breathing out a soft sigh.

“Sweetheart?”

“Keep me warm,” she whispered, nuzzling her nose against his cheek. “Please, Johnny?”

“We have to get up to go to mass tomorrow,” he gently reminded her.

Woody wanted him morning and night, and in between too, if he could manage it. Far from a complaint, but he was certain he was the only man in the world with such a dilemma as making sure to wake up early enough to sate his love’s desire before getting along with the day. When the topic came up among his coworkers or old college buddies, they grumbled with foreign tales of fiances and wives who feigned headaches or went to sleep early.

As soon as she shifted, better positioning herself to give him a kiss, he gave in. With little more than a glance his way or brush of their lips, she could silently transform her desires into his own, making him ache for it, too.

“Turn on a lamp,” she said, her voice low and husky. “I wanna see you, honey.”

And who was he to deny her? Nighttime could be formidable, but far less so with Woody around, ready to take on whatever haunted him with the determination that earned her the admiration of so many at Thorpe Abbotts. Didn’t care if it meant forgoing sleep or engaging in odd rituals when he needed a hand to reach out and bring him back from the depths. She dove in without hesitation.

So, within seconds of her request, the amber glow of his bedside lamp washed over them. She smiled, fondness and adoration in the gold-tinged forest of her eyes as she caressed his cheek, drawing him in for another heated kiss as he moved on top of her, straddling her hips, plusher and wider since they arrived stateside and received regular helpings of family cooking. Made it hard for him to keep his hands off of her even outside of their bedroom.

He reached down, slipping his hand down the waistband of her pajama pants and between her thighs—warm and wet, he easily slid two fingers inside her. He knew it wasn’t a sin. Not anymore. Not with her. It couldn’t be.

She moaned against his mouth when he rubbed her clit with his thumb. Rocked her hips for more friction.

“I want you inside me,” she said breathlessly, grabbing for his cock, tugging his pants down and croaking out a desperate, “please.”

He buried his length inside her, swallowing the groan that caught in his throat when he felt her pussy squeeze around his cock. Found a steady pace as she pulled him closer, pressing his body against hers, like she was trying to make him part of her.

She cried out for more as her eyelids fluttered shut. “John—oh my god—harder.”

“Look at me,” he demanded, echoing her earlier sentiments, “I wanna see you, sweetheart.”

She opened her eyes, bright and wild in a way that sent a delicious shiver down his spine. His fingers played with her clit, could feel how close she was. He thrust harder, rougher as her moans filled his ears, her voice hoarse as she came loudly, her pussy pulsing around his cock.

His hips shuddered. His brain felt fuzzy, almost lost himself before asking, “Where should I—“

“On my stomach.” She hastily bunched up her sweater just below her breasts, exposing it to him.

His blunt nails scratched gently against her bare stomach, soft and inviting. Tried not to think about it round and full with child, his child, one day when she wasn't so afraid. He recognized the uncertainty that flashed in her eyes whenever someone brought it up. ‘Not until you’re ready,’ he had promised with all the understanding he could manage despite the animal part of him trying to claw its way through. She’d look so pretty, so perfect. She’d be his wife soon, after all.

But it’d be worth the wait. She waited two years for him and didn’t waver. He’d do the same for her the world over. They belonged to each other.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pulling out just before he came, his seed spilling onto her stomach as his orgasm rocked through him. Buried his face in the crook of her neck, her skin warm with a sheen of sweat. Made his mind hazy with the feel, the smell of her intertwining with pleasure until he was spent.

With a shaky breath and equally shaky hand, he reached over to his nightstand, grabbing a handkerchief to wipe his cum off of her stomach. Didn’t need to look at her face to know she was eyeing him like a bird of prey. He threw the soiled fabric aside and pulled down her sweater to cover her again.

She grabbed him by the collar before he could move back to his side of the bed, pressing soft kisses to his neck, the prelude to gentle bites on his collarbones and then lower, and even lower. He took a deep breath, mustering up all of the resolve he could to pull away from her.

“We have to get up early tomorrow,” he said, as sternly as he could manage.

A small pout made its way onto her lips before she relented with a slight smile. “Alright, honey.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I love you.”

He turned off the bedside lamp. “I love you too.”

Heat radiated off of her as she curled up against him. He stroked her hair, tongue between his teeth as he tried to fight off the urge to indulge her—and himself. She always took a while to fall asleep, even when he was convinced he tired her out.

Slowly, his hand drifted lower until he found the thick, cuffed hem of her sweater and slid his hand up it, playing with her breasts, rolling one of her nipples between his fingers.

A pleased hum came from her throat before she gently taunted him. “You just said—“

“You’ll make me extra coffee in the morning to make up for it.”

Her laughter tore through the darkness as he pulled her on top of him with a wicked grin.

——

John woke up before Woody. He almost always did. She could sleep until nearly noon if he let her, which he did sometimes. Usually, though, around ten in the morning, after already being up for a few hours on his own, he’d find himself missing her and coax her awake.

He rolled out of bed, pulling on his old flannel robe before the frigid morning air could bite him too hard. He nearly winced at the loss of body heat, sparing a longing glance to Woody, still curled up under the covers.

Shuffled over to the bedroom window and pulled back the thick curtain, something he had to put up when they realized how much of a draft it let in otherwise. All he could see outside was white. The whole block was covered in a thick blanket of fresh snow—including the roads. He sighed in relief, something he’d surely have to confess the following week.

John hurried back to Woody’s side, eager to relay the good news to her. “Hey,” he whispered, stroking her cheek. “The roads haven’t been cleared yet.”

She smiled, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him back into bed. “Thank god.”

[olivia-crains]

“I have been a therapist for two decades, I have seen hundreds of people, and I can say with absolute certainty that I have never met anyone with more self hatred than you.”

I never thought I would be 31 years old and in this position. My pastel apartment walls stare back at me, the opposite of my innards. The walls of my home are lined with various artworks from my favorite movies and shows, even my favorite people. My books and records are colored coded and sit aligned perfectly on the shelves before me. But all I can focus on is the key sitting on my coffee table, shaming me for my acts completed earlier today.

“Remember her?”

Her title card is a stark white.

You see the real Elisabeth Sparkle, she is so unbelievably beautiful, thin, successful, it appears that people love her but once alone you can tell she is unhappy. When someone matches your internal monologue, it make it fact. Harvey discrediting her and firing her and essentially degrading her, the sliver of self love Elisabeth had left, has died.

I realize many will call me stupid and say I missed the entire point of the movie, but this is my personal take on it.

I am 31.5 years old. I have not experienced a moment of self love. Please do not be like me. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. It’s completely exhausting and all consuming. I spend every waking moment thinking of things I hate about myself, and each and everyday I come up with something new. And when people start pointing out those things and agreeing with me, it validates the hatred. It validates the violence. It gives it more power. It makes the hole even deeper.

The car accident is so violent and yet, there is not a scratch on her. This may be untrue but it seems to me that she wished she died in that car accident. She has nothing to live for anymore. Her success is over. Her life is over. The physical appearance of her, sitting on that table, hunched over, a blank stare with dried tears on her face, but still there, its a visual I can’t shake. You’re still here and people so want you to be grateful, but all you can focus on is the bad.

I can’t think of even one thing I like about myself. I am overweight, my nose is difficult and gigantic, my skin is pale and covered in freckles and moles, my boobs are small, I have various skin issues, my teeth are yellow and crooked, my hair is shit brown and grey, I have thin short eyelashes, I have short and patchy eyebrows, I suck at doing my makeup, I have no sense of fashion, but the worst part of me, is what is inside.

“Everything comes from you.”

Elisabeth examines herself before activating. She scans every inch of her body, the shame radiates through the screen even when she is simply ordering The Substance. She is already so ashamed and she hasn’t even administered the drug yet. She is taking a step to try to be better. To meet the best version of herself. It is so heartbreaking.

“Would you like to stop? Go back to being just you. On your own.”

Sue’s title card is bright pink.

Elisabeth takes care of her. She places a rolled towel under her head, she makes sure she is comfortable, she makes sure is fed, she takes such good care of her, almost maternal. She looks at her with love and care, not envy just yet, how we would maybe view our past self or even little us. Before we really get to know ourselves.

Elisabeth counts down the days until Sue takes over, she sits at home, binge eating and watching television in her chair, further shaming herself. Why not make things worse? She keeps herself locked away and further isolates.

Self loathing is so paralyzing. Its so easy for people to say ‘just move forward, don’t look back!’ There is no moving forward. You are still there at the finish line. You.

“That this part of yourself is still worth something.”

Elisabeth sees the boy Sue has been fucking and feels the need to call Fred. You see a glimpse of the Elisabeth that loves herself in the scene. But the phone call with Fred is so vulnerable, he feeds her heart and ego in a sincere way and you can tell she feels like magic again, even if only for a moment. She brings down the ‘old junk: Elisabeth’ box from the closet, she puts on her red dress and gloves, she does her makeup and even smiles as she gets ready. She feels beautiful. She feels confident. For the first time in a while.

She looks at Sue’s lips. Starts over. She looks at Sue’s body. Starts over. She sees the billboard. Starts over. She keeps going back and checking. Looking for imperfections. She finally turns to violence and smears her makeup, pulling and beating her face, destroying the physical self and returning to her room to isolate and ignore the man who genuinely adores her. She was so close to having a moment of self acceptance.

I have been trying to find words to describe how visceral and all consuming self hatred is, and I have failed. It is something indescribable. It affects every single aspect of your life. The date scene does more than words ever could when it comes to describing self hatred.

“I can’t do this. I need you. I hate myself. Come on! They are going to love you so much. You’re the only lovable part of me. You have to come back.”

The attempted termination scene rings through my head. My immediate reaction to watching that scene was one of such intense fear, vomit crawled up my throat as I fought back tears. Demi’s delivery is completely soul crushing, the way she says the words above, each word said differently and laced with such intense hatred and pity all at once. It broke my heart. It was the first time in my life that I have maybe seen what others see when I treat myself in such a way.

Feel like I have to add this here and say that Demi Moore’s performance as Elisabeth Sparkle will sit on what I call my heart shelf for the rest of my life. She joins the likes of Nina Sayers and that’s a huge honor, in my eyes. It’s a performance so gutting and comforting I will reference it in times of turmoil for the rest of my days. Nina and Elisabeth. Two halves of my shriveled and broken heart.

There is so much self violence in this movie, and I realize that is the point but the way it is portrayed profoundly affected me. Sue holding Elisabeth up to the mirror and bashing her head in, but making her take a good long look at herself first. It is so extreme but internally, that violence is so much worse than one can ever imagine. There is a great deal of humiliation in this movie that I noticed a lot more on rewatches. Dragging her down the steps, making her look at her ugliness in the mirror over and over again.

Stop it. In the mirror. Hitting her head. Stop it. On the bathroom floor. Banging her head against the tile. Stop it. Sitting at the kitchen table. Alone. Hitting her head with her hands. All of this after she experiences moments of humiliation or pieces of herself come to the forefront of her mind.

The choice to kick Elisabeth to death, I mean god…kicking someone to death takes so much effort and energy, the scene itself feels never ending, you’re praying for it to stop while some in the audience are laughing at the absurdity of the scene. The blood spraying Sue more and more with each kick, Jesus Christ.

I am not worthy of self love. My life is pathetic to an extent I’m not sure anyone would ever resonate with. I am alone. I am a loser. I have no one. I have never been loved. I have never been touched. And the only person to blame is myself.

I am the meanest person you will ever encounter. I judge people who love themselves to the point it makes me hate them and resent them, I can’t understand it. How could anyone love themselves? But then I look at their lives and see why they do. They are loved. They get fucked. They have friends. They have talent. They have children. They have husbands. They have wives. They have a life. They are good people. They are thin. They are attractive. They have no flaws.

I do nothing for no one. I sit at home 7 days a week and stuff my face and watch reality television. I sit and stew in my self loathing and enact terrible violences toward myself on a minute by minute basis. I don’t feel worthy of the steps I take. I don’t feel worthy of the breath I make, nothing. I wish I was a completely different person. I would give anything to be anyone other than me.

I see people do things to better themselves and it makes me want to do the opposite, as if I’m somehow better than others because I’m humble and despise myself. Writing that now is the first time I’ve ever really thought about how ridiculous that is and how completely unfair to even myself that is. It makes me wonder if I even want to improve or if I want to be a person that lives in the past, worshipping my former body, my former self.

“Don’t be scared! It’s still me!”

The bleeding never stops. And in the end, only you remain. Even if its in the form of a monster. You’re still in there.

I took it too far today. As I dragged the key into my arm and saw the blood dripping down, I was met with so much shame. I was embarrassed over the way I was perceived and the way I acted over, idk, most of my life? But when I socialize and can’t control the way I am being seen and the way I act, the shame is so intense I have to find an energy outlet. Its so difficult to separate these thoughts from the desires to immediately carve out a piece of flesh or inject yourself. And now I am met with likely a lifelong scar that will serve as a permanent reminder of how much I hate myself.

Elisabeth ignores her own potential. It’s so deeply upsetting to see a character like Elisabeth feel this way and watching her downfall and how she becomes her own worst enemy. How can someone like that feel such a way? Look at her! Look at her life!

You always come back to yourself. Even as you fade from existence.

Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance is cathartic for those of us who hate ourselves. I wish I could kill so many part of myself, but The Substance made me realize that maybe beneath it all there is something about me that is worth celebrating, even if I haven’t discovered what exactly that is yet.

“It changed my life.”

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 36

Steve insisted on checking the perimeter of our building to ensure that it wasn't just my imagination, but he came back with nothing. It had felt so real, but I started to mistrust my judgment. Maybe Loki's manipulation had taken a toll on me. The rain was still pelting against the windows, but the thunder had ceased. I sat on the couch with Steve, our pizzas on the coffee table. My eyes were fixed on the chair where the masked man from my imagination had been sitting.

"You should eat something," Steve said, putting his hand on my shoulder, trying to get my attention. I closed my eyes and sighed. "I'm not hungry anymore... I just want to go to bed. I'm exhausted, that's why I'm seeing things," I tried to make sense of it all. Steve nodded slowly and packed away the food to carry it into the kitchen.

I went over to the window, glancing outside, but the streets were empty apart from an older woman with a yellow umbrella that shook in the wind. Steve came up behind me, putting his arms around me. "Want me to look around again?" he asked, resting his head on my shoulder. I shook my head. "No, it was just a dream. I mean, I had fallen asleep on the couch. That's the only explanation."

He straightened up behind me. "Maybe it's really for the best if we get some sleep." I turned around, unsure if he would return to his bed like he had been doing before the whole New York debacle. I crossed my arms and simply said, "OK," waiting for him to make a move. He seemed to be waiting too, looking down at me with pursed lips. "Good night then," I said, glancing toward my room.

"Good night," he replied and walked to his door as I walked to mine. I stared into the dark room, anxiety washing over me as I held onto the door frame. "Screw it," I thought to myself as I turned around, just to see that Steve had turned around too. "I don't want to be alone tonight," I pleaded, and I didn't need to say more. He walked over to me, took my hand, and led me into my room.

I stepped out of the bathroom after brushing my teeth and washing my face to find Steve already lying in my bed. The room was softly illuminated by the lights on the bedside tables. He sat up when he saw me, his face adorned with the sweetest smile as if he were looking upon the most beautiful sight. I glanced down at myself, at my old sleeping shorts and my boring white tank top, suddenly feeling insecure. If he smiled at me like that, even when I looked like this, I could feel the love he had for me radiating off him.

I slipped under the covers, looking up at him as he leaned down to kiss me on the forehead. Yet, why had he left me so abruptly the last time we had gotten closer as if he were ashamed of me? This might not have been the perfect time to ask, but I just had to know.

"Why did you leave that night? When you touched me..." I blushed; talking about these things was still hard for me. His eyes widened, and he cleared his throat. He had not been expecting that question. He fidgeted with the corner of the blanket, looking down at his fingers. "I didn't want to disappoint you," he whispered. "I've never... it was never the right time... or the right person," he continued.

I placed my hand on his. "You could never disappoint me, Steve." I sat up to look into his eyes. "We love each other, and that's all we need to make it perfect." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes; he still had doubts. I wanted to make him feel the way he made me feel—loved and leaving no shadow of a doubt.

I threw the blanket off and sat on his lap, straddling him, our faces only inches apart. "Is this okay?" I whispered, not wanting to scare him off again. He gulped and nodded, his eyes never leaving my face. He tentatively placed his hands on my hips as I closed the gap between us and kissed him.

At first, it was soft and slow. I held his face while his hands rested firmly on my hips. But soon, the passion building up was undeniable, and I started to grind against him. He groaned against my mouth, his grip on my hips tightening as the kiss grew more intense. I could feel the heat of his body through our clothes, the desire that had been simmering between us finally boiling over. I shifted my weight, pressing myself even closer to him, my hands moving to the back of his neck to hold him in place.

He responded by pulling me even closer, his mouth moving from mine to trail kisses down my neck. His hands roamed over my body, exploring every curve and contour. I leaned my head back, giving him better access to my neck, and let out a sigh of pleasure. The heat pooling in my stomach grew more intense with each passing moment.

His hands moved to my back, pulling me closer until our bodies were flush against each other. His mouth found mine again, our lips and tongues tangling in a passionate exchange. I lost myself in the kiss, my hands moving through his hair as my body arched against his. He held me tightly, his hands gripping my hips as he took control of the kiss. He nipped at my bottom lip, his tongue gently teasing my mouth open before claiming it with his own.

He broke away from the kiss, his breathing ragged as he tried to regain control. His hands stilled on my hips, and he looked up at me, his eyes dark and intense. "I... I want this," he said, his voice rough and hoarse. "I just... I don't want to go too fast. I don't want to mess this up."

I smiled down at him, my hand moving to stroke his face gently. "You won't," I assured him. "We can go as slow as you need. I'm in no hurry. I just... I want you."

He closed his eyes, leaning into my touch, his body relaxing slightly. "I... I want you too," he whispered. "More than anything. But I... I can't help but feel... scared." I could hear the vulnerability in his voice, the fear he was trying so hard to hide. I ran my fingers through his hair, my touch gentle and comforting. "What are you scared of?" I asked softly.

He let out a bitter laugh, his eyes finally opening to meet mine. "I'm scared that I'll never be... enough," he said, his voice filled with self-doubt. "That I'll never be good enough for you. That I'll never be the person you really want, no matter how hard I try."

His eyes fell onto the Alpine plushie resting on my bed, and I finally understood. I climbed off his lap, picked up the plushie, and walked over to my dresser. I looked at it one last time before placing it in the back of the bottom drawer. Maybe this way, I could close that chapter once and for all.

Next Chapter

[skelavender]

“Mulder.” “What?” “I’m sleeping.” “No you’re not, you’re talking to me.” “I’m trying to sleep.” “Well you aren't doing a very good job.” “Shut up, Mulder.”

read chapter five of shelter on ao3, or below the cut!

April 1996

Scully seals the last box with the flick of her tape wand, and looks around at the remaining boxes and bins that are scattered around her, soon to be old, apartment. 

There are a couple of boxes of photo frames and albums stacked by the door. Her dishware and furniture was moved into the house last week, courtesy of the Gunmen’s van. Mulder is putting the last of the clothes that normally hang in her wardrobe hopefully folding them before putting them into the box.

She didn’t expect to feel so emotional about it. She’s moved plenty of times over the course of her life, even crossing the entirety of the US a couple times. This time, she's moving mere miles away, but she has tears brimming her eyes. 

There’s just so much that has happened in that apartment, good and bad. It had been her home since she graduated Quantico, where she had hosted dinners and birthday parties, but it was also where Melissa had been fatally shot. And she can’t look out the front window anymore without seeing Duane Barry about to punch through it and attack her. This will be a good thing, to get away from it, she concludes. A fresh start, one with Mulder beside her. 

“Do you miss her?”

“Every second she’s not by my side.”

Mulder’s exchange with the medical examiner in Las Vegas from a couple months ago bounces around in Scully’s head. She shares the sentiment. Beyond her inability to sleep well without him, she finds herself reaching for his company whenever he’s not around, like there’s an empty, Mulder-shaped spot at her side. 

The man himself comes through the doorway with the last box from her bedroom. “You set?”

“Yep. That was the last box.”

“Great.” He smiles at her over the box of clothes. “Let's go home, Scully.”

Over the years, they’ve started referring to just about anywhere as home. “Let’s go home, Scully” could mean a hotel room, DC, his place, her place, the office, anything. But now, “Let’s go home, Scully” means their house with the stained glass and the mismatched furniture and the love.

***

Their first night fully moved into their new house, Mulder and Scully eat take out directly from the containers and sip wine from mugs, the closest cup-adjacent dishware they could find, while sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor. It’s pretty much the only space not covered in boxes. The apartment is a damn maze. Queequeg is somewhere among it, his claws tap tap tapping through the labyrinth. 

It’s so new, yet so familiar. Scully can’t count the number of times they’ve sat together like this, bickering good naturedly about cases and just about anything else. Scully feels comfort radiate from inside her chest, and basks in the warmth of Mulder’s presence. 

“I’m glad we’re doing this.” Scully says, voice bright.

“Me too,” Mulder agrees. He sets his paper plate on the ground and leans slightly forward, elbows on his knees. “Scully, can I be sappy for a second?”

“Okay.” She puts her food down.

“You’re the most important person in my life. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“I love you.” She lets herself say it, lets the words tumble from her lips on their own accord, leaping towards Mulder, trying to find a safe place to land. He provides it, cushioning their landing in a catcher’s mitt and tucking it into his chest. 

“I love you, too.”

She pushes up onto her knees to hug him.

“Thank you for being my best friend, Scully.” His voice is slightly muffled by the shoulder of her cardigan.

Scully would expect this to shatter her. For the pain of… not quite rejection, but of the mismatched sentiment, to worm between her ribs and slice into her chest. Instead, she is warmed by his confession, however platonic. He loves her. Maybe not in the same world-ending, all consuming way, but he does love her too. At least she has that.

***

Mulder is laying in bed, eyes wide and staring at the back of Scully’s head. They’re both on their sides and she’s holding his arm to her stomach tightly, so he couldn't move if he wanted to. And he doesn’t. 

He’s just… awake. His mind is going too fast, jumping between topics like a chatty 6 year old. He taps his fingers on Scully’s belly distractedly. She grunts.

“Are you awake?” Another grunt. “Scully, what are your thoughts on Amelia Earhart?”

“Mulder.”

“What?”

“I’m sleeping.”

“No you’re not, you’re talking to me.”

“I’m trying to sleep.”

“Well you aren't doing a very good job.”

“Shut up, Mulder.”

“Ok.” Scully is just starting to drift back off when Mulder opens his damn mouth again. “What about Jack the Ripper?”

Instead of responding, Scully turns around in his arms to face him, and levels him with a glare. “Mulder. Shut. The fuck. Up. I am sleeping.”

“Sorry, Scully.”

She turns back around to face the dresser again, but he’s woken her up now, dammit, and she’s thinking about Jack the fucking Ripper. “It was a woman.” she mumbles.

“What?”

“She was a woman.” She turns onto her back and looks to Mulder. “People theorize it could have been a male doctor due to the precision of the cuts on the victims, but a midwife would have the necessary anatomical knowledge to carve out women’s uteruses, too, and could have gone around unsuspected.”

“But the leather apron!”

“Can be attributed to mass hysteria fueled by the media. No one would bother a midwife walking down the street covered in blood, they would just assume she came from a particularly nasty birth!”

“But none of the suspects at the time–”

“Were women? Wow, shocker, Mulder, people in the 1800s didn’t frequently consider women murder suspects.”

Their bickering continues for longer than Scully would like, and she finally manages to shut him up by smothering his laughter with a pillow, and turning away from him. He resumes his position curled around her, and they sleep.

***

In the end, the house is a good mix of their styles and furniture. The wood is dark, as it was in Mulder's old place, but the bright counters of the kitchen and open floor plan are reminiscent of Scully’s. Her couch, chair, and coffee table are used in the main living area, but Mulder's round dining table is right behind it. Mulder's trusty leather sleeping couch resides in their new basement office. After years of working on the X-Files below the streets of DC, it only felt fair that the small basement be used to house their work at home as well. They each have a desk down there. It also makes it easier to have Scully's family over without having to shuffle files away when Mulder inevitably leaves them out. Scully’s room is painted a dusty pink. It's the larger room of the two, but still not huge. Not that she needs much. 

What Scully likes most about the house is the windows. Not just the stained glass ones, as beautiful as they may be, but the regular, brown panes. The grills are diamond shaped, and reinforced metal that isn’t glaringly protective. No one would notice the difference between them and a standard set of windows unless they were closely inspecting them. She won’t be attacked through the window of her own home again, like she was last year. Her excuse for buying a house with Mulder had been safety, and the house does exactly that. 

Scully reflects on all of it one morning, curled up on the couch with a mug of tea while Mulder sleeps on in his room. She does truly feel safe there. The windows let in the light and came out the dark. A week into living there full time and there are no dark corners that Scully’s eye projected horrors into. There are no bloodstains on the hardwood. 

When Mulder stumbles out of bed, Scully greets him with a chipper “Good morning!” He replies only with a sleepy grunt, and beelines for the coffee machine. 

“Didn’t sleep well?” She asks after he’s taken a couple sips. 

“Slept a little too well. It’s almost noon.”

“That’s what Saturdays are for. We don’t have anywhere to be.”

He smiles at the we, at the joining of their plans and their lives with a single word. “What’s your opinion on brunch, Scully?”

“Generally positive.”

“Good. We’re going. I’ll go get dressed.”

Scully smiles into her tea as she takes the last sip.

***

Scully, though generally considered the more emotionally intelligent half of the X-files division, does not like having important conversations. So when she stands with her arms crossed at the bottom of the stairs to their home office claiming that they “need to talk,” Mulder is concerned to say the least. 

“Okay,” Mulder replies hesitantly and turns his chair around to give her his full attention, “What about?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t have people over.”

“I…what?”

“In non-platonic contexts, I mean. If you’re going to have… sexual encounters… I'd be more comfortable if you did it elsewhere.”

Mulder blinks at her. This is not where he thought the conversation was going. “Do you think I’m… Jesus, Scully, I’m not hooking up with people while I’m married to you!”

“Oh.”

“Did you think I was?”

“I mean, you’re a very sexual person, Mulder, don’t blame me for making the assumption.” She sounds almost defensive now, “The magazines, the tapes? You go so far as to take them into the office, for chrissakes!”

Mulder laughs. “Scully, I have those videos and magazines because I don't have sex very often. And I’m getting better about porn in the office, give me some credit.”

Scully gives him that head tilted look of disapproval, the one he sees near daily. “Mulder, you left a tape in the VCR in November.”

He rolls his eyes. “My point is, you don’t have to worry about seeing or hearing anything you don’t want to. 

“Okay.” She accepts, and pulls a book from the shelf before taking a seat on his old couch and Mudler turns back to the computer. He doesn’t ask if she’s planning to have sex in their home. He's not sure he’s ready to hear the answer.

“Mulder?” He turns towards her once more, “For the record, you don’t have to worry about me bringing anyone around either, Mulder.” She says after a couple silent moments. Sometimes he wonders if she can read his mind. In reality, she can just read him. 

Mulder meets her eyes and nods. The look they share is electric. He wonders if she’s on a similar train of thought as he is. Well if I’m not having sex with other people… and you’re not having sex with other people… what if we just… 

His eyes fall to her lips momentarily. God, he wants to kiss her. He knows he can't. He doesn’t think she’s ready for that yet. The kissing she might allow, but the second their lips touched he would collapse into a puddle of oh god, Scully, I love you, I love you. That's what he really fears would break things. What would end up pushing her away, causing Scully to withdraw the attention and affection he’s been basking in for the past couple months they’ve been living together. 

Neither one says a word. Scully breaks the trance and turns back to the book in front of her. After letting his eyes drink her in for a moment too long, Mulder follows suit. The air is still tense. 

“You really couldn’t find a better way to say it?” Mulder says with a tense laugh and a half assed smile that disappears from his face almost immediately. “You that uncomfortable about sex?” 

“I like sex, I’m just not very good at talking about the intricacies of it outside of medical settings.”

“My god Scully, you’re like a stereotypical catholic schoolgirl.”

“I’m no blushing virgin, Mulder. I've had plenty of sex. Maybe not recently, but I've had plenty of it.”

“Careful Scully, you’re gonna start making people think you’re all stoic because you’re pent up.” He waggles his brows suggestively. She knows he’s trying to wind her up to break the tense air in the room. It works, and she doesn’t think before she speaks. 

Scully rolls her eyes. “I’m an adult woman, Mulder. I do own a vibrator.” She knows, as soon as it leaves her mouth, that this is the wrong thing to say.

“Oh yeah?” He leans forward. “What kind?”

Scully blushes fiercely, and Mulder wants to touch her red cheeks, feel the warmth of them. “That’s none of your business.”

“No blushing virgin, my ass. What color?” He’s teasing her now, with that stupid cocky grin which is going to make her need to use the vibrator later, goddamn it. Scully buries her face in her hands, and Mulder laughs at her. 

“It was a gift!” Her voice is muffled in her hands, and she’s so goddamn adorable like this Mulder thinks he’s going to explode from loving her so much. 

“You’re not making this any less interesting, Scully.”

Her face is still bright red when she lifts it from her hands. “It was an elaborate gag gift from my roommates when I graduated from college. They all chipped in and got an absurdly expensive one and made a joke about releasing tension.”

Mulder laughs. He tries to keep the bright desire out of his eyes. “And did you?” He wriggles his eyebrows.

“Oh, don’t you start with me, Mulder. Or else I’ll describe in great detail what I did with it, and you’ll be in an awkward situation too.”

Hngh. Mulder wants. Instead, he chuckles again and turns back to his computer, shaking his head. “A vibrator. Not the topic of conversation I was expecting for today.” 

<- previous chapter next chapter ->

[primroese]

𝔏𝔞𝔠𝔦'𝔰 𝔏𝔦𝔣𝔢🥀

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɪ: ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀᴘ ʏᴇᴀʀ

Settling in. (2/5)

Noel: *scrubbing and sniffling* "Is it one part baking soda, two parts lemon juice?" *sigh* "I don't think I'm doing this right."

Laci: *melodic knocking* "Noelly-bear! Maintenance!"

Noel:* coughs* "One moment, please!" *quickly straightens up*

Laci: *beaming* "Good Morning, Cutie! I hope you're ready for some good old-fashioned heat!"

Noel: *muffled* "I can't thank you enough for coming! *sniffles* Please, come in."

Noel: "I hope you have enough space to work. Laurant was in a hurry when he moved everything."

Laci: *shivers* "What the hell? How is it colder in here than on the roof?"

Sullivan: *confused* "You guys said it was cold, but this is insane."

Noel: *sniffles* "We made do with our oven, but the heating unit went out yesterday night."

Sullivan: *grumbles* "Geez. It's always something.

Laci: *pissed* "And whose fault is that!?"

Sullivan: "The previous owner."

Laci: "You were supposed to have this place inspected BEFORE you allowed tenants."

Sullivan: "Thanks for the lecture, Mom."

Laci: *glares at him*

Sullivan: "I'll look into it…"

Laci:*ignores him* "Don't you guys have somewhere else to go? You can't stay here, Noelly."

Noel: "Don't worry. All we need is a little bit of heat."

Laci: "Can't your fam-" *gets an idea* "You should wait in the shop. It's much warmer than this hellhole."

Sullivan: "If it helps, I'll give you guys a break on next month's rent."

Noel: *sniffles* "Thank you, Mr. Corrigan.

Laci: *looks around* "That's a start, but I don't think it's enough."

Laci: *slowly opens the fridge door. The door wobbles, only being held in place by a damaged peg* "Smokey, can you fix fridges too?"

Dennis: *tinkering* "Was that question directed towards me? Last I checked, Dennis was the name my mother gave me."

Laci: "It's my thing."

Dennis: "Well, it's certainly not my thing, so forgive me if I choose not to respond."

Laci: *mumbles* "I hope its the mold turning these guys into asshole."

Laci: *A pit forms in her stomach as she looks around. A bare mattress covered by a thin blue quilt. Two suitcases, barely big enough to store a week's worth of clothing for one, let alone two people. A lone cardboard box sits in the corner, filled with trinkets. On top rests a small knitted blanket, large enough for a small child.* "Sullivan. I need to speak to you outside."

Sullivan: "Uh-oh, what did I do now?"

Laci: "Why didn't you help them out?"

Sullivan: "Lace."

Laci: "I'm serious. How did you meet them?"

Sullivan: *shrugs* "I had an ad in the paper. Laurant called, asked how much, and showed up the next day with the money."

Laci: "That's it?"

Sullivan: "I don't know what you want me to say. It's not like I was paying attention to every little thing."

Laci: "They look my age. They wouldn't be slumming it up here if they had options."

Sullivan: "Lace, it's best not to get involved in other people's business. New Haven isn't Strangerville. You can get hurt out here."

Laci: "I'm not being nosy. It's called not sitting on my ass when I see someone in need. *huffs* I'm switching apartments with Noelly, and you WILL NOT charge them the increased rent."

Sullivan: *sighs* "But if Dean visits... I can't have you living in that small room."

Laci: "Fine. Kick Uppity McGee out and give me his apartment."

Sullivan: "I can't-"

Laci: *interrupts* "Then I guess you're stuck dealing with Daddy Dearest because I'm not budging on this."

10 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔲𝔱𝔢𝔰 𝔩𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔯

Laci: "What do you think? There's so much space! And Smokey is coming by later to inspect the radiator."

Noel: *eyes widen* "I thought all the apartments here were studios."

Laci: "Nope! Sully has a two-bedroom unit upstairs. The jerk uses the spare room as an office while I sleep on a pullout couch."

Noel: "But you're moving in here?"

Laci: "No, you are. I'm moving in next door."

Noel: "Oh no!" *coughs* "I can't let you do that!"

Laci: "It's already done, Cutes. I was thinking about doing some retail therapy after breakfast. Would you like to come? We can get some paint, cute bedding, a plant or two. How about a crib for the baby? Sully mentioned a thrift shop."

Noel: *freezes* "Baby?"

Laci: *thinks quickly* "Oops, sorry! I saw your belly and just assumed you were pregnant."

Noel: *embarrassed* "I thought I had more time before I started showing."

Laci: "The bump is cute. You shouldn't be ashamed of it."

Noel: "I know, but the stigma of being an unwed-"

Laci:* interrupts* "It's not the 50s, Babe. *grins* Follow me; I want to show you something."

Laci: "Isn't this the perfect spot for a crib? You can even have PG install one of those spinning things above it."

Noel: *tears up* "A mobile."

Laci: *excited* "Yeah! You two can totally make this place a home with some elbow grease."

Noel: *teary* "I can hang up Laurant's uniforms now. And we can use a curtain as a door."

Laci: *smiles brightly* "I'm loving the vibe. Blinds are also not that expensive. It won't take much money to make this place nice."

Laci: "I saved up a nice chuck of change before coming here. Since I'm downsizing, I would love to help you with the basics. View it as a housewarming/baby shower gift."

Noel: "I- I'm at a loss for words. *sobbing* Thank you!

Laci: "Noelly! Don't cry!"

Noel: "You… don't… u-u-understand how hard… it's been!"

Laci: *soothingly rubs her arm* "I know we just met, but I already feel very protective of you. If you need anything, I got you."

Noel: *sniffs* "C-can I have a chair? I don't feel well."

Laci: "How about a pullout bed?"

[whiskerinthestars]

Chapter 7: Silver Strategy

Urban Ascent

As I slowly began packing up my things, I thought to myself: So what caught that old man's attention was all the mana I was radiating. I was being a lot more obvious than I had realized. I hadn’t considered what it might look like to someone who could also sense that energy. I hear what he’s saying—obviously, I need to go back and work on my foundation—but if that’s all I do, what’s the point? I want to have at least something to show for my efforts. It’s not like a little practice is going to hurt anything, right?

Still, he’s right about one thing: I don’t need to attract any more attention. This time it worked out, but what about next time? At the very least, I should stop using charm magic directly on people passing by. It would be more noticeable to other cultivators, and it could potentially cause offense to them.

Since I don’t know how common other cultivators even are in this world, I need to stay low-key. Instead of using such an overt output of energy in public, practically broadcasting that I’m a weak newbie cultivator who can be picked on, what if I bought some more expensive premade trinkets—jewelry, maybe—and focused on imbuing them with mana to make them more inherently desirable?

After all, I’ve read plenty of stories about spell arrays, formations, glyphs, and talismans. I should be able to do something like that with enough practice, right? That way, I can use mana in the privacy of my own apartment to avoid attracting any attention—getting some practice in while staying inconspicuous. But there’s no way I’m coming back to this flea market. If there’s one cultivator here, there might be two. So on the off chance there’s something about this place that tends to attract them, I need to stay well away from it.

I guess I’ll try a discreet stall outside of the shopping center after all. I could use a small folding stool and just have a couple of trinkets on display. If security does get called eventually, I’ll just move on to the next store. It’s not like I haven't seen similar things outside those stores before. I’m sure it would take at least twenty or thirty minutes before they start hounding me to leave, right?

I’m going to have to grow a thicker skin and just put up with it. Maybe I can wear one of those flu masks and really cover up my appearance as much as possible.

Eventually, I packed everything back into my truck and got back on the road. Speaking of trinkets, maybe I’ll stop off at Walmart and check out their jewelry department. They should have plenty of cheap silver rings with some glass stones and the like. If I can get them for under twenty bucks and sell them for sixty, that means just five rings a day will keep the bills away. So if I can sell at least twenty-five a week, I can afford to put in for some leave at work, which will give me a lot more time to cultivate.

Besides, after finally having something exciting in my life to work towards, the idea of spending forty precious hours a week sitting and pretending to look busy—while only having five hours of actual work to do—sounds like actual torture. It’s a fate all of my fellow office workers are well aware of. Well, except for the unlucky few of them actually keeping the company afloat with hard work—too bad all that hard work doesn’t reflect in their paycheck. Been there, done that. No thanks.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I checked the time—about 12:45 PM—and Walmart was certainly busy today. I guess it is Sunday, after all. But whatever. I think the jewelry department has its own register, right? Hopefully, they’re not too busy. After managing to find a lone parking spot nearly on the opposite side of the lot, I popped in my earbuds and strolled towards the entrance, lost in my own thoughts—half on autopilot as I made my way into the store.

Barely paying attention to where I was going, I suddenly found myself standing in front of the jewelry counter. And to my surprise, it was completely dead. I guess no one really shops for jewelry at Walmart, huh? I muttered under my breath, letting out a small sigh of relief.

Luckily, the jewelry was just as cheap as I’d imagined. Silver isn’t too expensive after all, and it’s not like these baubles weigh much. The first thing that caught my eye was actually just a plain silver band. No adornments—just a simple, unassuming loop of silver. But for some reason, it really called to me. If I’m practicing using my magic to… enchant—yeah, let’s call it that—these rings, I can’t help but think of the storage rings in those novels.

While I’m sure that’s way above my weight class at the moment, maybe I could inscribe something useful on it eventually. Who knows when inspiration might strike? Hell, maybe wearing it while I cultivate will help form some sort of bond with it or prepare it to be inscribed. Sure, I’m just talking out of my ass at this point, but it was only seventeen dollars, so I grabbed it.

After that, I picked up a few more rings, necklaces, and bracelets—twenty-six pieces in total, including the plain silver band I was already wearing—coming to a grand total of $468. I handed over the $337 in cash I’d made earlier and cringed as I swiped my card to cover the remaining $131 balance for this junk.

But you can’t make money without spending money. I’ll just think of this as an investment. After all, this gives me twenty-five pieces to sell. If I can flip them for at least sixty bucks each, that’s a decent margin—meaning I’ll clear a cool $1,000. That’ll more than cover my expenses for the week and make up for missing work.

I’m definitely calling in on Monday with some bullshit excuse to take the week off. It’s not like I’ve taken any time off recently, and with how little work I actually do, I doubt anyone will even notice I’m gone. Plus, this job isn’t exactly high-paying, so even if they do notice and I end up needing to find something else, it shouldn’t be too hard to replace. I’ve got enough savings to stay afloat for a few months, even if I don’t make anything right away. Still, I need to focus on making this plan work before I start dreaming too big. Sure, if I get good at it, I could start charging a hundred bucks a piece and cut my workload in half. But for now, I’ll take it one step at a time.

Eventually, I tossed the Walmart bag into the passenger seat and started the drive home. The silver band on my finger kept catching my eye. Who am I kidding? It’s just a plain ring. I smirked to myself—already imagining it becoming something way cooler than it had any right to be. But hey, dreaming big is half the fun.

I zoned out for most of the drive, replaying that weird conversation with the old man in my head. His words bugged me, but they also made too much sense to ignore. I needed a stronger foundation before I got ahead of myself—otherwise, I’d end up burning out. Still, that didn't mean I had to stop everything. I wasn’t about to sit around meditating 24/7 without at least trying something new.

By the time I got home, my apartment greeted me with its usual blend of cozy and claustrophobic. I kicked off my shoes and dropped the bag on the counter with a metallic clink. All that shiny silver staring back at me—I had to resist the urge to dive right into trying to work my magic on it.

But no. I knew better. First things first—foundation work. The old man had drilled that into me. So I headed to my little meditation corner—aka the only clean part of my place—and settled in for another round of trying not to screw up my energy flow.

Sitting there, I started to focus inward, guiding the mana through my body like I’d been practicing. Torso and head? Doing alright. Limbs? Not so much. Still, there was progress. After who knows how long, I’d managed to chip away at some of those blockages in my arms and legs—maybe 25% closer to what the old man would consider decent. Not too shabby, right? At least I was getting better at controlling the flow.

Eventually, I got up, stretched out the soreness, and looked over at that bag of jewelry. Tomorrow, I’d start messing around with the trinkets, maybe see if I could actually imbue them with something useful. I had this idea of running mana through them like they were an extension of me—sort of refining them as I went. Maybe I’d even figure out how to store mana in them for a little while.

But that was a challenge for future-me. I still had a lot to figure out. No point in burning out early by rushing things—one step at a time, like the old man said.

For now, though, I needed sleep. Tomorrow, the real experimentation would begin.

[megcheese]

How to keep your kitty warm this winter

My latest exploit in combination domesticity and creativity is ... Radiator Cozy!

With the temperatures dropping, and our heat pump only serving the living room downstairs, it is cold enough for the boiler in our 100-year-old house to kick on. Not long after the radiators began delivering via hot steam, Charlie realized they may be a nice spot to sit.

I caught him having a nice sit as I got out of the shower one evening. He likes to be around me but does not want to get soaked in the shower. So if the water's running, he'll have to wait somewhere dry.

The very first night Charlie spent in the house was after a six-hour car ride from Syracuse. The house didn't have any furniture yet, the thermostat had been set way low to 50 while we were gone all weekend, and the upstairs was even colder because the bathroom window was open a crack at the top where it was covered by the blinds.

I wanted to ease him into the new space a little at a time, which is often recommended for bringing cats into a new space. It is also part from my recent memory of when we adopted Charlie in 2022 and he hid in an impossibly small space below the china cabinet. I basically watched him dislocate his own shoulder to get in and out of that space. So the plan was to start in 1 room and expand slowly.

The first room would be the bathroom. Back in Syracuse we kept the litterbox in the bathroom since it was a 2 bedroom apartment without a better space for it. It seemed like a good start for the litterbox, at least until we were ready to introduce Charlie to the basement. I purchased a disposable box and litter and set them up the week before so we'd be ready to go.

The plan was to get Charlie out of the car and out of his crate as soon as we made it to the house since car rides are very stressful for him. I had a "go bag" plus a more robust catkit with the automatic feeder and water fountain handy for our dismount.

Michael packed us Ducky Blanket, which had been Circe's favorite. I folded it and placed it atop the radiator hoping it would make the cold bathroom seem a little comfier, at least until I was done unpacking the rest of the car.

When I returned to Charlie alone in the bathroom I found him curled up on the Ducky Blanket on the radiator. He was not happy to be alone in a cold and strange place so he shouted at me as I entered.

I thought the blankie on a radiator would be a regular hangout for him, but once he was freed from the bathroom I didn't see him enjoying it ever again. Folding the blanket so many times to fit on the radiator did make it extra thick. You couldn't really feel the heat through it.

That got me thinking... what if we had a blanket made JUST for the radiator?

And so, the radiator cozy was born!

I lucked out when I went fabric shopping that there happened to be some pre-black Friday sales going on and Blizzard Fleece was on sale for $3.99/yd. The first patterned I selected was a print of colorful gummi bears!

To make the cozy, I measured the length and width of the radiator top and then added eight inches to each dimension. I cut a rectangle of the fleece that was (W + 8) x (L + 8) in^2.

Next, I cut into each corner at a 45 degree angle and 4*rad(2) in. That is, I cut into the diagonal of a 4 in x 4 in square at each corner.

From there, I trimmed away most of the triangle flaps leaving 1/2 inch seam allowance.

I sewed up my four corners and was left with the fitted fleece blanket that has four inches of overhang on each edge.

I can't leave those edges bare, so I selected a yarn from my stash to add a nice blanket stitch. This isn't my first time blanket stitching fleece. Last time I was working with a yarn needle that was fairly large and difficult to punch through the fleece. This time I grabbed an upholstery needle which is sharper, has an eye large enough for yarn, and is a higher gauge. Unfortunately, that didn't make stitching through the fleece easier. The yarn was thicker than the hole produced by the needle, so the last pull was tough. I used a small pair of ESD pliers on most of the cozy.

The last step of cozy creation is the sit-and-wait. Wait to catch the cozy in action! I knew exactly what conditions would get me there: when the heat kicks on while I'm in the shower. Sure enough, Tuesday evening all of my dreams came alive. Mr. Charlie Danbo was lounging on the cozy.

I'd like to make a few more. Most of the radiators in our house have these flat white covers but they're all different sizes. Where can I tempt Charlie to sit next? Living room? Kitchen? Dining room? Michael's office?

[tlltaleheart]

@wraithgaze.

[...] and if they were here for minseo and they were clueless enough to bring blade along, for minseo--- sangwon would burn the whole city down, fuck the rest of it, maybe that would finally make a good news report, the emptiness of his apartment, that desk he used to be so proud of, it was about time, anyways, for sangwon to see it all turn to ash, wasn't it?

his body wakes before he does, pulled towards the voice before he can think of whose it is. body lolling forward, he might've stayed in the dark if not for the cold, abrupt weight of a chain around his wrists and a voice that says, wake up for me.

for sangwon. of course. for sangwon, he lifts his eyes open. there's barely any light and yet his vision spasms, bright flashes dancing in his periphery, and it's only when the flashing becomes stinging that he realizes there's something wrong with his optics. "sa---" for sangwon, he remembers their cover at the last second and the imperative that no one else can know, but it's not fast enough to keep the whimper from the back of his throat. "hyung?" he jerks forward again, a blind but instinctive animal that wants--- needs to see sangwon, needs to feel him the way he was before all of it went to shit.

"there's something wrong," he mumbles, vision swimming with light. he doesn't remember what happened but it doesn't take much to piece it together, and it has to have something to do with the chemical taste on the back of his tongue and the heavy weight in his limbs. had they drugged him? cut into his optics? it explained the pain in the back of his eyes.

it takes just a split second longer to finally realize the worse problem the link he'd placed between his vision and sangwon's, and how could he have been so stupid, so fucking oblivious, felt so safe within their private link that he forgot he'd just created something that the world could finally wrap its greedy hands around.

he doesn't even wonder who it is this time. this isn't the first time he didn't make it home and it's not a concern, whatever they think they can do to him, whatever these hounds ever think they can change when all of their money is sitting on the ocean floor with the wreck of his parents' flight. sangwon is. sangwon still has things to lose.

"are you hurt?" he tries to blink away the tears gathering in his eyes, feeling one spill but doing absolutely nothing to ease the stinging. "i can still feel them. they're in my eyes." it makes his skin crawl, that feeling of an unseen pair of eyes watching behind his. if they were still tapped in, how long until they noticed they were awake and came for them again?

his vision is inconsistent, at first sangwon slumped across him, before cutting into a reflection of the room and his own body sitting across from him, his own sightless eyes. minseo struggles to adjust to sangwon's field of view. he sees that he's bound to the base of an old radiator, precariously close to some jagged edges of broken pipes. beyond that, he thinks he sees a staircase that leads somewhere up and out of sight. then the feed cuts, and he's staring blearily at sangwon again.

"you have to cut off the link," he rasps. "i think they're still connected to mine. i think--- they can get to you like this, you have to keep them out." snap the tether. let it go. there's fear in his voice as he says it, but sangwon should know it's for the best, that they need at least one working pair of eyes between them if they want a chance of getting free, and that minseo trusts him with his life. with everything else he has.

minseo brushes his shoe against his weakly. it's the best he can do for now, the best they can have.

[kitmon]

What Happens Behind Closed Doors and Live Cameras | Edward Nashton (The Riddler) x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's not enough to fuck you in the isolated space of his apartment, Edward needs to let everyone know just how good he takes care of his precious baby.

Pairing: Edward Nashton aka The Riddler (The Batman, 2022) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Tags: smut (18+ only), dom!edward, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), edging, dacryphilia, swearing (duh), BDSM elements (reader's wrists are bound and she's gagged for a good portion of the fic), praise kink, daddy kink (its only used once), kinda pet play?? there's no, like, collars or anything but he calls her 'puppy, pet, etc.,' spanking, fucking on a live stream (exhibitionism), dumbification, creampie, degradation (slut, whore, etc.), oral (m!receiving), throat fucking... I think that's it but if you catch anything, please please please let me know!

Author’s Note: I started writing this in June for a close friend's birthday but I'm fucking ass at finishing anything I start so it took me 3 months to finish this lmao! But you know what?! Better late than never so BE GRATEFUL! A fat fucking smooch and a huge thank you to @queenimmadolla for beta reading AND FUCKING KILLING IT! She left me over 250 comments and spent at least 3 hours editing this! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! So please please go send her some love, she absolutely deserves it. Happy reading, you filthy sluts <3

“Alright,” Edward mutters to himself as he fidgets with the dingy camcorder a bit more, always a stickler for the details. “And we are live.”

His voice is lilting as he presses the obvious red button upon the camera’s top, the red dot blinking in slow increments in the top corner of the LCD screen as an air of boyish excitement radiates off of him, evident in the joy laced in his voice. As he takes a step back, he rubs his covered hands in anticipation, addressing the pitiful number of viewers through the low-resolution lens of the camera he has propped over a second hand and, imbalanced tripod.

“Hi, guys,” he waves both of his hands, not able to hide the giddiness behind his movements. “I hope that you’re as excited as I am because I have,” he pauses, stepping back a few paces so his towering frame isn’t hoarding the entirety of the screen. As he does, the length of a drab mattress over a rickety metal bed frame comes into view, your naked and writhing body— dressed only in a mismatched pair  of bra and panties—  splayed over the pilling sheets revealing itself as well. “A little surprise.”

Your arms are bound by the wrists with what seems to be scrap cotton jersey from an old t-shirt, hands resting in curled fists over your rising and falling chest as you exhale harshly through your nose. The camera is expertly angled to keep your identity hidden, the details of your face limited to the slope of your nose and your occupied lips; separated by a gag of similar material to the tie around your wrists, effectively muffling your groans of desperation and neediness.

“As you can see, my lovely partner has offered herself up for your amusement, haven’t you, my darling?” he asks, the words leaving his lips with a condescending undertone that riles you up and has you arching your back against the mattress,  bedsprings creaking beneath you. Edward takes the final few steps to the bed before sitting down at the edge of it, reaching his gloved hand towards your ankle, vinyl tracing up to your knee and back down. Having been deprived of his touch for so long, the minuscule contact has you dragging your thighs together and tossing your head back against the pillows, whimpering behind the gag like a neglected puppy in hopes that he would give in to your obvious needs.

He hums before giggling behind his mask, the sound muffled through the layers of cling wrap and cold weather plastic leather protectant.

“Looks like baby’s all hot and bothered because I won't touch her, is that right?”

“Mmhm,” you hum behind the gag, nodding your head fervently along.

His hand inches past your kneecap and up your thigh, moving closer to your aching core with a painful slowness. A wet spot had formed over the barely-there patch of fabric that clothes your cunt and you flaunt the sign of your wanting to him, curling your back against the bed and spreading your thighs, unabashed in your wanton behavior. Just as his fingertips reach the meatiest part of your thigh, only a breath away from where you silently beg him to extend his touch to, he squeezes the fat there, your skin dimpling with the force before he releases his hold on you and stands from the bed, the springs groaning with the loss of his weight and leaving you whimpering with the loss of his touch.

He steps towards the nightstand where a laptop rests, displaying a live chat. Edward reaches for the trackpad and scrolls through the few responses that have filtered in. From where you lay on the mattress, with a bit of straining, you can see the laptop’s screen and the responses on the right-hand side of it along with the live captured video of you, sprawled out along the bed, delayed only by mere seconds. From what you can see, the chat is showing an influx of interaction with waves of messages ebbing and flowing, coming to a slow stop before rushing all over again. The engagement seems to be high today, Edward often only receiving a couple dozen viewers— give or take a stream— whereas today, the chat is lively and from the view counter in the corner of the screen, you can see that nearly a hundred people have joined to watch him ruin you for their viewing pleasure. 

You catch glimpses of obscene queries and remarks of adulation flickering before rippling across the screen, carried away by the next wave of comments.

Who’s the slut spread out on the bed?

I wanna see her face

I’m getting hard just watching her squirm

“Let’s see what the chat has in store for you, pet,” Edward says, interrupting your scanning of the chat and drawing your attention to his hunched-over form, still fiddling with all of the technological controls over on his end of things, clicking on this window and exiting out of that tab before he says: “What should I do to her first? The power is in the hands of the people.”

With the prompt left out in the open, responses begin cropping up within the chat, each viewer tossing their suggestion into the hat.

Undress her

Show us her tits

Show us that whore’s pussy

As Edward combs through each suggestion and mulls each one over, he hums to himself, “Hmm, seems as though the majority have a deep fascination with what you look like underneath all those clothes.” He trails off before coming to a consensus, “I suppose I can indulge them.”

He moves away from the laptop and stalks over towards you, slim shoulders hovering above you before he throws one leg over your hips and holds the other in a standing position at the side of the bed, crawling  over you.  

He brings his gaze down to your glistening eyes, your stare clouded with ardor, pupils dilated and shadowed over by your drooping eyelids. The look that you send him from below has his intense demeanor faltering for a moment, the man wanting nothing more than to envelop you in a tight embrace and have your soft voice coo gentle hymns of affirmation into his hair, neck and chest. 

The thought is fleeting as he reacquaints himself with the situation; the game that you’re playing at but he yields to your longing and bewitching stare with just a single gesture. He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, the vinyl that covers his thumb swiping over the apple of it one, two times, trailing the glove’s powdery coating over its path. His hand falls from your face, his fingers tracing the tendons of your neck, slipping  past the dip of your clavicle and along the slope of your left breast. Once it reaches the underside of the bra cup, he pushes up and gropes you through the thin material. His other hand joins and soon he’s toying with both of your breasts, squeezing them and pressing them together, accentuating your cleavage before he brings his face down between them. 

Edward’s mask is cool against your skin and the force of his deep inhale tickles you as he takes in your sweet scent through the brief slit of his mask. He exhales a deep sigh through his mouth before he’s reaching his hands towards the middle of the garment where a thin strip of fabric holds the two cups together. He pinches at the opposite ends of it, taking the top of each cup into his hands before ripping it apart, the sound of seams snapping encouraging you to gasp.

He isn’t very strong, not at all actually. His strength lies within his intellectual prowess but in these moments, where you are bound, helpless and at his gracious mercy, he can impress you with the slightest of aggressions. These are the moments that he finds himself to be the most powerful, the most domineering and intimidating. You worship him like this and at his weakest. He worships you just the same.

“There we go,” he mutters to himself as he admires you; your breasts on full display, nipples perked and ripe. 

Your flushed chest climbs and falls in time with your heavy breathing, each rise becoming more frequent with your excitement. He lifts a hand to cup one of your lush mounds, the warmth of your skin penetrating past the elastic material of his gloves and seeping right into his skin. His thumb swipes over the apex of it, pressing against your nipple and watching with fascination as it nearly flattens into your skin before climbing to a stiff erection once more.

While Edward plays with you and watches your pliable skin mold to his fingers and palms, he wants nothing more than to latch his lips onto one of your tits and suckle your plump skin into his mouth, nibbling on the warm flesh as he watches you writhe beneath his doting lovebites. 

He restrains himself though, settling for the warm weight of your breasts in his hands as he lets his imagination run wild with thoughts of what he’ll do to you the moment the cameras are turned off.

“Come here, my faithful viewers!” He cheers, his demeanor shifting seamlessly from his sultry obsession with you to his cheery and excited stream host persona. He stands from the bed, springs creaking once more with the loss of his weight as he steps towards the tripod. He detaches the camera from the stand and carries it back to you, angling it to take in the length of your helpless position; thighs rubbing together like that of a grasshopper, creating a silent sort of symphony within you that is meager in comparison to what you really yearn for. Edward’s conscious and careful to not let the lens capture anything above your cupid’s bow, tending to focus his film on your supple breasts, thighs and the erotic picture of you bound and gagged.

With your attention focused on Edward and his daunting position above you, you miss the flow of chat messages but with the way that Edward groans— the sound slipping into a giddy chuckle— you can only assume that the slim bar on the screen was painted with comments that would have your skin crawling, for better or worse.

Edward tsks at them, “Naughty, naughty, are we?”

He directs his voice to you as he informs you, “Darling, I’ll have you know that the masses are deeply creative when it comes to methods of divulging your pleasure, or alternatively, prolonging it.”

A weak sound slips past the gag crammed in your mouth  and your lower body tenses, back arching over the mattress and inviting him to run his hands over you. He waddles his knees closer to you and leans over your squeezed legs, your thighs fighting to hide the embarrassingly obvious damp spot that highlights the core of your panties.

“Open up for me now,” he mutters, coaxing you to part your legs as he pries his fingers between the plush flesh of your thighs. They part with little defiance from your muscles. You squeeze your eyes shut and wrinkle your nose in frustration, pressing the side of your face into the pillow as your body yearns for his touch.

“Oh, don’t worry, puppy,” he coos, his eyes fixated on your covered center. “Be good for me and I’ll satiate your every desire.”

His hand inches up your thigh, palm soothing your heated skin as it climbs higher with each pass before his fingers finally press against your clothed cunt. Your whine climbs in pitch, choking around a gasp at the sudden pressure; he’s rubbing blindly, his index and middle finger running up the length of your panty-clad slit, feeling the warmth of your pulsing core and juices seep past the cotton of your underwear against the latex of his gloves.

“Mmm, so wet for me and I’ve hardly begun to touch you,” he whispers, more to himself than anyone else present as his disbelief nearly overwhelms him. 

Nearly.

His fingers continue their assault, dipping low and rubbing over the wet patch covering your hole before dragging them upwards to massage slow but firm circles against your clit. A wail escapes you, muffled by the gag and you toss your head back against the pillow, the tendons in your neck straining and bulging against the thin layer of your sheen-covered skin.

“Does my dirty baby like it when I tie her up and shut her filthy mouth? Is that what it is?” He taunts above you, the condescending pout you’re sure is on his lips coming through so clearly. “Look at this pitiful little thing; crying and humping her desperate cunt against my fingers like a little bitch in heat.” 

You can't even be bothered by his degradation and bullying, the barely-there pleasure feeling like a searing brand against you as your head lulls from hanging back to falling against your shoulder. You were helpless to do anything but watch him continue his slow, torturous ministrations against your most sensitive crevice.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He croons, pushing the frilly hem of your panties to the side to expose your puffy pussy, glistening with your arousal in the low light of the room and clenching on nothing, eager to be filled as it's exposed to the cool air offered by the dingy and scraping fan twirling away in the corner. 

“You love my fingers, don't you?” He goads while pushing his middle and ring finger past your entrance, pumping them in and out of you languidly.

With your speech inhibited, you can only provide him a zealous nod as you mewl at the intrusion behind your gag.

He gives a low chuckle, eyes honed on his fingers pulling out of your precious cunt, soaked to the knuckle, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

His thumb rubs over your exposed clit in tandem with his probing thrusts, fingers curling to knead against that perfect spot inside of you. Your hips begin to move against his hold as you dig your fingernails into your palms and he tuts at your insubordination, reaching to prop the camcorder atop the nightstand so he can free his other hand and press it against your hip, pinning you to the mattress to keep you steady.

“Easy, baby. Told you I’d take good care of you,” he reminds you. “I’ll let you finish if you sit pretty for me.” 

At his promise, you attempt to overcome your desires and keep your hips from jolting up, opting, instead, to curl and uncurl your dainty painted toes as a means of expending your energy. 

He’s pulling his fingers in and out faster, fucking into your cunt at a wild speed. The subtle texture of his gloves rubbing along your walls has a warmth blooming in your stomach as the filthy noises of the latex straining and slapping wetly against you sets you alight. Your head falls back against the pillow as your eyes roll  into your skull from the pressure of your impending orgasm. 

Edward releases your hip and drags his free hand over the underside of your thigh, hooking into the bend of your knee to push your leg up and press it closer to your stomach to spread you wide, allowing his fingers to sink just a little bit deeper inside. His thumb continues flicking across your sensitive nub at a delectable speed and you moan a sweet sound behind the spit-soaked gag, your eyes watering as he works his fingers into that spongy patch inside you. Just as you're nearing your end, the heat in your belly building and rolling into a white explosion, he pulls his fingers out of you. The warmth dissipates and you cry out a sob, tears that had built with intense pleasure in mind falling from frustration instead as you screw your eyes tight and chew on the fabric of the gag, teeth gritted in contempt as he just chuckles above you at your misfortune.

With the tips of his fingers, he pulls your arousal from your hot, pulsing hole and spreads it across the folds of your weeping pussy, wet latex trailing up and down the expanse of your throbbing cunt. The heel of his palm just barely grazes your clit in passing as he does so, urging your body to jolt with each noncommittal touch and it only serves in frustrating you further.

“You got something to say, puppy?” He snickers and as you stare up at the static green farce, you can make out his eyes crinkling in a beady squint behind the cling wrap, a smile blooming behind his mask. You muster your best distraught look, all of which is genuine: chest heaving with the labor of bubbling tears, brows cinching, and glassy eyes downturned as you nod your head. 

He brings his dry hand up to your face, trailing his fingers gingerly over the drying tear tracks that paint your heated skin before they run along the homemade gag in your mouth as he asks, “What do you think, chat? Should we let the pretty lady speak?”

It comes out distracted and hushed but the seedy microphone of the camcorder picks it up anyway. The answer is made obvious by the sudden surge of comments emerging from the low corner of the laptop’s monitor to the very top before disappearing, lost between a dozen other responses. As his eyes peek at the screen from his periphery, he’s left amused at their enthusiasm.

“You’re in luck, pet,” he cooes down at you. “Looks like they want to hear those pretty little cries of yours.”

He lifts the still-slick fingers of his other hand to your chin, drawing them up at a slow jagged pace until he reaches the frayed and curling edge of the fabric lodged between your teeth. He hooks his fingers into the cloth and pulls it out of your mouth so it can fall, damp and limp across your throat.

Your lips are flushed and swollen, glowing with a mixture of your saliva and your own arousal having traveled from the tips of Edward’s fingers to paint your cupid’s bow and chin. You whine as his touch leaves you again, just as quick as it came.

“Please, baby,” your voice croaks, hoarse from lack of use. “Wanna cum so bad. I‘ll do anything, just please let me cum.”

“Okay, puppy,” he caves to your begging and your body slumps as a weak smile plays across your lips. “But first, you have to suck my cock.”

A sick shimmer blooms within your irises, eyes glistening with lust at his terse command. Though your cunt throbs and leaks between your legs, teary with neglect, the thought of having Edward’s thick cock prodding at the gummy flesh of your throat, choking you with the girth of him— it was much too good to pass up, not that he would have let you have a say, anyhow.

His hands travel up his thighs as he leans back to sit on his calves, head angled down to monitor his movements as deft fingers glacially begin popping the button of his trousers open, the sound of his zipper loud with each plastic tooth of it he passes during its climb down. You strain your neck to watch his every move. You can see the outline of his dick, the prominent bulge stressing the blue tartan fabric of his boxers.

After lowering his pants, he pushes his thumbs past the waistband of his underwear and pulls the tattered fabric down, revealing the pale brown smattering of hair above his pubic bone that trails down and fleshes out into a bushy tuft. The golden brown netherhair crowns the base of his cock and paves the way for his pink, throbbing shaft and blushing head to spring free, bobbing against his stomach. At the substantial sight of it, all pretty and ready for your mouth, a whimper simpers past your lips, your hips involuntarily jolting against the bed.

“It's okay, puppy, don’t you worry,” he reassures you with a breathless sigh, stroking his cock in lazy pumps. His eyes gaze over your body with a predatory gleam. “Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you.” 

He crawls over your crumpled figure, with as much grace as he can muster while holding his dick in one hand, sitting in a hover over your chest. His knees are planted parallel to your shoulders, his cock at eye level and you find your lips parting, almost on instinct, as an invitation for him to smother you with his length. With him so close, your eyes can only focus on the ruddy, leaking tip of him, disappearing within the snug wrap of foreskin before peeking out again with each thrust of Edward’s hips into his fist. Pre-cum oozes past his slit, the near-pearlescent liquid beginning to dribble down the underside of him at the change in angle.

His strong hand reaches for your face, fingers digging into the pillowy flesh of your cheeks to steal your attention away from his delicious offering and onto his piercing eyes. Your lips are forced into a dopey pucker and your eyes begin to glimmer with childish tears, the water blooming from your unspoken need and neglect though the rest of your features remain passive, obedient.

“You want this cock, sweetheart?” He teases, grabbing his dick from the base and tapping the sticky, shiny head against your bottom lip. Your tongue darts out to collect the salty residue he leaves behind, savoring the distinct tang.

You nod your head as best as you can with his hold, still unyielding. You can hear a giggle pass his lips before he speaks.

“Show me how much you want it, baby”

He releases your face with a shove and cants his hips forward so the head of his dick prods at your mouth. You reach your bound hands forward and have your palms travel over his stomach, pushing his hoodie and jacket up to reveal his pudgy, white belly. In quick succession, he seizes your conjoined wrists and presses them further up the bed with a heavy and hard grip so your arms extend over your head, your breath catching in your throat as he does so. Edward leans down so his face is mere centimeters away from yours, his piercing and near-frightening green eyes glare at you through the fogged plastic of his cling wrap and behind the crystalline lenses of his glasses. 

With a gruff and mean voice he commands, “Suck.”

You’re quick to comply as soon as he straightens himself, giving the head of his cock a baiting kitten lick before your jaw creaks open, allowing you to finally wrap your lips around him. You push your head forward and swallow as much of him as you can with the awkward setup, craning forward and tilting your head to try and stuff him down your greedy throat. He groans and tosses his head back as you struggle to take the length of him, tongue swirling and tracing the veins that wind up his shaft. 

With one hand still occupied with your wrists, Edward uses the other to fist the hair at the nape of your neck and force you further down his cock,  your nose grazing the coarse hair decorating his pubic bone with each of his vigorous thrusts. The tip of his dick is testing the spongy tissue at the back of your throat, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as your gag reflex strains to remain idle. 

He yanks at your hair, pulling you off after a particularly rough suck with a shudder and a groan as he grips the very base of his cock and squeezes there, almost as if he’s trying to keep himself from cumming too soon.

“Gonna fucking come with your whore’s mouth working me like that,” he pants. “But I’d much rather watch it seep out of your puffy, spent hole.”

His words are wispy like he could hardly believe it himself, “Gonna ruin this pussy, mark you from the inside so you always know who you belong to, so they know you belong to.”

You love the possessive slur of his words, finding it amusing that, despite this whole ordeal being his idea, he can't stand the idea of anyone even thinking of burying themselves in what's his. His filthy words spur your aching core on further, a rush of slick trickling past your folds as you clench around nothing. You push your hips up against his ass and whimper, lip trembling, tired of his cruel game. A tear trails across the apple of your cheek, overlapping the sheened tracks of the ones that fell before it.

“You want that, right, baby?” He asks, lifting his hand to wipe the evidence of your impatience away. “Hm? Want me stuffing you so full you’ll feel it in the morning?”

“Yes,” you breathe with choked desperation.

“That’s what I thought,” he patronizes, shoving his tear-basted thumb past the seam of your lips to let the savory flavor settle over your tongue. “C’mere.”

He takes you by the shoulders and flips you over onto your stomach, trapping your arms between your body and the mattress. Your cheek presses into the musty piece of furniture, lips pursing with the pressure on your face. Edward grabs your hips and hikes them up into the air, forcing your back to arch as he situates you on your knees. 

You maneuver your head to try and get a decent glance over your shoulder at what he’s doing, humming to himself as he takes his sweet time perusing your body. In the low light, he admires you, running his hands over the round globes of your ass, squeezing every once in a while as they drop and then drag back up. He dips his head lower to catch a glimpse of your glittering hole, soaked with your lust and pulsing with just the thought of him filling you up.

“Would you look at that?” He whispers in the tense air.

Edward reaches over to the nightstand, scooping up the camcorder so he can invite the chat to enjoy a look at you.

“Isn’t she just perfect?” He remarks wistfully as he glides a thumb through your lips. “All throbbing and aching for me. Just a hole waiting to be used.”

You huff and wiggle your hips, pushing back to try and find even an ounce of relief. At your jittery signs, Edward sinks his thumb past your lax wet muscle and your breath catches in your throat with the familiar sensation.

“Please, baby, want you so bad.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he clicks his tongue. “Only patient girls get rewarded,”

“Okay! Okay, I’ll be good,” you pant out. “I’ll be patient, I promise.”

“That’s my good girl.” He draws his hand from the small of your back up between your shoulder blades, repeating the motion once, twice before pressing his hand into the side of your head and pressing it deep into the bed, nearly suffocating you. “I know you will, baby.”

He places the camera back on the nightstand, letting it clatter down before gripping the base of his cock and moving it to run the head through your slick folds, coating it in your creamy release. You mewl but try to keep still, burying your face into the mattress to muffle your disobedient noises. He takes note of your compliance and, to reward you, pushes past your entrance slowly, more so to get his dick wet before cumming rather than to be mindful of the ache that burns between your legs. A pitched gasp escapes your throat at finally having your request satisfied and your eyes flutter shut with the stretch of him against your walls. 

“My God, this cunt was made for me,” he sighs, sinking deeper. “So wet and warm and fucking tight.”

With his cock sheathed to the very base, he stills before drawing his hips back and pulling nearly all the way out before slamming them forward in a violent rut, his dick reaching the far recesses within you and causing you to jolt forward on the bed.

“Gonna ruin this pussy, make sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

He picks up his pace, his movements quick but his thrusts holding their same fervor. He’s hitting hard and fast and deep and all thoughts escape your mind as he abuses your hole. The squelching and slapping of skin on skin fills the room and reverberates off of the walls, his deep groans and grunts melding with your desperate moans and mewls into a hot soup of unabashed wantonness.

Suddenly, the hot crack of Edward’s palm against your ass rings within your ears before you actually feel it and as the sting begins to fester with a burn as you cry out, the pained sound dissolving into a moan.

“You like that, you little slut? You like when I hit you, punish you for being so dirty?”

You nod your head, cheek burning from the chafing friction of the sheets but your nonverbal response is cut short as he smacks you again, much harder than the first time.

“Words,” he demands.

“Yes!” You yelp. “Love it when you put me in my place!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he chuckles, though there's no humor behind it. “Take this fucking cock, fuck it like the filthy whore you are.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you’re gasping out in between tormenting thrusts, so close to finishing but before you can reach the blinding light at the end of the tunnel he’s pulling out and you want to cry, your tear ducts stinging with the loss as a shameful whine passes your lips, almost like a sob.

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothes. “Just wanna see your tits while I fuck you.”

He flips your pliable body over once more so you’re lying on your back, head lolling, your brain dazed and vacant.

He guides his cock, the head brushing against your glistening clit. Despite having just been inside of you, the touch shocks you, thighs tightening before he delves back in, his technique now far more brutal than before, if even possible. Your bound wrists lay between the valley of your breasts, the mounds bouncing along your chest with the force of each of his savage, pistoning thrusts. 

He grips your legs by the thighs and glides his hands up to the crooks of your knees, leaning forward to press your quads up against your stomach, folding you to breed a pleasurable stretch. With your legs spread out of the way and him relentlessly pounding into you, he’s reaching an untapped patch of nerves within you, the head of his cock tapping deeper and harder with each pull and push of his hips. You cry out at how incredible it feels, each thrust sending you closer to the edge and setting fireworks off behind your retinas. The pleasure feels too good to contain, you shut your eyes and indulge in his vicious pace, relishing in the rock of your body in tandem with his. 

Before you can get too caught up in feeling yourself, his hand finds your jaw, wrenching your face forward. The latex of his gloves squeaks as he tightens his hold and digs his fingers into the plush flesh of your cheeks.

He growls out a ‘look at me’ and you force your eyes to lazily flutter open, labored breaths puffing out past your pursed lips. 

With your attention on him, he leans in and berates you, “Look at you, all spread out like a desperate little whore, all for me.”

You whine and writhe as he continues his bullying.

“That’s right, hmm? Just a dumb fucking slut that loves my cock?” 

As he says this, he shoves his hips forward and causes your breath to stutter. His cock feels like it's clogging your throat with how deep it reaches and you do your best to answer his question, nodding your head against his resolute grip. 

“Say it,” he pushes, gritting through his mask and teeth. “Tell them how much you love how I fuck you.”

You keen as his pace refuses to wither, your brain malfunctioning at just the prospect of answering his simple question. His hand readjusts and lowers so that it’s near to entrapping itself around your throat. 

“C’mon, baby, tell them how much you love being used,” he chides, impatient. “We don’t have all day.”

With a particularly rough thrust of Edward’s hips and the euphoric feeling brought on by his hand constricting your airway, the tears that once gathered along your waterline fall over your cheeks as you cry out in a gasped sob. 

“Mmm! Yes! I lo-ove it!” You hiccup. “I love how you use me! Love how you show me off!”

He laughs, and drags his hand down from your neck to grope your breast with an ungentle grip, squeezing one more time before lifting his hand to cradle your cheek, thumb pushing your tears away only to smear the wetness across your temple.

“I know, puppy,” he stutters out, very obviously near his end. “You’ve been so good for me and the viewers, I think she deserves a reward, don’t you agree?”

The chat floods with responses of consensus, each anonymous hermit behind a computer screen or otherwise  hoping to indulge in the sight of you unraveling beneath who they knew to be their leader, their God.

“Yeah, that’s right, baby, go ahead and cum for me, wanna feel you choke my cock.”

You do as you're told, the pressure building up to a rolling boil as your body seizes and stutters with the feel of him inside you drawing you to your blinding end, crying out to the four walls as your back curls off of the bed. As your pussy throbs and convulses in spasms around Edward’s cock, he groans thickly and keels over you, catching himself on his hand as his hips stammer and start to become erratic. He releases a whiny, pitched moan when you feel his hot load spurt into you, the warmth of it heating you from the inside out as you sigh into the mattress. 

You’re both panting like wild dogs caught in a heat wave, attempting to regain your lost breath. He slumps over you, the heat of his exhales clouding the saran wrap behind his glasses and mask. After a moment of calm, he leans back and pulls his softening dick out, his release crawling out of your hole and dripping onto the wrinkled and bunched up sheets. He grabs the camera and angles it to display your still convulsing hole.

“Isn’t that a sight?” he wonders aloud, muttering beneath his shallow breath. 

He tuts and pushes two fingers into your cunt, gathering what spills over your asshole so he can push it back in. The breach causes you to shiver with overstimulation before relaxing back against the pillows. He takes his cum-laden fingers and reaches them towards your open mouth, bringing the camera along so it only shows your lips and chin.

“Suck,” he commands.

You lean up and take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his digits and moaning against the bitter taste of your combined juices. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praises as he pulls his fingers away.  

You fall back against the few pillows beneath you, your eyelids starting to grow heavy as your head lulls against the cushions. Edward turns the camera towards him, holding the lens much too close to his face as he thanks the audience and ends the live, placing the camcorder back on the nightstand and shutting the laptop with a gentle click.

He begins undoing his getup; putting his glasses aside, pulling the mask over his head, and tossing it to the floor before unfurling the near-suffocating wrap from his head. With his features uninhibited, he places his glasses back on and starts consciously climbing over your body.

“You did so good for me,” he whispers against the skin of your neck, nuzzling his face there before slithering his arms under your back and squishing you against him. “I’m sure everyone loved you.”

You giggle at his needy, cat-like affections, “Baby, I wanna touch you.”

“Oh, right! Let me get that for you.”

He unties the jersey cloth from your wrists and tosses the scrap piece of fabric across the room. Edward runs his thumbs back and forth over the tender indentation that runs along your wrists, soothing the skin with his warm touch and the sympathetic press of his lips. Once he’s finished, you wind your arms around his neck and reach to thread your fingers into his russet locks, scratching close to the nape and behind his ears. He smiles that goofy grin down at you and despite the effort it takes, you lean up to kiss him.

“God, I miss doing that when you wear your mask,” you sigh as you separate, uncurling his strands from your fingers to rest your hand against his cheek.

“Me too,” he assures you, turning to kiss the wrinkled palm of your hand. “But we can’t have the GPD finding us out can we?”

“Nope,” you say with a disconcerting smile. “But it’s a good thing that when the cameras are off, I get you all to myself.”

[urvenicebtch]

Long Enough

(gif found in a reblog, doesn’t belong to me)

-----Pairing: survivor!Bucky x survivor!reader

Summary: living in a tent with him was risky from the start, but you never expected tonight to be the night.

A/N: HEY! im so excited to be making this because a) im a huge fan of The Walking Dead, and b) i just need some tent smut in my life. Sorry it's taken me so long to post a new fic but I've been going through another writers block and now I have covid, too. Welp, enjoy xx

Warnings: bruises and scars, masturbation (m), smut, love confession, insemination, switch!Bucky, fingering, handjob, edging, overstim (if you squint)

Clink, clank, clink

The string-connected aluminum cans rattle together as you pull on the string, fastening it to a tree a considerable distance from another tree, of which the opposite end of the string was fastened. A security system thought of by you, though your partner, Bucky, scavenged the materials. Speaking of, at the moment he was stomping out the fire in the center of your camp, the area you's lived in.

"You need any help?" he asks, his voice hushed just enough that you could hear-- smooth and deep. You shake your head 'no' and finish pulling the last knot tight before following him into the tent. The 8-man tent appears comedically small compared to his large stature as he crouches inside it. You both start to strip yourselves of your clothing, less time worn means less need for washing. It was something you'd both gotten used to over the past 6 months-- you'd both seen each other completely bare numerous times, but only ever when inside the tent or washing up in the lake.

5 months doesn't seem like much time to many, but when you're the only person someone has spoken to in over a year exclusively, it's a big deal. The day you met was a classic western-standoff: two people, 10 feet apart, guns drawn. You'd become very close in that time, the only other voices you'd heard being those of the people taking through emergency radio broadcasts in the middle of the night and those on the old blues discs you'd found.

You pull your top over your head and toss it aside, braless beneath, and, through the corner of his eye, Bucky notices the fresh bruises arranged along your back and sides. The stopping of his movement catches your attention and you turn around to see him staring at the discolored flesh, eyes regretful and mouth slightly agape. You look down, feeling bad for not telling him sooner before turning back and continuing to strip.

“I’m alright,” you assure him. You pull your socks off after ridding yourself of your jeans and stuff everything into a corner of the tent, awaiting its return to your body in the morning. You lurch forward and yelp as a searing pain engulfs your mid-back, the pain radiating throughout your ribcage. You turn around again to see Bucky sitting with his legs still crossed and clothed, and his flesh hand extended— his eyes wide with fear and curiosity.

“Don’t sound alright to me,” he remarks, inching closer to you and inspecting your injuries. He was a compassionate man, sure, but you usually attended to yourselves in situations like these. He knew you could do it yourself. You knew that he knew.

“Buck, I’m fine, honestly,” you say, not wanting him to worry. He ignores you as he wraps his large hands around your sides, squeezing gently and paying close attention to the hitches in your breathing and the whines escaping your throat as his hands explore your flesh. He stops at one particular point that has you crying out and feels around the tender muscle with his metal hand, watching to not get too close to your hips as you sit before him, completely nude.

It’s amazing how the end of the world can make people so trusting.

He pulls his hand away from your back and swivels around before pulling his dark washed jeans off of himself, his boxers following soon after. You turn and roll onto your side, laying down on the mass of blankets, sheets, comforters, and pillowcases covering the floor of the tent as a cushion, moaning as your abused torso meets the padded ground. Laying and waiting for him to dial off the lantern, you watch Bucky through tired eyes as he hides his front from you. Rude.

Every other night he’s had no problem chilling in his birthday suit with you, but now he was acting off. Self-conscious, almost.

Your brows furrow and you frown as he lays facing away from you after leaving on the lamp, not even bothering a “nite”. You figure he’s probably just upset that you never told him what happened. About your fall…

...Down 14 feet of rocks and boulders on the water’s edge. Hey, no big deal, right?

You brush it off, planning to speak with him in the morning over pine tea before rolling onto your back and getting comfortable. With a few stray blankets harnessing your body to the ground, you drift off.

You’re running. You’re running barefoot. Through thick woods you’re running and Bucky’s just a few feet ahead of you. But what’re you running from? You stop. You stop running yet Bucky continues. He doesn’t look back. He’s out of sight, yet you can still hear him clear as day. He’s breathing hard. His feet are colliding with the muddy ground, making sloppy sounds. You’re not aware of yourself anymore. Now he’s gone but you can still hear him. You can still hear-

You wake up in an instant, overheating. You sit there for a moment and just wait to test if you can fall back asleep without removing layers from yourself. Though something catches your attention that you can’t ignore. Bucky is still breathing heavily. There’s still that muddy sound.

You peel open your eyes slightly to see what’s happening, or if you’re still dreaming, and watch as Bucky’s torso jitters and his left shoulder jumps back and forth with a rhythm. You assume he’s having a nightmare, hence the heavy breathing and the sounds, which were more than likely him mouthing and whispering to himself.

You shuffle over toward him silently and place a gentle hand on his shoulder to calm him a bit, but the second your hand meets his scarred flesh, his head snaps back toward you with wide eyes and he fumbles in a hurry to cover himself up before you can register what’s happening. He sits up, facing forward and covered up to his navel in sheets— there’s a clear imprint of his dick pressing a tent into the sheet over his hips that you notice but pay no mind to. You jump back and watch him worriedly before you realize.

He was masturbating.

“Oh my fucking god. Oh my fucking god.” you mumble as you retract your hands as far back as you can from him. Not that you didn’t want to touch him, you did, but you didn’t want to make him any more uncomfortable than he was already. The tent in the sheet wasn’t just his dick— it was his hard dick. His hard, pulsing dick.

It went really silent. Got really awkward. There you two were sat, you facing his back, both completely nude, and a shit load of sexual-awkward tension filling the air, strangling you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, breaking the silence. You think for a moment before leaning forward a bit and placing your hand softly on his shoulder.

“Don’t be, Bucky. We’re stuck in this damn tent together until we can get our hands on something better. You're only human…” you comfort him with your words, or at least try to. His body tenses and he takes a deep breath in before blurting out his next sentence.

“I did it thinking about you,” he spits quickly, leaving a dead stillness both inside and outside of the tent. Were the crickets making noise before? ‘Cause they aren’t now. Was it windy? Raining, maybe? ‘Cause it’s dead silent out now.

A shiver runs up your spine at his admission. Ashamed as you were of it, you’d done the same thing at least four times. Can’t sleep? Lay back, memorize his frame, and let your fingers do the work. Embarrassment and arousal infuse your blood and flush your cheeks. You know that you can’t leave him there hard and half-cocked for the rest of the night, so you do what you know you have to… and want to.

You pounce. You smoothly climb over his hips and press your lips to his, holding the back of his head and cradling it as you kiss him gently. Hesitantly, he kisses back, and the kiss quickly progresses from gentle to passionate; tongues swiping and lips sucking. From the outside, it would look forced, but both of you knew that you wanted it. After all, you were the only people each other had seen in months, maybe even a year.

His hands slowly work their way up your bare thighs to your back, pulling you closer to him and being mindful of your injuries. You bring your hands around from the back of his head to his shoulders and ease yourselves down onto the ground with you still straddling him. You part your lips and look down at the few inches of space between your wetting folds and his prominent bulge hidden under the sheet.

“You sure you want this?” you ask, bringing your eyes up to his.

“Yes,” he whispers, the cerulean blue rings of his eyes glimmering in the warm light.

He reaches his head up to you and reattaches your lips, moving his hands back down your spine toward your thighs again. You expect his hands to run down your legs again but instead are met with one hand parting your lips and the other running two fingers just over your entrance. You whimper into his mouth at the contact and he smiles into the kiss, drawing circles with his fingertips. You buck your hips down onto his hand and surprise the both of you as his fingers slip into you with zero resistance.

“Jesus Christ, you’re wet,” he whispers with a small chuckle. Quiet clicks and squelches sound around the small tent as he begins slowly dragging his fingers in and out of you. You hum in response and nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as you relish the feeling of his body heat radiating from below you. He places gentle kisses to the side of your head and whispers sweet nothings into your ear as you rock your hips against his hand.

He groans at the friction so nearby to his neglected cock, a dime-sized patch of his precum soaking through the sheet as he ruts his hips upward seeking any kind of contact. You raise yourself up on your knees, still straddling him, and reach under the thin sheet. Your warm hand grips his aching cock and begins to massage it, focusing on his tip with the palm of your hand. He groans as he drops his head backward onto the ground, thrusting into your hand. His fingers speed up in you as he grows closer to his climax, anticipation fueling your bodies.

“Fuck, Bucky…” you mewl out as you drop yourself onto his hand, your entire body shaking as you rock your hips violently against him, pushing his fist into the tight muscles of his abdomen and tightening your hand around his shaft as you cum.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans. His breathing becomes ragged and laboured as he squeezes his eyes shut and digs his metal fingertips into your thigh, fucking your closed fist as he finishes, too. His cum sticks to the underside of the sheet and you peel it back, tossing it downward before lowering yourself to be straddling his hips. A raging fire was now burning within you, finally lit by your first orgasm. It had taken you up until your first Bucky-induced orgasm to realize how much you’d wanted him all this time. How much you wanted to be close to him in negative space, him in you, pulsing against your red flesh as you make love.

He inhales sharply as you wrap your hand back around his softening dick, pumping him as you run his tip between your lips, prepping the both of you. Judging by his expression, he was somewhat surprised that you wanted more, but he didn’t dispute as he had all that much more to give to you. You look down at him before inserting him into you, just to ensure his permission, and after he nods at you with wide eyes you slide down onto him. You crane your neck to the side at the stretch, mouth agape as he groans from beneath you, the skin of his chin rolling as he lifts his head to watch your joining.

Once you bottom him out, you readjust your position, placing both hands on his chest and leaning a bit forward. The warmth of your bodies provides a comforting contrast to the gentle bite of the night chill, making you wish you’d gotten this close sooner. His hands find your waist as he grips your flesh, guiding you as you begin to roll your hips to his. You hum and whimper on top of him, moving slowly and listening to his guttural groans and whines as you tease. You continue the painfully dragged-out motion until he moves a stray lock of hair from your face and cups your jaw.

“Can I flip us?” he whispers, eyes trailing all across your body. You bite your lip and nod vigorously before being held close and rolled over. You knew how strong he was based on how big of a help he was in your little home of a camp but being subject to it was a whole new kind of attractive. Hovering above you, he realigns himself with your entrance and pushes in slowly, resting on his forearms by your head. Both of your bodies shift upward with each deep thrust of his, pushing as far into you as he possibly can each time. He grabs the side of your face and kisses you passionately, moaning into your mouth. You swallow his sounds, gently nibbling on his bottom lip as he pushes pleasure into you like it’s the only thing he’s ever known. Growing close, you paw at his biceps before finding his back with your nails, leaving red-raw marks in their wake.

“Bucky, Bucky…” you whisper. He groans and hips your neck softly at the chanting of his name. “I’m so close,” you sob quietly. After a few more strokes, you’re just about to cum, but not before being flipped onto your stomach with Bucky now spreading your thighs with his own, poking your ass cheek with his dick. You whine out in complaint before being muffled by his hand over your mouth as he slams back into you, silencing your cry out in bliss. His pace in the new position is primal, feral, almost. Your last orgasm having been stolen away from you, you’re left sensitive with an orgasm built up in you fighting to be let out. He pounds into you from above, only pausing to pull your hips up so you’re face down, ass up for him.

His pace rocks your body with each thrust, throwing you forward into the sheets. He makes sure every sound he makes is audible for you, as they grow louder with each thrust into your tight pussy. He snakes a hand from your hip to your clit, swiping back and forth aggressively as he pushes closer to his orgasm. The friction plus the edged orgasm denied from you earlier His pace rocks your body with each thrust, throwing you forward into the sheets. He makes sure every sound he makes is audible for you, as they grow louder with each thrust into your tight pussy. He snakes a hand from your hip to your clit, swiping back and forth aggressively as he pushes closer to his orgasm. The friction plus the edged orgasm denied from you earlier is too much for you to handle, making you snap. You wail into the sheets below as you spasm under him, hands rested out over your head like you're bowing down. The sight and the feel of you clenching and releasing around his cock gives him a major power surge, making him reach forward and grab a fistful of your hair, pulling on it as you whimper out from the overstimulation. It only takes him a few more thrusts and a few more mewls from you to lose his shit and bury himself in you, digging his fingertips into your hips and chanting “I love you”s as his tip flows hot cum into you, leaking out around him as he pulls out.

He drops onto his back beside you and you roll over into his side, catching your breath and fixing your disheveled hair as you cling to him like a koala. He puts an arm around you, caressing the skin of your back with one hand while the other grips your thigh thrown over him. It’s a peaceful, intimate moment you share, relishing in each other’s body heat and nuzzling each other’s natural scents as you cuddle. Having been through so much, so much loss, so much worry, so much grief, you can’t help but wonder ‘is this happiness?’. Laying in the low lantern light, nude and close with someone you care a lot about— is this happiness? Listening to his breathing, feeling his heart slowing from the race within his rib cage, is this... happiness?

“I meant it,” he says quietly, pulling you out of your thoughts. He moves his hand from your thigh to your face and traces the outline of your jaw with his index finger, running his thumb over your lips as he stares down into your eyes— his deep blue ones almost entirely overtaken by dilated pupils. Your eyes meet his and you can’t seem to pull your gaze away, feeling like you’re locked in his mind.

“I love you, too,” you respond, pushing your face into the crook of his neck and inhaling the smell of his musk— campfire and body odour, though they’re both mostly muted scents due to the familiarity. You hum a quiet tune, one you’re both familiar with from your discs, as you let your eyes close. Soon after, he joins in with you— harmonizing his voice with yours as you start to drift off.

[messers-moony]

Home | F.H

Paring: Five Hargreeves X Fem!Reader

Summary: Five goes through everything with his best friend, and when they return with the announcement of their marriage his siblings are appalled. 

Request: “I can request a FiveXreader where the reader is loving, sweet and naive, Five's best friend but the reader has no powers (You can invent a way how they became best friends and they are in love with each other, cliché but I love) One day the reader was sitting in front of the Umbrella Academy and saw Five leave in a hurry (The scene that he will travel in time) In this the reader does not abandon Five and decides to travel in time with him, they end up trapped in the apocalylipse, can you make them stay together?  (Like married I don't know) And also the scene where they go back to 2019? Sorry, if this so bored”

Five couldn’t believe his eyes. After a failed mission, he and his siblings decided to sneak out. Klaus had spotted a park on the way home, and that’s where they went. For the first time in years, they felt like kids again. They were all ten years old and had never experienced a playground before. Allison had never laughed as much, and Diego seemed to finally forget his insecurities while swinging from monkey bars. 

Even on occasion, Luther would help Ben cross the monkey bars. Vanya was finally included, and Klaus had never seemed so carefree in his life. But Five had his eyes on someone else. She sat at one of the navy blue tables, quite a ways away from the playground, watching the siblings with a soft smile on her face. A notebook was in front of her while she twirled a pencil in her hand. 

Curiosity killed the cat. Five was too intrigued not to sit with her. So despite this probably being the only time he could experience a playground, he sat in front of her, obscuring her vision from his other six siblings. Her eyes met green ones; they looked evergreen in the dark of the night. His hair almost looked black, but she knew it had to be dark brown. 

“Good evening.” Her voice, it sounded like heaven to him, “Evening.”

It felt awkward, and the silence could’ve been cut with a knife, “My names Y/n.”

“Five.”

“Five? That’s unique.” Y/n complimented, and his cheeks flushed, “Thanks….” 

Her vision went back to the other kids, “You’d think they’ve never seen a playground before.”

“They haven’t.” Five stated, looking at his siblings, “Our father is strict, so we snook out to come here.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as rude-“

“You didn’t.” Five smiled, looking at her e/c eyes. 

Since then, Five would sneak out a lot more. His power was a fantastic tool. When he and his siblings began to sneak out more, Five always invited her. Klaus, Diego, and Vanya seemed taken with her. Y/n was always so kind and sweet. Her laugh radiated, and it made everyone around her smile. It was like she was Aphrodite, and he was Ares. 

After becoming friends with the academy kids, Y/n had a habit of sitting outside the academy. She usually sat on the edge of the sidewalk with her notebook on her lap, pencil in hand. Five couldn’t remember a time when her hand wasn’t covered in graphite or ink from drawing. He adored it, though, because it was so her. It made him stare at his black pens, aimlessly smiling, knowing that she probably had the same color ink on her hand. 

Becoming friends with Five meant knowing his ambition. Five Hargreeves was driven by his goals and wanted to do them regardless of the consequence. So Y/n knew about his dream to time travel despite his father's wishes. On a gloomy day, Y/n sat on the sidewalk. The only thing drawing her from her daydream was the slam of a gate. 

“Five!”

He didn’t turn, “Five!”

Y/n grabbed his arm, “What’re you doing?”

“I’m- I’m going to time travel.” Five stated with that daze in his eyes, “And you need to stay here.”

“No! I’m not letting you go alone!” Y/n exclaimed incredulously, “Y/n, please.” Five pleaded. 

She shook her head, “Absolutely not. Either we go together, or we stay here together.”

“Fine.” Five reluctantly agreed, holding out his hand for her. 

Hesitantly Y/n slid her fingers through his. They were intertwining their hands together. Five was so focused on time-traveling correctly that he didn’t notice the pink flush on his best friend's face. But he did it, once and twice—finally a third time. Smoke clouded the area, and fire could be seen for miles. 

Y/n dropped his hand and covered her mouth. Five circled in his spot in shock. He felt nauseous and queasy. He couldn’t believe that he let this happen. He shouldn’t have pushed himself. They were stuck. Fucking hell, they were stuck, and he couldn’t do anything. Y/n ran back to the academy, and Five followed her. The h/c haired girl stared at what used to be the Umbrella Academy. Now in ruins. Five dropped to his knees, tears collecting in his eyes. 

“It’s- it’s gone….” 

Y/n hugged him tightly, “It’s okay, we’re going to be okay.”

“I’m gonna- I’m gonna be-“ 

Five didn’t get to finish his sentence. He pushed her away and threw up to the side. When he finished, Y/n took her jacket sleeve and wiped it around his mouth—gently combing his hair from his face. Y/n had never seen Five look so drained. Seeing her in front of him, taking care of him made him break. Five broke into sobs holding onto her like a lifeline. Y/n rubbed his back and held him just as tightly. 

“I’m here, Five. I’ll keep you safe.”

Being thirteen in an apocalypse seems like a death sentence, but when you grow up the way Five did, it’s more bearable. The first few months were awful. Searching for shelter, food, clothes. It was downright hell, but they made it through. On cold nights Five would hold her close to his chest, and on hot nights Y/n would always manage to get him cold water. 

Years passed, and their friendship turned into a relationship. They needed each other to survive, and they just needed each other. Five couldn’t be more grateful that she insisted on coming. He couldn’t imagine doing this alone. But now, he had his girlfriend leaning her head on his shoulder while watching the fire. His arm wrapped around her shoulder, leaving occasional kisses on her temple. 

“I couldn’t imagine this world without you.” Five confessed, “I couldn’t imagine my life without you.” Y/n challenged. 

He smirked, “Oh, really?” 

“Don’t let it go to your head, smartass.” Y/n snorted, “Too late, it’s already there, my love.” Five retorted. 

She kissed his cheek, “Love you.”

“Love you too, darling.” 

Five years later. They were twenty-five, and he wanted to make it official. It was a rather cold day wherever they were, and Five was holding her closer than ever. Y/n was shivering on the old mattress they had found. She was constantly snuggling closer to Five’s chest. They laid facing each other, and Y/n’s head was tucked under his chin. Five’s hand ran through her long hair - after being unable to cut it - soothing her nerves. 

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“I want you - Y/n - to marry me.” Five repeated, looking down at her.

Her teeth chattered, “Are you sure?”

“It’s not like there’s anyone else to choose from.”

Y/n glared playfully, and Five chuckled, “Asshole.”

“So, what do you say? Make me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

“I say that if my fiancé doesn’t stop being an asshole, then I won't marry him.” Y/n retorted jokingly, “I love you too, pretty girl.” Five replied, smiling softly. 

He kissed her forehead and allowed her to muzzle closer into him. Gently he pulled the two plain rings he found. They were battered, of course, and the gold was dirty, but that didn’t matter. Five slipped the ring on her finger and his. Y/n placed a gentle kiss on his lips that he gladly returned. Sweet, soft, passionate, and full of love. A description of how she was. 

“Love you.”

“Love you too.” Five replied, “Now get some sleep.” 

Y/n was about to fall asleep when she heard Five mutter one last thing, “Y/n Hargreeves.”

29 years. 348 months. 1512 weeks. 10,585 days. Until a woman showed up in their shelter, offering them both a job. Five could remember pushing Y/n behind him defensively. The last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt in any interaction he had. The woman offered them a way home. Five turned to his wife, and she saw it. For the first time in forty-five years, she saw it. Hope. 

Y/n took Five’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. The softest smile crossed his features before agreeing with the woman’s offer where both of them became assassins—partners in crime. Nothing turned Five on more than seeing his wife fend for herself, and god, was she good at it. Y/n was so naive and innocent when she was ten. But now? At the age of fifty-six, she wasn’t that girl anymore. 

But when they reached the age of fifty-eight, Five finally found out the correct equation. They were at their last mission, make sure John F. Kennedy gets shot and everything goes to plan, but Five had different ideas. Taking Vanya’s book from his suitcase, he looked over the equations one last time. They were going back; Five would go home today. 

“Y/n.”

“Yes, love?”

Five sighed, “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“To go home.” 

Y/n’s smile was blissful; Five could’ve fainted on the spot, “Home?! Like- Like-“

“Home.” Five answered to his overjoyed wife. 

Y/n kissed him more passionately than ever. Five could feel her gratefulness in her kiss. His hands placed themselves on her waist, and hers were around his neck. God Five never wanted to forget this feeling. The feeling of his wife in his arms, kissing him as she would never get enough. When they pulled apart, Five opened the portal. Gripping her hand, they jumped through and landed on the leaf-filled ground in the icy rain. 

“Does anyone else see Little Number Five and Little Y/n, or is that just me?“ Klaus asked, not trusting his eyes; maybe it was an illusion from the drugs. 

Five and Y/n stood up. The first thing Y/n noticed was the ring on her finger was too big now. But Five looked down at the suit he had been wearing previously. The blazer now reached his knees instead of his waist, and Y/n’s shirt was hanging off one of her shoulders. Five and Y/n looked at each other. They were thirteen all over again. 

“Shit.” 

He grabbed Y/n’s hand and dragged her into the academy. Y/n had only been in the academy a handful of times before, and she usually was only allowed in Five’s room because she wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. His siblings followed aimlessly and took their spots at the table. 

“What’s the date? The exact date.” Five inquired, grabbing different things around the kitchen. 

“The 24th.”

“Of what?”

“March.”

“Good.”

Y/n took place beside him as Five began making a peanut butter marshmallow sandwich. The same snack he used to love as a kid. Y/n could remember him trying to eat it back at their apartment the commission provided them but complained it was too sweet. It seems that being in his teenage body again made him crave the sweetness of the snack. 

“So, are we gonna talk about just what happened?” Luther questioned, but no one answered, “It’s been 17 years.”

Five scoffed, “It’s been a lot longer than that.”

The same big spatial jumped behind Luther as he began to take marshmallows from the cabinet, “I haven’t missed that.” Luther murmured. 

“Where’d you two go?” Diego asked. 

“The future.” Y/n answered politely, “It’s shit, by the way.” Five added spatial jumping beside her again and gently kissing her cheek. 

The siblings stared in shock at Five’s sudden act of affection; Five could feel their eyes on him, “What?”

“You just kissed her.” Allison stated, “And?”

Allison didn’t say anything, “Is it a crime for me to kiss my wife or something?” Five asked agitatedly. 

“Wife?!”

“Yes, wife.” Five sighed. 

“Called it!” Klaus exclaimed. 

“I should’ve listened to the old man. You know, jumping through space is one thing.” Five began as he looked through the fridge, “Jumping through time is a toss of the dice.” 

He came back with peanut butter in his hand at the front of the table, his wife beside him; he took in the appearance of his siblings, “Nice dress.”

“Oh, well, Danke!” Klaus smiled. 

“Wait, how did you two get back?” Vanya questioned. 

“In the end, I had to project our consciousnesses forward into a suspended quantum state version of ourselves that exists across every possible instance of time.” 

Diego couldn’t wrap his head around it, “That makes no sense.”

Five went to remark, but Y/n cut him off, “It doesn’t have to. All that matters is that we’re back.”

“How long were you two there?” Luther queried, “Forty-Five years. Give or take.”

Everyone looked at the two teens in disbelief, “So what are you saying? That you’re 58?”

“Well, not exactly. Our consciences are 58, but it appears that our bodies are back to 13.” Y/n answered. 

“Wait, how does that even work?”

“It seems that Five might’ve gotten the equations wrong.” Y/n replied, and Five glared at her, “I’m not mad! I’m just happy we’re home. Appearance be damned.”

Five took notice of the newspaper in front of Y/n, “Guess I missed the funeral.”

“How’d you even know about that?” Luther inquired, “What part of the future do you not understand?” Five retorted. 

“Heart failure?” Y/n asked, “Yeah/No.” Luther and Diego contradicted. 

Five clicked his tongue, “Nice to see nothings changed.”

The teenage boy began to walk away, “Uh, that’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Allison questioned.

“What else is there to say? It’s the circle of life.”

Vanya was the first to get up and hug Y/n, “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too, Vanny. Me too.”

[randofics]

Daredevil/Matt Murdock x southern reader pt2? 18+

Had to write this as soon as I came up with it. This one may be a bit of a slow burn but I feel like Matt would do things a bit slower. I just love the idea of him leaning into his other senses when being intimate and focusing on giving the most pleasurable experience possible.

18+ Under the cut

Winter in New York was not your friend. The first week or so was fine but it soon grew tiresome for you. The thick blanket of snow left on your apartment steps was a constant struggle as well as the ice it often left behind if you didn't clean it in time. You had almost wiped out several times walking up or down them. Matt's apartment building didn't have that problem as his building's staff kept on top of it during winter so that he wouldn't be hurt while leaving. The sandpaper grips on the steps also helped.

It was late and you had decided to surprise Matt with an early Christmas gift. The small box was tucked under your arm as you walked into the elevator. As it lifted you up to his floor you grew excited to see how he would react to the present. With a pep in your step you walked to his door and knocked. You could hear him yell to you from inside so you waited patiently. "Who is it?" "It's me Matt!" With that you heard the lock on his door unlatch and you were greeted by his bright smile. That smile always managed to make your heart flutter. He closed the door after you walked inside and you turned to greet him only to be left speechless. He didn't have a shirt on, and his dark grey sweats were hanging low on his hips displaying the prominent v to his abdomen. He was still wearing his glasses for some reason, perhaps he just forgot them?

You hadn't really seen him shirtless yet, and you were so used to the suits and dress shirts and occasionally casual clothes. You hadn't imagined he'd be this well built. His voice brought you out of your gawking. "You didn't greet me like you usually do is something wrong?" He sounded a bit worried at your silence. "OH no it's nothing just got distracted for a sec. I got you an early Christmas gift!" He looks a bit surprised but holds his hands out for you. You place the box in his hands and he feels it for a second before experimentally shaking it. Not much sound comes from the box but he gives you an excited smile and starts to rip off the wrapping paper. He pulls the lid off and takes out its contents feeling them carefully. A pair of soft wool socks with black red and grey stripes is the first thing he pulls out. He usually wore an old pair of socks around his apartment or none at all so you wanted to get a warm new pair for him. The next item was a new pair of fingerless gloves with the ends able to cover his fingers if he wanted to. It was just a plain black pair but you thought he'd like using them while it was still cold out. Sure he did have gloves but none were fingerless.

The last item was a Keychain you had found online. It was a simple rectangle of metal but it had braille on it. You had gotten it custom for him. He felt the bumps on the cool surface and smiled. "Justice and faith?" "I couldn't think of anything else so I chose two parts of you. You're a lawyer and you're catholic." "Well thank you baby." He pulls you in for a hug and you relax into him. "By the way how are you not cold?" He snorts in amusement. "I'm used to it. Lived in New York all my life after all." You nuzzel into his neck and feel his body radiating heat. "How about we sit on the couch and you can snuggle into me more?" You hum and let go walking to the couch with him. He plops down and you take off your heavy coat tossing it on the chair. Your boots are shucked off under the coffee table and you straddle his lap. You're about to lay on him when you take in his figure under you. In the dim light you can just barely make out the scars on his skin. That's surprising to you but you choose to ignore that for now. You drag your hand down his chest to his well defined abs. When you look up his expression makes you squeek. There's a dangerous grin on his face and you feel heat creep across your cheeks.

"By all means don't stop on my account." You trace the lines of muscle down his abdomen making the skin quiver under your fingers. He lets out a shaky breath at your touch and you lean down pressing your chest into his. You feel his hands grip your hips as you slip off his shades. His green eye's shift from side to side as he feels up your back. You caress his jaw and guide him to kiss you giving his plump lips a few languid pecks. He suddenly moves so his back is against the back of the couch with you still on top of him. Gripping your thighs he pulls you further into him centering your now twitching core over his crotch. His hand moves to your jaw and he pulls you in for another longer kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck and your fingers tangle in his short brown locks as the kiss grows heated.

He can feel and hear everything. The moment you paused in greeting him he heard your heartrate quicken and the slight nervous tone in your voice. And when you sat on him and paused again he could feel your core twitching on him. He absolutely grinned when he felt your hands roam over him and heard your heartrate quicken again. That little squeak when you looked at his expression was adorable and at this point he wanted to hear more. He hadn't often been this intimate with you as he was either too busy with work or you just weren't in the mood for anything more than some slow kissing. Now sure he thoroughly enjoyed whatever you wanted to do with him but this time felt different. He wanted you badly and it seemed you may be in the same mood. His own heart starts to beat quicker and soon he turns his attention to your neck.

He pulls away only to kiss your neck. You tilt your head for him and squeak when you feel him nip your throat. You jump but just as quickly relax back into him. His tongue licks across your skin and you shiver. A whimper escapes your throat when he licks over your adams apple. He kisses down to your collar bone but the collar of your shirt gets in his way. His fingers find the hem and pull it up and over your head tossing it to the floor. With the offending clothing out of his way he kisses over your chest. With the need for a bit of pressure growing every second you wriggle your hips into him. He groans in your ear at the friction and grips your hips tight. But suddenly he freezes as though he's realized something. "Hold on a second baby." He nudges you to get off him and he practically runs into the other room. It surprises you that he doesn't run into anything and he just as quickly runs back to you. A small square packet is between his pointer and thumb. He gives you a cheeky grin as he sits back down. With the packet hanging from his teeth he pulls you back onto his lap. Now that he's closer you can read the packet. Your face blooms red at the realization of what it is. You stand for a moment to pull down your pants and underwear while he does the same. When you look back up at him he's slipping on the condom. He's a good size and you can only think of how he'll feel opening you up.

You straddle him but stay on your knees hovering over him. You can feel your juices threatening to drip on him as you kiss him again. He moans as you take your turn kissing his neck. His hips suddenly buck upwards nudging your petals. You can feel a bit of your juices connect with his tip and pull away in a thin clear strand. The sensation is a bit strange but you continue your previous ministrations. Eventually you can't help yourself and you slowly lower down. His tip aided by your slick splits your folds open instantly. With one hand you rub him between your folds covering the condom in your slick. You lean your forehead against his and line him up with your entrance. Gently you push down and his tip slips inside making you shiver. His hands grip the couch cushions as he tries his hardest not to thrust up into you. You moan and whimper as he stretches you. He hisses and groans as you lower even further onto him. When you're fully seated on him he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. You both catch your breath for a moment before you feel him move his hips.

In this position he can't quite seem to get enough leverage or room to thrust into you so surprising you with his strength he stands up holding you. He walks to the kitchen counter and takes a towel from the drawer laying it on the counter. He lifts you up just enough to set you on the towel his hips still flush with yours. With the new position he leans over you hands on either side of you. He pulls out and plunges back in one time making you moan. He grins down at you liking the reaction he received. He starts a slow pace and you bury your face in his neck as you mewl and moan for him. Soon he quickens his pace and his own moans make you twitch around him. You call his name earning a growl from deep in his chest. The sound makes you squeeze around him and a choked sound from him follows. His thrusts get sharper and he let's grunts and growls flow from his lips. He suddenly slips both of your legs into the crooks of his elbows. The move basically folding you in half with his hands moving behind your back and locking on your shoulders. In a sudden show of pure strength he lifts you up in that position and thrusts into you harder. He snorts with the exertion and all you can do is try to bear the extreme pleasure he's giving you.

You feel the coil in you tighten as you quickly get closer to the edge. He can feel you getting closer and he continues his pace chasing your release. "C'mon baby let go." He kisses you as your coil snaps your juices cover his crotch but he could care less as he chases his own high. Just a few seconds after you he releases, pumping the condom full. He let's out a strangled growl at the intense feeling. After a few seconds he let's you wrap your legs around his waist again and sets you back on the towel. He leans on his elbows panting heavily. You're both drained of energy but after a minute he lifts you back up and takes you to his bedroom. After he cleans you both up with a wet washcloth he snuggles into bed next to you. You roll on top of him and get comfortable with your ear over his heart. "Love you Matt." "Love you too y/n." You both drift off to sleep in each other's arms.

[writertitan]

Heat

pairing: levi x reader

word count: 2660

themes: modern au, smut, sexual content!! mature and 18+ readers only!!

For the past two days, your radiator had been making a god-awful noise whenever it turned on. Had being the keyword, until the early hours of today when it decided it couldn’t take it anymore and died on you completely. The winter morning air was frosty and you had woken up in the middle of the night to a loud and sad sputtering noise as the radiator said its goodbye, leaving you in a bit of a conundrum when you quietly got out of bed to try and see if there was any saving it. There wasn’t, and you were internally freaking out. 

Now here you were, glancing at a phone screen that read 3:23am with the chill of winter already seeping into your little apartment. The sleet outside didn’t help either; that awful mix of snow and rain was only bound to make your apartment even colder. 

You weren’t the only one who had been startled awake either, and you frowned in dismay when you saw Levi sitting up in bed with an annoyed, still sleepy look on his face. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked in a husky voice, making you feel even worse. Levi was an insomniac by nature - tonight he’d been getting an okay night’s rest, only to be interrupted by your damn radiator crapping out on you. 

“It’s my stupid radiator. It broke,” you whined, voice not even above a whisper as you gave it a pathetic kick with your feet. 

You heard Levi sigh in exasperation and looked to see him pulling back the covers for you as a silent beckon to come back to bed. You didn’t need to be told twice now that goosebumps had already started flourishing on your exposed skin, and immediately snuggled up next to him to preserve warmth. 

“I’m just cuddling for a minute,” you murmured, stroking his bare torso. “I’m gonna grab us some actual pajamas and some more blankets. I doubt my fucking landlord is going to respond to a text at three in the morning to come take a look at the damn thing.” 

Levi made a grunt of disapproval and held you to him tighter, shaking his head as he nuzzled it into your neck. The motion made butterflies swirl to life in your stomach and you giggled at the ticklish feeling of his bedhead, kissing it sweetly as your arms wrapped around him. 

“It’s gonna get real cold real fast,” you warned, “and we’re hardly dressed for that.” Levi only had his boxers on and you weren’t much better off, clad in only an old shirt of his and your panties. 

“Don’t you know any basic survival skills?” he said suddenly, his voice and his eyes taunting you, finally gazing up at you from his place at your neck. “We should be shedding clothes. Helps preserve warmth better.” 

“Bullshit,” you scoffed, but the idea was already planted, and you knew exactly what Levi was getting up to when his hand strayed from your hip to caress your thigh instead. He was so warm, his skin and his touch, and it made your head spin. 

“I’m being serious, you little brat,” he mumbled, his lips grazing your neck as he spoke. “I know exactly how to keep us warm in your shithole apartment.” 

His little jab at your apartment didn’t hurt. He’d been asking you when you were moving out for months now and had been asking you to stay over at his place more often, using his, “My apartment is better than yours” excuse each time. 

You instead answered him by pressing up against him even more, hands exploring his torso and then moving up to his hair to pull his face towards yours. In an instant your lips were captured in a heated kiss, tongues and teeth clashing as Levi maneuvered to get on top. He straddled you easily, a growing erection prodding at your stomach as his hands gathered the hem of his borrowed shirt on you to pull it up over your breasts and leave the fabric bunched up above them. His lips broke from yours and you whined, trying to follow him as he sat up fully, but his hands pinned you down by your shoulders. 

A blush rouged your cheeks as you watched him scan over your body, hands slowly moving from your shoulders to cup your breasts once he was sure you wouldn’t move, and you rolled your hips up slowly to tease him. You saw that primal glint in his eye appear as you did that, his gaze finally flickering back to yours, but he shook his head.

“Don’t move,” he demanded, hands moving over your nipples that had perked up from both arousal and the cold, his eyes examining the goosebumps appearing over your body. He gently tugged his shirt off of you completely, discarding it amongst your pillows before his hands returned on their journey along your skin.

“Keep me warm,” you whispered, voice saturated with desire as you watched him. You stayed still apart from your wandering hands that found his chest, his abdomen, and then finally, the tent in his boxers. He swallowed thickly but didn’t say a word, hands moving from your breasts to your hips in one languid motion, fingertips toying with the elastic of your panties. 

“Levi,” you breathed out, “...please...” That familiar smirk ghosted at his lips and, after what felt like an eternity ,a hand slipped under the fabric of your panties. You groaned in satisfaction and rewarded him with a gentle squeeze between his legs, his own groan mixing with yours. His free hand grabbed the blankets that were curled around your waists and tugged them up so the two of you were now completely covered and shielded from the increasingly cool air in your bedroom, the confined space somehow even more erotic. It was only the two of you, nobody else existed underneath those covers, the world was all but gone, and you were grateful for your little bubble as your breathing grew heavier and your mewls got louder. 

Two of his fingers danced around your clit, sliding between your slick folds as he played with you and you played with him. Your hand had worked its way beneath the cloth of his boxers to stroke his length slowly, matching his pace with you as you stared into each other’s eyes hungrily, lips parted and chests heaving for air. 

When Levi finally pressed into your clit with both fingers, your back arched and your eyes fluttered shut, pleasure piercing through you. His lips found yours again in another passionate kiss, lips fumbling together as the two of you stroked each other, Levi growing harder in your hand as your fingers trailed from his base to his tip, thumb gently pressing against the head of his cock occasionally. Moans were stifled into the kiss as you parted your lips and allowed his tongue to find yours, each of you needy and writhing in the other’s hand. Levi broke away for air and you gasped out to fill your lungs as well, but your lips found his neck only seconds later and your legs nimbly swathed around his hips to pull him closer. The hand that wasn’t around him trailed up so your fingers could get lost in his hair, a lock of it twirled around your finger as you nipped and suck at the most sensitive spot at Levi’s neck. 

“Fuck,” he grunted, hips bucking into you when your teeth grazed along his flushed skin, the whispered curse only fueling you. 

“Off, please,” you pleaded with him against his neck, referring to the thin fabric still separating your groins. You heard him whine when your hand slipped out of his boxers to tug them down around his knees, letting him kick them off the rest of the way. You also couldn’t help the little whimper that left you when his hand did the same to you, both of you exposed to the other now. 

Levi didn’t waste any time in taking hold of his length and guiding it to your folds, earning a loud moan of pleasure from you as he slid himself along you, tip of his cock pressing teasingly to your clit. There was no need or desire to bother to stifle the needy whine of his name as he rubbed his shaft against you, the pleasure almost overwhelming you when his head ducked down to take a breast into his warm mouth. A string of curses left your lips and you barely registered his free hand moving down as well, only noticing when a finger slipped inside you with no warning. 

Again your back arched and you writhed beneath him, and the peculiar sensation of a finger in you and a cock rubbing your clit, rather than the other way around, had you seeing stars. 

“Fuck, you’re wet,” Levi mumbled against your breast, a string of saliva trailing his lips as he came up for air again. His eyes were half-lidded, clouded with lust, both of you on cloud nine. Your hands kept busy and stroked his skin, both of you showcasing a slight sheen of sweat from the intense heat you’d created in your little cocoon of blankets. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your head as your lips crashed into his again, needy as ever as your hips squirmed and bucked. 

“Levi,” you whined against his mouth, letting him swallow his name. 

“Use your words,” he teased back, adding a second finger to pump into you while his length slipped into your folds. 

But you could barely sound out his name, let alone form a coherent sentence. He knew this was exactly the case and got off on it, leaving you to mewl and whine and writhe under him as you scrambled to get it together. 

“Want you inside of me,” you gasped out finally, bucking your hips up roughly as his fingers curled inside of you. 

Levi’s lips were at your ear in an instant, breath hot as it fanned the side of your face. “I am inside of you.”

“Your cock,” you nearly cried out, legs spread wide and heels dug into the mattress as you tried to find the balance to lift your hips into his. “Want your cock inside of me.” 

And Levi didn’t need to be told twice. His fingers left you in an instant and, before you could protest, he filled you up by slamming into you roughly, already almost to the hilt. Your legs enveloped his waist as a groan scratched out of your throat, nails digging into his upper arms as he waited and stretched you. Both of you swore loudly, hips bucking into each other, and you pressed your forehead to Levi’s and rolled your hips to let him know you wanted him to move. He knew you like the back of his hand, knew what every action meant, knew what you were telling him without having to actually tell him. Just like he knew all of that, he knew exactly what kind of rhythm to fall into, already relentlessly pounding into you once you were adjusted to him. It was slower at first, with Levi putting in the effort to almost completely pull out before pushing back in, over and over, skin slapping against skin as he did so. The erotic sounds from your throat were nonstop now, one moan melting into the next, and Levi’s own noises soon joined with yours as he picked up speed. Your hips met his effortlessly, bodies in sync with one another, the familiarity apparent in the way you just knew each other. 

Sweat slicked your forehead and matted your hair to it, Levi’s appearance mirroring yours, the heat almost unbearable if not for the knowledge of the cold and biting air that threatened to penetrate your bubble. His hips rolled into yours, entire body pressed to yours now with no room for even an inch of space between your skin; you didn’t know where you ended and he began, and you didn’t want to know. Being connected like this, you were a single being, striving for the same jaw-dropping, toe-curling goal. 

Levi gripped one of your thighs to push your knee almost to your chest, changing your position just enough for him to bury himself deeper and hit the spot that made the coil in your stomach tighten instantly. His name left your lips repeatedly, the only thing you remembered, the only thing that mattered in that moment. Levi, Levi, Levi…

He pecked your lips between the little whimpers you gave him, leaving you absolutely breathless, so close to finally reaching the edge. One of his hands forced itself between your colliding hips to give your clit attention, the touch of his fingertips catapulting you closer to your orgasm, unable to resist for much longer. 

“Fuck...Levi...close…” you panted into his mouth, hands alternating between gripping his hair, gripping his shoulders, gripping the sheets. 

“Me too,” he gasped out in a low murmur. His free hand cupped your face to pull you in for another deep kiss while his fingers worked your clit, dancing around it sometimes, and then rubbing it directly, always in those slow, tantalizing circles. He nipped at your lower lip, whispering the word you needed to hear so badly into your parted lips. 

“Come.” 

Between his needy kisses and his fingers and his throbbing cock inside of you, with Levi so unyielding and constant with everything he did, never faltering, it threw you over the edge into an intense orgasm, walls squeezing around him as you cried into his lips that were still smothered into yours. Your thighs pressed into his hips to keep him there inside you and you shuddered in delight when he came only moments later, both of his strong hands grabbing your hips and pinning them down so he could ride his high out, right into you. 

It took several more moments before the two of you could calm down, hips eventually lulling to stillness so he could rest on top of you, nearly putting his whole weight on you. But it felt good, it felt so good to feel him on you, in you, both of you catching your breath in the stuffy enclosure of your blankets. His mouth pressed a final kiss to yours before finding another favorite place to be - at the curve of your neck, to pepper short, endearing pecks to your skin. 

Levi didn’t make any moves to pull out of you so you stayed in that position, reveling in the afterglow of your orgasms, while you stroked his hair and breathed him in, head tilted so he could have full access to the expanse of your neck. 

“I guess you were right,” you whispered with a smile, eyes closed. Levi hummed in question and you giggled, a hand caressing his lower back. “We did need to shed clothes to stay warm.” 

That earned a chuckle out of Levi but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he continued leaving kisses along your neck, slowly pulling out of you and shifting so he could be at your side instead of on top of you. 

“I’m always right,” he finally said, pulling you into his chest to snuggle, “Just like I’m right about you getting the fuck out of this shitty apartment.” His arm kept itself wrapped around your shoulders even when you swatted his chest, his other arm resting happily at your hip. You traced his chest with your fingertips, legs intertwining as sleep began to overtake you, the exhaustion of sex heavily seeping into your bodies. 

“So you would rather have me on the streets with no home to go back to,” you mumbled jokingly, sleepily, and then snickered when Levi’s scoff fills the air. 

“You’d have a home, brat.” 

You shivered as Levi adjusted the blankets to let some fresh air in, the coldness cracking through at last, but your shivers were easily abated by Levi nuzzling into your hair and pulling you closer, fingertips dancing over your back to soothe you to sleep. 

“Love you,” you mumbled, moving your head so you could press your ear against his chest to hear his steady heartbeat. You were already drifting off, warm and content and blissful, but you didn’t miss the quiet, “Love you, too.” 

[chasingpj]

𝐜𝐨𝐳𝐲

pairing: percy jackson x gn reader

requested?: yes

warnings: implied sex, and uh, that's it

category: headcanons, fluff, established relationship

one thing that’s never changed between you and percy is that no matter how old you get, you’ll always be the playful 13-year-olds when you first met at heart

some nights felt like you’re just unsupervised children causing havoc in your shared apartment in new rome

there’s this running inside joke between the two of you that you guys can never sit through an entire movie without getting distracted

sometimes you're interrupted by the restlessness of wanting to do something else and other times, you get distracted doing, ehm, wink wink other things

either way, you guys have never gotten through more than 40 minutes of a movie in one sitting

one night, you thought you were going to change that for good

you had set the goal to watch mulan in its entirety without stopping

but then you became a factor in your own demise

you watched through, maybe, the first ten minutes of the movie before you said, “you know what would make this better? a blanket fort.”

percy raised an eyebrow at you, taking in the small living room before turning toward you

“you, y/n, are a person full of great ideas.”

his finger booped your nose softly, and he gave you a boyish smile that made your heart skip a beat

as you jumped up from the couch, you began listing all the things you needed: snacks, the fairy lights in your bedroom, dining room chairs, pillows, and every stuffed animal you have in your place

“yes, sir/ma’am!” percy said before running off to help you collect the materials

it doesn’t take long to put everything together after you established the blankets over the dining chairs and the back of the couch

you laid down blankets on the floor, fluffed the pillows, lined your space with stuffed animals, and decorated everything with fairy lights

by the time you peered into the fort, percy was already covered in blankets and cuddling with a squishmellow

“i’m a little jealous of puff the penguin right now,” you joked as you crawled in, joining him under the blankets

percy gave you a dopey smile, tossing the squishmellow to the side before pulling you into his arms

he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. “you’ll always be my favorite squishmellow.”

you snorted, finding what he said to be super corny

you don’t tease him though and instead, you pull him into a slow, almost feather-light kiss

the sweetness of the kiss made your cheeks radiate with heat and the husky hum that vibrates from his throat sends your stomach into a frenzy of butterflies

somehow, through the haze of the intimacy, you remembered what you were supposed to be doing,

and that is watching mulan

you wiggled in his arms, reluctantly pulling away as much as his hold allowed

“the movie,” you reminded him

percy looked at you through the dark lashes of his half-lidded eyes, “oh... right.”

he gazed over at the opening of your cozy fort as if he was about to move

then he just waves his hand, plopping his head right back onto his pillow.

“eh, we can watch it later. i’m more interested in you.”

“but... don’t you want to find out if mulan brings her family honor?” you joked

“of course she will. when does a disney movie ever have a sad ending?”

you were ready to prove him wrong, but you couldn’t come up with an example at the moment, “fine, i guess you’re right.”

percy’s lips that rest against your forehead curl up into a smile, and he gives you another groggy hum, “so, let’s just stay here.”

his thumb caresses your cheek before it slid down, taking your chin in its hold to gently tilt your head back

percy is quick to connect your lips once again, not giving you much time to study the fondness in his expression in the white hue of the fairy lights

the kiss you share increasingly becomes lazier, the heat and comfort of one another making the both of you sleepy

percy eventually pulls away to yawn and you smiled, amused as he mumbles a suggestion to take a nap

it hadn’t been your intention to nap here but after reflecting on the long week of late nights studying for the midterms that just passed, you figured you and perce could use a nap

with your face nuzzled against his neck and percy’s strong arms around your body, it doesn’t take long for you to drift off to sleep

… so much for watching a movie

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if your username is bolded that means i can’t tag you ! you probably have your visibility settings on!

[ghost-like-pale]

fuckin' perv

info: some gross guy thinks you're his, sapnap thinks otherwise. 》 female clothing/anatomy, they/them pronouns 》 irl + romantic 》 1.4k words

warnings: (sexual) harassment and assault, physical fighting, hurt/comfort, swearing

a/n: ty for the support on my last piece ♡ please enjoy

this blog it meant as a way of coping with trauma/mental issues, please don't report it. if you don't want to see what i write, please just block me.

——♤——

the evening sun shone an orange glow over the city. the chatter of the citizens rang through the streets past all the tall buildings, the cars and taxis making their way to their patron's destinations and the smell of your favorite restaurants wafted past the pavement. you've grown up in the city, getting used to it, yet never getting bored.

all of these memories made you think about your boyfriend; he was a real country boy - born and raised in texas and everything. it never failed to bring a smile to your face whenever he pointed out a particularly tall office or a pretty neon 'open' sign.

something he's never been very fond of is the people. specifically older men. they always had a certain look on their face as you walked by, making him swing an arm around your hip or slipping a hand in your pocket. he's always been quite protective over his lover. you didn't mind, though.

—

there wasn't much time to reminisce on your loverboy right now - you were going to see him today! your car broke the day before, so with great displeasure you had to take the bus. you hated public transport. everyone was so close to each other, the air was stuffy and there was always someone to make you horribly uncomfortable.

you pulled your mask further over your nose when you reached the stop. the small space was bordered by plastic panels and a poster for some music event, nothing of interest. the sound coming from your earbuds made your foot tap the the rhythm until the bus finally emerged from the passing traffic.

the ride was peaceful, which made you strangely wary - like a calm moment before the storm. you didn't mind the busride being quiet, but the feeling never shook.

after waving at the busdriver and thanking him kindly, you hopped off the vehicle onto the concrete pavement. three other people walked out with you; and old couple, one holding a walker and a 20-something year old man. the clicking of his tongue grew impatient as he got stuck behind the couple. after a moment the two elders managed to get off the bus safely and the man could finally get to his stop.

you didn't pay them any mind, you wanted to see sapnap as soon as possible. you kept walking at a brisk pace, growing more exited with every step. after passing and crossing a few streets you started to feel uneasy. feeling eyes drilling right through your back, you rummaged in your bag and pulled out a small handheld mirror and lip gloss. as you were applying your gloss you glanced behind you, scanning the faces you could catch from within you peripheral vision.

you were surprised to see the impatient man from the bus stop a few feet behind you. now realizing the situation, you hastily stuff everything back into your bag and start walking again, this time quicker than before. the stabbing look didn't shake, however.

you were getting more anxious as it got darker and the crowds became scarce. the destination was on the edge of the city, where there was nothing other than small stores and the occasional crappy apartment building. the pavement was easy to see if you looked down; no polished dress shoes, no sneakers, no stilettos, nothing. just the occasional group of chatting teenagers passing by or an overworked retail worker walking home.

with every frantic step forward he seemed to get one step closer. the sound of your feet tapping on the floor came to a halt as you arrived at a crosswalk with a red light. the man hummed an unorganized tune and stood behind you and casually waited for the light to turn green. everytime you'd move, so would he. the brief moment waiting in front of the crosswalk felt like centuries.

—

ding. the pole emitted a bright green and you sighed in relief. you rushed over to the other side of the street, making sure not to hit someone on the way there. as you were moving along you suddenly felt a hand on your back, slowly gliding down over your-

"what are you doing?!"

the panic in your voice didn't phase the man, though he did take his hand off your lower half and placed it on your neck instead. he slowly backed you into a small alleyway while muttering a response.

"calm down, cutie. it's just a hand."

you slapped his hand off yourself, losing the hope you had when you realized you were the only one with him on this block.

"let me go, you creep!"

this response to his 'compliment' didn't please him; he harshly grabbed you by the roots of your hair and pushed you against the cold brick wall of a corner store.

"listen here, bitch. you're gonna listen to me real good, and you're gonna obey everything i tell you, understood?"

you whimpered in pain, shutting your eyes and tears dipping at your chin.

"understood?!"

with another yank at your hair you mewled and nodded hastily. this seemed to satisfy him.

"good. now, let's have some fun, shall we?"

his hand rested on your thigh and gradually made its way up, under your skirt until it hit your underwear. the other was around your wrists, holding them both with his larger hands to the side of your head. his feet trapped yours, putting his weight on your toes so you wouldn't kick him.

"ngh-!"

"heh, can't handle stimulation, can you? guess this will be more fun than i imagined- ugh!"

the man was knocked back harshly, the hand that connected with his face quickly retreating to the body it belonged to. sapnap. the man felt his jaw, there was blood dripping off his lip.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO THEM?!"

sapnap boomed in anger at the man. before he could even think of an answer he was hit again by the same hand. sapnap was now right next to you, him seeing your trembling figure in his peripheral vision. once he was sure that gross excuse of a person was going to stay down he turned to you.

his entire body language changed; his arms turning from tense limbs into a welcoming place to rest in, his chest forming into a warm pillow to fall into, his eyes from a slaughtering rage into a kind and sympathetic expression. your tears were already flowing as you sank into his embrace. he engulfed you completely, shielding you from everything and anyone, soothing the intense fear and horror you just experienced.

"you're okay now, baby. i got you, i got you."

his tone was smooth like honey, the words pulling you further in his secure clutch. the screaming must've attracted a few people, because before you knew it your hug was interrupted by him gently loosening his grasp and lowering his voice.

"we should get home, we don't want this hellhole to become a exhibition. here-"

he unwrapped his arms and pulled his grey hoodie over his head and handed the clothing article to you.

"wear this, baby."

you accepted his hoodie and threw it over your upper body. when you were finished sapnap grabbed your hand and guided you out the alleyway and turning a corner. his car was parked a little further.

"i wanted to give you a nice ride through the outer city, but i think you'd rather be home, am i right?"

you nodded. your face was stung by the wet streaks on your face with the cooling air hitting your features. you eventually reached the car, sapnap sitting down into the driver's position and you plopping down onto the passenger seat.

—

the soft revving of the car's engine made for a nice background noise as you drove over to sapnap's house. you reached the destination quicker than expected. time didn't feel like it was passing at this point.

your legs refused to move, even when sapnap opened the door for you. sapnap, understanding the situation, picked you up bridal-style and carried you and your bag out the vehicle.

—

your body was weak, both from the late hours of the night and your vivid memory of what happened about half an hour ago. the mattress sank next to you as you snuggled further under the covers. sapnap radiated warmth, making you move your body towards him and latching onto him like a koala.

"rest, angel. we'll talk about it in the morning."

his voice reverberated in his chest, the vibrations bringing you comfort. his hand found a good spot on the top of your head, lightly pushing it into him.

"good night, (y/n)."

you hummed as a response before passing out. sapnapchuckled at your cute resting face.

"sleep well, baby. you deserve it."

—

thank you for reading. please don't be too harsh on me, heh

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