#horny-intervention

[two-nines-left-spleen]

One of my favorite pasttimes is collecting insane comments on the internet, be it from a fandom or just absolutely unhinged takes

Honkai star rail edition (last one talks about Dan Heng btw)

[artemisiasmuse]

rafe cameron x sweet virgin!reader

she told you she celibate but she told me I can nail her shit

cw: mdni 18+, virgin!reader but has some other experience, lowkey a freak tho, toxic rafe, corruption kink : >, size kink, first times, rafe goes a lil crazy, sweetie pie reader x insane yandere bf rafe is lowkey my favorite trope

~ 6k words

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves <3 i didn’t read this over and i’m so sorry if there’s hella mistakes i will fix it later! this may or not be self-insert yes even that part

the trouble all began with sarah cameron and her big mouth. well really both of you were to blame, but you’d think she would be quieter when her older brother was lurking around. you were older than her by a few years, closer to his age than hers, not that it mattered though, rafe treated you like you were practically wheezie’s age. you didn’t let it sting you any more you had long gotten over trying to be seen as a woman in rafe cameron’s eyes. or maybe you just stopped watching him, he’s always noticed you but you felt out reach, until now. when he overhears his sister’s words he almost breaks the glass of water he’s holding.

“a virgin at 19 looking like you do is insane” sarah looked you up and down as you tried on the dress you’d bought together at the mall. you got shy at her words, you knew she wasn’t judging you but instead genuinely in disbelief that men weren’t throwing themselves at you. you had long mastered the art of looking unapproachable and uninterested after too many bad experiences.

“stoppp is it so hard to believe, you know how bad it’s been for me?” he really hopes no one sees him leaning against the wall next to his sister’s door, he’d look like such a weirdo. wheezie would never let him live this down, she’d barely held back on letting his little crush slip before. if sarah ever found out he’d be in another hell.

“fuck you’re right, if they can’t make you come what’s the point?” rafe winced at his sister’s words, willing away the temptation to gag. he was trying to focus on the fact that no guy had made you come before instead.

“you’re awful, but i’m done with men for a long time. im gonna focus on college and not waste time on them.” he relished in the twisted feeling that no one could touch you, even if the losers before had a chance they clearly couldn’t cut it.

“righttt being in a dorm filled with horny guys is gonna make that easier.” sarah deadpanned and you shoved her, seeing her point. you hadn’t thought about it like that.

“okay leave me alone i’ve been successful so far”

“oh my god speak of the devil, john b’s calling me over, can you cover for me? i’ll be back in like two hours max, promise.” you were a little disappointed she was leaving you but you knew how difficult it was for her to see him without someone covering for her. you nodded and pulled out your phone.

“fine but i’m ordering pizza,” rafe didn’t know if he should be terrified or elated that you two would be home alone for two hours. why did it have to be today that the rest of his family fucked off? was this divine intervention?

“save me a slice!” rafe could hear his sister rustling around, getting ready to go, so he did the same.

“you’re gonna be too busy eating di-“ rafe promptly ran off at that. he’d heard enough, his imagination would run wild with this new information.

it was half an hour later when, like clockwork, rafe made sure to be near the front door for the pizza delivery. he paid and tipped the guy, while you were making your way down at the sound of the doorbell. he hurries back upstairs, nearly running into you on the stairs. your eyes trace his pretty features and then land on the box in his hands, shock and horror cascading your face. rafe can’t believe that you look so good even now, you’re wearing a crop top with seemingly no bra underneath and high waisted sweatpants. to him you look like a model.

“hey! that’s my pizza” rafe laughs and continues up the stairs, you turn on your heel and follow him up. you’re kinda hangry and your pizza being held hostage is not helping your mood.

“i just paid for it so i don’t think so.” you both reach the top of the stairs but rafe isn’t stopping, he’s going to his room instead. this won’t do, he’ll lock the door and slam it in your face, you quickly move to stand in front of him blocking the path to his doorway. rafe thinks it’s cute that you think that would stop him, he feels a bit stir crazy over how small you look gazing up at him

“i’ll pay you back!” your hands shoot up against the doorframe, blocking entry even further. he wants to tease you a bit more but the idea of sharing a pizza in his room is way more tempting.

“nah it’s fine just let me have some.” you release your blockade and let him move past you, still with his-your pizza in his hold, following him mindlessly. if you were less hungry you would’ve realized eating pizza with your longtime crush and best friend’s brother in his room sitting on his bed was in fact not a great idea. but that fleeting concern is out the window when he opens the box and you climb onto his bed like it’s second nature. rafe does his best to stay concentrated on the present, it’s difficult when your shirt rides up and a sliver of your stomach is displayed, it looks so soft and untouched and he really isn’t hungry for pizza, he never was.

“i was gonna offer anyways for the record.” you say it while picking up a slice and rafe mirrors your action, laughing at your tone.

“yeah sure you were princess,” you ignore the way his voice sounds, the way he says your name, the way his room smells like him and it’s making your head spin.

rafe watches you eat transfixed when you lick the tips of your fingers, he can’t believe that he’s struggling to control himself over pizza but your words are ringing in his head.

“rafe do you have any napkins?” you hold up your greasy fingers and he nods his head dazedly, getting up to grab some for you and taking the pizza box off his bed with him. you move to get off then, looking around his room, you knew he wouldn’t appreciate if you snooped through his things so you just look at the pictures on the wall, the books he has. rafe finds you standing near his desk when he comes back, wordlessly handing you the napkins.

“i always forget you have a motorcycle.” your head motions towards the helmet resting on the surface of his desk.

“i don’t use it as much now.” he leaned back against the footboard of his bed, arms crossed against his chest as he watched you look at his stuff. he couldn’t figure out why you were still in his room, were you that curious?

“can i ride it? i’ve always wanted to try.” yeah rafe might just pass out now. you don’t even know what you’re doing to him, head cocked to the side looking at him so innocently he can barely hold back much longer.

“sure but i gotta teach you the basics so you don’t crash.” rafe is proud of himself for even stringing a sentence together in response. you notice a slight flush to his cheeks and ears.

“okay that’s fair.” you turn towards him, mirroring his form and leaning back against his desk. there’s a few feet between you but rafe thinks it would be so easy to lift you onto the mahogany and kiss you until you can’t breathe. his shorts feel so restrictive and he’s grateful he’s wearing black. he can’t hold back any longer, he has to know.

"is it true?" the words come out rushed, unsure of if they should even be said in the first place. but rafe’s not a quitter and he doesn’t shy away from anything really, even if the past few hours feel like a dream he would have in middle school.

"is what true?" your head does that thing again like a puppy and he nearly keels over, you’re too adorable for your own good. his gaze flits away for a second, he has to commit. your trusting expression and your airy tone make it all the more hard.

"no guy's made you come before?" you blink in shock twice before covering your face with your hands. this must be the most embarrassing moment of your life.

"ugh you heard that?"

"yeah you guys aren't exactly quiet" you might have to kill sarah cameron in her sleep, if she even comes back that is. you don’t know why you answer him, you could have just ran away but the magnetic pull of rafe cameron coaxes you to answer.

"yeah it's true" you sound defeated and rafe has to hold back a snicker, he watches you peer through your fingers at him, watching his expression.

"well i can rectify that..you know for the sake of mankind and all" there’s a smirk on his lips as he says the words that will haunt you forever. you’re sure he’s just messing with you and you huff a breath of disbelief. did he know about your little crush? you’d been hiding it so well for the past few years!

"don't tease me, rafe" you step away from his desk, moving to leave his room. even if it was just the two of you in the house you’d much rather sit in sarah’s room or watch the tv than be ridiculed.

"i'm not, it'd be a shame if a pretty girl like you gave up on men, especially for me." it’s almost as if someone dumped a bucket of cold water on your head when rafe cameron speaks. pretty girl the first time he’s called you anything that might suggest you’re not just his sister’s friend. the world spins on its axis and you try to grasp onto his words, try to understand that he might be genuine but you can’t. there’s still that voice of doubt telling you he’s just messing with you. rafe watches your expression go from shock to disappointment, you don’t believe him. he supposes it’s not that believable when he’s been purposefully avoiding you for a while. you must think he’s just messing with you, but he’s dead serious. he’ll just have to prove it.

“whatever rafe i don’t have time for your games.” you mumble it and leave his room, slamming the door a bit harder than you intended. the next few hours are torture. rafe cameron planted an insidious weed in your mind and it’s growing exponentially.

of course it’s not the first time you’ve imagined it, you’d often thought about what his long thick fingers would feel like. or how his biceps would feel under your hands if you held onto them for support. you’d fantasized about every part of him, even the tip of his nose. so the idea that it might just be within your reach had you spiraling. you took a cold shower, not that it helped, your underwear was still soaked after. no guy you’d been with had made you so wet, let alone before even touching you. it was as if the universe was testing you. a sick thrum in your body had found its way into your bones, vibrating with need and you paced in your best friend’s room thinking over all the consequences.

when you’d reached the conclusion that even if he was sincere it was still a bad idea, your phone pinged. a text from sarah that read: “i’m gonna be staying the night here, if you’re already asleep i’ll see you in the morning 🤍” with all your internal turmoil you hadn’t realized it was past the two hours she’d said. she would be out all night. you and rafe were home alone, all night. you swallowed down the lump in your throat, your heart pounding your chest. your feet were moving faster than your head, the pitter patter of your footsteps almost as fast as your heartbeat, and before you knew it you were in front of his door. you hesitated for a second breathing in deep once before knocking, the light was still on so you knew he was awake.

“yeah?” rafe did his best to hide the satisfaction he felt seeing you twitchy and shy in front of his door. you swallowed down again, looking up at him with as much confidence as you could. there was a few seconds of silence, he gave you the time you needed, looking down at you with bright inviting eyes.

“is your offer still on the table?” his face split into a grin, moving aside to let you in like you’d done before and with no hesitation you pushed past him. even the small graze of your shoulder against him set his skin ablaze. he was going to lose his mind.

“‘doesn’t really have an expiration date.” your mind was blanking at his every advance, you tried not to think about his words, you couldn’t afford to fall deeper for him.

“just don’t like tell anyone about this?” you murmured, watching him close the door behind you two and getting a bit nervous. if sarah found out you’d be in for hell. losing your virginity to your best friend’s brother wasn’t exactly a great conversation to have.

“i’m not topper don’t worry.” you believed him, rafe despite his other faults, was always respectful.

“can i kiss you?” you nodded fervently, rafe held back a laugh at your enthusiasm. he walked up to you slowly as if giving you the chance to run and slid his hands from his hips to the curve of your waist. you stood on your tiptoes, your arms going around his neck and rafe couldn’t believe this was real. maybe if he pretended it was a dream he wouldn’t be so nervous. he’d have to do just that. one of his hands cupped your face, thumb stroking along your cheekbone and your eyelashes fluttered closed at the touch. he pressed a tentative kiss to your lips.

his lips felt soft and you breathed out in relief after, as if some sort of spell was lifted. rafe kissed you again, this time letting himself breathe you in. you felt so small and delicate in his hold, he wanted to take his time with you. you had other ideas. kissing rafe cameron felt even better than you’d imagined, when he pulled back you surged forward this time, biting his lower lip making him groan into your mouth. another chill of desire wracked your body at the sound and you tested the waters by licking the seem of his lips. rafe pulled you even closer and bent down to kiss you deeper. his mouth opened and his tongue met yours. you tasted so good to him he couldn’t stop himself from sucking on your tongue slightly, making you whine in his hold. the sound flipped a switch in his mind, he wanted more of the sound, he needed to hear you say his name in that airy desperate sound again. a string of saliva connected your lips and snapped off in the middle, your breathing was heavy and his was too. you caught your breath all the while looking up at him, he held your gaze. the furrow of your brows grew deeper the longer you looked.

“we don’t have to do anything else.” him asking for consent again drew in another crushing wave of arousal, you were a lost cause. okay maybe your standards were in hell. even his cologne was better than any other guy, something woodsy and heavy, mature, not like the shitty ones you’d had to smell before.

“no-no i want to,” he’d have to ask you later why you looked so mad after kissing him, right now he had too much else to do. you could only watch as he lifted you by the grip on your waist, your legs going around his hips in fear of falling. he’d done it so casually you couldn’t process it in time. rafe set you down gently on his mattress, his weight pressed into you and your legs tightened around him. he kissed you again, already missing the taste of your lips, and leaned back. you realized what he was about to do as he sat back on his knees.

“no i-can you just come up here?” you felt far too shy for him to eat you out and although rafe respected your wishes he was a bit disappointed. he’d just have to make sure there was a next time. there were other ways to taste you anyways. he followed your lead, leaning back over you and kissing you again, tongue and teeth clashing together in need. one of his hands moved from your waist up and under the hem of your shirt, traveling up slowly until he reached the fat of your breast. the feeling of his fingers on your nipple jolted your body. usually you didn’t get anything out of a guy touching your boobs but him you were arching into his touch, huffing into his mouth. rafe loved how sensitive you were, reacting to every touch of his. he massaged the tit in his hand, reveling in how you squirmed underneath him. if you kept moving you’d feel how painfully hard he was in his shorts.

after giving up on kissing you he peeled off your crop top, trailing kisses down your neck. he bit at the skin and sucked, surely littering your neck with hickies. you smelled so sweet to him and he couldn’t get enough, biting hard in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. you squeaked at the feeling, shocked at how pleasure blurred the lines of the pain you should be feeling. being marked by rafe was transcendental.

“look at you, so fucking pretty.” you met his gaze, his eyes raking down your chest and back to your face. the compliment made your head even cloudier, you’d let him do anything he wanted already, and it didn’t even scare you. his mouth trailed lower, biting at the tops of your breasts before latching onto your nipple and sucking, biting and laving over the sensitive nub with his tongue. you writhed under him, desperate for some friction between your legs. you huffed out a breath in frustration. he took his time bruising your chest with his marks. everyone should know who you belonged to. he leaned back to admire his work, his eyes finally meeting yours and seeing your waterline filled with unshed tears. god he was being so cruel, you just wanted to come and here he was doing as he pleased.

“rafe can i have your fingers please?” he was about to take pity on you anyway but the desperate sound of you begging was too delicious to give up. he looped his fingers through yours, hands intertwined against the silk sheets next to your shoulder.

“fuuckkk when you ask like that how can i say no?” his eyes nearly rolled back in his head from your voice, he might just come from it alone. “how d’ya want them?” he knew, of course he knew, he just wanted to hear you say it. your lips were swollen from his kisses and you still managed to look so innocent under him, he wanted to mark every inch of your body so no one could touch you again.

“you know!” you huffed out, a pout on your lips that he kissed away, you still looked at him with frustration. your underwear was practically sticking to you now, you felt so warm and uncomfortable between your legs, desperate for friction. you’d never felt like this before, completely wrecked with need, unable to think about anything besides addressing your desire.

“spell it out for me, i can’t think clearly right now.” he kissed under your ear coaxing you into submission, a purr curled through you at the feeling. his lips were featherlight against you, soft and adoring and you couldn’t remember why you were holding back.

“‘wan you to fuck me with them.” it was a small mumble, slipping past your lips but rafe caught it nevertheless. his free hand hooked into your pants and pulled them down, you kicked them off and let him settle back between your legs. at least being out of your pants gave your legs some reprieve but the cool air only illuminated how drenched your underwear was. rafe’s large hand skimmed past your breasts to your stomach and rested against your waistband. he looked to you for admission and you nodded your head. instead of dipping underneath the band he trailed downwards, over the flimsy material. the ghost of his touch near your clit had you jerking under him, your hands flying to his shoulders. two large fingers pressed against the fabric, right above your opening, his fingers felt moist and he clicked his tongue at the feeling.

“baby you soaked through your panties, whose got you so worked up?” you whined, a pretty throaty sound that you’d been holding in and he vowed to pull more from you. his fingers were skimming along your opening, teasing the fabric and not quite touching you. your legs wanted to close on his hand but your hips moved closer, trying to make him touch you.

“you!” you screamed out, eyes squeezed shut as he removed his hand completely. you’d start leaking through them if he didn’t do something soon.

“that’s right me, not those fucking losers, just me.” his free hand, closed around your chin making you open your eyes and meet his. he looked crazed, pupils blown and overshadowing the blue with hooded eyes and a satisfied grin curling his lips. when you met his gaze he finally dipped his fingers beneath the band and pressed his thumb against your clit. he found it with such ease your eyes rolled back into your skull, gasping at the feeling of finally being touched. “i got you baby,” your legs spread wider for him, pulling him into you as his fingers slid through your drooling folds all the while his thumb ground against you. his fingers were so much larger than yours you could feel him everywhere. he prodded your hole with his index finger, grunting at how tight you were. streams of arousal kept pouring out of you, you needed him to do something. you squirmed under him again and rafe acquiesced, shoving his finger in. you were so tight and warm around him, slippery and soft walls hugged him as he stretched you out with one finger alone. “f-fucking tight,” he was gonna start soiling his shorts from the way you felt around his finger alone. he fucked you slow and deep, feeling along your insides for your sensitivity. he knew as soon as he found it because you screamed his name, hands clutching his arms tightly.

“feels weird,” he let you get used to the feeling, his thumb grinding against your clit. you were already feeling close and he’d barely started.

“poor pussy probably never felt this good huh?” you whimpered at his words, he was being so filthy and usually it turned you off. nothing about rafe could do that at this point. you shook your head, affirming his suspicions and his middle finger circled your opening. he was gentler this time, moving his fingers in inch by inch until you stopped clamping down. the pressure of him stretching you wasn’t unbearable but you didn’t know how you’d ever take more than his fingers at this rate. he accurately hammered against that spot, out for blood, while his thumb circled your clit. you were dripping onto his hand, coating him with your juices and the squelch of his fingers fucking into you filled the room. the sounds were so obscene you tried blocking them out with your pathetic little whines but rafe was determined to hear your soppy cunt crying for him. it wasn’t long before you felt the encroaching of your release and he knew it he could feel it in the way you clenched around him and whined when his fingers pulled out completely. one more carress of the sensitive gummy spot inside you had you seeing white. your vision blurred as you shook in your release, holding his wrist so he’d stop his motions, shivers wracked your body as you came the hardest you ever had. your walls fluttered around him, more of your release dripping down your cunt and soaking the sheets below. he was sick enough to leave them like that for the night, you smelled so sweet and he bet you tasted even better.

his fingers dipped out of your underwear and your eyes opened to watch him, probably a mistake on your part because just the vision of rafe cameron licking his fingers clean and groaning at the taste made you ready to go again. his eyes rolled back in his head at the taste, his eyes ground shut at the sugary flavor coating his tongue and teeth. he really hoped you’d let him have more later because now that he’d had a taste he wanted the full meal. you shivered at the way he reacted, your whole body on high alert from your orgasm, but even as sensitive as you were you couldn’t help but be greedy.

“rafe, can we go further?” his heart might just give out, you look nervous even now after he’s already addicted. he moves back slightly, pulling his shirt over his head and your eyes are drawn to his chest.

“thought you’d never ask.” you’re not even trying to hide how you ogle him, seeing him at the beach is one thing but in front of you, when you can touch him is another. rafe watches you reach a hand out, slightly out of range and moves closer to you, letting you touch him. your smalls hands traverse the expanse of his shoulders, his pecs, and trace the outline of his abs. when they reach the tuft of hair above his waistband, rafe has to stop you. the tiny fleeting touches make him twitch in his pants. he moves your hand to rest against his shoulder, pulling your underwear all the way off and looking down at how he completely drowns your body out.

“fuckkk can’t believe im the lucky one who gets to break this little pussy in,” he kisses along your neck, hands squeezing your waist and marveling at how diminutive you feel. he can’t wait to be inside you, he wonders if you’ll even be able to take him.

“s-so dirty” his words are heating up your entire body and you’d feel embarrassed if you weren’t arching into him. rafe moves to pull down his shorts, waiting a beat before he does.

“you sure you want this?” while taking your virginity was something he could only dream about before he needed to be sure.

“yes i want it to be you, i trust you.” you say it as normally as you can.

“we can stop whenever you want, like i said ‘offer’s not gonna expire.” you hope you can take it up even after this, maybe not even once or twice. if he could make you feel like this why would you need anyone else? then he pulls his shorts off and you start to regret your decision.

“oh-is th-that gonna fit?” his cock sprung out and slapped against his stomach, long and thick and way too big for you. you could barely take his fingers this would never fit. it looked so angry white precum dribbling down stark against the flushed pink curling along the veins and curving with him to the right. you wouldn’t survive this.

“you’ll do your best right?” you nod enthusiastically, you wanted to take as much as you could. “good girl.” oh, you’d have to explore that later. you nearly moaned at him calling you that. rafe caught it though, he knew your reactions well by now. he lined it up over your stomach, seeing how far it would go and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. your belly button was completely covered, not that it mattered he was halfway up your torso. rafe’s grip on your waist tightened, he’d ruin you for anyone else, stretch you out and mold you just for him. no one would feel as good as him and he nearly drooled at the sight.

despite how feral he felt, he made sure you were still wet enough for him to slip in, you were. his tip pressed against you, he let you drool onto him, juices swirling with his and making a sick plap plap plap sound as he tapped against you. he’s far wider than his fingers and you tried to relax. you motioned for him to come closer, his lips out of reach and you kissed him sweetly. when he could feel you relax he pushed in, instantly being shoved out. so tight he couldn’t even get the tip in. “fuuckkkk gonna have to marry you.” you don’t even process his words and he doesn’t really know he’s saying them out loud either. he tries again, pulling you slightly onto his length and you gasp at the stretch. you’re gripping him like a vice and it’s nearly uncomfortable but being inside you breaks something inside of him and he’s drooling into your mouth. you don’t even care you want more. “doin well angel-hah-taking me so well.”

the pain is an afterthought now, you want him to stretch you and fill you until you can’t breathe. you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything more in your life. so you do the unthinkable, you try moving down his length. rafe can’t be held responsible for his actions after that.

he gives into your silent plea, skewering you on his cock and pushing past your gooey rings of resistance until he’s halfway in. you held your breath the entire time as he curved into you, tip smearing precum along your walls as he molded you to him, his veins catching on your entrance and making you jolt at the feeling. you push at his chest, the pain making you scream his name as he lets you adjust. there’s tears trailing down your cheek that he licks away. he kisses you until the ache between your legs becomes distant, it’s salty and sloppy but it distracts you enough. rafe makes the mistake of looking down, sees the way you’re gaping for him and how it looks like he’s splitting you in half and he bottoms out. the snap of his hips against yours makes you moan, he’s filled you up now and you can feel him in your throat. you swear you feel him get bigger when you whine his name pathetically, his dick twitching inside you.

it’s too much and you try running from it, shoving up the length of the bed but rafe just pulls you back down. “t-too big hng can’t-“

“come on i thought you were-fuck-a big girl,” he groans into your ear, you shove against him once more and he slips out a few inches, just enough for you to relax. you can still feel him nestled against your cervix, he’s leaking into you and your thighs are coated in both of your arousal. you tap his shoulder for him to move again, pulling out until his tip is the only thing inside and then spearing all the way back in. the feeling makes you cross-eyed, his throbbing tip bumps along your sensitive spot until it nestles against you, as far high up as it can and you think you might be coming on every thrust because you’re so obscenely wet more slick just pours out of you every time. rafe knows it’s because there’s no space for anything but his cock and he can’t help but grin, watching your pussy engulf his length despite how small you are under him. every thrust sends your whole body upwards but his grip on you keeps you close, he’s almost fucking you back onto him.

“feels good hah,” you finally murmur into his neck, wrapping your legs around his hips so he can drill into you better. his thrusts are deep and slow, letting you get used to the feeling but you don’t think you like it like this. if he’s going to ruin you he might as well do it properly. “h-harder.” rafe moans your name at your request, his voice sounds so wrecked you clench down at the sound alone.

“turned this pussy into a slut, ‘couldn’t even take-hah-two fingers now look at you.” really he’s proud of you, proud that he made you like this. although he wants to tease you he can’t hold back much longer either and it’s your first time so he’s gonna be nice to you. rafe pulls out and slams back into you setting a faster rougher pace, your skin is slapping against each other and you think he might bruise your hips. your head is shoved up the length of his bed until it threatens to bump against the headboard, he puts his hand between you and the wood, his other hand holding onto the frame for support. your legs are being bent and pressed to the sides and the new angle makes him hit that spot with blaring accuracy. a sick ring of white forms at the base of his dick and his balls are slippery from your arousal. you still have a vice grip around him, something he won’t get used to but is definitely get addicted to. the room smells filthy and the sounds of you chanting his name combined with the squelch of your cunt is pornographic.

“gonna be a good girl and come around my cock?” your walls flutter at his words, like his permission has you ready to come. you come undone with one more thrust, your cunt is milking him as if coaxing him to come. “fuck fuck fuckkkk.” he pulls out just in time to come onto your stomach, shooting thick gooey ropes onto your soft skin. the white contrasts the blue and purple that is starting to bloom around your neck and tits.

you blearily watch it happen, disappointed he didn’t come inside, but warm and fuzzy from your release. there’s one thought nagging you though as you rest comfortably on his sticky soaked sheets. “it wasn’t a one time offer right?”

“no fucking way, i’m never letting you go.” rafe looks at you like you’re crazy, he’s ready to propose. there’s no way in hell he’s making this a one night stand. after all he’s broken you in, now it’s the fun part.

taglist: @ggraycelynn

[nanamiskentos]

THAT'S SO TRUE — toji fushiguro

welcome to the christmas tour ! take a seat in section (e) and let the show begin !

prologue. → you vowed to yourself that you would rock toji fushiguro's world as a new year's resolution. but it's christmas eve already, and the year is almost over. by hook or by crook, you're gonna that gorgeous, buff older man in your bed tonight.

want to try sitting somewhere else ? take a look at the ticket chart again !

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader (reader uses she/her pronouns)

warnings. reader has never been chill a day in her life, áge gáp, dílf!toji, big díck toji (ofc), voyeurísm (sorta implied), másturbátion (f), jealous sèx, reader watches toji through binoculars, they match each other's freak, creámpíe, reader gets called 'slutty' and 'doll', orál (m and f. receiving)

word count. 9.4k! song inspiration. that's so true — gracie abrams

a/n. incredible art by sakimichan 🍃 i had so much fun writing this 😁 reader is an adult!! i imagined toji to be 35-ish, and reader to be 22...? its christmas day for me so i'm a tad late 😩

mp3. bet you're thinking 'she's so cool' kicking back on your couch, making eyes from across the room. wait! i think i've been there too!

if your friends knew what you were up to right now, they'd skip the intervention and go straight to dragging you to the nearest police precinct.

forget a lecture, they would slap a pair of handcuffs on you first, citing charges of being horny to the first degree.

officer! she just can't keep it in her pants!

but did you care? not in the slightest.

you adjust the blinds, nudging them just enough to angle your binoculars a little lower. focus sharpened, lens zoomed in, and there he was. the object of your totally healthy, not-at-all unhinged plan.

the target in question? toji fushiguro.

your next-door neighbour, who also happened to look like he'd walked straight out of a naked biker calendar. leather jacket snug over his broad shoulders, a frame built for sin, and pectorals that were so sculpted, you often dreamed of bouncing walnuts off them. just to see if the nuts would crack.

months ago, you had made a new years resolution to yourself that you wouldn't end this year without bagging the man at least once.

yet here you were on christmas eve, a few days shy of the year's end, still plotting and scheming like a bond villain on how you could charm the socks right off toji fushiguro.

but you feared that tonight was beginning to deliver a cold, harsh slap of reality.

your heart suddenly gives an undignifed lurch as toji swings off his motorcycle in one fluid motion. but your smirk — yes, you had been smirking and you wouldn't deny that, vanished the moment your binoculars caught sight of her.

right behind him, a woman dismounted with all the grace and mature confidence that you wished you could summon on a good day.

you twist the focus knob, an unfamiliar figure sharpening into clarity. tall, polished, probably closer to toji's age rather than yours, and way too pretty for your scheming, heinous comfort.

she's hooking her arm through his like they did this all the time, and her cherry-sweet smile beams up at him like he'd hung the damn christmas lights himself.

and then, then! she leans in to press a kiss to his cheek, casual as a snowflake fluttering onto the concrete below.

your chest tightens oddly, though whether it was from jealousy or sheer mortification, you couldn't tell. and you didn't want to tell.

toji fushiguro, for his part, didn't seem fazed, at least, not outwardly. he turns his shaggy head away, smiling faintly with that gruff and polite expression he sometimes wore when someone cornered him into small talk.

not that it mattered. you couldn't stop the frown that tugged at your lips, watching the pair disappear out of view, the motorcycle keys still dangling from his thick fingers.

you sigh, setting the binoculars down with a little more force than necessary. tonight was supposed to be your night, the grand finale where you capped the year off with a big win in the shape of this six-foot-two man, with green eyes that could strike you dumb.

and you had even planned ahead! you'd been certain that there wouldn't be any pesky interruptions, particularly of the pint-sized variety.

not that you had anything against megumi fushiguro, he was a good kid — if a little unnerving with that brooding energy he carried around like a hefty backpack.

but still, you'd never really spoken to him much. call it morals or basic decency, but dragging a clueless kid into your schemes just felt a little wrong.

so when you had overheard toji casually mentioning that megumi was out for a sleepover with some friend, something about how nice it would be to have a night for himself, you had taken that as a sign from the universe. a green light.

fate herself waving you through the doors to make your move.

except now, traitorous fate had also thrown you a curveball in the form of the older, mystery woman who had been clinging to toji's back on the motorcyle. all expensive burgundy fur, and a darling blowout that was way out of a college student's pay cheque.

still, you're not the kind of woman who folds at the first sign of trouble. no, you think, squaring your shoulders. who would you be if you gave up now? perseverance is the backbone of triumph, or something like that.

the walls of this apartment are criminally thin, and you trust that the muffled thuds coming from next door are none other than toji fushiguro leading his...date up the stairs and down the hallway. the metallic jingle of keys confirms it, a sound that sends a pang of irritation prickling beneath your skin.

your gaze shifts to your desk, to the corkboard cluttered up with polaroids of your friends, random university flyers, and pinned up lecture schedules that you never follow. you press three fingers to your lips, in a respectful and solemn kiss, before tapping your photograph of aaron hotchner, in a promise for the near future.

"i won't give up, hotch," you murmur, the solemn, printed face of thomas gibson crossing his arms — gazing back at you, a beacon of motivational determination.

and with that, you grab a notepad and the first pen you can find, even though it's half-dried and it can barely write. you flip the pages open, and begin dotting down your back-up plan on how to score toji fushiguro tonight.

you're pretty sure it's been an hour since you started furiously scribbling on paper. five dried-out pens and a mountain of crumpled drafts later, each one titled with variations of how to get toji fushiguro in my bed, your notepad is starting to look like a pathetic manifesto.

you sip idly at your grape soda, the fizzy sweetness staining your tongue a violent purple. and listen, to be clear, you're absolutely a feminist. truly. you're not the type to believe in pitting women against each other. that's messy, unsophisticated, and frankly it's far beneath you.

but sadly, here's the other thing. desperate times call for desperate measures. and as much as you hate to admit it, toji fushiguro, your brooding and hulking neighbour with shoulders that eclipse the sun, has your resolve teetering right on the edge. the wanting and lusty human spirit is unbreakable, and the idea of losing is as appealing as licking sandpaper.

the sound of a low thud breaks through your plotting, as you drop the end of the pen out of your mouth. your ears perk up at the faint creak of a door opening. you recognise the gruff voice, muffled through the thin walls.

"damn heater's out again. 'm just gonna go check the switch downstairs."

uh-huh. that's what you thought. this was just act one of the stage play.

see, about forty five minutes ago, inspiration had struck. you'd realised you needed to get toji out of his apartment, and given his bear-like simplicity: eat, sleep, grumble, repeat, it wasn't exactly that easy.

but every man needed his rest, and no man could rest on christmas eve when the snow was sticking to the window pane from the cold.

so, you had snuck downstairs and flipped the heater's breaker to his apartment off, leaving the rest blissfully untouched. setting an ideal trap for the vast man.

you crack your door open, just enough to watch him lumber off towards the left staircase.

it's one of two routes down to the basement, and the fastest, if you hadn't intercepted fate. about twenty minutes into your plan, you had grabbed a handful of out of order signs (printed with comic sans, the true villain of typography) and plastered them halfway down the left flight of stairs.

you dart towards the right staircase, your knee-high socks skimming the concrete steps in a frantic descent. as you reach the halfway point, you hear the telltale grunt of a frustrated toji.

"damn management can't even warn people about closures," he's muttering to himself, heavy footsteps falling in line behind yours.

right on cue. by the time he reaches the basement, there you are, innocently peering at the big, clunky switchboard. like it wasn't you who had just broken into it to render toji's apartment a freezing chill.

your sweater's been strategically tugged off one shoulder, and you're pretending the icy air isn't slicing at your bare legs, left exposed by the shortest pair of shorts you own.

"what brings ya down here?" toji grunts, his voice low and rough like gravel underfoot.

you count it as a small victory when his eyes sweep over you, slow and deliberate, before the older man coughs and shifts his focus back to the switchboard. you sidle closer under the guise of curiosity, so close that the fabric of your sweater brushes his arm. the steel biceps flexing under the tight, black fabric of his tee.

"i don't know," you sigh, feigning innocence with a touch of melancholia, "it jus' got so cold of all a sudden." you cross your arms over your chest, pretending to shiver just enough to catch his attention without looking concerningly ill.

toji glances down at you briefly, his brow furrowing, "mhm. yeah," he mutters, before turning back to the labyrinth of switches, "can't believe how these clowns the place."

you watch as the man leans in, studying the panel like it's some kind of ancient artefact. his expression is set in that serious, furrowed way men always get when faced with the unfamiliar terrain of household maintenance.

cute. almost.

you, of course, had done your homework. a quick google search of the model number earlier had led you to the manual, and you already knew it was the purple switch on the top right. but why rush, eh? if toji fushiguro wanted to play handyman, who were you to deprive him? especially when you needed a little more time to set the mood, to give him some ideas.

every time his fingers hovered closer to the correct switch, you leaned in, cutting him off with casual chatter. enough to have the man's eyes drop over you once more, before flicking away before he could break the bounds of propriety.

"so, are you doing anything tonight?"

"what?" his gruff tone reverberates through the dim basement, bouncing off the concrete walls.

you flutter your lashes at him, meeting his sharp, verdant gaze, "i mean, it's christmas eve. got any fun plans?"

he straightens slightly, his hand falling from the panel as he looks right at you, "nah. just stayin' in." but toji tilts his head and throws the question back at you, "why aren't you?"

"why aren't i, what?" you tilt your head to mirror the man, feigning confusion, "staying inside? i was, but then i got cold. y'know, busted heater and all."

toji exhales through his nose, and you watch mesmerised as the scar twitches over his lip, "no, doll. i mean, doing something fun. you're young. got your whole life ahead of you to be old and boring."

the faintest flicker of a genuine smile tugs at the corner of your glossy lips. if only he knew. you clear your throat, "i guess," and you shrug, the movement subtle, but just enough to let your sweater slip a little further off your shoulder, "it's just not my...taste."

your gaze trails over him, deliberate but not obvious enough to tip the scales out of your hand. you hope that you're not wide-eyed taking in how his broad shoulders ripple, almost tense?

"ah." toji fushiguro, everybody. a man of great wit, and even greater vocabulary.

he's tapping a knuckle against the switchboard, frowning at the rows of colourful levers like they've personally insulted him. you take the moment to edge a little closer, peering up at him with a deliberate and doe-eyed expression.

"need help?" you ask, voice sweet enough to break through teeth.

toji snorts, "you? help me with this?" he glances at you sideways, one thin brow quirking up, "i've got this, doll," but he seems to sober up, remembering that he does not have this, "unless you even know what this thing does?"

"of course i do," you shrug, feigning nonchalance, "i'm pretty good at flicking the right switch."

and what a sweet, untainted victory when toji's movements still. he doesn't tear his gaze away from the switchboard, but his hands pause and you see his lips twitch, "uh-huh."

"you should probably head back upstairs," he says gruffly, his tone almost concerned, "basement's freezin' and you're gonna catch a cold in, uh," and toji's gesturing vaguely at your thin ensemble, clearly trying to be polite.

"i know, but i was just comfortable in this," you run your hands, pretending to tug at the hem of your shorts. ignoring how the goosebumps are practically beating your ass right now, and you're about an inch of a temperature drop away from hypothermia.

toji fushiguro mutters something under his breath, something about attitude and young people these days, but he doesn't move away when you sidle back closer to him again, the faint brush of your arm against his making the great man stiffen up again.

"so, no christmas eve plans at all?" you press again, cocking your head, "not even a little festive cheer? eggnog?"

"festive cheer?" toji scoffs, finally pulling the purple switch as the low hum of the heater continues to chug away. dusting his hands off like he's just solved a national crisis, like you couldn't have solved that ten minutes ago, "i'm not big on christmas."

"that's tragic," you sigh, "and i was gonna ask you to stand with me under the mistletoe." your tone is teasing, light enough to deflect any serious questions but you let your lips form a soft pout. just enough to teeter on the edge of innocence. the faint, almost-whine in your tone is carefully calibrated: harmless on the surface but laced with the kind of undercurrent that can plant ideas in a man's head.

"ya' got jokes tonight," toji's gaze lingers, a little longer than necessary. you don't miss the way his shoulders draw tighter together. how his jaw ticks, but the real prize for you is when his hand slides up to rub the back of his neck, fingers kneading at the thick muscle, like he's trying to shake something loose.

the corner of your mouth twitches again, oh. you've got him now.

"imagine going through life, so lonely on christmas. that's gotta do something to a person." you're so not seeing the pearly gates, but you've come to terms with that.

"yeah? like what?" toji huffs.

you tap a finger against your chin, pretending to think, "well. for starters, it probably makes you very grumpy."

"tch, 'm not grumpy," toji rasps, but his tone says otherwise, as he runs a hand through sleek strands of dark hair, "yer' something else, you know that?"

"i've been told."

tojo shakes his head again, and you don't miss the faint smile tugging at the corner of his thin mouth, "alright, kid. time to head back up before you freeze to death down here."

time's up on this charade. you puff out a breath, your coy bravado dimming just a little bit, "fine, fine. but i'm not a kid, y'know."

toji's green eyes flick to yours, like chips of sea-glass as he holds your gaze, before turning back towards the stairs, "yeah. i know."

you follow him up in silence, the soft patter of your socks suddenly too cold on the pavement. at the top of the steps, toji pauses, glancing back at you with an unreadable expression, "get some rest. and make sure no-one's messin' with the switches."

"why would they do that?" you say, a touch too quickly.

"no reason," toji says, just as abruptly, stepping back as though putting physical distance between you two would help, "but it's all fixed now. go on, back to your apartment."

you blink, momentarily thrown by the sudden shift, "what? no thanks for keeping you company."

"thanks," toji fushiguro says flatly, but his gaze isn't unkind.

"wow. don't get too sentimental on me now."

"goodnight," the man deadpans, swinging your door open for you, just for good measure. before turning on his heel, and heading for his own room.

back to the drawing board.

toji fushiguro is convinced that the universe has it out for him. some karmic retribution is surely circling overhead, just waiting to strike. because really, what other explanation is there for his constant predicaments?

his life had been fine, a little lonely, sure, but manageable. until you moved in next door, perhaps sometime last year. sweet, maddening, entirely too pretty for your own good.

what the hell was toji supposed to do with that?

he's still rubbing the back of his neck, pushing open the door to his apartment. his date, right, was still perched on the old couch, scrolling through her phone. she's looking up at him when he entered, arching a brow.

"hey, you were gone for a while," she lightly comments, tucking her phone away.

"yeah, uh, sorry 'bout that," he mutters, crossing to the kitchen, "this place has a habit of breaking down on me."

shui had set him up with this woman, insisting that toji needed to crawl out of his self-imposed hermit hole and start living a little.

"you're not getting any younger, fushiguro," shui had snarked, as if toji didn't already feel every year weighing on him. so, fine. he'd agreed, figuring one dinner with a woman way out of his tax bracket wouldn't kill him.

and to be fair, the date had been...fine. the woman was attractive, sharp-witted, and she didn't pester him with inane questions. the kind of woman that most people would be thrilled to spend an evening with. but toji just couldn't shake the strange emptiness that had settled in his chest.

still, he had told himself to quit overthinking. maybe he was just out of practice. or maybe shui oddly had a point, and he needed to stop letting life pass him by. so, he'd invited her back to his place, hoping another glass of wine and small talk would lead one things into another.

what he hadn't counted on was running into you in the basement. how your light voice would replay in his head, that teasing lilt burrowing under his thick skin and leaving him restless.

tojo shakes his head, reaching for a couple of glasses and the half-decent bottle of wine that he kept stashed away from megumi's prying hands. kid was at that age where he was too damn curious for his own good about everything. his brain, however, was still stuck in the basement, circling around you.

what the hell had you been doing there anyway? sidling up to him all close, sickeningly sweet perfume or some shit that made his jaw clench. batting long lashes at him, and teasing him about mistletoe kisses.

civility. decency. that was the bare minimum that he could give you, wasn't it?

"you've got quite the collection of, uh, things up there," his date's voice pulls him back, gesturing to the open cabinet with a polite smile. toji glances at colourful boxes of cereal, and the little plastic bowls with cartoon animals splashed all over them. megumi's favourites.

"yeah," he says gruffly, pouring the wine, "got a kid. just the one."

she nods, taking the glass he hands her, "that's sweet. how old?"

"six. he's...not here tonight."

before his date can reply, catch the insinuation that he's thrown out, another sound filters through the paper-thin walls. a giggle, a sweet laugh followed by a voice he knows all too well.

"i know, right! he was like, totally into me!"

toji freezes, the wine bottle hovering mid-pour over his second glass. he sets the bottle down with a little more force than necessary, pretending not to notice the way his date glanced toward the wall, clearly having heard you too. fantastic. as if the universe hadn't done enough to torment him today.

his teeth ground together as your voice floated through again, a singsong lilt that made his chest thump, and irritation flare all at once. what were you even talking about? who the hell was 'totally' into you?

"uh-huh," you had been laughing, your voice carrying through the wall, "and then, he asked me out!"

toji's grip tightens on his glass, wondering who on earth managed to pull you into a date. wait, why did he even care?

his date seems oblivious to the internal war raging inside of him, taking a sip of her wine and smiling, "so, what's your son's name?"

"megumi," he mutters, absently, eyes flicking through the wall like he could see through it if he squinted hard enough. ugh, what an awful thing to think. what was wrong with him? acting like freak, not able to mind his own business.

his date's laugh is soft and polite, "that's cute."

cute, yeah.

you thought it was cute too, didn't you? he remembered the way your eyes lit up when megumi toddled after you once in the hallway, clutching one of his ridiculous animal-print bowls.

"oh, what did i say?" your voice drifts again through the walls, following by a light laugh, "look, he was cute and all, but he just wasn't my type."

toji rubs a hand down his face, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his noise. you're just his neighbour. you're entitled to have your fun, to live your own life. that doesn't mean he has to like hearing about it.

meanwhile, his date sits stiffly on the couch, politely pretending your voice isn't bleeding through the walls like a radio she can't turn off. she's doing a commendable job of feigning disinterest, but toji knows it's killing what little momentum the evening had.

he clears his throat, trying to salvage things, "so, uh, got any plans for tomorrow? something fun for christmas?" great, now he's stealing lines from you.

her smile tightens, polite but clearly wavering, "just lunch with my family. my sister's bringing her kids over."

toji nods, grasping at conversational straws, "that's nice. i've got, uh, a brother. and an annoying little cousin."

"right," and she's glancing up at the clock, her patience thinning faster than her smile.

"oh, come on," your voice pipes up again, clearer this time, "you know my type's never been those kinds of guys. i like the big, rough ones." there's a pause, and then you laugh, the sound both coy and infuriatingly knowing, "yeah, like a bit older. all muscles."

toji freezes, trying to pretend like his insides aren't doing the tango. his date, on the other hand, has clearly reached her limit. her lips purse into a tight smile as she stands, smoothing her dress, "look, you've been nice and all," she says, voice clipped, clearly cutting off the chances of a second date, "but i really should get going."

toji fushiguro doesn't argue. doesn't even try to stop her. just watches as her expensive-ass coat swings off his couch, her heels clicking toward the door and her figure vanishing down the hallway.

he slouches back on the couch, arms sprawled wide, feigning a calm that he doesn't definitely feel. in truth, he's seconds away from keeling over, his chest tight and his pulse betrays him.

"huh?" your voice filters through the paper-thin walls, questioning and laced with mirth. the sound sends a shiver down his spine, and down somewhere else, "oh, my neighbour? toji, yep, that's him!"

his head jerks up so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash, eyes boring into the wall like he can will it to dissolve. tch, he's being such a dog. his ears are straining, sharp and unreasonably hopeful.

"yeah, he's so perfectly my type. tsk! yes, of course, i wish he'd just...yeah. anyway. but," you sigh, a dramatic exhale, "but i just don' think he's into me."

toji freezes, as heat floods his face, creeping down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. there's a traitorous clench in his groin as his stomach flips in a way that's both exhilarating and completely unwelcome.

the truth — shameful and complicated as it is — is that he is very much into you. has been for months. and it's getting worse.

every time you lean into him with those wide, sparkling eyes, every time you tease him with some playful jab or brush your fingers against his arm like it’s nothing, it carves a little deeper into his self-control. you're sweet, bright, always full of questions and comments that manage to sound innocent and maddeningly suggestive all at once.

but there's a prickling shame that comes with it, too, a harsh voice in the back of his head that tells him to grow the hell up. he's a grown man, for crying out loud.

a grown man with a kid who needs him, who already has enough on his plate without the complication of a pretty little neighbour who could turn his world upside down without even trying.

what could he offer you, anyway? you, who barrels down the hall in the mornings with an oversized bag bouncing against your hip, always late for something important, always in motion.

your life is big and full and bursting with possibilities. his, by comparison, feels...worn. quiet. comfortable in a way that makes him feel ancient when he looks at you.

still, it doesn't stop toji from looking. or from thinking things he shouldn't, like how your laughter lights up even the dullest days. or sometimes, in the quiet hours of the night, pulling his hard cock out to tug on it, imagining your doe-eyes peering up at him.

toji rubs a hand over his face, groaning quietly into the crook of his elbow. what the fuck is he supposed to do with this?

you're starting to lose precious steam. for all your big talk about not giving up and winning toji over, the spark of confidence that got you this far is starting to sputter out. the lines that you'd carefully scribbled in blue ballpoint ink, a full script of fake laughter and coy quips begins to feel...a little tragic.

half an hour of pacing your apartment and pretending to be on the phone has left you feeling deflated, and painfully self-aware. your voice has grown too practiced, too rehearsed and you're starting to wonder if you even sound convincing anymore. and for all you know, toji fushiguro didn't even hear one word of it.

he's probably in there, sprawled on his couch, having a great time with his date. maybe laughing, maybe pouring wine, or maybe he's taken her to bed. fuck, your stomach lurches as your insides flip for no good, kind reason.

you glance at the cooling grape soda on your nightstand, still fizzing lazily in its can, and suddenly feeling quite awful. disgusted with yourself for the plotting, the dramatics, and the fact that it hasn't paid off in the slightest.

with a sigh that's more frustrated and resigned, you flop back onto your bed, ignoring the slight bounce of the mattress as you land. your apartment suddenly feels too hot, the air sticky and stifling.

you kick off the blanket that's bunched around your ankles, and you lie sprawled on top of the quilt. head tilted back against the pillows as you take in the dull hum of the light fixture and the occasional creak of the pipes.

with a despondent sigh, you find yourself half-heartedly parting your legs — maybe to entertain some false fantasy instead. you could have gone out, maybe really lived a little, just as toji had suggested.

you roll down the waistband of your shorts, pulling at the soft, elastic band. just tugging them down enough so you can trail your hands over the flesh of your thighs. yeah, you were that morose right now.

perhaps, you should have accepted the invites to all those christmas parties. you could have dolled up a little, grabbed a sweet drink or two on the house, fallen into the strong arms of a stranger?

you trail your hands over thin, soft skin. nails gently grazing over your mound, as you quickly run your middle finger through your slit, already dewy and moist. you muffle a small whine, because for all your showmanship earlier, you weren't above decency. and these walls were truly that thin.

but it's hard to not buck your hips up into your own touch, working your puffy cunt open with steady fingers. one finger, and then a second, fluttering at a gentle pace. how telling that the mysterious stranger in your fantasies is suddenly far older, with hazy green eyes and charcoal hair falling over his face.

you substitute the slap of your fingers for his, pretending its a rough thumb that pulls at your clit, gently pushing the throbbing hood up to run misshapen circles over the bundle of nerves.

"hah," you try to gnaw at your lower lip, keeping your mouth shut, as you're desparate for the creak of your bed frame to not carry over into the apartment next door, "t-toji, please."

there's a faint thud from next door, like someone has just hit their head. but you can hardly register it in your own mind. shuffling whines leaving your lips, as you use your fingers to stretch out your slick, sodden walls. getting faster, and faster with each piston-like gesture to curl the pads of your fingers up. searching, keening around for that rough spot that makes you squeal.

your eyes are fluttering shut, lashes falling against your cheek as your jaw tightens, heartbeat beginning to race as you heave for air, back arching up as you use your other hand to furiously flick over your clit, building up a steady ache in your wrist that you ignore, "ah, ah, toji, r-right there, fuck, 'm close."

each press of your finger against the walls of your entrance results in a large squelch echoing through your ears, getting closer and closer to that devastating peak, all the while as hallucination-toji snickers down at you and —

"hey!"

and just like that, your long-awaited orgasm, your beautiful climax, well. she disappears with nary a goodbye. your eyes snap open, heart hammering as you blink up at the dull ceiling. your hand is yanked away from your cunt, the cool air suddenly hitting the slick that's coating your fingers. your mind stutters, scrambling for clarity as an all-too-familiar voice cuts through the quiet.

"hey! c'mon, doll. don't have all day."

toji. toji fushiguro. oh, shit.

the panic rises quickly, what are your options? dive out the window and hope that you land on your feet? or fake an illness so convincing that you convince him that's contagious so he leaves? you consider it for a moment, but something else takes over. far more brave, or just reckless and lust-addled. you pull yourself upright, tugging your shorts back up. you shift your sheets, making sure that the dark, translucent patch is covered.

you pad towards the door with the air of a man marked for execution. when you swing it open, you're met with a red-faced toji. is he flushed?

you drop any cute pretense, and instead, lock your petulant gaze on his chest, straight up with the no eye-contact rule. it gives you a real, shameless good look at those heavenly sculpted pecs.

"what do you want?" you ask, voice as flat as you can possibly manage. but you're keenly aware of that mirror-gloss still coating your hands, and you wonder if its too obvious to scrunch your fingers in your sweatshirt. gross, someone get you out of here. the misery of your own making.

toji stands there, entirely dumbounded, and you notice the flush creeping up the peachy tan of his neck, a shade deeper than usual, "what do i want? what do you want?" he says, his voice rock-rasp.

you swallow thickly, ignoring the addled scent of leather, musk and something far more faintly addictive, "i have no idea what you mean."

toji huffs, obviously amused, before mimicking your voice with exaggerated sweetness, "oh, toji, please. right there, toji." he's mocking you, and your skin burns with the recent memory of that exact tone.

you consider for a split second if you can just hand him your lease tomorrow morning and call it quits. but then, toji continues, "y'know these walls are thin, right?"

you cross your arms, trying to steady yourself, ignoring how your poor cunt clenches with the faint memory of her ruined orgasm, "really? i had no idea."

toji mirrors your actions, his arms folding, but the effect only pushes his pecs up, and you try not to get distracted. but it's hard, very hard, "don't get all smart with me now. been hearing you giggle all evenin' and being all slutty."

"thought you had a date," you mutter, the act of playing pretend has long since passed and you're too far gone now to pretend. you scowl up at toji, meeting his gaze head-on, feeling your heart race as his eyes narrow and his pink lips part slightly. you can almost feel the urgent heat of his gaze dragging over your hand, your damp fingertips.

"how'd you know about my date? suddenly real concerned for me?" toji tilts his head, voice laced with infuriating amusement, and you fight the urge to lash out, to throw yourself into him and kiss him fuckin' stupid. instead, you dig in your heels, staying put.

"no, i'm not concerned," you stutter, floundering for a reason, "i'm just, well —"

"who asked you out?" toji cuts through your flickering thoughts, an undercurrent of something sharper in his tone.

"huh?"

"who was it? the one who isn't your type?" toji fushiguro says this all so casually, making your stomach flip. so he had been listening, he heard every word of you flouncing around your room.

you swallow hard, ignoring the sudden fluttering in your chest, "why? you jealous?" the words spill out before you can stop them, you raise an eyebrow, feeling a small victory in the way his priggish expression falters just slightly, "just go back to your date, fushiguro."

"gettin' real bold now," he murmurs, and you realise just how close the two of you are. how you can feel his body heart radiating off him. the tension between you is suffocating to say the last, and you can't decide if you want him to step back or push closer. he doesn't give you a chance to answer.

"thanks to your pretty antics, she sent herself packin', and now i'm all on my lonesome."

"how sad for you," and you suddenly curl your lip, "get a vibrator."

toji's maw drops open for a split second, before he shakes his head, "you first. don't know how you were doing all that without one," and he nods to your hand, "and because i wasn't hearin' much else."

something bold and red-hot comes over you, egged on by the damp sticking to your thighs, "want a visual demonstration?"

you barely have time to form a coherent thought before toji moves, a low growl rumbling in his barrel-like chest as he surges forward. his hands, large and calloused and warm, cup your face with surprising gentleness, though the intensity in his gaze leaves no room for doubt. then, his lips crash against yours, rough and unrelenting. the faint scrape of the scar cutting across his mouth sending a shiver through you.

it's not careful, it's testing and tasting. as if he's waiting for you to push him away. but oh, you're not going anywhere. not when his kiss is setting your nerves alight, and sending your heart into a dizzying free fall. merry christmas to you, indeed.

you respond in kind, just as desperate, your hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders. the solid, hefty weight of toji beneath your fingers grounds you, even as the world tilts on its axis.

"ohh, look at you," toji all but purrs, pawing his hands over your back, your waist, settling over your hips as he pushes you further into your apartment. a strong arm stretching out to slam the door closed, tugging you further in. it seems he's too needy to even reach the bed, and you whine as you're shoved with your back to the wall. his hand coming up to make sure you don't quite slam in with too much force.

toji's lips are practically meshed to your own, and he's already pulling at the waistband of your shorts again. just as you were doing earlier, and you shudder, feeling thick fingers run along your hips.

"s-shit," toji gasps, "if ya' don't want me to —"

you groan, "no, n-no. want you," your voice quivers suddenly as warm fingers press into your soaked cunt. finding home right among your weeping slit. you don't even see where your shorts have been thrown, instead focusing on toji's hazy eyes flickering when they see that you've been wearing nothing underneath. all damn evening.

you don't think you've ever seen the man so dishevelled, heaving for air, as he tries to come to terms with all this, "so when you were in that basement, jus' tryna tease me? is that what you wanted?"

you can't help but laugh, but it's quickly cut off when toji's pressing a hot kiss to the very tip of your clit, it's so feather light and oddly gentle for the gruff man, and it has you keening over.

"that's it, gon' have you all in my mouth. gonna drink ya' up, it's what you wanted, right?" he uses two fingers to press right up against your entrance, parting your oozing folds so he can narrow his eyes at how ready you are for him, "gonna put this all in a cup, and drink it."

"t-toji!" you whine out, feeling your head go all light, and weightless, watching toji play with your core. seeing the older man gape at how you're soaking divots into his fingers, seeing emerald eyes darken with a carnal need to taste you. right now.

"stay still, doll. yeah, just for a sec," toji's hands tighten around your thighs, smacking a fat glob of spit over your trembling core, letting his index finger run the fluid up and down your pussy, a ragged laugh running raw from his smart mouth, "had no idea you were like this, been burying your pretty fingers in your cunt for me before, right?"

you need to get a hit of your own in, before toji fushiguro turns your mind to mush, "you been fisting around your cock for me, then too? bet it super hard when — fuck!"

your words are cut off by the flat pads of his fingertips coming down to deliver a jolt to your throbbing clit, slapping wet arousal around as toji almost glares up at you, but it's softened by lazy fondness.

"watch ya' mouth, doll. 'm wanting to go easy on you tonight."

he's delving straight into your cunt, like a man starved and searching for salvation between your thighs. you feel your mind go blank, that ruined orgasm of the past hour practically gaining a life of her own and cheering once more, coming back to you in embarrassing, full force as it barely takes a few, quick munches of toji's tongue around your sweet pussy.

that's all you need before you're quickly seeing flashing stars, and doing your best to hide the tremble in your thighs. but toji's having none of that.

his laugh is low, mocking and so ruined, "tchh, i really did interrupt ya' didn't i? must have been so close on that bed," but he's not stopping, practically speaking into your stimulated cunt, punctuating his words with buttery kisses, "must have caught ya' on the very edge for her to so ready for me."

"shut u-up."

"your wish? my command," toji snickers, letting your slick, running juices gather over his chin, "and you taste so good. she's a sweet thing, right," and you realise that he's not talking about you, but rather, about your weeping, glossy cunt that's shoved against his sharp nose. you've got the man practically pussydrunk already, and he's hardly gotten a good feel for it.

his hand comes to rest on your bare thigh, tapping it, "now 'm gonna need you to move that, yeah, that's right," you're slotting it over his broad shoulders, and it pulls him closer. and at this point, you don't even care for how you should be embarrassed, should be feeling some shame at having this rugged, older man salivating into your cunt. but there's a shocking glee instead, a quiet victory that's bubbling in your abdomen and already demanding an encore.

his tongue darts out again, this time he's prodding the muscle at your entrance, feeling for that slight resistance made weaker by your fingers earlier, all on your own. the very tip of his tongue in you has you whining again, slapping a hand over your lolling mouth.

"move that hand," toji grunts, punctuating each word with a flick to your clit.

"i c-can't," you gasp, hands finding a home in his clingy, dark strands, "people are gonna hear-ahhh," he's practically mouthing himself onto your pussy, slick strands separating from his lips each time he pulled away for air. the stimulation is making you so much more sensitive, tears springing to the corners of your eyes as the pleasure begins to sting so deliciously.

you pull fingers through ink-black hair, delicate threads that are soft to the touch and feather-light, "h-here, toji," you curl your fingers to angle him perfectly just so, and the burly man is letting you use him, letting you drag his mouth over your slippery folds. just so you can get him to flick his tongue over that spot that makes you cry out so perfectly.

and toji thinks he's never seen a greater sight. he feels a dizzy, heaving tightness in his jeans, that ache building in his groin like he's about to bust his load just from having you fall apart so prettily on his tongue. he ups the pace, making sure to nimbly etch patterns over your heated, swollen clit. he had you right where he wanted you, needed you, and he'd be damned before he'd left you high and dry.

"y'know, 'm thinking about to see this pretty pussy cum again," and toji sounds so proud, taking gratified in the fact that after only one taste, he's already attuned to the signs of your climax. the way your eyes roll back in your head, tears pricking at your eyes in a way that makes his cock ache even harder.

you're unabashed now, rolling your hips into him at a messy pace. letting spikes of white-hot and red-searing pleasure curl up in your abdomen, ready to burst. the entirety of his lower chin is coated in sweet slick, glistening his rough scar, with a clear drop just beading at his lip.

"i-i think 'm gonna, toji, toji - feels s-so —"

toji's mocking you, pitching his raspy voice up again to capture your tone, "oh yeah? 'm gonna, what? what are ya' gonna do? gonna cum, because that's what i'm here for, doll."

he's making a mess now, switching between a cool, short puff of air at your throbbing clit, and letting his tongue push into your gummy walls, unending pleasure until —

"aaand, cum. now, doll."

it bursts within you, swiftly and briskly. so intense that the edges of your visions become clouded with dark spots, a hazy vignette of sheer pleasure from toji's mouth running all over the filthy mess you've created. the gushing climax that must be soaking the scuffed, dark floorboards beneath toji's bent knees.

you don't even realise that you're still babbling his name, entirely lost in the daze of your second orgasm of the night. little cries of toji, like a prayer over and over, mantras that are making toji grin with his gleaming lips underneath you. all as he wraps his arms around your thighs, lifting you with brute strength. all the while not separating himself from your oversensitive cunt, petting soft kisses over your inner thighs, "gorgeous thing, aren'tcha? think ya' give me another one?"

you groggily lift your head as he sets you down on the bed, caging you beneath his considerable frame, "why? don't wanna, uh, stuff my stocking tonight?"

toji's green eyes flicker with mirth, amusement, only punctuated by him rolling them back in faux-disgust, "still runnin' that clever mouth, hah."

you squirm as he pushes his rough hands under your sweatshirt, letting both hands cup your breasts, pinching and twirling fingertips over your nipples, "are you a, mmph, a candy cane, toji?"

he doesn't break his concentration from where he's peeling your top off, "what nasty shit are ya' gonna say now?"

you giggle as he brushes past a particularly ticklish spot, "because i think you're s-sweet, and i wanna suck you."

"fuck."

in the blink of an eye, he's got you perched over on your knees, just as he hovers you. waistband pulled down enough to reveal black boxers, close enough that you could stick your chin out and press a soft kiss to the darkened patch of pre-cum that must be driving toji crazy.

and well, it's big. like it's jingle bells, jingle balls type of big. you drag your eyes from soft, curled black hair at the base of his groin and down an angry, thick red shaft that makes you clench your thighs.

"wan' me to slide over your chimney?"

that gifts you a barked, punched laugh out of the man — toji's got a large hand wrapped around his cock, "c'mon, doll. put that smart mouth to good use then," inching it closer to your lips in silent permission. you part your lips, anticipating the savoury pre that coats your tongue, the translucent fluid dripping from your mouth already.

he's thumbing down on your lower lip, easing the red mushroom tip into your waiting, eager mouth, "hah, think ya' were meant to take me. how's...how's this slutty mouth so perfect?" toji sounds ruined, all rock-salt rasp and his pink lips fall open, and a flush is painted over his tan skin.

you've never been one to give up, ready to angle your head lower, eager to take as much of him as possible into your mouth. but it's a hard stretch, as crystalline tears cling to your lashes, from the tight wrap of the back of your mouth around his throbbing cock.

toji's got his hand wrapped in your hair now, and you can tell that he's trying to be gentle with the strands as he angles your head lower, purring as you take him so well, "f-fuck, a perfect tease, yeah? fuckin' amazing," and you know he's telling the truth, for his cock is practically twitching with a life of its own in your mouth.

you've got this man hazy and drunk, just from sucking you off, and the realisation makes you whine all over again. reaching a hand down in between your thighs to rock up against your clit, all at the same steady pace.

and you know that toji is close, for those sculpted thighs of pure muscle tremble now, the powerful cords quivering as he bucks his hips, fucking your mouth in long, steady strokes. you also realise that you want him to cum, just like this, to have thick white fall from your lips to really seal and sweeten the deal.

but suddenly, you're left popping your lips shut, as toji groans, genuinely groans and shudders, pulling himself out of your mouth with a wet slop!

"don' give me that look, doll," toji chuckles, his chest heaving underneath the sculpted outline of his dark shirt, "can stuff ya' mouth with my cock later, if that's what you want. but 'm really gonna lose it if i'm not in her right now," and he's angling you back to give a loving, gentle pat to your glistening cunt.

rough, calloused hands slide across your bare back with an unexpected gentleness, against the soft curve of your spine as toji presses you into the mattress, so your head is finally resting back against the pillow.

toji's enjoying this, you know that, just from how he's taking your times to pull your thighs apart, sucking in a harsh breath at how your sleek entrance practically winks at him. tugging his hands roughly on his rock-hard cock, all so he can run the fat tip over your clit, making you mewl.

"don't t-tease, toji," you sniffle, feeling the searing tip push up against your clitoral hood, that nerves so stimulated that you're bucking up into him, wanting toji to just put the damn thing in already.

"fuck, doll," toji's taking a small mercy on you, pressing the first inch into your cunt, "i don't 'm the tease here, god knows how long you were jus' jacking off on the other side of the wall. hopin' that i'd come and stuff you like this?"

each inch that's bullying itself into making your head spin, making you wrap arms around his thick neck, just as he presses a soft kiss to the crook of your collarbone, "ya' good, doll? 's not too much for your, hnngh, tight lil' cunt, is it?"

you mewl as he bottoms out, and the stretch is unlike anything you've ever felt before. it's so deliciously big within you, scraping at the inside of your walls, "wan' be on top, toji."

"oh, yeah? lucky that i like ya' this much, givin' me orders and bossin' me around," toji huffs, using thick arms to pull you up instead, flipping you around so he's got you straddling his thighs, split apart so perfectly around his gliding cock.

"mmph, 's much deeper like this, toji," you chase after his lips, running your tongue over the taut, rigid scar that cuts over the right side of his mouth, all while he starts to set a maddening pace, bouncing you like a pretty toy over his cock, swabbing your insides with buttery wads of pre-cum, all sticky and loud in the silence of the night.

"lookin' good, doll," toji's grin can only be described as shark-like, and he's clearly pleased by the echoing squelches from the filthy mess that's dolloped between your groins, the smack of your ass against your thighs, tacky strands sticking to skin.

your chest is pressed against his shirt, and he's so enjoying the view. loves seeing how the swell bounces and hypnotises him, fuck, toji wonders how he's gonna go about the rest of his life away from you and your perfect pussy.

your eyes widen as you glance back, swivelling your head over your shoulder to watch the smacking movement of you against him, at how his thighs hold you up with a steady rhythm, "you're f-fuckin' me really well, toji," and god, he thinks he might just lose it all, then and there. the praise from your dewy lips is rushing straight into his cock, turning his mind to mush as he finds himself on some sort of autopilot.

he needs to cum in you, right now, needs to feel you milk him for all he can give. to stuff your syrupy cunt with mounds of weeping inches, and he's picking up the pace. smacking heavy, laden balls against your skin, so you whine and keen into him.

you're so caught up in the pleasure that you don't even realise toji had said something, words snapping around his teeth as he bounces you over and over, making sure that you ride him good, "w-what?"

"a date, doll," toji groans, smacking your hand away from your clit, just so he can toy with it, faster and faster, "lemme take ya' out properly, what'd ya' say to that, huh?"

"wanna take me o-out?" you all but weep over him, spearheaded on his tip, and raking sharp nails over iron abs, all underneath his tight top, "please, please, t-toji, wanna go out with you! and then," you hiss as he angles himself just right, curved sheath kissing that perfect g-spot deep within you, "and then i wanna do t-this all over again."

it makes toji's hips stutter, "yeah? pretty girl wants me to take her out, parade her around t-town, hah, i can do that. i can do all of that," he's gasping, feeling your tight heat snatch the life out of him. each girthy vein rubbing itself against your tacky cunt, "i can do all of that, and more. jus' lemme show ya', i'll spoil ya' for anyone else. those d-dumb college boys."

and you look at him with such gorgeous, pretty eyes that toji wonders how on earth he's gonna function now, with you so supplanted in his life. on his cock, even. he can taste something faintly sweet and artificial on your tongue, like tangy grape as he sucks on the muscle.

"never wanted a-any of them anyway, jus' you, toji. only you."

toji fushiguro loses his mind, he's cumming and his own orgasm is hitting him so hard that, in the back of his mind, he's concerned at how he's just filling you up. sloppy thrusts slowing down as thick, white translucent spurts paint your insides, right up to where he can see the divot of his tip through your abdomen. where you've taken in him so deep.

"s-shit," toji presses his mouth to yours again, harder, "look what ya' doin' to me, ruining me," and he also feels just a little bad for ruining your sheets, right as your own umpteenth climax for the night hits you, glossy and clear over the black tufts of hair. your pretty mouth pulled open in a wordless cry of his name, but toji doesn't let go. he lets you ride it out, that sticky mess becoming an afterthought for later.

in the hazy glow, toji's eyes wander over the mess of your room. but something else catches his attention, wads of paper flattened by an empty can of soda. he tilts his head, hair falling over his forehead, dampened by sweat. reaching for the paper with his curiosity piqued.

before he can fully read the words, you're suddenly pawing at his arm, practically leaping into him to get in the way, "wait, toji, don't! hey, that's private!" your voice is an odd mix of urgency and embarrassment, nothing like the angelic whimpers from a few minutes ago. you're swatting at his thick hand, trying to grasp at his fingers.

ignoring your protests and squirms, he crumples the paper open and reads the bold, hastily scrawled letters: how to get toji fushiguro in bed.

damn. so you had been responsible for that heater, the staircase, a fake phone call. he always did like them a bit cuckoo-bananas.

toji chuckles darkly, glancing up at you, barely able to suppress a grin. you're flushed, looking like you'd rather disappear into the floor, oddly shy despite the fact that you were so bold, and a minx riding him earlier to hell and back.

"look, i can explain. don't be mad, because i swear —"

toji groans, shifting you slightly in his lap, "mad? doll, 'm hard all over again. how'd you want it this time?"

[harmonic-intervention]

Please find me, I'm hungry

Well.

Tommy has a tramp stamp now. Buck kinda goes insane over it.

We're past the fix-its! Have some smut instead! This is the complete version of this post. Moving further in my mission to give Tommy things I think are hot - like eyebrow scars and tramp stamps. Have fun.

Word count: 13,147 - PWP, tattoos, dom/sub undertones, possessive behavior, cum play

Excerpt:

When they got back together, Hen, with a sly little grin, had teased Buck about them being all over each other. Buck had rolled his eyes, dropped his head, and knocked his knuckles into her shoulder. He got razzed all day by the others, because yeah, he and Tommy had a pretty active sex life before, and Buck had come into work with hickeys on his throat more than once.

Only it was different this time. They’d decided to take their time, and work their way up again. Buck was too giddy about holding Tommy’s hand again, he didn’t think he could handle anything more.

They did dates, and dinners, and hang outs. They didn’t even sleep over at each other’s places when they met up there. When they kissed, they kept it strictly above the waist.

His friends would never believe him if he told them. Hell, Buck wouldn’t have believed himself a couple of months ago! But all in all, Buck didn’t mind this. They had agreed to slow it down, not to rush ahead like they did the last time, where they’d skipped so many steps. It was nice, actually, really nice to do it like this.

Buck found out more and more about Tommy, saw things Tommy hadn’t shown anyone before, and he only loved Tommy more for it.

They navigated through their re-budding relationship, and Buck had never been this happy before in his life. And things were moving, steadily, felt so natural and easy in a way Buck had never thought it could. Even the harder conversations they finally had with each other seemed easy, their words flowing and miscommunication left behind.

Slowly, they made their ways through the stages and bases. Touching above clothes, getting below the belt. Tommy didn’t take his shirt off around Buck, and Buck would admit that was surprising. Tommy really didn’t have any qualms showing off, at least he hadn’t used to.

But then things got a bit suspicious when Buck noticed that Tommy didn’t seem to like him touching the small of his back all of a sudden. He was subtle about it, Buck had to admit. Like when he put his hand there, Tommy took his wrist and pushed it further down, and Buck was always up for that. Tommy had a great ass. But he also had a really nice back, and Buck liked pushing his hands under his shirt and trace along the line of his spine, and after the fourth time that Tommy shied away from the touch, Buck finally voiced his suspicions.

“Are you okay?” he asked, taking a step back from the kiss they had shared in his kitchen.

Tommy looked a little dazed, and okay, maybe it’d been more than just one kiss. Maybe it was more, maybe Buck had pushed Tommy up against the counter and thought about how he could convince him to climb up so Buck could stand between his legs, feel the insides of his thigh press against his hips.

“What?” Tommy asked, and Buck, for a moment, got distracted by how red and full and spit-slick his mouth was.

“Don’t you- you don’t want me touching your back? That’s okay, but is everything alright? Did you get hurt?” Buck got momentarily worried. He hadn’t thought about that. But they had agreed to be honest with each other, so if he was doing something that hurt Tommy, he needed to know. If Tommy had gotten hurt, he needed to know.

There was a blush high on Tommy’s cheeks when he shook his head. “Uh, no, I’m good. Not hurt.”

Which was a relief. “Then what’s going on? Is this a new thing? If you don’t want me to touch you there, that’s fine, but- it wasn’t a problem before, right? Did you not like it?”

“God, baby, calm down,” Tommy said with a slight laugh. “No, I liked it fine. But, uh … something changed.”

Buck furrowed his brows. “Like what?”

If anything, Tommy blushed harder. He pushed off the counter, made Buck take a couple steps back. He put his hands on the collar of his shirt as if to pull it up, but before he did that, he locked eyes with Buck.

“Okay, but you have to promise not to laugh.”

“O-okay, I-uh, I promise?” Buck said, but it came out more like a question.

It seemed to be good enough for Tommy who pulled the shirt over his head, and Buck would be lying if he didn’t immediately try to look his fill. It had been a while since he’d seen Tommy shirtless. And God, those pecs, the hair between them, that fucking happy trail …

Then, Tommy turned around, and Buck’s mouth dropped open. He blinked, stared, tried to form words. He felt frozen, because he had not expected this, because well.

Well.

Tommy had a tramp stamp.

[continue on ao3]

[edenspoem]

dry humping with ellie..

els is such the type to start dry humping as a joke, but then slowly the suggestive nature begins to whirl her brain 180 and genuinely starts bucking into you. like, you just bend over to retrieve something from the lower cupboards and her lanky ass slinks over, hooks both curled hands into your folded hips and thrusts you into her groin, giggling, "dang, all this for me?" and you can just feel two lazers burning holes on your ass, bobbing limply as she continues to hump you. you grouse in a chuckle, "hey! stop that– that is not for you!" but she doesn't listen. of course. it's redundant to even attempt a complaint. then it keeps going, and going– anddd gooinggg, till she can't stop. the jab of her steel denim button just gets harsher and harsher, with airy moans to get all blushy about, "uhuhh~ fuck, your ass feels s'good– shhhit–" her teeth clamp, hissing cold air. realistically, the inseam of her crotch was tightening just right to split her folds and sandwich her achy clit, not that your ass had any physical stimulation to give her. you intervene, an intervention destined to spoil, forwarding your hips out of her grasp and locking your spine upright, "okay, els, please–" to your dismay, horny hips follow, and grinds denim against denim like a literal horndog. her strapping grips mark dents around your hip crest, using you as support while she possessively ruts into your plush butt, summery hot breath coating gales on your ear, "don't pull away, mhh– fuck you think ur' going?" and hacks a timid laugh, caving open lips to your ear and clasping points of her teeth lightly.

[rebelspykatie]

Part 3

ao3 - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Eddie’s pretty sure he’s never thought about kissing another guy. He rarely thinks about kissing anybody. For the longest time, he was convinced that no one would ever want to kiss him, so he never saw the point in dwelling on it. 

But maybe that was unusual. He might have mistaken his apathy for normalcy when really he’s the freak. The average person probably thinks about kissing an awful lot. He’s listened to Jeff talk about asking out Lacy from his calculus class and Gareth go on and on about how unfair it is that he can’t make out with his boyfriend behind the bleachers to know that the average high schooler is pretty horny. 

Yet, Eddie’s childhood wasn’t littered with school yard crushes. There aren’t fond memories of girls that he imagined sneaking off with during lunch period or recess. There’s just…nothing. A part of that was his rocky childhood and jumping from his parents, to just his dad, to Wayne. But a lot of it was pure disinterest in the hottest girl in their grade growing breasts before all the other girls, or how tenth grade Mandy would make out with anyone with the right incentive. 

He’s never thought about it long enough for anything to stick. He figured, one day, when he was old enough to escape Hawkins and all the small minded bigots who think he’s a devil worshiper, that he would find a girl that appreciated his specific eccentricities. That he’d settle down somewhere quiet, a little closer to the city than Hawkins, and find some blue collar job and start a family. That’s just what everyone does, right?

He knows that’s not true, though. That everyone doesn’t follow that path. He knows people like Gareth and Robin, and apparently Steve, don’t get to just walk into happily ever after. There’s no white picket fence in their future, and Eddie’s never had to confront that reality so head on before. He knows what it’s like to be different. To have a target on your back. But, it’s nothing like the ostracization of being gay. 

Thinking about kissing Steve scares him. When he closes his eyes, it’s a looping replay of that day. Steve’s soft lips on his unmoving ones. Big hands cradling his face. He can perfectly recall the terror and confusion. It’s seeped into his bones now, because he’s realized something about himself and he doesn’t know what to do with the information. 

He can do nothing. He can move forward and pretend that he doesn’t wake up panting, picturing Steve on top of him pressing him into the mattress with their faces attached. He doesn’t ever have to acknowledge that for the first time in twenty years of living, he’s having honest to god wet dreams that involve another person. And that person he’s envisioning is a guy. Everything can just be swept under the rug.

But he’s pretty sure it scares him more to know that he can’t. It’s eating away at him. Eddie feels trapped in his own skin. The truth is clawing its way to the surface, wanting to break free, even if Eddie’s shutting down as it tries to spill out. He knows it’s inevitable, that overflow. The dam breaking. 

It takes an intervention to set everything in motion. Wayne’s been fussing over him for weeks. He’s been doing that worried parent thing that he thinks Eddie doesn’t know about, where he stands outside Eddie’s closed bedroom door like he wants to knock and say something, but doesn’t. He’s studying Eddie over their morning cereal like the little floating letters are going to spell out why Eddie’s been holed up in his room almost mute. 

But the final straw is when Wayne comes home from work to Eddie painting figurines on the stairs of their new trailer while pretending that he’s not watching Steve help Max fold laundry next door. There’s this polite distance between them and Eddie that didn’t exist before, this wide expanse where before Eddie would’ve been sitting on the picnic table in front of Max’s trailer teasing both of them, or maybe helping if it was a low pain day. 

Instead, he’s sat like a toddler in timeout, taking furtive peaks over the little paint brushes and praying that Max’s sharp intuition about situations like this is dulled by her literal lack of being able to see Eddie from over there. Steve can see him, though, and Eddie’s feigning that it doesn’t bother him. What a grave he’s dug for himself here. 

“Boy, don’t you think this has gone on long enough?” Wayne sighs as he climbs out of his truck, this world-weary, too knowledgeable sigh that makes Eddie squirm. 

“I don’t know what you mean, old man.” Better to just play ignorant. Even though Eddie’s pretty sure he can’t escape Wayne’s withering gaze. He hasn’t in over ten years, so he likely won’t be starting now. 

Wayne just stares at him. A raised eyebrow and crossed arms that tell Eddie he means business. He’s not getting out of this. 

Eddie’s jaw shifts and he looks down at the figure in his hands. “I don’t really know what to do, Wayne.” 

“Move over,” Wayne says, settling down beside Eddie until they’re shoulder to shoulder, barely waiting for the little shuffle Eddie does to make room. He doesn’t say anything for a moment. Just stares across the yard in the same direction Eddie was moments before, a contemplative look on his face. “This about that boy?”

Eddie follows his gaze over to Steve. His silence goes on a little too long before he softly says, “yeah.” 

Wayne hums, still looking at Steve. “You know, you always were a late bloomer.”

That grabs Eddie’s attention. He turns towards Wayne, who takes that as his cue to continue, and sets down the figure behind them. 

“Nothing ever happened when I thought it would when you were a boy. Lizzy said you took forever to walk and talk. I kept waiting for you to come to me about the birds and the bees, but you didn’t. Not sure if that was a good thing to let go, but I knew you weren’t getting yourself into trouble. Probably wasn’t much I could offer you that public school wasn’t already teaching you.” 

Eddie wonders briefly if he should’ve hidden the condoms in his room better, but maybe that’s what gave Wayne the confidence to leave Eddie to his business. Even if they were collecting dust before they became dust that day the trailer cracked open.

“You never brought anyone around.” He nods in the direction of Steve. “Not until him.” 

The conversation with Steve is distantly replaying in his head. How he went over their every interaction with Robin and they came to this same conclusion. Maybe Eddie really is an idiot. 

“It wasn’t intentional,” Eddie adds. “I didn’t know what I was doing.” 

“I don’t think anyone knows what they’re doing, son. That’s part of life.” He pats Eddie on the back. “It’s ‘specially a part of being in love.” 

Eddie’s not sure he’s willing to start that train of thought, yet. He’s grateful for the quiet, unspoken acceptance, but he’s not ready to think about labeling it something as profound as love. He flounders for a second before saying, “I think I’ve missed my chance there,” as he looks back over at Steve. 

“Are you dead and I don’t know it?” He squeezes Eddie’s shoulder. “Seem pretty real to me.” He whacks Eddie’s head gently. “Ain’t nothing missed if you’re still alive to make things right.” 

“Hey!” Eddie laughs, mock offended at the attack, rubbing the back of his head and leaning away from Wayne. “Isn’t it socially unacceptable to joke about someone that was legally dead for almost three minutes?”

“I think I get leeway as the one that kept you alive for ten years by myself.” Wayne wrangles him into a side hug, pulling him to his chest with an arm around his neck. “Just cause things are broken, doesn’t mean you can’t fix ‘em, son.”

[hederasgarden]

Do you have any darker thoughts about your fav ATJ characters?

Bestie, I have so many thoughts, and I’m totally blaming @otaku-girl-ao3 for this. A few weeks ago, we spent an afternoon on Discord brainstorming what the ATJ characters would be like as dark versions of themselves and how that would manifest in distinct and interesting ways.

Just a quick note—this is quite a departure from the usual content on my blog and the type of things I typically write about. Recently, I’ve been gathering the courage to explore some darker themes in my writing (I blame BookTok for introducing me to a lot of questionable tropes). Please be kind and let me know if you’d like to see more of this kind of writing from me!

Characters: Sergei Kravinoff (Kraven the Hunter), Friedrich Harding (Nosferatu), Tangerine (Bullet Train), and Ives (Tenet) Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Dead dove, do not eat. VERY dark, depraved, and horny thoughts direct from me to you. Not all themes are tagged. Read at your own risk.  Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Aaron Taylor Johnson Character Masterlist

Sergei is a meticulous planner, taking his time to observe you and learn your habits. He likely comes across you by chance—perhaps while on the job or visiting his brother. It’s your scent that first grabs his attention, but it’s not what draws him back. It’s the softness and sweetness in your demeanor, the vulnerability you exude, completely unaware of the dangers around you. You’re the easiest prey he’s ever tracked, unaware even of the most basic threats. You’re always buried in a book or your phone, headphones on at full blast. If it weren’t for his quiet intervention, you would have been robbed or worse on your way home at least twice. 

He takes you because he believes you're not meant to be on your own. You need someone to care for you, to protect you from the world that you don’t fully understand. Really, it’s lucky your paths crossed. He’s certain you’ll come to see things his way in time. Until then, he’s turned his home into a beautiful little cage for you to live in, complete with an entire library filled with your favorite books, cozy blankets to keep you warm, and all the ingredients for the meals you love to cook and enjoy. He’s done his research on what you like and he’ll bring you anything you ask for. Afterall, he’s a provider at heart.

There’s no concern of you running away. You've seen the large snow leopard that prowls around outside, and the one time you made a foolish attempt to escape, Sergei was quick to show you that he wouldn't always be so gentle or understanding. As @writercole suggested, once he has you back, he’ll also end up keeping you tethered by the ankle for a while, a lesson that if you try to run, he’ll leash you.

After you recover from that experience Sergei finds you’re a much better pet, settling into your new life and role. You start cooking for him when he's home, and willingly crawl into bed beside him, seeking out his warmth on those cold winter nights. Soon, Sergei knows you’ll be ready for the next step: starting a family of your own.

Friedrich (in a modern AU) strikes me as the type who would quietly manipulate situations to his advantage, working behind the scenes to ensure things unfold just how he wants. He’d spot you working at a cafe or store he frequently visits and, from that moment, start working on a plan to make you his.

Rather than using overt force, he’d rely on subtle pressure and gaslighting, making you doubt yourself and your choices. He’d skillfully set up circumstances to undermine you—ensuring you miss out on a job you desperately need, getting you fired, or putting you in a position where you have no choice but to turn to him. When you're at your lowest, he’ll swoop in as the savior, the one who appears to protect you. His goal is to make you dependent on him alone, carefully ensuring that when the time comes for him to make his move, you're in no position to resist. Consent would be questionable, but he'd remind you every time you hesitated that you said yes, that you asked for his help, and that you invited him in.

I can also see him isolating you from friends and family, slowly pulling you away from the support system you once had. He’d definitely be the type to love-bomb you, showering you with overwhelming attention and affection, using his money and influence to manipulate you further. 

He strikes me as a baby trapper, sabotaging your birth control or tampering with his condoms to ensure you get pregnant. He believes you'd be the perfect wife and mother—you just need his help to realize that. Once he has you, he’d be the most loving and attentive husband, always caring, but beneath that sweetness lies an unshakable belief that he knows what’s best. He’s the one who makes the decisions, subtly guiding everything with quiet confidence until, over time, the balance shifts in his favor and you start looking to him for help with even the easiest things. Despite all of this, Friedrich would likely still view himself as a good person, firmly rejecting any notion that he is abusive or in the wrong.

Tangerine is on the opposite end of the spectrum, much more inclined to use brute force and physical violence to make you understand your place. He has a short temper and struggles with impulse control, especially when you don't follow his demands. There’s no slow build-up with him—he has no time or patience for romance. The moment he sees you on the street, he decides you’re coming home with him, and that’s final. Or maybe Tangerine and Lemon are sent to kill your husband but when Tangerine sees just how sweet you are, completely unaware of who and what your husband really is, he decides to keep you for himself. After all, no one's going to miss you. They’ll assume you died in the house fire with your husband. 

Once he had you he would try and spoil you with a beautiful place to live, fine clothes and decadent food. He’d want you to look and dress a certain way for him. A darker version of him would fit the profile of a classic abuser—lashing out at you in anger, only to later show up with flowers and a hollow apology, turning the blame onto you as if you were the one who provoked it.

“Why do you have to make things so fuckin’ hard, huh?” Tangerine questions, caressing your bruised skin. “I hate when you make me do this to ya luv. You need to listen better.”

He’d definitely be the most terrifying of all the dark versions of the ATJ characters because of his unpredictability. (I do not know why but I have such a strong sense he’d pop you in the mouth/back hand you with those rings on and just….yeah.)

If Ives were to go dark, he’d likely abuse his power and authority in the workplace, targeting someone beneath him—someone who wasn’t military and who he could easily manipulate using his strength and knowledge. Maybe you’re his admin, someone he works closely with, and no one questions the fact that you’re often in his office with the door closed or staying late to finish tasks together. He’d be blunt about his intentions with you, setting clear expectations for how things would unfold. His actions would be predictable—if you were a good girl, you’d be rewarded; if you misbehaved, there would be consequences. Ives would be a steady, unyielding force, confident that, with time, you’d fall into line.

[spitinsideme]

Kinger, Zooble and Jax make an intervention to Pomni and Raghata because they’re too horny and they’re tired of them making out everywhere. Like during the intervention.

yesss ... they are FED UP WITH THEM MAKING OUT !!! LIKE GIRLS STOP KISSING WITH INTENT TO EAT EACH OTHER OUT AND INSTEAD EAF YOUR FUCJING FOOD !!! pomni is pissed that theyve been disturbred

zooble has just given uo at this point

[reverieblondie]

What if Gale fell on top of Tav after he got pulled out of the portal? How would he react to realizing he just accidentally got a face full of his savior's- *gets jumped by the horny police*

No! Not the horny police! So I went a bit fluffy for this prompt but I loved this ask for just a cute little something for Gale. Hope you like it! If you want something Smutty for Gale in the future just ask, I'm all ears....

Portal Mishaps

Gale x Fem!Tav

Words- 1,014

First, trapped on the nautiloid, receiving a new tenant in the old cranium was not exactly what Gale had in mind. Then, when the wretched ship started bursting into fire, he thought his luck was finally changing; Gale was finally going to receive a win after what felt like nothing but losses. Then he ended up…in a rock…

All his previous decisions had led to this, and honestly, it was humiliating… He's an archmage of Waterdeep, well versed in the weave, Mystras chosen! Well, Once chosen. Now, here he is in the cold abyss in between tunnels. Could things get worse?  Maybe he shouldn't think that… The fates seem determined to have everything go wrong for him now, so it is best not to make it worse. Maybe it's for the best, a strange divine intervention. Gale knows his time is short, especially since he cannot clench his hunger. So perhaps he can save a lot of people the trouble and erupt within a rock.

So Gale puts his hands to the side and stays in the cold dark, letting it surround him. Letting the thoughts in his mind drift away. Just accepting this…but as he sits, something in him sparks. Gale is not one to take this fate lying down. No, it's not in his nature not to try; even till his last breath, he will fight. So, using what's remaining of his drained magic, he opens a wobbly portal. It's not the prettiest and relatively narrow, but he tries to free himself, pushing his arm through the tingling sparks of magic. He reaches out, trying to grab onto anything to pull him out of these dark depths, but nothing.

Gale continues to search; he just needs something or someone to help pull him free. Then, echoing through the dark, he hears a voice resonating through the portal. This is his chance to get its attention. Quickly, he reaches his hand out, desperately grabbing through the air. 

"A hand? Anyone?!"

Muttering, then that same sweet voice ringing through…

"Just hang on! I will get you out!" 

Soft hands warm him as they grab onto him and start to pull. Whoever his savior is, he vows to thank them endlessly as they never quit trying to pull him out. Their soft voice continues to encourage him that they will not give up and will save him. It's so full of promise and conviction that he feels like he could cry. Please just let him get through this, let him see his savor, let him thank them! Let him live!

With another powerful pull, Gale's body rushes forward; bright light blinds him as he tumbles out. The light is piercing, but he's never been so happy to see the white light; the smell of smoke and nature hits his nose in an overwhelming welcome. Gale has never liked the smell of smoke, but today, it is a welcomed scent he will probably now have a greater appreciation for. Gale falls onto very soft ground, like really soft ground? And it's taking everything in him not to rub his face in it and kiss the dirt benthe him. As Gale goes to inhale the sweet scent of the ground, he pauses,…perfume? And musk?  

Gale's eyes start to refocus, and that's when he sees what he's landed on. When the realization smacks him like a ton of bricks, what he thought could be soft mounds of ground, he sees he's landed right on…breast! 

Quickly, he scrambles to get off you, and apologies fly from his lips. Gale goes to help you up, his cheeks red as his eyes flicker from your breast to your eyes, trying so hard to get past the awkward situation he's found himself in. Gale is trying to explain what happened to you and your two companions, your eyes much more understanding than those of the other two sets, who are suspiciously narrowed at him. Gale introduces himself as he's trying to piece together what's happened. He can't fight how his thoughts are scrambling with how soft you felt, how good you smell, and what if he would have fallen…somewhere else…

Gale mentally chastises himself for his perverted thoughts; gods he's touched starved, isn't he? Two sets of breasts to the face, and he's spiral. The worst part is you are completely pleasant, even apologizing to him about where he landed as if it was somehow your fault. Maybe his luck has changed? He did manage to fall on a very kind stranger who happens to also be in his predicament…

After a brief discussion about your situation and impending doom, Gale offers you two to join up. Judging from the two mysterious tags along with you, he figures you could use a wizard and a cook in your camp. Your face lights up in an excited smile, immediately going to say yes, but the dark-haired girl quickly puts her hand over your mouth, and she and the pale guy pull you two to the side for a huddled conversation. Gale tries to seem like he's not eavesdropping, though he is happy you're saying you all could use a wizard's talents, and you think he's nice? Awe. 

"Seems like a chatty type," the half-elf says;- shit, he is chatty…

"Don't forget he did cop a feel darling…perverted if you ask me…" -Perverted!? It was an accident! 

"Oh, Astarion, hush. You pulled a knife on me. You're no judge of character, and Shadowheart, if you don't want to talk to him, just send him my way." You look over your shoulder and smile at Gale, making his heart skip. I enjoy a good conversation…" 

Coming back over, you accept him in your group, introduce everyone, and start your adventure to look for a healer. Gale will try not to have any more mishaps regarding you, but he is only a man… as he walks beside you, trying to make a conversation, Gale feels someone staring at him. Turning his head, he sees Astarion walking behind him and Tav with a wide, knowing smirk…  

[ghostgirl-22]

tw somnophilia but art and patrick cuddling every night to sleep and patrick always wakes up hard with art sleepily grinding his ass against him. he’ll never admit to it out loud though and patrick has to have an intervention bc he cant control himself from grabbing his hips and grinding back :( he wants him sooo bad. of course art secretly loves it 🙂‍↕️

Oh yes anon! I chopped it up a little bit but your somnophilia is still very much present </3

CW: 18+ NSFW, Somnophilia can have a dubcon to cnc element to it so obviously don’t read if that freaks you out. No proofreading is the norm.

——

The problem starts when he mentions it to Art. That he’s kinda liking boys. That he’s sorta into their teammate Tony. He’s not great at tennis but he’s pretty. They’d been flirting with each other, teasing each other a little bit. “I kissed him once,” Patrick admits.

“Huh…that’s cool,” Art shrugs. He plays it nonchalant but it’s clear he never knew anything about it.  

“I think I might try it out this weekend.” 

”Try it out?”

”Yeah, I might hook up with him. I bought this lubricant that heats up when you put it on. It’s kinda hot.”  

“Oh,” Art says, distracted. He’s endlessly distracted by homework and tennis and whatever else he’s got going on. 

Patrick doesn’t really think about it again till that night. Art comes to him sleepy, in his boxers and a little white t-shirt rubbing his eyes, shirt riding up while he scratches his head.

”I can’t see the tv that well from my side,” he says, climbing into Patrick’s twin. They’re not even watching anything that interesting but Art settles in next to him. Lays down in front of Patrick, golden curls still damp from the shower smelling sweet  like the herbal essences conditioner he stole from his ex. Patrick swallows it down but he’s stiff right away. They used to share the bed all the time when they were kids, but they’re much bigger now. And normally they rarely sleep together unless the bed is at least full sized. 

Patrick kinda likes boys now. But he’s liked Art for longer than that. He’s gorgeous… and he looks like…well, art. Beautiful. He has the kinda body all the ancient horny artists his classics professor loves, would carve out of marble from memory Patrick knows it. Not that he’d ever admit it to him.

As gorgeous as he is, as badly as Patrick wants to just… cross the line. He doesn’t have a bunch of friends and he gets too much out of Art to risk fucking this up but… Jesus, his skin is so soft.

Art dozes off in the middle of an episode of Psych that he’d been so desperate to watch. They’re too close. There’s too much of him all over Patrick, carelessly spread out and snuggled up. Patrick is so hard he stays up late, anxious Art will feel it at some point in his sleep. 

What actually happens is so much worse. He wakes up too early and Art is still asleep, pressing up against him. All wiggly. His ass rubbing, no grinding up against Patrick’s dick. Patrick has to hold his breath, has to dig his fingernails into his palms to keep from grabbing his waist and pushing back. Pulling Arts thin boxers down, wetting his dick and slipping inside. Art stills eventually and Patrick does gymnastics to get out of the bed so he can go fucking jerk off in peace.

Art is the prettiest sleeper because of course he is. Patrick snores and drools, wakes up with his eyes all coated in sleepy stuff. Art sleeps like he’s on display. Golden curls fanned out as he grips his pillow, his perfect jawline settled and relaxed, the lean muscle of his biceps on display beneath his shirt sleeves, t-shirt riding up revealing his solid hip bones, one leg bent, his bare knee jutting out from beneath the blanket. He sleeps peacefully, cheeks hollow, lips pouted. Even in his sleep he has to tempt Patrick mercilessly. It’s his job. 

Patrick hurries to the bathroom and shuts the door. Leaning against it as he shoves his hand down his sweat pants and jerks himself furiously. Every detail of Art spread out in his bed already committed to memory. 

He thinks he’s done. But it happens again the next night. Art pads over to his bed and gets in. “No i want the outside,” Patrick says thinking it’ll make a difference if he can press his ass up against art as they watch tv rather than the other way around. Instead he wakes up with Arts leg and arm draped over his waist.  Art is half hard, breathing light and hot against Patrick’s ear as he sleeps and Patrick’s own dick is swollen and very obviously hard, pressing along Arts thigh.

It’s harder to unwrap himself. It’s harder still, not to grab at Arts dick and start jerking him in his sleep. 

He sits on the toilet lid jerking off. Wondering what he did in a past life to have to put up with this level of temptation.

Patrick flirts with Tony during practice but it’s not quite the same as it was before. For starters Art is definitely hanging around them more. it’s not like Art tries to stop it. But if Patrick didn’t know any better he’d think Art was acting a little flirty with Tony too. Laughing at Tony’s jokes or asking him for advice on a new diet regiment when he could care less about the guy before.

And again Art needs to sleep in Patrick’s bed because suddenly television is oh so important to him. Patrick wakes up again the next morning with Art squirming all over him. And he knows it’s bad. Knows it’s fucking wrong. But honestly he’s not really doing much more than using the movement. 

Yeah he’s rubbing himself off on his sleeping best friend. Yes he’s grabbing his hips, rocking his erection along the perfect swell of Arts bottom but they’re both fully clothed. Sure the fabric is paper thin. Sure he comes so hard through his boxers that a bit of the wet seeps onto Arts clothes. Sure he sneaks out of bed and hurries to the shower just as Art starts to stretch and wake up properly. But it’s not like he’s doing anything more than what could have technically happened unconsciously between them both if he was still asleep.

The following night he’s hard before Art gets into his bed. He can barely wait till morning. By then, he's pushing back as Art wiggles. Biting down on his groans. Art is reacting too in his sleep. His cock getting hard. Patrick reaches around and rubs him through his boxers. He makes little noises, wiggles his hips even more and Patrick just comes faster. Rubbing Art till he feels the wet spot spreading along his heated palm.

Art rolls over with a soft sigh and settles back into sleep. 

He’s all flushed when he wakes up later thinking maybe he had a wet dream. Patrick reassures him. “Dude it happens to everyone. Sometimes for no reason.” He knows it’s horrible and so wrong but it just feels so fucking good.

It’s Friday and Patrick’s made plans to hook up with Tony tomorrow night. He’s gonna sleep over in Tony’s dorm room while his roommate’s out of town. Figure out what he likes. He hasn’t shared anything else about it with Art since that night last weekend and Art hasn’t really brought it up. 

It’s a hot night, unseasonably warm for spring and the school isn’t about to turn on the air yet so they’ve got the windows open. It’s too hot to be all up under each other but Art comes over anyway. Half naked. Only in his boxers. He climbs in all sinewy and long. Just a living breathing work of… yeah. 

Patrick could tell him no. Could tell him to stop doing this. Hell, he could even suggest they push the beds together for more space but he’s sick. Wants to use Arts pretty sleeping body for his cock in the morning. 

And when morning comes it’s predictable. Art rubbing up against him. Patrick does the careful balancing act of pushing back without waking him. Grinding up against him. And then something happens that he doesn’t expect.

“Oh fuck, pat?”  it’s arts groggy voice. He’s awake, still letting his hips move. 

Patrick stills, mildly panicked.

“Yeah?” He whispers pretending to just wake up too.

“Your… i feel your…cock. It’s so…”

“I know dude I’m sorry i—“

Art starts pushing back harder against it. “Mmm it feels kinda good.” He sighs. 

“Uh—uh yeah?” Patrick stammers getting a little tongue tied. His whole body thrumming all of a sudden.

“Mmhm,” Art whines, moving faster. “M-maybe I’m into guys too?”

“Shit,” Patrick breathes. He’s on a knife’s edge right and Arts is just pushing it back on him eagerly. Patrick can see he’s got his hand down his boxers. Jerking himself off. Patrick grabs his hips, his waist to provide more friction. It feels so good not to hold back, not to be gentle and they’re rocking hard, the mattress squeaking while they’re grinding into each other. Tension rising to euphoric levels and then, almost too fast, Art is panting, moaning, jerking, coming in his boxers. It’s so fucking hot. That’s all it takes for Patrick to blow it, all pressed up against Arts ass. 

“Oh fuck yes,” Patrick breathes as he comes down. 

“Mm,” Art rolls over. “What if i like boys too?” He asks softly.

“Uh shit… then uh… we should explore that.”

“Me and you?”

“Yeah…if…if you want.”

“But what about Tony?” Art asks. He almost nails the innocent tone but he’s just a little too earnest and that rings… false. 

Patrick smiles as it dawns on him. “God you’re such a fucking snake,” he laughs.

“What do you mean?” Art says, grinning. 

“Oh fuck off. Getting in my bed every night you never wanted me to sleep with him.”

“I dunno what you mean, I just wanted to see the tv.”

“Mmhm.”

“And maybe I remembered you’d always get hard when you fall asleep. It used to wake me up in the middle of the night… like you did when you were rubbing it all over me in my sleep this week you pervert.”

“Yeah that getting hard thing happens with you… when you’re in my bed. And if I’m a pervert what’s that make you? Grinding all over me every morning and giving me a complex you little freak.” Patrick says, shoving him playfully. 

Art laughs.  “It makes me more useful than Tony… at least for your little experiment. Fuck him. Or better yet, don’t.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Patrick smirks and shakes his head before rubbing Arts bare thigh. “god you’re such a manipulative little shit, aren’t you?”

“But you like me.” Art points out.

“Yeah I like you. Maybe me and you can figure out liking boys together.”

[prince-liest]

I want it on record that if I were to ever write radiostatic omegaverse, I'd probably make Alastor an omega for the funsies. BUT.

Vox would be a beta, and he would have a complex about it the approximate size of Vee fucking Tower. Does anybody else think that the Radio Demon is obviously the pentagram's most desirable omega? No, that's insane. However, so is Vox.

Alastor couldn't actually give less of a fuck if he actively tried, but it's a vulnerability, so he needles Vox about it a few times at first. He quickly stops when he realizes that regardless whether they are in any actual relationship at a particular point in time, Vox has apparently more or less imprinted Alastor as his omega (annoying, stupid, untrue), and mocking him for not being an alpha just makes Vox more overbearing than the most obnoxious alpha on the planet. Valentino is out here telling Vox to maybe chill out a little bit.

It's barely even sexual after a certain point. Alastor at least kind of gets that Vox is a horny degenerate, but why the hell is he leaving him increasingly elaborate and possessive weekly gifts on his station's doorstep like a cat would leave an animal carcass? At least if it was an actual animal carcass, it would be useful for that night's dinner. Alastor is not sure what he's supposed to do with a......"VoxTek E-Z-Nest! Just add pheromones!" Hold on, has this already been opened?

Valentino, on the other hand, is an actual alpha—which is why Vox does NOT take his "Um, calm down?" very well. He's just being condescending! Val's a prick! He doesn't understand!!!! Bonus for a 7-second period of insanity when he's momentarily convinced Val is looking at Alastor, at which point Valentino taps out of the situation because fuck that, honey, come back when you need him to fuck some sense into you but otherwise leave him out of this.

Alastor's heats aren't even, like. Like that. He mostly just gets antisocial, kills a few things, and then locks himself in his room for a moderately uncomfortable week to plan his broadcast schedule. But fuck if Vox doesn't have that shit calculated down to the day on his schedule planner, and spends the whole week unsubtly pacing the perimeter of the hotel with his spy drones, driving himself crazy imagining what alpha Alastor must be fucking, and lasering any poor actual alpha (that isn't already a resident under Princess Morningstar's protection) that gets within three blocks of the place from orbit. VoxTek stocks always take a bit of a dive around that time.

Things that do not help: Alastor not actually discouraging this specific behavior, because, hey. He doesn't want any alphas around, either.

It's really just a matter of what breaks down first: the remaining dregs of Vox's common sense as pertaining to Alastor, Alastor's ability to find this whole thing deeply humorous, Charlie's self-restraint in not staging an intervention, or Vaggie's absolute last fucking nerve.

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Barty's study group and the horny headache

Barbie dolls: Barty x gn! Reader

Word 1.1k

Summary: you have a headache and are horny so you beg your boyfriend to give you a handy

Warnings: Barty is reluctant at first but you ask him very nicely and he agrees I don't know if that's improper consent, I don't explicitly say what genitalia you have, you like Barty's ass, Barty has a stick and poke, regulus and Pandora kinda embarrass you two just a lil, I blueball you guys idk dude write your own porn ig, you get sexual favors while having a headache, you ask barty to give you a hand bc you want to go to sleep idk I'm sleepy just read it or something, thats it I think

Your day was going well, too. Then you got a splitting headacche. You could feel it behind your eyes. You just needed to lie down in a dark room with no sound but your own breathing. Now that you actually were buried under blankets, you realized you needed more than that. 

You weren’t even in your own bed, you were in Barty’s bed. You were waiting for him to get back from his last class, his history professor seemed to drag on past dismissal. You couldn’t keep your eyes open, they kept drooping. You slipped just under concious but you couldn’t sleep with the pain shooting through your brain. 

The dark room wasn’t the only thing you needed, you yearned for your boyfriend’s hands. One good handy and you knew the ache behind your eyes and between your legs would go away. You waited patiently under his blankets, slipping through sleep like a ship through waves. 

Eventually, his door did open. Barty moved to the side of the bed, setting his bag down and toeing his shoes off. He leaned down and pecked your forehead, pulliing you out of your half sleep. He was telling you about his class as he undressed from his uniform. None of the words registered in your head but you were able to comprehend his shirtless body. He pulled on an old ratted t-shirt that he stole from Regulus, who stole it from Sirius. You sat up on your elbow when his thumbs dipped into the band of his pants. 

“-Know, I told him. He didn’t listen. This is why I hate group projects. No one does their part, which includes my part. I’m not doing that stupid-“ You lost track of his words again as he pulled his uniform slacks down his thighs. You stared at the back of his thigh. A small stick and poke Evan just barely slipped out from the bottom of his boxer briefs. ‘Eat me’ just under the curve of his ass. He leaned over to the legs of his pants off his ankles, giving you a better veiw of his ass. Barty straightened up and started pulling on his pajama pants, jumping once they traveled over his knees. When the pants reached his hips again, his words reached your ears again. 

“-don’t study. I don’t know why they invited me.” Barty turned around to face you, tossing his tie on top of his trunk. He raised an eyebrow at you. “You okay? You don’t look so good.” Barty said, reaching out to press the back of his hand to your head. You groaned and flopped back into his blankets. 

“Headache.” Barty hummed. He pressed his knee into the mattress reaching out for you. Barty kissed you on your cheek. 

“You want me to get you something? I can’t stay long I’ve got that study group. I really think Regulus and Panda just want to copy off of me.” He said, whispering his last line as a second thought. You sat up on your elbow again, knocking your head into Barty’s neck. 

“Do you have to go?” You asked. Barty groaned. 

“Oh, I know. I know, but they want me to come so it might be an intervention. Plus, I don’t want to stand them up. It shouldn’t take long before I’m back and I’ll give you all the headache cuddles you want.” Barty said, pulling you up into a sitting podition and rubbing your back. You scooted closer to him, sitting along the edge of the bed. Barty slipped his knee down, running his hands up and down your forearms. You shook your head, pressing your chin into his stomach. 

“I don’t want cuddles.” You whispered. Barty looked down at you, shrugging his shoulder. 

“Well, what do you want? A thousand dollars?” Barty joked, letting out a laugh. You shook your head: too horny and tired for laughs. You rubbed the side of your face into his shirt. 

“I want you, Barty.” You looked up at him, staring into his eyes. “Please, skip study group and tear my pants off with your teeth.” You said, slipping your hands behind him. You ran your hands over his ass, feeling the hems of his boxers. You missed seeing his stick and poke. You widened your eyes and Barty. Barty tossed his head back before looking back down at you. 

“Oh, baby. You know I would if I could. I can’t stand them up.” Barty said, one hand finding your cheek and the other rubbing your back.  

“Don’t stand them up, just be late. Please I need you and your pretty hands. It’ll be real quick. I just need you to get me off so I go to sleep and my headache goes away.” You said, digging your fingers into the flesh of his ass. Barty huffed out his nose, gently caressing your cheekbone. 

“You’re using me as a pain killer, no way I’m doing that when you’re all delirious from sleep,” Barty said, trying to comfort you by rubbing your arms. You let out a sound that Barty would call a whine, though you beg to differ. 

“Am not. I’m just crazy horny and also can’t sleep. It’s a win-win-win situatiion.” You muttered in Barty’s shirt. You realsed his ass from your hold, gently rubbing it to soothe the pain that probally followed your tight grip. 

“See. You’re so delirious you said one too many wins.” Barty said, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You buried your nose into Barty’s stomach for a second before pulling back. 

“No. I get an orgasm, I get to go to sleep, and you get to give me a handy. Which I know you love.” You said, dragging your hands to the front of his body and pushing the hem of his shirt up just a little. You pecked his happy trail, looking up at him. Barty pessed his lips together in a pout. You dropped his shirt and tipped your chin into his stomach again. 

“Please?” You said, blinking your eyes up at Barty. Barty groaned and tilted his head back. 

“I suppose Regulus and Pandora could wait a few extra ten minutes,” Barty said, before slipping under the covers with you.

You were right of course, it only took a few minutes and Barty was getting up to get a washcloth. You were alreading slipping into sleep by the time he came back, cleaning your body while you fell alseep in his covers.

After washing his hands and kissing your forehead goodbye, he left for a study group. Pandora and Regulus were not surprised that Barty was late, they were honestly expecting it. His excuse was that you had a headache and he had to bribe the healer to give him a potion to relieve your pain. When Regulus asked if the potion worked at dinner. You raised a brow, falling into silence. Barty cleared his throat and tapped his head. You caught on, agreeing and saying it worked wonders. The potion really did help. 

[harmonic-intervention]

I miss Tommy, so have some bottom dom!tommy smut.

Word count: 4037 - pwp, daddy kink, dom/sub undertones, orgasm delay, powerbottom!tommy/servicetop!buck

On ao3 now.

The first time Tommy bottomed for Evan, they didn't really take their time. Both of them were too keyed up - Tommy because he hadn't bottomed in a while, and Evan because he was so eager to make it good.

Tommy didn't really have a preferance, never did, especially now with Evan when everything was so much better than anything he had ever experienced. But there were times when he preferred one over the other, and before Evan, when that happened to be getting fucked, he often had to make do with toys and his own fingers.

Even, or maybe especially, in the gay scene, there were still expectations for the roles in the bedroom. Not for Evan, though.

So, the first time, there was little finesse and little foreplay, just them, a bottle of lube, and a desperate need.

It was only the first time of many, after all, and Tommy made sure they took their time in the future.

Tommy liked to play, and now, he got to play.

Tommy loved this - telling Evan exactly what to do, how to do it, and don't you make a mistake, boy. More than once, he had tied Evan down to the bed and ridden him how Tommy wanted to, ignoring Evan's pleads for more.

Today, though, it was missionary, because that was Evan's favorite position and Tommy had decided that he was going to be a little nicer today.

(They mostly fucked in missionary, actually. Evan had once said that he liked being able to see Tommy, and liked being able to thread their fingers together. Staring down or up at Evan's face, into his eyes, watching every minute change in his expression was ... well, Tommy had to admit missionary was rapidly becoming his favorite, too.)

Tommy was laid out on his back, a pillow under his hips because Evan was nothing if not thorough. Speaking of Evan, he was currently two fingers deep in Tommy - two fingers, because Tommy had made him pull out the third one.

He was partial to a good finger-banging when the mood struck, but this was less about feeling good or even the prep - this was all about teasing Evan.

See, Evan easily fit into the role of service top whenever Tommy took the reins like this. It was all about doing everything for his partner, taking care of them, making them come as much as possible, all while ignoring his own need. He tended to forget all about his own dick, following Tommy's orders enough to keep him satisfied.

The point for Evan was to get Tommy off and do it well. Which was why Tommy would not allow him that. He wanted to get him to a point where he couldn't forget about his needs.

He'd put Evan on his stomach, situated between his thighs, and told him to keep one hand on his hip. The other, he was allowed to use to finger Tommy open, but he was under strict orders to not even graze Tommy's prostate - or else.

Evan did as he was told with a determined look on his face, but Tommy could admit that he was having way too much fun watching that determination slowly shift into frustration as Tommy did not let up.

He slowly let him work his way all the way up to three fingers, giving him clear instructions as to when to spread them, when to push them deeper, when to take one out. And Evan listened beautifully, even though he obviously did not want to.

Tommy shifted a little, stretched his spine, pulled up one leg to plant his foot on the mattress, and Evan halted his movements, looking up at Tommy all wide-eyed and hopeful.

He played with the thought of telling Evan to get back down to one finger, just to fuck with him, but if he was honest, he was more than ready to move on. His stamina was good - great even - but everyone had their limit.

"Think we got it, don't we?" he asked, rubbing his leg along Evan's side.

Evan nodded so hard Tommy worried he might give himself whiplash. Upon command, he pulled his fingers out, slowly, and cleaned them off.

Evan shuffled around the bed on his knees, locating the bottle of lube somewhere half covered by the sheets.

"Condom, Evan," Tommy reminded him.

Evan scrunched up his nose in distaste and Tommy couldn't fault him. They rarely ever used condoms anymore, but the way Tommy was seeing this, he'd probably have to clean up on his own after, and he didn't think he'd be truly up for it when it came to it.

So, easier clean up. Evan seemed to understand that reasoning without words, too, since there was no complaining from him when he fetched one of the ones they still had in their bedside table.

"Put it on," Tommy instructed. "No touching yourself outside that."

Evan did as told, quickly and efficiently rolling the condom down on his cock, dripping and flushed a deep color. Still, Evan dropped his hand to Tommy's knee, not touching himself just as told.

"That's it." Tommy beckoned Evan closer with a curl of his fingers. "Come on now. Closer."

Once Evan had settled back between Tommy's thighs, sitting back on his heels, Tommy allowed him to put his hands back on his legs. Seemingly absentminded, Evan ran his hands up and down, up and down, staring down at Tommy's own cock with hunger in his eyes.

Tommy nudged Evan with his knee. "Alright, baby. Let's get started."

Evan did not need to be told twice. He pushed Tommy's legs further apart a little bit with his own bulk, and positioned the head of his dick right against Tommy's hole. He started slowly moving in with a controlled push of his hips.

Tommy couldn't help the sigh that left him. God, this was nice. But he wasn't here to just lose himself in enjoyment. He wanted to be a little mean, now.

The tip was in, and just as Evan was about to push deeper, Tommy locked eyes with him. He could see the exact moment Evan realized that he wouldn't like what Tommy had to say, and oh, how right he was.

"Stop. Pull out."

Evan looked at him, devastated. He halted in his movement, and his fingers curled into the bedspread. He made no move to do as told, staring wide-eyed at Tommy as if that would change his mind.

Tommy tilted his head. "Be a good boy now, Evan."

Sure-fire way to get Evan to comply. He had a praise kink a mile wide. Tommy had rarely ever had to actually do something to punish him when they played like that - thinking he had disappointed Tommy was punishment enough.

Evan did what Tommy asked of him and pulled out, sitting back on his heels again. His hands moved from the sheets to Tommy's thighs, but just before he could actually touch him, he halted.

"Can I touch you?" His voice was soft, quiet.

There we go, Tommy thought, there he is.

Tommy nodded. "Go ahead."

Evan put his hands on his thighs and kept him there for a moment, then started moving them. He felt Tommy up nice and heavy, but kept his fingers away from his cock or ass.

Yeah, there he was. There was that good boy.

Tommy was content to watch Evan for now, watch him run his hands over his skin, watch him try his very best to stay focused on anything other than the way he had to leave Tommy's hole empty.

With a content sigh, Tommy folded his arm behind his head. He smirked at Evan, who was watching him like a hawk, eyes caught on the flex of Tommy's biceps.

"You look like you want something, baby. Mind telling me what it is?"

For a moment, something like defiance flashed in Evan's eyes, and Tommy could guess what he was thinking. As if you don't know what I want.

That was only for a moment, however, and Evan dropped the act in favor, of sliding his hands along Tommy's inner thighs, closer to his cock. "I wanna fuck you."

Tommy quirked an eyebrow and clicked his tongue. "You can say that nicer." He moved his free hand as if giving Evan the stage. "Come on."

And Evan did not disappoint. His eyes went big and wide, like every time he wanted something really badly. "Please," he started, "please, I wanna make it good for you, please, please, lemme put it in, please, just a moment."

Tommy bit his own tongue to keep his composure. God, did he love this. Evan was just so good at asking, at begging.

"Just a moment, huh?" Tommy asked, pretending to think about Evan's request. "You sure you're gonna be able to pull out? Remember how difficult it was for you when it was just the tip?"

Evan opened his mouth. Closed it. Stared back down between Tommy's legs as if his dick would give him the strength he needed. He took a deep breath, swallowed what saliva must have pooled in his mouth.

"Please," he groaned.

Tommy shrugged. "You gotta give me more than that. Please what, baby?"

"Please!"

"Please what? Use your words now."

The dam broke. "Please. Please, let me, I wanna do, I wanna make you ... please." Another breath, another heavy swallow. "Please, daddy."

There we go, Tommy thought. That was what he wanted, that was what he loved - Evan desperate, so desperate to get his dick wet he couldn't form full sentences.

For another moment, Tommy pretended to think about it. He shrugged slightly. "Well, if that's what you want so bad." Tommy sighed, as if he wasn't dying for it at this point, too. "Come on, then."

He did not need to tell Evan twice. He moved closer, one of his hands on Tommy's legs to guide them to bracket his hips while the other one dug for the discarded bottle of lube again.

As Evan slicked back up, Tommy leaned up a bit and curled two fingers under Evan's chin, tipping it up.

"You come, you get punished. Got it?"

Evan nodded and leaned down to plant kisses on the skin of Tommy's knee and thigh. "Thank you, thank you," he mumbled.

Without instruction, Evan positioned himself again and pushed in, slowly, almost glacial, continuously looking up at Tommy, just waiting for him to say something and make him stop.

While yes, Tommy had thought about it, he'd ultimately decided against it. He'd also thought about clenching down and making Evan really fight for his self-control, but he was done with dragging it out. Maybe another time.

After all, he was playing with his own patience, too.

So, he kept his mouth shut until Evan was all the way in, until Tommy felt so pleasantly full, when he sighed in contentment.

Evan's eyes were closed, and his brow furrowed as if in concentration. Tommy shifted a little, bringing his knees closer to Evan's sides.

"You doing okay, sweetheart?" he checked in.

Pretty blue eyes opened again. "I'm good," Evan said roughly. "Just need a moment."

Which meant he was so keyed up that he almost came from just pushing in.

Tommy hoped he was as good at keeping the smug look off of his face as he thought he was.

He reached out, cupping the side of Evan's face with a hand and watched him lean into it, nuzzle his nose against the heel of Tommy's palm.

"There's that boy."

Evan smiled and rightened himself up again, but he didn't move except for miniscule jolts of his hips. Tommy decided not to punish him for that. He knew this behavior, he knew Evan couldn't control it.

"You really want it." He didn't pose it as a question, but Evan nodded nonetheless. "Then give it to me. I wanna feel it."

Another quick nod, and Evan gathered his legs up, hooking the backs of Tommy's knees over the bends of his elbows, and leaned forwards to jam his hands into the mattress.

The first time Evan found out how flexible Tommy was, he'd come almost immediately. Tommy didn't do yoga simply for his health, okay?

"This okay?" Evan asked softly, leaning close enough so that Tommy could lean up and kiss him.

"This is perfect," Tommy said in return, slightly moving his hips side to side just to really feel how big Evan was inside of him. "Fuck, you feel like a dream."

Evan made a quiet sound, like a strangled moan and a gasp in one. He shifted slightly. "Can I move?"

God, did he sound desperate. But he also sounded like he would listen if Tommy told him no.

When Tommy didn't say anything for a moment, Evan leaned in close to kiss him again, whispering, "Please, daddy, can I move?" against his chin.

Brat knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't forget what we're doing here," Tommy said. "You get me there first. You come before me, there'll be consequences."

"What kinda consequences?"

That made Tommy laugh for a moment. He remembered the time when Evan intentionally went against orders because he was a little too into what Tommy had promised as punishment. Not a mistake Tommy was gonna do twice.

"Not telling you, baby. Now do your thing, will you? I thought you wanted to."

It was all that Evan needed to finally move. And move he did.

He pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in immediately, not even pausing to take a moment. He didn't always do it, tended to like it better to start slowly and build the pace and strength of his thrusts up over the time, but Tommy could tell he was on a razor's edge.

And thank god for that.

There were no pretenses now, only Evan's single-minded focus on getting Tommy off. And he was good, so good at it. He thrived under being told he was good, yearned to be good, so he had meticulously studied whatever got Tommy's rocks off to give him the best experience in bed that he ever had.

His precision in finding the right angle to hit Tommy's prostate on every single push inside was unmatched, and sometimes, he used that knowledge to tease, but not today.

Today, it was a constant thrum of pleasure from the press of Evan's cock, from the way he filled Tommy so well, from the way it felt as if he went even deeper every single time he thrust inside.

"That's my good boy," Tommy praised. "You're doing so good."

In return, Evan gave him a breathless smile and impossibly sped up.

"You wan'a hand?" he asked.

Tommy actually took a moment to think, lost his train of thought when Evan changed pace again to instead slam his hips harder against the backs of Tommy's thighs. He had to take a moment to close his eyes and just take it in, a moan leaving him involuntarily, thoughtlessly.

"Daddy?" Evan prodded but made no move to let Tommy catch his breath.

What a guy.

"Think I don't need it."

Tommy had known way before he and Evan started having sex that he could come untouched, but back in the day, it was a rare thing he could only get to with excessive stimulation. Excessive seemed to be Evan's middle name, though, so Tommy rarely ever needed extra to come. Or wanted it, for that matter. It kinda made him crazy that Evan could get him off without touching his cock once.

Evan dropped his head and moaned at Tommy's admission, eyes clenched shut in concentration. He took just a moment for a pause before he pushed back in hard. Tommy had to give it to him, he hadn't thought Evan would last this long after everything, but he was nothing if not committed. Tommy had told Evan to make him come first, and Evan would do everything in his power to do it.

The backs of Tommy's legs were starting to feel a little tight, like they were about to cramp from their position, but he didn't even need to say anything, Evan was that in tune with his comfort.

He slowed down until he was barely moving at all and pulled his arms out from the backs of Tommy's knees, moved them to bracket his waist instead. He leaned forward to kiss Tommy again, this time for longer, and without the strain on Tommy's joints that he was slowly starting to feel.

Tommy sighed into the kiss, knowing that as soon as he opened his mouth, Evan would try and shove his tongue inside. He was a little gentler in his approach than Tommy expected, slowly curling his tongue behind the row of Tommy's teeth.

"You doing okay, baby?" Tommy asked into the small space between them, taking in Evan's flushed face. His curly hair was sticking to his forehead on one side.

"So good, daddy," Evan assured him. "Love you."

"I love you, too." And how. "Now come on. Get us there."

Evan buried his face in the crook of Tommy's neck. Tommy wrapped his arms around his back to pull him closer. From this position, Evan couldn't find the same momentum, but he didn't need it. He grinded his hips against Tommy's in tight circles, pressing right into his prostate.

Tommy bit the bolt of his jaw, buried a breathless gasp in the skin just below Evan's earlobe.

"Do you know how good you are, baby?" he mumbled. "Do you know how good you make me feel? How - ah, fuck - how I love having you inside me like this?"

Evan nodded against the side of Tommy's throat, his movement a little desperate.

"Hm, I don't think you actually do, sweetheart. Don't think you know how fucking lucky I am. Don't you- oh, fuck, fuck, there baby, you got it."

While Tommy was whispering into Evan's ear, Evan had shifted slightly, tried to crawl in even closer, and thus pushed his cock even deeper, so deep that Tommy thought he could feel it in his throat.

If made to choose between this constant grind against his prostate or the fast and hard fucking from before, Tommy would probably rather choke on his own spit. The latter had been great, but so was this, and he so loved having Evan pressed right against him, wrapped in his arms.

Without moving away, Evan tried to get more back and forth movement into his hips, and while that was nice, too, he quickly gave up in favor of drawing tight circles into Tommy, instead, a continuous press against his prostate now that made him gasp and moan.

Evan started begging, "Please, please, please," over and over under his breath, and Tommy was reasonably sure he wasn't even aware of it.

That paired with the constant stimulation of that big cock rubbing his insides in just the right way had Tommy teetering on the edge. Just a little something.

He didn't even have to say anything for Evan to deliver. He somehow managed to plant a knee, and he used that leverage to fuck into Tommy in short but harder thrusts without moving away from his place snuggled into the line of Tommy's jaw.

And then, he started talking. Begging, more like it. "Please, daddy, haven't I been good? Haven't I done you good, aren't you close, don't you wanna show me I'm good? I love you, come on, please, you can get it, you can, I wanna feel it, I wanna feel you come so bad, I wanna make you come, please."

No-one Tommy had ever had sex with begged this sweetly, and no-one had ever begged for Tommy to come before Evan. So of course, Tommy was a fucking goner.

The fingers of one hand buried themselves in the short curls at the back of Evan's head, the other gripped his side hard enough to leave the shape of his fingernails.

He groaned, long and deep in his chest, something that may have been Evan's name or maybe just some gibberish. He could hear Evan's own groan right in his ear when he clenched down on his cock, just to feel it, just to drag it out a little.

He shot off on his own chest and belly, and he could feel Evan move his head a little as if to watch. He probably was, seemed to have a near obsession between watching Tommy's cock or watching his face when he came.

Evan kept up the gentle sway of his hips, working Tommy through his orgasm as if there was nothing else in the world to do, and when Tommy finally came down to catch his breath, he realized with pride that Evan had held out.

He loosened his fingers from Evan's waist, rubbed over the red crescents left behind soothingly, then brought a hand to Evan's cheek.

"You okay?"

Evan nodded. "Can I-? Daddy, can I come now?" He didn't whine, but it was a near thing.

God, somehow, Tommy had bagged the best boy in the world. With a thumb rubbing over Evan's blushing cheek, he nodded.

"Of course you can. You want to come inside or on me?"

There were days when Evan would kill to come on Tommy's tits, or his face, on his thighs or ass, or on his stomach and watch their cum pool together.

Not today, though, judging by the way Evan looked devastated for a moment. "Don't make me pull out."

Tommy laughed, still giddy in the wake of an amazing orgasm, and stroked his hand through Evan's hair. "Don't worry, baby, I won't. You've done so good, you got me off so good. You can come, baby, you've earned it."

It only took two more thrusts before Evan dug his teeth into the skin next to Tommy's adam's apple, and he stilled, muffling the moan of Tommy's name against his throat.

He didn't move further, only to collapse bonelessly against Tommy's chest, and when Tommy clenched down a little once more, just a tease, the lids of his eyes fluttered.

Tommy let up, instead ran his hands up and down Evan's back, through his hair, waited for him to calm down a little.

His erratic breathing slowed, the mewling sounds he let out on almost every exhale quieted and disappeared, and with a huge sigh that seemed to press Tommy further into the mattress, Evan raised his head and opened his eyes.

"Fuck," he said, voice a little rough now.

Tommy chuckled. "Pretty much, yeah."

Evan nuzzled in for a kiss, mumbling, "God, I love you."

They kissed for a moment, soft and slow, but the cum drying on Tommy's skin was starting to itch, and when Evan pulled out and tied off the condom, his movement was sluggish.

"Wanna go clean up in the shower or do you want a bath?" Tommy asked.

"Can I have a bath?" Evan asked immediately.

Thank god for the - back then irresponsible - large expense for a bathtub big enough to fit two tall, buff firefighters.

Tommy got up, and Evan dropped back onto the bed, folding his arms under his head, looking like a right pillow princess.

It didn't take long for Tommy to put the lube back in the drawer, throw the condom away, and prepare the bathtub - after he cleaned up the worst of it, he was not willing to sit in cum-water for a prolonged time.

They sat together in the bath shortly after, Evan's back to Tommy's chest, with his head resting back on Tommy's shoulder - perfect position for him to kiss at Tommy's jaw sleepily.

While the sex was fun, Tommy almost liked this part even more, when Evan allowed himself to relax, and let Tommy take care of him.

Tommy was already making plans for next time. He couldn't wait to see how Evan would end up after, after Tommy had been more mean. After he had made him work even harder.

He knew Evan would get him back for it, but that was half the fun.

[untitledmemes]

Narrator Outtakes Prompts

An assortment of prompts taken from the Narrator Outtakes (Baldur's Gate 3) videos on Youtube. Adjust as necessary to fit pronoun and/or descriptor. Reblog, please do not repost or add.

“ Think you know how to pronounce it? I think not! ”

“ I haven't read one line yet, how did it get weird already? ”

“ That is some fantasy bullshit right there. ”

“ Yeah, everything's fine. ”

“ Calm, breath. It's ok. ”

“ Nobody talks to me. Nobody ever talks to me! ”

“ You may know me from such things as lying on the sofa eating cheese for several months. ”

“ What does this word mean? ”

“ I can make up words too! ”

“ I'm enjoying myself. ”

“ Enjoy the fantasy, and then call a therapist. ”

“ Wow, I am a patronizing bitch today. ”

“ No filth for you, ha ha. ”

“ It's already injured, maybe just kill him a bit. ”

“ You're a nerd. We're all nerds here. ”

“ The world continues to turn while you read everything. ”

“ I have no hands, apart from the ones I use to repeatedly slap you with. ”

“ Where were we? Who am I? What day is it? Why do my arms hurt? ”

“ Sometimes you think you're on mute and you're not. ”

“ Frantic bi energy. ”

“ I can fuck my way through any problem! ”

“ I've got splinters in places you don't want to know about, but I'm through. ”

“ We live in horny jail, you can't send us there. We've got the keys! ”

“ Go on. Do it. See what happens. ”

“ Who the fuck do you think you are? ”

“ Somebody studied Shakespear and now it's everybody's problem. ”

“ I think we need to have an intervention. ”

“ I like hearing you breathing. ”

“ Oh, aren't they having a nice time? But you're going to die. ”

“ I've lost my authority! ”

“ Right, fine. Whatever. This is my job and I'm not tired at all. ”

“ It's happening again. It's happening again! ”

“ Everything's fine. Normal is a state of mind. ”

“ I'm a professional. I can say the word 'erected' without laughing. Once. ”

“ I have exceptionally moist ankles. ”

“ I learned a word today. I don't know what it means. ”

“ There's a name for what you are and you'll learn it one day. ”

“ He's lucky I didn't rip his face off and melt it like plasticine. ”

“ It's not you, it's... It really is me. ”

“ I am the problem here and I am fully aware, but I made the decision to inflict me on everyone else. ”

“ They do like just slamming shit together in this, don't they? ”

“ I'm taking myself off to the chamber of penance. ”

“ Who doesn't like to prod an eye? ”

“ You got it, buddy. ”

“ Try not to look too closely, everything's gonna start swirling. ”

“ It's a little bit sexy, but you are going to be covered in blood in the end. ”

[selunesdreams]

Chapter 15: Baggage

“Sorry about your dinner plans.” Rook murmured as Lucanis fell in step beside her. “I can make you dinner any time,” he said with a grin. “Never apologize for ending a meal early to kill Venatori.” “After what they did to you and Spite, to Neve and the Shadow Dragons, to Minrathous…” Rook reached down and squeezed his hand. “I intend to cleanse Tevinter of every single one.” WANT TO WATCH ROOK KILL . AND THEN- Lucanis’ skin heated as she let go of his hand, forging ahead to give directives. He kept a careful distance as Spite ranted and raved in his mind about all the things he could do to Rook, some things he wasn’t even certain he knew how to do…

Pairing: Lucanis x Fem Rook/OFC x Spite???

Summary: Fiamma recalls her final night at Villa Dellamorte, Lucanis uses food to show appreciation while Spite would prefer other methods, Rook does her best to stomach an encounter with the Venatori while rescuing kidnapped Dalish, and Solas becomes suspiciously cooperative.

Word count: 3.8k

Things of note/warnings: 18+ fic, MDNI! Blood of Arlathan quest. warnings: ritual/innocent animal sacrifice, mild sexually/physically aggressive Illario, horny Spite, yearning (but oblivious) Lucanis, Solas. Please read on AO3 if you need to track warnings, they will be inevitably detailed better there (or just want to be real sweet and give me hits/kudos/comments).

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

As Fiamma sorted through Caterina’s mail with gloved hands, her fingertips hesitated over an envelope bearing no Crow letterhead or seal. Unfamiliar penmanship scrawled her name in dark ink, and while Viago would immediately suspect an attempted poisoning, she found herself slipping off her gloves, brow furrowing as she deposited the rest of the mail on the kitchen counter.

No one outside of the Crows should have any knowledge of her residence at the villa, yet someone had known to send correspondence here. They’d also known that if her mail went to Viago’s, he’d snoop. All the mail sent to the villa passed through Fiamma first. The sender intended for her to get her hands on it without intervention.

Lucanis had been off for some time. Perhaps he wanted a message to get to his grandmother discreetly? Or perhaps it was a trap laid by her cousin, testing how she was exercising caution these days. With a frown, she slipped a knife from her waistband and sliced underneath the wax seal, anyway. 

Hey kid, You might not remember us little people after single-handedly taking down 20 Antaam, but you left an impression on me I can’t seem to shake. I’m working on looking for an old friend who’s gotten themselves into some pretty deep shit. I could use someone with your skill set and grit to help me find him and, maybe, beat some sense into him. If you’re up for the job, and things aren’t too cushy where you’re at, you can find me every evening for the next ten-day at the Lamplighter in Minrathous. Look for the guy with a loud mouth and a chessboard. -Varric 

Varric. One of the prisoners she freed the night she ruined an entire Crow operation - the very misstep that landed her here at Villa Dellamorte. His proposition wasn’t a new one - he’d made the same offer the night she rescued him, but Viago hauled her off before she could even consider it. Undoubtedly, Varric had powerful allies and discreet surveillance on her. She was unnerved that she hadn’t noticed. Though she found herself somewhat impressed. Intrigued, even.

Fiamma folded the letter and tucked it into her pocket, setting a kettle on the stove as she continued tending to her evening duties. While the water for Caterina’s evening tea boiled, she contemplated Varric’s offer. Viago had sidelined her for three full moons now, with no promise of letting her return home, or to her own contracts anytime soon. In that period, Illario had become more insufferable, more forward, and more tormenting. After Lucanis departed for a prolonged contract last week, Illario had formed a habit of returning home drunk every night, melancholy and distraught, howling belligerently outside her door to be let in. If the villa weren’t so large, and Fiamma’s chambers weren’t in the opposite wing, Caterina would have caned him for making so much noise. It seemed his luck was in his grandmother’s declining hearing. 

She shook her head, preparing a cup of tea and arranging it on a bed tray alongside the rest of Caterina’s mail. Carrying it up the stairs, she wound through long hallways and several bare rooms. Cloth draped so much of the villa’s furniture to protect it from dust that she often felt surrounded by ghosts. In many ways, she was. Caterina had watched her entire family die, save her two remaining grandchildren. What joy was left inside these walls? Why decorate a space better left vacant, much like the unmarked graves near the rose garden? 

The First Talon was in a rocking chair before the fire when Fiamma knocked on her bedroom door. Caterina never could quite sit still. Even at rest, she was restless. Normal people rocked their grandbabies to sleep, but she raised hers to be killers. Good ones at that. The back and forth of her chair was meant to soothe her own worry. 

“Lots of mail today.” Fiamma said, setting the tray on a desk near the balcony. The old woman glanced at her, the glimmer of hope in her eyes betraying her mask of indifference. 

“Anything from Lucanis?”

“Are you expecting word from him? I could send-”

“I’ll handle it.” Caterina waved, cutting her off. “Leave me.”

Typically, the two would exchange a few teasing comments or Caterina would gloat about Lucanis’ most recent accomplishment (or how Illario had most recently vexed her), but Fiamma knew better than to pry. Caterina was prone to sour moods, and where she came from, dismissal was just as good as praise most of the time. After all, to be noticed often meant death in her line of work.

With a polite dip of her chin, she backed out of the room and closed the door. Absentmindedly, her hand returned to her pocket, brushing against the edge of the folded parchment there. The click of her boots echoed against the marble as she walked down the dimly lit corridor to her room. It would be unconscionable to leave Caterina now. Once Lucanis’ contract in Minrathous was finished, she’d take her leave in the night. But surely he’d return soon. What harm was there in leaving her with Illario for a few days? A lead assassin was more than capable of fending for herself…

She could barely count the steps left to her door when she heard something behind her, turning and preparing for an ambush. A small gasp escaped her as her back hit the wall, Illario’s face coming only a breath from her own. So drunk she could smell the alcohol on his skin, she turned her head to the side and wrinkled her nose. 

“Fiammetta…don’t tell me you’re avoiding me?” Illario slurred, clumsily dragging a hand down her cheek. 

“Go to bed.” She braced her palms on his chest to create distance between them. 

“Not without you.” He took her by the wrists and pressed his mouth sloppily against the corner of her own.  

“You pig!” She shoved him off, spitting and wiping her lips with her sleeve. 

“How long will we do this dance, Fi?” Illario asked in a sultry voice. 

“As long as it takes for you to get it through your head that the kiss before was a thank you, not an oath of my devotion.”

Illario narrowed his eyes. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“Is it so hard to fathom that I just don’t want you?” 

“No, no, come on. Who is it? You and Teia have some secrets that I should know about?” He leaned in closer. “What about my cousin? He’s sweet on you, I can tell.”

“Listen to yourself.” Fiamma sneered. “You just can’t believe I would say no to you unless I was saying yes to someone else.”

Illario stumbled into her, pulling her closer. “Lucanis is inexperienced.” He whispered against the shell of her ear, “You want me, someone who can show you the ropes-” 

Fiamma instinctively reeled back and decked him square in the jaw, her knuckles grazing his bottom teeth. With a hiss of pain, she recoiled, shaking the impact from her fist as he held his chin, opening his mouth wide to check the joint. 

“Maybe I deserved that one.” He mumbled, wiping at his bloodied lip. 

Before the exchange could carry on another moment, Fiamma wrenched the doors of her bedroom open and slammed them shut behind her, turning the lock and sliding her sword through the handles for extra security. 

“I didn’t stand a chance, did I?” Illario asked through the door as his body audibly slumped against it. 

Ignoring him, she pulled a bag from under the bed. When she first arrived, Fiamma never fully unpacked. Her own way of keeping one foot out the door, as De Rivas always did. She swept the room, gathering her remaining belongings and throwing them inside. For good measure, she snatched a couple of offerings from the guest wardrobe. Caterina wouldn’t miss them. Though she might miss her . That wasn’t Fiamma’s problem anymore, though.  

“I’ve done terrible things, Fiammetta…” Illario’s muffled voice cried. “But I had to…”

With a heavy sigh, Fiamma hoisted her pack onto her shoulder, retrieved her sword from the door, and opened her bedroom window. No longer willing to entertain another night of self-pitying theatrics, she launched herself over the ledge, scaling a trellis to the gardens and sneaking through the hidden passage across the courtyard. 

By morning, she’d secured a spot on a ship to Minrathous, to search for a man with a loud mouth and a chessboard. With a brief pang of guilt, she wondered who would bring Caterina her morning coffee. 

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Rook found Viago poised over the kitchen counter, precariously refilling his toxin vials. Framed by the glass balcony doors, the setting sun glowed over the city skyline behind him, turning the den a faint orange. Her cousin glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, decanting a clear liquid into an empty container. 

“Your friends tired of hovering by your bedside and returned home.”

Rook took a seat, watching him work. “Teia too?”

“She had work to do at the casino. She left once I assured her you’d live.”

Neither of them spoke for several minutes as Viago corked a glass cylinder and nestled it inside his case with care. He snapped it shut and braced his palms on the counter, staring at the stone surface.

“Go back to your Lighthouse. I’ll keep an eye on Illario and update you when I know more. Once you go through that eluvian of yours, I’m facing it towards the wall.” 

“What if I need you?”

“Lucanis seems more than eager to make you his problem. Let him carry the burden for a little while.”

Rook buried her reaction to his disappointment deep within herself. “What makes you say that?”

“Because he was the last to leave and keeps reappearing through that damned mirror every hour to check in.” Viago stood up straight and took off towards his room without sparing her a second look. 

“Whatever is going on between the two of you, keep it out of my house.”

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

AMBER. AND HONEY! ROOK. CLOSE .  

Lucanis glanced up just before she opened the kitchen doors. Relief and another potent emotion, something akin to the rush just before an assassination, coursed through his veins. 

“Rook! You’re back.” He breathed, lifting the pasta cooking on the stovetop off the flame and setting it aside to cool. “How are you feeling?”

“Well rested.” She crossed the room as he wiped his hands on his apron, discarding it on a nearby chair. As she joined him near the stove, his eyes met hers, and he forced a smile, feeling a bit dazed. He turned around quickly, twirling a forkful of pasta in the pan and offering her a bite. 

“Come here, try something for me.” 

One brow arched, she held his gaze, lips dragging down the metal prongs as she allowed him to feed her a mouthful. Chewing thoughtfully, she threw her head back with a moan. Lucanis watched her features attentively, assessing what the dish might need based on her reaction.  

OTHER WAYS TO MAKE HER MOAN, LUCANIS. BETTER WAYS.  

He shoveled a forkful of hot pasta into his own mouth, as if he could silence Spite by burning his own tongue. 

“I’m trying something new.” The noodles scalded his throat as he swallowed them whole. “The trick is in the pasta water…” He returned his attention to dinner, dividing it amongst an assortment of plates on the counter. 

“You’re in a surprisingly cheerful mood today.” Rook snuck a fork from the counter and began eating directly out of the pan. 

“I’m cautiously optimistic about Caterina, and I wanted to do something nice for you, show my appreciation for all your help…” He snatched the fork from her grasp. “Save your appetite. There’s a tort in the oven, too.” 

Rook smiled, and the warmth of her brown irises brought out by the light of the fireplace. “Did you do all this for me, Lucanis?”

“There’s plenty to share.” Tension grew in his chest, a sensation of static rising in his throat. “But…I did make it with you in mind.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Yes, I did,” He said matter-of-factly, shoving his hands in his pockets and averting his eyes. “I still haven’t found a way to apologize for everything, and…”

“I’m the one who owes you an apology, Lucanis.” She said, reaching for his wrists. “I should have listened to you. Should have told you my plans, never should have…”

ROOK. TOUCHING. US. DO IT BACK!  

Lucanis let her tug him closer, blinking in surprise as she flung her arms around his neck. One hand fell to her waist, while the other found her hip.

“You and me? We’re good, Rook.” He said, tearing his attention away from her and returning to the stove, wordlessly plating their meal as Rook set the table. She brushed past him; filling a cup of coffee for each of them before settling into her seat. It was wonderfully domestic, and he welcomed the distraction from the trouble that waited for them in Treviso. It would be hard to trust anyone again, but after his moment with Rook yesterday, he’d unveiled a trust in her he’d never allowed himself to have in anyone.  

The others soon arrived, Bellara and Neve bringing news of kidnapped Dalish, taken by Venatori, for a ritual sacrifice. A pang of disappointment hit Lucanis as he realized their brief respite from the terror of the gods would soon be over…and the tort he’d labored over all afternoon would likely go untouched. 

“The gods will want more power,” Bellara said, picking at her food. “They won’t waste any time getting it.”

A phantom scratch came from behind Lucanis’ eyeballs at the mention of blood magic. 

“Then we strike while they’re weak.” He lowered his fork, looking up from his half-finished plate and holding Rook’s gaze. She set her mouth in a line with a firm nod. 

“He’s right.” She said, pushing up from her seat. The others followed suit, departing in the direction of the eluvian.

“Sorry about your dinner plans.” Rook murmured as Lucanis fell in step beside her.

“I can make you dinner any time,” he said with a grin. “Never apologize for ending a meal early to kill Venatori.”

“After what they did to you and Spite, to Neve and the Shadow Dragons, to Minrathous…” Rook reached down and squeezed his hand. “I intend to cleanse Tevinter of every single one.”

WANT TO WATCH ROOK KILL . AND THEN-

Lucanis’ skin heated as she let go of his hand, forging ahead to give directives. He kept a careful distance as Spite ranted and raved in his mind about all the things he could do to Rook, some things he wasn’t even certain he knew how to do…

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

Safer to venture into such a large gathering of Venatori in small groups, Neve, Lucanis, and Rook opted to move in the open, disguised, while the others went through the trees with the Veil Jumpers. 

“This robe stinks of Venatori. It makes my eyeballs itch.” 

Lucanis stood with his arms crossed as he waited for Neve to reach the opposite end of the zip line. White fog seeped up from the deep canyon before them, concealing several roaring waterfalls in the distance. Rook bit her lip as she examined the large gap between them and the opposite bank. 

“If you’re not too uncomfortable…I could use a favor.” 

Lucanis raised an eyebrow as she held up her palms. The injuries she sustained from her escape from the villa were still red and inflamed as she tugged a pair of thick gloves over them with a grimace. 

Lucanis smirked and offered her his back. “Need a lift?”

“You sure you can carry both of us?” She asked with some uncertainty, “I can catch up with the others if…”

Lucanis scoffed. “I can handle you.” 

“Rescued twice in less than a fortnight. I’m a lucky girl.” Rook’s arms encircled his middle, and she rested her chin on his shoulder, hiking her legs up around his waist. “Are you sure about this?”

He stiffened, tightening his grip on the handles. “I’ll keep my reservations to myself until we reach the other side.”

Lucanis kicked off the ground, and they soared over the canyon, Rook’s stomach plummeting as she looked at the drop below. With her arms locked tightly around Lucanis’ chest, she feared he’d suffocate and pass out, sending them both to their deaths amongst the jagged rocks below. Eyes squeezed shut, she became attuned to the scent of his shaving oil lingering on his neck as she buried her face there. The telltale jolt of them hitting the end of the zipline ripped every thought from her mind and she released a held breath, letting her shaking legs detach themselves from around Lucanis. As her boots hit solid ground, she swallowed hard to avoid retching.

“Took you long enough,” Neve said, inclining her head towards the Venatori camp. “Come on.” 

They weaved through a sea of Red Cloaks and excited chatter. Rook caught the sound of her own name a few times, resisting the urge to turn her head towards it. 

“You’re popular.” Neve murmured. 

“Not comforting.” Rook replied. From her peripheral, she watched Lucanis scan the crowd, hands flexing at his sides. 

“They’re going to bleed a Dalish deer!” A nearby Venatori squealed. 

Rook’s throat tightened as she recalled the disposition of the gentle creature she’d encountered with Assan and Davrin. “They’re going after Halla?”

She turned to a platform where the creature was drug forward on a rope, weak and struggling to resist. Could it be the same one from before? 

Lucanis reached out and caught her around the waist as she jolted forward, bringing his lips to her ear. 

“We can’t do anything that will draw attention, Rook.” He warned in a low voice. Tears stung her eyes as she realized he was right. Lucanis discreetly reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. 

“You don’t have to watch this,” Neve said as the Halla bleated in terror, but Rook couldn’t tear her gaze away, no matter how badly she wanted to. She squeezed Lucanis’ hand, fingernails digging into his skin unintentionally. When she noticed and tried to relax her grip, his only tightened. Face set in a facade of indifference, fury simmered beneath his features. 

“They will pay, one way or another.” 

The Halla exploded into a mess of blood and carrion and she stifled a gasp, turning into Lucanis’ shoulder. She’d seen all she needed to, and not a second more. 

“Are you alright?” Lucanis asked softly. 

“This whole place makes my skin crawl.” She said through gritted teeth, releasing his hand with some difficulty and storming through the Venatori camp.

─── ⊹⊱♤⊰⊹ ───

“The Dalish prisoners…they escaped safely?”

Covered in blood and dirt after the events at the Venatori camp, Rook stood across Solas in their usual meeting spot, each on one side of an enormous expanse in the Fade. His prison.

“For now.”

They’d barely been successful. Elgar’nan had shown up with an unexpected archdemon, and soon detected their presence, bringing to light his alliances with both the Venatori and the Antaam. If not for Solas’ intervention, they, nor the Dalish, would have made it out alive.

“Whatever my frustration with them, it feels good to have helped my people again. Thank you for allowing me to. The chance to infuriate Elgar’nan was a reminder of simpler times.” Solas spoke more warmly than she was used to. It felt like a change she shouldn’t trust. 

“We share a set of similar goals, but our endgame is not the same.” Rook said, folding her arms over her chest, “And I still haven’t forgiven you for hurting Varric.”

“Varric…” Solas echoed, regret weighing on his features. “How is he?”

“Out of commission, for now. His recovery is slow, thanks to you, but his condition seems to be….improving.” Rook said, worry gnawing at her gut. 

“And you? I can’t help but notice you bear some injuries of your own.” Solas nodded at the contusion on her temple and where her wounds had reopened on her palms. She’d had no choice but to draw her weapons and fight, undoubtedly prolonging her healing time. 

“I’ll be fine.” She muttered, pulling her gloves from out of her pockets and slipping them on, careful to keep a straight face. Solas wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her suffer today. 

“You lead your allies well, Rook. When we first met, I saw you only as a foolish child who disrupted my plans. You were…an irritant.” He said, crossing his arms behind his back. “I expected you to be nothing more than a tool, but you’ve proven me wrong at every turn. Perhaps Varric was not misguided, placing his faith in you.”

“You’d do well not to underestimate me.” Rook said, “Most come to regret it…given they survive long enough.” 

“Spoken like someone who kills for a living.”

“Let’s not pretend my death toll is anywhere close to yours.” Rook growled. 

Solas hummed in acknowledgement, uncrossing his arms and beginning to pace. 

“Your team trusts you, and you listen to them. It is impressive…and enviable. You work together with a camaraderie that took me centuries to build in my rebellion.”

“I care about them. I don’t use them as…how did you put it… tools?”

“I caution you not to allow feelings to distract you from your goal. What little time you have left, you should make certain you, and the team that trusts you, are ready for whatever comes. This might be your last chance. Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain are preparing their ritual to pierce the Veil during the next eclipse, as Elgar’nan’s power is tied to light and darkness.”

“My allies will be ready.” Rook said, walking through dust and rubble towards the other end of the Fade’s nothingness. Anything to be further from Solas. 

“Are you?” He called after her. “I know that you will do everything in your power not to fail them , but what are you doing to ensure you will not fail yourself ? I have gleaned insight into some of your baggage, the complicated feelings you carry for fellow Crows, including the one on your own team. Have you grappled with your own shame? The regrets that haunt you in your sleep?”

“The Lighthouse is a shrine to your regret, Solas.” Rook said over her shoulder as the world around them faded to white. “Keep your words of wisdom and try heeding them yourself.”

[raythekiller]

Weird question, but how would the creeps and Lane be affected by a reader who has obsessive pheromones. Ex. Any person they spend enough time with, the person (or people) surrounding them gets obsessed with the reader. I kinda imagine everyone putting on a gas mask once they snap out of it lol

I wonder if Lane would be affected, would they stay the same or be worse?

Please and thank you for serving us. I bid you a good day. Take care 🩷🩷🩷

🗒 ❛ Reader With Obsessive Pheromones ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Jeff The Killer, Ben Drowned, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, Masky, Hoodie, Lane The Lurker

#Notes: this was such a fun concept to write

pronouns used: none, gn! reader

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꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Jeff The Killer

Absolutely falls for it. And it's so difficult to snap him out of it because he will not leave your side unless he's being forcefully dragged away, and that while still putting up a fight. Gets super touchy with you and actually treats you decently. He's just going on and on about how attractive you are and wow is that a new perfume? Once Masky manages to pull him away he'll refuse to come near you or even look you in the face, embarrassed about his own behavior. Avoids you like the plague.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ben Drowned

My God he's already horny normally, imagine now. Hits on you nonstop in a very suggestive manner and is another one that refuses to leave your side. Will probably try to kiss you once or twice before being dragged away. To everyone's surprise, he doesn't seem to mind the fact that he was only obsessed with you because of the pheromones and still hits on you while wearing a gas mask. He's just funky like that.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ticci Toby

He gets super flustered around you and stutters twice as much. Doesn't really try to flirt or make any moves, he just stands there awkwardly. Actually doesn't take him long to snap out of it since he gets overwhelmed with his own feelings and scurries away from you himself, without much needed intervention. He didn't like the feeling so he only talks to you while wearing a mask.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Eyeless Jack

Oof... Well, you see, obsession kind of triggers something... demonic inside of him, pretty similar to how I describe him in my NSFW posts. He's unable to speak and just kind of circles around you, acting like a guard dog. Will actually roar and claw and bite at anyone who tries to approach you or take him away from you, so he's the hardest to snap out of it. If he manages, though, he'll apologize for his behavior and ask you to please be more careful with this... power of yours.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Masky

Look, I'm trying to keep this post SFW, but it's getting a little difficult. He doesn't really show any change in behavior, to the point you might think he's immune somehow. That is, until he corners you against a wall, demanding you help him with the... Uhm, problem you've created. You'll have to get him out of it yourself. Once he's back to normal, he'll threaten you to not say a word about what he said to you to anyone else, his face flushing lightly underneath the mask.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Hoodie

Extremely similar to Masky. Doesn't show any sings of being affected until he makes a move, running a hand up your thigh and kissing your neck. You have to be lucky enough for someone to walk by or else things might escalate. Once he's normal again, he'll chuckle at you like it's no big deal, writing something on a piece of paper and handing it to you. It reads "Played a dangerous game there, doll".

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Lane The Lurker

Oh boy. It's gonna be pretty impossible to get them out of it because they don't want to go back to normal. They enjoy the feeling of obsession. Follows you around like a lost puppy and does literally anything you ask them to, but asks for kisses and such as compensation. Can and will threaten to kill anyone that approaches you, being another creep or family member or anything else. They want every last bit of your attention and they plan to get it.