#i had a hot shower earlier but that doesn't do shit

[autobahnmp3]

today dod have great weather BUT it's so fucking cold

[buckyalpine]

Did You Hear

Fluffyy crack fic and nothing else. Imagine Tony Stark's shy new assistant sitting at the kitchen island for breakfast, getting a cup of tea before heading to the lab. She's sipping from her steaming mug when a very pretty super solider walks in from his run and the heat rising in her cheeks isn't from the hot Earl Grey.

"Mornin' y/n" He gives you a polite smile while he makes his way to the fridge and you had to silence the squeak that nearly escapes your lips. He's in a pair of snug grey sweats which are resting sinfully low on his hips and his tight black t-shit showing off every divot and curve of muscle on his torso. You bite you lip as he bends down to grab a cold bottle of water, silencing a squeal with a sip of tea.

"Morning, Sergeant" You give him a smile and the lopsided grin he gives you as he goes on about his day leaves you giggling and kicking your feet. You were just about finished your cup when Nat walked in next, looking you up and down with a shake of her head.

"Bucky was here, wasn't he" She playfully rolled her eyes knowing the effect the brunette had on you. "What happened this time"

"Bucky has a cute butt" You giggled, while Nat snorted at your flustered state. "And slutty thighs"

"Do you ever plan on actually telling him"

"No!" You vigorously shook your head. That was out of the question for you; you were happy to admire the soldier from afar. The last thing he'd want is to have to deal with is the playground crush you had on him anyway, it was a miracle he even noticed you. "He doesn't even see me that way"

"Well, guess we'll never know" She sassed as you slipped off the stool to make your way to the lab.

"I'm happy to admire God's work from a safe distance!" You called over your shoulder while Nat shook her head, smirking to a third person you didn't see who was lingering near the kitchen, very happy to listen intently to the conversation that was taking place.

The one that was supposed to be a secret from Bucky's ears.

That wouldn't do.

-

"Did you hear?" Sam grinned, sauntering over where Bucky was sparring with Steve, both men panting after already going for a few rounds. "Word on the street is you have a cute butt"

"What" Bucky deadpanned while Steve smirked, watching the heat in his friends cheeks already starting to creep up to his ears.

"Mhm, that little tush of yours has been getting a lot of attention lately"

"From who" Bucky's face scrunched up in confusion, frowning when Sam cackled, clapping his shoulder.

"Tony's cute lil assistant" He says with a wink, noting the immediate change in Bucky's demeanor, his frown falling off his face, replaced with a very pink blush.

"You mean y/n?"

"Uh huh. Must've been those slutty grey sweats you've been running around in"

"Slutty?"

"Extremely. Especially with those thighs"

"And how do you know this" Bucky struggled to bite back a smile, not wanting to get his hopes up until he was sure. "There's no way she-

"Heard her talking to Nat this morning. She sounded real excited after seeing you and your cute butt" Sam gave him a swat causing him to yelp.

"Hm. Interesting" The soldier nodded already looking towards the showers so he could rinse off and find you.

"Yeah, yeah, go find your girl" Steve shoved Bucky off the mat with a grin. Bucky jogged off to the lab right after a shower, purposely throwing on a new pair of his snug joggers. He smirked as he walked in seeing you fully focused on a small creation Tony created, tinkering away without noticing him.

"Hey doll"

"Ser-sergeant!" You squeaked in surprise as he strode inside, dropping the gadget you were working on, "What can I help you with"

"Sam told me something earlier", Bucky shrugged casually while you stayed frozen in your seat, your heart rate picking up the closer he got. "Was wonderin' if you knew anything about it"

"What's-what's that" You fidgeted nervously, his baby blues staring at you intently, loving how flustered you looked.

"Someone said something about me having a cute butt"

"Oh" You looked like deer in headlights, wishing the ground would swallow you whole.

"Oh?" Bucky smirked while you hid your face in your hands, ready to sink to the floor and hide under the table, he must have thought you were such a pervert. "And something about slutty thighs-

"Not just your butt! All-all of you is cute all over" You squeaked out before slapping a hand over your mouth realizing you were making it worse.

"All of me, huh" Bucky pried your hand away from your face, cupping your cheek instead, the cool metal of his arm soothing your hot skin. "So you do think I have a cute butt and slutty thighs"

His thumb came up to pull your bottom lip away from where it was caught between your teeth, smiling at the little nod you gave him, too scared to open your mouth.

"Well I'm glad"

"Y-you are?" You shyly whispered, nearly whining when he brought his other hand to hold your face gently, his lips brushing against yours.

"Mhm, means I can do this" You went limp in his hold, every muscle in your body turning into mush as he kissed your lips sweetly, the gentle peck feeling like he'd stolen your breath away. "Don't faint on me sweets" Bucky chuckled as he pulled away, seeing the dazed look on your face.

"Such a cute butt" You whispered to yourself, eyes growing wide when you realized you said that out loud. You buried yourself in his chest making Bucky grin, kissing the top of your head.

"Want to grab coffee with my cute butt?" Bucky tipped your chin up to look at him, "I'll even bring my slutty thighs" He threw in with a wink.

"Promise?" You giggled while he slipped in his hand in yours, leading you towards the door.

"Scouts honor, doll"

[heavyhitterheaux]

Under the Influence (Slight NSFW)

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: a little twist on the pheromone perfume trend 🤭

Synopsis: An argument earlier in the day is still lingering in the air as Jack tells you his plans for the rest of the night. However, once you get a whiff of his new cologne, you quickly try to put a stop to them.

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a beautiful anon 💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Tension was lingering in the air as you eyed Jack as he walked into your shared bedroom. The argument that had taken place earlier left the two of you not speaking to one another since early in the afternoon. You wanted to put an end to it because the last thing that you ever wanted to do was fight with your husband.

“Um, babe? Where are you going?” You asked as you sat up from your position on the couch in the corner of the bedroom as you saw him getting an outfit together.

“The Hub. I'm doing a set.” He quietly responded as he took off his shirt and threw it into the hamper without bothering to look over at you.

“Since when? You didn't tell me that.”

“Aren't you going out with Taylor? I only did it because I thought you told me you would be with her. Besides I do recall earlier you saying that you didn't want to be around me. So I'm doing what I was told.”

“Well that was earlier and I want to call a truce. You had an entire attitude with me for no reason. But no, she had to reschedule. I thought we could stay in with it being just us. We haven't had a night to ourselves in a while.” You told him as he walked over towards you with an expression on his face that you couldn't quite read.

“Y/N, I dropped the triplets off with my parents so I could go.”

“I-... not you calling me by my first name. Well, can't you do it another day?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around him. But it didn’t look like you were about to change his mind.

“When I stop being mad at you, that's when your name goes back to being baby. And no, I already told them I was coming.” He replied as he moved your hands away from him.

“But…”

“I have to get ready so I won't be late. Call hot chips and bad decisions.”

“They're busy and I want my husband.”

“Hmm, tough because you said the opposite earlier.” Jack replied as he walked away from you and headed towards the bathroom as you rolled your eyes.

“I know you rolled your eyes at me and if you keep doing it they're going to get stuck like that.”

“You weren't even looking at me!”

“Doesn't matter. How long have I known my wife? Since I was fourteen? I know you like the back of my hand.”

A few minutes later, you heard the shower turn on and you went back to reading your book as you sighed. This had been your first night without the triplets in a while and as much as you were trying to take advantage of it, your husband wasn't budging.

When Jack walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, you slowly lowered your book so that you could look at him. He wasn't paying you any attention and it made you feel some type of way.

“Smush?”

“Yes?”

“You still have an attitude with me but I want a kiss.”

“You'll get one before I leave and no I don't.”

“Yes you do! And you NEVER deny giving me kisses. Stop being mad at me!” You whined as you put your book down next to you and pouted as you crossed your arms.

“No one is denying you anything. I'm trying to hurry up so I won't be late.”

“You hate me.”

As those words left your mouth, Jack slowly turned his head to look at you and gave you a blank stare.

“If I hated you, we wouldn't be married. Stop saying stupid shit that isn't true. Starting to piss me off all over again.”

You made a face at him before proceeding to pick up your book once more to let Jack finish getting ready. When he was fully dressed, you got a whiff of his cologne as he put it on and it immediately made you stop in your tracks.

Got damn he smelled good.

“Is that new?” You asked him and all he did was shake his head no.

“I've had it for a while, just never used it. Got it in Cannes.”

As Jack turned around to come towards you, he was startled as he noticed that you were now next to him and wrapped your arms around him once more.

“Who are you wearing that for!?”

“Do not fucking start.”

“That smells really good. Can I have my kiss now or multiple? Or you can just take my clothes off too. Whatever works.” You said as you squeezed him tighter.

“I… what?”

“I don't want you to leave.”

“I'm giving you a kiss and then I'll see you when I come back but you'll probably be asleep.”

“But…”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Fine.” You mumbled as Jack leaned down to kiss you and you made sure to keep a tight hold on him. He noticed that you wouldn't let him go and simply placed several more kisses on your lips.

“Y/N, I can't go anywhere if you don't let me leave.”

“I know that's the entire point. How long will you be gone? And stop calling me Y/N!”

“Not that long. The sooner you let me go, the sooner I come back and that was the name you were given at birth.”

“Actually it wasn't, but that's a whole nother story. My mother, well grandmother changed it. But I don't think you need to go anywhere anymore.”

Jack let out a frustrated sigh as he wiggled out of your grasp.

All you did was go and stand in front of the bedroom door and cross your arms.

“What…. What are you doing?”

“Standing here so you can't leave.”

“That's cute. Really cute actually.”

“I'm not cute, I'm horny and you are NOT fulfilling your duties as my husband!” You explained to him and he did not look impressed.

“Remember what you said earlier or do I have to remind you again?” He replied as he checked the time on his phone.

“Well that was earlier and now I want you to rearrange my guts.”

All Jack did was walk over towards you and you thought he was leaning down to kiss you, however he simply picked you up and moved you to the side but not before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Excuse me, little one.”

“I… JACKMAN!”

“See you when I get back and stop all that yelling.” Jack replied as he was walking down the steps and you were right behind him.

“Nooooo! We're not done here! Just put the tip in!”

“You are no better than a man, I swear.” As he went to open the door, you hugged him from behind.

“Babyyyyy! Pookie! Smush!”

“No.”

“Damn, you probably won't even let me suck your dick so I know you're mad at me. You probably put that cologne on to find another wife.”

“Your mouth gets you in so much damn trouble sometimes.” Jack responded as he turned around to see you looking up at him.

“But, it also gets me out of it.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm, what?”

Before he responded to you, he took hold of your neck and lightly squeezed it.

“I will put you through the fucking mattress and you won't be able to walk properly for a week if you keep playing with me.”

You couldn't help but to smirk at him knowing that it would piss him off more.

“Who's playing, babe? Certainly not me. You got your wife so wet right now and she can't understand for the life of her why you won't do anything about it.”

By this point, you knew he was completely done with you with the way his neck vein was protruding, indicating his frustration.

“Don't you want to see how wet I am?” You asked as you grabbed his hand and moved it to the waistband of your shorts.

When you heard him sigh, you knew that you had won.

“Get on the couch and do not making a fucking sound or I'll stop. Face down, ass up. I have ten minutes.”

“Yesssss! I knew you'd fold. With the way things are going, you're probably going to make me come undone in five.”

“This doesn't change anything and I’m still mad at you.”

“We'll see about that in ten minutes.”

“I'm definitely wearing this cologne every day if this is your reaction to it.”

“Jackman, we will end up with twenty children if you do that.”

“Doesn't bother me. I love how you look when you're pregnant. And your boobs will probably get even bigger so it's a win for me.”

“Hmm, just like a man.” You mumbled as you rolled your eyes as the two of you were now on the couch.

“Well you were yelling at me to just put the tip in earlier so you aren't any better.”

“And I'd do it again too.”

[riki-riks-chick]

Can you pls write enha reaction when another member walks in when they're fucking their gf (hyung line) and making out (maknae line) 🙏🙏🙏

Heeseung:

You hadn't seen Heeseung in awhile so when he invited you over to "hang out", you were excited. But you also forgot he has a roommate. "Hey, Hyung I made some ram-" Jake froze, staring at the position you and his roommate were in, cheeks flushed red. He didn't even know you were here, and he usually knocks when you are in case Heeseung has you pinned down like he does right now. "Do you wanna watch or are you gonna close the door?.." Heeseung asks as Jake finally snaps out of his daze. "I'll leave it on the stove." He then slams the door, and you can hear his feet pad down the hall as he runs away, slapping Heeseung's chest afterwards. "Why would you say that to him?" You ask as he laughs, leaning down to kiss you. "He'll be fine.. Anyways, no need to be quiet now since he knows you're here."

Jay:

You had been pent up all day, Jay had made it his mission to tease you, knowing he wouldn't do anything while you guys were with the boys. Eventually you finally got back to the dorms, and Jay went to shower, of course asking you to join. You tried to keep quiet, but you hadn't realized Jay forgot to lock the door until Jungwon walked in. "Hey, Hyung I'm just gonna grab my toothb- holy shit my bad."

His eyes widened as he stared at you through the glass door, waving with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, I didn't know you two were in here." He apologized, grabbing his toothbrush. "Get out!" Jay yelled as Jungwon sighed. "I'm not the dumbass who forgot to lock the door. And I hope you're using a condom Hyung." He teased as Jay groaned. "Jungwon get the fuck out!"

As soon as Jungwon leaves, you start laughing. "You yelling like that is kinda hot..."

Jake:

Jake had called you over pretty late because he missed you, but it eventually led to you guys making out and now he's between your legs, lapping at your cunt while his other hand reaches up to cover your mouth, keeping you quiet. The bedroom door opened quietly, and you immediately met eyes with Sunghoon, Jake's best friend. "Fuck.. My bad." He shielded his eyes as Jake pulled away from you, immediately throwing his blanket on you to cover you. "What the fuck, Sunghoon?"

"How was I supposed to know she was here!? I can't find my keys." He explained as Jake sighed. "It's 2am, why do you need your keys?" He asked as Sunghoon smirked. "You're not the only one trying to dick your girl down."

Sunghoon:

"Sunghoon s-slow down.." You were moaning, trying to muffle yourself with the pillow below you as Sunghoon fucked you from behind, but he wasn't listening because he was mad about you laughing with Jay earlier. "You heard the lady, slow down." You both glanced towards the door as Jay walked in, not even batting an eye at the two of you. "Could you leave? I'm kinda busy."

"I'm grabbing my bag you took. Plus, who fucks at 3pm? You hornball." Sunghoon throws a pillow straight at Jay's head at the remark, making you chuckle. "It doesn't matter what time it is, and unless you wanna finish fucking her for me, get the hell out of my room."

As soon as Jay left, he leaned down towards your ear, pulling your hair. "You fucking slut.. You might be all smiles with Jay, but remember who's dick you're stuffed with."

Sunoo:

"Sunoo that tickles.." You giggled, pulling away from him as you pressed your lips against his once more, cupping his cheeks. "Woah.. Sunoo I didn't know you did these kinda things." Heeseung walked in, laughing as you pulled away from Sunoo, hiding your face against his shoulder. "Hyung.. You said you were gonna be out all day.." He relaliated as Heeseung sighed. "I left my wallet in my room. I'm just gonna grab it and be on my way." He reassures before disappearing down the hallway. Sunoo slides his hands under your shirt, littering kisses on your neck and shoulder. "When he leaves we can move to my room that way we won't get interrupted again."

Jungwon:

"Shh... You're gonna get us caught.." Jungwon whispered as he continued to kiss down your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist. "We're in the living room and you think no one is gonna catch us?.." You whispered, squealing when the lights turned on. "Jungwon? Is that you, Hyung?.." Riki's voice sounds as Jungwon sighs, sitting up. "What's up?.." Jungwon asks as Riki raises an eye brow, now seeing you pent under Jungwon. "Ohh sorry. I didn't mean to kill your vibe. Whenever you're done, come get me so we can hang out. I wanted to do a new tiktok dance." He then turns the lights back off before leaving as you and Jungwon both chuckle. "Well, you heard him, let's finish up here.."

Riki:

You and Riki had been hanging out in his room all day, and he eventually started laying on top of you which led to something more. He was now sitting between your legs, his hands under your shirt, and his lips on yours. You usually never got this touchy during a makeout session, but it was too good to pass up. "Hey, Riki.. Can you call my phone I can't find i- woah."

Sunoo walked in, jaw dropped as Riki sighed, hiding his face against your neck. You laughed, playing with his hair as you glanced at Sunoo. "I think I saw it on the kitchen counter after we ate lunch check there." You said as Sunoo thanked you, turning to leave. "Oh, and if you're gonna go further, use protection." He teased as Riki sat up, throwing his pillow at Sunoo's head. "Fuck.." He groaned as you chuckled, kissing him again. "He's gonna tell everyone and they're gonna tease me forever." He mumbled as you shrugged. "Who cares, now where were we?.."

[ironstrange1991]

Can't Live Without You

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Stephen is feeling lonely and doesn't know how to deal with his own feelings and needs.

Word Count: 3,1k

Warnings: SMUT: Male masturbation.

A/N: This is not my best work, but I am glad I'm finally able to post something. Hope you guys enjoy it and have a nice reading ;)

Stephen couldn't remember the last time he was completely alone in the Sanctum Sanctorum. Ever since the other Stephens arrived, he had gotten used to having them roaming within those walls, but both of them were out on different missions.

Defender went with Wong to Hong Kong's Sanctum and they would stay there for a few days and Supreme were in another planet with the Avengers. Wong not being in there  was the only reason he wasn't tormenting Stephen with the most boring tasks he could think of, but to be honest, Stephen was already missing his friend.

Christ, he really wasn't doing well to have gotten to the point where he missed Wong's nagging. In fact he was feeling alone. Lonely. That was the word he was trying to find to express the feeling he had been feeling in his chest all day. What a weird thing to feel.

He was missing you. You had gone on a work trip earlier in the week, but although you had promised to return in three days, it was Friday and he hadn’t had no sign of you other than the text admitting that you wouldn't be able to return before Monday.

He got angry when he read it. Not at you, but with the fact that somehow he was getting a taste of his own medicine: alone on a Friday night while you worked.

Of course he could come to you. Anywhere in the world, he could come to you, but he couldn't do it without you telling him you wanted so and every night you talked on the phone you didn't mention it. It wasn't like you suddenly forgot that your boyfriend could open a portal in your room to fuck you. No, Stephen was almost certain that you were using those days to distance yourself a little bit from him. Like a Stephen detox. After all, you had three of him and he admitted that they were not at all easy on you.

Stephen sighed, walking down the halls to the kitchen and took a good look in the fridge trying to find something to eat. There was leftover Chinese food he bought on Wednesday, two pieces of pizza he bought yesterday and some Tupperware with leftover food that he promised you he would get rid of and clean up, but he hadn't.

Shit, he was a terrible housekeeper.  It was pathetic, but it was true. Before you, he used to live of take-outs and the things that Wong cooked. Now he could barely imagine living the rest of the weekend like that. Obviously, he could try cooking. There were some half-finished things in the fridge, easy stuff, but he didn't want to risk setting the kitchen on fire, so he took the box of Chinese food and put it in the microwave to heat it up. While he waited, he took a piece of cold pizza and started eating while opening a bottle of beer.

He was starving and tired. He needed a good shower and a good night of sleep, but he hadn't been able to sleep well since you left. It wasn't a coincidence, you were the only person who could make him sleep when he was having one of his insomnia crisis. The methods you used were... how to say? Delicious.

He smiled to himself just at the thought of your nights together, then the microwave beeped  and he sat down to eat, but even that made him feel depressed. Stephen, who for many years lived alone and always thought it was great, now began to understand that he hated being left alone. He couldn't even conceive the idea of ​​living alone again.

He ate in complete silence and when he finished, he checked all the Sanctum seals and went up to his room. He crossed the room, getting rid of the boots he had worn all day and which were already making his feet hurt and took off the top of his robes,  took a pair of sweatpants from the closet drawer and headed to the bathroom.

The water was hot enough to burn his skin, but that was exactly how Stephen liked it. The fog fogging up the shower glass and enveloping the entire bathroom. Stephen let the hot water fall directly on his back and little by little he felt his tense muscles relaxing. He soaped himself quickly and washed his hair taking as long as he could and when he finished he wrapped a towel around his waist and dedicated himself to shaving. He was used to shave once every two days, goatee maintenance was a priority for him because he knew you loved it, it made him want to always make it perfect for you. In fact, as time went by, Stephen realized that everything he did was for you.

Finally, he threw himself on the bed feeling the tiredness of the day hitting him. He wanted to sleep, but he wasn't sleepy. That was one of the worst feelings in the world: being tired, but not being able to fall asleep. Usually you helped him in these situations, you made him sleep in your special way. God, he wanted you. He needed you.

He rolled over on the bed to reach the nightstand and threatened to take his sling ring, but stopped, scolding himself. Give her space, Stephen Strange. He thought, trying to convince himself, but the mere idea of ​​opening a portal in your hotel room made his body react instantly and Stephen sighed, realizing that maybe there was only one way to get through that hellish night without you: to handle the issue himself... thinking of you.

He let out a heavy sigh and shook his head allowing himself to run his hand down his abdomen imagining it was your hands reaching for his growing bulge. Stephen moaned softly with the contact of his hand on his cock even through the fabric of his pants. He was without a lay for five days. It was absurd to him, he couldn't imagine lasting another day without you and yet there he was being forced to resort to masturbation because you weren't there. It was unfair and cruel and he wanted to scream to the world that he didn't deserve to go through that, but deep down he knew he was being melodramatic.

When his hand went under his pants and his trembling hand made contact with his hard, sensitive member he closed his eyes immediately and your face was what he saw. You smiling sweetly at him. Stephen had an extra factor that made masturbation always intense: his photographic memory.  He could basically remember in great detail every moment you ever spent together, every touch, every kiss, every moan that came out of your mouth. It was all there in his head ready to be used like a movie whenever he needed it. And that night he needed it.

His cock pulsed in his hands the moment he closed his fingers around it. The tremor in his hand, previously a problem, was now an even greater stimulation that made jerking off more pleasurable.  Stephen had been working on it for some time. Hours and hours of physiotherapy to try to regain a minimum of strength in his hands that would allow him to pleasure himself without having to resort to magic. Of course, he would never admit that was the real motivation behind his decision to seek help after so many years. It wasn't significant enough to solve the problem, but it strengthened his nerves enough for him to gain the necessary autonomy.

Obviously he still preferred your hands. Oh god, your hands were magical. Much more magical than his. They were small and delicated and way they were soft and yet had a firm and insistent grip was enough to make him see stars.

"Fuck sweetheart..." Stephen moaned softly, moving his hands slowly up and down inside his pants. He didn't want it to end quickly. He was just working himself up, just letting his mind wander as he felt the sensation building inside him. His balls were full and sensitive. So much cum contained there. So much to give you, but you weren't there.

But if you were, he knew exactly how you would treat him. How you would get down on your knees and prop your body to show up your tits for him, how you would look him right in the eyes with that naughty face biting your bottom lip and then pull the hem of his pants to free his cock and how you would smile pleased seeing how hard he was for you.

You were so dirty, you loved sex as much as he did and he never needed to ask for a handjob or blowjob because you loved to give. You were perfect for him and he was irrevocably yours.

He moaned again finally releasing his cock and then conjured a bottle of lube in his left hand and poured some of the sticky liquid onto his cock and began to stroke himself slowly, but putting a little more firmness into the touch. In response his cock pulsed in his hand and his hips jumped up.

Oh you would love to see him doing it. You would praise him for it and would say how much you loved him and how much you adored seeing him pleasuring himself. You would call him Steph. Such a silly way of calling him, yet so sweet coming from your lips in your sweet voice. Stephen knew very well he loved everything you did.

He lolled his head back onto the pillow and bit his lip to hold back a loud groan.

Following the memories that played in his mind, he thought about how you always moaned while jerking him. How having his dick in your hands made you horny and how it always made him feel.

He thought about the way your lips curled into a shy smile every time he started talking dirty to you. How the grip of your hand got tighter, how you loved it. You were a dirty little thing. His dirty little thing.

Stephen let a louder moan echo through the room. You loved that too. The sounds he made when you held him in the palm of your hand. He closed his eyes and stroked his cock harder and faster. The tip was leaking precum and he was so ready to be inside you, but all he could do at that moment was think about it. And that's what he did.

He thought about how wet you always were when he touched you after you give him a handjob. How his fingers easily slid in and out of you and how you always squirmed around his fingers, begging for more. He thought about how you always begged for him. How you couldn't bear to wait, how you shamelessly opened your legs to welcome him in.

"Always so good to me." He murmured "My sweet girl is always so good to me."

Stephen started using his other hand to massage his balls too. It was how he liked you to do it. He liked to be stimulated as much as possible, he liked when you licked and sucked on his balls. He liked it dirty and messy and you knew exactly how to do it.

He knew you like no one else and he liked to think that even the other Stephens didn't know how to satisfy you like he did, but at the same time he liked to see them trying.

"Oh shit." Stephen was startled by that train of intrusive thoughts and increased the strength of his strokes as the room was invaded by the wet sound of his hands working on himself.  He thought about how he loved watching you get fucked by the other Stephens. It was no surprise, but the images that invaded his mind were of really intense moments and they almost threw him over the edge immediately, such was the strength they had as stimulation.

Stephen let out a breathy laugh as he shook his head in disbelief, but he did not try to change the thoughts in his mind, instead, he dwelled in those memories. How you always looked beautiful bouncing on top of Defender while you kept Supreme's cock in your mouth, and that bastard always fucked your mouth roughly and you loved it and Stephen loved the sound it made, the tears that ran down your eyes as they abused you.

Stephen thought about how he loved watching you get creampied. How delicious it was to see them emptying themselves inside you, to see you being violated by their release knowing that you would have to take one more.

His hands now punished his cock with a touch of violence and his mouth was half open, eyes squeezed shut as the images played in his mind.  He thought about the delicious feeling of fucking your pussy full of cum, how the wet squelching noise turned him on even more and how you always seemed gloriously spent after rounds and rounds with the three Stephens. It was pornographic, it was filthy and beautiful.

"F-Fuck yes." He moaned spurting his release all over his stomach and making a mess on himself. Still, he didn't stop, he kept bringing himself dangerously close to overstimulation as his mind focused on the expressions you made as your entire body writhed in ecstasy with your orgasm. How your cheeks would turn red when they were done and how sweetly you would smile at them. Almost innocent.

"Such a dirty girl." He muttered to himself, slowing down his hand until it came to a complete stop, but he didn't have time to recover as he was surprised by the sound of his cell phone ringing.

"Shit." He grumbled, wiping his hands quickly on the sheet and making even more of a mess when he turned to pick up the device on the nightstand and felt his release running down the sides of his ribs.

It was your name on the display. In fact, the word Sweetheart.

"Hey, sweetheart." He answered, still trying to regulate his breathing, but of course you noticed.

"Hey. I was wondering if maybe you’d want to..." But you stopped for a moment and then asked, "Were you running?"

Stephen instinctively cleared his throat. "What? No. I was..." But he couldn't think of anything to say and there was a silence on the line and then a little giggle.

"What were you doing, Stephen?" You asked.

He sighed feeling his cheeks get hot from the fact that he had been caught. There was no point in lying.

"I... I missed you, Y/n."

There was an affectionate hum from your side of the line.

"Well, I called to ask if you'd like to come and meet me now. I'm missing you too, Steph."

He chuckled nervously. "I thought you would never ask. I thought you were enjoying having some time away from us."

You giggled, "Don't be silly. I was just really tired. But it's okay if you don't want to come now that you've solved your problem on your own. Maybe you would prefer to go to sleep…"

But he was already getting up.

"Now who's being silly?" He ran to the bathroom and quickly cleaned himself up and went back to the bedroom to get his sling ring. "Remind me again what hotel are you in?"

"At the Plaza." You responded promptly. "I told you yesterday and I thought..."

But you stopped talking when the portal opened in your room and he walked through it, heading towards you and taking you in his arms in an intense kiss.

"I missed you. So badly." He confessed on your lips, letting his forehead rest on yours. You smiled, looking surprised by his confession and cupped his cheek. "It's only been five days, Stephen. You've already spent three weeks on a mission."

He shook his head, "It's horrible. Staying at home. Without you.

He confessed to which you smirked.

"Now you know how I feel."

"I'm very sorry." He said pulling you back into his lips.

...

Stephen was staring up at the ornate ceiling of your hotel room with a smile plastered on his face. Making love to you had that effect on him. His arm was extended so you were cuddled close to him, your head resting on his chest, moving slowly as he breathed. The two of you were silent, still enjoying the afterglow of your release and his heart was finally at peace. Outside you could hear the sporadic sound of cars passing on the street and conversations in the hallway.

"The sound insulation in this place is horrible. How have you been able to sleep here?" He asked breaking the silence and you hummed, apparently still unable to form a sentence.

"Your boss could have paid for a better hotel." He continued and you shrugged.

"I liked it here. The room service is great and the food too."

Stephen smiled to himself. You were always so satisfied with everything. You never complained about anything. Totally the opposite of him.

"Besides, I'm always so tired when I get here that I fall asleep as soon as I put my head on the pillow."

He nodded, stroking your cheek and was silent for a moment, just a minute, but long enough for you to tilt your head to look at him.

"What is it?"

"I think I made a discovery this week and it was kind of scary." He said already knowing he would regret what he was about to say.

You smiled convinced as if you already knew what he was going to say. "Did you find out you can't live without me?"

He chuckled "I already knew that. I just realized the obvious and it wasn't pleasant."

You frowned trying to understand what else it could be then.

"I don't think I can live alone anymore. Before, when I worked at the hospital, I liked the silence of my apartment, but this week the empty Sanctum filled me with horror to the point that I missed Defender and Supreme."

You smiled glancing at him "That's something I never imagined you would say."

"I never imagined I would feel this way, sweetheart. The truth is, I like them. I can talk to them in a way that I don't talk to anyone else."

"It might have something to do with the fact that they are you” You reminded him.

"You are right."

You brought your hand up to his chin scratching his goatee. "How are things at home? No problem, I imagine. No demonic entity has tried to take over our washing machine?"

Stephen giggled "No. All boringly normal."

"What a shame!" You said, feigning disappointment.

Stephen smiled to himself and lifted your chin enough for him to kiss your lips.

"I love you, sweetheart. With each passing day I love you more. You changed my life for the better and changed me in the process. I'm definitely a better man because of you."

You sighed softly, your throat bobbing. "Oh I love when you say these things to me, Steph."

He smiled, pinching your cheek provocatively. "I may not be Defender, but I know how to be romantic sometimes."

“Of course you do.” You smile "And I love you too. With all my heart."

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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[betterthana-six]

| MUSIC TO MY EARS - [ABBY ANDERSON] - CHAPTER TWO |

PAIRINGS: stoic!rugby player abby x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you and your new(ish) roommate, Abby Anderson, have gotten into an argument. about what? unclear at the moment. but it's got Abby in a fit of shame. until late one night she hears you outside with someone whose voice she doesn't recognize and listens in.

WARNINGS: yall. whats up. let me know if you like it pffffft. this is definitely a slow burn, but lots of pining, yearning, and, yes, smut to come. TRUST. so, mdni. there are a lot of flashbacks between now and when they met so we get the full story eventually. this is more of a light hearted story but it does deal with coming to terms with sexuality (and who best to help you along that journey but rugby playing and stoic Abby Anderson?). anyways, i hope that the five people who might read this like it.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Music To My Ears: Chapter 2

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

Without a plan for what to say nor a thread of rationality, Abby swings the door open. She half-expects you to fall back on her feet when she does it, but you are nowhere to be found. Only in your absence does she realize how hard her heart is pounding.

She takes a beat, feeling dumb in surprise. In all of the heat of her anticipation, Abby must have waited too long. Too late, she realizes. 

To the left, she peers into an empty hallway. The overhead lighting forces her eyes closed. The walls are covered in paper flowers where students wrote their plans for Spring break in permanent marker. 

To the right, Abby sees a group of people she somewhat recognizes all crisscrossed on the floor, encircling and packing what she presumes to be joints. Spearheading them is her friend, a fellow rugby player, who sees Abby and playfully lifts a joint in the air, gesturing an invitation.

Abby closes the door gently behind her and walks over.

“Care to join? We’re going to the balcony once we’re done here,” her friend says. Abby just looks over her shoulder.

“Nah. Nah, I’m good. Hey, did you guys see anyone out here a minute ago?” Abby asks.

“If you’re looking for your roommate, pretty sure she went to the bathroom. She wasn’t looking too hot.”

“What did you see?” Abby nearly hisses. 

The friend raises their hands up in the air so as to claim innocence. “Shit, man, I don’t know. I think her date went bad or something.”

By the time the friend stops talking, Abby has already turned the other way, headed straight for the bathrooms, mumbling a vacant ‘thanks’. 

She peers around the corner and slowly pushes the door in to listen for movement. All the lights are on. The motion sensors had been activated, which is strange considering the floor is usually dead at this hour.

The bathroom stalls are empty but there’s a shower going. 

Abby calls your name faintly but gets no answer. She walks closer to the sound of running water, and through it, a distant voice singing. 

“More than a feelinnnnnnnnnn’, more than a feelin’, when I hear that old song they used to- more than woaaah woahhh’, I begin dreaminnnnnnn…’”

Abby’s heart settles a bit as she walks down the white, linoleum hall. She calls your name again.

The singing stops abruptly but someone sniffles.

“What-uh?” You call out. It is the perfect sound to Abby. A sound she’d grown accustomed to hearing whenever she pissed you off. She doesn’t have to guess for a second that it’s you. And, the exaggerated “-uh” you added to your words when she teased you only confirmed it.  

“I didn’t know there was a concert going on. I would’ve come earlier.”

You stay silent, knitting your brow.

She knocks on the tiles outside your stall. “It’s Abby.”

“Abby… Abby… what can I do for you, Abby?” You ask, your voice illuminated drunkenly as you roll her name over in your mouth. 

She laughs. “Um, are you decent?”

“Are you decent?” 

“Okay, princess,” Abby says a bit more sternly now. “I’m trying to make sure you don’t drown. Either by vodka or the shower. Now, can I, please?”

“Come in, come in.” Abby draws the curtains open to see you finally. She hides a smile and adjusts to the sight before her. She can feel her heart swell a bit. Your legs are sprawled out on the floor, heels still on. That can’t be comfortable. She sees the redness around your ankles. There’s mascara running down your face and not an inch of you is dry. You’re wearing your special occasion maroon dress, as Abby suspected, which now clings to your body with the weight of the water that drenches you completely. Abby has to avert her eyes. She knows you’d never let her see you like this if you were sober. “Hey, crib. Welcome to my MTV,” you say.

Then Abby sees the flask in your hand.

“Alright, hand it over,” Abby says. She kneels down to you with an open hand.

“Hand what over?” You smile big and clutch the flask closer to your body. “I’ve never realized how big your hands are,” you lie. Deflect.

You have Abby. Just like that. Her ears bent to every one of your words and her entire body enslaved to your stare. She is taken aback from how much you affect her. 

She feels it in her stomach. 

Your lips are full and dark, stained vibrantly with some berry. Maybe wine, she thought. You look up at her now, with that full deep smile, and Abby forgets for a moment that you were ever crying on the floor outside your room. 

You look acutely into Abby’s eyes, testing her. 

“Princess…” She elongates the word, staring at you. “Come on, now.”

“Alright, alright,” you concede. You take another swig and give in, handing Abby the flask. “Those damn puppy dog eyes.” 

Abby laughs. She smells the flask and grimaces a bit. She turns the shower handle until the water no longer flows.

“Bad night?”

“Best night of my life.”

“It sounded pretty grim.” She shoots you a knowing look. 

“Shit, how much did you hear?”

“Enough,” Abby says, looking at the floor. She’s almost skittish. “Enough to understand why you’re laying underneath a running shower at almost midnight. I mean, shit, you were right outside the door. It was kind of hard not to listen in.”

“Okay, fuck you very much,” you laugh. “I figured you were asleep.”

“I pretended to be,” she admits with a guilty smile.

You scoff. 

“Well,” Abby says. “I’m glad you have a sense of humor about it now.”

“Yeah,” you hiccup. “Totally hilarious. God, I look fucking pathetic.”

“You look fine,” she says, looking you over, slowly making way up to your eyes. When she gets there, she can’t read your face.

“I don’t want to talk about it. So, don’t ask.”

She nods her head like it was the simplest thing. 

“Let’s go,” Abby says. 

She reaches a hand out to you. You lean into her for stability, soaking her clothes with your own wet mess, but Abby doesn’t shy away from it. Rather, she grabs your waist and puts your arm around her shoulder, squeezing you tight and concentrating ahead to ensure a clear path.

You, however, are looking up at Abby, though her gaze is fixed elsewhere. 

In her arms, you feel like you’re floating. There might as well be a halo of stars swirling above your head. Your legs trail a bit behind hers as she guides you down the bathroom hall. Suddenly, it’s all so incredibly simple. Or, perhaps, all the happiness vodka afforded you is working its magic tenfold, pulsating a warm thrill through your body. It overwhelms you in a dreamy state of mindlessness. You stare at the sharpness of her cheekbones. Her mouth, downturned and focused. Her arms, her arms…

“Wow…” you whisper, eyes locked on her face, arms messily draped around her. Your nose is inches from her neck. Abby just grins.

“I somehow actually didn’t know,” she says, “you curse like a sailor when you’re drunk.”

“Yeah, well, there’s actually a lot you don’t actually know about me actually, so...” You boop her nose with your free hand and shine a wide, stupid smile at her.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

Once you get to your dorm room, Abby sits you down on her desk chair and covers you in one of her towels. She brings you her water bottle and nods to you, indicating a command: sip. 

The only light in the room is her desk lamp, and it shines a warm and dusky yellow onto your face so Abby can see your puffy eyes and wine stained mouth in clear view. Abby contains herself as best she can. This is not the first time she’s caught herself staring at you, far from it; she turns her head away when you look up at her, keeping her composure, as always. 

She takes a small rag and starts dabbing the makeup running down your face. 

A sudden pang of guilt permeates your floating feeling. It sobers you up a bit, letting in the very feelings you were trying to avoid. As quickly as you were starry-eyed, swept up in Abby’s hold, you are washed over in a wave of grief, a twinge of pain piercing your heart.

“I’m sorry,” you say, straining your voice. “I’m a mess.”

“Don’t worry about it, seriously.”  Her eyes focused everywhere but yours. She continues to dab your cheeks softly.

You huff, tears threatening to make their way out. You hiccup and take another sip. “I don’t want to go to bed,” you say. “Not yet.”

“That’s fine,” Abby says. She kneels at your feet now, unbuckling the tiny straps of your shoes delicately. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t-”

“Abby, please, can you look at me?” 

The question came out more impatient and whiney than you planned. But Abby obliged, her hand resting on your ankle. 

“Abby,” you say, shaking your head in defeat. “Abby, I screwed everything up tonight.”

“You didn’t screw anything up.”

“I did,” you insist. You place your hand on her face and she stays still, afraid to move or even breathe.

Then, Abby sighs, her eyes soft. “We can talk about it in the morning. I’m sure everything’s fine,” Abby says lightly, smiling at you.

She goes back to taking your shoes off.

“You were right about me, Abby,” you whisper. She looks up at you again and you don’t break eye contact. You tell her everything in those few words. You repeat, “You were right.”

Now, Abby stops what she’s doing and looks up. You see her in full. The light from behind consumes her in a shadow but it strengthens her definition and the fine edges of her face. 

She moves her hand and clasps your wrist, the wrist that cups her own cheek. 

She takes in your serious look and returns it with softness. 

Finally, black tears come spilling down your face, but you don’t necessarily sob. You don’t close your eyes or keel over on the floor. Instead, your face is resolute and still, as though you are simply lost in thought. Eyes on Abby but somewhere else entirely.

“Hey,” Abby says. She instinctively pulls you in. “It’s okay.” Her arms wrap around your body, sheltering you with her own. She breathes you in, holding you tight while tears fall down your face and onto her shoulders. “It’s okay.”

You succumb to her embrace and let your body go a little limp. It’s a warmth you haven’t experienced in years. The room is spinning; you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or the catharsis of being held by her. Either way, you breathe deep and shiver on the exhale, and, as if responding to you, Abby squeezes tighter. There’s no sense of urgency from Abby to end this embrace. It could go on forever, and you both would let it. 

It was clear. 

This is what it felt like to surrender to yourself, your burning heart linked inarguably to the fire in Abby’s. Pressed against each other like old friends, finally reuniting after being apart for too long, in an act of true intimacy. 

All of the tension and anxiety you felt around her these last few months dissipates. You can’t even remember why it was really there to begin with. You tilt your head into her, smelling her, digging your face into her neck like a child.

When finally you pull back, Abby looks at you as if seeing you for the first time again. As if her eyes were divinely predisposed to not simply look at you but really see you.

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

This wasn’t a new sensation for Abby. 

It had even become somewhat of a mindfulness practice to contain herself around you, if anything, which was a problem she’d never experienced before. 

If December Abby could watch tonight’s spectacle, the irritated way she eavesdropped and the tenderness when she touched you, she would likely be mystified by this soft version of herself.

Her December self was far more regimented. Disciplined. Focused. 

Especially during season, Abby had to excel.

You do what you need to do to get it done. Keep your head down. Study hard, lift harder.

This was her mindset, philosophy, way of life. Whatever you want to call it, she navigated it with steadfast conviction. 

Her days were filled with routine. She woke up early and headed to the gym. Her protein shake waited in her bag after an hour or two of conditioning and her fifteen minute ice bath. She showered, and then she was onto her classes. Rugby practice lasted until early evenings most days. Then it was dinner and bed. 

Weekends were almost her own; she spent most of her hours reading.

Distractions did come every so often in the form of girls. Who doesn’t need to be a little distracted sometimes? 

They come and go. It’s never anything really serious. Abby had made peace with that. She preferred it, actually.

Abby wasn’t the type to force anything.

Her outlook was that if it was meant to happen, it would. She let it all fall into her lap. 

Just like Gillian did, and Ally. And Mara.

She’d been told by her teammates that that’s what makes her “quite the magnet”. Girls always like the quiet thing, a friend once said, someone fierce on the field and tender in bed. Talented in both areas.

All of that, Abby very much knew, was a tad disingenuous on her end. She just wasn’t invested, so naturally there wasn’t much for her to say. 

Get her laughing with an old friend, though, or anyone she’s really comfortable with, maybe when she’s drunk, and she becomes a talker. All silly and red in the face from giggling. It didn’t happen too often. 

So, at first, it didn’t cross her mind to be concerned with you. You two would be good roommates, she thought. Maybe friends, if it happened naturally. 

That was her rationale talking. Shower thoughts crammed her head not so long after she found you perusing her rugby trophies. She involuntarily assembled every view of you that she got from that brief introduction. 

Abby pictured your cheeks and nose. They were still pink after coming in from the cold. And your hair was pulled back with strands windswept messily over your face. You looked like a storybook character, someone totally imagined, pulled from the page into real life. 

And, there was something in the way you squirmed at the sight of her body. How your breath hitched when she bared her chest to you. It made something so completely obvious to her, but you seemed oblivious to it.

She couldn’t help but smile to herself like a fool while she thought it over. For fuck’s sake, Abby was grinning each time she turned away from you. She grinned all the way down the hallway on her walk to the showers.

You were intriguing to Abby. Undoubtedly. 

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

When she got back, you were sat down on the floor unpacking your clothes into small, wooden drawers.

Abby had her towel wrapped around her whole body.  She nodded to you as a short re-greeting and searched through her closet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a guitar case. She noted the stickers on it - some obscure bands, some random abstract art.

“You play?” She asked. 

You looked up to what she was pointing at.

“I’m studying classical guitar.”

“Cool,” Abby responded absently. “You sing?”

“Uh, to myself. In the shower. Sometimes.”

“I’ll have to stop by for a concert.”

You laughed, shaking your head. 

“What about you? What do you study?” You forced out. You knew you sucked at small talk, and, god, you were so fucking awkward it killed you sometimes. The words came out like sludge. Abby didn’t seem to notice, or, if she did, she didn’t let on.

“Marine biology,” she answered. “Actually, it’s ichthyology. I study fish.”

“Marine biology sounds way cooler.”

“Yeah. That’s what I usually tell people. Makes it seem like I don’t just stand around all day hunched over a microscope. People tend to envision me in a scuba suit taking photos of massive animals, like, a hundred feet deep in the ocean, so I let them.”

“I’m still impressed,” you said. “I was never good at science, but I love aquariums.”

“I love aquariums,” she agreed, earnestly. 

You both looked up at each other then.

You were about to say something else, but Abby started drying herself off, revealing her body, muscular and lightly tan.

“Oh,” you blurted and turned sharply away from her. “I- sorry.”

Abby laughed, and asked, “Am I offending you?”

“No, no. Sorry. I didn’t realize you were doing that. I’m good, though. Let me know when you’re done.”

“I mean, we’re gonna be roommates ‘til June. This might be something you have to get over.”

“Yeah! No, I know,” you trip over yourself trying to explain. “You’re very…comfortable… being naked in front of strangers. I wasn’t expecting it.”

She chuckled at that. “I didn’t know I was in the presence of royalty.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“You’re squeamish,” Abby pointed out. “You’ve never had a roommate before.” 

She literally pointed her finger out at you, like she finally decided on your guilty verdict.

“Fine, you got me. My last dorm was a solo. I didn’t want you to think I’m some creep, okay? We met, like, an hour ago.”

Your voice went all high-pitched in a way you could never control when interrogated.

Abby stayed quiet for a moment, letting your words sit in the air as she grinned to herself and wrung out her hair.

“I definitely don’t think you’re a creep,” she said eventually. “A bit innocent, maybe…”

“I’m not in- ” You snapped, whipping your head around. 

Abby stood tall and relaxed staring at you. She was fully clothed now, wearing a tight shirt and sweats. Her arms were bulging from the sleeves. 

Something about her demeanor was sweet though, even with her “who me?” face. She wasn’t trying to be mean.

“Sorry, sorry,” Abby said. “You’re just very polite is all. Like a princess.” 

You felt your face get hot. You turned away from her again and went back to organizing your stuff. Abby plopped on her bed indifferently and cracked open her book. 

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

An hour passed in complete silence. You worked away, slowly unraveling your belongings into neat separate storage units. 

You thought about calling your mom. No. How many times will it take for you to remember that she only makes you feel worse? There was really no one else to call then. It’s fine, you reasoned. You understood well by now that self-reliance had its growing pains.

Every once and a while you snuck a quick glance at Abby. You didn’t mean to, of course. It was more to see what she was reading. You couldn’t look too long. It was almost like she knew exactly when you were doing it, like she could feel your eyes on her, and she would instinctively catch you in the act, only to recoil nonchalantly in her book as soon as she spotted you.

Eventually, you stood up on your bed to string fairy lights across the ceiling and stick your posters on the wall.

“Is that Janis Ian?” Abby asked, breaking the silence and startling you. You turned around. Abby’s face peaked above her book. You looked back at the poster. 

“You know Janis Ian?”

“I think…” Abby says thoughtfully. And then she sang in a quick and quiet mumble, “I learned the truth at seventeen, that love was meant for beauty queens… right?”

You couldn’t help but beam a bit as you nodded a hesitant ‘yes’. She really didn’t look the type to start singing Janis Ian. 

You turned to stick another poster up when Abby laughed aloud. 

“What?”

“No, nothing, nothing,” she said, concealing a smile and hiding her head behind her book again. 

You cocked your head at her. “What?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t realize that you were a 60 year old lesbian.”

The light on your face suddenly went dim. You scoffed and looked up at your wall. You had stuck a pink 1994 tour poster with the Indigo Girls posed casually on it.  

“They’re all really great guitarists,” you said, plainly. “I grew up with their music.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me,” Abby said. 

“They just happen to all be old lesbians, it doesn’t mean that I am one.”

“I’m not judging,” She said, and threw up her hands. “I fuck with it, really. Old school gay vibes. That’s awesome.”

“I’m not- ” You said, raising your eyebrows at her. “I’m not.”

“Okay,” Abby said. She was agreeing with you. Truthfully enough on paper, but you still couldn’t tell if she was fucking with you. “I got it.”

Abby tried to decipher something in your face, but you shot her a chiding stare and dropped down from your bed.  

“I’m going for a walk.” 

You felt Abby’s eyes following you as you left. 

You walked around your dorm floor aimlessly until you reached an exit. It was the post-dinner lull of the night where some students were already in bed and some were already out.

Right or left, it didn’t matter where you went. You had no real idea of where you were anyways. All memories of touring the place weeks ago had flown from your head as soon as they’d entered. The ‘where’ of your transfer wasn’t the point at the time.

It didn’t matter. You walked to a bench a few blocks down and pulled out your pack of cigarettes. You only had them because they looked cool but always felt a little stupid every time you smoked one. They also came in handy when you needed one. Which you did.

You couldn’t put words to exactly what was bothering you about her. 

She hadn’t said anything outright offensive. She was joking around.

Abby just seemed like someone who thought she knew everything about everything and everyone. Yes, that’s what it was. She was too confident in her own intellect. And far too proud of her body. It annoyed you. And, you weren’t looking for friends who put you on edge anymore. You weren’t interested in being tested.

Abby knew she was testing you, however clueless an act she put on for you. 

It wasn’t something she did often. Not with strangers. At the very least not when she was sober. 

It was something drunk Abby does at parties. The drinks go directly to her head thus emerging a butch Casanova who shamelessly flirts with straight girls. 

“Straight.” 

Not that the goal was to hook up with them necessarily. The thing is, Abby just had a little theory that everyone’s a little gay. Some people just try to hide it, if they can help it. And many people can succeed for a while. Unless the closet door were to be cracked ajar by an innocent, drunken conversation or two…

“Are all the rugby team fucking each other?” They’d ask. “Be honest.”

To which she’d respond: “Why, are you trying to join?”

Or, something like that.

She didn’t know why it was coming out around you on a random Monday evening. She felt weirdly invigorated.

You so quickly became imperative to her, though she tried to refrain from taking the feeling seriously. She couldn’t explain it to herself well enough, but it felt as though something new was beginning.

Everything about your demeanor said you wore your heart on your sleeve yet you acted like a closed book. It was obvious in the way you spoke, like you had some secret to hide and were aching to scream it. And there was something to your features. Starkly beautiful, that was obvious to Abby, but it was more than that. She felt she needed to see your face again and again to remember the details. Even in two conversations, she felt an urge to fix her gaze on you repeatedly. 

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

She feels the very same thing now. The absolutely fatal desire to look and look and look at you until she was acquainted with every feature.

Even with bitter sadness written across your face, you are gorgeous. 

The light grazes your skin. Your hair still drips small water beads, and tears fall from the corners of your eyes like diamonds. You shake slightly in her arms.

You pull away, inches from Abby, breathing in her air. 

“I don’t want to go to bed yet…” You say again, and the only thing you can hear is her breath and the buzzing in your ears.

Your faces are just inches away from one another. Abby’s blood pumps so hard she thinks you can hear it. 

You tilt your head up to hers, lost in a trance. 

How wonderful it would be, Abby thinks, to take your face in my hands and kiss you.

She wants to. God, and she’s wanted to. For longer than she’s willing to admit. But she retreats.

You look up at her with hungry, eager eyes. 

Abby clears her throat.

“So, let’s not,” she says. You snap out of it. Your hungry eyes turn confused. Abby’s face changes per something that dawned on her. 

“Let’s not go to bed, princess,” Abby says and grabs your hand. “I have an idea.”

Chapter 3

Comment if you want to be on this story's taglist!

Tag babies: @soupycloud @femme-historian @ichokedonmyoreo @paleidiot

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。.

[xsweetcatastrophe]

You Broke Me First

part 32

how the hell do I have 32 parts of this thing already

xx

Zoe stretched out in the king sized bed, reaching out for her phone to shut off the alarm.

She had ever intention of going into the office today. However, since she was at Cillian's, it was adding an extra 15-20 minutes on to her commute, as well as having to feed Scout and let him out before she left.

Before she could even consider hitting the snooze button, she heard Scout scratching at the door. She dragged the comforter off and got out of bed, unwillingly. She opened the door and was greeted by Scout, sitting patiently at the door with his tail wagging. The second she took a step forward, he leaped towards the stairs and raced down them, making a mad dash for the kitchen.

"okay, okay," Zoe said, following him through the kitchen and to the back french doors that opened up to the large, fenced-in back yard. She opened the door and Scout ran out, sniffing the grass immediately, looking for the perfect spot to go to the bathroom.

It was still early, and the sun had just come up. It was Zoe's favorite time of the day, when the day was still so new and perfect, the birds were starting to softly chirp, the sun wasn't too hot. The calm before the storm, the serenity before the chaos.

The home came with a deck, perfect for outdoor seating and a fire pit. However, Cillian hasn't purchased one yet. Zoe couldn't wait to have her morning coffee out there, and maybe build a fire and roast marshmallows there on chilly nights with Cillian.

Zoe retreated back into the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. She opened up the cabinet she designated for Scout's food, and took out a scooper and filled his bowl for his breakfast and gave him some fresh water. Scout was already at the door, whining to come in. Zoe let him in and he went straight for his food, ready for breakfast.

Okay, going to eat something quick, let Scout out after he eats, then go upstairs and shower quick and change, make it to the office and pray the traffic gods are on my side so I can have a spare 5 minutes to stop for more coffee, Zoe thought, mentally going through her to do list for the morning.

Zoe looked at her laptop sitting on the counter. Checking my emails couldn't hurt, she thought. She took a seat, opened up her laptop and logged in.

the first email was from her sister, which wasn't unusual, but the subject line was what caught her eye.

"WTF is this shit," Zoe read the subject line out loud, as she clicked open.

In the body of the email was a link to a Daily Mail article, and it made her stomach drop.

Party like a Shelby! Cillian Murphy Spends Time With New Lady as Peaky Blinders Cast Grabs Dinner and Drinks

Zoe read it 7 times, as if it was going to change in front of her eyes.

He told me he was working late. He was at dinner? Why couldn't he just say he was at dinner?

Zoe scrolled down, and saw photos of the cast, and in the background was Cillian and a tall blonde woman smiling at him. In other photos, she was laughing with him, putting her hand on his shoulder.

What is she laughing at? he's not THAT funny, Zoe thought.

Zoe continued to scroll:

Cillian Murphy might have been called to begin filming, but that doesn't mean the fun has to end. Murphy, 46, was spotted out at Harry's Bar in London. Joining him at the posh bar was the rest of his Peaky Blinders cast, including new cast member Lizzie Hughes, who joined the cast last minute for season six. Previously modeling for Versace in their latest campaign, she excited to spread her wings and jump into her role - and it seems like Cillian Murphy has no problem showing her the ropes! As previously reported, Cillian was recently dating Zoe Parker, journalist. They have quietly spit earlier this month, and it seems Cillian is back in the dating pool. Scroll below for pictures from the wild night - by order of the Peaky Blinders -

Zoe's heart was in her throat.

"First of all, all the peaky blinders references are annoying," she said out loud, to anyone who will hear her. She looked at Scout, who was by the door again. "It's corny, right?" she asked him.

Scout just stared at her, then back at the door. She rolled her eyes and let him out again.

"Second of all, who the hell is Lizzie Hughes??" She opened up a new tab and searched her name. Millions of pictures came up, with her mile long legs and green eyes staring back at Zoe. She clicked on a picture that brought her to her call card, that had her contact information for bookings.

managed by Hannah Woods, Elite Talent and Public Relations.

That's... odd.. Zoe thought. Maybe it's a small world?

Zoe went back to the article and took a deep breath, she was about to click through the photos.

At first they weren't too bad. All of them out, drinks in hand, having a good time.

But in every picture, Lizzie was there, right next to Cillian. In some pictures, he was leaning in close to her, assuming to hear her. At least, that's what Zoe wanted to believe.

As she clicked through, it seems like they all got drunker and Lizzie got more touchy with Cillian. She had her hand on his bicep, hand on his chest, hand on his back. Cillian... wasn't stopping it.

The pictures got worse.

They were all leaving, and bringing up the rear was Cillian and Lizzie, arm in arm. She was leaning heavy into him, and he was holding onto her tight.

Zoe slammed the laptop shut, tears in her eyes, face bright red.

These pictures are exactly like the ones of her and Cillian. She was so embarrassed, so angry, so hurt. This wasn't like him, AT ALL. She thought she knew him and he was better than this, was this NOT the Cillian that she got to know, the Cillian she opened up to, the one who she sat on the beach with all those days ago.

Am I that forgettable? She thought, letting tears roll down her cheeks.

She was interrupted by Scout barking at a squirrel outside. She glanced at the clock on the stove - she was running late.

Shit, she mumbled, wiping her tears. She got up and went upstairs, planning on throwing on whatever she could to make it to the office at a decent time. She couldn't think about this, not now... But she was planning on texting him when she got to work. And she planned on thinking about what to say the entire time before getting to her office.

xx

Cillian was sound asleep, with about 15 minutes left before his alarm would go off.

Hannah, however, was wide awake.

She had the key to his hotel room, and she quietly let herself in. Cillian was asleep in the bedroom, however his cell phone, wallet and keys were on the coffee table in the living room. Hannah walked over and grabbed his phone, entering the password and opening it up.

She knew the Daily Mail article hit in the US already, and she was certain Zoe would have said something to him by now.

Since the cast had a wild night last night, production for the day was delayed and Cillian didn't have to be on set until later that evening. This allowed him to sleep well into the afternoon, since they all didn't get home until about 4am.

Hannah opened up his phone and smiled, texts from the 2 people she needed texts from; Lizzie and Zoe.

Lizzie: Thanks for being so kind, Cillian! you're sound, looking forward to a good season! x

Hannah rolled her eyes. she left that one unread; he could see that one.

She took a breath and opened the one from Zoe; she was ready to go back and forth with her a little.

Zoe: Hey. I thought you said you were working? looks like you had fun last night. You could have just said you were going out to eat; who's that girl?

Hannah couldn't help but smirk. She began typing:

Cill: hi. didn't know i need to tell u my every waking move. went out to dinner. nbd.

Zoe responded almost immediately.

Zoe: ... you don't need to? I was just asking. I was looking forward to talking to you.

Cill: i know but i cant drop everything to talk to u. im working. i cant pick my schedule like u do. im busy.

Zoe: ... okay? is everything okay?

Cill: this is stressing me out. this schedule isn't working. how bout ill call u whenever im free. don't call me. i cant keep having my phone go off. just lemme call u. i luv u but u gotta let me work. please. Zoe: you're acting weird. can you please pick up your phone? I want to talk. Cill: i can't right now. ill call u later. everything im fine. im sorry. <3 u Zoe: i love you too...

Hannah was interrupted by Cillian's alarm going off. She quickly deleted the text message thread and placed his phone on the coffee table. She opened her work bag and grabbed some papers, making it seem like she was working or going over a schedule.

Cillian emerged a few minutes later, in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. He turned and looked at Hannah.

"I wanna die." Cillian said, squinting at Hannah.

"Welp, partying like you guys did last night will do that to ya," Hannah said, smiling, "Coffee?"

"Tea, please." Cillian mumbled, stretching his arms over his head. "What time is it?"

"A little past 2pm" Hannah said, not looking up from her papers.

"Fuck. I have a workout in half an hour, i feel like shit, and then we start at what, 5 tonight?" Cillian groaned, hand going to the back of his neck and rubbing it. Hannah nodded, confirming the start time. He sighed and made his way to the bathroom.

"I'm hopping in the shower, can you please text Zoe for me and tell her i'll call her later?" He yelled over his shoulder, grabbing a fresh towel and closing the bathroom door.

"Hannah laughed, biting her lip to keep the noise down. "Consider it done, Cill!" She yelled back.

"Consider it done!"

tags:

@lau219 @cillianinlove @vervainandspritz @supershadowymiraclestudent @borntodiemp3 @cillianmurphyvevo @shopgirl6us

[kaeyahiya]

Alhaitham NSFW Headcannons

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Pairing: Alhaitham x (GN) Reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, use of strong language, mentions of marking, mentions of aftercare

Disclaimer: This is intended for adult viewing and I'm actively discouraging minors from interacting. I have plenty of other SFW content on my master list so please check that out instead

Word count: 587

Authors note: Y'all need to understand Kaeya is Number 1 in my heart but for the moment I saw this man's leeks before he even came out I was in lust. I want this man 🛐 Despite this, this is still pretty vanilla, since I haven't written NSFW in a minute. Anyway Hoyoverse had no right to make this man sexy but I love them for doing so. Please enjoy my self-indulgence. (I also posted this @ work so I apologize if there are any spelling errors)

Reminder that my ask box is open, so that means requests are open! Feel free to drop one ❤️

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Ah Alhaitham, the brains of a scholar, the body of an Archon, and the hands of a scribe.

If only he weren't so oblivious to every advance you try and make on him in the book

Seriously it takes him forever to get the hint that you wanna sleep with him

He's not exactly known for his social cues, but until you directly approach him and say "Hey please have sex with me" he won't cross any boundaries

We love a oblivious but respect king

God the second he gets though, his eyes sharpen and immediately pounces on you

He loves find your weak spots when you guy's fuck

His favorite one is your neck, he has a habit of absolutely making it leaving dark purple hickies wherever you can

He also enjoys watching you try and hide them the next day

Though Alhaitham is described as a workaholic with little to no regards to others, you are pleasantly surprised when he offers to go down on you

He'll definitely take his time making his way there though

Stripping you

Peppering kisses across you chest

Then your stomach

Then he spends a long time leaving hickies on your thighs

He's a huge tease is what I'm trying to say

Once he finally reaches your sex, he'll go down on you like a stranger man though

You, naturally, thread your fingers through his hair and when you do

Holy shit when you do he let's out a soft moan

And makes FUCKING EYE CONTACT WITH YOU

I eat that shit up aaaaa

He'll bring you close to the edge and then rip your high away from you

He will do this several times so do be prepared for that

"I want you to cum, but I want it to be with me inside you"

He's so hot you can't argue as he gives you one more teasing blow to your sex

Finally at long last his sheds his own clothing

I mentioned his body earlier but seeing it bare before you is like a spiritual experience

His abs, his tiny scars, his hands, his toned legs, his dick

You take it all in for a moment

His dick isn't huge it'd say a little above average but it is girthy and for a moment you worry how it's gonna fit

He says there's no need for you to go down on him at this point

You can tell his ready by the precum already leaking from the head

It's hot that going down on you made him this worked up

I will say he does make sure you're properly prepared before finally sliding into you

His favorite positions are missionary, laps thrusting and doggy

He's not very vocal during sex but once he gets close he will let out tiny gasps and whines

Which is both adorable and incredibly attractive getting a man of his demeanor to get that desperate

You'll know he's close when he whines and comes in for a desperate make out

He'll still prioritize your pleasure and make sure you cum before he does

When he comes he sighs and definitely gets this fucked out look on his face

Aftercare happens but it's Alhaitham, so it doesn't really involve cuddling or showering you with praise

It's more like helping clean yourself up and get you some water after sex, making sure your not in any pain

Whether it be a one night stand or a quicky he'll still care about all of that stuff

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Reminder that my request are open; so if you enjoyed please feel free to leave me a request ❤️ and if you really really enjoy feel free to leave me a tip! Totally optional and not obligated to do so at all 🫦

[miscfandomgifimagines]

Lyle Wainfleet x Human Reader x Zdog

Okay so this is the smut that follows my Showering with Lyle (Gym Buddy Edition) fic, I know quite a few people asked for this so I hope you enjoy. This is actually a series with my original fic being Lyle being your flirty gym buddy which was inspired by @xandy-toady and their Lyle fic and they also made me realize how hawt Zdog is. I know that @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed loves this series so extra thanks to them!

This is smut minors DNI. Fic includes: nsfw scenes, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, piv. Reader is female and is referred as she/her. Let me know if I should tag anything else

* When the squad got back to the house it was pretty late at night. Several of the recoms grabbed a bite to eat, cleaned up, and went right to bed. Lyle stuck around the kitchen the longest, waiting for everyone to leave so he could have a few minutes with you. You had been thinking about potential places ever since he left and couldn’t think of a good place you would have private time so you were hoping Lyle had one in mind.

* "I think my room is the best bet, I mean Z's going to be there but she's a heavy sleeper. Besides she's going to hit the shower anyway." You agree and follow Lyle back to his room, sneaking through the door before the other recoms can hear your footsteps. Lyle proceeds to strip down to his boxers and turns on a small dim lamp by the bedside before turning off the main light.

* You strip down and Lyle scoops you up and carries you to the bed not wasting any time. His hands are rough and travel over your body as he leaves kisses and bites on your chest and neck. Lyle lies you on your back and his hands go to take off his boxers before he covers you with his body and rubs his dick against your heat teasing you. He reaches under his bed and pulls out a bottle of what you're assuming is lube.

* "You call that foreplay?" Zdog's voice cuts through and Lyle lets out a groan before he pulls back and looks at his roommate. "Yeah, I do, got a problem?" Zdog huffs and sends Lyle an irritated glare. "Have you seen what you're packing? You can't just stick your shit up there like that. You're going to hurt her." Zdog walks farther into the room and turns the lock on the door. You felt a bit self-conscious being naked in front of both of them so you grabbed the pillow from behind your head and use it to shield yourself while the two recoms bickered at each other

* "I'm not going to hurt her, butt out man." Lyle turns his head back toward you and Zdog takes the opportunity to land a slap to the back of his head. That seemed to make Lyle even more irritated and he lets out a hiss in her direction. "Fuck off Z, I'm serious." Zdog is unfazed and decides to make herself comfortable on the edge of the bed next to you, one giant hand coming to rest on top of the pillow covering your body.

* "So am I Wainfleet. I know you got interrupted earlier but don’t get lazy. Men only want to get their dick wet and they never give a damn about the woman they're with. If you don't want to warm her up then I will." You felt your face heat up and you squirmed a tiny bit under her weight.

* You played for both teams happily and on more than one occasion wondered what a night with Zdog would entail. It was hard to find other queer people on the base and you had formed a semi-flirty but friendly relationship with each other. You didn't want to assume that she was into you just because you also happened to be attracted to women, so you never pursued anything more than just a friendship.

* "Stop trying to cockblock me! Just because you have the hots for her doesn't mean shit, I got her first." Lyle leaned forward and roughly grabbed Zdog's hand from the pillow. With an angry growl, he pushed it back onto her lap. In retaliation Zdog lifted her hand up and pushed it into Lyle's forehead, forcing him to back up a bit. Zdog's ears tilted back and she growled back at Lyle. "Stop being a selfish ass and maybe I wouldn't have to get involved!" When Lyle started to flash his fangs you decided to pipe up before things got worse.

* "Not to pick sides or anything, but she does have a point. I don't think I could take you right now." Your face was warm and you could feel the heavy stares from the pair boring into your skin. "Not that I don't want to though! I've just never taken something so big before." Your voice trailed off and you wondered if you should have said anything at all. Zdog removes her hand from Lyle's face smugly and her tail swishes side to side in satisfaction.

* Lyle's tail on the other hand thuds angrily into the bed and he scrunches up the bedsheets in a fist. "Is that what you want then?" You nod your head sheepishly and grip the pillow a bit tighter as if it could protect you from their prying eyes. Lyle lets out an exasperated sigh and moves his way off the bed to make space for Zdog to position herself. "Why don't you make yourself useful and find a towel for cleanup?" Zdog pipes up. Lyle glares daggers at her but pulls on his boxers and leaves the room momentarily.

* Zdog stands up and trails one hand from your chin to the edge of the pillow closest to your pussy, a gleam in her eye. "I know you're feeling a bit shy right now, but I'm going to need you to move this." She leans down playfully and places a kiss on your collarbone and whispers, "You might want to keep it close by though. In case you need something to bite down on later." You squeeze your legs together but do as you're told and remove the pillow. "Good girl, now why don't you turn yourself this way?" She motions for you to turn your hips towards the side of the bed.

* You do as you're told and Lyle walks in a minute later with a towel and what looks like an old t-shirt. He walks over to you still looking mildly irritated. "Lift your butt up, I'm going to slide this under you, okay?" You push your legs into the edge of the bed and prop yourself up high enough for Lyle to get the towel under you. As he pulls his hand out he takes a second to grab your ass.

* It was Lyle's turn to sit on the edge of the bed this time as Zdog nestles herself onto the floor between your legs. She takes your lower legs and throws them over her shoulders and when you're settled in she takes her warm hands and grasps the outsides of your thighs. "You ready?" You nod your head as Lyle puts his hand on your chest and slowly pushes you down into the pillows. His fingers made their way to your nipples and he traced little circles into them, teasing you enough for a moan to slip out.

* Zdog's mouth was hot and wet and when it made contact with your pussy you let out a small cry, your hand making its way to your face. Zdog gives you a few licks and kisses before sinking her teeth into your thigh, eliciting another needy cry. Lyle grabs your hand away from your face and pushes it above your head and moves to capture your other one all while Zdog's mouth consumes your core. With both of your arms secured in Lyle's fist and your legs forced open around Zdog's head you felt utterly helpless and that seemed to turn you on even more.

* Zdog starts to suck and gently lick your clit while she brings one of her hands to your slit, her fingers rubbing against the sensitive skin. She slides a large finger in knuckle deep and you jerk your hips involuntarily into her mouth. Lyle takes his other hand and pushes your hips back down while Zdog's other hand grips your thigh tighter. Lyle leans down against you on the bed and you could feel his laugh against your skin. "I don't think so. You're the one who asked for this, there's no backing out." His hand on your hip trails up and his fingers roughly pinch your hardened nipple. Your breath comes out as a hiss and Zdog takes that as a sign to sink her finger in even farther.

* The two of them seemed to pick up on each other's work and they began to alternate their touches in a way that quickly overstimulates your senses. When Zdog adds another finger your eyes fluttered close and a loud moan sneaks its way out of your mouth, which causes Zdog to smirk into your pussy. Lyle grabs your chin and turns your face toward him, a smug smile on his lips as he brushes his thumb against yours. "If you're already making this much noise I wonder how much louder you're going to be when it's my turn." As if it was her cue Zdog starts pumping her fingers faster against your gspot and you feel your legs start to tremble.

* You squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure but Lyle grabs your chin firmly. "You're going to look me in the eyes as you cum, you hear me?" You open your eyes obediently and Lyle watches your pleasure-hazed eyes go in and out of focus on his face. Lyle was still salty that Zdog felt the need to butt into his personal business but with all things considered maybe it wasn't such a bad thing after all. He felt his dick get hard again at the thought of how tight you're going to be after all this.

* Zdog slows her pace as she senses your climax gets closer, her methodical movements enough to drive you crazy with lust. You were so close and she was just toying with you now, taking her time to make your insides ache. "Please." You let out a whimper, pulling your arms against Lyle's fist as if you could reach out for Zdog's face and pull her closer to your heat. Zdog pulls away and lets out a laugh as she looks at your begging face. "Hmmm..." She slowly pumps her fingers and watches you squirm beneath her. "Please!" You whimper again and try to dig your legs into the back of her shoulders to bring her closer. "Mmm... Look at you, so cute yet so needy... I think it's Lyle's turn now." She removes her fingers and stands up, her body heat leaving you chilled and wanting.

* Before you could argue Zdog's already wiping her face on the t-shirt Lyle grabbed and moving away from you. Lyle scoops you into his arm and pulls you further onto the bed, angling you so he can get fully on the bed below you. He strips off his boxers and positions himself between your thighs, his dick resting on your stomach. Zdog grabs the bottle of lube from the floor and hands it to Lyle as she makes her way toward the top of the bed. Lyle wastes no time and covers himself from tip to base, pumping himself in his hand a few times to make sure his dick was completely lubricated.

* Lyle leans over you, his bare torso glowing in the low lights and you found yourself staring. He hesitates for a minute and glances at your small body beneath him. He wasn't sure if missionary would work with the size difference but he was going to try anyway. "Ready when you are Short Stack", he gazes down at your flustered face and finds himself smirking. He glances up at Zdog who was sitting on her bed watching with a smug smile. She had her fun and now it was time for Lyle to get his. When he was sure she wasn't going to interrupt this time he lowers his gaze to you. You make eye contact and nod your head wrapping your small hand around his wrist and tugging him down over you.

* Lyle does his best to shift his weight so he's not smothering you and lays a few gentle kisses against your neck and shoulder before sliding his hips back. He uses one hand to hold himself up and the other to guide his cock to your entrance. He pushes his tip into you and moves his hand to your side, fingers gripping harshly into your skin. His breathing hitches and so does yours as you feel the stretch from his member. Lyle's ears flatten against his head as his eyes squeeze shut. Your face reaches to about his chest and you reach up with your hands to run your fingers along his sides.

* Lyle remains stationary, almost frozen except for his tail that's swaying from side to side again. Without thinking you reach out and grab it, tugging softly like you normally do to tease him. Without warning, Lyle's hips snap up into yours and you're filled almost to the brim with his girthy dick. You let out a cry and dig your fingers into his side with the sudden movement. You couldn't tell what was more noticeable at the moment, the burning tightness you felt from being stretched or the immense heat in your core caused by the friction against your clit.

* Lyle realized what he did and suddenly draws back his hips leaving only the tip in. "Shit, I'm-" You cut him off by tugging on his tail again, this time a bit rougher. Lyle lets out a deep groan and his hips buck instinctively into you again but this time he doesn't pull back. When his hips stop moving he adjusts the arm he's leaning on and then slowly pushes himself even deeper inside you. The sensation was so powerful you forgot how to breathe for a moment and clawed helplessly against his side, your mouth hanging open in a silent cry. Lyle bottoms out against you and you're seeing stars. You feel the corners of your eyes get damp and you let go of Lyle's tail in order to wipe them.

* Lyle looks down at you, watching your movements carefully in case you needed him to move. Except after you dab your eyes you bring your hand up to his nipple and give it a tug while biting your bottom lip. Lyle lets out a groan and makes eye contact with you. He might have been hurting you, but damn you were not backing down. You were so needy and he filled you so good, the pain turning into its own kind of pleasure. With your encouragement and little touches, Lyle began thrusting into you. He went slowly at first but with each moan and cry you made he found it hard to hold back and ended up thrusting needily into your heat.

* His cock hitting your cervix filled your eyes with tears again but you didn't bother brushing them away this time. You were too busy holding onto his sides, your nails digging into his soft flesh which brought out groans and low growls from Lyle. The pain and the pleasure started to blend together and you felt yourself approaching your climax again, just praying that he wouldn't stop his assault. Lyle felt you flutter around his cock and his ears titled back against his head as he tried his best not to nut inside you. He was going to make you cum first and cum hard if it was the last thing he would do. He reached down and wrapped a hand around your throat, just tight enough to make you notice.

* Your mouth fell open in a loud moan and you brought both your hands up around this forearm and made eye contact with Lyle, your tears glistening on your face. Lyle picked up his assault and went even faster as his fingers tightened a bit more around your delicate neck. You were so overly stimulated right now you could do nothing but moan and grasp his arm desperately. Your legs shook and you felt your core tightening as you got closer. It was any moment now and Lyle could feel you get tighter with every stroke.

* This was the moment he went all out and started slamming his hips into yours. He felt you clench hard around him as you let out a breathless cry but he didn't stop, he kept fucking you through your orgasm. And when he couldn't control his orgasm anymore he let himself finish inside you, grunting and grinding into your sensitive cunt until he was empty and you were a mess.

* He pulls out and watches his seed slowly leak out of your slit. Just for good measure he took his fingers and pushed his cum back inside your leaking pussy, satisfaction evident on his face when you throw your head back against the pillows. He leans down and presses a kiss against the corner of your eye before grabbing the towel under you and pushing it against your pussy so you could clean yourself up. Lyle looks at Zdog who was now lying down on her bed, her head propped up on her hand. "You're welcome by the way." Zdog tuts playfully and Lyle throws a pillow at her face. "Yeah, whatever."

[nightwriter357]

Are you just playing with me? - Day 2

This is part two, part one can be found on my page. The story is starting to to get a bit spicier. You won't understand much without reading part 1.

Warning: SMUT(18), can't really write it all but it includes smut and would not be enjoyd if you're not into that.

Morning

You woke up with slick spread over your inner thighs. Some of it was newer, from your dream last night and some of it was from earlier, when you were putting on a show using your very real desire for Damien. He seemed affected it, by your words, your touch. You thought of all the things you could do to him today, all the things you picked up on during the years that you knew he was into. But you wanted to know more..

You threw a shirt and went to take a shower and wash all of your juices away from your body. You couldn't help yourself from closing your eyes and let your fingers travel over your body, wishing that it was Damiens hands that squeezed your breasts, grabbed at your as and plunged fingers deep inside of you.

You got out, wrapped a towel around yourself, grabbed your stuff and opened the bathroom door. You almost headbutted Damien on the way out causing you to drop your panties on the floor. Your wet panties. He instinctively went to pick them up and then frooze when he noticed what it was.

" I.. uh.. didn't think.. I just.." he said. As he paused you noticed him dragging his thumb across the wet spot. He looked at you and smiled. "So you had as much fun as I had last night I see." He said in a smug voice.

Oh shit. Was this real? Or did he get your name last night, was he just acting horny? You felt you might as well step it up. As he tried to hand the panties back to you you closed his hand around them.

" They're for you, I wanted you to know how wet you make me" you said, not breaking eye contact.

" you're so fucking hot y/n" he responded, still with a firm grip around your panties.

Spencer came up from behind Damien and before you could react he blurted out " Haha I got you, Damien I'm horny for y/n, I am so gonna win this game. But please bro, can you downplay it a bit so everyone doesn't figure it out. Damien nodded and went into the bathroom with your panties in his hand.

If it turns out he had your name you can just play it of as you both got way into the game. But if he doesn't have you, He must actually be into you. Is there a way I can figure it out? you thought to yourself. There is only one person who has your name, they might not have horny aswell but the should be attemting to showcase some feeling against you. Nobody stuck out yet.. but is that just because you've only beem paying attention to Damien?

Evening

"Okey to tonight's game is based around a little slide show. If you like it you take a sip, got it?" Courtney said looking around the room seeing everybody nodding back at her. "Let's begin". She winked at you.. Did she do this for you?

A woman wearing a full leather bodysuit with a zipper along the mouth showed up on the screen.

"nooo, broo, come on" you heard Angela cry out at Spencer took a big sip from his drink "just joking" he said with a sly smile on his face. "ye right" Chance clapped back.

As the pictures went up on the screen you observed Damian to see what made him drink.

Dom/sub

*sip*

You weren't suprised ever since the video of him interviewing more of his exes you were pretty sure what he said about being a soft dom was true. He was so kind and soft with his words you imagined he would be the same in the bedroom.

Biting

*sip*

You knew this from the same video, where he had said he was into biting but didn't want to hurt his partner. He was SOO a soft dom. He even said it again in another video with Angela when she was acting possesed and try to bite him: I'm usally into this sort of stuff. Why was he reaveling stuff like this, was it for someone? was it for you?

*Scratching*

Pet names

*sip*

Edging

*sip*

Age play

*sip*

This was new. You could totally se yourself playing into this. Telling him to be gentle with you, touching his cock like you've never touched one before. Maybe you could tease him, take control to make him punish you later.

Okay game on. You spilled the rest of your drink over yourself on purpose. There wasn't much left since you've taken a zip everytime that Damien has. " Oh no I'm going to have to go and change, excuse me" you said and went back into your room. You found just what you were looking for, a short skirt that flared out a bit, it was about as school girl that you could go without doing a whole Britney Spears look. You put your hair up leaving your neck bare with a low cut pink crop top on top. Lastly you took off your underwear.

He had waited outside your room for you leaning against the doorframe.

" I was wondering what you were gonna come out wearing" he looked down at your breasts, seeing your nipples through the thin material made him flinch " or not wear" he looked down to your skirt. "Oh, almost forgot my glass" while his eyes were still fixated on your skirt you bent down to grab your phone and revealed what you had on under your skirt, oir rather didn't have on.

"oh jesus" he exclaimed " your not wearing any fucking panties?" " I can't daddy" you said in your most innocent voice " you took them remember?"

" You are playing a very dangerous game with me sweetheart" he said his eyes darting all over your body not knowing which part to focus on. You looked at him and smiled "Teasing" then look a last sip from your glass.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

me 🤝 this anon:

https://www.tumblr.com/fandomfluffandfuck/758477144418664448/i-know-that-the-richard-armitage-gifs-arent-of

this is so real, like i'm just bombarded of thoughts where chris has been feeling needy and horny (celebrity long-distance is just what they're used to) because he only got a a small taste of his busy baby so he still wants craves more 🥴

now i'm imagining a scenario just after the met gala where they have a quick meetup before seb dashes off to another press con or whatever in the morning and chris being too sleepy and groggy to give him a proper goodbye, only fully wakes up with a bundle of seb's clothes from the night before. a physical reminder of their lovemaking, the way they were so desperate to have each other that this expensive piece of clothing got left behind and discarded so they can have each other skin to skin.

...anyway this is the part where chris jerks off to the thoughts of what they did yesterday as those memories sear into his head and fuel him until the next time they can see each other again 😌

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

related to this ask, which goes back to these gifs

An excuse to look at Seb's Met Gala look again, lol

But, OKAY, you said "a bundle of seb's clothes" and my brain went into pure fucking static mode. I have one thought about what Chris does with those expensive, left-behind clothes...

So, jerking off/masturbating, fantasizing, bed/clothes humping, etc.

The second time Chris wakes up the morning after the Met, he's alone in the hotel room booked underneath Sebastian's personal assistant's name. The first time he woke, it was earlier and it was because Sebastian's alarm was going off and Seb was sleeping next to him, their bodies curled together, clinging and hot beneath the sleep-mused sheets. And they had slotted their lips together to trade kisses carelessly before Sebastian even bothered to reach over and silence his damn phone. It didn't matter. They were going to milk every last minute they could get together, dammnit, even if the last little bit they had together involved morning breath, squinty eyes, and one very unhappy, blaring alarm on the nightstand. Whatever. So be it. They'll take what they can get.

Now, the second time around, Chris has none of that but the heat. His own body heat, of course. He runs hot in his sleep and is a morning shower-er because of it. But, also, he's left with just the heat because... well... it's all centered between his legs, if you know what he means.

He's hard as shit this morning.

Jesus Christ.

Chris blows a frustrated breath out of his slightly-open mouth, shifting enough to spread wider on the queen mattress that felt too small last night. It's too large this morning, he needs another body. He wants another body.

Sebastian's body specifically.

The thing is, he's not surprised by the fact of his dick being ready to fucking go, he's surprised by the sheer intensity of it--he's hard-hard. Like. Teeth grinding, jaw clenching, throbbing hard. Feel in his balls hard. The kind of hard that tells him he either was dreaming up filthy shit as he slept or he rolled over onto his stomach at some point and started humping the mattress in his sleep.

Although, with sweat gathering under his arms and between his back and the sheets, Chris doesn't really give a fuck why he's so hard, how he got so hard, or if it's shocking or not. Instead, Chris' energy is on how he just fuckin' needs to do something about it. He's gotta. It's a crying shame that Seb isn't still here, his body offset by just a few measly hours. He had some of Sebastian last night after the Met but not enough. He can never get enough of Sebastian. He can have him again and again all in one night and it still isn't enough, he's waking up hard and wanting even if he's pretty sure last night he was fucking out of cum, it was that good. He's fucking insatiable when it comes to Sebastian. How could he not be?

Just as Chris is bemoaning his morning wood, debating on what he wants--should he roll over and luxuriate in the hotel soft sheet that smells like Sebastian, fucking his hips down into the plush bed? Should he prop himself up against the headboard of the bed and jerk off slow and tight like how it felt for Sebastian to ride him last night? Should he get into the shower and let the steam carry him back to a different memory, when they foolishly believed they were done and could finally rest, cleaning up but... not? Should he trust his legs and stumble to the front door to press himself against the door, one hand around his dick and the other on his own chest, pretending it's Sebastian groping his chest and using his wicked mouth to tell him about his tits? Should he just say fuck it and roll onto the floor where they fell before managing to make it to the bed? Options, options, options. All of them sound good, none of them as great as it was last night, making filthy, desecrating memories, but that's because they lack Sebastian.

Before Chris can lazily make any real decision, his hand uselessly cupping himself through his tented, worn-thin sweatpants, his body makes it for him. A breathy moan has him turning his head to the side, getting more comfortable, and his eyes fall on the open closet next to the bed. Sebastian's lengthy, heavy, dramatic coat from last night is still hanging there. His equally jeweled, heavy slacks are thrown over the rod holding clothes hangers (and subsequently the hanger with his jacket). And... his shirt is missing in action.

Chris spares half of his single brain cell to look down and around the floor, vaguely curious. Where the hell could it have ended up? Chris doesn't even remember how Seb got out of his clothes without shredding them, the way they were going at each other last night, much less remembering how any part of his outfit got hung up. But, he finds the deceptively simple, exorbitantly priced black shirt just over the side of the bed, rumbled on the floor.

If Chris is kidding himself, he picks it up thinking about how it can't be good for the expensive fabric to be wrinkled and heaped into a lump like that. But, if he isn't kidding... he picks it up because, fuck, he needs a piece of Sebastian. Anything he can touch. He was here and then gone and he isn't coping well. He wants Seb like his lungs burn for oxygen at the end of a drawn-out, full-chested moan.

The fabric quickly warms to his body temperature, soft and light in his hands. Chris likes sensation. Velvet and crushed corduroy and silk and--

This.

Sebastian's shirt squeezed in one hand, making a fist around as much of it as he can fit, feeling it desperately, intensely, trying to recall how it felt draped over Sebastian's body meanwhile his other hand gropes and squeezes his own cock.

There's something about it, lying back on the bed, kicking his legs wider apart, touching himself through his sleep pants, and bringing that black shirt that he knows was pressed tightly up against Seb's chest up to his own chest, leaving it in a heap against his bare, hairy, inked chest that gets to him. It wears him down. He throbs harder, grunting as his arousal works its way into his heart, stabbing him with its heated insistence. Chris leaves that shirt on his chest, close to him, reminding him of his lover who he's desperate to feel, for a pathetically short amount of time before scooping it back up and moving it. This time, not holding it in only one hand but two.

He cups Sebastian's shirt in two hands and imagines that it's hot from Seb's body, freshly stripped off of him, smelling strongly of his dark, alluring cologne, and not wrinkled from a night of abandonment on the floor but still molded to his shape. He pretends fantasizes. Chris yearns. He wants. And he drags that poor, innocent shirt down, down, down to hold it against the blazing, aching throb of his cock through his sweatpants.

Chris groans.

He's barreling forward now, he doesn't have time to wonder what the fuck he's doing or investigate how strange and perverse it is, he's just going. Thumping his head back against the pillows, arching his neck, and thrusting up against the shirt balled up around his cock. It's good. The friction. The build-up that started in his sleep burning hotter now that he's conscious. The overflowing way he misses Sebastian yet has his touch fresh in his mind to draw back on and make this feel even stronger. It's all enough to make him moan to himself, getting off alone in this hotel room, carried on waves of lust that want to wash him out to sea.

He's gonna drown.

He wants it.

"Seb," falls breathily off his lips and stains his neck as the sound drips down slowly like thick, hot honey. He's flushing so badly. Blushing across his cheeks, of course, but also pink from his hairline all the way to his chest--his hard nipples--because he can't help but imagine if Sebastian somehow was here, if he forgot something and had to rush back from the airport to the hotel, missing his flight because of it, scrambling, knowing he needs to hop on the next flight out, only to burst through the door and find his boyfriend not sleeping sweetly and soundly as he'd expect still so early in the morning, but squirming on the bed they shared last night, rutting against his shirt and moaning his name, getting off so hard on fucking nothing. Somehow still horny despite how they went at it like animals last night. What the fuck is this? Sebastian would be instantly distracted from all else, faltering with his eyes wide and dark and his tongue drawing across his bottom lip as he forces himself to keep silent, watching intently from the entryway as Chris can't take it anymore and peels his sweatpants down and gets his cock out. Bluntly. Brazenly. Foolishly thinking he's still alone while really putting on quite the fucking show--grinding urgently, desperately, rutting his bare, leaking, embarrassingly hard cock against Sebastian's worn shirt as if it's some fucking stroker or sex doll not just a shirt.

Chris swears to himself, broken open by how debauched his thoughts and actions are. Still, he can't help himself.

He keeps fucking going, going, and going. Each drag of his cock against Sebastian's shirt is better than the last. His sweat is building up and layering over itself, getting him wet, making him feel like butter melted in a pan over the stovetop--sizzling. He can't stop.

Oh, god.

It's good. It's hot. It's, it's--

It reminds him, suddenly, guttingly, of whispered rumors of dirty, bad men told in private. Words pressed into ears, raising goosebumps, hidden behind cupped hands. Gossip that drips down your spine and pools inside you, wrong but... helplessly intriguing at the same time. Intoxicating. A fly caught in a honey trap.

He feels like a dirty, bad man taking--thieving--some poor lady's worn panties and smothering himself in them, burying his face in the tiny, pretty, white-cotton underpants and fantasizing about her body, not her clothes. Picturing, filthily, how sweet and sensitive she'd be. How she'd moan and squeal and take it in a tight fit, pinned down. And as horrifyingly arousing as the nasty, vile comparison is--appealing only with his inhibitions lowered to the fucking ground, stupidly turned on and horny, not in his right state of mind--he can't quit. And, further, he makes it worse. He makes the comparison all the more real as he tilts his head to the head, thrashing side to side for a helpless, breathless moment before settling and pressing his blushing, burning face into Sebastian's pillow. He shamelessly inhales a chestful of his scent and leans that much more into it. He doesn't just rut against Sebastian's shirt as if it's a pillow conveniently held between his legs then. No. It's even more crude. Worse. He wraps Sebastian's worn shirt around his cock and defiles it.

He can't stop moaning and rutting--fucking the shirt, too dry and hot and hurting but so good--not until he's splattering his tight, clenching stomach and that goddamn shirt with his own cum, gasping, chest heaving hugely.

Jesus fuck.

Immediately, as he barely keeps his head above water between the waves of orgasm, Chris feels like he's never going to recover from this. It's so dirty. It's depraved. He... he's so shocked he just did that.

What the fuck got into him?

[farfromstrange]

Pain Relief | Michael Kinsella x F!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x F!Reader

Summary: You're on your period and you tend to get bad periods, but today is a particularly rough day. You call in sick from work, and when Mikey comes home to find you still in bed, he gets worried. When he finds out why you're writhing in pain, he doesn't hesitate to help you out.

Warnings: Description of period symptoms, use of pain killers, mentions of menstrual blood, fluff, fluff, FLUFF.

Word Count: 2.9k

A/n: So I just got my period and I could barely move for the past three hours. I wrote this while I was literally bawling from the pain, but I thought some of you might need this as well. There is a serious lack of period comfort with Mikey.

It’s half past three in the afternoon, and the sun is up over Dublin, a welcome change in the usually so dull weather. You should be sitting in the backyard with a book and a cup of tea and enjoy the nature behind your house. Instead, you are bound to the bed. 

Every muscle in your body aches. The stabbing pain in the left side of your lower abdomen spreads into your legs, making it impossible to move without feeling like you might pass out. The pain comes and goes in heavy waves. Your muscles contract and you can only whimper as the cramps ripple through your stomach. You’ve tried all kinds of positions, but either your back starts hurting or the pressure you can feel on your lower half gets worse, so you find yourself flipping around every five minutes, and it’s starting to get exhausting. 

It’s not unusual that you wake up long after Michael has gone out, especially not when you have a late shift, though today when you woke up and the bed was empty, you found yourself crying at the loss of warmth. And when you went to the bathroom and realized just why you’ve been feeling like utter shit the past week, you knew that you had to call in sick. Working in the state you're in is not something you can do or should do.

It’s worse this time around. You’re not sure why. Maybe you have been working a little too much lately and the stress is finally getting to you, but it seems almost rude of your uterus to treat you like a criminal during your period. You’ve taken as much Ibuprofen as you could find in the medical cabinet, and it still wasn’t enough. It got to the point where you cried yourself into a restless nap. But the pain only continues to roll you over like a bulldozer.

Now you’re alone at home, the afternoon sun streaming in through the curtains, and you still feel like shit. Another sharp cramp hits you, and you roll onto your side, pulling your knees up to your chest. It elevates the pressure only for a moment before the pain returns tenfold and you try to lie on the other side, curling around your boyfriend’s pillow and hoping that maybe that will help. 

It doesn’t.

You’re not strong enough to get up and grab a hot water bottle or take a shower. You’re stuck here. For a moment, the thought of calling Michael and asking him to come home crosses your mind, but it instantly makes you feel bad. He has more important things to do than to take care of you through something that you’ve been having for years, and before him, you managed perfectly fine on your own. You’re not sure how because you are immobile at this point, but it’s not his responsibility, you think. 

After another miserable hour of agony, the key rattles in the lock. You listen to his distinctive movements as he drops the bag with his prescription on the dining table, takes off his jacket, and grabs himself a glass of water before going on a search for you. 

Michael is more than surprised to find your car in the driveway. He figures you might have come home from work earlier, and that makes him smile, but then he notices that the house is unusually quiet and he grows worried. 

He makes his way up the stairs toward your shared bedroom. He knocks. When you don’t answer, he pushes it open just enough to step inside. The curtains are still in the same position he left them, and you’re still in bed. Under any other circumstances, he would have figured you decided to take a nap after work, but you’re still wearing his shirt that you went to bed with, there is a pack of Ibuprofen on the nightstand and an empty water bottle lying next to your frame on the mattress. 

You’re not okay, and he doesn’t have to ask you to know that. 

“Love?” he says softly. You must be sensitive to light today or the curtains wouldn’t be closed. “I’m back.”

You have your back turned to him. At the sound of his voice, tears well up in your eyes. You missed him a little too much, but now that he’s back, you realize how miserable you look and how ghastly you must smell after hours spent in bed without properly moving. You wouldn’t be surprised if you bled onto the sheets.

The mattress dips as he sits down. “What’s wrong?”

You sniffle and answer, “I’m fine.”

“Yer not fine.”

With a grunt, you manage to roll over. When he sees the sunken bags under your eyes and how pale you are, his eyes soften even more. Michael reaches out to touch your face. “What happened?” he asks. “Are you hurt?”

“I called in sick,” you admit, “because I got my period this morning.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing serious, I promise.” As if to demonstrate, you try to sit up, but your arms lose balance and your face contorts as another cramp tears through your uterus. “Fuck me!” This time, you can’t stop the tears from falling, and you grab a pillow to bury your face in it. The sounds you let out are utterly broken, the exhaustion palpable. 

His hand moves from your face to your arm. “That doesn’t sound like nothin’, love. Ya look like yer in quite a lot of pain.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about me.”

“I do.” 

“I can handle it.”

“Ya should have called me,” he says. He inches a little closer. “I could have helped ya, maybe got ya something stronger for the pain.”

Another tear slides down your cheek and you look up at him. “I didn’t want to be a burden,” you choke out.

His heart breaks when he realizes that you didn’t tell him because you felt guilty, maybe even a little disgusted. “But yer not–”

“This is not something you should have to concern yourself with.”

“I love ya, of course, your wellbeing concerns me.”

“It’s just a period.”

Michael offers you a soft smile. “Exactly. Nothing I can’t handle.” He strokes your arm. “Is it always that bad?”

You shrug. 

He reaches out to wipe your tears. “So it is?”

“It just…” your eyes look helpless as they stare into his. “It hurts so much and nothing helps.”

He grunts in the back of his throat. That’s why the Ibuprofen is still lying next to you. Michael hates a lot of things, but seeing you cry is definitely the worst because it hurts him just the same. “Oh, my love–” he cradles your cheek, and your eyes flutter shut at the impact, fresh tears pearling off your lashes. “Ya should have called,” he says again. His voice is soft, it doesn’t hurt your head more than it already does, but the guilt has nestled its way into your brain. 

You don’t want to be weak. It’s bad enough you have to use a sick day every month around the first or second day of your period. Now that Michael is in your life, this is new territory for both of you. You’ve never had someone around on bad days, and he’s not used to seeing the effect a bad period has on you because you’ve only just moved in together and before that, you isolated yourself for a day to get better and then swallowed the rest of the pain after. This is bad though, and you hate that you still have found no way to manage it. No doctor or scientist has found a cure for the kind of pain you and many other women experience for many months, and your hormones are so all over the place that even taking the pill will only make it worse. 

You hate yourself and you hate being a woman, especially right now, maybe only right now, but the world just sucks and you want nothing more than to crawl under a rock and die. 

He leans down, his lips brushing your temple. “Shh,” he coos. “I’m here now. Let me help ya."

“How?” you ask. You don’t have the strength to argue as another cramp seemingly knocks the air out of your lungs, and you want nothing more than for it to stop or at least ease up one way or another. 

Michael offers a helping hand and you would be stupid to deny it. You can’t. Your body is too weak to withstand it on its own. You don’t want to be alone. The whirlwind of emotions inside of you feels like such a mess and it’s stupid; you feel like an idiot, but you’re also sad and angry and frustrated and in pain, and it has to stop. You need it to stop. 

He starts rubbing your arm more firmly now. “First, let’s get ya in the shower. I’ll take care of the rest,” he says. 

“I can’t stand–”

“Okay, pet, c’mere.” 

With what little strength you have left, you climb into his arms. He lifts you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist, and he carries you to the bathroom. He even holds you as he turns on the shower and makes sure the water is warm enough for you, making sure you don’t fall over. When it comes to taking your clothes off though, you blush. 

“What?” He stops at the hem of your shirt. 

You cross your arms. “I don’t want you to see, you know, the blood,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s disgusting.”

He gives you a stare of confusion before it turns blank and then the bastard even has the audacity to laugh at you. 

Your eyes widen and you stare at him. “It’s not funny!” The tears in your eyes stem from anger now. 

He catches onto them, and his laughter dies into a small chuckle, his arms wrapping around you. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry, I– I’m just– yer scared I’ll get disgusted… by the sight of blood. Me.”

“Yes, and that’s not funny!” You try not to sob, but you fail miserably. 

Michael takes you back into his arms, his broad shoulders caging you in. He has you fully engulfed now, his lips pressed to the crown of your head. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I just… I don’t mind the blood, okay? I don’t mind any blood. Ya know that.”

“I know.” You cling to him. 

Still, it feels like such a huge step in your relationship, one that isn’t fresh but it’s also not years in the making either, and you simply don’t want him to see you like that. But you also know that standing straight with the pain that is tearing your lower abdomen to shreds is a task that’s going to exert you to the point you might as well fall unconscious. 

“I’ll turn around if that’s what you want, I just want to help,” he says. His puppy-dog eyes meet yours. “Will ya let me do that?”

You take a deep breath. “It’s gonna be a crime scene.”

“Lucky me that I didn’t cause that one, eh?”

Your brain takes a moment to process the words, and they sound so nonchalant coming out of his mouth. His smile is bright and a little mischievous and you can’t help but laugh a little. He can be such a dork if he wants to be. 

“Shut up,” you mutter as you begin taking your shirt off. 

Michael rushes to your rescue. “Made you laugh,” he says. 

“Astute observation, Mister Kinsella.”

“Shut up,” he mimics you, and you can’t help but chuckle again. 

“I’m in pain, I get to say what I want.”

“Fair point.”

He helps you out of the rest of your clothing before turning around as he promised. You step under the warm water, holding onto the wall for leverage. You feel dizzy. All the lying around and the lack of sustenance have caused your blood sugar to plummet, and it’s gradually going down. 

He is by your side in seconds, his promise to stay behind long forgotten. He holds you up, washes your hair, and the sweat off your skin. You protest at first, but he shoots it down with a gentle kiss to your lips, and then you’re on fire again and you can’t deny it feels good to be taken care of. It’s relaxing, almost.

The pain continues to wash over you, but at least you have someone to hold onto now. If you had been fully lucid, you would have cursed him and thrown him out, but you have to admit that you need help. You need his help. He understands you in ways no one else can, and he is the first man to prioritize your well-being when it comes to your period. He’s not disgusted, he’s merely worried and he loves you. That’s something you have to get used to; it might take some time, but Michael does it in a way that makes you feel safe. He has never made you feel anything short of safe. He’s your home. You need him, that’s no longer a secret, and you allow yourself to let loose a little. 

It’s easier to breathe now. He washes you carefully, gets you one of his oversized shirts (his sweaters are too warm, you tell him), and even helps you brush your teeth for the first time today. 

Soon enough, you’re tucked back into bed, once again put on bed rest, while he rummages around downstairs in the kitchen. There is a knock on the front door. You can hear Michael’s voice and is that… Jimmy? It doesn’t last long though, and you hear the stairs creak as he makes his way back to you. 

You’re curled into a ball on your side. Michael smiles when he sees you, obviously a lot more relaxed than before, and closes the door behind him again. He’s carrying a tray with a plate of different variations of fruits, a cup of tea, water, a Coke, and two different kinds of pills. The latter makes you frown. 

“Made you some food before ya pass out,” he says. 

You make some space for him to sit next to you. “Thanks,” you say, then point to the pills. “What’s that?”

“I asked Jimmy if they had something against nausea and maybe some painkillers that might be stronger than the ones ya have here. He just brought them over.”

“Mikey…” You tear up again, but this time not because of the pain. He is so considerate, it makes your heart swell. And maybe it’s a little because of the pain. 

He hands you the water bottle. “Here, take ‘em.”

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Nonsense, I– well, I guess I just want to be a good man for ya, and if that means taking care of you while yer on your period, I take my job very seriously.”

“It’s not your responsibility.”

He shakes his head. “You are, my love. I love ya, which means I’m here, always, and I want ya to tell me when yer not feeling well.” Guiding the bottle and the pills to your lips, he smiles. “Now take your pills. Don’t want ta have to tell ya twice.”

You swallow them without hesitation. At some point during your relationship, you gave up on asking what kind of medication his brother and his wife keep around and just hope they haven’t given you any hard drugs. But Michael wouldn’t let that happen, anyway. 

He senses your struggle for a comfortable position and moves the tray aside so you can sit between his thighs. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. Your legs pull up instantly, wanting to get rid of the annoying pain in your front, but his next action confuses you. He forces them back down and on either side of his thighs before he slips his large hand under your shirt and places it over your stomach. 

You gasp, feeling a little exposed, but then his fingers start kneading your skin and you crumble completely. Your head drops back against his shoulder. It feels like magic. He’s massaging the sore muscles of your lower stomach while at the same time numbing all other oncoming cramps. He pushes a button inside of you that instantly makes you slack in his arms, and he holds you tighter around your shoulders with the free one.

“How’s that?” he asks. 

“Don’t stop,” is all you know how to answer. 

“So… what?”

“It’s good.”

“Okay, grand.”

“Yeah. Now shut up.”

He chuckles, burying his nose in your hair that now smells like his shampoo, and he continues digging his fingers right where you need them.

Your body grows limp after a while, and when he looks down to check on you, your eyes are closed. You’ve fallen asleep in his arms, and there are no more creases of worry on your face.

Michael presses another kiss to your temple. “Good girl,” he says.

Then, he retreats his hand and gently lays you next to him. He tucks you in the same way he did before. You’re quick to move around in your sleep until you’ve found him again, and your head subconsciously moves to his chest. 

He doesn’t waste time wrapping his arms around you and holding you close, just like every night. And you know that when you wake up, he will be right by your side, not leaving until he’s certain that you’re feeling better. 

Mikey Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked (if any more of you want to be added, let me know)

But also tagging @bellaxgiornata bc I know you're on a Mikey trip and I think you might want to read this, darling <3

[melonba11s]

What do Demons Want? (Demon Strade/AFAB MC TPOF fic)

I was given fuel to continue this story, and explore what Demon Strade wants.

"I don't give a shit what your company policy is! I just want my damn refund!" You flinched, your knuckles white as you gripped the counter. You had been so relaxed not ten minutes ago, knowing you were going to be off the clock soon.

Then this pathetic excuse for a human showed up.

"I'm trying to explain to you sir, you don't have a receipt, and you insist on keeping the product in general that you claim doesn't work, so I can't-"

"You stupid fucking bitch! Whatever happened to the customer is always right?" you felt his spittle land on your cheek as he continued to yell in rage.

"Sir, if you keep this up I'll call the police." you kept your voice as level as possible, you just wanted to go home. The man stopped his yelling for a moment, glaring at you, his face red with rage.

"Fine, whatever, I'll be calling corporate, I'll have your fucking job." he slammed his hand on the counter in one final act of violence before leaving.

"... Are you okay?" you glanced over at your coworker, Samantha. She looked a little spooked.

"Yes. I'm going home." you said, you were exhausted. All you wanted was a hot shower, dinner, and to binge some shows. Samantha nodded, giving you a pat on the back. A small comfort. You could see the man still outside, slowly walking away.

"... What do you have on you?" you jumped, glancing at Samantha.

"What?" you asked. Samantha looked up from her phone, frowning.

"I didn't say anything, Babe. You doing alright?" you swallowed, nodding, quickly clocking out. You recognized that voice.

A few days ago when you'd woken up in bed, completely soaked in your own fluids, you'd figured you'd done that stupid summoning ritual, conked out and had a really crazy, albeit amazing, wet dream. But that voice...

"What do you have on you?" it asked again, dim, in the back of your mind. You thought to yourself for a moment.

"Pocket Knife. Mace. Lighter." you mouthed to yourself silently, clutching your bag to your chest as you left.

He was heading the same way you needed to to get home.

"Hold the mace in one hand. Knife in the other. Follow him." the voice was soft still, but staring at the mans retreating back... Anger was bubbling up in you again. He was going to pay for how he treated you.

You followed from a distance, taking out the mace and knife. Pulling your hoodie up to cover your face, you kept your pace even.

"When he gets close to the alleyway, run. Spray the mace, drag him in. You can do what you want in there."

You nodded along with the demon's voice. Your adrenaline was running high, watching the man grow closer to the alley.

"Now." the voice commanded. Quickly, you broke into a sprint. Watching the man, confused, turn to face you. You held up your pepper spray and unloaded it into his face.

He instantly began to yell in pain, his tender eyes and nose assaulted by burning spice.

"Hand around his neck, pull him in." you followed the directions again, dragging him down the alleyway with strength you didn't know you had, before throwing him to the ground, getting on top of him.

"Have fun." the voice said, and you felt the presence disappear.

... You were going to have a lot of fun.

You held the knife to the mans throat.

"What's your fucking name." you asked, your voice low.

"...Th-Thomas. My names Thomas." his voice came out in a scared whimper. It was so cathartic to hear this after only listening to him yell earlier. "Please- take my money, I didn't do anything."

You pulled your hood back, revealing your face to him. To your surprise... No recognition flashed in his eyes. He just continued to mewl and beg.

"... I don't want your money." you growled, now pressing the knife to his face.

"I want your blood." you slashed into his cheek, watching as he twisted under you in an attempt to get away, letting out a howl of pain. You suddenly had, a very good idea.

"Let's play a game. For every good reason you give me, I won't cut you." you tore open his jacket, holding the knife against his chest. "Start."

He babbled for a moment, gasping, grasping for something to say. You slid your knife across his clavicle. He yelped, then began to talk properly.

"I-I'm a good person!"

"No you aren't." you slid the knife across him again, making tally marks as you went.

"Please! I have a girlfriend at home, she-"

"Don't give a fuck." Three tallies.

"My parents will be devastated-"

You didn't grace him with replies anymore. You just added another mark.

"My Grandma! She's on hospice! She could die any day, I still haven't visited her one last time!" Five Tallies.

"... Can I tell you a secret?" you asked, holding the knife pointed downwards.

"You were never good enough to live." you dug the knife down into his sternum, yanking the dull blade down with as much effort as you could. His insides were a myriad of colors, reds, pinks, oranges, browns.

He tried to beg again, but all that came out was a wheeze, before his head fell back. He was still alive, but in tremendous shock. You could see his heart beating. You felt the presence of the demon again.

"Take the wallet, then burn the body." you nodded, digging into his pockets and taking out the wallet, as well as his keys for good measure.

Utilizing the mace again, you began coating his body in it. He twitched as the burning substance made contact with his exposed flesh. He was almost gone though.

You flicked your lighter once, twice, then held it with a shaky hand towards the body. It instantly lit up, roared even. You took a step back, then another.

Breaking into a sprint, you ran all the way back home. Despite your fear, the anxiety... You were smiling as you panted, locking yourself in your apartment.

The evidence was being burned away as you stood in your kitchen. Your clothes were still soaked in blood, but they were absorbent enough that none had dripped so far as to leave a trail. It was two am, no one was out on a thursday night at two am.

You had no connection to him, you had his wallet. It would take them a while to identify his burned corpse. You began to laugh to yourself, stripping out of your clothes and throwing them in the trash along with the knife.

A hot shower, dinner... you dug through his wallet out of curiosity. A thick wad of cash graced your hands. You grinned, thinking of the 24/7 delivery place in town. Pizza for Dinner. And you would get to binge your shows.

Your first murder, a proper celebration for it too. You were barely bothered, he had deserved it after all.

And you could tell something else. The demon, his presence, it was back... and he was content. For now.

[prouvaireafterdark]

Practical Ethics || Chapter Eleven

In which Armand finally sees Louis again.

| One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten |

Also on AO3!

***

Armand isn’t sure how long they sit there, huddled naked in the shower, the cold tile leeching all the warmth from their skin. The towel draped across his shoulders helps, but only just. At some point he must have turned into Daniel's embrace because his head is tucked under his chin and his hand is resting high on his chest, but he doesn't remember doing it. 

“I’m sorry,” Armand says quietly when he finally finds his voice again.

“Oh, baby, no,” Daniel sighs against his wet hair, tightening the arm he has around his shoulders. “Don’t be sorry. Shit, I’m the one who should be apologizing right now. I shouldn’t have—”

“You didn’t know,”  Armand interrupts him. 

They're silent for another moment, neither knowing quite what to say. Armand still feels a little out of his own body, so he focuses on the sensation of Daniel's thumb rubbing against his shoulder through the soft towel. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Daniel asks him eventually.

Armand swallows thickly and shakes his head. He feels a droplet of moisture slip down his cheek, but he isn't sure if it's a tear or just water dripping from his wet curls.

“I should get back to work,” he says instead. He pulls out of Daniel's embrace and moves to stand on unsteady legs.

“What you should do is take a real shower and maybe have a nap while you're at it,” Daniel tells him as he too stands up, one hand warm against Armand's lower back as it slips from around his shoulder.

Part of Armand wants to argue with him, but he knows he's still sticky with come and lube that never washed off. Besides, he had sex in the middle of the day. He should wash himself properly for when he prays later.

“Fine,” he decides. “Shower, then work.”

Daniel fiddles with the tap as Armand lays the towel on the floor outside the shower, soaking up the water that escaped when he'd left the door open behind him. Daniel curses softly as the cold water hits him, but with the setting properly adjusted it heats quickly, filling the room with steam in no time. 

It's not quite the sensual experience Armand may have been after as they lounged in bed together just moments ago, but it's a comfort all the same to have Daniel with him, reassuring him with every tender touch that perhaps he hasn't ruined things as much as he feared. The hot water also does its work, soothing much of the tension from Armand's body as they wash—so much so that once Daniel has rinsed the conditioner from his hair, Armand stays under the spray for a while, letting it pound against his back and loosen his muscles.

When they're finished, Daniel hops out of the shower and retrieves some towels from the cabinet under the sink. They dry off in silence before they return to the bedroom to dress. Armand just ends up throwing on the shirt and sweatpants he was wearing earlier before he heads back to the kitchen where his laptop sits abandoned on the table. 

He opens the file he was working on and tries to make some progress, but it's so hard to focus. His mind feels fuzzy, like there's static in his brain or cotton in his ears. He stares at the screen until he can hardly make sense of the words anymore. Instead, his thoughts keep drifting to what will happen if he doesn't meet his deadline. Marius won't care that he's had a hard time. He can already see the disappointment on his face.

”Okay,” Daniel sighs. “C'mon.”

Armand's eyes snap up to look at him over the edge of his laptop. He hadn't even noticed Daniel was sitting at the table, but there's a nearly empty bowl of cereal and a mug of coffee sitting in front of him so he must have been there for some time already.

“What?” Armand asks.

“How many words have you written since I've been sitting here?” he asks him. 

Armand purses his lips and does not answer. Shame curls low in his belly. Is it really that obvious that he's a disorganized mess?

“Hey, it's okay,” Daniel says gently. “You just need a break. Come sit with me on the couch awhile, we'll watch something.”

“I don't want to watch something,” Armand says. He wants to be productive. He wants to finish his work.

“Then we'll put on one of those weird playlists you like,” Daniel says. 

Armand opens his mouth to argue, but this time Daniel interrupts him.

“Armand,” Daniel says, his tone patient, but firm. “The only thing staring at your screen right now is getting you is mad at yourself. Humor me, would you?”

Armand lets out a deep sigh. He stares at Daniel another moment before he stands and lets himself be herded toward the couch. 

When Daniel pulls him to his chest, he no longer smells of stale smoke and faded cologne. Instead, it's Armand's own soap he smells as he presses his nose to Daniel's skin, his own conditioner that perfumes the air around his damp curls. It's not the same, but maybe it's just as good.

Daniel doesn’t ask him any questions—not as Armand drifts into a fitful sleep nor after he wakes and manages to get some work done on the couch beside him. He must have questions, though, with a mind as inquisitive as his. He must wonder what other secrets still lurk in Armand's past that he has yet to uncover. 

Armand hopes that one day he’ll find the courage to tell him. 

It’s another three weeks before Armand sees Louis again. 

Dr. Fielding, who teaches the Medical Ethics course for pre-med students, had ended up taking over for Louis, much to Armand’s disappointment. The news had come via an email from Akasha and Enkil, their department co-chairs, which informed them that Louis was doing well, but would be taking a medical leave of absence for the remainder of the semester.

He wanted to check in with Louis personally to see if he was feeling any better, but short of emailing him on his official work email and asking him to reveal his personal health information, Armand didn’t have much of an option to do so. He couldn’t ask Lestat, either, as, unsurprisingly, he hadn’t returned to class, no doubt having opted to stay at home to take care of Louis. 

Without any avenue of contacting him, Armand could do nothing but focus on his schoolwork and Daniel, who, with his graduation a mere week away, has still not managed to secure a job yet. 

Even with significant editing experience on his résumé, the competition has been fierce. All the puff pieces he’d been forced to write this semester haven’t done him any favors, either—too inconsequential to really sell the papers he’s applied to so far on his ability to write the kind of hard-hitting stories he’s always been desperate for. Armand has tried to tell him that he can work his way up to it, but Daniel is too proud to accept anything less than a job where he can write stories that matter.

He hasn’t come out to his family yet, either, which is stressing out the both of them now. 

“You will need to tell her you’re not coming back to New York, you know,” Armand had said, eyes still on his tablet as Daniel climbed into their bed one evening after getting off the phone with his mom, his dorm room on campus all but abandoned these days. 

“I’m not telling my mother I’m queer and still unemployed at the same time,” he had replied, lying on his side to face him. “One thing at a time, okay?”

That was a week and a half ago now, not that Armand is counting. 

It’s just that… he knows Daniel saved a ticket for him for his graduation and he keeps envisioning himself sitting beside Daniel’s family as he walks across the stage. Will they know who he is to Daniel by then or will he be posing as his platonic future roommate? 

The latter will be a difficult sell if they want a tour of the inside of his one bedroom, but if that’s what Daniel needs him to be, Armand will dutifully take on the role. He just needs to prepare himself for it, preferably sometime before the actual day arrives. 

In any case, with Armand’s final papers now submitted, there remains just one more thing to attend to before his summer can finally begin: the Religion and Philosophy Department’s dreaded end of the year mixer, where students and faculty drink cheap wine together and try to pretend they’re enjoying each other’s company. 

“You don’t have to go,” Daniel tells him as he watches Armand get ready in front of the mirror. He’s gone with a black ensemble for the event—understated, but sophisticated. It’s perhaps a little warm for this time of year, but the library can be quite cold so he thinks he’ll be alright. 

“Yes, I do,” Armand reminds him patiently. “It’s my first year and I need to make a good impression.”

Daniel is quiet for a moment before he asks, “Will he be there?” 

Armand doesn’t need to ask him to elaborate. He takes a deep breath and answers, “As a senior member of the faculty, yes, I expect Marius will be there.”

Armand adjusts his rings on his fingers as he tries not to look at Daniel’s reflection in the mirror where it hovers disapprovingly above his shoulder.

“I don’t like this,” Daniel says finally, voicing the thought he’s been thinking so loud Armand has practically heard it already.

Armand sighs and meets Daniel’s eyes in the mirror. He looks about as happy as he sounds.

“Daniel,” he begins, turning around to look at him. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be—” 

“‘Fine,’ I know,” Daniel finishes for him, tucking his fingers into Armand’s belt to tug him closer. Armand lets him, taking a step forward so they’re standing mere inches apart. “Let me come with you, at least. We can make a quick appearance and then go out for the night or come back here and order a pizza from the place you like, whatever you want.”

Armand’s belly tenses uncomfortably at the idea of putting Daniel and Marius in the same room. He’s worked hard to keep his relationship with Daniel off of Marius’ radar and he cannot imagine that walking into the room with Daniel on his arm would go very well for any of them.

“No,” he insists. “You have cover letters to finish and an interview to prepare for. You need to stay focused on yourself tonight.”

The moment Daniel purses his lips, Armand knows he’s won.

“Yeah, okay,” he sighs in resignation after a moment. “If you need me, though, call me. I’ll work from my dorm tonight so I can be there in a few minutes if he’s being a dick.”

Armand smiles. As frustrating as Daniel’s stubbornness can be at times, he can’t help but be charmed by his recent protective streak. 

“You’re very sweet,” Armand tells him, reaching up to cup Daniel’s face between his palms. “Have I told you that before?”

“Armand,” he says, his eyes pleading with him for the answer he wants to hear.

“Okay,” Armand relents. “If I need you, I will call you. Is that better?”

He can see the tension drain from Daniel’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” he says, and he looks so earnest Armand can’t help but kiss him. 

“I’ll be fine,” Armand insists when he pulls away from him. “I won’t be long anyway, and if you’re good and make some progress on your applications, I’ll bring you some canapés.”

“You better,” Daniel laughs, shaking his head a little before he kisses him one last time.

Armand walks into the Talamasca Library fashionably late, hoping that he’ll be able to disappear in the larger crowd. Inside, he sees the tables have been rearranged to give people room to stand and mingle, but there isn’t any music playing, which makes the atmosphere feel unbearably tense. 

He spots a drinks cart with wine, water, and a selection of sodas off to the side, but Marius is standing beside it with his own glass of red wine, dressed in a garish red velvet suit that makes him look entirely out of place, so Armand avoids it for the moment. He grabs a few pieces of cheese and a small bundle of grapes from the hors d'oeuvres table and lets himself be absorbed into the cluster of other graduate students instead, preferring even Santiago’s inane attempts at comedy to Marius’ predatory eye.

It’s not until he sees Marius has moved away from the cart and is engaged in deep conversation with a beautiful dark haired woman he recognizes as Pandora—Marius’ estranged wife and a former professor of Latin poetry at this university—that he chances a run at the drinks cart. 

Amongst the Coca-Cola, Sprite, and Dr. Pepper sitting in the cooler, Armand spies what looks to be a variety pack of Fanta. He digs through them before he finds what he’s looking for—a can of grape soda. He pours it into a glass with some ice just to occupy his hands and is about to make a quick getaway when he spins around and, after weeks of no word, at last lays his eyes on Louis de Pointe du Lac.

Armand gasps in surprise at his sudden proximity, nearly spilling his soda.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Louis apologizes as he shifts around him to grab a glass of water.

“Louis,” Armand breathes, equally stunned and elated by his presence. He looks him over as unobtrusively as he can and is pleased to see that the wound at Louis’ hairline has been healing nicely and a healthy color has returned to his cheeks. “It’s good to see you back on your feet.”

“It’s good to be back on my feet,” Louis quips. “I had about as much bed rest as a man can take.”

There’s so much Armand wants to say to him, but the words catch in his throat, too vulnerable or inappropriate to the setting. There’s a quiet beat where neither of them speak, but Louis doesn’t move away from him either, as if he too is struggling with what’s been left unsaid. 

“Not a fan of wine?” Armand asks at last, looking for any way to break the tension. Everyone else in the room—the other graduate students especially—has been liberally partaking in the free alcohol and Armand is used to being the only sober person in the room. 

“Ah, not exactly,” Louis confesses, looking down at his cup of water before meeting his eyes again. “I, uh… I used to like it a little too much, actually.”

“Oh—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Armand stumbles, but Louis laughs and interrupts him.

“It’s alright. It was a long time ago,” Louis assures him. “Honestly, it wasn’t even wine for me so much as it was Sazeracs and Old Fashioneds. I just stick to water and coffee these days.”

Armand nods thoughtfully and takes a sip of his soda, unsure what to say in this situation. He hopes his discomfort isn’t showing on his face.

“Though,” Louis continues a second later, his expression one of performative contemplation, “I guess I should probably steer clear of coffee makers now too, huh? Apparently, they’re just as hazardous to my health.”

Armand is very glad he’s already swallowed his sip of soda because he chokes on an incredulous laugh at that. When he looks at Louis again, he’s laughing too, like he meant it as a joke, and Armand cannot believe him.

“At least you’re able to laugh about it now,” he tells him. “You must be feeling better.”

“Yeah,” Louis smiles. “A lot better.” There’s another beat of silence as Louis hesitates for the briefest moment before he adds, “Lestat told me you waited at the hospital for me.”

A deep flush warms Armand’s cheeks. He feels exposed all of a sudden. 

“I wanted to make sure you were alright,” he says, repeating what he’d told Lestat that day. It is the truth, after all.

“Well, I wanted to thank you,” Louis tells him, a sincere and solemn look on his face. “For that, and for staying with me until the ambulance came. You didn’t need to do that for me, but I really appreciate that you did.”

“It was nothing,” Armand shrugs off the thanks.

“It wasn’t,” Louis disagrees. “So thank you.”

Armand wants to argue again, to downplay the whole thing, but he has a feeling that Louis will not take kindly to that if he tries it. 

“You are welcome,” Armand says instead.

In the silence that follows, Armand is eager to change the subject. Once the question enters his mind, he cannot resist asking, “So, you and Lestat?”

Louis huffs a laugh, ducking his head to hide his smile. 

“Yeah,” he says with a nod. “You must have questions about that.”

A few come to mind, namely I didn’t realize the university had a take your husband to work program. Was his usual babysitter not available?, but Armand bites his tongue. The insults which usually come to his mind so freely feel unfair to voice aloud now, given the vulnerability Lestat had shown him in the hospital.

“Just one,” he says instead. “Why?”

“Why Lestat?” Louis asks, an amused quirk to his lips.

“No,” Armand says. Although Armand had initially resisted the idea that Louis had chosen to settle down with him, he can admit now that he gets it. He may be a terrible student and unbearably annoying at times, but Lestat has his redeeming qualities, of that Armand is sure. “Why did he audit your class?”

Louis looks around at the other students and faculty who are not quite in easy earshot, but evidently too close for his liking.

“Lestat means well, but he can be a little… ethically challenged at times,” he explains, his tone measured and pitched low so as not to be overheard. “I was hoping it would make him—” Louis cuts himself off suddenly, as if rethinking his words. After a brief pause, Louis shakes his head and continues, “Look, I shouldn’t get into all the particulars of my marriage with a student so I won’t, but, to answer your question, I was just hoping he would learn something if he sat in on some classes. Maybe be more empathetic when the impact of a situation extends beyond himself and his family.”

Armand turns Louis’ words over in his mind, curious about what Louis isn’t saying. He feels like there’s a story there, one he’d be very interested to hear, but he can see Louis’ reticence and, for now, will probe no deeper.

“Did he?” Armand asks instead. “Learn something, that is.”

A curious expression takes over Louis’ face as he weighs his answer. “We’ll see,” he says at last.

Louis’ eyes narrow suddenly as he glances over Armand’s shoulder. He’s about to turn to look and see what’s earned that reaction from him when Louis abruptly changes the subject.

“So, what drew you to studying the devil, if you don’t mind my asking?” Louis asks him, taking him by the arm and gently leading him away from the cart—and Marius, Armand now realizes—to a more quiet corner of the room. “It’s an unusual subject.”

“I don’t mind,” Armand says. He’d defended his interests in his personal statement already after all. Why be coy about them now? “Have you ever heard of the Children of Satan?”

“They’re a European death cult, right?” Louis asks. “Based in France?”

“They have a network that stretches across all of Europe, but yes, Paris is the location of one of their largest congregations. I… knew someone… a long time ago, who was a member,” Armand tells him. It’s not quite the truth, of course, but there are some things Louis does not need to know. “When he was a young boy, he was stolen from his family while they were on holiday. His kidnappers, who turned out to be members of this cult, changed his name and spirited him away to Paris, where he lived with them for many years.”

“What?” Louis blinks, stunned by the direction of Armand’s words, his brow drawing together in sudden sympathy. “That’s awful.”

Armand pauses briefly at Louis’ interjection, thrown off by the emotion in his voice, the concern on his face. He tucks that away for later, burying it deep, and returns to his story, maintaining a comfortable degree of separation between himself and the horrors of his memories.

“He fought against them at first, even tried to escape a few times, but eventually realized that resistance was futile,” Armand continues, his voice detached, as if reading from a textbook. “He had nowhere else to go, you understand, outnumbered and stranded as he was in a foreign place with strange people whose language he had not yet come to master. So, in time, he capitulated. He learned their language, practiced their teachings, and became quite devout. So much so, in fact, that when he was old enough, he was sent to a university in Venice. His purpose was to seduce outsiders who might be easily manipulated into joining them. That is where I met him.” 

“He tried to recruit you?” Louis asks.

“Yes,” Armand lies. 

“I take it his mission didn’t go as planned then,” Louis guesses.

“No, it did not,” Armand agrees, looking down at the inky dark surface of his grape soda. He takes a sip before he continues, “A few months into the semester, he was ‘deprogrammed,’ as they say.”

“What happened to him?”

“He forsook the Children of Satan and withdrew from his classes,” Armand says. “I never saw him again, but his story never left me. As I fell deeper into the well of philosophy and religion, I found myself returning to the question of what it is about the figure of the devil that drives people to such extremes.”

Louis seems to mull that over in his mind for a moment. 

“So that’s why you wanna research philosophical approaches to the devil?” he asks at last. “To understand the Children of Satan?”  

“Yes and no,” Armand says. “I don’t wish to dwell on them specifically. I already know, intimately, what their philosophical and religious beliefs are and what those beliefs drive them to do. They were simply the catalyst for developing my academic interests.”

“Hmm,” Louis hums. “That’s quite the story.”

Armand smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I hope that young man has gotten the help he needs,” Louis continues, his expression growing more troubled the more he thinks about what Armand told him.

“I think he’s doing alright,” Armand replies. “Wherever he is.”

Armand takes another sip of his grape soda to break the tension he hadn’t noticed building in his chest and lets his eyes scan around the room. He sees Santiago balancing a cocktail straw on his upper lip as if it’s a mustache as he talks to Estelle and Celeste who are giggling along with him and barely suppresses an eye roll.

Louis notices Armand’s attention shift and follows his gaze to the group of them. The sigh he lets out can only be described as deeply unamused.

“That is why I discourage accepting students into the PhD without master’s degrees,” Louis grumbles, tipping his glass in Santiago’s direction. “I don’t care how good they look on paper. They’re all still children.”

Armand laughs, a part of him thrilled that Louis is speaking to him so candidly. “Don’t let Santiago hear you say that.”

“Why?” Louis asks, an eyebrow raised. “If he’s gonna act like a buffoon in public, he ought to know it won’t do him any favors with me or the other professors here.”

Armand laughs again. “I suppose so,” he says, “but I must warn you: he will be terribly offended.”

“I think I can live with that,” Louis shrugs and takes a sip of his water.

A comfortable silence settles over them as they stand together and watch Santiago’s antics in judgment from afar. It doesn’t last long, however, as Louis interrupts the moment with some highly anticipated news.

“Oh, I have something to tell you,” Louis says, drawing Armand’s attention away from Santiago. “I thought about emailing you, but I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Oh?” Armand asks, perking up at Louis’ words.

“You’ve been approved to serve as my TA next semester,” Louis tells him.

Amand’s breath catches in his throat.

“I was?” he asks, because he needs to be sure, he needs to know that this is real.

“Mhmm,” Louis nods, a wide smile breaking out on his face.

A light, buoyant feeling fills Armand’s belly, the world around him bathed in soft, golden light, as he looks at Louis and takes in his words. The relief is sweet on his tongue as he realizes what this means.

He’ll be working with Louis next semester. 

No more late nights dealing with Marius’ outlandish requests or arbitrary deadlines. 

No more brutish punishments when he fails to measure up to his impossible expectations. 

No more—

It’s then, in the middle of his internal celebration, that Armand feels his gaze pulled to the other side of the room. As he passes over the mingling crowd of students and faculty, he locks eyes with Marius. 

Marius, who he now sees is staring directly at him over Pandora’s shoulder on the other end of the library. 

To anyone else, the man would appear to be enjoying himself, but Armand knows better. He has had enough experience deciphering his microexpressions to realize that he definitely isn’t happy. He watches him slowly raise a glass of red wine to his lips, his blue eyes burning in his skull like twin flames as they stare at him with unflinching focus.

Armand’s blood runs cold as understanding washes over him: Marius knows.

The golden haze begins to fade, and in its absence it feels as if shadows are pressing in on him from all sides—as if the sun itself has gone out. Armand looks down at his cup and takes a sip, tasting nothing but ash as it slides down his throat.

“Did he put up a fight to keep me?” Armand whispers, his voice sounding soft and far away, even to his own ears. 

He’s thankful he doesn’t need to say his name out loud—that Louis knows without needing to be told exactly of whom he is speaking.

“He did,” Louis admits with a regretful sigh, “but he wasn’t supposed to be working with you or any other student this year anyway and wouldn’t have if it wasn’t the only way to solve your funding issue, so he really didn’t have a leg to stand on. His motion to keep you on as a research assistant was unequivocally denied. He wasn’t happy about it, but there was nothing he could do.”

Distantly, Armand registers the hair on his arms standing on end at Louis’ confirmation and his heart beginning to race. 

He wasn’t happy about it, he hears once more in his head, feeling Marius’ angry glare on him like a physical weight pinning him in place.

I shouldn’t have done this, he thinks suddenly as an oppressive and unpleasant feeling twists inside his gut. I shouldn’t have made him angry, I shouldn’t have…

Armand flinches at an unexpected touch on his shoulder. He opens his eyes—when had he closed them?—and sees Louis standing close, blocking out the world until it’s only the two of them. 

He’s saying something to him, Armand realizes, but he cannot make out the words over the rushing in his ears—only the shape of Louis’ mouth and the way his hand is rubbing his shoulder through his clothing now, the sensation muted by the dullness of his senses. He tries to focus on it, on the heat of Louis’ palm, and slowly—so slowly—it brings him back into his body, grounding him as his heart rate begins to slow and piece by piece the world comes rushing back.

“Hey,” Louis says, his voice dipping down low enough not to be overheard. “You’re okay. You hear me? You’re gonna be fine.”

Armand blinks at him through the fog in his mind. 

“Don’t worry about him,” Louis continues. “He’s a bully, but he can’t take any of this out on you without getting himself fired and he cares too much about his reputation as an academic to do that.”

Armand tries very hard not to think about how often Marius does whatever the fuck he wants and faces absolutely no consequences. He looks into Louis’ kind brown eyes instead, focusing intently on their dark hue as he tries to get himself back under control. 

He’s not sure how long he stands there with Louis patiently reassuring him, but it feels like barely a minute before he sees someone move into the periphery of his vision.

He only just suppresses a flinch as he turns to look at the figure and breathes the barest sigh of relief as he sees it isn’t Marius marching up to him, but Lestat. 

There is a hard look on his face as he walks up to them that makes Armand frown. Louis takes a step back from Armand and turns at the familiar sound of Lestat’s footsteps, just in time to see the expression on his face transform into a wide smile.

“There you are, Louis,” Lestat greets him as he steps into his space and leans in to kiss him on the mouth.

This is not the first time Armand has seen Lestat kiss Louis, but it is the first time he’s clearly doing it for Armand’s benefit, even though he hasn’t spared him a single glance or acknowledged his presence in any other way. 

He can see Louis stiffen slightly as Lestat slips his hands into his open suit jacket and pulls him closer by his waist, caught off guard by Lestat’s very sudden and very public display of affection among his colleagues and students. He doesn’t quite respond to the kiss, either—at least, not as enthusiastically as he’s seen him do in the past. His hands hesitate when they come up to grip at his jacket, as if unsure whether he wants to pull him closer or push him away.

Their lips make a wet sound as they part, Louis finally making up his mind and pulling back to look at his husband.

“What was that for?” he asks, sounding a little dazed as he steps away from Lestat, glancing around the room to see if anyone took notice.

“Are you ready to go, mon cher?” Lestat asks, ignoring his question. “We have reservations.”

Louis blinks. “Uh, yeah, we can go, just—” he says, and then turns to Armand with a look of concern on his face. “Are you gonna be okay? Do you want to walk out with us?” 

“I’m sure he’ll manage just fine without you,” Lestat answers for him, venom on his tongue as he loops his arm through Louis’. “Come, we’ll be late.”

Armand stiffens at that, his eyes pricking with tears. Lestat’s coldness surprises him. He had thought that after their ordeal in the hospital, Lestat would have warmed up to him. It seems he was wrong. 

The thought fills Armand with an emptiness he cannot fully explain, hurt curling inside his chest and settling close to his heart. He watches on in silence as Louis throws him an apologetic glance over his shoulder and lets Lestat practically pull him toward the library’s exit, leaving him to fend for himself.

[lunar-tone]

16 Era Soukoku short story.

It was a cold, storming winter night when Chuuya was startled awake from a loud banging on his apartment door. He blearily looked around, an empty wine bottle from earlier that evening still in his hand and his t.v playing some French drama show that he could barely even follow.

The banging on his door returned and Chuuya grumbled, getting up and rubbing the tiredness from his eyes "Yeah yeah I'm coming!"

Looking at the clock, The numbers showed it was 2:30 in the morning. Chuuya scowled, grumbling. He opened the door, already talking "This better be fucking- Holy shit! Dazai!?"

Standing at his door was his partner, Dazai. Dazai was shivering, a blanket curled around his shoulders and over his usual work attire, and snow could be seen melting into the fabric. The brunette gave a weak smile, lips blue from cold "H-H-Hey C-C-Chibi!"

The poor boy couldn't even speak properly from how hard he was shivering. Chuuya scowled, pulling Dazai into his apartment. "What the hell Shitty Dazai? Why the fuck are you freezing to death on my doorstep!?"

Dazai simply shrugged and let himself be plopped down infront of Chuuya's electric fireplace, unconsciously leaning into the warm air it was emitting "N-No heating in a sh-shipping container C-Chibi. Heater c-can only do s-s-so much"

Chuuya scowled, internally cursing the fact that Dazai lived in a shipping container. It was below fucking 30 C°! The ginger is surprised Dazai is even still awake. "Fucking hell dude, why didn't you come here sooner? Or stay at a hotel while the storm goes through? You could have fucking died! Fuck you still might-"

Chuuya busied around the other, grabbing soft blankets and heating pads, debating if he should make some hot chocolate before saying fuck it and walking to the kitchen to make some. Dazai shrugged "T-Thought I could do i-it. N-N-Never had a problem b-before. W-Why? You worried a-about me C-Chibiko~?"

Chuuya scowled, smacking Dazai upside the head as he set down the hot chocolate infront of the other "Fucking hell- is it so wrong of me to show a little empathy for your sorry ass? Besides I don't want to have to clean up your dead body!"

Dazai laughed lightly, stopping suddenly as he broke into multiple sneezes. When he finally stopped he looked at Chuuya with a pathetic expression "Chuuuuyyyaaaaaa!"

Chuuya rolled his eyes "Drink the hot chocolate mackerel, and stay near the heat. I won't have you dying in my apartment and staining my floors!"

Dazai grinned, slowly feeling the ever prominent cold fade away. He would never admit it, but having Chuuya fuss over him and worry made a warm feeling spread through his chest that he didn't quite know how to describe. "Fiiiine! Put something interesting on though hat rack! I don't speak French!"

Chuuya rolled his eyes, grabbing his t.v remote and searching for something stupid to put on. Settling on some sci-fi action movie, Chuuya stood up and stretched "Fuck I'm tired and my head hurts. I'm taking some medicine and going to bed, don't die while I'm asleep Bandage waster!"

Dazai pouted "But I'm still cold and wet!"

Chuuya groaned, walking into his bedroom without replying. Dazai pouted even more, flopping backwards and whining "Chuuuyyyaaaaa!"

Suddenly Chuuya was back in his field of vision, holding out a pile of pajamas to him with a few bandage rolls on top. "You know where the bathroom is. Take a shower and then go to sleep, Mackerel. We do have work to do tomorrow after all"

"Awww how sweet of my dog to bring his master clothes!" Dazai grunted as he was kicked in the side, snickering as Chuuya walked off grumbling under his breath. As the gingers bedroom door closed and locked, Dazai looked at the pajamas. They were in his size surprisingly, a black silk button up and blue silk bottoms. How Chuuya knew his skin was sensitive to cotton fabrics he doesn't know, but it warmed his heart none the less.

The next morning, the two never spoke about what happened, but Chuuya did shove a key to his apartment into the others hand and said to take the spare bedroom, so Dazai assumed that was Chuuya's way of asking him to move in. Despite the teasing, Dazai quickly moved his clothes and meager belongings into the spare room and made himself at home. Neither mentioned the warm feelings in their chest and how quickly they adjusted to having the other in their personal space. It didn't matter either way. They were content.

[quinloki]

OKAY BUT IZOU IS 100% PURPOSEFULLY A LITTLE SHIT I can just picture him being amused in the beginning but then losing his patience bc NOTHING is happening the two brothers are content to play the long game and slowly win you over since they don't want to pressure you! and that's no fun to izou

so he works on sending luffy/ace/thatch at convenient times to interrupt and if it was anyone besides sabo/marco they prolly wouldn't catch on but those two are smart and sly on their own so they maybe originally think it's the other one before discussing it. It's not like they're on bad terms they're aware what the other is doing and maybe they've snuck themselves out onto a 'date' the other had but they're both mature adults so there's really no hostility there, just some brotherly competition. so they work out that it's izou somehow, maybe izou is very very subtly flirting on his own where they can see, but you're definitely oblivious bc he's VERY subtle about it

and I can picture them confonting him about it and him being like what? if you don't hurry up someone else will snatch the little flower up and arrange her beautifully

OKAY also agree that they would eavesdrop. my brain said no earlier when I said vent trope but nah, sabo would give zero shits and be at that door. imagine yall had something going on earlier with a few drinkies and you're just a littleeeee tipsy too when ace comes to ask you what's up so you maybe give him way more details than he asked for and they both hear the whole thing (and ace definitely needs another drink after that)

thatch being the oblivious tip offer is so funny bc he means well and it's so cute I can see thatch casually talking marco up to you too and it's not like them going to thatch's bar would be TOTALLYYYYY creepy like they could just play it off as they came to see thatch! no idea you were there!

yes the 'soft around me then scary dangerous around threats' is such a good trope omg I love it like you've seen all of them playfully mad at ribbing between brothers but the actual anger is blowing your mind!!! (and it's kinda hot lolol)

okay but yes to mafia au (and heheheh hotel with marco and sabo >>) but imagine they were kinda in that world to begin with (maybe not mafia but connected enough to know who's who and have strong connections/money) and another reason you're such good friends with ace besides the punch first mantra is that you're both a little dumb like he tried to bring it up at some point, thought you understood, and maybe you said something like 'i don't need to know details' (bc you thought it was something wayyyyy different) and so when you went to move in they asked ace if you were aware of whatever and he was like yes! but she doesn't want details! and they start explaining it after and it's like ????? excuse me WHAT idk just a dumb misunderstanding bc you and ace are just a little dumb together especially and you're sitting there like oh… they have a really big, nice house and oh all have nice cars and wait how did you not notice this before

lmao and imagine the hotel shower looks like the one in your dream so there goes into that train of thought as you're trying to calm down from everything else and man did they look hot when they were mad >>

quin you fed my brain and now it's going in overdrive oh my god I can't get it out of my head help I'm so sorry I typed so much at you T_______T

DO NOT APOLOGIZE - Omfg this was AMAZING to read - you are killing me in the best way. I love it. I want to write it. I want to just line up espresso shots and stay up all night and not sleep and just WRITE THIS because it is just getting more and more amazing the more we talk about it.

Mafia-ish AU - Maybe the Edward Family did start below board. Made some nice money from it now and then transitioned to actual legal activities. Sure there's still some shady connections in there, you can't shake them entirely, debts owed and all that. But legal enough that the marines who harass them aren't going to get any where.

Sabo's a lawyer, part of Dragon's firm, and half his job is dealing with the red tape the Government dogs insist on throwing at the family business, that has truly and honestly gone from Family to family.

Marco's effectively the CEO of the company, Pops stepped down and retired after shifting everything over to a legit business. Thatch had the bar as a front originally, but had effectively shifted it into a lucrative business before the rest of the family business shifted over. (Izou's the CFO, Ace works in the mail room, but he is learning the ropes for the entire business, and will spend 1-2 years in just about every role in the company so he can learn logistics hands on).

The family's not that long removed from things either, maybe five years. Maybe somewhere between 10 and five, like, just enough to be honestly legit, but not so much that they've gone soft by any stretch of the word.

Shanks is still mafia, and I think friends with enough of the Edward Boys that there's some amicable exchange of information between them. He keeps them in the loop, they set up some shell corps for him. There's real animosity with Kaido and Big Mom though, but most of that might not even come into play with the story.

I LOVE the hotel shower being like the one in the dream, and you over-shared details with Ace, so Sabo and Marco both know. Know in that "Oh what an interesting shower, wouldn't you say so?" kind of way.

Oh but man - word gets out, the Edward Boys have a weakness™ - you'd have to be hella dumb to take that risk, or crazy powerful, or just plain crazy.

At some point you learn that the brothers aren't blood related - and that's one of those "I should've known" moments, cause everyone looks so different, and it was a Family™ and not even an adopted family, and gods alive Sabo isn't even Marco's brother, he's Ace's and something about sake, and Luffy, and don't think too hard on it, how did that dream go again?