ikeepcruising

[breaking-thechains]

Don wanted us to be up at the studio early- and I drank like four cups of coffee!! but now George won't get up- and we're going to be late!! but he sleeps like a bear in hibernation!! and now I'm sure Mick's gonna eat all the donuts at the studio before I can get any!!

[3minsover]

Steddie who keep missing each other. Who aren't in love at the same time. It's neither of their faults; they're just not quite in touch, in tune with each other.

Sure, Eddie had a stupid huge embarrassing crush on Steve throughout junior year, senior year and senior year 2.0. Sure, it was made so much worse when in Steve's first and only senior year, Eddie found himself sat in math class diagonally behind the fallen king. He'd watch the way his hair moved when he ran his hands through it in frustration. He'd see the shift of muscle under his shirt when he bent down to pick up a dropped pencil. And every time Steve would smile, flutter his lashes and pinch his eyebrows, say; "I'm sorry sir, I just don't know", Eddie would find himself shifting in his seat, nipping at the skin on the side of his finger, knee bouncing under the desk. They didn't really talk beyond 'hey's in the corridor, beyond 'did you do the homework?'s - to which Eddie would without fail stutter out an 'Uh- so, no. I meant to- Just, uh. No.' and Steve would without fail flash a soft smile, bump his shoulder into Eddie's and whisper 'Me neither.'

It got easier, after Steve graduated. Eddie still saw him around, still recognised his car in the lot when he was giving Robin Buckley from band a ride to school. But it wasn't so immediate, wasn't so raw. And after a while, the butterflies would fade. He'd be able to meet Steve's eye across the Family Video counter without feeling his mouth go dusty and his heart leap into his throat.

Steve hadn't realised his feelings for Eddie were anything more than friendly, until he graduated high school. Without the daily glances across the classroom, the moments he'd always take to make conversation, it felt emptier. It gave him time to think about the way his chest would tighten at Eddie's shy smile whenever they talked. Steve hadn't realised he might be allowed to feel something softer than 'dudely bro-ship'.

That is, until it fades so the only time Steve sees him is when he drops Robin off at school, or when he comes in to family video to rent Halloween again. Steve's heart prickles at the sight of him, but after a while, Eddie's visits drop off.

Steve tries to keep himself busy, grateful for some time without inter-dimensional battles or Russian agents trying to kill him. Thoughts of Eddie drift to the back of his mind, for almost six months. And then in the spring of '86, Steve finds himself thrown against the splintered wall of a nondescript boathouse on the outskirts of town. And it's Eddie Munson from Math that has a shaking, jagged bottle held up to his throat. It absolutely doesn't awaken things in him that he never knew he could want, absolutely not.

But regardless, he's staring half-terrified into the dark, watery brown eyes of Eddie Munson from Math, and all he wants is to reach out and smooth a palm over his cheek. He wants to curl his hand around those trembling fingers and tell him it's all gonna be okay. Of course, it isn't. Steve doesn't get much of a chance to talk to Eddie over the next week, what with some vampire soul-sucker guy terrorizing the town, and Max getting possessed and the whole thing going entirely to shit. But he finds himself drawn inexplicably into Eddie's space, splits off with Eddie and has the girls pair up and then Eddie calls him 'big boy'. And his entire world stops spinning for a moment. For just a second, it's just the two of them, and Eddie's face is so close to his, his smile so wild and beautiful.

The whole world stops, before it rockets back into thrilling, terrifying motion.

In the fear and the panic of the final Vecna showdown, Steve has to thrust his feelings back down deep. He can't let shit like a crush get in the way when the lives of the people he loves most are at stake.

It all happens so fast, and before he knows it, Max is in a coma, Eddie's been torn up to within an inch of his life, there's no certainty that Vecna's even gone, and he doesn't know what to do.

For days, Steve sits by Eddie's bedside when he can - when he's not with Max - only sleeps when he does. He silently begs for Eddie to be alright, feels guilty for every thought he has that isn't about Max. He begins to resent how desperately he pines for the moments when Eddie's awake, and after a week, once it's clear that Eddie's going to recover, Steve doesn't visit him anymore.

With all the feelings that are getting jumbled amongst the multitude of all the other horrible nasty fragile things that are writhing around inside, Steve forces himself to shove any thoughts of Eddie down, to get over him. And before he realises, it's been weeks. He's still worried for Eddie, of course he is. The guy almost died in Henderson's arms. But now the world's not actively ending, now he has a moment to breathe, he wonders whether the sparking, shimmering thing that had his mouth going dusty and his heart leaping into his throat was the same thing that had him saying all that shit to Nancy in the upside down.

He can't trust that it's not just a trauma response.

After Eddie recovers, slowly and with more help than he'd ever admit he needed, he sees Steve again. But he's distant. Friendly, but impersonal. An acquaintance. Things are as they were before. It hurts, but he knows all too well that any of the flirtation, the playful teasing and longing looks can only be chalked up to the fear of the end of the world.

It's a couple months before Steve tells Eddie he's going to college out of state. He's leaving in a week. And everything that had been laying dormant for so long comes bubbling up to the surface.

"Shit, I wish you'd given me a little more notice, Harrington," Eddie says, trying desperately to keep the heartbreak out of his voice.

"I'm sorry man, I just. It all happened pretty fast and like if I didn't do it now, it wasn't gonna happen, yknow?" Steve shrugs awkwardly, runs a hand through his hair.

If I didn't do it now, it wasn't gonna happen.

"It's gonna be a damn sight harder to like you this much when you're that far away," Eddie's mouth says before his mind can catch up.

"I like you too, man, but hey, I'll be home for Christmas. You can catch me up on everything I miss, huh?" Steve bumps Eddie's shoulder, just as he used to when they were leaning against the lockers back at school.

"No, Steve. I- You're, I mean. I like you. In a- Like I have, I totally have feelings for you, dude," Eddie forces out, watching his sneaker as he kicks at the ground.

"Eddie..." Steve says softly, and it just breaks Eddie's heart even more. Because that's a let-him-down-gently 'Eddie'.

"No, no it's- Don't sweat it man, just sorta had to tell you before you- Anyway. Have fun at college. I'll- I'll be here when you come home."

"Eddie, wait. I'm sorry. I just..." Steve begins, looks so pained, reaches to take hold of Eddie's shoulder. He avoids it, ducks out the way. And then Eddie leaves, before Steve can try to do something awful like making him feel better or tell him it's okay.

Eddie doesn't see Steve again before he goes to college. Hears from Henderson over the next few months how he's getting on, all the babes he's dating, the assignments he's trying to actually do before the deadline, and Eddie forces himself to smile, crack a joke, whatever.

Slowly, he extricates himself from conversations about Steve. Doesn't want to hear it, but can't tell anyone why. So he finds excuses; he has to take a leak, just remembered he promised Wayne he'd pick up groceries, got band practice, whatever he can come up with. He doesn't even hear Steve's name, tries desperately not to think about him (and fails), until December.

Until the evening of December 24th, when there's knock at the trailer door. With Wayne already asleep, Eddie drags himself from the couch to pull the front door open.

Eddie's met with a coat-wrapped, scarf-muffled, bobble-hatted Steve Harrington standing on his doorstep. He’s rocking back and forth on his toes, arms crossed tight around his chest, hands tucked under his arms. His cheeks are pink, the tip of his nose pinker still, nibbled by the cold. He’s just as beautiful as the last time Eddie saw him, and it jerks his heart into frantic motion against his ribs.

He’d thought he was over Steve, that seeing him again would be just like what it is; welcoming home an old friend. Except all Eddie wants to do is take hold of Steve’s frostbitten cheeks, pull his face towards him and kiss him like it’ll erase all the months of pining that had gone before.

Of course, he doesn’t. Instead, he just balks, says "Steve? What are you-?"

"I had to see you. I’m sorry if this is like inappropriate or if you don’t wanna see me- Dustin said you seemed like, mad at me or something. And honestly I can’t blame you, really. I shouldn’t have- it’s not that I didn’t, that I wasn’t. What I’m trying to say, Eddie, is that I know it’s too late. I know I missed my shot. But I haven’t stopped thinking about you for the last four months."

"Steve-"

"I know I have no right to do this to you. But it was killing me, man. Because I think I might have- I think I might be-"

"Me too," Eddie interrupts. His mind’s whirring and tumbling, trying to gather up the pieces of Steve’s fragmented confession. Steve’s jaw hangs open just a little, paused halfway through a word. "I thought it’d gone away. Thought I’d gotten over Steve Harrington," Eddie continues with a sardonic little shimmy of his hands, "but uh, seems you’re a little harder to shake than I thought."

"D'you, d'you want to shake me? Off, I mean," Steve asks, dipping his chin and looking up through thick lashes, a shy, self-conscious suggestion of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"No. no I don’t."

"Oh thank god. 'Cause I don’t know if I’d survive that," Steve exhales, his small smile spreading into a grin. He rocks forward onto the balls of his feet again, and Eddie finds himself pulled into Steve’s orbit. It doesn’t matter that he’s just in his socks and the doorstep is damp with cold. Eddie crosses the threshold and curls his fingers gently around the lapels of Steve’s coat. Eddie’s struggling to breathe, little puffs bursting forth from his lips and clashing in the air, mixing with Steve’s own.

"Can I-?" Eddie asks, doesn’t dare say the word aloud in case Steve’s not on the same page; gives himself an out if Steve’s not where Eddie’s at. Where he’s always been at, really. It just wasn’t quite at the right time.

"Yes. Please," Steve breathes, sweet frosty breath swirling gray-white around in the thin, chilly air between their faces. Slowly, giving Steve plenty of time to back away, change his mind, Eddie draws Steve towards him, tips his chin until their noses brush. the very peaks of their lips touch, and Steve’s breath hitches at the contact. It’s the prettiest sound Eddie’s ever heard. Eddie sips in a breath, hardly daring to move, and lets Steve nudge their mouths together.

Finally.

Their lips press softly together, and Eddie feels Steve’s hands come to grip at the sides of his sweater, bunching it at his waist. He pulls Eddie towards him, moans softly, just the tiniest hint of voice slipping out and into Eddie’s mouth. A new prettiest sound.

Suddenly aware of their very public, very chilly location, Eddie stumbles backwards, pulls Steve inside with him. Steve follows enthusiastically, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel, lips never leaving Eddie’s for even a moment. They’re entirely wrapped up in each other, even as Eddie frantically unwraps Steve’s cold-proof clothing, lost completely in the feeling of their bodies pressing together.

They took their time, to get here. But now that they are, here is where they’ll stay. It won’t be easy, being apart for long stretches while Steve’s away at college, but now they’ll have a little something of each other’s to keep hold of until they’re together again.

They’ll have the promises they made each other that night, the words whispered against skin, the kisses pressed and breath shared. They’ll have the silent, precious exchange of one heart for another. And that will see them through.

[sharksnshakes]

New Perspective- Leon Kennedy

After losing a bet with friend and fellow DSO agent Leon Kennedy, he takes you for a ride on his motorcycle. Unforeseen consequences include windburn, watery eyes, and maybe developing a crush on him. Maybe.

AN; so i'm back with another installation of bestie leon wanting to be more than besties. you can read as a continuation of this one, anyways post-re2 leon is still on the brain and likely will be forever

Wordcount; 1.1k

TW; mentions of a potential motorcycle crash, mildly suggestive

Never again are you making a bet with Leon Kennedy.

"What were the terms again? Five minutes?" He asks, a shit eating grin on his face.

You speak through gritted teeth. "Yeah. Five."

Leon's grin widens.

"Shut up," you say halfheartedly, warily glancing down at the motorcycle you're both perched on.

"Didn't say anything, sweetheart."

You roll your eyes and zip your jacket up.

You're not sure how Leon's bike is supposed to safely carry you at all, let alone through busy downtown streets, without throwing one of you off or blowing up or spinning out of control or something. Suffice to say, you're not a fan of motorcycles--Leon knew that when you'd made the bet, and you'd only agreed because you'd been so certain that you'd win. Why else risk life and limb on the back of his Ducati?

That was the thing about Leon Kennedy and bets, though, because you've come to realize that he's got a way of winning regardless of how the odds are stacked. It's great for field work, but it's also a massive pain in your ass, because (news flash) you lost and now you'll have to endure a five minute ride on his death trap of a motorcycle.

"Let's get it over with," you sigh, looping your arms around his waist. The engine purrs beneath you, sending a shudder through your body.

"Y'know," he muses, and you can hear the grin in his voice, "I bet I could do a wheelie."

You laugh, you hope he doesn't feel the slight tremble in your hands, you hope he can't hear the nervous twinge to your voice. "Absolutely fucking not."

He drives slowly through the parking garage. Most DSO staff have already left for the night, and it's probably better that way, because the last thing the two of you need is for a hotshot supervisor to call you out on your antics. Meaning Hunnigan. Because if Hunnigan saw that neither of you were working on the literal mounds of paperwork gracing your desks, she'd probably hit you with a Jeep.

"Might wanna hold on tighter than that," Leon says offhandedly, revving the engine as you approach the street entrance.

"I'm not your backpack, Kennedy."

He chuckles. "Didn't think you'd know the lingo."

"You know that nobody says 'lingo' anymore, right? This is why Claire says you sound like an old man."

"Well, suit yourself," he shrugs, and suddenly you're rocketing into traffic.

You curse violently, digging your fingers into Leon's sides hard enough to bruise. You swear you feel him laughing, but you can't hear a damn thing over the engine and you're more focused on not falling into oncoming traffic.

"Fuck you, Kennedy," you mumble against his leather jacket, your eyes tightly shut.

The agent banks around a turn and you just barely hold back another string of curses. As his body shifts in the seat, you can feel the muscles in his sides stretch and shift and move beneath your fingers, and, wow, he's built, and now your cheeks are pricking with heat. You try not to think about it.

"You okay back there?" Leon calls, bringing the bike to a slow stop at a red light.

"Haven't decided yet?"

"Well, lucky for you, we're at-" he stops, glancing quickly at his watch. "-The two minute mark. Only three to go."

"Technically," you say, peeling yourself off of his back, "It's already been five, if you factor in the drive from the parking garage. So I say we head back."

He casts a glance over his shoulder at you, a smile playing across his lips. "That wasn't the deal, sweetheart."

"Would you quit with the 'sweetheart'?"

"You'd prefer 'backpack', then?"

"I'd prefer nothing, actually," you tease back, even though a tiny voice in your head riots at the thought. This banter with Leon is nothing new. You go back and forth like this in the office, on jobs, whenever, but perched on the back of Leon's bike has you feeling like you've crossed a line with the teasing somehow, like maybe he's actually flirting with you and maybe you're not actually minding it.

"Yeah, well..." The light changes to green. "Nevermind. Hang on, yeah?"

This time, you're feeling brave enough to divert some of your attention from clinging to Leon like your life depends on it, and instead you glance to the sides and take in the bustling downtown scene around you.

The sun's just barely set, casting a dusky haze over the streets. Pedestrians clog the sidewalk, passing through pools of golden lamp-post light; some duck into stores, some leave their apartments, some walk their dogs. You pass a restaurant with outdoor seating, a bookstore, a bank, and you've seen all of these places before on your daily commute, but the back of Leon's motorcycle is affording you a new perspective.

You turn your head to look at the other side of the street and catch a waft of Leon's cologne in the process. It's faint, but distinctly him. It's enough to bring the tiny voice in the back of your head to center stage, where it drenches the situation in rosy colors and 'what if's and 'sweethearts', grabbing you by the shoulders and practically injecting fantasized scenarios into your head. Everything from grocery shopping to painting your living room to getting in bed--

Oh, fuck, are you being a creep?

"Just another minute!" Leon shouts.

You nod against his back and swallow with a dry mouth. Your cheeks are flushed, you can feel it, and you hope you'll be able to play it off as windburn. The last minute of your ride is spent not unlike the first: with eyes slammed shut, ignoring Leon's heartbeat at your chest and ignoring the way your own heart whispers that there's more to be had here than just a friendship.

When Leon finally parks the bike in the garage and cuts the engine, your chest unclenches. Your five minutes are over and you are never getting on a motorcycle again.

The blond helps you off, looking far too amused.

"So, sweetheart... you liked the ride, yeah?" He raises his brows at you suggestively, but it's so exaggerated that you're positive he's just doing this on purpose.

You still nearly choke on your spit.

All the way back to the office, the two of you go back and forth over whether the Ducati's evil and dangerous and a horrible investment. He's laughing, insisting it isn't necessarily deadly, and you keep laughing incredulously and saying that's not a strong argument. Things feel normal again, and you've effectively written off the tiny voice in the back of your head as a bizarre, anxiety-induced response to your first and last ride on a motorcycle.

But his hand lingers on your shoulder for a little too long when you say you're heading out for the night, and after the rapid-fire scenarios that flashed through your head on that goddamned bike, you're not so sure you got rid of that tiny voice after all.

[partycatty]

professor!kenshi takahashi > again

you just can't seem to do professor takahashi's reading assignments.

warnings: smut kinda? idk ur freaky and so is he

notes: hi guys im sorry i havent been posting, brain went numb after i lost a 2k kung lao fic because god hates me. enjoy a new brainworm!

@crimsonbubble come get yo juice

[ masterlist ]

• professor takahashi was a major asshole, every student on campus whispers about his attitude and ridiculously complicated assignments, particularly his reading assignments. they were long, tiresome, and often so complex in word choice you swear your eyes are crossing. unfortunately, you needed this credit to get the hell out of that school.

• he was presumably indifferent about you, wandering the aisles of the desks with a never-changing scowl. he was pretentious, always clean in a suit. his hair was neatly done and his back was obnoxiously straight. you tried to be mad, but you respected his devotion to his career.

• when he'd assign one of those readings, nine times out of ten you chose to skip it. they were only worth five points, it felt criminal to waste that effort when you could be enjoying college life. what's a few points here and there? it's not like you were studying for a phd like your physics professor, dr. carlton.

• midterms were approaching, grades were set to be due within the week and it seemed to be all crashing down on you. the readings and journals following them were costing you about seventy points that could easily bump your grade up a letter... if he let you submit them this last second.

• knocking on his office door, you hear an immediate groan and shuffling. his dress shoes clacked against the floor before he opened up. his height was alarming at such close proximity and you found yourself dizzy under his scrutinizing glare. the glasses on the bridge of his nose jump as he scrunches.

• "it's after office hours," he states, eyes shooting to a clock on the wall behind you. "3-7. it's on the syllabus."

• "i—i know, but—" for the first time, you found yourself stuttering in front of him. "i didn't have the t-time to do the assignments and i was hoping you could take them before the end of the week...? i'm sorry, i know this is sudden—" his large hand raises itself, putting a spell on you to stop talking just as quickly as you started.

• "you're missing fourteen of them," his voice is low and cold. how did he already know how many you were missing without checking? it takes a long time before he sighs and steps to the side, eyes inspecting your every move. "we... could probably knock a couple off if you need the help." ...we?

• swallowing, you step into the small office. you never really noticed a distinct smell on him, but the faintest cologne and his natural musk fogging up the room made you suppress a whimper of surprise. he squeezes past you to get to his desk, and you try to ignore the brush of his touch against your waist as he subtly moves you to the side. you feel trapped in this room, backing into a corner and fidgeting with the dead skin by your fingernails.

• he shuffles papers around on his desk, retrieving the printed copies of what you're missing and slapping them on the desk. you jump, trying to back even further into the corner you had buried yourself in.

• "don't look so afraid," somehow his harsh tone offers a smidge of comfort. "it's not rocket science." he beckons you over with two fingers and your insides curl.

• the passage is long and aggravatingly complicated just from a glance, the backside of the page being a few short answer questions. professor takahashi stands close behind you, forced into closeness from how much his desk was positioned against a wall. you hear him try to stifle his breathing but each small gust on the back of your ear made reading all the more impossible.

• your eyes skin the page, lips trembling as you mouth the words on the paper. just as focus overtakes you on the final paragraph, your professor's sultry voice grumbles in your ear.

• "what did the curtains symbolize?" he gruffly asks, tapping a finger on the first question. you stutter over your words, in a blind haze you couldn't even recall the mere mention of curtains in the writing. you swallow thickly, trying to pull an answer from your ass in typical student panic.

• "concealing true thoughts?" you wince, ready for his disapproving tone to burn your ear. instead, the tense air is cracked through when professor takahashi slams his hand palm-down onto the desk, making you whimper in surprise.

• "again," he groans, already frustrated with your ignorance. "and get it right this time."

• how were you able to focus like this? it was cruel. it was sick, and you wouldn't be able to tell that kenshi agreed with your panicked thoughts from his stone cold expression. he was just thankful you had just enough wiggle room to not be pressed against his aching boner through his slacks.

• you swallow thickly, eyes fluttering over the passage again in a haze. this was too much, you should have just failed instead of participate in whatever this was. "the barrier between private and public manners?"

• kenshi groans again, head dropping in frustration and nearly putting his head on your shoulder. you tense up, his hot body feeling like too much and he's not even touching you. something about a big, authoritative man telling you what to do was getting you going... damn you and your late night assignment recovery plan.

• professor takahashi raises his head again, rolling his shoulders as he tries to keep himself together. his eyes glance downward, and he looks down his nose at the sight of you rubbing your thighs together ever so slightly to relieve the tension. a chuckle is pulled from deep in his throat, amused by your small figure and just how caged you were in this situation. he had all the positioning to... no, he shouldn't think that way.

• something ugly and disgustingly horny tugs at him anyway and pulls a swift movement. professor takahashi swings his thick leg between yours, parting your thighs and forcing you to stand with your legs further apart, pulling all satisfaction from you the moment it started. the smoothness of it all sends your heart into overdrive as you try to make sense of his motion.

• you're too afraid to turn back and look at him, to ask what he's doing. you can't, it's too much to ask of you. your legs are weak and knees are buckling, so you attempt to subtly rest your weight onto his desk with your elbows, unintentionally(?) bending over his desk.

• you feel his body loom over yours, and he manages to position his leg just right to press flush against your ass. his torso bends down, just barely above yours, just barely pinning you to the wood.

• "innocence," he answers the assignment question lowly, his brow twitching desperately. "purity... shame."

• his words tug at your core. "oh."

• kenshi wonders if he should pull away, if this was too much, if you'd run away the moment his grip loosened... but you show no ounce of disagreement to the predicament. if anything, the shake in your body and the emanating heat from your cunt through your bottoms told him you needed this... maybe even more than you needed this grade.

• testing the waters further, his fingers dip into the sides of your waistband, tugging the fabric away from your hips curiously. if now was your time to decline his advance, you certainly wouldn't have taken it. involuntarily, your ass presses against his thigh in anticipation, a motion that makes him jolt in surprise. no words are being exchanged, yet your heat was telling him all that he needed to know.

• "question two," he mutters, eyes transfixed on your back. "in the main character's dialogue during the theater scene, who was he speaking to?"

• this question came to you easy even if your mind was escaping you. your voice is weak, barely there enough to answer. "the audience."

• "which one?" his growl makes you yelp as he tugs on your waistband, pulling you impossibly closer. your clothed pussy was just barely able to rub against his thigh.

• a hot breath escapes your lips, why he's torturing you like this is beyond you. "the—the real audience. us." a reward was given as kenshi pulls your bottoms to the floor, letting them pool at your ankles to give him a display of how soaked you got through your panties. he takes a sharp intake of breath, unable to stop his hand from dragging along the fabric or diving in straight away... no. you wanted this, you had to earn it.

• his lack of response but delight in touching you was confusing. your head drops in embarrassment, hiding the heat creeping up your face. "was... that right?" professor takahashi only replies with a hum, tilting his head to inspect your arousal further.

• he dives right into the next question, just as hungry as you were without admitting it. "what was the meaning behind the title?"

• you part your lips to pathetically guess, forgetting the passage had a title to begin with. your eyes are glassy, the words nearly impossible to distinguish. you want to cry by now, needing both a grade and something, anything to relieve what he's not providing you with. all you can sputter out in a shameful "i don't know."

• "yes you do," he really hopes so as he pulls your panties to the side, fully exposing yourself to him. he prays to god you know the answer, then he'd be able to take what he wants, fuck you into how he desires. he considered himself a pervert, a sick and twisted individual that shouldn't have the job he does. but seeing the way you ache and writhe for him assures he's right where he belongs. "think."

• you can't, you honest to god can't. your mind and body are fully disconnected, unable to access any cohesive part of your thoughts that would either tear yourself away, push yourself in deeper, or just completely shatter. his voice was pulling you apart, and in hindsight, maybe it always has. maybe he was just so alluring during his lectures you found it hard to focus on the work in front of you.

• a belt buckle clinks behind you, a sound that makes you clench onto nothing. kenshi frees himself, one hand squeezing the base of his cock and the other one pressing your back down, bending your body into a 90 degree angle. a mortifying wet slapping sound shocks your body as he taps his shaft against your cunt, your juices sticking and stringing in connecting threads each time he pulls away. your mind runs wild, wondering just how big he is, if his face is flushed or cold as always, but even still you dare not turn around.

• "again," he instructs with a huff, breath escaping him as he tries to regain his own composure. you're tearing him apart just as much as he is to you. "read it — hhh — again." the hand on your back trails to the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair and guiding your sight back to the passage. through fluttering lashes, you manage to get a clear image of the text, racking your brain for an academic response when all you can focus on is his tight grip and heat from his cock.

• "s'a reference," you sputter out, hoarsely. "to the... irony."

• "of?" you can hear the smirk as he notches his tip into your entrance.

• "the... character's... fuck—" you pound a fist onto the desk, back arching and attempting to fruitlessly bounce back onto him, something he wouldn't permit just yet. "the main character's thoughts and inhibitions..." you try to crank out an answer as you clench your eyes shut, chasing your potential reward. "how good of a man he claims to be when he's just as evil as the villain." you speak so fast you're afraid professor takahashi misheard you, or was displeased with your tone. his silence is deafening and you feel tears prick at your eyes.

• you whine at his silence, but before you could cry his name out in frustration, his hand curls around your head and slaps against your mouth, pressing firmly to stop any noise from escaping.

• you feel like a wet, silenced, needy dog with the way he handles you, demanding and controlling the situation in a cruel and torturous manner. it makes you sick, he makes you sick. it's a terrible awful desire to want to be stuffed full of a professor, one you paid to teach you, and all he's teaching you is how to behave like a toy.

• as you near the verge of fighting back, a firm knock echoes on your professor's office door. a feminine voice pours through, authoritative and with obnoxious intent.

• "mr. takahashi," the calls through the door. "the board wanted your approval for the next steps we discussed in last week's meeting. is now a bad time?"

• his cock still pushing against your entrance, he clears his throat and adjusts his glasses, standing straight. "not at all," he replies nonchalantly, feigning innocence behind a thin wooden door. "one moment, if you could."

• she approves and you hear her lack of footsteps — she's right outside of the door. in one swift moment, kenshi discards the assignment, hoists your bottoms back into place nearly making you jump in the process, and cramming his dick back into his pants. you want to cry, whimper for any sort of guidance, internally laughing at yourself for suddenly needing his attention and help instead of being the aloof student you typically were.

• professor takahashi nods his head toward his desk, and you understand immediately — crouching down and tucking your legs against your chest, you bury yourself underneath his office desk and hold your breathing, trying to calm your racing heart... tonight has been a lot for it.

• he clacks toward the office door, swinging it open. you can only catch the faint noises and changes in lighting as they move about the office. kenshi's sure to circle back to his desk and sit down, giving his coworker no opportunity to join his side of the room.

• your breath is held tight as they talk about office jargon, words you're too afraid to hone in on in case you get spotted. you try to focus on the faint stripe pattern of his slacks, the tapping of his foot as he intently listens to the muddy words.

• "i must admit, tonight's a busy one for me," he bluntly admits to the woman, shifting his hips in his seat. "i've got a lot to catch up on, a lot of grades to fix. if you don't mind, it would be best for the both of us to put a pin in this and come back tomorrow morning." a polite smile graces his stern features, one you can yet again hear in his tone. your heart flutters at the thought of being alone with him again.

• "i'm at a crossroads here," the woman sweats, nervously chuckling. "we were hoping to do a late follow-up meeting after your approvals... as soon as our conversation is done. they're all waiting in the board room."

• professor takahashi audibly groans, leaning back in his seat. you take the brief moment of adequate lighting to smirk at the sight; his cock was still raging and angry from denial, pushing hard against his slacks. he was dying inside.

• "if we must do it tonight," he draws out his tone, standing abruptly. "alright."

• your stomach drops at the thought, cunt aching and drooling for more after getting only a taste. you wouldn't be able to sleep, eat, function until you're able to be split in half by his dick. fuck the assignments, there's something else you want to chase now.

• and you wish you could chase, frowning as you see them both leave the room, kenshi stock-still as always just as you peer over the wood to ensure you're free to escape. tonight was a disappointment all around, and not even five minutes on your walk back to your dorm your phone pings, a new email sitting in your inbox.

just now - ktakahashi@school.edu

subject: office hours

thank you for reaching out for after-class help. my office is open anytime if you need anything from me. i'll be expecting you tomorrow to start.

[byooregard]

iwtv fanfic friday: random fics from my bookmarks with less than ~200 kudos

wanted to make sure the stuff i was linking wasn't stuff everyone's read so i tried to go for the less popular works in my bookmarks

filthy with a twisted tongue by @shineforthee. 4k

Reach out to touch a dead guy’s face one time and he takes off. It’s not like it’s thrusted Daniel into a bottomless pit of despair and psychosis or anything, so who cares? (Nobody, that’s who. Not a damn soul even knows he’s here.) The smell of stale sweat and hot sugar clings in the air. A stained piece of flannel covers the window but light trickles in through the threadbare fabric, so it must be daytime. He tries to remember if it was daytime last time he looked, but it wouldn’t do anything to give him a sense of how many days he’s been here anyway.

value form by leavethebees. 4k, M

"Hey, I'm a journalist," Daniel protests. "I follow the story, and you just tried to set a guy's head on fire. That's front-page news." "Chasing stories," Alice says in an unimpressed, withering tone. "You're a romantic, then. That's worse, you know."

relentless, unbearable by eggalbumin aka @pollyclonolly. 2k

Louis taps his arm. He looks lovely tonight, and his eyes are brilliant under the bar’s light. He’s as beautiful as he is in the memory that exists in Daniel’s head, of the first time they met at Mary’s. The glimmer in his eyes, the smoke curling in tendrils around his lips, the way he smiled as he said, I did a terrible thing, once. He smiles, and it’s lined with sweetness. “You bored?” “An unreasonable amount,” Armand says. He’s not, and he knows he’s not. Louis knows, too. He could spend every day for the rest of his never-ending life chasing the shape of Daniel’s shadow and it wouldn’t bore him. He drinks whatever is left in his glass and it tastes like chalk in his mouth. Sometimes, he thinks he’ll always be trying to chase down the taste of Daniel’s blood in his throat, with Louis and alcohol and prey, and it will still find a way to linger on his tongue for as long as he lives. “Weddings are long, dull affairs. I don’t see the appeal.” (It’s 1982. Daniel’s wedding is a pleasant, lively affair.)

isaiah 43:2 by quentsy. 2k

Paul de Pointe du Lac was dead, to begin with. This was to be distinctly understood.

the whole world was ready to return by exastris_scientia aka @keepoffthetardis . 2k

There he was. Standing just outside the halo of light given off by a streetlight. His face was shadowed, but even from the distance I was at, I could see how sunken his eyes were, how tired. And how blue they glowed. Like church windows, Grace had once said. Burning like two cold fires in the night. “Been a while,” was all Daniel said when he saw me. Louis and Daniel revisit the ethics of murder. In spite of it all, they also have a little fun with it.

rocket man by quentsy. 5k, M

It was a bad idea, but that was the story of his life, yeah? Bad decision after bad decision, the longest love affair of his life. If the first was racing, and the second was heroin, then here was the third: Armand and all the scraps he tossed Daniel’s way, just enough to keep the hunger at bay.

GOODREADS by riverrio. 1k

Interview with the Vampire Daniel Molloy 3.75 STARS 328473 RATINGS 5238 REVIEWS 285 pages, Hardcover First published September 15, 2022 FILTER REVIEWS SORT ORDER POPULAR REVIEWS ONE STAR

among the wildflowers by ipsilateral. 2k

"You're soft," Jonah whispers. He touches Louis's jaw. There he goes still smiling, like it's a revelation, like he oughta be in wonderment about it all. "You don't seem like it but you soft, Louis." Louis stares up at him. There's the anger, whipping at his heart and making it race like a horse on a track, but beyond that is something else, too. Something that makes him almost tremble under Jonah's open smile. For the briefest of moments, Louis allows himself to believe that softness is a pure good, through and through. -- a few of Louis's core memories

[thescarletnargacuga]

Maybe a showtime fic where Caine is constantly trying to either propose or confess to Pomni and he is failing miserably each time he tries….things eventually work out in the end…

A/N:awwwwww! Poor Caine lol

WILL YOU MA-

A SHOWTIME ONESHOT

WARNING: none!

~

Caine hovered out of bounds focusing hard on his clasped hands. He wanted to make sure he fabricated it right, it needed to be flawless. His tongue poked out the side as he concentrated. After a few seconds, he opened his hands. A rose gold ring with a single diamond cut ruby rests in his palm. His fist pumped. "Yes!! It came out perfect this time!"

He grinned as he looked over his craftsmanship. This had been his fifteenth attempt at making the ring the way he knew Pomni would like. Simple and symbolic. Like her.

He flicked the ring into the air and snapped. A ring box appeared mid air and caught the ring. "Now, to ask her the million dollar question!" It's only after he says it out loud that it hits him. He was really doing this. He was asking Pomni to marry him. To vow to be his partner forever. He couldn't just ask. No, No, No. It needed to be SPECTACLE! She deserved nothing less, in his mind.

This would require a bit more work. He immediately went to the drawing board for a personalized adventure. He could make it amazing, yet still be sneaky about it, as they did this all the time. He quickly collected the data he needed and zipped away to the circus, where the humans waited for their daily adventure.

~

"Good luck, my wandering warthogs! Enjoy your adventure!" He sent the group off with a wave. Pomni stood behind him.

"So, this is unexpected. You usually tell me a day in advance when you want to go on a private adventure." She rocked on her feet, her hands behind her back.

"I'm feeling spontaneous today!" He snapped and another portal appeared.

Pomni smirked. "That's dangerous."

Caine gave her a winking smile. "Only enough to make things interesting. After you."

Pomni went through the portal to find herself on a quiet grassy hill. A picnic blanket laid on the apex with a bucket of ice and champagne. The night sky shines above with realistic stars, a faded milky way covering from horizon to horizon. Shooting stars occasionally flew by before disappearing into the darkness of space.

"Wow..." She slowly spun as she looked up at the gorgeous sky. "This is unusually calm for you." She arches a brow at Caine as the portal vanished. "You feeling alright?"

"I'm doing fantastic! I just- I wanted to do something a bit more... intentionally romantic. I have a very special surprise for you." The ring box was burning a metaphorical hole in his pocket. His code started to buzz with nerves, but this was no time for stage fright, it was showtime.

They sat close together on the blanket. He kept glancing at her, wanting to see her reaction for what was next. Fireworks rocketed into the sky, exploding into shapes and colors of all kinds.

"OOO!" Pomni smiled broadly and leaned against Caine's shoulder as she enjoyed the show.

Caine put his arm around her, holding her close. This was going much smoother than he had anticipated. He could do this. He could absolutely do this. He reached into his pocket and snuck the box out. It was almost time. He was certain he was going to explode or turn to dust from the amount of nervous buzzing he felt inside. His hand trembled and he tightened his grip on the box.

The fireworks made sparkling letters appear in the sky.

🎆LRWM REU IYAYL OM?🎇

Caine's jaw dropped. "What!? That's not what I-" He stopped himself, the surprise wasn't entirely ruined. He could save this.

Pomni looked at Caine. "What's wrong? What was that?"

"Uh! Nothing! Just some weird words, obviously! Nothing strange about it!" He was sweating. "Let me just, uh-" He fumbles the box. It comes open and the ring falls out, rolling and bouncing down the hill. "CHEESE AND CRACKERS!!" He takes off after it.

"Wha- Caine!?" Pomni stood, watching Caine fly down the hill face first after a small shiny object.

The ring bounced out of every attempt Caine made to grab it like it was avoiding him on purpose. It went into a lake at the bottom of the hill, Caine dove in without hesitation. The ring was swallowed by a large fish. Caine grabbed it by the tail and the fish thrashed him around, trying to get him to let go.

"NOOO! YOU CAN'T HAVE THAT!!" Caine flies straight up, taking the fish with him. He breaches the surface and shakes the fish upside down. "Drop it, you aquatic fiend!!" Eventually, the ring falls from the fish. He drops the fish and quickly catches the ring before it goes back in the water.

He heaves the biggest sigh of relief. "Let's get you back-" The box wasn't in his waterlogged pocket. He left it at the top of the hill. "Oh no! She'll see it! She'll know!!"

"Who'll know what, chief?" Bubble floated to him from the other side of the lake where the fireworks had been launched from.

"You!" Caine pointed an accusing finger. "What was that with the fireworks!? You didn't set them off in the right order!!"

".... Pyrotechnics are hard to handle when you don't have hands." A snide smile on Bubble's face.

"This is why I have to do everything myself..." Caine groaned and popped Bubble. "The ONE time I want to focus all my energy on her and not the world and everything goes bananas." He teleported himself back to Pomni, the water left behind.

Pomni dropped the little ring box in surprise when Caine reappeared. "Oh! There you are. You okay? You took off in a bit of a hurry."

"Yeah..." He clutched the ring in his fist. "I'm fine, there's just been something on my mind lately." He came down to the ground on one knee. "Pomni...you are the most wonderful person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. I brought you here because I wanted to ask you..." He took a steadying breath, Pomni's undivided attention never felt so intimidating. "Will you ma-"

"Hey, Boss! I got the next round of fireworks ready! Do you want me to set them off now?" Bubble appeared next to the couple, grinning.

"BE GONE, PARASITE!!" Caine jabbed his finger at Bubble again, popping the knowing nuisance.

Pomni gasped. "Caine...that was harsh."

He groaned and facepalmed. "This was supposed to be perfect." Everything was ruined; the mood, the setting, his plan. "I'm sorry, Pomni. You deserve so much better than this."

Pomni gave a sympathetic smile and held Caine's closed hand. "You're right. I do want more than I'm getting right now..."

Caine internally cringed. He knew it. He messed it up too much. He may as well throw himself into the void right now.

"Caine, will you marry me?"

His eyes bugged out. "Pomni!? You- but I was- I tried- you want to?"

She gently opened his hand, revealing the ring. "Yes, very much so. I'm already happy to be with you, and I would love nothing more to spend the rest of my life calling you mine. So Caine, would you do me the honor of being my husband?"

Caine couldn't help but get emotional. He struggled to form coherent worlds as he was choked up on joy. "Yes, oh yes, Pomni! Nothing would make me happier! Please, allow me..." He slid the ring on Pomni's finger.

Pomni admired the ring for a brief moment before she threw herself happily at Caine, tackling him to the ground and attacking him with kisses.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Steve Rogers.

“The sweetest woman in the world

Could be the meanest woman in the world

If you make her that way

You keep on hurtin' her, she keeps being quiet

She might be holding something inside

That really really hurts you one day”

Great Expectations

Warnings: abuse, allusions to violence, depression, self-pity, and some possible unmentioned triggers.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: Your husband reminds you of your role.

As always, I appreciate all kinds of feedback. A like and reblog means so much to me! <3

Your tears stain your cheeks, dropping into the sink where you submerge your hands in lukewarm water. You tremble, clacking together the plates, sifting through the suds to find a solid grasp. You swirl the sponge around a dish before rinsing it and setting it in the rack.

Then another, and another. Glasses, plates, bowls. Your tears continue to stream. Your ears are fuzzy with the echoes of the violent tempest. You pull your hands out of the water, brushing your thumbs along the cuts you can't feel. Those that etched into your flesh as you scrambled to gather the shards scattered in his anger.

You hear the stairs creak and you scrunch your nose, trying to chase away the tickle. He hates it when you cry. He hates everything about you it seems. He doesn't know how much you hate yourself when you can't drag yourself out of bed.

You sense him behind you, looming the doorway. You grab the dishcloth and dry your hands. You quickly pat away your tears as you move to the rack and open the cupboard above. You stack each plate neatly after wiping every speck of moisture from it.

He lurks closer, prowling like a beast, his heavy breaths betray the lingering irritation. You know you cannot make another mistake. So you will only do as you should and say nothing at all.

"There's blood on your dress."

You don't dare ignore him. That's worse than saying the wrong thing. You face him and wring the dishcloth as you fight to keep your hands from shaking.

"I'm sorry, sir," you sniff.

"Sorry? You better hope it comes out. Wasn't cheap."

"Yes, sir, I understand," you gulp, "I'm sorry--"

"Sorry?" He scowls, "don't be so pathetic. All you have to do it the bare minimum. Be a wife. Clean the house. Cook dinner. It's not rocket science."

"I know, sir," you stop yourself from another apology, and wipe your cheek without thinking.

"Don't you fucking cry," he warns.

"No, sir, I won't," you shake your head and suck your low lips under your teeth.

He rolls his eyes and huffs. He puts his hands on his hips and pivots on one heel. He paces before you. Your blood flows undiluted onto the cloth and you squeeze it tighter.

"I gave you a house, a ring, and you can't even sweep the floor while I'm out putting my ass on the line. Not just for you, for this whole fucking planet. And you're here acting like a little work is gonna break you."

You chew your lip and accept his reproach. It seems so simple when he says it. You really are lazy. You really are a leech, sucking off of him and his generosity.

You deserve this.

"You know," he stops and points a finger at you, "there was this woman, she was all over me, and I said no. No. Why? Because of you. Because I have a wife," he turns his hand and waggles his finger so his ring gleams, "maybe next time, I'll take this off."

You wince as if he's slapped you. It's easier when he does. The pain doesn't stay beyond the bruise.

"I'll be better," you croak, your voice wobbling dangerously as tears threaten to spring again.

"You say that," he sneers as he turns his back to you, "but you never are."

[coffeeandbatboys]

The Art Of Stupidity (Peter Quill x Fem!reader)

In which Peter nearly gets killed because he's a dumba** so you do a lot of screaming at him.

Warnings: swearing (whaa ikr?) Injury, insult to injury, Rocket being himself, Peter being an idiot (aka himself) mebbe some slight foreshadowing for vol. 3 but it ain't a spoiler if you don't think too much about it.

"Rocket, where's Peter?" You gasped.

In your glorious retreat back to the Bowie, you'd lost him in the chaos that he caused. How does the idea of stealing a heavily secured antique piece of junk sound now?

"He had to go and get the damn Zune he dropped in the hallway of that security station."

"He told me he was down to one blaster!?" You shrieked, realizing that this was not, in fact, going well.

"And he's the lazy asshole who didn't charge them up!"

"You didn't think to, I dunno, COVER HIM?" You flapped your arms in disbelief.

"Hell no, you're the girlfriend!." The insufferable Raccoon snarled. "If you wanna go get Star munch, he's all yours missy."

You muttered under your breath as you turned to go get your boyfriend. "That stupid Zune is gonna be the death of him someday I swear. Thanks a lot, Yondu."

You readied your blaster and dodged bullets in the space between the ship and aforementioned security station, before kicking the door open to find an incredibly absurd sight.

The Doobie Brother's 'What a Fool Believes' blasted from the ridiculous object he went back for, as he was trying in vain to fight off the security droids. Sighing, you stepped in and blasted to your heart's delight, until the two of you (or, mostly you) successfully eradicated the rest of them.

"Thanks, babe." Peter offered a sheepish smile and you just rolled your eyes in frustration.

"Let's go before these guys blow a freaking hole in our ship!" You growled.

His eyes widened and the smile dropped. "Ohh ok yeah you're like really mad."

Once again you we're crossing the distance back to the ship, only this time, you didn't dodge one of the bullets as it lodged itself in your calf. You were already frustrated beyond rational capacity, and physical pain just added insult to injury. But you were too hyped up on adrenaline to care. Tumbling into the ship, Peter in tow, you sat down and glared.

He wasn't sure whether to apologize or leave you be, when he noticed your leg trembling. That's when your world went fuzzy and you sorta just, checked out of reality while somehow staying conscious.

"Shit! I need a med pack and a pair of tweezers." He hollered for anyone in earshot as the ship lifted off and set out for Knowhere. Soon, the bullet was pulled out of your leg and the med pack placed over the hole.

And this...this, is where you snapped back to reality.

"You asshole!" You screamed, "You could've gotten yourself killed!"

Kraglin, who had brought the medical supplies, just cringed and stepped away, leaving you two alone.

"I'm sorry, y/n..."

"Sometimes I feel like that stupid thing is more important than any of us!"

You regretted the statement as soon as it left your mouth. The Walkman was one of the only things he had left of his younger years, and when his father had destroyed that, the Zune was all he had left of Yondu.

His eyes fell and your heart broke. He moved to stand up, but you stopped him.

"No—wait. I'm sorry. I shouldn'tve said that. I'm sorry." You repeated.

He relaxed and sat back down, giving you a lopsided apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry I freaked you out. I wasn't trying to get killed back there. I feel like it was my fault that you got shot, too."

"Its fine, baby." You smiled sadly. "If I hadn't been seeing red, I probably would've payed more attention."

The med pack needed a bit more time, and Rocket was calling for him, so he kissed your forehead, then your nose, before finally catching your lips in a sweet, tender kiss.

One that would take priority over anything else.

Star Lord fics are back in business baby!!

[biscuits-of-bagend]

DnDoc #6 - The Last Stand of the Magical

Note: Bit spoiler-y for Empire of Death. I'd already written this part but there happened to be quite a relevant note when I was checking over it so I added in a little bit to relate it to the new episode. You can maybe see why I liked the episode so much when you see what themes I was already thinking about.

Part 1 Part 5

---

"You know, you're actually not going to believe this," said Rogue. "But the portal was sonic, like your screwdriver."

   "Ooh." The Doctor's eyes lit up. "That sounds fun."

   It was funny, the Doctor's curiosity. It could so easily come across as disinterest in Rogue's ordeal, or as flippancy. But there was something so active about his brain. Telling this story had thrown Rogue back into the dead forest, and his own tired bones lying stiffly on the futon were not helping. The Doctor was the complete opposite of that. Rogue couldn't wait to spend a whole day in here, running around with him and Ruby exploring planets and chasing monsters just for the sheer fun of it.

   "It was fun, as far as it could be under the circumstances," said Rogue. "I landed so roughly that at first I thought the ringing was just in my head, but as I stretched out my limbs and started poking out from between the cracked and drooping limbs of the trees, I could still hear it. If anything it was getting a little louder and quieter depending on what direction I went. I figured out what way to walk to make it get louder, and started clambering over these, like, unnaturally solid stones to follow it. I would bump into one of these stones and it would just stay where it was. Have you ever been freaked out by a lack of clattering?"

   The Doctor smiled at Rogue's joke, but maybe the building suspense had actually got him to focus, because he didn't say anything in return.

   "So the ringing is getting louder and louder, and then I start to feel it in the tips of my toes, and when I reach my hands out I feel it in the tips of my fingers too. They're buzzing, vibrating. As I step forward, my whole body starts trembling like I'm in an old school rocket taking off. I looked around at the rocks and the branches but even in this area they were just… so still. The sonic portal, this little thrum of something alive in a wasteland of nothing, had no effect on them.

   "Eventually I must have got to the spot that it was coming from, because the shaking in my chest forced me to stop walking, and let out all my breath at once. I had no idea I was holding it in the first place. I think I must have sounded like I was in a massage chair? Because I'm pretty sure I was sort of… moaning. It was just so violent and I couldn't get my breath properly or use any of my muscles. I couldn't get my legs firm or steady enough to move back out of the space. The portal had me held.

   "But then the noise coming out of me started to have pitch as well as resonance. I was suddenly humming a tune my parents used to sing when they put me to bed, like the portal had shaken the song out the centre of my soul."

   Ruby gasped. "That's like when Maestro tried to take all the music out of me, but Carol of the Bells was still there because it was so important to me and my birthmother and there was the whole cosmic strength… thing."

   "You know, I did have a thought kind of like that, though goodness knows who Maestro is," said Rogue, bookmarking all of that as another story to ask for later. "Was the first song that occurred to me such a core one because the bacteria actually had been affecting me? Was it depleting me layer by layer and only the most important things were left? By this point the sonic had started to hum the tune along with me, but to see how much of my mind was still there, I tried to think of something else, anything else. And you'll never guess what popped into my head."

   At this point, all three of them realised that the TARDIS had been listening in to this conversation. From down in the control room there came the sounds of Kylie, La la la, la-la la la, la la la la, la la la…

   "Bingo," said Rogue, smiling at the absurd brilliance of the TARDIS's technology. "All the atoms that made me up started to shift back and forth to the little electronic beat in that song and in the humming of the sonic I was sure I could make out the shadow of a vocal. The sight of the horrifying dead forest started to fade away, the colours getting paler and paler, the contrast disappearing, my vision shrinking to a dark grey spot. Then my world started to grow again. It was still dark but there were greens, blues - and smells! There were no smells in the forest, not even the smells of decay. But here, wherever I was, Kylieland, I could smell something fiery and chemical - an engine, something pungent - stale food, and someone who really needed a shower - me.

   "I was in my ship. The sonic had brought me home. And it would not stop playing Kylie."

---

Part 7

@off-traveling-in-the-stars @casavanse @monster-donut (let me know at any point if you no longer wish to be tagged in each post)

[mordenheim]

We can fix this, I know we can

Thuras sighed as he leaned back in his chair. What kind of life did he have now? He was used to going up into the mortal world, cutting deals and buying souls, not trapped behind a desk processing paperwork. He stood up from his seat, stomping through his office on hooved legs, snarling in anger every time his great horns scraped across the ceiling.

He was just about to head down the hall to harass Stillwinter again when he froze. He felt something he had not felt in ages. A tug, that felt like it came from somewhere inside of his skull. It went from a tug to an insistent pull and he was being dragged back against the wall of his office.

“What in the hell..?!”

A green, almost gelatinous looking portal opened in the wall behind him and he was slowly being dragged into it. He gripped at the back of his chair, dragging it with him, but it slammed into the edge of the portal like it was still solid wall and dragged out of his grasp.

He was dragged through the void of cold nothingness for a time, then suddenly it was like his head was thrust into boiling water. No, his head WAS thrust into boiling water, or boiling something! He let out a roar as he rocketed upwards through what felt like a narrow tube of scalding water only to crash into a ceiling and crumple to the floor. He stunk of sage and chicken, limp pieces of pasta stuck to his muscular upper body. He snarled as he got to his hooves.

“How?” He turned and saw a small female human cowering in a corner and knew that he was called by her. “HOW DID YOU SUMMON ME?!”

She trembled and cried in return, “I don't know! You were supposed to be chicken soup!!”

He blinked, looking down at himself and at her. Was it possible? Could he really have been summoned to this realm by mistake?

He snarled and stomped around through the kitchen before his eyes fell on a book on the kitchen table. He picked it up in his hands and looked at it closely. It felt familiar somehow. Opening the cover it read “Property of Elanis Moorgrave”.

He almost dropped the book from his nerveless fingers. “Elanis. I remember her... I was her familiar for almost a century.” He turned suddenly to the cowering female, “Do you know Elanis Moorgrave?”

She let out a shriek and tried to dig her way back through the wall behind her in a panic. Shaking his head, Thuras took a deep breath and calmed himself. His voice became low and soothing as he spoke again.

“Hey... I'm not here to harm you. Are you a blood relative of Elanis Moorgrave?”

“Y... yeah... I'm Ellen. She was my great, great grandmother.”

“Okay, now we're getting somewhere. I suppose you were trying a recipe from this book?”

“Yeah... I uh...” She sniffled, wiping tears from her eyes, “I was trying to make chicken soup..”

He chuckled. It was a warm, soft sound that Ellen felt deep in her chest. Slowly she pushed herself back up to her feet and grabbed a towel, offering it to him. “You say.. you knew my grandma?”

Taking the towel, he tried wiping a bit of the mess off of himself. “Yes, she and I were very, very close. She used to try disguising some of her spells and summoning rituals as recipes and home improvements.”

Ellen nodded, looking up at the muscular demon. She swallowed hard and murmured softly, “I uh... have a shower you can use if you want to get cleaned up. It's down the hall tot he left.”

“Thank you, Ellen Moorgrave.” “Please, just Ellen.”

“And I am Thuras. A pleasure.”

Ellen watched as he made his way down the hall, his broad back almost stretching wall to wall. She swallowed hard and shook her head as she started cleaning the soup up off of her floor. She had just finished making a pot of coffee when he returned, polishing his huge horns with one of her towels.

She poured two cups and offered one to him, which he accepted graciously.

“So, I summoned you accidentally. What does that mean, exactly.”

He hmmmed and settled down in one of the kitchen chairs. The wood groaned under his weight, but held as he crossed his goat like legs in front of him. “I'm not exactly sure. Normally I am bound to the person who summoned me until I have completed the task I was summed for, but I have no idea what will happen now.”

“So.. You just... Have to stay with me until we figure something out? Or do you just go back where you came from?”

“I'm not really sure, but we can fix this, I know we can.”

She sighed and leaned back in her seat, sipping her coffee. She hadn't had a man in her home in years and now one literally just fell in her lap and he's not even human. Of all the weird luck. “Well, I suppose you can make yourself at home for now, as long as you don't go summoning more demons without me knowing.”

“Perish the thought. Thank you for the coffee, by the way.”

“You're welcome. By the way, you said you knew my great great grandma. Could you tell me a bit about her?”

Thuras laughed, “Oh, I have such tales to tell you...”

[sacredwrath]

P3. Are you ok?

Panic attack, paranoia, ptsd, referenced past torture, comfort!!

Jesse lays awake on their favorite overstuffed yellow sofa, staring out the large floor to ceiling windows in their living room. They couldn't face their old bedroom. At least not yet, but even here, they're still struggling to calm down enough to sleep.

They know if they let their eyes close, they'll be back in their cell, Morgan standing over them, kicking them awake from this impossible, perfect dream. They can almost hear his voice in their head.

"Thought you escaped me, Jes? Thought you were home safe with your family? How sad. Poor Jesse. You really are losing it, aren't you?"

They shake their head, violently ridding themself of his voice before they start to panic.

Outside, trees sway in a gentle breeze. Beams of moonlight stream in illuminating the living room and Isa's familiar form curled on the next sofa. They watch her easy breathing.

She is real. She is here. They are here. They are home.

The gentle rhythm of her breathing relaxes them and their eyelids droop.

"There you are."

Their eyes fly open, heart stuttering in their chest. That was him. His voice, clear as day. Sitting up in a panic they search the room, too terrified to look towards the window. They know they'll see him standing there. Grin on his face, knife in hand. Their heart races

Just look. He's not here, he can't be here. It's just your mind playing tricks. It's fine.

They force a peek.

Nothing, but swaying pines.

They try to relax, breathing deeply, their heart begins to slow.

A soft click at the door obliterates their calm. They're on their feet, falling, crawling somewhere safe. Anywhere.

Maybe they imagined it.

But then they hear the soft creek of old hinges as the heavy door is eased open as quietly as he can manage.

He's here, he's really here! He's going to take me again

They drag themself across the floor to the kitchen, only a few steps away around a long breakfast bar. They reach the sink just as the door clicks shut.

He will not take me again, he will not take me again, he will not take me again, he will-

Their fingertips scrabble across the counter trying to find the knife block.

Quiet footsteps in the hall.

They spin, knife clenched in trembling hands.

"Woah" the word is a startled breath. Moonlight shimmers off golden hair not dark and his hands are raised, but in surrender not attack.

It takes them a moment to register what they're seeing. Then their eyes dart around the room, scanning every corner and shadow.

Slowly they lower the knife a fraction.

Logan takes a tentative step closer.

"Hey, it's ok Jes, just me... I'm sorry I scared you."

"Logan?" The terror still lingers, but they feel their rational mind trying to reassert itself.

"Logan" they repeat more confidently "I- shit, I'm sorry!" They look down at themself, huddled trembling against the cabinets, large kitchen knife in hand. How did they even get here? "I- I don't know what happened, I was on the couch and..."

"Hey it's ok, don't worry about it." He comes closer, seating himself in front of them, reaching out to take the knife.

Instinctively they jerk it away, clutching it close to their chest

"Woah, ok, be careful, I won't take it."

Their breath is still coming too fast adrenaline zinging through them like rocket fuel.

"Here, come on, let's just take a couple deep breaths ok?"

They nod

"Ok, close your eyes-"

"No, no I can't, I can't!"

"Ok, ok, that's alright, that's even better, just watch me then."

Their eyes roam the corners, again looking for any sign of that telltale silhouette, dark hair, the scent of clove and cedar always just failing to mask the sour, metallic tang of blood.

"Jesse?"

They snap back to Logan, crouching on the floor in front of them. Logan.

"It's ok, just follow my breathing, in..."

Air doesn't want to fill their lungs.

"...and out..."

They force it out anyways.

"...in..."

More air this time.

"...and out..."

It's Logan sitting in front of them.

"...in..."

Logan is safe.

“...and out…”

They are safe with Logan.

“...in…”

They lose themself in the rhythm of his words.

"...and out..."

Focusing entirely on the feeling of their lungs contracting and expanding.

"...in..."

They don't know how long it goes on, but eventually, they feel the panic releasing them. Each breath loosening its hold a little more. Tears well in their eyes. Noticing, Logan cuts off his chant.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better..." the word sounds weak and uncertain, their eyes are drawn back to the corners

"Can I get closer to you?"

They nod.

"Is this ok?" Logan wraps an arm gently around their shoulders pulling them in close.

Another nod

"Good, I've got you. You're safe now" his hand rubs slow circles on their back, careful to avoid their injuries. "I locked the door behind me. No one's here, but you and I... well, and Isa on the couch." His lips quirk against their hair. "You're safe."

"I-" They stop, not wanting to fall apart again, but the words feel like fire in their throat, now that they've come they'll burn a hole through their windpipe to be spoken. "I haven't felt safe in so long I can't... I can't even remember what it feels like." He grips them tighter, so tight it hurts, a good kind of hurt.

"You're safe now. You're home. Nothing and no one on earth will hurt you like that ever again." The words are good, but Jesse doesn't believe them, after all, how can Logan stop someone like Morgan? Someone who's ripped out parts of their soul and left them bleeding on the floor of that cell. They feel like a rag that's been worn down to nothing but a tangled, dirty pile of thread.

“Logan” they whisper. More words they don't want to speak. “I think… I don't think… what if… what if I can't fix it?”

“Fix what?”

“What he did to me. What if I'm- broken…” they trail off again “permanently damaged.” they whisper.

“That's not- Jesse. You aren't broken. You are still the same person, You're still-”

“Stop!” They snap, pulling away from him. “You don't understand. Logan. You don't know what he did-” they stop. “He changed me.” They watch him intently, looking for any sign of misgiving. He swallows.

“I know Jes.” He takes their hands, gentle fingers carefully avoiding their crooked fingers. “It doesn't feel right to tell you everythings going to be ok, at least not now, not right away, but…” he meets their eyes. “But Jesse, I promise you. I’ll do everything in my power to help you feel ok again. No matter how long it takes, no matter what he changed, no matter what. You are the strongest person I know, and you are surrounded by the other strongest people I know. You will be ok again, and we’ll all be here to help support you till then.”

His words bring more tears to their tired eyes and they let themself be soothed. They don't know if they believe him, but as they lean into his arms, feeling ok again doesn't seem impossible.

Prev | masterpost | next

Tag list:) @whumpacabra

[zoruascanbetrainerstoo]

[A video is attached. Watch it?]

[The video begins with Illanero and Lance entering passwords into a locked door. It isn't long before it opens.

"Alright. Stay behind me," Lance says. "We have no idea what traps lay on the other side-"

Suddenly, a red-haired kid runs past the two, and into the room.

"Silver!" Illanero exclaims, before running into the room after him. Lance doesn't hesitate to follow.

Inside the room is...Giovanni?

"Wahaha!" Giovanni says, sneering at Silver. "So, the heir has come at last."

"Cut the act, Petrel. We both know Giovanni speaks nothing like that," Silver says. Upon closer examination, Silver seems to be trembling slightly.

"Fine, fine. Just for you, heir," Petrel says, ripping off his Giovanni disguise.

"Heir?" Illanero asks, tilting xyr head.

"What's going on here?" Lance asks, taking out Nitenite's pokeball.

"Stay out of this," Silver says, glaring at Illanero and Lance.

"Oh, no. I feel like our guests deserve an explanation," Petrel says, stepping forward. "So, heir. Do you want to do the honors? Or will I be the one to unveil your weakness?"

Silver's trembling gets more noticeable. "Shut up and battle me already."

"Oh, but I'm unarmed!" Petrel says, raising his arms. Sure enough, there doesn't appear to be any pokeballs on his person. "You wouldn't hurt an unarmed person, would you?"

Silver hesitates, then lunges for Petrel, attempting to punch him.

Unfortunately for Silver, Petrel easily catches the punch, and quickly grabs Silver in a chokehold.

Illanero yelps. "Silver!"

Lance's eyes narrow, and he releases Nitenite from their pokeball.

"Careful. You wouldn't want the heir to end up as collateral damage, would you?" Petrel says, tightening his hold on Silver. "Now, since you're being so uncooperative, I'm going to tell the fine fellows here how weak you are."

"No...no, you won't...you wouldn't dare..." Silver says weakly, eyes wide with terror.

"Let the kid go," Lance says, stomping a foot into the ground. "Or I won't show mercy."

"I already warned you about collateral damage. But he's probably worthless in your eyes, anyways, since he's Giovanni's kid!" Petrel exclaims, causing Illanero to gasp.

"Giovanni is Silver's dad? But..." Illanero says, before Petrel cuts xem off.

"That's right!" Petrel says. "Gold star for you, Zorua!"

Illanero's eyes widen, as Silver and Lance look at xem.

"What are you acting so shocked for, Zorua?" Petrel says. "We at Team Rocket all know what you are. Do you really think I just got lucky with that disguise of that kid from Hoenn? No, we know everything about you."

"I..." Illanero trails off, tail between xyr legs.

"You're...?" Silver says, eyes wide.

Lance grits his teeth.

"But back to the most important person here. Giovanni's heir," Petrel says, looking down at Silver. "Giovanni abandoned him because..."

"Stop...stop..." Silver begged.

"Too bad, heir," Petrel says, smirking. "Giovanni abandoned him because he was too weak. And that's why he stole from Professor Elm, to become stronger. But we all know he'll always be the weakling that Giovanni grew tired of and threw out."

Silver had gone completely silent, aside from the sound of his breathing.

"Aw, stunned into silence? Didn't want me to tell a Champion and Elite Four that?" Petrel says, mock concern in his voice. "You're more tolerable that way, anyways. Now, you're perfect bait for Giovanni, so-"

Lance, finally, speaks up, and commands, "Nitenite. Hyper Beam."

"Oh, so you agree the heir is worthless?" Petrel says. "I'm calling your bluff. I'll stand right here, and nothing bad will happe-"

A concentrated beam of energy hits Petrel in the head, knocking him to the ground, and leaving Silver unharmed.

"How did you...?" Illanero asks, looking between everyone present.

"Nitenite is very precise, especially with Hyper Beam," Lance says, stepping over to Petrel. "He'll live, but he'll be unconscious for a while. Long enough for us to turn off the radio transmitter and escape."

Silver slowly stands back up, looking between Illanero and Lance. "What do you want now. Are you going to arrest me?"

"And am I going to stop being Champion?" Illanero asks.

"No, and no," Lance says. "Who you were in the past doesn't matter. What matters is what you do from now on. And besides, being the son of an evil Team leader, or being a Zorua? Those aren't crimes. You're both people."

Silver hesitates, then says. "You're such a bleeding heart. I'm leaving."

He walks past Lance, Nitenite, and Illanero, and exits the room.

A few seconds later, Lance says, "I will need to have him apologize to Professor Elm later, but that can wait. For now..."

Lance walks over to the radio transmitter, turns it off, and then looks back at Illanero. "Are you alright?"

"I'm reallyreally worried," Illanero says.

"You're not going to stop being Champion just because you're a Pokemon," Lance says. "Trust me."

"I'm reallyreally worried about Silver, too," Illanero adds.

"Ah," Lance says, nodding. "I'm worried too. But I'm sure he'll be ok."

"Okok," Illanero says.

"Come with me, Champion Illanero," Lance says, offering a hand to Illanero. "Let's get out of here."

Illanero hesitates, then takes Lance's hand.

The video ends.]

[Elite Four Lance has been registered to the Connection Orb.]

[restlesscrybaby]

Hi !

Hope you have / had a good day ?

I was curious about a scenario so I made an request

What about Jack's s/o who's trying to run away from him and was able to leave the town for a few days or hours before get caught ?

I'm not really used about doing an ask but I really love your content so I wanted to try :D

Thank you for the well wishes! I hope you have/had a good day / night! And thank you so much, it means so much that you guys love my content!!

I love this idea, let's goo!!

~ JACK HORNER X READER ~

-- RUNNING AWAY HEADCANONS. --

~ 'Leave all your loving and longing behind,' ~

☆ CONTENT WARNING : ☆

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You couldn't breathe.

Fire exploded in your lungs, like a madman, you felt like you couldn't breathe. Sweat poured down your face, down your body, your hair sticking to your face as your feet slammed against the ground, every step rocketing you forward more.

You wore a large midnight cloak, a button around your neck securing the loose piece of fabric. The cape behind you flailing desperately in the wind, your hood soon flopping off, after only a minute of staying on from the last time you pulled it up.

Your legs screamed in agony, the muscles tense and crying for help, burning echoed the bottoms of your feet, but you couldn't stop.

You wouldn't stop.

You ran.

That's what you did.

You ran, ran for your friends, for your family, for your animals, for your sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, mother, father. You ran for it all. You ran for their safety, your safety, your sanity. You ran from your home, your life, your hopes and dreams.

But, you didn't think of that.

You ran.

You halted, as leaves slid beneath you. You stood still now, as your legs trembled beneath the weight of your own body, as you glanced about. You needed water.

You were far.

Far from him.

Your knees buckled, your legs giving up on your own weight as you fell down onto your weary legs. You could only sit there, as you flopped onto your side.

The cold floor of leaves and dirt felt so nice against your scorching skin, your eyelids draped over your eyes.

You couldn't help it, your senses drifting,

Your body slowing down,

Your mind easing into a hum,

Your body caving into the fact it was tired.

Yet, you underestimated him.

Unicorns without horns reared their heads up, their tails swatting away some flies that collected around them. A poor baker sat, holding the reins of the horses, as they felt a certain weight enter the carriage.

That weight bringing down the carriage only slightly. You knew who it was.

Silence rang in the bakers ear, before a harsh demand escaped the lips of their boss.

And they cracked the reins, the unicorns rearing their upper body into the air, kicking their hooves around in an attempt to warn people to get out of their way. Their hooves slammed against the ground, as they began to bolt. Their horseshoes clattered against the ground, running in desperation to take Jack where they needed too.

The bigger man sat in the carriage, as he held the pink crystal that morphed into a foggy hue of disgusting colors, until it formed your image onto itself, like a projector.

There you were.

Laying on the floor of the woods, your knees curled up towards your chest, your head tucked in to your knees, small snores escaping your mouth, he could hear them.

Yet, he couldn't tell where you were.

God damn it.

It would take hours.

But, you soon woke up, only a moment later. You stretched out. Your legs kicking out, as the muscles stretched and pulled to relax. Your arms doing the same.

But, you soon used your hands, lifting yourself up off the dirty floor of the woods. Leaves coated one side of your body, as you dusted yourself off, so it wouldn't coat you anymore.

You stood up. Your wobbly legs pleaded for you not too, but you still did, you didn't care. You needed water. Your mouth was so dry, you could practically taste your need for some kind of refreshment.

Slow, tedious, steps. Maybe your legs wouldn't collapse underneath you.

You limped, but you found yourself approaching a beautiful stream. Some logs were dipped into the blue water, you could visibly see some fish gliding down the current, all kinds of fish.

You were so happy, you couldn't help it. You bolted towards the water, collapsing to your knees infront of the little dip that led you to paradise.

You cupped your hands together, out infront of you, as you slowly lowered them into the water. It felt wonderful. Cold. You were still hot, sticky now from sweat...

But. You lifted up a handful of water, as you brought it to your mouth. You brought your lips to the water you collected, curling them into a pucker. Sucking some of the water into your mouth, as quick as you could. This was the quickest way.

It hit you like a nice breeze. You could feel the cold travel down your throat towards your belly, goosebumps coating your arms as your tensed body slowly let go of itself.

You repeated, more and more,

You didn't just need water, you needed a bath.

You grabbed the backs of your shoes, needily ripping them off your feet. You tore off your socks, shoving them desperately into the throat of your shoes.

You undressed.

You hooked your thumbs onto the waistband of your pants and underwear, a quick motion allowing them to be dropped to your ankles. With desperation, you didn't even want to try to get the rest off.

You kicked one side off of your foot, doing the same with the other, swinging it towards a tree like a madman. Oh, cool air in good places.

Then, you popped off the one button on your cloak, the one that helped you hide when you slipped out that factory, where he kept you by his side constantly. You threw the large covering off, as it dropped and shielded off your shoes and socks from the outside world.

You used your hands, as you curled your fingers around the bottom hole of your top, only to tear off the thing hiding your chest.

( SKIP FOR MALE READERS! ) Your chest adorned a bra, that was now soaked in your own sweat, a yucky feeling. You didn't even think to try to unbutton it. But in a need, you grabbed the bottom band, only to tear your bra off. Dropping it onto the cloak. Oh, sweet relief. They could be free.

It felt so good. No longer drenched in sweat. I mean, it was better without being in clothes.

You brought your foot to the water, testing the temperature of the slow-moving stream.

Perfect.

It eased the ever-burning pain in your muscles from all your running.

You slipped your first leg in, the water was deep. Not too deep, but just right...

You carefully got your other leg in, as the cool sensation washed over you . It was like you never felt this ever before. Up to your hips, you were emerged in water.

You took a few more steps in.

It went up, past your belly button.

Oh, it felt wonderful. You couldn't even think of sitting down or anything just yet, just embracing the nice, refreshing water.

But, you must've lost track of time,

Could you hear the horses?

Cause here they come.

"Oh, Y/N! Goody. I knew I'd find you here." A sinister voice creaked out from behind you,

You could only snap your head back, in fear. Oh god.

It hit you like a bullet, you forgot he had a crystal ball.

"Do you really think you could get away from me?," He asked, as he dropped the pink ball into the bakers hand, "I mean, just REALLY?" He laughed, at you.

That's who he laughed at.

You.

No matter how far you run, no matter how long you run, no matter how far you hide, no matter how long you hide,

You. Can. NEVER. Get. Away.

~~~~~~~~~~

'You can't carry it with you if you want to survive.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~

ENJOYYY!!

SurryIwasn'tquitesurewhattodo-

[valeriasfragments]

Fragments About Sacramento and the Castle

[1]

She's standing at baggage claim turnstile of Sacramento International Airport sending her 13th unanswered text while trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest. 

Crestfallen and broken by the deafening silence. She wants the girl she has fallen in love with to at least answer her phone and reject her directly but instead she never hears from her again. Aching, wounding silence.

She wheels her baggage into a bathroom stall and cries so hard she feels like she's going to throw up, even gags a few times, her knees wet from the disgusting bathroom floor. 

This one hurts her for a long time, years of wondering what she could have done differently. She goes over every wrong thing she said.

They had talked for hours and hours, made each other laugh long into the night at the possibilities of the future they were growing together, and she never plans a future again, too afraid to curse all the good things she ever wanted.

And now she's here retching into the large bathroom stall, doesn't know what she is going to do since her return flight is 15 days away, 15 days she was supposed to spend with the love her life, or who she thought was the love of her life, now just a ghost in the shape of a pretty girl. 

She's trembling when she stands, spent too long on her knees and now they threaten to dislocate themselves under her weight. She leans in the corner of the stall for a few minutes, waiting for the blood to recirculate, and spends some time soaking up the piss from her knees.

When she gets back out to the curb she is crying again but now it's a gentle leak of her face dripping on her shirt. She starts texting everyone she knows in the city and luckily her friend takes her in for the duration of her stay, the endless kindness and generosity of the girl who loves cows with the rambunctious but lovable dog. She sees her first Rocky Horror shadow cast, eats amazing food, and makes the best of things as they were.

[2]

"So what brought you to Sacramento?" She asks from the bar, her bar. Her apartment is very nice, probably the nicest domicile I have ever been in. She has a great view of the town here as I sit on a white leather couch less than 10 feet from the bar, her bar. 

"Oh, just a little vacation in a city I always wanted to visit." I lie, not wanting to ruin the mood with more crying. I just wanted to do something fun, maybe memorable, and so I am doing something I would never normally do. 

Not that long ago I was standing in a dingy rented dance studio watching the Rocky Horror shadow cast rehearsals. My pervert brain is trying so hard to not look at the gorgeous woman changing mere feet from me and I almost fail, but I am saved from my own deviance when my dating profile receives a notification. “Hey, I’m a little drunk and you’re a lot cute, wanna come over and chill with me?”

I've been chatting with this girl for a few days, I'm gonna call her June because it's not even close to her real name, and I let loose that I would be in town for about 2 weeks and she told me to let her know when I had free time. And I do. I did. “I’d really like that :3 ”. Like I said I'm not a one night stand kind of gal, but I am trying to experience new things.

I meet her at the curb and she pulls up in one of those James Bond rich guy cars, a Bentley maybe, it's not important and I’m not a car gal. What is important is the car is easily over $100 grand. 

“Get in, cutie.” She smiles at me, takes a drag off her cigarette, I hear the automatic lock disengage the mechanism, and I fumble awkwardly with the door handle. I throw myself in, I am just closing the door and we are off like a rocket sending me scrambling for my seat belt.

I don’t immediately notice, it’s a block or two, but she’s very obviously intoxicated, too intoxicated to drive, and now I am in this car with her. And she is driving like a maniac. The entire time I'm trying to act natural while I am on the verge of screaming. 

Oh and this is where she mentions that her family owns a fucking castle in Scotland. She definitely has a faint British accent, a Brit would tell me where exactly it originally came from and how posh she sounded. Also she talks a million miles an hour.

When we get to her apartment I finally get a good look at her, everyone looks a little different in person vs photos, something to do with perspective probably. And my goodness she is incredible looking, I fight to keep my jaw from hitting the floor.

June is a 5’1'' Asian girl, black hair braided down to the middle of her back, sexy black dress with the super hot leg slit that is my FAVORITE, and a clutch purse decorated with glittery skulls. Her thick black lipstick stains her clove cigarettes when she takes a drag, and she wore sunglasses but was always looking over them to see.

She pours me like a scotch or something, I hardly drink it because that was never my thing. She puts a hand on my knee at some point and my anxiety almost escapes my mouth but I choke it down. My heart is beating a million miles an hour. This is so new to me, I am dying inside and incredibly turned on; a maelstrom in my mind. I am afraid of making the wrong move or saying the wrong thing, I don’t know how to act cool, calm or collected and I’m not a one night stand kind of gal.

Near trembling I think she senses my apprehension. She leans in, our lips meet, I can feel her hot breath on me, it reeks of alcohol, she leaves a bit of lipstick on my lips, I can taste her cloves, and then…  and then she pulls away, runs to the balcony and vomits the contents of her stomach off her balcony above the city. She calls a cab to take me home after a few tears and a million apologies. She never talks to me again. 

[one-winged-dreams]

Social Anxiety

ship: the moon will sing (sky singer x moon carver) source: genshin impact words: 688

kind of expanding on that mini-questline i was talking about he's a crybaby, your honor

Moon Carver regarded the sniffling blanket lump with exasperation, if he had hands, he would have been pinching the bridge of his nose.

"One's Sky, please, be reasonable," he pleaded softly, not quite approaching TOO closely.

A tiny sob shook the lump.

"But I'm SCARED, Moon Carver! I've never been down there, what if it's horrifying!? The terror, it's too much, I can't do it!"

Moon Carver sighed in response - it was all he could do, really. Truthfully, he agreed with his mate - if Sky Singer didn't want to go down to the Harbor, then it would be no skin off of his nose. But the circumstances were more complicated than that.

"One's Most Beloved, think of Ganyu. You wish to reconcile with her, do you not? One thinks she would be most disappointed at your absence… And… You did have One promise that One would make you even if you were to tell One otherwise," he lowered his head with a defeated snort.

Sky Singer rocketed up from his bed, gazing at Moon Carver with wide, teary eyes.

"I take it back! It take it back, I take it back! Don't make me go Moon Carver! I was foolish, I- I wasn't in my right mind!" the half-qilin whimpered, sniffling.

Moon Carver winced, sighing again. "One… Also recalls One's Beloved telling One you would say such… And that if you did, One would have Ganyu herself come to escort you."

Sky Singer shrieked, his ears pinning back as his already large eyes widened further. "MOON CARVER! WHY WOULD YOU AGREE TO SUCH A PROPOSTION!? WHAT IF I DIE!? Do you know what kind of danger could be lurking in that- that HUMAN BREEDING GROUND!?"

It was now that Moon Carver began to feel the pangs of a headache, tilting his head back in exasperation. "One's Sky-"

"YOU'RE TIRED OF ME, AREN'T YOU!? You think I should go be with the HUMANS like Ganyu! Please don't make me go, Moon Carver, let me stay HERE!" Sky Singer whined, his lower lip trembling before he began to sob again.

Moon Carver took a deep breath to steady himself before approaching his mate and pressing his forehead against Sky Singer's. "One's Sky, One would never tire of you OR wish you banished to the mortal world. You know this, do not speak out of panic, One begs of you."

Sky Singer hiccuped, sniffling and calming considerably upon being touched. He whimpered, bringing his hands up to cradle the sides of his lover's face. "Moon Carveeeer," he whined pitifully, like a reluctant child.

"Dry your eyes, One's Beloved. One would not insist if One believed One's All would be in peril. One has placed One's trust in Ganyu, but also in your own ability. Believe in yourself, One's Sky. And if you do come to harm, One will always be there to save you," Moon Carver soothed the half-qilin with a soft voice and reassuring words, only easing when he felt his mate embrace his neck and burrow his face into his mane. "There's the brave beloved One knows. Ganyu should be arriving soon, and though One greatly preffers One's Sky presenting his lovely and appealing form, One thinks something to suit modern mortal civilation may be more appropriate."

To say Moon Carver was amused by Sky Singer's resulting 'eep!' and the way his long, fluffy ears flicked in fluster wouldn't be inaccurate. The half-qilin quickly pulled away, his eyes glancing over Moon Carver's face for a moment before he hopped out of bed.

With not a moment to spare, a familiar voice rang from outside the yurt. "Sky Singer? I'm here, are you still coming?"

Sky Singer shrieked, covering himself with the garments he was holding and shooing Moon Carver out. "GANYU, WAIT, DON'T COME IN, HOLD ON!"

His fellow half-qilin Adeptus gave Moon Carver a puzzled look at the fondly amused expression on his face as he passed before suddenly crying out as her gaze returned forward, then turning and covering her eyes.

"SORRY, SORRY! UH, COME OUT WHEN YOU'RE READY!"

A sob.

"I'LL NEVER BE READY!"

[dhampiravidi]

❰❰ WALL ❱❱ sender pushes the receiver against a wall (For Oraia 👀)

The State of New York (and a bunch of other local governments around the world) had issued an order telling everyone to stay indoors because some creepy domineering beings were trying to conquer the planet...as usual. Just about every hero was doing their part to fight off the invading threat and keep structures that housed civilians from collapsing.

Anna Marie aka Rogue was one of these heroes. But while she was in the air, engaged in battle, a creature caught her off-guard and tackled her into the Atlantic Ocean. They slammed through part of the seafloor, and the creature sank its venomous fangs into the heroine's shoulder. Somehow, Oraia had killed the thing, given her lover "nectar supplied by Dionysos himself", and then hurried off. Anna Marie quietly thanked her, then rocketed up into the air to take care of more invaders.

Within twenty minutes or so, the alien creatures had retreated. According to S.W.O.R.D, there was no sign of them near the Milky Way, which was good. But Anna couldn't stop thinking about Oraia as she used her strength to help clean up. When everyone seemed busy, she snuck off and looked around. People were leaving the area that Oraia had rushed to guard, so Anna Marie went there.

The goddess was clutching at a damaged wall, cursing under her breath. Her blazer had been slashed and stabbed in several places, her knee-length skirt was more of a sarong hanging on by a thread, and her pointed heels were missing.

"Oraia? You okay?"

"I'm fine." Anna Marie stopped, shocked at the edge in the typically-playful woman's voice. Against her better judgement, she continued to approach until she'd touched Oraia's shoulder. Oraia stiffened. "When I was younger...my lust, my rage...I let it control me. I can kill so easily, Anna. My father's side--look at the myths. They just do it because they can."

"Ya saved me today. Me n' who knows how many else."

"I know. Just--fuck." Oraia slipped the glove off of her hand and stuck it under her own skirt, pressing Anna's fingers against the damp spot in her panties. "Now do you understand?" It was only the second time that Anna had really looked at the woman with such shock and awe. And yet, she could relate to her.

"Ain't the only one who's dangerous." Anna Marie guided Oraia's face to hers using her free hand, and kissed the woman, tongue finding its way past her lips. The X-Woman swore she heard a growl before her lover pinned her against the brick wall, searing hungry, wild kisses into every area of skin that wasn't on display. "Shit--" She managed to get her knee between Oraia's legs, and the goddess merely rutted against it. The brunette's hands went straight to Anna's breasts, groping and squeezing enough to make her moan. "Goddamn you!"

Oraia didn't expect the mortal woman to overpower her, flipping them so their positions were reversed. Anna leaned in, pressing her knee hard against Oraia's hot, wet cunt, making her lover whimper. Both of them had superhuman strength, but Anna was stronger. She was able to hold Oraia's wrists above her head without any trouble.

"Don't tease--" The goddess looked feral. She trembled, trying to get some friction against her crotch even while her eyes were locked on Anna Marie's generous, sweet-tipped breasts. Oraia's tongue flicked out to lick her lips, like it usually did when she was horny. Anna's resolve nearly crumbled right there, but she held strong.

"Ah can tease ya all Ah fuckin' want, sugah--" Her eyes softened, pitying the older woman. After all, she'd been on the other end, the needy end, of things plenty of times. "Won't, though." Her ungloved hand moved into Oraia's panties and slowly began to rub in soft, gentle circles--

"Faster!!" she screamed, not caring how her voice echoed around the devastated block.

"Ya sure?"

"I can take it," Oraia hissed. Anna Marie paused, then furiously worked her fingers against Oraia's clit. If someone had been able to see everything, they would've thought Anna's hand was vibrating, despite the woman pushing her hips forward to meet it. "Oh, oh, mmh, ohmy--AHH!" She came hard, and yet she kept rutting against Anna's hand, trying to get the thing where she needed it. Thankfully, her lovely domina was kind enough to shove three strong, deft fingers in Oraia's slick cunt. When simply curling them wasn't enough, she fucked her at a speed that probably would've permanently wrecked anyone else she knew. Anna was getting wet herself, just imagining getting railed like that. Oraia panted and took what she was given, until she gave a little whimper and came hard again, clenching around Anna's fingers as a tear ran down her cheek.

When all was said and done, the goddess kissed Anna Marie, soft and sweet. "Hey...you gonna be okay?" Oraia smiled.

"Assuming no one heard me and got it all on camera...yes. But I guess I could always buy it off them and send it to you as a thank you. Speaking of...do you want to soak in some water, or would you like me to fuck you like you did me? After you're done here, I mean." She was still Artemisia Stavros to the public, the pretty, charitable human who happened to be pro-Homo sapien superior. If her identity was revealed, it'd be harder for her to interact with the world the way she preferred.

"Ya gonna have that Barolo Ornato?" Anna asked, grinning as she remembered the red wine Oraia had introduced her to in Morrocco.

"I already bought two bottles. You act like I wasn't planning on seeing you again..."

"Fine. See ya in...two hours?"

"Sounds good. Fix your shirt." Oraia was through a portal before Anna Marie looked down and saw the hints of her excitement. She groaned--two damn hours before Ah'm gettin' off. At least she was alive, and the world hadn't ended yet.