#if I don't leave sweating and hot and lungs and muscles aching then what's the point?? I can do mediocre exercise at home

[tleeaves]

There are two wolves inside me. One wants to embrace a new hobby in dance so I can be active and feel elegant and graceful and strong. This wolf wants to try something new and exciting, finally indulging in something I've always had an interest in.

The other experiences such frustrating emotions on a near daily basis that I want to go back to boxing, which is arguably easier to break into since I've already done it before. This wolf doesn't think of elegance, she just wants to fuck shit up until her body's so overworked and warm it fogs up car windows without having to do anything but sit inside.

Which one do I fucking feed??

[inamagicalhallucination]

"Get up, Atsushi," Kunikida said, voice stern and sure. Despite them having been training together under the hot sun for hours, he barely broke a sweat. Atsushi, on the other hand, was laying on his back, tired and miserable. It made sense, Kunikida hadn't been the one being tossed around. Atsushi groaned, getting up slowly. He stretched his aching muscles and got into position again.

"Okay," he said, panted really, "I'm ready."

"One more time," Kunikida said, fixing his glasses, "and then we're done for today."

"Oh no," Atsushi protested, "I can do it for longer!"

"Rest is important, brat," Kunikida replied, frowning at him. He opened his mouth again, no doubt to start a lecture but Atsushi cut him off.

"I'm so close though! I can see it! I'm totally gonna get it this time!"

Kunikida huffed but if Atsushi squinted he could make do a smile.

"You'll get it easier if you're rested."

Atsushi lunged forward, preparing to grab and flip Kunikida over, like Kunikida had been teaching him. Just as his hands touched him, however, Kunikida had easily lifted and thrown him. Atsushi, motivated by spite and Kunikida's fond smile, pushed his legs off the ground, using the momentum to flip their positions.

"Great move, brat," Kunikida huffed, and then just as Atsushi almost beamed, flipped them back over, ending the match, "you're getting better."

"I still haven't won," Atsushi whined, feeling childish at doing so, but indulging anyway since it was just the two of them. Kunikida sighed.

"Come on, lets cool off," he said, grabbing Atsushi's arm and helping him up.

Kunikida was half way through his popsicle, and Atsushi was just starting his second, when Kunikida said, quietly, "It's not about winning."

"What?" Atsushi asked, tilting his head.

"Sometimes," Kunikida replied, "you don't win. But you still do what you need to do." And he let the conversation die with that.

/

Atsushi stared at his paperwork. He had been trying to do it for a while now, but his pencil wouldn't move. He couldn't think; he couldn't focus. He had failed his mission.

It had been so simple too. Atsushi had been confident, he'd been sure... and yet...

and yet, even at that, he'd been worthless. Useless.

A hand touched his shoulder and he jolted. He flinched and turned to look; Kunikida was standing there, a stern look on his face. No doubt, he'd heard of Atsushi's failure. No doubt he was regretting teaching him, taking him in, caring for him--

"Brat, what are you doing here?" Was that it? Was he supposed to leave? Had he finally used up all the good will the agency had?

"Er," he said, hesitently, "working."

Kunikida scowled.

"Office hours are done."

Atsushi blinked, and then glanced around, and no one was there. Just him and Kunikida. Oh. That was what Kunikida had meant.

"I just," Atsushi said, coughing and then continuing, "I just have a bit to do, still."

"You're hands haven't move for the past hour," Kunikida said, adjusting his glasses. "You're usually on top of your work, so this isn't an issue. Just finish it tomorrow."

"No-" Atsushi said, "I can, no I can finish; I just need to think--"

"Atsushi," Kunikida said, "you're not sick, are you?"

"No," Atsushi said miserably, hating that he was worrying Kunikida, "I'm just-- my mission--"

"Oh yes, I heard about that. Good job, you handled it all on your own--"

"It wasn't good!" Atsushi cried, feeling his eyes prickle, "I let him get away! I thought I could-- I thought I could do it; but I couldn't. I messed up. I failed--"

"You got the victims to safety, did you not?"

"I-I did--"

"And from what I heard, the cops were able to find the man soon afterwards."

"Yes," Atsushi confirmed, sniffling, "but I let him get away. I'm not cut out for this. I can't ever seem to--"

Kunikida's sigh cut him off. Kunikida leaned down, so they were seeing eye to eye.

"Sometimes what you have to do for your mission, and what the right thing to do aren't the same things, brat." Atsushi rubbed his face dry.

"You're mission was to catch the suspect, yes, but if you hadn't gone after the victims, they could've died. You did the right thing."

Atsushi sobbed, and Kunikida squeezed his shoulder and hesitated before leaning in more to give him a hug. Kunikida was stiff throughout it, but it made Atsushi feel better anyway.

"Seriously, brat," Kunikida said, ruffling his hair, "great move on the mission."

/

Atsushi clung to Junichiro as he sprinted, Kunikida's voice echoing in his ears loudly. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to go back and fight or die alongside him. But he clung tightly to Junichiro and continued to run.

Great move, Kunikida's voice whispered in his head. He bit his lip, trying to stifle his sob. Just barely, he could feel the phantom touch of Kunikida's hand ruffling his hair.

[kamesama]

I’ve been dying to see some Sukuna aftercare after some -ahem- rough play. 🥺👉🏽👈🏽 plssss I absolutely adore your writing style

yes. absolutely yes. i'm eating this up.

— lovely: ryōmen sukuna.

— notes + warnings: n/sfw because post-coital bliss; implied rough sex; lots of synonyms for 'wet'; otherwise i'm still your domestic fluff provider™, just a lil' spicy; female! reader x human? sukuna ( idk ); i literally don't know what else to say. — word count: 637

pearls of sweat spilled open across your skin, sticking to the linen bed-sheets. tension melted off your muscles and dampened the mattress. bedroom walls lapped up leftovers of your moans as you heaved, ribcage expanding only to have the thews in between the arched bones squeeze your breaths out.

with sukuna rolled away from you, your blush red thighs pressed against one another, as if to savour whatever remains of the gratification laid lurking between them. the movement was not so subtle, earning you a deep chuckle that seemed to scratch sukuna’s throat through layers of honey; sweet and thick.

a light shift of weight upon the dents in the cushion lead to an uncharacteristically tender kiss planted above the vertebra proudly standing between your scapulae. 

“always so insatiable, aren’t you?” sukuna’s voice dripped onto your skin, hot and balmy. his own lungs devoured the air more eagerly than usual; a giveaway that sweet exhaustion hugged him just as tightly. he extended his arm invitingly as he rolled onto his back, urging you to do the same — a demand that you satisfied swiftly and more than willingly, “come here, you naughty girl.”

your hand patted the space around you blindly, gaze too immersed in the sight of sukuna’s profile. it brought a foolishly pleased smile to your lips as you finally grasped the thin sheet, bringing it up to your loved up and bitten frame. 

sighing in delight, you laid your reddened cheek against sukuna’s skin as he pulled you close. his vast palm massaged your bare breast, fingertips trailing over the erect nipple lazily. all the while, you nuzzled into him, your nose nesting in the small depression on his neck.

stretched tendons and bruised skin wanted you to utter out a promise of never again, but the sheer delight coursing through your veins and getting sucked up by every cell in your body made you sigh yet again; an odd mixture of a moan and a groan, “it hurts, ‘kuna…” you mumbled, eyelids veiling your sight as they succumbed to the pull of exhaustion.

“does it, now?” he mused, as if utterly clueless. as if he wasn’t the culprit behind the ache in your flesh and the mulberry stains across your skin. as if he didn’t have you drench the pillow with vapour dripping off your breath and soak the linen with wetness gushing from in between your thighs.

he could feel you nod and purse your lips, “mhm.” 

with a grin, he continued to grope your breast, only for his hand to trail down the curve of your waist and across your hip bone. his amusement seemed to grow as his touch ghosted across the scorching surface of your bottom, still tainted with hand-shaped splatters of rosy red.

“whatever shall i do…” he murmured, sticking his crimson gaze to the ceiling and taking a selfish moment to savour the aftermath of his unadulterated indulgence. your breathing had calmed, your lungs no longer utterly starved. 

he liked you so; exhausted. overwhelmed. pressed against him as if he was some sort of lifeline; an anchor. 

but he couldn’t possibly leave you a tarnished mess, so sweaty and drenched, with that bothersome ache clenched around your bones. 

no. you’ve been too good, too sweet for him to let slumber take you so filthy, so ruined — even though you seemed to be slipping away already, ravished so thoroughly and screwed so senseless that you couldn’t bother to move a muscle.

it was lovely, truly.

“hey,” he called out, nudging you a little; just enough to stir you from still weak confinements of rest. goosebumps rose on his skin from the way your lashes caressed the spot on his neck, “not yet,” he chuckled, kissing your hairline as he sat up.

“not until we’re out of the bath, princess.”

thank you for reading!

— kamesama.

[mixed-imagination]

A Grisha's Affair - Nikolai x Grisha!Reader x Kirigan (part 1)

PAIRING: Nikolai Lantsov x Fem!Grisha!reader x General Kirigan ♡

NOTE: This is the first part of a short two parter.

*** Requested by @seronsalk

*** Beautiful golden divider created by @saradika ♡♡♡

As you neared the rear entrance of the Little Palace, your heart raced within your chest, drumming a quick and frantic beat. You had pushed yourself to the limit, sprinting down the forest path until your lungs burned and your breath came in ragged gasps. You cursed yourself and wondered why you had driven yourself to that point anyway.

A sudden memory flooded your mind, creating a rush of emotions.

You pounded on Nikolai's door. You weren't sure why you were so eager to see him, but you chalked it up to wanting only to say goodbye.

The door swung open to reveal Nikolai standing in his untied robe. His face seemed surprised to see you, but with one look at you, he greeted you with a big smile "Y/N, isn’t it past your curfew, little miss Durast?

You mirrored his smile but furrowed your brows, "I'm no longer a child, Nikolai."

"No, you certainly are not." His gaze descended your figure which made your cheeks hot. You were suddenly aware of how exposed and vulnerable you were. There you stood, before this handsome prince, in a thin, lace night dress and silk robe.

You wrapped your robe tighter around your frame, praying Nikolai did not catch a glimpse of the cold night air exposing your natural body, "Let me in."

"Won't you get in trouble with your Darkling?”

"I haven't seen him in weeks," you pushed past him and headed straight to the opposite side of his room. You settled in front of his desk, leaning your hands back against the chair.

Nikolai shut the door and his smile widened. He waited for you to continue speaking but it didn't come, so he responded, "Am I his replacement then?"

“General Kirigan?”

“The one and only Darkling.”

"What, no, of course not. First off, he’s my superior, and you’re no way near—" You huffed, "Stop. I'm not here to be questioned by you."

Nikolai laughed, "Right. Go on then."

The halls were dimly lit, and you realized you had never ventured through the palace this late before. You prayed that no one had noticed you sneaking back in after your late-night rendezvous. You didn't want to risk General Kirigan finding out about your secret meetings.

The unfamiliarity of your surroundings and the thought of what might be waiting for you made you quicken your pace as fast as you could without running. As you rounded the next corner, your hand instinctively went to your chest, trying to calm the erratic beating of your heart.

You crossed your arms, "So tomorrow you leave again."

"As soon as the sun rises, I'm off," Nikolai did not come closer to you. Instead, he copied your position and leaned his back against the door frame.

You found your gaze inevitably drawn to the way his torso muscles rippled underneath his robe with each subtle movement, causing you to bite your lip in frustration at the unyielding distance between you.

"And where are you going to this time?"

"Novyi Zem." Your chest ached, knowing well how long the journey would be. "There's a talented Fabrikator there that's willing to create a strong steel for my newest creation."

Your jaw dropped slightly. You were slightly offended but your playful tone remained, "What? Fabrikator? Have you forgotten I'm a durast? You could've asked me to—"

Nikolai finally stepped forward and raised his hands, "Y/N no, you're one of my closest friends, I couldn't—"

Friend.

A memory of his mouth on yours suddenly flashed in your mind.

Friends don't kiss.

You ignored it.

Breathless and with a light sheen of sweat on your forehead, you finally reached the entrance to your wing of the palace. You could see the guards standing, their eyes watching your every move.

You tried to act casual, as if you had simply been out for a stroll in the gardens, but your heart was racing with fear. What if they could somehow sense your guilt and apprehend you on the spot?

You approached them with a smile and a greeting, hoping to deflect their attention. They nodded politely, but you could tell they were eyeing you suspiciously.

As you made your way down your long corridor, you felt relieved to see the door to your bedroom. You couldn't believe you had gotten away with it.

You giggled to yourself, remembering once again.

"Saints, Nikolai, that's exactly why you should've asked me!" your head tilted and you tutted, "I bet I could do your fabrikator better."

"Better than 80,000 tensile strength?"

"100,000 tensile strength and more!"

He threw his head back, "Oh no, you're joking. Really?"

Your face broke into a big grin. "Yes, yes, yes, you bet your royal arse I can,” you laughed.

Like always, you fell into an ongoing easy conversation with Nikolai. Talking with him was breath of fresh air as you had a natural understanding of each other. Your conversations always felt like a plunge into an infinite pool that contained both his thoughts and yours.

As you listened to him speak about his latest invention, you couldn't help but get lost in not only his words but also in his boyishly handsome features. His dark blonde hair was perfectly messy and his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. You stared at the way his lips moved and how the sharpness of his jawline accentuated with every sentence.

You tried to focus, but your mind kept wandering to other things, like how it would feel to run your hands through his hair and kiss him again. A heat suddenly began to rise in your cheeks, your attraction to him growing more obvious.

Nikolai stood only a few feet away from you now. He started to notice how your eyes seemed to linger on him a little longer than usual. "Are you alright, Y/N?"

You blinked and nodded, "Oh yes, I am."

"Good," he beamed and stepped closer. "So tell me. Why have you come? I've never seen you out this late."

You shrugged, avoiding his eyes, "What? I can't come and spend quality time with my closest friend?"

"Not at this hour, little miss goodie two shoes," he smirked.

You turned with your back facing him now and looked down at his desk, feigning interest in the papers placed on it. "Maybe I wanted to say goodbye. As a friend should."

He scoffed, "Don't say you're actually going to miss me when I'm gone."

"A good, best, closest friend would."

Nikolai was right behind you now. The third time you exaggerated the word, a knowing shit-eating grin grew across his face. "You sound like you have an issue with being my friend."

You finally entered your room and firmly pressed both palms against the door, shutting it behind you. Leaning your forehead against the cool wood, you lingered in that stance, still lost in your reverie.

"I am but your friend Nikolai, I have no issue."

Unexpectedly, the weight of his hand resting on your shoulder sent a shiver down your spine, your silk robe providing little barrier between his warm palm and your skin. It felt as though his touch had set your nerves alight, leaving you with goosebumps despite the delicate fabric that separated you.

His thumb began tracing circles on your shoulder, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch. You felt his fingers slowly making their way down your arm, gently squeezing your skin. He was leaving a trail of fire along your shoulder as they traveled back up to your neck, only to slowly descend down again. With a deft movement, he pulled your silk robe down your shoulder. The unexpected touch sent a jolt of desire through your body.

"You stubborn thing. You don't want to be my friend, Y/N?"

He then swept your hair away, revealing a tantalizing sliver of skin to his gaze. As he leaned down, you felt his warm breath tickling your ear. "Nikolai," you whispered breathlessly.

"Why are you really here, love?" his voice was low and seductive.

You suddenly felt wet, tender kisses trail down your neck, causing your core to ignite. The sound of your mingled breaths and the soft smack of his lips sucking against your skin filled the air. Each touch of his lips made you feel like you were melting, completely powerless to resist him.

His strong hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer into him. You could feel his lower abdomen pressing hard against your backside, making you feel weak in the knees. Without warning, he spun you around to face him, his intense gaze locking onto yours. He leaned in for a kiss with his arms still wrapped tightly around you, as if never wanting to let go.

In that moment, all your doubts and fears faded away. It was just you and him, lost in each other.

You replayed the memory over and over again in your mind. The softness of his lips, the way his hands cupped your face, and the way you felt as though time stood still in that moment. You sighed, sinking further into the memory when a voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Penny for your thoughts, Y/N?"

Your heart skipped a beat, startled out of your reverie. As you turned around, your eyes landed on a tall, dark figure.

"Aleksander!"

The corners of his mouth curved upward, "You seemed to be lost in thought, milaya."

♡ part two coming soon....

soooo my brain was formulating the idea for this concept, and originally it was just supposed to be a one part one shot, but idk i just went off LOL. like holy, i went down a rabbit hole and came back up with enough plot for a series.

should i write a series? let me know what you think!!!

if i do, im imagining there'll be some mutual pining, angst, fluff, and spiiiice - wink wink wink -

if you enjoyed, please support me and my writing by giving me a like, reblog, or follow! thanks ♡♡♡

♡ gage

[thevestigeofvanillaan]

Look in The Mirror as I..

billy hargrove x female reader.

content: smut, married couple!, fucking in front of the mirror, double penatration, squirting, overstim, doggystyle, standing fuck, belly bulge, smoking, cigarette burn, praise, choking, breeding, face fucking, lots of pet names, sweat, aftercare.

summary: when your husband billy comes home from a long day out at work, the only thing he wants is some time with you.. which of course leads to vigorous sex in front of the mirror. but who wouldn't i mean he's a gorgeous, sexy man.

The door to the shared bedroom in which I lie slams open and quickly shut after my husband, Billy walks in. He already has a cigarette in his mouth as he shoves his coat off, quick to grab the lighter sitting on the dresser beginning to light his cigarette.

I would usually scold him for smoking in the house as our daughter is young. But I don't really want to, he looks like today was rough.

"Rough day, honey?" I ask when he pulls the cigarette from his mouth, blowing out whatever smoke didn't enter his lungs before saying "Tell me about it." Taking off his dirty work shirt. He sulks over to the bed to lay down in front of me, resting his head on my thighs.

"Well, what happened?" I ask, curious on why today was so bad.

"I don't wanna talk about it, just want you." His eyes are shut, he rubs my legs seductively before getting up, handing me the cigarette.

I take it from his hand, taking one puff before bringing the lit cig to my leg, making a small red circular burn mark on my left thigh.

He groans "What did you do today?".

"Not much. Just hung out with the baby since it's my day off." I give him a weak smile.

He stretches aching muscles and takes off his pants, complaining "it's so damn hot in here, sweets." Standing in his boxers before coming back to the bed and laying down.

"I know honey. But the landlord won't let us put an air-conditioner in." I sigh; rubbing his sticky back muscles with my thumbs, massaging his tense muscles as he throws his head down, groaning when his muscles calm.

"Sweets." He proposes new conversation, looking to his side trying to see me without moving too much.

"Hm?" I hum.

"You know what would feel real good right now?"

"A bath." I respond patting his back and moving to the edge of the bed before slipping off and standing in front of him. I hold his pretty cheeks feeling the stubble that's growing back since he last shaved.

"No, not that. But yes. But no." He shakes his head and smiles, I rest myself on his lap, straddling him while he grabs my ass so I don't fall.

"So what?" I ask, kissing his neck.

"Mm.. fuckin' you nice and good after a long day of hard work." He makes a pouty face almost as if he's begging. "You know how hard I work just to keep our family in this apartment?" He says with a baby tone when I nod. "So hard, sweets." He whispers, pulling my tank top over my head, leaving me in my bra matching the cotton panties that are getting more soaked by the minute.

I bring my face to his, kissing him sensually for the first time in a while. "Billy, we haven't had sex in two weeks." I grind against his erection under his boxers. "I'm excited." I smile before kissing him again.

"Mm- yeah? Me too." He says between wet kisses.

He guides my hips off of himself, we both stand when he points to the mirror sitting on our dresser. "You see that?"

I nod.

"You know what we should do?" He proposes and I immediately know what he wants.

I pull down my panties as that was all I was wearing other than my bra when I bring myself onto the bed on all fours.

I kneel when I get in front of the mirror, perfect vision of what would be myself with Billy fucking into me from behind.

I look to him, who's know standing completely naked on my side, and I smile.

"You want that, huh?" He brings himself behind me on the bed. "I bet you do. You're always so good for me, sweets." He rubs his hands over the soft curves of my waist, down to my thighs, rubbing inbetween them so softly.

"Come on, sweetie." He smirks at me in the mirror before I get on all fours, ready to take him whenever he chooses to.

I feel him bring a warm hand to my wet cunt.

"Mm baby, so wet for me." He smirks at me in the mirror as he unclips my bra with his free hand.

I grind my hips back against him, begging quietly to be fucked already. "Honey, please.. want you."

"Oh?" He chuckles. "Okay, princess, you asked for it." He winks in the mirror before I watch his face with the expression of concentration as I feel him slide into me from behind.

Painfully stretching out my cunt, getting used to the feeling of his fat fucking cock in my tight little cunt after so long without it.

I bite my lip, attempting not to moan too loudly as the baby is sleeping in the other room.

"Gotta be quiet, Billy.." I whisper in a whine as I grind my hips back against his cock.

"I'll be quiet, sweets." He whispers back, looking at me in the mirror. "Look so pretty when my cock is buried so deep inside you, love."

He snakes his hand prettily up to my throat, squeezing it slightly, I feel my head.. my entire body begin to heat up. Feel beads of sweat forming on my temples from the hot environment and so much movement.

When I look at Billy in the mirror his chest is dampened by his sweat, so is his forehead as he throws his head back in pleasure.

He brings the hand that was once on my throat to the small of my back, his thrusts getting harder, hitting a deep spongy spot inside me.

"Mmmm- Billy hun. Right there." I whimper quietly out to him, watching his face in the mirror when we lock eyes in it.

In that moment I feel as though I'm falling in love with him all over again. Reminding me of the same face he'd made the first night we'd met.

I can't help but moan loudly when I see it. His pretty little smirk before he licks his lips.

"Right here, pretty?" He asks, grabbing a hand of mine to bring to my stomach. "Feel me right there? So deep in your precious, warm, wet cunt, huh?" He says as I feel a slight bulge in my stomach where his dick is hitting the perfect spots.

I lean down, my upper body touching the mattress as my ass lays high in the air as he fucks into me harder and harder.

"Billy- gon' cum, honey." I moan into the mattress.

"Yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock like a good fuckin' girl? You're such a good girl for me, oh god." His thrusts become messy and I can tell he's close too.

"Am all yours, honey. Your good girl, daddy."

And that's when I feel his cock twitch and his sticky white load fill my pretty cunt, feeling my own high I squint my eyes and bite my lip, grinding against him. I snake my hand down to rub my clit.

"Oh, baby fuckk so good." He groans out after both our highs were over.

He slides out of my cunt and I move to a position where I can watch cum drop from my hole in the mirror.

"You see that? All those pretty juices? Daddy's gonna breed you so good.. make you all pregnant and big bellied again with my little baby in you. That sound good, pretty?"

I huff for air as I lean my head back against his sweaty chest, my hair sticking to it. I smile at him in the mirror.

He gets up and I frown for a moment before he picks me up.

I squeal as quietly as I can in such surprise. I hold on to his sweaty shoulders as he leads his still erect cock to my hole, sliding in. He holds onto my under thighs as my legs are wrapped around his waist, bouncing me up and down on his cock.

I bring my head that was hidden in the crook of his neck out in front of his, heavy breathing and skin against skin being the only noises in the atmosphere. I bring my lips to meet his, pulling at the now wet hair at the back of his head.

He bites my bottom lip before grinning into the kiss, I smile back, still being bounced on his cock.

"Billy.. 's too sensitive!" I whisper shout to him, moaning in slight pain from my sensitive little cunt getting railed so hard by my pretty husband.

"Awe I'm so sorry, sweets. You can take it though, can't you? You're gonna be a good girl right?" He pouts, bouncing me even harder.

"Can't take.. much longer.. 'm gonna cum, 'gain." I hide my face in his sweaty neck, kissing it gently, salty taste of his sweat on strong muscles tastes indifferent.

"Oh baby.. You're gonna cum so soon? I guess I'll let you.. only because you are such a good girl for me I'll let you cum, pretty, okay?"

I nod, head still on his shoulder in fatigue. I pull at his hair when I feel my orgasm raging through. But this time.. it doesn't feel like I'm cumming. It almost feels like I'm peeing but I'm not.

I don't know what this is.

He lays me down on the bed to fuck into me at a better angle when clear liquid comes rushing out of my hole fast.

He pulls out and smirks an unbelievable toothy grin as he rubs my clit, spreading the juices all over my cunt.

And once it's all over my chest falls aggressively up and down as I pant for breath. I've never done anything like that, felt so taboo.

"Fuck, pretty. That was so fuckin' hot.." Billy chuckles and leans down on forearms to plant a pretty, wet, sloppy kiss on plump, pink, swollen lips.

I look down to see his fully erect cock when I push his sweaty shoulders up, he leans up. "Huh?" He questions what I'm doing.

"I wanna suck your cock, Billy." I get on my knees in front of him.

He grins down at me before nodding in approval. "Go ahead baby, 's all yours hun."

I pump his cock with my hand twice before I lip his tip, earning a slutty boy moan to come from his mouth before I begin to bob my head on half his length.

He brings a hand to the back of my head, lightly pushing down for me to suck more of his length.

"Pretty- ugh." He groans out as he begins to hold my head straight in place, beginning to fuck my face.

This isn't new. He usually ends up fucking my face every time I try to give him head.

"Ugh- princess 'm gonna cum deep down your throat, yeah? You're gonna swallow it all, right sweets?"

I gag on his large length, holding onto his thighs as he fucks into my throat, saliva running down from my chin to my thighs.

"Fuck- baby 'm cummin'.!" He groans quietly, remembering the baby is in the other room sleeping soundly.

I feel hot liquid run down my throat before he pulls out of my mouth. I instantly want to spit it out as I almost feel as though I'm choking, and the taste isn't the best. "Gonna show me, sweetie?" He asks with a cute tilt of the head and a weak smile. I stick out my tongue for him to see the pretty streaks of white lingering on my tongue. "Swallow." He nods his head up once and crooks a brow as I swallow the salty substance down my throat.

I stand up and hug my husband lovingly.

"Aw, pretty. You did so good! You're always such a good girl for me, daddy's so proud of you." He pulls away from the hug to put hands on either side of my head before pulling me into a kiss.

"I'm so tired honey.." I say as he leads me to the bed, laying me down not before he turns off the light switch, coming to lay down next to me.

"I know you are, sweets." He pulls me into his embrace, I rest my head on his chest, quick to drift to sleep. "I love you." He says while softly brushing through my hair with his fingers.

"I love you too, Billy."

[junisfics]

All This Time — Armin Arlert (3)

series masterlist

Pairing: Armin Arlert x Reader

Word Count: 7.6k

Series Summary: Reader messages her best friend Armin late one night while she's drunk and needy, but will she remember the things she said to him in the morning, and if she does... will she regret it?

Part Summary: A friendship has been destroyed, but in exchange for something more

Content: Smut / Nsfw 18+

Content Warnings: Oral (M and F Receiving), Fingering, Unprotected Sex

Armin wasn’t a virgin. He lost his virginity his senior year of high school, and since then, he’s been with only one other girl. You were a little different though, you had a few more people under your belt… literally. 

But none of those people mattered right now, neither of your amount of experience mattered; because you were with him, and he was with you. And both of you were fucking dizzy with the way you were kissing each other like it was your first kisses all over again.

Armin couldn’t keep his mouth off of you once he latched himself on. He had his hands holding your face against his, sucking on your lips and licking into your mouth as he stumbles forward into your body and backing you up to God knows where. 

And you had your hands fisting his stupid white tee-shirt and pulling him closer and closer, being the cause of his stumbling forward. But you just couldn’t get enough of him, you couldn’t get enough of the feeling of having his soft lips against your own or his hands on your body.

You were whimpering into his mouth, gasping against his lips, kissing him back with so much desire and so much pent-up emotion that little noises of arousal escaped his own lips. 

He was so desperate for you, so desperate for this moment right here. His entire fucking relationship with you he’s wanted to have you as his, wanted to taste you and feel you and make you cry out for him. He was so stupid in his fantasy that he couldn’t even see that you wanted the same.

You tasted so softly of mint toothpaste, mint toothpaste, and the sweetest sugar, and Armin couldn’t get enough. His tongue was sliding over yours so sensually, kissing each other with open mouths and swallowing the other’s pretty moans.

Fucking hell, you were moaning and wet over him kissing you, how pathetic were you?

“Armin, my room — please,” You whimper, dropping his shirt and occupying your hands with sliding under the recently dropped fabric to feel up the taut skin of his abdomen.

“Shit, okay,” He breathes, “C’mere.” 

Armin leans into you a little to be able to get a good grip on the backs of your thighs before lifting you up and wrapping them around his waist. You audibly gasp as he does so, finally realizing the amount of strength he truly has.

You remember him lifting you last night, or did you jump into his arms? You don’t remember. But you do remember being in his arms, in a position quite similar to now, but you were too drunk to notice and admire the way his biceps flex as he holds you up, the way his fingers dig into the plush fat of your ass, and thighs, the feeling of his hard cock pressing into your needy cunt. 

You were too fucking drunk to realize any of it, but now you’re sober… and you do. And you feel him pressing and grinding against you as he continues kissing you so roughly that you’re surprised it’s actually Armin.

You never knew he could get like this. You never knew he could be so unintentionally dominating, or so sensual with his actions. And now you never want him to stop.

He carries you, just like last night, to your room and lays you gently on the bed. He never takes his lips off of yours, he’s too afraid to, he has you now and he never wants to pull himself away. 

He keeps his hips between your thighs as he brings both of you down to the bed and rests your head on your pillow, taking his hands off your thighs and moving them to brace himself upright on either side of your head. And your hands slide up his chest, under his shirt, feeling over his warm and tense skin and sighing at the way his muscles dip under your fingers.

You’ve seen Armin shirtless before, and you’ve lingered your glances over his lean muscles and milky skin, you’ve gotten lost and dizzy in the way his arms and stomach flexed while the two of you played beach volleyball or water polo on family trips. But feeling over his skin, and feeling his stomach ripple under your fingertips was far more intense than watching them.

“I — I always forget how strong you are,” You breathe, keeping your eyes closed and lips parted as Armin rests his forehead against yours.

He laughs softly as he pants equally so, trying to catch his breath in the few seconds you give him away from your lips. He felt like you were trying to empty his lungs from all their air, trying to fucking kill him with the way you were touching him.

“Yeah?” He asks, not trying to tease, but genuinely curious to hear more.

“Mhm. ‘always forget that you… are built like this…” Your voice goes a little quieter as you’ve suddenly gone shy with what you’re saying. But your nimble fingers keep exploring his skin, keep sliding over his abdomen and sides, and getting lost in his skin.

“Take — take this off, please,” You whisper, grabbing ahold of the hem of his shirt and pulling it up to his torso until he aids you, lifting up off of you and back onto his calves as he grabs the back neckline and tugs the white tee off of his body.

And the moment he does so, you only melt further into the sheets. Your eyes scan over the broad expanse of silky smooth skin of his chest, over the curves of his shoulders and biceps, taking in the freckle or two that you recognize on his collarbones and forearms.

He’s so beautiful, so fucking beautiful. You hate yourself for never telling him that you believed so until last night.

“I meant it… last night… when I said that you’re really attractive.” You reach out to him, his distance becoming too far, and he listens to your silent request and brings his body back over you, “I don’t — don't know why I never told you…”

Armin was blushing now, his face turning hot and red and the blush is seeping down into his neck and chest as you continue to stare over his body. And he only heats up more when you look up into his eyes with your own. It’s like you're staring into the depths of his soul and reading into his insecurity.

“Thank you,” Armin would continue and say the same for you, but he knows you already know that. He knows that you know that he thinks you're beautiful, he tells you all the time.

When he’s watching you get ready for a party or a gathering, he always makes sure to tell you that you’re stunning… even before you even ask him in confirmation.

Armin swallows before he brings his head back down to kiss you once more, this time with a little less energy. His lips meet yours softly, sensually, and you allow his tongue to slip in equally as so. It makes your heart swell and stomach turn as he kisses you slowly, almost seductively. And somehow, when it was like this, it made you far more buzzed than before had.

You were already whimpering into his mouth, hips stuttering and circling around nothing as you try and get any kind of friction between the two of you. But Armin was seated just a little too high up off of you to where you were pathetically grinding against air and not him.

As you were struggling for a release of tension, Armin was enjoying your little struggle. He savored the way you were getting so needy and desperate with your movements; the way your hands were sliding over his shoulders so shakily, the way you were already struggling to kiss him back, or how you wrapped your legs around him to try and bring him closer. He felt so wanted, so needed… by you.

His cock was so hard in his sweats, throbbing and aching and only getting any sort of relief when your hips bucked high enough against his. So, eventually, despite his nerves and in your favor, Armin brings himself closer between your hips and allows himself to grind his cock against your barely clothed cunt.

And he’s so glad he chose so because the pretty little noise that leaves your lips and the sweet sexual friction he gets as you reactively grind against his cock is almost too much for him to handle.

You’re moaning in his mouth, getting sloppy with your kisses because the head of his cock is rutting itself up against your needy clit so nicely and his tongue is sliding against yours so smoothly. And His body is such a nice weight above you, even though he won’t let himself drop nearly his full weight. 

He holds himself up by bracketing his elbows by your head, his lips now close enough to yours that he doesn’t need to crane his neck down to kiss you. He can kiss you steadily now that his arms aren’t shaking from holding his cock off of you, and his legs aren't shaking from not receiving any relief. And even though you're having trouble giving anything back due to how overwhelming it is, Armin’s keeping the kiss fluid.

He doesn’t want this to be quick, he doesn’t want it rushed. He doesn’t mind if it's with fervor or with energy, but he wants this to be drawn out and long. He wants to take his time with you, and he wants you to take your time with him; to be able to savor the feeling of your skin and your lips and your touch, to have enough time to memorize it in case he never gets it again. He wants to fuck you good and slow until you're both lightheaded from the lazy tempo and are swallowing down each other's whimpers and whines. 

Armin trails his kisses down your jaw, letting his tongue be guided by his lips and peak out to get little tastes of your skin. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck as he savors your skin, his ear next to your mouth as he’s able to hear every hitch on your breath or little whimper that escapes your throat as he nips and sucks at the fragile flesh.

Your fingers snake their way into his hair as his mouth latches onto your pulse point, and you tug on the pretty blonde strands, nails scratching his scalp and drawing out little groans from him as you do so. Your back is sent into a cute arch as goosebumps freckle over your skin and Armin can feel your entire body shaking beneath him.

Armin keeps going down, down, down, satisfying his need to feel your skin between his teeth, until he reaches the low swooping neckline of your tank top. And when he finally feels his chin hitting fabric, he pulls away, but only to look up to you and take the hem of your top in his right hand.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, keeping eye contact as he shimmies further down your body so his face is comfortably in line with your chest.

“Yeah,” You nod with your voice breathy.

The moment you give him an answer, he’s lifting the thin fabric up to your stomach and pressing kisses against the soft skin as he does so. He continues pulling it upwards until your bare chest is revealed to him and you take your own liberty to slide the shirt off your head. 

Armin almost groans at the sight of your exposed chest and is suddenly very thankful that you hadn’t put on anything more to cover yourself this morning. Your nipples were pebbled by arousal and your chest and stomach had a glowing sheen of perspiration over the top that made the entire situation ten times more alluring.

“Do you remember… that day we were at the beach?” He speaks softly like he’s lost in the way the flesh of your chest gives as his hands come. His eyes are glued to you, and if you weren’t as equally lost in him, you almost could have laughed at his expression.

“And you were wearing that stupid baby blue bikini,” He continues, speaking breathily. 

“Yeah, did you — did you like it?” You ask him, looking up at him through your lashes as he continues to play with your tits.

“Yeah,” He nods, “I… got off to you that night. 'couldn't get you out of my head.”

He doesn't give you a chance to respond before he's kissing you again, only your lips a few times before he's trailing back down your neck and to your chest.

He attaches his lips to the underside of your left breast, the other one being taken in his right hand. And he wasn’t rough with bites or sucks, but he was lazy with it like he was trying to ingrain the feeling of the soft supple flesh in his mouth into his brain. He was running his tongue over what he's taken into his mouth, sending shivers and shakes down your entire body while his other hand softly, so very softly, massages your other breast between his nimble fingers.

He was so incredibly gentle with you, but the effect that gentleness had was so great and was hitting you so hard that by the time he had finally ran his tongue over your nipple, you were softly moaning and grinding your hips up against his abdomen with the same amount of desperation that you were before.

Armin could tell that you wanted more from him, you wanted his mouth and hands over your entire body and not just your chest. But he needs to make up for all the time he’s lost by waiting for himself and for you. He has to draw this out and be able to do everything he’s ever dreamed of doing with you, to you, for you.

So, he’s going to play with your pretty tits and slide his tongue over your chest until he’s content and thinks he’s equated it to the time he’s lost. He won't stop unless you tell him to, or you're verbally begging him for more.

“Armin —” You breathe as your fingers take a tighter hold on his hair. 

He looks up to you for a moment, watching your saliva sheened lips part as he releases your nipple from his mouth before tending to the other one the same as before. He leaves your left breast covered in his slick saliva, nipple almost sore from the way he was teasing you, and lets his cute little tongue escape his lips again to slide over and wet the other as he looks up to you with those big blue eyes.

And you were pathetically wet underneath your panties from that stimulation alone.

You knew Armin had at least a little bit of experience, but you didn't know he would be so damn attentive to your body and so skilled with the way he’s doing so. It isn’t a surprise though, it’s Armin for christ's sake, of course, he’s going to go out of his way to drive you crazy and he’s going to do it to the best of his abilities.

His fingers of his left-hand slide up your saliva-slicked breast to take your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it between the two quite gently as he continues to flick over the other with his tongue.

“Armin, oh my God. I — fuck,” You whimper, completely in awe that you could feel this way through nipple stimulation.

God, if you weren't careful, you were pretty sure you might be able to cum from this.

Your cunt was dripping and clenching around nothing beneath your panties as he continued, and it was driving you insane. You needed more, you needed to feel his stupid tongue inside you, needed his fingers inside you, needed his cock inside you.

“I — fuck, Armin, more, need — fuck — need you to touch me,” You pant, sitting up on your elbows as he finally takes his mouth off your chest.

“What do you need?” He asks, but he seems to already know the answer, for his hands slide down from your chest and to your hips before sneaking his fingers under your waistband.

You gasp softly at the tugging feeling you get from him pulling on your panties, instinctually lifting your hips slightly to allow him to continue. You look down to him with your lips parted open, nodding slightly to encourage him.

“Is this okay?” He says, a little softer, stopping his movements before he fully exposes you.

“Yeah, please.” 

Armin can feel his stomach lurch and cock twitch in his pants at the little whimpering beg you let out. And it only does it again when he slides himself further down the bed and gets a good look at the cute little darkened patch that’s formed in your grey boy-short panties from the wetness leaking from your cunt. And, once again, Armin’s so glad you hadn’t chosen to put on any more clothes before he returned.

Then, he’s pulling them down, completely stripping you bare to him. But you don’t feel vulnerable like you usually do, well maybe a little, but with Armin it’s different. With Armin, you feel safe and homely, you feel like it’s always supposed to have been like this. Because not only does he look at you like you’re something to ravish, but something to cherish.

Armin can’t stop himself from muttering a soft “Fuck,” at the sight of you so wet and needy for him.

You knew you were going to be aroused, but from his reaction, you didn’t know you were going to be to such an extent.

Armin presses a few soft kisses up your legs, skipping over your center, as he makes his way back up to your face. He takes you by surprise by catching your lips in his again, cupping your face in his left hand, and caressing your jaw as he steals your breath away once more. He comes to your right side, bringing the arm that’s attached to the hand on your face down with him until his elbow braces him up and his hand cups the back of your head. His right-hand slides and skims over your stomach before dipping down your navel and fingers hovering over you.

He can feel your breathing jump as his fingers brush over your clit, can feel your hips jerk against his arm once he makes that sweet contact. And it’s almost pathetic how you choke back a whimper at such soft touches, but it was like everything was oversensitized to the max.

He lets his fingers apply the lightest of pressure, almost waiting for you to lift your hips and meet him halfway as he begins to circle your clit slowly. He’s bordering teasing with his touches, even though it’s unintentional; just using the pads of his fingertips to massage you gently.

Your mouth is dropped open ever so slightly while Armin rests his forehead against your temple as he plays with your clit. You’re sucking in little pants of air as your eyes flutter shut at the waves of pleasure that wash over you. Your right arm comes up to wrap around his and grab ahold of his bicep on the outside, feeling the muscle flex under your fingertips as he continues to please you.

“Shit, more. Want them inside,” You whisper, opening your eyes to only see his as he looks over the way your pretty face twists in pleasure.

Armin looks into your eyes as his fingers slide a little lower, feeling over the slick that’s gathered at your cunt, cursing softly, then keeping eye contact as he slides two fingers inside you. He groans softly as his digits are engulfed by your slick warmth, and you do the same as you feel his long fingers fill you up so nicely.

Your entire body goes weak at the sensation, and your hips helplessly grind against his palm as his fingers reach their hilt. You’re gasping and choking on your breath while he dips his head into your neck and resumes kissing the skin there.

He fingers you nice and slow like he’s once again trying to memorize the way your pussy clenches around him, the feeling of the wet heat of your cunt consuming him and sucking him in, so desperate for more, more, more. He loves the way your thighs clamp around his wrist as he curls the tips of his fingers up against you, realizing he’s found your sweet spot and continuing to curl against it every so often to hear the sweet little mewl that leaves your lips as he does so.

He can feel your little nails pressing into the skin of his bicep as you squeeze tighter. And then you’re grabbing his hair with your other hand, tugging him up from your neck to face you, and taking his lips in yours. You’re moaning into his mouth, barely able to kiss him back again. He can feel your chest pressing up against his whenever you arch your back, silently begging him for more.

Armin pulls away from you, using the elbow he was bracing himself on to lift himself away, “Can — fuck — can I go down on you?”

You look up to him as he waits for an answer.

Of course, Armin would want to go down on you, of course, he would. He’s Armin.

“Yes, please,” You nod.

He wastes no time to continue kissing down your body, keeping his fingers inside you and only pulling them out once he’s laying out on the bed with his face in line with your cunt. He’s conveniently bent at the hips, his legs able to hand off the bed so he can kneel on the floor.

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you, keeping his eyes on the way your pussy clenches and stretches around his knuckles as he does so. And he has to hold in a groan as he sees the way his fingers are shiny and glistening with your arousal once they’re fully out of you.

“I always knew that… that you would be the kinda guy to go down on girls.” You chuckle softly as you rise to your elbows, able to see him kneel before you.

Armin looks up to you from between your legs. His hair is slightly disheveled, and there’s a cute pink flush over his nose and cheeks. His pupils are blown wide with lust. He looks absolutely alluring.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He brings his head closer to your center like he’s waiting for your answer before he slides his tongue through you.

“I just — not a lot of guys are willing to actually do it…” You say, now able to feel his breath fanning over your cunt. Armin can see the way your legs twitch with every little breath he takes, he can feel them beginning to squeeze his shoulders.

“Why not?” And he wasn’t teasing you, he seemed genuinely curious.

“I don’t — I don’t know,” You whisper, practically trembling with anticipation

He seems satisfied with your answer and keeps his eyes on you as he grips your thighs and brings his face forward to slide his tongue through your slit. You’re warm against his tongue, and he can taste your slick arousal on it. His tongue feels like silk as he slides over you, dipping the tip of his tongue into your hole before gliding up to flick over your clit.

“Oh god,” Your head falls back on your shoulders, hands clenching into fists as you buck your hips up against his face.

He wasn’t confident with his movements, but he was in no way unsure of them either. He seemed to have at least some experience with what he was doing, but you weren’t anywhere near upset with that. You were his, and he was yours. And you could even say you were glad that he knew what he was doing because it was only making the experience that much better for you.

You could feel your entire body quivering as the pleasure courses through you, stemming from the pit of your stomach. You were getting warmer by the moment, not from physical exertion but from the overwhelming sensations that were flowing through your whole body. Your stomach was contracting and your chest was jerking before you with every little circle of his tongue over your clit.

You let out an audible choked-out moan as you feel his two fingers slide back inside you. You don’t notice how much tighter you’re squeezing them now that his mouth is on you as well. Your little cunt is fluttering around his digits, almost making it hard for him to shirt them around inside you. And every little squeeze he gets translates itself back to his cock, sending it twitching and leaking precum in his sweatpants. And he’s wishing his dick was pushed all the way inside you and it was his length that your little pussy was squeezing so nicely and not his fingers. 

Soon, Armin, soon.

“I’m so close, please don’t stop. Armin please, please,” You whine, your back arching and legs trembling and squeezing his shoulders. 

Before he allows you to cum, he uses his free hand to lift both of your legs so they rest over his shoulders, your heels digging into the muscles in his back. And that little change in angle has his fingers hitting your sweet spot over and over as his mouth suckles around your clit. And you’re cumming and creaming all over his fingers, cunt spasming around them as he fucks them into you and lets you ride out your orgasm.

“Oh God — Armin,” You shift your weight to one elbow and bring up your right hand to reach out and lace your fingers through his hair once more.

He’s lost himself in the way you gush all over his tongue, the way he flickers his pretty blue eyes up to see your eyebrows furrow together as you keep grinding against his mouth and hand.

Armin can only rut his hips into the side of your bed, wishing that he was fucking his cock into you rather than his fingers, but all good things take time. 

Once you’ve come down from your high and Armin’s slipped his fingers out of you, you shift your legs off of his shoulder and let your hand fall from his head and down his arm.

“Want to — wanna suck you off, please.” You say, looking into his eyes as he lifts himself from the floor and hovers back over your body.

“You don’t have to,” He shakes his head softly, leaning over you and cupping your cheek with his left hand… the one that isn’t covered in his spit and your cum.

“Want to — so bad,” You plea, sliding a hand down his chest until you reach the waistband of his sweats. Then, you continue a little further, cupping his length through the fabric, sliding your hand over him gently.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth as you look up at him. His lips are parted as he drops his head slightly to watch your hand palm at his cock. He’s not very convincing when he repeats ‘you don’t have to’ because he’s subtly grinding into your hand and letting out soft moans at the feeling.

“Wanna make you feel good,” You say quietly, looking over his pretty face.

“Fuck, please,” He whimpers… whimpers.

And so you pull your hand away from his cock, push against his chest with both hands until he’s bringing himself up off the edge of the bed, and push him a little farther so you can kneel in front of him. The hardwood hurts your knees, and you know it’ll probably hurt equally as bad later, but you need to feel the weight of him in your mouth.

You hook your fingers around his waistband, tugging both his boxers and his sweatpants down until his cock springs free and slaps against his stomach. And Armin’s just as big as you had expected, nice and long, and his tip a pretty pink; leaking precum down the length of him.

His breath hitches as you take ahold of the base of him in your hand, holding him gently and sizing him up. He’s heavy in your hand, skin warm and slickened with his own arousal that’s dripped down his shaft.

You look into his pretty blue eyes as you jerk him softly, sliding over him and twisting your wrist once you reach his tip. He looks back down to you, burning the image of you knelt in front of him, completely nude, with his cock on your hands into his mind. Your lips swollen and slick with saliva from kissing, your hair askew and so prettily messy. 

He’s cursing quietly, his breathing getting all ragged and choked up as you continue. And he finally lets out an audible groan once you close your lips around the head of his cock.

His precum is slightly salty on your tongue, and you suckle on his tip real gently as you swirl your tongue over him.

“Fuck —” He hisses, the sensation building up far too quickly for his liking, but he doesn’t want you to stop just yet.

You take your mouth off of him, but only to lick up the underside of his cock, making sure to slobber on it real nicely until a string of spit connects from the head of him to your lips. And then you allow yourself to slide the length of him into your mouth, taking as much of him as you can and jerking the rest with your hand. He’s heavy on your tongue, and you have to keep yourself from gagging as his tip hits the back of your throat.

“Oh God, oh God — fuck,” He groans, restraining himself from bucking his hips against you and fucking your throat, “Stop, stop, I’m gonna cum,”

But you don’t stop, you keep your mouth on his cock with your lips wrapped tight and cheeks hollowed. 

Armin grabs ahold of your hair, completely disregarding his gentle nature, and pulls you back and off of him. You cough on your own spit, sending it dripping down your chin as you look up to him through swelling tears.

He’s panting heavily, looking down at you as he breathes, his cock hovering just in front of your face and dripping with your saliva.

“Can — can I fuck you,” He asks, loosening his grip on your hair and sliding his hand down the side of your head to cup your cheek.

You lean into his touch, savoring the warmth, and nodding your head softly as you close your mouth and swallow the accumulated spit, “Yeah,”

Armin’s gentle once more as he leans down, taking your hands in his to help you stand before he guides you back onto the mattress, crawling over your body and kissing you gently once you’re fully on the bed. 

You can feel his cock situated in the crease of your leg, resting right next to your cunt. And you’re clenching around nothing at the sensation of his cock being so close.

“Do you have a condom?” He asks, pulling away from you.

You swallow hard, subconsciously grinding against the length of him as the idea of him filling you raw floods your mind. You look up to him with your bottom lip taken innocently between your teeth as you shake your head.

“I want you raw,” You decide, sliding your hands up his warm chest until they reach the base of his neck. 

You don’t speak as if you’re trying to convince him, more so just telling him exactly what you want. You hadn’t planned for it to end up this way, but now that it’s come across, you don’t want anything else.

“You — you don’t want a condom?” Armin asks, and you can feel him twitch against your thigh at your revelation.

“No,”

He nods, slowly and uncertainly at first, but then confidently as if he realized he wanted it equally as much. And then he leans back, sitting back on his calves as he takes his cock in his hand, his other hand gripping your thigh and holding you open for him. He looks to where the two of you are inches away from meeting as he lazily slides his hand over himself.

He shimmies his hips forward slightly so the head of his cock comes in line with your entrance, but he doesn’t push in just yet. Armin slides his cockhead through your slit, savoring the way your cunt clenches against him as he skims over your hole.

“I need — need to know how bad you’ve wanted this,” He says, almost a whisper.

He speaks for a few reasons. He wants to know that this is okay, and that fucking you is okay; but he also needs to hear you beg for him, even though he doesn’t explicitly state that he wants you to bed. He wants to know if it’s true, that all this time you’ve wanted him.

“You’re all I could think about… ever. Ever since I kissed you all that time ago, you were all I ever wanted — all I needed.” You say, your hips jerking against him every time his cock slides over your clit.

Armin nods shakily, swallowing hard as if he’s taking in what you’re saying word by word and trying to process it.

“And… how bad you’ve wanted this,” He enunciates what he’s insinuating by tapping his tip against your clit so very softly. You whine softly at the sensation and can feel your throat tense up.

“God so, so bad. I’ve dreamed about you — about you filling me up, ‘wished it was you and not my fingers. I need it — need you,” You whimper, grinding against him.

Armin lets out a shaky exhale at your confession, slowing down the rate at which he slides his cock through your slit, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. I wanted you so bad last night but I couldn’t — couldn’t have you.”

He pauses his cock as it’s perfectly in line with your entrance, looking up from where the two of you meet and to you where you’re laid back on the mattress, spread open for him and so needy for more. You’re shaking in anticipation, and for a moment, Armin feels bad for unintentionally teasing you for so long.

And then you feel him pressing himself inside, you feel him breaching you and stretching you out as he fills you so slowly. His hand that was at your leg drops down to your side as he comes to lean over you again, and the hand that was guiding his cock inside does the same once he’s enough of the way in to not have to guide himself anymore.

You’re a gasping and whimpering mess as he fills you up, and he the same. He’s groaning softly at the sensation of you squeezing his tip, massaging his cock with every clench. You’re so wet and warm around him, so soft and slick, and he uses every last bit of his restraint to keep himself from sheathing the entirety of his cock inside you.

“Oh God,” You cry, your legs coming up to wrap themselves around his waist, heels pressing into the base of his spine to encourage him to keep going.

But Armin doesn’t think he could stop even if he wanted to — even if he tried. You were pulling him in, both your cunt and your legs. He swears you wouldn’t dare to let him stop.

“You’re — you’re so big,” You whisper, unable to give your voice enough power to speak any louder.

He continues pushing into you slowly until his hips meet yours and the base of him is fully engulfed by your pussy. You can feel him twitching against the deepest parts of you, in your stomach, and the way he’s stretching you out is so painfully pleasant.

Armin has to take a moment from continuing, afraid he’ll cum prematurely. So, he hovers over you, bringing himself down to his elbows to where your noses bump together and takes your lips in his. He kisses you tenderly, slowly, trying to stop himself from getting too overwhelmed. But it’s truly no help because he can feel his cock twitch inside you when you moan into his mouth.

“Please, please. Please fuck me,” You whimper against his lips, your hands coming up to his neck and holding it gently to keep him as close to you as you can.

Armin slowly uses the strength in his core to lift his hips off yours, shuddering at the way your cunt keeps trying to suck him in, and pulls his cock out of you. It’s so slow, so fucking slow, but the pleasure is so immense that you’re trembling underneath him and begging for more.

“Shit, you feel so good,” He breathes, pulling himself out until only his tip remains inside, then slowly pushing himself back in and splitting you in two once more, “So, so good,”

Once Armin’s able to get ahold of his restraint, he eases himself out again then sheathes his cock back inside a little harsher. His hips slap against you, not making an audible noise just yet, but hard enough to where your pretty tits are sent bouncing against his chest.

Your moan gets caught in your throat at the feeling of him filling you up so quickly and his cock hitting so deep. 

You’ve never felt like this before… ever. You don’t know it’s from how big he is or how steadily he’s fucking you or if it’s just the fact that it’s Armin, and you’ve wanted and wished and pretended it was him all this time.

“‘wanted you for so long and now I got you,” He rests his forehead against yours, “You’re mine right? Tell me your mine, please.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m yours, Armin, I’m yours,” You whimper, nodding quickly and looking into his eyes.

He refused to look away from you as he pumped his cock inside you over and over, he was lost in your lust-blown eyes and the way your whole face was twisting in pleasure. Your bottom lip quivers as you hiccup out little sobbing moans as he begins to fuck into you harder.

His biceps are flexing as he continues to use them to brace himself up as he brings his hips up before slapping them back down. It was audible now, a wet slapping sound filling the room along with both of your pathetic gasps and cries.

“Fuck — you’re so deep, so deep. ‘m gonna cum,” You choke, sliding your hands into his hair and holding onto it, tugging softly until Armin’s groaning from the pain that spreads over his scalp.

You knew it was quick, and that you weren’t lasting long at all. But you were the farthest thing from embarrassed. And Armin was glad to hear that you were close because he was far too close to his own orgasm as well.

“Need to feel it, please. Cum on my cock, please,” He begs.

And you do what you’re told. Your entire body jerks and spasms beneath him, back arching sharply and legs squeezing his hips so tight it almost hurts. You’re clenching around his cock over and over again, trying to milk him of his cum… but Armin’s not done… not yet.

“Fuck, fuck — Armin!” You cry, your lifting hips only getting slapped back down into the mattress by his.

Your brain is fuzzy with your orgasm and all your senses are on overdrive as he continues to fill you with his cock. It’s a white-hot pleasure that’s surging through your entire being, and you feel like you’re floating.

You’re choking on your moans, stuttering out his name and pulling on his hair; and Armin doesn’t let up on you. 

“Again, please, ‘wanna feel it again,” He pants, kissing you again with an open mouth.

He drinks down your cries and moans as he brings you to another high. And you’re thrashing around beneath him, entire body twitching again and head pushing into the mattress as he fucks you through your orgasm once more.

And then, as you’re coming down, Armin pulls himself off of you so quickly that it takes you a moment to realize what’s happening. He’s back on his calves again with his cock in his hand, jerking himself quickly until he’s groaning and releasing all over your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck,” He seethes, eyes squeezing shut and his stomach flexing as he lets his head drop back onto his shoulders.

He can feel his whole body tensing and his muscles contracting. You can see his chest rising and falling quickly as he brings himself back down from his high. He keeps jerking his cock, squeezing at the tip, until it’s stopped its twitching and he’s got nothing left. He keeps breathing hard, bringing his head up slowly as he keeps the base of him in his hand like he’s somehow anchoring himself.

“I love you,” You say, so quietly that Armin almost missed it.

You’ve told each other so many times before. You both know that you love each other so dearly, but it was never before said as if you’ve been in love with each other.

Armin looks to you, his breathing still a little shaky, and he smiles softly, “I love you.”

He leans down and hovers over you for a moment, kissing you tenderly, before getting up off the bed. You let your eyes shut and breathe deeply as he goes to do whatever an Armin does after sex.

And you assumed it would be to get a towel of some sort so he can properly clean his release off of your stomach, and you assumed correctly because you’re opening your eyes at the sensation of something warm and wet sliding over your stomach.

He’s put his boxers back on and kneels beside you. One hand wipes at the mess while the other comes to your forearm, holding it carefully while his thumb traces over little circles. Both actions send little shivers over your cooling body, but it’s comforting and makes you feel safe. You give him a soft smile.

He’s gentle and kind as he continues to clean you up, careful with your limbs like he believes they’ll break; even though he was just plowing himself into not a few minutes ago.

You aren’t able to see him, but if you could you’d see the boy’s face turning pink at the sight of you exposed for him. And his lips are turned into a smile as well as he admires you before him.

“What clothes do you want?” He asks, discarding the towel to the floor and cupping your face in his hand.

You open your eyes to see him leaning over you, your bathroom light cascading behind him as his figure blocks it out of your eyes. He looks like a greek god.

“You pick,” You smile, shutting your eyes once more. 

You feel his weight shift around then leave the bed, followed by the sound of opening and closing of your dresser drawers. His weight returns, along with the light feeling of clothes resting atop your stomach. You peek out at him again.

On your torso lays one of his tee-shirts that you had stolen from him a year or two back, along with a pair of maroon panties.

“Scandalous,” You giggle, sitting up and taking the shirt off of your stomach.

“You told me to pick,” He says shyly, another wash of blush smearing across his cheeks as he sits down beside you. You pull the shirt over your head and maneuver the panties onto you as well. 

Armin leaves only momentarily to flick off the bathroom light. And once you’re clothed to the extent that it seems he wants you at, he pushes you down by your shoulders until your head is hitting your pillow. He kisses you softly, only a few pecks to your lips before shifting up to kiss your forehead.

You giggle at his ministrations. You can feel your heart swelling in your chest at the realization that you can now finally be intimate with each other in romantic ways. It didn’t feel odd. It was new, yes, but it felt nothing but right.

It felt so right for him to lay down next to you and pull you under the sheets he had just taken you on. It felt so right to be curdled up next to him, pulled against his warm body, and held in his arms as you rest your head on his bare chest; able to hear his heartbeat.

You slept with him in your bed for two days in a row, but how different those two days were.

[jd-loves-fiction]

➤ Jason Todd x Reader

➤ Warnings: gun kink, unprotected sex [don’t be silly, wrap the willy ;)]

➤ @catxsnow @internalsealpanic​ @littleredwing89

[22:50] Your lungs burn as you leapt from one building to another, begging you to slow down at once. 

No chance of that, not with the sound of heavy footsteps thundering behind you as a grunt is heard after the man chasing you lands. 

So you keep running, despite the tightness of your chest, the soreness of your feet and burning in your muscles. 

But somewhere deep inside, something urges you to stop. Something more abstract than the discomfort you feel.

"Come on, princess. Stop and let's talk this out!"

"No way in hell, you glorified eyesore!" You yell back, jumping yet another gap between buildings almost perfectly. 

Almost.

You misjudge the distance and are unable to stick the landing, rolling across the roof until you stop on your back. You don't move, already hearing how his footsteps become slower. He approaches your defeated form, panting as your ankle throbs slightly. You know you can't run anymore at this point, so why tire yourself out.

Red Hood steps over you, placing his boots on your spread arms, barely applying any pressure, just enough to send a message. 

You can hear his heave, distorted, and you imagine him to be sweating bullets under his helmet, while you cool off with the cold, humid air of late night Gotham.

"Did you need to do all that? I just wanted to talk." Red hood protests, exasperated and still panting as you do the same with a skeptical look. 

"Seems it was more your gun wanting to do the talking." You bite back, feeling small under his gaze, so far up from you, but refusing to show it. 

You can almost see his red helmet contort into a frown as you both know what you said isn't true. He may threaten you but he'd never actually shoot you. No matter how much he tries to hide it, he enjoys this dynamic of yours. And so do you. 

The sexual tension, usually pointed out by others around you, could be cut with a meat cleaver. And it just keeps building. Every encounter or skirmish usually leaves you with sticky underwear and him with tighter pants. You excite him, keep him on his toes, and he does the same to you. 

Not to mention the more intimate moments you've shared. 

Walking the grey line of morality meant that your friends could be your enemies and vice versa. For you two, it meant that one day you could be bandaging each other up (still with the masks on) and the next day you could be the ones creating a need for the bandages. 

And that is fine. You both think it's fine.

Until the tension brewing comes to a head spills over from the cauldron. 

Red Hood takes his feet away from your biceps, stepping just below them to take the weight off and still keep close. He then takes his shinny, polished gun from its holster, not yet having been used on that night. 

His large thighs flex as he crouches over your chest, placing the gun under your chin as you stare into the white eyes of his hood, hoping to catch a glimpse of what's behind. 

"Well, if that's the only way I'll get you to talk." His deep voice, seemingly deepened by the voice modulator, rumbles through your chest as he speaks. 

"There are other ways…" You whisper suggestively, mask slits lowering as you smirk seductively. The complete switch from your feisty defiance to a velvety tone and alluring expression makes him pause. 

"Oh? And what would those be?" The gun feels cool against your skin as he presses it harder against you.

"You could start by taking off your helmet." You say confidently. And just like that, the gun's pressure leaves you as he pulls it away slightly. 

Red Hood sighs deeply, shoulders dropping, "You know I can't do that, princess." 

"Not for me?"

"Not for you, not for anyone I'm afraid."

"Won't even let me try to change your mind?" You purr. Your hands crawl up his tense legs, feeling the muscles quiver under your fingertips before they settle on his hips. 

"I can't promise you anything." His tone turns stern, almost cold, but his breathing wavers at the feeling of your warm hands on his cold body. 

"Then don't. Just let me do my thing and see how you feel afterwards." You suggest, nails scratching just above his belt. His hand flexes for a moment, contemplating, before he traces his gun down your throat and towards your warm chest. 

"Think you can change my mind, do you?" His free hand brushes your hair away from your face before he grabs your chin between his gloved fingers. "Let's see what you got."

You slip your legs out from under him, placing them around his waist and throwing him off balance to the side, following the momentum and sitting yourself over him. 

Red Hood's helmet hits the floor as he lets his head fall back. You lay your weight on his middle before gripping both his wrists while leaning closer to his face. 

"You sound quite cocky. Not much reason to, since you're the one on the ground while I could just get up and run. You'd be left all alone to take care of your little problem." You whisper while grinding your ass against said problem.

"True, but we both know you don't really want to. And it's not so little, princess." His voice is deep and raspy as you continue your hip movements, taking his gun out of his hand. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Then you better start working, doll face."

You scoff at his tone before realizing the safety was off on the gun. "The safety was off?" You ask, shocked, as you turn it on, placing it by your side. 

"Sorry, forgot about it. Had more interesting things to think about." His hands reach for you before you grab them, pinning them beside his head.

"You forgot about it? Not very professional of you, considering your impulses." Your chest meets his as you lean heavily on his wrists. You both know your hold on them means close to nothing and that he could easily get out of it, but he'd allow it if it meant having fun.

"Not the impulses you should be focusing on, sweetheart." His legs bend, urging you forward and making his crotch grind against yours.

“Ooh, I’m so scared of a man whose face I can’t even see. Not to mention the fact that you clearly have a very soft spot for me, sweetheart.” You tease, grinding your hips down firmly, reveling in the deep grunt that makes him chest vibrate against yours.

Red Hood lets out a slow breath, body relaxing completely as he stays silent, “Yeah, you’re right.” he finally says, quietly, absentmindedly. You stare deep into the whites of his mask as he stays tight-lipped and seemingly contemplating something. 

"Can I trust you? Completely?" He asks before you hum, taking your hands away and sitting up. You ignore his boner poking your ass.

"Yes, of course you can." Your expression turns soft and serious as you speak. You hope he can hear your honesty more than see it through the mask. 

He nods before reaching for his helmet, "Wait!" You exclaim as your hands stop him. "What are you doing?!"

"Listen, princess. I want this and I trust you. So I'm acting on all this fucking tension because honestly, I can't wait anymore." And so you let him reach for the back of his helmet, clicking it open with a hiss, before he takes it off and you're baffled by the image before you.

His hair is short and black with a white streak, just as messy and sweaty as you expected. His eyes are a startling, pale green, and they watch your reaction for a moment before his cheeks darken. There's the beginning of dark stubble on his jaw and chin. Even the small scars all across his face, from his cheek to the bridge of his nose, add to his rugged handsomeness that nothing your mind has ever conjured up could compare to. 

"Don't comment too much. We can leave the soft stuff for another time. Right now, I just need to be inside you." The heated look in his striking eyes makes your breath stutter, along with his words. Before you smile cheekily while trailing your nails down his hard abs. 

"'Leave the soft stuff for another time?' That better mean you'll be taking me out on a date, or I'm not having it." You tease, winking at him as he smiles fondly. You take off your mask and place it by his helmet, ego massively boosted by the immensely flustered look on his face as yours is revealed. 

"Do comment all you like. And you can call me Y/N." You whisper into the night, lips a breath away from his. 

"Jason. Nice to meet you, finally."

His soft lips crash against yours as months of tension come to a head while teeth scrape and tongues battle for dominance. You lose it and let Jason suck on your tongue as you rush to unbuckle his pants after raising his shirt slightly.

You feel his hands grip your waist tightly, meaning to flip you under him, before you hold him back by placing your hands on his, "Let me ride you, please." 

"Ah fuck, doll face." Jason's voice wavers as you reach past his boxers to grab his hot member in your cold hand. Your hand moves up and down, feeling him harden fully in your palm as your forehead rests against his. 

Your lips suck on his pulse while your other hand brushes a long scar in the middle of his torso, that you refuse to comment on. 

"Princess, you better stop or I'm gonna cum. And I just wanna do it inside you." He grunts, tugging at your pants while holding your wrist to slow you down.

You take your pants off, thankful for the roof's tall walls and the fact that, for once, it isn't raining like hell. The stone digs into your knees as you settle over him once again. 

"You ready?" Jason asks as you move his cock through your folds. You're not sure of the answer. He looks too girthy for you to take without prep painlessly. But with the burning ache on your core begging to feel him inside, your patience is quickly running out, so you're sure going to try.

You sink down instead of answering, slipping only the head of his cock inside you, making his eyes widen and nearly roll back at the unexpected pleasure, before they close tightly as he struggles to hold his own hips down as you adjust.

"Ah! Doll…" He sighs, hips twitching as they try to raise against the weight of you. You hold yourself up on his stomach as your walls are stretched to their limit, trying not to impale yourself too quickly.

You breathe hard and deep as you move down, the base being thicker makes it harder and not painful, but it's worth it for Jason's face as you finally descend all the way until your hips meet his and he gasps before moaning loudly and deeply. His cheeks become even redder than before, looking to the side at his loud noise.

You lean towards his ear to whisper, moving him inside you slightly which makes him groan again, "Be as loud as you like, nobody can hear you. Plus, not sure anybody cares."

“Fuck, princess, please tell me I can move. I just wanna fuck this pussy so bad.” Jason says, hands holding onto your hips. You nod desperately, already half gone with the feeling of his hard cock fully inside, raising yourself with a whimper and dropping again.

“Shit, doll!” He exclaims, hands helping you move as his hips raise while you drop, his tip hitting you impossibly deep as a layer of sweat starts to form on both of your foreheads, hair sticking to the skin.

“Ah, Jason.” You whimper, grounding your clit against his pelvis at the bottom.

“You feel so good, doll. So warm and wet, fuck…” He sighs, hand grasping your hair and pulling your lips against his as you set a hard and fast pace. 

Your lips barely connect for more than a few moments, kisses interrupted by moans and whimpers as you breathe against each other's mouths. 

Your toes begin to curl as sparks of pleasure travel all over your flushed body, breathing heavy as your heart pounds against your chest. Your body jerks as Jason’s rough and calloused finger starts rubbing firm circles on your clit.

“You close, sweetheart? You gonna cum all over my cock? Clench even tighter, shit!” He sighs, followed by a groan as you do clench tighter around him at his dirty words while the pleasure builds.

“Jason, please! I’m so close.” You moan desperately, muscles twitching as you allow Jason to do the most work with his powerful thrusts and rough fingers.

Your back arches as you finally reach that peak, shivering, nails digging into his stomach as you let him thrust into your pussy until he lets out a grunt once he reaches his orgasm, warm filling you as his cum drips out of you and down your thighs.

You open your eyes, gazing up into the dark sky, catching your breath before looking down. Jason lays back, sighing as the aftershocks of his high wears off slowly, leaving him sated and tired, pent up tension finally released.

You lean forward, ignoring the way your pussy twitches as he nudges the inside, and placing a kiss to his red cheek and smiling at his hazy, faraway gaze.

“So, about that date, you free on Friday?”

[cornbake]

Shattered Pieces | Chapter Five

Warning: Anxiety attack He basically freaks out this chapter, be aware. _________________________________________________________ He felt at peace whenever he went to sleep. His first days were dreamless as he was just exhausted and it was a break from his aches and pains. Then he was greeted with memories of peaceful encounters.

This, however, was not something he wanted to reencounter, especially in a dreamlike state.

The world was dark and timeless. Just like in that hell before. A timeless void filled with a consuming darkness and his thoughts.

He could see anything but he could feel, he could feel his body. He could feel the smooth floor under his bare feet. He could feel a smooth wall as his tail whipped around, matching his panicked state and quickening heart rate.

His breathing becomes shallow as he frantically started his search for an exit.

He didn't know how long it would take to find one but he wanted to get out as soon as possible.

He tried to dig at the invisible walls with his clawed fingernails. His voice echoed around him as he screamed to whoever was listening to his helpless pleads.

After what felt like hours, the exhausted tiefling crumbled to the ground in sweat and ugly tears that ran down his still dirt-covered face.

"Please... don't take this away from me..."

He curled around himself, his tail wrapping itself tightly against his body to keep himself from taking too much space within the endless void.

He could hear the faint cries of voices but he just put his now bleeding nails over his ears to block out the noise. He squeezed his eyes shut.

The voices didn't leave, they continued to assault him till he let out a roar of anguish.

He shot straight up his eyes wide and wild as he quickly curled in on himself and into a ball of purple. His heart was beating in his ears, he found breathing to be a challenge as he labored he fill his lungs. The world darkened around him and he was back in the earth where he started.

Cold.

Muddy.

Bloodied.

Empty.

EmptyEmptyEmptyEmptyEmptyEmp-

"Hey, Mollymauk!"

His suffocating thoughts were cut off by a joyful woman's voice.

His muscles involuntarily tensed up as her footsteps fell closer to him.

The voice sounded familiar yet he couldn't seem to place it.

"You doing alright?" She was a lot closer now. He didn't move to respond or look at her. He wished she would just go away and leave him to his thoughts. Even if they were ripping his brain apart.

He felt a hand rest on his shoulder, "Come on let's get you out of the sun, ok?" He gave a slight growl in protest as she started to force him to his feet and lead him to where ever she had planned to take him.

He groaned when he was sat back down, it was definitely cooler wherever they were. He felt something get placed over his shoulders and a tug at his shirt which caused him to look at the familiar face of the caravan's cleric. He took a deep breath through his nose and tried to calm his still racing heart.

"I'm gonna need you to cooperate with me here..." she huffed letting go of the fabric she had been tugging at. He muttered some things under his breath that not even he knew what he was saying. If he had any guess it would be the hollow word that filled his being. "You're starting to worry me, talk to me here..."

He stayed quiet for a little while before helping her with his shirt and muttering a little louder than he was talking previously, "Gods I'm so tired and I just woke up..."

He heard the sigh of relief the cleric gave before looking him over for whatever she had thought was happening to him. He didn't pay attention to her, he was lost in his thoughts, his backstabbing mind that had betrayed him and lured him into a terrible dungeon he seemed to still be chained to.

He was cut from his mind with a sharp slap of a hand on his forehead that stayed there longer than he wished for. He looked at the female in confusion, she just ignored him and scrunched her face up.

"Are you normally this hot or is it just the fact you are a tiefling?"

"Umm... I couldn't tell you. Sorry..." he voice sounded weak and almost strained. It kind of hurt him to speak.

She seemed to sit in front of him for a minute trying to decide on something before asking. "Do you know what happened just recently?" He nodded slightly, he had a general idea and that's about all he needed to know. "Are you feeling alright?"

He shook his head, "I'm pretty worn thin and I could use some water..." she reassures him she'll be right back then heads out yelling at the top of her lungs.

"GET ME SOME MOTHERFUCKING WATER"

He slightly smiles as he falls onto his back, he rubs his hand over his eyes with a sigh. His eyelids were heavy and his mind foggy with exhaustion. He didn't even know he had fallen asleep till he was in the land of his rusty memories.

He opens his eyes and looks around him. A brief panic fills him as he realizes he fell asleep once again but its replaced with confusion.

He is surrounded by light and other versions of him. Some having that god awful coat, some younger and skin blank along with his expressions, others banged up and beaten, and many others. All unique. All different in someway.

He stares at them all, he walks along taking in some of their features. He walks up to one. He looks over the version of him, taking in its features.

It was bleeding from injuries it seemed to have taken. Its eyes were wild and focused on something that he couldn't see. It was breathing heavily yet had a subtle smirk on its face. He was wearing the brightly colored coat and had two twin scimitars in each hand, one had a mix of blood and ice and the other was normal yet had blood on its glass-like a blade as well.

He watched him for a few seconds taking a few steps closer as the figure shifts and turns to walk away. Molly tilted his head, watching curiously as he started to follow it. The light started to fade into darker tones of night, he could hear the sounds of battle as his vision adjusted to the newly darkened arena. Once he could make out shapes he looked around and over himself. He had taken the form of the other him, or at least that is what appeared to have happened.

He had the colorful coat, dual simitars, bleeding wounds, and he was having to try and catch his breath.

His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark forest like area around him. His ears twitched as they caught the sound of someone singing. He could hear laughter and hissing from things that seemed to be flying in the air.

The singing falters and light is spread out onto the dark battle field, he watches as two familiar figures run away as winged beast make their way towards them and each fail to make a strike. He turns to see a third one make it's way towards him, he quickly swings one of his blades that is coating in ice at it landing the strike. Yet the stinger of the beast happens to snake through and hit him. He could feel the needle piece into him and something extra get left behind as the stinger darts back out, some of it's poison following it. He hisses and readies his blades, the imp already being extremely injuried. He shakes his head and slices into once again, it giving off a short scream before poofing into a cloud of sulfur and flame. He huffs and quickly turns to make his way behind a tree trunk to get cover.

He could feel the ground shake as a giant toad lands onto the earth. He heard a spell impacted the ground and the shreek of someone just missed being gored. He barely even noticed the singing had stopped before the toad roars out in anger and hatred. He tucks himself into the trunk before poking out to see one of the imps flying above an unconscious body. He pulls out the bottom card of his deck and shows it to the imp and specks in a language he's never spoken before. "There is nothing but death for you here"

The imp's wings falter a bit as it hisses, and flies slightly away. He smiles but it doesn't last as a THOOM of a large hand impacts the earth with a blue blur darts pass yelling "Shit shit shit shit shit-" another figure darts past towards the large toad and blasts it as it's body slowly turned to ash on it's side.

His head darts back to an imp going to strike the unconscious body now with someone attempting to cover them. Fear pricks into his stomach as he snarls and points one of hands to it as the familiar dull prick at the back of his neck drips blood and the eyes of the imp cloud over and it's attack just misses. He smiles at the small victory but it doesn't last as the one to kill the toad falls to the other imp's strike. He snarls and runs to the closes enemy and swings but it flies higher making his swings miss. "Oh traveler help me!" He cocks an eye brow as the imp in front of him burns up in a blueish hued flame. He runs to the last imp and swings his blades and it skillfully dodging, Molly growls in frustration. He watches as another blue blur comes up from behind it and twacks it to the ground with their staff and starts stomping on it.  He huffs and attempts to calm himself, the stomping stops as the figure runs pass him and he turns to follow.

His vision slowly being consumed by a darkness.

He awoke to the sounds of cheering and moving wheels across the dry grass that the caravan had set up their camp.

Molly grumbled before sitting up, he stretched to try and get a glimpse of what was going on outside of the tent he had fallen asleep in. He saw a small crowd gathered around what he could only make out to be a small covered wagon.

He looked back and to his hands, his mind went back to the dream and he instinctively clutched onto two nonexistent handles of blades that had long since been reclaimed but someone else.

He sighed and moved to stand up when he noticed the water cup next to his bedroll he had been lying on not too long ago. He smiled and took it, it was warmer now but he could tell it was at one point cool. He was just thankful he had something to ease his sore throat.

He stood and made his way outside to the nearly setting sun and the crowd that was helping the newly arrived wagon unload and get settled with the rest of the carts.

He listened in to everyone and took in everything. He heard many people saying things along the line of, "Looks like we'll be off to Zadash in the morning!" He felt himself smile slightly.

By the time early morning crossed over the small field the carts were packed and the broken wheel was fixed and fit for travel.

This time, instead of mostly sleeping and resting in the back of the wagon, he sat upfront with Grendle and talked about whatever was on their mind. They pointed out anything that seemed interesting and gave stories to how it came to be or whatever it was just to pass the time.

Eventually the sun started to set and he was nudged from his reading to have his eyes redirected to stone walls only an hour or so ahead of them.

"Looks like wes made it just in time..."

He was at a loss for words, "yeah..."

"Oh, before I forgets again I have some stuffs that might be for yous" Molly raised an eye brow at the sound of this. "Yous can find thems in the back, should be wrapped in a large blue cloth..."

Molly crawled over the back of the front seat and into the cart to look for the item in question. He moved a few things aside to get to the hint of blue he could spot. Once he was able to grab the bundle of items he brought it back to the front.

"Yup that's the one! All yours!"

"Are you sure?"

"Of course! Found the lot of it with yous!"

Mollymauk was hesitant but eventually unwrapped the dirty and slightly torn thick blue cloth. He was shocked to see the lot of familiar items inside.

He grip the handle of a blood stained glass scimitar and held it within his hands inspecting it. It felt right within his hands, better the shortsword ever did.

He had the urge to swing and test the blade but he knew it would only end in disaster.

He returned to the bundle and stuffed through the rest of the stuff. There were some silk flowers, a large stick, an old rusted helmet that looked like it wasn't for him, another card with a moon on it that seemed to have seen better days, the other pair to his glass scimitar, a pooch of the platinum dragon, and a bunched up brightly colored heap of fabric that he knew all too well.

He took a hold of the almost maroon sides of the fabric and let it hang as he held it up to confirm his suspicions.

In his tattooed lavender hands he held a maroon embroidered mess of colors, the sleeves were a mesh of fabrics and the drooping sleeves with the insides being light blue with darker crescents.

It's the rainbow coat from his dreams.

Mollymauk Tealeaf

Male Tiefling Blood Hunter 5

43/59

[angst-fairygodmother]

May I requesr reader x the witcher? Reader has a major anxiety attack over something and Geralt tries to calm them down. They end up passing out in his arms (partly from being exhausted, partly from hyperventalating). He makes sure that they don't fall. Their skin is clammy and pale. Their pulse is fast. Geralt keeps an eye on their pulse and is relieved when it starts to slow down. When they wake up, he comforts them. Fluffy ending please. (Sorry if its too specific) Thankyousomuch !!! 🥺���🥺

A/N: Anxiety and panic attacks are such...unique responses to stressors that it’s a struggle to capture what they’re like for someone else, but I hope this was something at least akin to what you were looking for. Word Count: 1429 Content Warning: anxiety attack descriptions

You had been travelling with Geralt for long enough that the monsters didn’t seem to faze you anymore. It didn’t matter how fearsome or horrible they seemed to be, you stared them down unflinchingly as you fought beside your witcher friend. And though he would be the last to admit it, he had come to rely on your stoic presence watching his back.

That reliance was precisely why neither of you were prepared when it struck. A griffin had swooped low over the road, shrieking, its great flapping wings nearly knocking you to the ground with the force of air. And then, as quick as it had dropped out of the sky, it was gone again like it had never been.

“Shit,” you heard Geralt mutter, his amber eyes scanning the skies in case the creature came back.

Eventually, he seemed satisfied and you moved on, but you couldn’t get the vicious leonine creature out of your mind. Every shift of cloud that blocked the sun, every rustle of the trees in the forest to your left, every skittering of rock on the slowly rising hills that you rode through was the griffin coming back. And it had proven itself not only powerful, but fast. There would be no way to react in time, no way for Geralt to draw his sword even with his witcher reflexes, let alone you with your ordinary human ones.

“Geralt,” you called to your travelling companion, your stomach clenching. Familiar with the signs, you knew what would come next and tried to minimize the damage even as your mind grew fuzzy. “Can we stop?”

“We still have a few hours of light,” he said absently, not even glancing back over his shoulder at you. “At the very least we need to find somewhere less open.”

You swallowed thickly, your mouth and throat feeling desert-dry and tight. Blood rushed in your ears loud enough that you barely heard your own trembling voice.

“No, Geralt. We need…I need…”

‘Where had the air gone?’ you found yourself wondering as spots of black and sparkling light danced across your vision.

It was as if iron bands had clamped tight around your muscles and your lungs, squeezing tighter and tighter by the second.

Geralt’s face suddenly appeared, wavering in front of you, mouth moving though you couldn’t hear the sounds he made.

And then there was nothing.

~

Geralt had always been pleasantly surprised by your calm and practicality, especially in comparison to his previous travelling companion. You never complained, never hesitated, could take care of yourself. Which was why he’d been surprised by your request to end a day’s travel early, enough that he was keenly focused for signs you weren’t showing him that you might have been hurt. When you started to insist again on stopping, he half-intended to leave you in the dust, an old habit seated in fear of how someone might react encountering him on the twilight road or in a dusky wood. Instead, his sensitive hearing caught on the hitch in your pulse and he pulled Roach to a quick halt so he could check on you.

He only had moments, spent trying to ask you what was wrong as he took in your deathly pallor and pupils blown wide before you collapsed and he lunged forward on instinct to catch you. Gently cradling your upper body, he lowered the pair of you to the ground and laid two fingers gently on the pulse point of your neck. He could hear the way your whole body sped up, taut and poised on the edge of something, adrenaline overtaking you, but it was easier if he could actually feel and count the beats of your heart pumping your blood.

At this stage, there wasn’t much he could do but watch over you until you woke, and he hated himself for it. He should have seen that something was wrong sooner, should have sensed that you weren’t okay and done something instead of trying to brush you off. Gently, he brushed sweat-soaked hair from your face as you lay in his arms.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

~

The sun was beginning to set behind the distant trees by the time you stirred. Your pulse had normalized earlier, and there had been no signs of other travelers or that the griffin might return, so Geralt hadn’t been worried and decided to just let you rest until you came too on your own.

Disoriented, you sat up slowly, feeling an ache in every inch of your body, but especially in your head, which you clasped between hands rested on your knees with a groan.

“Finally,” Geralt’s soft, gravelly voice said, off to your left.

You turned slowly to face him, puzzled and tired.

“What happened?” you asked.

“You fainted. As for why, you tell me.”

A hot flush crept across the back of your neck and up the sides of your face, embarrassment at what you perceived as your failure to keep up and at the obvious concern and warmth in him. His posture was hunched but not in a way that made you feel closed off from him, as he usually did, and his face was gentle, amber eyes watching you for signs of further distress.

“I don’t…I guess…I let my own mind get the better of me, and I…panicked a little?” you offered with a shrug, trying to dismiss it like a one-time situation rather than something that occurred, if you were being honest, rather often but which you usually managed to keep under control, or at least secret, until you were away from him and free to break down on your own.

“Because of the griffin?”

You were surprised that he was taking the time to ask the obvious questions.

“Yes, I guess. The monsters that fly are all a little more…intense than ones that don’t and this one was so fast and graceful. The thought of being caught out in the open, or anywhere, by it…was too much.”

“Do you…have these kind of…attacks often?”

“No,” you lied again.

He gave you an incredulous look, one that said you were handling things too well for them to not be a familiar song and dance. Still, he didn’t push.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked.

“I’m…okay now. Better. Just tired, and sore. I…if you want to keep moving for a while longer I should be fine.”

“Don’t be stupid. We’ll stop here for the night, and get moving early in the morning to make up the time.”

“Geralt, you don’t have to do that. I can handle it.”

“You’re allowed to have limitations, Y/N. And I’d rather you rest now and be well than push yourself too far and make things worse.”

“Right, I guess it would slow you down more in the long run.”

“That’s not…” he sighed, moving until he was kneeling right in front of you, towering over you. “It’s not just about efficiency.”

“What do you mean?” you frowned, eyebrows knitting together in confusion and privately Geralt found himself amused and rather taken in by the expression.

“I care about you,” he admitted. “I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me if I didn’t. And today, when I thought something was wrong…more wrong…”

He suddenly turned away, jaw clenched as he fought internally over how much to tell you. With a dawning realization and a soft smile, you gently reached up to place the tips of your fingers on his cheek and turn him back to you.

“It’s okay to have been worried, or even scared, Geralt.”

As you spoke, the witcher leaned his forehead against your own, eyes shut. You weren’t sure whether the gesture was one of affection or resignation, but you imagined he probably heard the way your heart leapt from it either way.

“I’m fine, I promise. I will consent to camping here for the night if that will make you happier.”

He let out a long, relieved breath that he no longer had felt like he had to fight you for your own wellbeing, or admit the depth of his feeling.

The two of you sat like that for a while, each breathing the other and finding calm and peace in their proximity, until finally, he rose and set about preparing a camp as if there had been no exchange. You smiled, he was not a man of words, but you knew anyway, and were glad of it, that he was there for you and cared for you, and for now, that was enough.

[bearly-writing]

Hi there! I found your exhaustion fic with Hunk on AO3 and I loved it! Thank you for writing it. I don't find a lot of fics with Hunk as a major character of the story and I sometimes don't get a response when I request Hunk fics from others. May I make a request? I am having a hard time choosing, so I'll let you choose! Could you do either electrocution or nerve damage with Hunk for your Bad Things Happen Bingo please? Orrr... you can do both if you like. *wink wink* Lol XD

Thank you very much! This is a lovely comment :) I love Hunk too! I’m so sorry that this took so crazy long for me to post, hopefully you’re OK with me picking electrocution too ;)

Crosses are posted, circles are requested. Thank you everyone who’s requested something - I know I’m getting through these painfully slowly, but I’m still open to requests for Voltron or the Batfamily :)

Set the Spark

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Prompt: Electrocution

Characters: Hunk, Shiro, Allura, Lance, Keith, Pidge

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Electrocution, Vomiting

Summary: The metal floor is hard beneath Hunk’s knees, even with the paladin armour. There’s a drain set into the dip between his legs. Hunk shuts his eyes and tries his best not to think about why exactly that might be necessary, or about the fact that the Galra is hailing the castle and everything that means is probably coming. He’s not very successful.

Read it on AO3 here!

The Galra ship smells of hot metal and the strange, ozone stink of blaster guns. It’s a little like the way the lions smell, particularly during a battle, but there’s something else about it that turns Hunk’s stomach in a way the inside of Yellow never has. Something almost animal. It gets worse the further away from the hangar they get, Hunk stumbling along beneath the cool, impersonal press of the sentries either side of him. It’s the heavy, musky scent of living beings – of sweat and blood and other things that Hunk definitely shouldn’t think too hard about if he wants to keep the contents of his stomach.

Not that there’s much chance of that – it’s been churning dangerously ever since Yellow first took that awful hit, and there’s no sign of it letting up any time soon. The smell is only the cherry on top of an already rotten cake, sliding thick and almost tangible across Hunk’s tongue. By the time the sentries finally pull him to a stop, Hunk is sweating, his stomach a small, tight ball inside him.

“The Yellow Paladin.”

The hulking Galra soldier that turns to greet him does nothing to settle Hunk’s nerves. Neither does the rest of the room. It’s surprisingly empty, aside from the wide screen that takes up most of one wall, and the console underneath it, which the Galra currently eyeing him is leaning over.

“Not my first choice.” A flash of sharp white teeth. “But I suppose you’ll do.”

Hunk shivers. The blank metal walls seem suddenly too close, as if they’re shrinking in towards him. The Galra, when he steps towards him, seems inordinately tall. Hunk is a big guy – he’s not used to feeling quite so small.

“Glowing praise,” he finally manages, squeezing the words past the fear clutching tight in his chest. The Galra just smirks. One huge hand reaches out, slow enough that, if Hunk actually had a choice, he could lean away. He doesn’t. The sentries’ hands are tight on his arms. When he flinches, they grip hard enough that he knows they’ll leave bruises.

“Don’t worry,” the Galra murmurs, claws pricking at Hunk’s jaw as he clutches his chin. “You won’t have to do much besides scream when I tell you too.”

God. Hunk feels acid rising dangerously at the back of his throat. That’s…not good is probably an understatement. Hunk scrabbles around for a snarky reply but comes up empty.

“Kneel down and keep your mouth shut.”

The hand finally shifts away from his jaw, but it only moves to his shoulder instead. Something warm and wet trickles over Hunk’s skin. Blood, Hunk thinks woozily, feeling his stomach clench. When the Galra presses him to the floor, Hunk goes easily. Part of him is worried that if he stands any longer he’s going to pass out.

“Hail the Alteans,” the Galra snaps, turning back towards the screen behind him. One of the sentries moves immediately to obey.

The metal floor is hard beneath Hunk’s knees, even with the paladin armour. There’s a drain set into the dip between his legs. Hunk shuts his eyes and tries his best not to think about why exactly that might be necessary, or about the fact that the Galra is hailing the castle and everything that means is probably coming. He’s not very successful.

A burst of static has Hunk reflexively opening his eyes, and then the bridge of the castle is filling the screen, huge and surprisingly close. They’re all there, Hunk realises with a sick, sinking sensation: Allura standing at the centre of the bridge, Shiro at her shoulder; Keith, his bayard in his hand, on the far right of the screen; Lance and Pidge clustered together a little way in front of him; and, closest to the screen, Coran, standing at the Altean console, face unusually solemn. They must all be able to see him too, kneeling on the filthy metal floor of the ship, straddling a drain. He wonders how pathetic he looks.

“Release the Yellow Paladin,” Allura snaps, as soon as the screen focusses. It’s her command voice and Hunk feels his spine straighten a little in response. But the Galra only laughs, an awful, chilling noise without any humour in it.

“I’ll release your paladin if you turn over the rest of the lions to my control.” It’s an insane bargain. Hunk is honestly a little impressed – both with the fact that the Galra had the balls to suggest such an exchange, and the fact that he somehow believes that Hunk is worth so much. Even Hunk is distantly aware that he couldn’t buy one of the lions, let alone all of them.

“No.” Allura’s voice is steel. “You will release him, and in return, we won’t destroy your ship.”

“Feel free to destroy the ship, if you so badly wish to say goodbye to your paladin.” Even through the screen, Hunk can see Allura’s face tighten. “In the meantime, I believe you should consider my offer.”

He circles around, footsteps loud against the metal floor, until Hunk can feel the heat of him against his back. It sends a shudder crawling over Hunk’s skin. A heavy hand lands on his shoulder, warm even through the armour Hunk’s wearing, and Hunk’s stomach gives a queasy lurch. This is bad.

“I’m sure I can offer you some motivation.”

There’s movement behind him. Up on the screen, Allura’s eyes narrow, and Hunk can see the others reacting too, shifting and tensing in response to whatever it is that Hunk can’t see. Something thick seems to settle over the room. The sharp, ozone scent Hunk had smelt in the corridor seems suddenly so thick that Hunk can barely breathe. It’s as though the tension is a physical thing, settling across his shoulders, creeping down his throat and into his lungs. Hunk hears one of the sentries step close, then: “I’m sure you recognise this, Champion.”

That’s definitely not good – nothing good has ever come from the Galra taunting Shiro like that. Hunk should turn around, should get a look at whatever the Galra is talking about, but he’s too afraid. Shiro’s reaction is bad enough: his eyes go wide, his face losing the little colour he had. His expression tenses then goes abruptly blank, as if he’s smoothing all of his emotion away. It’s almost as frightening.

“This isn’t going to help you,” Shiro says, and his voice is strangely blank too. “You don’t need to hurt him.”

Another awful shudder tightens Hunk’s skin. He can almost hear the grin on the Galra’s face, as clearly as he can feel the danger in the air. Something bad is about to happen, and all of Hunk’s team mates are here to watch.

“I think I do actually.”

Before Hunk has a chance to even wonder what’s about to happen, something presses hard into the soft juncture between Hunk’s shoulder and his neck, and Hunk’s entire world blacks out. It’s…excruciating. Pain spears through Hunk’s entire body, branching out from that first sharp epicentre of agony. All of Hunk’s muscles seize and he can feel himself – as if from very far away – going rigid, his spine straightening painfully. It’s like liquid fire through his veins, sharp and jagged, as if he’s being torn apart from the inside out, and Hunk would be worried about that but there isn’t a single coherent thought in his head. Distantly, he’s aware that he’s screaming. Aware of the fact that he’s fallen jerkily to the filthy metal floor. Aware of voices floating through the air around him, strange and distorted and unintelligible under the sounds he’s making in turn. Then, finally, blissfully, the pain stops, and Hunk slides slowly back into awareness.

“-op! Stop it! Hunk!” Of course it’s Lance’s voice he hears first, because that’s Lance all over – loud, and forthright, and always in Hunk’s corner. Hunk feels a strange shiver of something he can’t quite define: a weird mix of gratitude and shame and the aching, hollow pain throbbing through his body as the aftershocks of the electricity tingle through him. The floor beneath his cheek is cold in a distant sort of way, as if Hunk still isn’t entirely present in his body. In contrast, the rest of him feels too hot, his skin small and tight and prickly.

“You’ve made your point.” Shiro sounds calm, but there’s an undercurrent to his voice that Hunk suspects he can only hear because he knows him so well.

Allura’s voice is a little less controlled when she says: “This will not get you want you want. Release the Yellow Paladin back to us at once.”

Hunk doesn’t bother looking up at the screen. He isn’t sure if he can even move his head right now, and besides, he’d rather watch his own panting breaths fog up the slick metal floor beneath him than have to see the expressions his teammates must be making. Just the thought of having to look at Lance’s face right now makes him feel faintly sick.

“Hmmm.” There’s a soft clicking sound and faint pressure as the Galra taps the shock rod – thankfully not currently active, although Hunk is aware that could change at any moment – against Hunk’s armour. “I really don’t think you get it yet.”

The tapping stops. Then the end of the shock rod presses into Hunk’s ribs and Hunk gets a rush of dizzying fear, and the sound of Keith snarling “No,” beyond the screen, before pain shoots through him again. It lasts a long time – longer than before, Hunk thinks, although maybe it just feels that way. By the time the electricity finally cuts off, Hunk has screamed himself hoarse, and his entire body is trembling with agony and exhaustion. His stomach is a small, hard ball, turning itself inside out in pain and fear, and Hunk manages to drag in one shaky breath before he’s expelling the contents of his stomach onto the floor.

It’s mostly liquid – it’s been a long time since breakfast – but that doesn’t make it feel any better coming up. Doesn’t stop his throat burning. Doesn’t stop the tears prickling hot behind his eyes. They spill over his cheeks without permission, trickling down to his chin, carving hot lines across his face. Hunk can’t help wondering, a little hysterically, if they’ll make the electricity worse. It’s not a clever thought, but Hunk’s brain is too fried for him to feel bad about that.

“You have one varga.” The Galra’s voice floats down towards him as if from very far away. Hunk had almost forgotten he was in the room with him. There’s a reply from the Castle, but Hunk doesn’t have the brain capacity to parse the sound into words, and then the screen goes abruptly blank. That’s…Hunk can’t actually tell if that’s a good thing or not. There’s no point torturing him whilst the others aren’t watching, is there? Then again, the Galra don’t usually need an excuse.

There’s a foot against his shoulder, rolling him onto his back, away from his puddle of sick, thankfully. Hunk goes with it easily enough, too sore and limp and out of his head to resist. There isn’t much point anyway – resisting just means more pain and there’s nothing here that he needs to protect, Hunk isn’t petty

“You’d better hope they make the right choice, paladin,” the Galra sneers. Then he turns abruptly and leaves the room, and Hunk is alone with the two sentries and a blank screen, and a pile of his own vomit.

***

It doesn’t feel like it’s been a varga when the Galra returns, although Hunk suspects he’s lost consciousness a few times in between, so he probably isn’t the best judge. He hasn’t moved from where the Galra left him, sprawled on the cold floor. His muscles ache too badly to contemplate pulling himself upright, and there’s nowhere to go even if he tried – not with the sentries standing silent guard. So, Hunk had lain on the floor and tried to get some control of his breathing back and listened to the pounding of his heart in his ears – too fast, too strong. God, this isn’t how Hunk wants to die. Hunk has survived too much for his heart to give up on him in some cold Galra torture room, miles away from Earth.

The Galra has the shock rod in hand, Hunk notices. His eyes catch on it straight away with a sort of instinctual fear. The Galra notices, waves it in a jaunty sort of salute, and grins, sharp white teeth beneath strange purple lips.

“I’ve not heard anything from your friends, little paladin.” The tip of the shock rod presses into the middle of Hunk’s chest, pinning him back against the floor, but, thankfully, not electrocuting him. Hunk’s heart races underneath the pressure anyway, punching against his ribs as if it might jump right out of him. “Perhaps they need another demonstration?”

Hunk had expected this, because he knows that Allura would never give up the lions for him – he would be furious if she did – but it doesn’t stop the awful, hollow pain in his chest, or the dizzy rush of fear. He’s glad he’s lying down, because Hunk suspects that he might pass out if he were standing, and the Galra had stripped him of his helmet before they had dragged him through the ship.

“Hail them.”

The screen flickers into life. Hunk allows himself to look, because he’s not being actively hurt right now. When the camera focusses, only Allura and Coran come into view, standing exactly where they had been, but suddenly four paladins down. Something shifts in Hunk’s chest. He isn’t sure if it’s hope or fear but he clings to the sensation anyway. The Galra smirks, seemingly unconcerned.

“Have you had a chance to consider my offer Princess?” He makes a show of looking around, although the entire bridge of the Castle is visible on the huge screen. “Are your paladins bringing me the lions as we speak?”

Allura looks as calm and regal as ever, but there’s a sharp curve to her lips that sends a little shiver over Hunk’s skin. “They are on their way, Commander.”

A rumble, as if from a distant explosion. The ship rocks beneath Hunk. Allura’s smile grows sharper. “In fact, you should expect them very soon.”

It’s difficult to see the Galra’s face from Hunk’s angle, but he catches the white flash of teeth as he snarls. Feels the press of the shock rod hard enough to bruise against his chest. “You bitch,” the Galra snarls and the shock rod sparks into agonising life.

There’s a crash that Hunk recognises even through the pain, then the electricity coursing through him abruptly cuts off. Hunk gasps for breath, disoriented, vision blurry with tears. Someone’s standing over him, he recognises, with a detached sort of fear. There are legs blocking most of his vision. Hunk can’t tell who they belong to in his strange haze – whether they’re the Galra or the sentries or the paladins – or maybe, he thinks with a little trickle of fear, something worse.

The sound of metal clashing against metal is loud in the small room. Probably here to rescue him, Hunk decides – probably the paladins – and he lets himself slump back against the floor. The legs move away, accompanied by the rhythmic thump of fast footsteps, then there are more footsteps and someone drops to their knees beside him.

“Hunk? Hey, Hunk? Are you OK? Please, please be OK.”

It’s Lance, because of course it is. His voice is thick, as if the words are squeezing out of a swollen throat, as if Lance is trying not to cry, and Hunk lets his head loll to the side to offer Lance a shaky smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” His voice is surprisingly small. He tries clearing his sore throat. Then, stronger: “I’m fine Lance, help me up.”

Hands press his shoulders back against the floor and Hunk’s muscles are still too weak to resist, even though normally he could have easily shrugged Lance off.

“Woah, hold on Hunk – let them –“

He’s cut off by a furious snarl. There’s fighting somewhere nearby, the sounds of a struggle, then a wet thump as the Galra falls to the floor and doesn’t get back up. Hunk flinches without meaning to and Lance’s hand tightens on his shoulder. His face, leaning over Hunk, is tense and surprisingly pale in the purple wash of the Galra ship.

Someone else drops down beside him – Pidge – and Hunk is suddenly painfully aware of the fact that he’s lying on his back beside a pile of his own vomit.

“Seriously guys, I can get up.”

When he shifts upright this time, Lance doesn’t stop him. Pidge tentatively reaches out and presses her own hand to his back, even though there’s probably not much she could do to support him if he really couldn’t sit up under his own power. He offers her a surprisingly solid smile anyway, shaking out his arms as he does it to try to get some feeling back into them.

“See, I’m fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” The legs reappear, and this time Hunk recognises that they’re attached to Shiro. The Black Paladin is smiling, but there’s something tight in his expression that has Hunk’s heart thumping painfully in his chest, something dark and furious in his eyes. “Are you up to walking?”

“Yeah.” It’s a little embarrassing to be the centre of such focussed attention. He shifts, and Keith steps forward to help him up. Hunk feels shaky and lightheaded once he’s finally pulled to his feet. He sways and Lance ducks under his arm automatically to try to steady him. Shiro too, steps forward to grip his other arm. The shock rod is in Shiro’s Galra hand, Hunk notices, with a queasy lurch of his stomach.

Shiro follows his gaze. His face twists and for a moment there’s such breath-taking anger on it that Hunk is honestly a little afraid. Then he tosses the rod away from him with a clatter. Hunk can’t help flinching. Can’t help wondering exactly what Shiro remembers. The Galra had suggested that Shiro had his own experience with the rod – and Shiro’s attitude certainly seems to back that up. It’s not surprising, but Hunk’s mouth tastes bitter with the thought anyway. That electricity had hurt – a lot. Hunk doesn’t particularly like the thought of any of his friends experiencing it.

“Sorry Hunk.” Shiro’s face has smoothed back to his usual neutral expression. Hunk smiles back, but it feels strange on his lips.

“It’s fine. Let’s just get out of here.”

[calcidekudine]

out of my head of my heart of my mind

out of my head of my heart of my mind katsudeku. explicit. part five. also available on ao3. warnings: A/B/o dynamics, blow-jobs, face-fucking, choking, one unexpected moneyshot, and under-negotiation of kinks

.

<< previous | beginning

.

The languid slush of post-orgasmic hormones doesn't stay in Katsuki's blood for long, pushed out by the increasing presence of his heat. He adjusts his dick inside his pants—firmly ignoring the come sticking to his skin—and elbows Izuku away.

"Still?" Izuku says, exasperated yet fond.

Katsuki looks at the other man. His curls are a mess from Katsuki's demanding fingers and the collar of his sweater is askew, pulled away from his neck. It's easy to see the outline of his erection against the placket of his jeans. Something anticipatory and primal trembles in the pit of Katsuki's stomach at the sight.

"Still," replies Katsuki with a smirk—then he's in the air for the last time, holding nothing back as he pushes his body into an unsustainable sprint.

.

It is not far to Katsuki's apartment. He pushes himself to his limit, the one he can reach without hurting himself, and manages to stay just out of Izuku's reach. Exhilaration makes his head feel light and he cannot help the fierce grin that splits his face. Finally, less than two minutes after resuming the chase, Katsuki bursts through the unlocked door of his small home.

His chest heaves. His lungs burn.

Izuku is a breath behind him, slamming the door shut so violently it's a wonder it doesn't break.

Katsuki looks over his shoulder. Izuku is panting heavily and his cheeks are red with exertion. His alpha body chemistry has responded to their brief foray on the rooftop and his pheromone-thick scent floods the foyer. It's a powerful, heady smell, and Katsuki cannot help but pause and inhale deeply.

The hesitation costs him. Izuku's hand fists in the back of Katsuki's sweat-damp t-shirt and he pulls Katsuki to him—

Turns him around—

Catches him.

"Gotcha," Izuku murmurs.

The energy between them is different in Katsuki's tiny entryway than it was outside. There is little natural light and despite it being early afternoon, the angles of Izuku's face are deepened by shadow. Adolescence never rid him of his plain looks or his freckles, but Katsuki has never been concerned about the relative attractiveness of other people. He especially doesn't care about Izuku's looks. There is too much between them for Katsuki to think in such simple terms.

"Kacchan." Izuku's eyes are a green jungle, lush and overgrown. He wets his bottom lip unconsciously, leaving the swell shiny with spit. "Kacchan, I want to kiss you."

"Why the hell are you asking permission?" Katsuki asks.

"Because I want to be sure," Izuku says. His broad palms have found the start of Katsuki's waist—where his ribs taper into muscle—and sink into the curve. "Because I want to hear you say it."

"Thought you were gonna make me beg for it."

"I will," Izuku promises. "After you say I can."

Once, the look on Izuku's face would have pissed Katsuki off. That rose-colored look of hope. Of optimism. Of longing. It was stupid, Katsuki thought. The future belonged to those who took it, not to those who waited.

"Idiot," Katsuki snaps. "Kiss me before I change my mind."

And so Izuku does.

.

Katsuki has never kissed someone while not on suppressants. He has never been with an alpha, either, only a handful of betas and one omega. He expected some difference—Izuku's alpha musk was strong enough to push him into his heat early, after all—but he wasn't expecting this.

Izuku's kiss starts close-mouthed. It is a firm pressure of flesh that sends a disproportionate shock through Katsuki's veins—a sharp jolt that suffuses his awareness—before Izuku tilts his head and opens, just a little. Neither teeth nor tongue prompt Katsuki to respond. It is merely Izuku's intention that Katsuki answers, his lips parting on instinct. His hands come up and clutch Izuku's heavy biceps.

They share a breath. Izuku breaths out while Katsuki breathes in. Izuku touches his tongue to Katsuki's lower lip, small and wet, and pulls back.

Katsuki's blunt nails dig into Izuku's arms. A sound not unlike being punched in the solar plexus escapes him.

"Fuck," Izuku murmurs, his own grip on Katsuki's hips tightening. "Kacchan, you're so—"

"Shuddup," Katsuki grinds out. "Why the hell are you still talking?"

Izuku kisses him again. It starts the same—mouth against shut mouth—and they inhale deeply through their noses. The potency of the action is undiminished and arousal compounds low in Katsuki's gut. It makes him hyperaware of his body: of the hairs raised on the back of his neck, of the drag of cotton against his nipples, of his fully cock pushing out his sweatpants.

Izuku pulls away again.

"What the—" Katsuki snaps. "Deku, if you don't get the fuck on with it—"

"I'll take care of you," Izuku promises. "I just need to—I want to kiss you, but I want to look at you too, and I want to make you feel good. There's just too much and I'm—" Izuku laughs, the sound choked and trembling. "You're so beautiful, Kacchan."

There's a wild look about Izuku that has little to do with his mussed hair and swollen mouth. He hadn't taken care of himself on the rooftop, Katsuki remembers, and his gaze automatically dips down. Izuku is chubbed up against the denim.

"Must be painful." Katsuki eyes flicker back up, and he meets Izuku's almost black stare, his pupils leaving a scant ring of emerald iris. "You're such a fucking idiot."

Katsuki pulls Izuku's hands off his hips and drops to his knees. The hardwood is as unforgiving as it was the night before, when he buried his face in Izuku's shirt and got off, but the irritation is forgotten as the smell of Izuku's want spikes.

"Kacchan, you don't—you don't need to."

"Tch, I know." Katsuki tosses Izuku a smirk. "I want to. So get the fuck over it and undo your pants. Getting that top button is a bitch."

There is a split second of hesitation before Izuku does as he's told. He also unzips, exposing the plain black of his underwear. His thumbs hook into the elastic of his boxer briefs before he hesitates again. Katsuki refrains from rolling his eyes; instead, he wraps his hands around Izuku's wrists and prompts him to continue with a downward tug.

It is not the first time Katsuki has seen Izuku's dick. They were childhood friends, after all, and in the same class for the entirety of their academic careers. But there is a difference between seeing a flash of Izuku's flaccid cock while he changed in and out of his gym clothes, and having it completely erect in front of his face.

"Damn," Katsuki hisses as he greedily takes in the details. The length, the girth, the promising swell of his knot. "You're fucking hung."

Katsuki lets go of Izuku's wrists. Puts one hand against Izuku's trim hip and wraps the other around Izuku's shaft. Izuku lets out a muffled whimper. Katsuki glances up; Izuku's hand, the fingers crooked and scarred, is pressed hard against his mouth. Katsuki grins viciously. Even on his knees—even as the omega—he still feels powerful.

"Oh, Deku," he purrs. "I'm going to destroy you."

.

Katsuki hates omega stereotypes. Sometimes, when he displays a certain behavior or shows a specific preference, people will nod their heads and say, "Well, of course he likes this. He's an omega."

The social expectations for omegas range from subtle to overt. They dictate and reinforce every aspect of Katsuki's life: what he wears and what he eats, who he can date, where he can go, and what he should do. After he presented, he tried too hard to be everything an omega wasn't, and actively denied parts of himself. For years, he didn't eat sweets in public or in private; he only listened to hard, heavy music despite not really liking it; he refused to be polite, never even saying 'please' or 'thank you'; and when he masturbated, he ignored the empty throb of his hole and the slick that ran down his thighs.

It was exhausting pretending to be someone he wasn't. It chafed just as much, if not more, than the pressure to conform. So after years of frustration and persistent anxiety, Katsuki decided to be himself and do whatever he wanted. Unlearning his defensive behaviors wasn't easy, but he was stubborn and persistent. If he wanted to eat an entire pint of ice cream by himself, or relax to ambient chill wave, or show gratitude, or shove Izuku's entire cock down his throat—he was going to do it.

He refuses to do anything else.

.

Izuku is big enough to make Katsuki's jaw ache instantly. He's heavy on his tongue and tastes like musk and sweat. Katsuki holds Izuku just above his unswollen knot and works over his cockhead. There is no finesse; Katsuki makes a vague attempt to keep his teeth covered, but he's mostly focused on getting Izuku wet enough to take.

"Kacchan," Izuku murmurs. He cradles the base of Katsuki's skull in one huge palm and the side of Katsuki's face with the other. The pad of his thumb—scratchy, callused—rests against the wide split of Katsuki's drooling mouth. "This isn't a race."

I know that, dumbass, Katsuki thinks as he sinks further down. He has half of Izuku's cock in his mouth and it's beginning to push at the back of his throat. Just take the fucking hint.

When his lips bump the circle of his hand, Katsuki lets go of Izuku's shaft and forces himself down further. Little by little, Katsuki takes Izuku's dick; and little by little, the uncomfortable sensation of being choked intensifies. It's difficult to breath. Katsuki can feel the muscles in his throat contract involuntarily. His face feels hot. His eyes water. He's dizzy—

Izuku tries to pull away.

Katsuki grabs both of his hips and forces him still. Izuku struggles for a moment, confused, before epiphany hits him and he gasps, "Oh."

Beneath his palms, Katsuki feels the fight drain from Izuku's body. Then, once it has all disappeared, Katsuki allows himself to pull his mouth completely off Izuku's dick and cough. Izuku's hands never leave Katsuki's scalp.

"Are you okay?" Izuku asks quietly.

"Fine," Katsuki snaps.

"Okay." Izuku pauses. "Do you want to stop?"

Izuku's dick is huge and red and wet. His broad chest expands and contracts sharply, as though he's out of breath, and his thighs are twitching with the unconscious need to be closer. Want is strung through every line of his body—yet here he is, letting Katsuki be in control.

Warmth curls in the pit of Katsuki's stomach. It is neither the heady rush of power nor the shock of arousal; it is something else. Trust, maybe, or affection.

"No," Katsuki replies. "I already told you I wanted it." He smirks and flutters his eyelashes and teases, "So please, alpha, won't you breed my pretty mouth?"

The words have their desired effect. Izuku's fingers tighten in Katsuki's hair, and when Katsuki brings Izuku's cock back to his mouth, Izuku pushes in—

And in—

And in—

Until the potential of his knot is hot against Katsuki's lips and Katsuki's throat is so full he can't breathe. The need to gag overwhelms Katsuki; it takes a few seconds of stubborn concentration to deny the reflex, but he manages.

"Good?" Izuku gasps.

Katsuki double taps a thumb against the crest of Izuku's pelvic bone: Go ahead.

Izuku doesn't need more affirmation than that. He begins to roll his hips, pushing his dick in and out of Katsuki's mouth. Slowly, at first, though never shallow, getting down to his knot each time. But Izuku's patience isn't infinite. His pace picks up, harder and faster with every thrust. He grunts with the exertion. Rocks up and down on the balls of his feet. Pulls on Katsuki's hair painfully, unconsciously, as he chases his own pleasure.

It isn't easy, getting face-fucked. Katsuki can't relax into a rhythm when he's being intermittently choked, and he has to constantly battle the need to cough. Combined with the other discomforts—the sting of his eyes, the flood of drool in his mouth, the raw stretch of his throat—Katsuki should hate it.

But he doesn't. He really, really doesn't. He's hard again in his sweats, his heat shortening his refractory period, and he doesn't think as he takes both hands off Izuku's hips and shoves them down his underwear. The relief he feels as he jerks himself off is secondary to the satisfaction of being able to take everything his alpha gives him.

Katsuki's pheromones spike. He can feel how wet he is between his thighs, can smell himself in the still air. It makes Izuku falter, makes him stop with his cock shoved down Katsuki's throat. The heat of Izuku's knot swells against his lips like an obscene kiss.

Suddenly, overwhelming, Izuku's knot is all Katsuki can think about. He feels it pressed against his mouth and wants it deeper—past his teeth, unforgiving on his tongue and hard palate—but he can't. When he tries to push himself further down Izuku's cock, he finds that the growing knot is just too big to fit. Frustration bubbles inside him. Tears spill down his cheeks.

Izuku pulls back, his dick falling out of Katsuki's mouth with a wet pop.

"No," Katsuki snarls. He strains forward to take Izuku's dick back into him and is stopped by an unyielding hand on his throat. He can do no more than watch as Izuku selfishly grabs his knot and squeezes. "Deku—!"

"Kacchan—!" Izuku sobs, and comes on Katsuki's face. It gets in his mouth and on his cheeks and chin. It doesn't taste like much, a little salty, a little bitter, and the thick smell of it floods Katsuki's nose. He's surprised by how much it turns him on; no one in the past has ever dared to mark him like this. None of them had even asked. But Izuku—his alpha—did it as though it were the most natural thing in the world to make Katsuki his.

"Fuck," Katsuki curses, and spills over his own fingers.

.

to be continued >>

.

[conkedinthehead]

Kai, Alone

Kai wipes his forehead, splinters and dust smearing across the sweat there as Kai blinks at the stinging moisture trying to creep into his eyes. His eyes, they burn; he's been awake longer than he wants to think about, longer than he really should, but still he carefully lifts the next piece of wood in place and shifts it precisely, lining it up perfectly with the pre-drilled holes in preparation for fastening it together. Several finished cabinets rest on the floor behind him, still unwrapped; he'll check them all, doing last touchups before packing them carefully, when he finishes the last ones. But for now he grabs his level, checking that the structure is even and square.

Kai's muscles ache, his hands near to cramping. He's thirsty, too, but he knows without looking that everyone in the house will be asleep, that if he goes in now he's liable to wake at least his father, which he doesn't want to do. He's already begged off two meals, pleading necessary speed to finish this project before the end of the week. In truth, he's far ahead of where he needs to be. But I can deliver them tomorrow, if I finish, he thinks, straightening tiredly before reaching for his driver, resting near him on the floor. They'll be happy to have them early. And then I can— can do something else. His mind stutters awkwardly over the what, clearing it uneasily and quickly sweeping it into a dark corner of his mind before he bends again over the cabinet, power tool whirring loudly.

Several hours later Kai straightens for the last time. His back is complaining at him, and his mouth is pasty-dry, sticky and sour with long-delayed thirst. The cabinets are all finished, double- and triple-checked, and made perfectly sound and perfectly level, each piece carefully and precisely slotted in place. Kai's hands are nicked and scraped, his arms dusted with curly wood shavings and grit, his forehead smeared with grease and his eyes tired but relieved that this task is done. He blinks and looks up at the sound of the door opening, eyes struggling to focus on the figure there. His heart skips a beat— but, "Dad," he says softly, his voice welcoming but with an oddly sad note, warming quickly so as to hide the betrayal. "Hi. Good morning, I guess." He looks over at the small windows; the light has indeed grown, and he lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck tiredly, his sweat-stained shirt sticking to his body uncomfortably.

Dan's eyebrows go up at the sight of the finished cabinets, lined up pristine and tidy on the floor, every one finished. "Good morning," he says mildly, then, "Hungry?"

Kai shakes his head, not even taking time to think. "Not really." His stomach groans in protest, but he ignores it. "I just want to finish these, wrap them up so I can bring them over this morning."

Dan's eyebrows go down at that, and he looks at his son with a slight worried frown. "They're due?" he asks briefly, a real question in his voice. Kai winces at the mild reproof and answers after only a slight hesitation.

"Well, no, but, if I get them to them, they can install them faster, you know? And it's good to be moving, out and doing something." He rests a hand on the nearest cabinet, its surface smooth and even.

Dan watches his son with mixed compassion and worry shading slowly across his face, and he says quietly, "Come eat anyway. Keep me company."

Kai swallows a little sickly, but then forces his mouth into a smile that softens into a real one when he focuses on his dad. "Okay," he says softly, then, "Do you want me to clean up first?"

Dan looks at his son again with a hard-to-read expression, then says, "Sure. Take a little, I'll get coffee started." Kai nods with a stronger smile and straightens, his back popping and lungs expanding at the motion.

"Oof. Sounds good." He pauses next to his dad, wanting to pat his arm but stymied by his filthiness.

Dan has no such hesitation as he brings his own hand up to pat his son on the back. "Get clean. I'll see you."

Kai nods, then makes his way out of the detached garage and into the growing light. He notices with surprise that it's later than he thought—no longer the light of pre-dawn, but the vibrant gold of growing day. He clatters carelessly up the stairs and into the bathroom, stripping efficiently and turning on the stream of water. As it starts to steam, he looks at his reflection in the mirror: grimy face, serious and with notes of sadness around the eyes, restless expression, lines of tiredness tugging at the corners. Wreathing steam coils around him and grabs his attention, and he steps into the hot water thankfully, hissing at the heat and stinging and letting the water sluice away his thoughts and distractions.

As Kai comes down, his mind is refreshingly exhausted and blank. He flops down in a chair just as Dan pours the second cup of coffee, picking it up to hand to him as Kai murmurs an appreciative, "Thank you." The nutty-rich flavor floods over his tongue, scraping it clean of stickiness with its astringency, and landing in his stomach with a palpable thud. Dan's already put down a plate in front of him; Kai wants to protest, but it's just toast and jam, and with a suppressed queasy look he picks it up and nibbles. It soothes his stomach like a hand smoothing a rumpled comforter, and he sighs and relaxes, taking a larger bite and sipping coffee.

Dan sits down opposite to him and quietly starts eating his own breakfast, his eyes fixed on his son. Kai gets most of the way through his breakfast before belatedly wishing that the coffee in his hand was tea, green tea. It usually sits more smoothly on his insides, and he lifts his head, mouth open to ask— But then the memories flood back, all the memories he'd been hedging out with cabinets and plans and wrapping and deliveries, meticulous motions covering great force of distraction in his mind, now stripped away. He can't take another bite, another swallow, his throat suddenly clogged with tears, and he drops his head, lip trembling, trying to swallow the feelings away into silence. The silence echoes, and he realizes dully that Dan must have noticed, must have seen; but even that thought can't catch the tears that have already forced themselves out, dotting the plate and the table with betraying wetness.

Kai startles when his dad's hand comes to rest on his shoulder, gripping gently but firmly, supportive. "'m sorry— Dad—" he forces out, but can't speak more. His father's response is to stand and come to his side, hugging him without reserve, without expectation. Kai leans against his dad in the hug, sobs crowding in his throat, but stuck, he refuses to release them. He swallows them, sick with effort, and scrubs the back of a wrist across his face. His dad's hold is calming, but the loneliness in his chest makes him feel like he's being torn into pieces. "'nks," he whispers, then more strongly, trying to stand. "I— I'll— I need to finish—" He'll go back out to the garage, bury himself in the project so deeply that he can't remember, won't remember, won't feel anything but satisfaction in his work. It's the only thing to do, but—

Dan's grip doesn't release him. "Kai," he says softly but with velvet-wrapped iron in his tone. "Go sleep. You have to sleep."

Kai wilts in his grip. "I, I'm not—" tired, but he is, he's nearly falling now that he's standing, head spinning. "I don't—" need it, but he does, he can barely think, and his hands are shaking, now. "I had c-coffee," he says, then looks up at his dad, trying to smile. Dan's expression is gentle but intent, and he shakes his head.

"Decaf. If I have to walk you there myself I will." He means it. Kai can see it in his eyes. But he can't face the thought of that bed, their bed, his bed, the empty bed, going in the room to see absolutely nothing unexpected there—

"I, I c-can't sleep there, Dad," he whispers, then lowers his face, ashamed. Dan's grip tightens, and Kai doesn't resist, but his father's hands are gentle as they come to turn him and propel him toward the room opposite.

"The couch is fine." Dan's voice is pragmatic, and Kai lets out his breath. The couch is a little better, they, they didn't, well, rarely slept there— He pauses in involuntary surprise as he sees that his dad has already laid down sheets, a blanket, and a pillow. His father's hands release him, and he turns his head to see his dad watching him with a worried look.

Kai finds he's really smiling, though once again his burning eyes are swimming, and he impulsively steps forward and hugs his father, voice thick. "Thank you," he mutters, then yawns helplessly, his jaw near to splitting. "W-wake me… in… not too long," he mumbles, sitting abruptly on the soft surface and fumbling his socks off, his feet delightfully cool as he swings them up under the soft sheet. "I haf'ta… d'liver those. Today."

Dan watches his son's eyes close, then gently tucks the blanket in and around him. "Don't fret," he says quietly, then brushes a gentle hand over his boy's smooth forehead where sleep has already wiped away his stress and sadness, relaxed into exhausted repose. Dan stands there a moment more, watching his eldest son freed of his efforts to flee his memories, then runs an absent hand through his hair, leaving it standing up every which way. As he goes out his eyes are thoughtful and sad, and he heads upstairs to sternly tell his younger sons not to trample around like elephants, for their brother's sake. It's hard to watch, this. He glances into Kai's room—it's quiet and empty, almost blank and deserted-feeling, and he sighs again, his eyebrows drawing together in worried determination before he knocks on his other sons' door.

Kai sleeps, and sleeps. He sleeps dreamlessly, which is a blessing, at least in the beginning; empty quiet, calm, healing. But as the light shifts angle and slants through the crack in the curtains, he begins to dream; strange worlds, weird sights, sounds and tastes unlike any on Earth. But there's always a constant, a flash of blue, or is it brown? Definitely brown, those eyes, and warm, and with eyelashes as soft and long as a wren's wing, and laughing lips and a face so alive, and when the eyes land on him and crinkle with delight Kai opens his mouth to laugh, joy filling him—

Kai opens his eyes, his expression amazed and delighted. But as consciousness seeps in, the color seeps out of his face, and he sags back against the couch and drags his sleeve over his eyes, trying not to cry. Alone. Still alone. Only alone… He's doing everything he can, but it's pulling him apart, piece by piece, until he doesn't have anything left. At least I can still work. I can, I can still build. I can make something…

Something that isn't a relationship, whispers his traitorous mind, and he chokes, not breathing for a moment before the tears start and he rolls to bury his face in the couch pillow, drowning again in the sadness and solitude, his hands empty. He has to push through. It's all he can do. He can't stay here like this; and God knows he can't go back, he can never go back… Kai swallows hard, then lets the tears flow for a while, his heart aching. I'll try. I'll keep trying. Just a little longer, and a little longer still. Things, things have to get better. They have to…