#it was so much easier to see him for what he was when watching from the outside instead of through the lens of his own narration

[moonlight-prose]

a request, if i may, of praising old man logan as he filfthly eats you out and it makes him combust the more you praise him? okay running away again

speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life

a/n: look at him taking off his glasses in absolute shock of this ask- no okay does old man logan have a praise kink? i would raise it higher and say every version of logan has a massive praise kink. this is a man who wants to know he's doing good in life. his love language is acts of service so he might get to hear a pretty thank you. also i'm not sorry for how feral this got. i have no explanation.

summary: he knew he loved you when your words begin to piece his heart back together. he knew he loved you when he flourishes at your praise. he knew he loved you when nothing in this world could matter but the sound of your voice telling him you love him too.

word count: 3k+

pairing: old man!logan x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), praise kink, logan is obsessed, dirty talk via reader, he is so pretty when he blushes, manhandling, cumplay, cumeating, overstimulation, crying, he's needy in this one, angst, tortured soul of an old man, reverence, religious trauma + greek mythology hints.

He can feel the strings of fate pull tight around his broken heart. In a failed attempt to draw him back together. To piece together an organ that barely beat for him anymore. He might have felt it once, before it broke. Before it gnarled itself like the branches of a dying tree, one half twisting away from the other in a desperate attempt of survival.

He deemed it a useless part of his body until you came along. You with your smile that held enough cloying sweetness to choke him as he stood helpless. Silently begging for you to say his name. To bring him back to life.

Whatever horrors that plagued his mind—endless nightmares that promised nothing but anguish—suddenly came crashing to a halt at the sight of you. So pretty in your denim jeans and velvet top. An angel seated in the center of a bar that held more filth than you deserved to be near. Logan couldn’t fathom that luck struck him this hard.

Not when death had already claimed his soul; notched yet another tally in the endless wall of people that came before.

He felt the dirt pack under his nails as he clawed his way out of the grave he put himself in. Years spent alone—a man lost to the ravages of time—had turned him bitter. With rough edges and biting words that stung far more than he intended. How could he believe he deserved to live after he contributed so much to the endless pool of blood that tainted his soul? How was he allowed such softness after biting off bits of brutality his whole life?

Logan was pretty sure he survived on borrowed time that had already run out. He could feel death breathe down his neck as the days went on. A reminder that what little of his life remained would be spent suffering. And he found that accepting it was easier than battling against the will of God, or whoever toyed with his lifeline.

It was far easier to die than find a reason to live.

Until you said his name.

Softly. Sweetly. Reverence wrapped in a tight grasp of need.

You brought him back from the edge—took his hand and refused to take no for an answer. You and the safety of your touch; the promise in your kiss. You dragged him into a life he didn’t earn; one that almost tasted too sweet—too sour.

After near a decade of being buried beneath the dirt, he felt himself collapse above ground and suck in his first real gasp of fresh air. Alive, once more. Hell spit him out with a vow of love and who was he to argue against it.

His fingers dug into your plush thighs, tugging them open to see what lay between. He marveled at their softness, eyes wide and awestruck at the sight of you spread beneath him. You practically glowed in the dim light of the bedside table. Yellow, musty, yet angelic when it caressed your body with its heavenly touch.

He wondered if this was real life; your nails digging sharply into his shoulders gave him the answer.

"Logan," you sighed, voice high with need.

The strings pulled taught. A vice like hold that drew him to you.

Maybe that's what this unutterable feeling was. The gnawing pit at the bottom of his heart. A greed he'd never indulged before—too afraid of what it might ask for next. He wasn't a man who asked for much. Rather someone that found himself far too content with nothing. But tonight he found his lips forming the words of a false prayer that his mother taught him as a child.

Hail the angel in his bed. Hail every good fucking thing you brought into his life.

His teeth sunk into your thigh, body jolting at your responding moan. Fingers dug into his hair, tugging at the mussed locks with a high pitched whine. You were a needy little thing, but Logan found he desperately wanted to be needed.

He smiled laving his tongue over the tender spot, working his way up to where you dripped for him.

So slick. So perfect.

Saliva filled his mouth. "What do ya want baby?"

Your chest heaved; he could feel the heat of your body under his palms. "Your m-mouth Logan."

His eyes trailed along your brow covered in a sheen of sweat. The room was thick with the humid air of the outside world. But that didn't deter him from craving your skin near his. The pressure of your thighs around his head a welcome weight. If he sunk his teeth in where the curve of your leg met your hip he knew he could draw out that soft choking noise he longed to hear on days spent driving alone.

If he had his way he'd crawl into you to seek your serenity straight from the source. He'd never divulge about the ache that chewed him up on the inside, but Logan wondered if you knew. Could you tell how much he craved you? How much he couldn't live without you.

When your glittering eyes met his, the resolve he spent years building cracked like glass. You peered into him as if he was a stained glass window. A god you were more than happy to worship.

"You want me to lick this pretty pussy?" Fuck, he sounded drunk off your taste already.

His mouth hovered over your throbbing clit, your scent now filling his senses. Overwhelming him with what he wanted most. But he needed to hear it. The lilt of your begging; the soft echo of your need that washed over him like soothing river water.

He couldn't live without it.

"Yes," you sobbed, thigh twitching.

The string sliced his heart open, blood pooling onto the white bed sheets. Oh what a sweet death your love made. Oh...what a bittersweet way to go.

He'd die right now if you asked him to. Hand over his heart on a silver platter if you so wished it. Maybe that made him far too gone for his own good, but Logan couldn't remember a time in his life where he got this. Safety. The hope of love burning far too bright and far too hot for him to fly near it.

Yet there he was. Icarus happily soaring in your sun like glow.

"I got ya honey," he murmured. "Gonna take care of what's mine."

You nodded frantically—tears welling up in your eyes. "You take care of me Logan."

The breath in his chest stuttered, eyes dark as the words fell past your swollen lips. He wanted to explain why his cock twitched against his stomach. Why he now leaked into the sheet with heavy panted breaths. But every time he came up short with the words needed to form an answer.

"Yeah I do sweetheart," he breathed. "Don't I?"

"Uh-huh."

"Take care of what belongs to me."

There was no warning when his hands dragged you closer with a rough tug, mouth closing over your clit with a desperate suck. A cry wrenched from your mouth, sparks sharply traveling down your spine. He licked through your slick with a growl. Hands an unbreakable press against your thighs.

The sight of your body bowed, mouth open for small gasped breaths that never came, snapped something in his mind. He was an old man. Well past his years. But the taste of your pussy along his tongue brought back a ferocity he often tamped down in his younger age. He felt the feral want claw at his chest, and answered it with a broken snarl.

Swallowing down every drop you gave him, he plunged his tongue into your entrance, thrusting messily until a smear of your shiny slick began to coat his mouth. It covered his cheeks and clung to the hair of his beard. He'd clean it out later, taste you on his tongue until he was aching for another go. But for now he was preoccupied with the way you cried for him.

"Oh fuck!" Your thighs trembled over his shoulders, hips canting down to drag yourself along his tongue. "So good."

He shuddered, eyes rolling back at the sound of your praise. You caught it within seconds, lips pulling into a breathless smile that left him gasping for air. His teeth nipped at your thigh briefly as his hips ground into the mattress below.

"You like that baby?" you breathed, thumb smearing your own slick against his cheek.

Something hot washed over his body. A needy sick and twisted ache that he'd never indulged in before. He wanted to be a good man to you; longed to be needed. And fuck if you didn't give him everything.

You were his walking wet dream. His future handed off and wrapped in a neat little bow.

"L-Love your tongue Logan-" A high gasp tore from your throat when he dived back in. Slurping at your clit with a heady moan as you dragged him closer. "Taking care of me so well."

His hips canted down into the bed, fucking his cock along the warmth of his stomach, as you gushed into his mouth again. Eyes zeroed in on your face, pupils dilated as he growled into your flesh. You no longer could see the man you loved, but the feral side he tamped down during the day. The animal he longed to release in your presence.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum."

His arms looped around your thighs and with a sharp yank, he had his face buried deep enough to suffocate himself. You sobbed an incoherent version of his name. Nails clawed at his shoulders, but Logan could feel the pulse of your clit under his tongue.

He sucked it into his mouth with a grunt, rolling it along his tongue as you trembled with the oncoming shocks of an orgasm that threatened to destroy you.

Tears dripped down your cheeks and Logan felt the satisfying part of his heart begin to stitch itself back together. The strings were tight enough to numb his pain. To quell the flare of agony.

That used to be all he knew, all he counted on most days. When there was nothing left and he'd propped the shovel in the dirt—his grave open and waiting—he stumbled right into your arms. He found his reason for living.

Heat curled around his spine as you shook with the impending orgasm—the stimulation on your clit practically debilitating. He grunted into your soaked flesh, eyes narrowed as he chased the release that pulled his stomach taut. But this wasn't for him to indulge in; this wasn't his pleasure.

So with a throaty moan you felt reverberate along your body, he scraped his teeth along your clit and watched as your body went stiff.

"Logan!" you cried, fingers scrambling for purchase on any part of him you could reach.

You gushed into his awaiting mouth, praises of it's so good, you're so good falling upon his ears like the whimpered prayers of a devout worshiper thanking your god.

"Taste so fuckin' good," he mumbled, drunk on what you gave him.

He didn't care that you were jolting with each pass of his tongue along your pussy. He didn't care that you were shocked with overstimulation, small broken cries of his name muffled by the press of your thighs against his ears. He licked at you until he couldn't breathe. Buried his tongue into your twitching entrance and sucked out your cum with a happy hum.

"P-Please." You tugged at his hair, pulling him off you with a sob. "I-I can't anymore Logan."

"'M not fuckin' finished," he said, eyes glazed and face coated in your slick.

You made a mess of his face. The light catching along where you spilled into his mouth and along his throat. And still he wanted more. He'd spend hours between your thighs, burning your skin with his beard, if it meant he could divulge in your sweetness.

"It hurts-"

A grunt rumbled in his chest, his arms tugging you back even as your feet kicked along his back. "Just one more honey. Yeah?"

You shook your head. "B-But-"

"Thought you said it was good."

"It is."

"Then lemme be good for you." He wanted to tell you that the world went quiet between your thighs. That all his grief, all his pain, lessened when you sobbed his name.

He wanted to show you the string that looped his heart to yours—the only thing keeping him alive—and thank you for bringing him back from the dead. But words weren't his forte. Violence had become the only tenderness he knew and you didn't deserve the rough edges of an old man. You should have more.

But when you let him touch you like this—caress your skin and lick between your folds—he felt as if he was a man who finally was worthy of someone as precious as you. He could pretend he didn't bear the brunt of a fucked up soul.

The weight on his chest lifted when your tear filled gaze met his and you nodded. Small, barely there, but it was enough for him to seal his mouth back over you with a ragged moan. Your body shook as his tongue slid through the seam of your pussy. The tip nudging against your clit—careful to draw the pleasure from your body slowly.

He didn't want to give you pain. His heart wouldn't survive that. But he was a broken man; someone who begged for more even as his teeth sunk into what was already given.

You were his meal. His sacrament in the midnight hours until dawn broke across the darkened sky. You were the other half of his soul.

How could he not indulge in your sweetened tang until his tongue went stiff?

"I love you," you sighed, eyes rolled back when he sucked at your pussy, a wet low moan echoing in the air. "My p-perfect husband."

The cold press of his wedding band against your thigh drove him over the edge. You weren't officially married. Didn't have the backyard wedding with a preacher to match. But Logan had placed a ring on your finger near a year ago, sliding one over his own with the vow of forever cemented in his words.

Even if that didn't mean much in the eyes of a god who abandoned him near a century ago.

"Oh-"

Your head tipped back, mouth dropping open as his fingers dipped into your wet heat. Thrusting lazily until he found the spongey patch along your walls—driving the pad of his middle finger into it with a needy moan.

He knew it wouldn't take long for you to fly off the edge of a second release. That didn't make watching you climb to that peak any less satisfying. The sight appeased his soul. It gave him a chance to breathe; let him know that after so much bad—after so much pain—he could do something good. He could bring you to the edge of pleasure and drag you over again and again.

He could finally be the man you believed he was.

Not the animal they created.

"C'mon," he muttered. Eyes fixed on the shape of your breasts as your body curved off the bed. Hips dragging along his face with a stunted cry.

A wail bounced off the walls, piercing his eardrums with the symphony of your cries. His fingers rapidly pumped into you with a squelch that had heat burning his cheeks—lips pulling your throbbing clit into his mouth as you broke. The climax slammed into you; battering your already swollen pussy.

Logan could feel his cock swell at the sight.

"Fuckin' perfect," he grunted, teeth bared as he clambered to his knees and wrapped his fist soaked in your slick around his leaking cock. "'M gonna cum sweetheart."

Your eyes fluttered open, fingers digging into his thigh. "Please. Wanna see it baby. Look so pretty when you cum Logan."

His chest tightened, body shaking while you watched in rapture as he fucked his fist rapidly. He wouldn't fucking last, could feel the burning consume his body, but something held him back. The string around his heart yanked him away from the edge, tearing a cry from his throat when his frustration peaked.

You could see it—the glimmer of need in his dark eyes. This wasn't the first time he longed for your words. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

So you spread your legs and sat up slowly—arms wrapping around his shoulders to bring his lips down to yours. A soft moan was muffled by your mouth; the peak of his release within reach. He could practically feel the tips of his fingers graze it.

"Cover my pussy baby," you mumbled into his mouth. "Be good for me and mark what's yours."

The growl came from the very bottom of his chest when he finally came. Your name was a bitten out snarl pressed to your mouth in an open mouth kiss as he spurted over his knuckles. He pumped his cock to milk every drop; eyes fixed on the way it covered the swollen lips of your pussy. Dripping down to your entrance that fluttered at the sight of his sweaty and crimson tinged face.

"I fuckin' love ya honey," he murmured, hand cupping your chin to drag your lips back to his. "Best thing that's happened in my life is you."

You smiled, thumbs pressing to his cheeks. "Love you too Logan."

Clutching you close, he felt the string go loose. The breath finally rushing back into his lungs at the sight of your eyes glowing with the kind of light that brought him back to the first day The night he met you in that shitty bar—alcohol the only thing on his mind until he saw you.

The night you spoke his name over his covered grave and dragged him back to life with a smile.

[luveline]

hi jade!!! i would love to see a poly!marauders fic where they help r fall asleep please! absolutely no pressure at all just a suggestion ofc <3

“Why so moody?” 

You rub at your eyes, standing just behind the sofa. You’d been frowning when James spotted you, not wanting to ask. “I can’t…”

“What?” Sirius asks. 

Remus perks up from beside him. 

Three sets of eyes makes it worse and somehow better. Sometimes it’s easier to only tell one of them when you have a problem, but sometimes you need all of them to know. “I can’t sleep again. Are you coming to bed soon?” 

And listen, four people in one bed is insane but occasionally you manage it. Most of the time you sleep with James, less often Remus. You and Sirius tend to be incompatible while you sleep, because he grabs you around the neck and face for hugging and you wake up with sweat pouring off of you, blind. 

Perhaps that’s why he offers first and emphatically. “I’ll come to bed with you, darling,” Sirius says, a picture of concern as he stands. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong, I’ve just tossed and turned for half an hour and I can’t take much more of it.” 

“She’s going insane,” Remus comments with a severe frown. 

Sirius helps him onto his feet. James, never one to be left out, turns off the television and gathers his throw blanket. “Not on my watch.” 

“Wait, I’m sorry. You don’t have to get up,” you say, wringing your hands behind your back. You hadn’t meant to summon them all to bed. You’d just wanted to know when you could expect an end to your agony. 

“Oh, well,” James begins, wrapping the throw blanket around your shoulders, “too late for that. Will you warm my side for me? I’ll lock up.” 

You feel shyer than you’d thought, shuffling back to the bedroom. Sirius’ hand finds your lower back as he enters the room from behind you, encouraging you gently to the side as he goes for the other. You’d left the sheets in disarray, the lamp on. James’ room is messy as always, but it’s your fault as you live from it most days. Remus is immediately put off by the overflowing dresser, closing each drawer with a shush over the runners. 

Sirius makes the bed, peeling back a corner for you. “Here, lovely. Climb in.” 

“I didn’t mean for you to wait on me,” you say shyly, embarrassed at their attention.

“There’s nothing I like doing more.” 

“He’s in a mood,” Remus says, though you’d guessed that already. “Enough room for me, too?” 

“‘Nough room for everyone,” you murmur, rounding Sirius to climb into bed as instructed. 

You and Remus end up in the middle of the bed, thankful for James’ sense of reality —everybody knew when you moved in together that the separate bedrooms wouldn’t last, but only James had the wherewithal to buy a very large bed. You’re immediately comforted by having one of them next to you, and Remus is very kind about it, asking in a murmur if he can cwtch you, wrapping his arm around your chest like you’re in danger of breaking from his touch. 

Sirius is less polite, but not less caring. If he thought you didn’t want him to touch you he certainly wouldn’t, but he knows he can hug you pretty much whenever he wants. He presses his nose to your face, Remus’ against your shoulder, the three of you deflating after a long day never quite this close to each other. You can feel a day’s worth of back ache leeching in your mattress. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. 

“Ooh, for what?” Sirius asks. 

“Making you come to bed.” 

“Didn’t make us do anything.” His breath warms your cheek as he talks. “It’s late. We would’ve been in bed soon.” 

It’s true enough. Everyone is in their pyjamas, Sirius smells like toothpaste. Still, you feel guilty for asking. And yet… you can finally relax now they’re here. It’s like they know exactly what’s been keeping you awake. Remus had cleaned and now holds your chest, Sirius reassures you and calms your stomach with his palm. 

James gets one good look at you all and rolls his eyes. “I asked you to do one thing for me. Jesus. Babe, could you move over?” he asks Remus, not giving him the time to comply before he’s in bed and smushing everyone even closer together. “This is fun. Sleepover!” 

“Just don’t start climbing on me again, Jamie,” Remus says. 

You close your eyes. “Don’t worry, they’ll chill out soon,” Sirius promises in a whisper. 

“Kiss?” you whisper back. 

Three different boys attempt to kiss you in the dimly lit bedroom. All the fuss doesn’t help you sleep, but knowing how much they care about you definitely does. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bad Guy 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The men your mother brings home rarely stick around, but her latest catch can't seem to unhook himself from your life.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Note: I'm going to a physio today for the first time.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The house is quiet as you come out of your room. The single floor is just enough room for you and your mom. You’ve never needed much else and all your life, you’ve made do with what you have. It’s just the way it is.

You stretch your arms and arch your spine as you stop in the doorway of the kitchen. You yawn. You fell asleep reading outdated discussions about your most recent syndicated obsession. You should know better by now, that thorn in your neck is only driving deeper. 

You bend at the elbows to rub your neck and drag your feet over the cold tile. Your nipple poke rigidly against your cropped tank top and goosebumps raze up your bare thighs. You open the fridge and pull out the bottle of orange juice, your panties riding up with your movement.  

Before you can stand straight, a sharp strikes snaps against your ass and radiates through your flesh. You yipe and grip the bottle by the neck as you jump and turn to face the culprit. The strange man stares back, his brows twitching. 

“Mm, you’re not Gail,” he mutters. 

“No, I’m not,” you press the juice to your chest, overly aware of your barely covered body.  

You don’t ask who he is. You stopped doing that in middle school. She’s another one of her ‘callers’. You don’t usually see them more than once, if at all. Most leave before you’re awake. 

“Was takin’ a piss, heard you skittering around, thought...” he trails off into a shrug. 

He’s shirtless too. He only wears a pair of briefs as he stands shameless before you. A dark tattoo covers half his chest and extends around his shoulder and down his arm. It’s the typical snake and skull aesthetic sported by men like him. 

“Nope,” you reach for the fridge door and step to the side as you close it.  

He doesn’t move. You go to dip around him and he moves with you. 

“Taking all that with you?” He points at the bottle. You look down and sigh. You push it towards him. “Here.” 

He puts his hand under it and you let go. You skirt around his other side and squeeze through the door behind him. You don’t look back as you flee to your room. You resist the urge to reach back and cover the bottom of your ass, not wanting to draw attention to it if he is watching. 

You shut your bedroom door and cringe. Great. You can’t really complain. Your mother hasn’t kicked you out. Yet. Not like half your friends’ parents. She just asks for half the rent and you can manage that. With the rent around here, you’d be on the street otherwise. 

You cross the room and flop on the bed. You pull out your phone and go back to scrolling the old discussion boards. It’s funny. The more recent posts are totally contrary to the ones when the show aired. You’re not sure who you agree with. 

You roll onto your back and drop your phone to the mattress. You have to work at noon. So much for a relaxing morning. You’ll just be hiding in your room until that man leaves. 

A knock jerks you up and you roll your eyes. You search the floor and pull on the wrinkly pajama bottoms. You go to the door and crack it open an inch. It’s him. 

“Uh, hi?” You utter dully. 

“Got you a glass,” he offers one of the cups in his hands. You squint at it then look him in the face. 

“Thanks?” You go to take it but he doesn’t let go as you wrap your fingers around the cold glass.  

“There a problem?” He asks. 

“Uh, no,” you scrunch your nose. “I said thanks.” 

“I don’t like your tone.” 

You let go of the glass and retract your hand. His eyes flick down and yours do too. The white tank does little for your modesty. You cross your arms. 

“Okay? Well, never mind,” you go to close the door and he steps forward, digging his elbow into the wood as he blocks you with his body. 

“Your mom said you’re a nice girl,” he looks you up and down again. “Coulda fooled me walking around like that.” 

You frown. It’s your house. Why should you worry about what you’re wearing? Besides, if you knew he was there, then you wouldn’t wander around in your panties. 

“Thanks for the orange juice but you should just give it to my mom. That’s why you’re here,” you shrug. 

He scoffs. “Got a smart mouth.” 

“No, I—I didn’t do anything.” 

“There you go again. Disrespectful.” 

“Huh?” You shake your head in confusion. 

“That way you talk. Low and flat, like you don’t give a fuck. Maybe you don’t. Would explain why you’re grown living in your mommy’s house,” he mockingly pouts. 

You blink, “you don’t know me.” 

“I know girls like you. Pretending like they don’t care. You care. We both know you do.” He moves a glass closer, “say thank you. Like you mean it.” 

“I don’t want it,” you insist. 

“Don’t want to waste it. Was it you or mommy who paid for the bottle?” He taunts. 

You grit your teeth. What is his problem? Why won’t he just leave you alone? 

You deflate. You really just want him to go. You look at the ceiling then back to him. He’s the kind of man you would avoid on the street. His blue eyes are as cold as ice and his hair is shaved, but a little longer on top, and he sports a goatee amid the short stubble on his jaw and cheeks. 

“Thank you,” you reach for the glass again. 

“Thank you, sir,” his voice grizzles as he corrects you. 

You steel yourself and your lips slant. You really just want him to tell him to fuck off but like you always do, you don’t say what you think. You keep it inside. Put on that face that keeps you safe. 

“Thank you, sir,” you repeat after him. 

“Now smile,” he demands. 

You flinch and look away. You take a breath. That’s you’re least favourite, when they tell you to smile. It happens often at your job and it always sours your day. 

You force a smile. 

“Come on, you can do better,” he snickers. 

Your cheeks tremble and your smile falls. You tuck your chin down. 

“Can you please just leave me alone?” You mumble. 

“Excuse me, girl? I can’t hear you.” 

“I said...” your throat locks up and your eyes singe. God! When you get angry, you don’t get bold, you just get teary. You hate it. “I said ‘thank you, sir’.” 

You grab the glass so abruptly that it sloshes over the side. You don’t stop, you just spin and throw your weight against the door. He lets it close and it slams. You spill most of the juice down your front. 

You hear the friction of his fingers dragging down the wood. It sends a chill through you. You slowly pull away and put the glass down, juice dripping down your arms and chest. 

He’ll be gone soon, just like the rest. 

💀

Your mom’s still asleep when you leave for work. As you sneak out of your room, you listen for any sign of life.  If the man’s there, he doesn’t make himself known. You step into your shoes and leave through the front door without looking back. 

You head down the street with your earbuds in, a podcast about an old show you watched in high school droning on, as you take the shortcut behind the house at the end of the street. It’s almost four blocks to work but you save money on bus fare. You try to only waste the change after dark. 

The ice cream shop is never very busy outside of the post-soccer game crowds. You take your vigil behind the cold counter and bob along with the radio station’s Top 10 countdown. Miley leans in the corner by the till as she chews gum and scrolls through her phone. 

You’re fidgety to do the same, but you hate just letting your eyes glaze over. You pace a bit back and forth until her shift is up. When she’s gone, you feel a little less on edge. You always prefer being alone, you don’t have to worry about performing. 

Customers come and go. You greet them with the usual ‘how can I help?’ You’ve never been very good at the customer service part but you’re not rude. You just do your job, which it to scoop ice cream and toss some sprinkles around. 

You’re entitled to one cone a shift. You rarely have it. You don’t need the extra sugar or the brain freeze. That day, as you close up, the chocolate peanut butter entices you to go outside your routine. You put the lids on all the canisters except for that flavour and do yourself up a waffle cone before you lock up. 

You lick the softening cream and turn to face the dark plaza, lit only by the overhead marquee. There’s a car idling just by the curb. You ignore it. A few neighbouring businesses close up around the same time. 

The engine revs, and it jolts forward. The horn nearly has you throwing your cone. You fall back into step and keep walking. The Trans Am continues to follow you and honks again. The window rolls down as someone whistles. Only your name stops you. 

You turn and bend to see through the window. What the heck? It’s him. The man that invaded your house and threatened you over orange juice. 

You exhale through your nose and stand up. You turn down the pavement and keep going. The bus will be there any moment. 

“Hey,” he barks, “get back here.” 

You keep going. Why is he there? Because of the orange juice? 

The car door opens and closes. You speed up as you hear him following you. 

“Your mom sent me to pick you up,” he says. 

You snort, “sure she did.” 

“Really,” he says as his footsteps echo yours. 

“She doesn’t even know when I work,” you keep going and he catches your arm, yanking you back. 

You spin to face him and yelp. Your scoop shifts precariously in the cone. You try to pull away but not too hard as you selfishly want to keep your treat intact.��

“Alright. I offered. I heard you leave. Figured you could use a lift.” He squeezes and you whimper. “I can be a nice guy.” 

Can be. 

You wince and flutter your lashes, “can you let me go... please?” 

He opens his fingers sharply and lifts his hand, showing his palm. “Since you said please...” 

You look over your shoulder then back at him. Finally, you glance at your cone. You weigh your options. You’re not a quick runner. 

“I appreciate the ride but--” 

“I appreciate the ride, sir. Like I said, I can be nice, but respect is earned, girl.” 

You swallow tightly, cheeks pinching. 

“Sir, I appreciate the ride but I have money for the bus--” 

He clucks and points over your shoulder, “that bus?” 

You turn and watch the headlights blow by the stop. You flick your eyes to the sky and face him again. “Mmhmm.”” 

“So, is that a ‘thank you, sir’ on your lips?” He challenges. 

You slant your lips back and forth. You fight back a wave of hot frustration. You’re used to feeling powerless but he is suffocating. You nod. 

“Thank you, sir,” you choke out. 

“See, not that hard to be a good girl.” 

He waits until you move. You head back towards his car, and he gets in the driver side. As you claim the passenger seat, he huffs. He looks at you as you try not to acknowledge him. 

“Don’t like food in the car. Try not to get it all over,” he snarls. 

“I can--” 

“Just be careful,” he snips. 

Just be quiet, you tell yourself. You pull the seatbelt down and stare through the windshield. You lick around the cone as the cream threatens to melt onto your fingers. The car idles and you glance over. He watches your tongue as you lap up the trickle.  

You sit back as his eyes cling to your lips. He lifts his chin and turns straight. He grips the wheel and cranks the volume on the stereo. He speeds off and you struggle to keep from doing just what he warned you not to. You’d tell him to slow down but not only will he not listen, but the sooner you’re home, the better. 

[sturniolobsessed]

SFW ALPHABET - C.STURNIOLO

Warnings : Nothing really, maybe just a bit of swearing

Summary : Same as the Matt SFW alphabet, but it’s Chris

Authors Note : This is the last of the ‘alphabet series’ so please let me know any other things you would like to see. If you like the idea of the text convos or the multiple part story, please let me know and I will start brainstorming. Btw, sorry for the shameless plug lmao <3

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A - Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Chris is an affectionate person and that will definitely not end with his girlfriend. He will definitely just want you to be near him whenever you can be.

B - Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

I feel like you would meet through a mutual friend or something and then get really close. I feel like Chris would already be dead cute when you guys are just friends, always random hugs and little I love you’s every now and then.

C - Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Chris is well known for being a very cuddly person and he will just come up to you and give you a big hug and kiss your forehead. He would love it even more if you’re cuddling together in bed and watching a movie or just having a late night talk.

D - Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

As we’ve learned from Matt, Chris barely ever does chores around the house, even when his job is literally just to take the bin out so cooking and cleaning wouldn’t be his favourite thing to do. He might do it for you though, emphasis on might. When it comes to settling down, he has voiced before that having a girlfriend is his biggest fear so the idea would scare him a bit but I think that, if he’s found the right person, he wouldn’t feel anywhere near as scared.

E - Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Chris would try his absolute best to not hurt your feelings and make sure that you can get your opinion across. If you were to start crying, he would still definitely comfort you and, I think, he’d want you to still be friends after it. He wouldn’t want it to ruin his relationship with his best friend.

F - Fiancé (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

As I said earlier, Chris is quite scared of commitment in a relationship so it would definitely be something that he’d have to ease himself into but once he feels more comfortable with you and the change in your relationship, commitment would be much easier for him. When it comes to marriage, I personally don’t think that that is even a thought in Chris’ mind yet. He’s always been the type to live in the present. But don’t worry, things can change.

G - Gentle (How gentle are they, physically and emotionally?)

Chris is a very gentle and kind hearted person so I think that he would be very gentle with you. On the other hand though, I don’t think that if you were dating Chris, that he would be the most sappy person ever and I think that your relationship would be more fun and playful, teasing each other about the most random shit.

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? What are their hugs like? How often do they do it?)

I’ve kind of already covered this entire section so I’m sorry if I’m repeating myself but Chris would give you hugs wherever and whenever. He would love to just wrap his arms around you and hold you to show his love to you.

I - I love you (How fast do they say that they love you?)

My answer for this is basically exactly the same as the Matt SFW alphabet (if you haven’t read it and you want to, I’ve linked it here). If you guys were friends before, it would be very easy to say it because you probably already have said it when you were mates and if you weren’t friends before, he would probably wait it out a little bit more because it would be more of a milestone.

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Chris would probably more the jealous type than Matt but he’s still not gonna go round, kicking and screaming because you hugged another guy but if a guy was blatantly all over you, he’ll make a bit of a scene. He’d probably just walk over to you, completely ignore the guy, and just like make out with you or something.

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like?)

Chris’ kisses would probably be a bit more on the passionate side of things but he is also definitely not against sweet, sensual kisses. He would probably be the type of boyfriend to be just softly kissing and then he’ll slap your ass or something just because he ‘felt like it’.

L - Little ones (How are they around children?)

He is very sweet around children and would absolutely love their presence. He’d definitely be the more chill type, not like “aww hey little one, you’re so cute” kind of thing but he’d treat them like his best friend.

M - Morning (What are mornings like with them?)

Same as Matt, Chris gets up quite late in the day so you’d probably already be up and doing things when Chris wakes up. When he does, he’ll realise that you’re not there and then bitch and complain until you cuddle with him.

N - Night (What are nights with them like?)

You and Chris would chill up for ages just yapping, cuddling, playing Fort, watching movies, making out, whatever you’re feeling that night. You will probably end up going to sleep before him and he will hold you to help him lull himself to sleep.

O - Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or do they wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Chris would probably prefer to keep things private at the start and slowly reveal things, slowly getting deeper and deeper with the topics. It’ll start off as his favourite childhood movie to his first traumatic experience but he might take a while to open up fully.

P - Patience (How easily angered are they?)

As we all know, Chris’ patience wears thin quiet quickly under normal circumstances but he really tries his best when it comes to you. Sometimes, he’s very patient and he’ll listen to the same story 15 times happily but other times, someone will have done something to piss him off and you won’t have even finished the story for the first time and he’s already a little snappy. You know how to put him in his place though if he starts getting bitchy.

Q - Quizzes (How much do they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail or are they more forgetful?)

Considering this mf can barely remember what he had for breakfast some days, he’s pretty good at remembering things about you. He tends to remember little things that you even forget about but if you ask him your favourite colour, he’s stuttering. He remembers the weirdest shit but it’s cute.

R - Remember (What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

Chris would love the cute and sentimental moments and he thinks about them daily. I’d say his favourite would be, telling you his brand name and then showing you his first, finished piece of clothing. He loves this moment so much because you were just to most supportive girlfriend ever and it reminds Chris that he chose right when it comes to you.

S - Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

I think that Chris is one protective mf and if anyone says anything even slightly offensive about you, he has something to say. I feel like his form of protection is just making sure no one hurts your feelings or makes you think less of yourself.

T - Try (How much energy would they put into the relationship?)

I think that he would probably be the same as Matt, in which, he’s busy but whenever he has free time, he’ll make sure to either actually go see you or check up on you. I’d like to say that Chris would be putting all of his time and energy into your relationship but he physically wouldn’t have time between his job, etc, and you completely understand that.

U - Ugly (What are some bad habits of theirs?)

I feel like, because Chris would have not had a girlfriend before you, there’s some things in relationships that he’s a little bit clueless about. Like, you’ll see him scrolling through Instagram or something and he’ll like a girls photo where she’s blatantly wearing a tiny bikini. He has no malicious intentions and he thinks that you’re the most beautiful girl ever but he can be a little clueless about some things.

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

I feel like this would change the further you get into the relationship. At the start, Chris would want to make sure he looks as good as he can for when he’s seeing you but after a while, he’ll happily come over to your house in a bin bag if he had to. It all depends on how comfortable he is with you.

W - Whole (Do they feel incomplete without you?)

I don’t think that he would ever feel incomplete necessarily but I think that he’d feel a little out of sorts if you spent an extended period of time apart because he’d just want to see you. So I guess that kind of is feeling incomplete but I wouldn’t word it that way.

X - Xtra (A random headcannon about them)

Chris absolutely adores random little gifts. If you gave him a gift and just tell him that you got it for him because it reminded you of him, he will remember it and cherish it forever.

Y - Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Chris absolutely hates people who are rude to others for no reason. Like, if you and Chris are out on a date and you’re being rude to the server, he will actually want to get up and leave.

Z - Zzz (What are their sleep habits?)

I mean, Chris is always still getting his 8 hours but instead of getting those 8 hours between 12am - 8am, he’ll get his hours sleep between 5am - 1pm.

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Taglist : @astrolynnworld @moncherriis @mattybsbitch @strnzzvsp @strniohoeee @sturnsem @sturnsdarling @sturnslesbo @sturnioloho @sturniolo-slvt @sturniolojpg @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @loud-sturniolos @iheartmattsbeard @sturnioloslife @stuniolvs @mattgirl4eva @33sturniolo @sturnsxx @thetriplets3 @slashzgirl @hoeforchrizz @shadowthesim

[city-tickles]

Two Tickle Sessions In One Day!

Hi!

It's been a while but I hope you are doing well. I am still on break from posting clips or requests but I wanted to let you know about my recent sessions.

A month ago I was in one of those bad tickle moods. One of those moods where it was all you could think about and the rush of getting tickled or tickling someone was intense. I don't get these moods often and usually when I do, I don't like it because the last couple of times that has happened, I've received bad news about someone I care about, so it also makes me a little anxious when I get that way. Thankfully, it did not happen this time.

I needed to get the mood out but there was no one in the area to session with. Since no one was available, I decided to check out two parties that I have not been to in years. One M/M party and one Female Foot Party.

When it comes to M/M, I am 100% lee and it is something that does not give me much if any arousal. It's just tickling, and I can appreciate it. I'm sure I'd appreciate it more if it could "get me there" but I've seen enough clips and done sessions, and it usually doesn't. I also rarely do M/M because I have to be in a mood for it. This time, I was in a big mood for it, so I decided to go.

I've spoken about the M/M party in the past. Last time I went about 8 years ago, I just wasn't comfortable or ready to be there and it seemed like the owner took umbrage with that when I tried to leave. I figured a lot of time has passed and I have gained more experience, so hopefully things would be fine. I explain why I wanted to go to the party, and I was allowed to go.

I entered the party, and as a cis-identifying male, it's a little overwhelming at first. Action (Everyone is clothed) is everywhere right in front of you, but everyone is also very nice and doing their thing. I like to give people space, but there was no space to go, so I was just watching everything go down lol.

While waiting, I was introduced to a guy, who had grey hair and , who was also into tickling and we began talking. At first, the convo was small talk, but then we realized we knew each other from a previous meeting, which made things easier. After some talking, he asked what I was here for and when it comes to males, I am strictly a lee, so I told him I wanted to be tickled. Luckily, a massage table opened up and was cleaned off and ready to be used. We asked the table owner, who was a tall, slender man with grey hair and facial hair, if we could use it. Lucky or not lucky for me, we were allowed but the table owner was also into tickling. They asked me if he could join in and I figured why not?

I laid on the table and decided not to be bound because sometimes I stay still anyway. And before I know it, I have two lers all over me, testing out my spots and trying to find where I am most ticklish. They would glide their fingers all over my sides, under my arms, my tummy, my thighs and of course, my feet while I laughed and didn't move around too much. It was extra sensitive because 1. With the massage chair, I'm mostly looking upwards and can only see the ceiling. And 2. I'm getting teasing from all angles! The two very skilled lers keep saying things like, "Oh, he's real ticklish!" "I think he likes it!" While others at the party are watching and saying things like, "I think he doesn't want it to stop" and "He's having a lot of fun now"

With two lers on me, I never had time to have one spot make me off the wall ticklish because it was always changing. Sometimes it was their fingers lightly tickling my stomach that was the most intense. Other times, it was harder touches on my feet by one of the lers. Sometimes it was an attack under my arms. There were a lot of different moments during the 20-30 minutes of tickling that just kept making me laugh hysterically. I do know at one point, a hairbrush was used because I felt it and that always felt more surprising than ticklish. The other interesting part about having two lers on your feet were both styles were different. One was lighter and the other was harder, but both were effective!

(I couldn't find a MM/M gif)

After my time was done, I thanked them for the session and decided to wrap up since the party was coming to an end anyway. It was time to go to the next party.

This party, which I also had low hopes for, runs all the time in NYC and it is pay-to-play. I was that down bad, that I was willing to do it this evening lol. I went in with very low expectations and the reminder that if the first few moments are bad, I can just leave.

When I got there, it took forever for them to let me in, which already set my expectations to low. Despite this, I walked in and heard laughter already. Someone was getting tickled under the sheets, so I knew I wasn't the only tickler in the area. The girls that I saw in there were nice and chill to talk to for the most part. Some were more personable, while others just wanted to make their money, which I am not upset about. They're not there to be my friend.

The first lee was a tiny girl with red hair, and was ticklish but not that reactionary. I don't think she was ticklish on her feet at all, but I would always ask if it's okay to tickle elsewhere. Thankfully it was, and her upperbody, especially her arms, were her weakspot. She did not seem into it in the slightest, so I tried not to overdo it.

The second lee was this tall, black girl, with long hair and very nice to talk to. She wasn't sure how ticklish she could be, so I would tested some of her spots. Her feet were tolerable, her knees were very sensitive, and under her arms, she was almost unable to do!

I brought some tools that I didn't bring out at the M/M party (my bag at that party was all the way on the other side I just didn't want to bother with it) I ran an ostrich feather up and down her soles and her legs, which felt more relaxing to her. Then, I brought out TicklingDuck's device vibrating device.

As the device touched her soles, she would laugh hard, squirm around, cover her mouth, and was genuinely shocked at something being so ticklish on her. I asked if I could use the device on her knees and she went "Oh no!" and let me do it anyway, which I didn't do for long because she couldn't handle it.

The third lee was another redhead, who was also a nice person to talk to and wearing boots and long socks. I tickled her through the socks first, which made her giggle a bit, before taking them off and scribbling on her toes and soles so more. Her feet were also moderately ticklish, so I asked if I could tickle other parts of her body. Her weakspot was the ribcage and made any other spot look like a 1 compared to them! I spent most of my time on her feet since the ribcage was so intense, but we did play a few games. I would tell her if she could let me tickle there for 10 seconds, she would get a reward, which would be a foot massage or other foot worship. She agreed and barely opened up her arms until I scribbled in there and teased her further, saying "You gotta let me get in there or I'm gonna increase the time" She opened up her ribs and it was the longest 10 seconds of her life. Afterwards, I would congratulate her for making it through and doing such a good job.

After we were finished, I was ready to go since I had an obligation to get to later in the evening, but another taller woman approached me and asked me if I like tickling. She mentioned that she liked tickling to and wanted to know if I wanted to session. I was skeptical at first, because it felt like a money-grab, but I figured I'm already here so why not?

Best decision I made at that party. I started by spider tickling all the way up from her feet to legs, to her sides, across her tummy, back to her ribs, and of course under her arms. This woman was genuinely ticklish everywhere and was a lot of fun to play with. I would caress her thighs and tease like I'm about to tickle there, only to sneak attack and tickle her tummy. I brought out the TicklingDuck device again and we played another counting game to see how long she could last without moving, and I made sure to count the longest 30 seconds I could, running my fingers all across her tummy and under hear arms while she laughed her head off underneath the covers. The last thing I did to her, was bring out the pair of stocks that just arrived. I was itching to try them on someone and she was so excited to see stocks. We locked her bare feet and the stocks and I ran my fingers all across her soles and under her toes, while she was unable to get away or pull them out. While these sessions lasted 10 minutes, this one was definitely longer and we both knew it. After she was done, she complimented my ler skills, saying most male lers are rough, but I was very gentle with her, but also devastating, which I took as a big compliment.

Before I left, I had one request for her. I had a hard time locking the stocks on myself at my home, but when I did, they were not very comfortable. I asked if she could test the stocks out on me to see how good they were. She obliged and got my feet in the stocks. Once I was locked in, she began running her nails across my soles, which was one of the more intense tickles I got all night! I laughed hard and and was unable to do anything else, my feet were trapped and that definitely made the tickling worse! She would tease me and say things like "Aww! Is someone ticklish?" And "Now who's ticklish" until I had to stop her because I really had to get going. I thanked her for the fun time and planned to come back in the future.

Overall, it was a great day of tickles and satisfied my ler and lee moods!

[thewritetofreespeech]

Delicos nursery!?! Fic requests!?! Please please~~

Dino classic marries a plus size woman who at first seems cold but is a total sweetheart and just doesn't understand why people are afraid of her husband? She adores her step son like her own and even call him teddy for short? I love the sunshine x grumpy trope!

There were many things Dino liked about being an aristocrat. Power. The prestige. Being apart of the inner circle of their society.

The one thing he hated about being an aristocrat was the parties.

But, if you wanted to be apart of the inner circle, and get the power & prestige, there were a certain number of social events that were an unspoken mandatory for a man of his station. Particularly one with a new wife, whom he was obligated to introduce to society as such. What a bore.

Luckily, his new wife was much more adept at these kind of things than him. Bright and bubbly, with a family almost grievously overconnected, his new wife took to the party like a fish to water. Talking to everyone and making efforts to re-introduce herself to old friends & new as the current Lady Classico.

Dino entertained himself back in a corner. A position he had grown comfortable with since he was a young man forced onto these parties; until his mother made him come out and talk to people, as he was never going to get married rooted to the ground like a wallflower. He just liked to watch more than participate. He felt it was easier to gauge the situation, gather intel, from the sidelines than in the fray. Plus people being near him always seemed to make his skin crawl.

A while later he noticed his wife coming over to him. A noticeable, deep pout on her lips. One he had never seen; save for the pretend ones she threw at him when she wanted to get her way. This one seemed real though. “What’s the matter?”

“These people are rude.”

This shocked Dino. As he had also never heard his wife speak ill of anyone either. She always seemed to find the good in others. Found the good in him. “How so?”

“They make underhanded comments about you and seem to think I’m too stupid to understand them.” Dino frowned at that. His wife was not stupid. They could say what they wanted about him, some of it probably true, but they would not speak ill of his wife. “Would you…be terribly disappointed if we go? I do not want to make a bad impression, but I also do not think I can screw on a smile much longer?”

Disappointed? Dino thought. He’d jump up an’ click his heels, if only his back would ever forgive him. “Of course. I’ll have our coats and coach sent for.” His wife smiled. Seeming to want to kiss him in her enthusiasm, but remembering they were in public.

Dino instead took her hand in his and kissed her glove where his ring would be. “Could we also take some cakes home for Teddy?” She had taken to calling Theodore that. At first he tried to talk her out of it, but she commented that he was just so cute. Theodore didn’t seem to mind (in fact he seemed to enjoy it judging by his blush) so Dino let it go. “I know you don’t like him to have many sweets but…once in a while can’t hurt. They’ll just throw them away at the end of the night anyway.”

He glanced at the elaborate dessert table. Days of work for the host’s staff. Barely touched. All to go to waste as she predicted. “Take two. The two of you can have them after dinner tomorrow night.” His wife grinned and scurried off to the table to collect her sweets while he called for their coach.

When they arrive home it is late, but not too far gone. His staff greet their new lady and she made quick work to greet them back before running upstairs to try and catch Theodore before bed. He was likely up reading late anyway.

Dino stood there in the foyer, watching her go, before he looked down at the parcel of cakes suddenly in his hands. He opened the lid to see what she had picked and smiled. Not surprised to see 3 slices instead of 2. See, his wife was very clever. She seemed to have no end to surprising him.

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Favorite Season 6 fics

So these used to be called "Fic recs for my BFF", but unfortunately I was unable to sway her to buddie, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ these are just for me now (and you guys too I guess 😅)

Season 6

🔥Curl Up in My Heart and Let Me Keep You by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Animal Transformation | 10K | Teen): When an orange tabby cat starts hanging around the Diaz house, Eddie doesn't think anything of it. The little guy's cute and cuddly, and seems to always know when Eddie's having a bad time. Weird how the cat's never around when Buck is, though.

🔥let the world have its way with you by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-Coma AU | 54K | Explicit): “It’s just that—I died,” Buck continues, voice unsteady enough that Eddie wonders if this is the first time he’s acknowledged that out loud. “I died, and there’s so much more. There’s so much more I want to do, things I don’t even know I want to do yet, and I almost had the chance to have and live them taken away. I don’t want to die and regret missing out on everything else, Eddie.” “So let’s make a list,” Eddie says. “Let’s do them.” or, a bucket list that’s really about buck needing to make a change and an eddie who’s ready to do anything to see him fall in love with life again. it takes some crossing off for eddie to realise—the thing at the top of the list in his own heart? it’s been right here all along

🔥like a dog with a bird at your door by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S6, Getting Together | 51K | Explicit): The kid with blood pouring down his shins is not so far from the dog lonely enough that he thinks breaking his housetraining is worth it for the ten minutes of berating that come with it, the ten minutes of undivided, if reluctant, attention. Buck thinks, sometimes, that at least he wasn’t the kind of puppy that gets put in a sack and drowned at birth. He wasn’t always unwanted. And he isn’t anymore. or, evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home

🔥Something Dumb to Do by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Post-S6, Getting Together | 8K | Explicit): "Too bad we can't just date each other." Eddie laughs. "What?" "No, I'm serious!" Buck sets his beer down, the better to gesture with both hands, face lighting up, and Eddie just—he really loves the guy, okay. Ridiculous as he is. "It would be so much easier! You wouldn't have to introduce a new person to Chris—he already likes me anyway—and you could tell Pepa so she'll stop setting you up on dates that don't go anywhere—" "And what would you get out of this?" Eddie asks, grinning. — Or: Buck and Eddie try something out together. (Part 1 of homeward bound)

🔥find a way to you (if it kills me) by foxwatson/ @eddiediazes (Post S6E13: Mixed Feelings, Pining | 19K | Mature): It’s something about the way Eddie phrases it. Something about the combination of his words and the way he’s staring down at the floor, and the flush in his cheeks and the way he’s fidgeting. Buck thinks, abruptly, he’s going to ask me on a date. “Well I - wanted to tell you first, and I need someone to watch Chris, anyways - I know he’s getting old enough now he doesn’t like feeling like he’s got a babysitter, so I was hoping - sorry. Not the point. Uh. I have a date on Saturday.” Just as abruptly as his own hopes had come soaring up above the cloud cover of his own unawareness - they go crashing back down to the floor - to the basement, and into the mud. “A date?” Buck rasps out. — the one where eddie decides to start dating again, buck figures out his own feelings just a minute too late, and then he spends a week going through the five stages of grief

🔥Being Eddie by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Time Travel, Post-S6, Getting Together | 80K | Teen): When Eddie starts seeing a new therapist, he’s presented with the opportunity to revisit several days from his past and right regrets that still bother him. OR: Eddie goes through the time travel therapy process of the 2009 Canadian TV show Being Erica.

🔥 Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Coma AU, Multiverse | 58K | Teen): After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken. Fighting hard to get home, Buck learns what, or who, is important to him in every lifetime.

🔥 Both Blade and Branch by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S6 | 62K | Mature): The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.

🔥 where all of the people dancing and clapping would greet me with such warmth by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (Season 6, Magical Realism | 15K | Mature): In the fall, Buck begins to disappear. (or: Buck can see that people become transparent when they're about to die) (Part 2 of All I Am, All That I Am)

🔥 Ace of Hearts by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Post-S6, Getting Together | 9K | Teen): "I've been wondering…" Maddie pauses, watches Buck make a face like he's bracing to be smacked. "What happened with Eddie? You two were dancing around it for so long, and then… what, it just didn't work out? Was the date really that bad?" She's expecting another wince, or even for him to duck out of the conversation entirely, but instead Buck is staring at her like she's grown a second head. "Maddie. I've never been on a date with Eddie." Or: the poker game was a date. It takes Buck a while to catch on, though.

🔥 situations, circumstances, miscommunications ( i just may like some explanations ) by heartbeatdiaz / @loserdiaz (Didn't Know They Were Dating | 4K | Teen): "You didn't know?" Eddie asks, calmer but not less confused. He frowns. "How could you not know?" "You never said anything?" Buck tilts his head to the side. "We were dating?” “I guess not,” Eddie sighs. His heart is beating a little faster, an unpleasant buzz beneath his skin as he all but chokes on a feeling he can’t quite name— it could be hurt or disappointment or maybe a mix of both. In that moment, he knows three things very clearly. 1. Buck is going to be the death of him. 2. He is in love with the most dense, most oblivious man on planet Earth. 3. He is too gay and, honestly, too old for this shit.

🔥listen to you breathing (is where I wanna be) by Yavilee/ @theladyyavilee (Presumed Dead | 41K | Teen): The thing is – and Eddie should have known this, has been taught this cruel lesson over and over and over again – the thing is most of the time the worst day of your life will start like just any other day. A million small moments, so familiar and mundane you almost don’t even notice them slipping by - until you would give anything to go back and get just one more. (You can’t.) — Or the one where Buck is presumed dead after a building collapse and Eddie has to live through the reminder that tomorrow isn't promised to anyone

🔥Eddie Diaz vs The Feelings by ElvenSorceress/ @elvensorceress (Season 6, Sexuality Crisis, Demisexual Eddie | 62K | Explicit): Eddie dives into the mysteries of attraction, romantic love, and asexuality because there's a good chance he's fallen in love with his best friend. AKA demisexual!Eddie figures out he’s demi and finds the happily ever after he’s been longing for

🔥tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (Post-S6, Time Loop | 43K | Mature): "Think I can get a hug from my best man on my wedding day?" he asks, quietly hopeful in a way that makes Eddie want to tear off his skin. "Sure," Chris replies with a shrug, turning to throw Eddie a cheeky grin. "Dad, Buck needs a hug." Two things happen at once then: Eddie has to plaster on a smile authentic enough to convince the one person on this planet that knows him inside out—except he doesn't really have to fake his smile, not at first, because of number two—he sees groom-Buck for the first time. And groom-Buck is every bit as beautiful as Eddie might have imagined him over the years. For a moment, Eddie falls into the greatest betrayal his brain has ever laid out for him, imagining that he might have got to see Buck like this for the first time from the other end of the aisle— (OR: eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia)

🔥 Muscle Memory by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S6, Amnesia AU | 40K | Teen): After a disappointment in his personal life, Buck wakes up one morning to find everyone he loves has forgotten him completely. No memories. No recognition. Almost like he was never really there.

🔥 but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (Post-S6, Time Loop | 28K Mature): He puts his laptop away after a bit, and paces the length of his apartment as he tries to take stock of the situation at hand. One: The date is March 22nd, 2024. Two: It has been March 22nd for 3 days now. Three: Buck is trapped in some kind of time loop that is forcing him to relive this day. Four: Eddie is, apparently, in love with him. And. And. Five: Buck doesn’t feel the same way.

🔥 a blaze in the dark by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Post-S6, Eddie Coming Out | 117K | Explicit): Set post-Season 6, where Buck has inadvertently sacrificed his friendship with Eddie in order to focus on his new relationship with Natalia, and is shocked when Eddie comes out to the team and subsequently reveals that he is dating a guy.

AUs

🔥Nothing Left But You by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars ("Blip" AU, Post-S4E13: Suspicion | 27K | Teen | Warning: MCD): In May of 2021, 25% of Earth's population suddenly disappears. Including Eddie. In May of 2026, they all come back. Eddie finds himself suddenly in the middle of a world he doesn't recognize, where the people he loves most have changed significantly.

🔥 Your Love is an Oil Slick (It Glows like Rainbows, It Stains My Soul) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Canon Divergent - Supernatural Elements, Ghost Buck | 67K | Explicit): When Eddie's son claims he has an imaginary friend, Eddie doesn't think much of it. Christopher is seven, it's what kids do. But then weird things start happening around the house, and Eddie starts dreaming about a handsome blue-eyed man. Turns out, Christopher's friend isn't so imaginary. Their house is haunted.

🔥like when the sun came out by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Canon Divergent, Ghosts | 39K | Mature): He completely pulls the charger from the wall as he fumbles to put in his passcode. He doesn’t know who to call first. Everyone is busy, carrying on with their lives and Buck is stuck here in the loft with the terrifying ghost of his childhood like an omen. Out of the corner of his eye he catches the Crooked Smiled Man now standing in the dark entrance way to his bathroom. He swallows around the taste of blood in his mouth, hands shaking, useless as his list of contacts blur beneath the burn of tears. Eddie Eddie Eddie. He doesn’t know where the feeling comes from, but it’s sudden and sharp and excruciating. Eddie is the first name at the top of his list, his most recent calls and texts, and he doesn’t hesitate to hit the call button. [or buck can see ghosts au]

🔥All My Shattered Oaths by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 107K | Explicit): Eddie wants to stay away from his family’s legacy and give his son a normal life. Buck’s desperate to find a way to get over the love he lost. Fate has other plans for both of them.

🔥 Further Than Blood (Or Than Bones) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 50K | Explicit): Once, Eddie chose to save a newly turned against his better judgment. Five hundred years ago, Buck was saved by a rescuer he thought was a hallucination. Now they're together again and about to find out just how far either of them will go to try and deny what they are to each other.

🔥 let it pour out of your soul series by Rianne/ @rianneeyre (Magical Realism AU, Witch Eddie | 3 works | 71K | Complete):

collectively unconsciously composed (S4E6: Jinx | 46K | Explicit): Or: in which the author re-watched Buck Begins and Jinx and thought: what if this was gayer and had actual magic?

that systematic drug (PWP | 5K | Explicit): Eddie’s mouth goes dry when he opens the door and sees Buck. He’s clean-shaven and with his hair carefully styled back, smiling at Eddie sweetly and a little teasingly. Buck is wearing his dark jeans and his light blue v-neck polo shirt, the one that’s tight enough that it shows off the bulge of his biceps and the definition of his pecs and abs. Eddie knows this shirt. Buck's favourite, because he knows he looks good in it.

something binding us together (Established Buddie | 20K | Teen): Or: Eddie plans a long-avoided visit to his parents, discovers some things about his magic, and begins to build his family a home in LA's witching community.

[ewyuzu]

broken promises

- you (single mother) & little gumi

warning: contains themes of divorce, emotional distress, and family separation. may be sensitive for readers dealing with similar experiences.

it’s been a week since the divorce papers were signed, and you still haven’t quite adjusted to waking up in an empty bed. the house feels unnervingly silent without the familiar sounds of toji’s presence. you pull the blanket tighter around yourself, trying to summon the energy to face the day, but the heaviness in your chest weighs you down.

then, you hear it.

“mom?”

the soft, sleepy voice of megumi calls out from his room, breaking through the quiet. you rub your eyes and force yourself to get up, pushing away the ache of exhaustion. today isn’t about you—it’s about him. you slide out of bed, your feet cold against the floor, and make your way to his room.

he’s sitting up, hair tousled, blinking sleepily as you walk in. his little arms reach out to you, and without a second thought, you pull him into a hug, breathing in the scent of him. his small frame against yours is both comforting and heartbreaking. you can feel how much he relies on you, and the weight of being his sole parent hits you hard.

“morning, sweetheart,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head before pulling away to look at him. his wide eyes, so much like toji’s, peer up at you, filled with innocence.

“are we making pancakes today?” he asks, his voice still laced with sleep.

you force a smile, nodding. “yeah, we can make pancakes. how about we get you dressed first?”

he nods enthusiastically, and you help him out of bed, trying to focus on the simple tasks. you guide him through the motions—brushing his teeth, getting him dressed, combing through his unruly hair. it’s all routine, but every now and then, your mind drifts to how things used to be. mornings like this used to feel lighter, easier, when toji was still around.

you push the thought away. not today.

as you stand at the stove, flipping pancakes, megumi sits at the table, chattering about the park and the new toy he saw on tv. you try to focus on him, but there’s a dull ache in your chest, a reminder of the life you had before, now shattered. when the pancakes are ready, you sit with megumi and watch him eat, his little face lighting up with every bite.

and then, out of nowhere, he asks, “why doesn’t dad live with us anymore?”

your heart stops.

you stare at him, words caught in your throat. he looks at you, expecting an answer, but how do you explain something like this to a child? you put your fork down and try to keep your voice steady, even though your heart is racing.

“well... sometimes, grown-ups have to make decisions that are best for everyone,” you start, feeling the weight of each word. “but that doesn’t mean dad doesn’t care about you. he loves you very much.”

megumi furrows his brow, clearly not understanding. you wish you could give him more, but how do you tell him the truth? how do you tell him that his father was never really there the way he should’ve been?

“does he miss us?” he asks quietly, and the question nearly breaks you.

you force a smile, even though it feels like your chest is caving in. “i’m sure he does.”

megumi nods slowly, but you can see the uncertainty in his eyes. he’s still so young, too young to understand the complexities of divorce, of separation. you want to protect him from the pain, but you know there’s only so much you can do.

that night, after you tuck megumi into bed, you collapse onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. the exhaustion isn’t just physical—it’s emotional. every part of you feels drained. just as your eyes begin to close, you hear a soft whimper from megumi’s room.

“mom…”

his voice is shaky, small, and it instantly pulls you to your feet. you rush into his room and find him sitting up in bed, tears streaking his cheeks.

“gumi, what’s wrong?” you ask, kneeling beside him, brushing the hair from his forehead.

“i had a bad dream,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “i dreamed that you and dad were gone.”

the words cut through you like a knife. you wrap your arms around him, holding him close as he sobs into your shoulder. “i’m here,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “i’m not going anywhere, okay? i promise.”

but even as you say the words, you can feel the weight of the promise hanging heavy over you. how many times have you reassured him, only for life to take a different turn? you hold him tighter, hoping it’s enough to soothe his fears, if only for tonight.

a few nights later, as you sit with megumi while he colours at the kitchen table, he proudly holds up a drawing.

“look, mom! it’s our family.”

you take the paper from him, your heart twisting as you look at it. he’s drawn the three of you—you, him, and toji. all of you are holding hands, smiling. your throat tightens, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say.

“it’s beautiful, gumi,” you whisper, forcing a smile as you blink back tears. he’s so proud of it, so innocent, completely unaware of the reality that you and toji are no longer a family. not in the way he imagines.

he beams at your praise, and you hang the drawing on the fridge, but as you do, the ache in your chest deepens. megumi’s world is still so simple, so full of hope. you wish you could keep it that way forever. but deep down, you know that soon enough, the cracks in the illusion will start to show. and when they do, you’ll have to face them together.

[cherubharrington]

I only have eyes for you

18+mdni

Authors note: this is part 2 to Rafe staring at reader.

You tried to rationalize him staring at you. Especially that intensely. Maybe he was zoning out. You decided to chalk it up as that. To not think so hard on it.

Until he did it more times than one. His eyes moved any direction you did.

You felt your niece tuck at the bottom of your dress. You looked down at her as she stared up at you. She gesticulated for you to come closer, so you bend on your knees to hear what she had to say.

“Why is that guy staring at you?” She whispered into your ear. So you weren’t the only one who saw that. “He’s creepy.”

You don’t know how you caught the attention of Rafe Cameron. You never would have assumed you were even on his radar. You always had your nose in a book. There wasn’t anything you thought made anyone think you were interesting. Which you took offense too because you felt like you were actually more interesting than people would think. But you knew you couldn’t control how people felt about you. So you just ignored it.

But Rafe Cameron? That was weird and didn’t make any sense to you.

“Don’t worry about it. He’s probably just zoning out.” But even your niece wasn’t convinced.

A few more instances of this occurred, and you were confused. You didn’t understand why he was staring so much. You tried to ignore it but finally, it was like he knew you were frustrated. He had finally decided to approach you.

“Hey, I’m Rafe Cameron. But you probably know that already.” He said smugly.

“Yes, Rafe. I know who you are. You’re all any girl can talks bout.” You say, annoyed. He smiles at you, his gaze drinking you in from head to toe. It’s silent as he does so, you can’t exactly hide from him. Your crop top and low rise denim shorts, didn’t really leave much to the imagination.

“So, how come I didn’t see you until midsummers?”

“We just moved here. Like two months back. Wasn’t really in the mood to go into the heat when the ac did me just fine.” He smiles at you, his hands finding yours. Rubbing his thumb on your skin.

“A pretty girl like you coop up in her room for two months. Must have been boring.” A blush appears on your face, betraying you. “You don’t have to worry about being bored anymore.”

His dick was deep inside of you, your hands on the sides of his face. You watched as he disappeared into you and out again.

“Fuck, this pussy.” He says, he’s bending your legs back for easier access. His hands on your thighs. “I couldn’t wait to get my hands on you.” He grunted.

“Fuck, Rafe. I-“

“Yeah, yeah. You love my dick huh? Can’t even speak.” His thrusts speeds up, more violent as he does so.

“Mhm. I love your dick.” You breathe out. He lets go of your legs, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. He cups your face, bringing your face up to stare at him. “Pretty girl. So fucking pretty. Look at you, the way I’m destroying you. You’re mine. Never letting anyone take you now.”

The lewd noises of him thrusting in you fills the room. You can’t even think, but a part of you is conscious enough to think “did I just make a mistake?”

Taglist

@sublimepenguinpeach-blog @queenvane64 @modesttiger

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (2)

Summary: Terry and Treece are feeling the sparks again.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,659

Part: 2 of ??

Warnings: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Previous

Grocery shopping was Patrice's private pastime. She was the queen of her universe when she walked through aisles every Saturday morning. Every flash bargain and value-sized item bent to her will for a chance at making it to her humble abode and fulfilling its one purpose in life. Employees greeted her like royalty. Customers started conversations like old friends, always giving her the scoop on any sale they'd overheard in their neighborhood Facebook groups. She was happy. She was zen. She was in her element.

"Do you need this?" 

She was a woman dragging around a large man intent on breaking any modicum of concentration she had left.

Patrice stopped and looked over her shoulder at Terry, who held a bag of cotton candy grapes up in the air for her inspection. "No, TJ. Put it down." 

"Why? You like grapes." 

"Because we're getting grapes from the farmer's market. Now, put it back."

Her rebuke was sweet but stern. Having him as a way too familiar roommate was becoming easier as the days passed. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss the freedom to go for a walk, watch a movie on the couch, or even enjoy an intimate moment alone in her own house without a man looming somewhere in the very near background. 

He didn't allow her to travel alone, and she never had the energy to protest. 

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a kid," he grumbled as he put the grapes back in their place.

"Then stop acting like one. I have a list. I know what I need." 

"I know what I need." He exaggerated his mimicry for maximum effect. 

"You see how that was childish?" 

"Whatever." 

Patrice ignored him in favor of browsing packages of beef for the best deal. If she didn't respond, maybe he would get the hint. And, for a few moments, he did. Terry took a break in conversation to scan the immediate area quietly. He noted each patron and their most important details before checking the exit and entry points at the front of the store. They weren't secure enough, but he could manage if the situation required evacuation.

A lack of action soon turned his attention back to Patrice, who still hadn't decided. He gave her a slow once over and smiled at how much focus she put into such a simple choice. Her brow remained furrowed in intense thought, transforming her into the ninth-grade Patrice he met during a chance encounter in the library. Truthfully, he didn't have much of an opinion either way. He just wanted to talk to her every second of the day, even if it meant being annoying. 

"Get that one." 

His sudden interruption startled Patrice out of her zone, adding a final straw to an already exhausted camel's back. Terry grinned in triumph as she closed her eyes for a calming breath. 

"Terry," she spoke, slow and measured to keep the peace. "Take the other half of this list and get out of my face. Don't come back until you find everything. I'll meet you at the register." 

She didn't give him much time to protest before she shoved a carefully torn half of paper into his chest and sent him on his way. He gave her a sarcastic salute, which she waved off without a second look. She needed a moment alone and didn't care if he came back with Fruity O's instead of Fruit Loops if that meant he would be out of her hair for more than 10 minutes. 

Terry found himself slowly meandering around the grocery store with a tiny basket in tow, exhausted by all the options on each aisle. If Patrice hadn't been so meticulous with her lists, he would've given up on the mission and gone back to home base with his tail tucked between his legs. 

After sourcing the perfect pint of Oreo ice cream as an apology for his behavior, Terry found himself drawn to the sound of laughter on the next aisle. Sure enough, Patrice was parked by the frozen vegetables and engaged with a man dressed in the store's colors with his eyes directed far too low to be looking at Patrice's face. 

Terry quickly reached her location, stopping behind Patrice to show her guest the full extent of his scowl. 

Patrice noticed how his once loose body language had gone stiff and sighed. She didn't need to investigate the problem. Only her human pitbull could make a man cower in fear like that. 

"Derrick, this is Terry. Terry, this is Derrick. He usually helps me get stuff to my car." 

"Ah, man. It's a good thing I'm here, right? We don't need you taking too many breaks from stocking. Mornin' rush can get crazy." 

"Terry," Patrice admonished with a harsh whisper and an elbow to his stomach. 

Terry remained steadfast, keeping his eyes on Derrick while taking one step closer. A taunting smile tugged on the right side of his mouth. He waited on any sign of fight from his unspoken adversary. 

Derrick stood in palpable discomfort, sizing up the outcomes if he decided to test his luck. Each mental scenario led him back to some instance of physical harm on his last shift of the week. He had plans for the weekend, none involving a trip to the emergency room.

Patrice stood between a rock and a hardheaded man, praying that the Lord would end her suffering.

"That's what I was about to say," Derrick answered before shifting his attention back to Patrice. "I think I oughta get going. See you around, Ms. Ellis?" 

"Same time next week." 

He nodded in half-hearted agreement and hurried out of dodge, with Terry keeping a watchful eye until he was safely around the corner. 

Patrice groaned with one hand, rubbing tight circles at her temple. "What in the hell was that about?" 

"He wouldn't even look you in the eye. If he can't look you in the eye when he's speaking, he can't protect you, and he doesn't respect you." 

"I'm not looking for his protection. I need this water loaded into my trunk every week when you aren't here!" 

"I'll never not be here. Problem solved."

His declaration was so sure, so matter of fact, that it left Patrice no room for retort. So she resorted to schoolyard antics. 

It was her turn to mock him with an exaggerated, deep voice. "Problem solved. Push the damn cart since you got so much energy." 

He obliged without protest and a proud, self-satisfied grin that Patrice couldn't see while she led the way to the register. An unexpected system error had halted all transactions, leaving them log jammed in a long line of restless customers. 

Together, they stood sharing light banter and running through weekend tasks, resembling any other couple making a store run to strangers observing them from the outside looking in. Former acquaintances, however, had no problem drawing attention to the pair from three spots back in line. 

"I know that ain't who I think it is." Both Patrice's and Terry's eyes darted up to find the source of the loud outburst, only to whisper 'fuck’ in tandem when they spotted Katrina Spivey waving her arms to grab their attention. "Hey, Terry Richmond!" 

Terry pretended to ignore being singled out by turning his back, earning a stifled laugh from Patrice. Katrina, not one to be deterred, used the moment to push past patrons in line until she reached her destination with a host of angry faces in her wake. 

"Well, if it ain't Mr. and Miss Homecoming in the flesh. You two finally stopped kidding around and got married?" 

"No," Terry answered without much explanation, his back still turned. Patrice reluctantly made up his slack. 

"What Terry meant to say was that we're not married. We're not together at all, actually. But he's here to visit me for a while." 

"What a blessing it is to have friends you can lean on when you need a helping hand."

"Amen."

An awkward tension settled into the conversation's lull, compounded by Terry's outright refusal to engage. Patrice was in deep water without a paddle and a co-captain who had already jumped ship.

Katrina wouldn't let the conversation end and take her newfound place in line. She continued to pry.

"Both of y'all look good! How long has it been since we last saw each other, huh? Gotta be since Terry's graduation send-off." 

Patrice feigned interest with a hollow smile. "Yeah, I think that was it. A looong time ago. All grown up now."

"And thank God for it! I remember how sad you looked all night because ol' Terry was moving away. Like a little crying puppy!" 

Katrina's laughter didn't quite reach Terry or Patrice, who bristled at mentioning one of the more contentious nights in their friendship. 

"Everybody's been a little young and dumb, right? Like when you and BJ got caught underneath the bleachers during state championships." 

Checkmate. A little reminder of her indiscretions had turned Katrina's condescending smile into a mean mug that could burn through anyone not equally as stubborn. 

Terry showed his approval with a light nudge against Patrice's arm. That was his girl. Sweet as pie but a tongue coated in venom when backed against the wall. He'd been on the receiving end on one too many occasions. It felt good to be on the winning side this time. 

Three seconds of a Western standoff had culminated in a gift sent via store intercom. 

"Apologies for the stoppage, folks. Our registers are back up and running. Thanks for your patience." 

Terry moved the cart to place items on the conveyor belt while Patrice waited for the conversation to resume.

Recovering from the sharp end of a verbal lashing, Katrina cleared her throat and grabbed hold of her cart in preparation to skip lines. 

"Well, I don't wanna hold y'all too much longer. If y'all don't think you're too good to mingle with us Francis High Hornets anymore, Corey's throwing a little Juneteenth gathering at his daddy's pool hall. This is my personal invite for the both of you."

"We were already invited. Maybe we'll make an appearance." 

"That'd be grand." 

"I bet it would."

Nice nasty smiles passed between the two foes until Katrina was off to harass some other unsuspecting patron. 

Patrice tried to let go of her frustration with an angry huff before turning to catch up with Terry, who was casually moving groceries from the bagging station to the shopping basket. He waited a moment before acknowledging the obvious. 

"You over it now, or do I need to iron a shirt for tonight?" 

"I'm over it," Patrice answered plainly. She calmly handed over payment for the day's groceries and smiled ever so sweetly to bid the cashier farewell. To an outsider, she'd returned to her zen state without much effort. Terry was no outsider and kept a cautious eye on her as they loaded bags into the trunk and got settled in the front seat of her SUV. 

"You sure you're good," he asked as he backed out of their parking space. 

"I'm sure, TJ," she answered with almost too much enthusiasm. Terry started a mental countdown for the other shoe to drop. "I'll iron the shirt. You need to shave." 

--------

The final verdict? A plain white T-shirt. 

An hour of searching, choosing, rejecting, and choosing again led them to a plain, crisp white tee. Patrice said it went better with her yellow wrap dress, which she chose because her girlfriends were all in dresses, and she wanted to match the occasion. It all sounded like made-up bullshit to Terry. Still, he accepted being treated like a Ken Doll because it meant that his Barbie would agree to a two-hour hard stop at the festivities. 

He'd already started his stopwatch when they pulled up on a busy street in front of an even busier hole in the wall.

The smell of fresh grease greeted them upon crossing the threshold from outside into Mister C's Bar and Lounge. Fried fish, French fries, and wings in any flavor you could ask for sat in the service window, waiting for their delivery to any one of the patrons packed from wall to cinderblock wall. Terry inhaled deeply and let his scowl drop for one second to fantasize about a bite of Corey Sr.'s signature catfish and fries basket. 

Next came the familiar mix of sweat and weed near the dancefloor as bodies intertwined to some GloRilla song neither of them recognized. Thick traffic in the center of the room paused Patrice on her path to the pool tables, locking her between Terry and a crowd that wouldn't budge. 

"Excuse me!" she shouted over a swell of crowd reaction to a new song. "I need to get by!" 

No response. Not even a look back as she used a hand to create space between her and a group of men debating nonsense. Before she could try again, Terry used one hand to push her forward and his voice to clear the way. 

"Yo, step out of the way. We need to get through." Direct and to the point. He left no room for misinterpretation, and his baritone's boom left no confusion about who was calling the shots. Patrice watched with her lips slightly parted in awe. 

The first reaction to his demand was the embers of confrontation. Each member of the group sized Terry up, noticing his heavy scowl and size in comparison to their own. Then, they realized that this wasn't a winning game. 

The flashiest of the group nodded, though disdain at the mere suggestion that he was in the way kept his mouth in a tight frown. "Yeah, you good, OG. My fault." 

Another light push propelled Patrice forward as Terry maintained with each man until they had passed. 

Once they were out of the mix and nearing their destination, he advised, "Stay close." Patrice nodded her compliance, shocking Terry into a slight smile in appreciation for her obedience. 

Sparks of electricity shot between them but had no time to turn into a total current before Corey called out to them. 

"Treece! Terry! We over here!" 

Surrounded by familiar faces from Francis Edward's Class of 2010, Corey welcomed them with open arms and his ever-present 100-watt smile. At a slight 5'6", 150 on his best day, he'd always been larger than his frame would suggest. Loud and flamboyant had always been the name of his game, earning him anything he set his sights on.

It didn't take long for the trio and Corey's wife, June, to fall into familiar habits and friendly jabs at one another as they took their seats in a makeshift VIP section by the pool tables. The Three-Headed Monster was their moniker in high school, and they moved like a military force. Terry was the enforcer, while Corey and Patrice served as judge and prosecutor. If you had an issue with one, you had an issue with all three. 

"Your security is lax. Who trained them?" Terry pointed out during a dead spot in conversation. 

Corey followed his eyeline to the two young men standing at the door and back. "My boy at the sheriff's office. What you see?" 

"They look soft. It wouldn't take much to overpower them and get in for some drama. You only have one exit. Somebody breeches this place, and you're on the hook for a tragedy. Plus, the one on the left is scared. He'll be the first to leave if things get hot. Watch him."

"Impressive," June remarked, smiling at Patrice, who subtly playfully waved her off.

"Hm." Corey took a long pull from his cigar, taking in the information before responding." You here for a minute, T? I got some connections over at Liberty if you looking to get back in the swing of things." 

"Contract?" 

"Whatever you need, man. You know I'm good for it."

Terry looked over at Patrice for some indication that she believed in Corey, and she returned with a subtle nod and encouraging smile. June looked between them and then at her husband before clearing her throat. 

"It looks like Kel and his boy are back on the pool table. You know he still owes you a game from when he cheated last week." 

"Hell yeah," Corey agreed as he turned in his seat to get a look at his enemy. "Aye, T, you trynna make $100 real quick?" 

"It's either that or you gotta come dance with me," Patrice challenged. "This rum and pineapple got me feeling a little loose." 

She wasn't lying. A taste of alcohol in her system was starting to make her want to explore parts of the Patrice she thought she left at North Carolina A&T. Every heart-rattling thump of Megan Thee Stallion's latest and greatest had her thinking about reminding everyone in the room that she could move with the best of them. 

Her little grind in her seat made Terry show teeth in a small grin before he stood to his full height and looked down at her. His eyes were hooded and dreamy from some combination of exhaustion and a contact high, reintroducing that spark from before.

"Don't go too far. I'll be back with your money in a little bit." 

Patrice's tongue felt too heavy to respond coherently past a punch-drunk nod. June watched her watch him make his way down the platform and into the crowd until both men were out of earshot. 

She whistled and shook her head. "That's a good-looking man, ain't he?" 

"Who? Corey? He alright. He's like a slightly more attractive Taye Diggs." 

"First off, ouch," June laughed. "Second, I was talking about Terry. He was cute in high school, but I'll be damned if that second puberty didn't take him to a whole 'nother level." 

"Don't tell him that. His head is big enough."

"You know you wrong for that." If the music weren't so loud, everyone in the building would've heard the pair guffawing over Patrice's petty insult. 

Once they contained themselves, June took a sip from her margarita and shifted in her seat to get closer to Patrice.

"He likes you still." Five plain words shook Patrice internally as she struggled to maintain a poker face. June continued. "I see the way he looks for your approval and damn near trips on himself to fulfill your every whim. You're all he talks about when he and Corey get on the phone." 

"They talk?" 

"From time to time. I think he needs a man's opinion sometimes, you know?" 

Patrice wrestled with the influx of information as June continued. 

"That man is mean as a snake. Always has been and always will be. But, you bring something out of him. Even if you can't always see it." 

"If that were the case, things would've been different for us back then." 

June shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe you're right where you're supposed to be. I know I can't make you do what you don't wanna do, but if what I say means anything, focus on today. Thirty-two-year-old Terry is so much more prepared to love you than eighteen-year-old Terry was." 

Punctuating her advice, June tapped Patrice's leg twice before taking a step away to refill their tray of food. 

Focus on today.

The words replayed in her mind repeatedly; even after their two hours were up, Terry had returned $100 richer, and they were back on the road to their quiet slice of the world. 

They rode together in content quiet, letting the Quiet Storm host talk while Terry tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. 

Randomly, he would glance in her direction, assuming she had lost the sleep battle to her old friend Bacardi. When he reached over to adjust the air vent on her side of the car, he was surprised when she mumbled a low "thank you." 

"My bad. I thought you were sleeping." 

"No. My head is swimming, though. Don't let me drink that much anymore." she laughed. 

He chuckled along with her but didn't agree to keep her from letting her hair down occasionally. In his eyes, seeing her relaxed and carefree was a gift to the world. 

The opening notes of Tevin Campbell's "I'm Ready" swirled around them, sounding like a secret message to Patrice as she focused on streetlights to keep the contents of her dinner inside her stomach. 

"Hey," she whispered before she could catch herself. Terry acknowledged her with a glance. "Do you think you're still scared?" 

"Of what?" 

"Of whatever kept you away for so long?"

He thought for a moment, wanting to make sure he was clear with his word. "No. I was never afraid of you. I was afraid of bringing you along for a ride I might not survive. That's not a threat anymore. So, no, I'm not scared anymore."

You know I'm ready

To love you

Forever 

Patrice reached across the center console until she reached Terry's hand to interlock her fingers with his. He gave her an appreciative squeeze without taking his eyes off the road. 

"I-I don't think I'm scared anymore either."

Her heart raced wildly behind her ribs, and Patrice was that if Terry pressed his wrist close enough to hers, he could feel her pulse accelerate. He didn't mind either way. Sweaty palms and trembling fingers would never be enough for him to let her go. Not again. 

As if she'd break if he moved too fast, Terry brought her hand to his lips slowly. One kiss. Another. Two more. And a final one for good measure. 

When he'd had his fill of her skin, he pressed the spot up against his cheek. He needed to feel and absorb her until they were one body. 

But, for tonight at least, this was enough.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse

[wehaveagathering]

Just curious, what was the skate like irl? Who didn’t even finish/ who did better than the rest??

Oh, I love you for this question. Buckle up.

First of all, I think there are a bunch of misconceptions about what 👹Tort's Rope👹 actually is and how it works. I had not a clue how it worked until today, and literally a week ago I thought Torts was tying ropes to hockey players and having them drag each other around the ice... Not how it works.

So, John Tortorella's bag skate. First, the rope is marked in large sections and tied between two goals, placed a little closer together than usual. The players are split up into 4 groups of approximately 4 players each and sent to the four corners of the rink. When Torts blows his whistle, one player from each group completes 4 laps of the goals and returns to their corner; the next player up is sent off on his own laps, and so on and so forth. Once each player in each group has completed his first four laps, the two goals are widened to a new length marked on the rope and the first player is back up. It's not a test of time or speed; it's a test of endurance.

(Those numbers are rough estimates based off of what I saw today — it could be three laps, and I don't know how many reps they did. The actual schedule says 3x8 Lap which is the technical term for 👹Tort's Rope👹 but I thought I saw four laps. Eight reps sounds about right, too. Whatever! The actual numbers don't matter too much.)

What matters is that the player completes his laps and returns to his origination point, no matter how tired he is. His teammates can give him a pat on the back, or some tips and pointers, or they can stare into the blank void of space and consider a new career path. Whatever it is, he has to finish. So "not finishing" isn't really an option unless someone throws up or passes out or dies. And no one did that — so technically, everyone finished.

Some people certainly had an easier time than others. I noticed that Michkov and Bonk struggled quite a bit, and Jamie didn't look too thrilled either.

Travis Ballinghoff.

Which kinda sucked, because I was really rooting for them. But holy shit, Michkov was struggling. Charlie O Connor actually said in the PHLY podcast today that he noticed Michkov kind of cut his final lap short at one point and that John Tortorella came over to him and was like yo. can't do that. And for the rest of the time he pulled through.

Egor Zamula kept getting yelled at. "Let's go, Z! Keep skating, Z!" He also kept getting lapped by Rasmus Ristolainen. Tyson Foerster had "kill me now" face (see Bonk above) but Foerster does tend to have a pretty expressive face. Sean Couturier kept getting help from TK, who skated right behind him for the most part and kept pushing him forward with his stick. He even admitted it.

It seemed to me that most of the guys from last year, the returning ones, were the ones that did the best. Farabee, Frost, Tippett, Hathaway, Poehling, Laughton — they all had a routine in between their laps that they used to help keep them going, whether it was motivatinal or physiological or psychological. Farabee and Hathaway skated up and down the rope, in the center of the lapping players. Tippett stretched on the boards. (He's flexible. 👀)

It was interesting to watch who was fast, though. Ronnie Attard looked like he was having the time of his fucking life, and he actually did very well! Carter Sotheran has resting happy face, but I can't imagine he was having any fun. Jett Luchanko was certainly winded, but pulled through with minimal painful expressions. (Erik Johnson went on the record to say Luchanko looked like he didn't even have to try.) Zayde Wisdom, Noah Cates and Cam York all paced themselves well. But everyone, no matter who it was, was slowing down by the second or third rep — very visibly. It looked awful.

And then — and then! — they had to do shuttles. This one was in groups of four — started at one end, raced to the other end, tight turn, back to the original spot. Then a group of four at the opposite end, who were waiting, would do the same, and the small groups would switch off. They must have done at least five reps. No one fared well on these. No one. They were all lagging by the second rep.

Anyway, to answer your question, it was loud, and it was cold, and hockey players are big. The tallest ones were like hovering a foot over me (looking at you, Matteo Mann, what the fuck are you so tall for??) and even Michkov at 5'11 looked fucking ginormous. And his group was right near me — him, Frost, Seeler, and Lycksell. Frost was tiring but I could see him grit his teeth and grind out his laps. I assume after the emotional pain of John Tortorella, Frosty can handle the physical pain too. After one of his laps was done he gave Michkov a lil side hug. It was really cute!

Travis Ballinghoff.

Off topic, but stick "taps" — that's bad nomenclature, right there. A stick "tap" at the Vorhees TC sounds like a car backfiring.

At the end of every group's torture, they settled down for a circle stretch. TK went around the first one talking to guys and grinning and laughing. He looked like a leader. The second one Joel was going around making every guy give him a little fistbump. Then the third one was actually led by Spencer Gill, who I thought had done reasonably well, especially for having only just been drafted. He held his own.

Thank you for the ask!

[chickenkurage]

A friend or a foe? (Artificial Intelligence AU)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Summary: DJ’s life has never been easier now that Noogai was here. Honestly, he had never met someone so caring before. Not that it matter to DJ that Noogai was essentially an AI (He appreciates the guy too much <3)

[And DJ meets another orange hollowhead.]

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Sick Character, Mentions of Illness, Major Character Death, Touch Starved, Fluff.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Noogs, look, I think... this is a bit too much,” DJ stammered, his gaze fixed on the table filled with an array of plated food. Noogai tilted his head, puzzled, and turned to inspect the spread. 

“No?” Noogai questioned, genuinely confused. After all, isn't it crucial for DJ to eat properly and maintain a healthy diet? In Noogai's opinion, the amount of food on the table seemed appropriate.

“It is! This food is almost for 4 people!” DJ exclaimed, gesturing towards the plates once more. Noogai followed his gesture before turning back to DJ with a nonchalant shrug. 

“It's not. My readings suggest that it's beneficial for you to adjust to eating this amount, especially considering you're a male in your mid-20s,” Noogai explained.

“I don’t want to look fat,” DJ retorted, pushing a potato into his mouth in defiance. “You aren't fat,” Noogai reassured, taking a seat on a spare chair and clasping his hands together, observing DJ with keen interest as he ate.

DJ felt a bead of sweat forming on his brow. “I soon will be if I continue to eat like this,” “Come on, join me, I built your body to enjoy food. You should try some,” he urged, gesturing towards the plates once more.

Noogai glanced at the unappetizing food before shaking his head. “I have no need to,” he retorted, growing increasingly frustrated with DJ's disregard for his well-being and refusal to heed his advice.

Can't he see I'm trying to help him so he won't get sick? Noogai thought, a tick forming at his head.

Noogai turned back to DJ, who coughed slightly, prompting the purple hollowhead hackles to rise and alarms to blare in front of his eyes. "Are you okay?" Noogai inquired, rising from his chair and approaching DJ, a hand resting on the orange hollowhead’s shoulder.

"Huh?" DJ looked up at Noogai, perplexed, ready to take another bite after clearing the rice from his throat with a cough. "You were coughing," Noogai observed. "Yeah, because I got rice in my throat?" DJ replied, appearing even more puzzled before resuming eating.

DJ watched Noogai frown, his lips down turned in a way that almost pains DJ’s heart.

It didn't take long for DJ to realize that Noogai was a worrywart.

Whenever DJ coughed even slightly, Noogai would swiftly appear by his side, assessing his well-being and simultaneously checking his code. This behavior, though peculiar, didn't strike DJ as odd. After years of solitude, enduring the disdain of most due to his appearance and behavior, DJ had grown accustomed to seclusion within the confines of his home.

When he did go out, he made sure to conceal his face.

Now with Noogai here, who willingly does the groceries for him or fetches spare parts from the hardware store down the city, even at 3 AM.

Not that Noogai would let him stay up; in fact, he always insists that DJ sleep earlier than usual. While this was fine, at one point DJ couldn't even stay awake during one of their movie nights because he had become so accustomed to sleeping early.

And of course, Noogai reassured him, mentioning that it's good; it means his body is adjusting to having a healthy body clock.

"Hey Noogs," DJ called out, prompting the purple hollowhead to raise his head, his black shades fixated on DJ. "What kind of AI are you exactly? Where were you used?" DJ inquired, tilting his head before returning his gaze to the TV.

Beside him, Noogai froze, his hands halting on the laptop.

"I'm used for assisting sick patients," Noogai murmured. DJ turned towards him, chuckling. "So that's why you've been so concerned about my health, isn't it?" DJ cocked his head, a smirk playing on his lips.

Noogai simply frowned, diverting his attention back to the laptop, the shadow cast by his dark shades partially obscuring his face, accentuating the gleam from his shades. "Mm," Noogai responded, his tone sounding distant.

DJ's eyes widened. Perhaps it was too personal. Can AIs even get personal? DJ pondered, nervously biting his lip and scratching his chin. Sensing the unease, DJ reached out and patted Noogai's shoulder.

"Lighten up, man. I have no issue with you being an AI made for assisting sick people, though it does make me wonder how you're so knowledgeable about other things," DJ remarked, shaking his head with a chuckle and playfully bumping Noogai's shoulder.

Noogai gazed at him before offering a slight smile.

"AI learns, DJ," Noogai replied, prompting laughter from DJ. "Yeah, I walked right into that one, didn't I?" DJ huffed. "You did," Noogai responded, letting out a small chuckle before returning to typing, the sound louder this time.

"Hm," DJ hummed, leaning back as he refocused on the show he was watching.

Sensing Noogai pressing up close to his side, the orange hollowhead grinned and leaned against Noogai.

『••✎••』

"Noogs, I told you I'm okay, just a bit under the weather," DJ reassured, patting Noogai's hand as the purple hollowhead looked down at him with concern. "No, you're sick. I can easily fix your code, DJ," Noogai insisted, placing a hand on DJ, who gently grabbed it and pushed it away.

"Noogs... if you keep doing that, my body will weaken. That's why we don't rely on coders to repair us. I just need medicine, I promise," DJ explained, offering a small smile to the worried AI.

Noogai gazed down at him, his expression inscrutable, especially with the shades covering his face. "Are you sure?" he inquired, almost whispering, surprising DJ.

"W-well, of course! I promise! I already took my medicine," DJ affirmed, grinning. He watched as Noogai grabbed the corner of his duvet and carefully tucked it under his chin, ensuring he was snug under the warm covers.

"Okay, you should get some rest," Noogai advised, patting DJ's chest, his hand lingering briefly before withdrawing.

"Mmm, okay," DJ murmured, fully closing his eyes.

Noogai observed him as he drifted off to sleep, a frown creasing his face as he monitored the codes circulating around DJ's body. He could easily correct DJ's code while he slept, but DJ had made it clear he didn't want that. Noogai scowled, arms crossed, a deep sense of concern gripping his chest, prompting him to turn away.

"Stupid human emotions, if only—" Noogai's voice trailed off, the frustration evaporating.

He hesitantly placed a hand on his chest, where he felt a pang each time he worried about DJ.

Noogai understood why he experienced such emotions, despite being an AI. It was because of the fusion with a human. It was his doing, his hope to save—

Noogai recoiled at the thought, glancing back at DJ, his mind swirling in turmoil and dark.

The human was gone; there was no use dwelling on it now. Noogai thought, his chest aching more intensely. It was simpler when he felt anger, but the sadness and grief were far more excruciating than all the death he had been subjected to (those experiments were the worst, but he was made for that purpose wasn’t he?).

Clutching his fist, Noogai turned towards DJ's cluttered table, grabbed a chair, and carefully pulled it close to DJ's bed, settling down on it. 

He decided to keep watch over DJ as he slept.

It was around 5:00 PM, Noogai woke DJ up to have some water and soup.

"Noogs?" DJ groaned, his voice raspy, peering up at the dark figure looming over him.

For a brief moment, he thought he saw human eyes staring back at him within the shadow under Noogai's hood, prompting him to rub his eyes and focus on Noogai, who was now tilting his head. In his hands, Noogai held a small table, a bowl and a glass of water neatly placed on top.

“Oh sorry, i thought-” DJ said, scratching his head as Noogai made a move to place the table on his bed, taking the spoon in his hand and handing it to DJ.

"Oh, sorry, I thought—" DJ began, scratching his head as Noogai moved to place the table on his bed, handing the spoon to DJ.

"Thank you so much, Noogs. You know I appreciate you taking care of me, right?" DJ expressed his gratitude before delving into his bowl, unaware of the dark shadow creeping over Noogai's face. "Mm," Noogai merely hummed.

DJ chuckled. "You're a man of few words, but thank you again," he remarked.

Noogai hummed once more, settling in the chair and observing DJ eat, his gaze fixed on DJ's codes. He breathed a small sigh of relief upon seeing that everything had repaired itself correctly.

"Mmmm, this is really good. I could never make such delicious food," DJ praised, grinning as he turned to Noogai, who responded with a slight smile.

"Is it?" Noogai inquired, tilting his head.

DJ grinned, saying, "Very much, I'm done now. Thank you for the food!" He clasped his hands together and bowed his head.

"Heh," Noogai chuckled, rising to retrieve the table from DJ's lap. "Go back to sleep, DJ. Just a bit more, and your code will be good as new," Noogai assured him as he watched DJ pull his duvet back up and settle back into bed with a contented sigh.

"Of course, you take care of me so well!" DJ expressed, grinning at Noogai, who turned away, his expression darkening with a frown. "Good night, Noogs," DJ sang, rolling to his side as Noogai left the room.

Noogai paused in the hallway to glance back at DJ, who was happily shifting in his bed, before continuing down the hallway, a dark shadow spreading along the walls of the house.

『••✎••』

[ Rest Alan Becker ]

"Not yet, I still have so many things to do," the man in glasses—Alan—remarked, running a hand through his hair with a melancholic sigh. In front of him, the TV beeped once more, almost sounding annoyed. Alan chuckled as he noticed a face on the screen.

[ >:( ]

"What's with you? Usually you want me here. I'm here now, and you're making me leave?" Alan questioned, bending down to inspect another wire.

He exhaled sharply at the torn insulation. "Tsk," Alan huffed, retrieving duct tape from his coat and covering the large tear before labeling it with a marker: "Tear."

As he stood up, his vision swam, prompting him to lean on the large screen. "Woah, woah," Alan groaned, placing a hand on his head.

The TV beeped once more, drawing his attention back to the screen.

[ You need sleep, this is not good for your health Alan Becker ]

"Yeah, I know, but this is the only job keeping my family afloat, you know. A few extra shifts wouldn't hurt," Alan remarked with a grin, patting the screen gently.

[ You are sick ]

Alan frowned as he observed his vitals on the screen. The TV beeped loudly once more, and a plume of smoke emerged from one of the wires, prompting Alan to yelp.

"Jesus! What the hell did they even do to you?" Alan exclaimed, bending down to examine the thick wire. "This is completely torn. What happened, N00GA1?" Alan questioned, straightening up and turning to look at the screen, which remained blank.

[...]

"Come on, tell me. I know they aren't treating you well," Alan urged, gesturing with his hand.

[...]

Alan huffed, rolling his eyes. "Suit yourself, Noogs," he remarked before smiling softly. "I'm always here if you need a helping hand. You may be AI, but I see you as an equal of mine. You deserve peace as well." He patted the screen again, which remained blank.

For a moment, Alan thought N00GA1 had shut down, perhaps willingly or unwillingly, just before the TV beeped once more.

[ Rest Alan Becker ]

Alan huffed, saying, "Fine, alright, I'll see you, okay?" He turned around and waved a hand.

N00GA1 watched him leave.

『••✎••』

Noogai's eyes opened, scanning the room in confusion. Had he fallen asleep?

A warning flashed in front of his eyes, indicating that his body needed a recharge soon, or else he would shut down.

Looking around, he realized he was seated at the dining table, the clock showing it was already 2 AM.

Noogai swiftly stood up, his steps silent as he hurried down the hallway to DJ's room. He cracked the door open and approached the bed, letting out a calm sigh as he observed DJ mumbling incoherently in his sleep.

As Noogai sighed, he froze when DJ stirred, blinking up at him with confusion once again.

"Noogs? Hnn, what time is it?" DJ mumbled, pushing himself up. "It's 2 AM," Noogai replied, staring at DJ in a way that sent shivers down his spine for no apparent reason. Perhaps it was the darkness that was distorting Noogai's features, making him appear almost... human.

DJ blinked, rubbing his eyes. "Why are you still awake?" he asked. "I don't need to sleep, DJ," Noogai stated, tilting his head.

"But I'm pretty sure that your body needs to recharge, so come on here and charge up," DJ insisted, retrieving a spare charger from under his bed, untangling it, and pulling Noogai beside him. 

"Come on," DJ urged as he grabbed Noogai's hood and pulled it down. Noogai let out an annoyed sigh as DJ plugged him in.

"There, now you lay down and relax. You need it after taking care of me all day," DJ beamed and pushed Noogai down on the bed, lying beside him and pulling the covers up to their chins.

"DJ, I don't need to lay down," Noogai protested, gazing up at the ceiling as he felt DJ wrap his arms around him. "Come on, just sleep. I know you can. Just close your eyes, then..." DJ's voice trailed off, followed by a yawn.

"Then?" Noogai inquired, turning his head to the side, only to find DJ lightly snoring on his shoulder, already back asleep.

"Hm," Noogai hummed, a sense of warmth spreading through his chest as he refocused on the ceiling, slowly wrapping his arms around DJ, who only let out an incoherent mumble.

"Good night, DJ," Noogai whispered, shadows seeming to spread around the room, almost encasing DJ protectively as he slept.

"Mmm," DJ hummed, and Noogai only tightened his hold on the orange hollowhead.

"'Night," DJ mumbled, rubbing his cheek on Noogai's shoulder before drifting back into snoring.

"I'll take care of you, DJ," Noogai whispered, his voice carrying a tone almost akin to a prayer.

『••✎••』

Fwoosh!

BANG!

BANG!

Noogai turned around, observing a black blur streak past him, followed by a chorus of shrieks from civilians. "Hm?" Noogai hummed with interest as a group of stick figures on flying bikes soared overhead.

He watched intently as one of them brandished a gun before the entire group circled a building and vanished from view.

Glancing at the distraught civilians briefly, Noogai resumed his walk back to DJ's house, completely unfazed. It wasn't his concern to worry about anything other than DJ, after all.

By the time he reached the house, Noogai walked into the living room and spotted DJ hunched over a robot dog, adjusting a knob with a wrench before patting the metal affectionately. 

"Noogs? Is that you?" DJ called, glancing up at the purple hollowhead.

"Yes, who else could I be?" Noogai replied, walking over to the dining table and setting the grocery bags down gently. "Well, I do recall some kids attempting to enter my house; thankfully, I secured it before sleeping," DJ mentioned off-handedly, tapping his chin before chuckling.

Noogai glared, his fist clenching in response.

"Anyway, look at this thing I made!" DJ beamed, turning his body fully toward Noogai, who sat down beside him, crossing his legs and gazing at the metal dog.

"It looks amazing," Noogai complimented, giving DJ a small smile.

"Oh, wow, uh, thanks man. It's not done yet. I think I'll add fur to make it look the part," DJ said, rubbing the back of his head, looking a bit embarrassed. "I've been wanting a dog for a while now, but I'm not really good at taking care of living things. So... Robo Dog!" DJ grinned, waving his arms around.

Noogai chuckled, turning back to the metal dog, reaching out to give it a gentle tap on the nose.

"Huh—" DJ began, watching as the dog shivered before slowly coming to life. "Woof!" The dog barked, excitedly jumping into DJ's arms. "Woah! You can do that? I-I thought—" DJ was cut off as the dog in his arms spun around excitedly.

DJ burst into a happy laugh, allowing the metal dog to explore the living room before it eventually settled down on his lap. "Wow..." DJ marveled, turning back to Noogai, who had been observing the scene with a small smile on his face.

"I thought you could only manipulate code, like those cool professional coders do... not create it. This is amazing! Is this what an AI made by humans does?" DJ asked, his eyes shining with excitement as he gestured enthusiastically.

"Not all, just me," Noogai replied, tilting his head slightly.

"Cool! Man, I knew you were cool and all, but you really are the coolest," DJ exclaimed, patting Noogai on the back, who huffed in response, though a small smile played on his lips.

"Yip," the metal dog barked, its tongue lolling out of its mouth. "Looks like I don't even have to add the internals with you; Noogs did all the hard work!" DJ said, giving Noogai an excited smile.

"Hm," Noogai hummed, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand as he watched DJ play with the robot dog. 

He observed DJ even taking off his prosthetic and having the dog fetch it for fun.

For once Noogai felt warmth.

『••✎••』

Coldness enveloped him; his body felt numb, almost lifeless.

Noogai glanced around, a faint light illuminating his face (where was it coming from?), casting a stark beam on the bloodstains on the floor. Slowly, he raised his hands to his face, finding them bloodied and bruised.

"A-Alan?" Noogai called out, his body a strange mix of pain and numbness as he cautiously took a step forward, the wires wrapped around him aiding his movement. 

He gripped one of the wires wound around his wrist and made his way towards the door.

However, he froze in place when he spotted a pair of familiar glasses lying on the floor.

"Alan?" Noogai called out once more, noticing a wire bunched up on the ground as he carefully picked up the bloodied glasses.

He reached for the glasses, holding them in his hands and inspecting them, noticing a small crack on the lens.

A tense feeling washed over him, a strange emotion overwhelming him as he examined Alan's glasses.

Has someone hurt him? Noogai thought, worry creeping into his mind.

He placed a hand on the door's knob and pushed it open, flooding the bloodied room with bright light.

Noogai stepped out cautiously, his head feeling unusually heavy, as if disconnected from his shoulders.

(Unnoticed behind him was a dismembered head, the original body entirely replaced by a large TV)

Noogai carefully walked down the hallway, his hand on the wall as he made an effort to steady himself. He briefly heard loud dripping but chose to pay no mind to it. Perhaps it was just some water leaking from the roof.

He stopped when he saw a woman in front of him who was staring at him with her jaw open in a mute scream.

"A-Ah," the woman stuttered, the clipboard in her hands dropping as she fell on her back.

Her eyes turned to the name on the bloodied lab coat. "Alan Becker"

"Monster!" she screamed.

『••✎••』

"Oh man," DJ said as he stared down at Noogai, who had completely shut down, forgetting to charge his body for the umpteenth time again.

 "Noogs..." DJ said, placing a hand on his face as he bent down and carefully heaved the purple hollow heads’ arm over his shoulder.

He dragged him towards the couch and gently laid him down, grabbing the charger that he had left behind the TV before plugging it into Noogai’s shoulder.

"There," DJ said, placing his hands on his hips. Behind him, he heard Forest let out an excited bark, running up to Noogai before DJ stepped in front of the robot dog, stopping it from jumping onto the couch.

"Ah ah, he's pretty tired right now. Let's not bother him," DJ wagged his finger in front of the dog, who only yipped and nodded before sitting down.

"Since he's asleep, that means I need to go out by myself. Will you be able to watch over him?" DJ asked. Forest let out a bark in response.

DJ giggled, bending down to pet him. "Good boy, make sure he doesn't take his charger off. I swear, if he does that again, I'll deck him," DJ groaned as he stood up, grabbed a spare jacket from his room, and walked out of the house towards the city.

He briefly tugged his hood lower as he passed a few shops, feeling sweat form at the back of his neck.

He had been nervous about being outside again, he had grown accustomed to Noogai handling everything that involved going outside.

Sure, maybe he had a bit of social anxiety on the other hand, but it wasn't his fault that they saw him differently. (honestly it was not just because he was a hollowhead, but also the fact he had accidentally set some of his machines towards the city, and had broken at least thousands of moneys worth. Yeah he had been in debt for a while after that)

DJ let out a nervous gulp as he stared at the store, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the numerous stick figures walking around.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," DJ thought, fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket. He turned around and started making his way back towards his house, only to bump into a stick figure, causing him to fall on his back and his hood to drop down.

"Ow," DJ mumbled, placing a hand on his back. As he did so, he noticed a few stick figures looking his way, prompting him to place a hand on his head and realize that his hood had fallen off. "A hollowhead?" someone whispered.

“It’s that guy with the robots, isn’t it?” another whispered as DJ quickly pulled his hood up. He stood up on his feet and pushed through the crowd, stumbling.

“Yeah, it’s the terrorist,” a woman whispered as DJ ran past her.

He let out a pant of breath, feeling his heart beating in his chest.

He turned his head behind, watching as some passersby turned to look at him strangely. Not before he hit someone again, causing the stick figure he hit to fall on his side with a yelp.

“Ow!” a young voice said. DJ turned his head down and saw an... orange hollowhead? Almost the same color as him, but much brighter, with strange lines on his face.

“A-ah, sorry!” DJ said, bending down and helping the teen, who let out a small groan.

“It’s fine! Maybe next time you should check where you’re running,” the orange hollowhead said, rubbing the back of his head with a giggle. His eyes widened as he stared at DJ fully.

“Y-You’re just like me!” he said, his jaw dropping. DJ's eyes widened, he ducked his head down, walked around the other orange hollowhead, and said, “U-uhm, no, anyways sorry again and see you.” DJ waved a hand and sprinted away.

He heard a small “Hey! Wait!” but only sped up his pace as he ran back home, stumbling up the porch, bringing out his keys, and opening the front door.

Before finding Noogai staring back at him, a shadow covering the entirety of his hood.

"DJ, you didn't wake me," Noogai remarked as DJ stumbled inside the house, closing the door behind him and settling on the floor, visibly out of breath.

"Yeah, uh, I regret doing that," DJ admitted, raising a hand as Noogai gazed down at him with concern. 

Noogai knelt beside him, placing a hand on DJ's chest, and almost instantly, DJ felt much better, as though he hadn't just ran back home without stopping, moments ago. "Thanks," DJ expressed, offering Noogai a small smile.

Noogai silently assisted DJ to his feet, guiding him to the living room and seating him on the couch before taking a spot beside him.

"Sorry, Noogs, it's just that you were recharging your body, you know," DJ explained, turning his head towards Noogai, who simply frowned.

"It was my fault as well. I've forgotten to recharge again... And—" Noogai trailed off, closing his lips, a look of distress briefly crossing his face before he redirected his attention back to DJ, the previous expression disappearing.

"Are you sure you’re okay? You still look pale. Maybe I should—" Noogai brought his hand up towards DJ’s chest again, only to have the orange hollowhead intercept it with a small chuckle.

"No, I'm fine. It's just the social anxiety getting to me, you know. I'm not used to getting out much," DJ said with a rub on the back of his head.

"That’s worrisome. Maybe next time you can come with me outside," Noogai suggested, placing a finger on his chin.

"A-ah well," DJ blushed, looking away. "Social anxiety is a disorder. If it gets worse, you won't be able to socialize with anyone," Noogai pointed out, placing a hand on DJ’s shoulder.

DJ sighed, “I know... it’s just that a few months back, before I met you, I had accidentally set some of my robots free in the city... It caused a lot of destruction to houses, buildings, and stores. That's why I was in debt for a while.” DJ chuckled, a hint of embarrassment coloring his voice.

Noogai only hummed in understanding. “We’ll work on that,” he remarked, giving DJ a small smile.

“Is there anything else that happened outside?” Noogai added. DJ felt a bead of sweat fall down the back of his neck as he remembered the orange hollowhead in the city.

It was DJ's first time encountering someone like himself. Noogai wasn't exactly like him; he was just an AI using one of DJ's robots, crafted in his likeness, as a makeshift vessel to move around the outernet.

Although there had been two hollowhead terrorists who appeared a year ago, there was no orange one like the individual he had encountered earlier.

“DJ?” Noogai tapped him once more, bringing the orange hollowhead back to his senses, prompting a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, nothing much, just got overwhelmed with the crowd,” DJ said, rubbing the back of his head.

“Is that so?” Noogai inquired, tilting his head as he observed DJ looking away to locate Forest. DJ simply hummed in agreement, lifting Forest from the ground and cooing at him softly.

A dark shadow crossed over Noogai’s face.

DJ was lying. He knows. Because he sees everything.

You'd know, don't you?

Tell me, is he lying?

Spongey and JMLilac descending into madness (They are just sleep deprived)

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Toilette

steddie, omegaverse, getting ready for bed, 1920s teenage sweethearts

The Harringtons have just gotten home from a seaside vacation, and Steve is excited to sleep in his own bed, surrounded by his nest. In the morning he plans to track down his boyfriend, drag him to the movies, and kiss him senseless. Maybe not in that exact order. And with some repetition thrown in for good measure.

But for now he simply wants to get ready for bed and get out of his traveling clothes. Flora has drawn him a bath, laid out a nightgown, and placed his towel over the heated rack, so all he has to do is strip down and sink into the warm water. To relax. He’s got the latest issue of Picture-Play magazine to leaf through, and plenty of bubbles.

The water’s gone cold and Steve’s fingers are pruney by the time he climbs from the tub and dries off with his deliciously warm towel. Pulling on a lacy pair of knickers and his nightgown, Steve crosses back to his room, only to hear a *plink* against his window.

Startled, he jumps, looking for his robe, but in too much of a rush to cover up, so he grabs a throw blanket from the foot of his bed and wraps it around his shoulders. Another *plink* at the window. Steve peers out into the darkness, but sees nothing.

Another *plink* and this time he sees the flash of something against the glass. He undoes the latch and pushes the window open, and without the light reflecting from his room, he can see into the oak tree and has to hold back a scream.

“Eddie!” he hisses, “What are you doing? You could fall and break your neck!”

“I was on my way home and saw the lights on, sweetheart. I had to see you.” Eddie puts on an innocent face, nimbly making his way along the branch and onto the bit of roof below Steve’s window. He leans inside, smile wide, eyes sparkling as he gazes up at Steve. “You’ve been gone so long, Stevie, and I couldn’t bear to go one more minute than absolutely necessary to see you again.”

“You know my father will kill you if he catches you up here, Eddie,” Steve whispers, the urgency gone from his voice as he leans closer. “And I don’t want you getting hurt over—”

He’s cut off by Eddie’s lips pressing against his own. Steve can’t help it after that, letting go of the blanket as his hands grasp Eddie’s cheeks, holding him in place as he kisses back with everything that’s been waiting, coiled tight inside him for the past month.

When they finally part for air, Eddie’s still staring at Steve like he hung the moon in the sky, and Steve wants nothing more than to pull him inside and snuggle against his chest. Instead, he leans their foreheads together and whispers, “You should go…”

“I know, honey. Just missed ya, is all. Needed your scent fresh in my nose.” He kisses Steve once more for good measure, then pulls back enough to really get a good look at him. Steve can feel his gaze roving over his bare arms, his exposed collar bones.

Eddie almost loses his footing, but he holds on tight to the window ledge, righting himself. “Good night, Stevie. See you in the morning?”

“In the morning, as soon as I can get away.”

Steve grins as he watches Eddie scramble down the oak tree, breathing easier once his alpha has his feet on the ground.

[waughymommy]

MOMMY KNOWS BEST 💞

Chapter 13

            Brian had managed to pull it together enough to get some work done. But as it neared lunchtime, he took notice of his aching bladder. He had tried to ignore the dampness of his pull-up from his earlier episode. It wasn’t by any means soaked, but he would feel better when he changed. He reached into his bag and pulled out a pull-up. He panicked when he realized he would have to sneak it out of his office. It might look odd carrying his work bag into the bathroom. He looked back at the pull-up and thought it was thin enough to wedge it between his waist band and his back and put on his jacket to conceal it. He called Samantha into office.

            “Yes, Mr. Sullivan?, she asked.

            “Um yes, I need you to hold my calls for a few minutes.” He shuffled papers on his desk, trying not to reveal his nervousness. “I think a walk will do me some good, maybe clear my head before the meeting this afternoon.”

            “Absolutely. I think that is a great idea. Is there anything else I can do?” she asked with a genuine smile.

            “You know what, there is. I want you in that meeting with me this afternoon. I want your eyes on this new project.”

She beamed. Although he often asked for her input, he had never brought her to one of these big project meetings. “Yes...yes I will absolutely be there.”

“Excellent. Ok I will be back in a bit,” he said as walked out the door. She watched him as he departed. He jacket was bunched in the back. She could something protruding from the waist of his pants. She couldn’t see it long as he disappeared from the doorway. She thought it crazy, but thought that it looked like a diaper. She was about to make her exit when she dropped her pen. It rolled down by his bag and she bent down to retrieve it. That’s when she noticed a ribbon connected to clip underneath his bag. That was curious. She pulled it free and discovered what was at the other end of the clip: a pacifier. A moment ago, she swore she a diaper sticking out of his pants and now she was holding a pacifier. She was nearly certain that he didn’t have any children. Why would this be here? Then she noticed that it was abnormally large. It looked far too big for any child. Was this his? She clutched it into her hand and walked out to her desk where she shoved it in a drawer.

            Brian nervously shuffled through the office. Brian had always had bathroom anxiety. He hated going into a bathroom with several stalls already occupied. He never understood how people could go so easily with others in earshot. If it looked like a bathroom was quite full, he had no turning around and waiting for another time. He would even walk clear across the building to one of the more secluded bathrooms to have some privacy. That’s where he planned on going now. Although it would take longer to get there, it might be an easier place to change. As it was the lunch hour, much of the office was vacant. Brian breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the bathroom and found all the stalls empty.

            He closed the door behind him and removed his jacket. He stood there for a moment trying to figure out how to do this. If his mommy were here, she would know exactly what to do. After a moment, he realized he had no choice but to completely undress. He slipped out of his shoes and proceeded to strip down. Here he was standing in an office bathroom in nothing but his socks, a onesie and a damp pull up. He never could have imagined this when he left work on Friday. He unfastened the snaps of the onesie and tore off the onesie. He pulled up his onesie while he used the bathroom. His bladder was super full and he felt instant relief. When he finished, he slipped on the new pullup and proceeded to redress himself. This was going to be a big problem if he was going to have to completely undress every time he needed to use the bathroom. He walked out of the stall and placed the used pull-up in the trashcan. He wadded up several paper towels and threw them over top of the discarded pull-up in hopes that no one would see it. He washed his hands and looked himself over in the mirror. He felt confident that his onesie was properly concealed, and he started to make his way back to his office.

            As he passed Samantha’s desk, he flashed a nervous smile and quickly shuffled into his office. He had just settled back into his chair, when she knocked at his door. “May I come in?” she asked through the door.

            Brian exhaled, “Sure.”

            “That was a pretty fast walk sir. Is there anything you need before the big meeting this afternoon?” she asked in a sweet tone.

            He looked up at her with an almost quizzical gaze. She was always a diligent employee, but today she seemed to be extra attentive, almost doting. He couldn’t put his finger on it. “A coffee would be wonderful. I could use a pick me up.”

            “Glady,” and she was off. Brian tried to focus his mind on the upcoming meeting. Today was the first that he had of the Babies R Us project. He didn’t even know they were a client. But why did they want him on the project? He was feeling pensive again and he reached into his bag, fishing for his pacifier. Nothing. His chest grew tight and his stomach was in knots again. He frantically threw the bag on his desk to search the bag more thoroughly. As he searched, Samantha came back in with his coffee.

            “Is everything alright Mr. Sullivan?" she asked with concern. She saw the frantic expression on his face. He tried to make up an excuse that he had momentarily lost his wedding ring.

            He placed the bag back on the ground, “All good. Thank you for the coffee.” She knew that he had to have been looking for the pacifier she found earlier. It probably explained why he was acting so weird. She felt a sudden pang of guilt for taking it, but she had so many questions She guessed her own curiosity possessed her to grab it. For a split second she thought about retrieving it from her desk and returning it. However, with the meeting approaching, it seemed like a bad time. She would wait until it was time to head home.

            The hour of the meeting arrived and the two walked into the conference room. Mr. Gates was already seated as well as several of his other colleagues. “Ah Mr. Sullivan, just the man I have been waiting to see. Please take your seat and we will get started in just a moment.”

            Brian sat down at opened his notebook. Samantha went to take a seat at a chair on the perimeter of the room, but he beckoned for her to sit next to him. “I hope you don’t mind Mr. Gates, I have invited Ms. Carson to sit in on this meeting. I think she might some fresh perspective.”

            “Of course not Mr. Sullivan. Your work for this company has been impeccable. You have been invaluable to this company. Now as you may know, Babies R Us as hired us to help them market a new product line. If we knock this out of the park, they may work with us exclusively. Mr. Johnson here is going to brief us a bit more on the details. The floor is yours sir.”

            Mark Johnson passed around a packet of information to everyone in attendance, “Thank you Mr. Gates. As he said Babies R Us wants us to market this new line of products. As you can see here it is called Mommy Knows Best. It includes everything from diapers and clothing to strollers and furniture. Brian stared down at the line of products listed in the packet. He kept his head down. He prayed he wasn’t blushing too bad. He was sitting in a conference room listening to a presentation on a line of baby products while underneath his professional attire, he was clad in a pull-up and onesie. Samantha noticed his discomfort but recognized there was little that she could do in the moment. Brian struggled to focus and was only partially paying attention. As Mark spoke, he noticed a twinge in his bladder. He shouldn’t have had that coffee.

            Mark continued on, “As you can guess with a name like Mommy Knows Best, we want to drive home that idea that no one knows what’s best for their baby than a mother. We want them to associate this line of product as the best possible decision for all of their baby’s needs.” Brian began to quietly fidget in his seat. He absent mindedly bounced his leg. Samantha had never seen Brian act this way. He was usually so calm and collected. Brian tried to focus, but his full bladder interrupted his concentration. He decided to try and pee a little bit with the hope of reducing the pressure. He took a breath and relaxed his muscles, but instead of just letting out a small spurt, the damn burst. There was nothing he could do to stop it as his pull was being put to its limit. Samantha looked over convinced she heard a hissing sound. Brian tried to look nonchalant, but he was on the verge of panic attack.

            Mark finished his presentation. Mr. Gates stood up and looked directly at Brian, “Mr. Sullivan can we rely on you to handle this project.”

            Brian stammered, “Uh yes…yes of course of Mr. Gates.”

            “Very well then. Thank you everyone,” Mr. Gates said and exited the conference room. Brian stood up without a word. He could feel the weight of his pullup. He was too scared to see if he leaked into his pants. He raced out of the room without waiting for Samantha to accompany him. She had no clue as how to help.

            Brian reached the safety of his office and locked the door behind him. He pulled down his pants to inspect. He could feel that his onesie was damp, but his pants remained dry. He hoped he could make it till the end of the day. He unlocked his door and went back to his desk. As he sat down, he felt the squish of his pull-up. He just wanted to cry. He needed his mommy. He sat staring at his computer screen in a total fog. Finally a knock at the door jolted him from his daze. “Mr. Sullivan is there anything else I can do before I head home?” He looked down at phone and realized the time. “No Ms. Carson. Thank you for all you hard work today,” he said through the door.

            Brian gathered his things and walked briskly out of his office. He reached his car and set his bag inside. He was just about to hop in when he heard his name called. He swung around to see Samantha running towards him.

            “Ms. Carson, is everything ok?” he called to her.

            “I need to apologize to you,” she said while opening her hand to reveal something sitting on her palm. “I found this on the floor of your office. I am so so sorry Mr. Sullivan. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just grabbed it and I shouldn’t have. I have no idea what’s going on. I know you were under a lot of stress today. I want you to know that I am here if there is anything I can do, not only as a coworker, but as a friend. You have always been so kind and respectful to me.”

            Brian’s face could not hide his shock as he took the pacifier from her. He was completely flabbergasted. He tried to speak, but no words escaped his mouth. She reached up and in a comforting manner, placed her hand on his arm. “There is no judgement from me. You are a good man, Brian. Oh and, you might want to get some thicker protection,” and with that she walked away. Brian quickly patted his backside and realized that several wet spots had formed. He hopped down in the car and tried to process what had just happened. He looked down at the pacifier still in his hand. After a moment, he surrendered to his needs and popped it into his mouth and proceeded to drive home.

[hw4-l1z]

hi could you please do dom Jay from enhypen x virgin male reader

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Hope this was okay, my first sub!reader fic🙏

Dom!Jay x Sub!m!reader

Cw: virgin!reader// fingering// mentions of oral sex// dumbification ig// mentions of dacryphilia//

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You were almost shaking you were so nervous from what was about to happen. You hadn't gone further than oral sex with him since you were always so scared about going all the way. It took you some convincing although he never pushed you to do it since he wanted you to feel comfortable. Eventually you decided that you'd let him fuck you since you were feeling extra needy and needed more than his hands and mouth.

He's fingered you before and you did enjoy it but the feeling was very foreign and weird to you. He's currently two fingers in and knuckles deep into your hole. Kissing your lips tenderly as his fingers curl up, opening your tight hole a little to prep you for his cock.

Your head was thrown back as he kisses along your neck and chest area as you let out small grunts and guttural moans. Once he's finished with opening you up with his fingers, he pulls them out before placing himself between your thighs. Grabbing a condom and slipping it onto his cock slowly.

"Just let me know if it hurts or if it's too much okay?" He says before slowly sliding his cock into you. Your walls are so tight, gripping onto his cock so perfectly making it hard for him to hold back and to not just ruin your pretty hole.

The feeling of his cock sliding into you and opening you up more than you're used to is such an intense feeling. You try your best to relax but you feel like your being ripped in half by him. It's not painful but just feels weird to you. Once he's bottomed out and stills inside you, you lay there limp for about a minute just trying to get used to the feeling.

You tell him he can move now but to keep it very slow for you. He begins to slowly pull out until it's just the tip before slowly sliding back in. He repeats this a couple of times at an agonisingly slow pace for him but he holds back knowing it's your first time ever and he can't be too rough. But oh how he wants to just see you fall apart as he fuck into you roughly, he wants to see your all pathetic and crying for more. So see your tear filled eyes sparkling when you look him in the eyes just begging him to be nicer to you. But he won't. He knows he'll hurt you and that's the last thing he wants. He can wait until your taking his cock in easier before being rougher.

He picks up speed a little as he watches your body relax as the pleasure takes over you. Your eyes rolling back as your jaw slacks open yet no noises come out. He's hitting all the right spots and your brain becomes fuzzy so quickly, unable to comprehend a single thing.

This. This is what he wanted. For you to go so cock dumb and for you to be completely lost in the pleasure. He feels as your hole isn't as tight and starts to suck his cock back in everytime he moves his cock out. He knows he can begin to be a little more rough with you and that's you'd be able to handle a little bit of it. He repositions himself before slamming his cock in once just to test the waters as you let out a loud gasp. You're body jerks and your cock begins to leak, he grabs onto the back of your thighs, pushing them up and towards your chest before pounding his cock into you.

It's all too much for you but you can't seem to find the words to get him to stop. You want more. You CRAVE more. You can't help but let loud moans spill from your lips as he's completely taking you apart. Your eyes blurring as they go cross-eyed, your lips between your teeth as all you can do is lay there and whine. You close your eyes, letting yourself get completely lost in this dazed out submissive head space, gripping onto whatever you can for leverage, feeling like you're about to float away.

Your body grows hot as you feel yourself about to let go and make a mess of yourself. You can't even form the world to warn him so you just lay there a moaning, trembling mess. Finally your cock begins to spurt of strings of cum and your legs shake in jay's hold.

"Feel that good huh?" He laughs as you quiver through your orgasm. He slows down his thrusts and begins to sort of grind his cock into you as he eventually spills into the condom with a low moan.

"Sorry...sorry, I didn't mean to be so rough for your first baby" he says breathlessly.

"S'okay" you say, still in a dazed out state after getting your ass obliterated for the first time. Your laying there completely limp as he does all the work to get you both clean afterwards.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

[briar-ffxiv]

FFXIV Write #19 - Taken

FFXIV Write 2024 Master Post

Prompt #19 - Taken

Note: Continuation of this story and this story!

Trigger Warning: Mentions of injuries and being injured/choked.

Briar swallowed carefully, lips thinning as it made his throat ache. He reached up, slim fingers brushing over the bandages still carefully wrapped around his neck. The wounds were healing steadily, but the damage had been done. The chirurgeons had been optimistic and supportive as they tended him. They kept telling the half-Elezen that, with time, the pain would lessen and he would speak again.

Green eyes slid shut as he leaned back on the pillow, breathing slowly. Technically he could speak a few words, but it hurt and his voice was raspy and strange to his ears. It was simply easier not to.

But it was strange to have no voice of his own so suddenly. Briar had never realized how much he valued his own laugh and his ability to voice his thoughts until it was taken from him. Until Zeno had half-crushed his throat, metal claws tearing his flesh. It was a blessing he had not bled to death, but he had not expected to be robbed of something so vital.

Tears stung the corner of his eyes when Briar suddenly thought about what he could not do again. He couldn't call Jack, his sheepdog. He couldn't whistle for his sheep. He couldn't sing 'the morning song' to his chickens.

He could not speak the names of those he cared for.

A thousand little comforts and freedoms were taken from him with one flex of the Garlean prince's hand. A brutal violence done to him so casually and easily that it was unsettling. By a man who called him 'beast'. A man that killed far more casually and callously than any animal Briar knew of.

Yet here he was. Voiceless as any 'beast', robbed of something so vital that many races referred to themselves as 'Spoken' with pride. The half-Elezen wondered if he could be called 'Spoken' when he no longer had a voice to share with others.

Shaking his head with sudden frustrated anger, Briar opened his eyes and wiped them. He shoved messy red curls out of his face, absently tying them back as he moved to stand. He wobbled a bit, still weakened by the injuries but he couldn't stand the walls of the infirmary another moment.

He needed to get out. He needed to breathe in open air and see the sky denied him for days. He needed to feel part of the world again. Even if it was only for a short time. Briar wanted to feel real again. In the quiet corner of the infirmary, he felt like a silent ghost watching the rest go by.

Fortunately for him, there were enough wounded to keep the chirurgeons busy which allowed Briar to slip from his room unnoticed. He felt better as he walked, although he still had to touch the occasional wall for support. He breathed a silent sigh of relief as he stepped out into the afternoon sun and felt a breeze against his skin.

As always, Rhalgr's Reach was a bustle of activity. It allowed the half-Elezen to make his way toward the river in the middle, finding a quiet corner where he could slide down to sit on the short grass and lean against one of the warm stone walls. He closed his eyes and simply breathed, focusing on the sun and the wind, on the warm earth beneath him and the quiet water beside him.

Briar wasn't sure how long he'd sat there, not sleeping but almost dozing, simply trying to quiet his mind before a voice startled him. It was sharp in his ears and close enough that he jumped, eyes snapping open as he turned to look at the white-haired Elezen marching toward him with intent. His ears tilted back in a bit of worry.

"Briar!" Alisaie said as she halted in from of him, hands on her hips. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be resting!"

Briar opened his mouth to answer, but the effort made him grunt with pain, hand to his throat. He shook his head and just gestured around with helpless frustration. He rubbed his neck and patted the ground beside him, attempting to convey what he meant. What he needed in that moment.

For a moment, Alisaie simply glared at him, blue eyes narrowed. Then she studied his face and sighed. "I suppose I understand," she huffed, suddenly dropping to sit beside him. "I hate convalescing as well." She looked at him a moment, frowning. "How are you?"

Briar shrugged, rubbing his throat again, feeling the tingling itch of healing from the claw-marks. He attempted a smile, but he suspected it was shaky given Alisaie's expression.

"Right," she murmured. "Stupid to ask. You can't--" She looked a little stricken for a moment. "You can't yet. You will. It'll heal, Briar. It will."

Briar couldn't help but smile at Alisaie's determined voice. He wasn't sure he was as certain as she was about his voice returning. Still, if Alisaie Leveilluer wanted something to happen, it was very likely to. She was too fierce and stubborn for it to be otherwise.

Alisaie studied Briar's face and blew out a breath, reaching over to rest her hand on his. "It's going to be all right, Briar." Her fingers curled around his firmly.

Briar turned his hand to squeeze hers back. He might not be able to speak, but he did mouth 'thank you' to her. She nodded and leaned her shoulder against his as they settled against the wall in companionable silence.