#it’s the only way he will ever chill out

[wearysparrows]

Twice the Sun Rises

ao3/masterlist

Summary: Caleb stands you up for dinner for unknown reasons. You make your way to a club in Skyhaven, and he intercepts your time with a stranger. Back at his apartment, you tell him the truth of your feelings.

cw (18+): female reader, reader is mc, Cock Warming, pnv sex, Creampie, Jealousy, Alcohol usage, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Pseudo-Incest, mentions of eating disorders, Mentions of Suicide, Pet Names, Happy Ending, Not Beta Read 6.5K\

Caleb was late.

You had agreed to meet at a restaurant in Skyhaven. He was pulling another late night, and planned to come straight from his duties as the Colonel to meet with you. Your relationship had remained tumultuous at best, but he had been making every effort to reconcile with you in the only ways he knew how. The same ways he had reconciled with you as a child. You checked your phone for the umpteenth time that night. No new texts from Caleb. It was nearly forty-five minutes past the time you had agreed to meet. Even with the ways he had changed, and in some sense, the things you were unable to recognize – you knew this wasn’t like him. He was always cordial. Usually, replies to your texts came almost instantly, and your phone calls were answered within two rings. Still, doubt dug dirty little claws into the corners of your mind. Maybe he didn’t want to see you. Maybe he was hung up with someone else. Even as the Colonel, he was still handsome, successful. It wasn’t impossible. You knew very little of Caleb’s private life, despite his assertion that he was an open book. The past was certainly open – but the state of the future remained continually uncertain. 

  You had picked somewhere mid-scale, hidden away in a corner of Skyhaven that wouldn’t draw too much attention. Despite Caleb’s insistence that all would be well, the idea of being seen with him while he was the Colonel seemed, in your mind, to bode poorly for both of you. You tapped your finger anxiously on the table. The unused silverware reflected your frowning face back at you. You cast your gaze from it. You had yet to order, and the waiter was flitting about nervously in your periphery – clearly wanting to clear the section of you to make room for patrons who were actually paying. Considering Caleb had chosen tonight to be otherwise occupied, who were you to deny the waiter his paycheck? With a barely constrained sigh, you lifted yourself from the booth and quietly slipped from the dark warmth of the restaurant back into the street, the door finalizing your leave with a soft bell behind you. 

Now what?

You were in Skyhaven, and it was late. The air had taken on a new lightness of chill that it hadn’t had when you had first arrived. You should have brought a jacket. It wasn’t as if you could just take the next train back to Linkon and disappear quietly in your sheets to accept the truth of your abandonment. You could go to Caleb’s apartment, (he had given you the master key, after all) but that idea seemed even less enticing, considering the logistics of your current situation. You needed a middle ground to wait it out, until Caleb deigned to grace you with his presence. You looked up at the night sky. Not a star was visible for the density of the light pollution, blocked out even further by the towering black skyscrapers. Without the permanent residents of the sky to guide your way, you suddenly felt lonely. Afraid. 

Perhaps Caleb’s return from the other side of death was all just a fantasy you had dreamed in your delirium, and you had brought yourself here to meet the illusion of your brother for a date. How could you have laid a body down when you hadn’t even been able to hold his ghost in your arms one final time?  The world outside seemed to reflect your uncertainty. Lights around you blurred, and your body, ever the machine that you had pushed to its utmost limits, picked a direction that seemed productive to head in. You let your legs carry you past all manner of buildings, seeing nothing, brushing against other goers of the night, who looked at you with a mix of concern and confusion clear on their faces. The attention did nothing to help your state. You needed to hide. From them, from yourself. From your brother’s ghost.

You picked an establishment at random, one that seemed like you could disappear into a crowd, in the back of the bar, and let the pulse of sounds drown the spectre of Caleb back into the world of infinite shadow where it belonged. A sign outside glowed faintly yellow. The Golden Fleece, it read.

  There was virtually no line. The bouncer let you in wordlessly after you produced your ID. You slipped inside, and were immediately integrated into a throng of pulsating bodies in various degrees of undress. The smell was that of the sweat of the night, permeated by the heat of alcohol. Music with a deep, rhythmic bass welcomed you with a fervent undercurrent of antagonism, and you felt as if it met your heartbeat in time. Your blood coursed with the melody, and you were accepted further and further into the writhing mass of limbs. Your breath still hadn’t found you completely, and you searched for somewhere to lean – to rest. A wall. You pushed your way through until you found it, and leaned your back against it, blessedly. It was cold through the back of your dress. How long had it been since you had worn something besides your uniform? You regretted leaving its comfort behind in the name of trying to look nice for Caleb.

Caleb.

You studied the floor, focusing on the rhythm of the music instead of the impossible race your own thoughts were attempting to conduct. Something out of time, disjointed. Strange and staccato around the forbidden shape of your brother’s name.

Your brother. The one you had come here to escape the thought of. 

Providentially, a distraction in the form of a man appeared. Your first impression of him was a pair of monk-strap shoes that seemed a little too nice for this fine establishment, even if the club was, to your eye, upscale. Your eyes drifted up and up. He was tall – not Caleb tall, but enough. He had a bright face, with pretty golden curls, like Apollo, and blue eyes full of white light. Nothing like the dark hair and deep lilacs of your brother, but enough. He had straight teeth, too. He didn’t have a crooked tooth. Not like Caleb.

It would have to be enough.

He was leaning down to talk into your ear, over the sounds of the music, asking you if you wanted a drink in a deep voice with an accent you couldn’t place. Not the fond, boyish sound your brother had retained, despite growing up into such a big man. You agreed, and let him order you one – no, two drinks from the bar. Somehow, he had led you by the hand to the stools and sat you next to him. You sipped the drinks interchangeably. Both were too sweet. Not the sour tastes Caleb liked. Hawthorn, lemon. You could almost taste them on his breath when his face would come close.

Your new companion was surprisingly pleasant – a strangely stark contrast to the dark of the club, with his halo of curls and pale skin. You found yourself warming to him unexpectedly, despite the dullness of his conversation. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the shade that nipped at your heels, the one that left footprints in the shape of your brother’s behind it. The man’s hand covered yours on the bar, and you let it. His right hand was warm. Not like Caleb’s. Not like the one he had lost. When you resonated with him, you could feel the undercurrent of its cold, persistent ache. The pain was always there. A constant reminder of how he perceived himself. No longer whole. A tool. A body to be used. Not your brother. Not a man. A weapon.

Your right arm throbbed.

“Hey, are you alright?”

The deep, concerned drawl of the man whose hand you were holding snapped you out of the vestiges of Caleb’s feelings, the lingering webs of him. You shook your head apologetically. 

“Sorry, yeah. Got a lot on my mind.”

The man nodded empathetically, as if he could understand what you were going through. He tapped the top of your hand.

“Dancing with me might help you forget about it. At least for a while.”

In any other moment, your first instinct would have been to deny him. But your brother was dead. You were a few drinks in. No one was coming for you. You wouldn’t forget. Ever.

What was one little dance in the grand scheme of fuck-all?

So you nodded your assent, and let the man with the pretty curls lead you by the hand onto the dance floor. They bounced as he walked, like a cherub. You still didn’t even know his name, though he had probably told you. It didn’t matter. He made his way behind you, and his hands were warm on your hips as you leaned back against him. When you weren’t looking, you could imagine it was Caleb. Almost.

Even if one hand was too warm. Even if he smelled wrong. You danced for a time, leaning back into the wrong body. Trying to be one with the music. The man’s face was by your ear, and he started to say the beginning of a word, but he stopped short, and stilled. You looked up from where you had been watching the moving feet of the people around you. Some had begun to stop, to part. There was a tittering of proverbial feathers, an undercurrent of fear. People parted as a dark sea. A tall pair of boots came into your vision, then the large body of man in a black uniform, heavily decorated. A cap with a golden crest sat atop his head. Dark hair framed his brow, and amethyst eyes burned from within his skull. He came towards you with rhythmic footsteps, in time with the music that pounded in your ears, those of a trained soldier, the same hypnotic rhythm as he had counted for you as a child as you jumped rope. 

One, two, three, four…

The echo of the beat of your heart.

The man's hands were still on your hips. You no longer wanted them to be. Looking at Caleb, you weren’t sure you ever had. The man spoke, concern palpable in his tone. His hands left your sides, then. He stepped back from behind you, anxiety leaking into his tone. He rubbed a hand up your arm, probably hoping to be reassuring. 

“Do you know this guy? Why is he..?”

You heard the unspoken words in his ask. Caleb was an impossible figure, one that rose from the dead and imposed his presence. Returned to the clouds without you. Even if other people didn’t know him, they sensed him. Something different. Something powerful. Words slipped out of your mouth. The only ones you had. A dead man walking was standing before you. A man who had died as your brother, and come back as someone you didn’t recognize.

“Don’t worry. He’s my big brother.”

You heard the strange relief in your own tone, and it surprised even you. 

“Your brother? Not your boyfriend?”

You shook your head. How could you even begin to define Caleb? You couldn’t grasp him any more than you could tug his phantom from your memories of sunshine. 

The man seemed to dissolve back into the crowd, compelled by some force. Perhaps Caleb’s energy – perhaps his evol. Perhaps he could sense it was best to leave. It was impossible to say. His removal was wordless, calculated, painless. Caleb’s face was completely still. He was frightening, like this. A man who had once leaked liquid sunshine from all of his cracks, now the tall blackness of an obelisk. But even in all his terror, he was alive. Standing before you. Except there was something there, in the face of death. Walking with a little smile, hopeless, fond. A touch of an upturned lip. The surroundings seem to wash away. Caleb was stepping towards you, closer, closer, until he was leaning down to speak into your ear. His tone was strangely forlorn. Almost fond. It didn’t match that dead face.

“It’s been a while since you called me your big brother.”

I’m not your brother.

An echo of his own words. Of course it had been a while. He was dead. And then he wasn’t. He wasn’t your brother. He wasn’t dead. He left you behind. When he went to college. When he died. When he was no longer your brother. When he stood you up. You were always looking at his back.

Except now, when he was looking down into your face. He wrapped his fingers around your wrists, and used his back to part the people around you – leading you, walking backwards while looking at you. His face betrayed no anxiety, but his grip was so tight that it bordered on pain. He was wearing those leather gloves, so you couldn’t feel his skin. He guided you back to the wall you had been leaning on when this all began, and swiftly pressed you against it, rotating you with a grip on your hips to do so. He took up all of your vision, leaving you unable to see anything save for his face and chest. The other patrons of the club disappeared, leaving just you and him. Looking into the flint of his lilac eyes reminded you of just why you had ended up here in the first place, in the arms of someone who felt just vaguely Caleb shaped when he was holding you from behind. Your anger rose like black bile in your throat. You had been avoiding meeting him in person, despite his willingness to text and call. You always had an excuse. Another mission. You needed to protect Rafayel. Sylus commandeered your expertise for some clandestine event in the N109. Finally, though, you had relented. Agreed to meet up. Used a day off where you could have been in the sheets of your own bed to meet up with Caleb. Overcome your fear of touching someone who still had grave dirt on his back.

And he had blown you off.

Maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe he had forgotten. Maybe he had realized you weren’t the same person you were growing up. Figured out you weren’t willing to be his little shadow anymore. Not a creature he could clip the wings of and keep in a cage. You had a gravitational pull of your own. New orbiters. A different life. 

It was better that he didn’t care. It really, really was.

So he didn’t need to see your anger. It wasn’t a privilege that was afforded to him anymore. Even with the blood alcohol level you were sporting, your thoughts stayed comparatively level. You looked up into his handsome face. He looked down into yours. You spoke first, over the pulse of the music. You almost had to yell into his face to be heard.

“Why are you here, Caleb? Just let me go.”

Caleb’s eyes widened a fraction. His dark brow furrowed. He made no move to let you off of the wall. You pushed on one of his arms that caged you in. Once, then again with more force. He didn’t budge. 

“You’re asking me why I’m here? I’m here to pick you up. To take you home. I was–”

You pushed on his elbow again, interrupting him. He only leaned into you further. His scent was so strong. Honey, amber. Wheatgrass. Apple peel. 

You raised your voice, just a touch.

“My home is in Linkon. You made it clear you didn’t want to see me. So just let me go.”

His hand held the back of your neck, trying to guide you to look into his face.

“Baby, look at me. Please hear me out. Please.”

Hearing him plead so earnestly, so sweetly, did make you look at him, despite yourself. You saw the tension of his body. The sweat that beaded along his hairline. There was a dark spot on his collar, on his otherwise crisp uniform. Suspiciously red. Your anger was forgotten, if only for a moment.

“Is that blood?”

Your hands spread on his chest, underneath his uniform jacket, almost of their own accord. He was slightly damp from his sweat. He leaned into your touch.

“Not mine,” he breathed into your ear. His voice barely concealed his want.

You wanted to push him away. To pull him closer.

You swallowed. He continued.

“I was on my way to see you, but I got a call from the fleet. There was…an incident. One the Colonel couldn’t ignore. I couldn’t use my phone, princess. Not in all that commotion. All I could think about was gettin’ back to you. I came straight here, as soon as I could. As soon as it was over. I’m really sorry.”

A few things became clear to you, at that moment. The first was that whatever incident had occurred, Caleb was under order not to discuss it with anyone. Secondly, Caleb had likely ended multiple lives before stepping into the club. Thirdly, he had referred to himself as the Colonel, like it was a skin suit he put on and wore. A third person. Not himself. The Colonel killed. Caleb – your brother– came to pick you up, still wearing that skin. Lastly, Caleb somehow knew your location, despite you long since having removed the bracelet he had put on you to keep track of your whereabouts. His hands had moved from caging you against the wall to running up your stomach, your sides, your arms. Before you could respond, he was nosing your neck again, speaking.  His voice, sweet with his apology not moments before, had taken on a harder edge.

“You smell like someone else. You were with someone else when I came.”

It wasn’t a question. He hadn’t even given you a chance to get a word in edgewise to accept or deny his explanation, his apology, before moving on to what you had been doing while he was enacting whatever nonsensical violence the fleet required of him. Your anger had begun to dull into flat resignation. 

“Yeah, well, while you were taking care of your incident, someone else was taking care of me. So there’s no need to worry. Apology accepted. Now let me go, so I can fuck off back home and you won’t have to deal with me again.”

You saw real hurt flash in Caleb’s eyes, just as a strobe light illuminated his face. Then, it cooled into a smile with warmth that didn’t reach elsewhere.

“Takin’ care of you? There’s no one else that could take care of you like I do. Even if there was,”

Caleb made a motion next to his head, miming a gun with two fingers. His thumb pulled the trigger, and his head recoiled in a mock suicide. His smile had a sort of frenzied panic to it. It reminded you of when he had offered to build you a garden, to rebuild your little house in Linkon. A maze.

“I’d just make them go away. And it’ll only be us. Just like always.” 

His voice, though he almost had to yell, was chipper. Your eyes drifted to the blood on Caleb’s shirt. 

Your right arm ached.

“Caleb–”

But he wasn’t listening. Caleb hoisted you into his arms effortlessly, and any struggle you could put up was subdued by the force of his evol pinning you close to his chest. Your face was just next to his collar, next to that blood stain. You smelled the iron of it. Of someone else's blood on him. The hand that was hooked under your knees made a motion, and an eerie slowness fell over the club. People still moved, but it was as if someone had taken frames from them – like they were photographs spliced together to create the illusion of movement. The music slowed strangely, too, a low hum instead of a pumping bass, like a sound out of Hell. Caleb carried you, stalking through the mass of slowed bodies. He looked down into your face. You saw the fondness of your big brother in his eyes as he spoke, and you were as a child again in his arms.

“I’m going to take you home. You’re going to wash up, and I’m going to cook you dinner. You’re going to eat, and then I’ll put you to bed. Okay, princess?”

What could you do but nod when he was like this? Your body felt exhausted from the weight of his evol, from the weight of his possession. You leaned your head against his chest, and inhaled his lovely scent, clutching at his uniform. He took you from the club and into the cool of the night, where his car was parked in the street. You squirmed upon seeing it, and Caleb chuckled, his evol opening the passenger side door. 

“I hate this fucking car,” you complained. 

As if he could do anything about it right now.

He deposited you in the passenger’s seat. His big hands took their time putting your seatbelt on. He lingered over your hip, just barely brushing your ass, and adjusted the strap over your breasts. A touch that was barely there. Your body was too warm. The alcohol. His touch. You wanted him to take the softest parts of you into his hands. Instead, he pulled away, and answered your complaint with soft placation.

“I know, baby. Be a good girl and bear with it for now.”

He pulled away, and offered you a little smile before shutting you in. He came around the driver’s side, and got in next to you. The vehicle roared to life under his touch. You turned towards him, adjusting your body. You put your elbow on the console, resting your weight on it. Even now, you found yourself falling into the familiar rapport of your banter.

“And what if I wasn’t good? Are you going to punish me?”

You echoed his own words back at him. Caleb’s expression was unreadable, but his gloved fingers brushed delicately over your forearm as he guided the car onto the darkness of the street.

“Do you want me to punish you?”

Caleb’s fingers retracted back to the wheel. His voice was so soft compared to the tone he had used in the nightclub. More delicate than even his touch.

“Or do you feel like you need to be punished? Like you deserve it? The way you punish yourself?”

You stared at him, agog.  His eyes, face, hands – all were quiet. You snorted, indignant. Heated words tumbled out of your mouth.

“That’s rich, coming from you. As if you don’t punish yourself in every aspect – even your meals are punishments, Caleb. I’ve seen the way you eat, the way you push your body. I know you. Maybe I’m your punishment, too.”

Caleb chuckled, a little exhale of breath. He shook his head. The fingers of his gloved right hand slipped into yours. A passing streetlight illuminated his face brilliantly, just for the briefest moment.

“What sin did I commit to earn such a perfect little punishment like you? If that’s what you are, I was born to be punished.”

Caleb had insisted on carrying you from the car into his apartment. You no longer had the energy to deny his insistence, so you let him. You clung to his front, one of his hands securely under your ass, the other around your back. You buried your face in his shoulder. The decorations on his uniform dug into the places where your skin was bare, like proof of violences committed, embedded into your skin. You pressed closer to him as he walked, and heard him inhale, almost imperceptibly, as you tightened your hold. Rather than let you go, Caleb’s evol retrieved his key, and unlocked his door. He carried you in, and shut the door behind him with a kick of his boot. You clung to him tighter.

He was going to put you down, but you didn’t want him to. You wanted to crawl inside that stupid uniform, to be the Colonel. To be Caleb. To be your brother. To be him. 

He smelled so, so good.

But he didn’t put you down. He carried you into the living room, and deposited your combined bodies onto the couch. You naturally came to straddle him. You felt his chest move with a laugh. The ornaments that hung from his ribbons clinked with the movement.

“You’re like a little vine, clingin’ to me. We can stay like this, but you’d feel better if you changed out of your shoes ‘n dress, angel. You need to eat, too.”

You peeled yourself from his chest to look into his face. His hat cast a dark shadow over his eyes. You removed it for him, wanting him to be in the light. His face became a little more familiar. A little more Caleb. You set the cap aside on the couch. Caleb made no move to stop you. He merely tilted his head with a smile. His hair was a little damp with sweat.

“And what about you? You’re still in full uniform. Aren’t you hot? Uncomfortable? You’re still wearing your boots. You need to eat, too. Shower. Rest.”

Caleb twirled some of your hair between his fingers thoughtfully. He was still wearing those damnable gloves, like an intentional barrier between you. The longer you sat on top of him, the harder you felt him grow underneath you.

“What happened to the little girl who demanded I help her dress and undress? To feed her? I feel a little spoiled, havin’ you ask me to take care of myself. I might get the wrong idea if you keep it up.”

You took yourself from his arms, and he squeezed you for a moment, as if reluctant to let you go. But he did release you. You stood in front of him, and bent up your knee, so that your foot was on his knee as he sat, against the white pants of his uniform. If helping you would compel him to take care of yourself, you would indulge him.

“Take off my shoes.”

Caleb’s eyes came alight as you spoke. They roved over your leg, down to your foot on his knee. He could have looked directly up your dress, had he wanted. You wanted. But he didn’t. Instead, he trained his eye on your foot, and his hands began working the straps open, like he was unwrapping a precious gift. He slid the shoe from your foot, lifting it by your heel. 

“Even your feet are pretty,” he murmured, seemingly talking to himself more than to you. He lifted your foot further, and pressed a kiss to the inside of your ankle, before letting it down delicately. He held his hands out expectantly for your other foot, and you put it in them. He repeated the same routine. Your shoes were set aside. His compliance and the last of the alcohol in your bloodstream had put you into a playful mood.  Any thoughts of eating or resting left you. You knew Caleb.

I’ll always play with you. Always.

 You stalked away from him, out of the living room and into the kitchen. He stood and followed after you obediently, the smile still on his face. You heard the sound of his dog tags clink as he got up, even underneath his uniform. His footsteps were assured, confident. 

“Playin’ tag with me, pretty girl?”

You leaned your stomach and face against the counter of his kitchen island. It was pleasantly cool on your too-hot skin.

“Not tag. Just wanted a change of scenery.”

Caleb hummed thoughtfully. He came to stand behind you. Hovering. You had a bizarre sensation, like for a fleeting moment, you were him. Seeing yourself through his eyes. Feeling his want. Your arm ached. The same feeling echoed between your legs. 

Pain as a result of desire. Desire as a result of pain.

You blinked, slowly, and it was gone.

“I like this scene.”

You peeked back at him. He rolled his right shoulder. You wondered if it was hurting him. You stayed leaning over the counter.

“Help me unzip, Caleb.”

Caleb said nothing. His hips slotted against yours. You felt his dick hard on your ass, his gloved hands making contact with the zipper of your dress. He took his time, the sound of the teeth coming apart loud in the otherwise silent apartment. The seams of his leather gloves ghosted over the skin of your back, making goosebumps crawl all the way up to your neck. You lifted your torso as he made his way to the bottom of the zipper, and the dress fell in a pool around your feet, like the shed skin of a snake. You hadn’t worn a bra under the dress, so you were left in just your panties. You leaned back down against the counter. It was too-cold on your bare stomach and breasts. You melted into it. Your body felt like a heavy liquid. Caleb leaned over you, enveloping you with the heat of his torso on your back. He supported himself with one hand by your head. 

“I should undress you, too,” You said, nearly speaking into the countertop.

“Not should. I want to.”

Caleb was quiet. The leather of his gloved fingers trailed down your sides, as if mapping them. You moved your hips back against him, and drank in the sound he made with an eagerness that surprised even yourself. You wished he would crush you up with those hands, peel off your skin, look at your insides – anything besides touching you like you would fall apart.

Why did he insist on staying clothed? The barrier began to frustrate you more and more. You pushed your hips against him again. He gripped your hips, grunting. His touch forced you to be still. He whispered, close to your ear.

“Should I let you? Earlier, you said someone else was takin’ care of you. Now, I want to take care of you. Only me. Do you want it to only be me? Is it only me?”

You knew what he was asking.

Is there someone else?

Caleb slid the last of your remaining garments from your body. They joined the corpse of your dress on the floor. You were naked, bent over the counter. You shivered. He hadn’t even removed his boots. Caleb leaned up, away from your back. You heard the sound of his zipper.

“Caleb,” you pleaded. The words he wanted to hear – you weren’t sure you had them. What did it mean for you to accept his care? To let go of being alone? To let go of the fact that he was dead?

To let go of your brother?

“Please,” you tried. You heard a shuffling of fabric, a quiet exhale.

“It’s so hard for me to say no to you. You know it, too.”

He sounded relaxed, like had sounded when he was certain he would win a game for you as kids. You pushed your thighs together, anticipating his touch. 

“But I won’t say yes, either. Not until you tell me that it’s only me, pip.”

The nickname sent an inexplicable wave of sadness washing over you. Instead of giving you what you hoped for, Caleb’s gloves caressed your thighs, your ass. You felt no shyness about being exposed to him; only that it was right. Only that you wanted more from him, like you had for a long time. His hands squeezed with less delicacy than before, spreading you open. Gripping your muscles with big, strong hands.

“I’ve wanted to see you open for me like this for so long,”

His thumbs kept you spread apart. You looked back over his shoulder. He was looking at your sex with such intensity that it made your heart want to come out of your throat.

“So perfect. My pretty girl.” 

“Caleb,” you tried. You were used to making demands of him. Maybe he would give in to you. Like always.

“I want you inside of me. Please.”

You lifted your hips, stood on your tiptoes. Caleb made a frustrated sound in his throat.

“I’ll fill you up, baby. Don’t worry. But I won’t do anythin’ more than that until you tell me what I need to hear.”

A gasp left you as you felt the head of Caleb’s cock press against you. You were so wet that you were certain he wouldn’t struggle. Even with his size. You heard him spit into his glove, then wrap it around his cock, stroking himself with the wet leather.

Caleb was sliding himself inside you, then. Stretching you apart with himself, filling you in ways that you had imagined so, so many times. He was impossibly warm, perfectly big. It was like your body already knew his shape and size. It accepted him with only the smallest of difficulties. You overflowed with him perfectly. You scrabbled at the countertop, and Caleb trapped your wrists between one of his hands.

You both breathed silently, for a time. You, through your open mouth, he through his nose. His weight was reassuring on top of you. 

“Caleb,” you breathed,

“You feel so – so good inside of me.”

Caleb’s cock twitched inside of you at your words. 

“I know, baby. It’s ‘cause I was made for you. To make you feel good.”

As if to prove his point, he shifted his hips against you harder. Not fucking you, just trying to reach deeper inside. You lifted your hips into him. He gripped you, holding you in place. You still couldn’t feel any of his skin – just his uniform and leather. You hated it. Even while he was inside you, he punished himself. He punished you. 

“Touch me. Without the gloves – just..” 

His hands caressed your sides, your ribs. Your shoulder blades.

“Tell me the truth, then. Go on. I know you can do that for me, right?” 

He fisted a hand in your hair, and pulled your head up by your neck. His teeth grazed the newly exposed skin there. You swallowed with difficulty. The angle made it harder to speak. Your voice came out cracked, but assured.

“You’re the only one. My only brother. My only man. Caleb, please. It’s – it’s just you. It could only ever be you.”

A sound of pure aggression, arousal, ripped out of Caleb’s throat. 

“That’s my good girl.” 

His gloves came off, then. They landed with ferocity on the counter next to you, thrown down. Caleb’s hands – one metal, one flesh, caressed your skin. You were still full of him, his hands stroking every inch he could reach, cold and warm at the same time. He lifted you so that your back was against his chest, cock still inside of you. One hand, the metal one, went gently around your neck. Squeezed. The other went between your legs.

“You’re gonna’ cum on my cock, okay? I’m not going to fuck you, and you’re going to cum.”

You arched into him, wanting more than just his hand. More than just his stillness inside of you. More than a punishment.

“But–”

Your hands tugged at his mechanical arm, looking for purchase. Hoping to spur him on. 

“Do as you’re told.” 

His command came at the same time that his fingers started to move against you. As he touched you, quicker and with more urgency, you felt him grow impossibly larger inside of you, twitching with every sound and movement you made. You barely had time to whisper his name before you felt yourself tighten around him, your pleasure reaching its peak with just his fingers and his closeness, after being teased for so long. Your body stiffened, and he lifted you as you came, your feet dangling just above the floor. He held you tight, so tight you could no longer breathe, if only for a moment. His hips made one singular movement – only fucking into you once, the sound wet. 

“Fuck, baby girl, I’m gonna’ come inside of you –”

You felt the heat of his spill inside of you just moments after, his dick pulsing. You fell limply back into him, and he stayed inside of you, riding it out as he held your full weight. He slipped out of you as he began to soften, and you were lifted into his arms by his evol, into a princess carry. You hardly had the energy to cling to him, your body melting into his. He pressed soft kisses to your forehead as he walked. His gait, the heavy sound of his boots – they lulled you into a state of relaxation. Neither of you seemed to have words, for that time. Nothing was needed.

He brought you into his – your – bedroom, and laid you gently on the bed. You stretched sore limbs. He was still in that fucking uniform. He turned from you, and you caught him by the sleeve.

“Don’t go.” 

Caleb smiled, stroking his hand through your damp hair. 

“I’m just gettin’ something to clean you up. Two seconds.”

“One,” you counted.

Caleb grinned, and hurried to retrieve a towel. He returned with it shortly, and wiped you down, lifting your weary arms, between your legs. You watched him through your lashes as he did so. He had tucked himself back into his boxers, but he was clearly hard again. 

“Caleb,” you threatened,

“If you don’t let me take off that uniform, I’m going to throttle you in your sleep.”

Caleb’s brows shot up, and a cheeky grin erupted over his features. He pinched your cheek between his thumb and index finger.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, pip-squeak.” 

This was your Caleb. Not the Colonel. You rolled your eyes at him, and threw your legs over the edge of the bed. You stood, naked, yet somehow invulnerable near him. He stood, too. His hands hovered around you, like he expected you to fall at any moment. Instead of falling, you went for his tie. You made quick work of the knot, and discarded it on the carpet. Then came his jacket. It fell heavily to the floor. Then his dress shirt. Then his undershirt, until was left in just his pants and boots. You knelt. 

“Pip–” he protested. He sounded strained.

You hushed him, and unzipped his boots, tugging them off of his feet. He helped you lift them off. Then came his socks. Even over the sounds of fabric and leather, you could hear the intensity of his breathing pick up. You righted yourself, and slid both his pants and boxers off in one go. He stepped out of them, not sparing them a second glance. He hugged you to him, as soon as he was naked. His cock was hard against your naked stomach. His big arms crushed you against him, like he was trying to meld you to him. His body was so warm that it was like basking in the heat of the summer sun.

“Caleb,” you said, nearly imperceptibly, into his chest.

He stroked your hair with his big palm, rough from handling a yoke.

“Yeah, baby. I’m sorry. I’m home.”

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ boxer!jungkook (3) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist closed

boxer jk x neuro doctor oc

valentines day

jealousy ? miscommunication ? light angst

note: 2 more parts and then we're done !! crazy that i srsly started this jus when bad habit is coming up like WHAT pls someone tell me to chill.

//

jungkook slams his car doors and rushes through the hospital doors. 

he moves fast and swiftly, hoping that catching you at 5PM wouldn’t be too late. he weaves through the sterile hallways, pulse high in his throat. the bouquet in his hands trembles slightly, a contrast to his steady, calloused fingers. the bouquet is simple. it really hit him at the flower shop that he doesn’t even know your favourite colour yet. that sent him through a very mild (but still valid) panic attack. 

he chose to trust whatever the flouriest suggested (and what he felt was right).

white roses with dyed lilac baby’s breaths to fill he spaces between. the bouquet looks like something that belongs in your hands. it feels like too much and not enough all at once—it’s perfect.

as he gets lost in his thoughts, jungkook nearly collides with namjoon by the nurse’s station.

"jungkook?—what—" namjoon stares at him, then at his hands. "are you okay? why are you here? what are those?"

jungkook swallows, glancing at the flowers, then back up. 

"it's valentine's day," he says, breathless. "it's a long shot, i know... but i—"

his voice tapers off. 

from the corner of his eye, he catches sight of you stepping out of an on-call room. you’re stretching, arms lifting above your head, a small yawn slipping past your lips. he takes a step forward instinctively—only to stop cold when another figure emerges behind you.

the guy is close. closer than jungkook wants. almost as close as he has ever been to you. the mans head dips low, murmuring something in your ear. and you—

you laugh. 

easily, effortlessly. 

something warm and unguarded. something real.

jungkook's fingers tighten around the bouquet, stems pressing into his palm. 

fuck, he thinks to himself. that’s unfair. 

it's so fucking unfair. 

getting you to smile is hard enough. he’s spent months chipping away at the walls you keep up, collecting crumbs of your attention like a starved man, and here that man with the same white coat and navy blue scrubs is, making you laugh like it’s second nature… like it's easy.

namjoon shifts beside him, following his gaze.

"that's doctor min yoongi," namjoon offers after a beat. "he and doctor ___ have been working on a case together. he's in peds—his four-year-old patient has been having really bad seizures."

jungkook forces himself to blink, to breathe. "is the kid doing okay?"

"yeah. the kid is in good hands. those two are a good team."

"yeah?" jungkook croaks, his voice coming off sharper than intended. "are they… dating?"

namjoon shrugs. 

"dunno," he answers jungkook simply. then, namjoon’s pager beeps. he checks it before patting jungkook’s shoulder and excusing himself. soon, namjoon disappears down the hall. 

yet, jungkook barely notices namjoon leave. 

because now, you’ve spotted him.

your eyes meet his, and for a split second, he wants to convince himself that something flickers across your face—surprise, maybe. something softer. something for him.

want?

he should leave. 

he should turn around, toss the bouquet in the nearest trash bin, pretend this never happened. but before he can, you’re walking toward him, feet moving quicker the closer you get.

he grips the bouquet tighter.

"hey," you greet him sleepily. "are you in for something today?"

jungkook wants to be cheeky. he wants to tease you, to get your attention, to keep it. he wants to press his forehead against your shoulder and breathe you in. he wants to kick the floor like a child, ball his fists, demand you look at him the way you just looked at yoongi.

instead, he clears his throat. 

"no," he admits. "it's the 14th."

"it is."

"happy valentine’s day."

you huff a small laugh. "happy valentine’s day. are those for—"

"you."

your eyes widen slightly. "me?"

"you."

he thrusts the bouquet forward, watching as you take it, fingers brushing against his. the touch is fleeting, barely there, but it makes something in his chest clench.

then—

"what's this?"

yoongi.

his presence is sudden and unwelcome (to jungkook). he stands just a little too close, his voice warm, his smile easy. jungkook watches, stiff, as yoongi extends a hand.

"hi, i'm yoongi. are you—"

"he's namjoon's patient," you answer before jungkook can. "i covered joon’s shift, like, six months ago and treated him."

yoongi nods, humming. before he can say anything else, his pager beeps. a second later, yours does too. 

jungkook hates this. it feels so slow and painful. why does it feel like this? why does he suddenly feel like shit? is this even… jealousy? it doesn’t feel like it. 

no. 

it just feels like he’s losing. 

defeat.

"shit," yoongi mutters, glancing at the screen. "take your time with…?"

"jungkook," he completes yoongi’s sentence. for some reason, it comes off sharp and dry. even you notice because you look at him questionably. 

"jungkook," yoongi repeats, offering a small smile. "nice meeting you. see you in a bit, ___."

yoongi places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes it. you smile at him and murmur; “see you.” then, yoongi walks off. once he’s out of sight, you exhale, turn and tap the bouquet against jungkook’s arm gently. he looks at you and for a moment, you feel like the world shifted.

this is the first time you're face to face with him with no bruise or scrape. his hair looks freshly showered and he's in a black hoodie that makes you wonder if you'd look good in it.

shit.

he's fucking handsome.

"hey," you start, hesitating. you tone is soft and comes off as a whisper to him. jungkook knows what you're about to say and braces himself for the goodbye. "i gotta go and catch up with him. there's this kid—"

"yeah," jungkook cuts in, forcing a grin. "go."

you smile at him and hesitate again. it’s weird… it’s like you want to do something—hug him, maybe, or reach for his hand. instead, you swallow, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. though you said you have to leave, your body stays still. 

like it’s waiting for more of him. 

just as you’re about to reach for him, jungkook cuts the silence with words you didn’t expect him to say.

"i thought you said you don’t date doctors."

jungkook doesn’t know why or how they slip out of his mouth. they just do. truthfully, he struggles to figure out if this was the wrong move… but it’s too late. he has to commit to it now. 

you blink, lips parting slightly.

jungkook steps back. "you know what? i gotta go too. happy valentine’s day, ___."

"wait, jungkook—"

but he’s already turning. already walking away, steps fast, jaw tight, heart twisting in a way he doesn’t know how to name.

5 minutes. that's all he got with you today.

is that all he'll ever get? is this it? is this the closest he'll be to you? just a patient—not even yours. namjoon's patient.

fuck.

jungkook hisses as he exits the hospital. he gets into his car and grips the steering wheel tightly as he starts the engine and drives back to the ring.

and you stand there, confused and annoyed at yourself…

partly because you didn’t even get the chance to say thank you for the flowers and partly because you can’t believe the bouquet is lilac. 

your favourite colour.

[malewifeharem]

ok but imagine sylus with a tongue piercing... why havent i seen any posts on this mdni nsfw. not proofread. fem mc

your breath hitches as you feel the cold metal of his piercing come into contact with your inner thigh. your legs are gently but firmly kept in place over his shoulders. "fuck... sy, quit teasing already..." your body feels like its been set on fire. you can feel your juices pooling between your legs and dripping onto the sheets below but you couldn't care less right now. all you can think of is the heavenly sight before you - the way you have the most wanted man in linkon - the leader of onychinus, looking absolutely debauched and feral all for a taste of you. "patience, kitten." his voice is deep and commands your obedience, and you find yourself holding back from pushing his head down nose-deep into your cunt already. he lets out an amused chuckle at the way your hips jerk up - desperate and mindless, your body betraying your mind. this is torturous, even for him - but good god, seeing you all pliant and squirmy had to be the hottest thing he's ever seen. one of his hands lets go of your thigh to slowly trail up your torso before finally giving your breast a squeeze. at the same time, sylus's head dips down to give your clit a lick, relishing in the way you immediately make your relief well-known with a loud moan. "f-fuck... oh- sylus!" your hand grabs a fistful of his hair and tugs it towards your pussy - unable to hold back the hunger for more pleasure. more of him. ever eager to please, he doesn't deny it to you. he plunges straight in - lapping up your juices as if his sole purpose in life was to satisfy you. (it is) if you weren't lost in ecstasy right now, you'd be able to see the small smirk on his face - so smug at the way he has you unraveling all for him. the contrast between the feeling of his smooth, chilling ball piercing and warm, wet tongue sends you reeling. his sharp and thick nose kisses your poor swollen clit perfectly, rubbing it just the way you needed every time you grinded against his face. "i can feel you tightening around my tongue, sweetie... does my piercing feel good, hm?" sylus says in between bated breaths - unintentionally blowing hot air onto your sloppy messy cunt. "f-fuck, sylus...! ohmygod-"

you feel an all-too familiar knot in your stomach creeping up rapidly, ready to burst at any moment.

through your teary vision and hazy mind, you notice your boyfriend's own fucked-out look - with your slick coating his entire mouth, dripping down his chin - as if he could care about that when he had a feast splayed out right in front of him. "gonna hah- c-cum... sy! 's too much- ngh- i...!" when your legs start to shake and you subconsciously move away from his tongue, you feel the constricting strings of his evol pull you back down - not letting you escape. "where do you think you're going, kitten? ngh- don't run away now..."

your eyes squeeze shut and your jaw hangs wide as you feel your orgasm crashing over - so hard and violent - you think you might not make it out alive. spurts of syrupy cum gushes out of your pussy and sylus is there to lick it all up - letting you ride out the waves of pleasure.

only when you push his head away does he stop, letting you catch your breath. when you finally come to, you notice the wet splotch on the crotch of his pants - did he really...?

"sweetie... if you keep staring, i won't be able to control myself anymore. can you bare the consequences?"

"haah... yes," you almost whine - your own hunger to please him not satisfied.

the clinking of his belt followed by the sound of his belt unzippping has you anticipating for what comes next even more - sending tingles of excitement straight to your greedy cunt.

"let me know when you're too tired to go on, pretty girl." he coos gently despite his filthy words.

"because we still have a long way to go before my hunger for you is satiated."

[writeriguess]

Katsuki x f reader one bed trope??? PLEASE????

Frozen Flames

Snow crunched beneath your boots as you trudged up the steep, frost-bitten slope, the icy wind biting at any exposed skin. The mission brief had been clear—track down and neutralize the villain terrorizing the nearby village. But of course, luck had thrown Katsuki Bakugo into your path, turning an already difficult mission into a nightmare.

“You’re too slow,” Katsuki sneered, his voice barely carrying over the howling wind. “At this rate, the villain will be sipping hot cocoa before you even show up.”

You shot him a glare, cheeks stinging from the cold and his biting words. “Not all of us need to blow everything up to get the job done, Bakugo.”

“Maybe if you actually did something useful, I wouldn’t have to.”

You bit back a retort, focusing on the task at hand. Katsuki had always been a thorn in your side since UA. Every mission, every training session was a battleground, not just against the enemies but against each other. You both had climbed the ranks quickly, proving your worth as heroes, but your rivalry never simmered down. If anything, it had only intensified.

The villain’s hideout was nestled in a cavern halfway up the mountain, obscured by snowdrifts and jagged rocks. The ambush happened fast—a blur of motion, cold wind, and ice shards hurtling toward you. Katsuki’s explosions countered them, the blasts lighting up the twilight sky.

Your quirk surged to life, heating the air around you and melting the snow at your feet as you redirected the villain's attacks. But the terrain was unforgiving, and your focus slipped for just a second.

A sharp pain tore through your side as a shard of ice embedded itself into your flesh, your blood seeping out in a vivid contrast against the pure white snow.

��Idiot!” Katsuki roared, his eyes wide with a mixture of fury and—was that worry?—as he blasted the villain backward. “Can’t you do anything right?”

You grit your teeth against the pain, forcing yourself to stand straighter. “I don’t need your help.”

“Clearly, you do.”

With one last explosion, Katsuki subdued the villain, snow and debris settling around the both of you. His chest heaved, crimson eyes blazing as they darted to your wound.

“Let me see,” he demanded, stepping closer.

“I said, I’m fine.”

“And I said let me see!” His voice was harsh, but his touch was surprisingly gentle as he peeled back the torn fabric to inspect the injury. The cold was quickly numbing your senses, making the pain less sharp but more dangerous.

Katsuki’s jaw clenched. “There’s a cabin a few minutes from here. Can you walk?”

You nodded, though your legs felt like they were made of lead. “Just...don’t blow anything up on the way.”

The trek to the cabin was brutal.

The wind howled like a wounded beast, whipping the snow in furious spirals that made it almost impossible to see beyond a few feet. Your boots crunched against the icy ground, each step sending a dull ache through your body. The wound in your side burned and throbbed, the cold numbing the pain but stealing the strength from your limbs.

And then there was him.

Katsuki Bakugo walked beside you, his presence an irritating combination of warmth and hostility. His hand, firm and unyielding, had latched onto your arm the second your knees threatened to buckle, and he hadn't let go since.

“Stop dragging me, Bakugo,” you snapped, your breath coming out in visible puffs of air.

He scoffed but didn’t loosen his grip. “Oh, excuse me, princess, for stopping you from eating shit face-first into the snow.”

“Maybe I want to eat shit. Did you ever think of that?”

His eye twitched. “You’re so damn annoying.”

You shoved at his shoulder with what little strength you had left. He barely budged, the heat from his body stark against the bone-chilling cold. “Then leave me alone.”

“You’d freeze in ten minutes. Not my fault you’re built like a damn icicle.”

Your retort died in your throat when the cabin finally came into view. It was a squat, wooden thing, nestled between the jagged ridges of the mountains, almost buried beneath thick layers of snow. Smoke no longer curled from the chimney, which meant it hadn't been used in a while—but at least it was shelter.

You barely had the strength to stumble through the door before Katsuki kicked it shut behind you, shaking the snow off his arms with an annoyed grunt.

The interior was barebones—worse than you’d hoped. A single wooden table, a few cabinets that might hold emergency supplies, a fireplace, and…

Your stomach dropped.

One. Single. Bed.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Katsuki followed your gaze, blinking at the pitiful excuse for a sleeping arrangement before a slow, smug smirk crept across his face. “What’s wrong? Scared to share a bed with me?”

Your face burned hotter than it had any right to in subzero temperatures. “I’d rather sleep outside.”

“Be my guest.” He shrugged off his heavy coat, tossing it aside before crouching by the fireplace. With a few well-aimed sparks from his fingertips, flames roared to life, casting flickering shadows against the log walls. The warmth was immediate, seeping into your frozen bones.

Reluctantly, you shuffled closer to the fire, rubbing your hands together.

Katsuki glanced at you, then at your still-shivering form, and let out a long, suffering sigh. “You’re still cold?”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re useless like this. Get in the damn bed.”

Your stomach flipped. “Excuse me?”

“You’re freezing, dumbass,” he grumbled, standing to his full height and stripping off his gloves. “You’re losing heat too fast. Either we do this the hard way, where you pass out and I have to warm you up anyway, or you stop being stubborn and get your ass under the covers.”

You hated that he made sense. You hated even more that he was always warm—like a walking furnace, his body heat already making the space around him feel unfairly comfortable.

But the alternative was actually freezing, and you were really starting to lose feeling in your toes.

“…Fine,” you muttered through gritted teeth, standing on shaky legs. “But if you try anything, I’ll—”

“Yeah, yeah, stab me in my sleep, blah blah. Just get in.”

The bed creaked under your combined weight as you clambered in first, bundling yourself under the rough, thin blanket. The moment Katsuki slid in beside you, the whole mattress dipped, pressing you closer together. Your entire body locked up.

And then—

Heat.

The contrast was almost shocking. His warmth radiated, sinking into your frozen limbs, your aching muscles, the marrow of your bones. You exhaled a shaky breath as relief flooded through you, but that relief was immediately overshadowed by the realization that you were spooning.

Spooning. With Bakugo.

“Relax,” Katsuki grunted from behind you, his arm firm around your waist to keep you close. “You’re shivering like crazy.”

You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore how solid he felt, how the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back was weirdly steadying. “I hate this.”

“You think I’m enjoying this?” His breath was hot against the back of your neck, making you worse. “Tch. You’re ice-cold, it’s like hugging a damn corpse.”

You elbowed him weakly. “Then let go.”

He didn’t.

Silence stretched between you, save for the occasional pop of the firewood. The exhaustion from the fight, from the cold, from everything, started creeping in, turning your limbs heavy.

“…Thanks,” you murmured reluctantly.

“For what?”

You swallowed. “Dragging my ass up here. And, y’know. Not letting me freeze to death.”

Katsuki huffed. “Damn right you should be thanking me.” But then, quieter, almost like he didn’t want you to hear it:

“…Just don’t die on me, idiot.”

Your eyes fluttered shut. The warmth, the exhaustion, him—it was all too much.

For once, you didn’t argue.

[valiwrites]

reincarnation ✧.* formula 1

part 2

: ̗̀➛ pairing: formula 1 x senna!reincarnation!male!oc (nico santos) : ̗̀➛ warnings: strong language, people shipping drivers but nothing serious, bromance, hate comments : ̗̀➛ author’s note: i wrote this before and got a lot of hate for it. if it’s not your thing, just scroll past—no need to spread negativity. i didn’t write this just to read mean comments.

: ̗̀➛ smau

danielricciardo ✔︎

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, nicosantos and 1.3m others

danielricciardo the funniest part was... i had to held him back so he didn't murder anyone yesterday

view all 345k comments

user1 reason 727390 why daniel and nico are my fav duo

user2 showed my dad a picture of nico and he said he hasn't seen anything of senna in years i had to explain to him that this is not senna 😭

user3 my mom said that too!! but nico hates being called senna

charles_leclerc i haven't seen nico that mad ever

user4 why is the first picture so wholesome tho omg

user5 because danny is wholesome

user6 nico was ready to commit a whole crime and daniel said ✨no✨

maxverstappen1 i was lowkey scared for my life not gonna lie

user7 danny out here being the emotional support human for a guy who could probably fight god

user8 nah but the way nico looks at daniel in the vid… y’all seeing this or am i delulu

user3 the way his eyes soften when he looks at daniel is so cute

user5 y'all are so delusional he didn't even look at daniel 😭

lando nico was pacing like a dad whose kid just crashed his car 💀

user9 why does every chaotic duo have one guy who keeps the other from getting arrested

user10 danny being the only thing between nico and a felony is so on brand

nicosantos ✔︎

liked by danielricciardo, mickschumacher, lando and 3.2m others

nicosantos mood after yesterday

view all 743k comments

user1 help nico really wanted to throw hands 😭😭

nicosantos you know it

user2 nico has a cat???

user3 it's max's cat lmaoo

user4 he kinda fine

user5 i have been saying that but no one listens to me

user6 the way he just crouched by daniel’s car like it’s some kind of secret mission 💀

user7 lowkey nico should’ve been in the movie ‘mad man on the edge'

user8 no way you can look at them and not see the chemistry. it's so obvious

user9 nah, the way nico looks at daniel in that video is giving ‘you’re mine’ vibes

user10 no wtf don't say that...

user11 why do i feel like nico is totally in love with daniel and he just doesn’t know it yet?

user12 why is everyone suddently shipping them hello

user13 bc daniel hugged nico at the press conference 😭

nicosantos ✔︎

liked by lando, danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 2.5m others

nicosantos ok, so we look alike. i get it. but let’s be real, i’m not him. just because we share a lot similarities doesn’t mean we’re the same person. i’ve been getting a lot of hate in my DMs, and honestly, it’s getting old. so, can we all just chill and let me live my own life? respect is all i’m asking for

view all 954k comments

user1 literally, it’s just a resemblance, relax people

user2 the hate is so uncalled for. nico deserves respect not this mess

user3 people acting like he’s actually senna’s clone, chill out

user4 he's trying really hard to be 🙄

user5 the fact that nico has to explain this is crazy. let him breathe

user6 you can’t just deny the resemblance though, it’s a little weird you’re acting like it’s nothing

nicosantos i’m not denying it, but i’m also not claiming to be someone i’m not. it’s not that complicated

user7 he’s just salty because people keep bringing up senna. get over it

user8 he doesn’t owe anyone an apology for looking like someone. leave him alone

niconews ✔︎

liked by 47k users

niconews eyes never lie... this was nico just a day after all the hate he’s been facing recently. in a raw moment during an interview, when asked, "you seem pretty pissed at the situation," he didn’t hold back. nico responded, "well, people stick their noses in everyone’s business without thinking about feelings. i didn’t ask to be born the way i am, i’m just trying to live my life." his voice cracked, and despite trying to hold it together, tears started to form. it was a moment that showed just how much this constant pressure has been affecting him. in a world where we all expect people to be perfect or fit into certain molds, nico's vulnerability spoke volumes.

view all 9k comments

user1 it's heartbreaking to see someone so kind and real get treated like this

user2 the pressure he must be under is insane. we forget these are real people

user3 this is so unfair, just let the guy breathe for once

user4 he’s literally milking the whole senna comparison for attention. stop pretending like it’s all ‘the haters’

niconews if you think that’s what this is about, you clearly missed the point

user4 he’s literally crying over people pointing out how much he looks like senna? get over it niconews it’s not about looks, it’s about respect. maybe try understanding that

nicosantos ✔︎

liked by lando, carlossainz55, danielricciardo and 4.1m others

nicosantos bromance is real

tagged: lando

view all 1.4m comments

user1 aww the senna cap

user2 i love nico he's adorable

user3 lando 😭😭

user4 lando is always the funniest person in the group

user5 nico with the senna cap is a whole vibe. love the respect for the legend

user6 this is the kind of bromance we all need in our lives

user7 nico wearing the senna cap but being his own person? love that for him

nicosantos see now i can't tell if you're being sarcastic or fr 💀

user7 i was being fr 😭😭

user8 someone tell lando to stop being this extra, i can’t keep up

[lyricsandlovexo]

𝓝𝓮𝔀 𝓓𝓻𝓸𝓹! 𝓘’𝓶 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴! 💕

*part of the Bar Down series

+𝟷𝟾 -> 𝓼𝓶𝓾𝓽 | 𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓵 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰, 𝓾𝓷𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓹 𝓲𝓷 𝓿, 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 + 𝓹𝓮𝓽 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼

𝓑𝓸𝓭𝔂𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝔁 𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻!𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

“Where's your patience, princess?” He whispers in your ear teasingly. The answer is that it was gone long before this moment, well before he had you backed into the elevator wall.

His hands slide around your waist, pulling you in, losing the battle he had with himself to hold back. Your bodyguard… He had barely been in your life, but you already knew he was exactly where he needed to be.

With you.

It was his job—to make you feel safe. He was paid to care. But in a world where everyone treats you like a product, he treats you like a person.

It had been a long day of shooting your music video—his trained eyes flickered with a want he couldn't hold back.

There was a moment where he let his need break through—a moment where he got you alone, away from everyone else. And it only made matters worse. It only made that need stronger.

His body’s hot like it’s burning from the inside out; his soft lips desperate and hungry. You kiss him back with the same desperation, fingers twisting into the shirt you wanted to rip off him all day.

He groans into your mouth, his deep rasp coursing through your veins, sending chills down your spine. You gasp against his lips as he lifts you into his strong arms. Your body aches as he ebbs and flows between gentle and rough, even in the midst of his own surrender.

You knit your fingers in his hair, tugging roughly, wanting to hear it again, but an even prettier sound flows from his lips to yours, a deep moan that has you reeling.

The doors dings open, but there’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you that no matter what, you weren't letting go. It’s like you both need it for your own survival.

He separates for a moment, breathing heavily as he walks with you to his apartment—his forehead tips against yours as your lips brush ever so slightly.

Your heart swells, your breath hitching as he smiles along your lips, holding you close and keeping you like you were the most important thing in the world.

The key slides into the lock, messy and rushed, wanting his two hands back on you and fast. The world shut behind you, and everything falls away. His tongue runs along your bottom lip, slipping inside, rolling with yours.

It feels so unnatural when he sets you down, leaving you hungry for that same contact again. You smile as you realize there’ll be more of him to touch as the first piece of clothing tears away.

After that, it was one piece after another between messy kisses, littered on the floor like a trail all the way to the place where he had dreamed about you being for nights.

And just like he had been dreaming about, he throws you on the bed, crawling on top before rolling his body into yours, pulling right where he imagined you'd be.

He tows you on top of him, grabbing your hips, guiding you to grind your body into him. Your hands press against his chest, nails dragging down his skin, leaving little lines of red behind.

His pretty eyes roll back in his head, and between the scratch marks and the way your wet pussy was slick against his cock he could have sworn he could have cum right then and there.

“All for me? Fuck it’s all mine. Just fucking perfect for me…” He mumbles as he loosens his grip on your hips, just enough to slap your ass.

“All yours,” you breathe as you lean down, slipping your fingers between your thighs. And just like before, he didn't ask, snatching your wrist, taking those same fingers between his lips, tasting your pussy for the first time.

“Mmm… Fuck—” He groans, and before he can even finish the word, you’re on your back—his beautiful face buried between your thighs for more.

You throw your head back into his pillow, his rich cologne muddling your mind as your eyes go hazy, his tongue lapping at your clit; lips sucking, teeth grazing.

He’s listening, as he always does, your pleasured screams and cries guiding him. Not for the fact that he knows exactly what you need just yet… For the fact that he doesn't know if he can go without hearing that sound again.

The sweet sound of your pleasure. Your blissed-out whimpers and cries leave him desperate for relief, his cock rutting into the mattress.

Your fingers scratch into his hair, making him moan into your pussy; the vibrations coursing through your system, making your toes curl. And, just when you're about to lose control, his fingers push inside, making you fall to pieces.

He pulls his mouth away, needing to see it for himself, wanting to memorize the look on your face when you come undone—praising you, making sure you knew that it was going to happen again and again until the only name you knew was his…

Like it wasn't already the only thing on your mind.

“I need you…” You purr that understatement into his ear as your fingers wrap around his thick dick. “Please—”

“Fuck, princess… Yes. Fuck,” he moans like he can't believe those words are leaving your lips—the look in his yearning eyes is almost apologetic like he can't believe he made you plead for anything at all.

Your moans clash as his dick sinks in, bottoming you out, making you gasp and cling to his shoulders; with a stretch, his fingers couldn't prepare you for, not the way he fills you up so perfectly.

He feels it, too. His thick cock throbbing inside you—warm and wet, pulling him as your body starts to soften.

His skin slaps against yours, sticking with the wetness of your first climax as your body threatens to give way again. And just like before, he listens—hanging onto every whimper and cry that leaves your kiss-swollen lips, hitting that spot that has you screaming his name, pounding you into the mattress again and again so you’ll chant it like a prayer.

The sound that leaves your mouth is laced with that shit that has him spilling inside you, filling you so full that the sensation alone has you shuddering and whimpering for more.

And, even though his teeth are gritted, and his muscles are strained, he just can stop, rough finger pushing through your panting lips, tongue swirling around his digits, and he already feels his cock swelling again at the thought of you on your knees, with his dick weighted on your tongue.

He lowers his fingers, watching your lip pout with overstimulation, tears brimming in your eyes as he rubs your little figure eights on top while he strokes his load as deep as it can go.

And, just as you're about to swear you can't take anymore your damn breaks, pussy fluttering, eyes leaking tears that he brushes away.

He buries himself in you—sharing breath, kissing your skin, living in this moment with you that was better than any fantasy, far deeper than either of you could have imagined.

And for the first time in a long time, you truly feel safe.

Back…

[fanged-fanfics]

☆ The Curtain Eclipse — Black Sapphire Cookie x GN Reader Fic ☆

Genre: Fluff || they/them pronouns for reader || No warnings needed

──────.𖥔 ݁ ˖˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──────

At the end of a live performance, you were working backstage, prepping what your TV personality would need to unwind after his acts. Right as you were cleaning up his station, Black Sapphire Cookie sauntered into his break room with a loud sigh and a dramatic groan lacing his words. "Urgh, that was such work! Remind me to fire that second act" he said, striding over to you and flopping down in his vanity's chair. "A drink, Black Sapphire?" You asked, and he nodded, waving a hand to punctuate his words "The best we have in stock, I need it" he said, putting his large microphone off to the side.

You diligently went to his mini supply, taking out a chilled cream soda. He looked himself over in his mirror, tilting his head this way and that "The cookies will be talking about this gossip for weeks- no, months!". "You did amazing, as always" you said, handing him his drink. He accepted, taking a long sip from the glass before placing it on his dresser with a soft 'klink'. "Oh, sure, but I could do better" he replied "I'll have gossip so big that cookies will be on about it for years. Broadcasted to all of Earthbread— just as Shadow Milk intended". He made a low and smooth chuckle as he sipped his drink once more "And you, my dear, will be right by my side as it all goes into chaos"

"I'm flattered" you chuckled. Black Sapphire glanced to you, his dark eyes warm with familiarity. He beckons you over with his hand "Look here, my gem". You step up, and he gently holds your face, guiding you to where you're looking in the mirror "When you're before the world, you need to be a picture of confidence. Elegant, poised. A rose hiding its thorns". "Something you pull off effortlessly" you responded to him, and he chuckled a little "Flatterer. But, you're right again. I've perfected this art. You, however, keep me together"

"I do?" You asked, looking at him rather than your own eyes reflected back at you. "Why, of course!" Black Sapphire responded, wrapping his arms around your neck. He tugged you forwards, until you were hovering over where he was sitting. His grin was sharp, comfortable in a way no one else ever saw. His half-lidded eyes squinted just a bit more in fondness upon having you so close. His hand brushed your cheek.

"What would I do without you, hm? Your little smiles, all the times you've pressed my suit. And," he leaned much closer, his head on your shoulder so he could speak to your ear better "All the company you give me". "I.. didn't think you'd be the lonely type" you said, a little stunned as you wrapped your arms around him in return. "Well, technically I'm not" Black Sapphire admitted with a little sigh "There's always the audience, or Candy Apple, or the stagehands. But you, my little gem..." he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to your cheek "You see me, you get me"

You stood stunned, hands on his shoulders, but no idea if you should risk getting closer. Your faces were so near, his gestures inviting... and yet you were worried about what you should do. A knock came to the door, getting Black Sapphire's attention. He sighed as he stood, taking your hands in his "I'm needed again," he said simply. He gave you a warm smile before gently kissing the back of your hands "I'll see you tonight?"

You nodded immediately "Yes, yes- I'm- I'm free then" you stammered out. "Good, good" Black Sapphire said, making sure to draw back slowly. He picked up his microphone staff, beginning to head towards the door "Until then, little gem". Once he got to the doorframe, you found your energy, jogging up behind him "Black Sapphire Cookie, wait-!". He stopped, turning to face you. You hesitated for only a moment before leaning up, planting a kiss right where his fluffy bangs gave way to his forehead.

When you pulled back, you could see a dark hue of blush dusting his light grey cheeks. He seemed a little surprised himself, before smiling wider and softer than before. He reached into his suit, pulling out the small white flower he always wore. He pinned it to your collar. "There we go. A token, to remember me by until tonight" he snickered. Your returned the laugh as he finally went to go back to his stage, wings at his coattails flapping with excitement.

"Good luck!" You called out last second. Black Sapphire gave you a little half-bow before finally being back in the limelight, bright stage illumination showering him in pale highlights to his dark attire. He almost seemed to glow under such light, only making him look more ethereal. You felt something stir in you, a warm and fluttery anxiousness from just knowing you'd see him again when the curtains closed.

[salemrph]

Midnight Rain

A/N: Quick Idea. We had a dance with Xavier and Zayne, and the memory of running under the rain with Rafayel. But… what if we put dance and rain together while holding hands with Sylus? I’m getting flustered...

Character: Sylus & Reader/MC/You

Genre: romantic, fluffy

Word count: 933 | Reading Time: 3 min

The first raindrops fell in soft, hesitant pats against the pavement. By the time you and Sylus reached a place to take shelter, the sky had fully blacked out, drenching the streets in silver drops. The neon glow signs from the N109 Zone reflected off the wet ground, creating a dreamy hue around you both. 

You sneeze. You shivered slightly, the sudden chill of the rain mixed with the coolness of the night creeping into your bones. Without a word, Sylus slipped off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. His scent clung to the fabric, wrapping around you like a quiet embrace. His fingers lingered a little too long at your collarbone before he pulled away, shoving his hands into his pockets with a smirk.

"Guess we’re stuck here for a while," he mused, his eyes flicking from the rain to your face. 

“Can't you just teleport us to the base?” Sylus looks at you confused but amused. 

“That's not how my Evol works…” you’re a little upset because you want to sit her by the fireplace as soon as possible. "But… we can do something else.” 

Your ears twitch, waiting for your boyfriend to tell you the quickest way to get home.

“Dance with me in the rain"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but the way his voice dipped into a softer tone made your pulse stutter. "Sylus, it’s pouring. We’ll get soaked."

"And?" He tilted his head, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Is the kitten scared of a little water?"

You narrowed your eyes on him, challenging. "No…!"

Without waiting for a response, you stepped into the rain. The cold was sharp at first, seeping through your clothes instantly, but the moment Sylus followed, grabbing your wrist and spinning you toward him, warmth spread through you. His laughter was rare, but tonight, it was rich and unrestrained, blending with the rhythm of the downpour. 

The romantic moment contrasts with what you were doing just half an hour before. running, hiding, investigating. All of it was just to complete the main mission: eliminating a few of Onychinus’ enemies.

His hands found your waist, pulling you close as you swayed in place. The world around you blurred. Just the two of you in the midst of the storm. Raindrops traced down his cheekbones, clung to his lashes, but all you could focus on was how he looked at you, like you were something worth getting lost in.

You tilt your head slightly, resting against his chest, and without thinking, you start to hum, a soft, random tune that drifts between the raindrops.

"That song…" he murmurs. "Is it something you know?"

You pause for a moment, then smile. "Not really. Just… something in my head."

He hums in response, a content sound that vibrates through his chest. "Keep going."

So you do. The melody is unstructured, nothing more than a passing thought turned into sound. You keep moving under the rain.

Sylus presses a slow kiss to the top of your head. "I…like to hear you sing. You have a nice voice. "

The moment stretched, his breath warm despite the cold. His hands tightened ever so slightly at your waist, hesitant, almost waiting. And then, without overthinking, you reached up, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead before pressing your lips to his.

The rain became irrelevant. The chill disappeared. It was only the taste of him, the way his lips pressed urgently against yours, the way his fingers curled into the small of your back like he was afraid to let go. Time melted into the storm, into the warmth of his embrace.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, Sylus rested his forehead against yours, his grin softer now. "Told you the rain wasn’t so bad."

You laughed, shivering as he pulled you closer, hugging you. 

—

On the roofs of the adjoining buildings there are two figures sitting in the rain. They don't mind getting wet too much.

"Should we interrupt? Luke asks, twirling his car keys on his finger.

"Sure, go on, the boss will punish you by having to clean the library. Or worse, he'll make you read all the books"

Luke wrinkles his nose "But there are no comics..."

"Exactly"

[bluemusickid]

ᥫ᭡. ⋆. 𐙚 ˚In The Key of Sin ᥫ᭡. ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

🎀Pairing🎀: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader, Joel Miller x Original Character

🎀A/N🎀: Okkkkk so I had this teeeensy idea brewing since quite some time. It's a bit different from what I normally write, I shall admit. But idk, it's been at the back of my mind since a looooong time. Now this may be a bit OOC for the JM we love and cherish, both HBO and Game versions. But oh well, when my muse strikes, she does so with a vengeance. Also, special thanks to @slimybeth69 , I got this idea after I read a certain chapter of Que Sera Sera (which is an AMAZING story and omfg you guys need to read it LIKE NOW)

🎀Warnings🎀: smut, nsfw, 18+, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (don't be silly wrap your willy), slightt infidelity (yea ik but trust the process), explicit sex, degradation, (mild) voyeurism, breeding kink, minors DNI.

18+ blog, Minors not welcome, you are responsible for your own media consumption. Not beta'ed, any mistakes, grammatical or otherwise are all mine. I post my stuff only on Tumblr and AO3, and occasionally Wattpad. I do not give anyone permission to reproduce, copy or translate my work in any form of media, including but not limited to AI chatbots. If you are found doing so, trust me, I will put my law degree to good use. Likes are welcome, reblogs are much appreciated!

Tiring. That was all that you could describe this day as. Work had been hectic, challenging and had pushed you to the limits of your sanity. All you wanted to do was kick off your shoes, maybe have a beer or two, and snuggle with your husband, watching trashy reality TV; listening to him grumble about how stupid everyone in said show was.

With that thought perking you up a little, you walked into your house, your calves killing you. Surely the person who invented heels is burning in hell right now; you thought to yourself. Dropping your bag unceremoniously on the couch, you took off your shoes and your jacket, making your way to the refrigerator as you pulled out a can of beer, the chilled beverage sliding down your throat, calming down your nerves. Perfect. Just as you were about to take another sip, you heard a muffled groan. Weird. Chalking it up to the random noises old houses often made, you shrugged it off.

But then it happened again. As you stood there, you heard a moan again, loud and clear this time. Hmm, that's strange. Joel said he wouldn't be home this early. Maybe it was the wind or a raccoon or something.

You were about to call out his name when you heard a loud whimper, and the porniest noise you had ever heard. Intrigued, you slowly made your way to your bedroom, ensuring that you made no noise; your form shaking as you saw the door ajar.

Heart racing, you snuck towards the door, till what you had heard finally had visual backing. And there you saw something. Something which would have made a normal person's heart drop into their stomach and their palms to become sweaty. Instead, you felt a flutter twist throughout your body.

You saw a very naked woman on her back, writhing and undulating on the bed, as he, your man, ate her out, and rather voraciously at that. The askew bedspread, the clothes strewn about, the whole bedroom was a damn mess; but all your brain could register was that he ate pussy like a god, hearing her wails reverberate through your marital room.

"Yes, yes...i'm almost there!" she whined, her hips moving against his face. You could see him grinding lightly against the bed, his tongue making the girl grab the bedspread tightly between her fingers. It made your toes curl, a tingle passing through your scalp and all throughout your body.

"'S right, slut. Come on my face. Let me feel that cunt squeeze my damn fingers." Joel grunted, the sound of his sucking breaking the silence of the room.

The next moment, big-tits-long-hair screamed as she thrust her hips up against his face, holding him to her mound, curling her fingers and grasping his hair. He moaned as he held her legs up, his mouth relentlessly licking at her.

You closed your eyes as you remembered how his moan felt against your centre, your panties now drenched. Softly unbuttoning your jeans, you reached inside, touching yourself over your underwear.

This feels so wrong, and yet...

Her squeal made you open your eyes, as you saw Joel roughly flip her onto her hands and knees. You nearly moaned out loud, but bit your lip in the nick of time. He was facing opposite the door and hadn't seemed to notice your presence yet, which you were thankful for.

You saw him, Joel; your Joel, eat her out from behind, as he slowly jerked himself off, no doubt trying to stave off his orgasm.

"What do you want, slut?" he drawled, his hand working himself, slowly.

She said nothing, whimpering as she pushed her hips backwards, towards him. Smacking her on her ass, he growled, "Beg for it."

You swore under your breath, his husky command bringing you to the brink. You watched as she whined out breathily, "Please give me your cock, Mr. Miller. I need it inside me."

You bit your thumb as you watched him rip a foil packet and unroll a condom before thrusting inside her snatch in one move, burying himself to the hilt. She squealed, rather loudly, the sudden intrusion causing her some pain.

"Lemme hear you, lil' girl. Need you to scream loudly 'til the neighbours hear." He grunted through clenched teeth, his hips still flush against her ass.

You watched, transfixed, as he lightly began to circle her clit. Sex with Joel had always been mindblowingly hot, but now watching it, as a third person? It was even better than watching porn.

You watched as he jackhammered her cunt, roughly pulling on her wrists, to go even deeper. She wailed, her thighs trembling as she struggled to hold herself upright. You gasped, watching him push her into prone position, his thrusts never faltering.

This was wrong. It was transgressive. But oh god...why was it so hot? Why did it feel like YOU were the intruder? A sudden grunt broke you out of your reverie as you watched Joel manhandle her to his liking.

You watched the love of your life pound into her with such vigour you feared the bed would break.

"Ohh..ohhhh...god....i'm....cumming..." you heard her keening, her hands searching for something, anything to hold on to as Joel wrecked her, his hips faltering as he too, neared his end.

"Yeah...fuck.....'s it. Come on my cock, want t' feel you gushing around me.." he grunted, yanking on her arm to haul her up on her knees, fucking her with abandon. You doubled your efforts, circling your clit as you slipped a finger inside, muffling your groans as you could feel yourself inch closer and closer to your climax; your pussy getting wetter by the minute.

Her wails, her loud screams, enough to wake the dead resonated through the house. You were half afraid that Mrs. Davis next door would think there was someone being murdered.

You could feel your walls clench around nothing as you saw Joel pull out of her, jerking himself off and groaning as he finished all over her round ass, his hips shunting as he milked out every drop of his spend on her perky butt.

Breaking out of your horny haze, you decided that you'd had enough. You needed to leave before either one of them caught you. Rebuttoning your pants, you quickly exited the house, going for a small walk around the block to clear your mind.

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

Almost an hour had passed since the "incident". You had come back home, thankfully, after the girl had left, and had busied yourself with preparing dinner. As you were slicing the vegetables, you felt his arms circling around your waist, his breath tickling your ear as he slowly ground his growing erection against your hips. Wordlessly, you turned around as he weaved his fingers through yours, the slight pressure a welcome distraction as he pulled you in the direction of your bedroom, seating you on the very bed where he had been with another woman not too long ago.

"So, you were watching." he said, his Southern drawl thicker than usual.

You hesitated for a bit, before nodding.

He sniffled, nodding slightly as he ran his fingers through his beard thoughtfully.

"Was it up to the mark?" he asked, a little shyly, if you could decipher his tone correctly.

Turning your chin up, you looked into his eyes, your lips pursing. Your mouth upturned into a smirk as you looked at the ground with your eyes, your intentions abundantly clear.

He immediately dropped to his knees, between your legs; awaiting your words with bated breath. It turned you on to see him like this; it was always hot when he took charge but it was even hotter when you took charge, which was a rare but delicious occurrence.

"Oh baby." you smirked, as you took his chin between your fingers, slowly caressing his beard with your thumb. "It was so, so good. I nearly lost control and joined you both."

You felt his sigh of relief ghost over your drenched panties, his fingers tightening on your thighs as he looked up, his big brown eyes reflecting his solace.

"So was it a good early birthday present?" he bashfully whispered, his fingers lightly caressing your clit through your panties, his jeans getting tighter by the minute.

Grinning, you ran your fingers through his gorgeous mess of curls, scratching his beard lightly.

"It was amazing. I was a bit skeptical at first, but that was the hottest thing I've ever seen. It was like a porno, except more personal; like it was just made for me." you moaned, as you felt his finger nudge your panties to the side and lightly caress your wet folds.

"What else, baby?" he growled, his fingers becoming more insistent as he plunged a finger inside you, his thumb caressing your swollen nub.

You mewled, dropping down on the bed as you felt your walls clench around him; your orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks. You didn't quite catch what he said to you, trying to focus on his movements.

As you caught your breath, you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching your husband undress with ill concealed lust. He caught your heated look, smirking as he pulled off his boxers, crawling over to you on the bed.

"You didn't answer my question, sweetheart." he drawled lazily, his tongue circling your nipple.

You writhed under him, struggling to answer him. "Are you fishing for compliments right NOW, Miller?" you murmured dryly, your fingers making their way to his hard member.

Joel grinned as he took himself in hand, slowly but firmly pushing inside you, pressing his lips to yours as he swallowed your moan. Fully seated inside you, he waited a moment before pulling out and thrusting back in, a gasp being punched out of you.

He began moving faster, feeling your silky walls encase him tightly as he picked up his speed; your breathy moans and gasps adding to the symphony of your mingled breaths. He looked into your eyes lovingly entwining his fingers with yours.

It was like some unintentional barriers had been broken that night, and a new chapter of your married life had begun. If you thought you couldn't trust Joel more, you were wrong. You trusted him more than anything now and this rendezvous had only strengthened in your mind what you knew all along in your heart; that Joel Miller would do ANYTHING for you, no questions asked.

"Baby?" you gulped, struggling to keep your climax at bay as he pounded you into the mattress.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I want you to come inside me. Put a baby in me, Joel."

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

EEEEEEK. I'm going to hide in my corner; I know this isn't a kink many share but oh well, i do (sometimes) and just needed to get it out of my system. Come yell at me or cackle with me in my inbox, feedback is always appreciated!!!!

Xoxox Lexi

[darnell-la]

JEALOUS OF HIMSELF

pairing: butch!wolverine x reader x jealous!logan howlett

summary: Logan felt ignorant of his jealousy towards his female variant. she was him, but better when it came to getting close to the woman they had eyes for. he was ready to lash out once he saw y/n being his variant up to her room until the variant had a plan — a plan she had been planning for weeks.

warnings: homosexuality, female variant automatically being better, jealousy, dominating, rough sex, threesome, creampies, breeding kink, claiming, territorial, anger, etc.

note: I spent a while on this one — I really see the vision in this story, and I hope guys do too!

this story was requested!

———

“I think you’ve had enough to drink tonight, Bubba,” Lo, the female variant of Logan asked as she brushed up against y/n’s back. Y/n had only been in the void for a month, and it didn’t take any time for the two wolverines to make their move.

“And, why is that?” Y/n asked as she turned around in her chair with a smirk plastered across her face. “You can barely hold your class, sweetheart,” Lo said before she leaned into her ear. “And, I bet you’d let me kiss you with ease,”

Lo was known for taking her shot whenever she wanted, and right now seemed like the best time. Y/n had been eyeballing Lo all night, smirking, and even looking her up and down. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Hey, Bub — Why don’t you fuck off, yeah?” Logan said as he came up to the two, blood boiling because he knew Lo was here to make a move on y/n before he could.

They’ve been fighting over the young girl ever since she got here, yet they both never had any luck. Even though y/n shows affection towards both of them, she loves watching them argue for her.

“Why would I? Seems like she’s pretty comfortable here, yeah?” Lo turned to y/n who was smiling at the two already butting heads. “Yeah- I’m comfortable,” y/n said as she softly touched Lo’s bicep, making sure to look straight into Logan’s eyes.

“You see — Your girls comfortable,” Lo said before chuckling and leaning back into y/n’s ear. “How about we bait him upstairs to have a good time, Bub,” Lo whispered, making sure Logan had no idea what y/n would be giggling at.

“C’mon, then,” y/n said as she got up and pulled Lo with her. “Hey!” Logan said as he followed the two. He knew how much of an asshole head be if he tried cock blocking Lo because his cousins get y/n, but at this point, he didn’t care.

“You’re gonna have a fun night tonight, sweets,” Lo whispered into y/n’s ear before slapping her ass, as y/n made her way up the stairs to her room. “Hey- Lo! — We need to talk!” Logan demanded only a few feet behind the two, witnessing everything Lo was going to get.

“We can talk tomorrow- I’m pretty busy, as you can see,” Lo said as she made it to the top of the stairs. “Go into the room, princess — I’ll be right there,” Lo whispered into y/n’s ear once again before stopping to look back at Logan.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Huh!?” Logan pushed Lo against the wall. “Someone who can get your girl before you,” Lo smirked as Logan turned around with his fist tight, wanting to beat Lo unconscious. Would it matter? He would be basically beating himself.

“You needa chill, though, dude — I never said I wouldn’t be down to share,” Lo said, wanting Logan to finally understand that she liked the Wolverine, which is them both. Not just one.

“What? Are you fucking dumb!?” Logan grabbed Lo’s by her tank top and slammed her against the wall. “Hey- Relax! — I’m saying we can have her at the same time. She’s in there waiting for us both, not just one of us,”

At first, Logan wanted to argue until he thought to himself. He calmed down at the thought of y/n actually wanting him to. Even if she bonded more with Lo. He honestly couldn’t care less who she liked more, he just wanted y/n to know she belonged to him too.

“If this is one of your sick games, you’re dead, you understand?” Logan asked. “Understood, Mister James,” Lo said before pushing Logan off of her. “Now, don’t hold back — I’ve been dying for this night,” Lo warned Logan not to mess up what they’ve both been waiting for, for weeks.

“Sorry, I took so long, Bub — Had to convince this dickhead that you’ve got plenty of holes to kiss, yeah?” Lo asked as she made her way into y/n’s room. Logan came in after her before closing and locking her room door.

“Yes, but- I-I didn’t know you were serious, Lo. I-I’ve never done anything like t-this before,” y/n said as she shifted in her bed. “I think you’ll be just fine, Bubba — All you’ve gotta do is lay back, and let us work, yeah? We’re two big strong mutants that shouldn’t need you to do much,”

The way all speaks to y/n, makes her feel safe and sure that absolutely nothing could ever go wrong, as long as she’s there. Lo was the only reason why y/n was in the position she was in now.

“F-Feel-Feels good,” y/n stuttered, now laid on her back as Logan’s fingers curled inside of her, and his tongue went at it on her bud. Lo on the other hand had one hand pinching a free nipple as her other nipple stayed occupied with her mouth.

“J-Just so much,” y/n whined at how rough Logan was fingering her. Without knowing, the man kept edging her, making it harder doe her to give him what he’d been asking for. “Stop holding back, Bub, before you make me angry,”

Y/n whined at the way the man talked to her. She loved his aggression, but right now, his aggression wasn’t giving her time to leak over his face.

“Dude, you’re switching your strokes too many times. Stay at one!” Lo shouted at the man, but Logan refused to listen to her. “Fucking dick,” Lo said as she got up and pushed Logan off of y/n.

“Get to suckin’ on her tits before I slice your tongue off — Fucking useless,” Lo said before she went down onto y/n, instantly making y/n cry out in pleasure. The young girl's hands rushed through Lo’s hair as the other reached for Logan.

“I-It felt good- I just need it more g-gentle for the first run,” y/n wants to make sure Logan didn’t feel left out. The man leaned into y/n, wanting to apologize, but y/n crashed her lips onto his to assure him he read fine.

Within a minute, y/n could feel the knot in her stomach ready to untie. She tried holding it back for a little, just to keep Lo in between her legs, but it was impossible. She had shushed and throbbed onto the woman Wolverine’s face.

“F-F-Fuck,” y/n shook as Logan kissed over y/n’s neck, wanting to somehow mark her as his in some way. He wanted people, including Lo to know that y/n had to be his.

“Maybe, instead of giving her middle school hickeys, fill her up,” Lo suggested as she got up to wipe her face. “What!?” Y/n said after Logan pulled away, wanting to know if she heard Lo well.

“C’mon, Bub — We’re all adults here — Plus, you talk to me like your average girl-friend. I know you’re on birth control,” Lo smirked over at y/n as she wiped her face in the cover of the room.

He didn’t know why, but Logan felt a rush of going feral run through his body. The thought of filling her up, and claiming in that way whenever he pleased, was something Lo couldn’t possibly do.

“I — I don’t know about that,” y/n said, as she looked at Logan who was now looking at Lo. She could feel her heart drop, knowing she signed up for something that she wouldn’t get out of any time soon.

“Is this a one-time thing, or does she actually belong to us?” Logan asked. “I barely wanted to share her with you,” Lo admitted. “So, I’d be the only one filling her up?” Logan asked, making Lo roll her eyes. “God, are all of my men variants so territorial?” Lo rolled her eyes as she sat down on a couch.

“Yes, Logan- You’ll be the only one to fill her up, now could you maybe make her orgasm like I did, or so I have to get back up and show you how it’s done?”

Logan wasted no time hovering over y/n and moved in between her legs. “Wait- I-I didn’t agree to anything yet,” y/n said which only made the two wolverines laugh.

“Baby, just relax and take the real Wolverine. He may not be good with his fingers, but because he’s me, I know he’d be a dog with his dick,” Lo just knew Logan wasn’t going to disappoint when it comes to fucking y/n. She’ll never tell him, he she had been waiting to watch this for weeks.

“Logan? Are you seriously not gonna talk to me?” Y/n looked up at Logan with puppy eyes, maybe thinking he’d slow down a bit, and let her get an idea of what she was in for, but those eyes only made him want to use her more.

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you, y/n, and you’re not gonna fucking stop me — Just like you didn’t stop Lo from eating your sweet soul out,”

Logan had already had his cock out, ready to go to work on y/n, but now y/n began to fight. At first, Logan thought he should maybe calm down, and that y/n could perhaps actually be uncomfortable.

But, then he remembered how strong y/n was. She was a variant everyone down here was scared of, including Cassandra. If y/n wanted to push Logan off for real, she would’ve by now.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” Logan asked right before he reached for y/n’s neck, and gripped. “Then you’d be perfect for me,” Logan added before he plunged into y/n, making sure every inch slipped past her folds.

A scream escaped her mouth before they turned into whiny loud moans. “Yeah? — Feels good?” Logan asked, wasting no time pounding his way into y/n with as much roughness as she could take.

“Logan-“ y/n’s voice broke as her eyes squinted, trying to figure out ways to take him, but it was impossible. He was huge and long, and every vein he had brushed all over her walls.

“T-Too much- Please — Please break real quick,” y/n quickened her sentence as she felt like she couldn’t speak. The way he pierced her stomach made her feel like she was going to pass out. She would be lying if she said she hated it…

“I don’t think you need a break, princess — I think you need it deeper, yeah?” Logan asked, but couldn’t care for an answer as he pushed y/n’s legs further apart and back before pounding deeper into her.

“N-No- Fuck,” y/n felt ashamed that she was going to cum hard around the man she swore could never have her. He knew exactly how she felt, and that’s why he smirked down at her. He was an asshole, but she loved it.

“Thought I couldn’t fuck you, huh? Look how easy it is now — Can’t even take a few inches,” Logan growled inches from her face. “I don’t think that thing’s a few inches, buddy,” Lo chimed in.

“But, she talked so much shit — Telling people I couldn’t possibly handle you, yet, you’re here fighting for your life,” Logan teased as y/n’s violently shook. She tried keeping her voice in but ended up whining so loud, her eyes began to water.

“Ah huh- that’s it — Give it to me, baby,” Logan groaned as he picked up his pace. “Fucking give it to me!” Logan shouted in the young girl's face as y/n felt like she was going to see her memories flash before her eyes.

“That’s fucking it, baby. That’s fucking it- That’s how I want it — That’s how I want it!” Logan continued to pound as he felt himself twitch and then spill into y/n. He could tell by the way his cock twitched, that this would be the biggest spill he’s ever had.

“No way she’s leaking you already,” Lo giggles to herself as she watched the man pound down into y/n’s now messy and soaked cunt. Logan had groaned at what Lo said, now feeling like he could dump a few more into her.

“Turn around,” Logan demanded, but before she could even think for a second, Logan pulled y/n up, turned her around, and slammed her down on her stomach.

“Log- Logan!” Y/n went to speak, but she was too late. The man had already slammed into her from the back, basically imprinting her into the mattress. “So fucking tight!” Logan growled into y/n’s ear as he ran his hands through her hair to tug on it a few times.

“You’re like an extra small condom on my cock- squeezing me so fucking good — All in the right places,” the huge man whispered in her ear before leaning up and pushing her head into the mattress, now slamming into her with absolutely no mercy.

[mrsjellymunson]

Meet Me

Written for the @steddiemicrofic February prompt rose, and the @st-loveconfessions February Acts of Kindness day 02 challenge write a ficlet inspired by an artwork - I chose this piece by @resande bc it’s fkg stunning || Word count target: 367 || Rating: T || CW: Recollections of angst and allusions to canon-typical violence/gore, hopeful ending || Tags: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, post-S4, S4 fix-it, alternate outcome

Steve remembers.

He remembers it all. Everything about that night they fought demons.

He remembers the fear; tar-like dread rising in his chest as Eddie ran off to play the hero.

And after, how he’d staggered to Skull Rock, honouring the promise they’d made, a private pact to make it back here. Ignoring the nagging incertitude of whether both of them would.

He remembers the scent of rotting leaves and petrichor mingling with his own: sweat, blood and smoke, and how, gross as it was, it smelled better than where they’d just been. But behind it, a desire for cigarettes, weed and motor-oil that he'd never previously acknowledged, but was now inexplicably craving.

He remembers sitting, cold and alone. The only sounds rustling leaves above and his own ragged breaths. The notion that Eddie wouldn’t return gradually suffusing his mind like the chill that permeated his bones as the sun dipped ever lower.

He recalls twigs snapping, footfalls. The brief moment when he thought he might need his bat, for an animal. Or worse.

Then, just as the golden orb spilled its last over the horizon, illuminated by the diffuse celestial light…

Eddie.

He recalls indescribable relief. Then rising shakily on chilled legs, embracing his friend, holding him close. Feeling the texture of Eddie’s jacket in his fists, the sensation of solid, denim-clad thighs pressing against his own. How warm, how alive Eddie felt as Steve’s fingertips brushed his back as his clothing bunched in his grasp. The unexpected softness of Eddie’s hair, matted blood and entrails notwithstanding.

And how vigorously Eddie had gripped him back.

He remembers the relief suddenly morphing into something larger, stronger, more all-encompassing.

How a different sensation rose in his chest then. Something familiar, yet simultaneously completely uncharted. A fierce heat that started low in his belly, rising up through his torso, enveloping his heart and bursting out of his throat.

Flames he couldn’t contain or suppress, even if his life depended on it. A feeling so strong it subsumed all others. All fear, all doubt, all trepidation.

He remembers tears falling and his voice cracking as he’d sobbed and whispered the only words that entirely pervaded his mind,

“I love you.”

Thanks so much for reading!

PLEASE go and give love to the art by @resande, it’s called ‘Reunion at Skull Rock’ (you can see why I didn’t reveal the title at the start 😉) and I think it’s absolutely tremendous (all of their work is!). AND go send your ST love confessions via the asks at @st-loveconfessions , such a fantastic idea and a wonderful way to spread some love through the fandom ❤️

There’s lots more Steddie and Eddie on my masterlist

General taglist (open my sweet muffins, just ask!) @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland @evileyeandthecattywhumps @3rd-conchord @bellalillyrose

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Wizards

JRR Tolkien: submitted for the approval of unicorn fuck club, i call this the similrian Tolkien: i know that you all had a lot of questions about middle earth after LOTR Tolkien: so this story will answer all questions GRR Martin: even questions about the blue wizards Tolkien: no it does not answer questions about the blue wizards

Tolkien: look, i don't want to talk about the blue wizards Martin: gosh why don't you want to talk about the blue wizards jrrt? Tolkien: Tolkien: because Tolkien: Tolkien: because fuck you that's why

Martin: what's the deal with wizards? Tolkien: there's Gandalf the gray, Saruman the white, radagast the brown, and then two blue wizards Martin: why two blue ones? Tolkien: i ran out of colors

Tolkien: you have to understand, i was writing in the 1940s Tolkien: there weren't a whole lot of colors back then Tolkien: and blue had just been invented Tolkien: so i guess i got a little crazy with it

Tolkien: the important thing about the wizards is that they each embody a different way of dealing with fascism Tolkien: Saruman is capitulation Tolkien: Gandalf is direct action Tolkien: radagast is self care

Tolkien: Saruman is a real bummer Tolkien: he's always like "oh Gandalf the halfling's pipe weed has made you dumb" Tolkien: "oh radagast you're too addled from eating weird mushrooms" Tolkien: see, Saruman is straight edge Tolkien: that's why he's evil

Tolkien: anyway what you should take away from this is Tolkien: Gandalf smokes weed Tolkien: this is very important to note Tolkien: yes all those black light posters had it right Tolkien: they're pretty much the only accurate adaptations of my work if you think about it

Tolkien: so yeah Gandalf smokes weed Martin: is that why he's so chill Tolkien: yes exactly that's why he's so chill

Martin: haha they should call you JRR TOKIN' Martin: get it? cuz toking weed Tolkien: Tolkien: oh! Tolkien: i do get it! Tolkien: delightful!

Martin: what, no one's ever said that before? Tolkien: no I've never heard anyone say that before

Tolkien: look, i know you all think i'm just some old fuddy duddy Tolkien: just because i hate rock and roll and all things modern Tolkien: i hate rock music! Tolkien: this awful, discordant noise! Tolkien: you can't even caper buffoonishly to it!

Tolkien: yes its true, i might hate rock and roll Tolkien: but let me tell you Tolkien: i love drugs Tolkien: except for the space cocaine in dune Tolkien: FUCK DUNE Frank Herbert: aw :(

[ferritins]

SHOW ME (LITTLE BIT OF SPINE) | J. TODD

SUMMARY: You keep putting your back to Jason. He keeps wondering why. Eventually, things boil over.

NOTES: if you’re looking back at my ghost fic, reading this, and going “…hm. Marley I am putting some things together about you” no you are not! [lying]

title from Fall Out Boy’s Dance Dance because I am a cringe elder GenZ and former scene kid 🙂‍↕️🤘🏽

WARNINGS: canon-typical violence, resolved romantic tension, UST.

Despite the hissing, seething rage sitting green and molten under Jason’s skin, you are completely unafraid of him.

It’s not that awareness of his capacity for violence escapes you, exactly; rather, it is the fact he reins it in so tightly and meters it out so meticulously that sets you at ease.

The Jason who rends flesh from bone and tears viscerae from by bodies with nothing but a K-Bar and the impetus to obliterate is the one who haunts the abuser, the exploiter, the predator.

The Jason who haunts your kitchen is the same boy you grew up with, who is in turn both stroppy and sensitive, cuts your expensive sharp cheddar at stupid angles and takes a spoon of jam in his black tea.

He has only ever been physical in protection of you, and never, ever to you.

You have been scared for him, but never of him; put simply, Jason is the safest pair of hands you know, the keenest pair of eyes to have watching your back.

Which is why you’re completely bemuses by Jason being so entirely thrown by your willingness to put your back to him, to make yourself vulnerable.

It first comes up one evening in late January, when you’re making saag paneer to chase off the creeping chill; Jason is at your side (back-seat cooking, as is his habit).

After five minutes of his nitpicking, you roll your eyes, holding a sauce-coated spoon out.

“Less bitching, more taste-testing.” You sing-song, tone deliberately cloying.

Jason scowls, but takes the spoon.

“Definitely more cumin, maybe a little more garam masala and like… half a tablespoon more tomato purée.” He says a moment later, around his mouthful of sauce.

“Ooh, precision! Steady on, Marco Pierre-White.” You tease, turning to your spice rack.

When you turn back, there’s a look of poleaxed disbelief on Jason’s face.

You raise an eyebrow, questioning; Jason mutters something under his breath, shakes his head.

The oddity of the moment is quite forgotten five minutes later, when Jason starts being unbearable about the way you’re stirring the curry.

And then, it keeps happening.

You notice it a month later in the supermarket, when you spin on your heel mid-conversation to take advantage of the half-price Guylian chocolates; again, when you sprint to the kitchen as Jason, ah, redecorates your living room carpet whilst you hunt through your cupboard for your first aid kit.

Once you start noticing it, you can’t stop noticing it. Jason, hyper-observant as he is, picks up on your observations, though he can’t seem to place what exactly it is you’re observing.

A strange sort of tension starts to brew between the two of you.

The simmer starts slow, only really beginning to bubble in the subtext of your relationship as winter slips into spring.

By the time spring slips into summer, every interaction is underwritten with it; you feel like you’re sat atop a powder keg, waiting for it to blow.

The inevitable argument comes on a sweltering July evening.

You’re working late, the window to your tenth floor apartment open to try and combat the humidity rising from tarmac streets and concrete high-rises as you peck disinterestedly at your laptop’s keyboard.

You don’t even notice Jason until you catch a glint of red chrome in your laptop screen.

Your heart leaps into your throat for a moment; your momentary fear allayed when you turn your chair just enough to see Jason stood behind you, hair mussed from his helmet.

“Hi, Jay!” You chirp. “Pozole is still on the stove, if you’re hungry. Help yourself.”

With that, you spin your chair back around and return to the task at hand, trying to get your quarterly report finished.

Jason remains standing at your shoulder. You can the space between your shoulders itch under his stare. After ten minutes, the trapped-rabbit feeling of being watched gets too distracting.

You spin your office chair around to face Jason fully.

“Is…something wrong?” You venture.

“You’re not scared of me.” Jason states, voice low and intent.

“…I’m scared that you might be dripping hepatitis onto my carpet, because this sounds a lot like the kind of thing you say when you’re busy losing the better part of your circulating blood volume.” You squint. “Do I need to get the first aid kit?”

“No.” Jason says.

“Okay…”

Your wheedling tone earns you nothing. Slowly, you spin your seat back to face your computer.

From behind you, Japan makes a frustrated noise. Rolling your eyes, you shoot him a look over your shoulder.

“Not a mind reader, Jay.”

“You keep putting your back to me.” Jason snaps. “You shouldn’t. It’s stupid.”

You turn your seat again, regarding him with a look of pure disbelief.

“You’re an adult man with access to all my streaming subscriptions. You can find entertainment—“

“It’s like you don’t have any survival skills whatsoever!” Jason snaps. “I’ve literally killed people!”

Thoroughly confused and very much fed up with Jason’s irascible distemper, you huff.

“Yes, Jason, you’re very scary.” You say with a patient tone that tips right into condescension, spinning back round to your computer. “I have a quarterly report due on Tuesday, so if we could hold off on the homicidal affirmations for a bit, that would be great.”

Your seat whirls with enough velocity that you feel a touch dizzy; Jason is stood close enough to you that your knees brush, the unexpected proximity making you start backward momentarily and bang your rolling chair back into your desk.

“Why aren’t you afraid? Why are you so insistent on trusting me when you know what I’m capable of?”

“Because you’re not dangerous to me, moron!” You shout. “Because we grew up together! Because I’ve seen you cry, and made you laugh! Because we fight about how you cut my stupid cheese! Because I love you, damn it!”

The words seem to ricochet around your living room, bouncing off walls and amplifying in gravity.

Jason looks punched out, caught somewhere between agony and euphoria.

“What?” His voice is a whisper, a low, desperate thing.

The wounded devotion in his eyes is too much to take; you bury your face in your hands, the repetition of “I love you.” half lost in your palms.

Large, warm hands wrap around your wrists, pull your hands away from your face with a gentleness like you’re made of fine bone china.

You catch a brief glimpse of Jason’s eyes, the faintest rim of seafoam iris around the black saucer of pupil, and then he’s kissing you.

The press of his lips against yours is an epiphany; the revelation of something divine.

“Love you.” You sigh in the space between close-lipped kisses.

The repetition of your confession flicks a switch in Jason; he half-snarls, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, keeping you pressed against his lips.

The next kiss trips out of sweetness and directly into hunger; Jason licks at the seam of your mouth until your lips open on a gasp. The kiss deepens; your senses are overwhelmed by the press of his tongue velvet-hot against yours, the way he catches your bottom lip between his incisors.

His free hand skates up your shirt, smoothing over your ribcage; his fingers dimple the soft give of your side over your fifth rib, skirting the edge of impropriety.

You but collapse against him in response, fingers curling creases into his shirt.

Time passes like treacle through a sieve; by the time that you and Jason part, your lips are spit-slick and bruised puffy, and your computer screen has long since powered off.

“Be mine.” He pants against your neck. “I can’t do casual, not with you. Honey, I need you to say you’ll be mine.”

“I’ve been yours for years, Jay.” You reply, shuddering at the press of his lips to the thin skin over your carotid. “I’ve always been yours.”

“Gonna ruin you for anyone else, sweetheart.” He vows into your skin. “No getting rid of me now.”

[contamination-zone]

warning im a yapper

hello ummm just wanted to say!!! i really like the dynamic you give fresh and nightmare/color with the whole “cat who goes to different houses to get fed twice” thing. nightmare and his weird cat that he has probably locked in a basement a few times. color and this guy he picked off the road because he looks weird and decided he can solve this mess. fresh does not have any strong personal feelings towards either of them.

i very much so like the comic thing where nightmare and ccino were talking about fresh and ccino thought he was a kitten cat,,, no he is not but he acts like one. “he keeps crawling on my lap” that is a grown man get him away!!!! he has a dog cage i think that he is put in sometimes for naughty behavior. he doesn’t really care because he’s allowed his gameboy though. do you think nightmare ever sprays him with water when he does something bad. and this is like a grown adult. what

maybe i just like the trope of dehumanization (bonus if with someone who’s weirdly chill with it like fresh) but whatever,,, your art!!!! it gives me life!!! i very much enjoy the pixely type style and how freak you draw fresh. he’s a fucking creature he is. something is wrong with that guy. and i love him soooo much. so creature. he’s the kind of guy to do that thing where you walk on all fours up the stairs.

AND the way you characterize him is!!!! so good!!!!!!!!! he is so fucked up and weird and terrible and manipulative!!!!!!! he takes advantage of others’ empathy and feelings because he has very little of it himself and whenever he does feel it he does not like it!!!!!!! he looks at a guy with a savior complex and goes yeah i can mentally fuck him up for the next seven months to get something cool i want. he’s just actually terrible and i love him for that.

i also!!! don’t know too much about CB but i feel that fresh’s dynamic with them (him?? i forgor) is very interesting from what i have seen!!!!!! and their shimeji is very cute i still need to download it but i like it a lot :3

OKAY UHHH BYE!!!!! I LIKE UR ART A LOT…… HAVE A GOOD DAY!!!!!! 10/10 fresh posting on your blog love him a lot he is my wife (he feels nothing towards me)

THANK YOU!!! I see you mass reblog things sometimes it makes me giggle :-]

I yammer back...

Glad you like the dynamics haha X] Fresh having very little personal feelings about people is fun and interesting to me. As someone who has trouble connecting and low empathy, its nice to depict someone like me. [Guy interacting with people who are a Lot more invested than he is ghghg]

Fresh would only accept being put in the cage because he can teleport out. Anything like that is only for the Aesthetic, which I think Nightmare would still be down for. Shove that thang into some awful little crate, as a treat. [Honestly I think Fresh would like to get in some nice dog crate with a blankie. Small hide / den thing to nap in :-]]

ALSOOOO dehumanization and freak who doesn't mind is my favorite dynamic <333. Fresh doesn't mind because... he isn't a monster? or a human? And he doesn't have a human/monster centric view of the world. Being seen as a human/monster isn't in anyway important to him, because he doesn't seen it as better/worse. He is the way he is, why does it matter?

Its like, I don't think a cat has very strong opinions on the fact it isn't a man. I also think Fresh is incredibly self-centered and when he's on a high point, sees himself as above humans/monsters. Of course he's not seen as human, he's Fresh! he's a sick-nasty parasite! way cooler. [annnddd way cooler that he gets to eat dog-treats. heck yeah!!]

Also I drew up a little thing with CB and Fresh. Its ahh, I like them a lot I just get nervous speaking about them because its suuuch a oc & canon are besttties that it makes me feel a bit cringe... I also get nervous because CB and Fresh have a very, toxic?? friendship.

Fresh is very possessive and strange about it, because this is his Only friend and he has very dysregulated emotions. Not being able to feel positive emotions often makes it so when he does, he gets very odd about it. So its a lot of... trying to keep CB to himself, at the detriment to CB's goals and ambitions. [CB is trying to track his family down, and Fresh uh. knows. where they are. and is not telling him :-)]

I dunno I think Fresh being genuinely friends with someone but also an awful person about it is like, sorely missing from the fandom landscape. He's a bad person but bad people can still form meaningful relationships and!!! I think that should be explored :-]

[They do eventually get somewhere more healthy. As in, Fresh's whole Thing is revealed, a lot of shinanigans happen, CB lives with his family and Fresh and CB reconnect and become friends again, just with like. Fresh trying actively to do "good person things" to make sure CB's family doesn't shoo him off [I ADOREEE good actions for morally ambiguous reasons!!!], and CB with the understanding that his best friend is Kinda a Freak.]

[musingsofmajesty]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 | 𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐥. 𝐈𝐈𝐈

summary one night when you’re all alone, you need Eddie in a way you never have before. He’s more than happy to be a shoulder to lean on—and a canvas for your restless fingers to trace | fluff, mild hurt/comfort | wc 1.2k

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[best enjoyed in order, but not required! ♡]

.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．

Lilac, baby blue, red, sheer pink. One day in the library, while you're helping him with an overdue project for biology, Eddie realizes he’s been keeping track of all the colors you’ve painted your nails. 

You stop in the middle of cutting out a construction paper mitochondrion when you catch his gaze lingering on your hands. He offers an apologetic smile, but a smirk pulls at your lips. “It’s okay," you say. "I stare at you all the time too.” 

As his cheeks warm, he chuckles and returns to gluing a nucleus into the cytoplasm. Without looking up, he says, “You’ve just never painted your nails that color.”

He can sense your gaze return to him. "Sage," he says. "It’s nice.” He finally looks up and finds you with that familiar sparkle in your eyes.

“Yeah? You like it?”  You extend your hand his way so he can get a better look. 

He takes your hand in his and brushes his thumb over your fingers. “Looks pretty on you,” he says.

“What about me?” you can’t help but lilt next. “Am I pretty too?” 

Rather than answering right away, he takes you in. There’s a depth to the softness in his gaze that almost makes you want to turn away in fear he’d see right through you. See that you are falling and falling fast. 

“The prettiest,” he says, low and sure. Like a truth cemented long ago. 

A week later, there’s a chill in the air today even though the sun shines in the sky. Along with the fire alarm, the buzz of chatter lingers in the air as all Hawkins High files outside for the drill. Despite the sea of students and staff, you manage to find just the boy you’re looking for. It helps that you’d recognize his lovely head of curls anywhere. All Robin can do is roll her eyes in fondness as you disappear. 

Eddie doesn’t hear you walk up behind him, but turns around when you tap his shoulder. The curious furrow between his brows smooths in the wake of your sweet smile. “How’d you find me?”  he asks with a soft, impressed chuckle. 

“Magic.” You wiggle your fingers in front of his face with a flourish. “Why’d they have to choose the coldest day of the week?” 

Eddie takes your hands in his and blows into them. Maybe it’s the way his larger hands cocoon yours, or the simple thought behind the gesture, but it feels way too lovely. Enough to make pleasant, light flutters arise in your chest. Neither of you mind the curious eyes that drift your way. 

Your voice drops lower as you say, “We should leave.”

“Now?” 

“Yeah…” You bite your lip to keep from smiling wider. 

“And go where?” he asks as a small thrill stirs inside him.  

“Anywhere we want, silly,” you say. 

You’d go anywhere with him. Do anything. It was so easy to be with him that it was all you ever wanted to do these days. If you’d told yourself that three years ago, you never would’ve believed it. You’d only ever seen him from afar. In the hallways in his band tees and funky jeans, at lunch with an unchanging group of friends, going to the drama room after dismissal. 

There was something about the reserved way he carried himself in the moments that he was alone that drew you in. You’d gathered that he was well-mannered and kind. Sweet was the word everyone seemed to use. He lived a modest life out in Forest Hills with his hardworking uncle. 

You don’t know why, then, it had taken you nearly four years to make a move. 

Maybe it was the fear that you’d be too much. You knew everybody who was somebody at Hawkins High even though you kept your inner circle small. You always ran for student a council position when it came time for elections. There was seldom a party or sports game you missed, even if it was only to pop in for a little while. 

But you weren’t too much. You could never be too much for him.

There comes a night, as Eddie strums his guitar in his bedroom, that the phone rings. 

“Hey, kid!” Uncle Wayne calls out. “It’s for you.” 

The older man, dressed for his night shift at the plant, bids Eddie goodbye after handing him the phone. 

“Hello?” 

“Teddy…” you murmur. You don’t sound like yourself. There’s a slight waver to your voice that makes a worried chill run through him. “Yeah, I’m here.” Thenhis voice gets soft and cautious, like he’s talking to a scared child, “What’s wrong?”

“I…I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice.” 

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that. Not when he can hear your anxiety. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks carefully. “You can talk to me.”  He’s fully prepared to stay up as long as you need. 

But you remain quiet, so he tries something else: “Do you wanna come over?” 

“Please?” you murmur. Because you can’t stop thinking about the future. The fact that graduation was a few months away. That prom, finals, and end-of-semester projects were due to start piling up fast within the coming weeks. It was the end of one of the most transformative periods of your life and the beginning of one you couldn’t even begin to conceptualize. 

You soon find yourself curled up next to Eddie on his couch. “It’s just been so much lately,” you tell him, reaching out to absentmindedly play with his fingers.“And I know it’s stupid to feel this way since we’ve barely even started our lives...”

A brief silence stretches before Eddie disagrees,“We’ve started something.” He meets your gaze. “You’re not wrong for feeling the way you feel,” he continues. “So much is changing.”  

You let your fingertips absentmindedly drift further up to trace bat tattoos on his forearm. Eddie’s watches as tingles spread up his arm. Your sage nail polish is chipped. 

“So much,” you agree in murmur. Your fingers trail back down his arm, all the way to his palm that he turns upward for you. You trace the lines there, wondering what stories they hold. What fates they write out that you don’t have the insight to decipher. 

Eddie swallows. “But maybe that’s a good thing. The change, he says, then amends, “We can make it good.”  

Somehow it sounds possible coming from his lips. You raise his palm to your lips and place a gentle kiss against the callused skin.  

You eventually lose track of how long you’ve been over, but it’s almost midnight. The TV glows with reruns of Happy Days, and your eyelids are getting heavy. He continues to brush gentle circles with his fingers over your shoulder, where he has draped his arm behind you across the couch.  

“Hey, Eddie,” you sit up so you can look into his eyes. “Thanks for this.” 

He offers a small smile. “Of course. Anytime,” he says, his voice a little rougher with tiredness. “I like having you over.” 

Warmth blooms through you. “Careful,” you warn gently. “I might not ever leave.” 

Eddie chuckles, but the thought doesn’t come close to bothering him. Then you get a nervous look about you as you pull your lower lip between your teeth. “Do you think I could maybe spend the night?” 

He remains quiet not from the nature of the question, but from the fact it’s being asked. A peculiar, but pleasant feeling flutters in his chest. 

"Sure," he finally answers.

Thanks for reading! All likes comments, and reblogs are appreciated. I promise I see them all! ♡

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[tinylilacbun]

Deadpool with a baby regressor that he met in Deadpool two after he was brought to the mansion. Regressor was saved by colossus and warhead from the people that experimented in Wade so originally colossus took care of her while little but never fully trusted him like she does with Deadpool.

l i t t l e s h a d o w ‎𓈒 ˖ ࣪ 𝜗𝜚

Wade has been at the mansion for a few days now, being a trainee for the X-Men has its perks but also means following those idiotic rules. It is what it is.

What he notices is that since his arrival he feels someone following around and watching him, getting a few glances at you before you disappear again.

One day his curiosity gets the best of him and he decides to ask Colossus about you, finding him eating cereal in the kitchen. "You know, either I'm starting to go insane or someone is following me." Wade starts instantly in a whisper, looking over his shoulder paranoid.

"Wade, it's too early for this-"

"No, I'm telling you- there!" Wade points at the doorway, a quiet giggle being heard before you bolt again.

"Oh. That's Y/n. We rescued her a few years ago from the lab you were at too. I'm warning you this once, watch yourself around her, she's a regressor." Colossus warns him, pointing a finger at him.

"Sorry, a what?"

"A regressor, it means she reverts to that mind of a child to deal with her trauma. She's one of the younger ones and regresses mostly to an toddler or baby headspace." He explains. "I promise you, if I hear one word from her that you made fun of her I'll personally-"

"Chill out, who am I to judge someone for the way they cope." Wade puts his hands up to calm him down. "What uh- what's the reason she does that? Hey, don't look at me like that I did listen this time but- y'know what I mean."

"She went exactly what you went through, but she was only 18 years old at that time."

Wade only nods, staying quiet for the first time in his life as he glances towards the doorway again.

Later that day he found himself walking around the mansion, accidentally breaking two or three things during his snooping when he passes a door that has colorful bold letters on it that spells your name.

He slowly pushes it open a bit, taking a peek inside and his eyes almost pop out of his head while taking in your room.

It is big, and looks like a daycare, with the walls painted a pastel pink and some cloud designs, a big rainbow carpet in the center, the canopy bed that could at least fit 5 people standing off to the side, and not to mention all different toys or activity possibilities.

You're currently laying on your stomach on the carpet as you color little doodles on a blank sheet with your crayons sprawled around you.

"Damn, it looks like a toy store threw up in here." He blurts out before he could stop himself.

You squeak in surprise, scrambling off the floor to climb onto your bed, hiding under the bedsheets.

Wade chuckles as he takes a few more steps into the room, his legs automatically taking him towards where you're hiding, the little giggles you let out not going unnoticed by him.

As he stands at the side of your bed he reaches out to pinch one of your toes that's peeking out from under the blanket, smiling when you quickly pull it into safety.

"Heard you're the baby of the X-Men." He says, refraining himself from laughing when you instantly push the blanket of you with an offended expression.

"You baby!" You stick your tongue out at him, crossing your arms.

"Oh, I can scream like one for sure." He huffs, smiling at the way you cover your mouth to stifle a laugh. "How old are you? I mean- like, right now in there." He asks, tapping your forehead.

You think for a moment, holding up one finger, shaking your head and changing it to two instead.

"Then you are a baby, a pretty cute one and with powers, that's kinda cool. Sweet yet deadly." He says and your face lights up at that.

Ever since that, Wade came to your room more often, finding the way you go through the world with such innocence despite what happened to you intriguing, and oddly comforting.

He likes the fact that he can rant whatever he wants while you just stare at him with big eyes, sucking up everything he says like a sponge, giggling sweetly every now and then or adding your adorable gibberish to which he absolutely agrees.

The others in the Mansion are shocked, to say the least, because usually you're in your room or don't have the courage to talk with anyone other besides Colossus, so the fact you're spending so much time with Wade of all people is something no one saw coming.

Colossus was wary at first, for obvious reasons, but he can see how much Wade changed you in the few weeks he's been here now, coming a little out of your shell and not hiding away as much as you used to, both of you quickly bonding over the fact you went to the same hellhole in the past.

Needless to say, you're not the X-Men's baby anymore, you're Deadpool's little peanut, and you're the happiest you've ever been since your rescue.