#mentally willing them to keep it in their pants please

[forestlion]

witnessing some kind of middle aged couple public foreplay in this tram tonight

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 1

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

It was late enough that the House of Wind had quieted down for sleep. Late enough that it was dark outside…Late enough that her room was pitch black. Irena was curled underneath her duvet, staring at the wall when she felt the first touch.

Not from another person. Oh no.

This touch was utterly magical.

Irena felt her mate’s shadows wrap around her wrist softly, feeling slightly cool to the touch and squeeze slightly in greeting.

“He’s home?” she breathed the question. The shadows squeezed twice in answer. “Can you bring me to him?” Irena requested softly.

Two more squeezes.

She held her breath as the shadows descended on her. Not even the wards of the House of Wind were a match to them if they really wanted.

Azriel had explained it to her once…told her about the difference between winnowing and the shadow walking he did, from one patch of shadows to the next…

And for her…for her these shadows were more than willing to bend the rules. They snuck her from the Priestesses’ dormitory to her mate’s room and back again before anybody was the wiser. 

Irena reappeared in one corner of his room moments later, her eyes blinking as she took in the faelights that were still on. The curtains were drawn and she watched the shadows lock the door and pull back the thick, heavy furs that covered his bed.

They were there just for her. Irena seemingly was always cold. So Azriel had made it his mission to find her the thickestfurs he possible could for her to cuddle underneath…

 In her own room she only had woolen blankets and a few crinkly quilts. None of these ever managed to keep her as bone deep warm as her mate did. But then, she hadn’t dared to take any fur back to her room yet. She was worried that then it was maybe a bit too obvious that she had an illyrian warrior go hunting whenever he could so that she was wrapped in warmth. 

Irena could hear water in the bathroom, so she simply limped to the bed, regretting the fact that she hadn’t brought her cane. She winced as she made her way across the room, the pain from her injury flaring up…she sighed as soon as she reached the bed, relieved that she could sink down onto the soft mattress.  

Irena buried herself in the thick furs, letting out a sigh of contentment. The bed smelled like her mate, like mist and cedars, and she breathed in deeply, taking comfort in his scent.

The sound of the running water stopped and Irena sat up slightly, anticipation coiling in her stomach. A moment later, Azriel stepped out of the bathroom, hair still damp from his shower and bare chested.

She swallowed at that sight.

She couldn’t help herself, her eyes traveling over Azriel’s broad shoulders, the expanse of his chest and the ridges of muscle in his stomach. The linen pants he wore draped low on his hips, and she couldn’t help but admire the sight of him…It wasn’t until Azriel cleared his throat that Irena realized that she was staring, and she tore her eyes away, feeling a flush creeping up her cheeks.

“I see the shadows were impatient,” he told her with a crooked smile. She looked up at him, her heart beating a little faster at the sound of his voice. "They may have been a little enthusiastic," she replied, her smile a little shy.

He crossed the room in five quick strides, his wings trembling…and then he was suddenly near enough that she could reach out to cup his cheek.

“Cauldron, I missed you,” he whispered, leaning into her touch.

Irena felt a rush of warmth at his words. "I missed you too," she replied softly, her fingers tracing the lines of his face. "The days feel longer when you're gone."

She could see the weariness in Azriel's features, the tightness around his eyes and the lines on his forehead. "You look exhausted," she said softly, concern lacing her voice.

Azriel let out a breath. "It was a long mission," he admitted, sitting down next to her on the edge of the bed. "But now I'm home."

Irena reached out, taking his hand in hers. "And I'm glad you are," she said, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. "You can rest now."

Azriel looked at her, his expression softening. "Being here with you is already making me feel better," he said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead

She tipped her head up…and then he brushed a soft little kiss against her lips and she melted.

Being with him…not once had he hurt her. Not once had he laid a single finger on her in a way that hurt. She had never thought she would have that. Not after what she had endured before. Not after what had happened to her.

Every priestess had their own scars. Some rougher than others. Some more visible.

The limp that Irena was left with was one of the more obvious ones.

She leaned into the kiss, her arms coming up to wrap around Azriel's shoulders. She knew that he would never hurt her, knew that he respected her boundaries and her space in a way that no one ever had.

She shifted when she felt the twinge in her hip, but he already picked up on it.

“The weather?” He asked her softly as he moved them, slipping her under the many many furs and then joining her.

Irena nodded. "It always acts up when it's about to rain. And the weather lately has not done me any favors." She sighed, snuggling into his arms. "But I'm alright. Just a little stiff. Your hands?” She asked softly.

Azriel flexed them slightly, thumb brushing against the naked skin of her forearm. "Do they hurt?" she asked, her voice gentle. She knew that he had been in pain for so long, that his hands were a constant reminder of it. 

Azriel shook his head. "Not right now," he said softly. "Holding you makes it better." He pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck and taking a deep breath.

Irena felt a rush of warmth at his words, her heart fluttering in her chest. "I'm glad," she said softly, running her fingers through his hair. "Being with you makes everything better for me too."

Everything.

She heard a growl from somewhere to her right, muffled through the walls and she pinked, just as Azriel sighed.

“One day he will learn how to use a damn sound shield,” he muttered under his breath, even when a thin blue film was already surrounding them. Blessed silence.

Irena couldn't help but chuckle at Azriel's muttered remark about his brother. "Well, we all have our shortcomings," she said teasingly. "At least you know how to use a sound shield."

Azriel just rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to her temple.

They kept their relationship quiet. It hadn’t even been on purpose at first. It had just happened.

Nobdoy knew. They both quite liked. Maybe in another year or two. Maybe in a decade.

Who knew. Until then it was just them. And nobody needed to know about it.

Irena smiled as she rested her head against Azriel's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. 

She liked the secretiveness of their relationship, the way it was just theirs. And maybe, in another year or two, they would reveal it to the world. But for now, she was content just being here with him, cherishing every moment they had together.

She sighed, feeling a sense of contentment settle over her. "Just us," she said softly, her fingers drawing idle patterns on his skin. "That's all I need."

Azriel hummed agreement, his fingers tangling in her hair. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. "Just us," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

She fell asleep like that, safely and warmly ensconced in his arms. She was safe, she was warm, and she was loved. And there was nowhere else in the world she would rather be.

The night seemingly was too short. 

Irena stirred awake to the feel of soft kisses being pressed to her face. She opened her eyes to find Azriel's face hovering over hers, a soft smile on his lips. "Good morning," he whispered, his voice rough with sleep.

She smiled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face. "Good morning," she replied, her voice drowsy as she stretched out, feeling the stiffness in her hip from sleeping on her bad side.

"How's your hip feeling?" Azriel asked, his gaze going to where she had been massaging the sore spot.

Irena flexed her leg slightly, wincing as she did. "A bit stiff, but manageable," she said, trying to sit up. Azriel immediately helped her, propping some pillows behind her back to help her sit upright.

She smiled up at him gratefully. "Thank you," she said softly. "It's always worse in the morning, but once I get moving, it loosens up."

Azriel nodded, rubbing circles on her hip with his thumb. "I know," he said softly, his eyes filled with concern. "I just wish I could take your pain away."

She reached up, gently tracing her fingers over his face. "Just having you here helps," she said earnestly. "You make everything better, Az."

Azriel's eyes softened at her words, a small smile quirking his lips. "I'm glad I can be here for you," he said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. "You make everything better for me too."

Another kiss before he sat back. 

“What are your plans for today?” He asked her sweetly.

“Paperwork,” she said drily. “Look through some new research topics and tell people off if it’s an insane endeavour. Figure out what to do with the overflow of brussel sprouts Ananke has managed to produce in our garden.” 

Azriel made a face at the mention of brussel sprouts. "Ah, yes, the brussel sprouts. I had almost forgotten about those," he said, a teasing note in his voice. "I have my own pile of paperwork and reports to get through, so I'll be stuck at my desk today. But at least we'll be miserable together." He leaned in to press a quick kiss to her forehead "The shadows will bring you tea,” he promised her softly. 

Irena smiled at Azriel's teasing and the promise of tea.

They always did that. Ever since the mating bond had snapped nearly 2 years ago…whenever she was alone, Azriel’s shadows made a pest out of themselves. They plied her with tea and cookies and made sure she actually went to all the meals. Kinda like an extremely fussy pet that insisted that their owner kept themselves fed and watered.  But they were so sweet about it that she couldn’t manage to make herself dislike it. 

She loved it. 

"That sounds lovely," she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I'll hold them to that tea delivery. And we can commiserate over our paperwork mountains this evening."

Azriel chuckled. " And I'll listen to you rant about all the ridiculous research proposals you get. You have the patience of a saint, you know that?" he told her seriously. . 

Irena laughed. "Oh, I have lost my patience more than once with some of those proposals," she said with a grin. "But someone has to keep the rest of the scholars in check. And it looks like today, that someone is me."

He pressed a last kiss against her forehead…and then the shadows whisked her away, making her reappear on her own bed, the soft light of early morning filtering through her curtains. She smiled at the thought of Azriel using his shadows to sneak her back into her room. He was always thinking of others, always trying to make things easier for her.

She pushed herself up out of bed, wincing slightly as her hip protested the movement. It was time to face the day.

***

“How did your talk with Merrill go?” Emerie asked Gwyn curiously. Nesta only listened with half an ear during the cooldown stretches.

“She was in the same good mood as always,” Gwyn muttered.

Nesta rolled her eyes. "I don't know how you handle her, Gwyn. She's always so...Merrill."

Gwyn chuckled. "Yeah, well, I've learned to just let her comments roll off my back. It's not worth getting worked up over…and it it gets really bad, I’ll tell Irena.”

Irena? “Who’s that?” Emerie voiced what Nesta was thinking.

“You haven’t met Irena yet?” Gwyn asked surprised. “Neither of you?!” 

Nesta just shook her head. 

She was pretty sure she had heard the names a few times…but Irena had never been one of the Priestesses that had turned up for training so Nesta had never really thought twice about it. 

Clearly an oversight. 

 “Irena is probably the only person Merrill respects other than Clotho. Officially she handle all the administrative tasks surrounding the library. Signs off on new acquisitions, on new research projects. You want a book we don’t have, you go to Irena,” Gwyn explained. “But that’s not all she does…she also handles all the other accounts and expenditures, and organises the sewing circle.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow. "So she's basically in charge of everything that's not related to actually shelving books," she said, her tone slightly dry. "Sounds like a busy job."

That was an understatement. 

Gwyn laughed. "Yeah, pretty much. And she's really good at it," she said, a hint of admiration in her voice. “And she always stays so calm, even when thinks are really hectic.” 

"She sounds like a saint," Emerie said with a laugh, stretching out her arms. "Any idea why Merrill respects her so much?"

“Irena isn’t somebody to be trifled with,” Gwyn said drily. “Also Merrill’s little party trick with the wind? Last time she did that to Irena, Irena told her that she lived through worse, so Merill could just stop behaving like a toddler that can’t control her magic.” 

Nesta smirked. "Well, that's certainly a way to shut someone up," she said amused. "Sounds like Irena isn't afraid to stand her ground. I like her already. Why doesn’t she come to training?”

“She can’t,” Gwynn said simply.

Nesta raised an eyebrow. "Why not? Does she have some sort of physical limitation?"

Gwyn hesitated for a moment before answering. "She does," she said finally. "She was severely injured before she came here and it left her with some lasting damage to her hip and leg. She can't do a lot of physical activity anymore, so training is out of the question. She can’t walk without using a cane.” 

Nesta's expression softened with sympathy. "That's rough," she said sincerely.

“She did tell everybody else to at least try it once though,” Geyn said with a smile. “At least the ones of us that are physically and mentally able. She does some stretching exercises for the ones with similar impairments to hers in the evenings a few times a week.”

Emerie nodded. "It's good that she's trying to help others in a way that she can," she said. "It's not easy to live with a physical limitation…” Emerie said softly and Nesta looked to these ruined wings that hung from her back. Emerie probably understood this better than most. She paused, then added, "I'd like to meet her sometime."

Gwyn smiled. "I'm sure you'll like her," she said warmly. "She's smart and incredibly kind. We can go see her this afternoon. She can usually be found in her office.”

That’s what they did. After training and lunch, Gwyneth walked them to an office near where Merrill’s was located. The door wasn’t closed all the way and Gwyneth knocked.

“It’s open!”

They stepped inside, finding themselves in a neat, organized office. A bookcase stood against one wall, covered in neatly stacked papers and ledgers.

Behind a desk sat maybe one of the most beautiful females Nesta had ever seen.

Pale ivory skin,  dark brown hair, carefully braided away from her face that fell to her waist and dark doe eyes. Tall and slim and delicate.

She looked up as they entered, eyes lighting up when she saw Gwyn.

"Gwyn," she said warmly, setting aside the papers she was working on. "What brings you by?"

"Hey, Irena," Gwyn said with a grin, approaching the desk. "We just came from training and decided to drop by and see you. I wanted to introduce you to Nesta and Emerie. I couldn’t believe that they haven’t met you yet!"

Irena rose from her chair, moving out from behind her desk to greet them. As she walked forward, Nesta was struck by the way she moved. There was a limp in her gait, noticeable and distinct, but she carried herself with confidence and grace. 

"It's lovely to meet you both," Irena said, offering them a warm smile and a nod of her head. "I’ve heard a lot about yout two. It's nice to finally put faces to names."

Nesta returned the smile. "Likewise," she said politely. "Gwyn told us that you’re the one who manages all the administrative work here. It must keep you busy.”

Irena nodded. "It certainly does. I try to keep everything running smoothly, from acquisitions to research to the accounts," she said with a chuckle. "It's a lot of work, but I enjoy it. It’s like running an estate. And I was raised to do that." She said that so simply. 

But of course, if she was indeed a…highborn girl, than that would have been what she was raised to do. It was what Nesta herself had been raised to do. 

"That's impressive," Emerie spoke up. "I don't think I could handle all that and keep my sanity intact. My shop was more than enough for me."

Irena laughed. She was even prettier when she laughed. "Oh, I'd be lying if I said it was always easy. There are definitely days where I question my own sanity. 

“Did you get new tea?” Gwyn complained at that moment. “I swear you always get the best one!” she was poking at the delicate dark blue teapot that stood on a low table. 

“I did. I think it’s from Dawn,” Irena answered. 

Gwyn pouted. "You always have the best tea," she said, pretending to sulk. "It's not fair."

Irena chuckled, gesturing towards the small table in the corner of the room where the steaming pot of tea sat. "Help yourself, Gwyn," she said, her tone fond. "You know where the cups are."

Gwyn beamed, already opening the cabinet beneath. "You're the best, Irena. You know that, right?" she said, pouring out a cup for herself and taking a sip…and then she suddenly found the plate of delicate, wafer thin, chocolate covered cookies next to it. “And cookies!” She gasped.

Irena just laughed. "Of course, you find the cookies," she said, her tone amused. "Just try not to eat them all, Gwyn. I do not have an infinite supply."

Gwyn just grinned at her, reaching for a cookie. "I make no promises," she said, biting into the cookie with delight.

“You’re welcome to tea and cookies, too, by the way,” she told Emerie and Nesta drily as she sat back down behind her desk. “I am sharing. I am nice like that.”

Emerie grinned. "Thanks, Irena," she said, helping herself to a cup of tea and grabbing a cookie. Nesta followed suit, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of Irena's desk.

Irena looked up from her work, watching as Gwyn and Emerie made themselves comfortable with their tea and cookies. "So, what brings you to my office today? Other than the free food and drink, I mean. Not that I mind, of course." she said with a smile, her tone light and teasing.

Emerie took a sip of her tea before answering. "Gwyn was talking about you earlier, and we were curious to meet you. And also, the free food and drink is a bonus," she said with a shrug.

Irena chuckled. "Well, I'm happy to provide, then," she said, taking a sip of her own tea.

Gwyn grinned. "And the cookies are delicious, as always," she said, nibbling on one. "You always have the best treats here, Irena. It's like a little hidden perk of coming to visit you.”

Irena smiled. "It's the least I can do, considering all the work you girls do here," she said warmly. "You deserve a little something sweet every now and then."

“Irena?” There was another knock at the door, a priestess that Nesta was unfamiliar with. 

“Meera, what happened?” Irena asked immediately and Nesta took in the tear tracks on the other females cheeks.

“You told me to come to you if Merrill got…bad again.” Meera said weakly, arms crossed in front of her like she was holding herself together. “I don’t want to work with her anymore.”

Irena's expression immediately softened. "Oh, Meera, come in," she said gently, gesturing for the other priestess to enter. "What happened? Are you alright?"

Meera took a hesitant step forward, her hands trembling slightly. "I...I don't want to work with Merrill anymore," she said again, her voice quavering. "She was mean, Irena. She yelled at me for no reason, just because I asked her a question."

Irena's eyes narrowed at that. "I see," she said, her tone firm. "Thank you for coming to me, Meera. I'll speak with Merrill and make sure this doesn't happen again. You don't have to work with her anymore if you don't want to. There are plenty of other people you can partner with."

Meera sniffled. "Really? You can do that?" she asked, her eyes widening in disbelief. "But...but Merrill said that I had to work with her because nobody else would want to, because I was too slow and clumsy and useless."

Irena's expression hardened, her spine straightening, and Nesta realised absentmindedly that beneath the exterior of a well brought up lady, was a spine of pure steel.  "Merrill had no right to say that to you," she said firmly. "You are not slow or clumsy or useless. You are smart and capable, and you deserve to be treated with respect. I will make sure that Merrill understands that, and that she apologizes to you properly."

Meera looked at her with wide eyes. "You...you really think so? That I'm smart and capable?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain. "I...I don't think Merrill would apologize. Not to me, at least. She never does."

Irena's expression softened again. "You are smart and capable, Meera," she said firmly. "Don't let Merrill make you doubt yourself. And I promise you, I will make sure that she does apologize. She may not like it, but she will do it. No one deserves to be treated the way she treated you." She gave Meera a reassuring smile. "Now go and rest. I'll handle everything from here. And if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to come to me. Alright?"

Meera nodded, sniffling again. "Okay," she said softly. "Thank you, Irena. I...I appreciate it. More than you know." She turned to go, slowly making her way back out the door.

"If you'll excuse me," Irena said grimly, rising from her seat. "I need to go have a word with Merrill now."

“She has been…especially crabby lately,” Gwyn said with a grimace. “I came to her with some research questions yesterday and she nearly bit my head off.”

Irena nodded, her expression hardening. "I've noticed," she said with s sigh. "And it's not just you, Gwyn. She's been snapping at everybody, and it's unacceptable."

Gwyn winced, “Yeah, she can be...a handful," she said tactfully. "But I don't know what's gotten into her lately. She's been worse than usual."

“I imagine it’s because I turned down her latest research proposal and told her that unless she finds a spell crafter to work with, it’s a no. ” Irena said darkly. “It’s too dangerous.”

Gwyn's jaw dropped. "You turned down one of her proposals?" she asked, stunned. "I thought you always approved everything she did, as long as it wasn’t something completely insane."

Irena sighed. "Usually, yes. But some of her recent ideas were too reckless an too dangerous. I can't let her conduct experiments without supervision, especially with the type of thing she's been proposing lately. The potential for harm is too high."

“What did she want to do?” Nesta sled curiously.

Irena's expression darkened. "She wanted to experiment with some very powerful and volatile forms of magic, without any safety measures in place. I am not letting her experiment with dismantling some ancients spells that we don’t even fully understand what they actually do. It was...too risky, too dangerous. I couldn't in good conscience allow her to proceed with such experiments." She shook her head. "It's not an easy job, being the one to tell her no, but it's necessary. We have to protect ourselves, each other, and the library.”

Everyone was quiet for a long moment, processing what Irena had told them. Finally, Gwyn asked in a small voice, "Do you think Merrill is okay? I mean...she's not usually this bad. Even when she gets mad or frustrated, she's never been this unreasonable, this mean before."

Irena's expression softened slightly. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "I know she's been under a lot of stress lately, and maybe I've been too lenient with her in the past. But this behavior is unacceptable. I'll do my best to get to the bottom of it and see if there's anything I can do to help, but Merrill has to be willing to accept help for anything to improve."

“Still her behaviour with the other priestesses can’t continue. This is the third time this week one of them came to me crying,” Irena said darkly.

Gwyn's eyes widened. "The third time? I didn't realize it was that bad."

“The third time,” Irena said with a sigh.  "I've been trying to keep an eye on her and keep her in line, but she's been pushing back hard lately. And it's not just with the acolytes either, she's been a terror to everyone. It's like she's a walking black cloud, just spreading her bad mood everywhere she goes."

Nesta's eyebrows furrowed. "Do you know what started all this? She's always been prickly, but this is on a whole other level."

“Merrill is used to get whatever she wants,” Irena said. “And when she doesn’t…, she can’t deal with that,” she said with a shake of her head. I know how difficult it is to deal with Merrill. Believe me, I'm used to it by now. But this behavior towards the other priestesses is can’t continue. She can't keep getting away with treating them poorly. It’s not fair to them, and it's not good for the library. Wish me luck,” Irena said drily, as she picked up an intricately carved cane. “I’ll go talk to her.”

Gwyn nodded, looking concerned. "Be careful, alright? Merrill's in a mean mood, and she's not exactly in the best state of mind right now. She might lash out at you."

Irena gave her a weary smile. "It's not the first time I've had to deal with her like this. I can handle it."

With that, she gathered up some paperwork and her cane and headed out the door. Gwyn watched her go, her expression worried. "I hope she'll be alright," she said softly. "Merrill can be quite vicious when she's riled up."

Nesta nodded in agreement. "She's always had a sharp tongue," she said. "But lately, she's been downright nasty. I can only imagine what Irena is walking into right now."

[rippersz]

(ᴄᴏᴄᴋ)ʏ

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

(A Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader ~1.5K Word Oneshot) (NSFW: G!P; Face-Fucking; Lewd Language; Praise; Mommy Kink)

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

Fuck, she felt good.

So good.

So heavenly. So right.

Even in the state she was in, moaning and huffing and growling with desire, head thrown back with her eyes bared to the ceiling. As though she was thanking the gods for your body and the pleasure you were willing to give her. No. Not give her. The pleasure you were willing to give up. That she was willing to take. Grasping your head in the way that she was, her knuckles turning red and bruised with the way she wedged them between your hair and the wall. Digging her fingers into your locks as though she’d make it to your skull if she pressed hard enough. Just keeping you there. Keeping you just right.

“Don’t move,” she panted earlier, her accent coming second to the raspy husk of her tone. So deep in pleasure she was- so lost to her own instincts.

Your poor lover. Your dear Larissa. She’d regret being so rough in a few hours, when you have trouble moving your neck and your throat is raw and scratchy - but you’ll comfort her as you always do and tell her that if she asked to do it again in a few days, you wouldn’t hesitate to say yes.

As it were, she didn’t even ask. The situation simply fell into both sets of your hands. Your pretty darling, unable to take care of herself after she got ready for the banquet, nearly out the door when the mental image of you in lingerie had her stumbling back to the bed and nearly ripping off her panties with haste to take her ecstasy into her own hands. And then you, walking into the room to grab her and greet the guests, only to find her on the side of the bed, rutting against her slim pretty fingers. She looked beautiful in her sweet flush-cheeked glory, but her palm was slippery and clumsy and she hadn’t gotten herself off in so long that you just had to help. How cruel it would have been to leave her like that.

And so, as you teased, came the escalation.

And so, as you moaned around her length, the true admittance of desire.

And so, your head pressed against the wall, your legs trembling and spread out in front of you, and the weight of her cock pressed against the back of your throat. Bullying it to bruise as she pumped her hips with unmatched strength and then held you there, her plush thighs quivering when your lips and nose pressed to the light curls at the base of her cock. Sheathing herself inside you, using you with a pathetic amount of need. Doubled over at the waist and eyes rolling back with an overwhelming- burning- amount of pleasure once your body’s instincts kick in and your throat squeezes the sensitive curve of her shaft. Constricting around her to the point where it makes you both ache and it makes your chest stutter and she’s forced to wrench herself away while pushing your head back against her fingertips, even though there’s nowhere else for you to go. Huffing and puffing and breathing so deeply while she watches you gasp for breath and shiver.

Eyes meeting while the spit from the red of your lips and the pink tip of her cock only spiderwebs and dips - not even destroyed by gravity before she’s pushing herself forward again and pressing herself to your mouth; waiting with desperate wanting eyes as you recover and open yourself up for her again. And again. And again - and again - and again. Over and over and over. Until your vision is blurred with tears, and your face is warm and stiff from some long dried and some still falling, collecting by your chin to mix with the drool that spills from your lips. A steady stream of your devotion, given and taken willingly - with enthusiastic consent as she pushed you against the wall and lined you up with her cock and you nearly fell over the edge on the spot; happy to help your darling lover. Happy to have her want you. Happy to please her and listen to her whines as she feels herself get close.

“P-please- right there- yes. T-take it. Take it. Deeper. Yesss.” Arching her back and clenching the muscles in her legs, making you moan with appreciation at the feel of her strength beneath your hands. Palms running over her calves and her shins and her thighs, desperate to make her feel good- so good. And letting your own eyes close when she leans over and whimpers, trying to control her breathing long enough to praise you. To tell you-

“Good- ungh- girl - fuck, oh gods- so- so good to me- f-for me… for- Mo-Mommy!” Both of your bodies humming with pure delight when she gives herself her honorable title, inhaling on a sharp breath before the most erotic moan slips out of her perfectly painted mouth. Red lips opening and closing, white teeth pressing together, hissing and growling as you tug her closer and keep her cock in your throat; the weight of it pressed to your tongue, the feel of it against the roof of your mouth as you try to swallow. All of it heavenly and soft and something divine as she slows down and eases herself in as far as she can go- until your chin brushes the softness of her balls and the tip of your nose prods the ticklish curls near her groin.

“Through your nose, darling,” she speaks slowly, softly, her beautiful chest rising and falling with short breaths as you do as told and take a moment to fight through the instinctive urge to gag. Allowing time to slow as you keep your eyes on hers and watch her nod while a slow smile crawls across her lips- unspoken praise falling from her as she hears and sees the way you inhale, inhale, inhale, hold it, and then exhale, exhale, exhale - your throat working around her cock while you train yourself to take it.

Always.

Any day.

Anywhere.

Your lower back numb from the feeling of sitting on the floor for so long, your panties ruined beyond belief as you leak and twitch and throb in tandem with your lover’s body, your brain fuzzy and your throat sore and your ears kind of ringing - but finding none of it matters when she looks down at you with wide eyes and feels you moan around her length and is suddenly pressing you so close, so hard, that you can’t breathe at all.

Drooling and groaning and whimpering as she pumps herself into your warm mouth, hips moving like mad with unchecked desire as her breath catches in her throat.

“Oh baby- baby I’m gonn- gonna- fuck darl-ing. Momm-Mommy’s gonna- gonna cum- please- pleasepleaseplease- please let me-”

And you don’t even hesitate to nod, using your tongue to lap at the sides of her pretty cock as she moves, silently begging her to cum down your throat- hard and fast and pleasurable enough to see fucking stars- as tears build in your eyes. Blinking them away quickly, your nails digging into her thighs, your body in flames with ecstasy as she meets your gaze and her lips fall open and she whimpers your name in a small squeak while the thick of her cock twitches. Spasms. Folded over you, forehead nearly pressed to the wall, as she keeps you there- keeps you there- keeps you there-

-yes!

Yes!

Fuck Larissa! Fuck you feel so- so- good- god yes!

And a fulfilling, satisfying warmth spills down the back of your throat, fast and thick as she shudders and groans and feels the way you constrict around her when you swallow it all without pause. Like it’s second nature, taking it like your life’s fucking duty, such a good little cockslut for Larissa Weems as you close your eyes and ignore the tears and the drool and the burn and the numb and the desire and instead focus on the way she finally breathes with unparalleled relief. Knowing her sweet girl is there to take her cum whenever she wants- to feel her in her throat or around her fingers or her tongue or resting on her lips- always eager to be of service. To be a good girl and take your Mommy like the desperate little whore you are. Her chest filling with breath while the last of her climax runs through her body; her pretty cock twitching and throbbing with aftershocks until the last of her cum is lapped up and you’re pushing against her thighs - telling her with as much kindness as you can for her to step back so you don’t pass out. And when she does, shivering and taking her hands away from your head and gently leaning it against the wall to slide stray bits of hair back behind your ears, your own chest heaves with delight. Grateful for the air, savoring the last of her in your mouth- salty and human and all hers, and happy to remove your shaking hands from her thighs so you can reach up and wipe the spit from your mouth.

“You did so well for me darling,” you hear her hum a moment later. “You always do.”

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

My fucking dream come true. Have a good day. Love you lots. - Rip x

✩⢄⢁✧ --------- ✧⡈⡠✩

(Too tired for tags today sorry darlings)

[yanderestarangel]

HEADKANONS MK1 | TRIO LIN KUEI | "WHAT WOULD IT BE LIKE TO EXCHANGE NUDES WITH THEM?/HOW THEY SEND NUDES?

˚｡⋆.☆Do you want to make a request? Read my blog rules in the pinned post, comments and reblogs are welcome♡

TW: afab anatomy, pet names, dirty talk, pussy talk, whining, nude exchange, mutual masturbation, m!masturbation, smut, nsfw, sex phone, porn plot only.

♡ 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐕𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐃𝐀 | 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 ♡

You two would be two needy and horny boyfriends, especially Tomas. He always wanted a photo of your body, be it breasts, thighs, belly, ass or gif of your lips - these are his favorites, because he can imagine his cock wrapped around your mouth - just a big boy with extreme lust!

However, your dear boyfriend is very shy and he is also afraid of someone seeing the messages and explicit content that you exchange on your cell phone. He has a folder with a password with all your photos and videos - when he goes traveling with the Lin Kuei and does some mission, he always sees your nudes and videos of you masturbating for him, your fingers digging into your pussy while he smiles, imagining being with you at that moment, letting out passionate sighs with each click to move to a different photo of you, he felt his dick throbbing strongly, as he went to relieve himself in the shower, taking his cell phone while biting his lip to keep from making any noise, going and coming with his hand on his thick length - he's definitely the type to turn into a shaking, confused mess, babbling as if you were there, kneeling with his dick in his mouth, clutching his cell phone tightly, he would definitely end up cumming all over you of the screen and a photo of you, in the heat of the moment -

The nudes he sends you are often a little shaky, most of them he will already be masturbating to you. You'll have to ask sometimes, because he's afraid of bothering you with his photos.

They are simple nudes, with Tomas holding his dick from top to bottom, giving you a view of his throbbing and willing member, or with him standing up, the camera takes in Tomas' face and naked body, while he looks indirectly at his cell phone, biting his lower lip and sending a gif like this, masturbating for you with the caption: "Fuck baby, look what you did to me... Help me cum, please."

He's also not very shaved down there, with a trimmed path of white hair that goes from his navel to the base of his dick, but it's nothing that bothers him.

♡ 𝐁𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐍 | 𝐒𝐔𝐁 𝐙𝐄𝐑𝐎 ♡

This man is extremely horny, Bi Han is the type of man that if you touch his arm he will already have a hard-on - obviously, this only applies if the two of you have an intimate relationship, with you being his S/O - However, he is also an elegant and classy man, he won't ask you for nudes directly, but if you send them to him as a surprise, he won't complain, just smiling beneath the mask while typing compliments every time - photo or video - his favorites are the ones with you completely wet because you just got out of the shower, your breasts with water droplets, your pussy tight and ready for him, while he held himself back from abandoning all his lin kuei commitments that day and fuck you for the rest of the day - he will look at photo by photo, video by video, gif by gif.

"Fuck (Y/N) you're going to drive me crazy like this..."

"You're so fucking hot... Fuck, I'm going to fuck you so much, I'm going to fill that beautiful pussy with my cum"

"And those breasts? Just waiting to be fucked, aren't they? I can imagine my cock between them."

And so on, he knows how to mix dirty talk with soft compliments directed at you. Bi Han likes to see nudes throughout the day, even with a huge erection in his pants, he will just look at the videos mentally thanking him for having such a beautiful S/O, and also thinking of ways to punish you for making him hard in the work, like fucking your pussy with all your might while holding your neck, even recording it as a souvenir.

The grand master's nudes are more provocative, he likes to make you feel comfortable, sometimes he will be in training and send you a photo without a shirt, exposing his muscles and with the hem of his pants lowered a little, at the level you you can see the base of his shaft, full of veins. He knew you were going to get wet, he knows how much power he has over you, so he loves to play with it, making you beg for more of him.

He will also send semi-nudes, with a towel wrapped around his waist, his thick dick marking the soft white fabric, as you watched the gif, with Bi Han lightly grabbing his own dick, loose and wet hair falling on his muscular shoulders as he smiled roguishly, a mischievous smile on the side and damn, that was fucking hot!

He was finally going to send more explicit videos, letting the towel fall in front of the mirror, exposing his thick and pulsing cock, which was already reaching his navel, leaking pre semen on the fat crimson tip, stroking himself lightly with light hoarse moans, he's not the type who writes subtitles and yes, speaks in the video or sends audios after such an act.

"-Do you want my dick in your pussy my little bunny? Mmm, you make me so hard, I'm going to fuck your little pussy until you get pregnant." Bi Han spoke in the video, huskily, smiling smug as he stroked the proud length, even on video, you could feel his dominance.

"-Understand my call my dear, I want to hear you play, just cum with me for now ok? I promise I'll get home as soon as possible." - yes, Bi Han loves a good 'sex phone' especially on those lonely early mornings when he can't see you, which always ends with him giving you orders on how to touch yourself and show him, and he loves every damn second of it -

He is also not very shaved, he has hair on his chest and abdomen, going down to the base of his dick, however, it is also trimmed, giving a sexy touch to his appearance.

♡ 𝐊𝐔𝐀𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐆 | 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐎𝐍 ♡

Kuai Liang is a stressed and tired man, however, he loves to please you, seeing your pleasure and happiness makes him happy, and your nudes help his stress decrease. He is not a very sexual man, however, he will not deny a good photo of your naked body on his cell phone, in fact he is famous for saying: "Soft-hearted and hard dick." you do that to him. He is a man with thighs and pussy, Liang will love it if you simply send him a photo wearing a loose shirt, it doesn't even have to be completely nude, just semi-nude will make this man with a hard dick and happy, smiling at the cold cell phone screen, He's not the type to talk, he shows.

If you send a nude, he will send one back.

His nudes are generally more aesthetic, with a mix of light and shadow, showing his hard dick exposed and slightly crooked to the side, above his abdomen, with an orange light bathing his well-worked muscles - with the caption: "That was it what did you want to do? Make me hard? Congratulations, you did it."

Kuai Liang will send short videos of himself masturbating, and lightly tapping his hard shaft on the camera, as if he was hitting his dick in your face, you could see his lips curling into a smile in the background. Kuai Liang will also use lubricants, applying it to the shaft and tip of the dick, massaging and overstimulating himself while looking at the explicit photos of your wet and hot pussy, the poor pyromancer was hotter than normal, needy for you - he also already sent a video, with a silicone masturbator, moaning and complaining that the sex toy didn't compare to your body.

"-Fuck... Damn, this doesn't compare to you, my prince/princess..." Kuai Liang moaned in the video, as he hit his hips on the masturbator, even in the dim light of the room you could see his thick shaft fully cumming, coming and going, making you even more needy for him.

He is always shaved, completely smooth.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[superblysubpar]

dad!steve harrington x mom!you

a How Sweet It Is story

summary: you want another baby

2,886 words

warnings: please see the How Sweet It Is and Easy Like Sunday Morning masterlists for general warnings about these AU's | SMUT (piv unprotected intercourse / steve breeding kink harrington / kitchen sex and all the messy things like licking food off of another person for example) | NSFW 18+

a blurb for the "Trick or Treat, Freak?" event - don't forget to vote for tomorrow at the bottom of the story!

Autumn, 1993:

Steve rubs at his eyes as he turns onto your street, fighting a yawn as his radio rumbles quietly, the song too soothing despite the cold air from the open window trying to keep him awake. He curses at the time blinking back at him on the dash.

Midnight.

His kids will be up in five hours, maybe less.

He groans audibly to himself and knows that you’ll wake up with them first and insist he sleep in, but he’ll hear you singing or laughing or hear the kids ask where Daddy is and he’ll feel guilty and that’ll be that.

He hadn’t meant to stay at the hospital for as long as he had, but Eddie was sort of a mess and Olivia kept thanking him and apologizing and okay, so maybe, he’s a little excited to rub it in everyone’s face that he was the first one to meet Caroline.

It’s weird seeing one of your best friends have a kid. Weird seeing this guy in a Metallica tshirt who was just leaning over a theater seat and telling him his own kid was a little freak not even five hours ago, hold his newborn and cry.

And yeah, whatever, he cried too.

Meeting Caroline was worth the lack of sleep.

The same lack of sleep making his eyes blink and connect the dots too slowly that the house he’s pulling into should be dark. Yet as he rolls to a stop in his driveway, he finds almost every single light of the house is still on. Warm gold shines from his upstairs bedroom, the downstairs living and kitchen windows. As he makes his way up to the front steps, mentally preparing himself for wide awake yet overly tired three and six year olds, he pauses.

Fleetwood Mac?

He’s sure of it, as he steps closer to his front door and hears guitars and drums, hears your voice singing louder, somehow, than the stereo blaring.

It’s the mix he made you, for your birthday, all your favorites, and Steve closes the door gently, looking around in search of you.

The kitchen is empty, well, not empty.

There’s bold and…uniquely…decorated Halloween cookies on parchment paper. A mixing bowl and utensils all covered in chocolate, frosting, caramel, and essentially anything potentially sticky and edible in his house littered across the countertops.

He makes his way to the living room and finds a blanket fort and crayons literally everywhere, ironically, as the song of the same title starts just then. He goes to nudge the stereo lower when your voice singing on the stairs makes him pause.

His chest fucking cracks open at the sight of you. One of your old band shirts hangs loosely from your frame, no pants, a laundry basket on your hip. He leans against the door frame as you do a little spin-dance sort of thing when you reach the laundry room.

He watches you flick off the light and head to the kitchen and he’s a little alarmed you haven’t screamed or said hi until you stick a spoon of chocolate frosting in your mouth and then call out around the treat:

“You gonna come dance with me or just stare all night, Harrington?”

Steve smiles and watches you twirl in the kitchen and make what you think are flirty eyes at him. He tilts his head as one particular shake of your body in a terrible dance move shows off the high cut of black lace on your ass.

You don’t wear those enough.

“I’m good with staring, it’s a nice view.”

He slowly enters the kitchen, knowing it’s a trap, but a willing prey for your hands that grab him as soon he’s close enough. Your fingers clasp together at the back of his neck as you sway, much too slow for the song and he gets the hint, his finding a home on your waist.

“You remember when we slow danced to The Way I Feel at that shitty frat party?”

Steve smiles, his hands bunch up your shirt in his fingers and his forehead rests against yours.

He remembers it well. Really well.

Remembers the girl he’d made out with a few times in high school, how he messed up his shot with her even more times. How he somehow got a seat next to that same girl on the first day of class in an actual college he still couldn’t believe he got into. Remembers asking her to study, to ice cream, to coffee. Kisses at front doors and make out sessions that lead to more. To held hands and introducing him as your boyfriend. Whispered dreams of the future amidst I love you’s. Then, dragging him along to a party.

Can still vividly recall slipping an asshole a twenty. Your smile around the rim of the plastic red cup you stole from him. Your voice singing softly to him, like you two were the only people there as you swayed a lot like you were now.

The way the song ended and your mouth was hovering over his and you asked him if he wanted to get out of there.

How one thing led to another and you were in the backseat of his car with your head thrown back and his mouth was on your neck and nine months later he was a dad.

Speaking of…

His nose traces yours as fingers scratch up your spine, smiling when you shiver. He leans his head down, just enough to brush his lips against yours as he asks, “Where are the kids?”

Your lips part around his in a barely there kiss as you murmur, “Robin and Nance took them. They made you hocus pocus cookies.”

Steve breathes in as you breathe out, fingers pushing at your spine so your lips bump again, speaking so quietly, if he weren’t pressed up against you, you’d be unable to hear him.

“Was wondering ‘bout the gummy worms. Makes sense now.”

Your head tilts back as you gasp into his mouth when his teeth graze your bottom lip. Then you hum, eyelashes fluttering as you say, “Almost every potion requires worms, according to our little witch. Who, by the way, was only encouraged by Robin who brought her a chocolate wand.”

Steve’s mouth breathes against your jaw while you talk, his tongue slips out as he kisses the hinge of it.

“Oh yeah?”

You’re not so much dancing anymore, instead simply arching your body as Steve grips your waist and leaves a warm, trailing breath down your neck. You suppose it’s like a dip of sorts.

A hum slips past your lips as your stomach flips. Maybe this won’t be as hard as you thought.

“Ye-yeah. Said she can’t be a Sanderson though…for Halloween…cause,” you whine a little when Steve’s tongue glides over your skin, his smile following right behind it.

“Cause?”

The song on the stereo changes with perfect timing to Think About Me, and Steve’s mouth presses a kiss to your neck, encouraging you with a squeeze of your hips.

“Cause,” your voice is quiet, but sure, “Cause she only has Grace. And there are three Sanderson’s.”

Steve’s lips slow their kissing as he hears what you’re saying. Hears the song that just so happened to lead to the conception of his second kid.

He pulls away and blinks at you, pink cheeks and eyes like melting honey.

“Are you…” he licks his lips, swallows, and looks down at where your body clings to his. He looks around at the kidless house, listens to the Fleetwood Mac, and then looks back at your hopeful gaze up at him.

His hands cup your cheeks as he asks, softly, “You wanna have another baby?”

“Yeah,” you laugh around some tears trying to slip out, a little more emotional than you thought you’d be. “Yeah, I really do. I think they’d be good ages apart and they’ll be so close to Caroline and Robin and Nancy are gonna get Zoe in a couple of months and-“

Steve’s kissing you, mouth passionate and hot against yours as he moans into your lips. He backs you up into the counter as you grip at his shirt collar, neither of you really caring or paying much attention to where things are landing.

Your fingers scratch down his now bare back as he lifts you, wedging himself between your spread legs. His lips are frantic in their kissing as he tugs on your thighs, your ass, until you’re flush against him, grinding down in search of friction.

Your body floods with warmth as he unzips his jeans, as he pulls and tugs at your shirt with his other hand, too impatient to wait until he has both free and refusing to admit if he stopped kissing you, it’d be a whole lot easier.

Steve groans at the sight of your bare chest and your legs tighten around his hips now free of the denim. He leans over you on the counter, kissing the corner of your mouth before he whispers, “Hold still.”

“What, why, ohmygod-“

Steve drizzles caramel over your neck, your chest, your stomach, before flinging the spoon somewhere.

His mouth follows the drizzles, carefully licking up each drop as his hands squeeze at your hips, your thighs. His tongue glides across the curve of your breasts before it dips between the two and down your stomach where he gives you a kiss.

It’s all painstakingly slow compared to the speed you were just going, adamant for you to feel every pass of his tongue, every brush of his lips as he enjoys his treat.

Your body squirms underneath him, skin warm and only growing warmer as he pulls at your underwear roughly, leaving you completely naked on your kitchen countertop.

“Steve, we-“

Propped up on your elbows, you swallow your words when he removes his boxers and steps between your legs again. One hand rests on the counter next to your head, the other grips his length and tugs, once, twice, keeping eye contact with you while he lines himself up with your entrance.

“We,” he breathes heavily, stopping to kiss you once, before he keeps going, “Are gonna make another perfect, amazing, incredible kid.”

He pushes into you, capturing your gasp from the fullness of him inside of you. He pants into you, pushing deeper as he holds your stare, mouth never lifting from yours as he groans, “You’re gonna…” he sucks in a breath unable to to finish the thought when your hips roll and you whine for him to move.

“Please, Steve,” you beg into his mouth and he can’t hold off anymore, not that he really was before.

He pulls out and thrusts forcefully, hand gripping your hip and the edge of the counter as he slams into you again, and again, and again.

Your back arches off of the countertop, his name a gasp as you meet each of his thrusts and babble into his mouth.

“More, Steve, fill me up baby, please I-“

He swallows your words, grinds against you each time he pushes as far in as he can while his hand pulls your thigh up against his hip in a bruising grip.

It’s fast and not like you two at all anymore. Sex is usually some pillow talk and soft sleepy smiles and missionary and hand holding and so so so not Steve stopping his kissing and pouring more caramel over your face and chest in the middle of sex.

So not you two being loud, yelling names and making who knows what kind of noises as he smears and licks up the mess he just made and teeth nip at your skin and soothe it all away with kisses as he pounds into you like he used to. Not you when your hands grip at his shoulders and beg him to go faster, harder.

Steve’s gasping into your neck, thrusts coming closer together and your stomach tightens, warmth threatening to burst inside of you but you don’t want it to end.

Your fingers slip on the countertop, cookies fall to the ground, his name is yelled and it sounds an awful lot like don’t stop, never stop.

Steve searches for your hand and tangles his fingers with yours while the other finds your lower back and makes you arch up into him further. Your hips grind against his as his mouth pants along your throat, your jaw, before it locks against yours in a kiss.

It’s all a little filthy and wild, the way you let go of his hand and both of yours grip the back of his head and pull when his thrusts just keep going. The way you beg into his mouth like you’re sobbing, “Baby, please, please, ohmygod-“ and Steve grips your hips and pumps harder, deeper, practically growling out a “Yeah?”

Your thighs shake, you pulse around him, your heartbeat is in your ears as he hits that spot that makes you see stars over and over and over again until your mouth falls open and you don’t know what comes over you because you’re practically shouting, “Yesyesyesyes,” until it turns into a silent gasp as your orgasm takes over. It’s like the breath is stolen from your lungs, vision lost, as he spills inside of you with a deep, tortured - like he really didn’t want it to be over either - moan.

The pair of you breathe heavily, clinging to each other still, then you both start laughing, tired and euphoric. Foreheads stuck together as your hands move over each other’s bodies restlessly as your lungs fight for air around the laughter, until it all slows down and stops again.

Eventually, Steve clears his throat as his thumbs rub soothing circles on your hips.

“Sorry, don’t know…that was um…”

Your head finds it’s favorite place in his neck, curled up under his jaw, lips finding the pair of freckles you love so much in a kiss. There’s no energy left for anything other than a hum of agreement.

His hands roam higher, soft and soothing up your spine and back down until you yawn against his neck and a low chuckle rumbles in his chest beneath where your fingers draw against his skin absently.

Steve pulls away and his lips twitch at the sound of your protesting whine, at the way your hands cling to around the back of his neck once more. But he’s just adjusting so he can find your lips, granting you a gentle and sweet kiss. The tip of his nose brushes yours as his breath fans out across your bottom lip when they part for him. His mouth moves over yours sweetly, lazily, as his hands pull you closer to him. Your stomach flutters alive, only stirring up the just satisfied feelings when his tongue meets yours. Steve kicks up inside of you when your hips shift, searching for friction again, causing your laugh to break the kiss.

He swallows the sound, his hand roams higher until it’s cupping the back of your neck, thumb brushing behind your ear as he regretfully pulls away from your lips, but only just so. Steve murmurs against them, eyes watching your eyelashes flutter at the sound of his voice.

“Can I interest you in a bubble bath to clean up, Mrs. Harrington?”

His teeth scrape against your bottom lip, a kiss to your top one, his mouth moving over yours too fleeting as your entire body shakes with a shiver, practically drooling over his question and teasing touches with a moan worthy of a bite of chocolate.

Your hands curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, lifting your hips ever so slightly to cling onto his body a little harder, a little longer. The nod of your head knocks your lips with his again, and he rewards you with a deeper and lingering kiss. His arms wrap around your back as he pulls you closer still, neither of you ready to separate any time soon.

“You better tell them you ate every single one of those horrible cookies.”

He laughs into your mouth, nodding his head as you kiss him more.

Both of you are content to take your time getting upstairs, to let your kisses linger and melt like honey. Make sure each moment is remembered, so it’s all easily recalled from the sound of a song and the way you kiss him. Each pass of your lips over each other’s, each brush of a tongue or scrape of teeth or inhale of much needed air makes sure you’re not missing any of it as you clean each other up when you finally do get there.

Steve’s got your back to his chest as he hums into your temple the last song on the tape in between whispers of if it’ll be a boy or girl, names, personality, and all of the things you’ve come to love about your other two.

His hands roam over your body, warm water and sweet smelling suds cascading over you as he kisses your neck and shakes his head no when you ask if he’s tired.

And even if he were, the lack of sleep would be worth it.

[velvetures]

*Peeks from a corner*

Merry Christmas!

Hi um...can I just say your comfort fluff fics have made me realize just how touche-starved I personally am. Made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

So, if I could be so bold as to ask for a fic with Soap or Gaz or Keegan with that same theme? Making sure they're taken care of, or make them feel safe enough to let their guard down for a bit?

Again, totally fine if you have other things to do, but it would really male my day if you did. Thank you and have a nice day!

- 💀

Fall Back

a/n: thank you for the request babes... I'm sorry Christmas is just now here in mid-fucking May :( I'm ashamed. Additionally, this is my first time writing for Keegan... and I'm still working out the specifics for my interpretation of his character and behavior. So this is a bit different from what I've written before. Hopefully you enjoy it. summary: Keegan's worn down to the bone. And you're there to help him. t/w's: none.

his eyes are almost identical to my husband's... why didn't I notice until now...

He only comes to you when things get too heavy to bear.

And not in the way a refrigerator empty of food, or a late rent payment would weigh on your mind. You’ve not seen the same things he has… and fuck, he’ll do anything to make sure you never do. The mere thought that any of the nightmares and constant PTSD triggers that make him jumpy could touch your conscious would send him into an entirely new mental warfare, impossible to win. No, he shows up when he needs it most. No matter what you might be doing, or how it could appear, he’s crawling on his belly with a broken look in his eyes. Pride bruised, strength dissolved, and voice rough with more pain than you thought he could ever survive.

You tried keeping the back door unlocked for him. Thinking he’d take it as a sign that your home is always welcome. It resulted in him forcing you to lock the doors and make him a key. That lasted a couple of months, and then he lost the key somewhere in Cuba. Something about a guy ripping his chain off his neck and subsequently the key to your door that he wore alongside his dog tags. He’d been quick to change all of your locks after that. And since then, he’s decided that crawling in through your bedroom window is the only way he’ll enter your house unless you’re formally inviting him in.

Maybe it’s the anti-social part of him that believes he can’t come and go as he pleases. Spending precious time sneaking into your little house instead of doing what he came for in the first place. Getting close to you. Sometimes he won’t wake you up. Just taking off his bloody-soaked gear and taking a quick wash in the shower before curling up to you in bed. Tucking you under him, and breathing in the soft smell of your soap and fresh sheets. Other times, you’ll stir away when you hear boots scuffing heavily against the floor. Hearing heavy breaths and his tac vest thumping to the floor. Witnessing what it’s like when a ghost finally runs out of hatred and cold-blooded determination.

“Are you hurt?” It’s almost always your first question. After so many missions, he’s almost always got something that needs looked at. And while you never thought that tying stitches or cleaning shallow stab wounds would be a common occurrence in your life, Keegan has made it so that your medical kit under your bathroom sink is always stocked and ready for emergency-room worthy injuries.

He’s not going to talk much, even if he’s in good shape. It’s not in his disposition. More like a shelter dog sent back too many times for growling or bearing his teeth. Wary of everything, yet so desperate for touch that he’s willing to show you exactly where a bullet grazed his thigh. About eight hours old and weeping blood, staining a pair of pants that you’ll spend time scrubbing out in the morning while doing laundry. But if you’re worried, he’s going to hide just how badly he’s hurting… if for nothing than your sake.

He’s already broken into your house again… and now bleeding all over the bathroom rug with pretty flowers you bought after the last time he made a mess in there. Constantly reminding himself it’s selfish to demand you care for him. To show up with a shitty fucking attitude and guilt you into licking his wounds when he can’t bear to do it himself, or admit to the medical staff on base that he needs it. You’re too kind for this kind of bullshit. Too sweet to run him off though. And it’s why he keeps crawling back. Greedy… hungry… insatiable… he’s always admonishing himself for just how little control he possesses when there’s an opportunity to leave you alone, or place himself right in the middle of your life again.

“Everyone come back alive?”

Keegan has a love hate relationship with that particular question. Debating on whether or not he likes that you worry for his teammates in such an honest way; or if he’s so jealous of your mind wandering to them, and what fucked-up things they do during missions that it’s almost unbearable to hear you ask it.

“Alive.” He breathes out steadily as you thread your stitching through his skin for an eighth time, tying another knot over his twitching and aching muscles.

You’re always asking questions about the missions. About what he had to do, if he got hurt, where they went… it’s innocent enough. You mean well. But he never can tell you much. Protective instinct and top secret red tape make much of the details not worth the risk of divulging. But he’s patient with you. Giving away small hints maybe by saying a few words in a native language, or talking about a particular landmark that might’ve been close enough that you can make a guess from there. At this point, you’ve learned at least a few words in: German, Russian, Thai, and multiple hispanic dialects. A smart woman, of course, but he’s always surprised when you connect his work to something you’ve seen on the news.

It’s like you’re always watching for him.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Maybe you do look out for him in more ways than one. Not bothering with the fact that you’d already completed your nightly routine, just to strip down and get a shower running. Rubbing out strained shoulders with soft hands, and gently thumbing out the thick knots in his lower back. It’s the only pressure he’s willing to accept in this state. Merely breathing just to live for more of your touch. Keegan can’t even bother with soap, and had it not been for you, he wouldn’t have at all. Feeling you scrub down every inch of him. Much more like a maid than… well… he still didn’t know what kind of label to put on this relationship.

There were too many variables and more questions than he could answer. Sure it was… transactional at times, but he’d be remiss to ignore all of the ways you occupied his thoughts when it wasn’t appropriate to. And you always do more than you’re supposed to. Just like now. Wrapping your arms around him for behind and kissing over his shoulder blades. Humming a soft tune and letting your fingertips trace over his stomach. Any man should be able to admit that he’s weak for it… but Keegan can’t readily do that.

Fighting his own heart pounding in his chest as you sway him back and forth. Wishing he could let this feeling go. Be a stronger man. Be a better ghost and lock himself away behind the gear and guns. Fuck. You’re so good at it though. Stripping him down to nothing, even when he thought there wasn’t anything else left. Soothing aches and kissing away pains he blocked out for so long that he felt like had disappeared. You are smarter than that. You know how his mind works whether he likes it or not. How willing he is to go from hell and back so many times that he’s unsure of what kind of being he truly is. Caught between worlds of warfare and the softer one where you always welcome him back, knowing that within a few days the gore will call him back for service.

“Sleep on the couch…” He mutters, standing with a towel slung around his hips and a bleary look in satin light-blue eyes. “Don’t wanna stain your sheets.”

He’d seen them upon arrival; crisp white and hundred-dollar softness he didn’t want to touch. Between the blood and feeling of getting spoiled to them, it wasn’t worth it to him. He’d done it before without much thought, but this time something was making him attempt responsibility.

“Then I’m coming with you, Russ.”

You’re smiling that damned smile he dreams about. That one where the gap between your front teeth shows and the dimpled skin on your cheeks shadows just enough to make him forget that you’re human. Angelic. Teasing… Gracefully not leaving him room for an argument. Simply turning around and headed towards the bedroom without another word as to if he’d be choosing to lay cramped on your couch. Hell, it’s four in the morning, and your mind is sharp enough to play with him just enough that he’s stalking back into the dark room and watching you crawl into the bed with an expectant, innocent look directed at him.

Keegan can’t help it.

He’s under the sheets and unceremoniously reaching for you without hesitation. Feeling his callouses catch on your skin and wincing when he hears his rough palms scratch at you. No matter how rough it feels, you’re still sliding closer. Careful of bruises and cuts, tucking yourself against him and using one arm to guide his head against your chest. Laying just above him. Incentivizing him to hug tightly to you and tuck his head under your chin. Allowing this unfeeling soldier to hide in the temporary shelter of your heartbeat.

You rub his head, and feel short, clipped, hair tickle your fingertips. Soft from a shampoo and condition after weeks away in sand that made the bathroom floor feel gritty. You’re almost always pressing kisses to his forehead and using your other hand to rub over his brow bone and bridge of his nose. Seeing in the nighttime shadow where his face paint has settled into wrinkles that you didn’t manage to wash off in the shower. Looking at long, black eyelashes that flutter a bit when you scratch up and down the back of his neck.

“You’re so pretty…” You always talk to him like this. Unable to keep from spouting praise that wells up after long periods of not knowing if he’s alive, let alone safe.

You’re not dumb. You know he’s dangerous. Maybe even a monster in some people’s eyes. But it’s a necessary evil, and it’s something you came to terms with easily. Because you didn’t just see him for the guns and direct orders. You got to witness moments like this where he’s nothing but a man in desperate need of humanity. Hungry for connection. Soft touches… and whether he liked it or not, the praises that you whisper against his pink-tipped ears.

“You’re the pretty one, dollie.” He grumbles back, squeezing your hip in a big hand.

It makes your face heat up just ask quickly when he pulls that one out. Almost always with a nickname up his sleeve that just makes it all that much more worth it. But being anything other than your own name to him… it’s a different kind of reward. One that has you smiling like a fool as you get sleepier. Nearly petting him to sleep, and hoping to god you can stay awake longer than he does just to prove you’re willing to. Maybe willing isn’t even strong enough…

Any way you think about it, there’s a sense of duty you hold much like his to a career as a ghost. Yours stemming from love so deep for this man that it’s painful watching him crawl to you as a last resort. Despising what or whoever made him feel like wanting a warm bed, and someone to look after him when he’s weak, is wrong. God it’s enough to make you angry. Looking down at a man who could make anyone tremble, and seeing him curled up against your chest like he’s clinging to a shred of comfort. If you thought picking up a gun alongside him would change things, you’re certain you’d have done it years ago. Right when all of this started and Keegan was much more proud. Unwilling to relent as easily as he does now.

But it took that long because there wasn’t another option.

He wouldn’t have allowed it if you were any different of a person, or hadn’t possessed the patience for him to let go like this. You’re positive no one knows that this is where he runs to when things get too hard. None of his team, and with no family to speak of, you’re left as his final resort, but the only one he trusts. Unlike Keegan who avoids his medal pinnings with sheer hatred, you wear your designation proudly. You’re always shining it… polishing it… looking for the first opportunity to show just how willing you are. Just for the chance to hold him. Anything to feel his breathing even out after weeks of holding it. Anything to clean him up. Put him back together.

All while silently praying that it’ll be the last time. Wishing he’d see that you aren’t a last resort, and that he can lay here as long as he wants without losing the worth he assigned to himself after becoming a ghost. Wondering when it’ll come to an end where he can come back and hang up the guns laying on your bedroom floor, forever. Patiently anticipating the day you can not have to wait until he’s asleep to say exactly how you feel.

“I love you, Keegan…”

comments & reblogs are always appreciated 🤎

[sameschmidtdiffname]

i recently had a thought about the reader's online friend!josh futterman, like if these two actually KNOW each other irl but have no idea about it because they use nicknames

i'd really appreciate it if you'd write something like this and I hope my description of it makes sense i used a translator for this lol

in love with your writing btw !!! <3

Bbgirl I gotCHUUUUU

Familiar Strangers

A Josh Futturman x Gender Neutral! Reader Series

Summery: They always say you never know when you'll meet Mister Right. But damn. This is a new level.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no gender specific pronouns for Reader, coffee shop AU, Josh never wins 'Biotic Wars' AU, fluff, meet cute, online friends who don't realize they're friends irl as well, brief mentions of smut, otherwise SFW.

Notes: Alright, first actually planned series! Is it gonna be a slowburn with twenty parts? A mini series? Who the fuck knows! Not me! Let's pray, mfers.

                                 ¤•1•¤

                    °☆>》Maggie's《<☆°

"Please tell me there's a chance for us," she says with baited breath. "Don't tell me you're walking away."

The atmosphere of the small, brick walled coffee shop is calm for 10 o'clock in the morning, but I'm not complaining. God knows I prefer this over the alternative anyways.

"You know that I can't answer that," Oshua says to Tiger, agitated.

This guy, always trying to be mysterious.

"I've waited for you my whole life. You could give me a goddamn-"

The ring of the shop bell tears me from my reading, my head darting up to see who has come to disturb my morning of peace and fiction.

"Hi!" The customer says in overly bright voice. One look at the man and I already know he's the chatty type, not willing to just duck in and out, keys jingling from the black belt on his hip as he flashes a bright, genuine smile, waving his hand enthusiastically while keeping the other in his pants pocket.

Motherfucker.

"Hi!" I try to return with the same bright smile and tone, but I feel irritation spike into my chest as I hear the soft 'click' of my phone shutting off. "Welcome to Maggie's, what can I get you?"

Gentle sunlight streams in through the permanently clouded bay windows of the shop, illuminating the store in its warm glow that just makes a morning feel particularly peaceful. There isn't much foot at this point in the morning, most people already having arrived to work an hour or so earlier, myself included. It was a busy enough part of town, a good location for a coffee shop to thrive, especially with the loyal flow of customers from Kronish Laboratory, a tall, dull building dedicated to scientific research, and the little coffee shop that signs my checks often had the pleasures (read: irritations) of dealing with said researchers and keeping them alive while they work on the miracle cure for herpes. Most of them being particularly rude and short about their orders, usually in a rush for a regular cup of black coffee and swiping it from my hand before storming out to resume their endless work typing away at a computer to log their samples after what must be their too short lunch break. Or maybe too long. Can never tell with those assholes. Most of which I know through mental nicknames. It's partially because I'm no good at actual names. And partially my own form of disrespect and entertainment. Come on, you do it too.

"I don't know," the unfamiliar man says brightly, placing his hands on his hips as he looks at the chalkboard sign hanging behind my head. "What do you like?"

'Whatever gets you out of here the fastest,' I think. But instead I say "Well, what exactly are you looking for? Tea, coffee," the door, "smoothies?"

"Hit me-" gladly. "-with a tea," the bright man says just so... brightly.

Thank you for being so descriptive. "What kind?" I ask, trying to keep my smile sweet.

"Whatever you like," he says with a shrug.

"Vanilla chai?"

"Sure!"

I need to stop being so irritable when someone interrupts my reading. I'm not even allowed to be on my phone at work technically, except the manager generally doesn't care so long as I at least make half an effort to hide it and don't do it in front of customers. And maybe I wouldn't even really care about the interruption except I've been waiting for the release of this part for two weeks, and Nick had been so secretive about the ending he didn't even let me beta read the work before posting.

"What's got you in such a mood?" I ask the smiling man, turning to begin making the drink. Oh, size.

"What do you mean?" He asks, raising his brows, still smiling. Brightly.

"You're like a big... ball of sunshine," I say, gesturing towards him before holding up a small and large cup, now gesturing the two like they were on scales to silently ask his preference.

"Oh, I'm just excited this morning. I'm not usually like this," he says, laughing a little as a small blush grows on his nose, glancing down at the floor before returning his gaze to the cups, pointing at the small.

"Yeah?" I ask, putting the large cup away.

"Yeah. Finished a big project this morning, so I'm like," he shrugs, now scratching the back of his head as he tries to subdue his smile, pressing his lips together and now crossing his subtly built arms across his chest.

"Well, congrats," I say. There's a small moment of slightly awkward silence as the tea quickly brews, both of us not really sure what to say next. This is the part I hate about customer service. I feel bad if I'm not constantly keeping them engaged, but if they're constantly talking I wish they would shut the fuck up. I already can't read regular conversation cues, there's just no winning with this shit.

"I like your uh..." the man I've decided will henceforth be known as Sunshine drawls. "Apron."

I look down at myself, taking note of the dandelion yellow cloth stained with coffee at the bottom from an hour ago when it accidently dipped into a puddle of the stuff while I was cleaning up a spill someone hadn't even told me about only half an hour after opening.

"Thanks," I say, looking back up. "Company issued."

"Oh, we match!" Sunshine jokes, pointing at his grey jumpsuit. Alright, the man may be way too energetic for the morning, but at least he's entertaining about it. I take an actual look at his attire now, a janitors outfit with what I should've expected to be a Kronish Laboratory logo right above his name sewn onto the suit.

"That we do..." I glance at his nametag. "Futturman."

"Fut-turman, not Foot-turman," Sunshine corrects me.

"Oh shit. Shoot. Sorry, man," I laugh awkwardly, offering an apologetic smile as I pour the warm, steeped tea over the ice.

"Iced in Febuary?" He asks, giving me enough grace to not focus on the subject.

I feel my own blush creep onto my skin, a side effect from the name jumble and realizing I hadn't asked his preference. Get your head in the game, idiot.

"I can make you another, if you'd like," I offer sheepishly.

"No!" He blurts, straightening his posture and leaning against the counter. "I mean-" he coughs awkwardly, glancing away. "No, iced is good. I like iced, just uh- figured you... wouldn't have the same preference."

Please, God. It's too early for this.

"I don't like the hot to room temperature texture," I say awkwardly, searching for a lid. "Too... I don't know. Iced to room temperature is better."

"Totally agree," Sunshine says quickly.

Glad to know neither of us can interact with humans properly.

Another moment of awkward silence, except I know what to say this time.

"So, you work at the lab?" I ask. For the small moment I didn't have his attention, he seemed to be surveying the small cakes on display inside the counter beside me, looking at a little white cake with strawberry coating on top before turning back to me.

"Oh! Yeah, no, I just- Carl told me about the place, said I had to try it out," he says, shifting his weight as he stands. "Good vibes and all that."

"Carl..." I say, trying to remember if I've known a Carl.

"Big, like," he gestures his hands long then wide. "Works security, looks like," he makes a sort of stern, almost mean mug face. At that it clicks.

"Oh! Carl!" Deftones Guy. "Yeah, I know him," I say with a more relaxed smile, chuckling a little.

"Yeah, said you guys discuss music sometimes," he says, nodding enthusiastically like he's glad we know the same person.

"A little," I say, placing the drink on the counter. "Alright, Mr. Futturman. $6.70 is your total."

The dark haired man nods, pulling out a green wallet with an emblem on the front from one of his deep pockets. I try to get a clear look simply out of curiosity, but his large, tanned hand covers it too much for me to see what it is.

"Here you are," he says, handing me his card. There's more silence, this time comfortable as I swipe it, our machine beeping twice in decline. At the third beep, Sunshine begins to shift his weight again, licking and biting his bottom lip nervously.

"There should be money on there," he says with a nervous chuckle.

"Oh, it's the machine. It doesn't like working," I clarify. "One sec."

Quickly, I pound my palm into the righthand top corner of the device, right under the chip reader before inserting the blue, cloud covered card once more and waiting for the transaction to clear. At the much more calm, non-nuclear level beep we both breathe a sigh of relief as I return the card to him with a smile.

"Alright," he says with that bright tone to his voice once more. "Now I can see what's up."

We both can.

"I hope you have a good day, Mr. Futturman," I say brightly, still a tad pink from leftover embarrassment.

Sunshine nods and smiles at me, toasting his drink before turning from me and beginning to walk away, taking a sip of his drink and humming in approval, turning quickly and giving me a thumbs up before tripping over his own foot and stumbling into the door like a bit of an idiot, making me giggle slightly before I make myself look away to give him the same grace he'd given me earlier. And with that last exchange he's gone, and I'm free to return to my art.

The tall man looked sadly at- ah shit, I jumped ahead.

"I've waited for you my whole life. You could give me a goddamn answer, Future Man!" Tiger spat in anger and frustration, forcing the emotions she could barely even allow herself to feel overwhelm her in her attempts to communicate.

Emotional angst for my bright morning. God bless, Nick.

-

As I push open the door to my apartment, my phone is buzzing with still silent notifications of what I can guarantee are Tumblr sourced. More specifically, Tumblr messaging sourced. As I push the door shut with my foot, one glance at my old, outdated phone confirms my thoughts.

felinehusband: Okay, give it to me straight.

I smile at the notification, allowing my oversized bag filled with too many items to clatter to the ground loudly, unlocking my phone and responding quickly.

icanfixhimdotorg: Dude.

I walk as I type, entering the kitchen and opening the door to the small freezer to see which cheap meal I'll try not to nuke tonight.

felinehusband: Dude? ,:)

I smile at the message, picking out chicken teriyaki as I hit send.

icanfixhimdotorg: Worth. The. Wait.

I cross to the beaten microwave, the appliance cheap and secondhand from Facebook marketplace. It's honestly a miracle the thing hasn't blown up in my face or given me detectable cancer, but despite the large dent on the side, still usable. Google said if the door still seals and there's no opening, it was safe. And it got that dent from me dropping it on the way inside the apartment on move in day after I already paid $50 for it after getting it from some overworked mom who hardly wanted to even charge that low. I sure as hell wasn't gonna get a refund, or anything functional for cheaper.

I leave my phone on the counter as I open the frozen meal, vent the film and slap it inside. Now to wait for seven minutes.

felinehusband: Oh thank GOD. I've been anxious all day.

I chuckle softly, smiling as I lean against the permanently grimy counter.

icanfixhimdotorg: I don't know why!! You always post such good work :)

felinehusband: Well, I post work that always has good reception.

icanfixhimdotorg: The difference?

felinehusband: ... I'll get back to you on that one lol

I tap my foot against the floor, listening to the muffled echo mix with the loud hum of the microwave as I stare ahead at the mint green, poorly painted wall in front of me.

icanfixhimdotorg: No cervix penetration?

There's plenty of ways to meet friends. I didn't not bank on responding to a request for beta readers for fanfiction for some moderate, slowly dying game fandom to be one of them.

felinehusband: ONE TIME!

The quick response makes me laugh, clicking off my phone as I turn my attention now to my waiting meal that I'm going to devour much too quickly while working lines for my production.

Nick and I started chatting about six months ago. I had already been following him for some of his shit posts, midnight blogging, and when he started posting fanfiction I was one of his first readers.

'Biotic Wars' doesn't have a particularly big following on Tumblr as it used to. When the game first came out, people were going insane over how to beat the final level. The community thrived from memes, overly elaborate theories, fanfiction, you name it. It helped that there was a huge boost in the gaming community in general around the time it came out, what with 'Five Nights at Freddy's' cranking out sequels faster than anyone could keep up with, 'Undertale' breaking out onto the scene a little bit later. The gaming side of Tumblr was alive and thriving, and the amount of overlapping there was between fandoms only made it bigger. That was how I found the fandom personally. That and binging several different speed-running videos.

At the point Nick came onto the scene, most had generally lost their interest in the unbeatable 'Biotic Wars.' The fans that remained did so out of genuine interest or hyperfixation instead of temporary trends, and while good work was still being posted, everyone had at that point either begun to shift their own writing focuses, lost time to post frequently, or shifted to other platforms such as Archive of Our Own and had stopped crossposting to their Tumblr. So a decent, well paced, new angst fic following a lone Wolf and Tiger reminiscing on their old journies together as they attempted to survive a bitter winter night without any supplies other than an old tarp being used as their only attempt of shelter as they attempt to ride out a storm after a mission gone wrong popped onto the scene, people were immediately captivated. And even though it was a one-shot, the work received enough attention that a spin-off fic was posted within the following 48 hours. And once those two had blown up, Nick was quickly recognized in the community for his content, shitposts and fics alike. And he was very lucky to have overwhelming positive feedback. Until his first smut, that is.

icanfixhimdotorg: Nico, baby. It's an important first step for every smut writer.

Oh, it was brutal. First, he decided to go off the deep end by just jumping straight into some tenticle situation for poor Tiger. Now, granted, he did post a poll before hand asking if we readers would enjoy the consumption of some outrageous shit, to which 78.8% of voters said yes, myself included. But when reading a 'baby's first smut' fic, one doesn't really expect... that. But I'll admit, it was surprisingly good quality. Until the cervix penetration.

"Coiling in her womb." Yeah, Tumblr had a fun day with that one.

It took less than a day for him to post that he was searching for smut consultants and beta readers, to which I responded both out of genuine interest and a bit of pity since I was sure his ask box was filling with several new comments. No one was surprised when he ended up turning off anon for a few days. And since I had responded to quite a few of his works/posts already, I was one of the lucky few selected for such a job since he recognized me. And once the doorway was opened for casual chatter, both of us just kind of never stopped. Either by constantly responding to each others posts, automatic reblogs at each notification of a new post, or messaging each other about our days kept us both sane as we tried to just survive each new day as adults.

I look up from my notebook where my tragic script is scratched across the $0.75 college notebook as I lazily attempt to memorize my lines while mostly keeping my eyes trained on the old TV in front of me to check the buzz from my phone, swiping it open to read the new message.

felinehusband: So how's season four going?

icanfixhimdotorg: Dude.

I watch the screen until I feel the phone buzz once more in my hand.

felinehusband: No spoilers!! I'm still trying to push through season three for you ;)

Nick was sweet. Good for a joke, claims he's a little awkward, but a good friend. Sweet enough that about two months ago he'd let it slip he'd begun watching my favorite show simply because "If I have to see you go insane over animated anthropomorphic animals interacting with humans again without context, I'm gonna lose it."

icanfixhimdotorg: Binge it!! You're gonna lose your mind!!

felinehusband: You're gonna delay part 10 lmao

As I take the last bite of my meal, I realize the time, sighing as I begin to do the mental math of how long I have until practice tonight. Knowing how little time I have to prepare, I pause the episode and type one last quick text.

icanfixhimdotorg: If it does, it's worth it honestly. You won't believe this shit, Nick.

As I stand from the sagging, horrendously textured couch I catch his parting message while I stretch, popping about five different spots in my back.

felinehusband: Okayokay, if it means I can read your over the top rants again, it's worth it :)

icanfixhimdotorg: Excellent. Got to go, showering for practice tonight.

I trail quickly through the small apartment, grabbing whatever clothes are passable in public while remaining comfortable enough to sleep in when I immediately collapse into my bed around 11 tonight, an old, tattered, turquoise towel I'd stolen from my parents when I moved out, and grabbing my soap from the kitchen sink before making my way to the bathroom. Listen, Seventh Generation is cheap and works just as good on the human body as it does on dishes, alright? I'm trying to get a mortgage one day.

As I wait for the water to shift from its arctic temperature to something more bearable, I check my phone one more time to quickly reblog a gifset and read Nick's departing message.

felinehusband: Knock 'em dead, Mercutio :)

felinehusband: Also, I need some input later tonight for this like. Slowburn thing. May be an AU. Not sure, we'll see. I'm thinking coffee shop

Ah, yes.

icanfixhimdotorg: A classic.

                             >¤》○《¤<

I'm making no current promises on how frequently I update this series. Hopefully it'll be something I can work on while working and such, but we'll see what happens. My current hope is to post at minimum one request and hopefully one part for this series per week. However I will warn one of my current projects is about to wrap up, meaning I'm going to have to focus on that next week as much as possible, meaning I probably won't get anything done writing wise next week unless I aim for a drabble or headcanons. And even then I'm not sure I'll have time for actually editing and such, so don't be surprised if the only content you get next week is some rambles like I've been doing for Peeta lately or nothing at all. Alright, love y'all!! Stay safe, stay healthy <33 see you next time.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

[anarchotahdigism]

"It’s interesting how often people cite “CDC guidance” as their reason for unmasking. Although the CDC has absolutely participated in and cosigned the mainstream minimizing of the illness, even the CDC still acknowledges that vulnerable people are at risk from COVID infection. They simply encourage the public to let those people die.

During an interview with the BBC in the fall, Dr. Fauci famously said aloud “You’ll find the vulnerable will fall by the wayside. They’ll get infected, they’ll get hospitalized, and some will die.” Should he have characterized any other vulnerable group this way (“You’ll find Native people will fall by the wayside,” “You’ll find trans people will fall by the wayside,” “You’ll find Black people will fall by the wayside,” “You’ll find women will fall by the wayside”) there would surely have been an almighty backlash. But to say medically vulnerable people must die so the rest of us may have brunch indoors does not beget such a reaction- never mind that all the above-named groups- Native people, trans people, Black people and women- are at a higher risk for Long COVID, and other poor outcomes from COVID." ... "The move to frame the requirement of a public safety measure- no different from requiring seatbelts, helmets, pants and shoes in public- as a violation of bodily autonomy came directly from groups like the Atlas Network, which, as you might gather from its Ayn-Rand-worshipping name, opposes all public regulation. Meanwhile, we continue to violate the bodily autonomy of disabled people by making participation in public life contingent on accepting forcible, continual reinfections. Since Biden’s COVID normalization campaign, MAGA-style rhetoric about how disabled people should “stay home forever” and how they are “useless” and “weak” has absolutely infiltrated left spaces. Many disabled people, in fact, are effectively “staying home forever.” They are shielding themselves from a disease that may kill them, and certainly would likely lower their baseline health, and have been for years. Meanwhile, the pleas of these incredibly isolated people for the bare minimum of solidarity- please at least mask up indoors when not eating or drinking- are ignored because that is apparently too difficult for the mental health of abled people." ... "A last point I will address, I did see questions about how we are supposed to “force” people to mask. Disabled people, vulnerable people, and left groups generally do not have the power of the state. We are not going to be engaging in “policing,” because nobody is going to end up in jail, physically hurt, on probation, or with limited job prospects because of our community care. Simply write “masks required” on your event invites, distribute masks wherever possible (contact your local Mask Bloc!), and do your best to spread information while modeling good praxis by masking yourself. For the most part, people are following the crowd. They will do what the majority is doing, and many will be happy to mask if it is normalized instead of stigmatized.

A left that purges its spaces of everyone who values community care, everyone who is willing to experience a minor inconvenience for the well-being of another, everyone who thinks it’s all of us or none of us, is a drastically weakened left. A left that does not incorporate disability praxis is drastically limiting its own scope and ability to be effectual. A left that mocks vulnerable groups and seeks to justify harm to them is not grounded in real justice and has only a superficial understanding of its own aims. Join us in masking, keep your comrades safe, and relish the beauty of avoiding illness while knowing you did your part to protect others. It’s a good feeling at the end of the day, I promise you that."

[merakiui]

WAIT IDIA MAKING U WEAR THOSE HOSPITAL GOWNS THINGS WHILE HES IN HIS STYX UNIFORM ELABORATE 👀👀👀👀

↑ THESE!!!! And with the choker collar as well…….. OTL the way the sleeves are short enough to expose the wrists!!! It’s more shirt and pants rather than a gown, but even so it’s still good!!!!!! The light color contrasts well with Idia’s uniform hehe.

Just,,,,, the idea of him making you wear the thinnest of materials so it’s easier to tear and take off. He probably has one custom-made for you and it’s so skimpy. T-T call him Master Idia and he’s folding. When anyone else calls him that, he can’t stand it because it’s a reminder that he’s heir to STYX and that his future looms ever nearer. But when you do it… it’s a different story. You keep telling him he’s a loser and a coward, so watch him don the STYX uniform and prove you wrong when he’s kidnapped the NRC students. :) you can watch through the cameras with him while you sit on his lap, speared on his cock. <3 all while dressed in that thin hospital wear.

But also please just imagine being some poor side character (in Idia’s eyes) who essentially grew up in the STYX facility because there’s something about you they’re studying. Maybe your guardian(s) gave you over to the Shrouds because there was nothing they could do and they couldn’t afford the funds for proper treatment, so in exchange for curing or helping you STYX gets its research. You’re separated from the world beyond by a thick wall of glass, trapped in the little cell they’ve put you in so that if at any point your vitals or mentality become unstable they can easily sedate you and minimize damage to just a single room.

You’re essentially a lab rat for them, but Idia and Ortho don’t understand that when they pay your cell a visit when the lot of you were all children. Idia’s fascinated that he has found someone else his age here. He starts to bring games and books and other things he really likes to share with you, holding them up against the glass so you can read them. His hair is always tinged the softest shade of pink because lately he’s felt somewhat shy around you. You’re just happy to have someone to talk to, as it can get awfully lonely with just the researchers or STYX robots, neither of them willing to exchange many words or entertain you with friendly chit-chat.

But then the accident happens and Ortho and Idia stop coming to visit. You wonder what happened to them. No one tells you anything, but there is a thick air of tragic melancholy that hangs low the facility. You’re not sure what the reason for this is, but despite not knowing it manages to make you sad. Once again, you’re alone in this prison and no one’s told you anything.

And then, many years later into your adult life, Idia comes to visit. And this time he’s accompanied by Ortho—at least you think it’s Ortho. But there’s something mechanical about him. Regardless, he greets you as he always would when the both of you were younger and he seems ecstatic to see you again despite his robotic qualities. Idia doesn’t look as starry-eyed as he was before, rather he seems…sadder? Miserable? Cold? There’s something not right in his eyes when he looks at you as if you’re a calculation he needs to solve. You think you might finally be set free or cured or…something, but then you’re being moved into Idia’s room and he’s saying something about how you’ll be arranged to marry him because you’re the only one who truly understood him back then.

You have no idea where any of this is coming from, but when you overhear that STYX has gotten some new test subjects you hope to use your newfound (albeit monitored) freedom to good use in hopes of finding a common ally in the students from Night Raven College. And maybe it’s possible to escape. Unfortunately, you don’t realize these students also know Idia and they’re all selfish boys who’d do anything to save themselves. If their freedom comes at the cost of yours, they’ll gladly hand you over to Idia.

[right-path-to-follow]

How To Be A Better Person Pt. 1 Being Self-Centered

First, you need to accept that you're NOT a good person. You're NOT a good person. No matter how much self-reflection you've done, how hard you've worked on yourself, how many steps you've put in place to actively be better, you're not there. Not yet, at least.

If you constantly tell yourself that you're already a good person, or that what you're working on is the only aspect of yourself that you need to work on, then you're not allowing yourself to truly grow as a person. Telling yourself that you've already met the goal keeps you from seeing where it's really at. You're actively stunting yourself when you claim to be a good person.

Instead of telling yourself that you are a good person, try telling yourself something along the lines of, "I am working every day to be a better person." There is power in the words you tell yourself, so don't use words of finality when thinking about self-growth.

Now that you're on your way to accepting that you're not a good person YET, but merely on your way to being one, you'll be more willing to look at some unappealing traits that you, and everyone else might hold.

The first trait that hinders becoming a better person is self-centeredness. Please, don't mistake this for selfishness, which is a much harsher word often associated with horrible acts of betrayal or harmful greed. Being self-centered is merely being preoccupied with oneself. An example of self-centeredness would be of a woman standing in line at Starbucks for twenty minutes, playing on her phone while she waits. Once she finally gets to the counter, she puts away her phone, and proceeds to take 8 minutes to decide what she wants before making an order. While this isn't inherently bad behavior, and most people wouldn't give the interaction a second thought - this is actually very inconsiderate behavior that might be keeping someone from being the best version of themselves.

If you take five minutes to wait in line at a coffee shop, that's more than enough time to have narrowed down the options of what you might want off the menu. If you're on your phone in line, not only are you wasting your own valuable time by not mentally preparing your order before arriving at the register, you're hindering those who are trying to meet required times at their job. You're hindering those in line who are trying to hurry and have consideration for the people behind them. You're also doing an injustice to those before you, who were prepped so you could make it to the register in a timely manner.

Once you're at the counter, if you're still unsure of what you want, you should politely let those behind you know that you're sorry, and it might take a moment. Most people will be grateful for the heads up.

If you take those tiny steps, or have a similar mindset when approaching any similar action this way, you're on your way to being a much better, less self-centered person.

Another thing to avoid when trying to be a less self-centered person is being late to your self-appointed schedules. Self-appointed schedules are when you tell a relative or friend, "I'll be there at 6 P.M.". Not adhering to your self-appointed schedule would be showing up at 7:13 P.M. because you had to stop and get gas, cash a check at the bank, go through the Starbucks drive- thru, 'quickly' exchange a pair of pants at Target, and stop by an old man's house to get money, even though you claim he isn't your sugar daddy. If you know you have to run these errands before you make it to your destination, you need to be realistic with how long it will take you to arrive, and communicate that honestly.

While not being completely accurate with your time framing might not seem like improper behavior, (either because you have nothing to do after arriving to your destination, or the destination isn't a big deal to you), YOU are not the only person reliant on you being in a timely manner. Your family or friends may have plans after meeting with you, they might have chores or work that needed to be done, and could have been done if you had arrived on time.

When making plans with someone, please practice not being self-centered by reminding yourself that other people have their own schedules that they might need to adhere to. Not adhering to those schedules could cause them immense distress, and you wouldn't want their distress on your conscious, over something you see as 'not a big deal'.

The last example may be controversial to some, but is true none the less. Helping others who have not asked for help is, more often than not, a self-centered action. It's no secret that helping others can make you feel good. It's not so commonly known that the dopamine's released from helping others, filling you with a sense of pride, accomplishment, and 'better'ness, can become addicting. Without ever stopping to question how helping others might be a self-serving action (because, how could helping others be self serving?), you end up inserting yourself into situations that didn't call for your 'help'. Giving un-asked for help could leave the recipient feeling ashamed and embarrassed, for they knew they could handle the situation on their own. It might also leave the recipient hesitant to ask for help when they truly need it. In the end, the right path to being a better person in this situation would be to wait until someone directly asks for help, and then take action.

If you apply these teachings to every aspect of your life, then you will be on the right path to being a better person. It may seem hard to view these and similar actions as inherently negative, but they are. It's best to be mindful of your actions at all times, and assess from an unbiased standpoint if what you're actively doing is satisfactory to just you, or if everyone around you can benefit from choices you make. And THAT'S how you start to be a better person.

[clickerflight]

Fleeting: Part 1 - Benny's

HELLO!!! Welcome to the third Arc of From Dust to Ashes! There will be plenty of whump, though this arc will be a lot more story driven than the others. Let me know if you want to be removed or added to the taglist.

Masterlist

No warnings. Enjoy the crocodiles

..........................................

Esial came out of the employee only door into the crocodile pit. He looked up at the glass dome over the pit to see it was nearly night time. He could also see Joseph and Muir moseying down the walkway, coming to get him now that it was nearly time for him to go back to the rehab center. Esial gave a little wave to them, which they returned before turning his attention to the crocodiles. He was wearing blue armbands and they had eaten recently, though not recently enough that they would still be in a feeding frenzy. The blue arm bands were tools Esial used in their training to let them know what he was here for. The crocodiles associated the blue armbands with head scratches and side rubs while Esial checked them all over to gauge their health. 

Sasha spotted him and eagerly came out of the water, walking over to him. 

He crouched, cooing at her and giving her scratches in all her favorite places. There were four crocodiles here and all but Todd liked getting checked over at this point. 

“You are looking very good,” Esial said, pleased. He was proud of it too. He had been working with the crocodiles almost every day for the past six months, partly to earn some pocket money and partly to just be around crocodiles again. When he got here they hadn’t looked particularly happy. They were rather dull in color and very bored, but he sorted that out soon enough, training them and finding more and more interesting ways to deliver their food to them. He’d also worked hard to be able to get close to them despite the managers of the zoo telling him not to for safety concerns. He rolled his eyes mentally at the thought. He was a vampire, It wasn’t like the crocodiles could kill him and he wasn’t afraid of a little regeneration, nevermind the skills he had developed in his time of being a hippo hunter.

And anyways, he was glad he did. A couple of the crocodiles were dealing with some tooth issues that Esial was able to correct after talking with a veterinarian. 

Behind Sasha came Morpheus and Janet, who were both looking for attention as well. He cooed and chirped over them, checking their mouths and bodies, giving their claws and tails a good look. 

After he had paid special attention to all three of them, he stood up straight, reaching into his pocket to pull out a clicker. He clicked a couple of times, getting Todd’s attention. Todd swam over lazily as he was trained to do, but he didn’t get out of the water. 

Esial put his hands on his hips. “Do not make me come in there, Todd,” he said. Esial was willing to get in the water, he just didn’t want to change out of sopping wet clothing when he’d done well to keep dry all day. Speaking of, he had come to enjoy shirts, though it had taken Esial, Joseph, and Muir months to find bottoms he didn’t mind wearing. They had finally landed on ‘harem pants’ as Joseph had called them. Esial didn’t mind them too much, but the fact that he had to peel wet clothes off instead of just untie a length of fabric was still annoying when Todd decided to be difficult. 

Todd just stared at him, clearly amused. 

Esial sighed heavily and stepped forward, only for Todd to haul himself out of the water. 

“Thank you,” Esial said, a little sourly. 

He crouched down and looked Todd over without really touching him. Todd didn’t like to be touched much and Esial hadn’t found his sweet spot. He’d figure it out eventually, but for now he gave Todd his space. 

“You all look lovely,” Esial announced, standing up. “I do have to go. Behave yourselves.”

The crocodiles watched him for a moment before crawling back into the water as he turned to change from his work clothes to his clean set to go home. 

He came up from the employee rooms once he was changed, digging in his satchel as he came up to where Joseph and Muir were leaning on the fence around the pit. 

“Hey, Esial. Good day?” Joseph asked. 

“Yes,” Esial said with a nod, looking down at the crocodiles. His skin tingling in the last bits of light escaping over the horizon where the sun had disappeared. In the past even that little bit of sun would have left him with a sunburn but a scientist made a breakthrough with a shot that could be taken every three months to give older vampires more resistance to the sun. In most vampires it limited the burning to a sunburn if they were out for more than a half hour, though Esial still burned and melted in the sun after about 10 minutes, but it did mean he could run between buildings or find a place out of the sun really quickly without being completely put out of commission or put in a serious amount of pain. And it meant he could be out in the weak morning and evening light without worrying too much. 

“Good,” Joseph said as Muir stretched lazily. 

“You look tired, Muir,” Esial pointed out. “Is your new case running you hard?”

“Yeah,” Muir sighed. “Hit another dead end, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out. You wanna stop somewhere on the way home to get some food?”

Esial nodded. “Can we go to Benny’s?”

“Sure,” Muir said, looking at Joseph who nodded in agreement.

The three of them started walking down the pathway to leave the zoo as Muir asked, “Have you heard from Anastasia recently?”

“Yeah,” Esial said brightly. “She is getting into new semester at school and has been getting involved with organizations that will hopefully take her step closer to being ambassador.”

“She finally decide on being an ambassador, then? That’s good.”

“Well,” Esial said, “She plans on it but she said last time I talked to her that she might crack under the pressure and go off to be spy any day. She has been reading up on Limping Lady and I can tell she would kill to get to do stuff like that.”

“So we probably won’t be seeing much of her for a long while, huh. You feeling alright about that?” Joseph asked sympathetically. 

Esial nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I can still talk to her on phone and she sends pictures. Besides, if I’m just dying to spend time with people I can always give you guys call. Or come see my idiot children.”

“They’re not idiots,” Joseph said as Muir snorted. “They’re so well trained!”

Esial rolled his eyes. “Being trainable doesn’t exactly point to having abundance of brains.”

The car beeped as Muir unlocked it with a button. The three piled in and Joseph twisted in the passenger seat to look at Esial. “Oh! Did you hear that Kyle finished his PHD in Ancient Languages?”

“I saw on Facebook,” Esial said. “You know you do not have to keep me informed on his life.”

“Well, I just thought it was interesting,” Joseph defended as Muir backed out of the parking space and headed down the road. 

Esial rolled his eyes when Joseph wasn’t looking anymore. Joseph tentatively mentioned Kyle fairly often. He and Muir had worked hard to stay as Kyle’s friends after…. Everything. It made it awkward that they were also friends with Esial and Kyle had made it clear he wanted nothing to do with Esial as much as it could be helped. 

Esial had seen Kyle a couple of times, glimpsing him as he went into Joseph and Muir’s apartment or even a couple of times at the local grocery store when Esial had a craving for a snack that couldn’t get at the rehab center. They both pretended like the other didn’t exist when this happened, not looking directly at the other. 

Esial was pretty sure it annoyed Joseph. He wanted all of his friends to also be friends, so he sometimes brought up what the others were doing, checking for reactions to see if anything had changed. Esial wouldn’t mind chatting with Kyle, starting over, but he recognized that Kyle had set a boundary and he wasn’t going to be the one to cross it. 

“Leave it alone, Seph,” Muir said, not taking his eyes off the road. 

Joseph grumbled a little as he finished getting seatbelted. 

They soon arrived at Benny’s and piled out of the car and into the nice little restaurant owned by a friendly couple who opened at night for the vampires who had to stay out of the sun. The two were human but seemed to prefer the nighttime hours anyways. 

“Hey, boys,” the old man, Harry, called. Since the store had just opened there weren’t many other people inside. Just a small family of four eating and chatting happily with one another and an older smelling vampire sitting in a booth by himself sipping coffee and reading something on his phone. 

The three greeted Harry and ordered food, sitting in a booth away from the rather messy children and more towards the lone vampire patron. 

Esial glanced out the window at the darkness. He was just about ready for bed, despite knowing all the other vampires of his caliber were likely to be awake now, moving out and about in the night. He couldn’t really spend time with daylight vampires safely, even with the new medication he was on, and he tended to sleep when the night time vampires were out. That was probably why he was having a hard time developing any new friendships. It was just hard to break the habits from all those years ago when he had his father’s amulet keeping him safe during the day while he was hunting hippos. He still missed the weight of the stone on his collarbone. 

Muir put his hand up to stop Joseph as he was speaking, noticing the change in Esial’s mood. 

“What’s wrong, man? Something bothering you?”

“Oh, it is fine,” Esial said, shaking his head. “I was just thinking…. You are sure no one makes amulets for sun? I mean, I know it is not impossible.”

“I’m sure,” Muir said. “I mean, if it was a thing you know for a fact the rich old vampires up on the hill would have commissioned to have some made so they could peacock around in the daylight too. Trust me, it’s not a thing.”

Esial frowned. “I wonder how my dad made it, then. I mean, I knew he could do magic. Was that rare trait that died out or was art of it lost somehow? You would think it would have been rediscovered in some way, though.”

“It was probably a trait. One day we should take a trip out to Africa and see if we can’t find where you dropped that amulet,” Joseph said, getting a snort from Muir. 

“That’ll be a while,” he commented. “You’ll probably need to take a different job if we’re going to do that.”

Joseph huffed. “Look, with the three of our incomes combined when Esial gets out of rehab, we can save up enough to go out for a couple of weeks, can’t we?”

“Maybe,” Muir said, though he sounded doubtful as their food came out. 

Unbeknownst to the three of them as they ate, the lone vampire stood up and left quietly, dialing a number he didn’t have saved in his phone. 

He stood outside the restaurant as he got an answer. 

“Hey boss. Yeah, I have confirmation it’s him. Yeah, I took pictures….. I’ll send them. Yes sir.”

With the call over, the vampire sent the covert pictures he’s taken of Esial to that same phone number through text. He waited and smiled when he saw the notification for money received. Ten grand was pretty good for a few day’s surveillance.

Part 2

From Dust to Ashes: @whumpsday @writereleaserepeat @currentlyinthesprial @pigeonwhumps @honeycollectswhump @writereleaserepeat @tragedyinblue @hyrules-sleepiest-knight @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thecyrulik @gt-daboss

[miraculousalamode]

cake decorators, we need your help! our bakers (writers) have been working hard in the kitchen preparing something delicious, but now we need your help to make it look as good as it tastes!

throughout the week, we will be posting snippets and summaries from our bakers with a fic ID attached to them in order to keep the writer anonymous. please write down the fic IDs of the fics that you would be willing to work with, as well as the fic IDs of the fics you would absolutely not under any circumstance want to collaborate with.

at the end of all of these posts, we will post the artist applications for you to submit your answers!

FIC ID: S06

Pairing: Chloe Bourgeois/Felix Fathom

Rating: G

No Warnings Apply

Trigger Warnings: None I can think of. Not a Trigger warning but like, point of interest? Aro/Ace Felix.

Summary: Felix prides himself on his skill and self control. When he forgoes the perfect chance to obtain the peacock miraculous out of pride, he must redouble his efforts to obtain it another way. An unexpected encounter with Chloé Bourgeois upends his world, disrupting his neatly ordered emotions and self-image all in a go. While plotting against Gabriel Felix must come to grips with both life and himself being more complex than he had thought. A brat becomes an ally, then a friend in need, and finally a... partner... associate? A something. Life comes with many labels, and yet sometimes none of them fit.

Snippit: Gold- He found it. He found her. She froze as he burst from the stairwell, her keycard still clutched in one hand. Felix skidded to a halt before her, fists clenched, blurred vision coalescing. The words broke free. “I am not Adrien.”

He was hunched over, gulping the cold conditioned air. It burned worse than the sewer fug had. There was more.

These words were a defiant growl, “I am Felix!"

Chloé's deep blue eyes were saucers. A protracted silence grew between them; no motion and the only sound in the hallway was Felix's panting breaths.

After an eternity her head snapped to the side. With eye contact broken her posture shifted into that easy aristocratic dismissiveness. Yet her first response was something mumbled and sincere, "Of course you are."

The spring unwound.

She, too, was not done. She looked back at him with her chin up and her smirk restored, "You're also filthy! Where have you been, playing in the sewers? Eewww. I always knew you were strange, Felix, but this is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous."

Relief; relief more acute than freeing himself from death's grip below. Felix very nearly collapsed on suddenly shaking legs. No- he did. Down on one knee, he gritted his teeth around a taunting smile of his own. "It's called work, Chloé. You might have heard of it."

"Of course I've heard of it. Plenty of little people do-" she paused, craning her neck to look around him. "Felix, you're bleeding. Ewww- all over the marble, and the rugs!"

He hadn't even regained his feet when she had his arm. His exhaustion made him weak and she yanked him along, keycard opening the door to her suite. She didn't even slow down, pulling then pushing him into her bathroom. Felix stumbled, still mentally reeling from so much contact. His hackles were up but she didn't give him time to bite back.

"Clean yourself up! Oh my God, you're such a mess. Wash! Wash everything! No, forget it. We'll burn those clothes." She swept around to her vanity and opening it pulled out bottles, boxes, and scissors, throwing them in his general direction. "That's something- hold on-"

She pulled out her phone, pacing.

"Daddy! I want the doctor up in my suite right now! Yes, now!" Chloe stabbed hang up and glanced back at Felix. "Why are you just standing there?"

[melancholy-ember]

I keep thinking about how awkward Dillion must have felt during their last session. Like here’s a client who will absolutely push herself too hard if given the opportunity, so you have to be very careful of what you suggest because she will not back down or play it safe, and she has 1 person who seems like a great support person, and then the session happens and support person’s not there at the start, which has happened before (she has an unpredictable and important job after all) so you don’t think much about it, but you ask and the client who always refuses to quit an exercise and will do her best to push through the pain/exhaustion all of a sudden looks like she’s going to start sobbing when asked about it. What an uncomfortable situation to find yourself accidentally in.

Listen I don't know if you intended for me to take this ask as a prompt, but I couldn't stop thinking about it, and then this just kind of happened. So please enjoy this very short little drabble.

Dillion hummed to herself as she prepped the room for Agent Whistler’s arrival, increasing the weights of the dumbbells by five pounds and dropping down one of the mats she had sanitized that morning. The focus of the session was going to be lower body, with the addition of some increased core strengthening exercises. They were admittedly a little bit advanced, but with the progress Dillion was seeing, she highly doubted the agent would even blink at them.

Even so, she was going to have to keep an extra close eye on her client as she went through the workout, because she had learned the hard way that Agent Whistler was not the type to quit.

That lesson had very much been learned, and it would not be forgotten.

When Dillion heard the gentle knock on the door, she had just finished placing down the medicine ball that was going to be used for balance skills later in the session. The new exercises she wanted Agent Whistler to try called for a partner, but with Agent Tara making it to nearly all of the sessions, it was a chance she was willing to take.

“Come in,” Dillion called brightly, wiping her hands down the front of her pants. After a moment, the door creaked open, and Agent Whistler shuffled in slowly. Immediately, the therapist clocked the bags under her eyes, the way she was slightly folded in in herself, the redness in her eyes. Something must have happened. “Good morning!”

A muted morning was the only response she received.

Alright then, apparently a change of tactics was necessary.

Still grinning, Dillion regarded the agent with a sunny smile, turning it up a few degrees in an attempt to be extra chipper. The poor woman obviously needed cheering up. “No Agent Tara today?”

Usually mentioning the brunette would earn a smile, or at the very least, a glint of adoration in Agent Whistler’s eyes. It was a failsafe way to inspire some happiness in the other woman.

Because of this tried and true tactic, Dillion was completely unprepared for Agent Whistler to freeze while sucking in a sudden, sharp breath. And then, the client who she had seen weather whatever exercises she had been assigned with grit and determination, the woman she had literally watched battle her demons and come out the other side victorious and triumphant started to cry.

Her eyes rapidly filled with tears, and Dillion immediately backtracked, filing Agent Tara under her mental list of Things To Not Address while the rest of her mind spiraled in countless variations of what the hell. “Never mind! Should we get started?”

Agent Whistler nodded quickly, trying to discretely wipe her eyes. Dillion busied herself with her phone, giving the other woman a moment to collect herself. When it no longer looked like the blonde was liable to burst into tears, she slid the device back into her pocket.

“The uh,” Agent Whistler cleared her throat softly, licking her lips. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed harshly. “The medicine ball is new. What’s it for?”

Dillion blinked. “Sorry, left over from my previous session. Do you want to do the warmup stretches we went over last time? I’ll put it away, and then we can get started.”

“Sure,” Agent Whistler said very softly, and then immediately began the exercises.

The therapist nodded, offering the other woman a quick, reassuring grin before putting the medicine ball back in the cupboard.

Maybe some other time.

[imjustabeanie]

hello! hope your day is going well :)! i would like to ask for a romantic hazbin hotel matchup please! i am AFAB gender-fluid masculine leaning and im pan and polyamorus (i am fine with monogamous relationships) and i use all pronouns! i am fine with any character of any gender and i am fine with multiple characters. 

I am tall, around 6ft and i have a chubby build. i have some scars from self harm, but i’m mentally healthy now. 

i don’t really have a type for the kind of people i like, i’m very open. i have a very strong sense of justice/right and wrong and i try my best to do what’s right. i am often selfless but that contradicts how i act/behave, i act very riled up and reckless but i do truly care for others. i have schizophrenia so that often affects how i see things and act. i have a lot of hallucinations and delusions but i’m usually quite self aware. i have a hard time accepting reality for what it is, i need someone to help ground me and be ok with being here. i am also autistic, i have a lot of hyperfixations and special interests, but my favorites are toy collecting, specifically stuff like my little pony and littlest pet shop and stuff like that and i also really like clowns, they make me very happy. i like doing things that remind me of my childhood. i really like talking with friends and such, i can talk for HOURS about so much shit, i like having someone to match my energy. i love rambling about my favorite things and interests but i am also very willing to listen to others! i have been told i have very good input and advice in nearly all situations, i have a lot of clarity when it comes to how i view things. my MBTI is ISTP, but i’ve been told i often act like a ENTP. i really like keeping myself busy with a bunch of different fun things to do, if i do nothing for too long i get anxious and depressed, i need frequent mental stimulation. i really like drawing and writing and i’ve been getting into making music. 

i dress really comfy and i look like i just rolled out of bed always 😭 my favorite things to wear are worn out oversized hoodies and shirts with characters and stuff on them and comfy pj pants with cute designs and characters on them. i don’t take the best care of myself physically but i think i’ve been getting better. my room is SUPER fucking messy, like so messy every step you take you hear a crinkling of a water bottle and keep tripping on random items 😭 i need someone to help motivate me to clean it lmao.

i am often very chaotic but i mean well, i’m very energetic at times and i love joking about things like eating people, i kind of like being threatening. 

i love showing people i care by doing things for them and just spending time with them, i like being in their presence. my favorite acts to receive are gifts and acts of service, it makes me very happy!

i don’t really understand how other people work, kind of like i’m an outsider, i like studying them and overall being around them.

i LOVE sleeping, i can sleep 12+ hours easy, it’s my favorite part of the day JSJSJDJF

thank you :3!!

Your Hazbin Hotel match is....Vaggie and Charlie!

You and Charlie have so much in common, you two always encourage each other. And just like Charlie you need a Vaggie to ground you to earth (hell?) Fun fact, all people I match with Charlie had be hesitating with Vaggie and vice versa.

Your love language is something both of them need. Charlie love language is words and acts of service while Vaggie love language is acts of service. You three always help out each other and do your best so the other two are happy. This creates a healthy and fun dynamic. It even has its own funny moments where one of you try to plan a surprise only to see her lover (s) doing the same. It's a goofy yet loving relationship. Vaggie, despite her rough and serious character completely melts when you and Charlie are nearby. She's your scary dog privilege (Charlie is actually the dangerous one but shhh) which is nice with how reckless you and Charlie can be.

A common trait in the three of you is your sense of justice. I mean...you know the plot of hazbin hotel so it's a glaring fact here. You always consult with each other before making a decision.The girls are your safe space, they always make sure you're happy and comfortable in every situation. Each night you three cuddle and talk about your day. You and Charlie often engage in nostalgic conversations and compare your childhood under the loving gaze of Vaggie.

Hope you liked it! Sorry for the long wait.

[anon-sect]

Trezon, Kyron, and Allen had left out key evidence in a drug case. They had intended to sell the drugs to make a little extra money on the side. Even though they were paid well, they also wanted a little extra. They almost got away with it. A good cop had caught whim of their plans and reported to the police chief. They were called in the next day.

"I can't have crooked cops working at this department." Police Chief Karl spoke to them. "Unfortunately, I will have to make examples out of you three. The others need to know that this behavior won't be tolerated under my watch." He added as he picked up his phone.

"Please don't arrest us, chief." Trezon pleaded. "We will bring in the evidence immediately." Kyron added. "And we definitely won't do any of this again. I promise." Allen finished. All three hoping to save their reputation. They didn't want to be seen as bad cops, especially in the eyes of the general public.

Karl was about to have them arrested, but there was the new start program for cops that strayed away from the norm of being good police officers. "There is the New Start program. But it's your choice, gentlemen. Either you are arrested for the crime or volunteer for the New Start Program for wayward cops." He left them a moment to choose which poison they wanted.

All three knew about the new program but were hesitant to willing volunteer for it. The outcome of the program could have some permanent consequences that might not be favorable. Yet, being arrested also had unfavorable consequences too. Not wanting to be publicly shamed, they all choose the New Start Program.

A few days later, Reed was called into the police chief's officer. "You wanted to see me, chief." He asked.

"Yes, you remember that report about those three cops that you suspected were harboring evidence. Well, they were indeed." Karl paused as he placed a pair of underwear and a pair of boots on his desk. He handed Reed a paper to sign. "These three agreed to turn over a new leaf. They are in the New Start Program. Your boots are Trezon and Kyron. Your underwear is Allen. They will be your responsibility for the next 12 months." He spoke while Reed read over the paper.

Reed had one question before he signs off on the deal. "What does this box by the fine print mean?" He asked pointing it out on the paperwork.

"It only means that should you think they need more time in the program, you can ask for an extension to keep them your responsibility." Karl informed him. He watched Reed sign the document and check the box by the fine print. With the document signed, he handed the underwear and boots to Reed. Reed got up and left his office.

Reed made his way to the locker room. He quickly took off his pants, socks and boots. He took off his current underwear and put on his new pair. They felt good. The material felt much better than normal underwear. He then put his pants back on over his living underwear. Next, he tried on his new boots. He could say the same about his living boot. The insoles were firm yet soft. HIs feet were well cushioned. They belonged to him for a full 12 months. Depending on how comfortable they are over the months, he might have to ask for an extension on their time in the program.

Trezon was immediately regretting his choice. He couldn't stand feet, especially sweaty feet. Here he was now a boot for the officer that ratted on him. The sock that Reed was wearing wasn't all that good to smell. It had a slight vinegar odor, but that wasn't the worst of it. It was the pressure of being crushed under his socked foot. It was painful. He wished he had chosen to be arrested. As Reed walked on him, he realized that he controlled his fate. He could be a boot longer than 12 months based on Reed's choice. This fate was far worse than being arrested and charged with a crime. He mentally pleaded for mercy, but knowing as a boot, no one would hear his plea.

Kyron did have a foot fetish, but on the opposite end. He loved having his feet worshipped. He didn't like this new existence one bit. He was now being crushed by a slightly foul stench smelling socked foot. He could feel his face slowly being molded by each step Reed took. It was torture. There were times, he would make gay guys gage on his feet during his days off. He never expected that he would be on the other end of serving another man's feet. It was degrading that he was a boot for a fellow cop. Not only that, but the cop that ratted him out. It was an irony that he didn't expect. He only hoped that Reed would release him from the program in 12 months.

Allen was screaming mentally for help. Reed midsection was already sweaty with musk, and he was around that musk. Trapped in darkness with a musk so strong, it would make his human nostrils flare up. The worst part of it was that he was powerless to do anything about it. He couldn't even squirm to get away. This was supposed to be his life for the next 12 months. To make his situation worse was that his face was in the ass part of the underwear and his butt part was in the front. Any time Reed sat down, his ass would be in his face and his dick would be up his ass. Being a straight officer, this by far was a nightmare. Sadly, his fate was in Reed's hands.

THREE AND A HALF YEARS LATER........

Reed snapped a quick picture of himself. He was still enjoying his special pair of boots and underwear. Each year, he always asks for an extension on the program, claiming that Trezon, Kyron and Allen need more time to learn their lesson about being good cops. And every time his extension is granted. But secretly, he doesn't want to lose them. Allen is his favorite underwear and Trezon and Kyron are the best pair of boots he has ever worn to work. They were crooked cops who deserved this fate. As far as he was concerned, he would keep asking for extensions. They were too comfortable to just simply give up.

[junisfics]

1:44 AM* — Eren Jaeger

Pairing: Fuckboy! Eren x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: You and Eren's relationship status has always been up in the air... but you'll always be the one he texts in the middle of the night looking to get his dick wet

Content: Unestablished Relationship, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions

Content Warnings: Smut/ Nsfw 18 + (Breeding Kink)

minors can read, but please don't interact (like, comment, reblog)

you hear your phone buzz a few times beside you, vibrating and shifting around on the wood of the nightstand as you turn yourself over to grab it.

‘come over’ ‘y/n, please’

two messages from eren jaeger. 1:44 in the morning. and although his messages were vague, you knew exactly what he wanted. it was the same thing he always wanted.

you sigh, unplugging your phone and rolling over to your back. if you were to scroll up, all the messages ever sent between you two would mirror the ones that were sent only moments ago. and even though you hated how he was using you to his own satisfaction, you could never tell him no. 

‘now?’ you reply, but you already know the answer.

‘yes’ ‘need you so bad’ 

his response sends butterflies erupting in your stomach and makes your face grow hot. you know it was a manipulation tactic, saying ‘you’ instead of ‘it. he had handfuls of other girls that would be more than willing to fulfill his late night needs. but it still makes your heart swell, it makes you feel special.

you slip out from under your sheets, swinging your legs over the side of your bed and tugging off your sweatpants and panties to replace them with pretty baby blue ones and a pair of light grey cotton shorts. you do the same with your tee-shirt, trading it for navy, straight-bottomed sweatshirt that was your dad’s in college.

you take a moment to brush your teeth before slipping on some shoes, grabbing your keys, and getting in your car to drive halfway across town to eren’s complex.

over time, eren has used his living-alone situation very much to his advantage. he’s also used his good looks to his advantage. so whenever he wants, he finds a girl, brings her home, and fucks her senseless until she comes crawling back for more.

but as much as they beg, eren almost never ever gives them seconds. and up until his sophomore year in college, there were only five other girls that he’d gotten with more than once. and until he met you, there was no one else who was consistently getting with him.

you had met him at a party, fucked him in his car, then expected it to be a one night stand type thing. but not even four days later, an unknown number had texted you asking to meet up again. and it was eren.

and ever since that party over a year ago, the hookups were consistently inconsistent. sometimes eren would want you twice a day, everyday, for a week straight. and sometimes he would go a month without messaging you.

and it made you so happy but so hurt at the same time; to have to go without him, someone you've fallen so badly in love with, for so long hurt terribly, but to always have him coming back for you made you swell with pride.

the moment you rap your knuckles against his door, it's swung open. and behind the door stands a shirtless and visibly flustered eren. his face was blushed red and his chest was heaving with every heavy inhale he took.

the moment he can get ahold of you, he does. eren grabs your arms and yanks you inside, only to close the door then press you up against it with his lips on yours.

you can't help but giggle against his lips, "well, hello to you too"

but eren responds by leaning down to grab your thighs and wrapping them around his waist, pressing your back up against the door and kissing you harder.

as surprising as it was, this wasn't new. eren has his moments where he would just want a quick fuck and that's all, he'd skip the small talk and just bend you over.

you can already feel his cock hard against the inside of your thigh, pressing through his sweatpants and grinding against you. you wonder how long he was like this before he texted you...

you let your hands come up to hold his face in your hands as you kiss him back, matching his desperation. your tongues are already sliding against each other, licking into your open mouths and swallowing down and escaping moans.

he was so desperate, so so desperate, you could almost feel his body trembling with arousal and desire. his grip was borderline painful, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs and his teeth were knocking against your own. it was so rushed, so primal.

he pulls you off the door, still holding you against him and his face still in your hands as he blindly finds his way to his bedroom and drops you onto the bed, your back hits the mattress

eren crawls over you again, taking your neck in his right hand gently as he kisses you once more.

he grinds his hips against yours, sliding his clothed cock over your cunt, dragging the weight of it over your clit until you're whimpering at the sensation.

his left hand slides lower, down your torso and to your hip to grab ahold of your waistband.

"off, off now." he mutters, pushing at the fabric until you aid him in sliding it down your thighs.

once your shorts are off, he pushes his own pants just below his hips and frees his cock. he had went commando, no boxers, no briefs, no nothing under those sweatpants.

and once again you're wondering, 'how long has he been like this' and 'what was he doing before this'... but you know the answer.

his fingers on one hand nimbly grab the inner crease of your panties, pulling them aside while the other hand braces by your head as he slides the head of his cock through your accumulated arousal.

he only lets it slide over your clit a few times to watch you twitch beneath him before he brings it back down to your entrance and pushes inside you with one steady thrust.

"fuck me," he spits, head dropping forward to watch the way your hips tilt into his thrust. his hand beside your head hastily grabs the hem of your sweatshirt to push the waist of it up past your tits before coming back down next to you.

"oh my god," you whine, your right hand coming up to grab the wrist of his now planted hand, your other holding your sweater up your chest for him.

he could fuck you stupid every goddamn day of your life and you'd still never get used to the feeling of his cock filling you.

his arm shakes under the pressure of holding him up, and really only then does it hit you how badly he needed you.

"how — how long were you like this?" you breathe, circling your hips against his, your clit grinding against his pelvis.

"so fucking long. you have no idea what you do to me. 'was thinking about fucking you all day — god. m'fucking hand wasn't enough." he grunts, pulling himself out of you real slow, savoring the your cunt grips him, "the others weren't enough... needed you."

you can only let out a shaky moan at his response. it made your entire body run a degree hotter than it already was. never before has he so openly voiced his thoughts about you outside of sex, never before told you that he's thought about you while jerking himself off.

he slides his cock back in again, a low groan bubbling up from his throat as he does so. he'll never get over the way your body shakes as he reaches his hilt.

"yeah?" you encourage him to keep talking, wanting to hear him admit it again — needing to hear how much he wanted you, was desperate for you.

"fuck, yeah. you're the only one who takes my cock so well, they — god — they don't squeeze me the way you do." he groans, jaw dropping open as he finally picks up his pace

every thrust he takes he slightly increases his speed until his hips are slapping against yours and sending your pretty tits back and forth.

eren doesn't know where to look. he's stuck between watching your face melt in pleasure, watching your pretty little cunt stretch around his cock, or watching your pretty tits bounce in front of him. god you were so perfect for him.

"'s why i keep coming back to you," he pants, his free hand taking your jaw in his grasp as he brings his forehead against yours, "wanna be inside you forever, wanna see your stupid pretty face forever, wanna hear you beg for me forever."

"eren —" you cry, so overwhelmed both physically and mentally. you look into his beautiful jade eyes, watching his pupils dialate with lust — love — as he continues to fuck himself into you

"want this pussy to be mine, 's gonna be mine, y/n. you're gonna be mine." he says, his hold on your jaw growing tighter as he keeps pushing into you over and over and over.

"please, please — wanna be yours" you choke out these pathetic broken sobs that make eren's hearth ache so wonderfully. there were tears swelling on your lash line.

it was pathetic how wound up he's got you in minutes, but the way he's filling you, the way he's talking to you... it's all too too much

"love this cunt —" he breathes, eyes flitting to watch himself fill you, "love your pretty tits, love you. god, i love you — fuck — let me fill you, 'need to fill you, let me cum inside please."

your heart hurts. it hurt so fucking bad but so fucking god. it was all caught in your throat, swelling and choking you up.

you can only nod in his hand, those tears drip past your lashes and stream hot down your cheeks, "please, please cum inside, fill me up. make me yours, eren, i love you — 'always loved you"

your voice is raspy and you can barely hear yourself, but eren hears you. eren hears your confession and it sends him over the edge, and with a low groan, he pushes himself to the hilt and spills his release inside you

"god, yes," your moans are broken as you cum around his cock, squeezing him so nice and milking him of everything he's got

and your release is more than physical. it feels like a dam has broken over, been flooded and poured out to him. you were holding it in for so goddamn long and it's out.

eren holds you against him, holding you so tight because now he's got you.

JUNISFICS © 2021