#my brain juice is gone i can’t think of anything else

[jellinuy]

⊹˚🍜Ꮺ ꒰toji fushiguro as a girl stepdad !! ꒱ ࣪𖤐 ˓ ⊹ ˚

★ a/n :: fem! reader again. yeah i’m back at it.. i don't really know what inspired this. think i just like the idea of a domestic papa toji with a baby girl.. idk. just snack on it while i finish reqs..

stepdad! toji who's sort of disgruntled when he finds out his new woman has a kid. they’re annoying, and get in the way. when he finds out you’re not an infant, he’s slightly more pleased. babies are too high-maintenance.

stepdad! toji who is very awkward when your mother introduces you to her boyfriend. he only knew tsumiki in her baby years, so he doesn’t really know how to approach you.

stepdad! toji who won’t really say much at first, besides a “morning” as he makes himself coffee. he’ll make you a cup too, if you ask. actually, he won’t really tell you he’s making it for you, he’ll just slide a mug your way and leave.

stepdad! toji who internally panics when your mom leaves the two of you together in the house, because what the hell is he supposed to talk about? makeup?? boys?? clothing??

stepdad! toji who doesn’t really know how to be a father. he acknowledges you as his daughter, but hasn’t said it yet, and probably won’t for a while. it’s just because he’s so uncertain.

stepdad! toji who tried his hand at organizing a movie night for you two. who asked “kid. what snacks are yer favorites?” out of the blue, and pretended he didn’t know what you were talking about when he coincidentally had everything you had mentioned spread on a table (he’s trying guys please).

stepdad! toji who is just as protective of you around boys as any dad is!! he’s the kind to stand behind you when you talk to a male friend, big arms crossed over his chest with one of those ‘touch-my-daughter-and-i’ll-kill-you’ looks.

stepdad! toji who has the same amount of calm as a live wire when you take him out shopping for pads. he doesn’t know what these sizes are, doesn’t know what the hell wings are for (“you need ‘em to fly or somethin’?”), and he literally wants to be in any other aisle except this one.

stepdad! toji who will cover you in your favorite blanket and carry you to bed, should you doze off on the couch next to him.

stepdad! toji who tries his best to listen to your problems and give you advice, even if he still doesn’t understand how teenage girls think.

stepdad! toji who’s poker face won’t even budge when you call him “dad” for the first time, but who secretly wants to wrap you in a hug and tell you he loves you.

[minnie-cai]

i saw your art x physical therapist and tashi x makeup artist post and i know you’ll understand what im about to say: being a trainer/ makeup artist/ something along those lines and hooking up w two of your clients. is it a little unethical?? maybe, but you’re a grown up, and you can do what you want! and you really like both of them and they bring very different things to the table. but at the donaldson x duncan home, both art and tashi are having affairs and trying to keep it a secret from the other person and failing pretty hard. little do they know, they’re hooking up w the same person: you. and maybe, just maybe, they’re falling for you a bit. thoughts? feelings?

holy fucking shit i was smiling and nodding while reading this. yeah. yeah, you GET IT💜 i’m so writing something full-length about this about this but until then, have some thoughts.

not proofread, just shitposting. also, not a hairdresser. i can’t even braid hair. if you are one and throughout my thoughts on this scenario i fuck up, please correct me.

I think with Tashi it would be pretty quick with the physical aspect and emotional connection would come into play later.

She starts connecting to you when she realizes you’ve done something small for her that she doesn’t pay you for. Don’t get her wrong, she knows Art loves her and he’d bend over backwards for her approval and validation but he is too caught up in how miserable their routine is to keep noticing details about her. Art is her husband who had been pining over her for years but you know her coffee order and it’s on your table by your next appointment, casually waiting for her to take it, not making a big deal out of it. She tilts her head a bit and furrows her eyebrows, thinking of whether or not she’d asked her assistant for coffee but soon enough you emerge from your break with a small smile, untangling the cable of your flat iron.

“Morning, Mrs Duncan!” You beam and she gives you a small nod, clearly caught up in sizing the plastic cup because she feels like she’s gone insane. “I hope it’s not wrong.” You chime in on her thoughts, as if reading her mind. “You ordered this?” She asks pointing to the drink and raises her eyebrows when you nod, an almost repressed but impressed expression on her face. “Well, thanks.” She mumbles taking a sip and her spot on the chair, sitting in the same place she did every time.

She wouldn’t admit it but she feels a bit bad when people take her stand-offish attitude personally. She doesn’t like it when they change their personality to be quieter or less sociable around her just because she wasn’t very talkative or was particularly professional, she felt like they had no backbone, that they were fragile to be affected by whether she approves of their behaviour or not. She enjoys the fact that you don’t. You’re still sweet as sugar and by that point you’ve just figured her out. In contrast to Art, she likes to spend her appointments quiet as you pamper her and hum. It gives her time to think peacefully, even with your humming.

On the other hand, Art sees you as a break from life.

When he comes in and he sits in that chair in front of you and starts talking about something random like the music you have on, his brain is empty. It’s like for the first time in so long he doesn’t have to think about anything else. The next time he’s doing his warm up before training, he’s listening to the songs you recommended to him instead of the brown noise his trainer has said he should listen to in order to focus and it feels good to add a little something of you in his day, it feels like color in his sad, beige gym and boring green juice.

[seokgyuu]

HI I LOVE UR WORK GENUINELY I WAS WONDERING IF U COULD DO A DRABBLE BASED ON THIS REEL, I DONT KNOW IF U CAN SEE IT LIKE THIS BUT JYK NOTHING NSFW IS SHOWN IN TH REEL ITS JUST THE PREVIEW(?) sort of idk how to explain it. It goes like the guy holds a really powerful massager in his palm and puts his index finger in a glass of water which shows the power of the massager, so I was thinking this scenario with any member of seventeen u like. JUST SO U KNOW U DONT HAVE TO DO THIS ITS COMPLETELY UP TO U AND AGAIN I REALLY REALLY APPRECIATE UR WORK AND U

https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cwc6bhup_ut/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

uhm hello. this has been sitting in my inbox for a while but I just saw this again and was like... yes! I'll write that. so, here you go!! i hope it's to your liking!!! and of thank you for your kind words!!<3

The Reel this is inspired by (kinda sfw??)

Pairing: Wonwoo x Afab!Reader

Smut Warnings: Fingering, usage of a massage gun as a helpful tool, multiple orgasms, squirting

MDNI!

Word Count: 555

Wonwoo is just a man. He is a man and he has ideas and sometimes this leads to things like these.

Things that have you crying actual tears as he holds the massage gun against his finger, the vibrations going straight to your abused clit. It’s too much and at the same time not enough. 

Your legs are shaking and your loud moans are filling the room because, how on earth did he even come up with this?! 

“Fuck, look at you,” Wonwoo’s eyes are glued to you behind his glasses, mouth dropped as he literally can’t stop staring at you and your fucked out form. You’ve cum already, twice! And he isn’t letting you go, he isn’t letting you breathe! And to make matters worse, he suddenly moves his hand and slides two fingers inside of you, the massage gun still right there, making his whole hand vibrate on the highest fucking setting.

‘That’s it’, you think, ‘this is how I die.’

You don’t die though - you just start crying harder, your pussy literally sucking in Wonwoo’s fingers like a starved man downs his water. 

“Shit, how good does this feel, baby?” He asks and you would have loved to answer him - if only your mouth would do anything else but moan and scream and just not form any coherent thought. Your brain is mush if it’s even still there in your head and not already gone. 

You feel yet another orgasm approach at rapid speed, Wonwoo’s long skilled fingers paired with the vibrations too much to handle inside of you. You screech and squirm, your hips are moving against his fingers and Wonwoo is practically drooling as he watches you, his ever so perfect girlfriend, lose all sense of control.

And then, you cum. But you don’t just cum, your body shakes and your crying intensifies because what the fuck is that feeling and why is everything suddenly so incredibly sensitive and - did you just pee?

Wonwoo’s cock has never been harder and never been closer to cumming untouched. You’re squirting all over his hands and over the gun and over the bed and he thinks this is heaven. The sounds you make are only the god damn cherry on top. 

“E-enough, f-fuck, Wonwoo, please!” You beg your boyfriend and he somehow hears you and comprehends your words even though he doesn’t really know how. He pulls his fingers out of you, his fingers that are full of your cum and he turns off the gun, throws it to the side and brings his hand covered in everything you to his hard cock that is still hidden behind his sweats and starts jerking himself off, the feeling of your juices around him enough to make him cum three strokes later. 

“I don’t think I can walk,” you say when you finally catch your breath. You haven’t even noticed Wonwoo getting himself off, too busy with trying to find your senses again. Wonwoo falls onto the bed next to you, hand now covered in both of your releases.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” He says. “I didn’t know I could do that.” You reply back. Then, the two of you fall into comfortable laughter, staring up at the ceiling and knowing full well this definitely was not the last time this happened.

[frawth]

Diary - September 18, 2024

Thoughts on my fear of sleep

All I do is write about fear.

My fear of failing and being alone. My fear of falling asleep at night.

My fear of my own mind and how it constantly betrays me.

And torments me.

My fear of waking up in the morning to a heart racing which throws my day into a tilted rush of nausea and discomfort.

I look outside the window and watch the sun set over the day.

Even the passing of the sun ridicules me for rotting away inside

In front of a blue screen

In front of another, smaller blue screen

I can feel the flesh of my face sinking and making its own crevices

And boulders and hills

Deep under the surface

For every sentence I say, there are three others at the tip of my brain fighting for dominance

Damn all those books I read because now I carry around a thesaurus in my head

And it’s weighty and I still sometimes don’t say the right thing

And that triggers more torment because how could I not say the right thing?

What am I even doing?

There are screams in my head. Some of them are mine. Some of them are mine as a little girl, shrieking as my safety and agency was ripped apart by a leather belt. Over and over for what I can’t remember. And feeling like collateral to some sick pleasure. Of army guns and desert storms that never found a way out. Lashings and beatings that are crisper than anything else I can remember. Some of the screams are my brother’s and I hate myself for ever relishing the fact that this time, it was not me. This time, I would be okay. This time I would not be hurt. I lack understanding. The children of the seen and not heard.

I still have nightmares about it which generates so much fear in me when I try to fall asleep. I’m always a little bit sleep deprived because I really am afraid to go to sleep sometimes and I have convinced myself that the only cure and remedy would be a 6’something 2’something man holding me and squeezing me until just enough pressure helped me feel secure and pass out. And then I’ll cry because all I have is a 15-pound kitty who is sometimes so unfazed by me that she’d rather cuddle in her own bed than coddle me to sleep. I wonder if she knows that I’m not always dreaming. I think she does.

Last night I had one of those nights where I did everything I could. I pampered myself in a hot bath with lavender and sugar. I drank the cherry juice with the natural melatonin. I put on fresh pajamas, and I crawled into my bed that has two sheets and a bed spread and a quilt and a comforter and three throw blankets and three pillows and a giant teddy bear. And I tried to fall asleep. I told myself that I could fall asleep, I always did. And I began to cry. Because I always did. That was certain but the uncertainty of what stiff hell may await me in my unconscious subconscious really just freaked me the fuck out. Because of a nightmare I had last week. And I’m really terrified of having a nightmare like that again. And so, I panicked after getting into bed. I tried to set the tone with some calming music. “Safe Sleep Music” is what I put in the search bar on my meditation app. But I don’t want to hear a voice or have someone tell me it will be okay because my roommate is home, and I am ashamed that she will here that I have to have a stranger console me just to close my eyes and get some rest.

It wasn’t always this bad, but it has definitely gotten worse. I felt some relief when I was diagnosed with PTSD but in other ways it has just made it worse because to even get better, I have to open up and hack away at all of the encased feelings I wrapped up in the back of my mind and the bottom of my heart and stomped on and shielded and burnt alive. And it has just made everything so fresh and present that I feel like I’m submerged in it. Like I’m submerged in inky blackness and the stars are so far away tinkling in the corners of my eye but when I turn my head they are gone. And all I see are the happy people that didn’t have to live like me.

I’m so scared that I will end it. That I’ll be overtaken with feeling that I was ignored and punished and mocked and ridiculed for having. I’ve turned cold. I can’t even allow myself to feel okay about it for a minute because shame has been a weapon wielded against me and by me. You can’t escape the inner monologue.

[beetled-juice]

👀👀 would love to hear those "true form" beej headcanons if youre in the mood to share.........!!

@bunnys-beetlejuice-blog I'm always in the mood to share! Though I should clarify that my true form concepts for beej can be on the graphic side, since I enjoy taking each beetlejuice canon and thinking "how can I make this into genuine horror?". So I'm going to throw this under a read more, just to be safe!

These hc's are for musical!juice specifically - I have others for toonjuice and keatlejuice. This also isn't complete by any means - I have pages upon pages of writing on google docs about this stuff, so I'm trying to condense!

Netherworld Form - Dead is the New Sexy

So to start, I should also clarify that I personally view musical!juice as a vessel of sorts, a form that allows him to exist on earth as opposed to in the netherworld. Because of this, I think there are two distinct "versions" of beej's true form - one is the vessel / form you would see upon entering the netherworld with him, while the other is the demonic eldritch horror that he crams into said form(s).

-----

Whenever you go to the netherworld with him, he becomes like a walking corpse - more than normal, that is. Think skin rotting and sloughing off, joints twisted in unnatural positions, perhaps even internal organs trying to become external. It's not entirely clear how he can even move, or how he doesn't just disintegrate into piles of rotten 'juice with a voice, but somehow he manages to shove his mangled body around in a way that's not too dissimilar to that of a zombie movie. If you're used to the mossy and stinky demon as seen in the musical, this would be an immediate shove into a harsher reality - he looks like he's been decomposing for months, and nothing can help with the smell.

This can become even more devastating if we base his backstory for death more on movie canon than musical canon (i.e that he hung himself instead of Lydia stabbing him through the tit), because just like everyone else in the netherworld, he'll be unable to hide the evidence of how he died. In this case, you'd see the ring of bruising left behind, and the shift of the cervical vertebrae under what's left of his skin from where they broke.

The Cosmic Eldritch Horror We Know and Love

Overall, I think of him as having the keatlejuice makeup/effects, but taken to the extreme. Depending on how much I want to crank up the angst factor, I may or may not include the hanging aspect.

-----

This is where I kind of go off the rails in terms of very specific imagery. Have you seen the posts about what depictions of biblical angels would look like, but also the fact that they would try to mate with a telephone/power line? Or the post that’s about how cosmic entities using vessels to interact with humanity is like finger painting? That's beej's true form in a nutshell.

One of the things made very evident in the musical is that the netherworld is a dark place - literally! So I think it would be infinitely more horrifying if the demon trying to give you a little smooch stalking you through the vast abyss was a brilliant, glowing white - like a spotlight turned to its maximum setting, humming with power and electricity and impossible to look at directly. This also makes the name Betelgeuse more fitting - was he named after the star, or was the star named after him?

If you can manage a glimpse of him without blinding yourself, you'll see he's very big - easily dwarfing anyone or anything around him. You'll also notice that he doesn't move quite right. He doesn't walk, but he doesn't float either, instead making a weird lurching dragging motion that sounds like knives scraping on a plate. Don’t let this fool you though, because if necessary he moves like a lightning strike: fast and deadly and gone in a flash.

One of the interesting things about beej in this form is that he can’t really speak so much as convey thoughts and ideas - he has to be very careful though, or he could quickly overload your brain and leave some damage. In your head, he sounds the same as he normally does (if not a little base boosted), but his actual voice? The stuff of nightmares. Lack of speech doesn’t mean lack of sound, and even when he’s utterly silent he gives off a headache-inducing version of the hum you hear from the fluorescent lights at a gas station in the dead of night. Sometimes he sounds like rolling thunder and rattling glass, other times it’s infernal hell-speech and a wailing that makes your bones ache.

One of the unfortunate truths of being a demon is that over the course of millennia, he’s had to fight for his place in the pecking order. There are spots where he shines a little dimmer, his form marred by the thick bands of scars left behind by demons of old (primarily, his mother). Some still weep like open wounds, pouring thick black ooze that sizzles and burns against anything it touches. Only time can heal these - time on a scale living beings could never comprehend.

Even before you could see or hear him, you’ll catch the scent of ozone and the sharp tang of frozen metal on your tongue. You’ll feel an unease blanket you, your body and mind screaming at you to run, but you won’t be able to fight the feeling of heaviness that weighs your body down and anchors your feet to the floor. Out of everything, this is the part he hates the most - even if he just wants to be near someone, his very presence in this form forces them to seek a way to escape. That’s why it’ll be a rare instance to experience Beetlejuice’s true form - he’ll do everything in his power to keep from exposing it to anyone he cares about.

[perpetual-fool]

Deny yourself

Why shouldn't I suffer? Why shouldn't I think that I'm a piece of shit? that I deserve to die, or to be chained up and left to rot? Why shouldn't I have a voice screaming at me that I should kill myself? Why shouldn't I be denied accommodation? Why shouldn't I have my boundaries violated? Why shouldn't I be invalidated at every turn? Why shouldn't I be denied even basic understanding? Why shouldn't I be abandoned? Why shouldn't I doubt my sanity? Why shouldn't I think every thought in my head is bullshit?

It's hard to not just stay there and just think that I should.

Obviously I should ask, "why should I?" Doing so is taking some effort. I think it's my empathy. Like, this is seemingly what everyone else wants. I don't matter. If it would make everyone else happy that I should suffer, then I should suffer. I feel like, if she wanted my life in vengeance, I'd let her take it. I tend to imagine that. But people don't seem to like the idea of that either. My life or death is of no use to anyone.

What's the point, if no good can come of me?

Should I try to change? Wouldn't that mean I'd just be a completely different person? That's as good as death, right? And I have no grounds on which to make that determination. I'm sure if someone else told me that it would make them happy if I pursued my own happiness, that they'd like to see what kind of person I could become, then I could do that.

Alternatively, maybe this wasn't who I was to begin with.

Like, surely the empathy was always there. But maybe someone turned it against me, used it to convince me that my own well-being doesn't matter. I don't know that I ever cared for myself, that's further back than I have any memory of. And even if so, why shouldn't I be this person instead of that one? Why shouldn't I just keep tearing myself up over things I don't understand?

If I've already died once, why not again?

Surely if I'm worth anything that'd be enough reason to change. And, it's nice to feel good. So I must be ascribing a negative moral value to my well-being. You might expect that from a (former) Christian. There are lots of things no one directly told me were wrong, I effectively just assumed. Not that I wasn't given reason to think that everything is wrong. But it was my own judgment that led me there. So, really, I've been listening to myself this whole time? And telling myself to not listen to myself is still just listening to myself.

So I'm already that person and just don't know it?

I knew the bad voice was mine, but, I could just, stop? This hurts, but not in a bad way. Everything feels more.

- And I'm back to feeling normal in the morning. I dunno if I just wasn't really thinking it through, or if 'normal' is just a habit, or what. Application is different from analysis I guess. It's still crazy to think everyone else is wrong, isn't it? If things don't turn out the way I expect or think they should, I'm wrong; it's the outcome that's correct. Why should that be any different when working with people? If she thinks that what I said is bullshit, then it's bullshit ain't it? If I can't figure it out then that's a 'me' problem.

~Would I could afford to buy my love a fine gown, made of gold and silk Arabian thread

God, this really is like managing two people.

Is there even any deeper to dig here? Why believe anything I guess. Why understand? That's a fucking terminal good, so yeah, why anything. What is goodness? why pursue it? It must just be, ya' know, the brain juice. Bad things feel bad and good things feel good. And not being able to figure it out is giving me the bad brain juice. But it's not like all morality is just hedonism in a trenchcoat. I can't just decide "I would feel better if I just didn't give a shit, so fuck it". The thought of just abandoning the pursuit feels worse than thinking I should kill myself. The latter would at least be 'good'.

~but she is dead and gone and lying in a pine grove

No, I'd have to convince myself that doing otherwise is also in the pursuit of understanding. Or for the other one I guess, that self-altruism is a thing, or some such. But for the latter I'd have to reach the conclusion that I matter as a person too. Which would require doing the former, as that would be necessary to reevaluate. This feels so contrived. Why the fuck am I even doing this? understanding. trying to make sense of things. And there's no more sense to be made of where I am now.

Sure, let's see what happens.

[erenspussy420]

Use him, make him go “🥵”

MDNI +18 ONLY

Including:Using Eren as a dildo, threats of getting a sex machine, binding, tying up Eren, referring Eren as a dildo. Horny brain rot.

Fem reader insert

Guys my brain is so tired but fuck that isn’t going to stop me from writing this shit I swear to God.

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. 

Eren tugs at the his bindings, enough that he can feel the strain bending under him. He can’t see anything and can’t say anything. Even if he could, the gag you stuffed him with is wet with drool. What he can’t see or touch, he makes up with the rest of his senses.

He can still feel the way your hands rubs his chest, the carless touch near his nipples flicking over them. You’re teasing him touching them, pinching them, and then feeling the warmth of your tongue tasting them before taking one in your mouth and another being played with you free hand. You’re body pressing down on him, your chest pressed against his stomach. God he wants to press up against you, but you push down him hips with the squeeze of your thighs as a reprimand. 

“Bad, be good and I’ll let you ride you till your balls are empty.” You say, your thumb playing with the buttons of his jeans.

Eren can hear his blood rush.

He isn’t allowed to touch, and he’s regretting letting you tie him up like this.

Stop being so mean and let him take you!

.

.

.

God, he’s aching to be in you. With his jeans pull off, and his boxes gone, his dick is standing proud and ready for you. His thighs are shaking from unreleased tension, and here you are tracing circles over his weeping head. Fuck, fuck put it your mouth, please Y/N. He’ll be good, fuck use him like you promise you would! His moans are being muffled by the gag, and he can’t tell what face your making only the way you rub the vein under his dick ever so slowly.

“Ah, this dildo is so wet for me,” he hears you sigh, your taking his dick in your hand, lubing it up with his own pre cum. He breathing growing strain, as your jack it lazily in your hand. The wet squelching of his dick in his hands are so loud in his ears.” I wonder if it's ready for me to use. I hope it can stretch me so good, like my other dildo.”

Eren is beginning to hate that dildo he got you. Why even need that thing, when you have the real thing right here in your hands.

“Ohh, should I have you in me?” The bed shifts under him, and there he feels you over him, resting on him, your hands on his hips now, rubbing them and fuck he wants to rip these ties off! Your fondling his balls now with one hand, and giving his dick the much needed attention it deserved. You squeeze him in your  hand, and Eren bucks upwards chasing the high. You’re pressing down on him and he feels the heat of your pussy on his thighs, the slick of your pussy rubbing on him.”Too bad you can’t talk, my dildo can’t say how bad he wants to be in me, hm?”

‘Yes, yes fucking put me in your pussy, let me cum in you baby, I’ll be so good,” Eren thinking. His forehead is wet with sweat and he can feel his hair getting stuck on his neck.

“But I think I will now,” Eren can only hear his blood rush in his ears at that. A hand in his hair brushes a wet lock away, before drawing circles on his cheekbone.” Be a good dildo for me, and let me ride.”

Then he feels it, your hand guiding him finally into your entrance. His head, peaking in before slowly being pushed into the hot wet walls of your pussy taking him. His dick is throbbing and he’s trying not to cum from that alone as your cunt squeezes him. Then as you took him, till your hips are on him again, you pulled up and slammed down on him.

“MMph!” Eren cries.

“Oh you feel so good!” You moan, you begin to ride him, taking him for all he’s worth into you over and over. Your skin slapping against him. the wet noise of your juices taking his dick in you sound so fucking loud your lucky you live alone or else everyone is going to hear you two. Your moaning so loud, squealing as you feel your dildo under you raise itself up at you brutally trying to match your pace.

“Fuckfuckfuck, gahh uhhh mmmm,” You shut your mouth, trying to hold into the cries, as the head hits your good spot. You grabs onto the pillows over Eren head and snap your hips down, feeling the wetness go down your thighs dripping down on Eren. The headboard is creaking with Eren pulling hard at his reins.

“So good, such a good dildo!” You praise him. You’re feeling your peak come, but you don’t want it over yet. You want him in you fucking you like he needs it to live. So you grab his hair, a grunt from him as his body burns hotter under you.”Come on Eren, don’t finish just yet! Keep fucking me, fuck me or I’m buying a fuck machine!”

Oh that does it! Like hell he’s letting you get a fucking sex machine with him fucking your pussy. That’s his and his alone! So Eren does waht he does best. Fuck you stupid. No one can say Eren doesn’t leave you unhappy, no not the way you’re clamping onto him for dear life. His hip angling into you, hitting your cervix in a way that is definitely not gonna let you walk right for the next month. You’re not even trying to hold in your cries anymore, your wailing his name as he hits it over and over again. Your pussy is spazzing over him, squeezing his dick trying to keep him in and never letting go.

“Fuckfuck! Eren’s please!” You plead and Eren delivers. With one last thrust, you feel the hot cum explode into you, it’s making you dizzy the way it fills you and it’s pouring out and onto Eren. You don’t pull yourself off, no you don’t to waste the feeling of Eren hot cum in you. You tug off his bindings and his hands reach to you pulling you down from your throne and onto his chest. Eren then pulls off his gag and huffs out,” Next time, I’m treating your pussy as my fleshlight.”

You grin into his chest.”Looking forward to it.”

Okay maybe next time he tell you to use him like a  dildo should be more...freeing next time. 

[sukirichi]

request: SWIMSUIT SHOPPING WITH JJK CHARACTERS — (yuuji, megumi, and gojo satoru ver!)

notes: i’ve reached a point in hell of no return, help 😩 anon knows exactly what she’s talking about and i’d be more than honoured to add on to this concept

warnings: nsfw content such as public sex, overstimulation, degradation, manhandling, oral sex (f and m receiving), road head, and slight cumplay (nsfw under the cut!) + this is unedited/not proofread,

(all minor characters are aged up)

masterlist ! requests are open

ITADORI YUUJI

he’s a pretty innocent boy

in a way that he’s not always dirty minded instead of him totally being...well, inexperienced

so when you ask him if he can come with you pick a swimsuit, he happily agrees

he loves going shopping with you and is extremely patient even if you take half an hour in just one shop

he’d happily carry your bags for you

seriously, this man is so low maintenance, he’s not going to ask for anything else or whine that you’re taking too long or that he’s hungry

he’s REALLY really patient and supportive of you

and even though he’s not an expert in women’s fashion, he’ll honestly give his opinions if he thinks a dress or shoe looks good on you or no

he might also remind you just how convenient your outfit would be on the event you plan to use it t

but this time, it’s a different case because you’re buying a swimsuit

now, yuuji’s seen you naked before so it’s nothing new to him anymore, but the moment he walks inside the swimsuit shop with all types of frilly bras and colorful pieces, he’ll immediately duck his head down in respect

he’s pretty fidgety the whole time

if you bring up a certain red polka dot bikini in front of your clothed body, tilting your head to the side innocently to ask, “how about this?”

yuuji’s brain will fry right then and there

he can imagine just how great you’d look in it, but he doesn’t want to be rude or too obvious so he’ll just nod and go,

“yeah, babe, that’d look great on you!”

he’s pretty silent the whole time, but really, all the blood’s rushed to his cock already

the whole drive back, yuuji is already so sensitive and clenching his jaw with his hands firmly gripping the steering wheel while you sit next to him, hiding your smirk

you almost want to laugh at how flustered he is, but he’s trying his best not to show it

but you’re not that bad, and so you ask him to pull over because the tent in his pants looks so uncomfortable and you doubt he’ll be patient enough to jack off in the bathroom when you both go back home

he’s confused at first, glancing over you with worry

“why, what’s wrong? did you want to go somewhere else?”

“no,” you laugh, pushing your hair back into a makeshift ponytail

and THAT has yuuji driving recklessly and swerving real fast and furious style because he knows what’s about to happen next

despite his eagerness, he’s still concerned about you, breathing heavily as you lean over your seats and start to unzip his pants

“a-are you sure about this? you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,”

poor baby is already shaking the moment your nails rake over his thigh, your breath just ghosting over his clothed erection which is already damp with pre-cum

this makes you hum in agreement because yes of course you’re sure

you had a feeling yuuji would be turned on with this little escapade anyway, but you didn’t think he’d be this needy already

now it’s time for you to relax your throat and prepare yourself because yuuji is THICK

safe to say, all your arrogance is gone the moment you choke on his length, his big hands helping you keep the hair away from your face

meanwhile, yuuji is messily thrusting his hips up to your mouth, enjoying the way you just feel so warm around him

“f-fuck, baby, feels so good. i can imagine you already in that flimsy material, you’d be so pe-perfect, fuuckk.”

your chest swells with pride, always having been weak when it comes to his praising

once he reaches his high and paints your face white, yuuji lazily pulls you closer to him to kiss you, moaning when he tastes himself on your lips

you only giggle at how romantic he is even when your hands are still stroking his softening cock, and yuuji shudders a bit at the gesture

because he’s been such a great and supportive boyfriend today, you swipe at the cum near your lips, which makes yuuji’s eyes darken when you collect it with the tip of your tongue

then, as innocently as you could bat your eyelashes at him, you grin,

“would you like to see me wear it tonight? just for you?”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

PLEASE HELP THIS BOY

“gumi, can you come shopping with me tonight? there’s a pool party this weekend with my friends and i need a new swimsuit.”

he wants to say yes because duh

but he also wants to say no because he’d rather not walk around in public with a raging erection

and we all know megumi is big, like come on, he’s toji’s son

like yuuji, i don’t think megumi is that perverted either, but he’s still a teenage boy with raging hormones

he may have more control over himself than yuuji, but he knows his limits

a swimsuit is honestly so innocent — it’s not even half as tempting as when you surprised him with a white lingerie set (which resulted you two in not getting out of bed the whole weekend lmao) so he wonders why the hell he’s so nervous

eventually he convinces himself that going with your girlfriend while she shops for a swimsuit isn’t anything new and it’s just a “normal couple thing” so bedgrudingly, he sighs and agrees

which he immediately regrets the moment you head straight for the skirtinis

there’s so much to choose from, and his eyes widen at the absurdity of how there’s so many designs and patterns

i feel leki megumi is a cheapskate, so he’ll be more focused first on criticizing the price tags before looking at you

“25 dollars for this...thing?”

he’ll shake his head in disapproval, but then straighten up when he sees you frown

“i think it looks cute. don’t you like it?”

you push up a frilly pink skirtini, the shade a soft pastel one that just looks so innocent and cute on you

it doesn’t help that you’re gazing up at him under your lashes either, a small pout on those kissable lips

he admits it does look cute, even cuter because you’re the one wearing it, but he still doesn’t like the price lmao

or at least...not until he’s seen you wearing it

once you’ve both gotten home, megumi heads straight to the kitchen because he’s been so parched (he won’t tell you that he’s been subconsciously swallowing his saliva the whole time, showing him material by material until it all gets suspiciously thinner and more revealing)

he doesn’t like limiting you or telling you what to wear, either, so he just follows you like a lost puppy, careful to note stare too much at anything to not make anyone uncomfortable

but then he goes back to your shared room, just about ready to call it a day since you sure did take your sweet time, and he sees you strutting in your underwear in front of the mirror

megumi freezes at the door like a lagging npc LMAO

“...y/n?”

you smile, turning to him as if he hadn’t just caught you checking yourself out, which he doesn’t blame you for because you look absolutely stunning in it

the skirt just hides the supple flesh of your thighs, but really, he’s more stunned at how your ass looks so perky in that skintight material

megumi looks away, flushed, running a hand through his hair because he’s too much of a gentleman to outright say he finds you so sexy in fear it would sound weird

but you take his sudden aversion something else, and you wrap your arms around yourself a little consciously, voice turning small

“does it look bad on me?”

he immediately picks up on how small you’ve made yourself, his eyes snapping to yours

“no, you look amazing! why would you think that?”

you pout, “you suddenly looked away. it felt like you don’t really like it.”

at this point, megumi is such a blushing, stuttering mess, approaching you carefully with his words stll stumbling over one another

“that’s not true,” he sighs, rubbing his hands on your bare arms, finally letting himself loose and shamelessly staring at how your breasts are just right under him, waiting to be touched

the tension in the room begins to thicken, and you shiver when his hands trail down your hip before squeezing the flesh almost possessively

“beautiful,” he’d murmur almost absentmindedly, and by the time you’re practically melting in the heat of his gaze, megumi just goes ‘fuck it’ and straight out kisses you

he’s gentle though

he knows you felt insecure and so he wants to take his time with you, touching you in places he knows you liked, curling his fingers in just the right spot that has you seeing stars

he doesn’t do anything that would make your body shake, but it still feels good — a lot more like lovemaking

and it is

he wants you to know he loves you and that you’re the most beautiful being ever in his eyes

megumi will kiss you starting from your calves and up to your belly, where he hovers for a minute before changing his mind and diving back down to where you want him the most

small, kitten licks in your core that has you dripping in his tongue, your hands fisting his hair

megumi doesn’t stop telling you how pretty you look just like that, loosing yourself in the pleasure he’s giving you

he doesn’t neglect your breasts; one of his hands reaching up to softly pinch the beaded nipples which has you riding and humping his face even more

megumi buries his face in your heat in that moment, his nose bumping your clit every now and then, and you feel so beautiful with how he can’t seem to get enough of you

he knows this just by the way you clamp down on his tongue, sweet juices coating his lips and he drinks it all like a starved man

“cum for me, sweet girl,” he coaxes, his thumb pushing your lips open as he watches you come undone for him

“that’s right — fuck — you’re so gorgeous, so perfect, just mine.”

and just when you think he’s had enough, megumi only flips you until your core is right on top of his face, his large hands merciless as he pushes your hips forward and backward on his tongue

similar to before, you and megumi stay in bed all day long with him going round per round, never getting tired of making you feel good until you’re just laying spent on your bed, juices flowing out of your abused core

you push megumi away when his fingers slide in your inner thigh

but no he’s not quite done with you yet

“no,” he growls softly, pushing your hands away and pinning you under his weight. “i’m not stopping until you finally see yourself the way i see you. so divine, so ethereal.”

your body is something he’ll never get tired of worshipping

you’re hella tired

but hey who are you to complain

you only wish megumi hadn’t ruined your swimsuit with your cum, but after a promise that he’ll jsut get you another one, you lose yourself to another mind blowing orgasm

GOJO SATORU

let’s be real here

you know EXACTLY what you’re asking for the moment you dragged him into a swimsuit shop

you don’t even bother asking him if he wants to go anymore because gojo being gojo, he’ll be whiny about it, saying you could just surprise him the moment you get home

to which you roll your eyes and say, “this isn’t for you, gojo.”

hah, but anything that is yours is his, and your body is definitely his

gojo is nothing but bored

he wants to go home already and just fuck you already, and he’s getting on your nerves so you threaten that you’re not letting him touch you for a whole week if he doesn’t shut up and accompany you for once

it’s not that gojo is mean and unsupportive of you, he’s just so horny in that moment he can’t think straight

but he also really, really likes touching you so the big man just pouts and crosses his arms

sighing loudly and rather dramatically

it only takes a few seconds before gojo straightens up, peeking under his blindfold when you pick up a plain black bikini with the top knotted behind your neck

it’s not really your style though, so you’re about to move to another design when gojo whines

“wait, why not that one? it would look great on you.”

ofc you know i’ll look great on you, but it’s not your favorite, and it’s fun to tease gojo so you shrug nonchalantly, picking up a dark blue legsuit instead

gojo absolutely LOSES it

man takes off his blindfold just to glare at the material as if it offended him

“babe, what the fuck is that?”

“it’s a legsuit, perfect for scuba diving. plus, it protects my skin from the sun. i wouldn’t want a sunburn.”

the way gojo laughs is so cocky you consider choking him with the suit

“that’s what you have me for?” he points to himself incredulously, “i’ll put the sunblock all over your body babe, you don’t even have to worry about that.”

“please. i’d already be stripped down to my birthday suit before you even get to open the bottle,” you scoff, muttering under your breath, “damn fucking horny guy can’t keep his thing inside his pants.”

however, this doesn’t faze gojo

“and what’s so wrong with finding my girlfriend so sexy and hot i want to fuck her all the time?”

honestly what the hell were you thinking, assuming that you’d one-up gojo when this man would always be superior when it comes to being dirty LMAO he is just so shameless

but whatever, you ignore him, heading to the checkout with a self-assured smile

gojo trails behind you, his anger radiating off of him so strongly you can feel it

“y/n.”

“y/n, you can’t even swim. don’t fuck with me and say you’re buying that to ‘scuba dive.’”

“what, so i can’t learn now?”

“just buy the black bikini. it looks great on you.”

“i told you already, i’m not buying that and wearing it for you. i only dragged you here because i need someone to carry my bags.”

you know what happens to brats?

they get punished.

and that’s exactly what happens

gojo grabs your wrist rather roughly back to where you’ve left the black bikini, and not only does he shove it to your chest, commanding you to wear it, but he also shoves you in the nearest dressing cubicle

next thing you know, gojo has his palm over your mouth as he pounds into you from behind, absolutely railing you to the point tears are flowing down your cheeks

“look at you — not so bratty now, are we? you’re just a slut for my cock, aren’t you, sweet girl?”

gojo lifts one of your legs up in the crook of his arm, forcing you to look at the way your pussy greedily sucks him in in front of the mirror

you’re so wet that the squelching of your pussy, along with the slapping of skin, resonates in the cramped space

you reach behind gojo and move away from his hand, gasping breathily while your breasts bounce

“gojo, ah, shit — we might get caught.”

“do i look like i give a fuck, baby?”

no, he doesn’t. and he proves this by pushing you down by the back until your cheek is squished against the mirror, your ass pressed against his pubic bone

with the way gojo’s hips are angled and his long cock is hitting places only he can reach, you no longer care about people finding you in this position

your mouth is open, eyes rolling at the back of your head and drool even begins to slide from your lips

this makes gojo laugh, two of his fingers rubbing against where you two are connected to gather your wetness before shoving it into your mouth

“shut the fuck up, you slut.”

gojo’s large hands then comes up to grab and squeeze your hips roughly; you think he’ll leave bruises there or marks in the shape of fingers

he’s basically using you as his fucktoy now, paying no mind to how you’re crying from how he’s hitting in so deep and fast

your body just transcends into a different dimension

you’re fucked out, crying and begging for him to go slower

“gojo — baby — p-please, a little more gentle, ah, fuck.”

“what was that?” he teases, bending forwards to nip at your ear. the sudden shift in angles has the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, and you immediately clench around his cock.

gojo taps your lips when your eyes shut close from the exhaustion, barely able to comprehend anything else other than the familiar coil deep in your belly

“i couldn’t hear you, princess. speak louder.”

“slower, please,” you beg, placing your sweaty palms flat on the mirror in an attempt to hold onto something. “too much, satoru, t’much.”

poor you, his baby looks so tired and fucked out

with a sarcastic sigh, he kisses the pads of your shoulders, then bites the knot of your black bikini until the material falls to the ground

your breasts are now free from its confines, and his rough hands reach to fondle them

you expect him to grip it possessively like how he always does, but instead, he massages them with tender care, whispering sweet nothings in your ear

one of his hands reach over to where your hands are, looping it through your fingers while his thrust slows down

he forms a tantalizing pace of hitting deep before pulling out in a such slow, torturous fashion then slamming back in until he bottoms out in one thrust

it’s dirty, lewd, and still very much wrong — but it feels so right and it’s rare that gojo ever listens to you so you find it romantic

gojo isn’t the least bit apologetic when you’re both kicked out from the shop

because in the end, he won, and he holds your shopping bag with the cum-stained black bikini proudly all the way back to his car

[dinitride-art]

Possessiongate - the monologue/Mike Wheeler got got (pt.3)

Alright, so the morning after Rink O’ Mania and Mike and El’s fight. It’s interesting to go back and analyze these scenes. There are things that I’ve missed and things I’ve thought more about as I’ve gone through my lighting analysis- and even though this is about Vecna taking up residence in Mike’s head, it’s kind of cool to look back and see what I’ve missed. And also to look back with a lot more confidence about Will’s lighting.

So, Will in the light. But now in the context that the reason for that may be because he’s Mike’s light and Mike is trying to fight the evil man in his brain trying to make him apart of an evil hivemind from an alternate dimension. Doesn’t actually change all that much about my previous thoughts. Is Mike in love with Will? ...I mean if Will is Mike’s light then... I feel as though the light is still saying that Mike’s in love with Will. 

From looking at season two, I’ve kinda come to the conclusion that orange is a bad sign? Like with the pumpkins. They’re everywhere in season two and they’re also what’s rotting and is the first connection to the upside down. So, that orange on Mike’s plate, and the orange juice seems like bad new to me.

Will, still in the light- sorry just remembered something- there we go. SO uh, this deserves its own seperate post, so I’m going to make one right now, but uh. That is the same god damn thing. So adding that to the list of s2 and s4 parallels. But it’s also interesting that the scene that’s being paralleled here is one where Mike tries to comfort Will by saying that they can spy on the Mind Flayer. And that the Mind Flayer won’t spy back because Mike won’t let him. This would be very ironic if Mike is indeed being possessed. Because now Mike’s the one who’s spying back.

Mike leaves the table, and even as he gets up the darkness on the left side of his face stays. 

I also have talked about this before but the light leaves Will’s face as Mike leaves the room. This suggests that Will’s only being lit like he is because of Mike.

Mike goes to talk to El after the scene with Will at the table, and his face is back to normal. 

What’s interesting about the way Mike and El are positioned, is that El has her back to Mike, she can’t see him. During the monologue Mike is shouting, can you hear me and wake up to her, but never anything to do with sight- even though Mike took off her sunglasses. 

When El does look at Mike, his face is normal. It doesn’t seem like anyone else is influencing what’s happening (from the signs like the left eye, and blue lights). This seems like it’s genuinely Mike trying to reach out. 

Then there’s a disconnect between what they’re both trying to say. El’s trying to fix something that’s broken this scene, her school project that Angela destroyed, but she stops trying to fix it when things start going badly between her and Mike. 

In this scene Mike’s face seems to have no weird shadow attached to it or anything else that might be indicating Vecna’s involvement. Mike and El’s relationship issues seem to be entirely their own.

Although I will say that El’s left eye is doing some weird stuff. So maybe Vecna’s messing with everyone? But if that’s the case, then I think Mike’s patient zero.

Then El gets arrested.

And the right side of her face is now the one in shadow, so I think that this is just dramatic/harsh lighting to highlight the situation rather than just being Vecna. (this logic can also be applied to Mike, but other factors like the lights and his weird behaviour make me think it means something when we’re looking at him)

Mike seems a lot different after Rink O’ Mania. The light on his face isn’t a dark shadow focused over his left eye (well, after breakfast happens) and he does seem like he’s a bit less of an asshole. 

1 2 3

[awindylife-writes]

The Bar

Relationships: 10th Doctor x reader, Jack Harkness x reader (platonic)

Summary: Jack, the Doctor and you go to a bar. You are drugged and a man tries to take you but the Doctor luckily intervenes in time.

Warnings: attempted sexual assault, but nothing graphic

"C'm on guys, there's this really great bar on the far side of Kristella, the lnky Sky," Jack insisted. "They serve everything you could want to drink, they've got live music and there's a festival coming! It's like Halloween on Earth, but the whole planet does it. They've even got punch!"

You grinned, "Well, l'm in." Why not? You wanted to have the experience with the two best friends you had, and it wasn't just any day you could go to an alien bar.

The Doctor and Jack looked at you in surprise.

"What?" you glanced between them, eyebrows raised.

"I mean it's just..." Jack began, "l never thought you were a bar enthusiast."

"Oh, l'm not," you assured him. "I just don't see why we shouldn't go. I mean, we faced the Shadows of Onn just two days ago and then the whole icky Persistence Incorporated lot like, yesterday. A bar should be a nice change of pace, unless you really don't want to go, Doctor?" Both you and Jack turned to look at him and he rubbed the back of his neck under your gazes.

"Weeeell, if you insist," the Doctor shrugged his shoulders and Jack pumped the air, "Yes!"

"Aright then," you smiled. "Jack, what exactly do we want to wear?"

The TARDIS wardrobe awaited you.

~

So far, so good, you thought to yourself.

You had arrived at the bar and quickly claimed a stand-by table. You were lucky you had gotten it, there wasn't much space left. A band was playing, as Jack had promised, and there were enough people dancing to create a crowd. The music was alien and had some surprising metaphors, but there was a nice rhythm to it and you found yourself nodding along. You apprechiated the volume too, it was quiet enough to talk over it where you were standing.

The before-mentioned punch cost a laughable two Eeti and most took the generous opportunity, you included. Nevermind the Doctor and his "It smells funny" comments. Jack ordered something bright pink and alien at the bar while you scooped the punch into a glass. The Doctor stuck with apple juice.

It didn't take long for Jack to spot a cute guy at a table next to yours. You and the Doctor smiled knowingly when they started flirting across the way. Soon, Jack gave you a questioning look and you laughed. "Go on," you nodded your head towards the neighbouring table.

He smiled in grattitude and hugged you hurriedly. You patted his back.

"Go on, get outta here," the Doctor told Jack, voice warm.

"I want you back before noon, got it?" you levelled Jack's gaze in mock seriousness. He flipped you a salute before walking out, hand in hand with the guy.

The Doctor and you continued your conversation. As he rambled on about the rings of Ahknaten, you rubbed your eyes. Was it just you or was everything getting a little blurry? Maybe your alchohol tolerance was even lower than you had thought.

Then you noticed the Doctor was eyeing Jack's half finished drink, and you could tell he was curious.

"C'm on, Doctor," you grinned at him. "This is exactly the place and the time to try something like this."

He gave you a questioning look, and you nudged him with your elbow. "I dare you."

"Weeell, you see, now l just can't refuse. My honor absolutely cannot take a hit like this," he shook his head in mock offence, a smile playing at his lips. He carefully held the glass and took a tentative sip. His eyes widened in surprise.

"Ooh, is it any good?" You had to make an effort to sound chirpy. Maybe all the running was finally catching up to you, because you felt like you were about to nod off.

The Doctor cocked his head. "Actually, it's sweet. I didn't even consider alcohol could be sweet, didn't even think. Who made alcohol sweet? Brilliant invention I mean, if my taste buds have anything to say about it. It's not gonna have an effect on me, me being a Time Lord and all that, but l've never bothered with stuff like this, it didn't seem nearly as interesting as a new world behind the TARDIS door, but now that l consider it-"

"You're gonna go order another one?" You gently interjected his rambling.

"Mhm, yeah, l'll definitely order another one," he answered with a grin.

"Good for you. Oh, and you could go pay as well?" you suggested. You didn't think you would be ordering anything else, not with your head as fuzzy as it was.

He took the money out of his pocket (you had reminded him to get some before you'd arrived, it wasn't exactly like you, a human from Earth, had Kristellan currency on hand). "I'll be right back," he promised you and headed for the bar.

You didn't mind standing there at the table on your own, but it was a little akward. You felt like a sore thumb, standing out from the mixture of creatures around you. You watched the people at the edge of the dance floor, their shapes and colours blurring. Was that supposed to happen? You couldn't seem to take enough air in, though you tried to breathe deeply. The mist in your mind spread, and bit by bit it got harder to think. You stared vacantly at the moving shapes, trying to remember where the Doctor had gone. Why were your legs so weak?

Then there was someone at your side, holding your hand and asking you something. Something about dancing? You nodded, unsure what he wanted, and he grinned. Then he pulled you from the table, and that wasn't right. You were in the middle of the crowd now, and the green tinted man had his arms around you. What was happening?

~

The Doctor found himself staring at the punch bowl while he waited for his drink. There was something about it, something niggling at the back of his brain.

Then the air moved, and he could smell the scent of it again. But what was that, that tinge, something barely there, something like an acid? Something hydroxy... something with butan... hydroxybutan....

Y-hydroxibutanoic acid. The Doctor felt his blood run cold.

He whipped around and grabbed the unsuspecting barista by her wrist. "Listen to me, right now," he growled and her golden eyes widened. "That punch bowl is spiked, and everyone here could be in danger. Do something about it."

She nodded in horror so he knew she understood the urgency and turned to her colleague, her voice grave. He left all his money on the counter without a thought, he needed to find y/n.

~

When he arrived back at your table, you were gone. He looked around in panic. You had drunk the punch at least twenty minutes ago, which was definitely enough time for the drug to kick in. If anyone tried-

Then he finally found you. His hearts sped up. A man with his hand around you was pulling you through the crowd, towards the door. The Doctor saw your wobbling, unsteady steps, saw you still try to get the man's hands off of you.

White-hot fury exploded in his chest, it burned everything away. His hands tightened into fists at his sides and trembled with his rage. Blood rushed in his ears as he gritted his teeth into a snarl. This was it, this was what Daleks were afraid of. He ripped through the crowd withought a thought to anyone.

Upon reaching you, he pushed the two of you apart. The creep stumbled to the side but at once, the Doctor gently took you by the shoulders to hold you up. Yes, there was fury in him enough to scorch planets, but this was you.

Your eyes foggy, you tensed in his arms and shakily tried to break free, but he soothed you with a soft voice. "Hey, hey, it's me, it's the Doctor." You immediately stopped fighting.

"Doct'r," you slurred and fell into his chest, eyes half closed.

"What the hell, man?" the creep demanded.

The Doctor pressed you against his side and turned so he was holding you up the furthest you could be from the man who had tried to- No. He couldn't even think about it.

"Hey! Dont cockblo-" the turd came at the two of you but the Doctor grabbed his lapel and pulled him close. The creep's eyes went wide as he tried to break free.

It was easy, so incredibly easy to hold him in place. The Time Lord rarely used his full strength, always relayed on his mind, because he'd seen what war meant. But now the restraints were snapping like paper strings and the beast in him rattled its chains.

"You get one warning, just one. So listen closely," he growled in the turd's face. "Run. Run far and run fast, because if l see you, if l so much as smell you in the wind, l will find you, and l will teach you the meaning of hell." He suddenly released the creep who stubled from the force of it and scurried away, into the crowd.

The Doctor looked down at you and all rage evaporated. Your head was resting on his shoulder and you were leaning into him to stay upright. Your eyes were closed. He gripped you a little tighter and cooed, "Hey there. Let's get you home, aright?"

You hummed, only half-coherent at best, and nuzzled into him. Butterflies immediately filled his stomack, but this was not the time for that. He tried to take a step, but it soon became apparent that you couldn't walk.

The Doctor carefully lifted you into his arms and headed for the TARDIS.

~

When you two finally reached your room, he gently sat you on the bed where you wobbled a little but stayed upright. He kneeled down and unlaced your shoes. When they were off, he thought you would want him to leave, but then he felt your warm hand clumsily catch his.

"Stay," you mumbled and he looked up into your hazy eyes.

He felt his hearts beat faster at the soft look you gave him. He wanted to find that man and rip him apart, he wanted to give you the universe, wanted to wrap himself around you and never leave.

He could never refuse you.

"Alright," he whispered. He slowly stood up and pulled back the covers so you could get into the bed, then he took off his jacket and his shoes.

When he clambered in, he planned on staying away from you, but you found him and pressed yourself against him. You lay your head on his chest as your hands hugged his sides. When you nuzzled your cheek into his shirt and sighed in content, he felt something soft and warm spread through him. Of course he'd known you trusted him, but this- You were helpless, utterly helpless, and you trusted him to hold you. A thousand stars glowed in his chest as he put his arms around you.

A voice in his head told him he maybe shouldn't be enjoying this, considering the cause that had led you two here, but it was small and distant and not impossible to ignore. You were safe.

He nuzzled his cheek into your hair and fell asleep with you in his arms.

[felswritingfire]

That april brain rot with the three in one brain cell hit me with all the emotions. Would you be willing to write a continuation with the boys getting revenge for the reader?? I am out for some blood 😾😾😾😾

I... I may have gone off the deep end with this lmao.

But, Ace, Deuce, Grim, and everyone else in Heartlabyul have a tad bit of Yandere tendency, hope you don't mind jslkdfjldkf

The first part if anyone's curious!

TW: Yandere tendencies; descriptions of violence; Cussing; Possessiveness; Threats

It wasn't easy finding him- the bastard who did this. Ace had to do some fine digging to find out where he ran off to and even then he needed Cater's help (who didn't mind one bit, he was almost too eager) to find him hiding in the Dwarves house that the four of you officially became friends at.

Ace scowls at this realization, watching as the student cowered and squirmed under Deuce's shoe. "Oi, Juice-"

"What?" It probably came out a lot harder than Deuce was intending, but Ace really didn't mind, he understood the feeling.

It took a moment for Ace to continue, his sharp eyes taking in the way the boy whimpered in pain as Deuce dug his heel deeper into his spine. "Don't beat him up here-" he gestured around, waiting as green-blue eyes took in the familiar cob webs and worn wood- "got too many good memories and all that mushy stuff, you know?"

Duece nodded, his gaze dull as it focused back on the boy. "Yeah. But where are we gonna go?"

They stood there mulling over their limited options before they heard a snicker. Turning to Grim who floated behind them, Ace raised an eyebrow. "What? You got an idea, Raccoon?"

"Of course the Great Grim has an idea!" Grim kept snickering as his hind feet touched the ground, walking over to the trembling figure on the floor. His pupils where almost pin pricks as he stared down at him. "Why not take him to the cave?"

"C- cave?" The boy trembled, a bit of red dribbling from his split lip from where Deuce had socked him.

Ace let out a laugh- something mean and ugly. "We could! Just tie him up and wait for that thing to come and rip him to shreds right?"

Deuce hummed. "But Riddle told us not to do anything too nasty."

Ace slung an arm over his friend's shoulder, red eyes leering down at the round eyes of the boy. "He also said nothing that could be our fault- and, how would it be our fault if goldilocks here pulled some stupid shit and decided to fuck with some sort of monster, hm?"

Deuce's eyebrows twitched. His grin turned wicked as he nodded, "yeah, some dumbass thinking they're all that and getting screwed over... it'd be a pretty likely story."

Grim nodded, floating just above the above the boy's terrified face. "And we wouldn't even have to try!"

"W-why?" The student suddenly cried out. Ace couldn't help but stare down at him, the air suddenly getting tense. "Why are you all doing this?"

"What? Are you stupid?" Grim hissed, suddenly scratching the student's eye making him yelp. "You hurt my henchman, there's no other reason!"

"Hench-" he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut tight- "you mean (Y/N)?"

"'You mean (Y/N)?'- who else are we talking about, idiot?"

"Who else did you hurt as badly as them, huh?" Deuce leaned down, grabbing a fistful of the boy's hair, yanking him back hard. The boy winced.

"They- they-" he licked his lips, wheezing for air- "they said no! They should have said yes, it would have been so much easier! We- we're meant to be-" his shaking words bleed into a sudden groan as the fist holding his blond strands tightened to the point that Deuce's leather gloves groaned in protest.

Ace threw his head back laughing, "meant to be? Bull- fucking- shit! You don't know anything about them!" The boy opened his mouth to say something when the side of a polished shoe ended up slamming into his teeth. "You wanna know who does know them? Us. We pretty much now everything about them. If they belonged-" he snorted- "together with anyone, it'd be fucking us."

He reveled at the rage that flashed in those blue eyes, the sheer audacity this idiot had thinking he was something important to you made another snort leave Ace's throat.

Deuce growled, his lips curling. "What're you so pissed about? Is it because Ace is right? That they barely knew your name and then rejected you? What'd you expect?" Deuce suddenly slammed their head down against the rotting floor board and the boy let out a pained shout, Grim giggling in the background. "You expect them to run into your arms? Huh? Dumbass!" He reared his head back and slammed it back down again. There was a worrisome crack, but none of them seemed to care.

"We..." The student whimpered. "We were meant to be something... They would have learned to love me. They would have..."

Grim let out another hiss, blue flames flicking out of the corners of his mouth. "They would have nothin'! My henchman is my henchman! You can't have them! I'll burn you to a crisp if I have to!"

"Don't burn him alive, idiot raccoon." Ace said, grabbing the cat by the back of the scruff. "Remember, we let the monster have it's way with him, remember?"

"Monster?" The familiar voice made the group jump. Ace turned to see Riddle, Trey, and Cater standing in the dilapidated doorway. Riddle's eyebrows raised as he took a step towards them. "There're monsters here?"

"Yeah!" Grim said, a little too happy, "Big and scary! It has a pickaxe!"

"And you're thinking about... giving this one to it?"

"Why not?" Ace shrugged, his eyes shining with a sadistic malice as his gaze floated between the student (who was barely moving now, he figured that he might have been knocked out). "It'd be easy to come up with an excuse as to why he was out here-"

"It really would!" Cater suddenly chimed in, a grin on his lips, "I went diving through his files, turns out he's not as much of a goody-goody as he wants everyone to think!" He pulls out his phone, tapping at his screen before leaning over and showing it to Riddle who's eyebrows raised and eyes widened as he skimmed over the words.

"Ditching- causing multiple fights-" he mumbled, his eyes narrowing the further he went.

"Yep! It'd be really simple!"

"And he deserves it!" Deuce declared, "after everything he put (Y/N) through..." his face twisted into something angry, pupils dilating. "He deserves ten times worse."

"I agree," Trey said, nodding. A sage smile on his face, while he rolled up his sleeves (he had forgone his jacket and vest, only in the thin white undershirt of his uniform tucked into the belted waist of his pants). "So, let's get to doing that, if that's alright with you, dorm leader?"

Riddle nods. "It's only right." His steely eyes open slowly to reveal the rage boiling in them. "Hurting someone so important. It only deserves the most fitting punishment."

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to support me consider donating to my Ko-fi!

[ground-riot-jack]

Can I - Bakugou

guess who can’t keep up with a series but has hella ideas for one shots :)

summary: based off the song Can I by Kehlani, i literally love that song and I think of bakugou every time i hear it.

warnings: some smut (MDNI), cursing, teasing, cheating, mentions of sex

Your body drops down on to the bed as you try catching your breath. You look up at the man above you, also trying to catch his breath. He sits on his knees and lightly rubs your thighs.

“Your pussy should be illegal brat” He chuckles, moving to stand up.

You reached out and grab his bicep before he gets to far away.

“Don’t tell me we’re stopping at just one round? I want the sequel Katsuki” You tease, doing your best to keep the man in your bed. It wasn’t your fault he was a complete sex god and knew exactly how to make you come apart in minutes.

He bites his lip in contemplation, checking the time on his phone before shutting it off.

“Fine but i’ve gotta be outta here in 2 hours, so no more begging” He states, crawling back over you.

“You love it when I beg” You pull him in for a kiss and oust your hips back into him and just like that, you’re both launched back into a state of ecstasy for another couple hours, responsibilities put on the back burner once again.

———————

“Hey extras, what’d i miss” You say, plopping down at your friend groups lunch table.

“God you’re starting to sound like bakugou” Kaminari states rolling his eyes.

“Speaking of, where is he?” Mina asks

“Him and Ochako said they’d be a few minutes late, she’s talking to a teacher i think” Kirishima responds, taking a huge bite of food.

“So they’re official now?” Mina asks, causing the table to dive into gossip as usual. Everyone adding their opinions. You decided to keep some things to yourself but couldn’t hide the smugness you felt knowing what you and katsuki have.

The gossip session chimes down as the aforementioned couple approaches the table. We all talk and make weekend plans for a few minutes before Bakugou says he’s throwing a party at his place.

“You? You’re throwing a party? You’re actually gonna let tons of shitty idiots into your place? Hah ya right” You laugh at the idea.

“Using my words huh? Some might think you’re a little obsessed with me y/n?” Bakugou quips back.

“Oh please, everyone knows you’re madly in love with me and are too scared to confess” You chuckle.

Ochako stands up and walks away, taking her lunch tray with her. No one says anything but we all look to Bakugou.

“She’ll be fine” He grunts, mumbling about the pain in the ass he calls his girlfriend. Everyone moves on and begins talking about their outfits for the party.

“Why don’t you just tell your girlfriend that your single?” You smirk leaning closer to Katsuki.

“I don’t understand how everyone thinks you’re a sweet little angel, but really you’re a evil pornstar tryna fuck me every chance you get” He growls in your ear.

Ochako comes back with no lunch and a water bottle, sitting close to katsuki. You stand and pack up your mess.

“Alright bro, i gotta hit the library, game tonight?” You dap up all the boys in your group winking at Mina before leaving, putting a bit of extra swish in your hips, knowing who’s watching.

“How the fuck did you even meet her and why does she hang around?” Ochako spits at Bakugou.

“She’s one of the bros, relax” He rolls his eyes, moving to busy himself on his phone. He checks his notifications and sees a text from you.

shitty girl 🙄

You look stressed :( need head?

i know it’s ur fav

You’re being a little loud with your feelings baby

Fuck you, i’m coming over

He smiles locking his phone, he stands and throws his lunch away, telling his girlfriend some excuse about the gym before walking back to his room.

He pushes open his door and sees you laying in his bed on your stomach, reading a book while kicking your feet. He grabs your ankle and pulls you down to him. He flips you over and grabs your neck.

“You gonna be nice and quiet for me?” He immediately dips into your neck.

“No promises. Why’d you wear a white shirt? Just gonna be soaked through with my juices.” You smirk back.

“We’ll see about that.” He laughs, setting his phone on the bedside table.

“Making a sex tape Dynamight?”

“you bet your ass i am” He says his attention back on you.

——————

You and mina finish up your outfits and makeup, checking eachother to make sure you look your absolute best. You take an uber from Minas apartment to Bakugous, bottles in hand.

You knock on the door, and are greeted by bakugou in a black t-shirt, gold chain and jeans. It’s blows your mind how hot he can look in a simple outfit.

“Who the fuck are you” He jokes.

“Hi i’m Hell, nice to meet ya” You wink handing him the bottle and slipping in the door.

“You know you’re fucking with a demon, i want you on your best behavior tonight or else” Katsuki growls quietly in your ear as you stand in the kitchen making a drink.

“Anything to please you King Explosion Murder” You joke, walking away to join the rest of your friends.

You end up in the same place you’re always in when you party with bakugou, bent over the bathroom sink, brain melting at the pleasure.

“Fuck i’m close baby, where ya want me?” Bakugou grunts, pace never faltering.

“Inside me please” You cry out

“Fuck such a good little slut, want to make a daddy yea?” He groans while finishing. You both clean eachother up and head back to the party as normal as possible.

——————-

After a few hours, everyone has moved back to their respective homes. You couldn’t help but think about Katsuki, you’d gotten used to him being in your bed until you fell asleep, even if he was gone by the morning.

Your phone began to ring, pulling you out of your thoughts. It’s Bakugou.

“Hey Suki”

“Can I stop by?” He whispers

“why are you whispering?”

“Ochakos sleeping in my bed, can i please. Need to see you tonight”

“You’ve already seen me Suki, you can come over but, we can’t keep doing this” You sigh. He agrees then hangs up. Moments later there’s a light knock on your door. As soon as you open it, you’re swooped up in a kiss.

“I need you, not just in the sex way, but like I need you. I don’t want her, just wanted to make Deku jealous. Want you” He speaks in between kisses.

“Can we figure out the logistics after please Suki?” You beg.

“Of course baby, after” He pulls you down the hall and into the bed, beginning the same dance you’ve become so used too.

[reidgraygubler]

Spoonful of Sugar (spencer reid/reader)

Title: spoonful of sugar

Request: yes! (a super fluffy spence x reader one shot in which she's sick with the flu, a high fever or something similiar, so he has to take care of her. Usually i'm not that super whiny and wouldn't request things like that buuut i'm in a desperate need for spence to take care of me while i'm ill and home alone.)

Couple: Spencer Reid/gen-neutral!reader

Category: fluff

Content Warning: spencer’s pov, anxiety about an ill partner, none that I can think of. If something does need to be tagged, please message me

Word Count: 1,638

Summary: Spencer stays home from work to take care of his partner, who’s sick with the flu

A/N: sorry this took so long to get posted. i forgot I had it written and it was just sitting in my drafts. it is a little on the shorter side... thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

The person who usually slept beside me did not sleep last night. I only know that because whenever they tossed and turned, it’d wake me up. But also, they kept stealing all the blankets from me. Whenever I tried to take them back, they’d wake up and steal them again. Or they’d be suddenly up in a coughing fit. And then, they finally fell asleep around the time I had to get out of bed for work. Leaving me with another restless night of sleep. I was used to it at this point, but not because of them.

When I left the bedroom, I made sure to be as quiet as possible. I didn’t want to be the reason why they woke up for the day. Clearly something was on their mind and keeping them up. I also made sure they had all of the blankets on their body. While I did that, I sneakily rested my hand on their forehead, and the back of their neck, just to check their temperature.

They were on fire. I’d never felt someone as hot as that in a very long time. It would explain why they got no sleep and kept waking up, and stealing the blankets. They’d need to get medicine and fluids in them, and quickly. But I’ll do that when I’m finished getting ready. They just fell asleep and I’d rather them sleep off their fever.

So that’s what I did. I quickly got ready for work, doing all the necessary things I had to do. I wanted to make sure my person had everything they needed before I left for work.

Which meant a quick stop at the market down the street. The market had their favorite soup, juice, and snacks. If I was going to go into work today, I needed to make sure they had everything they needed before I left for the day. And if they wanted me to stay, I’d do that for them.

“Hey Emily, I’m going to be late to the office today,” I said into my phone as I grabbed a basket. The store had several people, just enough for me to be cautious of where I was going. And it pressured me to be even quicker inside.

“Oh! Of course! Is everything okay?” Emily asked, the concern in her tone sounding genuine. I sighed before nodding.

“Yeah, just... Just need to take care of someone who’s sick,” I explained as I grabbed a bottle of orange juice.

“Take all the time you need! We got everything covered here.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Of course, call me if you need anything!” She proclaimed before bidding farewell. I sighed deeply before pocketing my phone and headed towards the deli to get some soup. They always gave me chicken noodle, with the good thick egg noodles. Since they also enjoyed White Chicken Chill, I got that for them, too. Anything to make them feel better sooner.

Once I got both soups, enough juice for a small household, and plenty of healthy snacks, I made the trek back home. Whether they enjoyed the things I got them or not, I knew they’d enjoy the thought. Because that’s all that matters, right? The thought?

When I got home, I prepared the chicken noodle in a bowl, and grabbed a bottle of juice with electrolytes, and brought it to the bedroom. They were still asleep, however slightly stirring. Instead of just leaving right away, I waited a moment for them to wake up.

“My head is pounding,” they groaned as they brought a hand to rest on their forehead. “Like I drank a fifth of whiskey,” they added. I held back my chuckle and sat on the edge of the bed.

“You’re hot.”

“Thanks so are you,” they blew me a kiss. I rolled my eyes before shaking my head.

“You have a fever, Dear,” I corrected as I handed them the bottle of juice. “I got you soup, juice, and healthy snacks.”

“You’re too kind, Spencer,” they hummed as they struggled to open the bottle. I watched as they sighed and handed the bottle over to me. I smiled as I cracked the bottle open.

“I have to go in, but if you want me to stay I can.” I handed the bottle back to them. They smiled brightly before taking a big sip of the juice.

“No, no, you’re the breadmaker here. You’d be no use to me here.”

“I can help you,” I breathed out a laugh. They lazily smiled before shrugging. “I’m gonna get you medicine.”

“If you don’t come back with Day and Nyquil, don’t come back at all,” they teased. I laughed as I looked back at them.

“Eat your soup, I’m getting you medicine,” I repeated as I pointed at the bowl of chicken noodle on the nightstand. They glared at me before picking up the bowl. I was quick, grabbing the medicine they asked for and a bottle of Aleve.

“Do you need anything else?” I looked down at them as I placed the bottles on the nightstand. They shook their head as they looked back at me, watching as I sat back down beside them.

“I’m all good here.”

“I can stay if you need me to,” I whispered as I looked over at them. They looked away from the bowl of soup with wide eyes. “Surely Emily won’t care. Family first.”

“As much as I’d love for you to stay, Spence, they need you just as badly there,” my person slurred their words. I could only imagine just how congested their sinuses and how blocked their nasal passages were. Which would only cause a migraine. “Besides, I don’t want to get you sick. You’re a baby when you’re sick.” They smirked at me.

“Am not!” I exclaimed as I looked at them. They shrugged before rubbing the underside of their nose. Should have grabbed them tissues while I was at the store. “Seriously, I’ll stay.”

“Seriously, go to work.”

“If I didn’t know any better it sounds to me like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

“I am,” they mumbled as they blew softly onto their spoonful of soup. I rolled my eyes before standing up off the bed.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go.” I lifted my hands as a sign of surrender. They looked up at me with a soft smile. “Good to know you can get rid of me so easily.”

“I’ll call you if I need anything.” They placed the soup back on the nightstand before shifting down the bed.

“And I’ll let Emily know I’ll be on desk duty.”

“Spencer,” they warned.

“I’m going! I’m going! Gone! See! Gone!”

“Love you!”

“Love you, too!”

I should have stayed home.

{***}{***}{***}

Okay, maybe Spencer should have stayed home because… I really miss him. I thought I’d be fine if he went in, and I’d get by… But I really want him. God I’m never whiny and asking for things, and the only thing I want… I sent it away.

I could call him… He’d drop everything and come right over. But… He should work. There is a reason why I sent him to work. That was where he was most needed. What if I was wrong though? What if he was most needed here, with me? No, no he’s the brain of the BAU.

But it’d be really nice if he stayed home with me.

Yeah, I made a mistake sending him to work. I’ve never felt so clingy in my entire life. Damn my stupid clinginess.

Did he know I was thinking about him? I must’ve, because he was calling me. Probably just checking in on me. I could ask him to come home. Unless he’s in the middle of helping a case and can’t come home.

“How are you feeling?” Yep, just calling to see how I was doing. It was probably a good thing that he was calling me. He probably just knew I wasn’t feeling any better.

“Could be better,” I paused as I looked over at his side of the bed. It was made but a little tousled around because of my sleeping. “Kinda wish you stayed here,” I whispered, mostly to myself.

“Already on the way home,” he stated like it was no big deal.

“Really?” I asked, feeling a little bit of excitement in my tone. Surely it just sounded like I was stuffy to Spencer. He laughed.

“Finished early. And… Emily noticed I was too distracted thinking about you. I’m about halfway there, do you need anything?”

“You… To get here quickly and give me all the cuddles in the world,” I dramatically sighed as I curled in on my side. “But… Safely!” I quickly added.

“I will be there soon, Dear,” Spencer mused before chuckling lightly. “Do you need anything?”

“No, I should be okay.”

“I’ll be home soon."

“Okay, bye,” I whispered before hanging up. I tossed my phone into the empty space beside me before curling back onto my side. Now that I knew Spencer would be home any minute, maybe I could sleep. Or maybe I should stay awake and wait for him.

Whatever, it didn’t matter. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Spencer was crawling into bed beside me and I was slowly waking up.

“Shh, go back to sleep,” he whispered as he pulled the blanket back over me. Although it felt like I was on fire, the blanket felt safe over me. Or maybe that was Spencer’s arms wrapped around me that made me feel safe.

“No, no,” I mumbled as I moved as close as possible to him. Spencer laughed lightly before pressing his lips to my forehead. “Don’t leave me again,” I whispered into his chest.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

{***}{***}{***}

if you have any comments/questions about this part, let me know here! please consider reblogging or leaving a comment if you’re a part of the taglist. it’s so much work tagging everyone.

not able to tag: @isabellasimps

@thebluetint @mggsprettygirl @muffin-cup @misshale21 @spenciegoob @reidspoet @ash19871962 @babebenhardy @flipperpenguins @kuolonsyoja

@broken-stardust @beepbooptoop @ray-lia

[hajimesh]

MONSTER

+ pairing. demon!oikawa / fem reader

+ genre. smut

+ word c. 2,209 words

+ warnings. alcohol, dom/sub, oral, praise kink, creampie

+ author n. happy halloween !! i hope everyone is having/had an amazing day 🧡

your mother often warned you about the dangers of halloween parties. she’d tell you not to trust anyone, especially those with a mask until you could see their real face. there’s a tale she always told you about:

a young woman meets a mysterious, masked man on a halloween night…

the party’s in full swing, everyone holds the distinctive red solo cup as their bodies dance to the beat. your eyes trail over the place and they're met with a drunk frankenstein grinding his hips on a witch—a sight you weren't expecting.

“you made it!”

a hand lands on your shoulder and spins you away from the weird scene.

your classmate—the one who invited you to the party—gives you a side hug and when she finally releases you, she studies your costume.

“slutty 60’s girl? i dig it.”

“shut up.”

granted, you know the costume is quite revealing. a baby blue sundress that barely reaches your mid-thigh, paired with kitten heels and the distinctive sixties makeup that would make lana del rey proud.

another classmate joins you and they start rambling about an assignment you have no interest in, not for now at least. excusing yourself, you leave to go get a drink.

there’s a variety of bottles sitting on top of the dining table but before you can pick your poison, an unknown voice gets your attention.

“there’s a secret stash in the kitchen,” a man with a demon costume stands next to you, his eyes narrowing as he scans the bottles with a disgusted look. “and with way better quality drinks.”

sharp-looking horns contrast against his brown hair, a white shirt with the first buttons undone and black dress pants make him look straight out of a hollywood film. he could give young brad pitt a run for his money.

“i don’t think the owner would appreciate a stranger in their kitchen,” you manage to answer back, pushing your flustered state aside.

“oh, he’ll survive,” he waves it off, dazzling you with a handsome smile. “he’s smashed already.”

with a tilt of his head, he points at another guy with dark, messy hair and a matching costume, lying on the couch. you can tell the guy's fighting to keep his eyes open.

“come with me.”

he doesn’t give you a chance to reply, already walking ahead of you, so your only option is to trail behind him. he makes his way around the people easily, a few girls winking at him and boys patting him on the back which are all answered by him with a friendly smile.

once you make it to the kitchen, you notice the noise of the party has reduced considerably.

he hands you a beer—opened right before your eyes—and you give him an appreciative nod. “thanks.”

“oikawa tooru,” his charming smile is back for a second before it switches to a smirk. “you can call me master, though.”

shaking your head, you laugh at the joke and take a sip of your drink.

...he lures her to leave with him…

“on your knees.”

without thinking twice, you do as he says, ignoring the discomfort that comes with it.

two hours and a couple of drinks later, all of your inhibitions were gone and you wanted nothing more than to have oikawa fuck your brains out. lucky for you, he was hoping you’d allow him to do exactly that.

and he was very pleased when you agreed to go somewhere more private.

“what an obedient little thing,” he coos and you feel yourself getting wetter at the praise. “i want you to suck me as if your life depended on it, okay?” he says, smirking at how unaware you are of the meaning behind his words.

“yes.”

“yes, what?” he raises an eyebrow and you’re confused for a moment before you remember the words he said earlier.

gulping, you answer him with the most submissive tone you can muster. “yes, master.”

oikawa nods and takes his cock out of his pants, slapping the head on your cheek twice—your cue to open up your mouth. he quickly places it inside, your lips wrapping around the tip and giving it a harsh suck.

“mhm, you’ve been craving this all night. right, sweetheart?” his hand grips the back of your head, setting a comfortable pace for you.

“yes, i needed your cock,” you say after releasing him from your mouth, but a harsh tug on your hair acts as a reminder to be careful with your words. “master.”

“you’re such a cute, little whore. choking on your master’s cock,” his words are like an aphrodisiac, encouraging you to take him deeper. “fuck– i can feel your throat contracting around me.”

a mewl leaves your mouth but it’s muffled by the gurgling sounds of your throat being fucked by oikawa’s long cock. a mixture of your saliva and his pre-cum drips from the corners of your mouth, and oikawa swears has never seen something so divine yet so lascivious.

...he shows his true form…

“you'll ride my face until cum drips out of you.”

your body shudders at the thought of his mouth on your most sensitive place. as he places himself down on the bed, you indulge a bit in your fantasy, wondering how his lips will feel, his tongue lapping at—

“are you making your master wait?” he snaps, a hint of irritation radiating out of him.

“n-no,” you’re about to climb up on the bed when the pointy horns catch your attention. “uhm… could you take those off, please?”

“hm? oh,” his fingers wrap around the horns, a playful look taking over his features. “i don’t think that’ll be possible.”

you notice his dark eyes flashing with a red gleam but it’s gone before you can blink again. blaming it on the alcohol, you ignore it and move until you’re straddling his face, your pussy right above his mouth.

“c’mere, baby. let me ravish you.”

his arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you down to his mouth and you shudder when his breath hits your pussy.

oikawa doesn’t give you time to adjust to the feeling, going straight to slurping like a starved man. his lips latch on you while his tongue laps up your juices, drinking them with a greediness he’s never experienced before.

your soft moans echo in the room as his nose rubs against you, inhaling your scent and sending him to a different state of bliss. it’s as if he could get high by your scent alone.

“master,” you breathe out, your hands going to his hair—gripping it—while you rub your pussy on his face.

he hums, the vibrations making your pleasure heighten considerably. opening his mouth, he lets his tongue wander until it pokes right on your slit, he feels your legs tremble and the harsh grip on his hair tells him you’re on the brink of your orgasm. his tongue glides in and out until he’s practically fucking you with it, his nose rubbing on your swollen clit.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” your hips grind against his face, not caring if he’s even able to breathe and only focusing on your release. “m’gonna cum, i’m gonna–” and with a loud cry, your orgasm ripples through your body, the familiar warmth taking over your senses.

your hips stop moving, but oikawa keeps lapping up at your pussy, savoring the creamy juices coming out of it.

“s-stop, too sensitive.”

oikawa takes a deep breath one last time and finally lets go of you, your body falling limply on the bed right away. he relishes the sight of you sprawled out, still riding off your high while he pumps himself a couple of times.

“are you ready for me, baby? i can’t wait any longer, i need to feel your sweet little pussy around my cock,” his tone is soft yet demanding.

if he had to be honest with himself, he is getting needy. and he has the flushed tip of his cock, wanting nothing else but your cunt to milk him dry, as proof of it.

“yes, master. please, fuck me.”

and that’s all he needs to place himself on top of you. you open your legs for him, your pussy in full display, and ready to take him in.

he rubs his length between your folds a couple of times, teasing you both, but once he starts sinking in he can’t help but close his eyes.

“shit,” your warmth sends his mind into a state of bliss, your tight hole stretching and creaming all over him. “baby girl, you feel divine.”

oikawa would’ve laughed at the irony if he wasn’t feeling overwhelmed by the sensation. he has known hell all of his life and he doesn’t remember it ever being this delicious.

you must be his piece of heaven.

once he’s all in, he exhales and opens his eyes to look down at you. your face is contorted in ecstasy, your mind turning into mush at how good it feels to have him pulsing inside of you.

oikawa starts a languid pace, one hand groping your tit and tweaking the nipple between his fingers while he drives his cock in and out of you. he can’t remember the last time he had a pussy so tight, so exquisite, and desperate for him that it's making him feel so close to shooting his load inside of you.

“master,” your tiny voice takes him out of his daydream. “faster, please?”

he hooks your leg over his shoulder, driving his cock even deeper making his balls smack against your ass. his eyes trail down to where you two are connected, watching his cock ram into your abused cunt relentlessly.

“so needy for me, huh? don’t worry, baby. i’ll fuck another orgasm out of you.”

your walls flutter around him, his words going straight to your pussy and making it clamp around his cock. you can feel it pulsating inside of you, the head reaching so deep it rubs on both your sweet spot and your cervix.

“i’m close,” your hand goes to his forearm, trying to get a grip on something, anything, that can keep you from passing out.

he collects a bit of your arousal with his finger and then starts circling your clit with it. “you can cum, baby. i want to see you gushing all over my cock.”

the constant feeling of his dick stretching you plus his touch on your clit, end up sending you to your second orgasm. your walls spasm around his cock, the snug grip making him see stars.

with one last thrust, he finally cums. his cock pumps three long spurts inside of your cunt and his hips involuntarily jerk forward when it keeps tightening around him. after a minute, he kisses your leg that’s still draped over his shoulder and pulls out.

you’re about to close your legs when his firm grip on your thigh stops you.

“not yet, let me see.”

your pussy clenches around nothing when his predatory stare lands between your legs, his eyes focused on the way his cum starts oozing out of your hole.

the last few moments feel like a haze. his voice seems far, sweet nothings coming out of his mouth, and the last thing you feel is his finger gliding over your slit before you pass out.

...by the next morning, she realizes how close to death she was.

“miss, miss. wake up.”

you fight to open your eyes—which takes you around a minute since they feel unusually heavy—and when you finally do, you see a man, not older than sixty, staring at you in concern.

“man, this always happens.”

you hear him murmur but you pay no mind. scanning your surroundings, it finally dawns on you that you’re not in your home. in fact, you’re in the last place you would’ve expected: the cemetery.

the sun is barely up, the atmosphere looking a bit somber and the crisp air making the hairs on your arms stand up.

“why am i here?” you turn to the old man—who must be the night shift guard—with panic rapidly flooding your heart. “what’s going on!?”

“did you meet a man last night?”

your heart rate spikes up at the odd question.

the guard sighs, visibly finding the situation tiring. “immortal creatures and spirits wander between us during halloween nights, you should be more careful.”

flashbacks of last night run through your mind. there wasn’t anything suspicious about oikawa, right? but then you remember how he never took off his horns and his pupils turning red every once in a while.

“every year, girls—boys, sometimes—appear here the morning after. most of them run with just a case of amnesia but there are others who don’t make it.”

you gulp, fear taking over your body as you realize how you let something—because apparently the man you met last night wasn’t human—have their way with you.

“i-i have to go.”

you basically run out of there, feeling as if someone is watching you but there’s no one else—apart from the guard.

there’s an odd sense of hurt in your chest, your heart sinking to the pits of your stomach, and you don’t know if it’s out of fear or because of the thought of oikawa doing this, every year, with someone else.

[savorysatori]

DEJA VU. / SATORI TENDŌ! — dé·jà vu.

Deja Vu. /ˌdāZHä ˈvo͞o / a feeling of having already experienced the present situation.

synopsis. — you were both broken up. done with each other for the rest of your life, but, that one phone call always awoke something in you. bringing you back to where you used to be.

// warnings. smoking, car sex, tiny bit of angst. fem!reader, ex-lovers. possessiveness, toxic!tendō, face-sitting, daddy kink. + overstimulation, manipulation, non-con at first.

leader’s notes. my second attempt at writing angst and I hope I don’t butcher it, anyways, writing this hurt bad <33 but it’s also so hot because of toxic tendō. hehe! 💗

“You always babble on about us .. saying we can’t be together, and yet, you always pick up on my calls. You’re useless without me, dove.”

4:55 AM. — It was a soft breeze tonight, the birds were silent and the sun was slowly rising to uplift the night sky. It was a quiet night. Nothing to disturb your neighbors of their slumber, deep sleep with dreams of all kinds of things swishing between them and others. 

But, you, oh you. You were up, wide awake, awaiting that same message you get from him every single day. It had become a schedule to stay up this late, hoping the three bubbles would pop up beside his name. You yearned to see him again. And it was awful. An awful, awful thing. You fell deeper into his hole of games and tricks he played on you, unable to climb out from it. Fell deep into the love he provided you. But he couldn't love you back. That was the worst part of it, and the reason you could never tell anybody. You wanted to leave, and you did. You were the one who chose to break up, yet the one who kept going back and forth. This was the cycle of a pathetic relationship, and you knew it. You felt your cell phone vibrate in your hand. You felt a mixture of dread and excitement. Dread, because you knew who was texting.

“Come outside. I’m here.”

The message showed up. From there, you knew it was him. His words were short. Uneventful, but short. You opened your front door, walking out to the middle of the meadow behind your house, to feel the crisp air on your famished skin. The moon was high in the sky, and its light illuminated your surroundings. There was nobody else around, giving you a sense of isolation from any other living being. Tendō leaned against his sleek car, exactly where your visions had led you to expect him to be. His legs were crossed and his shoulders slumped as if he was trying to disappear into the dark color of the car. You couldn't make out much else about him, as he was keeping himself cloaked in shadow.

"Tendō," you uttered, walking up to him.

He slowly lifted his head, peeking out from the cloak of car. His eyes were lifeless. Empty. There was no emotion in those deep vermillions. They were cold. Hard. Like the metal of the car they were resting on.

"So, you did come,” he said, his voice monotone and emotionless, his mouth however was pulled up into a small smirk. He pushed himself up from the car, standing at its height. He brushed some dirt off his slacks, and pulled the car door open, climbing inside. You followed his example, climbing into the passenger seat.

Tendō’s car was spotless. Not a speck of dirt was anywhere to be found on the car's interior. The seats were equally as clean, with not a single stain or tear in sight. It was obvious that he took great care in keeping his car in pristine condition. It made all the memories flood back easily into your brain, having you remember exactly everything that happened in here. As you sat in it, the engine still idling, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulling one out and putting it in his mouth. He lit it with his flickery lighter, taking a deep breath in and releasing it through his nose.

“I thought you quit,” you repeated the same words from before, hoping he took them in. He didn't answer. Instead, he focused on the cigarette in his mouth as he drew it out. Pushed a button to raise the window, allowing the smoke to escape into the frigid night air.

‘Why wasn’t he answering you?’

The clock in your head ticked and tocked. Back and forth with you getting irritated with by the lack of response you are getting.

He slowly exhaled, the smoke leaving his lips in a thin stream.

"Quit your bickering, would ya’? "

The two of you sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Smoke filled the car's interior, clouds swirling around each other as they rose into the air. The smell of tobacco vanished when he crushed the cig in his palm, flicking the now burnt remains out the window. Once the window rolled up, you could see the uneasiness settle into your stomach.

“Ten- we gotta.. end this, tonight. Last time.”

You were sure about it. Hundred percent, sure. Even if the need of your body wasn’t. You could feel it. His words were vague, non-committal at best, but his eyes, that's what he was getting at. His dead eyes told you all you need to know. Tendō grabbed your hand, and before you could even think about it, your hand went near your mouth, coercing you onto his lap with a brutal grip.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you in place. Your legs moved to straddle him, your knees on either side of his thighs. His hand left your mouth, finding its way onto your throat. You gulped in a breath, instantly feeling the pain of his fingers trapping your flesh. His face, so close to yours.

“You always babble on about us .. saying we can’t be together, and yet, you always pick up on my calls. You’re useless without me, dove.”

And he was right, so right. All of it. All of his games, tactics, his plans. You left him, yet you kept coming back. Why?

His eyes burned with a bright red, like two hot cinders. Tempting you to utter a word from your quivering lips, daring you to make a peep. And just like that, his found yours, smothering your lips. Soft at first, but soon they were hungry. They were everywhere, and you welcomed each one. Tongue pushed into your mouth; you tasted the blood from your bitten lip. The smoky flavor of his mouth was gone, replaced by the metal-like bitterness of his cold breath. You were weak. Powerless against him.

Your knees bent, your legs becoming wobbly, and you gave in. What else could you do? You couldn’t resist to his whims. His cold fingers rested against your burning cheek, his other hand grabbed at the side of your face, fingers digging into your jaw.

"You're mine." He breathed, his lips barely moving.

Dazed and confused, you didn't utter a single sound. His hand ran down your cheek, and he gave a light squeeze, holding you in place for his next move. His cold lips pressed against your cheek, moving slowly to your ear. "Say it."

"I'm yours!” The words escaped your lips, as if someone had pressed them in. They felt unnatural, wrong. It was like you was forcing yourself to say them. He let out a low chuckle, his hot breath causing you to shiver, no, to tremble. "Good girl."

The hand that was on your face moved down, and he grabbed at the front of your shirt. The feeling of his hand against your skin sent chills down your spine. You could feel him smile against your skin, his lips splayed on your chest. It all came too fast. One moment he was whispering dreadful words, the next he had the leather seat laid back, the remaining clothes thrown away with your legs fastened around each side of his head, cunt mere inches away from his hungry mouth. He had your wrists pushed against your head, and the leather seat belt were tied to your arms, leaving you unable to move them. Tied down, forced to watch, no matter how hard you tried to look away... he filled your glistening pussy with his cold tongue.

It was brutal. it was exquisite.

Moans came out of your lips with every thrust, and you couldn't help but push against his mouth. You wanted more. So much more. You could feel the warmth of his mouth, hear the slurping and slopping sounds as his tongue moved in and out, spreading the lips of your pussy to suckle. The harder you went, the wetter he made you, flicking at your clit. His stubble raked against your inner thighs as his mouth moved up to your aching sex. You rocked into his face, faster with a swirl from your hips. You could almost feel the heat of his breath against your clit as you loosed a torrent of dirty words, his name passed your lips in a long tone.

“Daddy! hah, ye- yes! ‘s good,”

He didn't need telling twice. Grabbing your hips, he steadied your gyrating body as he buried his head in your depths. He pushed your legs up, spreading you wide open. His tongue swept in and out, faster and faster. You could feel the air swirling around your clit as his nose pushed against your folds, sucking your sore bud into his mouth and biting down. You came hard, shuddering as your muscles tightened and unknotted themselves, unable to do anything else as wave after wave hit you.

Tendō’s tongue slid up from your sensitive bud, slipping back into his mouth with the filth of your juices splayed on it. He did exactly what he always did, make you dazed over him. Crawling back to him and his dick with need.

“Look at you. A fucking whore, whinin’ and squealing, you can’t go a fucking day without me — can you?” he urged you on with his harsh words, bringing you back from the aftershock.

You were addicted to him.

“No. I — I can’t, I love you too much,” a sniffle came from you, eyes settling to close. “But, please .. fuck me, daddy.”

A pleased look spread onto his face. He won. “You’re finally learning, dove. Now you know you can’t live without me, I’m too fuckin’ good.” you were swished from on top of his face, your legs being forced up, your knees drawn back as his fingers dug into your thighs. Gently, he guided his dick to you. His hands wrapped around your legs as he slowly started to push into you, rocking his hips as he found your warm, wet hole.

“Daddy! — ah, fuuck.” you hissed as he entered you, wincing as he twisted his hips, grinding the last inches of his cock into you. Cool air brushed against your raw neck and the inside of your thighs as his warm body pushed against you. With every thrust, his dick ground against your clit, sending jolts of delight through your body. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as your fingers bit into his flesh. You didn't want it to end. This pure, unadulterated pleasure. He leaned forward, supporting his weight on his forearms as he panted.

You were tight. So fuckin’ tight, Tendō could barely move.

He thrust into you, hard. His pelvis slapped your ass as you took him in. You moaned into his mouth as his dick rubbed that sweet spot inside you, your body felt as if it was in a craze of desire. He steadied his breathing as he started to thrust harder, keeping an intent of driving you cock drunk. Tendō wrapped his hand around your throat, as his other hand raised your legs and wrapped them around his waist. His lips were messily pressed against your cheek as he kissed you with deep, raw animalistic lust. You bit your tongue to prevent yourself from making any noise, but your body betrayed you as a moan still slipped past your lips.

“I know you missed this from the way you look, I know you miss me. Let me hear you mutter it, baby.” he panted as your bodies' rhythm began to sync up.

Your nostrils were filled with his scent, your eyes were covered by your hair, but you could still see as he fucked you with kind-buttons, and the pain grew. “I’ve missed it!” And you did as you were told, jumping onto his cock and draining it dry with your whines. “I’ve missed you, s’so much, lo- love you too.”

“Knew it. I fucking knew it already, your mine.”

He was unrelenting as his cock mushed against your womb, his forehead pressed against yours. His fingers dug into your sweat-soaked back as he huffed, his breath coming out in heavy pants. You could feel the liquid filling your insides as his warm cum plugged you. His body kept on thrusting as he emptied himself into you. Your vision grew dark as the world turned all of its colors. You felt light-headed, but you didn't want it to end. You couldn’t have it end.

Tendō’s eyes ranked of desire and crave, he had you where he always wanted. Plugged you to be his, lure you back in with his lustful advances, have you stay up till the crack of dawn — waiting for that phone call from him. Make you whine just for the simplest touch from him. He drove you mad. That devilish grin on his face as he had you pinned down, that was all it took for you to fall into temptation's arms again. You were the king and he was the pawn, catching you in checkmate.

“You also still .. love me, right?”

A deep, guttural laugh escaped from him. One that would make someone wince, embarrassed of the question they asked. You wished you could take it back, wish you could go back in time and not say a peep. Wish you could disappear from reality. Just this once.

“Yes. Of course I do, my little devil. But that’s in another lifetime, one where I’m your actual boyfriend.”

You’ve felt this moment before. Tasted those same words leaving your lips, savored them to the hilt. This exact feeling felt familiar like you’ve experienced it before. You were trapped in a haze of deja vu, going around in circles and repeating the same actions from before. Just like now, what you asked him. You asked him before.

“Checkmate.”

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 2

Thank you so much for all your reactions to part 1! I hope you enjoy part two just as much :)

CW: mentions of past minor character death (incl. a pregnant woman)

7.3k - masterlist - ao3

--

Her first day of shooting isn’t great. It’s not bad by a long way, but it could have easily been better. They’re on location in a forest somewhere in the outskirts of Rifthold and she didn’t even know there were places in the city like this, she’d assumed it was all the sprawling metropolis of skyscrapers and crowded streets, but apparently not.

She’s cold. There’s a machine beating down torrents of fake rain on her and Fenrys where they stand opposite each other on the muddy path through the trees, they’re filming the scene where their characters first meet. Her feet are soggy inside the canvas trainers she’s wearing and they keep spraying water on her hair to keep the wet look running throughout all of the takes and she hates it. She’s uncomfortable and stiff but she comforts herself with the knowledge that Fenrys is the same if the frown he wears whenever the camera isn’t on him is anything to go by.

It helps, barely.

She keeps having to spit water out of her mouth between lines, she swears it never rains this heavily in real life but who is she to comment, and she watches Rowan’s lips twist in displeasure where he sits behind the camera every time she does it. Aelin’s not sure what else she’s supposed to do, he can sit there out of the line of the water all fine, but she can’t speak with her mouth full.

It can take time to fall into the natural rhythm of shooting a new project, even the shitty ones she’s done in the past have shown her that, but there’s something about the way Rowan watches her that prickles the back of her neck, his stare intense and heavy as he watches, that adds the pressure. She wants to show him that she can do this. She wants his approval.

She ignores the reasons why.

After they finish and Rowan has called cut she sulks back to her trailer, she’s only just managed to change out of her sodden clothes when there’s a knock at the door. It’s Fenrys, warm and dry now in his own change of clothes.

They’ve sort of become friends recently, after swapping numbers after the table read he had texted her first. The studio has put him in the same complex as her and they’ve shared a car back there a couple of times after some of their meetings. She likes him a lot actually, and while she knows his reputation of infamy with the ladies follows him around like a bad smell, she feels comfortable with him.

“That could have gone better,” he tells her as he flops down onto the two-seater sofa at the end of her trailer, the other half has a mound of clothes dumped on it that she hasn’t bothered to sort through yet.

She just shoots him a look that she hopes says tell me about it.

“Tomorrow will be better,” he tells her, reassuringly. He would know she supposes, he has far more experience than her.

“I hope so.”

“How’re you finding it so far, working with Rowan?” he asks, and she frowns, bristling at the fact that he somehow knows the worst question to ask already. Aelin doesn’t think she’s behaved weirdly around Rowan since the day at the table read, in fact she’s tried to avoid him where possible. Maybe that’s it.

“Fine,” she says, but that’s not quite true. It messes with her in a dangerous way every time she knows he’s watching her. She should be able to turn that part of her brain off during a scene, she trained for years to learn how to do that, but he gets to her. She’s working on it.

Fenrys laughs, seeing right through her.

“He’s not bad once you get to know him, the first time we worked together I thought he was a total dick.” She gives him the same look as before as she clears the clothes and sits down next to him.

“I swear he’s not that bad. He���s just-” Fenrys pauses, weighing her up with a look, and something that he takes in from the way she stands, gnawing on her lower lip with her hair still wet, has him saying; “He’s got a lot riding on this.”

“Why?”

It doesn’t feel like he has a lot riding on this, his last piece was nominated for the Oscars, how much higher than that can you get? It’s not like he’s in the same position as her, desperately clawing herself back to a place where she can be cast in a role and it not be followed by a stunned, oh?

She knows there were articles written when her casting was announced that were doubtful of her ability to do this movie, that questioned whether she’s up to the task and whether she’s good enough to be standing next to names like Fenrys and Rowan. Some of the articles were straight up mean, and she only knows that because she searched them up like a masochist when all the ones Elide sent over were far too nice.

A dark part of herself can’t help but fall prey to some of the headlines. The ones that throw around words like nepotism, the ones that question whether Aelin is talented enough to be where she is cut deeper than any knife, and only half of it is because she sometimes wonders the same. She should be better than that, but the reminder catches in her throat that she really does have a lot riding on this.

“It’s not really my place to say.”

That’s a load of shit, and she tells him so. He only shrugs, not willing to so openly gossip about their boss.

“How well do you know him exactly?” She’s fishing for any details, but it definitely could be passed off as casual curiosity.

“He directed my debut, we keep in touch every so often.” He’s nonchalant. “He asked me to audition for this.”

“Nice humble brag.”

Fenrys only flashes her his movie star grin, in combination with the wink he throws at her it’s almost an effort not to blush.

“He wanted you cast, you know?” That she didn’t know, but it’s nice to hear.

“Why? He doesn’t know me.”

“You’re hard work, you know?” He’s joking but it doesn’t sit quite right. She knows it’s true. “Come with us tonight. There's a group of us getting dinner, and you can ask him yourself.”

It’s an olive branch. She knows it’s obvious to everyone that she’s uncomfortable, still hasn’t quite found her feet on set after taking such a break, and it’s one that she’s grateful for. No matter how closed off she knows she still seems to them.

“Okay,” she says and Fenrys’ smile is genuine and a part of her lifts, it’s a start.

They share a car to the restaurant and he fills the journey with easy chatter. She appreciates it because she feels really fucking rusty. It’s been a while since she spoke to anyone outside of her immediate circle of friends and family, and it’s always been easy with them. This is different, but not unwelcome.

Sometimes she worries that, as much as they love her, Aedion, Lysandra and Elide are inclined to tread lightly around her. She’d like to think that she’s not that fragile, that she could take the full front of their humour and teasing like she used to, but then remembers when Fenrys’ joke fell flat for her in the trailer and she thinks again.

Either way, the cast and crew here don’t treat her like she’s broken, or even breakable, and it’s refreshing.

Fenrys leads the way into the restaurant, and there’s definitely paparazzi down the street snapping away at them as they cross the short distance from the car to the door. She tries to ignore it, she’ll text Elide once they’re done here, even though Elide will probably be overjoyed. It’s probably (definitely) easier to publicise your talent when she’s out there doing things with other famous people compared to staying inside her home alone.

Fenrys greets the staff on the door and they lead them through the restaurant to a staircase at the back of the room and it leads up to a private space with only one table. Right, privacy. Some of these guys are proper celebrities.

They’re the last ones there, and there’s two seats left at the table. Manon is here, so is Rowan and one of the executive producers who she thinks is called Gavriel.

“Alright guys, you all know Aelin,” Fenrys says and she smiles as they greet her.

Fenrys holds a chair out for her, the one next to Rowan, and she slides into it as he takes the one on her other side.

Rowan offers her a quirk of his lips, one she returns as she takes him in. He’s wearing short sleeves this time and she gets a good look at the tattoo snaking the whole way down his left arm. It’s in the Old Language and she can’t read it, even though her father had spent hours trying to teach her when she was a kid, but the lettering is beautiful and neat. She wants to reach out and touch, to trace the lines that roll down his golden skin.

She doesn’t. Obviously.

A waiter comes over to take their drink orders, Fenrys gets a beer, Manon and Gavriel opt for wine, but Rowan asks for an orange juice. He’s not drinking either and she wonders if it’s related to the reason he needs this movie to go well. So she’s nosy? So what?

She sits back and observes as the conversation flows, laughing along at the easy banter that flows between the three men and the sarcastic quips Manon throws in. Fenrys clearly understated his relationship with Rowan, they seem tight and have a clear fondness for one another. It’s easy to slot herself in as the night progresses, snarking with Manon and joining in with the general light-hearted mockery of Fenrys.

She thinks maybe so far she’s got Rowan wrong.

Tonight he’s quick-witted and charming, and he makes his best effort to include her in the conversation which she appreciates. It’s a contrast to the dark and teasing side of him she’s seen so far in the hallway and the table read. Maybe he’s decided to just start again, pretend they never met before she was cast, and she can do that too.

“So, Aelin.” Manon turns the spotlight to her after a while. “Tell us the scoop. I’ve not seen you in anything for a while.”

It’s not a nasty question, Aelin can just tell from the way she asks it, nothing more than genuine curiosity lies in her tone even if the phrasing is somewhat harsh. Manon might not be the bubbliest of characters, she’s blunt and doesn’t beat around the bush, but she’s not unkind, and Aelin doubts if she knew the truth she’d ask that question in such a way.

Elide managed to keep the worst of her… career break? One could phrase it more like breakdown, out of the limelight. She somehow managed to keep the worst of it hidden, and Aelin will owe her that for the rest of her life.

All the world knows is that Sam was murdered when they were both still newbies to their respective industries, neither of them had had their big break yet, and after that she took a break. For three years.

She remembers the headlines from the time, most were in smaller magazines, Sam wasn’t famous enough to make the front pages. Her mouth tastes like bile.

Singer-Songwriter Sam Cortland, 20, murdered in random street attack in Orynth, girlfriend Aelin Ashryver unharmed and working with police to identify suspect.

No one knows she knelt there in his blood begging for him to open his eyes, not even Aedion, or Lysandra or Elide, and she blinks back the image now. Her hands are curled into fists below the table and she forces herself to uncurl them and lay them flat against her jeans.

“Yeah,” she says after clearing her throat. “I took a break from it all for a few years, but I’m back now obviously and really excited for it.”

Manon nods and Gavriel raises a glass. He’s been nothing but kind to her all night. He kind of reminds her of her father, though he’s not that old, probably not even forty yet. He’s softly spoken and counters each snarky comment from Fenrys or Manon with something softer but no less amusing.

“Good to hear,” Fenrys says with a grin, clinking his glass against Gavriel’s.

The way Rowan watches her as he raises his own glass in a toast to her, careful and without speaking, tells her he knows. At least the basics about Sam, and it seems like maybe he did google her just like she joked back at the table read.

Their meals arrive then, mercifully taking the attention away from her. She needs to find a better way to deal with the attention than shutting down, especially if this film is going to be as big as everyone thinks it will be. She should call her therapist.

She will.

Eventually.

They leave the restaurant not long after, Fenrys covering the bill, emphasising that this was a celebration and an initiation for Aelin. She almost blushes for some unknown reason at his words, but she likes it. It sounds good. Like she really is back, or at least will be.

They each give her their numbers, and she likes the way he’s in her phone now as Rowan rather than Rowan Whitethorn, it feels like he’s not just someone from work. Not just her boss.

They each say goodbye and share a series of embraces, ignoring the small group of paparazzi that follow, desperate for any kind of incriminating image of any of the five of them. It’s clear that most of them are here for Fenrys, but she still makes sure to keep her expression clear and guarded as Rowan wraps her into a one-armed hug when they leave. It’s not just for the paparazzi.

Back in her apartment, when she’s tucked up in bed knowing she should be asleep, she can’t stop herself from googling him. She’s honestly surprised she’s lasted this long.

The first few news articles to come up are all about the movie and she scrolls past them, instead pulling up his Wikipedia page and scrolling straight to the personal life section. Maybe this is the weirdest way anyone’s ever got to know a friend, but she’s intrigued and still slightly flustered by him so it will do.

The section on his personal life is relatively bare, and it doesn’t surprise her. His Instagram account alone told her pretty explicitly that he’s a private kind of guy. She almost scrolls away after the first few lines, they don’t give her much information other than the college he went to and the languages he speaks, but she reads the final few lines of the section anyway.

In March 2018 Whitethorn’s fiance, Lyria Woods, passed away as the result of a road traffic accident. The driver of the other vehicle was found to be under the influence of alcohol at the time of the accident and was later sentenced to 6 years in prison for death by dangerous driving. Woods was 12 weeks pregnant with their child at the time of the accident.

Only a couple of weeks after the Oscars that she and Lysandra watched. She does the maths and realises this is his first film since then and thinks she knows what Fenrys meant.

Fucking shit.

Her second day of shooting goes better than the first, just as Fenrys said it would.

She’s more relaxed when she crosses the set from her trailer with a coffee in hand and she thinks she knows her place a little better now, even after only one night spent with the others.

She lies back while her make up is done, chatting to the make-up artist instead of sitting silently like the day before, and she’s almost ready for the discomfort that her wet hair will bring. The weather adds to the atmosphere of the film, dark and dreary and moody, and she gets why they’re doing it, but it still sucks.

Fenrys is ready when she gets there, and while she’s not avoiding Rowan today after finding out about his… past, she just finds it difficult to look him in the eye knowing what she does. He probably wouldn’t be surprised that she knew, if it’s on Wikipedia it’s public knowledge and they have made jokes about googling each other, but she feels weird in a way that she didn’t learn it from him. It feels intrusive, or invasive, to find out about something like that through Wikipedia.

But even though they bonded somewhat last night, and he greeted her this morning with an easy hey, they’re still not close. No matter that she thinks she might want them to be. She’s trying again to ignore the way she feels drawn to him, the way her eyes seek him out without her permission.

She knows she kills the take. Knows it from the high five Fenrys slaps against her palm once Rowan’s called cut and from the swift nod he offers her when she glances towards him.

There seem to be two Rowan’s too, there’s the award winning director Rowan Whitethorn, and then just Rowan.

Rowan Whitethorn is cool and calculating and distant, quiet while he watches their scene from his place behind the camera, the big black headphones he uses pushed down around his neck. His eyes are as sharp as a hawk’s while he watches for all the minute details of their expressions and any improvements they could make. He doesn’t give her that many she’s pleased to note.

The way he instructs them is impressive, with clear directions and thoughtful analyses. She’s been here two days and she knows how he got the Oscar nomination, he’s scarily intelligent and seems to know exactly what’s off about a performance before she figures it out herself.

The other side to him, the side that is just Rowan is…

Just Rowan is the one she likes more.

She suspects the smile he gives her later, after they’ve nailed the bulk of the scene in one take and she’s being twirled around by Fenrys, comes from him.

She has two full days off in a row, and she decides the best use of her time is to go and stay with Aedion and Lysandra. Fenrys isn’t free, and the reason she is is that he has a load of solo scenes to shoot, and she doesn’t envy him at all.

Lysandra is ecstatic when she announces via a group text to her and Aedion that she’ll be at their house for lunchtime, and she loves it, but it makes her feel a little guilty. That she���s let it get to the point when her friend reacts like that at her promise of a visit is quite frankly appalling, but she finally feels as if she’s taken the first step. She’s on the bottom rung of the ladder, and it’s taken her a while, but she’s there now.

Aedion and Lysandra live in a disgustingly big house in a gated part of the suburbs, and she knows the house isn’t exactly what they would have chosen in an ideal world, it’s too big and garish and grey, but there are gates by the entrance and 24 hour security.

It still messes with her head that Aedion is that famous. Aedion. Her gangly cousin, always too tall for his own good, who used to pull her hair when they were kids and sneak her extra helpings of cake at family parties before her parents divorced. She doesn’t know that much about football, so little in fact that her dad and Aedion teased her relentlessly for years, but everyone tells her he’s good.

Like really good.

The salary he gets from the Ravens is more than enough proof.

She rings their front door bell and she can hear Lysandra’s quick steps before the big wooden door is pulled open.

Her friend is glowing. Her dark hair falls into waves near the end and her staggeringly beautiful face is free of any make-up and unblemished and dewy. She’s had time to get over the insecurities that come from being friends with Lysandra so it barely phases her as she wraps her arms around her friend.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers into Lysandra’s hair. It smells like coconut and citrus and just Lysandra.

“I missed you too. So much,” Lysandra sighs as she pulls back, dragging Aelin into the house and shutting the door.

Their hallway is grand and open but there’s a pile of their shoes by the wall and a rack of coats that make it feel more homely. There are framed photos carefully arranged on the sideboard in the entry way that show the two of them with their whole family and all of their friends.

There’s one on there of Aelin and Lysandra at eighteen, their arms thrown tightly around each other while they grin massive, excited smiles at the camera, or more likely Elide behind it. She remembers the day it was taken, Lysandra had signed to her first agency and arranged to move to Rifthold, and they had taken her out to celebrate.

It was around the same time she signed for her first movie, a tiny role with two lines and twenty seconds of screen time but it got the ball rolling with her first proper acting credit, and she’ll never forget it.

A head of golden hair pokes around the kitchen doorway at the end of the hall and she lets her cousin sweep her up into a hug, swinging her up and around so her feet dangle above the floor.

“Alien, we’ve missed you.”

A stupid nickname from when they were young, the kind of young where he thought it was hilarious to replace her name with an extraterrestrial, but it only makes her smile now, squeezing her cousin tight before he puts her back down.

“Yeah, I bet you’ve been lost without me.” She beams at them, taking a moment to soak in how it feels to be with them even as Aedion rolls his eyes. “I’ve missed you both too.”

“Lunch is ready, come on,” Aedion tells her as he takes her case and drags it through the house, leaving it by the bottom of the stairs. It’s then that she spots the frilly pink apron tied around his waist.

“Alright,” she laughs. “I can’t wait to try what the domestic goddess has in store for us.”

Peals of laughter burst out of Lysandra and she grins back at her, forever grateful that they managed to keep their relationship with each other from ever impacting on their relationship with Aelin. At first she had been worried that Aedion and Lysandra would become AedionAndLysandra and that she wouldn’t have a place left with them, but she needn’t have worried, and they worked too well together for Aelin to have ever wished for anything different.

“Gods, shut up,” he mutters, slinging an arm around her shoulders and leading her to the kitchen. “So annoying, both of you.”

She grins as she hears Lysandra smack an overly dramatic kiss to his cheek.

Aedion’s a surprisingly good cook, the lunch he’s made is tasty despite being carefully planned to fit into both his and Lysandra’s strict meal plans. If they’re the cost needed to be able to live in a house like this, Aelin doesn’t want it.

“So,” Aedion says after he’s finished chewing a mouthful. “How are things going?”

He asks it with a gentle kind of sensitivity that she understands what he’s really asking. She knows it’s code for are you still sober? but she also knows he hasn’t asked it because he doubts her. Aedion and Lysandra have always been in her corner, even in her darkest moments they were there.

She never wants to put them through anything like that ever again. Never wants them to experience anything as terrifying as the last night she ever touched a drug. That night, almost a year ago now, will forever be the bottom of her pit. She doesn’t remember much of it, other than the devastation on Aedion’s face as he carried her out of the men’s toilets of a seedy nightclub in Perranth. The way he’d bitten his lip as he picked her up off the sticky floor, pulling the hem of her dress down to cover her underwear where it had ridden up.

The thought makes her sick.

He’d had to skip a game, leading to a bollocking from his coach, but he’d done it for her. Had carried her out of the club and into a car, waiting to take them back to his house. Lysandra had stroked her hair where she lay on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor while Aedion called a doctor to the house. Even through his panic he had thought of her and how little she would want it publicised that she’d been pulled out of a club, off her fucking rocker on whatever substance she’d been given by the lowlives she had fallen in with. She’s really, really lucky that for once Aedion hadn’t been followed by paparazzi.

She takes a sip of her sparkling water before she answers, it feels like all she ever drinks these days and it tastes like shit but it’s worth it if she never reverts back to where she was.

“I’m good.” She’s almost surprised to find that it’s true. “I’m feeling much better.”

She can barely look at them, can barely take the level of subdued joy on their faces.

“We’re glad Aelin, really glad.” Lysandra’s voice is sincere.

“So, how’s the new project going?” Aedion asks her, sensing her discomfort almost immediately.

“That’s good too actually.” It is. It feels good to have something positive to focus on, something that she feels is productive and worth doing. “It’s nice to be back and be busy even if the morning shoots begin disgustingly early. It’s good to be on set, surrounded by it all again and to remember that I can actually do this.”

She stabs her fork through a piece of tomato a little aggressively as she finishes and the look Lysandra shoots her tells her she’s not impressed with the self-deprecation but that she’ll let it slide for now.

“And Fenrys Moonbeam, is he really that good looking in real life?”

Aelin laughs. “More actually, sometimes it's too much.”

“Nice,” Lysandra nods appreciatively.

“Is he alright though?” Ever the overprotective older brother figure, she expected some version of this question from Aedion.

“He’s great. He’s hilarious and it really helps on the long days,” she says before taking her next bite.

“And Rowan Whitethorn’s directing isn’t he? What’s he like?”

Aelin blinks and finishes chewing slowly. “He’s… fine.”

She knows she’s fucked it when Aedion and Lysandra share a look, matching smirks beginning on each of their faces.

“Fine,” Lysandra repeats. “What exactly does fine mean Aelin?”

She purses her lips. “He’s a great director.”

Lysandra rolls her eyes. “And?”

She could probably lie here, they’d probably let it slide if she said some bullshit about how they’ve not spoken much and how she barely knows him, but she honestly needs to talk to someone about this. You know, to set her straight.

“And he’s really hot.”

She’s blushing as Lysandra laughs and Aedion chuckles.

“You’ve got a crush,” Lysandra sing-songs, and when she doesn't respond she says, “Have you got a picture of him? I don’t think I actually know what he looks like.”

She can’t blame Lysandra for that, she’s still kicking herself for not recognising him that day in the hallway, but he was only on screen for a few seconds at the Oscars and it wasn’t long after Sam so it wasn’t like she was paying attention in that way. She still thinks she should have noticed.

She pulls her phone out to find the only picture she has on there with Rowan. She had only taken it this week when they were eating breakfast with Fenrys one morning, in one of the tents that had been set up for them to sit in between takes, and Fenrys had pulled his phone out to snap a photo of her for his Instagram story.

She’d been wrapped up in one of the huge parkas they’re given for the times in between scenes holding her croissant high up in the air when he’d taken it. He’d captioned it she could have dropped her croissant and tagged her, and she’d gained a good few thousand followers. She’s almost at a million and they’re only a couple of weeks into shooting.

She had taken one of him in response and then spun around to force Rowan into a selfie with her, he’d protested but she’d pouted until he relented, grumbling something about actors that she knew he didn’t mean. She didn’t post it anywhere, she kept it to herself and she can’t lie, she’s looked at it way too many times since.

She’s smiling a wide smile, cheeks stuffed full of her croissant and it’s really kind of gross, but the small smile on Rowan’s face makes it bearable. More than bearable, she has to resist the temptation to make it her lock screen because that would be weird.

She remembers the heat of his chest where he had stood behind her to lean down so their faces were level, the hand he rested on her shoulder to steady himself and the way his fingers had brushed against her neck in the lightest caress.

She hands the phone over to Lysandra and wants to pull it back almost immediately.

It’s not that she’s embarrassed or whatever, even if they think it’s a bad idea they’d let her down gently, it's just that their opinion matters to her a lot. And while they haven’t exactly approved of her string of random hookups in the years since Sam, they’ve never tried to comment on it other than to check she’s in a good place with it, but she knows they’re waiting for the next person she sees seriously.

There’s a fairly large part of her that thinks her first relationship since Sam shouldn’t be with her boss. And that fucks her up a bit, because since when was she considering a relationship with him?

“Oh yeah,” Lysandra says, scaring away the intrusive thought and raising one perfectly arched eyebrow. “He’s hot alright.”

Aedion nods along, peering over Lysandra’s shoulder. Lysandra’s eyes are far too knowing when she looks back up at Aelin and passes the phone over. She doesn’t say a word before locking the phone and sliding it back into her pocket.

“You’ll have to invite us to set sometime.” Lysandra is sneaky but not subtle.

“I will,” she agrees.

The next week flies by, she shoots every single day but one, and she’s far too exhausted each night to do anything other than scrounge up a measly meal that can be pulled together from her cupboard basics and the limited vegetables in her fridge before falling straight asleep. They’ve made good progress so far, and she knows it's going to be good, but she’s tired.

She’s seen a lot more of the process outside of her own character by now too, and she’s amazed, but not surprised, when she persuades one of the crew to let her watch back one of Fenrys’ solo scenes from the previous week. He’s a phenomenal actor, that much is clear, but she had allowed herself to get caught up in Fenrys as her friend, the happy and funny guy she spends her time with, forgetting the talented and driven lead actor of their movie.

Not that she can forget it in the scenes they share, but she’s mostly concentrating on the emotions her character is going through, and responding to what Fenrys gives her. It almost feels too natural for him, and she forgets that it takes work.

His text meets her at lunchtime on the Sunday they both have off, when she’s still in her pyjamas on the couch, debating whether to start a new series or watch the latest cheesy rom-com that Netflix has released.

She auditioned for one of them a couple of years ago, and she’s far enough past the bitterness that comes with not getting the role that she could enjoy it. Maybe a little, cynical part of herself thinks she’s glad she didn’t get it. What she has now is far better. She’s being a snob, but she straight up doesn’t care. It’s not like anyone else is here to judge her.

Fancy coming to Rowan’s to watch the game? I’m leaving in 20 his text reads.

She didn’t plan on doing anything today, but the invitation sparks something in her, and she’s never been to Rowan’s place before. The studio put him in a house about thirty minutes from set, and she’s curious. How much luxury does the big name director get compared to what she and Fenrys have got? She’s lucky really, that Dorian managed to negotiate the same for her as they offered Fenrys.

rowan’s??? She replies, followed by what game????

She gets up off the couch, putting the lid on the tub of yoghurt she was tucking into with a spoon and walking through to the kitchen to throw it back into the fridge.

Tall, grumpy guy that bosses us around all the time comes through a minute later and she grins at her phone at the description. It’s followed up by Ravens v Panthers.

She taps out, getting changed will be ready in 15 and he replies with three smiling emojis.

She doesn’t think it will be anything fancy if her impromptu invitation is anything to go by so she only swaps her pyjama bottoms with tiny cartoon sheep down the legs for a pair of black leggings and throws a sweatshirt over her oversized t-shirt.

Manon is there when they get there, sprawled across the two seater sofa at the far side of Rowan’s living room, and she gives them both a wave when they enter the room. The house is a pretty modest, two-up two-down in a sweet neighbourhood and it’s cosy inside with relatively modern decor. She doesn’t know for sure whether or not that fits Rowan, but she feels like it does.

He doesn’t let them in, Fenrys swings the door open and marches in like it’s his own place and she wonders how much he and Rowan have hung out, or whether that’s just him. Rowan appears in the doorway about a minute after they come in, a bowl of snacks in his hand that she thinks could be popcorn and he puts it down before coming over to wrap Fenrys in a hug. They slap each other on the back in the way that guys do before pulling back.

Aelin stands at Fenrys’ side watching the exchange, unsure whether to greet Rowan or just take a seat, and once they’re done he seems to regard her with the same sort of uncertainty. Fenrys darts around Rowan to throw himself onto the other sofa and she doesn’t give herself long enough to doubt her decision before she opens her arms and steps towards him.

“Hey,” he says simply as he wraps her into a brief hug. “Thanks for coming.”

She wraps her arms around his own broad shoulders, and it feels nice. He’s warm and strong beneath her hands and the way his arms loop around her waist, so far his hands reach back around to her stomach, gets her in a way that she really doesn’t need to think about. It feels really good pressed up against him like that.

“Hey,” she breathes as he pulls back, and she knows he sees the blush on her cheeks. She’s not fifteen, she really needs to sort herself out. “Thanks for having us.”

“Of course, make yourself at home.” He gives her another half smile, offering a flash of his straight, white teeth, and again she’s struck by him. That his place is behind the camera is a crime. “I’ve got more snacks and drinks in the kitchen if you want.”

“Beer?” Fenrys asks her, already heading to a door that she assumes leads to the kitchen.

She shakes her head, “do you have sparkling water?” She directs the question to Rowan who nods.

He doesn’t have to speak before Fenrys says “on it,” and leaves the room.

She assesses the seating choices left in the room, there’s a cream two-seater sofa opposite where Manon lies, and that’s probably her best bet, but Rowan has already taken his seat on it, an ankle crossed over a knee as he settles into the cushions. There’s plenty of room to sit by him and not touch, and she weighs it up against having to ask Manon to move.

She’s friendly with the girl, but still feels slightly intimidated by the calculating and sarcastic blonde despite the fact that she’s a few years younger than Aelin herself, so maybe Rowan is the safer choice.

Fenrys comes back into the room just as she takes her seat.

“Move your feet, Blackbeak,” he demands as he hands her a glass of sparkling water, it’s chilled with a couple of cubes of ice and she appreciates it.

Manon lifts her legs for Fenrys to sit, but plops her legs back down across his lap immediately and sticks her tongue out at him as she does. Aelin feels herself smile at the display, and the fact that she’s included in this circle of friends. She hasn’t really made an effort with anyone new since Sam, the only people she’s really spoken to are Elide, Lysandra and Aedion, and they were all there for her before Sam. It feels really damn good.

She really, really, doesn’t understand the rules of football, but it’s easy enough to cheer along when the others do and laugh at their outrage when something doesn’t go their way. It’s the most animated she’s seen Rowan so far, and she’s not quite sure which way their allegiances lie, but it’s probably with the Ravens being in Rifthold and all, and she knows her own is.

Everytime Aedion gets the ball or is shown on screen she can’t hold back the cheers. She’s proud of him and she knows how hard he works to be as good as he is, and even knowing as little as she does, it's special to watch him excel.

Rowan and Fenrys both seem a little starstruck that he’s her cousin, to her he’s just Aedion and they’re the real, scary celebrities, but they gush about him like starstruck little boys.

“And you were at his house last weekend?” Fenrys cries, almost outraged that this is the first he’s ever heard of it, but honestly? They’re both Ashryvers; it’s not like it's a secret.

“Yes,” she laughs. “He’s basically like my brother.”

“Gods, Aelin.” He sounds almost pained that she hasn’t brought this up before. “You've been holding out on us! Please give me his number or introduce me or something.”

“Sorry.” She laughs again and throws a smile to Rowan that he returns with another quirk of his lips. “Invite me earlier next time and I’ll ask him to sort a box for us at the stadium.”

“Seriously?” Even Rowan sounds awed now.

“Yeah, just let me know,” she says. “It’s no big deal.”

It really wouldn't be, Aedion has been telling her for years to invite any friends she wants to games, she would just need some friends outside of him, Lysandra and Elide first.

“It’s definitely a big deal,” he says, watching her with a smirk still playing on his lips.

She shrugs. “Just make sure you text me early next time.”

“Oh, I will,” he says, and she has to look away from him. The way his voice curves around the words, all low and intense, is definitely about more than just the game.

She tries to pass it off as just looking to where Fenrys is cheering loudly at the next play, but Manon is there again, looking at her with such a knowing expression that she immediately focuses back on the TV.

At half time she needs to use the bathroom and Rowan gives her a quick rundown of the layout of the house. She’s quick to do her thing and runs by the kitchen afterwards to grab a refill of her drink and find something to eat.

Rowan had told them all to help themselves, explaining that he felt they had as much right as he to poke through the cupboards in the only just filled rental property and she gets it. The places the studio rent out for them are nice enough, and she’s more than grateful that they do, but it’s never quite home. Even if her home is somewhat impersonal, it’s still home.

She’s on her tiptoes, scanning through the relatively well stocked cupboards on the hunt for anything chocolate, when someone enters the kitchen behind her.

“I know I said help yourselves, but you’re going to eat me out of house and home at this rate.”

It’s Rowan, and he leans against the doorframe as he watches her startle and spin to face him, his legs are crossed at the ankles and his arms are folded over his chest. The pose highlights his powerful arms that she wants to be wrapped up in again and he looks really good in the dim lighting of the kitchen. It bounces off the lines of his tattoo, shining and highlighting the swirls that she can barely look away. She wants to ask what it means.

Aelin scoffs and pushes the cupboard door shut gently, they’re not eating that much and if they are it’s definitely not her, Fenrys and Manon are another story.

“There’s nothing stopping you from kicking us all out,” she says and he laughs, shaking his head.

He tilts his head to the side, his gaze picking her apart by the second before he says “maybe not all of you.”

His words and the way he shifts in the doorway as his eyes run her up and down gives her the confidence to bite her lip and look up at him through her lashes. He pushes off the door frame and comes to lean against the counter by her side.

He opens a cupboard door on her other side and rummages through a shelf before handing her a foil packet.

“I have a feeling this is what you were after.”

She accepts the chocolate and tucks it onto the counter at her side as she mirrors him and leans against it too.

“Unsurprisingly, you’d be correct.”

He presses his lips together before his lips twist again, it’s the same expression from before that she knows means he wants to smile but he can’t quite commit, and she feels her body loosen like she wants to lean forward to press into him. She doesn’t though.

What she does instead is take a sharp breath and a step back. “Thanks.” She waves the bar of chocolate in the air before stepping around him and making her way back into the living room, forcing her steps to seem calm and collected as she feels his gaze heavy on her back.

“Anytime.” His words follow her out of the room, they’re a promise.

Luckily, Fenrys and Manon both ignore it when Rowan follows her and retakes his place next to her.