#not me absolutely WEEPING over this again this morning

[firehcart]

[naammiii]

TOJI FUSHIGURO FIC RECS // mdni!

the night before - @/lymtw

the morning after - @/lymtw

dirty little secret - @/madamechrissy (another absolute FAV)

madam zenin - @/tonycries

toji teaching you how to give him head - @/nanaslutt

enemies and fuck buddies - @/classyrbf

#rent a dilf - @/screampied (gave me butterflies)

tojis pregnant wife - @/moechies

family matters - @/lilacgaby

the complex - @/lovelivision

thigh riding - @/lovesculprit

best friends dad - @/nanaslutt

to love again - @/aruubany

make that pu$$y rain! - @/classyrbf

walking in on your roommate - @/kamitv

finish her! - @/fushitoru

worship - @/starmapz

weeping, carved open hearts - @/teddybeartoji

weathering a storm together - @/lymtw

never wanna lose me - @/screampied

like an animal - @/tonycries

sleep over - @/lovelivision

I DONT OWN ANY OF THESE FICS!! // CREDS TO THE WRITERS!! <3

[emilys-bangs]

I can't read you (but if you want, the pleasure's all mine) | e.p

Tags: flirty!emily, shy!hotch's assistant!reader, fluff, hint of angst?, implied that emily isn't sleeping well :[, worried reader (duh), emily calls reader petnames, emily is down BAD

Summary: Emily loiters around in your office for no good reason.

Word count: 1.7k

A/n: I'm not sure if the idea of Hotch's assistant reader belongs to a single person, but I take no credit for it, I got inspired to write my own after reading @/mariasont's absolutely fabulous bimbo!assistant series, so very many thanks to her!! (and if there are any hotch girlies around here go check it out). Alsoo I think I'm probably gonna add a few more parts to this as interconnected oneshots, I had too many ideas and they couldn't all fit into one fic :p

It’s not that your office is hidden; it’s just out of the way. A short walk before the bullpen’s glass doors, on the opposite side of the restrooms. It’s not nestled within the buzz, and yet a single agent flits to it like a moth to a flame, with no reason or purpose behind her frequent visits.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Emily murmurs. She flashes you a smile, genuine but fading as she rests her hip against your desk and leans on it.

“Hi.” You don’t return her smile, too busy examining the bruised shadows under her eyes. A frown pulls your lips downward. “You look tired.”

“Ouch,” she mock winces. “Take it easy on a girl’s ego, will you?”

“I’m serious. Did you sleep okay?”

Something flickers behind her eyes. They’re dark eyes, endless and lovely, but something about them seems dull today. “Slept okay,” she dips her chin in a nod, “as well as I could without you there with me.”

It’s instantaneous, the knot in your tongue. Heat surges above the collar of your button down, the flush creeping up your neck, and Emily’s gaze becomes too much to hold. You drop your eyes to the neat surface of your desk, shifting files around beneath your sweaty fingertips. 

“It’s a big bed,” she continues through her brilliant teeth, gently poking at your composure. “A king. Gets cold easily, y’know? Hey, out of curiosity, do you happen to run hot? I’m freezing most of—”

“Prentiss.”

You both look up to find Hotch at your open door, his mouth set in a straight line—probably at the blatant show of fraternization from his subordinate. Emily grins at him winningly, unabashed as she gives a nod and drawls out, “Morning.”

The stare he gives her is a usual for when she’s leaning against your desk: stop flirting with my assistant. He doesn’t say it, only arches his brow, but everyone hears it.

“Good morning.” His voice is dry. Walking in, his gaze flits to you. “Any urgent cases?”

“N-No sir,” you fluster, cheeks still unbearably hot at the thought of you and Emily intertwined on her bed. Rubbing at your temple, your eyes dip down to the sticky note you’d stuck on your desk in preparation for the day’s tasks. The scrawl of your handwriting sparks competence back into your brain. “Uh, Strauss called again,” you say sheepishly; Hotch’s lips press together, his top lip disappearing, “about the budget meeting. That’s…three times this month?” You tilt your head, grimacing. “I’m starting to worry she’ll barter away the jet soon, save herself the headache.”

Emily lets out a small laugh. “I think letting Morgan go would be more cost effective.” 

She’s not entirely unfair—you’ve filed enough damage reports this month to make the director weep. The corner of your mouth tickles. Emily catches your eyes, lashes feathering over her cheek in a wink.

Hotch ignores her. 

“We’ve only got consults for today, right?” He asks. You nod. “See if we can schedule it today, get it over with. And, uh,” his eyes linger pointedly on Emily, “it’s almost 9.”

“We’ll be there in a minute,” she answers for the both of you, drowning out your low, yes sir.

The lumping of you and her in a we makes you pathetically giddy. 

It could possibly be considered rude for you to drop your eyes back to your desk before your boss leaves, robbing him of attention, but he’s already turning on his heel and with the two of them crowding your space, it’s like you’re flayed open beneath their sharp eyes. Profilers, you grumble internally, a small shake to your hands as Emily’s perfume dissolves over you in waves, a product of her coming closer. She’s next to your elbow now, the pale outline of her hand creeping up next to yours.

“Here, honey, let me help.”

You inhale a sharp breath, feeling the cold air drop all the way to the pit of your stomach. “They’re just a few files.” You mumble, gathering the consults and standing clumsily, eager to escape the heat of her body pressing against yours.

It’s a bad move. Your chest bumps into her arm, not hard, but enough to make you sway on your feet. Emily’s other hand is quick to land on your waist, steadily restoring your balance with a squeeze through your cardigan that has your head reeling.

“Careful there,” she says softly. You blink at her, the tired slant of her lashes now almost at eye-level. “Sorry, I was in your way—”

“Are you sure you’re good?” You blurt. Emily’s mouth snaps shut and you hug the files to your chest, looking her over more thoroughly. Minimal, effortless makeup, but there’s a wrinkle in her shirt, creases in the skin under her eyes. It’s not unusual for her to be tired, given the nature of her job, but the lines of her body are more tense than you’ve seen them.

At your question, it’s almost like she coils further into a tight spring.

“Yeah.” Emily says firmly. “I’m good, don’t worry about me. My cat kept waking me up, yelling all night to be let out and then yelling to be let in.” Her mouth twists into a wry smile.

“Sergio?”

“Mhm,” she nods. “He’s talkative.”

Her tone is as convincing as it ever is, buttery smooth and warm. But you don’t believe her. It’s a gut feeling, not something you can explain with any shred of reason; the certainty of it clings to you, so you look into the molten pools of her irises and hold on.

“You can—you, um…” the thoughts scatter from your brain just when you start, possibly the quiet intensity of Emily’s eyes making them flutter out of your skull. But she’s patient. Tilting her head, she doesn’t interrupt your silence, only presses her lips together in a reassuring smile.

The frustration settles bitterly in your gut, but you blow out a breath. Swallow and gather your words with a firm hand. When you finally have a good grasp on them, you look Emily in the eye and speak slowly.

“You could talk to me, you know. About anything. If you’re not sleeping, or—or just if you want to,” you shrug jerkily. “Doesn’t have to be anything, really, but I’m here. For you.” Stupidly, you wish you could reach out, gather the courage to place your hand on her shoulder or curl your fingers around her elbow. Maybe offer a reassuring squeeze, something more tangible than your useless, mumbled words. Emily touches you so much, it should be normal, but sweat slicks your skin at the thought of you initiating.

The arch of her brows softens as she smiles. It takes some pressure off your chest, more so when she loosely cups your elbow. “Thank you.” She says quietly. Her hand squeezes and your eyes skate over her face, searching. “Really, honey, thank you. But I’m fine. Slept late is all.”

Now that you’ve caught her out, she lets you hear the hint of exhaustion in her voice, raspy threads lacing through her words. It makes you wonder what else she hides so easily, exactly how much effort it would take to get her to let her walls crumble and the facade burn down. But she’s already a flighty person, wings flapping if she feels like the walls are starting to close in, so you don’t push further even though you want to.

“Oh. Uh, okay,” you fidget with your sleeve, tugging it further down your hand to dry the sweat on it. A quick flash of your eyes on Emily’s face tells you she’s still smiling, her lips drawn in a gentle curve. You look away again. 

“I just wanted you to know. That you could, if you wanted to. ’bout anything.” The last part comes out as a whisper. You hug the consult files closer to your chest, your eyes dropping to the watch strapped to your wrist. 8:59. “We should go, the team’s—”

“I do know that.” Emily says. Her hand falls away from your elbow, but her eyes fill with so much warmth you hardly feel the loss. “I know it. And I—” The heat of her eyes disappears, seeking something lower than your eyesight before snapping back up again. A confused flurry rips through your gut and she falters, mouth opening and closing. Her lips part again and she finally says, “You could, too. Talk to me about anything.” Sincerity is thick in her voice, her gaze earnest as she stares into your soul. “I hope you know that.”

The back of your throat is briefly dry. A small dip of your chin constitutes a nod; swallowing, you curl your fingers around the edges of the consultation files.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, I know.”

When Emily smiles, her eyes brighten the tiniest bit. A thrill goes through you at the thought of igniting it. Your own lips start to curve, but their path is rudely stopped when Emily’s brows tick upward.

“Oops,” she says lightly, her eyes finding the clock above your door. “9:01—” You curse as you look down at your own watch, eyes bugging out at the time. One minute is hardly late, but so far your record with Hotch has been spotless, and you want to keep it that way. 

Emily’s hand needlessly nudges the center of your back. “Let’s go, gorgeous.” She murmurs. You’re already moving, shooting past the open door of your office without hanging back to close it. A distant click tells you Emily does it, and a few more not so distant clicks of her heels on the floor tell you that she hurries to catch up to your gait. You’re still cursing under your breath, preemptively flustered at the thought of walking in late into the conference room, the rest of the team seated and waiting for your arrival. The weight of their eyes on you is already heavy.

“Your fault,” you mumble to Emily without any real heat.

She pulls open the bullpen door for you. You step through. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s just a minute, two tops.” The relaxed drawl of her voice doesn’t make you slow down. “Listen, if Hotch does pull out the death glare just get behind me, yeah? I’ll protect you.”

You finally turn your head and look at her, none too surprised to find her grinning. It makes you falter, feet slowing as you cross the bullpen floor. Stupid heat burns in your cheeks; you look away.

“Shut up, Prentiss.”

“Sorry, babe.”

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi@temilyrights @professorsapphic

[dxckgrxsonx]

"you can pretend all you want, i can see the fucking mess you're making of yourself." + jason please my love??? i love e2l <3

Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader

Words - 900ish

Warnings - 18+ SMUT - Graphic Sexual Content - Unprotected Sex - Cocky!Jason (he's good and he knows it) - Swearing

Notes - Hi my darlings!! It's been far too long since I've written something smutty so here you are!! Hope you enjoy!! <3

**

He pisses you off like nothing else on this Earth.

Broad shoulders, incredible skill, smart fucking mouth. He calls you in the middle of the night knowing you’d answer; knowing without a shadow of a doubt that even with you seething and furious and goddamn exhausted, you would still pick up the phone.

He’s smug about it and sometimes, just sometimes, you consider blocking his stupid number.

“I absolutely fucking hate you.” You greet, halfway into a snarl. Vaguely, you acknowledge that it’s not an ideal greeting, but it’s three in the morning and the thread of patience between your fists frays horribly when Jason steps out of the dark, already grinning at the look on your face. “I was sleeping.”

“And yet…” Jason says, watching you far too intently. “Here you are anyway.” He presses forwards, crowds you right up against the nearest flat surface, and tips your head up so you have no choice but to watch him pick you apart. “It’s almost like you can’t say no to me, sweetheart. In fact, I don't think you’ve ever said no to me…”

“Don’t.” You whisper, knowing where he’s heading. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

He presses on you hard enough to bruise; hard enough to scatter hairline fractures through your whole nervous system. It feels like static. It feels like an ache Jason carved into you with his own two hands–and his beautifully thick cock–to mark you as his own.

“You want this.” He breathes, mouth still pitched up in that wicked smirk and your entire world starts bending in the middle, moulding around Jason and warping under his capable hands. You can’t stand it: you hate yourself for it. “You get wet just thinking about it…thinking about me.”

It was a chance meeting and back then you were so goddamn stupid.

You could hardly walk after the first time, cunt stretched open and sore from how many times he opened you up with his fingers–with his cock. He was big and thick and he had no choice but to take his time to get your pretty pussy to yield to him–to let him in. He praised you the whole time, and then fucked you until you were trembling and whimpering and squeezing at his cock.

It was weeks before you heard from him again and nothing you did with your own two hands was enough.

You needed him and he knew it.

You need him now and he knows it.

There’s a wet spot soaking through your underwear and the second Jason see’s it he’s groaning something feral against your throat. Shoving you backwards onto the bed he chases and wedges his broad shoulders between your thighs before you have a chance to flinch them closed.

Grabbing at your knees he spreads you open and pushes your legs back until they’re almost by your ears. Your muscles burn at the stretch, and you try to wiggle out of his grip but Jason leans forward and drags his tongue over the slick fabric covering your weeping slit.

“Fuck you.” You gasp. Unable to think of anything but how much you hate him for what he’s turned you into and how good he makes you feel. “Fuck you so much.”

He laughs and it’s almost mean with how arrogant he is.

Jason releases his hold on your knees to unbuckle his belt and then he’s back, smacking the thick, heavy length of him against your covered pussy. He rubs the fat head through the growing damp patch on your underwear and your puffy clit twitches hard enough that he can see it throb.

Wedging the tip of his cock underneath the fabric he teases your soaked hole until you thrash a little and whine. Pressing in just enough to get you to stretch open around him he pulls back so he can do it again and you snap your jaw closed around the pleas building in your mouth.

“Say it.” Jason demands.

Sinking the first few inches into your soft, slick pussy Jason holds and waits, Lazarus eyes awake and interested in each trembling twitch of your body.

“I hate this.” You lie, unable to stop yourself from throbbing around the tip of his cock, arousal leaking and squelching out around the edges of him. “I hate you.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Jason hums, using one hand to pull your underwear to the side so he can see just how embarrassingly wet you are. Your slick sticks to the fabric and it stays attached to your pussy in thin strings “You can pretend all you want, I can see the fucking mess you’re making of yourself.”

Thrusting forwards he stuffs his full length inside you with one, rough stroke and you moan loud enough to shake the windows.

“Oh–ah fuck!–Jason.” You try, voice trembling.

“There you go.” He says. “I knew you wanted this. I knew your aching little pussy wouldn’t be able to say no to me. No one can fuck you like I can, sweetheart.” Shoving your knees apart he holds you so tightly you can barely move and watches his cock split you open. “Every time I call you, there you are, all mad and pretty and wet. And the second I get inside you, you go all soft and cockdrunk for me.”

“Uh–plea–please.”

“Yeah.” Jason grins. “Just like that. Now, let’s see how much you can come for me this time, huh? You managed three last time before you started crying. But I think you can do better for me, right sweetheart?”

**

[teamatsumu]

kinktober 2023 -> day 7

orgasm denial - matsukawa issei x reader

word count: 873

warnings: regular smut warnings, daddy kink mentioned, slight degradation, swearing

kinktober masterlist

You knew you deserved this. You had been teasing him all night after all. In some capacity, you were even looking forward to it. It had been a long time since you had acted out enough that it warranted a punishment from Issei. And now you realized that time had probably dulled things in your head. Because you had forgotten just how brutal Issei’s punishments could be. 

Two hours. It had been two hours of what felt like every emotion and sensation known to mankind coursing through your veins. You had been touched subtly, sweetly, like a ghost whispering against your skin, enough to make you shiver and get riled up, enough to make your nerves buzz in excitement. And you had also been touched roughly, hard, strong hands spanking and slapping at sensitive skin, nails scratching and fingers fucking so hard and fast into you that you had lost all semblance of sanity.

At this point, your vision was swimming. Partly from your tears, and partly from your head being pressed so hard into the mattress that it left you cross-eyed. Your ass was propped up in the air by his other hand, the one not holding your head down, but instead holding your hips up with a grip so bruising you were sure it would leave deep purple marks on you tomorrow morning. But fuck, you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the next morning. You could only focus on one thing, and that was your weeping pussy stretched out over your boyfriend’s huge cock, drilled into submission and with no signs of stopping.

“I-Issei-” You gasped when he hit a particularly deep spot, another tear escaping from your eye and running over the bridge of your nose, only to fall on the sheets under your head. “Issei, plea-”

“No.” Came the nonchalant reply.

Your face scrunched up in disappointment, fingers twisting around the sheets as you laid still, taking the pounding you were getting like a good girl. You wanted, no needed, to cum so bad, but you couldn’t. Not until Issei allowed you to. You knew what would happen if you came without his permission. If this was already messing you up so bad, you couldn’t even imagine what he would do to you if you came without his approval.

You let yourself cry and moan as Issei kept fucking you slow and hard into the mattress, trying not to focus on how fucking good he felt or how close to the edge you were. You sighed when he draped himself over your back, his bare body providing such a welcome feeling against your shot nerves. He hummed into your shoulder, laying a soft kiss on the skin, such a stark contrast to the absolute havoc he was wreaking below your pelvis. 

“Issei…” You tried again, clenching around him. You were so overstimulated, you just had to beg. You knew from experience that it wouldn’t be long until you couldn’t hold back anymore, not if Issei continued to shove his cock into you at the same pace. 

“Stop asking, baby.” Came his reply, voice raspy against your ear, his breath hitting your skin enough to make you shiver. He thrusted hard and held himself there for a few seconds, letting you appreciate how wonderfully he stretched you out. Your jaw went slack.

“You know you don’t deserve to cum.” He continued, the hand on your head now tangling in your hair, tugging just a bit. “Not after that show you put on in front of my friends. You think they couldn’t tell that you were just tryna rile me up? They’re not stupid, you know? And neither am I.”

“‘M sorry.” You whimpered, barely forming coherent thoughts, but feeling fresh tears prick your eyes regardless. “‘M sorry, daddy. I was just-”

“Being a brat? Wanting attention? Acting like a whore?” His words didn’t sting, in fact they turned you on more and made you tighten around him, and you heard his sharp intake of breath.

“You don’t get anything tonight, babygirl.” He concluded, one hand slipping between your body and the bed to pat at your clit, making you yelp. You were so sensitive, even the slightest touch sent you spiraling. “Tonight, you’re gonna let daddy use your whore body for himself, and if I feel like you deserve to cum after that-” He disengaged from your body and straightened, hands gripping your hips in preparation, “then maybe I will consider it.”

Then, he began fucking you in earnest, pounding your limp body into the bed, reveling in the sounds of your mumbled ‘thank you’s, grateful just at the thought that maybe he would let you cum. He couldn’t help the little smirk that spread on his face at the sound, the notion that even his consideration for letting you cum sent you into a mumbled mess of grateful words, his cock throbbing inside your tight little cunt.

He had trained you well.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

[hawkinshorror94]

Burning Desire

A/N: I hope you guys like it. Im sad about the election, but I wanted to get this out. Let me know what you think, might do Rolan next or maybe even Karlach. Sorry if the spacing looks weird, tumblr will no longer pull up on my mac so, weird but I had to post it from my phone.

He wakes as he often does after her, rolling over inhaling her scent on the pillow. Pomegranate and vanilla; her smell. He knew it, he had committed it to memory, like a birthday. But today is different; the smell is heady, more fragrant, like over ripened fruit. And it makes his cock hard in his trousers. He was in Heat.

Teiflings on the older side didn't go into heat every month, “pass their prime” perhaps. But this one was strong, he needed her. Like he needed air, but he had duties and so did she, so he would have to wait. Sate his hunger the best he could until he could take her properly.

“Good morning,” she greets him when she hears the clank of his boots coming downstairs. Zevlor drank the sight of her in. Had she always been this beautiful, her skin looked dewy, and her hair shiny. She is the picture of perfection standing in the early morning light filtering in through the kitchen window. And he feels that need thrum low in his belly again.

“It is a good morning indeed.” He rasps into her ear, nipping at the soft skin there, his hands digging into her hips spreading her thighs slightly as he drops to his knees. His clawed fingers gather her nightgown at the hem pooling it around her waist.

“What are you doing?” She murmurs as he presses his nose flat against her clothed cunt breathing in deeply. The smell, Oh Gods, that smell. It burrows into his brain like a mind flayers tadpole and eats away at all the rational parts of his brain and leaves the more salacious bits. The image of her pressed against their shared bed as absolutely splits her open crosses his mind. As he takes in another deep breath letting his breath fan out over the fabric, he can now smell the all too familiar smell of arousal pooling between her legs.

“I have half the mind to bend you over this counter right now and fill you absolutely full with my seed.” He murmurs as he drags his nose away from her center, looking up at her to see her cheeks dusted with a rosy tint. “But you and I both have duties to the city.” He stands back to full height, cock painfully straining against the chainmail of his trousers. He rubs against forehead, the bump of his horns rubbing against the smooth skin of her forehead, an almost keening whine leaving his lips when she finally closes the distance between them. It would be an exceptionally long day.

This was torture, like slowly burning alive in her own skin. Except it’s just her in his line of vision constantly. Had her armor always hugged her body like that, the leathers lifted her ass to make a nice heart shape and he found it awfully hard to ignore it when she was bent over the table beside Wyll looking at a map. Was she doing this on purpose, he thought as he dug his claws into thigh?

“Commander, opinions?” She was talking to him, those lips that looked so nice around his cock were talking to him. And calling him by his title instead of by his name or addressing her as husband. His cock twitched under his desk.

“Zevlor, are you alright? You look ill.” Wyll asked, concerned as the older man tried to keep it together. Zevlor nodded curtly, apologizing to the Duke as he tried to refocus. He needed her, this couldn't wait. He wouldn't make it through the day if he didn’t have her.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are?” He growls biting at the skin of her shoulder as he bends her over his desk. Yanking her armor down and then the leathers, just enough to see that pretty weeping cunt. He drags the sensitive tip between her puffy folds as she whines. “With the way you're whining, you’d think you're a bitch in heat, my beloved.” He huffs, finally pressing into her velvety walls. When he’s buried to the hilt in her, he sets a brutal pace. His mind is consumed with her, the way she feels around his cock, her moans and gasps. The sounds of their coupling loud and lewd in his quiet office.

“Zevlor.” She cries out as he lifts one of her legs placing it on the desk. This angle is deeper and it has her biting her hand in an effort to be quiet. His mind is feral with the thought of filling her full, breeding her. His mind thinks of her cunt dripping and leaking over her undergarments as she goes about the rest of the day. The thought drives him into her one last time and as he feels her clenching around him, he finishes painting her inner walls with hot seed.

“Better,” She asks as he helps her down from the table, smoothing her hair and righting her armor. He chuckles pressing a kiss to her fevered forehead,

“Much my beloved.” Until tonight of course, he thinks as he watches her leave from his office.

[soulessjourney]

Of Ice and Snow

Paring: Azriel x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: He just can't seem to let you go

Warnings: ANGST (lots of it, I'm not sorry), death

The cool spring air whistles through the trees, dislodging petals from their place on the branches. The breeze carries them over the balcony and through the open doors where Azriel lies with his head resting on his mate's stomach. Your fingers trail through his hair as he inhales your scent, a mixture of lavender and rosemary filling his senses with each breath.

"My love, one might think you're a dog," you tease, running your nails over his scalp.

His only response is a hum as he breathes in your scent once more. "I can't help but find you absolutely divine so early in the morning," he grumbles, tightening his arms around you. A smile tugs at his lips at the sound of your laughter. For once, Azriel feels at peace in his life, having finally found someone he loves more than anything, and who loves him for who he is.

You let your gaze settle on him as a shiver runs through you from the breeze. Though you want to close the balcony door, you find yourself unable to, not when you're wrapped in Azriel's embrace. "Az, you need to visit your family. It's been some time since your last visit," you murmur, noticing how he tenses and holds you tighter.

Shaking his head, he playfully bites your stomach, causing you to jump slightly. "I'll see them eventually. Right now, I just want to stay here with you a little longer," he says so softly, you almost miss his words.

"You can't isolate yourself here forever, Az. They're worried about you. They want to be here for you, to help you heal," desperation fills your voice as your fingers continue to run through his hair.

"I don't need them, not when I have you. You're all I need, Y/N. I love my family, but they can't help me the way you do," he says, sitting up to look down at you. A frown forms on your lips as you stand and settle between his legs.

Placing your hand on his chin, you tilt his face up to meet yours. "Az, it's been two years," you whisper, running your thumb over his cheek gently, catching the tears that fall. You don't miss the desperation in his eyes as he shakes his head at your words. "You need to let me go, my love. I love you more than life itself, but it's time."

Azriel inhales sharply at your words, feeling like someone has punched him in the gut as the familiar ache in his heart echoes in the room. "I can't. You were everything to me, Y/N. I can't just let you go," he sobs, taking your hands in his.

Azriel's thoughts are interrupted by a soft knock on his bedroom door. Cassian pushes it open, his eyes softening as he sees Azriel. Azriel isn't sure how Cassian managed to bypass the wards that shielded their home, but there he was. "Hey, brother," he says gently, his gaze wandering around the room to identify who Azriel was talking to.

Azriel turns his head to look back at you, but finds nothing but empty space. His shoulders slump as he covers his face, letting out a sob. Cassian quickly pulls him into a tight hug, holding his brother close as his pained screams fill the room. "We can visit her. Maybe seeing her will help you," Cassian mumbles.

Azriel nods as Cassian helps him dress. Holding up the flowers, he smiles and guides his brother out of the once-happy home you shared. As they walk through Velaris, Azriel can't help but notice how happy everyone looks. He longs to feel that happiness again, the warmth that filled his chest every time he looked at you. Cassian leads him to the edge of the city, to the top of a hill where a large weeping willow sits, its long limbs hanging limply as the leaves sway gently in the breeze.

Azriel doesn't acknowledge his family standing under the tree, their eyes filled with pity. He despises it. He hates how they pity him. Brushing off their gazes, his eyes land on an object under the tree. There sits a marble headstone, your name delicately carved into it along with your dates of birth and death. He drops to his knees before it and places the flowers atop the stone. Feyre places her hand on his shoulder and squeezes it gently. "We wanted to do something nice for her. After all she went through, she deserved the best view in Velaris dedicated just to her."

Feyre's words bring tears to his eyes as they silently fall down his cheeks. This hill is where they would lay and look up at the stars together. The tree they would sit under during hot summer days, with you leaning against his chest as you talked about your future. His thumb caresses the stone gently before his attention is drawn away. "Papa?" a soft voice fills the air, causing his breath to catch in his throat.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees his sweet little girl, with your fiery attitude and features. The only indication of her being his child is the dark hair that falls just above her shoulders and her golden-brown skin. Wrapping her in his arms, he kisses her cheek and holds her close. He doesn't miss the way she looks down at your headstone, curiosity filling her eyes. "Uncle Cassian says this is where mommy is sleeping," she says quietly. "When will she wake? I want to meet her, Daddy," she says, a pout forming on her lips.

Azriel smiles and laughs, biting back another sob. "Sometime soon, my little rose. But for now, we need to let Mommy rest. She went through so much, and she deserves all the rest she can get," he responds, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

She nods and looks back at the stone, waving her small hand. "Bye, Mommy. Sleep well. I hope you have the best nap," Azriel rises with his daughter in his arms and follows his family back down the hill.

Turning back, he sees you standing under the tree, a wide teary smile spread across your face as you look down at him and your daughter. Clasping your hands together, they fall to rest against your legs as you give him a small nod. This is your final goodbye, and his promise to finally live again.

[expectiations]

I can't believe it's been four months since we've been given the absolute gift that is the NineRiver audios. I remember weeping at 1 am over them and just melting at the way Nine became the most protective, most gentle, caring person after understanding River. Oh to be able to listen to Star-Crossed again for the first time!

On one note, I have seen people claim that for this particular regeneration, they're in a QPR. I object, but that's not what I started this post for.

Just like what is said in this post, the Doctor and River constantly fall in love with each other because River is River and the Doctor is the Doctor. They just click. It's evidenced by this specific pairing too. Sure, Nine may have been brash and rude to her at first but it changes once he processed the fact that apparently, he'd open up enough to marry someone in the future.

I may have said this before but one of the things I love about Archipelago is how it dispels any notion that the Doctor is forced to have sex with River. I have seen too often enough the (loudly incorrect) takes over that idea which irks me out because frankly, which version of Doctor Who did they watch? Cause it was clear af that the Doctor's very much into her and is always the one who instigates physical affection—cheek kisses, nose bump bops, see-you-next-adventure kisses, etc. Their marriage isn't built around sex. There is mutual trust and respect (and steamy, hot sparks) between these two. While some have chosen to gleefully point out that they're in a QPR, once again I respectfully disagree. If you insist, just scroll away.

I also love how he tries to understand, to *know* her. He reads her diary and tries to fathom the timey-wimey life they lead. He is basically acting the way any other regeneration of the Doctor would when they meet River, except this one is fresh out of the Time War and the wounds are still too raw and the loathing still too loud. Not that it got better by the time they met in the Library but relatively and all that.

Have I mentioned that I melt over how he's also *reaaally soft* with River? When River cries out of disappointment, he asks her what's wrong. She tries to 'hide the damage' but he shushes her and tells her to tell him what is wrong. When River tells him he should have left her in the time storm, he quietly tells her that that was never going to happen. And mind you, that was even *before* he read her diary.

For an endless moment, they had their happily ever after. They got to grow 'old' together. They got to exchange secrets no other version of the Doctor or River will *ever* know. And while there are conflicting interpretations of the part where River says 'they finally lay again together', I choose to believe they somehow found a way to have sex. Although I wouldn't be able to comprehend how considering they had crystals all over their bodies but unless I'm taking things literally, it's River and it's the Doctor and between the two of them, they're very much likely able to work it out lol

The penultimate part for me was right before they reset the timeline. When River told him that it's *the most romantic thing* he's ever done, that he's not just doing it for the timelines but he's doing it for them. He's giving up everything they had for everything they will have. And he responds that if it works, he'll have a lifetime to prove otherwise.

Oh and did I mention that I started sobbing uncontrollably AT ONE AM IN THE MORNING when I realized that their time together has left an indelible imprint in the universe??

Literally peak soulmate-ism.

[anti-the-glitch-bitch]

The Phantom soldier part 4

Chapter 4- Am I the person I'm meant to be

Hiya everyone. Here's some more trauma for the baby! Uh the triggers are getting progressively worse so just a fair warning. Read at your own risk. Love you all!

`Time passes in a blur for Darren. He tries to keep track of the days but keeps getting confused so he gives up trying. All he knows is that he feels more rested than he has in years. 

“Good morning, Darren.” Doctor Cho says cheerfully.

She comes in and opens the shades to let in the sun. She’d started doing that when Darren kept trying to get out of bed and look out the window. Every night the doctor in charge of him will close the shades and dim the lights before they leave. He likes that he can see sunshine again even if he can’t feel it.

“Good morning, Doctor Cho,” Darren says. His throat is feeling much better though his voice still comes out a bit raspy from the disuse.

 He’s learned a lot about his newest owners…Well, he knows about the doctors. Doctor Cho likes it when he answers her even if it isn’t a question or order. She smiles a lot when he talks to her and gives him things. Like the gorilla plushie, he’s currently holding on to. Doctor Vance doesn’t like it when Darren stares but does like it when Darren does what he’s told without hesitation. If Darren is very quick about doing things then Doctor Vance will ruffle his hair. It feels nice. It feels familiar.

 The third doctor doesn’t like Darren. She reminds him of the doctors with Hydra. She doesn’t like it when he looks at her or talks to her. If he doesn’t do something fast enough or he talks out of turn she’ll take his things and return them before it’s time for the other doctors to take over. She never told him her name and he knows better than to complain and ruin what little good is happening. He doesn’t want the others to get mad at him.

“I have good news for you today. Your body has done so well with the bag of liquid nutrients that we've decided to start you out on a liquid diet. You'll still be getting the bag at least 3 times a day but we want to get your body used to having actual food. How does that sound?” Doctor Cho says as she smiles. 

Food! He gets to have food again. He could weep for joy at this news even if it's only liquid food. Maybe if he's really good and does what he's supposed to, they'll give him a cheeseburger or some fries. Man, does he miss Nastyburger. 

“What does a liquid diet mean?” Darren asks softly. He doesn't want to make her mad with his questions. 

She checks his vitals before answering his question. “Well, you'll start off with things like broth. It'll help your body adjust to having something in your stomach. If you keep it down we'll give you something thicker like a type of soup. You'll get small portions to begin with until we can get you adjusted to normal portions.”

That sounds logical. It's been so long since he's had anything that he's not sure he'll be able to stomach that much anyway. He anxiously rubs the hands of the gorilla plushie. 

“Alright, Darren. You know what time it is. Are you ready?” Doctor Cho asks as she pulls over the rolling table full of medical things. 

He nods and moves the blanket off his torso and legs. It's time for his wounds to be checked and the bandages to be changed. He absolutely hates that they have to touch him but at least this doctor is nice about it. She's quick and anytime he flinches she asks if he's ok. She even starts talking about random things to keep him distracted. 

“This gash on your side is healing very nicely. It's not oozing anymore and that means the infection is gone. I bet you'll barely even have a scar here.” She says as she changes the dressing. 

“So, Darren. Tony tells me that the other Avengers are starting to get anxious about seeing you. They want to check and see how you're doing. Would it be okay if one or two of them came to say hi? They'll stay as little or as long as you want them to.” She asks. 

Why would they ask him? He's not in charge. He's just The Asset. The weapon to be wielded as necessary. Weapons don't get to make choices unless it's vital to the mission. 

It's a test. It has to be. Something to see how compliant and obedient he is. If he says the wrong thing he could be punished and put back in the dark. He doesn't want to go back into the dark. 

So, he nods, “It is acceptable for them to inspect The Asset.”

For a brief moment, he thinks he's made a mistake because the doctor pauses. She continues her ministrations before his anxiety can get the best of him. 

“I'll let Tony know. I'm sure you'll be seeing a few of them here today.” She sounds amused but Darren can't figure out what's so funny about it. 

They keep talking about the Avengers as though he should know who they are and the name does sound familiar but nothing is clicking in his brain. He feels as though something about them is important. Maybe the scientists or doctors said something about them? 

Doctor Cho finishes checking the last of the wounds and covers Darren back up, smoothing his blanket down so it isn't so wrinkled. She stands there but doesn't say anything so he turns to see what she's looking at. 

She's staring at him as though she's hesitant to ask him something. He doesn't understand why. 

Cocking his head in confusion he asks, “Doctor Cho, what do you want from me?” It's said more as a statement than a question. He knows she wants something from him, he just doesn't know exactly what it is. 

A nurse comes in at that moment with a small white styrofoam cup and places it on the mostly cleared table. That kicks the doctor into gear and she clears the rest of the table. The nurse smiles at Darren but quickly leaves. 

“This is your broth. Sip it slowly so you don't upset your stomach. Let it settle and in a couple hours, if you're hungry, someone will bring you some more.” That bright smile is back and it's directed at Darren. 

He nods and eagerly grabs the cup taking a small sip under the watchful eye of the nice doctor. The saltiness explodes on his tongue and he groans in delight. It doesn't matter that the broth is kind of bland. What little flavor it does have makes his taste buds sing. 

The sensation of having something in his stomach is so strange. He'd gotten used to the nonexistent feeling that he'd forgotten how good it felt to have something in it. He can feel the liquid sloshing around in his stomach almost creating a nauseous feeling and he's glad now that the doctor is so wary about giving him something thicker. He's not sure if he'd be able to keep it down. 

In his eagerness, he'd forgotten about his doctor and is kinda shocked that she'd stuck around. She smiles at him when their eyes meet. 

“How do you feel? Is it good?” Doctor Cho asks him. 

“Very good,” he answers both questions. 

“Good. If you start feeling sick just let someone know.” After she gets a nod from him she leaves. 

He's thankful for the silence. He's thankful for the broth that he sips slowly. He's thankful for a lot of things right now but he can't help but feel restless after the past however many days of doing nothing but sleeping and resting. He's bored and it's a feeling that he's not as familiar with since… well for a while now. He wants to do something even if it's just to walk around but he doesn't want to face the consequences of disobeying an order. So, he stays in bed. 

He's not used to doing nothing. He's so used to the pain and the experiments and the training that just laying here for so long is strange. His body is enjoying the reprieve but it's also eager to do something other than sit still. 

Darren sips at his broth and listens to the noises outside his door. Small conversations that are too low for him to hear what the people are saying. There's a knock at his door then a pause and then it opens when he doesn't answer. 

A dark-skinned man with short hair peeks his head in and smiles when he catches sight of Darren. “Hey, kid. I heard you're allowed visitors and wanted to see how you’re doing.”

Darren just stares at the stranger as he walks into the room. Maybe this is one of The Avengers the doctor was talking about. Is this person above Tony or below him? Is this Tony's boss? 

“Do you mind if I sit and talk with you for a bit? Everyone's been worried about you since we found you.” The man asks. 

Darren cocks his head wondering what the man meant by that. What does he mean, found? Wasn't he given to them? Aren't they his new masters? More information is needed for a conclusive answer. 

The man grabs one of the chairs from the wall and brings it closer to his bed when he doesn't respond. “My name is Sam. I'm the Falcon.”

There's no recognition in Darren's eyes as Sam waits for a response. Just confusion. “The doc thought it would be best if we started visits off kind of slow. We didn't want to overwhelm you with everything.”

“Are you my handler?” Darren asks. 

That must have been the wrong thing to ask judging by Sam's shocked expression. “No. Darren, I'm not your handler. You don't have a handler anymore. You're free from Hydra.”

Lies. No one escapes. Tricks. 

“A weapon is useless without someone to pull the trigger,” Darren repeats the quote that his handler would say to him in a monotonous tone. 

Sadness and anger flit across Sam's face multiple times before he takes a deep breath. “You are not a weapon. You are a child that deserves better. You are a person that deserves to be treated with dignity. You have a voice and opinions.”

Opinions? Not a weapon? But he is a weapon. He was made to be a weapon and weapons don't have opinions or or feelings.  This person is clearly delusional but Darren has no authority here so he says nothing. 

“So, Tony told me he named you Darren. Do you like that name or were you just agreeing with him?” Sam asks as he sits back in the chair casually. 

This… is not something he's come across before. It's a new question that he doesn't feel equipped to answer. What is the correct answer to not being punished? 

“You won't get in trouble if you don't like the name. I can always have Friday run through a list of names for you to pick out of.” Sam says as if reading his mind. 

Darren squints his eyes in suspicion at Sam. This sounds like a trick but also Sam sounds genuine about it. He needs to know the parameters of his new owner’s wants and so he tests the truth of the man's words. 

Darren shakes his head all the while watching Sam's body language. 

“You don't like the name?” He asks. 

Another shake of his head. 

“Ok, kid. You got any names you like? Do you have a name in mind?” Sam is relaxed and looks curious. A smile on his face encourages Darren to speak. 

“My name is,” he licks his chapped lips nervously. “My name is Danny.”

Will he be punished for saying he has a name? Weapons are named by their creators. They don't have people's names. 

Sam doesn't reach out to punish him. He doesn't scream or yell. Instead, his grin widens and he leans forward with a handout. “Nice to meet you, Danny.”

Sam stays to talk with Danny for a few more hours. Danny doesn't respond to most of the questions, (what's your favorite color, food, show?) but he does respond to a few of the more scientific ones (what are your abilities?) 

It confuses Danny that anyone would think he has a favorite color. Did his new owners not understand that he is a weapon? Weapons do not get to have favorite things. Maybe they hadn't read his file? 

He feels like he's in a game and no one's told him the rules. It makes him anxious and afraid. He's going to say the wrong thing or do something he shouldn't and then they'll cut him openandwhatifhedoesn't-

“-ny! It's fine. You're ok. You don't have to answer the questions. You're safe. Nobody is going to hurt you.” Sam's calm voice breaks through Danny's panic a piece at a time. 

Danny can hear Sam talking to him but he doesn't believe the words he's saying. He'll never be safe. Not until Clockwork or Sam or Ja- He shuts that thought down. He'll be stuck in this Hell forever. 

He can feel his breathing evening out but he no longer has access to his body. It's too much for him and he can feel himself drifting away into nothingness. Where he isn't being hurt or asked to do anything. 

Danny can feel the darkness threatening to overtake him and he throws himself into it willingly. 

~~~

“He needs a professional, Tony. I'm just a guy who helps traumatized veterans. I'm not a licensed therapist or psychiatrist. The kid is broken and I don't have the skills to put him back together again.” Sam says. 

Everyone is in the Commons area watching the video of Danny and Sam's interaction. Tony is standing wincing as he watches Danny's panic attack. Clint is sitting on the couch next to Nat with both of them looking like they want to murder someone as they watch Danny hyperventilate.

Steve isn't watching the screen. He's too busy staring at his best friend who is clenching and unclenching his metal fist. Bucky is so lost in his thoughts that he's not seeing much of the scene on the screen. All he can hear are the panicked ramblings of a kid echoing in his ears. 

Pietro and Wanda are holding hands and silently seeking comfort from each other as Vision and Bruce start discussing things that the kid will need. 

“I know you aren't but you have more experience in this area than we do. I'm sure you've already noticed things about Danny that the rest of us never would have noticed.” Tony says frustration heavy in his voice. 

Sam sinks into his chair a little more as he nods, sighing sadly. “Yeah. I noticed a few things. He had that panic attack because I asked too many questions about him. He thinks he's an object to be used and not a person that's allowed to have favorites. He was so confused when I asked about his favorite food and color.”

Nat sits up a little straighter, “We don't know how long he's been there. The conditioning he's gone through will be hard to break. From the files I took we know that the chair didn't work on him completely like it did Bucky but we do know it did something to him. He needs to be isolated and watched until we can undo whatever Hydra did to him. He's dangerous.”

Sam watches as the same anger he's feeling lights up Tony's eyes. Tony whirls on her, “He's dangerous?! That kid in there may be dangerous but so am I.” Tony pokes himself in the chest furiously. “And so is Steve and Bruce and Peter. You're dangerous too or did you forget that little fact? Should I lock you up too?” Tony's chest is heaving at his rant. 

Sam stands up and all eyes fall on him. “She has a point, Tony. He is dangerous.” Tony glares at him and Sam rushes to continue his thought. “That doesn't mean he should be locked away. It just means we need to watch ourselves. We don't know how messed up his brain is. That chair may not have worked like it did with Bucky but it did something to him. You heard the way he talked about himself. He doesn't believe he's a person anymore.”

Tony looks back at the screen showing the sleeping kid. His shoulders slump and he looks so defeated. “This isn't like Barnes where I can just shove a computer program in his brain and he's fixed. I don't even know where to begin to fix this kid.”

“Tony, I had to go through some serious therapy to get where I am. Yeah your B.A.R.F program helped get my head on straight but Shuri had to recommend to me a very experienced therapist to work me through my shit. Hell, Steve's been talking about me having one here because of my nightmares.” Bucky looks uncomfortable but plows through anyway. “That kid needs specialized therapists. Probably several. I'm sure Cho can probably tell you whatever else he needs to get started.”

Sam walks over and rests a hand on Tony's shoulder. “You're putting too much pressure on yourself when you have an entire team to help you out. Danny's going to have a rough healing process and I'm sure there's going to be plenty of setbacks but he'll heal.”

Tony looks at Sam with just a touch of relief on his face. Sam can see the wheels turning in the genius's mind. He can almost see the thoughts and ideas flying through his mind.

“I need to go,” Tony says abruptly as he quickly turns to leave the room. 

Sam watches as Tony runs from them to do whatever he'd just thought of. He turns toward the screen where Danny's, now frozen, face sits. They have so much work to do if they want to make sure this kid is safe. 

~~~

This isn't the first time Tony has run from emotions and it certainly won't be the last. He might be on better terms with the Rogues but that doesn't mean he wants them to see him at his weakest. He doesn't want to give them ammunition to hurt him again. 

So, he does what he does best. 

He runs to his lab. 

He shoves all those confusing and irritating emotions into a little box and prioritizes the traumatized kid in the medical bay. 

Before he can even sit in his chair he's calling for Friday while pulling up different holograms. 

“Friday, make a list of all the top specialists who might be able to help with Danny. Include therapists and psychiatrists. Add anyone that Cho suggests.” Tony sits in his chair grabbing a specific hologram and throwing it off to the side. 

“Boss, I've added a few nutritionists,” Friday says with a softness. 

“Shit. Right. That's also important. Good thinking Fri. Send Pepper the list when it's done. She'll make sure to pick the best ones.” Tony says. 

With the Starkpad in hand, Tony starts working on the layout of the kids' room and anything he might need. Anything to keep his brain from spiraling. 

That kid is dangerous. 

All of the Avengers are dangerous and yet here they are not locked in a cell. Tony sighs and runs his hand through his hair. They aren't wrong though. They do need to take precautions because who knows how messed up that poor kid is. How messed up Danny is. 

They'll have to beef up the security around him. Extra safety precautions need to be put in place in case something goes wrong. 

Ugh. He'll need to make a few new programs to track down any information anyone might have on him. See if he has any family left. 

Tony hasn't gone through all the information yet but he hasn't seen a mention of family in what he has read. He wonders if Danny has a family that's worried that their child might be dead. A family that's afraid they may never see him again. 

He's known Peter for a few years now and if anything happened to that kid then he'd burn the world down. He can't imagine a world without Peter in it. 

A look around the lab and Tony can see the small differences to the lab that having Peter around has changed. The once spare desk he had pushed off to the side now sat close to his desk, filled with spare parts and unfinished projects. A pair of half-finished web shooters pushed to the side.

There's a hoodie thrown on the couch along the far wall along with a throw cover. Peter left it here one day after helping Tony work on a project. He'd taken it off and had forgotten about it. After that, Peter decided to leave it in the lab in case he got cold while working. 

Dum-E is wearing a small hat that Peter had made for the robot when he was bored. Peter had laughed so hard when the robot spun around Peter, proudly showing off his new accessory. Peter's laughs had been so infectious that Tony couldn't help but join in. 

So much of Tony's life has changed for the better since meeting that kid. If something happened to him like it did Danny… Tony might actually break into a million pieces. There might be no putting him back together again. 

With a new swell of determination, Tony returns to his plans. Changing the blueprint this way and that until he's satisfied with how it looks. 

Tony has designed the area similar to how Peter's is. A game room, bedroom, bathroom, and small living/kitchen area. Until Danny has had a chance to see it and ask for different things Tony puts minimal decorations in. He doesn't want to overwhelm the kid but he doesn't want to make it look like a prison so, until he can tell Tony what he likes and doesn't like the room is only going to have a few touches here and there… well except for the game room. Tony has it decked out as good as Peter's is.

As far as security goes, until they know what's going on inside that twisted little head of Danny's, his entire area is locked down. Stronger walls so he can't break out. Locks on everything and Friday keeping a close eye on him. Until they know what Danny's abilities are they won't be able to trust him in a lot of areas. So he'll have to be locked down tighter than the Raft but in comfort and style. 

Tony is hoping that they can figure out a way to help him because no kid should ever have to suffer after what he's already been through. 

A few baby protocols in place to alert them of anything happening and Tony is confident that he's covered the basics and some of the not basics. He'll run them by Pepper and Natasha first before he gets to work on renovations. Just in case they see something he might have missed. 

“Is this for that kid in the med bay?” Peter's voice asks from over Tony's shoulders. 

Tony had been so lost in the project that he hadn't heard the little pipsqueak come in. With a very manly yell (definitely not a girly shriek) of surprise, he accidentally throws his Starkpad behind him. 

His hand pressed to his chest as adrenaline rushes through him from the scare, Tony whips around to see a sheepish Peter Parker holding out his thrown Starkpad. 

“Kid, how many times have I told you to stop doing that? You know I'm an old man. My heart can't take the stress.” his breath heavy as he takes back the item. 

“I'm really sorry Mr. Stark! I guess you didn't hear me when I said hello. Mr. Rhodey said you came down here to work on some stuff for that kid you rescued.” Peter rambles on in a rush. 

“Next time you scare me like that I'm putting a bell on you,” Tony mutters. “Yeah. This is for Danny. Helen says he's going to need a lot of work so he'll most likely stay with us. Right now, we don't know how messed up his brain is so we need to take some precautions until we can get him back on his feet again.”

“Oh.” Peter's face is lit up with concern as he stares at Tony. “Is there any way I can help? I could, I don't know, help you set up his floor or something?”

Tony's not surprised at the offer. He is surprised that he's not begging to go see the newest addition. Maybe the talk worked? 

“Sure. Maybe you can go over the schematics for his floor. For right now he'll need to be in a secure location with high security but that doesn't mean it has to look like a prison. Look over what I've got so far and see if anything needs tweaking. We don't know his entire power skill set yet so I'm trying to cover the basics. The only thing I know for sure he has is this sonic scream so I'm planning on making some sound dampeners to counter it.” Tony swipes at the Starkpad and the schematics for the new floor are flung up onto the hologram in the middle of the room. 

Peter immediately rushes over to take a look. Tony can't help but smile as he stares at Peter. He loves the way the kid's entire expression and posture change when faced with a problem. The way his eyes dart everywhere as though he can't stand to look at just one small part. 

“Mr.Stark?” Peter asks without looking at him. 

“What's up, Pete?” Tony replies. 

“I know you don't want me hanging out with the new kid but what if that's what he needs? If he's been surrounded by Nazi adults all this time then maybe he'll feel safer spending time with someone on his level? Someone he doesn't consider his superior or a handler?” He stops what he's doing to turn and look at Tony. 

It's… definitely something that Tony hadn't thought of. Honestly, it might be a good idea but with Danny's brain scrambled, Tony doesn't want to take the chance. He'd never be able to look Peter or anyone else in the eyes if he got Peter hurt, or worse, killed. 

Peter must read something on Tony's face because his hands go up in a stop motion and then are flailing around as he talks. “It's not because I want to see him. I mean, I do want to see him but not if it's going to hurt him. I'm just saying it might make him feel better to not be surrounded by adults all the time. Who knows how long he was there? Did he see other kids or was it all adults? I was listening to some of the stuff Mr. Rogers was saying about what they fou-”

“Peter!” Tony shouts effectively, cutting off Peter's nervous ramblings. “It's a good idea. Listen. He's been here a few days and still not in the best shape. I've got Friday working on making a list of psychiatric help along with whatever other doctors he might need. Let me get the doctors in here to take a look at him. If they say it's a good idea I'll slowly introduce you to him. Think you can hold off until then?”

The young hero is basically vibrating with excitement at the thought. “Yeah! I mean, yeah. Uh. I can keep helping with this until then. That is if it's ok with you. Maybe I can help stock his room or help you build some of the special stuff he'll need?”

Tony gives a small chuckle, “Yes, of course you can help. Who else is gonna help me? Rogers?”

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Promises

Day 14. Song is Jenny by WALK THE MOON. Gale x Tav

'Ngh- I could live inside you forever,' Gale purred, breath hot against Doe's ear. They were chest to chest, stomach to stomach, fitting together like key to lock; her neck bore his fingerprints, his shoulders her teeth, but now he lay with his full weight pressing her into her little cabin bed. The golden afternoon had yielded to an indigo conquest, the moon silvering the sweat on their skin.

'I know a few people who would object,' she said, as he wound their fingers together above her head. 'Not least-'

'Don't,' he warned, nipping at her ear, 'mention his name. Not when we're like this, my love.'

'But you love him too.'

'Of course,' his voice lowered to a growl. 'But you'll forgive me my sins, little siren. I want you to sing for me, and me alone. I want to feel you tremble under my fingertips. Moan my name. Come on my cock, on my tongue, on my fingers. We belong together, my sweet girl. I adore you. I'm not letting you go.' He grinned down at her, pressing a kiss between her breasts. 'I hope you're comfortable, because we're going to be here for hours yet...'

'Gale.'

'Mhm?' He peeked through his lashes at her, a wicked smirk on his lips. He was positively devilish.

'He's going to kill us.'

'Well,' he stroked a finger down her cheek with his free hand, held her chin gently. His eyes burned with passionate heat, the press of him insistent as he shifted, dragging tortuously inside her. 'It's not him you're full of.'

'But- hngh- we need- to-'

He tsked, thrusting hard to pull a cry from her. 'You,' he groaned, his lips at her shoulder, free hand smoothing up her already marked throat, 'are being a very bad girl. I told you not to mention him. Unless you want to seek him out and show him how you look full of my come. He might like that...' he chuckled, a bestial, primal thing. 'I'd certainly like to see his face.' He tilted his head, a dangerous gleam in his eye. 'Perhaps he'd like a taste.'

'Gale!' Doe's cheeks flushed pink. 'You absolute animal.'

'Oh, love.' He braced a hand against the cabin wall, snapping his hips into her again. He pressed a hand to her belly, nails light on her skin. 'You're so full already, but I think you can take one more, don't you?' Leaning to her ear, his tongue hot on the shell, he hissed, 'maybe more, if you're good.'

'Fuck,' she sobbed in response as he brought her overstimulated body to the edge again. Pausing to watch her face, he licked the bruises on her neck, moaning lewdly as she shivered.

'I love you,' he whispered, breath quickening as she squeezed around him. 'I'd fucking kill for you.' One last thrust sent her into orgasm again- she'd lost count by now.

'Holy fuck-' Doe whimpered. 'Gale, I want-'

'Ngh- I know-' he gritted his teeth, slammed his hips to hers and buried his face in her breasts as he came, filling her again, spilling out onto the sheets. 'I meant it,' he gasped. 'You exquisite thing, I need to be inside you forever. We're going to fall asleep like this, and I'm going to fuck you in the morning, and I'll give you as much as your body can take. Mine, mine, mine.

I don't give a damn what anyone on this ship says. I know you love it. You'll dress, and go ashore, and beguile, and all the while it'll be me you feel between your legs, me you're brimming with. So sleep now, and dream of me. Wake, and feel me within you. Leave and weep the loss, only to return tomorrow evening where I will take you all over again.'

His voice became velvet soft. 'I'll ask what information you've gleaned from your targets- from that devil-' he snarled, 'all the while making you forget anything else but me.'

Tags:

@bluerosetarot @dansnotavampire @further-than-forever

@forget-me-maybe @poetryvampire @sasha199 @wandawillow

@boufsy @owlseeyoulaterpal @lanafofana @amorgansgal

@aryancunin @miradelletarot @marlowethebard

@crimson-and-lavender @reeseykins @medra-gonbites

@roguishcat @weaverofnetheril @galedekarioswifey @hyperfixationstation128 @lastlight-inn

@astarryvamp @feedthepheasants @dabigstinky @dreamingofthewild @ladyofcrowsandcoffee

@femmefuck @spooky-lil-bee

[stormyjane7]

Teasing the Wave

Summary:

Your party obtains the wavemothers robe. which looks amazing on your vampire lover. Who will out tease who.

TW: Wavemother Robe, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Cock Tease

Read on Ao3

The journey to Baldur’s Gate has been a long one. Many a monster and evil do-er have been felled.You just finished a quest for the Wavemother and were granted a robe. Astarion snatched it as quickly as he could from your hands.

“While I think this would look marvelous on you darling, let me have it first?” You couldn’t resist Astarion’s puppy eyed look and agreed he could have it first. You soon found out why. The slits in the robe hit just right around his lower hips, exposing his well toned thighs. You sucked in your breath as you noticed there was no way he was wearing underwear under this. He was setting you up for failure and upon noticing your looks at him, he gave you the most devious grin.

The small journey to the tavern you were staying at seemed even longer with the teasing Astarion was doing to you. A bump of the hip into yours, swaying his hips as he walked in front of you, and not to mention his normally saucy banter was dripping this time.

“Ah yes this robe is freeing, isn’t it darling? Every inch is just so happy to meet the air.”

Your group thankfully made it to the tavern. Gale ordered dinner for the group while everyone went to unequip their armor. You got a small reprieve from your lover as he stayed down with Gale, most likely to tease him too to get a reaction of of the poor wizard.

By the time you came down the food was ready and Gale was ten shades of red. Whatever astarion did had obviously worked. You smirked as you figured it was time for payback.

You sit down next to Astarion and start fixing your plate of food. Not too much incase your plan did indeed work.

“Have fun with Gale did you?” You ask as you put some of the roast into your mouth.

“Absolutely darling. Though you are much more fun to tease.”

“Well it’s not like you don’t get something out of riling me up.” I slide my hand down and onto his thigh giving it a squeeze.

His eyebrows shot up and a grin started to hit his lips. Shockingly he didn’t say anything to you.

You kept eating, giving a squeeze to his thigh every so often and moving your hand closer to his center tiny bit by bit. You could tell he was enjoying the attention and possibility of the moment as the robe had tented up. Which gave you access to him at last.

The entire time continuing talking with your other companions and eating. When you finally touch his cock he slammed a fist on the table which shocked the group.

“Everything okay Astarion?” Wyll asked with no indication he knew what was happening.

“Yeah fangs, that was a bigger response to the big joke than necessary.” Karlach added.

Before your lover could respond you rolled your thumb over the tip of his weeping cock. This time he growled as silently as he could. He glared up at you, almost egging you on for more. You slide the precum down the shaft so that you could then move up again with ease. That seemed to have completely set him off as he gently removed your hand, stood up, and threw you over his shoulder.

“You’ll have to excuse us for the evening. We’ll see you in the morning.” He started walking up the stairs while all of your friends gave you quizzical looks. You tried to play it off like nothing but you could tell they knew something naughty was up.

Once in front of the door to your room he sets you down to open the door for you. You walk inside with him behind you and he spins you around to close the door with your body. He puts his hips into yours while locking the door. ''I hope you are ready for the hell you have unleashed my dear. you feel that?" he rubs himself into you "This is all your fault."

You slide down the door and quickly lift the front of the robe. You lick the tip of his cock and let the robe fall over you. Like this he cannot see what you are doing. He braces his hands against the door.

“Oh you little minx.” He growls as you put your mouth around him fully. You hum your approval of his words which makes him buck forward. You slowly start moving your mouth up and down his length, sucking harder when you get to the tip.

Astarion is panting heavily now, bucking his hips forward to fuck into your mouth.

As he starts sputtering in his motion you know he’s close to cumming down your throat. The thought makes you moan which is what sends him over the edge.

“Gods. Yes!” He was fucking into you until his cock stopped twitching expelling his seed into you.

You look out from under the robe up at him with the biggest grin.

“You really thought you’d get to rile me up instead? I had to turn the tables on you atleast once Astarion. You were begging for it.”

“Ha! You really are a little minx. On the bed darling. It’s my turn to show my thanks for an amazing outfit that gets my love so heated.”

You grinned at how much you got to him today instead of the other way around. You’d pay dearly for it once he gets his hands on you. But Gods it will be so worth it.

[carefulfears]

i know you probably have ten asks from me already but. i need your thoughts on the way scully loves

the thing about scully’s love is that it’s her at her most contradictory. she’s a repressed catholic scientist who writes pulsating gothic enduring love letters. she’s obnoxiously territorial, overt and loud, but relishes subtlety: an opportunity to get away with expressing any extra affection, whether through her credentials (i’m a medical doctor!! you need your hair stroked to cure that scrape on your arm!! the only way to help a dislocated shoulder is for me to snuggle you in the woods!!), or hidden beneath a situational joke (“i’d kiss you if you weren’t so damn ugly”).

she always requires proof, but she tossed her robe off the day she met him, without any sign of trust. she can never get enough, always wants more, but she overwhelms easily: she can never respond or speak when he’s just present with her, she cries. she is sharply aware of who she is, what she wants, she is debilitatingly insecure. she rebels by burning her cycle of rebellion into her skin.

she chases the same 3 moments for the rest of her life: laughing in the rain, a confession in an apartment hallway, absolution via a kiss to the forehead. she has memorized everything that he has ever said. she turns his words around in her head, reveres them, repeats them back. (his dopey face in paper hearts when she cites something he had casually said 2 years earlier, verbatim. the way he lightly covers his mouth. someone listens.)

she fills her home with him when he’s gone. sleeps holding his shirt. puts his fish tank next to her couch. sings the same song she sang to him, all those years ago, to their baby. writes to him while smiling over at the stroller. (17 years later, next to her son, weeping that she’s “so sorry” he didn’t get to know his father).

she wants his presence everywhere in the world, wants him involved and affective, needs “to know [he’s] out there” if she is to survive, as she writes on her deathbed. she wants to keep him somewhere safe and never let him out. she tells him she “worries” about him in “isolation,” then walks out and shuts the door, makes sure the gate is latched when she leaves him in the morning.

she’s always “the strong one,” she cries when it’s safe. she’s an “ice queen” that flirts and giggles girlishly when she feels valued.

she’s brave. there’s nowhere she won’t follow, yes, but there’s also nowhere she won’t stay. there’s no darkness or truth or reality that she wouldn’t sit in, if that’s where he is. she’ll shake and scream and cry when there’s a gun pointed at her: but she will not leave him there, she will not run. she‘s blunt. she spends years tiptoeing around acknowledgment.

she’s 10 inches shorter than he is, but she constantly rises to envelop him. she pulls him to her shoulder. she lowers herself to cover him. she rocks him on the floor.

she stands in the doorway and does not move from in-between him and the world. she blocks him in. she’d never let anything touch him. she never gets her way.

she’s a know-it-all who minds her business, only betrays her awareness quietly and sparingly. she’s almost always wrong. she always knows what’s truly behind an agenda, the exact right thing to say.

she’s embarrassing!! she sleeps holding the phone just in case he calls. she gets ditched for mothmen. she whines for attention, she’ll do anything to spend time with him, SHE WANTS TO HAVE HIS BABIES SOOOOO BAD. she asks “what are we?” after 25 years and 2 kids just to be annoying.

her ass is not escaping that ouroboros (not ever, if that’s where he is), but she doesn’t want to. she “wouldn’t change a day.” she “would do it all over again.” she wants to “remember how it all was.” no matter how dark and drastic the progression of loss gets, she still chooses this life, just like she chose it in the beginning.

she’s rarely truly jealous, she’s outrageously protective. when she is jealous, she retreats. she needs a moment to herself.

(when she’s protective, you won’t be able to shake her for anything)

she shares him with the world only reluctantly. she’s judgmental and mean. she’s inadvertently prophetic. if the person turns out to be a cheat/a thief/a spy, is it really her fault that she was hating on them as soon as they were breathing his air??

she’s heart-achingly kind, and perceptive. she “just knew” that he would be okay, she went to his father’s funeral because he couldn’t. she paused to share hope with his mother. she breaches the astral plane from a coma to tell her sister not to call him “fox.”

for scully, to love is to bear witness. she knows the importance of recognition. she listens. she cries with him. she always suggests he get some sleep, even when it’s laughable. there’s room in any tense situation to stop, check in, acknowledge. love is trust, love is respect, love is devotion. love is consumption.

love is free will winning out over fate, the grief that comes with being starbuck, the price paid to believe in something. to adventure with your best friend. being willing to pay it over, again, again. wanting him to know that.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Darling, Never Stop Haunting Me- MDNI 18+

Spawn! Astarion x F! Ghost Reader

Chapter 9: Performance Review

Synopsis: You and Astarion read your book and a moment of peace opens up the opportunity for risks. You ask Astarion to give you a lesson early in the morning after Karlach's morning wake up call wakes more than just Astarion's brain up.

CW: Oral (Female Receiving), Oral (Male Receiving), sex, praise kinks, virginity loss, Dom (Astarion)/ Sub (Birdie/You) ish

Disclaimer- put together the picture for the banner, but I do not own any of the pictures. I did take the picture of ‘Birdie’ and Astarion on my PS5

Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for all your support and love!

Chapter 8: Chapter 10: AO3

  “He stuck his member into the man’s weeping hole-“

“Astarion,” you laugh, “stop, this is terrible- I don’t think it’s going to matter how many different voices you make or gestures- let alone languages- you read it in.” 

“I disagree, my Love,” he says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, “I think I have made it far more entertaining this way.” 

“Ah yes because talking about a man’s ’weeping hole’ sounds so much better in a pirate voice or in Orcish.” 

 “Oh? Can you do better?”

 You clear your throat before belting out in a C Minor, “HE STUCK HISSSS MEMBER INTO HIS WEEEEPPINGGG HOLEEEEE!”

  You are both in stitches- this book is truly truly terrible, but it has erased any tension that had been lingering from earlier. 

  It’s probably pretty late now- surely it would be best to start going to sleep. You can’t get yourself to though, you want to spend as many waking minutes as you can with him. 

 You had really thought he was going to spend the night with someone else, but he’s here with you instead. He wanted to be here with you- he was rushing to get back here to be with you.

  Your laughter dies down and you are both left in a comfortable silence. You lean back into Astarion’s chest once again- relishing in the feeling of the contact. 

  Maybe you just… make your move? It could be possible that he has feelings for you, couldn’t it?

  You move slowly so that you straddle his lap and Astarion almost seems to help adjust you faster when he realizes what you are doing. He is looking up at you and your heart skips a beat. 

 Wanting. Need. Love.

 Affections that are relatively foreign to you, but you can identify in his eyes because you feel the same. 

 You cup his face with your hands, your eyes search his face for any sign to stop, but his hands are tight on your hips and his mouth is hovering over yours of his own volition. You timidly close the gap.

  It feels like fireworks, but not in the way one would expect. It feels like giddiness, happiness, whimsical, and excitement. His lips tease at yours and guide you as you learn how to kiss him. 

  It’s absolutely incredible- your hands gently grasp at his curls and he moans against your mouth. Astarion’s hands move to your ass and he maneuvers you so that you are even closer to him now. 

  You don’t know how you end up on your back, your hands pinned next to your head and your legs hooked around his hips, but it all feels positively divine. 

  All you can feel, breath, and acknowledge is him. Astarion is your entire world in this moment and you never want it to stop.

 So of course Gale and Tav are screaming upstairs. 

 Astarion lifts himself from you with a huff of frustration.

 “WHY ARE YOU GUYS SCREAMING!?”

  You feel bad for feeling so annoyed, but Gods dammit- of all the times, now!?

 “Uh hm, we- we,” they shout back, “WE ARE ARGUING ABOUT WHO IS GOING TO BE A BETTER DANCER DURING OUR FIRST DANCE!”

 “TAV,” you yell from inside the room, “GALE HAS TWO LEFT FEET!”

 “I DO NOT HAVE-,” Gale scoffs and throws his hands in the air, “you lot are insufferable!”

  As soon as the shouting stops, you pull Astarion back down on the bed and straddle him- he greedily brings your crotch down to his own. You gasp at the contact.

 More. You need more.

  He seems to have the same idea. 

  You both fumble through taking each other’s clothes off- your shirt getting stuck over your head because you both forgot to unlace the front. Astarion laughs as your shoulders slump and you look at him through the fabric, the neck stuck on your forehead, entirely unamused.

“This is your fault, ya know?”

 “Oh is it?” he says teasingly, “I’m not the one who chose the shirt.” 

“Well I wasn’t the one in charge of taking it-” you are stopped by the gasp that leaves your mouth when his mouth latches onto your exposed breast. 

  Astarion is relentless in his ministrations- he teases at your sensitive nipples. They almost feel sore in the aftermath, but it just makes you want him to continue. He releases your nub with a flick of his tongue before repeating his affections on the other. You fumble with strings on your shirt- finally taking it off- and the sight underneath you causes a wave of warmth to coat your legs.

  Astarion looks up at you with wide pupils and a hungry look in his eyes. He watches your every reaction and you try to hide behind your hair- only to have him quickly pull it away from your face.

 “Oh no, no, no,” he kisses in between your breasts, “don’t become shy on me now.”

  He brings you to a standing position, sinking to his knees as he kisses along your body and down your navel, and his hands gripping your ass. You feel worshiped, adored. 

  His mouth hovers over your already overly stimulated clit. He flicks his tongue across it and you gasp with pleasure.

“Do you want me to continue, lover,” he whispers, placing a kiss on your thigh that makes your body shiver in delight.

“Take me, Astarion,” you could cringe at how needy and cliche you sound, “I’m yours.”

  Astarion smiles widely, “Oh Darling, I am sure the Gods have sent you to ruin me.”

  His mouth is immediately sucking on your sensitive nub. Your hands grip his hair- eliciting a moan that vibrates to your core. You can feel yourself dripping between your thighs as he laps at you and teases you. 

  It all feels so right- his tongue against you, his hands holding you in place. You have certainly imagined moments like this, but nothing will ever compare to this- the real deal.

“Oh fuck- Star-“

  He hums against you before dipping his tongue inside your virgin cunt and you whine with delight at the contact. Your legs begin to shake and a knot of pleasure is forming in your belly. 

  Astarion uses his strength to keep you upright as your legs begin to give and his tongue seems to find the magic spot because you are fighting to not scream in pleasure. This is a private moment and if you can hear them, they can certainly hear you. 

  He removes his tongue from inside of you and you whine in protest- looking down at him with tears pricking your eyes. You need to cum- it’s physically painful how turned on you are right now, in the best way possible, but still.

  You had been so close.

  “I need you to be a good girl, Birdie,” he says, his eyes hooded and his smile mischievous- placing an open mouthed kiss to your clit, “I need you to cum for me and,” he grabs your hand away from your mouth, “I want the entire world to know you are mine. Cover your mouth again and I will stop- I am so much more motivated when you sing for me.” 

  Fuck. 

  You don’t have a moment to respond before he’s diving back in between your thighs, spreading your legs a bit so that his nose begins to tease your clit while his tongue drinks in every last bit of you. 

  You feel the knot uncoil in your stomach and you have to put your hands on Astarion’s shoulders for support. Your legs shake and your knees feel like jelly. You can’t believe you have been missing out on this for 354 years!

  He picks up your blissed out body and places you softly on the bed. Astarion grabs your left leg and begins to kiss up your body, starting at the ankle all the way down to your inner thigh. You feel so wonderful- you don’t ever want this to stop and a part of you is worried it’s a dream. 

  That thought is quickly thrown out the window when one of his fingers enters you and begins to slowly pump in and out. 

  Your back arches and your head goes back- a cry of pleasure leaves your lips. 

“So pretty “ he kisses the inside of your calf, “so good and all mine.” 

 You whine in agreement- your body finally adjusted to one finger so he adds a second. His mouth and other hand begin to knead and play with your breasts. Astarion suckles and nips your sore nipples- he adds a third finger and you immediately see stars. 

“A-astarion fuck…” 

 He removes his fingers from inside you- making eye contact as he cleans them off.  He kisses the rest of the way up your body and his mouth hovers over yours. You feel the head of his cock tease your entrance, it’s already easily dipping in between your folds. 

“Do you still want me to continue?”

 You nod earnestly, but you definitely feel some of the nervousness you had forgotten about begin to build up. Astarion seems to notice this and raises an eyebrow at you.

“You are thinking about something- what is it, Darling?”

 “What… what if I disappoint you?” you whisper, avoiding his eyes. 

  Astarion’s eyes soften significantly more, the flames of lust simmering and you fear you ruined the moment. He tilts your face back up so that you are looking him directly in the eyes.

 “You could never disappoint me,  Birdie,” he leaves a chaste kiss on your lips, “you are perfect in every single way and I truly am having the most wonderful time I have ever had sharing an intimate moment with someone.”

 You sigh in relief- that makes you feel a lot less nervous about the whole ordeal. 

“Let me know if I need to slow down or stop,” he whispers into your ear, “I fear, that if I have my way, you may not be entirely comfortable.”

  Warmth pierces your clit and the ball of nerves feels strained with want. You nod and Astarion kisses you again at the same time he slowly begins to push inside of you. You gasp- the uncomfortable pinching feeling making the corners of your eyes prick with tears. 

  You feel so full and his shaky breaths against your lips, the stiffness of his lower half as he tries to be gentle. One of your hands reaches between you so that you can rub your clit. 

  You can feel the static energy waiting to be released within him- he has wanted this for a lot longer than you thought. A part of you was worried he had just begun to feel this way and you were moving it along too fast. 

“You feel so good,” he kisses along your cheek, a moan leaving his beautiful lips as he moves in and out slowly, “it feels like you were made for me- made to take me.” 

  His words are genuine- you can hear it in his tone and the way he peers into your eyes now. 

 No performing, just Astarion.

 “I feel like I was made for you too,” you whisper before kissing him again, he groans against your mouth.

 Astarion rocks his hips, taking his time to stretch you around his cock. The pinching feeling is beginning to go away and unleash sensations of pleasure that you never thought you would get to experience in any lifetime. 

  He whimpers into your neck, his hips stuttering as he tries to hold back, but now that you feel good you need more.

“M-more- please.” 

  Astarion chuckles while releasing a sigh of relief, “well, since you asked so nicely, my love.”

  His hips snap, all the power he holds back being put into several deep thrusts that leave your toes tingling and reduces you to nothing but a puddle of whimpering gasps and moans. Your arms are loose around his neck and he kisses you along your chin, leaving love bites as he makes his way to your collarbones.

 The sound of your skin slapping together as he hits that perfect spot every single time is damning- his mouth is covering yours for the sake of some privacy (he doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed) but occasionally frees you so that he can hear you cry out as he thrusts back into you. 

  He adjusts so that one of your legs is up, ankle on his shoulder, and the other leg around his hip. You feel yourself blush as he makes eye contact with you through every movement of his hips, biting his lip and panting- his hair a wild mess for the first time ever.

 “You are far too good for me,” you whine, “Gods, you are perfect.”

  His pace falters- his body losing it’s rhythm for a moment and his head drops into the crook of your neck.

“You are amazing,” you say through gasps, “fuck-“

Astarion moves himself slowly within you and reaches down to play with your clit- pushing your hand away. Your back arches towards him- your body pleading for more as his pace picks up and his fingers continue to pay attention to your overstimulated clit. You are panting with want and he puts you on your knees. 

  The new angle and position as well as Astarion playing with your clit brings you closer to your orgasm than you had wanted to. You want to keep going- he feels so fucking incredible.

 His. His. His. I am his and he is mine.

  A blindingly wonderful sensation courses through your body as the knot unravels in your stomach again and your orgasm ripples through your body. You cry out his name, begging him to keep going. 

“Good… girl,” he kisses your calf, his hips erratic now as he chases his own high.

  The overstimulation and the general euphoria of being with him in this way makes your head spin in circles with happiness. Your lips are slightly parted and he coaxes pathetic whimpers from you. 

“A-as-Astarion,” you say through a shaky breath, “I need you to cum inside me pl- EASE! FUCK! 

 That seemed to have unleashed something within him because he is quickly pistoning in and out of you- your moans turning into borderline screams of pleasure, taking a guttural pitch. You can feel the thick ropes of his being coat your walls, leaving a mess in it’s wake. Astarion collapses on top of you and he softens inside you. He nuzzles his face into your neck and hums with pleasure.

  You breathe heavily as you try to regain your bearings. That was like nothing you have ever experienced before. He pulls you into him- his hands tracing shapes on your hips.

 “That, my Sweet,,” he says between kisses on your shoulder, “was incredible.” 

 “Extremely,” you let out a breathy laugh of relief, “that stupid book doesn’t do the act nearly enough justice.” 

 “Maybe we should continue reading,” he whispers into your ear, “compare notes?” 

  You laugh and kiss the top of his head.

“I think we may just have to.” 

****************************************************************

 The morning sun and the sound of ruckus downstairs stirs you from your sleep- Astarion is still passed out with his face buried in your hair and his breath fanning your skin. He obviously hasn’t heard of his other companions' arrival. 

  Memories of last night come flooding back to you and you smile like an idiot- enjoying every second of your memories of the events. 

  It had been a beautiful dance- after so long of just wanting him and somehow, he wants you too.

 “KNOCK KNOCK FANGS, TUNES! GET YOUR ASSES OUT HERE! IF I’M NOT GETTING EARLY MORNING SEX YET, THEN NO ONE IS!!”

“IF ONLY THEY WOULD HAVE NORMAL SEX TO BEGIN WITH!” Tav yells after her.

 So everyone began drinking pretty early then and no one heard a thing. Awesome!

  Astarion, obviously awake now, groans in irritation and presses his face into your shoulder. 

“If we ignore her… she’ll go away.”

 “I hope so,” you return with an equally sleepy voice, “I have no intentions of leaving this bed if I don’t have to.”

  He chuckles and Astarion absentmindedly places a kiss on your shoulder. A  needy, horribly wanting sigh escapes your lips. You would feel embarrassed, but it seems that he very much enjoyed the sound because you can feel his hard cock against your ass.

“SHIT!” 

  Astarion pulls away and looks absolutely panicked- pulling a pillow over his crotch area. 

  “Fuck- Gods- I am so sorry,” he is practically hysterical, “I-“

  Your body moves for you and you press your lips against his- it’s a brief peck and he is absolutely bewildered by your actions. You feel the tears of rejection coming on the longer he doesn’t do or say anything and you hold them back like your life depends on it.

  At least it you were given the opportunity to experience your dreams once, right?

 “I- sorry- I thought after last night,” you chuckle awkwardly, tears falling from your eyes in spite of your willing to make them stop, “I will, um, give you some privacy.” 

  You don’t even have a moment to move before his lips are following yours and his thumbs are wiping away your tears- using his body to pin you to the mattress, flinging the pillow aside, and he grinds against your clit. 

 Gods, this is divine. 

“That wasn’t just a dream?” He whispers against your lips.

“No,” you whisper back, “do you regret it?”

“Not at all,” he says promptly, “do you?”

“Not at all,” you smile back- his own smile becoming even more blinding. 

 His lips refuse to leave yours for even a second after that. He is soft with his touch, but desperate and needy all at the same time. It’s not difficult for you to keep pace with him- your body seems to be programmed to his within seconds. Only one time and you are entirely his. You are ruined for everyone else- you just know it. 

 However, you want to make him feel good and just focus on him this morning. You have heard him using the bathroom once or twice to… fulfill his needs, but you never could have dreamed he would be imagining you.

  “Wait,” you put your hand between your lips and feel him frown, “I want to pleasure you.” 

 “Is that so?” He whispers, he looks surprised if you are being completely honest.

“Teach me how to take care of you,” you cup his face with your hands, leaving a chaste kiss, “show me.” 

   Astarion pushes himself off of you, pulling you upright along with him- he looks at you with curiosity.

“Are you sure, my Love?” He says wearily, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

“I don’t,” you insist, “but if you don’t want me t-“

“That- my Dear- is far from the issue,” he steps forward, leaning forward to whisper in your ear, “get on your knees.” 

  You do as you are told, a jolt of arousal going straight to your core, and you hook your hands into the seam of his underwear, pulling them down and his cock springs free. All of this, just for you, because of you. 

  His tip is already weeping with precum and he looks embarrassed. Why? You think he looks beautiful this way. He always looks beautiful.

 “You’re beautiful, Star,” you kiss along his navel, “I am so excited to finally know what you taste like.”

  His eyes alight again at the praise and the implied desire in your words. 

 “Cheeky pup.”

 Astarion wraps his hand around his cock and you look up at him with anticipation- he puts the tip to your lips and salty precum begins to dribble down your chin. You lap it up needily and that seems to push the embarrassment away. With hands tangled into your hair, he opens your mouth so you can take him. 

  Take him you do- his head hitting the back of your throat, you gag at the sudden presence, slightly embarrassed. Astarion chuckles.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about, Love,” he says darkly, “you are already being so good for me.” 

  You didn’t think you would have a praise kink, but you suppose it makes sense with the nature of your vocation anyhow. You live for praise and compliments so it makes sense. 

  Your mouth follows his hand as he strokes himself, his other hand gripping your hair, and keeping eye contact with you as he slowly fucks into your mouth. You are surprised by how much you are enjoying this, but it’s only because he obviously is.

  Astarion is a moaning mess above you and around you, sweat starting to dampen his neck, and his hand guiding you to go faster. You apply pressure with your tongue and drag it along the sensitive skin- he shudders with pleasure.

“D-do that again and I… I want you to touch yourself.” 

 The last part comes out as a whisper and again, you are surprised to see him nervous and embarrassed about the things he is saying. It’s like you are both blushing virgins.

  You happily comply, circling your tongue around his head and applying pressure on his slit. Astarion’s hand tightens in your hair as he begs you to keep doing that. You play and tease your own clit- humming with pleasure around his length. You can feel yourself blushing more and more as he praises you and guides you through touching yourself- eventually having you finger yourself at a painstakingly slow pace. 

“Do- don’t change your pace until- fuck- until I tell you to.”

  You hum and nod your head in understanding- bobbing him in your mouth. Astarion thrusts and hits the back of your throat- you gag a bit, but readjust much quicker this time. 

  Thank the Gods you have read so much pornography it could make an entire brothel blush. Being a 354 year old virgin really left a lot of free time and Donella had a very trashy library that was never redone.

  The early morning sun is illuminating the entire room- his eyes are bright and practically sparkling, his pupils blown wide with lust, and you can see the little bit of blood coming from his bottom lip. He must have bit it- the crimson liquid mixing with the thin sheen of sweat that covers his face. 

 Your ministrations coax praise from him and even the occasional begging when you stop moving to tease him. This is far too fun, for once, you are the one in control. 

  “Fuck- I’m,” he is cut off by his own moan, his seed spilling into your mouth and down the back of your throat. You can’t help the smile that graces your lips as he watches you swallow with wide, affectionate eyes. 

  You release him with a pop, swallow, and stand up- throwing your arms around his neck.

“How did I do?”

  Astarion throws his head back in laughter and you furrow your brows- leering at him.

“What!?”

 “That was the single best oral sex I have ever received and you are asking for a performance review?” he scoffs playfully, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “you were perfect, as you are in all things.” 

  You beam- deciding to ignore his teasing. 

“Would you like to join me in the bath?” He asks, “I doubt our companions are going to leave us alone for much longer if we don’t make an appearance.”

 Instead of answering, you take his hand and drag him to the bathroom.

**********************************************************************

Author note: Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know if you would like to be on the tag list! I am using the Ghostwalk campaign for NPCs, locations, etc. It is a 3e Campaign and doesn’t mirror 5e Ghosts. I have tweaked some of the ghost powers and such for the sake of the story, but if you would like more information on Ghostwalk and the City of Manifest, there is a PDF online that is free to download :)

Tag List: @n3rdybirdee @fandomarchiveilyd @dajeong @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @bitchstarion @hereliesblackdragon @pebble-bb @preciouslittlebhaalbae @lavvyan @beepersteeper @misscrissfemmefatale

[sitp-recs]

Hey Liv,

My friend had the most chaotic day today. She left on holiday and ended up packing at the last minute. Cue bags overflowing in every room, a dog to get into the car, a kid to pick up at daycare and no time to spare.

THEN her husband’s car broke down so she had to go pick him up almost two hours away with both dog and baby in the backseat….

All this so say: she might need a pick me up.

Do you have a Drarry rec where either of them (or both) are absolute chaos/ are under a bad luck spell /…?

Love love love ❤️

Omg your poor friend! 😱 I’m sorry things have been wild for her, that sounds super stressful and overwhelming! I hope everything was okay in the end. This story actually led to a really interesting ask, I did a mix of curses, pranks and bad luck with a touch of angst at the end - hope they work for what you’re looking for!

Humor/Fluff:

Bad Luck, Red Pants, and Broken Washing Machines by @the-starryknight (T, 2k)

After his five year sentence of magical suppression, Draco Malfoy got used to working without his wand. It's just days like today when nothing seems to be going right that he regrets his life in the Muggle world.

Special Affinity by @skeptiquewrites (E, 4k)

Auror partners Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy seem to have a special affinity for getting into convoluted accidental bonds. Once is a mistake, twice is bad luck, and five times...well five times seems like carelessness, doesn’t it?

Bubbles, Baths, and Bad Luck by manixzen (E, 5k)

A poisonous potion covering Professor Potter nearly head-to-toe would normally be a pretty big deal. It should be as bad as his day gets. But that’s before he’s informed that the cure involves a steamy, hot bath with an unrequited crush.

Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain by Faith Wood (E, 21k)

It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that's ever so cross.

At the Crossroads There We’ll Meet by firethesound (E, 24k)

Potter keeps dying; Draco keeps saving him.

Rarely Pure and Never Simple by birdsofshore (E, 28k)

Harry never thought taking a job as Draco Malfoy's bodyguard was going to be easy. Add in a curse that makes Malfoy even more of an obnoxious git than usual, and Harry's got serious problems.

The Four Ds of Apparition (or: Destination, Determination, Deliberation, and Dicks) by @eidheann, @firethesound (E, 36k)

After transferring to the Apparition Department, Harry's life becomes one big dick joke. And all his friends are arseholes. So is Malfoy, but what else is new? AKA Harry Potter and the eighteen twenty dicks.

Draco Malfoy, It's Your Lucky Day by Faith Wood (E, 38k)

Even though he's unarmed, injured, lost in the Forbidden Forest, and facing a possible murder charge, Draco Malfoy gets lucky.

Skybound by @xanthippe74 (T, 61k)

No matter how much Harry Potter wanted to believe he’d left danger behind when the war ended, it found him again anyway. All he had to do was step out his own front door on a Tuesday morning. A Drarry re-imagining of Howl’s Moving Castle.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop (E, 70k)

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always.

Angst:

Super Rich Kids by @thusspoketrish (E, 81k)

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of thieving cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

Nor All That Glisters by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 110k)

Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot.

[darksigns-exe]

I don’t have a single sfw thought about this man and you’ll all have to suffer with me.

thank you @circle-with-me for listening to my mad ramblings 🩷

This man is obsessed with getting his fingers into you. He’s a menace with it.

You feel his fingers drifting up your thigh early in the morning when you’re still drowsy with sleep. He’s slow with it then. Intent on pulling soft sigh from your lips. Won’t stop until he feels you soaking his fingers.

Think you’ll find a moment of peace when you’re doing laundry? No chance. He’s pressing up behind you, fingers already working their way into your shorts.

His favourite thing though is having you in front of a mirror. He loves making you watch, loves watching your face twist in pleasure. He’s got one arm wrapped around your middle, keeping you somewhat upright while he buries his fingers in you over and over and over again. The sound of his fingers entering your soaked pussy only spur him on. Doesn’t shy away from telling you how ruined you look, how wet you are for him, how good you feel around his fingers.

Now he considers himself somewhat of a purist, preferring to get you off with just himself but if he’s feeling especially mean he’ll absolutely bring out the magic wand. He’s not satisfied until you’re reduced to a pleading, weeping mess, begging him to finally let you finish.

On the flip side, he knows that he’ll get the same treatment from you. That you take whatever you need from him with the same kind of loving cruelty. And he doesn’t know what he delights in more. Watching you beg for him or the sight of you on top of him, hand wrought into his hair to keep his lips on your pussy.

To make a long story short: the man likes it a little rough and nasty sometimes and I love that.

[ananxiousgenz]

SONG FOR A CAGED LOVEBIRD: PART 9 (?)

i've lost track by now ngl. we're at over 9,000 words so i get a pass. this part is. ouchie central. so i am expecting a lot of people yelling at me in the comments and tags. this is fun for me.

LETS GO TPP CREW, ROUNDING THE CORNER WITH MY TPP CREW: @smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @one-joe-spoopy @waters-and-the-wilde @demonic-panini (@the-private-eye i'm tagging you too bc i can :))

The silence was what finally woke him.

Juno had been solidly asleep, dreaming about things he couldn’t quite remember but that made his stomach twist. When he finally opened his eyes, the room was abnormally quiet. No rain, barely any wind, and… he rolled over to check. Nureyev wasn’t next to him in bed. That was not entirely out of the ordinary, as his insomnia often took him on long walks through the woods as he tried to find sleep, but this morning it set his teeth on edge. Something about it felt…  wrong. Like he had walked out of the door for the last time, and would never come back. 

Juno shook the thought away. It was a ridiculous notion. He loved him too much to let that happen. If Nureyev was having trouble, or looking to leave, he would have told him. Juno trusted him.

He dressed and washed his face and walked downstairs to grab some breakfast before starting to get the bar together for opening. Hopefully, the rest of the day would pass without incident, and he could chalk this nauseous, nervous feeling up to a nightmare that he couldn’t quite remember.

It was what he saw at the bar while half-way down the stairs that really made him feel sick to his stomach.

Buddy was leaned over a half-empty bottle of whisky, rubbing the bridge of her nose, tear tracks shiny on her face. That bottle had been full when he had replaced it on the shelf last night. She never drank this early in the morning, and never that much. Always said it made her unfit to serve the public or interact with any decent human being. Jet, the man she had employed as a bar bouncer when times were better, was standing next to her, a large hand on her shoulder. He was crying too. Buddy only called him when things were drastic, like when their latest whiskey shipment had been stolen by pirates on its way to the bar.

And then there was Rita.

Rita, who wore her heart and its many thoughts on her sleeve like a badge of honor for her humanity, was nearly silent. She was snot-nosed and puffy-eyed, like she had been crying for hours, and said absolutely nothing outside of the occasional sniffle and a quiet request for Jet to grab her a glass of milk from the kitchen.

Juno thought he might hurl right there on the stairs. A silent Rita was new. Juno had known her for years, and she had never stopped talking once.

What the hell had happened?

He cautiously came down the rest of the stairs and approached the bar. Buddy looked up at his approach and tried to wipe some of the tears from her face just as Jet returned from the kitchen with the milk for Rita. “Good morning, Juno.”

“Hey, big guy,” Juno responded, nodding in Jet’s direction before looking at each one of the weeping figures in turn. “What happened? You guys look like hell. Did we get another snowstorm in the middle of the night or something?”

The three of them exchanged a look that Juno couldn’t quite decipher before Buddy answered.

“I think Rita can answer that question better than Jet or I can,” she croaked before downing another swig of whisky.

Juno turned to Rita and reached out to wipe a stray hair out of her face. “Hey, Rita, what happened? It’s okay, it can’t be that bad, right?”

At that, Rita burst into tears again. “It is, it really is that bad, Mista Steel! You don’t get it! It’s the worst thing! It’s about Mista Nureyev!”

Juno’s heart dropped through the floor the second she said his name. “Rita. Rita, look at me. Rita. DAMMIT, I need you to tell me what happened to him.”

Rita looked at him then, with such a look of despair and heartbreak on her face that Juno’s heart ached for her. And then he realized. He knew that expression. It was nearly second nature to him. He had seen it every morning on his own face in the mirror after Benten had-

And then he knew.

He breathed in, breathed out. Took a step back. The floor was spinning. He dropped to his knees. “No. No it can’t- no, no, no, no, this can’t be right, Nureyev can’t be…”

Rita nodded, tears still flowing steadily down her face as she clambered off the bar stool to hug Juno. “He came back after dark last night, and I thought he was actin’ real sketchy, so I watched him for a while, and then when the sun started comin’ up, he packed up some stuff and left, but I followed him, only he didn’t know, ‘cause I acted real sneaky-like, and he went to a train station that I’m pretty sure wasn’t there before, and he met these big, creepy guys, and they gave him paypawork to sign, ‘cause I think they were makin’ some kinda deal, and once Mista Nureyev signed it, he fell down and started coughin’, and then one of the big guys said somethin’ about not havin’ enough time to wait for him to die, and then the otha one pulled out a huuuuuge knife, and then he- then he-”

She burst into sobs again on Juno’s shoulder. His ears were ringing and he knew his face was deathly pale. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Buddy looked at him hollowly from the bar. “Rita said he called your name. It was the last thing he did before he… before they loaded his body up onto a train and left.”

‘He called your name. It was the last thing he did before he died.’ And Juno didn’t even hear him. He hadn’t been paying attention. How long had he been calling? How long had Juno been ignoring him? Why was he only now hearing his echo instead of his voice? How pathetic was he, that he prioritized a fucking song over his husband? What was wrong with him? But of course, as soon as he realized his problem, it was already too late to solve it. 

He never got to say goodbye.

Dimly, Juno realized he was shivering and tears were flowing down his face and Rita was apologizing profusely that she didn’t do anything to try and save him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so horrible about himself. 

Now, it was all over. He’d lost him forever, and it was all his fault.

He would never get to see Peter Nureyev again.

He sat there, curled up on the floor for a moment longer before a different wave of feeling crept over him.

No.

No.

This was not the end. He wouldn’t let it be the end.

He was going to get his husband back if it was the last thing he ever did.

He sat up, wiped the tears from his face, and grabbed Rita by the shoulders, lightly shaking her out of her self-deprecating ramble.

“Rita. Rita, look at me. I need you to tell me everything you know about the Underworld. It’s important. Really important.”

“Well,” Rita sniffled, wiping her face on the sleeves of her sky blue sweater, “I heard a while back about there bein’ a back door. A way to get in without havin’ to actually, ya know, die or somethin’.”

Jet nodded sagely. “This is true. I walked that road with a friend of mine years ago, trying to save people from unwise decisions.”

“It’s not easy though, Mista Steel. The road is reeeeeaaaaally long and difficult, and with the weatha bein’ the way is it, you could get caught in a storm and get hurt, and I don’t want you to get hurt, Mista Steel!!”

Buddy looked at Juno again, an odd kind of hollow despair marking her face, like she saw something in Juno’s set jaw and bright eyes that made her want to disappear. “I know what you’re thinking, Juno, and it won’t work. I’ve tried. Believe me.”

“I’m not going to give up on him this easily.” There was a defiant flame rising in him now, melting the shards of his broken heart back into a semblance of hope. “I can get him back. I know I can.”

Jet walked over from his perch next to Buddy and crouched on the floor next to Juno. “Rita is right, Juno. The road to Hadestown is not an easy one to take, which is why I must ask you: how far are you willing to go for your husband?”

The flame grew into a wildfire. 

“To the ends of the fucking earth.”

There was silence as Jet examined him for a moment longer, face expressionless, before letting out a small sigh and standing up again. “Very well then. Pack your things. I will take you to where the road to Hadestown begins. If you are going to make stupid choices, I will at least make sure you can begin making them safely.”

Buddy started shaking her head vehemently. “No, no, no. You can’t let him go, Jet darling, he’s just going to get himself killed too. It’s not safe.”

“And yet you took the same course of action all those years ago, Buddy. What does that say about you?”

A muscle in Buddy’s jaw twitched as she took another long swig of whiskey. Juno slowly stood up, like a prey animal caught between two predators trying to remain ignored. He desperately wanted to know what had happened between the two of them, but somehow got the impression that any requests to know would be soundly ignored. 

Buddy glared at Jet with one sharp eye, but said nothing.

Jet sighed again and put a large hand on Juno’s shoulder. “Go grab your things. We will leave in two hours.”

“Wait for me, Mista Steel! I’m comin’ too! I gotta go get my stuff and then I’ll go with ya! Lil old Rita isn’t as fast as she used to be! Wait up!”

Juno sprinted up the stairs, Rita’s voice carrying after him. And in spite of the loss he had just suffered, he was grinning.

Hang on, Nureyev. Just a little longer.

He was going to get his husband back. At any cost.