#oh to cradle them gently in my palm *starts crying*

[enviousbug2]

a Mhin I drew on someone's strawpage. the tiny ever

[kurooandkenmasslut]

jjk dilfs x pregnant!reader

(reader is far into the pregnancy, much to jjk mens excitement yet worry.)

no minors! (I didn't feel like aging up yuuji and megumi and so on..) && no sukunaaa sorryyy

tojis is super short, I apologise!! if this gets enough attention I might make it longer but i wanted this out asap lmfao

⭒​SATORU GOJO↫​

when dream becomes reality

“But!-”

“no buts, sweets. just rest your cute lil buttocks on the couch.” gojo fought back. everytime you'd protest to do something, he'd always be there to retort. Especially since your due date was nearing.

you bit your lip, staring up at him. You felt kind of bad. He does everything for you, cleaning, shopping for you everyday, even learning a new skill which was cooking, just for you.

lying on his chest as you both watch your favourite tv show, his large hand caressing your belly bump.

“what do you think the baby'll be?” you ask, staring up at his face. Gojo stared at your face for a moment, not thinking, just admiring his wife.

“a boy.” he says, no hesitation.

“ehhh? why do you think that? I think it's a girl.”

“my dreams, sweets.” he smiles and you chuckle. At the near the start of your relationship, satoru had a dream of where you are now. Him being the strongest sorcerer, you his wife, with a baby boy. He had his absolutely gorgeous eyes and long lashes and most of his features, the cute baby taking your haircolor and your pretty smile. Oh if only younger gojo saw him now, he would of cried in happiness.

with a flushed face, he admitted it, completely out of his mind. drunk gojo smirked as he told described how beautiful it was, not knowing how embarrassed he was, but he didn't mind the part where his dream came true.

as embarrassing as it is for gojo to recall the memory, he still laughs with you, because if you find it funny, then he's content. maybe revealing another embarrassing secret, just to make you laugh, isn't that bad.

⭒​CHOSO KAMO↫​

First time daddy!

as soon as choso found out you were pregnant, he typed up on google what pregnant means, he was happy for the most part but.. worry and nervousment still lingered. He was actually surprised he could reproduce since he was a half curse. Negative thoughts was set on his mind. He felt as if his child would be scared of him. And if they were, which in his mind, they were likely to, he would curl up and bawl on the floor.

You gave told choso over and over again everyday, saying there's nothing to be worried about and that he'll be an amazing father, but he still felt like it, no matter the words you repeated. Not to mention, the people outside your relationship gossiped, especially about choso. On how he is a 'monster', a curse, not fit to parent with a human, that you deserve better. He would hear them on the streets, anywhere and everywhere. He did try not letting them get to him, but hearing it constantly everytime he went in public was very exhausting.

any time you tripped, or just an honest accident, choso felt like he was responsible for not taking care of you properly. Even though, it wasn't his fault.

So when that baby pushed through, God, he wanted to cry. Although the nurses rushed to clean him, he clenched your sweaty palm. Wiping away the stray hairs that stuck onto your sweaty forehead. You panted, leaning into his touch.

the nurses carried your baby gently and carefully, placing him into your arms. The nurses cooed before leaving you with choso.

Choso wasn't an emotional person, but big fat tears swam down his pale face, his hands covering his face. You lightly chuckled.

“do you want to hold him?” funny how that small, little sentence almost made him faint.

“b-but.. what if I drop him?” choso muttered, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead. Nervous was an understatement. “nonsense! we practiced for this, remember? Here, my arms are tired, cho.” you say, yawning. Gently pushing the newborn into his hands, choso cradled his head in his hand, while his arm held his body.

You didn't get time to oogle, as your bufy shut down like a light.

The baby opened his eyes, big doe circles looking back at him. They both held eye contact before the baby started laughing, having his small little hand on chosos pale face. Choso was shocked to say the least. He didn't think his baby would giggle when he saw him, but he certainly isn't mad.

Waking up a while later, you rubbed your eyes with a yawn. That was a good sleep. Turning your head over to see where choso went, you stared at the cute sight.

Choso, in the seat next to your bed, was sitting there, sleeping. The baby was cradled in his arms with a strong grip, but not a uncomfortable grip. They both snored away, making you giggle a bit, reaching out to hold chosos hand and whispering,

“I love you two boys.”

⭒​SHIU KONG↫​

personal taxi..

Staring at the cars passing out the window, looking bored. You then started having a competition between two raindrops on the window.

Seeing that the specific raindrop that you were rooting for to win had lost, already soured your mood.

“im hungry, shiu. Can we go to the bakery? Pretty pleasee? I really, really want to get that new donut flavor they released!” you begged. Shiu, your very lovely husband who may or may not drive to the shop, sighed.

“babe, you just ate. We literally had a mcdonalds 10 minutes ago.”

“okay, but im carrying your baby. You do realise that there's another mouth to feed, and that im going to tear my body trying to give birth to your baby right?” you whined, batting your pretty lashes at him. No matter what, he always gives in. I mean, who could argue with that? That's the truth.

Smiling cheekily at him, you began to slightly kick your feet, excited he's complying. Works everytime.

looking at all the buildings that passes the vehicle, you can tell your almost near your destination.

feeling the baby kick, you accidentally let out a grunt. “that damn baby..” you mutter through furrowed brows. Shiu laughs, “no way you're already cursing out our baby.. not even out yet, doll. Im sure theyre just excited as you are going to this damn bakery.” you roll your eyes, not wanting to retort back to his remark. I mean, you don't blame your baby for being excited, because you love it too. as soon as they were born, you can bet that your taking them here every time possible.

seeing the building you were dying to see, a smile formed on your face. Hunger took over your body, jumping out of the car as soon as shiu parked and turned it off.

“aye, woman! Would you wait on me, jeez.. impatient women these days..” shiu called out, muttering the last part so you wouldn't hear. He knows he would get a red ear if you did. hurrying out as he also knows that you would huff if he dared to take 5 seconds longer and would've went without him. Not only that, but he didn't want you to trip over anything to hurt yourself.

shiu put his hands around your waist as you two walked. A cute little detail you adored.

The bell rang when you opened the door, the waitress greeting you when she walked passed. The aroma was hints of warm coffee and cinnamon. It felt really comforting, whixh is why your a usual customer.

Thankfully, there wasn't much of a line, but long enough for time to think about your order.

You were up next, so you two ordered.

Getting seated down the back right next to the window. You finished your pastry in about a minute while shiu was mid way into a bite, staring at you like you were crazy.

Both of you held eye contact before breaking it with a fit of laughs. You and Shiu couldn't wait for a third person giggling aswell, possibly a specific baby..

⭒​SUGURU GETO↫​

suguru's house rules

as soon as suguru found out that you, his wife, his one and only, got knocked up by him, he immediately made everything in the house baby proof. Even at the start at the pregnancy.

Raising two girls by himself wasn't easy, but now that he's experienced parenting, he knows all the tips and tricks.

“you will not be lifting a finger, unless you need to go to the restroom or something.. anyway, next if you need anything while I'm away, the girls will always be by your side if you need anything. If you need me at any time, I'm keeping my phone on me all day, just incase.” suguru says, with his cute little smile. You blink at him blankly, as if he doesn't tell you this everyday.

“sugu, you do realise I can do stuff by myself, right?” you say, tilting your head. You have this conversation everyday, yet you don't know why you bother because he never budges. You didn't want to treat your two angels, mimiko and nanako, like your servants while you sat there like royal.

“nonsense! I don't want my princess in there and my angel here moving around alot, don't want you to fall or anything, you know?” he mumbles. You glare up at him as he smiled sweetly at you. As if he didn't make a cheeky reference to the one to many times of when you got up when the two girls weren't looking, your poor knees gave out. And when suguru got that certain phone call, he seriously almost passed out in worry. After all of that, he still is wary of leaving the house most days, afraid something might happen again and he isn't there.

suguru sits back in satisfaction after just smothering you with kisses, something he usually does before he leaves for his cult. He hates dealing with them damn monkeys, but one of his many goals is to get as many curses as possible, so he'll take what he can get.

standing up, he calls put to the girls, who were currently making you lunch.

“mimi, nana! I'm leaving now, you coming to say bye?!” he yelled not to loud, not wanting to damage your hearing because of him. The two girls pounce on him, his arms full of his two angels.

“come home safe!” “hurry up coming home, there's a new cafe that opened and I wanna try it!” they squealed, suguru only chuckling in response, patting their head with his usual smile.

“take care of mommy over there, mkay?” suguru slightly bent down to their level, his voice low. They nodded enthusiastically, giving him one final hug before he went.

suguru closed the door, summoning his rainbow dragon. If he could marry you over and over, he would.

⭒​NANAMI KENTO↫​

worry 'bout yourself, baby!

wiping the slight dampness off your forehead, you finally made it to your destination. the nursery room. Putting your hands on your hip, you stared at the random peices of the unbuilt crib on the floor.

Peaking our the door and looking at your husbands closed office door, hearing him on the phone to his coworker. Perfect timing.

Recently, nanami has been working at home to watch over you a bit more, even though he has papers half the height of you to fill out. You didn't wanna bother him from his work again today, and plus, you wanted to be independent and brag about how you built this crib by yourself to your baby later. But, you knew nanami would get kind of mad that you lifted a finger, you didn't care.

If you sat down on the floor to even sort it out, you wouldnt get back up again and would need kentos help. And so, bending down to pick up the peices, you started to feel dizzy after a bit of back and forth of putting the pieces on the table.

'only a few peices left.' the thought trailed through your mind after each peice. Although, your baby thought otherwise, giving a nice brutal kick on the walls of your belly. A sudden yelp came, followed by a quick slap to the mouth as you have now blown your cover. Thr house was silent. Not hearing the mumble of kentos voice, now hearing the footsteps coming to the nursery. Mentally cursing our baby out, the door opened.

“honey? whats wrong? why are you- don't tell me you're trying to build the crib again?” kento said, scratching his blonde undercut. Smiling sheepishly with a slight nod.

“dear, I told you I would build it as soon as I get through the paperwork, didn't I?” kento says, shaking his head.

“but! you were in your office, already filled to the brim with workload and that damn paperwork. I didn't want to make it your new problem, you know? You're always taking care of me. And who told you that even a quarter of that shit was alright? I can have a word with them if you want.”

“my love, you will never be a problem to me, ever. What kind of husband would I be if I thought that? You're crazy.” Kento says, a small smile forming on his lips at thought of you worrying about him and his wellbeing. A rare sight indeed.

“and instead of worrying about me, worry about yourself, yeah? I'm sure your back is broke, my love. Please rest yourself, it's not good for the baby if you don't get rest, i told you this. Lets get you to the living room, yeah?” kento says into your neck, not giving you a choice.

Kento put his hands on your lower back, slowly massaging the spot you usually get sore. guiding you down the living room humming your favourite tune. almost in time for your reality show to be on, your luck.

Wasn't long until your eyes was stuck on the tv, drama brewing on the first few seconds.

Kento stands there, content. Not because of the tv show, no, its you. He wouldn't know where he would he standing, whether it would be on earth or the skies, without you.

⭒​TOJI FUSHIGURO↫​

short tempered woman and tired husband.

“woman, I am not going to feed you toothpaste.”

“well, why the hell not?!” you responded, rasing a brow. Toji grumbled, absolutely set on not giving you toothpaste for food.

“would you just sleep? I'm not giving you toothpaste to eat. Why the hell are you so weird?!”

“hhaaah?! What did you just say?!”

nights went on like that. Different item, same outcome. Toji with a red ear and your back to him. Toji doesn't know if your stable or not as you requested for a bowl of dirt to eat a few nights ago. He only knew about women's weird food craving a while ago when he saw you eating a chocolate bar with ketchup as a dip.

(toji finds it kinda hot when you get angry... kinky)

Toji put his head in his hands, covering his eyes. He let out a sigh before questioning you.

“are you eating toast and ice cream again?”

“yeah, so what? Any odds to you, old man..”

“oh, your so gonna regret that. We've been here before, and your belly bump is the result.” toji smirks, chuckling at your flushed face. And yet, his outcome is the same.

[sunnie-angel]

week 2 (oct. 11) | overstimulation

✮⋆˙ lay all your love on me (3k)

jason needs to come. a lot. what's a good partner supposed to do but give him a helping orgasm? or two? or three?

tags: gn!reader, established relationship, groping, dirty talk, cum play, slight objectification, hand job, begging, crying during sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

a/n: working title was "jerking him off until he cries". @sanguineterrain at last the handjob fic i promised you

⊘ this is an 18+ fic. minors do not interact, you will be blocked

Jason Todd enjoys being the little spoon. It takes a weight off of his shoulders to curl up into you, have your chin hooked over his shoulder, and just trustingly melt. He’d been a little hesitant the first time you’d suggested it, sure that because of his size this wasn’t wanted from him. But after that first afternoon he’d leaned in a little more eagerly each time. Looked at you real sweet as he’d hemmed and hawed his way around asking if you two could cuddle again. Innocent, hoping for nothing more than a little light making out. Really, knowing how insatiable your appetite for him has been since the first time you’d kissed, he should have known that the two of you would end up here eventually.

It had started off innocently enough, the two of you spooning on the L-section of the couch he had insisted on buying when you had moved in together. Jason sits comfortably in the v of your legs with your arms wrapped around his stomach, warm and drowsy, some cooking show playing on the TV screen. He’d worn those grey sweatpants, the pair that you have a love-hate relationship with because of just how good they make his ass and thighs look. You haven’t been able to tear your eyes away from the faint outline of his cock through the cotton fabric. If asked, you probably couldn’t even name the show you’re supposed to be watching. He shifts, pulling the fabric tight against his cock. Saliva starts to pool in your mouth.

“Hey d’you mind if I try something?” you ask distractedly, focus narrowing to the crotch of his pants.

“What– OH,” he bites out as your hand closes around his dick, hips twitching and tone breathy.

“Go back to watching your show,” you shush him. “I just want to play a bit. You don’t mind, do you?” you ask. The fabric between your hand and his cock feels super-heated.

“I don’t– I don’t mind,” he manages to grit out. 

“Good.”

You move your hand along his shaft, gently squeezing, just trying to map out the shape of him now that you’re in no hurry. He’s a big boy, your Jason, proportional in all the right places. Trapping his dick against his leg, you stroke down, fabric bunching up beneath your palm. Jason’s breath stutters. Not wanting this to be over too quickly, you let him go. His hips twitch, chasing after your touch.

Instead you reach further down and cradle his balls in the palm of your hand. Roll them just to hear him moan quietly in your ear. If you had to guess, they feel heavier than usual, straining against the stretched grey fabric.

“Someone’s feeling a little pent up. Need a hand with that?” It’s some of your worst wordplay but it has the intended result.

“Might be,” he hedges.

Your other hand trails up to his pec and squeezes. His body is a lot more direct about what it wants, cock already fattening up in his pants.

“Getting fucked silly last night not enough for you, doll?” you pretend to pout.

“I cum a lot,” Jason confesses sheepishly, shame colouring his tone.

“Oh I know.” Fondly you think back to late nights in bed, Jason’s cum running down the inside of your thighs.

“I just mean that I hafta come a lot.” He tucks his chin into his chest. “Starts to get uncomfortable if I don’t at least twice a day. Hurts if I’m wearing the cup for patrol.”

You reward him for his honesty with another sharp drag at his twitching dick. On the television a contestant gets eliminated.

“So my big boy’s got a big load. Just more to fuck me full with,” you tell him smugly. He tries to thrust up into your hand, but you pull back, tutting. “Hey, you ever try and see just how much you can come?” You trace his chest through his shirt idly while he tries to piece together an answer.

“No?” his voice rises, tremors running through it as you dig your nail into his nipple. A damp spot starts to appear through his sweats, right where his purposefully neglected cock head sits. “It’s embarrassing enough I gotta jerk off a coupla times a day. Don’t wanna think about it too hard.”

“Yeah? Do you think of me every time you sneak off to have a furtive session in the bathroom?” you ask, half teasing half serious. Your hand closes around his shaft again. “When your balls tighten and your cock kicks in your hand, do you picture me?”

“Ye–ah,” he moans out, chest heaving. You press a kiss to the hinge of his jaw and flick at his nipple just to feel his breath catch.

“Good. Then I’m going to give you something real good to picture tomorrow, and you’re going to show me just how badly you need this. Don’t want my baby doll hurtin’ ‘cause he didn’t take the time to take care of himself.”

He nods, jaw clenching, as you finally thumb over his slit. Dig in to the growing damp patch with the pad of your thumb until fine tremors run up and down his spine. You let go just as he works up the nerve to try and thrust into the pressure.

Tapping at his hip, you urge him “Up, up. I want these off.”

With hands that feel dreadfully clumsy for their size, Jason manages to push his sweats and boxers down just far enough to free his dick from its confines. He almost dies from embarrassment over the way it nearly smacks against his stomach, practically drooling pre-come. On the TV, a new lightning round commences.

“Always so wet for me,” you murmur, slicking your hand with his pre. “I don’t think I even need lube for you, doll.”

The first pass of your hot hand over his bare skin is electrifying and Jason knows his first (of many, he hopes) orgasm isn’t far off. You set a fast pace, an extra twist of your wrist right below the head that has his stomach swooping. It’s white hot pressure, wet and good as you murmur soft praise into his ear. His hips start moving unconsciously, prolonging the drag of your palm on his cock. He moans when you tighten and release your grip intermittently, caught off guard by the sudden change in pressure. Flickering heat builds at the base of his spine, so strong he can taste it like iron on his tongue. Clever fingers pinch his nipples and he careens into orgasm eyes shut, teeth closing around his earlobe.

His cock twitches in your hand as he comes, spurts landing on his clothed chest and tummy. After an eternity stretches out, it slows to a dribble, thick white globs catching on your knuckles as you continue to stroke him through it. Letting go of his now sensitive dick, you drag your hand across his stomach, causing it to twitch, collecting the cum in your palm.

You hold up your hand for his inspection, rotate it back and forth to show him just how wet your hand has become. Embarrassment burns through Jason at the sight, lights up his cheeks and tightens his chest, the image of his copious desperation shining in the lamplight seared into his brain. Cum pools in the webbing of your fingers and starts to roll down your wrist in hot drips.

“Didn’t mean to make a mess,” he says, stomach still spasming and hips still twitching.

“No?” You press warm wet kisses along his jaw. “Then we’ll just have to keep going until you do mean to.”

The first tug at his cock is electrifying, back bowing tight as a string, his head dropping back onto your shoulder. You mouth at the warmed skin of his throat, adding just a hint of teeth as you trace the veiny underside of his dick with a slick finger.

“C’mon doll, I know you’ve got it in you to make a much bigger mess,” you croon, reaching down to tug and squeeze at his balls until he’s moaning like a whore for you. “Want you to give it all to me.” He starts grinding into the air in desperation.

“Please, can I– wanna fuck your fist. Please?” he whines. “Wanna come for your hand.”

You give a slow, leisurely stroke of his cock that has his shoulders shaking, before pulling off completely, hand still clenched in a loose fist.

“You’re so polite.” You press a kiss to his temple, hook your chin over his shoulder for a better view. “Now c’mon, good boys get to take what they want.”

His hips surge forward, every taut muscle in his body working to piston his dick in and out of your fist. It’s a heady feeling, watching him flex and strain under your hands, sweat beading on his forehead. Jason whines when you make him work for it, holding your hand a little further away so his hips have to arch just that much higher. He’s more flexible than you thought, a fact you file away for later. You tighten your grip and pull your hand closer, force Jason to change his pace to something jackrabbit fast, punched out little uh, uh, uhs falling from his mouth. With every stroke he’s slicking his cock up with his own cum, all shiny and wet.

“Look at you, all covered in cum for me. Your dick’s so pretty like this, puttin’ on a show,” you murmur.

“Jus’ f’r you. S’all yours,” he slurs, brain melting out of his ears.

“Yeah?” You press your thumb into the slit of his cock head. “So that means this cock is mine, right?” Jason nods frantically, keeps trying to fuck his whole length through the vice-like clutch of your hand but you’re not done playing yet. You grab his balls with your other hand. “All of this cum belongs to me?”

“Yours, all yours,” he gasps, so far gone he barely remembers his own name.

“That’s right doll,” you coo. Dig your fingers into the sensitive spot just under the head. “It’s my dick and my cum. Mine.” Heat burns through Jason’s veins, hums with the desire-shame thrumming through him and pools in the pit of his belly. “I fuck myself with my cock whenever I want and I get my cum whenever I want. And right now I want all of it.”

“Yeah wanna– wanna give it to you. Please. Need ta come. Need it. Need it need it,” he whines through gritted teeth, tendons pulling tight in his neck. His hands scrabble for something – anything to anchor him – and close around your thighs.

“Be a good doll and come then,” you instruct him, voice heavy with your own lust.

You start jerking him off in earnest, palm wrapped tight around the fat girth of his cock. He keens, body seizing up. A wet hand trails up to pinch at the tight bud of his nipple, leaving damp cum stains across the front of his shirt. Jason comes with a throaty groan on a particularly wicked twist of your wrist, tries to tuck his face into your neck. Rapt, you watch the thick white fluid dribble down his cock, sticky between your knuckles. With a steady hand you stroke him through his orgasm, more interested in the way his dick glistens than the pleasure-pain overstimulation he’s riding.

Cum pools at the base of his dick. Forms a frothy ring of creamy white from where your hand has churned it up, clings to his pubes and gathers in the divot just below his hip bone. Its still warm when you dip a finger into it, use it to draw idle patterns over the skin of his lower stomach where his shirt has ridden up. His muscles twitch and jump under his skin as he lets out a high and reedy sound. Sweat clings to his temples. The hands clinging to your thighs tremble as you continue to tug at his cock.

Jason’s next orgasm rolls over him, builds so gently he doesn’t notice it growing over the harsh passes of your hand over his dick. Only a little cum dribbles out this time, pearls at the fat head of his dick before slowly trailing its way home to your hands. He mewls when you bite down gently on the meat of his shoulder. Eyelashes fluttering, his head drops back to loll on you. Fine tremors rack his large frame as he limply clings to you, spent and vulnerable, raw with pleasure.

“Kiss, please,” Jason demands, fucked out and sweetly. Wetness dots the corners of his lashes as he gazes up at you, your pretty boy.

The kiss is almost chaste in comparison to everything that preceded it, closed mouth and sweet. He sighs into your mouth and melts into the cradle of your body. Shifts his hand to thread it through your fingers not currently rubbing cum into the heated skin of his cock. Jason’s mouth chases after yours, starved for tenderness. Pulling back, you lay your forehead on his and close your eyes. The two of you stay there, rough inhales evening out into something soft. Intimate.

“You were so good, baby. So good,” you murmur to him. Jason squirms a little at the praise. Or maybe at the way you slip a hand under his shirt at the same time. “Can you be good just a little longer? Want you to come again–” he whines, starts shaking his head, “–just once. Just one more, okay?” You dust kisses across the tip of his nose, the scrunched up space between his eyes. “You can do this, baby doll.”

“I can’t. I can’t,” he moans. His fingers clench and unclench around yours.

“Yes you can, I’ll be right there with you the whole time. You’re not doing this alone. Why don’t we just try, hmm?”

He looks up at you, hazy eyed and trusting. Jason’s curls are stuck to his damp forehead and there’s high spots of colour in his cheeks. His lips are shiny and swollen from where he’s bitten at them. Tongue darting out between his parted lips, the growing desire to be good, to give you what you’re asking of him, is nearly tangible in the air. What a sweet picture he makes, your doll. He looks like yours.

“Will you– will you kiss me through it? Don’t wanna get lost, don’t wanna be alone. Promise?”

“You can have as many kisses as you want,” you reassure him, squeeze his hand with your own. “You can have as many as you want after too.”

You kiss him and he melts. You kiss him and reshapes himself into the image you create for him. Hips twitching at every feather light touch to his cock, balls drawing up tighter and tighter with each breath. You swallow down every sigh and whimper, soak up the way his breath hitches as you neglect his cock to trail the pads of your fingers across the tense muscles of his stomach. How eager he is to open up to you, mouth parting for your entry. You flip his hand over so you can hold it properly, let him clutch it to his chest for comfort as finally you start teasing his dick again.

You work him over, running the flat of your hand against the length of it just to feel it struggle to get to full mast again. Jason cries out when you finally close a fist around the base of it. He settles down again with another soft kiss pressed to his open mouth. His hips start to roll with the slow, gentle pace you set, eyes closed. He gasps when you speed up the down stroke, still tortuously slow as you glide back toward the tip of his dick. Slowly the muscles of his thighs start to twitch, no longer relaxed as they begin to lock up. Something slow and cloying as tar builds at the base of his spine, tugging and clawing it’s way from the tips of his toes and the prickle of his scalp to settle low in his gut. He forgets to breath. 

Jason’s desperate, thrashing under your hold, trying to escape the drag of the blade across his nerves, pleasure spiking. He could break free, if that was really what he wanted. Instead he lets you draw things out, begs and pleads for more.

“S’too much. God. Don’t sto-p. Please.”

He feels strangely divorced from his body as he comes on an exhale, jaw slack and hips arching off the couch. One single spurt and then he’s coming dry. The force of it burns through him, toes curling, heart shaking. He’s light headed, limbs so weak Jason doesn’t think they’d hold him. He pants, trying to force air into his lungs as his ears ring. His molars hurt the same way they do when he touches a live wire. He looks at you with stars in his eyes, white spots dancing across his vision.

“Oh you were so perfect, doll. Didn’t I say you had one more in you?” You nuzzle into his cheek before tenderly placing a kiss there. “And look at how much you came!” Dragging a finger through the puddle around his dick, you giggle. “You’re going to have such a good time jerking off to this tomorrow.”

He groans at that thought, already pained at the idea of orgasming again anytime soon. Still, he lifts your twined hands together to press kisses to your sticky knuckles.

“No more sexy talk, okay? You’re gonna kill me. Let me enjoy the afterglow a little before you start planning to pull my soul out of my dick again.”

“Okay, okay! Glad to know you enjoyed yourself too,” you laugh. “I’ll go get a towel to clean you up and we can restart the episode.”

“The wh– oh.” Jason darts a sheepish glance back at the TV where the credits are already rolling.

[robo-writing]

Fic I’d love to write if I wasn’t in a creative rut:

I have reached the point in my life I realize I just have a straight kink for authority/spanking so reader fic where the Reader and Logan are paired up on a mission and they purposefully ignore him and get them into trouble and he’s fucking pissed about it, maybe a throwaway, “I should tan your fucking hide for that.”

Reader just replies with a, “Prove it, jackass.”

Cue when they’re alone that night, reader gets shanghaied and ends up, nude, hands tied, over his knee, Logan ranting as he brings his palm down, not even counting just going until he sees fit

Is this deeply self indulgent and specific to me? Maybe, but oh well, there you go :-3c

It's one of those stereotypes that you see in cheesy porn films—the defiant brat and the strong authority figure ready to give her the discipline she clearly never got before. A trope that's been played out far too many times— —and yet, it's exactly why you're currently like this. The authority figure—Logan in this case, and you—the brat, who in Logan's words: "Needed a major attitude adjustment." And his proven method of adjustment involved you, spread across his lap with your ass laid bare, his to admire when it jiggles beneath the friction of his palm. Each slap has you reeling, thighs pressed together, the shock of it sending you forward until his strong hand pulls you by the hair and forces you right where he wants you. You cry into his thigh, hands white-knuckled into the sheets as he goes on and on, blow by blow, the sound of each one followed by his cruel voice echoing through the air. "Got real quiet when you got put on my lap—" Slap. "Come on, nothing to say? Sure wanted to mouth off earlier." Slap. You can hear the mockery in his tone, voice low. "Don't get shy on me, where's all that fire gone?" Slap. Slap. Slap. You're reduced to sniffling, hiccuped sobs and it's only now he gives you a break. Gently, as if cradling a child, he lifts you in his arms, a hand against your backside as to not aggravate your already sensitive skin. He pulls your hair away from your face, wipes your tears from your face with his thumb. He waits patiently for you to compose yourself, then speaks. "Hey, gimme a check-in, how you holding up?" It's hard to speak at first, voice caught in your chest before you're able to respond. "G-Good, feels good." "Yeah?" Logan affirms. "Really took a beating there." You start to giggle, and he gives a smile in return. "There she is, I missed that sound." You hum, curling yourself further into his arms. He smells like the earth, like a forest fresh from the rain. It's almost enough to distract you from the sting of his hands, but not enough. "Probably won't be able to sit down for a while." You mutter. "Yeah, probably not," he answers, carrying you to the bed. "Shouldn't've mouthed off though."

[ilys00ga]

𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀, 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗻𝗮𝗶𝗹𝘀.

➞ pair: yoongi x reader.

➞ genre: hurt/comfort (why do I keep making these lmao), established relationships, I'm so bad at tagging sorry.

➞ warnings: angst and fluff cuz we all need that (we really do). reader has anxiety and abandonment issues, yoongi is trying his best for the sake of both of them, just relationship things.

➞ A/N: requested by @parkjennykim, this was very fun to write! thanks for yet another idea <3 I hope u like it. I'm organizing this blog/post (?) while listening to mono, and let me tell yall, it's such a vibe omg. I think you should read this while listening to that album, I love it sm, I can't even begin to explain UGH- if namjoon ever goes on a world tour, he better perform every single song in that album, cuz imma be losing my mind in the crowd, esp during moonchild. my vocal cords are already getting sore. yeah. if u want this to hit that spot, maybe u should do what I said (this is a friendly order, if u will). if not, just enjoy and pls ignore any mistakes, english has been challenging me recently (for the last 10 years lmao)

ps. I am in a dire need of a yoongi in my life. specifically the one I wrote in this one. oh how I love being a lonely fanfic writer <33

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

God knows how long it had been after it hit midnight when Yoongi stood in the kitchen. His eyes were red and heavy with drowsiness, but he couldn't sleep that night.

How does one sleep through a restless, biting night?

Surely not with a bad headache, or overflowing thoughts, and especially not with guilt chewing on his core.

He gulped, throat begging to be quenched as it held onto a slight, delicious, yet bothersome burning sensation. He opened the fridge and filled a glass with some water, raising it to his lips when loud a cry of his name, followed with a thud and a number of sobs, disturbed the quiet of the night and made him jump, startled.

His limbs froze in their place, glass almost slipping his hand and crashing on the floor when his sleep deprived brain realized that the muffled cries were yours.

Wide awake, he dashed after the sound. Thirst and sleep no longer occupied his mind, all he could think of was holding you in his arms.

He found you on the stairs, trembling as you wailed into your hands.

He hated it so much: seeing you in pain. He wanted nothing more than to shield you from the rainfall of your gloomy sky, from his own rainfall, from the world. How could one be an umbrella and the rain at once?

He blinked, once, twice, then gulped and heaved a deep, tired breath.

One storm doesn’t require another storm to be calmed down, that he knew. One needs to be composed and collected to stand still during a storm, that he knew as well.

With worried eyes, he gently called out your name and walked up to you, “darling, what’s wrong?”

You looked up as soon as you heard his worried voice, some tiny sense of relief washed over you when you saw him right there. A hundred daggers digged so deep into his heart and bones, aching, the moment a broken whimper of his name fell from your lips.

Without a second thought, Yoongi hugged your face to his chest. One of his hands was patting your back and the other affectionately caressed your head.

As he listened to his name that never left your lips, Yoongi held you there on the cold of the stairs with nothing but sweet nothings whispered back to your ears.

Everything he did and said was so gentle and soft, like he was so afraid you'd crack and come to tiny bits and pieces at any given moment. It all made you want to cry even harder, to hold him so tight and never let go.

Soon, when your tears started winding down, pulled away and cradled your face with his hands, palms faintly pressing on your cheeks as if he hoped to share their warmth with you.

Tender eyes met your wet ones and stared as their owner’s voice made its way through the noise of your sniffles and hiccups. He said, “It’s alright. I'm here. Talk to me, hmm?”

You answered his plea with a small nod, before wiping your tear stained skin and hugging him again. He smelt like home. You took a deep breath, greedily feeding your lungs with his lovely scent.

He hugged you back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your body closer to his. He pressed light kisses on your temple, patiently waiting for you to talk.

“I had a really scary nightmare. so, so scary- I woke up, didn’t find you there- then…then I remembered the fight we had earlier. I…I thought I lost you- I'm sorry. sorry for the stupid things I said earlier. I love you so much! please don’t leave. please..”

Your voice quivered with fresh tears ready to be spilled again. Yoongi started hushing you as soon as he noticed that you were working yourself up.

Squeezing you in his arms, he whispered “I never left, and I never will.”

“I’m all right, nothing happened to me, see?” he leaned away just enough to allow you to take a quick look at his body, then added, “a stupid fight is not going to make me leave. I love you way too much for that, and I'm sorry for hurting you too.”

He could still read fear and uncertainty all over your face, and he didn't like that. He knew that you trusted him, and he didn't doubt your love for him.

At first, he didn't get it. He didn't understand the insecurities, the anxiety and the nightmares you suffered from especially after the inevitably worst of arguments that happened between you and him. But after longer and deeper talks, with you expressing your feelings and him listening with careful ears, it made much more sense to him.

Sometimes he hated himself for triggering your alarms and making it harder for you, but he knew it was neither his fault nor was it yours.

Growth and pain are two key elements that come arm in arm with love, and fights are an unpreventable part of any kind of relationship. For all that, he always ended up blaming himself for making you question your worth to him when he can't even sleep without you happily cuddling his side.

Softly, lovingly, he started prepping tender kisses over your cheeks, nose, forehead, chin, temples, all over your flushed face.

It worked like watching waving fields of green wheat dancing with the wind, your storm started to slowly die down and your heart felt at ease again. slowly, but definitely.

Smiling ever so affectionately, Yoongi sealed his reassurance with a loving kiss that consumed you whole, and it left the corners of your mouth curving up in a dazzling smile. You nuzzled his chest and sighed.

“I really hate fighting with you.” you mumbled into his clothed chest, drained and light headed from all the crying and nearly-a-panic-attack you went through.

“I know, I'm sorry. I hate it too." he whispered back.

There was a pause of comfortable silence, with both of you breathing each other in, before he wondered aloud: “did you fall down the stairs? are you okay?”

You chuckled breathily at his question, recalling the hysteria he had to deal with just a few minutes ago. But Yoongi was there, right beside you. your arms were tightly wrapped around his torso, right by your side.

He had some kind of exceptionally irrepressible magic in those fierce eyes and that gummy smile of his, you inarguably couldn’t be more grateful for that.

“I'm alright. Was too busy crying, I didn’t even feel a thing to be honest.” you said, and he giggled.

“I love when you’re clumsy like that, but please be more careful, muffin. Can’t have you hurting yourself because of me even more." Even with your face buried into the crook of his neck, you could feel and hear the heavy pout in that comment.

Huffing, you leaned away with furrowed brows and a strict gaze. Yoongi gulped. Hesitation took over him, yet he knew that honesty is the only thing that must be present to drive this conversation to an end.

Honestly brings clarity, he found himself reminding himself of that very often.

"as long as we take care of each other, it's okay. I love you." you affirmed, and perhaps Yoongi almost teared up because of the way you looked at him right then and there. He wouldn't utter a word to spoil that information out loud, though.

The shy grin and the flushed cheeks you were met with were worth risking the entire world and its eight billion residents. You couldn't help but smile and pull him into another hug.

"This is great and all, but my butt is numbed. I think there's no blood flowing down there anymore," he said, his heart swooning when you giggled at his humorous change of topic, so relieved that he was finally able to hear your brightness again.

"Let's go back to rest, darling." He stood up, grabbed your hand and squeezed it in his, then gently pulled your body up and dragged you to your shared bedroom, where everything and everyone else meant little to nothing at all as you laid in each other's arms.

[kerryweaverlesbian]

I want destiel with 13 or 22 (the prompts you reblogged)

Take it easy, with me please, touch me gently, like a summer evening breeze

"You know what this mix is called, Cas?" Dean murmers, pressing his forehead to the side of Castiel's and changing their sway to match the new rhythm.

They've been dancing alone in the kitchen, slow and close, for something like half an hour, and these are the first words either of them have spoken since Dean pulled Cas in. On one side their hands are tangled loosely together, and on the other their arms cross over at their waists, keeping them both pressed together, chest to chest.

"No," Cas says, playing along. They both knew the tape had already been in the stereo when Dean had reached out and pressed play. It wasn't one Cas recognised; all slow, a lot of crooning women.

"It's called, 'For Cas, if we win'. I made it while you were gone." Dean's breath warms the tip of Cas’s ear, and his meaning warms him everywhere else.

"Was there an 'if we lose'?"

Dean shifts his head back to look Cas in the eye. "No. I was never going to happen."

Andante, andante, just let the feeling grow.

Enchanted by the devotion in Dean's eyes, he's caught of guard by his sudden, amused smile. He understands when Dean sings along, sotto voce, "Touch my soul, you know how. Forgot that was coming."

"You've touched mine, now," Cas reminds him, "Or, the closest thing I have to one."

That's how he'd gotten out of the Empty, Dean cradling his Grace to his chest and then fighting his way back through miles of black, sucking sludge, beset by angels, demons and the Empty's own power as he went. The place had been a lot more active since the last time Cas had been stuck there, but no less bleak. There had only been a chance for Dean to finally choke out an, "I love you too, you fucking idiot," when they'd collapsed back out through the portal before he'd fallen asleep for 15 hours straight.

"Your hands were very gentle," Cas notes, and he can feel Dean's face heat as he moves them cheek to cheek, an endearing and unsuccessful attempt to hide his blush. "I felt very secure."

"I didn't want to drop you," Dean admits at a mumble, then complains, "You were freaking slippery, man."

"My apologies," Cas teases, and Dean knocks him with his hip in playful retaliation. "If it helps, you fought me all the way from Hell to your gravesite."

"Sounds like me," Dean says, with a prideful grin that Cas can hear in his voice.

I'm your music. I'm your song.

"Yes. Had I known then how you would change me, I might have held you even tigher."

"Or you might have let go, save yourself the trouble," Dean quips, but there's a fragility to it that has Cas stop the dance and take Dean's cheek in his palm, guiding him to look at him.

Play me time and time again, and make me strong.

"I wouldn't trade the life that we have built for anything. All the time that I have loved you has been-" Cas can't help the tears starting to catch at his voice - "Has been the best of my existence."

Dean's welling up along with him. Perhaps they will both cry every time he tells Dean he loves him. A very small price to pay, in comparison.

"Cas," Dean says in a rasp, and knocks their foreheads together gently. Two teardrops fall from Dean's eyes to Cas’s cheeks with the movement.

Andante, andante, tread lightly on my ground.

No matter who moved in for the kiss, they both lean into it, careful and soft and everything they haven't managed to be with each other until this point. The passion shared between them is palpable, even as the kiss remains relatively chaste. There's no finish line to run to, anymore. No Apocalypse to beat. They have the time to dance together, just as slowly as they please.

Andante, andante, oh please don't let me down.

[intern-seraph]

a true happy ending

Malleus bestows his gift upon you.

started out as a discord flash ficlet and became. this. originally inspired by the diasomnia trailer and written before book 7 actually dropped lol. inspired in large part by that one part of sleeping beauty where maleficent captures prince phillip.

please heed the tags!

(originally posted on Ao3)

cws: mutually dubious consent, nonhuman genitalia, hemipene (malleus has two penises), bondage, magic, overblot, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, possessive behavior, fear play, angst + smut, crying, sleeping beauty elements, pain play, fem!reader, overstimulation

You shouldn’t have confronted him by yourself. After all the time you’d spent together, you had forgotten one thing: Malleus Draconia is powerful beyond your imagination. Now, alone together in the highest tower of Diasomnia's castle, you watch as Malleus paces the tiny room and leaves a trail of ink in his wake.

"You don't have to do this."

He stops in his tracks and turns to look at you. A tiny puff of green flame seeps from the corner of his mouth. In a few long strides, he's in front of you. One clawed finger tilts your chin up, turning into a gentle palm that cradles your jaw. You reach up to touch him, but your hand is stopped short by the shackle on your wrist.

"I must. There's no other way to keep you... do not worry, my dear. A thousand years passes quickly when you are asleep. This will be my gift to you."

Your jaw tenses as you hold back a sob. Still, the stubborn tears slip down your cheeks. His thumb swipes them away and leaves a smudge of ink in its wake. “Malleus, please. You’re hurting yourself. This isn’t right.”

“Oh, my sweet,” he whispers. He swoops in, finger slipping between your lips to open you to his slow, searing kiss. You make a tiny noise, choking on the bitter Blot that oozes onto your tongue. Despite yourself, you kiss back. Even as your shoulders heave with aborted sobs, you reach up to hold him closer. Gasping, he parts from you. He presses his forehead against yours, his glowing green eyes holding your gaze unwaveringly. “You do not understand yet. But you will, in due time. When it comes time to wake you, you will thank me. Undisturbed slumber, bereft of pain and suffering, naught but peace and pleasant dreams. Does it not sound perfect?”

In any other context, maybe it would. But Malleus is not in his right mind. His offer isn’t a good night’s sleep, but an eternal slumber. You bring your hands up to push him away so you can talk sense into him, but he catches your wrists and (gently, always gently) pushes you down onto the soft bed you sit on and pins your hands on either side of your head. His long, lean body arches over your prone, shackled form.

“My rose, do not push yourself so. All you need to do is accept my gift.”

His hot breath fans out over your face, smelling of herbs and the faint traces of ink. “W-we can’t… I can’t… Malleus, you’re not in your right mind. Please, please listen to me.” Your strength wavers, his smell and weight and warmth clouding your mind like the fog of sleep. “Mal… please… I love you, but this isn’t right.”

“I am entirely —” his hand slides down your body and toys at your waistband “— in control, my dear.” His fingers worm their way under the elastic of your underwear. A quiet moan slips from your lips as he presses his inky fingers against your clit. His slow, precise movements coax you to roll your hips into his touch. You don’t realize that the flickering green candle flames are slowly being snuffed out one by one. Not until his glowing eyes are the only light in the room. He kisses you again, prodding at your sealed lips with the forked tip of his tongue. Every swirl and thrust of his fingers against your clit is deliberate, as though in an effort to prove his cogency. His hand shifts as you gasp into his mouth and he slides his middle and ring fingers between your slick labia. A twist of his wrist lets them sink into your cunt, his claws dragging dangerously along the delicate flesh. With a soft pop, he breaks your kiss. A string of black-tinted spit connects the both of you for a heartbeat before he speaks: “Trust me. I will bring you peace and pleasure beyond any you have known thus far. You trust me, don’t you?”

You don’t get an opportunity to respond. He thrusts his fingers into you at a steady, rhythmic pace. The air is cold on your skin — when did you get naked? — and you shiver, but Malleus is so warm and comforting, and your thoughts are already so cloudy that you don’t realize that the warmth is more of a fever. His hips rut against your bare thigh, his dark, ridged cocks leaking steady streams of precum. Every thrust of his fingers makes your body jolt and the shackles on your wrists rattle. “M-Malleus… a-ah… please…”

“Anything you want, my sweet. Anything… so long as you beg for it. Beg for me. Let me give you this. Let me give you everything.”

And maybe it’s the potent magic buzzing in the air, maybe it’s the familiar weight of his body on yours, maybe there’s just something fundamentally fucked up in your brain, but you —

You give in.

“Please,” you whisper, throat raw from crying, “give it to me.”

The scent of ink envelops your senses. Tingling sparks flow from his fingertips straight into your core, the magic so potent that your orgasm is almost immediate. You shriek and flail as electricity arcs through your body, but he keeps going. He forces another orgasm out of you, then another, then another, until you’re sobbing and pulling weakly at his wrist. Only then does he pull his fingers free of your spasming cunt. Just as soon, though, he settles between your legs and starts to push his cocks between your labia. It hurts when he finally fits the head of one cock against your hole, pleasure and pain clashing with every involuntary clench of your muscles. Your legs jerk and you pull at the shackles on your wrists when he bottoms out in one smooth thrust.

All at once, the candles reignite. Behind Malleus looms the ink monster, its head tilting down as though watching your intimacy. Thick globs of ink slip from its head onto Malleus’ back and steadily morph into a pair of draconic wings. His tail unfurls behind him and lashes out when he pulls his hips back. A set of large, gleaming canines catch the green firelight as he hisses and snaps at the air. You gasp, but you’re overcome by a wave of exhaustion that turns your limbs leaden. Still, your breath comes quick and shallow, and you flinch when he leans down to lock eyes with you.

“Do not be afraid,” he says, his voice making the air around you quiver, “I will keep you safe. I will protect you, my greatest treasure, forever and ever.” His thrusts falter. He groans deep in his chest and digs his claws into the sheets beside your head. “Be… hah… be good for me… and take everything I have to offer.”

One last thrust has him buried in you as deep as he can go, and you feel his cocks twitch with his orgasm. Ink-black cum spurts out onto your belly, so hot it’s searing. You whimper and shudder and go limp on the sheets. Malleus brings his clawed fingers to your chin. Gently, he coaxes you to look at him. With his other hand, he summons his staff. Your weary gaze drifts up to look at its head.

“You have nothing to fear, my love. I will rid you of your worries.” He lowers the staff until the spindle at the top is level with your shoulders. “Touch it.”

“... Malleus?”

“Touch it, and you will never feel pain again.”

Your hand lifts from the sheets. Transfixed, you reach up to touch the spindle. A bolt of magic lances up your arm, and you’re overcome with another wave of exhaustion. Somewhere in the sleep-fog that settles in your brain, you process a sudden emptiness and a wave of cold. The room spins. You close your eyes.

[sillysowa]

PROMISE

PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X GN!READER

GENRE: HEAVY ANGST

WORD COUNT: 1.1K

WARNINGS: NOT PROOFREAD, USE OF Y/N, READER DEATH, DESCRIPTION OF INJURIES

AUTHORS NOTE: IF YOU CATCH ANYTHING TAHT ISN’T GN, LET ME KNOW

SYNOPSIS: HOBIE NEVER WANTED IT TO END LIKE THIS…

—

Often, Hobie looked fondly upon your deep caring nature and true heroism that he never saw in anyone else—but this time he only cursed it to hell.

He saw his life flash before his eyes as you swung back into the collapsing building to rescue a civilian, panicked and fueled on the notion that you ‘had to save them.’

He couldn’t have possibly chased after you any faster, and the moment your webs shot them out of the building and into the crowd of people gathered to catch them, he screamed,

“Y/N!” A cry of pure despair tore from Hobie’s throat as he watched the ceiling collapse on his only love.

His heart constricted in his ribcage at the sight of your fear before it happened and the sounds of you pain. He had never moved with so much haste, tearing the rubble off of you with his pulse pounding in his head. You were trapped under incredibly large pieces of the ceiling and Hobie could see your bloodied feet under the small gap he revealed.

“Y/N! Y/N please!” Hobie gasped, crawling under the opening. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of your limp body, pierced in your side by a giant rod of metal from the rubble, bleeding out like a bloody waterfall. You were conscious, but definitely not for long with all the blood loss. Your mask was torn clean off and tears spilled from your poor red eyes,

“H-Hobie…?”

“Y/N-Y/N-Y/N…It’s me!…oh, my love...” His shaking voice cracked as his arms reached out to gently hold you close. You cried and screamed in pain as he cradled you,

“I know I know, I’m sorry my love, I’m so sorry. It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay…I’m here, I’m here.” Hobie rambled, his voice trembling as he turns your head to look away from the wound and into his teary eyes. It was heartbreaking to see him like this,

“Hobie…I don’t want to die…” Your lower lip trembled and your voice was hoarse as you spoke, your rattling fingers clinging to the back of his jacket as you sobbed, the shaking of your body only causing you more pain and making you cry even harder.

“You won’t die baby, I promise.” Hobie almost whispered as he attempted to gently remove the rod from your side, instantly stopping when your screaming grew particularly agonized and sobs of his name fell from your lips, your limp body tensing under him,

“It’s-it’s useless Hobie…” You whimper, swallowing and trying to not hyperventilate. Hobie felt utterly defeated, looking down at the dying light in his arms and knowing there was nothing he could do about it. He hadn’t even realized he was crying until he felt your trembling fingers against his warm skin, wiping away his tears—you were so cold.

He held your hand there as if there was a possibility he could engrave your fingerprints into his skin and keep you there with him. You tried to steady your breathing, tried to muster up the strength to speak,

“P-Please don’t cry, Hobie…”

If only it were that easy. Hobie had never been so afraid in his life as he was watching you fight for your own in his arms, your blood gushing all over him with seemingly nothing he could do to help you.

“I can’t let you die like this…I can’t.” He whispered and squeezed your hand, his warmth an oddly unfamiliar feeling to you as your mind starting to feel fuzzy, your head lolling back only for Hobie to cradle it with his palm,

“Why…?” He asked, his voice low and broken in anguish as he held you, your head in his palm, “You’re all that matters to me you know that right?” Hobie couldn’t bring himself to use words like ‘were’ or ‘mattered.’ You were still there…at least for a little longer,

“I know…” You sobbed, coughing and choking on your blood then whimpering as Hobie’s grub tightened on you and his pulse raced. You were horrified of dying, but relieved that it would be in Hobie’s loving arms. Those same arms that hugged you tight every time he saw you, caged you in when you slept soundly, and saved you countless times. There was no other way you would have your death than this—Hobie looking down on you with your hand against his cheek, whispering about how much he loves you while soaking your fingers with his tears and rocking you gently in his arms,

“Hobie…listen to me okay?” You groan, your eyelashes fluttering as you wince in dying pain,

Hobie just nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. He looked like he was genuinely hanging on every word you said.

“Please, promise me you’ll…keep living…keep fighting everyday, Hobie, just the way you always do-“ You choked out, holding his jacket in your balled up fist. The pinch in your eyebrows, the tears in your eyes, the blood on your lips—it was a nightmare to Hobie,

“N-No please don’t-don’t say things like that please…” Hobie cried and nuzzled his cheek against your palm, scared that it would fall from his face at any moment,

“Hobie you have to promise…” You whimpered, your glossy eyes gazing longingly into his own. Hobie couldn’t…because he knew if he did it would be like sealing the deal on your death. But, he also knew that he couldn’t let you die without doing anything you asked of him, so he swallowed his pain,

“I-I promise…” Hobie whispered, his tears dripping down onto your face, you whimper and your breathing grows slow, your face becoming oddly pale and colorless, your eyes dull,

“Y/N? Y/N, I can’t lose you, please!” Hobie screamed with a hollow voice, barely his voice barely a whisper in the bustling night. He held you like a baby, never feeling so helpless in his life. You didn’t respond to him, just squeezed his jacket until your knuckles turned pale and your hands shook violently before all their movements ceased. Your eyes were Hobie’s only remaining form of contact with you, the light slowly going out and being replaced with the lifeless look of a doll.

Hobie’s body was racked with sobs as his composure crumbled, hot tears brimming down his cheeks as he held your head under his chin. You were gone…his only love, his life, his purpose—gone. He slipped his palm into your hand, squeezing it like your fingers could still hold him—he didn’t want to think about how you could never hold his hand again…

Hobie knew he would never be the same person he was before he had held your dead body in his arms and sobbed for hours, dreaming that you would open your eyes and tell him you’d be okay, that you’d both be okay. He held your hand the whole night, even though your fingers were stuff and you would never feel a thing ever again.

—

@ohxx @luxxtuxx @fatenpara @hobesbf @defnot-bri @lasagnaisbest @deepzombieyouth

[spongeyspot]

Your task is simple...

"Run away with me..." Molly O'Shea.

-🤡

Run Away With Me

(Molly O'Shea x Fem!Reader)

(A/N): OH. MY. GOD. Yes. Yes. Always yes.

Content Warning: Molly finally gets a happy ending, infidelity, this fluff will make your teeth fall out, a little funny at the end

not edited btw

Molly’s hands stilled when (Name) spoke to her, her bottle of amber liquid stopping just before she could take a sip, the rim pressed softly to her lips. Slowly, she lowered it, her gaze finding (Name)’s again. The words spoken were clear enough, but something in Molly wanted to have not heard her correctly. They stood together by the gazebo in front of Shady Belle, the rest of the gang too busy with celebrating the return of little Jack to pay them any mind.

“What?” Molly whispered.

“Run away with me.” (Name) repeated, this time gently taking Molly’s beer bottle, setting down on a nearby crate, then taking hold of Molly’s hands. “What d’you think?”

“I think you’re a little drunk.” Molly laughed, albiet a bit nervously. Butterflies fluttered around in her stomach. She wasn’t sure if it was because of her feelings or because of the alcohol settling in her belly, threatening to come back up. Maybe both.

“Maybe a little.” (Name) nodded, her hands squeezing Molly’s reassuringly. “But I’ve never been so sure of something my entire life, Molly.”

Molly’s breath hitched as she stared at her, tears threatening to fall from her eyes with every word she spoke.

“I want to be with you forever, Molly.” (Name) whispered, bringing her hands up to kiss her knuckles softly. “I want to marry you…”

“You do?” Molly croaked softly, her hands shaking gently in her lover’s grasp. They’d been seeing each other secretly for months. At first, Molly was just looking for companionship, but after a rather rough night, she’d kissed (Name). It was merely an accident, fueled by alcohol, but she’d never regretted it. Even now, standing in front of her, their relationship and her feelings toward her had felt stronger than anything she’d ever felt for Dutch, even during their best moments.

(Name) pulled back only slightly before taking a quick look around camp. She dropped to one knee, one of her hands leaving Molly’s to fish a gold wedding band out of her pocket. She held it up between her thumb and pointer finger, her gaze locking on Molly’s where she stood over her.  Molly started to cry, one of her hands flying up to cover her mouth. (Name) squeezing her other hand reassuringly, her own eyes welling up with tears. 

“Please, Molly.” She whispered, her voice breaking briefly. “Run away with me. Marry me. I’ll take you away from here, and we’ll be together forever.” “Forever?” Molly choked out, her chest feeling tight. She couldn’t help but think of Dutch. How he’d feel about this… would he even care? Would he even notice her absence? Lately, he’d been distant. She couldn’t remember the last time they spoke, let alone spent the night together. She wondered if he had also looked for love elsewhere. “What about Dutch?”

“Forget Dutch.” (Name) scoffed, shaking her head. She stood up on both feet, cupping Molly’s cheeks with both hands, the ring tucked away between her thumb and her palm. “I love you, Molly. I want to take you away and never come back. We can leave tonight, and no one can stop us.”

She leaned in immediately, catching Molly’s lips in a soft, sweet kiss. It lasted just a few moments, but to Molly, it felt like years, her tears staining (Name)’s cheeks. Molly’s hands found (Name)’s elbows while hers cupped Molly’s face, the ring still in her grasp. She pulled back to look into Molly’s eyes again, her gaze only leaving when it moved between them, her hands dropping from Molly’s face to take hold of her left hand, slipping the ring onto her finger. 

They shared another kiss, (Name)’s hands moving back up to cradle Molly’s face again. She ran her thumbs over her cheeks, wiping away the tears that streaked down them.

“Come on… Get your things.” (Name) whispered. “We’re getting out of here, my love.”

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

The two of them were gone by the time people started to wake up the next morning.

“Hey!” Abigail looked around, lifting her bedroll to peek underneath it. “Where’s my ring?”

“Where’s my HORSE?!” John exclaimed.

.

"Run Away With Me" - Cold War Kids

[positivelyruined]

“Always.” He said, looking up into her clear gray eyes, as dawn shone through the pearlescent sheets, and cast a bright glow around them. “Nearer unto the light. Until the darkness fades.”

Feylin + post a court of thorns and roses hurt/comfort requested by @wallflowers-in-the-wind

unbeta read. we write and die like Poe.

NEAR TO THE LIGHT

It started as a soft whimper that could easily be confused as a stray kitten who’d wandered to his bedside. It fell into a cry that made his ears twitch. Someone — injured, lay nearby.

A blast of cold air hit him as someone yanked the sheets from around his body.

Tamlin sat up with a start, breathing heavily. He was no stranger to nightmares. They were his lifelong companion, yet these differed. He starred in the daunting dark until the soft cry came again.

Babe or beast? It was hard to discern.

Neither.

Feyre.

Tamlin turned his head to where she shivered on the other side of his bed, equally as naked as himself, but fast asleep. Her gaunt cheeks were marked with tears.

How did I sleep through this. How could I —

Tamlin resisted his urge to slam his head into the wall and wrapped his much larger body around her tiny, cold one.

“I’m here.” He whispered, placing slow, languid kisses down the side of her neck. “I’m here. I’m here and you are safe.”

For a moment, Feyre stiffened in his arms as fear of captivity again took hold, but his soft kisses against her skin slowly relaxed her body and drew her away from the terrors of her dreams.

“Tam…” She reached up, placing her thin hand against his warm cheek.

“That’s me. I’m here.” He repeated, hugging her closer, and burying his face in her shoulder length hair. They’d both cut theirs after coming home. It was cathartic — in a way. He still remembered finding Feyre on the bathroom floor with a knife and running to take it from her hands.

“Tamlin, stop! I just want it gone! “

“No! You can’t — I can’t lose you. Hand me the knife, Feyre. Please…”

“Then you do it. Cut it off!”

“No…”

“My hair, Tamlin. Please —“

Her words echoed through his mind and his shoulders began to shake. He stiffened, forcing back the onslaught of memories. It had been three months since they’d returned from under the mountain, but life had been changed forever. Nothing would ever be the same again.

“Tam.” Feyre’s voice was different this time: more persistent. She rolled and pressed her body against his. “Tamlin. Stop — you do not always have to be so strong.”

“Oh, but I do.” Tamlin pressed his forehead to hers, hating every single tear that slipped past his tightly shut eyes. “I do.”

“We’re a team —” Feyre’s voice broke. Her fingers drifted along his face, catching the fallen tears. She kissed each streak they left behind, well knowing that to him, it felt like lashes. “let me in. Let me love you.”

He shuddered, forcing his swollen eyes open, near to the light. “I fear that I am past loving.”

“Never.” Feyre wrapped her arms around his neck and cradled his head in her hands. “No matter how much this world breaks you — you will never be too broken for me to love.”

“I do not deserve you. I could not save you.” Tamlin shuddered, falling against her breasts. “You faced your death because of me, Feyre. If I had never entered that cabin in the woods…”

“I would still have died, Tam.” Feyre pushed his hair behind his ear, seeking his gaze. “And starvation is not gentle. Because of you…I have known what it is like to matter…to someone.”

“You matter.” His eyes pooled with regret. “You reminded me of the good everyday. I could not — I cannot…lose that.”

“You won’t.” Feyre whispered, pressing her lips to his temple. “I am here, Tam. I am here.”

Tamlin hesitated before slowly joining their lips in a soft, languid kiss. He invited her into his lap, treasuring each little sound that his affection pulled from her.

Feyre pressed her palms against his shoulders, gently forcing him back onto the mattress. “Kiss me, my lord. Kiss me until dawn. Until light draws near. Kiss me until I forget the dark that chases us.”

“I want you…” Tamlin murmured, accepting her invitation. “Near to me. Always.”

“For the rest of time.” Feyre wrapped her lithe legs around his hips, and pulled the sheets over them, and bent to his touch.

“Always.” He said, looking up into her clear gray eyes, as dawn shone through the pearlescent sheets, and cast a bright glow around them. “Nearer unto the light. Until the darkness fades.”

[bloodsuckingfiends]

Kinktober Day 3: Gloves

Pairing: Aether X Rain

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, anal, medical setting including stirrups because I want desperate and vulnerable Rain, gloves, milking, cum, Rain's in heat, he's whiny and desperate because of course he is

A/N: Oh boy, I had a long ass weekend. Friday the 13th was my birthday, which I spent at a horror convention, and I'm fucking draineddddddd. But now I'm home, and tomorrow shall be a rest and recuperate day in which I will try to crank out some more of these prompts, because guess who's coming down with a cold? It's me. I'm the one getting sick, and my already fucked up body can't handle this shit.

As much as Rain missed having Aether play on stage alongside him, he’d be lying if he said that Aether’s new job didn’t have perks. Aether now worked in the Ministry infirmary in his retirement, not as a doctor or a nurse. No, Aether worked as a heat aid, and with an uneven amount of ghouls in the den, Rain was in need of his… aid.

So here Rain was, sitting in the waiting room, impatiently tapping his toes, and picking his cuticles to distract himself from the aching throb he felt in his painfully hard cock. When Aether finally opened the door to his exam room, and called Rain’s name, Rain felt his hole grow wet with slick in anticipation of what was to come, before he got up to follow.

Aether handed Rain a gown, “Just protocol”, he had told the water ghoul the first time he had to make a heat aid appointment. Rain’s face and chest flush as Aether turns around and busies himself with paperwork, while he undresses.

“Go ahead and lay down for me, and whenever you’re ready, go ahead and put your feet in the stirrups.” Aether spoke as he sat on a stool at the end of the exam table, pulling light blue latex gloves over his big hands. A shiver ran up Rain’s spine and heat bloomed in the pit of his stomach at the sight. Aether’s big thick hands straining against the smooth rubber. There was no doubt in Rain’s mind that the big ghoul had to order one of the largest sizes of gloves to fit him, and the thought made his breath hitch as he did what he was told and lay back into position. His eyes focus on the white ceiling above him, counting the tiles; an easy distraction. 

“You know the drill by now, hm Rainy?” Aether says, squirting a liberal amount of lube into his gloved hand. Rain nearly whines at the affectionate nickname, but nods instead and then hums an affirmative, almost too soft to hear over the click sound of the lube bottle closing.

“Okay, I’m gonna touch your thigh now.” It’s what Aether does every time. A simple, courteous gesture so Rain doesn’t jump at the first contact that’s hidden behind the flimsy gown.

Aether’s gloved hand is cold against Rain’s warm skin. His touch is feather light, barely there, as he slowly moves upwards. So, so close to where Rain needs him most. It feels as though Aether is dragging this out, feels like it’s hours rather than seconds before Rain finally releases a strangled cry at the sensation of slick latex against his tight balls and up the underside of his shaft. 

“So pent up, so much pressure, huh?” Aether says almost off-handedly as his hand moves back down to cradle Rain’s balls, weighing them in his palm. Rain whines in response, his hips lifting a little bit.

“Stay still.” Aether’s other hand gently presses Rain’s hips back down. 

The water ghoul chews on his lip, trying, and failing, to desperately stifle the whines and moans that threaten to spill from him. He couldn’t tell if it was his heat, or just the fact the sheer clinicalness of everything, was what was making him so, so needy. His cock twitches, causing Aether to hum low in his throat. Rain lets out a choked whimper when Aether finally takes his cock into his slick, gloved hand, and starts working over his length. 

“That feel okay?” A lube slicked finger begins to circle his fluttering rim, before pressing into him, stretching his hole open. Rain’s thighs tense in response, his toes curling. It feels as though every nerve in his body is alight as Aether milks him internally and externally. 

“Need you to cum for me Rainy, can you do that for me?” Aether says, tone even as he curls his fingers to pet at Rain’s prostate while the fingers on his other hand make soft circles around the tip of his cock.

“I’m gon- I’m gonna come, fu-” Rain’s reply is cut-off by a moan, his back arching, eyes scrunching shut as his dick spurts out rope after rope of hot cum.

“Good boy Rainy.” Aether murmurs, as he milks Rain to the last drop. 

“Now, did you want to make an appointment for next month, just in case?” he removes the soiled latex from his hands before disposing them and washing up, glancing back at his quivering patient who blissfully nods as an affirmative.

[anavixxx]

Elriel month, new beginnings:

'first I love you.'

Elain looked up at Azriel, who was lying on a king size bed right next to her, with her sleepy brown eyes.

He smiled at her for what happened to be one second after he saw tears in her doe eyes. His smile fell from his face as he cradled his scarred palms into her light-brown hair, shadows shivering around their naked forms. Azriel stroked her head with his thumbs as he asked, “Is something wrong?”

Elain said nothing. Azriel thought how she was always quiet like this three years ago, when she had been turned into High-Fae.

Very quiet, very calm, very small, so fragile, so very sad looking… just like now. Except, now she was in his arms and she shouldn’t be, he remembered.

His eyes was suddenly sad too. Elain moved her one delicate hand from his chest to his silky hair. Shadows vanished from his face at the movement. Azriel had longer hair than normally and it wasn’t because he wanted, but he didn’t have time for himself. He worked hard, because if he wasn’t he’d think of Elain and how her mate keep courting her.. or worse. He’d get her and run away. On the continent, where she wants to go. He’d go with her, he promised. And when he wasn’t working he was sneaking with her, behind his brothers and her sister’s backs, behind everyone’s backs. It wasn’t fair. He wanted to give her everything. And he would, he promised again.

She moved strand of his black hair behind his right ear. Azriel started stroking Elain’s cheek in his large palm. There’re tears rolling down. She was crying quietly and he wondered if it was because she used to cried herself out loud to sleep before, that she now didn’t have enough strength to do so - crying loud.

Elain’s palm remained on his ear. Her pale fingertips tracing shape of his rounded ear. So opposite of her pointed ones and on the other hand exactly the same as people have.

Och, my Elain..

Azriel thought. He knew now.

She was touching his ear so gently he couldn’t tell if it was her or gentle breeze which were sneaking in through open windows, through which he crept in.

He opened his mouth to apologise. He didn’t even know why he wanted to, but he felt shattered. He wanted her to be happy here. Happy like her sisters.

But he stopped himself as Elain spoke, “I miss it.. sometimes,” she smiled sadly. He didn’t said anything. He knew she meant her life as a mortal woman.

“We lived poorly in our shack. Our father wasn’t exactly the best father, but he was our father. I think I was happy, I had everything I wanted.. selfishly. Garden, Nesta’s love, Feyre’s money, new clothes.. Nesta wasn’t suffering that much, I thought, because our mother was dead,” Elain snorted, still caressing Azriel’s ear.

Azriel’s shadows now loomed from behind his massive batwings. He felt them rustling. Listening carefully.

“Then we got estate from Tamlin. I organised balls, I had some new clothes, bigger garden even, fiancé.. We forgot about my little sister except Nesta.”

sorrowful.. melodic voice is sorrowful..

Shadows whispered through Elain’s fingers to his right ear. They’re dancing with her fingertips now. As if they wanted to comfort her, soothe her.

She continued, “I didn’t feel ashamed for the first time in my life, because I didn’t remember Feyre, what she went through thanks to us. About what I was thinking plenty back in our poor shack," Azriel was listening carefully with hazel eyes, more yellow than green tonight, big as a bumblebees which were visiting Elain’s garden.

“What I want to say is, I think it was the happiest time in my life, in that estate,” she whispered, tears didn’t stop rolling.

Azriel felt jealousy, anger, confusion, sadness. Because, he wanted to be the centre of happiest point in her life, because…she was his.

“I don’t want you to feel stressed about us. I know we’re both suffering. I’ll wait Azriel. Oh, mother, I want to wait for our happily ever after. I believe in it. I think.. I’d life the happiest life then," she moved closer to him and Azriel started sobbing.

Shadows shrouded them both. Caressing their faces, dancing across Elain’s pale cheeks and chest. soothed Azriel with gentle whispers.

Elain smiled at Azriel, her big dreamy eyes flickering with something.. She cupped his rounded ear. As she was leaving her past. Closing her old self. "I love you, Azriel." She whispered to him. Azriel closed his wet eyes and took a deep breath, before he opened them again.

"You’re the happiest point of my entire existence Elain, I’m so in love with you," she batted her long eyelashes at him and then she kissed him fiercely.

The End.

[ilysmsweaty2]

this literally came to me in a dream so i'm making it all of your problem now.

it's christmas or near christmas at the white house. regardless, presents are being opened. it's the american christmas. nora, alex, henry, june, ellen, bea, oscar, and leo are there. everyone's drinking and enjoying themselves.

"ohoho, there's one left," oscar says reaching over the side of the chair he's on under the tree. he pulls out a octogonal-shaped box with no wrapping but the top looks like a flower. "wonder who it's for," he continues. alex is sitting adjacent to him, his back to the tree. oscar's arm is around june who sits between him and ellen. leo is sitting at ellen's feet and she's messing with his hair. henry and bea are sharing a chair across from alex and nora's sitting on the floor next to them. it's almost as if alex has an audience.

oscar opens the box only to pull another slightly smaller box from inside.

"oh. guess it's not for me then," he says shrugging. alex squints at him.

"what?"

"hmm. someone else try," oscar says holding the box out. it pointedly rattles.

"oh? is it for me, henry?" bea asks taking it and revealing the giver of the gift.

"i don't know, try to open it," henry replies with a mischievous smile. oddly, he wouldn't meet alex's eyes.

bea opens it only for another layer to be taken off. it's now a small box with christmas wrapping on it.

"mm, drat, not for me," she says.

"what is going on?" alex asks but is quickly drowned out by nora and juna saying,

"my turn!" in sync. they fight over it playfully before tearing the paper together.

"seriously, what is this?" alex asks but he continues to be ignored.

"henry, you wanna try, babe?" nora asks looking over her shoulder.

"it's from me, so it's not for me," henry replies annoyingly posh.

"henry, who is it for?" alex asks impatiently. he's sat up now, no longer reclining.

"let me try, dear," ellen says taking it from nora. her and leo work to open the box and reveal a little sphere like one you would get from a quarter machine with a little prize inside.

"hmm, not for us," ellen shrugs.

"why not alex give it a try?" oscar offers. a chorus of "yeah"s and "good idea"s start from everyone.

"guys. seriously-" alex starts but the ball is handed to him.

it's a red sphere and it's heavily taped shut. he shakes it and it rattles like there's something metal inside.

"what the hell is this?" he mutters picking at the tape.

"jesus, how much tape did you put on this thing, henry?"

he finds the end and the tape unrolls with loud tearing noises. the sphere pops open and the object inside falls into alex's hand.

it's a ring.

his breath is taken away but he can't bring himself to believe it. he looks up. nora, bea, and june had all whipped their phones out to film. his mom's eyes are shiny. he almost can't breathe at henry, who is now in front of him, on one knee.

"hello, dear," he says quietly, smiling his crinkly, unapologetic smile.

alex's mouth has fallen open and he's slowly shaking his head.

"you are not-" alex starts but his voice doesn't actually come out.

"on CHRISTMAS??" he says finding his voice, "how fucking cheesy-"

"alright," henry interrupts him gently, plucking the ring from alex's palm, "are you going to let me finish?"

"fuck," alex mumbles sinking into his chair and looking away his eyes brimming. the girls erupted into a chorus of "awwww"s along with percy who bea face timed. henry waved them off.

"cmon stand up," he says taking alex's hands as he stands.

"alex," he says, but has to stop and shake his head. he's crying now too. alex laughs.

"we knew-" he clears his throat- "we knew there was no going back pretty early on, and i think we should make it official. i-i feel forever about you, and you are truly my other half.

i never thought-" henry has to stop. alex loosens his hand from henry's and cradles his face.

"i never thought i could have this," henry's voice is breaking and alex's tears are running down his face.

"i-i love you alex, and- fuck," henry can barely get the words out. "you wanna get married?" he says giving up, grinning. alex falls to henry's level.

"of course, baby," he says, their foreheads together. alex kisses him but it's all teeth because they can't stop smiling.

everyone's cheering including cash, zahra, amy, and shaan who stood off to the side. in the midst of laughter, tears, and congratulations alex and henry fall onto the couch (oscar having moved to alex's chair). june is squeezing her brothers' arm.

everyone is standing around the area falling into easy conversation. henry's resting his head on alex's shoulder smiling smugly at the ring on alex's finger. the tree is twinkling and alex thinks it's like a goddamn hallmark movie. a prince for christmas. he laughs to himself. nora has said something that has the entire room in an uproar.

"what?" alex asks having missed it.

"we're gonna have a royal wedding, love," henry chuckles kneeing alex.

"oh, fuck," alex says.

[dr-demi-bee]

Sleeves Down

Short little snippet from my Tav x Gale WIP for all the galemancers out there also demanding their opportunity to worship Gale how he deserves. Need more opportunities to adore him than the store has - so I'm just makin' it myself.

Inspired partly by this and this perfect piece by @trashmancer (among other fabulous art, ty for sharing your lovely work <3).

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I appreciate your diligence, vhenan,” Tav grasps his hands and pries them away from the ties of her leathers. “And do not think me ungrateful - I am more grateful than I could ever do justice.”

Kissing him softly, first on the lips, and then along his neck, she walks Gale backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed they share and he tips back onto it. Tav cradles his face in her palms and eagerly descends onto him for more kisses.

“But let us love in balance - neither of us in more power than the other.” She captures his lips in a long searing kiss as she deftly works the stays of his robes. “You must receive as much as you give.”

“Promises, promises,” Gale tries to deflect, his hands going to her sides. He is unused to being the center of attention in this way. But Tav has none of it, grasping his hands and pressing them to his sides before flipping his robe open and down to at least slow him with the fabric. She smirks at his startled appraisal.

“A vow, more like. I want nothing more than to make you feel good,” Tav emphasizes her point by slowly trailing her nails up his thighs, enough to make him jump when they grow close to his hips.

“To hear you cry my name,” she murmurs huskily. Gale gasps when she leans in to take the lobe of his unpierced ear into her mouth and nips, before kissing languidly down the column of his throat.

“To be so pleased by me that you forget all else.” Her nails trail over his chest, teasing and light, raising goosebumps in their wake.

“At minimum you hold physical power over me,” Gale counters, though a soft groan follows under her ministrations.

“I will never use my physical strength against you without your wish,” she answers easily, lavishing kisses across his collarbones, “As you would never do with your magical prowess.”

“At least allow me to participate in kind, my love,” Gale pleads, finally working his arms free of his sleeves to reach for her.

She does not rebuff his attention, but neither does her parade of kisses and touches let up. Tav knows if she lets him he will wrest control with endlessly deft teasing and masterful touches. He is a maestro conducting and her the symphony.

But today Tav wishes to produce art of her own by bestowing her every affection on Gale - to hear how he will sing for her. To show him how deserving he is of her love.

“I will not stop you,” Tav answers. “But I wish to remedy a deficit.”

“Oh, there are no deficiencies on my end, I assure you,” Gale replies. His eyes are dark and full of longing adoration as he gazes up at her.

Gale pulls her hips in to encourage her to straddle his lap. Tav goes willingly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying a hand in his soft hair before their lips meet. But she maintains control of the pace when they start a slow grind together. A low punched out sound leaves his lips when she tugs gently on his hair at the same time she presses her hips firmly against him. Tav revels in it with a smile against his lips.

“Today I will be most pleased, Gale,” Tav emphasizes his name, knowing that it sends a shiver down his spine when she says it this way, “By lavishing my adoration on you.”

When he does not immediately acquiesce, Tav escalates. With a purposefully teasing swirl of her hips, she adds a needy plea in his ear, “Please, vhenan.”

“Who am I to deny you your pleasures?” Gale concedes with a grin.

[immeasurable-depths]

Merry Christmas everyone- have some smut!

Idk where this came from, I think I was possessed by the spirit of the purple-haired lesbian. This is… quite explicit. It also became MUCH longer than expected so here’s an excerpt, the rest is on AO3. Hope you enjoy!

Then Imogen’s tongue is on her, rough and warm and wet, and all coherent thought is gone from Laudna’s mind in an instant. Imogen starts at the base of her spine, tongue wide and flat as she traces firmly up, up past her core, mapping over the vertebrae that protrude there, and Laudna can’t help but arch her back into the touch. Imogen continues up, leaving a trail of searing heat against the cold expanse of Laudna’s skin, and as she reaches the base of her neck, Laudna can’t suppress the feral moan that tears out of her throat.

Imogen stops. She withdraws her tongue and the effect is immediate; Laudna cranes her neck back almost involuntarily with a frown, desperate to keep up the contact as a petulant whine escapes her lips.

“Shh, Laudna,” she chides. Gently, oh, so gently. “We’re bein’ quiet, remember, hun?” Laudna nods frantically, desperately trying to focus on her breathing, to regain her composure as she draws breath in, out, in, out, but it’s so hard to concentrate when Imogen’s lips are ghosting against the nape of her neck. She clenches her fingers to stop herself releasing another cry, her nails digging into her thighs with the effort.

Immediately, Imogen’s hands are on top of hers, smoothing down Laudna’s curled claws, cradling her from behind. Gentle, soothing - but oh , so firm, too.

“Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” A deep kiss is pressed to the base of Laudna’s neck, and Imogen curls her arms protectively around Laudna for a moment as her legs bracket her from behind on either side. With them both in a kneeling position like this, Imogen forms a protective embrace around Laudna's porcelain frame.

“I know you’ve got the control for this, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Yes. For Imogen, yes, she does, she can - she nods and focuses on flattening her palms. Imogen’s fingers brush gently over Laudna’s knuckles, and when she retracts them, the faintest trace of fingernails scrape against Laudna’s thighs. This time, Laudna manages to suppress the whine.

Imogen’s touch is maddening. Laudna can feel her pulse pounding in her ears, and her skin is incandescent where Imogen caresses her. How the sorcerer can touch her with such care, and control, is beyond Laudna: Imogen is so deliberate and sure in her movements, tracing fascinating patterns across Laudna’s skin and marvelling at the flush her touch brings to the surface. Meanwhile Laudna trembles and shakes, so wound up that her body follows its own instincts. She squirms her legs together, desperate for some friction, any relief she can find.

Imogen freezes again.

“I didn’t say you could do that, did I?” Her voice is soft, but a threatening edge creeps in that makes ichor pool all the more between Laudna’s legs. She has never been this turned on, never in life or unlife or however she exists now, and she doesn’t know how she can bear it. Her shoulders quake as they contract inwards, another pathetic whine escaping her lips.

[floralembarrassment]

hello! i love all your one-shots but i just read he'll be alright and it's really sticking with me and i was wondering if you would consider writing a regulus pov of it? i love your writing!

Hello! Thank you for the kind words! I'm sorry this one took a bit longer, I wasn't sure how I wanted to show Regulus' side of things so I hope this does it justice! with love

I'll Try (1/1) (jegulus | the black brothers)

(CW: inferred self harm/SI - handle yourselves with care my loves!)

Regulus had woken up in a hospital after he wished he had never woken up at all. Strangely though, he finally felt something akin to joy in opening his eyes. The monitors beeping around him, the bright lights above him, the scratchy blanket over him, were all things that would normally drive him into a fit but instead he could only feel grateful for them. Because he could feel. He could feel and hear and see and smell. He could even taste the dryness of the air. Regulus was still a bit out of it so he couldn't control the smile that began forming in his lips.

As his consciousness came back online, however, he was flooded with reality. He became aware again that he was still here, and held at the same time as his gratitude some anger that he would have to keep going. Keep trying. He was so so tired and that exhaustion hadn't gone away. It was quickly hard to breath.

He realized part of the weight on his chest was his brother, and quickly nudged him to wake up and move so he could take a deep breath.

And while they were so many parts of each other, with similarities, and shared understandings, in this moment the Black brothers had very different reactions.

Sirius jumped up and tears of joy streamed down his face. "Oh you're awake, you're awake. It's okay Reggie you're okay," he rambled. He touched Regulus' face, cradling him gently like he was precious and needed protection. Regulus let him, because he let his weight fall into Sirius' palm, hoping to transfer some of his heaviness, his way of wordlessly asking for help this moment.

"Sirius," Regulus croaked. He couldn't keep his tears at bay.

"It's okay, I'm here," Sirius reassured.

"No no this is wrong," Regulus whispers.

Sirius understands immediately and Regulus knows because he sees his expression change from one of relief to one of fear. Regulus knows because he feels Sirius' hand pull away. "Reggie," Sirius starts.

"Don't ask me that Sirius," Regulus replies softly, voice still hoarse.

"I need you to promise me you won't do that again," Sirius says anyway. If Regulus couldn't see how much distress he had caused his brother he would've been angry. But Sirius always wore all his emotions on his sleeve and Regulus can see the heartbreak written in his eyes.

Regulus chooses to be honest with Sirius partially because Sirius deserves it and partially because Regulus knows part of what got him here was living for and pleasing others. But he knows his response is a let down: "I can promise you that I'll try..."

It's when James shows up that he really falters. He can feel his heart stop. Oh James he thinks. Regulus knows there are words traded between him and Remus and Sirius but he won't remember them because James is looking at him.

When James walks over and trades places with his brother, he quickly takes his hand. "I'm sorry," he whispers to James and that's what breaks James. He falls into the chair beside the bed, crying into Regulus' lap, clinging to his hand as Regulus uses his free one to brush fingers through his hair. Seeing James now, Regulus can't believe he ever forgot how much he was loved, how much he meant to others.

He chooses in that moment, like he did with Sirius to be honest with James. "Regulus," James starts once he settles.

"I promise you that I will try, James. That's the best I can do." Regulus says and James nods with acceptance.

"Please just, promise me one thing," James says tentatively.

Regulus looks at him, waiting for the ask before he agrees.

"Promise me you'll tell me, promise me okay that you know I'm here and I want to help you try." James' tears fall again slowly as he hopes and wishes.

After a moment, after a breath and some contemplation, Regulus nods his head. "Okay," he says softly and James heaves a breath of relief but cries harder anyway.

"We will have to talk more about what that looks like but yes, I will try and I will tell you," Regulus says in James' hair.

Regulus whispers over and over again, "I will try," like a new mantra or a prayer or a lie he is trying to make himself believe, until he falls back asleep with James now draped over his lap.