#so i try to handle that to keep from fucking up again

[lucinedoodles]

I will never shuttup about my Rooks- Fiorella De Riva x Emmrich Volkarin

Yes. She didn't realise it- she assumed that the poison she dosed herself with that morning was just slow acting and the heart palpitations was from that.

Emmrich probably thought she was really sweet at first and was flattered by the attention. But the falling in love was gradual and over time. It takes her being mowed down by an Ogre for him to realise he loved her.

Pretty early. I think Emmrich is well aware of his own mortality and Fi is a Crow so she's pretty sure she's going to die in five minutes so they both went for it.

Fi is an Antivan Crow and doesn't really have any strong opinions about anyone or anything. She sees the Mourn Watch practices as something mildly fascinating but she does adore wisps and has a lot of patience and understanding for Spirits and Demons. Emmrich was probably enthralled by the Antivan Crows from the stories he heard from them. But that wonder turns into horror pretty quickly when he learns what Fi was put through when she was a Fledgling.

Fi was born a Tevinter slave before being rescued and brought to Antiva. Viago kept her busy with lessons and her training. She has very little care for culture in general, just seeing it as a social thing she has to learn to blend in. She picks up a lot of Emmrich's Nevarran culture and practices to try and understand him more.

Fi didn't really have hobbies as a Crow, again Viago made sure she was kept busy and her only hobby was looking after her pet snake. While she plays the piano, she only starts to enjoy playing it when Emmrich teaches her a few Nevarran requiems.

Fi absolutely cannot handle PDA's. Affection is weakness and she was half beaten to death for any show of weakness as a Fledgling. She does enjoy cuddles but only when her and Emmrich are somewhere safe and alone.

Memorial Gardens. Fi loves it there- it's quiet and safe, they're usually alone there and there are pretty flowers and so many wisp friends.

Emmrich goes everywhere with Fi after the Ogre thing. They don't banter much besides Emmrich and his positive affirmations. Mostly because Fi is completely silent when fighting.

We all know Emmrich calls Fi "my dearest" and "darling". Fi, again, struggles with showing affection but calls him "Amore" in private.

Emmrich. Fi didn't really react- she was too busy trying not to die from her injuries to that Ogre.

Fi doesn't have inside jokes with Emmrich- she's still learning about humour. But she does have a few with Manfred because she's been practicing.

Tightrope

Just before the final battle, Emmrich gifted her the ring his father gave his mother. Fi in turn, gifted him a small jewelled vial pendant that carries a poison antidote. The vial was the first thing she ever bought with her own money.

I dunno man, the game said he made a copy of Solas' dagger so it seemed like he was trying to get her out of there somehow

Her first thought was to get out of there because she couldn't let Emmrich worry. She knew how he felt about how death would one day part them- they literally just had the argument.

His kindness. She grew up knowing cruelty and even Viago's affection for her was wrapped up in harsh treatment to keep her safe. So, Emmrich's gentleness and never-ending patience had her fall even harder. Emmrich fell in love with her selfless nature and bravery. He saw sparks of wonder and curiosity for the world around her, hidden amongst the layers of fear.

They get married and fuck off to Nevarra. Viago gives Fi time to recuperate after the events of Veilguard but that time off was extended when she ended up pregnant. She still takes occasional Contracts but it looks like House de Riva may need a new successor because her priorities had shifted.

Questions for your Rook and their partner:

Does your Rook fall for their partner at first sight? If not, what moment made your Rook realize they're in love with them?

When does the partner realize that they're in love with Rook?

How long does it take for them to officially get together? Did any of the other Lighthouse members have any suspicions beforehand?

Do your Rook and their partner share the same faction? If so, does that affect their relationship at all? If not, what is your Rook's opinion of their partner's faction? What is the partner's opinion of Rook's faction?

Do they have different cultural backgrounds (e.g. a Rook who was raised in Antiva with Harding who was raised in Ferelden)? If so, do they ever share parts of their culture with each other? If they're similar, how do they celebrate their culture together?

What is their favorite thing to do together? Do they share any hobbies? Does your Rook teach their partner their own hobbies? Does the partner teach Rook theirs?

Are they a physically affectionate couple? Are they fine displaying those affections in public or do they prefer to be in private? If they're not, how do they prefer to show their love instead?

What does their ideal date look like? Do they go on much?

Does your Rook bring them out often? How are they like on the battlefield? Do they banter much?

Do they have any nicknames for each other? Who uses terms of endearment more?

Who says "I love you" first? What is the other's reaction? Who thinks it first?

Any inside jokes?

What song(s) do you associate with them?

Does your Rook get their partner any other gifts (besides the one already in-game)? Does the partner get Rook any? Any gifts that are particularly special?

What was the partner's reaction to Rook being imprisoned in the Fade? How did they cope? How did they react upon seeing Rook again?

How did your Rook react to getting trapped in the Fade and separated from their partner?

What is your Rook's favorite thing about their partner? What is the partner's favorite thing about Rook?

When all is said and done, where would they like to retire together? Is marriage in the cards for them? Children? Pets?

[00valentina-writes00]

How about reader being a trainee enforcer under grayson's mentoring and thing get hot betw them?🤍

��♥︎Discipline & Distraction♥︎♡

Warnings: power imbalance, fingering, forced focus, minor degradation, minor praise, teasing, (rookie x Lieutenant Grayson).

“Steady your grip.”

Lieutenant Grayson’s voice is smooth, authoritative, as she adjusts your stance from behind. Her hands are firm over yours, guiding your fingers around the handle of your service weapon, but you barely register the lesson.

Because her body is pressed against your back.

Her chest—strong, broad, and oh-so-unfairly full—is flush against you, the heat of her seeping through your uniform. Every shift, every minor correction she makes, has her breasts pressing a little firmer into your shoulder blades. It’s distracting. It’s fucking unbearable.

“Focus,” she murmurs, her breath brushing the shell of your ear. You barely suppress a shiver. She has to know what she’s doing. There’s no way she doesn’t notice the way your pulse is racing, or how your grip on the gun keeps faltering under her touch.

She lingers for a moment longer than necessary, then steps back. You don’t dare turn around, knowing your face is probably betraying every filthy thought running through your head.

“That’s enough for today.” Her tone is unreadable. “Come to my office in an hour. We need to discuss… your progress.”

Your stomach flips.

One hour later, you’re standing stiffly in her office, hands clasped behind your back, trying to look anywhere but at the way Grayson is leaning back in her chair, legs spread just enough to make your brain short-circuit.

“You weren’t listening,” she says, casually rolling up the sleeves of her uniform. “During training. You were distracted.”

You swallow. “I—I”

“Don’t lie to me.” Her tone is sharp, a warning. “I felt it. You weren’t thinking about the gun in your hands, were you?”

Your silence is damning.

Grayson tuts, shaking her head. “That won’t do, rookie.” She gestures for you to come closer. “If you can’t stay focused, then I’ll just have to train you another way.”

You step forward, heart hammering, but before you can react, she’s grabbing your wrist, yanking you between her legs. Her other hand moves to your belt, unbuckling it with infuriating ease, and then—fuck.

Her fingers dip past the waistband of your uniform pants, slipping straight into your soaked cunt.

“Gods,” she breathes, dark amusement lacing her voice as she teases you open, two fingers gliding through your wetness before pressing inside. “You were this worked up from a little body contact? How pathetic.”

Your legs nearly buckle.

She pumps her fingers slowly, deliberately, dragging slick sounds from you that make your face burn. But she doesn’t let you fall, keeping you steady with her other hand gripping your hip.

“Tell me the rules,” she commands, fingers curling just right.

You blink, dazed. “W-what?”

“The Piltover Enforcer Code.” She pumps her fingers deeper, the stretch making your breath hitch. “Recite it.”

Your mouth opens, but all that escapes is a gasp as she presses her thumb to your clit, rubbing slow, taunting circles.

“Rule one,” she prompts, impatience bleeding into her tone.

You struggle to remember, brain fogged with pleasure. “U-uh—P-Piltover officers must—must uphold the law and—ah—protect its citizens—”

Grayson hums, pleased, but she doesn’t slow. If anything, she fucks into you harder, fingers relentless, her palm slick with how wet you are.

“Rule two?” Her voice is deceptively gentle, like she’s not actively wrecking you in her chair.

You barely manage it, the words breaking apart as she curls her fingers inside you, dragging along that perfect spot.

“Good girl,” she murmurs, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of your throat. “Now keep going. Don’t stop until I’m satisfied.”

You whimper, legs trembling, knowing she’s going to make you cum again and again until you can barely think, let alone speak.

And judging by the wicked glint in her eyes, she’s going to enjoy every second of it.

[bratbarzal]

A VALENTINES BLURB EVENT? You’re too kind.

what about “wow, you really don’t have anyone special in your life at the minute.” with ex!fwb Jack Hughes?

✩‧₊˚ bratbarzal's valentines event!˚₊‧✩

3. “wow, you really don’t have anyone special in your life at the minute.” the maggie cinematic universe really is expanding!!! a jack blurb!!! hey look at us!! who'd have guessed it?? not me!! it's a smidge angsty, because all the fluff was giving me a complex. it's not who I am. I can barely look in the mirror any more. also you said the word ex!!!!!!!! I have no choice but to create problems!!!!!! also again, changed the phrasing bc I was struggling with it exactly as is but the sentiment is there ♥️

*mentions of vomiting

Jack knew to keep a close eye on you the second that he saw you down that first drink - plastering yourself to the other side of the room, avoiding him like the plague, as you so often do these days, but somehow he can't look away.

He tries not to be too obvious about it, knows that you'd have a problem with him showing any signs of interest or concern anymore, but he knows how these nights go when you're like this. So he watches over the rim of his cup, spares fleeting glances in your general direction, and pretends he's looking at something else nearby to avoid detection.

But he gives up the act when you're too far gone - stumbling to the nearest bathroom with your hand clasped over your mouth after dancing around with the girls and getting a little lightheaded.

He can hear the retching from the other side of the door, thankful that it isn't locked when he twists the handle - closes it softly behind him and secures the two of you inside so no one else can see you in such a vulnerable state.

You groan, probably having seen him from the corner of your eye, and press your forehead to your forearm, the clamminess of your skin evident even from over where he's stood.

"Don't come any closer," you warn him, holding out your other hand in a stopping motion without even looking his way, "I feel sick enough without my senses being flooded with Creed."

He ignores the warning, a heavy sigh and hard roll of his eyes his only response as he rolls up his sleeves and makes his way over, making a move to hold back your hair before you're shoving at his thighs in defiance. "I'm trying to help you," he snaps, voice low as he fights your objections.

"Don't want your help," you snap back, "Want you to go get someone else."

“You really think I’d just leave you here?” He jiggles your touch from his thigh, despite the way he likes how your hand lingers lightly as another wave of nausea washes over you. "C'mon, straighten up a little."

You whine as he guides your body, his touch gentle as he manoeuvres you slowly to avoid making you sick again. "Jack," you groan, "Stop."

"'M'not gonna leave you," he huffs, avoiding the blind swat of your hand as you reach back again to push, swerving around the stretch of your arm and throwing himself onto the floor on the other side of the toilet. "You shouldn't be on your own, not like this."

"You had no problem leaving me before," you grumble, your face wincing as you try to breathe through queasiness, straightening up now that he isn't the one telling you to and sitting back on your heels.

"You really wanna do this with your head half in the toilet?" he quirks a brow, leaning against the sink and settling in - his body language a certain show that he isn't going anywhere any time soon. "6 months you've barely spoken to me, and you want to bring it all up now?"

"You're the one who followed me in here," you scowl, "You're the one who's been stalking me all night. Why are you even here, shouldn't you be out with whatever new girl you're fucking? It's Valentines Day, that's your schtick right, making them think you're invested before you pull the rug-,"

"You're talking a lot for someone who was throwing their guts up 2 minutes ago," he cuts you off, face curling defensively as your eyes meet his in a heated glare. "There is no new girl, so you can stop your little speech before you say something you regret."

"I don't have regrets." You snort, your arms shaking as you push yourself up a little.

"The circumstances we're currently under would suggest otherwise." He nods toward the toilet, eyes flickering carefully over you as your brows furrow - looking for any further signs of distress. Your skin has brightened up a little, tears crusted in the corner of your eyes, the tip of your nose reddened and your lips swollen. "Why are you even here? Thought you found your special guy," he mocks the words he had seen plastered on your story only a few weeks ago - a selfie of you with some loser, lips pressed to his cheek as he wore the dorkiest grin Jack has ever seen in his life. It had made his skin crawl. "Not special enough to whisk you away on some romantic weekend for the holiday, huh?"

Your scowl quickly dips into a frown, brows softening, glare melting and tears welling at your lash line. Your lips start to tremble, and Jack straightens up - not knowing if you're nauseous or upset.

“I hate Valentine’s Day,” you cry dramatically, leaning on your arm as you stay hunched over the toilet bowl.

“No you don’t,” Jack snickers, reaching to tuck your hair behind your ear and smoothing it into place, the touch of his fingers soft against your scalp and almost lulling you into a sense of calm. “You’re just drunk.”

“No, I hate it. It sucks,” you huff, “It’s a con and a scam and I’m sick of having it shoved in my face all month. I want it gone and I want it gone now.”

“Alright, Princess,” he mocks, “You never hated Valentines before, what happened?”

“I never hated a lot of things before,” you scowl again, eyes narrowed at the way his lip quivers in amusement - because of course he’d take pleasure in your misery.

It’s what he loves to do.

Only, it isn't your misery that's making him smile. It's just you - dramatic and exaggerated - looking him in the eye and talking in full sentences, or near enough. It feels like forever since he's had you like this.

"I got dumped. Again. You'll probably be happy to know that you're not alone in thinking I'm not worth your time."

"I didn't dump you," Jack defends himself, immediately, "And I don't think that."

He isn't lying either - technically the two of you were never in a relationship, so dumping was out of the question. He needed a break to focus on his recovery - focus on building himself back up for a full season, no distractions, no entanglements, and he hadn't thought either of you were in that deep for it to actually matter.

Until he started to miss you.

It took him mere days, hitting him like a tonne of bricks the first time he tried to text you and it wouldn't go through.

He was still in Michigan, you were in Jersey, and taking drastic measures to seek you out at the time felt a little too much for the casual circumstances you had both originally agreed to - friends with benefits, scratching each other's itches and relieving each others stress.

And then by the time he was back in town - it felt too late.

You still crossed paths, ran in the same circles, but you wouldn't speak to him anymore, and he didn't want to open any old wounds you were clearly trying to heal.

But he never stopped caring. Never stopped looking out for you when you got a little too drunk at parties, or watching your stories from Luke's phone, because you had him blocked on every platform.

And it's only now that you're in front of him, speaking to him again, that he realises the extent of how much he's missed you.

"Whatever," you sigh.

"No, not whatever," he shuffles along the floor, legs knocking into yours as he reaches out again, swiping the stubborn strand of hair that keeps falling forward back behind your ear and holding it in place. "I don't think that."

He tries to be assertive in saying it, this time - eyes locked on yours, grip firming up a little on your face, lowering his tone of voice until it sounds more sure - and he figures it works a little better, your tired eyes blinking slowly as the honesty seeps in.

You sigh, heavy in a way that makes your shoulders slump, your lips twisting as you look down.

You're quiet for a moment, and all Jack can do is watch - stuck in the same position, the same proximity - as you try to fight the tears. Something tugs, like an ache in the depth of his chest, a soreness that can only be remedied by holding you, he thinks. But he knows that isn't the right move.

You're not okay. You're drinking to mask your feelings, to the point of self-destruction, throwing up on your own in the bathroom at a party filled with all your friends, and it's all his fault.

"I'm sorry," is all he can think to say, a lump in the back of his throat as you give a resigned nod, still not meeting his eye. "I'm sorry that I was a dick, and I'm sorry the other guy was a dick. You deserve better than both of us."

A lone tear slips out, rolls down your cheek cinematically slow, and Jack swipes at it before it can fall, the pad of his thumb stroking gently at your jaw.

"I'm not gonna leave you," he promises, and you're probably too drunk to look any further into it, but he means it in more ways than he can possibly convey on a bathroom floor, your hair matted to your forehead and tears in your eyes. "I'm gonna look after you. I'm gonna get you home safe, and in the morning, we're gonna talk, okay?"

You nod again, looking up briefly into oceanic irises - a storm that once consumed you still swirling within them.

"Alright, c'mon, let's get you up." He stands before you do, shifting behind you with hands under your arms, holding your body against his as he leans over and flushes all the evidence of your intoxication away.

"Don't manhandle me," you huff.

"I'm just trying to-,"

"If you say help one more time, I'm gonna throw up all over your car."

He presses his lips together to save himself, nodding towards the door and gesturing for you to start heading out if you can do so by yourself. He hovers behind you the entire time, hand floating behind the small of your back, ready to catch you when you inevitably stumble on unsteady feet.

And when he finally gets you home, you don't let him go any further than your couch, shoving him down onto it and stomping off to your room, the slam of your door causing him to smile to himself - because despite all your defiance, the stomping, the slamming, the sulking and the sighs, you still let him back in.

And he's not going to let you go again.

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

Chapter #Twelve – The Deer Spirit

Looks like the fox demoness has someone keeping tabs on her~

*Zhiyu belongs to @sleepingdramaqueen on Tumblr

After catching whiff of smoke, a young fawn demoness Jìngyi too curious for her own good had come closer to inspect what was happening. She had always found to fox demoness intriguing even when others told her to stay away, she just couldn’t help herself. She never really hurt anyone even if she had threatened a few, plus she had never done any real damage. Not that she had seen, until today.

Flames licked against the grass and started to crawl up some of the trees when a freezing wind smothered them. There was shouting, from someone that she couldn’t identify. Ice and snow covered burnt and charred wood, there was no doubt about it that something had to be done, someone had to intervene. Of course the young fawn was far too young and too weak to be the one to do that. So off she went running away form the damage and straight towards the guardian, the only one that was able to handle the fox.

“Guardian! Guardian!” The fawn called out as she ran up to the deer demon before her.

Shocked the guardian turned towards her in confusion. Jìngyi almost never talker to him as she had no reason to and was just a young fawn who didn’t even have a humanoid form. He wasn’t even able to speak before she started shouting about what Su had done, how there was fire everywhere and how there were also unknown people within the forest. He couldn’t have ran faster if he tried, barely followed by the fawn who tried to keep up.

He was horrified to see the burnt grass, the damaged trees, the ice and snow that covered the ground. It was a disaster, clenching the scepter in his hand his gaze landed on the fox demoness that was responsible for the damage along with the women who were speaking with her.

The beautiful demoness who was nothing but a pain in his neck in person and a nightmare of a beauty in his dreams. She was in her humanoid form, a form that he rarely got the chance to see outside of when she was messing with people or when she was fighting. The only thing she wore was a red hanfu that hugged her figure, with slits down either of her legs and left the majority of her chest exposed. She looked…. She looked- That’s not IMPORTANT!

“SU!” He shouted angrily, a furious look spread across his face.

Though his face soon flustered when the fox demoness whirled around to look at him with the biggest smile on her face, if he didn’t know any better he’d think she was actually excited to see him. Steeling his resolve he didn’t let her see the way it made him flustered instead wore a serious expression.

“What have you done again FOX!! One of the residents came to inform me that you have attempted to destroy their home! Is that true!?!?!” He growled harshly as he pointed back towards the charred wood, and burnt grass that was frozen over.

“That is not at all what happened,” Su responded rolling her eyes as her smile dropped to an annoyed expression. Before the deer could get a single word in she spoke firmly. “First of all the fire was an ACCIDENT, second of all no creatures live in the trees surrounding my DEN and third of all, I was just saying hello to an old friend who apparently has AMNESIA!”

“What are you even talking abou-“, he turned to look at the small group behind her, that’s when he noticed one of them was injured, his instincts pushed him to run towards the little one. He crouched down as he attempted to reach out, Green brightness emanating from his palm.

“What happened to you, are you alright child, do not fret for I will help you.”

Spirit’s face immediately turned to a scowl, baring her teeth as she growled, “Who the fuck are you calling a child!?”

“Spirit! He’s just trying to help,” You said back to her as you continued to support her as she leaned against you.

Zhiyu quickly leaned back, face turning into sudden shock.

“Hold on-you’re not!!!” He couldn’t hide his clear embarrassment, ���No you’re sooo-you know what just forget it.*

He stopped speaking, a sweat dripping from the side of his face when two eyes glowered in front of him, yet he still held his hand up, “No matter the case, you are still hurt, allow me at least to heal your wounds.”

The two monkeys on your shoulders chirped in irritation, you glanced at Su who was standing back without a word. A smile had graced her face again as she watched Zhiyu heal Spirit. However Reader noticed the slightly guilty look that seemed to tug down her smile.

“Please Spirit,” Reader muttered to her friend.

Spirit growls but doesn’t stop him from what he’s doing. And lets him heal her.

“Soo. Who said I was trying to destroy their home? No one lives around my den anyways,” Su brought up with an annoyed look on her face. Though it seemed she just wanted Zhiyu to talk to HER.

“Running around grass fields and jumping straight to people, laughing like its an illness does not make a place your territory,” Zhiyu responded, not even bothering to turn around, only focused on the four in front of him.

“Clearly you have never seen people having FUN. And it’s my territory since no one comes around obviously!” Su responded rolling her eyes before looking over at Spirit and Reader.

“Is that how that works?” You mutter softly.

“I have no idea,” Spirit shrugged nonchalantly.

Zhiyu grumbled in irritation, “No it’s not.”

Su laughed behind them, walking up to Zhiyu until she was standing right over him. She leaned over and glanced at the work he was doing. She neither cared about how close she was nor did she care about the way Zhiyu tensed up really quick.

He glanced back at her before turning his attention back to the duo in front of him. He was concentrated on healing Spirit’s injuries more than talking to the dangerous fox who plagued his forest. It wasn’t long before the green light from his hands faded and the pain within Spirit was gone.

“Thank you so much-“ You began to say with relief when he suddenly shot a glare in your direction, surprising you.

“I don’t know what you want here or how you got this deep in the forest but you need to leave human,” Zhiyu spoke rather harshly, his eyes set in a deep glare.

He seemed to realize you were very much human. And he was well aware that humans caused trouble, they seemed to love it and let it follow them everywhere. Your eyes widened in shock at his words but as you opened your mouth to speak he interrupted.

“Unlike my brothers and sisters I will show mercy upon you human, leave this forest or I will have to consider you trespassing on these sacred lands. I am no mad demon but I will use brute force to force you out-“ He was saying, his voice kind of harsh, after he had taken his hands off of Spirit.

Su spoke up again, “Whoa there Zhiyu! I believe as they are MY guests I get to decide if Reader stays or leaves!”

Zhiyu seemed shocked as he turned to look at the normally very mischievous but also very SOLO woman. That’s when he also took note just how much closer she had come up to him, she was almost right on top of him honestly.

“You wouldn’t be trying to scare off the human that is taking care of Spirit would you? She hasn’t done anything wrong, in fact all she’s done is protect those two�� smelly cubs. You wouldn’t want to be cruel and send her away now would you? Look at her she’s clearly exhausted, tired and scared. Not to mention it’s almost nighttime, and with how dangerous the world is in the dark you wouldn’t just send her to the jaws of some beast right?” Su ranted before lowering her voice to a purr as she leaned close to Zhiyu’s face.

You noticed that there was a thick tension between the two, but you couldn’t quite tell why. Confusion covered your face as you watched Su curl her tails and a grin spread across her face. The tips of her tails continued to shape hearts as she gave Zhiyu a pouty look, leaning down so she was face to face with him. You couldn’t see his expression from where you stood but you were pretty sure that you could see his ears turning red.

He stepped back to make some space and looked down, his face making it obvious that he was thinking, then he looked up with a serious once again, "Alright but you will only be allowed to stay for a limited time, once I have decided, you will immediately leave. Am I clear?”

Su looked at him with a pout, "Aw, how could you be so mean hun? Don't worry girls you can stay as long as you want at my place."

Spirit looked at you and you looked at her before glancing back at Su who was grinning ear to ear. You weren't sure who to listen to but noticed the way Zhiyu tensed up most likely from irritation.

"I don't know if we should stay, it would be better to just leave," Spirit replied looking down at her hands and glancing over her body. She did a few test jumps and decided that she was well enough.

"I mean... it is dark- but why should we trust you?" You replied with a frown on your face.

Su let out a groan before replying simply, "Because you have no where else to go, and I have food. Let me do this to make up for the whole... dual."

Spirit’s face scrunched up at the mention of the dual. She didn't like any part of what had happened. Baring her teeth she let out a low growl and you couldn't help but chuckle. She just looked so cute like that, especially with her being so small. Her threat didn't seem to bother Su at all.

Her words rang true, there wasn’t anywhere else you could go and the sun was already halfway set by this point. You looked down at Spirit, she looked tired and hungry. She wasn’t injured anymore but that didn’t mean that she was up for travel after the sparring and if you were being honest your own legs were starting to feel like jelly.

Peaches and Plums chirped causing you to glance at them, neither of them had gotten hurt much to your delight but that didn’t change the fact that Spirit had gotten hurt. Su was unpredictable and dangerous… but you could see her and onew that she was there. If you two were left out in the darkness of the night there was no telling what would find you or who. At least with Su you would have a roof over your heads.

“I have a few warm beds, it’s better than the forest floor,” Su urged as she stepped around Zhiyu to get closer but her tails slid right against him as she walked with a grin. “What do you say?”

Looking at the cubs on your shoulders and Spirit’s tired gaze you already knew your answer. Reaching a hand up you scratching under Peaches chin and then Plums. Then you let out a breath, looking at Su and replied, “Fine… but just for a night or two.”

“… I suppose that I’ll leave then,” Zhiyu said with a firm nod as he turned and left the group without another word.

“You know you could also stay too- and he’s gone. Ugh that man! I don’t know if he’s ignoring me or just oblivious, GAH!” Su pouted as she stomped her foot onto the ground causing the grass to hiss from the heat.

“… A hint… for what?” Spirit was the one to speak up, her eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Well obviously that he has my attention and I’m trying to court him! But he’s like against most of the Courting styles!” Su fumed as she began marching in a circle growling and muttering to herself.

“Against?” You spoke up curiously, confused at what she was talking about. Though you started to pick up that she was upset about the man who walked away not paying attention to her.

“Yeah he doesn’t like violence, like I get that. So I shouldn’t do any Courting duals until later when we’re both have an understanding before hand. He doesn’t accept my gifts, I mean come on like take a hint. I’d courtnap him buuut- I don’t know if he knows what that is,” Su kind of seethed before shuffling about in irritation, kicking her feet against the dirt.

You and Spirit both stared at her curiously. You didn't know what to say all you knew was that she was not happy. slowly though her frown shifted into a smile as she turned back to you and Spirit. she shook her head seemingly to get her thoughts in focus and gestured for you to follow her.

You heard both Plum and Peaches start chirping again, they didn't seem too pleased about the situation at hand. In fact if you weren’t mistaken they were chirping very loudly about being ignored for the majority of it. It's not like you were trying to ignore them there was just so much going on that they slipped to the back of your mind. At least while you were focused on Spirit, Plum just head butted you on the cheek and you couldn't help but laugh. Apparently they were jealous about not having your full attention.

“You two ready to go? I’ve got food at my place,” Su grinned with a delighted smile. “I even have some cherries, I know they’re Spirit’s favorite fruit!”

Spirit stared at Su in shock, her eyes widening as she stared at the woman. The fox demoness started walking away, her feet gently walking along the forest floor. You hesitated before following behind her, she knew exactly where she was going while all you saw was new area around you. You didn’t know if following her was the right decision but you understood that it was one of the few decisions you had.

“She knows my favorite fruit?” Spirit barely whispered but you still heard the clear confusion in her tone.

Chirping echoed in your ears as the monkey cubs swatted at your face. Specifically Peaches swatted at your nose causing you to scrunch it in clear confusion. They let out annoyed chirps and you chuckled slightly when Su whirled around, her tails swaying behind her as she walked backwards.

“You know, I’m curious… how did you even get a phoenix stone? Those are like really rare, and I’ve only ever heard of one other phoenix stone that belonged to some ancient warrior. How did you, a mortal, human, woman get one?” Su asked, her face relaxed as she continued to walk backwards, surprisingly not walking into anything as she rested her hands behind her head.

“A… A phoenix stone?” You responded, confusion covering your face, was that what you had?

“A phoenix stone, powerful thing. Seriously those things are dangerous. It uses magic to create a powerful flame, if I wasn’t able to control fire than I would have been seriously hurt. No joke there,” Su explained with a grin. “That’s not all it can do, with the right amount of focus you can even get it to create phoenix wings. Which of course is another way to create an INSANE amount of heat.”

You blinked in surprise before reaching into your pocket to pick up the stone that was inside of it. You stared at the stone in amazement for a moment before Plum jumped for it. You let out a squeal at his sudden movement and quickly snatched him out of the air, pulling him close to your chest. As you did you proceeded to pull the stone closer too and you were surprised when Peaches also tried to snag the stone from your hand.

‘Hand it over woman! You’ll hurt everyone!’ Peaches chirped unbeknownst to you.

“Hey, stop trying to take it,” You muttered as you tried to get the two monkeys to strop reaching for the stone that was in your hand.

Su chuckled as she walked over to you, but you shook your head. “I don’t need help.”

You said this even as both of the monkey Cubs climbed on your shoulders and tried to climb down your arms to get to your hand. You didn't let them of course and they chirped in annoyance, one of them swatting your face with his tail you knew it was Peaches, specifically due to the bright gold of his fur. As much as you cared about these monkeys you knew that you were not going to let them have the stone in your hand it was far too dangerous. Little did you know but that was the same exact reason that they were trying to get this stone they thought it was too dangerous for you.

“Are you sure you don't want any help?” Su asked with a humorous gaze as the monkey cubs crawled over your shoulders and arms.

“I'm sure I'm completely fine I know what I'm doing,” You replied quickly as you attempted to grab Peaches to stop him from swatting your face. The swatting wasn’t painful and in reality it was just annoying at most, at the same time it was almost kind of cute.

“Ohh let me deal with the monkeys,” Spirit spoke up with an annoyed tone.

“No, I'm fine,” You respond as Plum set his tiny paw onto the stone, which was much to big for him to grab with only one hand.

Su laughed at your dilemma while Spirit began to get annoyed that you weren't accepting any help. She didn't care that you didn't accept help from sue but you weren't accepting her help either and that was getting on her nerves. So she did the first thing that came to mind and in this case that happened to be trying to grab the stone out of your hands as well. Plum let out a screech and bit her hand causing you to gasp and pull him back away from it while Spirit let out a very colorful cuss word.

“Gah! You see this is why I don't like monkeys,” Spirit growled harshly at Plum causing him to bare his teeth and hiss back at her.

“But aren’t you are a monkey too?” Su spoke up chuckling as she watched the chaotic scene in front of her, not approaching but at the same time not backing away. She wasn’t about to make you more uncomfortable by torching her help on you. So she stood off to the side enjoying the show that was playing out in front of her.

“Oh shut up sue no one asked for your opinion!” Spirit bit back her face flustering as she flicked Plum in the face causing him to growl.

Holding the stone in one hand, Peaches on your shoulder swatting your face, and Plum wrapped around your opposite wrist you swatted Spirit’s hand lightly when you noticed Plums forehead go slightly red.

“He’s just a baby, don’t hit him,” You said with a pout across your face and her face went red.

“He bit me first!” Spirit growled back with a pout.

“Yes, but violence never solves anything,” You respond calmly and Spirit just rolls her eyes.

Finally you shoved the rock back into your bag and grinned as it closed. Neither of the cubs went to open it, both seeming annoyed that you foiled their plot. Then you took Spirit’s hand looked at Su and followed behind her with a cheerful smile. Everything was going to be a-okay!

<<< Chapter #Eleven - The Fox Demoness

[isacksteban]

His Shadow — Strollonso (4) (3)

Lance couldn’t move.

His whole body felt wrong — too hot, too cold, too small for what was pressing against his ribs. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, his grip on Fernando’s jacket locked so tight he could feel the fabric bunching under his fingers.

Fernando didn’t let go.

Didn’t shift, didn’t tease, didn’t say anything.

He just held him.

Lance squeezed his eyes shut, his forehead pressing harder against Fernando’s shoulder. It wasn’t warm — not like it should be. But it wasn’t cold, either. It was something in between, something that shouldn’t have existed at all, something Lance had no idea how to deal with.

The worst part was, Fernando was steady.

Like he knew.

Like he’d been waiting for this.

Lance swallowed hard, voice wrecked and uneven. “Say something.”

Fernando exhaled slowly, his hands tightening just slightly on Lance’s arms. “What do you want me to say?”

Lance let out a short, breathless laugh — wrong, shaky, on the edge of something he didn’t have a name for. “I don’t know.”

“Then we have a problem,” Fernando murmured.

Lance did move at that — jerked back slightly, just enough to look at him. Fernando let him, but only barely, his hands still firm where they rested on Lance’s upper arms.

Lance hated the way Fernando was watching him. Hated the softness there, the quiet understanding in his dark eyes, like he had already figured out everything Lance was too scared to say.

Like he had known before Lance had even admitted it to himself.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Lance muttered.

Fernando smirked, but it was gentle in a way that made Lance’s stomach twist. “Like what?”

Lance clenched his jaw. “Like you’re waiting for something.”

Fernando tilted his head slightly, his fingers twitching like he was considering pulling away, but he didn’t. “I’m not waiting for anything, novato.” His voice was quiet. Even. Certain. “I already have my answer.”

Lance hated how that made his chest tighten.

He hated that Fernando wasn’t mocking him, wasn’t throwing it back in his face, wasn’t pretending it wasn’t real.

Because Lance had spent weeks pretending.

And Fernando?

Fernando had never pretended at all.

Lance’s hands curled tighter into his jacket, his breathing still unsteady. “This is fucking stupid,” he whispered.

Fernando’s grip tightened, just slightly. “I know.”

Lance shook his head. “You— Fuck, you’re—”

Fernando’s smirk flickered. “Dead?”

Lance flinched.

Fernando let out a soft, almost sad laugh. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I know that, too.”

Lance sucked in a shaky breath, his pulse too loud in his ears. “Then what is this?”

Fernando exhaled slowly, gaze still locked onto his. “What do you think it is?”

Lance let out another breathless laugh — wrong, wrong, wrong. “I think it’s impossible.”

Fernando hummed. “That doesn’t answer the question.”

Lance hated him.

Hated the way he didn’t let up, the way he was forcing Lance to say it — to acknowledge the thing that had been growing between them since the beginning.

The thing Lance had ignored.

The thing that had destroyed him when Fernando disappeared for a week.

The thing that had left him curled over a toilet, shaking, wrecked with something he had no idea how to handle.

His hands were still shaking now.

But Fernando was steady.

Lance took another breath, trying to find words — any words — that would make sense of what was happening.

But there weren’t any.

So instead, he just whispered, broken and wrecked and real, “I don’t know what to do.”

Fernando’s hands finally moved — sliding from Lance’s arms to his wrists, his grip light but solid. Like he wasn’t holding him in place — just keeping him here.

Keeping him from running again.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Fernando murmured. “I’m right here.”

Lance’s chest ached.

Because he was.

Fernando wasn’t pushing. He wasn’t asking for anything. He wasn’t waiting.

He was just there.

And for the first time, Lance wasn’t sure if that made it easier or so much worse.

Because now that he had admitted it — now that Fernando knew — there was nowhere left to go. Nowhere but here.

Lance didn’t know how to move.

Fernando was still holding him — not tightly, not in a way that forced him to stay. Just there. Grounding him. Making it impossible to pretend that this wasn’t happening.

Lance’s pulse was too loud, hammering in his ears, drowning out every rational thought he had left.

He had said it.

He had fucking said it.

And now?

Now there was no taking it back.

“I don’t—” Lance’s voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying again. “I don’t know what to do.”

Fernando’s hands tightened just slightly around his wrists. “You don’t have to do anything,” he repeated, voice calm, steady. “You don’t even have to say anything else.”

Lance clenched his jaw, staring at the floor. “That’s the problem,” he muttered.

Fernando raised an eyebrow. “What is?”

Lance squeezed his eyes shut. “I want to say something.”

Silence.

Then — softer this time — Fernando asked, “So why don’t you?”

Lance let out a short, breathless laugh—shaky, wrong, on the edge of breaking again. “Because it’s stupid.”

Fernando’s fingers twitched against his skin. “Lance.”

Lance shook his head quickly, trying to pull away. Fernando didn’t hold him there, didn’t stop him, but he didn’t let go either.

“Lance,” Fernando said again, quieter now.

Lance finally looked up, his vision blurred at the edges. “What?”

Fernando exhaled. “I need you to listen to me.”

Lance hesitated.

Then, slowly, he nodded.

Fernando studied him for a long moment, something careful in his expression, something softer than Lance had ever seen before.

Then he said, “I know this is impossible.”

Lance’s stomach twisted.

“I know what we are,” Fernando continued. “I know what I am.” His voice didn’t break, but there was something underneath it — something tired, something small. “And I know that at the end of the day, you’re going to leave this place, and I won’t.”

Lance’s throat ached.

Fernando inhaled slowly, his grip on Lance’s wrists light but unshakable. “But for as long as you’re here,” he murmured, “I am, too.”

Lance’s breath hitched.

Fernando’s voice was barely above a whisper now. “So tell me what you want.”

Lance’s whole body trembled. “I—”

Fernando waited.

Lance clenched his jaw, fighting the way his chest ached, the way his heart was screaming for something he couldn’t even name.

He wanted—

He wanted—

What?

What the fuck did he even want?

Fernando was dead.

There was no future. No way forward.

But Fernando was here.

And right now, Lance didn’t want to run anymore.

So he let out a shaky breath, finally meeting Fernando’s gaze.

And he whispered, raw and real — “I don’t know.”

Fernando’s lips twitched — not quite a smile, but something close. “Okay.”

Lance’s fingers curled into the fabric of Fernando’s jacket, his grip weak, but still there.

“…Okay?” Lance echoed.

Fernando nodded. “Yeah.”

Lance let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “You’re not gonna push?”

Fernando tilted his head. “Do you want me to push?”

Lance groaned, dropping his forehead against Fernando’s shoulder again. “I fucking hate you.”

Fernando laughed.

And this time, Lance laughed too.

Because maybe he didn’t have to figure it all out today.

Fernando was enough for now.

For the next three months.

The next day felt off, like his brain hadn’t fully caught up with what had just happened. He and Fernando had talked — actually talked — about what was happening between them, and Lance hadn’t spiraled into another breakdown or thrown up in a bathroom stall.

Progress.

Still, things felt different.

Fernando walked next to him like he always did, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, expression unreadable. But for the first time, Lance wasn’t pretending he wasn’t there.

He felt him. Saw him.

And he didn’t try to ignore it.

It was both relieving and terrifying.

“So,” Fernando drawled as they made their way toward the cafeteria, “you gonna keep pretending I don’t exist, or are we past that now?”

Lance groaned. “Shut up.”

Fernando smirked. “That’s not a no.”

Lance rolled his eyes, pushing open the cafeteria doors. “I don’t know what you want from me, man. You think I’m just gonna announce to Esteban that I spent half of yesterday clinging to a fucking ghost?”

Fernando’s smirk widened. “You were clinging.”

Lance scowled. “I was not—”

“Dude, who are you talking to?”

Lance froze.

Esteban stood by their usual table, brow furrowed, staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

Shit.

Lance cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. “Uh— no one.”

Fernando snickered. “Smooth.”

Lance resisted the urge to elbow him through the stomach. Instead, he plastered on a casual smirk and dropped into the seat across from Esteban.

Esteban squinted at him. “You good, man?”

“Yeah,” Lance said quickly. “Fine.”

Esteban didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it. He never did.

Lance exhaled, opening his lunch bag. For a second, it almost felt normal — like things hadn’t changed, like he wasn’t sitting next to the literal ghost of a guy he was kind of, maybe, definitely in love with.

Then Fernando propped his chin in his hand and stared directly at him.

Lance’s stomach flipped.

He kept his expression neutral, shoving a bite of food into his mouth, but Fernando knew.

Of course he fucking knew.

He smirked slightly, voice low enough that only Lance could hear. “Careful, amor,” he murmured. “You’re looking at me too much.”

Lance almost choked on his sandwich.

Fernando laughed.

Lance glared at him, cheeks burning, but Fernando just stretched lazily in his seat, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

Lance hated him.

Lance wanted him.

Lance had just managed to shake off the feeling of Fernando’s gaze burning into the side of his head when Esteban decided to make everything worse.

“So,” Esteban started, grinning like he knew exactly what he was doing, “Logan was asking about you again.”

Lance froze.

Across from him, Fernando went completely still.

Lance swallowed his bite of food a little too fast. “Logan?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

Esteban snorted. “Oh, don’t play dumb. You know Logan has a thing for you.”

Lance did know.

It wasn’t exactly a secret — Logan had been hovering for months now, coming up with excuses to talk to Lance, laughing too hard at his jokes, finding ways to sit next to him in class.

Lance just… hadn’t dealt with it.

Because how was he supposed to?

Logan was real. Logan was alive. Logan was the kind of guy Lance’s dad would actually approve of — clean-cut, smart, nice enough. The kind of guy Lance was supposed to like.

The kind of guy Lance could have a future with.

And yet Lance could feel Fernando beside him, radiating something sharp, something dangerous.

“Oh?” Fernando mused, voice deceptively light. “And what exactly did Logan say?”

Lance’s stomach dropped.

He kicked Fernando’s ankle under the table — not that it did anything.

Fernando just smirked, leaning back like he was enjoying himself.

Esteban, oblivious as ever, kept talking. “He was asking if you were seeing anyone,” he said. “Like, really asking. I think he’s gonna make a move.”

Lance’s brain short-circuited. “A— what?”

Esteban grinned. “Dude. You have to know he’s into you. Half the team has bets on when he’s gonna ask you out — the whole team is pretty convinced that you like guys anyway.”

Lance felt like he was going to die.

Fernando, on the other hand, looked way too entertained by this. “Wow,” he said, tilting his head. “Logan really likes you, huh?”

Lance shot him a murderous glare.

Fernando just smiled.

Esteban nodded. “Yeah, man. And honestly? You should give him a chance. Logan’s cool, and, like… when was the last time you even went on a date?”

Lance gripped his sandwich so tightly the bread nearly crumbled.

Because what the fuck was he supposed to say to that? Oh, sorry, Esteban, I actually haven’t been interested in Logan because I’ve been too busy having a full-blown existential crisis over the fact that I’m in love with a ghost.

Yeah. No.

So instead, he forced a smirk and said, “I don’t know, man. Logan’s not really my type.”

Fernando laughed.

Esteban frowned. “Why not?”

Lance hesitated. “I just—”

“He’s alive,” Fernando supplied helpfully.

Lance kicked him again.

Fernando grinned.

Esteban groaned. “Dude, you’re so picky.”

Lance exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not picky. I just—” He hesitated. “I don’t like Logan like that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Esteban said, waving him off. “I’m just saying, don’t be surprised if he finally asks you out.”

Lance groaned. “Kill me.”

Fernando smirked, voice low enough that only Lance could hear. “No need,” he murmured. “You already look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Lance hated him.

But when Fernando leaned in slightly, smirk still in place, eyes darker now, Lance realized something.

Fernando hated Logan more.

And somehow, that made Lance’s stomach

flip, now it was clear that Lance wasn’t the only one who was struggling with wanting something impossible.

Lance barely made it through the rest of lunch without completely losing his mind.

Fernando wouldn’t stop smirking.

Every time Lance looked in his direction, there it was — that obnoxious, knowing grin, paired with a look that screamed so, about Logan, huh?

Lance ignored him.

Or, at least, he tried to.

Esteban, still completely oblivious, kept going on and on about Logan Sargeant, something about how “this could be good for you” and “when was the last time you even liked someone, dude?”

Lance nearly choked on his drink.

Fernando just laughed.

Lunch couldn’t end fast enough.

By the time Lance made it to his next class, he was tense, distracted, and hyper-aware of the fact that Fernando was still following him.

Still watching him.

Still enjoying this way too much.

“You gonna say something?” Lance muttered under his breath as he slid into his seat.

Fernando plopped down in the chair next to him — his chair, the one that no one else ever sat in, the one that technically wasn’t real but might as well have been.

He grinned. “Nope.”

Lance groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

The teacher started the lesson, but Lance barely manged to absorb a word of it.

He kept thinking about what Esteban had said.

About Logan.

About how easy it should be.

Logan was real. Logan was normal. Logan wasn’t impossible.

And yet Lance glanced to the side, where Fernando was sitting with his chin propped in his hand, spinning a pen between his fingers. He looked bored, but Lance knew better.

He wasn’t bored.

He was waiting.

And that realization made Lance’s chest ache.

Because as much as he wanted to push this all down — wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening, wanted to pretend Logan was the right choice — It was Fernando who made his pulse race.

It was Fernando who he wanted to look at first when he walked into a room.

It was Fernando who made him feel like he was constantly on the edge of something dangerous, something real, something that could wreck him.

Lance clenched his jaw, staring hard at his notebook.

He had a feeling Fernando wasn’t going to let him ignore it — ignore their time running out — for much longer.

Lance made it through the rest of the school day without dying, which was honestly a miracle.

But the second he stepped out of the building, Fernando was right there.

Waiting for him.

Lance exhaled sharply, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You really have nothing better to do?”

Fernando grinned. “Nope.”

Lance rolled his eyes and started walking.

Fernando, of course, fell into step beside him.

They walked in silence for a while, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement.

Lance could feel Fernando watching him.

Finally, he sighed. “Just say whatever you want to say.”

Fernando smirked. “Logan, huh?”

Lance knew that was coming, but it still made his stomach flip.

He groaned. “Fer, please, not this again.”

Fernando laughed. “I’m just saying, novato— he likes you.”

Lance scowled. “Yeah? So?”

Fernando shrugged. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Lance hesitated.

Because that was the real question, wasn’t it?

What was he going to do?

If he was smart, he’d say yes. He’d let Logan take him out. He’d do the normal thing, the right thing.

But the thought of it made his chest feel tight.

Because Logan wasn’t who he wanted.

And Fernando fucking knew it.

Lance clenched his jaw. “I don’t know.”

Fernando hummed. “Interesting.”

Lance groaned. “Shut up.”

Fernando just grinned, bumping his shoulder as they walked. “I’m just saying, novato— maybe you should figure it out.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

But even as he said it, he knew this wasn’t going away. Even if Fernando was.

Lance collapsed onto his bed the second he got home, staring at the ceiling.

His brain wouldn’t shut up.

He wanted to stop thinking about it.

About Logan. About Fernando. About the fact that one of them was possible and the other one wasn’t.

But he couldn’t.

Because every time he closed his eyes, it wasn’t Logan he saw.

It was Fernando.

Smirking at him. Watching him. Waiting.

Lance groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he shifted against the mattress. He didn’t want to think about Fernando like this. Didn’t want to admit to himself how badly he wanted him, how much the older — was he older? had he aged at all in the last decade and a half? — man got under his skin in ways that no one else did.

But it was useless to fight it.

His body already knew.

Knew the way Fernando’s gaze lingered on him, dark and knowing. Knew how his voice, that low, teasing drawl, curled around Lance’s name like a promise. Knew how the faintest brush of their shoulders in the paddock sent heat licking down his spine.

Lance swallowed hard, his breath coming a little quicker now. He turned onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut, but the images behind his eyelids only became clearer — Fernando smirking at him, leaning in too close, the lingering scent of him filling Lance’s lungs. The way his hand would settle on Lance’s shoulder, fingers pressing just a little too hard, thumb brushing just a little too slow.

Lance exhaled sharply, his body tightening, warmth pooling low in his stomach. He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t.

But he did.

His hand slipped beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, fingers ghosting over his already hardening cock. A shiver ran through him at the touch, and he bit down on his lip, forcing himself to stay quiet even as his hips twitched into his own hand.

He imagined it wasn’t his hand at all. Imagined rougher fingers, surer movements, the kind that didn’t hesitate or fumble. The kind that knew exactly how to unravel him.

Fernando’s breath ghosted against his ear in his mind, teasing him, making him shiver. You’re pathetic, the voice murmured, half amusement, half something darker. Getting this worked up over me? You think I don’t notice?

Lance squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers tightening around himself as his hips jerked into his grip. His breath came in uneven pants, his body burning with need. He could almost feel the weight of Fernando behind him, pressing against his back, trapping him there, making him take it. Making him beg.

A choked sound escaped his throat as the fantasy deepened, the images sharper, more vivid. Fernando’s hands on his waist, pulling him back against him, rough stubble dragging over his neck. Teeth scraping, biting, marking. You want this so badly, don’t you?

Lance whimpered, his free hand fisting into the sheets, trying to ground himself, trying to slow down — but he couldn’t. Not when the thought of Fernando touching him like that, using him like that, made his whole body tremble with need.

He forced himself to drag it out, to savor it, his strokes slowing even as his body screamed for release. He wanted to make it last, wanted to stay in the illusion as long as he could, because the moment it ended, reality would come crashing back down on him.

His stomach tensed as he imagined Fernando’s voice again, low and taunting. Look at you, desperate for me. No one else can make you feel like this, can they?

Lance moaned, his body arching, his rhythm faltering as he edged himself closer and closer. The tension coiled so tight in his belly it was almost unbearable, every nerve on fire, every stroke sending him spiraling deeper into the fantasy.

Fernando would ruin him. Would tear him apart and put him back together, over and over again, until Lance didn’t know where he ended and Fernando began.

His entire body seized as the pleasure finally overwhelmed him, white-hot and all-consuming. He came with a sharp, shuddering gasp, his body jerking violently, his breath stuttering as wave after wave crashed through him.

For a long moment, Lance lay there, dazed and spent, his limbs heavy, his breath still coming in slow, uneven pants. His body was warm, languid, but the afterglow was already beginning to fade, replaced by that familiar, gnawing emptiness.

Because no matter how much he wanted it, no matter how much he imagined it, Fernando would never be his.

A sharp knock at the door shattered the silence, making Lance jolt. His stomach twisted.

“Lance,” his father’s voice came through, firm and expectant. “Why weren’t you at basketball practice today?”

Shit.

Lance scrambled to sit up, wiping a shaky hand over his face as he tried to will the heat from his cheeks. His pulse was still erratic, his body still tingling, and the last thing he needed right now was to deal with him.

“I— uh, I wasn’t feeling great,” he called back, hoping his voice didn’t betray him.

There was a beat of silence, then the doorknob rattled. “Open the door.”

Lance swallowed hard, hastily tugging his blanket over himself before forcing his legs to move. He stood on unsteady feet, heart hammering, and cracked the door open just enough to see Lawrence’s unimpressed expression.

His father’s gaze swept over him, sharp and assessing. “Not feeling great?”

Lance nodded, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Lawrence frowned, his mouth pressing into a thin line. ���You can’t afford to slack off, Lance. You need to stay sharp. You’re not going to get anywhere by skipping out on training. I'm sure you're still on edge from the accident but nothing came of it, you're fine so there's no excuse.”

Lance gritted his teeth. He was training — just not in the way his father wanted.

“I know,” he muttered. “Sorry, Dad. It won’t happen again.”

Lawrence studied him for a long moment, then gave a curt nod. “Good.” He turned to leave, pausing only briefly. “Get some rest.”

Lance shut the door before he could say anything else, exhaling sharply. He dragged a hand through his hair, staring at the floor.

The ache in his chest hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had only gotten worse.

[tobiasdrake]

Still thinking about Brave New World. I should note that the film had five writers and extensive reshoots after test screenings. It even changed titles at one point during the re-re-rewriting process, originally being Captain America: New World Order. So that explains why there is some jankiness where things it sets up suddenly go nowhere or certain things seem... oddly handled.

Ross is the biggest victim of this, sometimes feeling like he's flipping back and forth between different creative intents for his character from scene to scene.

That being said, I've seen some criticism that the film repeats TFATWS's problem of having Sam take a position of obnoxious centrism, and I don't think that's true. I think Sam takes a very clear and unambiguous position.

It's just that it's not necessarily about what the fandom might be more interested in talking about. Here we go with spoilers.

Sam doesn't engage much with the adamantium treaty in the film. He does briefly engage with it. He takes the position that going to war with Japan over resources would be bad and Ross should not do that.

But Ross is positioned as being in the right about the treaty from the start. He wants to enact a global agreement between nations to share adamantium with the world rather than any one country hoarding it to themselves. It's a startlingly progressive position both for Ross and for the United States, and makes up the bulk of the film's attempts to make us sympathize with what is otherwise a complete fucking monster of a human being.

Sam, for his part, only really engages with the treaty insofar as trying to hold Ross to what few principles the man has and keep him from being provoked into ruining it.

But Sam Wilson's deal in this movie isn't about international treaties for natural resource allocation.

Sam's deal is about a criminal justice system that is disinterested in justice. It weirdly dances around the topic of race; Isaiah Bradley and also four white guys, it's not about race, there were four white guys too gets arrested for a crime he didn't commit and then the four white guys are immediately killed by the villain so we don't have to ever talk about them again. Uh. Okay.

No reason is ever given why they didn't kill Isaiah too. It's like those guys were literally just there to downplay the optics of a black man being arrested and scapegoated for a crime he didn't commit. Arrested, I should note, by a white authority figure who then tells Sam he's not good enough to wear Steve Rogers's mantle and calls him "son".

You can feel one creative intent trying to talk about a thing and another creative intent going "Oh no but this isn't actually THAT. We don't need to talk about THAT, right?" But we kinda do because that is what the movie's about, for Sam.

That is the unambiguous position that Sam takes. From the moment a bunch of cops surround Isaiah with guns drawn and it's really tense because we know just how bad this can go, that is the political space that Sam occupies.

This man has been arrested for a crime he didn't commit, and even when the truth comes to light, the government is going to let him be put to death for it because it's more politically convenient than the truth. That is what the film wants to talk about. You can even see the throughline between what is being done to Bradley and what was done to Sterns.

Sam tries one time to talk to Ross and say, "Hey man, let's actually investigate this thing properly and find the truth." And when Ross responds by throwing a racist tantrum and telling him to go fuck himself, Sam responds in kind and breaks into government facilities to find out what they're going to kill Isaiah to keep hidden.

Sam takes a very clear position. Isaiah is innocent and Sam's getting him out of there whether the government likes it or not. He is determined to expose the truth and hold power accountable.

It's just that it gets lost in the five-scripts-frenzy of Ross's many conflicting interpretations. Ross's racist tirade? Never comes up again. In fact, at one point, one of the writers has Sam stand there and sympathize with him, saying in a moment of pathos that he knows what it's like to be prejudged by people.

Which is a wild position to write into your script. Like. Yeah, being a black man in America, that's the same as people hating you for the many awful crimes you've committed in your rise to political power. Weird thing to have a character say in an awkward bid for sympathy towards Ross's misguided redemption arc.

But Isaiah's innocence? That the government is about to do something abominable to him, and Sam needs to get him out of there no matter what it takes? The film never wavers on that point.

The movie is basically Captain America: Civil War if the fandom got what they wanted and the Accords were presented front and center above the Bucky story.

[the-stove-is-divorced]

You understand <3 I swear they keep blurring in my mind completely, I’ll confuse which thread I’ve even responded to lol.

Cecil being pissed the fuck off he DID have Mark on a leash and then loses it immediately (relatively) it’s so funny. Like wow you really get a taste of what you wanted SO bad and lost it because of your OWN actions. Reallyy feeling the bite of not having the Guardians around, huh? Still wish it was handled more clearly and coherently. Like, characters do point out Cecil is insane for planting a bomb in a kid’s head, bur I also wish there was, again, a visual parallel to the fact in Mark’s eyes the Obey Me or Die, is what NOLAN did to Mark, or to his understanding. Like do this thing you don’t agree with whatsoever or I’ll kill you. The story clearly has the Mark = Nolan parallel going (and no Debbie parallel which I am so normal and not angry about, not like she raised him or anything), but I am truly begging for them both to have it. Even if it’s only in their respective understanding, or bias. PLEASE. I BEG. At least to emphasize how quickly Mark escalates the situation, equating Cecil and Nolan, if his morality isn’t sound and sturdy enough to build up to this neatly?

ALSO SPEAK ON IT, Cecil casually commits to breaking and entering CONSISTENTLY. Don’t matter if you’re at college, at home, etc, if he wants to see you, he’s GOING to see you, privacy be damned. And yeah, it’s never RLLY acknowledged as insane?? Just, like, annoying? Like he isn’t showing up at the door, twiddling his thumbs to be let in. He KNOWS where you are 24/7 AND demands your immediate attention by showing up right in front of you. Literally whenever he wants. Why wouldn’t Mark do the same honestly???

ALSO YEAH? Nolan and Debbie makes sense for the date thing, Mark and Eve DONT? Like again, I’m fundamentally confused why Mark, who is supposed to be an emotional guilt magnet, who SHOULD be still blaming himself for what his father has done to him in SOME capacity, decides NOT helping is a priority. Who are you??? Shouldn’t you still be guilty about how many people died while Nolan was trying to get on the colonizer mindset in s1? Nolan tried that shit AGAIN in s2. He got you take home his affair baby??? All of sudden it doesn’t work? Where bro’s guilt go??? We don’t get a moment that suggests he’s wary because of, again, his Dad, either but him just saying no!

I get the purpose, sure, Mark is now warier about being given some random vague task, I understand this a moment of progression for him, even if it’s a darker decision. He’s literally wearing a darker color, but I wanna see more???? Idk conflict??? A progression of him dealing with his guilt, hesitating, before refusing. Have him look nervous or uncertain after. Is this the right thing? Are they lying to him too? What if it’s Nolan again somehow?

That dynamic being iso different than the comics is making me cackle because if we have a more connected relationship, even with hostility and suspicion, why not?? Do more then? Like we’re on first name basis, Debbie hates his ass, but also “can’t believe” Cecil would lie to her son…? Huh. How does that work? Shouldn’t she be annoyed Mark talks to him at all? Pull a “I told you so?”.

Honestly, Amazon question is one I hadn’t considered, but the rings of power budget will never not irritate me. The amount of shows not given the time, advertising, etc it deserved because some bigwig wants it to fail, to cut budgets, to cancel it, erase it from existence will never not make me PISSED. But seriously, Amazon makes how much and what’s given to allow this show to thrive??? This show is limping. Being disappointed in the animation is a common MEME??? Calling it the slideshow ass show!! Which is mean, but also come on now. Can we have a cool, animated fight scene please? I will plead.

Also Cecil being a control freak and that’s why he keeps bringing Donald back makes TOO much sense at this point. Bro won’t betray you and Cecil is clearly not letting him go. That’s a loyal dog right there.

AND YEAH. Invincible kinda falls flat on what it does try to present, and I feel it’s partially how wildly diff s1 and latter seasons feel? Even when it wasn’t done well, there was a focus more on “wow isn’t this fucked up” that gets dropped to focus on other plot points without really thinking how to articulate all of it properly? So, the point that was being made is on the cutting room floor, and the new point is even SHAKIER. Invincible has a very strict moral compass, but has no idea what those morals are. I would love to see when they figure out what they are, because shows. Like, I don’t even know where Mark’s lines are drawn and he’s our protagonist, and it doesn’t feel like a well articulated ambiguity or hypocrisy as much as an incidental one? And yet, I will watch without hesitation. I love this show. I also can't stand it. I wanna break out a board and red string of every moment it refused to live up to potential. It's living rent free in my head.

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[the-woman-upstairs]

Really fucked up that, when they’re young, Patrick and Art are SO tactile with each other, so comfortable sharing the same space. Art lets Patrick touch him and move him and physically overwhelm him and easily acquiesces to it, if not outright enjoys it.

Then in the present, they’ve been so far out of each other’s orbit for so long, held such animosity that when they have their moment alone in the sauna, Art physically recoils from Patrick’s close proximity! It’s so painful to watch because even as Patrick’s goading him, it’s so obvious he wants to be able to get back into Art’s space. But Art has erected all these walls around himself, he refuses to give Patrick an inch or even admit to missing how close they used to be!

AND THEN we see Art and Tashi later and he wants her to hold him, to be gentle with him, and just TOUCH him. Like, he does miss that kind of close physical contact! He either doesn’t know how to ask for it or is uncomfortable being that openly vulnerable. Worth noting that he pretty much always defers to Tashi in regard to initiating physical intimacy (with their first kiss, though he does state his desire, SHE has to be the one to make the first move). And it seems pretty obvious that Tashi herself isn’t comfortable providing that intimacy, whereas Patrick actively seeks to provide it (the hug/forehead kiss after their win together in the early years, dragging the stool closer to him).

Art has tried very hard to act like he doesn’t need physical affection and even though his discipline and devotion to Tashi has made him a stronger tennis player, it’s made him a hollow person, which, in turn, has kept him from becoming a GREAT tennis player.

All of this, of course, is why the ending hits so damn hard.

[sidesteppostinghours]

I need to stop finishing fics when i have to sleep. but anway. heres 1.3k words of f!chentega, plus a bit of unnamed sidestep for funsies.

Chen is cutting Ortega's hair.

They've both settled into her living room, a bottle of beer set on the table. She's buzzed, not drunk, just enough alcohol in her system to get the words flowing easier. Chen, ever responsible, hasn't touched a drop. He focuses on cutting and brushing, mechanical hands careful not to get the comb tangled in her wavy hair. Julia, meanwhile, is talking, but about what, she couldn't tell you. Half of her thoughts are elsewhere, eyes closed as she lets Chen work.

Cutting Ortega's hair has become their own little ritual. Every few months or so, whenever her hair became long enough to bother her, she would call Wei over to cut it down to length. Sometimes she returns the favour, though that mostly entails grabbing a razor and shaving until it was completely cropped. Not like this, where skills actually mattered to make the results look good.

It was suggested to her, uncharacteristically, by Chen. About a year or so after she first cut her hair, she was lamenting to him about how she missed having short hair. She was just talking– she didn't expect him to take it seriously, but about ten minutes into her rant he had looked up from where he was typing on his computer and asked, "Do you want me to cut it?"

She had given him a look. "You can do that?"

He shrugged. "I know some styles. I can make it look decent, at least."

"Are you sure?" she'd asked, still skeptical. Not that she wouldn't be grateful, but-

"You don't have to deal with the stylists anymore," he pointed out, and that had been that. She found out later on that he learned how to cut hair from his siblings. He would mostly do it on his brothers, though sometimes his sisters too, when the money was tight or his family didn't feel like heading to the stylist.

It's nice, sitting here and talking to him like nothing else matters. A moment of reprieve to catch their breath in the pressure bomb that is their lives. Julia cracks a joke, and Chen huffs in amusement, though he doesn't stop cutting. She takes another pull from her bottle.

Maybe one day she'll ask the questions she's been meaning to. They still haven't talked about whatever this is. Neither Chen nor Ortega are good with their words, and there isn't much that isn't already said by the pocket moments they spend watching eachother navigate the world. The look in other people's eyes when somebody calls Wei "he". The way the stylists purse their lips whenever Julia walks into the studio. The understanding was unspoken but mutual, though Ortega could never place what. Chen might be able to, but until she decides to ask, she wouldn't know.

She will. Someday. Just not today, sitting in front of her TV, talking about God-knows-what and content to let him work till he finally steps away.

"Finished."

She opens her eyes, not bothering to look at herself in the mirror though its propped up on the table next to the beer. They've done this enough times already that she knows it will look good. Instead, she watches as Chen puts everything away, combs, clippers, the works. She nabs the scissors from the table, spinning it on her finger. When he goes to grab them and finds nothing, he looks up and sighs, the corner of his lip twitching at her antics.

"Julia, you're going to stab someone's eye out."

"Hey, I can dodge scissors," she insists, looking at him innocently. "Can you, Marshal?"

His face is caught halfway between exasparated and unimpressed. She chuckles and acquiesces, handing the scissors for him to pack into his bag.

It's not often nowadays that Julia gets to spend time with Wei outside of the Rangers. He was always busy as the Marshal dealing with the mess she left behind, and when she wasn't busy at the HQ or fighting villains, she was twelve balls of yarn deep into her own investigations. The quiet moments were rare enough that it feels precious to watch him like this, walls down, for once without the furrow in his brow as he worked. It makes him look softer.

It makes him look handsome.

"Hey, Wei?"

He turns to face her, still holding the scissors. "Yes?"

Julia could be completely wrong about everything, of course. He could recoil the minute she cups his face, or push her away as she pulls him in. He could, but he doesn't, and his lips are warm when they meet hers. His breath tastes better than she thought. She doesn't know why she would think otherwise– Julia was the one drinking beer the whole time. She traces her thumb over one of the scars on his cheek, rough yet soft, and a part of her wonders what it would be like to run her tongue over it.

It's a beat or two before anything happens, long enough that she worries she really did misjudge. Then, ever so slowly, Chen settles a hand on her face, careful, almost afraid. Not even touching the hair he spent the past thirty minutes working on. His hand moves from her cheek down to her chin, gently tilting her head upwards to make it easier from where he's standing. Julia wraps a hand around his neck and brings him down lower, and he obliges like putty. No trace of the hard edges she'd come to see as his staple, just a tenderness she never remembers seeing in him before.

It's harder to break the kiss than she would like. Wei doesn't resist. He's still holding the scissors. She half expected him to have dropped it, but instead he's gripping them tight enough that she wonders if they'll break.

"Julia?" Brittle. Out of breath. Still looking at her lips at first, but then his eyes flit to the side of her face, and with a breath that's not quite a huff, he tucks a stray strand of hair she hadn't even noticed behind her ear.

"Thank you," she whispers, barely loud enough to be heard in the silence of her apartment. For being her friend. For being the only goddamn woman left in Los Diablos that really got her. For caring enough to keep her hair out of her face.

She says none of this. She just turns back around, not looking to see Chen's face as she takes another pull from her bottle.

———

"I think Chen has a crush on you." 

"Oh." She stops, looking at you with an expression you can't quite interpret. "You do." The words are careful, hesitant. It's not a question, but it's not not one either. 

"I do," you say, frowning at her reaction. It's not the explosive confusion you were expecting, more a quiet "oh, shit" moment as the ball drops. She hasn't even raised her voice yet. "I'm pretty sure he has for a while." 

"Did he...tell you that?" 

"Not in so many words, but he has his tells." 

"He does," she mutters, running a hand through her hair. There's a sigh punctuated by a string of quiet curses. 

"Did you already know?" you ask, narrowing your eyes at her. She didn't react the way you thought she would. Did she pick up on it? Has she just been ignoring it the entire time? 

"In a way," she admits, looking away to the coffee machine like she wants to make herself another cup. 

"Why haven't you done anything about it?" Knowing Ortega, she should've ambushed Chen the moment she suspected that was the case. 

"It's complicated." She shakes her head, dispelling whatever thundercloud was brewing behind her static shielded mind, then turns back to you with a smile. "Don't worry, I'll talk to him. In the meantime, you can tell me why you're here?" 

You can't help but frown. She's taking this too well for something to not be going on, but from the look in her eyes, you're not getting any answers right now. 

You'll find the time to pry one of them about it. Later. It's not a secret those two can keep away from you forever.

[equalperson]

I fucking hate being traumatized because why am I bawling the hardest I've bawled in god-knows-how-long because someone I didn't even like that much berated Me. gasping wailing trembling and snotting over this for several minutes.

[tariah23]

Noooo…… first it’s Yuuta and Shoko, now they’re yo-yoing back around to Megumi.

[quietwingsinthesky]

eagle vision isnt enough i need those assassins to grow wings

[phagodyke]

was really brave and had my first dental appt in like 5-6 years this morning I only started crying 4 times while trying to do bitewings and then they had to give up on them as usual lmfao

[orcelito]

ok i am actually so very angry and there's literally nothing i can do to fix it. life keeps going on. she might even be happy. and fuck dude, i'll make sure im happy too, i was a fully developed person before she was in my life and i'll continue to be one without her. but God Damn, the fact that she can just do something so blatantly awful and unfair to me and then run off without any actual repercussions is just so fucking rankling to me.

like perhaps she feels guilty. she said she did when it was all going down. but it was just something she "needed to do". so obviously she didn't feel guilty enough or she wouldnt have done it like that lmaoooo

i really did deserve to have a good solid yell at her. but unfortunately, by the time i did see her in person i just wanted her out of my fucking life. so. no yelling was done, unfortunately.

[izzy-b-hands]

im ngl i had a lil breakdown before my shower (which i took just before i went to bed to chill and watch the new eps) abt some thought-id-already-worked-all-thru-it irl stuff that resurfaced on me like trauma tends to and i just

it made everything in the show so. I don't know how to say it right. but i feel seen and understood and emotionally overwhelmed in a safe yet weird way, just like i did with a lot of s1 and I am Feeling So Much akdnfkgb (i cannot stress enough that this is a Good Thing and I'm absolutely thrilled and happy with the new eps and like. Going to be fine mentally I just gotta wrangle this like i have the times before.)

[fairy-angel222]

𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

He’s so cocky at first, smirking when you bottom down on his length. “Think you can handle it baby? Take your time if you need to kay? I know it might be too much f’ you.” He chuckles.

You raise a brow in amusement. “Oh i can handle it baby, can you?” Was what you’d first said. And that question hadn’t changed since.

His lips parted in breathy groans and heavy breathing as his hands find your waist. Lips red and swollen from biting them as his eyes looked up at you almost pleadingly. “F-fuck baby.. you’re— shit, going so f-fast. Wanna slow d-down hmm?”

You smile widely, back arching as you lean down to kiss his jaw softly. Giving a false hum in thought. “Mmm.. you can take it.” He lets out the most cry like moan, head falling back into his pillow as his hips jerk upwards. Body trembling lightly when his eyes met yours.

“Shit— please baby. You d-don’t know how fucking- haah.. how fucking tight she’s grippin’ me right now.” He was referring to the way your snug walls stroked up and down his length with every harsh bounce of your hips. “I’m gonna— o-oh fuck, gonna cum again.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the crack in his voice. Your head tilted to the side as you coo teasingly. “Yeah? Gonna be a good boy n cum f’ me baby?”

He chuckles shakily, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as his cock twitches inside you. “God i fucking love you— ahh, even when you’re milking my cock like you hate m-me.” His senses were heightened, ears picking up the every squelch on your sopping pussy and his cock feeling every ridge of your gummy walls.

He lost it when you began rolling your hips sensually. Your thighs sticking to his at the mere amount of slick that joined you two. Your wetness and his cum seeping between your folds and down his girth, turning your skilled movements sloppy as you rut your hips.

You brought a hand to his face, using your nail to brush his hair off of his sweaty forehead. “C’ mon.. let it all out.” You smiled sweetly, eyes holding a dark glint when his eyes turn teary. Small beads of water pooling at his lids before he’s crying out your name.

Overly sensitive cock aching as he spills yet another load into you. Pumping the thick white substance till you’re pumped full. The rest of the substance spurting back onto him at the lack of space.

You let out a moan, “Wow baby- there’s so much. Might.. might just be your biggest load yet.” You were getting tired, but you’d never let him know that. You swear you hear him whimper when you capture his lips with yours slowly beginning to rock your hips again.

“Shit— don’t think- d-don’t think i can give you any more baby. Feels like my cock’s gonna f-fall off.” He panted, trying to keep himself together when he felt you jerking him off with your smug walls again. A small tremble raking through his body each time your ass landed back down.

His hand left your waist to cover his reddening face. Unable to hide the cherry shade of his ears and neck as he whimpered yet again. Choking out a string of moans with tears staining his cheeks when you shush him gently, “‘S only one more baby, give me one more.”

You were the only one with the ability to truly break Satoru if you tried.