#still not as coherent as I wanted but it's as directly from the heart as it gets

[inkblackorchid]

Me going absolutely insane about Aki

I wanted to make this a nice, coherent post, screenshots and everything, because I feel like it deserves the effort, but in the end, my thoughts completely ran away from me and I guess now I'll just have to inflict whatever stream-of-consciousness mess I can come up with onto people now.

So remember how I talked about the first duel between Aki and Yusei and how it does so much and drives me absolutely insane? Well, that turned into many more thoughts and now I'm basically obsessed with the way Aki and her relationship to pain and destruction are defined at the start through the first third of the show. So I wanna talk about that. Also, warning: LONG post incoming.

We're introduced to this girl who destroys things with her unusual powers and for all we know at that point, she does it on purpose. Yusei doesn't know she can't control these powers at first, we as the audience don't know she can't control these powers at first, hell, Aki herself doesn't know that there's a way for her to learn to control these powers at first. She thinks she has one, she thinks Divine is teaching her, he even goes as far as saying "Only I can stop the rage nesting inside you" (which we're meant to understand as synonymous with her powers because that's how Aki understands it). But the thing is, with hindsight, we know he's lying through his teeth—he's not trying to teach her to control anything. In fact, he wants her to be as destructive as possible. We see this in the way he grows displeased when there's a "shift" in Aki's emotions after Yusei confronts her in the Fortune Cup, causing her powers to weaken because he can't maintain the "vengeful energy" which he links to the strength of her powers.

And I think there's one important thing to take away from that: Aki doesn't want her powers to be destructive. She's trusting Divine to "stop the rage nesting inside her"—she wants the destruction to stop and hopes he can show her how to accomplish that.

However.

At the same time, in the early episodes of Aki's debut, we're also shown that she acts at best indifferent, and at worst delighted at the destruction she causes. She mocks Gil Randsbourg's knightly antics and steals his monster with glee, she beats down the duel profiler to the point of requiring the on-site paramedics, and nowhere is it more explicit than during her first duel with Yusei, where he tells her to her face that she enjoys the destruction she causes while she keeps hurting him. And the thing is, he's not wrong—but he's not entirely right, either.

Rejected by her parents, ostracised by her classmates, and feared by street duellists as the Black Rose witch, Aki feels as isolated, lonely, and wronged as she possibly can, of course. Moreover, Divine gleefully feeds right back into that, what with his whole "only I can help you, only I can accept you, society sees us psychic duellists as threats"-shtick. Because he doesn't actually want to help her, to improve her mental health, or teach her to accept herself. He wants her to stay angry and vengeful because he needs that wrath to feed her powers. That aside—it's not like Aki is wrong to feel that way, honestly. Her parents have wronged her, her classmates have pushed her away, society has failed her. Her anger is justified; the problem is that it's deeply self-destructive, in the long run, which we see precisely in that enjoyment of destruction. She's tearing up her environment, she's hurting people, and she's trying to find petty satisfaction, even joy in it because these people deserve it, they hurt her first, they're the reason she's this angry and alone and hopeless.

But this is where it gets really interesting for me. Because Aki enjoys the destruction... but she also doesn't. For one, we see her express doubts when Divine speaks to her right before the match against Kinomiya/the duel profiler/Commander Koda. They meet in one of the stadium's corridors and Aki is holding the Black Rose Witch mask (which is another thing I need to talk about), and we get this exchange:

That doesn't sound like the response of someone gleefully revelling in the pain she causes, does it? But this goes even deeper, which we see during her duel against Yusei in the Fortune Cup.

So I already said that Yusei's neither completely right nor wrong to say Aki enjoys destruction, but what I wanna look at now is Aki's reaction to him saying it. Her immediate, emotional, no-front, no-pretences reaction.

I guess you could argue that this is her trying to say the socially acceptable thing before she later changes her tune, but you know what? I think it isn't. I think this is actually the truth. Aki tells Yusei to quit the nonsense because what he's saying isn't true, and she doesn't want it to be true.

However, as I mentioned, she does change her tune, later, when Yusei keeps insisting.

She does a complete one-eighty and admits that frightening and hurting people as the Black Rose Witch is fun. And bear with me here, but—I don't think this is a lie, either. Remember, Aki feels no small amount of very justified anger towards all the people who hurt her and pushed her away. So she does enjoy the fear and pain she's causing, to an extent, but at the same time, this isn't who she wants to be (which Yusei correctly identifies when he questions whether Aki herself really takes as much pleasure in causing pain as she pretends to, because this guy is actually better at quickly getting a measure of people's character than the show sometimes gives him credit for, I feel).

So how do these two things, both wanting to cause pain because Aki herself is in pain, and being afraid of hurting others, coexist, then? The key is the Black Rose Witch—and now I get to talk about the mask.

First, we get some interesting insight about the mask by Divine. In the same conversation where Aki expresses concern about hurting people again, Divine takes the mask from her hands and tells her that "she'd part with it once she realises her pride and mission":

More on the "pride and mission" thing a little later, because first, I feel the need to point out something: Aki repeatedly looks distressed when the mask is in reach but she's not allowed to wear it. Why?

Because of this. The Black Rose Witch is not Aki herself, the Black Rose Witch is something Aki created to handle the guilt of constantly hurting others with her powers. The Black Rose Witch is essentially a maladaptive coping mechanism to seperate the part that enjoys hurting others from herself, to pretend it's someone else. And Divine wants her to get rid of this part, because of course he does. He doesn't want Aki to be separate from her impulses for destruction, he wants her to embrace them and revel in them, mask or no mask. Speaking of which, remember her "pride and mission"? With everything we learn about Divine during the show, I don't think it'd be a stretch to say that the "pride and mission" he refers to here is precisely this. He wants her to be proud of her destruction, to accept it as her mission to be an obedient little destroyer for him.

But you know what really gets me?

She can't. She can't do it. She can't let go of the Black Rose Witch, she can't become that person full of hatred and a desire to destroy everything that Divine wants her to be. Because she doesn't want to be. It's the whole reason why the Black Rose Witch exists! Because no matter her anger, no matter how much the world has rejected her, fundamentally, Aki doesn't want to be a person who hurts others and who is indifferent to their pain! And this is brought up repeatedly, during the Fortune Cup and after.

Not to speak of the way she reacts to Misty telling her that she supposedly killed Toby for the first time!

That's not the expression of someone who couldn't care less about the destruction they cause! She even goes as far as insisting there were no young boys at the duel field where Toby was found, hinting at the fact that she was paying attention to that, that she made sure that no matter what destruction she might cause otherwise, no children would be harmed!

Aki has such a deep-seated, repressed desire for kindness and human connection that it pains me to watch her. And it's yet another reason why she clings to Divine like a lifeline, because she thinks he's genuinely the only person in the entire world who's willing to offer her that.

And you know what's extremely ironic? The moment Divine is suddenly ripped away from Aki (and good riddance), he almost gets what he wants.

In that one, anguished, recently traumatised moment, faced with the two people who started her whole cycle of rejection and self-hatred, Aki is completely ready to become the monster everyone called her and that Divine wanted after all. It only took taking everything she thought she had left away from her.

And what finally snaps her out of it?

Granted, Yusei has already laid some groundwork towards changing her mind here (and we love him for it), but here, where not one, but two people are completely ready to face up to her terrifying powers, approach her, and accept her anyway, while ADMITTING that they can't help her/are afraid of her/failed her (and I am convinced that this gesture means even more precisely because Yusei and Aki's dad both aren't psychics), she reaches out and...

Upon having her pain acknowledged, upon seeing that people are willing to reach out to her and offer her that kindness and human connection she's been craving for an eternity after all, even though her powers are still there and could still hurt them, she can finally let go of the impulse to hurt the people who have hurt her for long enough to control her powers by herself and choose not to hurt one of the two people she arguably has the most reason to be angry at. And I know some people hate that she forgave her dad because he didn't deserve it—and I get it. I do. Hideo Izayoi has so much to make up for, it's unlikely he'll ever accomplish it in his lifetime. But he tries, and the much more important thing is that Aki accepts that he's willing to try. Because, and I can't stress this enough, this is about her. It's not about her father, and it's not about Yusei. It's about her. All Yusei does in both duels with her is drop some insights at her feet and extend his hand halfway—hell, he even admits he can't save her! But Aki can, and she chooses to. She chooses to accept her father's apology and try being with her family again, she chooses to accept Yusei's friendship and help save the world (because he specifically requests her help, to boot), and she chooses to let go of her anger and her hatred. Because it's what she wants, and it's who she is, beneath the facade of the Black Rose Witch. And even though I can 100% understand people who think she should have ditched her parents, I think Aki's whole progression up to this point is a beautiful representation of forgiveness—because in the end, that forgiveness is not for her father. It's for her. It's so she can start healing from all the hurt inside herself, and I think she deserves that.

I honestly don't remember whether I originally had another point I wanted to get to, but yeah. In conclusion, season one and two Aki is a fantastically written character and I love her to death.

[shotmrmiller]

You'd look better as mine.

Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

wc: 1.5k

tw: virginity loss, description of pain, unprotected p in v, explicit smut, the works. cbf!johnny!!

for the soap it up challenge, @glitterypirateduck

"I wouldn't know." Johnny, who was lying at the foot of your bed, whipped his head towards you so fast, you heard his neck pop.

"What?"

Turning your attention back to the television, you reiterated. "I said I would not know, Johnny."

There was a pause, and then he quietly asked, "Would ye like tae ken?"

You gave him a teasing laugh. "Why? You gonna have that big buddy of yours with the skull mask teach me what it's like to—" But before you could finish your sentence, you let out a high-pitched squeal.

"Did you just bite my leg?" You glared at Johnny, but his expression was solemn. "No." He slowly crawled over to you and placed one jean-clad thigh in between yours. "I'm offerin' tae teach ye what it's like tae have sex, lass. Dinnae be obtuse."

"Oh?" you timidly questioned. "You doing it as a favor for your old friend?"

Johnny's eyes softened, and he lowered his head to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I'd be doing it because I want ye tae be mine."

You slowly move your hands to cradle his face and whisper against his lips. "And what about you, Johnny?" and the tender smile he gave you was the answer you were looking for.

"I'm already yers."

Releasing a shaky breath, you softly say, "Okay." You gaze into his eyes— the light from the television makes his limpid blue eyes shimmer. "Make me yours, Johnny."

The moment you finish saying the words, he's kissing you, tongue curling into your mouth. He tastes of mint, and something so utterly him, you can't help but let out a moan.

Johnny quickly pulls away and turns his head towards your open bedroom door. Unmoving, he stares at it for a few, and when he feels satisfied that no one's coming, he looks back at you with a cheeky grin.

"Ye have tae be a wee quieter, bonnie. Dinnae want anyone interruptin' us."

You nod your head impatiently and bring him back down for another toe-curling kiss. This time, he shifts, aligning his hips between your spread thighs, and grinds his clothed erection directly into the focal point of your desire— the sensation of it sending an electric current through your entire body.

Breaking away from the kiss, Johnny's lips find their way to your neck, where he playfully nips at your skin. "I'll take care of ye, I promise, hen."

He brought you to your peak with just his mouth three times. Three spine-arching, jaw-clenching times. You hadn't even come the first time, and you'd been getting so loud that he had to remove his belt and make you bite down on it.

Johnny moves from between your legs, rests his weight on his hands, places them by your head, and gestures for you to open your mouth. With a comical pop, your teeth detach from his belt, leaving him to inspect the bite marks with his thumb.

"Now when I deploy, I'll always hae ye with me."

Your body is twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasm, heart pounding in your chest and you can't manage to think coherently, much less speak so, and he's cracking jokes. Incredible.

Johnny throws his belt somewhere over his shoulder and starts to pull his jeans down, just enough to take his cock out comfortably, and still be able to re-dress himself quickly if you both are interrupted.

He widens your thighs, and your skin prickles in anticipation of what's to come. You muster the courage to look at what you're going to be taking inside of you and are immediately taken aback.

"You're- that-," You pause to clear your throat. "I hate to be cliché, but you're actually going to split me in half. You're massive."

Johnny gives you a shit-eating grin, and smugly says, "Why, thank ye, bonnie, I didnae-" You cut him off with a swipe of your hand.

"I'm intimidated by your size, Johnny." That promptly sobers him up, and he lowers himself to nudge your nose in apology.

"I'll be as gentle as I can be, aye?" You can feel heat spreading through your body as his warm length, hard as steel, touches your inner thigh. His adam's apple bobs as he swallows, before pumping himself once, pre-cum glistening on his flared head. Johnny pumps himself again and with a trembling exhale, he lines himself up with your slit. He's prepped you beautifully, you're thoroughly soaked from his ministration, and he's agonizingly slow as he sinks into your pussy.

He lets out a sibilant hiss through his teeth, jaw rippling from how hard he's clenching it, and then there's resistance, and it hurts.

"I need ye to relax for me, hen," but you don't hear him, the ringing in your ears is too loud, and your head is focused solely on the prickling sting in between your legs. Tears blur your vision, and maybe one or two spilled because Johnny's immediately cooing at you as he caresses your face.

"I ken it hurts, I ken. Just a little more, and it'll all be over." He lowers his hand to circle your clit under the pad of his thumb and pushes past the resistance with a grunt, and goes in deep, and deeper until his balls are flush against your arse, and you feel him in your throat.

Your torn walls burn a little, you're stretched to the limit, stuffed to the brim. You can vaguely hear Johnny moaning out a 'fuuuuck', but all you can feel is his intrusion. His thumb hasn't stopped its movement on your bud, and as your channel squeezes around Johnny like a vice, you begin to feel pleasure again.

Johnny has the patience of a saint because even though his breath comes out in unsteady pants, his hips stay pressed against yours, completely still.

"Thaaaat's it," he whispers, "Yer mine, now. All mine."

His hand makes quick work of you, reigniting the fire in your belly, and as the coil starts to tighten, your body does too.

"My bonnie lass, did so good for me. Ye feel like heaven, so snug around me. Like a silken fist gripping my cock," and then he tugs on your hair a bit. "Look at me. Look at me as ye come around me."

A wave of intense lust flows through your veins as you lock eyes with him, and your breathing quickens, body begins to tremble as you reach your peak. The filthy words he's showering you with, along with his fingers rubbing small, tight circles on your clit has you so close— and then he begins to thrust.

You choke back a wail as you come, your heart soaring as you finally let go. Your head is filled with white noise, your vision is spotted with black dots from the intensity of your climax. Johnny slurs out a string of curses as he continues to rock his hips, the drag of his thick cock drawing out your bliss.

He stops when he feels your body go limp under him, your limbs like syrup.

"How was that, hen?" and you croak out, "Y-yeah."

Johnny chuckles at your response, and asks, "That good, aye? Oh, but ye've seen nothin' yet."

Lifting your legs, he hooks them over his sinewy shoulders, and states, "Brace." he orders. Your hands immediately scramble for purchase around his biceps and then begins to fuck you.

Your breath is punched out of you with each thrust, and you can do nothing other than take what he's giving you, and he gives it to you so good. Your pain is a part of the past, just like your virginity, and you feel nothing but mind-numbing ecstasy.

He's going so deep at this angle, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix, and then his thrusts start turning sloppy, and heavier. He feels bigger inside of you, harder, and then he stills— grinding down into you with a drawn-out moan. You can feel him twitching as he spills inside of you, coating the entrance of your womb with his thick, viscous essence.

Johnny drops his weight onto you, uncaring that you're now wheezing, and when his sweaty forehead touches your cheek as he nuzzles your neck, feelings that you've long suppressed bubble to the surface.

"I love you."

He shoots his head up so fast it clips the side of your jaw causing you to let out a pained groan. Just as you're about to scold him, he interjects, demanding, "Say it again."

With a playful grin, you gently rub your face, completely unfazed by the intensity of his stare.

"I love you, you big goof," and start to feebly push him off of you. "Big, heavy goof, now get off! My lungs are about to collapse."

bonus: your mom won't stop staring at the back of your head because you refuse to look her in the eye as you wince to sit down while Johnny's beaming a smile that could outshine the sun at your dad as he gives Johnny the 'you treat my daughter right' talk.

bonus 2.0: Johnny takes your bloodied bedsheet with him. It's his now, he'll buy you another. No, he doesn't care that it's your favorite and you could've just washed it.

[loki-cees-all]

Keeping Score {TVA!Loki x Female Reader One-Shot}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : TVA!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : You’re stressed, you’re exhausted, you’re sick and tired of absolutely everything right now. Loki decides that the best way to distract you from all of that is to make you count how many times he makes you come. 

W/c : 2.2k words

Content / Warnings : Soft Dom!Loki, established relationship, smut, fingering. 

Author's Note : Welp. Since I’ve been just a massive ball of stress and nerves lately, I thought I’d write something about Loki’s lap to help calm me down. (Spoilers: It just made me riled up in a very different way. Oops!) Enjoy! <3

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

“How many times is that now, darling?” 

Loki’s question sounded like it came from dozens of miles away even though he’d murmured it directly against the shell of your ear. His words sloshed in your head as it lolled back against his broad shoulder, and your shaky breath caught in your throat. Sweat coated your brow, your heart thundered in your chest. Your muscles clenched uncontrollably, and your toes felt like they’d been curled into a permanent and formally unnatural position. Your thighs, spread wide and dangling over each armrest of his tufted wingback chair, trembled and shook helplessly. 

Behind you, Loki’s presence was even, firm, solid. You could feel the steady thrum of his heart against your back, his restrained breath ghosting against your neck in a constant rhythm. Despite the cool aura he normally projected, you knew he was just as excited as you were - from the way his thighs tensed underneath yours, to how his rock-hard cock throbbed against your bare ass from underneath his trousers. His voice was low and hoarse, but still measured, still somewhat under his control - but he was absolutely loving this little game. 

“Well, pet? Are you going to answer me or not?” 

A soft little moan was all you could manage to respond with. You desperately wanted to answer, but right now, you simply lacked the brainpower to give a coherent one. Divine and relentless pleasure still radiated up and down your spine with each featherlight stroke of his fingers against your soaked cunt; he hadn’t stopped touching you since the last one, and you felt like you were liquefying in his lap; maintaining a solid form in the presence of all this ecstasy was just too much effort. 

And that was exactly what you had asked for tonight, wasn’t it? 

Specifically, what you had said was that you didn’t want to be capable of thinking for a while. You wanted to be so very drunk and dumb, from both lust and pleasure, to be so thoroughly touched and explored that the stress of TVA case files and incident reports and the perpetual lies over your very own existence were nothing more than a distant memory. 

Due dates, timelines, the anxieties of life itself, and the horrors of the massive problems the TVA currently faced - you wanted it all to mean nothing to you anymore. Just for a moment, you wanted a tiny flicker of peace inside this wretched little cosmos, and your lover was the only one who could give that to you. 

Loki, of course, had then turned that request into a delightful little game: how many times could he make you come before you simply lost count of them all? 

After your quick and enthusiastic agreement to this evening’s activity, you soon found yourself seated comfortably in the God of Mischief’s lap. His nimble fingers had removed your clothing in a flash, leaving you bare and exposed while he remained in his normal TVA uniform - just the way you liked it. You absolutely loved being naked while he remained clothed; for some strange reason, it reminded you that no matter the problem, that no matter how dire the circumstances seemed, Loki still had everything under control - and that made your lack of it so very comforting. 

Once you were ready, he’d started off by cupping your breasts while he kissed your neck. Both thumbs brushed delicately against your quickly stiffening nipples, and you’d squirmed in his lap while your cunt clenched around nothing. Instinctively, you’d moved to squeeze your thighs together and give yourself some kind of pressure to roll against, but Loki had instantaneously put a stop to that. His large hand had gripped the inside of your thigh and separated it from the other, and you could feel his hungry eyes devouring the sight of your rapidly dripping sex from over your shoulder. 

From there, his other hand snaked its way down, over your ribs and down past your belly to graze your clit. He’d moved slowly, taking his time to thoroughly tease and stimulate the area, caressing gently back and forth with just the barest hint of pressure. On the next pass through, he pressed a little bit harder, collecting your ever-growing arousal and spreading it around with his fingertips. He’d let out a groan of appreciation, so deep and so feral, that it had made you come for the first time tonight. 

It wasn’t a big orgasm, but it was enough to stretch and loosen the muscles of your body, leaving you relaxed, comfortably warm and somewhat limp in his lap; a nice little warm-up climax, Loki had always called it. With a devilish grin, he’d calmed and soothed your mind until it passed, whispering sweet nothings and reassurances while you’d trembled. And once it was over, he’d repeat the process again, upping the ante with each cycle, pressing a little bit harder and moving a little bit faster, cranking the intensity of each subsequent climax higher and higher. 

He’d alternate increasing the speed of his fingers, their angle, and then their depth. The filth he’d whisper as he drew each orgasm out would become even dirtier, and the praise he’d murmured afterwards would somehow be way more celestial and glorious than it had any right to be. The ambrosian tones in his voice rolled in waves, from rough to demulcent, shifting in sync with the euphoric fireworks all bursting simultaneously inside your spine, and then simmering patiently together before the next spark set them off again. 

“Come on, love. Don’t tell me the game is over already…” As his lips grazed the cartilage of you ear, you let out a dazed whimper. The hand gripping your thigh slid up to your throat, and his fingers extended to tilt your chin towards him. He knew full well that the game wasn’t over yet, because your safe word was still tucked securely in its bed - and there was no way you were going to utter it now. 

The blurred angles of your beautiful God danced within your heady vision. Your eyelids fluttered open and closed, trying to will his features to become fixed again so you could admire him fully. Eventually his lopsided brow slowly came into view, arched perfectly over his deep green and wandering eyes. A roguish glint had etched itself deep inside his irises, and his lips were curled in a esurient but disciplined manner. He was gorgeous and stoic, sensual and vivacious, and he could easily do this all night if you had wanted him to. 

A heavy breath tumbled from your parted lips, and your answer was both murmured and dreamy. “No…no, it’s not over yet…”

“That’s good. That’s very good…” Loki hummed his approval, softly dragging his knuckles along your cheek. “But I’m still going to need a number, darling…how many times have you come undone on my fingers tonight?” 

He punctuated his question with a slight increase of pressure against your clit, and you shuddered in response. The backs of your thighs pulled against the leathered armrests of his chair as you shifted in his lap, and your fingers clenched tighter around the straps of his sword holster. Your hips writhed uncontrollably with the circular motions of his fingers, and you moaned out something incoherent, hoping that would suffice for the time being. 

“Such a silly little girl…” Loki teased with a chuckle. His fingers shifted tempo, adding speed along with the increased pressure. “We both know that was nonsense…” 

“Jesus Christ, I - ” Your gasp was cut off by another moan, and your lower half arched itself off from his lap to roll harder against his touch. Another orgasm was building quickly, and you craved it like the sea needed the sky. 

“Close, but that’s not quite my name, nor what I asked for…” Loki tsked. His words oozed elegance and charm, in direct contrast to the image of you spread wide in his chair, your slickened and swollen cunt still begging for even more stimulation somehow. 

“Oh, fuck - Loki!” you moaned as he changed tactics and slipped two fingers inside you. This time your eyes shot open to watch as he buried them, and then slowly drew them out. Arousal coated the digits, sparkling in the dim candlelight of your private quarters, and then he was calmly pushing them back in again. You clenched hard around his fingers and felt yourself growing even more impossibly wet as they curled and effortlessly reached all the right places to make the next orgasm that much more powerful. 

“Answer me, girl,” he groaned, becoming more breathless himself as you became more excited. He pressed his lips against your ear and buried his nose against your scalp. “Give me the number…”

“Six! Five! Seventeen!” you cried out, not caring if any of them were the right answer. Your heartbeat was out of control, your lungs were heaving for oxygen as gasoline filled your veins. Every bit of you was tightened, clenched, stiff and sticky. His fingers were relentless, pushing you to your absolute limits, and you wanted to exist in this blissful state for the rest of your life. 

“Oh, you’re such a dirty, filthy girl. You love this, don’t you?” He slipped another finger inside you. Three of them now stroked you from the inside, over and over again, while his thumb continued massaging your clit on the outside. “You love coming, you love being a mess, you love being so lecherous, don’t you?” 

Your eyes rolled back into your head as his other hand curled around your throat again. The words TVA no longer had any meaning to you. You forgot your own name, you forgot his name. There was nothing left inside your brain, and the pleasure was so intense that you couldn’t even remember why you’d wanted this in the first place. “Once! Twice! 87 times!” 

Loki laughed, and suddenly withdrew his fingers to delicately caress your clit with them instead. “Come now, pet. We both know those aren’t the right answers…” 

The lack of pressure was jarring, and your eyes widened in shock. You let out the most pathetic of whimpers, slamming your hand on top of his in a desperate plea for his previous pace to resume, but it was pointless. He wouldn’t acquiesce. 

“What if I don’t let you come again until you answer correctly, hmm? Would you like that?”

You whimpered again, squirming and shifting to get the pressure back. You turned, nuzzling your face against his without caring about how pathetic you looked. “Please? Please let me come again?” 

Loki groaned, and pulled you back down to sitting. Your full weight was back on his legs and hips, and his cock was somehow even harder than it had even been before. “Fine. I’ll give you a hint, love…Not once, not twice, not three times…” 

His breath was heady and hot against your lips. He was dying to make you come again, just as much as you were ready to explode. That was what separated him from everyone else, and just one of the things that had made you forever devoted to this God of Chaos. 

“Four…” you whispered correctly. “Four times…” 

As soon as the last syllable was uttered, Loki was crushing his lips against yours. His fingers slipped back inside you, and he kissed and fucked you until your fifth orgasm reached its precipice. A bolt of lightning shot up your spine, burning and convulsing every muscle you had as you came again, harder than any other time before. 

In your mind, the seas parted and the clouds disappeared. An aurora unleashed itself between the tendrils of your nerves, and your entire body thrashed in sheer and utter pleasure. Loki held you firm as you spasmed in his lap, wrapping one arm around your waist as his fingers pumped for a few more moments, then slowly withdrew to caress you so very gently in a soothing motion. 

You shivered and melted, moaning and whimpering against his lips as they moved to your cheek and then down to your neck. His heart thundered against your back, and his breath was as shaky as yours while you tried to recover. Your thighs were still shaking uncontrollably when he gently guided them off the armrests and pushed them closed. 

“I love you…” you murmured dizzily as he turned you to nestle back against his chest. He was so strong and comfortable and protective like this, and he smelled like stardust and the deepest, greenest forest. 

Could you actually remember what forests smelled like, or were you just dreaming that you could? It didn’t matter; they were all the same thing, after all. 

“I love you too…” Loki answered softly. His lips brushed against your temple, and his secure arms wrapped tightly around you. 

Loki - that was his name. That was the only thing in your head now. Deadlines and existential dread were nothing more than faint nightmares, long since forgotten. A thing of the past, a thing you’d just made up one night when your imagination got away from you. 

Loki was now the only thing that mattered, the only thing worth focusing on. And that was basically what you had asked for, wasn’t it?

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Click here to be added to my Loki fic tag list! 💚

[shomatoriashi]

7/29/24 09:21pm

sung jinwoo x fem.reader

[ drabble ]

{ lucky i’m in love with my best friend | lucky to have been where i have been | lucky to be coming home again… }

you were utterly fascinated with the young man who lay next to you, lost in a blissful slumber as you admired his sleeping features. your fingertips ached with the urge to touch him, feeling them reach out to gently grace at his jawline in an almost reverent manner.

sung jinwoo had always been such an anomaly to you; you hadn’t the slightest clue as to how such a powerful, yet kind, man could have ever fallen in love with you.

you, who had loved him from the start-

(back when he was labeled as the weakest in the world.)

you, who had always believed that he had the potential to be so much more.

it was true that the love you gave to jinwoo was nothing short of unconditional. you loved him when he never once loved himself, always filling your days with self-deprecating rants as he sought comfort in your embrace.

even when fate had changed his life (for better or for worse, you couldn’t say for sure) when he was made stronger by becoming a player of the system, jinwoo never once left your side. regardless of how much he leveled up, jinwoo still relied on your love and care, always wanting you to help heal him while thanking you by littering your face with sweet kisses.

your heart swelled with love for him, unable to believe just how lucky you were to remain by his side. deep down, you knew that jinwoo could have chosen another to love; how he could have been with someone more suited for him while leaving you in the dust-

but that never once happened. by some miracle, jinwoo’s feelings for you never once changed, remaining just as strong as the day he first confessed his feelings for you all those years ago.

watching him sleeping so peacefully, (with his handsome features remaining oh so tranquil as he was lost in the land of dreams), you could feel your affections overflowing for him. a mischievous grin paints your expression, and you found yourself becoming a bit more playful tonight.

with a gentle hum, you lay across jinwoo’s broad chest, watching as a frown paints his features. giggling profusely, you lean up to press a series of butterfly kisses all across his face, earning a soft grunt from him.

“sarang…” jinwoo’s voice was hoarse, filled with a feign annoyance from being woken up so suddenly. he opens one eye to look at you, stormy grey meeting with your playful gaze as you simply smiled innocently at him.

“my precious monarch.” you continue to litter his face with kisses, earning a light chuckle from him as he wraps his arms around your waist, calling you a troublemaker before pressing a lingering kiss against your lips.

to say you melted against him would be an understatement, for upon feeling the sensation of his lips perfectly slotting against yours, you lost all coherent thought. jinwoo playfully bites down against your bottom lip before sucking at it in an apologetic manner, making you let out a soft moan in response.

“that’s what you get for waking me up.” his voice turns stern, but held no malice as he allows you to cuddle closer to him. you end up burying your head within his chest with a sigh, pressing your ear directly over his heart as you basked in its gentle beats.

“sleep, my love. then i’ll take you to somewhere nice when morning comes.” jinwoo promises you all while massaging at your scalp, purposely threading his fingers through your hair as you let out content purrs in response.

eager at the thought of spending more time with him, you let out one last giggle before basking in his warmth, feeling your eyelids grow heavier as you finally fell into a peaceful slumber while in his embrace ♡

end notes: new blog, new me, who’s this? lol but honestly, my original blog just made me feel overwhelmed for some odd reason, and i wanted to do something new. my original blog won’t be deleted, but all my new writings will be here from now on (⺣◡⺣)♡ thanks for joining me once more if you’re an avid reader of my works!

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝕿𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 | 2

read chapter 1 - here [MASTERLIST]

screencaps and gifs: Pinterest

Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, BLOOD, Auctioning people, talks of BDSM, talks of virginity, talks of... Sex..aftercare..limits..NDA..discomfort...virginity..masturbation..anxity, Dom and Sub dynamics, underage drinking (20), food, kissing, making out, Joel starts to get a little obsessive or toxic THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Summary: A mysterious message and a weekend away with the man who just bought you for a VERY large amount of money. What could go wrong?

WC: 5.9K

A/n: Thank you for all the love in the first part. My question for you all is, what do you want to see happen next? Any theories? Or expectations?

For notifications follow - @sinful-mind-joyful-fics

You stood up, smoothed out your dress, and took a deep breath. As you stepped towards the stage, the curtain drew back slightly, giving you a tantalizing glimpse of the auction room. The ambient lighting cast a soft glow, illuminating the expectant faces of the bidders, their anticipation palpable in the air.

Stepping into the spotlight, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. The auctioneer's voice echoed in the room, commanding attention as he announced, "And now, presenting number 3, starting bid at $500."

The initial bid was quickly followed by a murmur of excitement. "$600," someone called out confidently. You scanned the crowd, noticing the bidder: a sharply dressed woman with an air of authority. 

"$700," another voice chimed in, this time from a man in a sleek, black suit, his demeanor cool and composed. The numbers climbed higher, each bid like a jolt to your already racing heart. 

"One thousand," a younger man with a mischievous glint in his eye offered, leaning forward in his seat.

The bids continued to rise, the energy in the room intensifying with each new number. "Five thousand," declared a distinguished older gentleman, his silver hair gleaming under the lights. 

As the auctioneer teased the crowd, "Ten thousand, do I hear ten thousand?" you felt a wave of nausea. Your heart was pounding, and your stomach was in knots. The bids climbed higher and higher, the room a blur of faces and voices.

"Twenty thousand," someone else from the crowd stood up. "Thirty thousand, do I hear thirty thousand?"

You felt sick as the numbers continued to go up. Your heart was in your throat, and you felt dizzy and lightheaded. "Fifty thousand," the auctioneer's voice teased the crowd, sending another ripple of excitement through the room.

"Seventy thousand," a man in an extravagant velvet suit called out, his voice dripping with arrogance. 

As you tried to stay coherent, the numbers continued to climb. "One hundred thousand," someone else bid, and your anxiety spiked. 

"One hundred and twenty thousand," the auctioneer prodded. 

A tall man from the back corner suddenly stood up, his voice cutting through the chatter, "Nine hundred thousand." Your stomach flipped upside down. The man exuded an air of confidence and power, his presence dominating the room. His gaze was intense, filled with hunger and determination, and he seemed to linger on you.

Just as the bidding war was getting more intense, another man jumped up, his voice commanding attention. "One million dollars." He looked directly at the first man, his eyes full of challenge.

The crowd began to stir, eager to see what would happen next. "One-point-seven million," the first man replied, his voice steady and confident, his gaze still locked on you.

"Two million," the second man countered, raising an eyebrow, his voice calm but firm.

Suddenly, the room fell silent, everyone holding their breath. The auctioneer looked around, gauging the tension. Then, the first man spoke again, his voice clear and decisive, "Three million."

The second man's eyes widened in surprise, realizing he had been outbid. He shook his head in defeat, stepping back into the shadows. The crowd erupted in applause.

As the auctioneer declared, "Three million is the winning bid, going once... going twice... sold!" a sense of relief washed over you. But then, you heard the voice again, familiar and unsettling. It was Joel. 

Faith hurried to your side, her expression a mix of concern and urgency. "You should be careful around Joel," she whispered. "He's intense and not someone to take lightly."

Joel walked up to the stage, his presence as commanding as ever. He extended a hand towards you, his eyes softening slightly as they met yours. You took his hand, and he helped you down from the stage with a surprising gentleness. His grip was firm, yet reassuring, and you found yourself leaning into his strength as he guided you through the crowd.

He guided you towards a table nestled in the quieter corner of the room, where a man awaited, already rising to his feet with a welcoming smile. "Hi there, I'm Tommy," he greeted, extending his hand in a gesture of hospitality. His demeanor exuded a relaxed charm, a stark contrast to Joel's intensity, and his eyes radiated a genuine warmth.

"Hi," you replied, your voice a bit shaky as you took his hand. Joel pulled out a chair for you, and you sat down, feeling a mix of nerves and curiosity. Joel then settled into the chair beside you, his arm draping casually over the back of your seat. You could feel the heat of his presence, both comforting and intimidating at the same time.

The room buzzed with conversation and laughter, but at your table, an awkward silence stretched out. You fiddled with the edge of your dress, Faith's warnings echoing in your mind. Joel's intense gaze didn't waver, and you struggled to find your voice.

"So, uh, do you come to these things often?" you finally asked, trying to break the ice.

Joel's lips twitched into a slight smile. "Not really," he replied. "But when I do, I make sure it's worth it."

You swallowed hard, his words hanging heavily in the air. Tommy, sensing the tension, leaned in slightly. "Don't mind Joel," he said with a chuckle. "He's always been the strong, silent type. I'm here to make sure he doesn't scare you off."

You managed a nervous laugh. "Well, he's definitely... intimidating."

Joel's expression softened a bit more. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I just... I knew I had to have you."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Despite the fear and uncertainty swirling inside you, there was something undeniably captivating about him. "Thank you," you said softly, unsure of what else to say.

Tommy cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood. "So, what do you like to do for fun?" he asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

You glanced at him, grateful for the distraction. "I like reading, mostly. And I used to paint a lot before school got so hectic."

Joel's interest seemed piqued. "What do you paint?"

"Landscapes, mostly," you said, finding it easier to talk about your passion. "I love capturing the way light changes everything."

Joel nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "I'd like to see your work sometime."

Before you could respond, the auctioneer's voice boomed through the room once more. "And now, presenting number 14, starting bid at $500."

You tensed, recognizing Faith's number. Joel's hand tightened slightly on the back of your chair as both you and Tommy turned your attention towards the stage. Faith walked out with confidence, her eyes scanning the crowd with a boldness that made you proud and anxious at the same time.

Tommy leaned closer to you, his voice low. "That's your friend, right? Faith?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of pride and worry. "Yeah, that's her."

Tommy's gaze lingered on Faith for a moment, then he glanced at Joel. "Didn't you buy her once?"

Joel’s expression darkened slightly. "Only once," he confirmed, his tone cold. "She knows how to put on a show. Knows how to please the crowd."

Tommy smirked, his eyes fixed on Faith with a calculating glint. "Think she’s worth another go?"

Joel’s eyes followed Faith's every move, his jaw set in a hard line. "Maybe. She’s got her uses."

You felt a wave of discomfort wash over you at their callous remarks about Faith. She was your best friend, not just a commodity to be traded. The casual way they spoke about her, reducing her to mere utility, made your skin crawl. You tried to mask your unease, but it lingered in your expression.

The bidding for Faith started off slow but quickly gained momentum. You could see the determination in her eyes, matching the rising excitement in the room.

"One thousand," someone called out, followed by another bid of "Two thousand."

Tommy seemed to be considering his options. He glanced at you, then back at the stage. "She's a hot ticket. Could be a good investment."

Joel watched the scene unfold, his gaze never leaving Faith. "She can handle it. She’s been through worse."

The bids continued to climb, and you could see Faith holding her ground, her composure never wavering. Suddenly, Joel’s voice broke through the din. "Thirty thousand," he called out, his tone calm but firm.

You stared at him in surprise, and Tommy chuckled. "Looks like Joel’s interested."

Joel met your gaze, his expression unreadable. "Just making sure she has a fair shot," he said, but there was a protective edge in his voice.

"Thirty-five thousand!" someone else shouted, and you could see the tension in Joel's face.

"Forty thousand," Joel countered, his tone unwavering.

Tommy's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Fifty thousand," he said, raising the stakes.

Joel's jaw tightened, but he didn't back down. "Sixty thousand."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the competition. "Seventy thousand."

The auctioneer's voice cut through the room. "Seventy thousand, going once, going twice—"

"Eighty thousand," Joel declared, his gaze locking onto Faith.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ninety thousand."

Joel's expression darkened, and you could feel the tension between the two brothers. "One hundred thousand," Joel said, his voice low and dangerous.

The auctioneer's hammer hovered in the air. "One hundred thousand, going once, going twice—"

"One hundred and fifty thousand," Tommy interrupted, his tone smug.

The room fell silent, and Joel's eyes burned with a mix of frustration and resignation. The auctioneer's hammer came down. "Sold! Number 14 for one hundred and fifty thousand!"

Tommy looked satisfied as he watched Faith being led off the stage. "She's going to be quite the addition," he said, a hint of anticipation in his voice.

Joel's hand tightened on your shoulder, his expression hard. "Just make sure you know what you're doing."

Tommy laughed softly. "Oh, I do. Trust me."

As the room settled back into its buzz of conversation and anticipation, a club worker approached your table, carrying a folder. "Mr. Miller, here are the details for number 3," she said, handing it to Joel.

He took the folder, his fingers brushing against yours for a moment. "Looks like we have some reading to do," he said with a small smile, opening the folder and beginning to review its contents. You tried to focus on the conversation with Tommy, but you couldn’t help but feel the weight of Joel's attention on you, mingled with the echoes of Faith’s words in your mind.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, watching Faith being led away. "She’ll make someone very happy tonight."

Joel snorted. "She’s got a reputation for it. Knows how to work the room."

Tommy glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. "Think your friend will be okay?"

You nodded, trying to muster confidence. "Faith is strong. She knows what she’s doing."

Joel's hand slid from the back of your chair to your shoulder, squeezing gently. "Don’t worry. She’ll adapt. They always do." His words were meant to be reassuring, but they sent a chill down your spine.

Tommy smirked. "Well, let's see how long she lasts this time."

As the conversation continued between Joel, Tommy, and yourself, a club worker approached your table, carrying a folder. "Mr. Miller, here are the details for number 3," she said, handing it to Joel.

He accepted the folder, his fingers briefly brushing yours. "Looks like we have some reading to do," he remarked, opening the folder to review its contents. You couldn’t help but wonder what secrets lay within, and why Joel seemed so focused on them.

Meanwhile, Tommy excused himself from the table, his eyes still fixed on Faith as he made his way over to her. You watched him go, a sense of unease settling in your stomach at the thought of Faith being in his hands.

Turning back to Joel, you couldn't help but ask, "Why did you bid on her?"

Joel glanced up from the folder, his expression guarded. "She's an interesting choice," he replied cryptically, his tone giving nothing away.

"But why her?" you pressed, needing more than just a vague answer.

Joel hesitated, his gaze distant for a moment before returning to meet yours. "Let's just say she's caught my attention before," he replied evasively.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. Whatever Joel had planned, it was clear that Faith was at the center of it. But as you watched Tommy approach her, you couldn't shake the feeling that she was walking into a dangerous game, with no way out.

Joel seemed to sense your unease, and he leaned back in his chair, studying you thoughtfully. "You seem nervous," he observed, his voice low.

You forced a smile, trying to appear unaffected. "Just a little overwhelmed," you admitted, the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

Joel nodded in understanding, though there was something unreadable in his gaze. "It's a lot to take in," he agreed, reaching for his glass and taking a long sip.

As he set the glass back down, he glanced at the folder in his hand. "Well, it was nice meeting you," he said casually, though there was an undercurrent of dismissal in his tone.

You watched in silence as he stood up, the folder tucked under his arm. "Take care," he added, before turning to leave.

A wave of relief washed over you as he walked away, though it was tinged with a sense of apprehension. 

As Joel got up to leave, you couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity mingled with a tinge of anxiety. "Wait," you called out before you could stop yourself, your voice betraying your uncertainty.

He paused, turning back to look at you with a raised eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Yes?" he prompted, his tone tinged with a hint of impatience.

You hesitated, unsure of what you wanted to say. "How... how am I supposed to get home?" you finally blurted out, realizing that you hadn't thought that far ahead.

Joel's lips curved into a sardonic smile. "That's not my concern," he replied cryptically, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd.

You watched him go, a sense of unease settling in the pit of your stomach. With Joel gone, you suddenly felt very alone.

You sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension as you glanced down at your phone. The lobby furniture wasn't very comfortable, but you preferred it to the makeout sessions and almost porn-worthy sounds emanating from the ballroom where the auction had ended. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the low murmur of intimate conversations, creating a strange juxtaposition of luxury and lewdness.

A message flashed on the screen from a number you didn't recognize, adding to the unsettling atmosphere of the night. "Did you get home safe?" it read, the concern evident in the sender's words.

"I'm nowhere close to home," you replied, your response tinged with hesitation. Who could be reaching out to you at this hour, and why?

Almost immediately, another message popped up. "Need a ride?" it asked, accompanied by a link to a ride-sharing app. Your instincts urged caution, but the uncomfortable ambiance of the dimly lit lobby made you consider the offer more seriously.

"Who is this?" you typed, fingers hovering over the send button. You needed to know more before trusting a stranger.

"If you take the ride, I'll pay for it. And I'll call you to tell you who I am," came the prompt reply, offering a small glimmer of reassurance amidst the uncertainty.

You put your phone down to think about how reckless accepting the offer might be, then considered the cost. The Uber from campus to the venue had already been $50, split between you and Faith. Did you really want to spend more money? No.

"Fine," you sent the message quickly, trying to commit before you could second-guess yourself.

Twenty minutes later, one of the workers caught your attention. "There's a cab for you, miss." You smiled at him and made your way outside, where a sleek black SUV was waiting. This was definitely more than the $50 you and Faith had split for the ride here, you thought as you opened the car door.

You got comfortable in your seat and messaged Faith that you were leaving for the night before your phone rang just as the car got onto campus.

"Hello?" you answered, your voice tinged with curiosity.

"Hey, sweets," came the familiar southern drawl. It was Joel.

"Joel?!" You stopped in your tracks, a mix of surprise and apprehension in your voice. "How the hell did you get my number?"

He chuckled softly. "It was all in your file, remember?"

You wanted to bang your head against a wall. He was right. "Did you get home safe?" he asked, his tone genuinely concerned.

You sighed. “I'm walking there now.”

His tone changed as he continued, “Walking? I got you a cab?”

You smiled at his concern. “Relax, I'm walking to my dorm.”

“Are you close?” he asked.

You clicked the button to the elevator. “Yeah, just about to head up. So, why did you bid on me?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you as you stepped into the elevator.

Joel's voice was thoughtful. “You caught my eye. There was something about you that stood out.”

“Stood out how?” you pressed, leaning against the elevator wall.

“Hard to explain,” he replied. “But I felt like I needed to know more about you.”

You smiled, feeling a strange mix of flattery and suspicion. “Well, now you know I like to paint landscapes.”

Joel laughed softly. “Yeah, and I'd still like to see your work sometime.”

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped out into the hallway. “Maybe someday,” you said, walking towards your dorm room.

“So, tell me more about yourself,” Joel said, his voice steady and inviting.

You hesitated for a moment. “I’m a student, obviously. Trying to make ends meet with a couple of part-time jobs. I like reading, painting, and trying to keep my head above water with school.”

Joel listened intently. “Sounds like you have a lot on your plate.”

“Yeah, but it keeps me busy,” you replied, unlocking your dorm room door and stepping inside.

“What about you?” you asked, closing the door behind you.

Joel sighed. "Not much to tell. My brother and I run a high-earning contracting business. It keeps us pretty busy, moving around a lot."

You sat on your bed, kicking off your shoes. "Sounds exciting. What kind of contracting?"

"Construction, mostly. Big projects, high stakes," he replied. "We take on jobs that require precision and a lot of planning. It's demanding but rewarding."

You leaned back against your pillows, trying to relax after the chaotic night. "It must be nice to see something you've built come together."

"Yeah, it is," Joel agreed, his tone softening slightly. "There's a satisfaction in creating something lasting."

There was a pause, a moment of comfortable silence, before Joel cleared his throat. "I need to talk to you about something."

You tensed, sensing the seriousness in his voice. "What is it?"

"Some things came up in your file," Joel began, choosing his words carefully. "Things I think we should discuss."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "Like what?"

Joel hesitated before speaking again. "It mentions you're a virgin."

Your breath caught in your throat, the bluntness of his words hitting hard. "Why does that matter?"

"It’s part of the agreement we entered into," he said, his voice steady but firm. "I want to talk about what that means for both of us."

You sat up, heart pounding. "I don't understand."

"I'd like you to come over to my place for the weekend," Joel continued. "We can go over the contract, and I can answer any questions you have. It's important that we’re both on the same page."

The suggestion hung heavily in the air, the implications clear. You felt a mix of fear, curiosity, and something else you couldn’t quite identify. "This is all very sudden," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I know," Joel replied gently. "But it’s important. I want to make sure you’re comfortable with everything. That you understand what's expected."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "And if I come over... what happens then?"

"We talk," Joel said simply. "We figure out what this means for us. And we take it from there."

The weight of the decision pressed down on you. The night had already been overwhelming, and now this. But there was a part of you that was intrigued, that wanted to know more about this enigmatic man and what he wanted from you.

"Okay," you said finally. "I’ll come over this weekend."

"Good," Joel replied, a note of relief in his voice. "I'll pick you up on Friday evening."

Thursday night, your phone buzzed with a message from Joel. You opened it, heart pounding, eager to see what he had to say.

"Hey, I wanted to give you some more details for this weekend. I'll pick you up at 6 PM tomorrow evening."

You read the message, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Another message followed.

"Pack enough clothes for a couple of days. Casual is fine, but bring something nicer for dinner. And anything else you might need to feel comfortable."

You typed out a quick response, your fingers trembling slightly. "Got it. Anything else I should bring?"

A few moments later, Joel's reply came through. "Just yourself. And an open mind."

You set your phone down, the weight of the upcoming weekend settling in. You began to mentally prepare yourself, thinking through what to pack and what to expect.

The next day passed in a blur of nervous energy. You spent most of the afternoon packing a small suitcase, carefully selecting clothes that fit Joel's description. Casual wear, a nicer dress for dinner, and a few personal items that you hoped would make you feel at ease.

As the clock approached 6 PM, you found yourself pacing your dorm room, second-guessing your decisions. Your phone buzzed again, breaking the cycle of your anxious thoughts.

"I'm here," read Joel's message.

You took a deep breath, grabbed your suitcase, and headed outside. The evening air was cool against your skin as you spotted Joel's black Ford F-150 parked near the entrance. He stepped out as you approached, his presence as commanding as ever.

"Ready?" he asked, his eyes meeting yours with a steady gaze.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you replied, trying to muster a smile.

He took your suitcase and placed it in the bed of the truck, then opened the passenger door for you. You slipped inside

As Joel started the truck and drove away from campus, you stole glances at him, trying to read his expression. The silence between you was thick with unspoken questions and possibilities.

"Do you have any questions before we get there?" Joel asked, breaking the silence.

You thought for a moment, then decided to voice your concerns. "What exactly are we going to discuss?"

Joel's eyes flicked over to you briefly before returning to the road. "We'll go over the details of our arrangement, make sure you understand everything. And I want to make sure you're comfortable with the terms."

You nodded, feeling slightly more at ease with his straightforwardness. "And... what happens if I'm not?"

"Then we figure it out together," Joel said firmly. "This is about making sure we're both on the same page."

The city lights gradually gave way to the serene, picturesque landscape of the countryside. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the rolling hills and tranquil lakes, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

Eventually, Joel turned onto a narrow, winding road that led to a secluded lakeside property. The house that came into view was stunning, a perfect blend of rustic charm and modern elegance. Nestled among tall trees and overlooking a pristine lake, it felt like a world away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

Joel parked the truck and helped you with your suitcase, guiding you to the front door. As you stepped inside, the warmth and comfort of the house enveloped you. Hardwood floors, large windows, and tasteful decor created an inviting atmosphere.

"Welcome to my home," Joel said, his voice carrying a note of pride. "Let me give you a tour."

He led you through the spacious living room, with its cozy fireplace and plush furniture. The kitchen was a chef's dream, equipped with state-of-the-art appliances and a large island. Joel showed you the dining area, which offered a breathtaking view of the lake through floor-to-ceiling windows.

"We'll have dinner here later," he said, pausing to let you take in the view. "It's one of my favorite spots in the house."

You continued the tour, passing a home office, a library filled with books, and a den with a large flat-screen TV. Finally, Joel led you upstairs to the guest room where you would be staying. The room was beautifully decorated, with a comfortable bed, a sitting area, and an en-suite bathroom.

"Make yourself at home," Joel said, setting your suitcase down. "Dinner is at 8 PM. Please put on something nice; I want to discuss our contract in a more professional way."

You nodded, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. "Thank you, Joel."

He gave you a reassuring smile. "Take your time to settle in. I'll see you downstairs."

After he left, you took a moment to unpack and freshen up. You chose a dress that you hoped struck the right balance between elegance and professionalism. As you prepared for dinner, your mind raced with questions about what Joel would say and what the future might hold.

At precisely 8 PM, you made your way downstairs. The dining table was set with care, and Joel stood by the window, gazing out at the lake. He turned as you approached, his eyes taking in your appearance with a brief but appreciative glance.

"You look lovely," he said, pulling out a chair for you.

"Thank you," you replied, taking your seat.

The table was set perfectly, with red roses in the center adding a touch of elegance. Joel's seat was at the head, and yours was next to him.

“So, what do you think?” Joel asked, watching as you took a sip of wine.

“Of the house?” You giggled for a moment, setting your glass down. “Yes, it’s beautiful.”

Joel smiled. “And the food?”

You glanced down at your plate and took a bite. “Oh, shit.” You hadn’t expected it to taste so good.Joel had prepared: a perfectly seared filet mignon, accompanied by creamy mashed potatoes and asparagus sautéed with garlic and lemon zest. The flavors were so rich.

Joel's smile widened. “Eat up. We’ll go over the details once we’re done. Oh, and that’s going to be your only glass of wine tonight.”

You looked at Joel, puzzled. He quickly explained, “You’re still only 20, and you need a clear head. The wine’s just to take the edge off.”

Joel took a sip of his own wine, and you let your mind wander. The meal was mostly silent, the clattering of plates being the loudest sound in the house. Faith had talked to you last night and helped you pick out your dress. She and Tommy were doing well, and she used her contract to help explain what yours might be like.

The first document was what you expected: an NDA agreement. It was short and to the point.

The second form you picked up was different from what Faith had described. Instead of being a "down and dirty" list, the title read, "Contractual Agreement of Limits Between Dominant and Submissive."

“So, don’t be scared or intimidated by the second form,” Faith had said. “It may sound daunting, but it’s just to make sure you’re comfortable with what will happen. I can help you through it. The rest, well… you and your Dom will be having lots and lots, and I mean lots, of experimental sex.”

You gasped and playfully hit her. “Not for my first time, right?” you asked, anxious.

Faith laughed and gave you a teasing look. “Not right away. But if your Dom wants to do that, it’s up to them. It’s all about consent. And don’t worry, you’ll… you’ll have fun. I promise. And if you need more time to be ready, there are plenty of ways to experiment and get comfortable. Just remember, you always have the right to say ‘no’ and stop the session. Your Dom is there to make you feel pleasure, not discomfort.”

Back in the present, Joel watched you with a calm intensity as you finished your meal. he stood and retrieved the vanilla folder. He opened it and laid the documents on the table. 

“First, the NDA,” Joel said. “It ensures that everything we discuss and do remains confidential.” He slid the paper and a pen toward you. After reading it carefully, you signed and handed it back.

“Now, the contract,” Joel continued, placing the more detailed document in front of you. “This outlines our arrangement, including boundaries, limits, and expectations. It's important to be thorough so we’re both on the same page.”

You scanned the pages, your eyes catching on certain terms and conditions that made you blush. Joel patiently walked you through each section.

“Section one covers our roles. I’ll be the Dominant, and you’ll be the submissive,” he explained. “This section also outlines the responsibilities we each have.”

“What if I’m not comfortable with something?” you asked, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Joel’s expression softened. “That’s what section two is for. It lists hard limits—things you absolutely don’t want to do—and soft limits—things you might be open to exploring over time.”

You nodded, still feeling a bit overwhelmed but reassured by Joel's explanations about safewords and aftercare. Suddenly, something washed over you, and you stood from your seat. Taking his and your plates, along with the silverware and glasses, you moved toward Joel's kitchen. He followed you, confused.

“Hey? What's the matter?” he asked.

You smiled at him and grabbed the other dishes left on the table. “The table's dirty. That's no way to do business,” you joked as you began to wash the dishes. “Do you have a garbage disposal?”

Joel grabbed your arm, stopping you dead in your tracks. “Talk to me,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. He reached over to grab a towel, gently drying your hands and ridding them of soap.

You sighed. “I'm a virgin.” Joel looked into your eyes intently as you continued, giving up on formality. “Fuck, Joel, I'm nervous. I'm not even sure if I want to have sex. The closest I've gotten to having sex is my vibrator.”

Joel let go of your hands. “Sit,” he said, pointing to the counter.

“What?” you asked, surprised.

“Sit.” He grabbed your hips and lifted you onto the counter. “Do you trust me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.” And with that, he kissed you.

His lips were firm yet gentle against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. The kiss deepened as his hands found their way to your waist, holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer. You could taste the lingering wine on his lips, and the scent of his cologne filled your senses.

Joel's hand slid up to cup your cheek, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you parted them, allowing him in. The kiss grew more intense, more demanding, as his other hand gripped your thigh, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter.

You moaned softly into his mouth, your body reacting to his touch in ways you hadn't anticipated. The sensation of his tongue exploring your mouth, combined with the heat of his body pressed against yours, ignited a fire within you. You felt yourself melting into him, your previous nervousness beginning to dissipate.

After what felt like an eternity, Joel pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you were breathing heavily, the air between you charged with electricity.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice husky.

You nodded, still catching your breath. “Yeah. That was...”

“Intense?” he finished for you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your heart pounding in your chest.

Joel brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch tender. “We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. Tonight, I just want to make sure you're comfortable.”

His rough, calloused hands slid up your dress, sending shivers down your spine. "Unless you want to try something..." he murmured, his voice low and tantalizing. You blushed, biting your lip as you looked up at Joel.

He pulled you in for another deep, passionate kiss before moving to your neck, trailing soft kisses down to the parts of your skin that weren't covered by your dress. He dropped to his knees, spreading your legs gently. "What are you doing?" you asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

"Shh... trust me," he whispered, his hands wandering under your dress to pull down your panties. He slid them into his pocket with a mischievous grin before returning his attention to you. His lips brushed over your calves, teasing you lightly as you bit your lip in anticipation.

Joel suddenly lifted your legs over his shoulders, placing a soft kiss on your clit. The sensation made your legs tremble, the warmth of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you. Without holding back, he began to explore you with his mouth, his tongue lapping up every drop of your arousal as if it were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

You moaned, your head falling back against the cabinet with a soft thud, but you didn't care. When Joel paused to check if you were okay, you grabbed his salt-and-pepper hair, pushing him further into your pussy. He gripped your legs harder, his tongue moving faster as your moans grew louder.

"Oh fuck..." you gasped, panting as your orgasm built. Your legs began to shake uncontrollably, and you finally came on his face. Joel let your legs slide off his shoulders, wiping his mouth with a satisfied smile.

"Dessert was good," he joked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Instead of responding, you swiftly pulled him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. The night had only just begun, and you were ready for whatever came next.

He pulled away, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and tenderness. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up," he said softly. Scooping you up in his strong arms, he carried you princess-style up to the guest room where you were staying. He set you gently on your feet, his touch lingering. "Use the bathroom," he instructed, his voice firm but caring.

You nodded and went to the bathroom, the cool tile floor grounding you after the whirlwind of emotions and sensations. When you emerged, you found Joel had set out your pajamas neatly on the bed. Next to them was a note in his bold handwriting: "Forget the contract. I have something better in mind."

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the note, a blend of excitement and curiosity bubbling up inside you.

[sophrosynesworld]

Caught Red Handed

Eijiro Kirishima x Best Friend! Reader

"Kiri," you giggle, giving him a playful smack on the back of the head before tilting it forward to apply the bright red dye. Your fingers part his thick hair with practiced ease. “Hold still or I’ll end up coloring your whole neck. I’d hate to expose your dirty little secret.”

“I can’t help it.” He pouts, frowning just enough to be endearing. “I like when you run your fingers through my hair… it feels nice.”

You can’t help but hum in amusement, threading your fingers through his crimson strands again, this time deliberately to tease him.

He leans slightly into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a second before he catches himself, opening them again. "You don’t think that’s weird, do you?" His voice is softer as he catches your reflection in the mirror. His expression unusually serious.

You pause, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. Placing the dye brush back into the bowl. "No. I like doing it."

Kirishima’s eyes widen with genuine surprise as he turns in his seat to look at you directly. “You do?”

“Oh yeah,” you answer, rolling your eyes dramatically. “This is all for my pleasure.”

His face falls, and he slumps back into the chair, his posture suddenly defeated. "Now you’re just making fun of me." His voice is quieter, tinged with disappointment.

You frown, feeling a pang of guilt. “Hey… Eijiro,” you say gently, reaching out to nudge him, but he refuses to meet your eyes, staring down at his feet.

You sigh, pulling off the gloves with a snap. Squatting down beside him, putting yourself at eye level. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.” You search his face for any sign of acknowledgment, but he stays silent, his expression unreadable.

“Kiri, I promise I wasn’t lying.” You lean forward slightly, hoping to get his attention. “I really do like it. I wasn’t joking about that part.”

Still, no response. His silence weighs on you. Kirishima has always been sensitive, especially when it comes to his insecurities, but this feels different.

Then it hits you. You stand, brushing the dirt from your knees, and mumble, “I thought it was kinda manly…”

At first, it feels like the words were lost to the air, but when you look back at him, his eyes are already locked on yours.

Kirishima rises slowly, his towering frame casting a shadow over you as he takes a deliberate step closer.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, uh, nothing,” you try to brush it off, laughing nervously, but the sound dies in your throat as he closes the distance between you. You step back instinctively, your back hitting the cold wall. His broad shoulders and chest block out everything behind him, forcing the space to feel much smaller.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, his voice low. He’s so close now, you can feel the heat radiating off him.

Your pulse quickens, your heart thudding in your chest so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. Swallowing hard, your eyes look up into his. “I… I think admitting that was pretty manly of you,” you stammer, feeling your face flush.

His hand comes up, cupping your cheek with such gentleness it makes your breath hitch. His thumb brushes over your skin, slow and tender.

“Do you really think that?” he asks again, his voice hushed, like he’s afraid of the answer.

You nod, speechless as his fingers tighten just slightly, pulling you even closer. Without thinking, your hands rise, trembling, wrapping around his neck and pulling him close. The need to reassure him, to prove that this moment is real, overwhelms you.

You pinch yourself lightly behind his back, the small sting grounding you. This is happening.

“I’ve always wanted to be someone you’d see that way,” he confesses softly, his lips brushing your hair as he speaks. His voice thick with doubt. Kirishima lingers there, waiting, hoping for something from you.

You pull back slightly, your mind spinning, unable to form a coherent thought. “I…” You try to speak, but the words are lost.

Kirishima speaks for you, his voice soft. “Can I kiss you?”

The question catches you off guard. You stare at him, the world narrowing down to just this moment, just him. All you can manage is a small nod, your lips parting slightly.

He leans in slowly, his forehead pressing gently against yours as he whispers, “I need to hear you.”

His voice is so full of patience, that it nearly breaks you. He’s holding back, giving you the space to decide.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but it’s all he needs.

Eijiro’s lips meet yours in a rush of pent-up emotion, the kiss hungry and desperate, like he’s been holding back for so long and now he’s finally letting it all out. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. Everything else fades away, the world around you blurring until it’s just him, just this.

Your fingers weave through his hair instinctively, tugging lightly—only to freeze when you feel something slick.

You pull back with a sudden gasp, your eyes wide as you stare down at your hands. They’re stained bright red. “Oh my God!” you blurt, jumping in surprise as your hands fly into the air as if they’re burning.

Kirishima blinks at you, confused, before a slow, amused grin spreads across his face. “I guess we’ll have to wash your hands,” he chuckles.

You stare at your hands, still in shock, your face burning with embarrassment. “I… I didn’t think about it,” you mumble, avoiding his eyes.

With a gentle smile, he reaches for your wrists, lowering your hands between the two of you. His thumb strokes soothing circles over your skin as he reassures you. “It’s okay. Really.”

You look up at him, still embarrassed. He chuckles softly. “I guess everyone’s gonna find out about my hair now, huh?”

“Kiri!” you groan, but you can’t help but smile as he laughs again.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, still grinning. “It’ll be fine."

[mysaintkitten]

Trigger-happy | Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

prompt: idek how to summarize this other than gunplay with tommy loool (18+ MDNI !!!)

WARNINGS: gunplay (real sick shit i’m not playing), degradation, unprotected sex (p in v), orgasm denial (eeeehhh)

*not proofread*

the first thing you notice is the crisp and cold dead grass beneath your knees and calves, then the cool breeze blowing against your bare skin. as you crack your eyes open, you nervously scan your surroundings. it doesn’t take long for you to realize you’re bound in a very large vacant field.

the dress you had been wearing was cut messily, the uneven fabric barely covered the tops of your thighs, and your stockings had been removed too. you couldn’t check, but just judging by how you felt, you assumed you weren’t wearing any underwear either. with your arms and ankles tied, you couldn’t do much to try and cover yourself let alone warm yourself up.

from behind you, you hear footsteps, followed by the sound of a match being lit.

“i assume you’re coherent now.” you hear a familiar voice mutter behind you. that gravely, deep, sexy voice that you know all too well.

as expected, tommy shelby comes up from behind you and steps in front of you, towering over you as you look up at him with confusion. you’d heard of tommy through the grapevine, and you’d occasionally spot him out and about. he was so enticing. like a forbidden fruit, so delicious, so dangerous, you wanted it all.

but being here now and having no choice to submit to him was having your mind and body stirring. you’re partially terrified, and just the slightest bit turned on.

“why am i here?” you finally gather up the courage to speak. tommy leaves you with an uncomfortable silence as he places his cigarette between his lips while he retrieves something from within his pockets. seconds later, he flashes his gun at you.

your body tenses at the bleak shift in energy. was tommy shelby, the man you occasionally fantasized about, moments way from killing you?

“you know …” tommy briefly takes the cigarette out of his mouth while he rummages through his other pockets for bullets. right in front of you, he loads them in one by one. “i’ve heard quite some tales about you, how could a little thing like yourself cause such problems?”

what the fuck is he talking about? for the most part, you just kept to yourself. yes, you may have been involved in some dirty work here and there but come on, who isn’t?

“i don’t know what you mean tom-“ you attempt to start before tommy cuts you off.

“aht- sweetheart, you don’t get the privilege of saying my name. it’s sir.”

“… i don’t know what you mean, sir.” you correct, your tone becoming shaky as the weight of the situation has began to settle in. again, tommy doesn’t respond, leaving you with nothing but your own thoughts. tommy leeches off your nervous energy, it feeds into his superiority complex.

without saying a word, tommy aims the gun directly at your forehead, the icy metal barrel caused your heart to race faster.

“please.” you plead breathlessly, your entire life is playing out in front of your eyes, every single fuck up is looping inside your head.

by some force, an unfamiliar wave of confidence makes it way through you. maybe it’s the adrenaline mixed with some delusion, either way your actions begin to change.

“please.” you repeat, rising up to your knees as best you can with your ankles still bound. tommy keeps the gun in the same place and watches you attentively as you move around in front of him. the barrel of the gun now grazing your nose and lips.

“i’m sure we could …” you hum as you plant a kiss onto the barrel, testing the waters. “work something out, sir.”

through a chuckle, tommy asks “is this your plan? whore yourself out to try and save your life?”

“mmm …” you pretend to think for a moment, your kisses against the gun becoming more deliberate and sloppy. “i’ve always thought you were so handsome, sir. so big and bad.” you bat your lashes at him while teasingly licking the underside of the barrel.

quickly, tommy snags the gun away and shoots off into the field before quickly bringing the gun back down to where he had kept it before.

you can’t help but giggle, this entire situation is so tense— yet suddenly you cannot take it seriously for the life of you.

“wow …” you grin, kitten licking the barrel. “gives you a rush, huh?” you ask tommy. his jaw is clenched and he’s shifting his weight around in a way you’ve never seen him do before. tommy was normally so calculated, have you really thrown him off that much?

“do it.” you whisper, slowly taking the tip of the barrel into your mouth. his jaw goes slack, undoubtedly he’s imagining your lips around his member, licking and teasing him like you’re doing to his gun.

as you slowly blink, your lids becoming heavier as your body starts to get worked up, you take more of the barrel into your mouth. jesus, if any outsiders saw you mimicking fellatio on tommy shelby’s gun, along with tommy allowing you to do it, they’d likely be convinced that hell had frozen over.

tommy swallows, huffing loudly as he finds the right words to say.

“you’re disgusting.” tommy spat. your ego was bruised temporarily, until your eyes drifted down to his bulge, which ultimately revealed tommy’s true opinions on the matter.

“d’you get off on being disgusted, sir? because …” you signal to his cock as best you can without your arms being available, tommy scoffs as if him having an erection during a moment like this meant absolutely nothing.

“come on, just blow off some steam.” you purr as you muzzle the side of your head against the gun, “you’ve got a dirty, vulnerable girl right here in front of you. i couldn’t stop you even if i tried.”

finally, something snaps within tommy. with his free hand, he nudges your shoulder and pushes you down. you fall against the hard ground, and before you even have time to process that tommy is proceeding to flip you over onto your stomach.

then, you feel tommy’s big rough hand grab onto your hip. with ease, he lifts your hips up and forces you into a face-down-ass-up position. you turn your head to the side and whimper at the change, you had much less confidence in a state like this.

“i could blow your fuckin’ brains out …” tommy grumbles as he roughly whips up the bottom half of your very short dress, your back involuntarily arches at the brisk wind hitting your most private, and now sensitive areas. you can tell you’re wet, and tommy can too, cause he can see the wetness glistening off of you. “and all you’re thinking about is getting your holes filled?”

as you mewl back to him, you gasp when you feel the cold barrel make contact with your desperate core. he toys with your slick, watching how quickly your sticky arousal eagerly coats whatever it touches. he pushes the tip of the barrel inside, almost fucking you with his gun.

and as if things couldn’t get worse, his skilled thumb finds its way to your clit. he rubs it and groans when he sees you get wetter around his gun, a bit more of the barrel accidentally sliding inside of you due to your increase in arousal. this is sickening, tommy is getting you off with the weapon he uses to off whoever wrongs him.

tommy takes the gun and his thumb away from you, before you can protest you hear fabric rustling and the sound of a zipper being ripped down. you hold your breath with anticipation, until you feel tommy’s warm tip press against your opening.

“mmh-“ you moan, attempting to rock your hips back against him. you really didn’t need to though, because seconds later tommy shoved his full length inside of you. the sudden stretch and fullness made your mouth hang open with pleasure and pain.

tommy pulls his hips back before slamming them back in, immediately fucking you with a relentless pace. you felt like a cheap whore beneath him, like all he was thinking about was getting himself off. hell, he probably was thinking that, and that only made it hotter.

“such a fuckin’ whore… ‘n still so … shit … so tight.” tommy groans, tipping his head back while mumbling strings of curses under his breath.

“uh-huh … mmh—“ you gasp as tommy’s angles change, causing him to slam into that special spot inside you. “right there, right there—“ you ramble as your whole body pulses with pleasure. again, tommy’s not doing it to make you feel good, he just happened to tweak his angle. and if it just so happens to make you come on his cock, that’s just life he thinks to himself as he feels your arousal spill down onto his balls.

as your mind reels from tommy’s harsh pounding, you feel the barrel being pressed against the side of your head.

“maybe it would be better if i shot you like this.” he pants, laughing breathily to himself. “we could keep that pretty face of yours intact.”

your fate sat in his hands. he could kill you right then and there, you’d have zero say in it. it’s petrifying, and incredibly erotic.

you huff, “you think i’m pretty?”

tommy presses the gun against your head harder, “that’s the part you’re focused on? jesus … stupid fucking whore.”

your cunt clenches around him from his degradation, this wasn’t going to last long. the pace tommy has stuck with was not meant for longterm endurance, that’s why he chose it.

tommy let’s out a low purr at the sensation, “you really are disgusting … gripping my cock like that …” the last bit of his sentence had the slightest bit of praise hidden within it, you absolute ate up such a drastic bittersweet mixture.

his thrusts start to get janky, and his breathing is loud and laboured. much too soon for your liking, tommy pulls out and feverishly pumps himself, huffing harshly as he spills his load onto your ass and back.

you release a little whine. like, obviously the man who was sent to kill you isn’t going to sit there and make you come, but it was definitely nice while it lasted.

you’re pulled out of your thoughts as you feel tommy silently untying you. before long, your limbs are fully free.

tommy pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and takes a generous inhale before speaking.

“if anyone asks, just say you broke out of your restraints before i got here.”

you raise your brow, challenging tommy in a way. “and what if i don’t? what if i say what actually happened?”

tommy laughs, slipping his gun back into his pocket.

“then i’ll find you and actually put a bullet between your eyes. how’s that sound, sweetheart?”

—

this was one of my before-bed imagine scenarios. sigh. i’m sorry god.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Burning Love

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 26. Burning Fandom: MCU, Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, f!reader Summary: When you and Bucky are captured, HYDRA scientists try to force you to use your powers to kill him. But you refuse to hurt the man you love, regardless of how much pain it may cause you... Word Count: 2171 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Whump, Burning, Torture, Self-Sacrifice, Self-Inflicted Wounds, Laser Beams, Damaged Vision, Bucky Carries Reader, Happy Ending Notes: Thank you to @ohtobeleah for looking this over for me 💞 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

“Doll, please, open your eyes.” The desperation in Bucky’s voice as he pleads with you breaks your heart, but it’s better than the alternative if you comply with his wishes.

You twitch your head as much as the leather restraint across your forehead will allow, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. Through gritted teeth, you grunt, “Not gonna happen, Sarge.”

The pain coursing through you is horrible, but knowing what it would do to Bucky if you gave in is enough to make it bearable—somewhat. Unlike his body, yours is more equipped to handle the damage caused by the laser beams you can shoot from your eyes. While it has taken maybe an hour to get to this point—where your eyelids and surrounding skin are charred, bubbly, and blackened like a flamed-broiled marshmallow—you would have cut through Bucky’s flesh in seconds. Which is why you are fighting so hard to protect him from your open eyes. 

“Turn it off,” a frustrated voice growls behind you. “We'll have to try something else.”

The searing sensation in your eyes disappears and you shift against the numerous restraints holding you into the metal chair. It feels so violating to have these HYDRA scientists hooking you up to their machinery, digging through your brain, and activating your beams as they see fit. You wonder if this is how Bucky used to feel back when he was the Winter Soldier.

As the scientists fiddle with the equipment behind you, you hear a tender voice call out to you. “Are you okay?”

“Right as rain,” you mumble. “How you doing, Buck?” The last thing you saw before you began forcing yourself to keep your eyes closed was Bucky being strapped into his own chair directly across from you.

“Horrible. Watching you barbeque yourself just to spare me…Doll, you can’t keep doing this. You won’t survive it much longer.”

You gave him a wry chuckle. “I’ve been accidentally burning myself with these things my entire life. I can take it.”

“For how long?” You don’t answer. “Please, look at me. I need to see you’re okay behind all of this.”

As much as you want nothing more in this world than to stare into Bucky’s loving gaze one last time, it’s not worth the potential cost. “I can’t. They could turn them back on at any second and…I can’t risk it.” 

“I’m not worth all the pain they’re putting you through. I don’t deserve this kind of sacrifice—not after everything I’ve done.”

Smiling in his direction, you whisper, “When will you stop blaming yourself for what they made you into and see the man you truly are? The man I love.”

It sounds like Bucky is about to say something else but, before he can, an angry voice from behind you barks out, “I’m tired of this game. Increase the power.”

Bucky screams, “No!”

Suddenly, the pain behind your eyes increases exponentially and the pressure within your head becomes unbareable. An inhuman screech is ripped from your lips. Something in your vocal cords snaps under the strain. You smell the faint whiff of burning hair mixed in with your cooking flesh and wonder if the last of your eyelashes have finally been seared off. Your bare toes scrap against the cold concrete as they involuntarily curl as all the muscles in your body contract. Every other part of your body is restrained by the straps holding you down, but you begin violently shaking as the tension within you becomes too great.

The small part of your mind that’s still coherent wonders if your eyes roll back into your head if you’ll fry your brain and end this torture. Maybe it is worth it to try.

You have no idea how long they keep your beams on this time—all your remaining focus and energy is on keeping your eyes closed. Bucky is screaming, crying, begging, but his voice sounds echoey and far away so you can’t make out his words. You aren’t sure what HYDRA will do to him once you’re gone, but you pray he fights them with everything he has.

Finally, the machine behind you is flipped off and your body sags against your restraints. Without them, you know you’d topple to the floor, no longer possessing the energy to hold yourself up. Everything hurts now, not just your eyes. But you’re still alive which means you aren’t done fighting.

You hear footsteps approaching and you recognize the voice of the man in charge as he curses, kicking one of the legs of your chair. “This is ridiculous. How many of you fucking idiots does it take to make her kill the Soldier? Just pry her eyes open, clamp them in place, and turn the machine back on.”

You grin weakly, feeling blood dripping down your chin where you had bit your tongue. With your ruined voice, you croak, “You can try, but the second any of you put a finger near my eyes, I’m burning it off.” 

The man beside you yanks on the restraint across your forehead, tightening it to the point you feel bones crack. You let out a soft whimper as the man growls, “Fine. We’ll turn it up to full power and leave it on. Let her burn completely through her eyelids. Then we’ll get the results we want.” You hear him turn and march away.

For the first time, your resolve wavers as a small sob bubbles up in your chest. Your body may be resistant to your beams and can repair wounds sustained from them, but it takes time. If these scientists can make you burn through your eyelids—and based on how everything is starting to look a little brighter through your closed lids, it seems like a very real possibility—then there is nothing you can do to stop them from hitting and killing Bucky. 

You hear the scientists murmuring and fiddling with equipment somewhere far behind you, but you still don’t dare open your eyes in case someone is still at the machine and flips it on the moment you look at Bucky. Yet it won’t matter for much longer if they carry out their plan. 

“Doll…” The word is whispered so low you can barely hear it.

“Buck…,” It’s hard to whisper with your ruined voice, the sound more of a croak than a real word. But you hope he can understand you with his super-soldier hearing. “I’m sorry. I-I can’t stop this.”

“I know. You’ve done so good so far.” Even in a whisper, the love in his voice feels like a comforting embrace. “But I have a plan. You just gotta trust me.” 

“I do. You know I do.” 

“Then when I tell you to open your eyes and turn on your beams, whether they’re making you or not.”

You sob, “But Bucky—”

“Trust me!” he hisses. 

“Okay…okay, I’ll do it.”

He lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Doll. Whatever happens, I love you. And this isn’t your fault.”

A single tear escapes your ruined eyes and rolls down your scared cheek. “I love you too. But we both know, it is.”

Bucky doesn’t respond. However, you can hear a soft scraping and shuffling from his vicinity. Maybe he found a way to escape. Or maybe…he couldn’t be asking you to kill him. After all the pain and suffering you’d put yourself through to keep him alive, he wouldn’t have you take him out now just to end both of your pain…would he?

But you promised to trust him and you do, so when you hear him mutter, “All the way down and to the right. Now!”, you follow his instructions.

Shifting your gaze behind closed lids as far to the right and downward as they’ll go, you open your eyes and blast without a second's hesitation. 

Your beams strike Bucky in the center of his left forearm, just a few inches above his wrist. Even though it is his metal arm, you are horrified. You thought he had found a way to get you to blast open his cuffs or melt his chair, and in a way, even killing him instantly would be better than this. His vibranium arm is advanced enough that it still allows him to feel sensations such as texture, pressure, and—what concerns you in this situation—temperature and even pain. Instead of ending his life with one blast, you are now forcing him to endure the same agony you have been going through. 

As the metal begins to glow under the intense heat of your beams, you want to screw your eyes shut once more. But Bucky told you to do this and you promised to trust him. Even though he is grunting and panting because of the pain, he isn’t telling you to stop so you keep your beams focused on his arm. 

Eventually, the red-hot glow expands and soon reaches his wrist. In moments, the metal restraint liquifies and Bucky wrenches his arm free. Without having to be told, you slam your eyes shut once more.

You can hear the sounds of fighting all around you: guns firing until their clips run empty, flesh sizzling against metal followed by screams of agony, bodies being flung around the room and crashing to the floor. 

But then everything goes silent.

For a minute, nothing happens. You are just about to call out when a pair of lips press lightly against yours. Jumping slightly, you quickly recognize the kiss. You try to lean into it but the strap across your forehead holds you firmly in place. 

Parting from your lips and pressing his forehead against yours, Bucky whispers, “It’s okay. You can open your eyes now. It’s just you and me.”

Slowly, you peel your eyes open. The world is cloudy and out of focus with huge black spots obstructing your vision. And yet, there was no mistaking the person kneeling in front of you. 

Weakly, you smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he murmurs back.

“H-how bad?”

Bucky’s brow furrows as he runs his thumb gently around the edge of your eye socket, the now cooled metal somewhat soothing against your damaged skin. “It’s really bad, but I’m hoping it’s worse than it looks. Once you get checked out—”

“Not me,” you whisper. “How badly did I hurt you?”

You can hear the smile in his voice even though you can’t make it out. “I’ve had a lot worse. And it’s because of you that it was as minimal as it was. You should’ve just vaporized my head from the very start.” 

“Nah. I knew we’d find a way out eventually.”

“Liar,” he teases. Then, with a more serious tone, he asks, “How’s your vision? You’re blinking an awful lot and that can’t be comfortable.”

You try to think of how to describe what you are seeing. “I can see some shapes, colors, movements…that’s about it. No details. But even that’s a miracle at this point. I’ve never burned myself this badly before.”

“Will they…will they heal?”

You try to shrug but you are still strapped to the chair. “They should. They always have before. Healing the burns is tied into my powers.” You swallow and flinch at the sharp stab of pain cutting down your throat. “My voice, however, might be another story.”

Bucky gently runs his fingers down the side of your neck. “I’m sure SHIELD has some specialists who can help you. But first, we’ve got to get back to them. So let’s get you out of that chair.”

He began unlocking each of your restraints and you can’t stop a moan from escaping. Your skin had been rubbed raw where the metal dug into your skin, and your muscles ache from how tensely they had been clenched in pain. Bucky must have noticed this, because as he undoes each strap, he massages the area, loosening up the muscles enough to ease some of the tension. But every inch of you still throbs in pain. 

As Bucky unlatches the last restraint, he asks, “Do you think you can walk?”

“I’m not sure. Everything hurts. But maybe once I get going—” You try to rise from the seat but barely make any progress before collapsing back down. You look up at Bucky sheepishly. “I guess that’s a no.”

Carefully, he lifts you into his arms and carries you towards the exit. You can’t see where you’re going and the slight bobbing of your vision as he walks is giving you a headache. 

Leaning your head against his chest, you let your damaged eyes drift softly closed. Then you mutter, “I think I need to sleep for a bit. Helps my recovery time.”

You feel Bucky’s lips brush against your temple. “Rest, Doll. I’ll take it from here.”

Nodding softly, you begin slipping into a deep slumber. You are still in a lot of pain, but you don’t regret a single moment of what happened. You’d do it all again if at the end you could be safe in Bucky’s arms once more.

[entiqua]

I love your artstyle!! Do you have any tips for drawing?

thank you so much! i'm really happy you like it!!💗 as for tips, what i would say would change drastically depending on what kind you're looking for, but some very general ones:

draw what you love and want to see most, regardless of whether anyone else wants to see it. if you don't enjoy what you're drawing it'll never come out as good or genuine as something your whole heart and soul is in. i mean you'd think this would be a no-brainer but sometimes i've had to sit back and ask myself 'if no one was ever going to see this except me, would i actually spend time drawing this?' and i was surprised by the answer

that said, it is also completely valid if your motivation for drawing is to draw for other people! there have been plenty of times where i was too artblocked to draw my own ideas but was still able to draw commissions or gifts and enjoyed it simply because making other people happy with my art makes me happy.

don't get too caught up in having a consistent art style. in my experience this 1000% hinders you

having your sense of anatomy degrade over time without you noticing because you keep drawing the same types of characters is a very real thing! if this is a concern to you be sure to draw a variety

follow a billion artists that you like the art of and you will have endless inspiration injected directly into your brain every time you open social media

my favourite practical tip for those who draw at a desk: keep a small mirror next to you at all times. absolute game changer for quickly referencing hands

if you're drawing digitally, make the canvas huge! in my experience this lets you draw messier/faster and you can't tell at all when you zoom out. if you tend to get stuck spending unnecessary amounts of time micromanaging pixels (me💀) keep it zoomed out while drawing

related to the above point, messy drawings can have far more expressiveness in them than neat and polished drawings. nowadays i never do lineart and go straight from 'barebones stickman pose' to 'varying-levels-of-coherent sketch' and use that as my lineart. sweet freedom from the sketch-looks-better-than-the-lineart phenomenon

if your goal is to improve, then you really do have to scrutinize your art, figure out what you're not satisfied with, and commit the time to focusing on it. 'practice makes perfect' kinda rubs me the wrong way because of how much i've seen it interpreted as 'just draw everyday and you'll magically improve' but genuinely it won't get you very far if you don't actively think hard about what you're trying to improve and take the steps to do it. is this a hot take idk. also hand in hand with this, not every artist is trying to improve and you shouldn't feel bad for this! maybe you just wanna make a little headshot doodle of your fave blorbo and that's your only drawing goal ever. awesome. maybe you know your art has flaws but it's passable enough to convey what you want and you're perfectly satisfied with that. (this is the stage i'm usually at). also awesome!

don't hesitate to draw something because you think it's out of your skill level. the worst that can happen if you draw it is that it comes out terribly but you learned something and can always redraw it better in the future. the worst that WILL happen if you don't draw it is that you'll never draw it. and then it will sit in the back of your brain haunting you for years. it's not like i'm speaking from experience or anything aha

look up 'hand stretches for artists' and do them if you draw a lot unless you wish to summon the wrath of the carpal tunnel demons

of course, these may not necessarily work for you, and most importantly(!) these are coming from the perspective of someone who is primarily a hobbyist. some of this won't be practical for people who need to build an audience, maintain a consistent style for work, etc. these are just things that have personally helped me over many years of drawing :)

[phoxey]

French toast

Bada Lee x fem!reader

CW: none :3 this is pure fluff

AN: sorry for the long absence, and sorry that this is so short, but i promised a comeback, I am still struggling to write, but it's better than nothing.

I love writing, but like in any relationships there are ups and downs. and in such down phases love is hard work. But it's worth it in the end.

Valentines Day was approaching, and this would be the first time, that you wouldn’t spend the day with Bada. You two have been a couple for a few years now and she would always make Valentines Day special. This year Bada happened to be in a dance workshop on the other side of the world for a few weeks, missing Valentines Day. You tried to talk to her every day, but time zones were against you. When she was going to bed, you were waking up, and when you were going to bed, she was waking up. You only had a small timeframe for talking, and her schedule was tight. She thought you wouldn’t notice, but she woke up earlier and stayed up late just to talk to you. You wanted to scold her for it, but on the other hand you were also grateful for every minute you got with her.

You woke up to several messages from Bada, which she sent, when she knew it was midnight in Korea. It was some silly memes, asking you out to be her valentine, but with them came a long voice message.

“Good morning, beautiful. I hope you had the most wonderful sleep and the sweetest dreams. Maybe you even dreamt of us? I know, I always do. Especially when we are apart like this. I dream of holding you in my arms, your head on my chest, while we watch our favorite shows. It’s cheesy, I know. I really can’t wait for this moment to come. I will probably be at work when you listen to this. And everything I am about to say, I could have also written in a letter, but I wanted to say those things directly, so you can hear the sincerity in my voice. I want to tell you, how I feel. I am so very madly in love with you, it drives me crazy to not be with you for every minute of the day. Every day my love for you grows. How that is possible? I don’t know. Every day I seem to invent a new kind of infinity. I have been looking at your pictures a lot more these past few days, and since day one your beauty keeps striking me over and over again. I know you still can’t see what I see, but I swear to me you are the most beautiful woman on earth. I wish I could kiss every spot you are insecure about and make that feeling go away. I love all of you. You are truly beautiful inside and out. You are just perfect for me. To have such a kind, hardworking and understanding woman in my life, and to be able to call you mine, is truly the greatest blessing I have ever received. I love you.”

From the first word on, tears shot into your eyes. You were too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought. Just as you were trying to formulate a good answer, the doorbell rang. Confused, you walked to the apartment door and opened it. A giant bouquet of your favorite flowers stood in a vase on the ground. It was arranged in the form of a heart. You had to chuckle, this was so cheesy, but that was what you loved about your girlfriend. She always did and say cheesy things, but somehow it was never cringe.

“I see I am arriving in time.”, a familiar voice said.

You looked to the side and saw Lusher and Tatter walking up to your door, both of the carrying a suspicious number of bags.

“Good morning!”, you smiled. “What are you two doing here?”

Lusher and Tatter were grinning at each other for a moment. “We are playing Cupid.”, Tatter answered.

Inside, you put the bouquet on the dining table, as the girls sat down in the living room. You joined them after a moment, bringing them coffee.

You eyed the bags; your heart was racing.

“So!”, Lusher began, and Tatter got her phone out, to begin filming. “Your special someone instructed us to give you your Valentines Day presents. She is very sorry that she can’t be with you right now, but she still wants to make sure you are being spoiled on this special day. Like you deserve.”

You opened the first bag, inside was a shoebox. You recognized immediately what kind of shoes they were. The Nike Jordan 1s you had been wanting for a while now. You took them out to look at them. Suddenly something fell out of them. It was a polaroid photo. It was a mirror selfie of Bada pointing at her feet. She was wearing the same shoes.

The second bag was bigger but softer. Slowly you pulled out, what was inside. It was two pieces of clothing. Firstly, it was one of Badas pants, you always stole, when she made the mistake of wearing them to your apartment. The second item was one of her oversized hoodies. It even smelled like her parfum.

Speaking of it, the last bag was a little smaller. Inside were two things. One you recognized as your favorite parfum, which Bada also loved on you. Whenever you wore it, she stayed at your side, not leaving you for longer than one minute. But there was also a second parfum bottle. You sprayed it on your wrist and immediately the smell of Bada filled your nose. It was her parfum. Smelling it almost made you tear up. You missed her so much. Maybe spraying this onto her hoodie and your pillow would ease the pain of her not being with you finally.

With each present your smile got bigger and your giggles more frequent. Tatter smiled just as wide as she filmed your reaction.

“Do you like it?”

You spun around and there she was. Her tall frame leaning against the wall with her shoulder. Hands in her pockets. She wore her finest dress shirt and tie. She looked so beautiful. Tears welled up in your eyes as you ran into her arms.

“Happy Valentines Day, baby.”, she whispered and kissed on top of your head, as you buried your face in her neck, sobbing.

“I thought you couldn’t come for another week.”, you muttered against the skin of her neck, placing delicate kisses onto her pulse.

“I wanted to surprise you. Did you really think I can spend Valentines Day without my forever Valentine?”

Bada mouthed a thank you to the two other girls, who just winked at her and left the apartment, grinning.

“We have so much to talk about! I have so much tea for you! And you have to tell me all about your trip and your workshop!”, you said excitedly.

Bada smiled fondly at you and laced your fingers. Tenderly, she pressed her lips to your knuckles.

“Sounds good. How about we talk, while I make some French toast?”

[anjelicawrites]

Soft IV

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x reader x Osferth

Synopsis: one anon asked for another episode of the Soft saga, with the whole polycule in it. This starts right after the coda to the third episode.

Warnings: p in v sex, blowjob, handjob, anal fingering, anal sex, kissing, scratching, titty sucking.

A/N: hi nonnie! This took me way too long to write! I hope you like it!

Part I, II, III and the Coda.

Osferth is used to live small, being raised in a monk run orphanage has taught him to be pauperistic, this is the reason why he has no issues with sleeping in dingy motels and eat whatever he can find, when his job takes him away from home. Now that is living larger, going by what the monks drilled in to him, he doesn’t feel guilty when he scrambles to go home, where his comforts are.

NSFW and 18+ only under the cut, please!

Only God knows how hard it had been for him to stay away and focus on the job, while Aemond was in pain and the work to keep him safe fell on your shoulders for a whole, awful, week; not that Osferth doesn’t deem you capable, it’s more his own instinct to protect the ones he loves that gnawed at him, until he was home and you had jumped into his arms.

It’s not unexpected that you and Aemond decide to take care of him, and not the other way around, still Osferth’s heart is filled with gratitude for, the two of you, who keep choosing him day after day, even though he feels he’s never going to be at your level.

“Let us, my love.” You murmur in his ear when he tries to undress you and Aemond. “You had a long week.”

He wants to reply that yours and Aemond’s had been worse, he can’t, because Aemond takes a gentle hold of his chin to kiss him, deeply, silencing his words until he’s naked and half hard between the two of your.

“You missed us.”

Aemond’s smirks, his hand around Osferth’s erection jacks him into full mast and steals his voice: he’s already puddle for you two.

Obediently Osferth lets you turn his head to kiss him, slowly as Aemond’s hand keeps moving on his erection, whimpers and moans spill from his lips as the pace quickens; Osferth wants to warn Aemond that he’s close, so close, if he doesn’t stop soon… Osferth comes, pressed between you two, his legs tremble with the power of it, the pleasure a hazy mist in his brain. He lets Aemond hug him to carry his weight as you kiss his nape to then go to the bathroom to start the water for the bath.

Against his tummy Osferth can feel Aemond’s desire, hard and warm his erection is pressed between their bodies, causing flames of desire to ignite inside of him; his mind is torn between letting go and be pampered by you and Aemond, and trying to give back the love he’s receiving. He tries to open Aemond’s slacks to slide his hand in, but Aemond’s fingers curl, with a soft hold, around his wrist, his other hand is busy freeing his erection.

“Let me help you.” Osferth’s voice is a slurred moan that flies directly to Aemond’s cock. “You were in pain.”

“I was, indeed.” Aemond’s lonely eye burns with hunger. “The only thing keeping me sane was imagining you back home, warm and needy for us, for me.”

It’s the husk in Aemond’s soft voice that makes Osferth’s head spin, the quiet determination of a man who knows what he wants and is ready to take it; it’s usually the other way around, it’s Aemond who soaks up all the affection and lets himself be taken and loved, pliant under your hands and Osferth’s, rarely he takes control, when that happens, Osferth can feel his body liquefy with need, his more dominant nature retreat to allow him to enjoy Aemond’s love and desire, the way he’s doing now. He needs to hug Aemond to keep himself on his feet, all his strength, all his blood seem to go straight to his cock, leaving his head empty of coherent toughs and full of cotton; Osferth moans when Aemond takes a firm hold of his ass, his big hands on his cheeks to force his budding erection against his raging one in a slow friction that makes fireworks explode behind Osferth’s closed eyes.

Both men moan when you wet hand takes a hold of their cocks, moving up and down with a slow motion aimed more at amping up their need, than anything else.

“Come with me, my light, the water is ready.”

Osferth’s body is not his anymore, he’s a marionette in your arms that lets itself being turned, so that he can hide his face in your luscious breasts with a long moan. Blindly he follows you to the bathroom, complaining only when you have to release him to get into the huge tub; you open your arms at him once you’re seated and he scrambles on his feet to join you, sighing when his back is cushioned by your breasts.

Your hands caress his inside of his tights with long strokes, slow and deliberate in the way you’re ignoring his erection, preferring to tease the area where his legs join his hip; he wants to beg you, but his words die when Aemond appears, naked, apart from the collar, at the door. He’s all hard planes of muscles, white skin and dark nipples, his erection red and angry against his belly; with the confidence of someone who knows he’s wanted, he saunters to the sink to pin his hair up, feeling Osferth’s burning stare on his body: he’s desired as much as he does the other man. Only when he’s done he turns around to observe you two in the water, your legs pinning Osferth’s open and he loathes that he can’t see the other man’s erection under the bubbles.

When you bought the house and started renovating it, you choose to install the biggest bathtub you could find, because you wanted to treat yourself, now you never stop giving yourself pats on your back, since there’s enough space for three grown people to chill together.

“Relax.” You murmur in Osferth’s ear. “Close your eyes, you’re finally home, you’re safe. We’re safe.”

You repeat the mantra while you let your hands wander on Osferth’s chest; it’s not a sexual touch, your goal is to make sure all the tension you still feel in his muscles disappears. Little by little his body melts against yours, until he’s completely boneless when Aemond lays against his chest, just to hear the whoosh of the air entering and exiting his lungs and the steady thumping of his heart.

It’s not sleep, what Osferth is experiencing, he’s existing with the two people whom he loves the most in the entire World, he’s feeling them the way they’re him, he’s letting his overworked brain know that Aemond is as pain free as he can be, and that your mental health is not hanging in the balance of Aemond’s neuritis flare, and Osferth’s absence. He lets himself be manhandled by you two, body and hair washed until the smell of the motel toiletries has disappeared from his body and he’s been scrubbed with your ridiculously expensive products.

He keeps his eyes closed when Aemond helps him out of the tub and you’re there to bundle him up in the fluffiest bath towel; he’s almost asleep when he, finally, lays on the bed, his long limbs spread out to take as much space possible.

You curl next to him, with your head on his shoulder, your hand playing with the hairs on his chest. Aemond exits the bathroom and throws the bathrobe on the floor; he eyes you and Osferth with love and hunger. Yes, his erection has abated during the bath but he feels lust clouding his brain at the sight of you two cuddling, naked, on the bed.

“Do you want to tell Aemond what you did me, Osferth?”

He recognizes that tone, you’re taking control as Osferth curls, shyly, against you. He wants to be cuddled and coddled, his submissive side always needy and a bit coquettish.

“What is it, beloved? What do you want to tell me?”

Unconsciously Aemond’s voice is deeper, a rumble in his chest that makes Osferth blush and hide against yourself even more; you have to convince him with soft words to turn his face and look at Aemond.

“You know the rules, my love, you need to use your words like a big boy.”

Osferth pouts cutely and tries to hide his face again, he’s too slow though and Aemond manages to get a hold of his chin to look into his clear blue eyes.

“I can’t give you what you need if you don’t tell me, beloved. You want me to make you happy, don’t you?”

Aemond’s voice is a deep murmur, filled with lust and desire, that flies directly to Osferth’s cock, which now swells, untouched, against his tummy.

“Perhaps, does Ñuha egros se sumby, My sword and shield, want to cuddle?”

“No.” Osferth pouts.

“Does my beloved want a kiss?”

“Perhaps.”

Aemond smirks before he leaves a quick peck on Osferth’s lips, only to deepen the smirk when Osferth starts to complain.

“If you want more, you have to tell me. I’m here for you.”

Aemond tries to control his smile as he sees the fight on Osferth’s face, enhanced when your fingers start caressing his nipples, how his cheeks redden and he tries to hide his growing erection, only to have his legs spread by Aemond.

There’s so much he wants, so much he’s dreamed about when he was away, but when he’s reduced in this state, he has to force the words out of his mouth: take me, have me, fuck me until I pass out, mark my body because I missed you so much, show me your strength because I fear you’ still hurting, he has to make himself say them and still his eyes can’t meet Aemond’s lonely stare. When he’s like this, Osferth reverts back to the shy boy who was raised in a monks run orphanage, more of a convent, really, where his budding sexual needs were chastised and he was punished for them. When he needs to be taken care, he forgets his sexual proves, the freedom he’s gained from himself, he wants to be taken by his hand to simply let go. You know, as well as Aemond does, what he needs, the only matter you two care is having his full consent, having him tell you two what his heart desires, to give it to him fully.

Aemond kisses him, his tongue gently playing with Osferth’s, until the kiss is deep and filthy, the latter’s hips jump against his with need.

Tortuously Aemond’s mouth follows imaginary lines on Osferth’s body, his lips leave soothing kisses where his teeth have nibbled and bitten; he moans at the taste he can feel under the bathing gel and the cream you’ve slathered his body with: that woodsy taste he’s always connected to his beloved, freedom and the fresh smell of a clear spring night; Aemond’s lips seek more of it with each kiss and small love bite as Osferth’s body arches under his with breathy moans.

“Please.” Osferth begs, his glossy eyes half closed. “My sweet prince, my lady love!”

His cock is so hard now, red and heavy against his tummy, warmed by Aemond’s breath on the tented skin, his nipples raw with your kisses: he’s so ready to be taken, to forget who he is, that words desert him again after he’s called for you two. He can feel tears fall down his eyes when he can’t tell you two what he needs, when his tongue is tied and only whimpers manage to leave his mouth. Thankfully you are there, your fingers slotting in his wet hair to turn his head on the side and help him focus.

“Can you answer with yes and no?” You ask him, patiently waiting for his voice to come out.

“Yes.” He breathes out.

“Shall I take you, beloved?”

Osferth’s eyes dart to Aemond, he blushes deeply before he can answer with a moany ‘Yes’

“Spread your legs for me, so good sīr sȳz issa jorrāelagon, so good my love.” Aemond smiles, proud. “You’re so hard for us, will you be good and not come just yet?”

Osferth hiccups on a moan at the words, and care he hears in Aemond’s words: anything, anything for the man who loves him so deeply.

“Will you let me ride your cock, my light? After Aemond is inside of you? Will you let me keep you safe?”

“Yes! Yes!” He moans, your cunt is his home, the safest place in the entire world.

“Good, good.” Your lips land on his forehead. “I will ride you, now let Aemond prepare you.”

You let Osferth lips wound around one nipple to suck softly as Aemond fingers start pushing against his tight ring of muscles. Patiently he breaches him, knuckle after knuckle, finger after finger, until he’s three in and he can explore him, seeking his prostate to gently push against it, eliciting Osferth’s hips to move following his slow rhythm.

Osferth whines around your nipple when Aemond’s fingers leave his hole, only to moan when Aemond’s bulbous head enters him, his body arching at the intrusion, his muscles pushing against him, yet Aemond is relentless, slowing making his way with short pushes and pulls, until Osferth’s body lets go and he can fill him fully, fighting against the need to fuck him fast: tight, tight, always a vise around his cock.

Aemond’s eyesight clouds with needs and with the lust curling at the base of his spine when he sees the way Osferth is biting his lower lip, now that he can’t suck on your breast any longer: he knows he’s fighting the urge to push up into Aemond, to start fucking himself instead of letting his body adjust to the intrusion.

Osferth’s body shudders under your when your wet cunt starts sliding on his hard cock, wetting it, mingling your honey with his, his hips try to follow yours and he moans, when he impales himself more on Aemond’s cock. His back arches with need, his hands grab and scratch your skin when you don’t stop and keep taking your pleasure from him, unabashed, your beautiful breasts swinging over his face.

“Please.” Comes broken from his lips. “Please.”

Slowly you take his cock in your hand to slowly sink down, letting your body adjust to his invasion, to the thickness that seems to take your sanity away, until you’re straddling him, fully, with a satisfied smile on your face.

Under you Osferth is lost, his eyes glassy with pleasure, his mouth slack to let soft whimpers out when you and Aemond start moving, slowly, making sure he feels every inch of Aemond’s cock and every crevice of your cunt. He tries to buck, tries to make you two go faster and is subdued by the passion in every stroke of Aemond inside of him. Your muscles clench and unclench around him as you slowly grind against him: he’s not going to leave the sanctity of your cunt, not today when he needs it the most.

Your orgasm is a quiet thing, that slowly unfolds from your loins up to your spine with every grinding motion of Osferth’s cock against your G-spot, every kiss Aemond leaves on your nape, with their hands on you, caressing and grasping at your sweaty skin, pleasure builds and builds. Under you Osferth moans and arches his back, his eyes screwed shut, a similar fire coursing through him with each and every dual movement you’re subjecting him to.

“Come, my light, come with me!” You whine.

Under you Osferth’s body is ravaged by full body shudders, he squirms and arches, moans desperately when his end seems to elude him, his nerves lashed by too much pleasure, his prostate, his cock and God! You’re begging him to come! He opens his eyes, all he can see is you taking what you need from him, ethereal like a goddess.

With a scream he comes, ropes and ropes of seed hitting your walls as you follow him, milking him until you fall on his body, breathless. Inside of him Aemond tries to fight his own end but the vise around his cock is too tight, too perfect after days apart and he lets go with a shout, fucking Osferth until his body can’t move anymore and he falls next to him, only to curl against him to kiss all the available skin he can reach.

Under you Osferth’s body relax again, his lips find yours, and Aemond, to kiss you two slowly and sloppily, letting you two worship his body with soft caresses now and gentle pecks that lull him into slumber.

You help him turn on his side to push his face against your breasts, he makes such a happy sound you can’t help but smile yourself. Behind him Aemond looks dead to the world, his long limbs splayed open as he waits for his brain to restart himself; in between sleep and wakefulness, you tug on his hand until he plasters himself against Osferth’s long back, falling asleep immediately after. You stay awake for a handful of minutes, just observing your lovers, your family, finally back where they belong. You can sleep safe now.

OG!Poly taglist : @fan-goddess, @notyour-valentine, @aegonx, @darylandbethfanforever9 @20thcentwriter @peachysunrize

Ewanverse taglist: @vhagar-balerion-meraxes @zaldritzosrose

[vivispec]

I FINISHED (veilguard endgame spoilers under the cut)

ouch :')

My thoughts are not coherent in the slightest. I'm REELING. It's midnight thirty on a work night so bear with my ramblings~~ 🐻

First and foremost, that fight between the archdemon and the Dread Wolf was everything I wanted from this game. Seriously, they are speaking directly to my monster loving heart here. I loved the sfx, the animations as you climb to the throne, ALL OF IT. I'm so giddy over it all. When I first picked up the egg I would've never expected him to become such a beautiful monster man to add to my collection, yet here we are! Best timeline.

I think I'm going to have to headcanon quite a bit for the ending for Viera and Solas, she's got a lot to lose that I don't think she'd walk away from forever...but I want them to be together 🥲 I wonder if the consensus is they're trapped in the Fade? Or...? I'll have to start brainstorming if she is trapped, I'd maybe like to play around with her being able to communicate with/ through her twin soul. UGH I don't KNOW. Considerations...

Losing Lace broke my heart. I didn't realize, I thought everyone would be ok if I had them maxed... but then, I think it's more impactful this way. Owowow

My complaints are 1. The romance felt a bit undeveloped (lots of potential unrealized) 2. Some of the ending felt a bit rushed/unpolished and 3. I can see the outrage against the secret end credits, while I personally am excited to see what's going on across the sea with the Executors the execution (teehee) feels like they fumbled it a touch. I'm still very happy with what we got though, and in excited to fill in the blanks myself for those first two.

Going to pass out. Dream of solavellan. Don't know what I'm supposed to do with myself now but we'll find out together.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Burning Love

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 26. Burning Fandom: MCU, Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier, f!reader Summary: When you and Bucky are captured, HYDRA scientists try to force you to use your powers to kill him. But you refuse to hurt the man you love, regardless of how much pain it may cause you... Word Count: 2171 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Whump, Burning, Torture, Self-Sacrifice, Self-Inflicted Wounds, Laser Beams, Damaged Vision, Bucky Carries Reader, Happy Ending Notes: Thank you to @ohtobeleah for looking this over for me 💞 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

“Doll, please, open your eyes.” The desperation in Bucky’s voice as he pleads with you breaks your heart, but it’s better than the alternative if you comply with his wishes.

You twitch your head as much as the leather restraint across your forehead will allow, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. Through gritted teeth, you grunt, “Not gonna happen, Sarge.”

The pain coursing through you is horrible, but knowing what it would do to Bucky if you gave in is enough to make it bearable—somewhat. Unlike his body, yours is more equipped to handle the damage caused by the laser beams you can shoot from your eyes. While it has taken maybe an hour to get to this point—where your eyelids and surrounding skin are charred, bubbly, and blackened like a flamed-broiled marshmallow—you would have cut through Bucky’s flesh in seconds. Which is why you are fighting so hard to protect him from your open eyes. 

“Turn it off,” a frustrated voice growls behind you. “We'll have to try something else.”

The searing sensation in your eyes disappears and you shift against the numerous restraints holding you into the metal chair. It feels so violating to have these HYDRA scientists hooking you up to their machinery, digging through your brain, and activating your beams as they see fit. You wonder if this is how Bucky used to feel back when he was the Winter Soldier.

As the scientists fiddle with the equipment behind you, you hear a tender voice call out to you. “Are you okay?”

“Right as rain,” you mumble. “How you doing, Buck?” The last thing you saw before you began forcing yourself to keep your eyes closed was Bucky being strapped into his own chair directly across from you.

“Horrible. Watching you barbeque yourself just to spare me…Doll, you can’t keep doing this. You won’t survive it much longer.”

You gave him a wry chuckle. “I’ve been accidentally burning myself with these things my entire life. I can take it.”

“For how long?” You don’t answer. “Please, look at me. I need to see you’re okay behind all of this.”

As much as you want nothing more in this world than to stare into Bucky’s loving gaze one last time, it’s not worth the potential cost. “I can’t. They could turn them back on at any second and…I can’t risk it.” 

“I’m not worth all the pain they’re putting you through. I don’t deserve this kind of sacrifice—not after everything I’ve done.”

Smiling in his direction, you whisper, “When will you stop blaming yourself for what they made you into and see the man you truly are? The man I love.”

It sounds like Bucky is about to say something else but, before he can, an angry voice from behind you barks out, “I’m tired of this game. Increase the power.”

Bucky screams, “No!”

Suddenly, the pain behind your eyes increases exponentially and the pressure within your head becomes unbareable. An inhuman screech is ripped from your lips. Something in your vocal cords snaps under the strain. You smell the faint whiff of burning hair mixed in with your cooking flesh and wonder if the last of your eyelashes have finally been seared off. Your bare toes scrap against the cold concrete as they involuntarily curl as all the muscles in your body contract. Every other part of your body is restrained by the straps holding you down, but you begin violently shaking as the tension within you becomes too great.

The small part of your mind that’s still coherent wonders if your eyes roll back into your head if you’ll fry your brain and end this torture. Maybe it is worth it to try.

You have no idea how long they keep your beams on this time—all your remaining focus and energy is on keeping your eyes closed. Bucky is screaming, crying, begging, but his voice sounds echoey and far away so you can’t make out his words. You aren’t sure what HYDRA will do to him once you’re gone, but you pray he fights them with everything he has.

Finally, the machine behind you is flipped off and your body sags against your restraints. Without them, you know you’d topple to the floor, no longer possessing the energy to hold yourself up. Everything hurts now, not just your eyes. But you’re still alive which means you aren’t done fighting.

You hear footsteps approaching and you recognize the voice of the man in charge as he curses, kicking one of the legs of your chair. “This is ridiculous. How many of you fucking idiots does it take to make her kill the Soldier? Just pry her eyes open, clamp them in place, and turn the machine back on.”

You grin weakly, feeling blood dripping down your chin where you had bit your tongue. With your ruined voice, you croak, “You can try, but the second any of you put a finger near my eyes, I’m burning it off.” 

The man beside you yanks on the restraint across your forehead, tightening it to the point you feel bones crack. You let out a soft whimper as the man growls, “Fine. We’ll turn it up to full power and leave it on. Let her burn completely through her eyelids. Then we’ll get the results we want.” You hear him turn and march away.

For the first time, your resolve wavers as a small sob bubbles up in your chest. Your body may be resistant to your beams and can repair wounds sustained from them, but it takes time. If these scientists can make you burn through your eyelids—and based on how everything is starting to look a little brighter through your closed lids, it seems like a very real possibility—then there is nothing you can do to stop them from hitting and killing Bucky. 

You hear the scientists murmuring and fiddling with equipment somewhere far behind you, but you still don’t dare open your eyes in case someone is still at the machine and flips it on the moment you look at Bucky. Yet it won’t matter for much longer if they carry out their plan. 

“Doll…” The word is whispered so low you can barely hear it.

“Buck…,” It’s hard to whisper with your ruined voice, the sound more of a croak than a real word. But you hope he can understand you with his super-soldier hearing. “I’m sorry. I-I can’t stop this.”

“I know. You’ve done so good so far.” Even in a whisper, the love in his voice feels like a comforting embrace. “But I have a plan. You just gotta trust me.” 

“I do. You know I do.” 

“Then when I tell you to open your eyes and turn on your beams, whether they’re making you or not.”

You sob, “But Bucky—”

“Trust me!” he hisses. 

“Okay…okay, I’ll do it.”

He lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Doll. Whatever happens, I love you. And this isn’t your fault.”

A single tear escapes your ruined eyes and rolls down your scared cheek. “I love you too. But we both know, it is.”

Bucky doesn’t respond. However, you can hear a soft scraping and shuffling from his vicinity. Maybe he found a way to escape. Or maybe…he couldn’t be asking you to kill him. After all the pain and suffering you’d put yourself through to keep him alive, he wouldn’t have you take him out now just to end both of your pain…would he?

But you promised to trust him and you do, so when you hear him mutter, “All the way down and to the right. Now!”, you follow his instructions.

Shifting your gaze behind closed lids as far to the right and downward as they’ll go, you open your eyes and blast without a second's hesitation. 

Your beams strike Bucky in the center of his left forearm, just a few inches above his wrist. Even though it is his metal arm, you are horrified. You thought he had found a way to get you to blast open his cuffs or melt his chair, and in a way, even killing him instantly would be better than this. His vibranium arm is advanced enough that it still allows him to feel sensations such as texture, pressure, and—what concerns you in this situation—temperature and even pain. Instead of ending his life with one blast, you are now forcing him to endure the same agony you have been going through. 

As the metal begins to glow under the intense heat of your beams, you want to screw your eyes shut once more. But Bucky told you to do this and you promised to trust him. Even though he is grunting and panting because of the pain, he isn’t telling you to stop so you keep your beams focused on his arm. 

Eventually, the red-hot glow expands and soon reaches his wrist. In moments, the metal restraint liquifies and Bucky wrenches his arm free. Without having to be told, you slam your eyes shut once more.

You can hear the sounds of fighting all around you: guns firing until their clips run empty, flesh sizzling against metal followed by screams of agony, bodies being flung around the room and crashing to the floor. 

But then everything goes silent.

For a minute, nothing happens. You are just about to call out when a pair of lips press lightly against yours. Jumping slightly, you quickly recognize the kiss. You try to lean into it but the strap across your forehead holds you firmly in place. 

Parting from your lips and pressing his forehead against yours, Bucky whispers, “It’s okay. You can open your eyes now. It’s just you and me.”

Slowly, you peel your eyes open. The world is cloudy and out of focus with huge black spots obstructing your vision. And yet, there was no mistaking the person kneeling in front of you. 

Weakly, you smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he murmurs back.

“H-how bad?”

Bucky’s brow furrows as he runs his thumb gently around the edge of your eye socket, the now cooled metal somewhat soothing against your damaged skin. “It’s really bad, but I’m hoping it’s worse than it looks. Once you get checked out—”

“Not me,” you whisper. “How badly did I hurt you?”

You can hear the smile in his voice even though you can’t make it out. “I’ve had a lot worse. And it’s because of you that it was as minimal as it was. You should’ve just vaporized my head from the very start.” 

“Nah. I knew we’d find a way out eventually.”

“Liar,” he teases. Then, with a more serious tone, he asks, “How’s your vision? You’re blinking an awful lot and that can’t be comfortable.”

You try to think of how to describe what you are seeing. “I can see some shapes, colors, movements…that’s about it. No details. But even that’s a miracle at this point. I’ve never burned myself this badly before.”

“Will they…will they heal?”

You try to shrug but you are still strapped to the chair. “They should. They always have before. Healing the burns is tied into my powers.” You swallow and flinch at the sharp stab of pain cutting down your throat. “My voice, however, might be another story.”

Bucky gently runs his fingers down the side of your neck. “I’m sure SHIELD has some specialists who can help you. But first, we’ve got to get back to them. So let’s get you out of that chair.”

He began unlocking each of your restraints and you can’t stop a moan from escaping. Your skin had been rubbed raw where the metal dug into your skin, and your muscles ache from how tensely they had been clenched in pain. Bucky must have noticed this, because as he undoes each strap, he massages the area, loosening up the muscles enough to ease some of the tension. But every inch of you still throbs in pain. 

As Bucky unlatches the last restraint, he asks, “Do you think you can walk?”

“I’m not sure. Everything hurts. But maybe once I get going—” You try to rise from the seat but barely make any progress before collapsing back down. You look up at Bucky sheepishly. “I guess that’s a no.”

Carefully, he lifts you into his arms and carries you towards the exit. You can’t see where you’re going and the slight bobbing of your vision as he walks is giving you a headache. 

Leaning your head against his chest, you let your damaged eyes drift softly closed. Then you mutter, “I think I need to sleep for a bit. Helps my recovery time.”

You feel Bucky’s lips brush against your temple. “Rest, Doll. I’ll take it from here.”

Nodding softly, you begin slipping into a deep slumber. You are still in a lot of pain, but you don’t regret a single moment of what happened. You’d do it all again if at the end you could be safe in Bucky’s arms once more.

Taglist: @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @blue-aconite, @writercole, @wildbornsiren

@tavners, @sunshineflowerchild789, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @merlehs,

@princessmisery666, @ohtobeleah, @musings-of-a-rose, @a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all

[jbird-the-manwich]

I was talkin to a friend about covid yesterday and like... I haven't seen a lot about it lately but talking about it got me thinking about how absolutely fucked up and freaky, in hindsight, my last bout of covid was, like... if you've not had it/been asymptomatic, I love that for you, but like... seriously. do still be doing the masking if you can, avoid crowded places with poor ventilation as you're able, try to keep a handle on not letting strangers breathe directly on you, etc. I got the shit last year, before thanksgiving, KEPT it till this spring, (long covid) and it fucking sucks.

Like. It SUCKS. it SCARY sucks. I had nausea, chest pain, tachycardia, extreme weakness and fatigue... like... I had OG-covid, back in 2020, and another couple bouts in the years since then, but that last one? that particular Covid was not fucking playing with me.

That shit tried to kill me. I had a fever so high I was having delirium. I didn't experience any weird horniness, like in the meme, personally, but I did have weird SCARY neurological symptoms, I was so nauseated I wanted to die, the fever (which was recurrent, and intermittent, at 104f, for *months* off an on) had me acting fucking weird, I'd get nauseus, then super aggressive and fighty, had episodes of extreme confusion, not being able to remember simple words and phrases, (I don't mean standard adhd either I mean I could barely talk coherently at times, when I wasnt fucking losing my shit rambling about nonsense) random crying spells, tremors, inability to stay awake, It affected my memory, my ability to walk, and still affects my basic levels of strength and ability to do shit.

for real the shit is serious. I went to the hospital and my tachycardia was so bad the nurse pulled my sister aside (who is not authorized to receive any information, btw) and told her not to let me leave the hospital because they thought I was going to have a heart attack. Cuz my heart rate was so fucked from the fever. I was fucking holding on to walls and shit, could barely walk, I was taking phenergan so consistently it straight up stopped working, and I'm negative, now, but like... I lost 20 lbs by the end of it. No shit. from 151 to 129. and I'm still not entirely better.

I'm still having memory issues, I barely remember the last year aside from bits and pieces, and the fatigue is fucking unreal. like. I was *stout*, pre-covid, and had a pretty solid vocabulary, and now I feel like half my brain is missing. my energy levels are on the upswing, but that's taken months, and I'm still not half as strong as I was before I got that last round last year, so like... I know not a lot of people are masking, and very few people are still talking about it, out and about, but like... seriously. it is real. It is fucking debilitating. it can affect your goddamn brain.

Do try to avoid getting that shit. I would not recommend it. As diseases go? It's a total bitch. wear a mask if you can. I was a *very* fit, quite strong 30-something, built like a brick shit house, and I lost almost *all* of my muscle mass, and it feels like I got *extremely fucking dumber*. I had projects I was working on, and I don't remember how they were supposed to go together. in the span of less than a year, cuz fuckin covid set up in my (vaccinated) body and was like "oh, I think I'll stay". So yeah. not a hot news topic, right now, anymore, but... for real. It is still there, and it will fuuuuuuuuuck your whole shit up. I am *still* having to have blood panels run, pretty much every doctor I see is just like. "huh. Well that's... pretty shitty..." And I mean im very lucky. I'm alive and mostly undamaged, barring a couple things, but yeah. It is for real still a thing and will totally wreck a whole ass year, if it takes a mind to, so... try to avoid it, where you can. Get vaccinated, if you're not, wear a mask, if able, and don't listen to the people that aren't taking your safety into consideration in their rationale for not taking it seriously as a potentially debilitating disease, particularly if you have any kind of pre-existing risk factors, including previous covid infections. I don't wanna scare anybody but like... the shit is real and it will lay you low, is, I guess, is the point I'm trying to make.

[sxddekarios]

a very wholesome magic lesson

i am back with a bg3 rebranding!! this is the first fic i've ever wrote, and it's my take on Gale's act 1 romance scene at the tiefling party. Him and Tav are both oblivious to the others' feelings. read on ao3 or here!

2.2k words (of fluff)

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

“I think it’s best in my condition if I don’t get too excited,” Gale reminds himself.

“Well, who said anything about excitement? Surely you’re not *that* keen on a little magic trick. I’ve seen you do plenty of other magic.” Tav responds with her signature furrowed brows.

“It’s not … the magic, per-say. More what comes with it. Though perhaps I’ve had too much wine for this conversation.” Gale attempts to stop him self, as he usually does when he’s bitten off a bit too much to chew in the flirting department.

“For what conversation? I just want to learn some more magic. There’s no way I can go enjoy our celebration, and sleep, after this cliffhanger…” Tav trails off, trying to bait him into explaining without having to fish too directly (or embarrassingly) for it.

Gale raises an eyebrow at Tav, knowing that he’s never been able to turn down an ask of hers before. He got into this mess with the orb by being a pleaser, after all. “Have a glass of wine and I’ll see if I can handle making this much of an ass of myself” Gale sighs.

Tav grabs his glass of wine and takes a tentative sip. She makes a face, disgusted by the tartness. Luckily, she manages to swallow the offending liquid. “This is all you’re getting from me, I’m afraid. Unless you can magic this into something bearable, or you’re hiding some other vices somewhere in that tent of yours, you’re gonna have to deal with talking to a sober person right now.”

Gale looks at her in mock astonishment — “Have you no taste? Have you never drank wine before? This is a *delectable* indulgence that clearly you have not been educated on. Or, perhaps, you lack the sophistication that i’ve grown terribly used to in Waterdeep.”

Tav grimaces while preparing herself for her next attempt to shut Gale up …. at least telling him how he *should* shut up, that is. Letting out a deep breath, she grabs hold of Gale’s glass and chugs it. As much as she can anyways, which still takes an eternity too long to ensure she doesn’t choke. “It’s still horrendous. But we’re even now. Spill, before I do.”

Gale glances at the empty glass in disappointment, but holds onto it. He steels himself for his next words while keeping his eyes downward. “If you must know, I speak of … physical excitement. I can handle magic, but my heart may not be able to handle … more carnal conditions of the flesh. With the orb, I risk exploding with any activity, or *feeling*, that gets my heart beating too fast, my blood pressure too high,” Gale explains.

Tav raises an eyebrow in response. “Like, you’re gonna explode as in ….” she trails off again, hoping he’ll take the hint. She knows he must be referring to the catastrophic Netherese blast they had spoken of before, but she couldn’t help herself from teasing him about the double entendre.

The blush taking over Gale’s face and neck came on far too suddenly for him to blame it on the wine. “No! Gods no, not like that! The magic in the orb will destroy me and everything around me,” Gale exclaims. Much to his avail, Tav still doesn’t stop her line of questioning.

Crossing her arms, Tav decides to enjoy the flustered nature of a blushing, tipsy Gale. “Okay, but you’re still saying you’d explode …. literally …. because you’d explode …. sexually. You said you wanted to show me a *magic* trick, not fuck my brains out.”

She pauses for a second when he lets out an indignant gasp at her directness. “Unless I’m mistaken on what a magic trick is, in which case I think you should’ve lead with that,” Tav finished with a smirk, finally meeting his eyes. She can feel the exasperation exuding from the wizard, and she loves every second of it.

Gale has no choice but to shake his head in lack of a coherent response to Tav’s brazen words. “I suppose you’ve got me there. I can show you some magic, no nefarious subterfuge. And no explosions of any kind, mortal *or* magical,” he emphasized.

Tav worries at her lip for show. “You really won’t blow up, right? Or you’ll at least warn me if you feel too much … *excitement*, stirring? We can’t leave scratch an orphan.” She thinks of mentioning the chaos that Astarion would unleash without them to reel him in, but she didn’t want to darken the mood too much.

Gale smiles at her words and lets out a little laugh as he promises that they’ll be safe. He holds out his hand, palm up, for her to take. Tav takes a hard look at his fingers for a moment, trying to commit their beauty to memory, before gently laying her hand atop his and intertwining their fingers to be led farther out of the camp. Once they reach a more quiet spot a few minutes later, Gale stops, forfeiting her warm hand to turn to her.

“This will do. Now, I want to show you the true embrace of the Weave. It’s a full-body experience to wield the Weave and feel its support of your magic,” Gale says with a smile on his face and wonder in his eyes. Tav categorizes this as his professor face, imagining him introducing lessons to his students with this pure enthusiasm.

Nevertheless, she’s more comfortable bickering with Gale than sharing that heart-warming thought with him. “You know i’m a sorcerer, right? I’ve been using the Weave my whole life. Unlike *some* people,” she pointedly includes to rile up the wizard.

“Of course. You’ve received the gift through your ancestor’s carnal relations with some dragon, while ‘some’ of us have *worked* for it,” Gale smiled, letting her know that he was joining her sarcasm in jest. “Nonetheless, there’s a very different feeling to using the Weave that comes with the years of study a wizard has. *That* is what I wanted to show you. I know you can call on the Weave as second nature, and you do a wonderful job with it, but I want you to experience the pleasure of embracing the environment, carefully going over the incantation and hand gestures, and using this to manipulate the Weave to bring your spell into reality.”

Tav felt her heart rate sky rocket with Gale’s praise for her sorcery. She wondered if the feeling he spoke of was really common to all wizards, or if he had a deeper connection as Mystra’s former lover … or victim, if you ask her. Still, she tried to focus on the positive.

“Ah, so you took me here to teach me slow careful pleasure,” Tav teased. “Get on with it then,” she encouraged with a wave of her hand.

Gale laughed in response, a deep sound that flooded Tav’s head with a light feeling, and took over her lips with a full grin.

“As you wish,” Gale bowed his head towards Tav, and proceeded with his magic lesson.

—

After an hour of teaching Tav how to connect with the Weave in this almost spiritual manner, Gale smiled at her once again. “I know you’re genuinely a natural at magic, but you did a wonderful job with this. It’s hard for someone to harness this connection without the education of a wizard.”

Tav smiles back at Gale and considers herself. “Or, maybe you’re just a good teacher.” As sure of herself as she was in magic, she was more sure of Gale’s ability to educate others. From his admirable desire to help others to his enthusiasm for knowledge … to the voice, face, and *hands* that made it impossible to zone out on him. He didn’t need to know that last part, though.

Gale chuckles at her praise, a light blush spreading across his face. “That too. How are you feeling now?” He asks, hoping his little magic lesson has been half as joyful for her as it has been for him. He felt relaxed, renewed, grounded, and more connected to her than he had ever felt. Although, that last part may be because he’s still standing so close to her, holding her hand as he needed to guide her through the more intricate parts of spell casting.

Tav allows herself to stare into Gale’s glimmering brown eyes, feeling a psychic connection between them where her thoughts could become his without the need to be verbalized.

After a lifetime of men being upset at her, accusing her of expecting them to read her mind, here is a man who can simply do so. Of *course* it’s Gale. Tav feels her eyes well up as she revels in the intense hope, adoration, and yearning she feels for him. Gazing into Gale’s eyes, their hands still intertwined, she imagines what it would be like to press onto her tiptoes and softly kiss him.

Gale’s eyes widen with shock as the thought dances into his mind. “I - I didn’t think -” he stutters, “I wasn’t … expecting that. Not that it’s unwelcome — it was a most pleasant thought,” Gale adds in hopes that Tav doesn’t take his surprise as disinterest, or even disgust. “It just took me by surprise,” he reiterates.

Tav takes a moment to compose herself before exhaling a shaky “okay.” Then, she whips her head around as she smells bergamot wafting in from the distance. Gale follows her gaze until they both see Astarion stumbling into the clearing … closely connected to Shadowheart.

“Well, looks like we’ve got company,” Gale tries (and fails) to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “We might want to get back to camp before we have to witness whatever is going to happen here.”

Tav slowly turns back to gale, smiling as she notices his stony stare at the oblivious couple. “As long as we’re not able to hear them from camp…”

“Oh gods, I don’t even want to think of that,” Gale grimaced. “Why don’t we head back, and if we hear anything, you could come sleep in my tent?” He quickly adds,” I have a silencing ward. I’d cast one on them before we leave, but I’m afraid my concentration won’t last once I fall asleep, and I know how fitful your rest is.”

Astonishment, anger, and amusement fight for dominance over Tav. She conveys a mix of them with her slack-jawed expression. “You had a *silencing ward* on your tent this whole time? And you didn’t *tell me*?” She kept her outrage playful, although she was disappointed that he hadn’t shared this with her earlier.

“I’m sorry,” gale said in earnest as he took her hand and started leading her back towards camp. They left a wide berth for Astarion and Shadowheart to continue ripping each other’s clothes off.

“I started working on a ranged ward for your tent after I earned of your insomnia, but I never quite got it to stick. I didn’t want you to think I was coming onto you by offering a place in my tent to get some good rest. I don’t expect anything, and I could even sleep outside of it if you’re more comfortable with that.” He felt a bit less forward with the offer now that he knew she thought of kissing him — at least in that moment. Still, he never wanted her to feel pressure.

She gazed up at Gale as they reached their camp. “Really?” she asked, unsure if someone could genuinely be so kind. Last time she had an offer like that …. well, they lied about expecting nothing.

Gale squeezed Tav’s hand in reassurance as he took in the concern in her voice. “Of course. I’m sure our adventure would benefit from a well-rested leader… do you want my tent alone, or …” he trailed off, his bashfulness returning.

“No!” tav exclaimed. “I’m not taking your tent from you! We can share it, if you’re okay with that?” She hurries along in an attempt to be thoughtful and nonchalant at the same time, “whatever you want. Sleeping on opposite sides, together … I’m fine with either. Well, by together I mean … you know what I mean,” she shook her head as she tried to explain herself.

Then she remembered their little joke and smirked, “no undue *excitement* is what I mean.”

Gale returned her smirk with a laugh, “Right, always looking out for me. It’s lady’s choice though, and i’m happy with either as well. But I will say, I know you run warm. I also know that I can use a frost enchantment to keep you cool so long as we’re touching.” This was his masterful attempt at sweetening the deal without pressuring her by saying how much he longed to hold her in his arms … and damn him if it wasn’t going to work.

“Gods, you’ve really been holding out on me, haven’t you?” Tav admonished. “I’ll just, get some of my stuff, and then I’ll join you. I’ll bring my blanket so I hopefully won’t steal yours, but I make no promises.”

He smiled as he met her serious gaze at the threat of stealing his blanket. “Two is always better. I’ll see you when you’re ready,” Gale said softly, watching her head back to her tent. He silently thanked her for wanting another blanket, giving him a moment alone to bask in the excitement of a night with her. And calm down this excitement before she returns so he doesn’t scare her off.

[notadamnmermaid]

Baked Alaska

Eddie Diaz likes to think he’s a good friend, when he wasn’t actively sabotaging his own life. He gets along decently with Chimney; plays cards with Hen and Karen at their standing ‘parents of teenagers’ meet ups; has a regular pool game with Bosko whenever their schedules lined up; and he enjoys pick-up basketball game days with Tommy. All of this to say, he is a pretty good guy to most people.

But here’s the thing about Eddie: he might like to think he’s a good friend, but he knows without a question that he is Buck’s best friend. So when Buck shows up at his doorstop, forlorn and scowling with a six pack of beer, of course Eddie is going to help him get over his breakup. He turns the music back up and dances, and he urges Buck up to join him. They dance and they drink and they laugh until Buck looks less like he’s going to break down.

Later that week, he helps Buck pack up the few things of Tommy’s that are left around the loft. Maddie and Chim have just dropped off Jee-Yun, so Eddie picks up the bag. He knows that Tommy should be at his station today, so he can drop it off before heading back to Buck’s baking frenzy.

“I mean yeah, Evan’s hot, but he was also, like, really just not my type.” Eddie’s ears prick up at the sound of Tommy’s voice. He’s just walked into Harbor station. He moves silently up the stairs to see Tommy holding court, his back to Eddie. Donato is there, along with Hicks and Gomez, listening to Tommy with a barely perceptible sneer that turns to malicious glee as she sees Eddie stalking up with a finger to his lips.

“But I hooked up with someone at this nightclub in WeHo last month who’s way more my speed,” Tommy continues on obliviously. “An absolute hottie and I can have a fully coherent conversation without him going off on, like, fifteen different tangents. And just the tightest little ass, like my god—“

Eddie thinks he blacked out for a few seconds, because two weeks ago, Buck and Tommy were still dating. But a month ago, Tommy did what?

What?

Here’s the thing about Eddie Diaz: he likes most people well enough, but he loves Evan Buckley, and Eddie will be damned before he lets a raggedy bitch like Tommy get away with hurting him, even retroactively.

“What the FUCK are you talking about, Kinnard?” Eddie’s emphatic voice from directly behind him prompts a jump spin from Tommy. Eddie watches his face pale with hard eyes and his jaw set. From the corner of his eye, he sees Donato take out her phone.

“Ed-Eddie,” Tommy stutters out, eyes darting across his face nervously. “What are you doing here?”

Eddie tosses the bag to the floor at his feet. “Well, I was trying to be kind to my best friend since his ex broke up with him a few days ago; I didn’t think it’d be a good idea for Buck to have to go through some bullshit handoff, when I— being his best friend and your friend— could just bring it over peacefully.

“But back to you: what the fuck did you just say? Did I just hear your bitch ass admit to cheating on my best friend? Was that what I just heard?” Eddie prowls up to the older man and pokes him hard in the chest. Tommy looks like curdled milk as he tries to back away.

“Eddie, listen, please—“

“Oh fuck that, puto,” Eddie snarls, balling his fist up into Tommy’s collar and dragging him down to eye level. “Buck is one of the best men I know, you fuckwit piece of shit coward. What, you didn’t want to tell him the truth, so you broke up with him? Said he would break your heart eventually? What a fucking joke; Buck is the kindest, sexiest, coolest person I know. You don’t deserve to have that type of goodness in your life. And he doesn’t deserve a prick like you taking advantage of him.”

Abruptly, he releases Tommy with a hard shove, completely disgusted by even the idea of being around the other man any longer. He turns and walks off, kicking the bag lightly out of the way.

“There’s all your stuff,” he calls over his shoulder, “now you can lose Buck’s number, and lose mine too for that matter.” He stops for a moment, cocks his head, and looks over his shoulder with a mean little smile.

“But thanks for getting him those Lakers tickets; I’ll make sure he has a real good time.”

When he walks back in to Buck’s apartment, strong hands push him up against the door. Eddie has half a breath to take in the fevered look in blue eyes before those same strong hands cradle his face for a kiss. His own hands move automatically, clutching at broad shoulders and fisting in curly blond hair. A moan rumbles through his chest.

They eventually part, air still being a necessity, foreheads touching. “Lucy sent me a video,” Buck murmurs, eyes wide and smiling broadly. “I’m the sexiest person you know?”

Eddie huffs out a laugh. “And the kindest, coolest, funniest, sweetest, most irritatingly beautiful man I know. Mi sol,” he declares, “Mi amor. Te amo. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

They’re both smiling, tears glinting in their eyes, as they move together for another kiss, and then another, and then another. They part reluctantly as Jee-Yun starts calling for attention from the living room. Fingers laced together and sides bumping playfully, they make their way over to her.

After all, there will be time for more later.