#then the bodies of wood can be repaired

[puppetmaster13u]

Look what you did Kal, you gave him (even worse) anxiety!

Hngh, Bruce wrapping his arms around his kids but being unable to cry despite them all knowing he is so very close to having a breakdown. Like this is probably the longest he's been in the doll body without any sort of break, and that probably has an effect. He doesn't have a brain in the body or a stomach but he'll get bouts of almost dizziness or nausea, maybe black out at times and 'wake up' in stasis before being thrown back into the doll body. But like, he is definitely not in a good place mentally.

Gosh I am thinking of two timelines almost, one darker than the other. Just slowly rotating both.

Also just got the image of Clark cradling Bruce when he comes back from blacking out at one point. Just holding the body of metal and wood and running fingers through the 'hair'. Half genuinely concerned even if it's been fucked up and half possessiveness.

Oh my gosh, the fact he took Bruce would mean that like, while the others have entered the cave through the Zeta tubes, Clark knows where Bruce lives. And where his kids live too. He can definitely get there too.

Tags are from @phoenixcatch7's Kintsukuroi post

And it reminded me of a question/idea I had when thinking about things like Batman Beyond and all the future timelines, dark or otherwise. Because like, what would happen if the dolls got attached. Like before Bruce, before his family, they haven't been used, they've been rotting away in the tunnels, in the depths of the caves sitting half broken and unnused. So what happens if his body, his human body, starts breaking down. We all know that Bruce wouldn't, couldn't, stop being Batman. Honestly he's more Batman than Bruce most times as time goes on even outside that. At first he's only out at night, at Patrol outside an odd hour or two training and helping the kids. But then the Justice League forms and now he's using the Patriarch more and more outside of Gotham on top of his own usual schedule. So what if one morning, he wakes up, and it's not in his human body. In fact, he can't even feel it any more.

[theoldandnewfirm]

Saw Elemental and enjoyed it a lot more than the trailer suggested I would. I should have remembered that Pixar's marketing is/always has been terrible and their movies are always more nuanced than it makes them appear.

It did leave me with a lot of questions about the...physics? Biology? Of the various elements, but other than that, it was a neatly packaged, touching little story. Probably won't rewatch it, but I'd still recommend it if you've got a free space on your "to watch list."

[cultivating-wildflowers]

shout-out to the bestie for agreeing to my stupid plan to bypass the “bridge closed due to dangerous conditions” sign so I could visit my favorite trees. I’m sorry you got so beat up by that thorn bush.

[nightmareonpeachstreet]

Duality of Peachy is thinking the Froggy Fashion outfit is cute and wanting it but simultaneously recognizing that the Electrician outfit is one of if not THE worst ability outfit to go for alts for because it is so insanely hyper specific that after the finite set of puzzles are done you will pretty much never see it again, and adding more electrician puzzles during a limited time event does NOT solve that problem

[thepossummoldypasta]

Hidden In The Woods

In the woods around Hawkins there is a van, and in that van lives an Eddie. Not a nasty beat-up van in constant need of repair, nor is it a creepy van that looks like it belongs to a serial killer; It’s Eddie's van and that means comfort. It has a perfectly undented body painted green and a mattress in the back. Or well, he doesn't actually live in the van. It's a nice van sure but Eddie lives in a doublewide trailer with his uncle, not his van–no matter how often they joke about it. 

(and there is a small chance he’s lying when he says it doesn't constantly break down)

He’s heading to his van now actually. 

Eddie longs for the ability to teleport at times like this; he’s trudging through the woods after a particularly fucked drug deal, and all he wants is to be in the back of his beloved shitbox, wrapped in blankets and smoking a joint. 

But Eddie can't magically teleport to the van and he also can’t ban Tommy Hagan from buying his weed–who was a major ass today by the way–because he gets most of his income from the jerk. 

He also can’t park closer to where he deals, which sucks. Eddie knows Hopper looks for his van parked on the side roads, so woods it is. Boo.

It's not that much farther….

And it's a nice day...

Plus the trees are pretty…

Eddie loves fall: the trees light up so magically in the sunbeams like a leafy fire, he sees more gray squirrels dancing about the forest floor this time of year, and Halloween is just awesome. 

This Halloween especially. He led a bitchin’ Halloween one-shot with his new DnD club this year and nothing could sour his mood for almost a week afterward. Even though there was some weird pumpkin blight that year that meant no jack-o-lanterns and the controlled burns in the woods behind Forrest Hills kept him up at night all that month. 

Plus he had a really good fall break so far. 

Okay, maybe things aren't sooooo bad. Trust a walk in nature to clear his head. Now that he’s calmed down Eddie can appreciate how nice everything is. 

Wait.

Eddie definitely didn't leave the back of the van open when he left.

Maybe things are shit and Eddie is an idiot. 

Fuck 

He’s lanky and gangly and has no weapon to defend himself with, but Eddie still creeps closer to the doors. 

Hagan couldn't have gotten here before Eddie, so he’s probably not going to get jumped for selling him overpriced weed. Maybe a really smart, really lucky,  raccoon just so happened to get the door open? More likely Eddie opened the damn thing himself, completely forgot about it, and is now making mountains out of molehills…

He props a hand on the closed door and peeks around it into the dim back. And promptly reels back in shock falling flat on his ass. 

It's a total Occam's Razor moment. The easiest and most simple solution is that the universe hates Eddie Munson. Because that's definitely Steve Harrington in the back of his van. He’s snuggled deep into Eddie’s blankets and smelling distinctly more omega than the last time he saw the guy. But it's Steve alright. 

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck 

What the fuck is Steve Harrington doing in the back of Eddie’s van? He’s never even had a conversation with the guy!

What do you do in this situation! 

Steve’s obviously nested back there, and if He was completely scentless before the fall break he’s gotta be fresh off his presentation heat, so like hell is Eddie going to go barging in–that's a surefire way to get his face ripped off–but Eddie also needs to get in that van eventually! 

He Raises back up on shaky legs, poking his head fully into the back; and takes another good, hard, look. 

There is still a person in the back of his van. A whole-ass person who wasn't in his van when he left. A person who is without a doubt, Steve. 

A rustle of movement, a quick shifting of blankets, pulls Eddie back to reality. There’s a cute little chirr from the nest followed swiftly by chestnut waves of hair shimming out into the open. Eddie isn't even given time to react before doe-eyes bleary with sleep blink down at him. 

“Eddie!” 

And oh isn't that the sweetest little chirp. Eddie watches in astonishment as the omega wiggles to prop himself up against the back of the driver's seat, chirping adorably all the while.  Eddie can't decide if he’s more mystified by The Prettiest Boy in Hawkins™ cuddled up back there, or That he knows Eddie’s name. 

Now that the omega isn't completely cocooned, Eddie can smell that faintest hint of mint that Steve is throwing into the air paired with heady lavender and it draws him in. Before he even realizes he’s followed his nose and clambered into the back of the van… his van. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Eddie starts slowly. Are you comfy?” It's an innocent enough question. Hopefully, if he plays it casually, Steve won't decide Eddie’s a threat and rend him to dust for being in the poor Omega’s space.  

Steve didn't seem to understand at first cooing a cute, drawn-out  “Hi, Eddie” but eventually he blinked owlishly and replied with a smile “So cozy”. 

“That’s nice sweetheart, but how bout we get you to your nest, hmm?” the alpha tries to suggest. Oh but now Steve looks a bit confused; drawing his brows together and pouting. 

“Nest? ‘M in my nest?” Steve says (well actually he whines it, but Eddie is trying to ignore that lest his heart break). Crap what does he do now?

“I–I know you’re nesting right now, uh–but wouldn’t you be–wouldn't you feel better at home?” Eddie reasons. 

“But there’s no nest there!” Steve whines again “They wont let me have a nest! I wanna stay here” 

“Okay, Okay” Eddie soothes in a hushed voice,” you don't have to go anywhere you don't want to sweetheart” Eddie is in so much trouble. Now that he knows Steve won't be pissed at him for being so close, Eddie’s having a hell of a time not being closer.  

Maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing.  

Eddie coos from a distance until the whines and whimpers peter out and are replaced by soft sleepy snuffles. 

“How did you even get here, big boy?” Eddie questions. The thought has been plaguing him, what happened while he was away?

“I was taking a walk” Steve starts, he lays his head down and his eyes flutter closed before he continues. “I needed to get away and I went into the woods. I got turned around but you saved me.”

“I saved you?” How the hell did he do that? 

“Mmm hmmm, I smelled ya” Steve hums” smelled so good so I followed.” ok, even more confused now. Eddie has an…unconventional scent–basil and tobacco leaf–he can't imagine someone trekking through the woods to find something that smells like pasta sauce and cigarettes. And how long was Steve lost in the woods, how long was he wandering, cold and alone, with only a scent trail for comfort. 

“Hey, Eddie?” 

“Uh yes?” Eddie focuses back on reality, ready to face whatever he’s about to be asked.

“If I’m sleeping beauty, why didn't you wake me with a kiss?” nope not ready for that. 

“Would you? Uh Do–did you want me to?” Steve nods against the soft blanket pillowed underneath him.  

Oh. 

Eddie feels his resolve crack and threatens to shatter. He can't take advantage of Steve when he’s so vulnerable. Is he vulnerable? Steve isn't still in heat, his mind is sound. But he is upset.  Best to leave it be for now. 

“Do you still want me to kiss you?” 

Dang it.

Steve shoots up–ramrod-like–to nod ecstatically. Eddie's resolve shatters.  Absolutely not helped by Steve’s little please, please, pleases. 

“Okay” 

It's not like there's anyone around to judge him.

It’s like the movies, the way they lean in close and steal each other's breath. Steve tastes like honeyed sunshine. It sweetens the omega’s lavender-mint tea smell in a way that Eddie knows he’ll crave till the day he gets buried six feet under.  Eddie can't tell where he ends and his darling omega begins, drawn so close together that their purrs rattle in both chests. 

Only the lack of oxygen drives them apart, though Eddie tries to fight it. 

“I’ll do better next time princess” the alpha rumbles with care. 

They seal the deal with another perfect kiss. 

Hell yeah.

================================================

based on this post Special thanks to @starshideurfics for inspiring me to have Eddie call Steve sleeping beauty like a SIMP

[nanenna]

Meeting the Mayor

Sleepy King Master Post

Mayor Masters had left their little group waiting for far too long. It was clearly a power move, something Batman expected of someone like Lex Luthor, not the mayor of a small town that had been all but swallowed up by the nearby larger city. It was so predictable that he even started a mental countdown on when they would be allowed to meet Masters. He was, of course, right.

On entering the mayor’s office, Masters was sitting behind his desk, an oily smile spread across his face. He didn’t even stand to greet them. “Good afternoon, it’s not every day…” Masters trailed off as his face scrunched up. “Strawberry shortcake! Did some youths play a prank on you?”

Batman glanced briefly towards his fellow League members, they looked just as confused as he was. Diana squared her shoulders, “What do you mean?”

“You don’t…” Masters frowned as he looked them over, “Nevermind, my mistake. What did you want to discuss?” The man smiled brightly as he leaned over and pressed a button on a small desk fan, the blades whirred to life.

Diana smiled just as brightly and just as fakely as she sat down in front of his desk. “We’re here to make sure you’re aware of the resources the Justice League has made available to any municipal body.”

Constantine took his cue and lounged in the chair next to Diana while Batman chose to loom over her shoulder.

“Resources?” Masters asked with a raised brow.

“Yes, we understand that attacks on a “super villain” level can leave a lot of collateral damage that smaller cities may struggle to repair, especially those that haven’t had to deal with such things before. The Justice League provides aid to anyone who applies.”

“Ah, how generous!” Masters gave a smile that made Batman’s skin crawl. “But I’m sure even you have limited funds, would not they be better left to those truly in need? As you’ve seen, our little town is doing just fine without your help.”

“And how is that?” Batman asked. “There’ve been reports of numerous attacks over the last two years, where is Amity Park getting the resources to repair the damage?”

“Believe it or not, ghosts are incorporeal and thus don’t cause as much collateral damage. Also, the appearance of ghosts has caused a spike in tourists, which has been quite the boost to our economy. And lastly, as the mayor is it not my civic duty to support my town, which I love so dearly? Of course I’ve been supplementing Amity’s budget, and I’ve been making sure to hire only local businesses to keep Amity Park’s money inside Amity Park.”

Batman narrowed his eyes. He chose not to mention that Vlad had only moved to Amity Park shortly before running for mayor, or that he had bought and combined a few local construction companies and has been using them exclusively. Certainly everything about the man was suspicious, but that wasn’t what they were here to talk about. Instead he pulled several pamphlets from his utility belt. “While you’ve been lucky so far, it would be in your best interests to be fully aware of the resources available to you and your fine town in case something larger scale happens.” Not that it hadn’t already, he couldn’t imagine anything larger scale than the entire town and neighboring city getting pulled into another dimension by an undead tyrant king.

While Batman and Diana painstakingly went over the pamphlets with Masters, who’s smile wilted more and more the longer they took, Constantine kept muttering under his breath and making motions with his hands where Masters couldn’t see them, staring intensely at the mayor the whole time. Batman was curious what he was seeing.

The wall suddenly burst, small bits of plaster and wood showering over Masters and the cape Batman had used to shield himself and his fellow League members.

“Vladdie!” A familiar voice called boisterously, “You won’t believe what happened! Oh, I didn’t know you had guests.”

Masters was brushing debris from his person as he spoke with clear disdain, “Yes, well, if you would use the door as. I’ve. Asked! Numerous time. This whole situation could be avoided.”

“Hello again,” Dr. Jack Fenton said cheerfully with a little wave. “What are you doing visiting Vladdie?”

“We were just ensuring Mayor Masters was aware of all the JL resources available to him,” Batman said as he let his cap fall back around his body.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Diana said brightly. “We also have support available for minors doing hero work, you wouldn’t happen to be able to get in contact with Phantom, would you?”

Dr. Madeline Fenton, along with both their children, approached as Diana asked her question. Masters’s eyes trailed over to the group before focusing back on the League members. “No, I’m afraid not. He’s a ghost, you know. Likely he spends most of his time in the Ghost Zone, only comes here to play around with his ghost friends and cause collateral damage.”

“Hey!” Danny said indignantly. “Phantom is a hero who’s working really hard to keep the town safe!”

“Yes yes,” Masters said while waving his hand at the family. “I know you and all your little friends think Phantom hung the moon and stars. Wait, shouldn’t you two be at school?”

“There was an incident,” Jack said proudly.

Masters sighed, “It wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with these fine people, would it?” He waved at the League members as he spoke.

“Good guess, Vladdie!”

“I thought so.” Masters swept the pamphlets into his desk drawer. “Well thank you very much for your concern, I shall make sure to keep these in case we ever do need assistance. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to contact someone about repairing my wall. Have a lovely day.” Masters stood and simply walked through the busted wall with the Fenton family.

Batman watched them leave through narrowed eyes.

“Not the oddest town I’ve been in,” Diana remarked thoughtfully.

Batman simply turned to look in Constantine’s direction.

“The mayor is also dead as a doornail, but fully alive.”

“He also clearly smelled your demon blood,” Batman added.

Constantine nodded. “I'm getting all kinds of odd readings off the mayor, no I'm not explaining it. Just know he's weird, but still not as weird as the kid, though he's close."

"Should we not follow them?" Diana asked.

"I put trackers and bugs on all of them," Batman replied.

"'Course you did, mate."

[thesecondhandwoman]

ANOTHER REPAIR

Sevika x f!reader

Summary: It was a normal day at the workshop all up until Sevika came in, battered and bruised, and her mechanical arm was much worse. The perfect job for a mechanic with a heart.

You were working on a new piece you recently designed for a customer, magnifying glass dangling infront of your eyes, a pair of tweezers in your hand as the thin, gripping metal clung to a miniature yet necessary trinket for the object. You had finally aligned it perfectly before the workshop door swung open, the flimsy wood slamming into the wall, causing a few things to shake, including the table. You let out a startled cuss as your hand jerked forward, causing the miniature piece to go flying out from the tweezers and somewhere on the floor, again.

How fun that was going to be looking for later, or it will be even funner dealing with an angry customer and whatever weapon that one carried this time, you thought with a groan.

You turned on your chair, already fuming, ready to yell at whoever was retarted enough to swing the pieces of wood that was considered a “door” that hard despite the constant warnings. However, the words were unable to leave your lips when you were met with a familiar tall, muscular figure: Sevika.

She was leaning against the wall in a drowsy manner, her body battered to the extent where she was covered in cuts and bruises. Her hand, too, was in the same condition, shattered and wrecked. She looked exhausted but angry, which wasnt a surprise for you, a person who saw both the “Lioness of Zaun” and the actual Sevika.

“Just tell me you can fix this shit.” She said between a grunt, pushing herself off the wall and towards you, a slight limp in her step. “Some jackasses jumped me at the last minute and wrecked the piece of junk to scrap.”

“I,” you were barely able to finish your sentence as Sevika dropped the heavy mechanical arm on your desk, causing you to not only lose the small trinket to the floor today, but the entire piece. “Sevika!” you choked out as you watched the trinket shatter before quickly looking back up at her.

Sevika only gave a small glare before scoffing like she did nothing or what she did didn’t matter, maybe both. She then proceeded to crash onto your couch, letting out a pained groan as her battered body sunk into the slightly uncomfortable cushions. But that was obviously the last thing on her mind at the moment as she ached when cuts and bruises, able to feel each and every ghost of the beating she received from some other scumbags.

You glanced back at her before sighing, pushing your chair back with your feet until it rolled over to the couch, slowing down right infront of her. You lowered the seat and glanced up at her before grabbing the little medical pouch (mainly for you and your repetive, clumsy accidents) from your belt pouch. You were opening an alcohol wipe pack, ready to apply it to a cut when Sevika stopped you. Her hand clutched your wrist, making your breath hitch as your eyes quickly darted to her in slight surprise.

“What the hell are you doing?’ She asked, using that dangerously ticked off and defensive tone she used on other Zaunites or henchmen of Silco. Her grip grew tighter, eyeing the wipe suspiciously like you drenched it in acid or some fatal drug.

“It’s called patching you up. Now hold still, I dont want to hurt you.” You said softly, trying to coax her into letting you help her and the various damage that was evident on her body. Your heart ached a little everytime you saw the effects of being a Zaunite, even by other Zaunites, all because this is the undercity, a place where scumbags and scraps were tossed to make the city above clean and cleansed.

Sevika paused momentarily, eyeing the wipe a little longer before her eyes met yours. She let out a sigh and slowly released your wrist, allowing you to push it forward once more and wipe at the cut beneath her eye. She winced a little at the small sting, trying to cover up the sound of weakness with a casual grunt. But based on the way her brows furrowed and her jaw clenched, it was obvious that it did hurt a bit, and would get worse as you got to the wounds that were much worse.

As you were wiping a wound on her chin, she jerked back a bit a little when it hurt again, letting out a frustrated grunt before cussing. “God fucking dammit–”

“Shh,” you interupted as you cupped her cheek, leaning forward again, your chest against hers. You looked up at her eyes again before your eyes trailed back down to her cut, staring at her lips for a few seconds before focususing again. “I’m almost done, just try and relax.”

Her eyes wided a bit when your soft skin wrapped around her cheek, her lips becoming a thin line as she glanced at you. She stared at you in temporary shock before she forced herself to relax again at the cold touch of the wipe, sinking into the touch of your palm a bit to try and anchor herself. Her greys softened, her eyes trained on you and you only now, watching each and every expression you had as you eyed her cuut. Her hand slowly met your thigh to make sure you werent gonna accidentally slip on the moveable chair, a common action that she did when you had softened her down a bit, showing the difference between the “Lioness of Zaun” and the real Sevika.

A smile crept onto your face when you felt her calloused fingers on your skin, gripping the muscle of your thigh in a protective hold. You found it slightly cute, knowing that you had successfully coaxed her again. But you tried to ignore it as you continued down her body, patching up the other cuts and bruises that you found. You only stopped when you came around her hips and lower, glancing up at her. “You arent hurt down here right?”

Those grays met yours as you asked the simple question, a glint slightly in them when she realized what you were talking about. She cleared her throat when she saw your eyes trained on her, those eyes so innocent and puppy-like despite the second, more dirty meaning of the question you had just asked out of concern. It made her clear her throat before she nodded.

“I’m fine down there, doll.” she huffed, glancing away and leaning into the couch more. “Now can you get back to my damn arm so I have something to punch those scumbags with later?”

You were a bit surprised at the sudden change in topics, but didnt question further as you chuckled. “Okay, okay, I’m getting to it, Vika, baby.” you teased before getting back up, pushing your chair back towards your desk, spinning back infront of it.

Sevika scoffed a little as she watched you twirl in your obnoxious, spinny chair before glancing back down at her patched up bandages. She growled a little at the way she felt her cheeks flush, especially when she realized all of the colorful bandages you put on her, rolling her eyes despite how cute she found it.

[werecreature-addicted]

I remember some of your posts about a minotaur who lived with a peasant girl, can I ask for something about that? If it's not a bother of courseDue to the life that the minotaur has had, its instincts never appeared, that is, it never went through a stage of heat due to the stress and abuse to which it was subjected, but now everything is different, it is calmer, more relaxed, and it began to pay attention to a girl, specifically the girl she lives with, and apparently her instincts are beginning to appear, her body asks her to "mate" with her partner, although it is difficult to control herself, plus they are nothing yet and the girl does not know that minotaurs also go through a hot season, and it's not like she was going to ask him that, it would be very strange xd

(imagine that poor cock crying to enter the girl, but he must hide it, even if it is uncomfortable)

Sam master list for previous parts.

under the cut because this is long...for me at least.

Normally when it came to the physically demanding chores around the farm Sam liked to do the heavy lifting, literally. You were stronger than you looked but you still didn't have the monstrous strength that he did, and even besides that, he liked to spoil you. He'd never admit it out loud but he liked the way you sometimes watched him as he repaired the siding of a barn or hammered in a sense post. Something about the way your eyes followed him left a warm feeling in his belly. It's especially nice now that sometimes you kiss him after he's done a good job.

Now though, he just stands and stares as you work, nailing together bits of wood making your own saddle stand out of leftover bits of material. You looked so good, sweaty, and bent over your little bench. Is this how you felt when you watched him work? Sam doesn't even have the vocabulary to describe the strange heat that burns inside of him. He's supposed to be doing other work right now but he can't tear his eyes from you.

He wants to bend you over that saddle stand and- and what? He flinches back from the thought he didn't want to hurt you and he hates that his instincts are pushing him in that direction. But he wouldn't hurt you, his mind argues back. He wouldn't pin you down to hurt win a match or something. He'd be gentle. He'd pleasure you. Sam shudders. Where were these thoughts coming from?

His nostrils flare and even from across the barn, he can smell you and the salt of your sweat makes his cock throb. Sam sits down hard and pulls a nearby milk bucket over the large tent in his pants. He immediately feels stupid and tosses the pail aside, it did more to draw attention to his boner than hide it. He settles for just sitting awkwardly and hoping you don't notice.

How can Sam ever look you in the eye again after this? He supposes he shouldn't feel so guilty about being attracted to you but surely it's perverse to want you this badly when you're not even doing anything. At least if you were naked in bed trying to seduce him he'd have good reason to be this turned on. Sam shudders and replays the mental image of you, naked in bed, looking up at him trying to pull him towards you. Fuck he needed to get on top of you.

Just as that thought crossed his mind you bent over the waist-height wooden stand to grab something from your toolbox jutting your ass out in front of him. In a second Sam is on his feet, walking towards you before he can register what he's even doing, all he knows is that he needs you.

"oh, Sam-" you gasp, jumping a little when you turn to see him right behind you. For someone so big he moved silently. Sam takes a step forward and presses you back against the barn wall. "What's going on honey?" you ask trying to sound calm but you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little nervous about his behavior. Sam had always been so cautious with you, overly gentle and paranoid that he might hurt you by accident. The Sam you knew would never pin you against a wall like this, it was nervewracking but also exciting.

"I uhm I just wanted to be close to you I guess," he mumbled, lowering his snout to your shoulder as if he was smelling you. Sam steps closer and you feel something brush against your thigh at first you think it's his leg but you look down and realize it's his barely restrained cock poking into your thigh.

"Do- are you uhm in heat Sam?" You ask and the monster on top of you freezes.

"do- do minotaurs go into heat?" he asks puzzled.

"I guess I don't know but most monsters do have you really never gone into heat before?" You ask then wince, it made sense that he wouldn't go into heat when he was under such harsh conditions his body wouldn't let him go into such a vulnerable state.

"No," he said, his hips grinding softly against your thigh he groans at the friction and you can't help but shudder too. You might not go into heat but you did want him just as much. "Will you help me?" he asked desperately.

"yes- yeah, I'll help you let me just-" As soon as he has your consent all other thoughts fly out of his head. He pushes his mouth to yours kissing you and effectively shutting you up. This wasn't like any of the other soft and innocent kisses you and Sam had shared in the past this was heated, and needy and caused a warm heat to bloom inside of you. This isn't a kiss for the sake of kissing, this is a kiss that promises much much more to come.

Even desperate like this, Sam still tries to be gentle as he strips your clothes and kneels down so he can hook your legs over his broad, muscular shoulders, your back pressed to the wall of the barn he holds your weight easily.

"I'm going to get you nice and prepped for me, my cock is big and I need you to take every inch, okay?" he asks softly, kissing the soft skin of your inner thigh as his thick fingers ghost over your cunt.

"Hold my horns while you rid my face," Sam instructs. You look down at his horns, one normal and the other broken and jagged. You hesitated, you knew how much that broken horn hurt him and you didn't want to grab it, but before you could put much more thought into it Sam pressed his mouth to your cunt, running his large soft tongue over your folds getting you wet enough to slot his big fingers inside of you. You yelp and settle for holding on to his good horn with one hand and tangling your fingers in his hair with the other.

Sam's cock ached. He needed to be buried inside of you, but he held himself back. He imagined the pained squeak you'd make if he tried to fuck you without any prep and that was almost enough to snap him out of his lusty haze. Almost.

You lose count of how many times you cum as he stretches you out and gets you ready for his dick, eventually though he decides that you're ready for him, or he just gets tired of waiting. Your legs tremble and for a second you worry you're not going to be able to stand on your own but you needn't worry, Sam had no intention of letting you stand. he readjusts his grip so that your legs are over his forearms and he pins you against the wall again his cock nudging your opening, slipping up your pussy as he tries unsuccessfully to push into you. His cock head bumps your clit and you feel a pulse of warm precum ooze out onto your hot skin making you shudder, your thighs tense in his arms, and Sam grunts, spreading your legs a little further as he grinds his cock over your cunt again.

You reach between your two bodies and grasp his cock. You curse silently to yourself feeling the weight and girth of it for the first time. You stroke him a few times before you guide his dick inside of you.

Sam had been so careful to be gentle with you this whole time, but now that he feels your tight heat gripping him in a way he's never felt before he no longer has the restraint. His brain shuts off and he feels more like a beast than he has in years. Sam slams his hips against yours burying his cock to the hilt in one swift motion. You cry out and dig your nails into his biceps, holding on for dear life as he thrusts into you with all the strength of a bull plowing a field. You're pretty sure you hear something crack and for a minute you aren't sure if it's you or the barn wall behind you that's breaking.

Sam groans loudly as he sinks his cock into you over and over again. His hips have a mind of their own as they steadily rock back and forth. He hates to admit it, but every time you cry out in pleasure or in pain it makes his cock throb. He would have thought the sound of you hurting-hurting because of him, would be enough to break his heart instead it makes him whimper and only fuels his desire to fuck you harder and fill you with his cum until you were swollen with it.

The mental image of you bloated with his seed proves to be too much for him and with one more deep stroke he cums deep inside of you, his legs shake with the relief of finally breeding you. He pulls you away from the wall and crashes backward into a hay bail laying down to catch his breath while keeping you impaled on his cock.

It feels right to have you on his chest and be surrounded by the earthy comforting smell of hay and dirt. You shift a little and his hands fly up to your hips pushing you back down.

"Stay... please," he almost begs softly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam, I just want to get off your dick," you promise, trying to shift again. then he looks at you with the saddest most pleading look you've ever seen. his big brown cow eyes sparkling at you.

"Please don't, I want to be inside of you so you can feel me get hard again before I fuck you," he mumbles pleadingly. how could you say no to that face?

[justpeaxchy]

'Why not me?'

Warnings: Jealousy, a "little" misunderstanding between Hiccup and reader.

A/n: !Fem reader! I recommend reading this as a part two to this short writing I did, but either way it can be read on its own! This was originally intended as a separate work but here we are ig lol.

Hiccup's eyes followed your figure once more, watching as you hauled more wood for another house that was "accidentally" burned down again. The report came rather quickly that the Twins had performed another prank and it somehow led to a "small" devastation, as they called it, on a viking's innocent home. You called for Astrid again, who was managing Stormfly as she carefully placed down the pieces needed for the home to repair it, and gestured to the new pile of wood that lay on the ground. She nodded and went back to her work with a glare sent towards the two twins who merely stood next to the burnt heap, giggling among themselves.

He wouldn't admit it, but Hiccup had been noticing more of Berk starting to flock around you as they had finally seen the two of you spend more time together. It brought a certain emotion he couldn't quite pinpoint. For one, most of them only started talking to you since they recognized you as someone now "close" to the Chief. On the other hand, they only wanted to get closer with you because of your connection. Everyone knew Hiccup on Berk, so he was puzzled - and a tad bit angry - that a good portion of them acted as though you never even existed and he was someone on a higher pedestal because of the position handed down to him.

Of course, on the outside, it looked as though they were treating him as normally as they would've before - with the due respect for a Chief - but Hiccup noticed the slight difference, especially with you. He didn't know if you did though. It bothered him in a way he couldn't vocalize it, unusually so. He had barely begun developing his relationship with you, taking the small steps you needed; the ones he was more than willing to take.

So, when these people decided to come in and sneak their way down the path he treaded with you - it made him upset him in more ways than one. He even heard Snotlout ogle over you at one point. He had heard his fanatics before but, for some strange reason, it brought him to the conclusion of physically pushing him out of the Forge where he was trying to gather his thoughts in peace.

Hiccup fumbled with the charcoal pencil in his hand, trying to drown out the noise around him that was the daily turmoil of vikings. He told himself to stay focused on the sketch someone had wanted for a new saddle before handing it off to Gobber - that was supposed to be the plan. His idea of having himself under control for the day were seemingly forgotten as he managed to steal a swift glance in your direction.

Out of everything, Hiccup Haddock did not expect for himself to act up when someone offered to help take the load of wood out of your arms. Perhaps he would've felt better if it wasn't Eret son of Eret who had willingly taken it out of your arms. Hiccup knew he wasn't losing his eyesight when he had seen Eret's hands lightly brush yours when he took the burden of wood out of your hands. It puzzled the Chief as to why he was even feeling this way.

Hiccup wasn't blind or numb to the fact that Eret, ever since he arrived at Berk, was known for his physique and his striking appearance. As well as being a dragon trapper in the past, of course. Sudden thoughts came to Hiccup's mind as he watched the short interaction between you two, not understanding the emotion that gripped his heart when he had seen your smile to the man who offered you his help. He knew that you were getting used to smiling more - he was the one who told you to try it out more - but he pondered over the question in his head that wouldn't leave him alone: Why did it take you longer to smile at him like that?

As if Hiccup's body moved on its own, he called for Toothless, who had been resting by his side in the Forge, and stomped his way to your direction. You were busy directing Astrid for where she should place the wood on top of the house just in case she missed a spot or didn't put it down correctly. You hadn't expected for a hand to grab yours, with such urgency and yet clothed with a gentle tug, to pull you away from the task you were occupied with. "Hey! What is this-"

Your words were interrupted as you caught Hiccup pulling you closer to his side as he called out for the Twins, "Ruff, Tuff! You're going to be the ones to handle this. It was your doing and the least you could do is tell Astrid where to go from here, okay?" He gave them no time for a proper response, other than the annoyed grumbling that came, as he led you beside Toothless. Confusion clouded your mind as your eyes followed him hauling himself on the night fury and reach out his hand for yours as if telling you to do the same.

"Hiccup, you know I have my own dragon, right-" He swiftly grabbed your hand that was slowly reaching out for his in the middle of your speech as he remained silent, "And I guess that doesn't matter because-" Your startled scream soon took over as Toothless shot into the air without warning, causing you to cling onto Hiccup with all of your strength you could possibly muster. It made you question how he could so easily ride the night fury - being that they were known to be the fastest dragon alive. "H-hey! Where are we going?"

Hiccup lightly patted your hand that was settled on his waist, his gaze not moving from the scenery around him. "Just wait a bit, you'll see." He muttered something to Toothless that you couldn't catch due to the high speeds of wind blowing across your face, making you even more nervous. You trusted Hiccup, of course, but sometimes it was obvious that the 'odd' side of himself could get a little carried away. So, you did the only thing you could do in that moment: hold on as tightly as you could as Toothless dived into a deeper part of the woods.

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

"Ah, so this is where you found him." Your legs shakily wobbled off of the night fury who cooed at your ruffled form. Your hair wasn't as neat as you had it before, making you slightly annoyed before turning to Hiccup. "So.. why bring me here?" You carefully inspected him as he hopped off Toothless, much more better than you had, and nervously swing his arms as he normally did in a situation that left him feeling awkward or anxious.

"Why? Oh, you know - just - wanted to spend some time with you. I mean, do you want to spend time with me? Because you don't have to if-" He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke when he noticed you rolling your eyes at his statement.

"Hiccup, it's too late for me to go back now. You practically dragged me out here on the back of a dragon and I would much rather fly back to Berk than walk." You knew it wasn't a far ways off, but you didn't entirely feel like going all the way back when your legs were recovering from being shot into the air so quickly, "Also, you didn't really give me much of a choice."

You gazed at his hands that seemingly didn't know what do at the moment, hesitating at the thought of grabbing them. "Yeah, I realize that now. That's my fault, sorry." Hiccup muttered out the phrase as if he had been caught doing a scandalous act before stepping closer to you as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I just-" He paused, inhaling as he considered his next words, "I just happen to notice that you've been more.." Another pause; "Occupied with the work load that's been piling up on you recently."

Hiccup inwardly cringed at his reasonings, knowing that it wasn't a good enough excuse as you narrowed your eyes. "Yes? I mean, what do you want me to do? Sit around all day and hope I make some coins by doing nothing?" You sighed and carefully took a step closer to him, the distance between you two slightly bothering you. "I don't want to be like I was before; standing around and barely getting by because of the leftover chores Berk left for me."

Your eyes never left him as he continued to settle on looking at the ground. "Anyway, aren't you the Chief? Shouldn't I be the one saying this to you? I know you've probably got a lot on your shoulders too, not just me." You tried lightening up the mood as Hiccup gently shook his head, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips before it faded once more.

"I know it sounds stupid." He exhaled, as if trying to breathe away the thing that was bothering him, "I'm sorry, but don't you think people should... I don't know.." He shrugged his shoulders, trying to play his next words off casually, "Give you more personal space..?" Hiccup took the risk and glanced up to see your reaction, which wasn't what he expected.

You snorted, then giggled, then covered your mouth as laughter consumed you, watching the way Hiccup's gaze falter slightly as he took in the sight. "What? Personal space?" You tried your best to grasp in what little air you could as your laughter rang throughout the small cove you two were in. "What're you getting at, Hiccup?" A sudden thought came to mind as you smirked, taking another step closer to the Chief; the nervousness that threatened you earlier having been disappeared. "I hope you're not forgetting when I asked for my own personal space when you came and decided to visit me almost every single day."

Hiccup groaned and rubbed his face, as though a headache were arising. "You know it's not like that! That's not what I meant-" He struggled to speak coherently when your small doses of laughter filled his ears. "Do you like the attention or something? I mean, when Eret touched your hand you seemed pretty okay with it to me." The realization of what he said had finally came to Hiccup before he quickly waved his hands, noticing your smile dim away, "Wait! That's not what I meant-"

"Okay, Hiccup. What're you really getting at? You should know me enough that I won't go out of my way to get the attention of people that I wouldn't want to talk to." You huffed, slightly hurt at the idea that crossed Hiccup's mind. "And I didn't ask for Eret to help me, he was just kind enough to take that load of wood from me - which was very heavy by the way." You crossed your arms, stubbornly taking a step away from him as he decided to take two more steps closer.

"I'm sorry, that was my fault - again - but I didn't mean it in that way. I know that is the complete opposite of who you are, but I-" Hiccup sighed, forcing himself to see what was actually wrong with him. "I think I'm not used to all of these people coming in and talking with you and working with you like they've been friends with you since birth. I guess I got used to-"

Hiccup managed to catch himself before uttering anything else, causing you to questioningly narrow your eyes at him. "Got used to what, Chief?" You held back another burst of laughter at the flustered state of the man before you, watching with intent eyes every gesture he made with his hands.

"N-nevermind. How about we go back and I'll let you work in peace and I won't bother you about it anymore." He reached out for your arm as he began to pull you towards Toothless. "C'mon, here we go-" Hiccup winced as you suddenly maneuvered his hand off your arm with a twist, causing him to let go of your arm as he spun around. "Why would you do that?"

You grinned, the atmosphere from earlier forgotten as you dusted yourself off from imaginary dirt. "Tell me what you were going to say." When he tried to escape the situation with more rambling you cracked your fingers, intimidatingly stepping forward, "Say it."

Hiccup kicked the ground like a toddler as he shook his head. "You're so stubborn.." He barely managed to see your hand getting closer to his ear as you threatened to pinch them before he stepped to the side, potentially saving himself from even more pain. "Alright, alright! Just don't get the ears!" He protectively covered the sides of his face as you triumphantly grinned, awaiting his answer.

"Look, I guess I got used to.." He found himself looking at the ground once more as he spoke. "Having you more to myself." He purposefully mumbled the last bit of his speech, hoping he could somehow get away with it. Much to his despair, however, you still listened to every word.

He heard your footsteps approaching to where he stood and he glanced up to see a delicate smile taking over your features before your hand reached out for his. You held it as if you were handling a precious piece of glass, carefully lifting it away from his side. "Is that really what you think?" Your eyes held a sincerity to them that Hiccup couldn't ignore, making his heart beat slightly faster than before.

When all he could do was nod, you finally took it upon yourself to be the one to hug him first - which you gladly did the moment he gave you his answer. You found yourself smiling into his shoulder as he stood still in his spot for a moment. "Hiccup, just know I'll never be able to look at them in the way I view you. They can't replace what you did, no matter how hard they might try."

When you felt his arms embrace you in return, you couldn't help but let the smile on your face continue to grow as he sighed, his breath fanning your neck in - what sounded like - relief. "Are you upset with me?"

"Not anymore. Maybe if you gave me a kiss I'd be over the moon. But, hey, that's just me." You chuckled when you heard nothing but silence come from him, assuming he was too much in a flustered state to respond.

You squeezed him one final time before letting him go. The weight of your words hadn't settled in until you stepped away from him, causing you to fumble with your hair. "So, we should - probably - uhm, head back -"

Hiccup, noticing your actions, nodded once more before swiftly taking your hand in his as he lead you both back to Toothless. You told yourself not to be consumed with the fluttering of your heart by his simple move, but it became much more of a challenge when he stopped in front of his dragon to face you.

"One more thing before we go." Hiccup pulled you closer to him by your hand he had grabbed, officially closing any remaining distance between you both as his lips met yours. You didn't expect it, which caused you to nearly trip on your own feet before his other arm caught you, still engaged in the kiss as though it had never happened. If you weren't imagining things, you could've sworn you felt him smile in the midst of it all.

You were breathless as he, unfortunately, pulled away from you, gazing intently at your flustered form before guiding you onto Toothless. "So, you're definitely not angry now, right?"

You rolled your eyes as Hiccup readied himself on Toothless, glancing back at you for an answer. "I already said I wasn't..." You folded your arms, making yourself now look like the toddler as he snickered and turned forward.

"Well, you might want to hang on." He gleefully muttered something to Toothless as you stubbornly held your position, which was not hanging onto him at all. When he came to the conclusion that you were rather grumpily not obliging to him, he tapped his dragon to silently tell him to leave.

It was only when Toothless had darted up in the air that you screamed and tightly held onto Hiccup for your dear life, which he quite enjoyed.

[hwalovs]

Golden and Glowing (M)

Pairing; Jayce Talis x Reader Word Count; 7.8k Warnings; some (a lot) angst, S M U T T Y SMUT SMUT!, unprotected PiV, put on a dry suit before diving you freaks, some oral (fem receiving) ((i lied its full, fem receiving, diabolical oral)), fingering, dry humping, lots of kissing, overstimulation(?), fabric ripping, Jayce whimpering, Jayce whining, desperation in human form.

Summary; After Jayce comes back, he finds it difficult to face you. Yet, after you meet him in the council room, he can't stop the rush of emotions on seeing your beautiful face, and soft eyes.

A/N; I saw him in the council room in that fuck-ass-fit and KNEW I would be at my keyboard. Also- I've loved Jayce since season one, I saw him and knew he whimpered. i also love his beard and it will NOT stop me from giving him jaw kisses. I will GLADLY kiss against it idGAF!

MINORS DNI!!

THIS IS NOT EDITED! DO NOT REPOST MY WORK!!

The council room was repaired in his absence, even the large doors had been replaced. Though new, it still creaked when you gently shut it. Its latch resonated around the room, and you cursed under your breath, moving into the room with jittering hands and a racing mind. 

Mel was the one to tell you that Jayce was back, and waiting in the council room. You didn’t want to go in there, not after the attack, but you swallowed down your anxiety, smiled and bid her a farewell, and faced the dark wood with golden knobs. 

For a couple months, you thought he would never come back. Almost coming to terms that he was dead. There was a fleeting moment you thought he abandoned you, but that was thrown out. Jayce would never, ever, abandon you. Or anyone, for the matter. He loved too hard, and lost too easily. He was too determined to a fault, and you saw that when he created Hextech. When hardships came, Jayce was the type to take it by the teeth, see it through to the end with full confidence. He excelled in helping people, finding out what was wrong, and making it better. 

Which is what scared you the most when he disappeared. The only way he would truly be gone, is if he was dead. Yet, there was no body. So, you waited. 

You look at everything but him first, stalling. How could you be this scared, it was just Jayce. With gritted teeth, and unsteady breathing, you find him in the center of the room, in the same place his trial was all those years ago. He stood tall back then, taking whatever question the council threw at him with full determination he would win, earn his place back in the lab and with hextech. 

Your mouth is moving before you can stop it, “your hair is longer.”

Jayce stands different, more tense and strained. Dark colors replace the white, red, and gold entourage he was decorated in by the council. Shaggy hair, scarred arms, hunched posture. It was like seeing a different person standing in front of you. But, you supposedly knew this man. 

He slowly turns his body to face you, sharp eyes slowly softening when they meet yours. His shoulders drop, but only a miniscule amount, and his gloved hands itch to feel you. 

“Is that a beard?” you smile, tilting your head, walking further into the room, down one of the steps. He stays put, but there's a moment you can see his body pitch forwards to move closer. It's almost nonexistent, but it was there. The light that spills into the room bathes him in a golden hue, his eyes shaded by his hair. His hammer was different, you note, watching as its multicolored metal reflects the light, a kaleidoscope dancing on the desk behind it. 

“What’s happened to my golden boy? Should the man of progress be seen with such a rugged image?” Your voice cracks, and heat appears behind your eyes, but you still force a teasing smile. Pulling your hands behind your back, you hope that he didn’t see them shake. 

After so long, he was here in front of you. He was looking over you with the desperation of a starved man, his chest slowly beginning to heave. His hammer slides until the metal slams into the ground, the handle slipping from his grasp to slowly fall against the desk. It startled you, watching him move carefully. A predator not wanting to scare his prey. 

You almost forgot how big Jayce really was. All shoulders and chest filling your vision. His waist was smaller, and you used to be able to wrap your arms fully around him at night when it was cold, seeking out his warmth. As you look him over, you can see the tremble in his hands, how his shoulders quake in the deep maroon velvet fabric. 

Before you can even think, he’s moving closer. Not even looking down at the stairs as he skips them all together, stopping inches away from your face. The light is blocked, and he looks ethereal. A golden hue glows from his body line, giving a halo to a broken angel. Tilting his head slightly to look over your features. His honey colored eyes are shining, red rimmed and swimming with emotions flashing by so fast you can barely pick them out.

Sadness, anger, desperation, happiness, it was hard to tell which one was dominating over the other. Sadness, perhaps. Or maybe it was desperation. 

“Are you real?” He sounds more broken than he looks. Voice a whisper in the air between you both and all of a sudden you can feel the tidal wave of emotions that you tried to ignore. The ones you felt when you found out he was gone, that he left you behind, that he didn’t care enough to even tell you where he was going. Your cheeks are suddenly wet, and a hiccup is swallowed when you move and push against him. He takes it, all the punches and shoves you throw against his chest. 

“Yes, you idiot,” you shudder, “I’ve been here while you were doing god knows what!”

He can only frown, gloved hands clenching at his sides while looking down at your shaking form. You refuse to look at him now, tears twinkling like fallen stars from your waterline. Shaky hands rush to wipe them away, before you shove him again.

“Where were you, huh? You left me here, alone! How could you do that to me? After everything we’ve done?”

His stomach twists, and he aches to tell you everything. To tell you how he woke up in a storm after touching the anomaly under the Hexgate, how he saw things in the shapes of people. Scuttling across the distorted grass and up broken buildings. He would tell you how he fell into a ravine, breaking his leg and swallowed by the dark. He would tell you how he survived, how the image of the anomaly haunted- haunts him. He’d tell you all with a straight face, that he climbed floating rocks to the top of the Hexgate, and met the same mage he saw as a child, and what he instructed him to do. 

He would not fail, he’d say

Yet, he wanted to spare you the pain of knowing what could happen to you, to him, to Piltover and Zaun and the entire world. He stood before you, broken and reformed into a man he almost didn’t recognize. You spoke to him like you always did, how he remembered when he would sit in front of that fire, it still had the same cadence as the one in his mind when he was taking apart his hammer to fasten it to his deformed leg. Your instructions clear on what bolts and panels to take off, what he could use as a strap to hold it all together. You reassured him he would be okay, and reprimanded him for being there in the first place. 

Would you still love him, as he is now? He couldn’t hold himself in the same light as the ‘Man of Progress’. What if that’s who you wanted, rather than the broken minded man in front of you. It's what he would think about at night, staring into the storm above as he listened to the water drip into the small, stagnant, puddle beside him. Even when he got back, and stood under the hot water of his first shower in months. All he could do was think of your eyes glaring at him, telling him that he was different, not the same Jayce he disappeared as. 

How could he see you like this?

How could you love him like this? Broken mind and body?

Harshly rubbing your eyes, you sigh and look over him. His hands were shaking, jaw clenching and unclenching as tears finally gathered. A frown was wobbling on his face, everything was threatening to boil over. You could see it, that rope inside him unraveling into a tangle of emotions you knew he couldn’t handle. 

When you reach up to grasp his face, like you did when he was tired, or when he needed you after another failed experiment, look down at you with tired eyes and a small smile. His beard was scratchy, or akin to scruff than anything. You wanted to feel along it all day, but he flinches, moving his head out of your grasp and you feel the cold truth slam into you from behind. Something had happened to your Jayce, something terrible and a small voice inside told you he would never talk about it. 

“Oh, Jayce,” you whisper, arms falling to your sides. Tears spill from his eyes, and he slowly lifts his hands enough to drag his gloves off, trembling. It's a silent cry, droplets falling down his neck to soak into the fabric at his collar. He swallows each sob, each whimper that threatens to spill past his lips. Dropping his gloves to the ground, he softly and slowly grabs your hands, breathing deeply when your skin touches his. 

He was cold, you realize. Trembling fingers sliding between yours with a clumsy vigor, dancing up your palms and sliding around your wrists. He slowly drags your hands up, up and up until they settle onto his cheeks. Immediately, your finger splay across his dark beard. They press into his cheeks, feel how his jaw tenses, and as quickly as he started crying, you join him. 

You’re not a silent crier, you realize. A sob makes its way past your lips and you drag him forwards until he's crashing into you, his arms moving to grip at the fabric of your shirt.  He bends until his forehead is against yours, breathing you in rapidly. He can’t get enough, your perfume swallows him whole and he curses himself for ever forgetting it. 

“I’m sorry-” He sobs, his tears mixing with yours. You almost collapse, hearing him so broken, but you shake your head and pull him closer, your lips just grazing his before he sighs and pulls you in deeper. 

He tasted like heaven. There's a hint of the sweet candies you and Viktor would buy specifically for him, and under all of it, honey. Yet, there's the undertone of the mint from his toothpaste, the coffee he drank this morning. 

The last time you kissed him, he was leaving for the council meeting, trying to strike for peace with Silco and for the petty war between them to be over. He was tired when he left, and Viktor had given you a light kiss to the cheek before they departed, a strained smile on both of their lips as they disappeared behind the lab door. 

The kiss he gives you now starts slowly, remembering what the other felt and tasted like. It's all slow touching and even slower kissing, opening back that door you thought you would have had it close forever, close off what it would feel like to have him like this again. 

Jayce breathes you in deeply, your taste made his stomach clench in anticipation, or what was to come. Surely, you’d understand, right? He needed you, needed to remind himself that he was alive and you were safe with him. 

It devolves, his hands working from your arms to your waist, his head tilting to the side to deepen the kiss. His hands are shaking as he licks along your bottom lip, desperate for entry. 

Giving in easily, you sigh as his arm makes its way around your waist, one of his hands moving to cradle the back of your head while you slide both thumbs under his eyes, subconsciously wiping his tears away. Your tongue twists with his, a fight for dominance he easily loses, allowing you to explore him without restriction., 

He shivers when you bite down on his lip, pulling away to look at you with half-lidded eyes. Pupils blown, he takes a split second to look around the room, before turning back and bending down to lift you from the backs of your thighs. His grip was tight, not allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist like you used to. Yelping, you wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders, face nuzzling into his hair while he walks over to the council desk. He sets you down lightly, before grabbing your face to pull you back to him. 

He's desperate now, kissing you like it was his last day on earth, and maybe it was, as long as you were going out with him you didn't care. Love was drawn onto your skin by his lips, silent words that soaked through and wrapped around your heart in a symphony of beauty. There was also the lust that followed, crackling and clawing like a desperate creature you both unintentionally created. As he painted you, you’d paint him beautifully as well. 

You whimper into him, his teeth dragging across your bottom lip as he pulls back, hands gripping your knees while he slowly makes his way down your neck. Gripping onto his velvet shirt, right where the fabric is folded to his elbows, you try and find purchase before his teeth sink into your skin. It was rough, how his teeth threatened to break through. You knew it would bruise quickly, and you almost smiled at the way his tongue quickly followed in apology. 

Lightly, he pulls your knees apart, not forcing, but asking. You oblige quickly, pulling him to step closer while your back arches to accommodate his height. A hand leaves your knee to grasp your neck, pushing his thumb into your pulse point until you tilted your head in obedience. He��s muttering against your skin, words so quiet you couldn’t even what when you tried to. 

“What is it, baby?” You ask, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging softly. He whimpers, pulling from under your knee to drag you closer. Your cunt fits snug against him, and he whimpers again, softly grinding against you. 

He’s still mumbling, you realize, and pull harder against his hair, dragging his face from your neck. Giving him a soft smile, you lean forwards to kiss him. When he jerks his body close, to meet you halfway, you yank on his hair, and he stills. He watches with bated breath and dark eyes as you slowly lean closer, dragging your lips along his neck until it reaches just below his ear. His skin was hot, pulsing under your lips as you pressed one, two, three light kisses against it. 

“I need you to speak clearly, Jayce, can you do that?”

It’s hard to keep yourself together, with him rutting against you like a horny teenager, and his hands gripping your knee and neck in desperation. His eyes clench shut, tilting his head back and against your hand until your fingers splay out in his hair once more. 

“I thought about you- everyday-” he begins, eyes opening to look at you in pain. Not the kind of pain you inflict on someone, but of a pain so deep within his bones it shines through his gaze. 

“I wanted to be with you so bad- please believe me, I would never leave you voluntarily.”

“Oh, baby, I know,” you coo, releasing his hair to thumb against his cheek, slide the pad against his bottom lip. His breathing is erratic, and his hips have stopped. He looked at you as if you had all the answers, and while you don’t right now, you’d lie through your teeth just for him.

“I’m right here, nothing is going to happen to you.”

He shudders, “I thought you’d never want to see me again, that you’d hate me for being gone-”

“You’re here now, Jayce, that's all that matters to me, okay?” 

Nodding, he drags his hands along your skin, until they rested on your waist, fingers twisting and gripping onto your shirt like it was a lifeline. 

“I thought I’d never get to touch you again, to have you like this. You look so pretty right now, honey.”

The words travel straight to your gut, a fire that was burning under your skin the longer he held onto you. 

It's easy to fall back into the routine of what once was, but you realized that; while before, he needed to be kept in line and put in his place, to scold and tease and taunt. Now, the Jayce in your hands needed you to comfort him. He needed you to remind him that he was real, that you were real and not going anywhere. 

“Kiss me, sweet boy.”

He surges forwards, lips crashing against yours while your hands feverishly start unbuttoning his shirt. His bangs tickle your forehead, and he can't stop himself from rutting against you again. He haphazardly undo’s your pants, fingers slipping and after missing a button, he grunts against your lips and grabs the flaps of your pants and yanks them apart, one of the buttons falling to the floor. You laugh, pulling away and smiling up at him. He’s embarrassed, hiding his eyes and pulling you impossibly closer to him by the ripped fabric. 

“I-” he whines as he ruts, “I need you, sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, and he furrowed his eyebrows with a nod, “how do you need me?”

Groaning, he drops his head onto your shoulder, fingers itching to dive into your pants. You quickly grab his wrist before he can, nails pressing into his skin in warning. This time, you try a different approach, trying to get him to talk to you. 

“Tell me, Jayce, did you think about me like this?”

“God, yes,” he moans, free arm wrapping around your waist, arching your back. You wrap your arm around his neck for leverage, sighing, “yeah? What about me?”

He shakes his head, a laugh tickling you before he pulls back, “I-” he swallows, “I thought about how you’d cum around my fingers, and on my face-”

“Dirty boy,” you tease, kissing his collar bone. His hips jerk, cock catching along the now open panel of your pants. He hisses, eyes flickering between yours, shining, “I thought about you- you wrapped around me, tight and wet and perfect just for me- you were made for me-”

Letting go of his wrist, you let his hand dive between your legs and into your pants, it's sloppy, the way his hands desperately move to get closer to you, immediately pulling the band of your panties away to sink his fingers into your slick, knocking against your clit once before venturing deeper. Gasping, you grab at the front of his partially open shirt, his tan skin peeking through. His chest heaves as he pulls back up and finds your clit, fingers rough as he circles it. 

“You always sound so- fuck-” his fingers move from your clit to your entrance, rubbing against you once to test the tension before sinking a finger inside of you, mouth dropping at how tight you were, “sound so pretty, when you cum-”

“I never thought I’d hear it again,” he sighs, tilting his head. You smile, finally undoing the rest of his shirt and kissing the large expanse of his chest. He sighs, pulling his finger from your tight hole to find your clit again, pulling its hood back with his palm before teasing the sensitive bud. You shudder, forehead falling against his skin, using his closeness, you suck against his chest, leaving red splotches while his voice wraps around you like a blanket.

“Didn’t stop thinking about you- your voice, your eyes, god baby, I’ve missed you so much,” voice breaking at the end, he nuzzles his face into your neck, forcing yours to move from his chest, your cheek resting against his shoulder. “Even-” he swallows, “even you yelling at me, telling me off and how I annoy you.”

He slowly drags his hand away from your cunt, wetness trailing after until he’s wrapping his lips around his finger. A loud moan rumbling his chest, your cunt clenching. 

“Never thought I’d taste you again,” Wet fingers wrap around your throat, not tight, just enough to drag your lips back to his as your hands fumble to undo his own pants. Humming, you lick into his mouth, tasting yourself. Sweet, yet a familiar tang. He licks against your lips, into your mouth and suckles on your bottom lip. 

“Jay-” you whine, your legs wrapping tightly around him as he punishes you back, your arms frantically moving to support your weight. His tongue licks down the column of your throat, stopping to push up your shirt enough to kiss against your stomach, moving to suck a deep red splotch onto your hip bone, his canines scratching against you. Drool makes its way from the corner of his mouth, and his tongue licks it away. He winces as he drops to one knee, careful of the other. The brace dug into his skin, leaving a bruise in its wake. It was new, a shiny silver metal that contrasted against his black pants. You noticed it, but it didn’t bother you. This was your Jayce, and you love him in any way. 

Pulse erratic, you push down your pants the best you could with his weight on you, and you almost smile when his hands join yours, yanking the fabric down your legs until they reach your shoes. Quickly, he discards them, throwing them behind him before stopping abruptly to look over your soft skin. 

While to you, he was glowing in the sunlight, golden sun painting him in an ethereal light. To him, you looked akin to a god, the sun almost made you sparkle. He could feel his chest swell, his cheeks hot as his trembling fingers grabbed your shins, bringing one close to lay featherlight kisses. Slowly, he works his way up, eyes never closing, never wanting to miss a single one of your beautiful expressions. The way your eyes blink, your lips part when he reaches your inner thigh, how your hands reach to grasp the closest thing to you for support. 

He loves you, unforgivingly, as he bites into the sensitive flesh just before your cunt. It makes your back arch, head falling back as you try to shut your thighs, his hair tickling you, beard scratching against your skin. He grunts, pulling away to lick at the intended mark of his teeth, freezing and holding you open as he gazes at the beauty that is your slick cunt. It shines in the light, beads of it sliding down until it threatens to drop onto the desk below you. He inches forwards, slowly licking against your skin until his tongue parts your folds. 

His whole body shivers at your taste, your warmth, your sweet nectar flooding his senses and he wouldn’t have it any other way. The tip of his tongue catches your clit, and he can feel your thighs twitch. Your hand is in his hair, and your eyes lock on his immediately. He almost cums untouched at the blissful smile you give him. You whimper as his tongue runs along your folds harder this time, stopping to give your clit an open mouthed kiss. It throbs under his lips, and he can feel his hands shake. 

If this was the last time, he would take his time. He would drag this out until he couldn’t, when the sun rises again tomorrow, when someone inevitably walks in. He didn’t care, he had you in his arms again. 

His tongue joins his kiss, sliding to press into you briefly before pulling away to watch the concoction of your slick and his spit slide down. Before it can drip onto the desk, he rushes to lick it away, swallowing it down with a guttural groan you’ve never heard from him. It's lethal, as his hooded eyes flicker over your face before he shuts them completely, diving between your legs and eating you like a man starved. 

It's messy, spit unstopped from dripping while his tongue moves against you. He’s trying to taste all of you, all at once. He’ll lick your clit, and then dip down to tongue into your entrance, feel you clench around him before moving back up to suckle. He can feel it drip down to his beard, soaking the hair, but he did nothing to stop it. 

“Jayce- wait-” Your pleading, a whimper falling past your lips as you grip onto his hair. Your elbow was screaming in pain as it digs into the wood below you. Yet, what mattered to you most was the starved man between your legs. He ignored you completely, wrapping his arms around your thighs to lock you to him. He quickly shakes his head, tongue calculated as it hones in on a specific pattern on your clit. It feels like heaven and hell all at once. Rapidly, your release is building. It starts as a tickle in your gut, and then festers into a burn. Your muscles start to lock and shake, your lungs seize and before you realize you’re not breathing, he slides a quick hand across your tummy, tapping quickly, bringing you back. You gulp down air, your hips trying to hump into his mouth. 

“Please- slow down-” he only groans in response, pulling away and taking a deep breath before going back down. He goes back to flatten his tongue against you, slowly dragging it up before taking your clit between his lips, sucking hard.

Your back arches, thighs shaking and you moan. It almost hurt, how hard he was sucking, his tongue flicking against the bud until he released you and continued circling. You're pulsing beneath him, tears gathering as you drag him closer by the hair. His beard was scratching the sin of your thighs, a welcoming burn. 

His fingers soon join his mouth, tips teasing against your entrance before he’s sinking two into you. He doesn’t stop until knuckle deep, twisting his hand palm up and curling his fingers while dragging them out. Your hips trying to get closer, or further away, you didn’t know. The pleasure was immense, heart racing as you let go of his hair to grab the edge of the desk, thighs trying to shut around his head. 

He pulls away just enough to look up at you, eyebrows furrowed and eyes pathetic. He’s drunk off your taste, of how wet and tight you are around his fingers. He’s begging you, resting his head against your thigh as his tongue circles your clit. 

“Just like that-” you whimper, trying to gulp down enough air, yet still breathless as he nods so obediently. His eyes brighten, watching how your mouth drops open, body tensing. Yet, he knew it wasn’t enough. You were on the brink, teetering on a cliff you didn’t know you’d survive the fall of. 

Jayce didn’t give you time to prepare, he moved his fingers faster, curling them against your sweet spot while surging forwards with his mouth to suck hard onto your clit, moaning around you. 

Your release hits unexpectedly, a dam breaking in your gut and you slap a hand onto your mouth to stop yourself from screaming. Your slick and cum cover him, a flood of your release dripping down his hand. Your vision is white, sobbing into your palm as your hips shake against his grip. It's electrifying, the warmth that spreads like wildfire through your veins. You didn’t know if you wanted him to stop, or keep going. Yet, he didn’t give you a choice on that either. 

He moves his hand faster, tongue flicking against your clit rapidly. It makes your whole body freeze, not knowing what to do. You just came, how could you be so rapidly gearing up to cum again?

While his fingers torment your sweet spot, he pulls back for air, his arm fully enclosing your thigh so his thumb could reach, circling hard and fast. He watches you with wide, desperate eyes. Breathing deeply, licking his cum slicked lips, “One more- please,” he whimpers. 

He had to be lying, right? He was so unforgiving with you, your wetness echoing around the room. You didn’t know what to do with yourself, hyperventilating as you felt the build up once more, yet this time, it was faster. Your previous orgasm hadn’t even faded before this one started, It was building into a monsoon of pleasure. It made your ears ring, your eyes shut tightly and whether you liked it or not, you were going to cum again. 

“Jayce!-”

“Oh my, god-”

Your ears start to ring, thighs tremble, and Jayce’s mouth is back on you. It’s overwhelming, the pleasure that greets you on the other side. All you can do is face it head on and your orgasm washes over you once more. It was so much more intense than the last one, you swore your legs went numb. 

It could’ve been minutes, or seconds, but Jayce’s mouth is back on yours, tongue pushing past your lips and you can taste your own cum. It's filthy, his wet beard against your skin as he pulls you so close your hips hang off the side of the desk. Somehow, he had gotten his pants pushed down to his knees. His hands are desperate as he maneuvers your shaking legs around his hips, shirt pulled up to show the expanse of his stomach. 

His cock was throbbing, thick and long with its tip an angry shade of deep red. Pearly pre was leaking down the side, shining against the light as he moves to rub his cockhead against your slick folds. Whimpering, you shudder, legs tightening around his waist as he pushes the tip into you. 

“Oh god, I’m not gonna last long-” voice cracking, his hand splaying against the wood to your side, his other looping under your hips to hold you up. Swallowing against a dry throat, you grab onto his forearms, his body pausing. 

“My sweet boy,” you whimper, “you need it that bad?”

You always spoke at the most inconvenient times, he thinks. His hips jerk forwards, sinking deeper into you with a whine, shivering at how tight and warm you are. You were always warm, always welcoming him with open arms and a loving smile. He missed you so much, craving for this warmth while next to the fire he made. This is the warmth he wanted when he was shivering, thinking of nothing but you when he was climbing that damn ravine. 

He doesn’t think, only slides his hips forwards until his pelvis meets yours, clit throbbing against his skin. He almost reaches down to thumb against it, but decides not to when he feels your walls clench around him like a lifeline. His moan travels through the room, across your skin and wraps around you like a blanket. 

“I do,” he says, almost apologetically. Shaky hand leaves the desk to rub the skin of your tummy, before slowly pulling out until just the tip remains, and thrusting back in. The stretch is borderline painful, causing you to whimper. His gaze flickers back up to you, a frown twitching his lips. 

“Don't stop,” you whisper, hips pitching upwards, his hand forcing you back down, “keep going, baby.”

Nodding, he breathes deeply before continuing, his hips moving at a continuous rhythm. 

Jayce was always careful with you, soft touches and worried eyes always a staple when his cock is inside you. But now, his hand that rests on your tummy is slowly pressing into you. It makes you tighter around him, your cum from before forming a white ring at the base of his cock. He moans at the sight, tilting his head. You would always be perfect for him, cunt sucking him back in when he tries to pull out. Your ankles hook together behind his back, and he closes his eyes to bask in the pleasure while listening to you whimper and moan beneath him. 

You watch him intently, feeling his fingers flex against your skin and you try to keep up. His hips wont stop accelerating, skin slapping against skin as his head falls against his chest, eyes opening into slits as he watches his cock disappear into you. 

“So good,” he slurs, his shoulders tense as his body slowly pitches forwards until his forehead rests against your chest. With shaking fingers, you move to undo your shirt. Your breasts come free and Jayce immediately starts to suckle on the skin between them, your head thumping against wood, back arching into his mouth. Your nipples harden into buds when the cool air hits them, Jayce groaning before taking one into his mouth. His tongue swirls around it before taking it lightly between his teeth, pulling away with it, and then letting go. 

“You’re doing- fuck,” you curse, eyebrows furrowed, “You’re doing so good, sweet boy-”

Nodding, his hips falter as he speeds up his pace, your body jerking up the desk until he growls, grabbing your waist to drag you back. Your hands grab onto his arms, nails threatening to dig into his skin, but you hold back. He’s already gone through so much pain, why inflict it further?

His hips dont stop, though, and you gasp, “wait-”

“I-” he gasps, fingers gripping onto the tops of your thighs, shaking his head as he roughly starts abusing your cunt. The pleasure was almost painful, burning under your skin until you felt it within your bones. “I’m sorry-” He sobs, a tear falling from his eye. Eyes wide, you watch him with parted lips. He was frantic, hands shaking as he kept thrusting erratically. There was no rhythm, just a desperate race to the finish line. 

“Jayce-” you whimper, hand pressing against his lower stomach, trying to slow him down but he grabs your wrist, pulling it away. He bring s it up to his mouth, kissing your skin before dragging it to rest above your head, his fingers intertwined with yours. He could feel your cum dripping from his balls, no doubt pooling on the floor between his feet. There's tears gathering in your eyes, that familiar burn flaring in your gut once more. You couldn’t cum again, not after the torment he put you through with his mouth. 

“I need you,” he sobs again, looking at you with sparkling eyes and parted, gasping lips, “need you so bad, sweetheart.”

It burns so good, that fire beneath your skin, and you realize that if he keeps going at this pace, you won't have an option but to cum again. Jayce, though, didn’t seem to care. It almost scared you, but his grip on your hand was shaking, and his eyes kept clenching shut with pleasure.

He was pushing through the sting of his brace digging into his leg, of the burn in his thighs. He was rapidly chasing that high he wanted so desperately, forgoing anything else but himself. Jayce was a giver, always making sure you felt good before ever thinking about himself. Yet, now, when your hot, wet, throbbing cunt was wrapped so nicely around his cock, all he could think about was himself. 

“Please, please, please,” he begs, words slurring together as he roughly takes what he wants, your tears finally fall from your eyes, and he leans down to kiss them away, kissing down your cheeks until your lips are on his again. He moans against them, biting your lip until you open your mouth to let his tongue in. Yet, this time, he waits. He waits until you move your own, trying to lick into his mouth but he stops you when he wraps his lips around your tongue, sucking desperately onto it. Moaning, you grab his hair, pulling him closer. His chest rests against yours, hot skin against skin, and it forces his pelvis to grind onto your clit. You’re sweating, beads rolling down your back while his skin slides easily along yours. A delicious burn festers, sinking deep into your bones and up your spine until you have to choose but to whimper and pull away from him. Walls fluttering, Jayce bites the skin of your neck, licking against the salty sweat, not slowing down in the slightest until you're pushing your hips up against his desperately and moaning so loudly he wonders for a split second if the people outside could hear you. He didn’t care, not when you clung to him while your pussy was clenching his cock like he was a lifeline. 

He feels the flood of your wetness around him, how it leaks down his cock and onto his thighs, but he didn’t care. Pulling away from your neck, he pushes himself up enough for leverage to keep thrusting, trying to find momentum to keep going and find his own unraveling. Your fingers find his cheek, and his eyes find yours again. 

You looked beautiful, golden and glowing while you stared up at him with sparkling eyes and bitten lips. His eyes move down your body, finding the deep red splotches that would no doubt bruise in the morning, to your beautiful chest that bounces every time his pelvis meets yours, to the way he was disappearing inside you. 

Pinpricks behind his eyes, Jayce paws at you, trying to find purchase when he can feel that pleasure building in his stomach. Your voice is in his ears, comforting him while he rapidly starts to reach his peak. His thigh shakes, stomach clenching, and he desperately hangs onto you. 

“(Y/n)-” his voice doesn’t sound like his own, a broken cry that reaches your ears before he sobs, hands grabbing your thighs to wrap them higher on his hips, letting him hit deeper inside you. He was faltering, you realize, his hips stuttering as they met you and in a desperate attempt to help him, you pulled him in each time with your legs. They were burning, shaking under the pleasure of your orgasms, but Jayce needed you, and you would stop at nothing to help him, even if it meant ignoring the spiked pains that came knocking at your door. 

You’ve felt overstimulation, but never to this extent. Jayce didn’t give you any room to breathe, thrusting into you so desperately you couldn’t discern what was pain and what was pleasure. All you knew was Jayce. His beautiful eyes that looked at you like you hung the stars, like you were all that mattered, that would get him to the end. Drool dripped from his lips, and he made no attempt to lick it away, it mixed with his beard. You try to pull yourself together, to formulate words from the thick fog that rested behind your eyes. He didn’t look any better, you realize with a smile, that he was so deep within himself it would take a while before he managed to crawl back out. It was only you that flooded his senses. He needed you to guide him, to help him reach this peak he couldn’t seem to find all on his own. 

“Such a good boy, aren’t you?” You groan, voice rough, watching as his eyes ignite with lightning, your voice a beacon. He nods, eyes squinting through the pain until he moans, nails digging into your skin, “my good boy?”

He whimpers, tears and spit dripping from his eyes and lips, his body pitches, but he catches himself on the desk. His hair falls into his eyes, and you can finally reach him. Trembling hands cradle his face, wiping away the tears before pulling him closer, licking from just below his bottom lip, to the inside of his mouth and against his own awaiting tongue, swallowing the drool before kissing him gently. When you pull away, he’s gasping, eyes shut tightly while his shoulders tense, he’s going to cum. Teetering on that edge, but a small part of him wishes that it didn’t. He wanted to stay like this for longer, wanted to feel your warmth and your touch and to be reminded that he was home. He was safe with you, no pain or misery could reach him as long as he was in your arms-

“Gonna fill me up, puppy?”

He’s right there, he can feel it threatening to snap. That blissful pleasure that’ll wrap around his bones, make his muscles spasm, make his head swim until he can no longer think of anything at all but your voice in his ears and the sight of you beneath him. There's a ringing, and then his hearing stars muffling until all that surrounds him is the sound of his breathing.  

“Oh god,” he whines, mouth dropping open as he dumbly nods against your hand blinded by his own pleasure as his thrusts stutter and he can finally feel that swell in his stomach burst, his cock throbbing as he fills you up with his cum. You moan softly, feeling him jolt and throb. Grip tight, he was whining and sobbing through it, shoulders twitching. His thighs were shaking, threatening to give out from under him if it wasn’t for his hands and leg brace giving him some semblance of support. 

“Such a good boy,” you whisper, kissing along his jaw and neck as he trembles. A bead of sweat ran down his temple, stopped by your finger and you pulled back with a smile from his neck to push back his damp hair. Half-lidded eyes stare back at you, and you keep your legs tight around his waist while he slowly drops against you, his weight settling onto your body. You heave, hands gripping his trembling shoulders and with a smile you move him until his face is resting against your neck. 

Breathing heavily, you can feel him slowly softening inside you, but you make no effort in moving. Your body is buzzing, fueled by the afterglow of pleasure and while you slowly thread your fingers through his hair, Jayce is gripping onto you tightly. 

Your fingers scratch against his head, and his body shivers beneath your touch. Slowly, he comes back to reality, opening his honey-colored eyes to look at you in bliss. Not all of his weight was on you, legs still somewhat steady enough. And as he pushes himself up onto his elbows, his fingers move to brush over your cheeks, just under yours eyes. The pads barely touch your lashes, and you smile as he leans down to kiss each cheek, and then your nose, and then your lips. It’s soft, tentative and brief before pulling away. He swallows, wetting his dry throat, and finally speaks after the minutes of silence. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” you sigh, smiling brightly, and Jayce can feel that desperation tug at him from the pit of his stomach. He almost died, he almost left you alone in a world that only he seemed to be able to fix. 

Slowly, he pushes himself up, watching you wince as he slowly pulls out. A mixture of his and your cum seep from you, spilling onto the desk. He raises an eyebrow, watching it leak from you and after you snap your fingers, he jumps back to reality once more. Pushing yourself up to sit, you look around the floor before spotting your pants, he follows your gaze, and on shaky legs and reaches down to grab them. First, you grab the underwear from the pile, trying to clean up the mess you both made, before sliding your legs into the fabric and pulling them up until you couldn't. He fixes his pants in the process, ignoring the wetness that clings to his skin. He quickly buttons them back, breathing deeply before looking back to you. 

Reaching a hand out, you ask Jayce for your help silently, he smiles softly, holding onto your hand while you drop down from the desk, legs almost giving out. Laughing, you both reach down to pull your pants up, forgoing your panties that now sat soiled on the desk. Finally releasing his hand, you lean against the desk and start putting yourself back together. While you button your shirt, he buttons his. When you button your pants, you make a show of trying to hook fabric onto a non-existent button, playfully glaring at him, while he buttons his. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers when your laugh fills the room once more.

“You’re buying me new ones,” you scold, pointing a finger at him before brushing down his clothes. Trying to make him presentable to the public once more. His hair is brushed away from his forehead, and when it falls back into place for the third time, you give up with a huff. Stepping back to look him over. His face was flushed, and with burning cheeks you reached out to wipe away the remains of you clinging to his beard. Smiling under your touch, he catches your hand before it falls back to your side, a sad look in his eyes as his thumb brushes over your knuckles. Your other hand joins it, thumb brushing across his wrist and your eyebrows furrow, finally noticing that his cuff is gone, replaced by a webbed design that reflects the unique stone. 

“What happened to you, Jayce?”

He doesn't know what to say, letting your finger brush over the now smooth expanse of skin. 

“I wanted to come back sooner, but I-” his voice pitches, cracking as he feels that heat behind his eyes again. You shush him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head against his chest. 

Jayce was no stranger to the feeling of dying. He almost experienced it when he was a boy, trudging through the snow with his mother. He almost experienced it when he was bringing parts back from Zaun, his lab locked and an explosion knocking him against the wall. He felt it when the explosion threw him from his chair in this very council room, when he fell into a deep ravine, breaking his leg and struggling to survive for weeks. 

It was after falling into a ravine, breaking his leg, struggling to survive for weeks that he realized how precious this life was. While he was trying so desperately to advance Hextech, to bring an ease to sorrow for other people, he was ignoring the fact that he was alive and breathing. He had you, living and breathing in front of him, and no longer did he want to take that for granted. He wanted you to live the rest of your life with him, safe from the threat he managed to create. 

He wouldn’t fail.

[hanasnx]

" GIVE ME THE SWEETEST GOODBYE THAT I EVER DID RECEIVE " — peter parker.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: takes place during the events of the marvel's spider-man 2 game. WARNINGS: fem reader | established relationship | morning sex mention | mild exhibitionism | sex against a window.

"You forgot your lunch again." are words PETER PARKER has heard too many times. He spins in place, disengaging from his work to face you, his girlfriend, who so graciously conquered his paper bagged lunch and retrieved it for him like his knight-in-shining-armor.

"Knew I was forgetting something." he murmurs, receiving the sack from you and stealing a greeting kiss from your lips in the same motion.

"Yeah, you left in kind of a hurry this morning." you reply with an impish grin tugging at your lips, leaning your palms at the edge of his desk. You meet his eyes over your shoulder, noting his knowing smile.

He approaches you from behind, lowering his voice to speak in your ear. "Well, that's because someone wouldn't let me." The lunch crinkles as he sets it down, and he hesitates to return to his work when you're here clearly vying for some attention, bringing up this morning of all things...

"Oh, right, because it was all me." you retort sarcastically, breaking exchange of a look to spy on his monitor. You've got a good head on your shoulders, but the stuff Pete does has you at a loss. It's gibberish written across his screen that he no doubt understands and could teach a class on. The thought of his competency drifts your mind elsewhere to the more alluring traits he took on before he left for work. How curious his hands were traversing your body after waking up next to you, kneading your bare form under covers, tucking himself behind you with his morning wood until that confidence bought him some sleepy sex. You heat up, and bite your lip at the memory.

You snap out of your trance, and make more conversation before you excuse yourself so he can get back to work. "Where is everybody?" you ask, voicing your observation. Since you got in, you haven't seen anybody.

Peter pours some coffee into a paper cup, fixing it up how you like it. Steam rises past the rim as he stirs it, and he draws his hand up to suck some sweetness off of his index finger. Your chest jumps, the residual recollection of what it's like to be filled stings your insides. Shifting your weight from leg to leg gives you the subtlest of frictions, and you try to conceal your growing interest by averting your eyes. He brings you the warm cup, handing it to you gently as he looks out through the glass of his office to the lobby. "Harry gave them the rest of the day off. It was in preparation for some repairs—" He glances at you during his explanation, and when you flash a questioning expression, he clarifies. "—er, for the particle accelerator. Apparently, there was some mistake with scheduling so Harry's out trying to get it sorted. I figured I should at least get something done while I'm here waiting it out."

You enter in a well-timed joke. "You should do me." Peter eyes you thoughtfully.

It was not a joke, and it was excellently timed.

"Did you know I've always wanted to fuck in your—mm—office?" you ask, panting while he yanks you back on his dick. Pressed up against the window that overlooks the lobby, your breath fogs it up. Your hands brace flat against it, its temperature cooling your heated skin, indenting your perked nips.

Peter's chuckle through his nose sounds behind you, and it widens your intoxicated grin. "S'not just mine, baby. What's he gonna say when he sees your tit-prints all over the glass?" Some of the stuff Peter says really gets you, his words shooting straight through you as his dirty talk often does. You moan in response, sucking a breath through your teeth right after, biting your lip hard as he plows your pussy. His steady hands on your hips make sure you can't recoil too much and run away too far, he keeps you right where he wants you so easy.

"We could've kept more clothes on, Pete." you gasp, your tone reminiscent of admonishment even though you loved how he flicked your shirt up to squeeze your tits between the window and your body. Knowing him, he'd been waiting to do that since you walked in.

"Now where's the fun in that?"

"You sound like you wanna get caught."

"You think I haven't thought about showing you off?"

[oneforthemunny]

how you like them apples |cowboy!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: you surprise eddie with his favorite fall treat, and, oh, is he surprised.

since i'm feeling so fall, i decided to write a ficlet around my love cowboy!eddie. also follows the lore that sweet girl is not the best cook lmao. super fluffy. genuinely nothing but the sweetest fluff and love.

Your head turned at the rumble of the truck, moving slowly down the gravel driveway towards the house. Eddie always drove much slower than you, always on to you about speeding down the gravel, flinging it everywhere. 

The red truck’s bed was filled with lumber, left over from the recent renovations the Ives’ family had done to their new fence, just up the road- well, that’s what Eddie always said, it was more like a good ten miles away. Irvine Ives had called Eddie up last night, asked him if he wanted it before he took it to the junkyard. He knew Eddie was repairing a patch in the fence a Bronco he was training had kicked out. 

“Back so soon?” You grinned, pressing a hand over your brows to shield you from the September sun. Not as bright as it was in June, but still unforgiving in the middle of the day. 

“Yep, wasn’t much, but I think I got what I needed.” Eddie hummed, turning the key and killing the ignition, cigarette still lit between his fingers. “Think I got enough to patch it though. Just gonna need to repaint it since it’s not the same kinda wood.” 

Your brows raised, walking over towards the driver’s side, leaning in towards the window. “I can help you with that.” You hummed, breathing in the cloud of smoke he exhaled with a content sigh. “I love to paint.” 

Eddie grinned back at you, a soft crease in his dimples that made your body buzz with excitement. “Yeah? We can go to town tomorrow if I get this done. Pick out a color.” 

“That sounds like fun.” You beam. “I was going to say we need to go to the grocery anyways, so that works out.” You hum, a large brown bag catching your attention, nestled beside Eddie in the passenger seat. 

“What’s that?” You ask, leaning on the door to see. “Apples?” 

“Yeah, Mrs. Ives insisted I take a few. Said their trees were overflowin’ with ‘em.” Eddie nodded towards the bag, lightly tapping your hand to move, opening the truck’s door. “Figure I’d give a few to Medusa. Try to do something with the rest, maybe.” 

You nodded slowly, wheels in your mind already spinning with an idea. Eddie handed you the apples, cradling the bottom until you got your grip on the heavy bag. “‘M gonna go start on this. Try to get it done today.” 

“Ok,” You hummed, hugging the apples to your chest. “Have fun, baby.” 

Eddie snorted in laughter, head ducking down, stealing a quick kiss from you. “I shouldn’t be too long.” He looked back at you, eyes narrowing in suspicion as you simply nodded, pulling the screen door open and slipping in the kitchen. 

Normally, you’d offer to come help him, sit with him and talk about nothing in particular, and hand him the tools while he worked. Not this time. You didn’t seem mad, or upset- really, you seemed perfectly happy. Which left him a little suspicious. 

The clanging of a large, steel pot falling on the floor soothed his worries, left him grinning to himself in humor as he started off to the barn. 

“Sift? What does- like move it around?” You muttered, brows pinched in concentration that was teetering on annoyance. Your eyes squinted in concentration, trying to decipher the loopy, old school cursive on the faded, yellowed recipe card in front of you. 

The first time you found the recipe box, it was buried under piles of other things, lost in the mess that was Eddie’s bachelor pad before you moved in- really, before you were in his life. His Mamaw Munson’s recipes, all her best dishes, all in one tin box. He sat in the kitchen with you between his legs, he’d poured over each one, told you which ones were his favorite, sometimes even added a little anecdote that had you beaming with joy. 

“Oh, this one was one of my favorites, baby,” Eddie had said, eyes lighting as they scanned over the card. 

“Apple Cobbler. She’d bake it in this cast iron skillet so it’d stay hot, and we’d put vanilla ice cream over it- holy shit, it was so good.” Eddie swallowed his drool, he could practically taste it still. “She used to have an apple tree before it got blown away by this bad tornado one year. But she’d go and pick them every fall when they were ripe, and she’d always make it for us. It was my favorite thing.” 

Looking at the recipe in front of you, you could see why Eddie loved it so much. It did sound really good. 

It was just very complicated. 

“Take your peeled- shit,” You looked at the sliced apples, still with the skin on, in the bowl in front of you. “Why wouldn’t you say that before I added the other stuff, Mamaw?” You huffed, pulling the drawer open for the whittling knife. 

The kitchen was a disaster, sticky and flour filled, bowls piling high in the sink; and you hadn’t even gotten halfway through the recipe. Grabbing a handful of the butter and sugar rolled apples, you placed them on the counter’s free space, carefully carving around the edge where the skin was. 

This isn’t too bad, not taking as long as I thought it would, You thought to yourself, finally in a grove of cutting around the skin, tossing the apple back in the mixture. 

A smoky, sugary, thick smell alerted your senses on your last few apples. Turning, you saw the filling that was supposed to be simmering, now bubbling with thick, burnt globs in the pot. You grabbed the handle with a panic, shoving it to the free stove eye, turning the hot one off. 

The mixture, which was supposed to be a light caramel brown, was a deep dark molasses shade. You lifted the whisk, cringing at the toughness of the gooey substance. “It’s ok,” You shook your head lightly, looking at the clock. “That’s- whatever. It’ll bake and soften in the oven.” 

Pulling out the pan, you shoved the now skinless apples to the bottom, scraping the hardened filling mixture on top. The wooden spoon nearly broke trying to mix it in, sticking out of the cemented filling. 

You could see Eddie through the small window over the sink, down to the last stake in the fence, already beginning the wiring. He’d be done soon, this had to cook for forty-five minutes, and the kitchen was a disaster. 

“It’s fine, it’ll be fine.” You muttered to yourself, pouring the batter on top, not bothering to smooth it out like the instructions said- there was no time for that Mamaw. Instead, you slid it in the oven, turning the timer. 

Eddie came in just as you’d finished putting your last dish away. Your body surged with excited heat, smug that you might actually get away with your little surprise- well, as long as he didn’t go to the back porch, where the burnt filling was in the pan, cemented in. 

“Mm,” Eddie sniffed the air, sugary and a little… smoky? “Smells good in here, baby.” He gave you a dazzling smile, hoping you wouldn’t pick up the hesitancy in his tone. 

It was no secret that you weren’t exactly the best cook. Not that Eddie cared, but after you almost burnt the house down making lasagna, he was a little weary when you’d cook. 

“Does it?” Your eyes lit up, filled with excitement that he wouldn’t dare take from you. Whatever you’d made, no matter how charred or inedible it was, he’d scarf it down with a grin if it’d make you happy. Even if it gave him food poisoning like the chicken ala king did. 

“Yeah, what’re you makin’?” Eddie reached for the oven’s handle. 

You pushed it closed with a click of your tongue, smacking his hands away. “Don’t.” You shook your head. “It’s a surprise.” 

And you were true to your word. It certainly was a surprise. 

When you placed the concoction in front of Eddie, grinning so big, so proudly, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but grin back. “Wow, you, uh, you made this for me, sweetheart?” He smiled, eyeing the plate in front of him. 

“Yes,” You giggled, topping the runny dough on top with a scoop of ice cream. “You said it was your favorite, and when you brought the apples home, I just thought I’d surprise you.” You chirped, sliding him a spoon. “I followed your Mamaw’s recipe.”

“You spoil me, sweet thing. You know that?” Eddie smiled, heart swelling at the sentiment. You really did spoil him, were too good and too sweet to him- even if you’re cooking wasn’t as good. 

“Try it.” You sat next to him, bursting with excitement. “I know it won’t be as good as hers, but I think I did a good job on it.” 

Eddie looked down at the plate, swallowing the dread building in his throat. He dug his spoon, sawing it through the thick middle until it finally came out in a clean cut. Taking a large scoop of ice cream, hoping it would mask the flavor, he took a bite. 

“Is it good?” You leaned forward, eyes rounded in hopefulness, scanning his features eagerly. 

Eddie hummed, his teeth cemented together from the filling, sure his crown might pop out from the material. The filling was tough, the dough undercooked and lacked something that made it rise, but the apples were delicious- just like his Mamaw’s except…

“Oh,” Eddie winced before he could help it, finger digging in his mouth. He pulled out the hard thing that was wedged in his molar, turning it with a brow raised. “Is that- is that a seed?” 

Your face fell, looking at the seed back at Eddie. “Well, yeah, from the apples.” You said, heart skinning in your chest. “I didn’t- it didn’t say to take them out or anything, so I just left them in.”

Eddie swallowed, stomach turning lightly at the bite. “No, it’s- I mean, it’s good, baby. Some people take them out, but- no, this is, it’s really good.” He nodded, smiling at you gently. “‘S really good.” 

“Really?” You squeaked. “Better than the muffins?” 

“Yes,” Eddie said truthfully, whole heartedly. That was the truth, this was so much better than the mess that was the blueberry muffins. “So much better. This is really good, sweetheart. You really surprised me. Too sweet of ya to do this.” 

You squealed, hugging him tightly, legs straddling his waist in the chair, lips pressing kisses over his cheeks, his chin, his lips. Eddie’s arms wrapped around you, squeezing you into him, playfully nipping at your jaw to hear you squeal, before his lips caught yours, pulling you into a heated kiss. He’d eat all your burnt cobblers if it meant you’d be happy like this, if it made you this happy. 

[solarmorrigan]

For the angst prompt thing: Steddie and "Don't fucking touch me."

Hello! Thank you very much for sending a prompt, I'm sorry it took me so long to post, but I do think this one is my favorite out of all the fills I've done for this prompt list <3

[No warnings; Unnamed Freak (who apparently got a name in the most recent novel, but I didn't know that at the time) is named Oliver]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

-

“I’m gonna step outside for a minute,” Steve leans in to murmur in Eddie’s ear, even though the music isn’t that loud.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Eddie nods, and only just keeps himself from turning to catch Steve’s mouth in a kiss when he feels the brush of his lips against his ear; it’s not his fault he’s developed some kind of Pavlovian association between having Steve’s mouth anywhere near his skin and receiving kisses – but they do have company.

Said company is just Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver, but still. Eddie has some decorum.

Steve stands from the couch and the arm he’d had slung around Eddie’s shoulders slides away slowly, his hand brushing warm and heavy over the back of Eddie’s neck, thumb stroking once, familiarly, along the side of his throat before disappearing entirely as Steve moves towards the front door. He doesn’t do so great with groups of people in small spaces anymore; the noise gets to him, and the heat generated by so many bodies in close proximity tends to give him a headache, so he takes breaks now and then, just to give his brain a few minutes to unbend.

The door swings open on silent hinges (Steve had attacked it with a can of WD-40 and a look of determination earlier today, insisting he couldn’t stand the squeaking anymore; he’s always doing things like that around the house – little repairs, organizing, picking things up, even though Eddie insists he doesn’t have to. He says he wants to, the endearing little weirdo) and Steve steps out into the cool evening, leaving Eddie and the boys behind in the warm light of the trailer’s main room.

“So,” Jeff says, looking up from his spot on the floor and gesturing vaguely at Eddie with his beer can, “how’s that going for you guys?”

Eddie blinks at him. “How’s what going?”

“The whole thing between you two,” Jeff clarifies, and Eddie raises a skeptical brow at him.

“You wanna talk about me and Steve having sex?” Eddie asks.

Jeff’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What? No.”

“Not ever,” Gareth jumps in.

“I mean…” Oliver says with a shrug, flinching when Gareth pelts him with a balled-up napkin.

“No,” Gareth reiterates.

“I refuse to apologize for simple curiosity,” Oliver sniffs, and Eddie, seated next to him on the couch, gives him a shove.

He’s glad his friends are accepting – supportive, even (he’d like to say he wouldn’t hang out with them if they weren’t, but let’s be real: nerds could be hard to come by in their neck of the woods, and as long as they were the quiet type of homophobic, Eddie would probably still play D&D with them. But he’s glad they’re not), but he does have some boundaries.

Like, one or two, maybe.

“I just meant the whole… dating thing,” Jeff says, taking a sip from his beer. “Because I’ll be honest, I really didn’t see it at first, but it actually seems to be working out.”

“Dating?” Eddie parrots blankly.

“Yeah. You guys are in, like, some kind of never-ending honeymoon phase or some shit,” Gareth says. “Hasn’t it been over two months?”

“Uhhh, no, I think you gentlemen are confused,” Eddie drawls. “Steve and I are not dating.”

This declaration is met with a moment of silence.

“Seriously?” Oliver finally says.

“Yep,” Eddie replies easily. “No relationship shit here. Strictly a friends-with-benefits-type deal.”

“Seriously,” Olver says again, flatly this time.

“Yes, Oliver, seriously,” Eddie huffs, reaching over to give him another shove, only to have his hand pushed away.

“Eddie, he was practically sitting in your lap just now,” Jeff says. “You two are all over each other.”

“Constantly,” Gareth adds.

Eddie shrugs. “It’s not like this is a big couch; we gotta squish. Anyway, Steve’s just a touchy kind of guy.”

“He doesn’t sit like that with any of us,” Gareth points out.

“Yeah, well, you guys aren’t the ones receiving benefits,” Eddie says. “You want him to sit on your lap? You could ask.”

Gareth lets his head hang back with a noise of frustration. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

“Don’t you two go on dates?” Jeff asks. “I’ve seen you at the movies. You talk about going out to eat, doing other shit…”

“Yeah, see, that’s the friends part of friends with benefits,” Eddie snarks. “Friends hang out sometimes, I’ve been told. We are all, in fact, hanging out right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m dating any of you.”

“You don’t see the way he looks at you?” Oliver asks, and Eddie can’t help but scoff.

He appreciates the fact that Oliver is passionate about pretty much anything he does, but it also means he’s given to romanticizing. He doesn’t usually manage to drag Jeff or Gareth in with him, though.

“Pretty sure he looks at me like a friend, because that’s what we are.” Eddie rolls his eyes before offering a smarmy little grin. “I mean, I’m sure he looks at me as an exceptionally attractive friend, but that’s it.”

“Genuinely can’t tell if you’re fucking with us, man,” Jeff says, rolling his eyes.

“Genuinely, I am not,” Eddie promises, taking the last viable swallow from his beer before getting up and heading for the kitchen, wiggling his empty can at the others with a raised eyebrow in question. Gareth raises his own near-empty can with a shrug and Eddie nods. “Look,” he says as he ducks towards the fridge, “Steve isn’t the kinda guy you have a relationship with, anyway, you know?”

Eddie doesn’t mean this in a negative way, just as a matter of fact. Steve just doesn’t seem to be a relationship kind of guy. Nancy had been something of an outlier, in how long she and Steve had lasted, and it had become clear after the dust from the Upside Down had settled that he really doesn’t have any interest in pursuing her further. Just the other day, he’d mentioned to Eddie how difficult relationships can be, and about how glad he is they have their thing together instead.

“Being with you is just… easy,” Steve had said; he hadn’t been looking at Eddie at the time, his face instead pillowed on Eddie’s chest, hair sticking to his naked skin where the sweat was still cooling from their last round, but Eddie could see the edge of a smile on his lips.

And Eddie doesn’t have much experience with relationships himself, but he knows that being friends with Steve is easy and that the sex feels equally easy and that the way he’d agreed with Steve and carded his fingers through his hair had sent Steve right to sleep with that same smile still in place.

Easy.

Now, Eddie shoves his head into the fridge and reaches for the beers that have somehow gotten pushed to the back. “It’s nothing major, okay?” he calls back towards the living room.

“Eddie…” Gareth calls back, an edge to his voice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Eddie waves vaguely, making sure to grab a second beer. “Anyway, Steve’s a good friend, and he’s really hot, and we’re just having fun.”

The bang of the front door against the frame startles Eddie so badly he nearly smacks his head on the underside of the freezer as he stands, a beer clutched in each hand like he might be able to use them as projectiles.

There is no threat, though – just Steve, who had apparently failed to catch the screen door before it had shut too quickly behind him. He doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s just standing there, staring at Eddie, color rising high in his cheeks, eyes wide and shocked, like he’s just been slapped.

Concern wells up from Eddie’s gut, and he opens to his mouth to ask what’s wrong when Steve finally speaks.

“Yeah,” he croaks, “I’m not having fun.”

Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion, the beginnings of cold dread trickling into his veins well ahead of any conscious thought.

“I think I– I think I should go,” Steve says.

He grabs his keys from the side table by the door, where they’ve lived next to Eddie’s and Wayne’s for the last few months whenever he’s been at the house, and then he’s gone again, the screen door banging shut once more behind him.

And Eddie has no idea what just happened, but he knows it wasn’t good. He drops the beers on the counter and bolts out the door after Steve.

Steve is nearly to his car by the time Eddie scrambles down the front steps, and he’s paying absolutely no attention when Eddie calls after him.

“Steve,” Eddie tries again, stumbling to a stop right behind him as he jams his keys into the driver’s side lock. “Steve, for fuck’s sake, what–” he reaches out, wrapping one hand around Steve’s bicep, and Steve jerks out of his grip.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Steve snaps.

Eddie pulls his hand back, but doesn’t step away, entirely baffled by the sudden turn the evening has taken. “What the hell happened back there?”

Steve goes still, grip going lax on his keys. “I heard what you said, Eddie.”

“About – about what? Are you mad I was talking to them about us sleeping together? Because, Steve, they already knew,” Eddie insists, a little incredulous. “You said you were fine with them knowing! You were practically feeling me up in front of them!”

“I don’t give a shit if they know we’re having sex!” Steve hisses, finally whirling around to look at Eddie. “I meant the rest. About how I’m not the kind of guy you have a relationship with.”

Eddie’s stomach sinks. He hadn’t realized that was such a sensitive subject. “I – shit, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, I just didn’t think you wanted–”

“About how we’re just having fun,” Steve cuts in, and if he’d sounded raw before, his voice is practically ground down to nothing now.

That brings Eddie up short. “…aren’t we?” he asks after a moment.

Steve says nothing.

“I mean, shit, Steve, it’s not like we’re in a relationship,” Eddie says, offering a little laugh, because even Steve would have to admit that the idea is a little silly.

Except.

Except Steve just glances away, staring at the ground beside Eddie’s feet, and – oh, shit.

“Oh, shit.”

Steve is still unnervingly silent, one arm curled around his middle while the other hand comes up to pinch briefly at the bridge of his nose. He still won’t look at Eddie.

“You… you thought we were,” Eddie says dumbly, and Steve shrugs.

“Can you blame me? We spend all our time together, Eddie. I’m here more than I’m at my own house, I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve slept in my own bed in the last month. We go out and do things together, I try to keep things nice around the house because I want Wayne to like me, we have, like, a lot of sex, and– we… I mean, we kiss and touch and just – do shit like that even when it doesn’t lead anywhere.” Steve shrugs helplessly, finally looking up. “I mean, Christ, Eddie, what did you think we were doing?”

“I thought we were friends!” Eddie insists. Steve throws him an incredulous look and Eddie amends, “With benefits!”

“Right.” Steve’s expression flattens back out, going cold and hard and unlike anything Eddie’s become used to from him. “Because I’m not the kind of guy you’d want to have a relationship with.”

“I said that because I thought you didn’t want to be in a relationship!” Eddie snaps. “It’s not like you stay with anyone for very long, so I just assumed you didn’t want to be with anyone.”

Some of the ice retreats from Steve’s face, leaving a watering kind of hurt in its stead. “Do you listen to me at all when I talk?”

“What? Of course I do!” Eddie might have gotten turned around in certain respects, but he will not have his merits as a friend called into question; of course he listens to Steve.

“Are you sure? Because I talk about you an awful lot. I talk about doing things with you, about doing things in the future with you,” Steve says pointedly, “about how I want to stay with you.”

And Eddie had wanted Steve to stay with him, too. He’s just been thinking – well, he’d thought it was because they get along so well, that Steve had wanted to stick around. That it had only made sense.

“We never talked about… being anything else,” Eddie says, the protest a little weak even to his own ears. “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

Steve pulls a sharp breath in, pinching at the bridge of his nose again; he leaves his hand there this time, eyes scrunched shut. “Just a few days ago, I told you how much I liked being with you. How good and how easy it felt compared to anyone else I’ve ever been with,” he says, barely more than a rough whisper. “And you said…”

I like being with you, too.

Eddie had said that.

He’d meant that he likes being around Steve, likes being his friend, definitely likes having sex with him, but he’d said it while combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, while cuddled up with him in bed, and – okay, yes, he can see the mixed signals there. He can see where Steve might have gotten the idea that they didn’t have an arrangement, that they were just together.

“I– I didn’t mean–”

“Obviously,” Steve snaps, dropping his hand from his face and turning back towards his car.

Eddie tsks, frustrated, and reaches out to grab Steve’s wrist – not pulling, just trying to keep his attention.

“Don’t,” Steve warns him, pulling back from his grasp for a second time.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on,” Eddie tries desperately. “I really… I really didn’t.”

“Yeah. I can see that. But Eddie…” Steve is quiet for a moment, posture so tense and still that Eddie suspects he’s not even breathing. “I’m probably the best-qualified asshole around to tell you that you really have to fucking think about how what you’re doing affects the people around you.”

Somehow, that stings more than any screamed insult Steve could have thrown at him.

“Steve…”

“I’ll come get my shit out of your place tomorrow,” Steve says, low and sharp, before getting into his car and slamming the door behind him.

After that, Eddie has no choice but to step back or get run over, and he watches until Steve’s taillights are no longer visible.

He can hear the hissing of some whispered conversation just beyond the door as he trudges back up the front steps, but his friends fall conspicuously quiet the moment he steps inside.

“…hey,” Gareth finally ventures after several seconds of awkward, sticky silence.

“Hey,” Eddie says flatly.

“Do you… want us to stay?” Jeff asks.

Slowly, Eddie shakes his head. “I think I should… I need to– think about shit.”

The boys all nod, throwing him variously sympathetic glances and clapping him on the shoulder on their way out. Oliver pauses, as if he’s going to say something, but Gareth gives him a shove and gets him out the door before he has the chance. Probably for the best.

Eddie feels numb as he trudges back towards his room, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

He flops down on his bed, face landing in a pillow that smells entirely too much like Steve’s shampoo. Probably because it’s on the side of the bed that Steve always takes. Next to the nightstand with the small stack of sports magazines that definitely aren’t Eddie’s. And the spare pair of glasses that also isn’t Eddie’s.

With a low tug in his gut, Eddie realizes how much of Steve’s stuff has crept into his room, into the trailer, into his life – how much Steve has become a part of his life, how much of Eddie’s day has been built around him, how much he’s come to lean on his presence, has come to want him there.

And Steve is going to take it all back sometime soon. Take all of his things away before he removes himself from Eddie’s life, too, because Eddie hadn’t been thinking and he hadn’t been careful and he hadn’t realized–

Eddie’s pretty sure he just broke up with Steve.

He’s also pretty sure he hadn’t wanted to.

His main consolation, as he curls up on his side, nose still buried in Steve’s pillow, is that as soon as Robin hears what happened (and she will hear, he has no doubt), she’ll probably come murder him.

At least he won’t have to wallow for long.

Part 2

[boopshoops]

Ah, how odd. It appears one of the puppets in Playful Land aren't quite like the rest. Almost like it has one of those consciences everyones been talking about, huh?

oc template by ai-kan1!! dividers by dollywons! Sound on!

Name: Isola Pinacirco-Cira

Nicknames: Pin, Pinpin, Goby

Gender: Demiwoman (Though she has not fully realized it yet!)

Pronouns: She/they

Sexuality: Unlabeled

Birthday: May 5 (Taurus)

Age: ??? (She has been asleep for a very long time, but she has been awake for 19 years)

Height: 5'0" or 152cm, though the height of the doll is adjustable.

Voice Claim(s): Lisa Hannigan, Miyuki Sawashiro

Twisted from: Pinocchio, Wendy's Music Box (From Tinkerbell/Peter Pan)

Unique Magic: "I've got no Strings" - The bearer can control and grant practically any unliving, immobile object the ability to move under their command. The more objects are being controlled, the more magic is consumed. However, the generation of blot is shockingly slow, allowing the bearer to use the magic for hours or even days at a time. Depending on the object, it may appear as though it is being haunted by a poltergeist. The magic, however, has a very short range. The object must be within five feet of the bearer, or it is no longer effective. Isola uses this magic to move her body on a day-to-day basis.

Grade: Freshman, though only after the Playful Land Event

Class: 1-D

Job: Playful Land Performer

Hobbies: Dancing ballet, face paint, makeup, putting outfits together, singing, sewing, wood carving, ceramic/pottery/resin repair.

Likes: Feather accessories, being alone, birds, rodents, bugs, performance, applause, classical, soul, and lofi music, animal figurines.

Dislikes: Rain, being alone, excessive heat, winter, bass boosted, fast, or hyper music, too frequent of doll repair jobs, cramped spaces, being unable to eat.

Fears: Being unlovable, never loving someone else, living a life alone, never living in a body they feel comfortable in.

Summary: A quaint performer at the renowned Playful Land, constantly known for putting on a show of elegance and grace. With her unusual cadence, she often struggles to maintain an audience despite her immense talent. Isola frequently scares off certain guests on accident. They have a very hard time handling their emotions, causing them to either come off highly unnatural or lacking facial expressions to a degree that could disturb others.

That's just the cons of being one of the many puppets on the premises, though. She is often mistaken as being one of the other, more robotic workers. Isola's body is detailed and articulated enough to stand out among them, but off-putting enough to be immediately recognized as inhuman. Nonetheless, she remains on the traveling amusement park as what is considered a "highly prized item" by the owner. Of course, you don't come across puppets like her everyday, do you? Might as well put her on display.

When night hits and protocol begins, when the consequences of breaking the many rules of the park take their toll, they can do nothing but watch over it all. It makes her feel sick, quite honestly. Disgusted. Yet, she isn't allowed to help anyone. Her attempts to help usually cause the visitors to flee from her anyway, followed by her own set of serious consequences imposed by the owner. The most she can truly do is make it harder on the other workers: including those she has no choice but to be closest to on the ship: Fellow and Gid- Ah. Wrong Identity. Ernesto and Gino.

CHARACTER PLAYLIST - INSPIRATION - CREATION STORY

Author's Note: holy fuck they have a chokehold on me. hOOOO they have a chokehold on me. she came to me in a vision and did nOT let me go until she was created, holy fuck. UGSDBGSDIUAAAAA anyway, i love her and she is my baby. my slightly fucked up baby.

Note that relationships are up for possible changes in the future- I have thought about possibly involving them with someone romantically, but i feel like I want her to put HERSELF first before that. Her story is one about self love, self discovery, and self care, and I feel like throwing her into oc x canon romance too soon would negate that. ALSO she is NOT a part of my TCOAV au!!! i mean. im probably gonna still do fun stuff where she could interact with my ocs from there since im an au fanatic, but- yeah. tcoav is a story more focused on Yuu Shi, and I feel that would also take away from important parts of Isola's character and growth. tis an excuse to try a new oc profile format too <333

that all being said and on a somewhat less related note. i wanna make a comic of her so badly. fuCK. evaporates into thin air. thank u for coming to my ted talk.

Tag list :D

@lowcallyfruity @skriblee-ksk @cecilebutcher @kitwasnothere @justm3di0cr3

@thehollowwriter @distant-velleity @techno-danger @scint1llat3 @the-trinket-witch

@beneathsakurashade @kathxrat-01 @twsted-canvas @prince-kallisto @qsoap

@sillyslipperybananapeel @tixdixl @twstinginthewind @gimmeurmoneyagh

[drabblejester]

Boothill hcs or oneshot with a mechanic reader?

Please and thank you!!

BOOTHILL and his MECHANIC!READER!

requested by: anon :3

pairings: boothill x mechanic!reader (romantic or platonic)

content warnings: angst. angst. a lot of angst

comments: you didn’t specify if you wanted it fluffy or not my liegeHEEHEE…. i was listening to euthanasia - will wood while writing this btw

Old Habits Die Hard

(wc: 619)

You sat alone in your office, scrambled papers and tools being your only company at the moment. Many papers you needed to sign, many machines you needed to fix up. Your life was a never ending buzz of being busy and tired, truly.

Your latest ‘project’ hasn’t been back in a while, however. Of course, calling him simply a project was inhumane. Even he was human once, in a far away past. You weren’t the one to initially fix him up, sure, but he told you about it all. The previous mechanics and scientists, how they turned him into a machine- and now you need to fill up that role.

Your door creaked open.

And your one and only Boothill stood in the doorway, hunched over with strands of hair stuck to his face. Although he did not have proper lungs anymore, old habits die hard. His chest still heaved, uneven and shaking. As stoic as he was, he seemed more broken down than you thought.

You stood up from your chair, brushing eraser dust from your pants as you approach him slowly. The lights in your office were dimmed, only the glow from Boothill’s eyes and a few lights illuminating you both. His crosshairs faded away as you approached him, you hesitate to put your hand on his shoulder. He notices.

“Too- too scared to put your hands on me, doc?”

His stutter wasn’t just because of a broken voicebox, but also due to his emotions. Damn to such organic things. His head raised slightly, hair covering his face enough to cover most details. But he still stared at you with those unreadable eyes.

His emotions have become much more different, and much more difficult to decipher now. You couldn’t tell if he was scared, or enraged. Possibly a mix of both. Fuck, you were an engineer, not a therapist. But you still try to brush away a few strands of his hair, tucking them behind his ear.

And at that moment, he crumbled to the floor. The loud squealing of rusted metal combined with a rough impact made your head hurt. But he simply sat there in front of you, one arm still remaining on the doorway, both knees on the floor, and his head faced away from you and tilted down. His body tremored heavily, sobs wracking his body with no tears.

He had no more tears left to cry, the ducts in his eyes being barren for years. It was the simple inability to do such a human thing- to cry- that made him feel worse. He really did lose himself.

You kneel down in front of him as well, boots squeaking on the floor. You look at him through his matted hair, through those metal eyes. And all you see, is a scared young man, who’s seen too much too soon. Your expression is tired but gentle, difficult to see, just like his.

You reach out for him once more. He flinches. You bring your hand back for a moment, before he grabs it roughly. His grip quickly softens though, rubbing against the skin he gripped in a silent apology which you accept. He brings your hand to his cheek, his grip loosening before his hand drops to the floor.

He’d shut down soon, and you can repair him then. But for now, you simply sit there with him, your hand gently rubbing his cheek. His eyes close slowly, and his head leans into your palm and weighs heavily upon it.

“Y’know,” he mumbles with a broken voice, “My papas used t’ hold me just like this.”

“They did?” “They did.”

The silence in the room thickens after you both speak. You don’t want to remove your hand, so you shift yourself and Boothill into a better position. You lay farther back, using an empty box as a cushion. Boothill rests on your chest, your hand remaining on his cheek the whole time. He hums.

He hums a quiet, cautious tune. An old one that you don’t recognize, but it seems like Boothill knows it very well. He mumbles a few words to the lullaby before his fans go silent, and his body fully slumps against yours.

Old habits do die hard.

i dont have anything funny to say im sorry

[kachowden]

The Farmer (prologue)

The smell of mold was thick, and permeated the room you had so dreadfully woken up in.

The back of your head ached in dull pain, that wouldn’t allow you to remember it’s origins. Your chest was heavy as if the wind had left you and your lungs had been squeezed empty.

Your skin felt greasy and stiff. You wanted to shower. You needed to shower. But you couldn’t move. You didn’t know where you were. Was there even a bathroom to shower in?

The rotting wood and rusted windows made it seem unlikely. Though you could hear the buzzing of flies and croaks of frogs from behind the wall. Most likely, wherever you were, was next to some kind of lake or pond.

The itch of your skin was making you want to jump in, regardless of what might be lurking inside.

When the door creaked open, it’s hinges scratching against each other unpleasantly, you only found the ability to glance up from where you head had slumped against your shoulder.

Dark, sunken eyes that looked ill fitting, like the skin sagged over a face that wasn’t meant to be there. Scratchy stubble littered his chin. Greasy, unkempt hair that looked to be self maintained, if the jagged edges weren’t telling enough.

His clothes looked like they needed a few washes. And the smell that followed him was…mostly unpleasant. Like stale water and must. Not the most offensive smell, but it made your nose scrunch just for a moment.

The man, who you could guess was a farmer of some kind, stepped forward into the room, nearing the faint light the spilled in from the filthy window panes. Just enough, to where you could see the odd grey hue of his skin.

“mornin’…”

Your shoulders scrunched involuntarily, folding the skin of your back as your ears took in his voice.

Deep, monotone and a bit gruff. Like the voice of a man who never slept a day in his life. But it echoed. Like two voices speaking as one, and it rang in your ear like a quiet siren.

You supposed your lack of response made this man uncomfortable, as his eyes darted to the side for a moment, and he stepped forward. Closer.

It was now you noticed the plate of food in his large, calloused hands. It was now, as he sat down beside you, that you noticed the stiff bed you had woken up on. It was now, as the memories flooded through, that you realized the predicament you were in.

Your car was busted. Your friends were missing. You, were stranded in the middle of nowhere, in the company of a stranger who offered to help you.

and a voice in the back of your mind told you, that you were being chased.

The shift of the bed and squeaking of old springs led your eyes back to the face of the farmer infront of you, who looked just as lost in thought as you were.

He mumbled incoherently to himself, brows narrowing as if he was in the midst of an argument. Fingers fiddled and curled around the saggy fabric of his shirt, and for a moment, it seemed as if this episode had ended.

Before he looked up at you. And suddenly his brows furrowed deeper and his lips set into a deep frown.

“Your car…’s not gonna start anytime soon. You might be stuck here…’a while.”

Your chapped lips pursed, uncomfortably. “Can’t you call some repair men?”

He mimicked you, glancing away almost guiltily. “Ain’t no-body around here for miles. No land lines neither.”

Of course there wasn’t. You seemed to remember having lost connection of your phone sometime before your car broke down.

“…what about my friends? I gotta find them.”

“If they passed through here…I don’t think you’ll have much luck…”

What a comforting response. The farmer acknowledged your glare with an embarrassed clearing of his throat. “I’ll…take care of ya’ till you can get back on the road…”

“I can take care of myself just fine.”

The way he looked at you made you sick. Like dread had been poured down your throat and was slowly filling you the brim. His gaze was intense and foreboding, warning you that you did not know what you were up against.

“It ain’t just the animals out there you gotta worry about…it’s best of you to stay here. At least for a while.”

And how long is a while?

-1-

You learned very quickly, that a while was more than three days. And you learned even quicker, that sometimes it was better to not ask questions.

That was one of the rules here.

1. Don’t go out at night

2. Don’t open the shed

3. Don’t ask questions.

That last rule kept you sane.

Don’t ask why you couldn’t go out at night. Don’t ask why you can’t go in the shed.

Don’t ask why the farmer talks to himself. Don’t ask why his bedroom is never used.

Don’t ask why the cattle go stalk still when he’s nearby. Don’t ask why the crickets stop singing and frogs stop croaking when he’s outside.

Don’t ask about the smell. Don’t ask about the lumps in the ground.

Don’t ask why your neck is wet and sticky every morning. Don’t ask about your car. Don’t ask about your friends.

Don’t ask how long you’ll be stuck here.

Live ignorant while you’re here. Don’t think. It’s safer, to stop thinking. You’ll lose yourself if you think too much.

Those weren’t your words. You weren’t sure who’s they were. But they worked. They were comforting.

So you didn’t think. You no longer wondered where your friends were. You no longer wondered how long you’d be stuck here, or how long it’d take to fix your car.

The farmer took care of you. He said he would, and he did. You ate well, you slept okay and you smelled better then you had when you first woke up.

You paid little mind to the lingering touches or intense stares.

Or the moments you swore you heard something growl when you passed by.

Nothing was perfect. But it was safe.

Because you followed the rules.

Until you didn’t.

The mistake of needing the toilet late at night. The mistake of leaving the farmhouse into the pitch dark land around you. The mistake of opening the shed, thinking that it had been the outhouse you were looking for.

The mistake of asking questions, when a dark mass of oil and flesh stared back at you.

“What the fuck is that?”

You didn’t feel so safe anymore.