#these two and work song will always live in my head rent free

[munsonsmixtapes]

Joyride

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

I heard the song joyride by Kesha and had thoughts

word count: 4.2k

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) oral (f receiving) Eddie receives a handjob, hair pulling, Eddie has a slight degradation kink

Loud music blared from the speaker in the living room you were sitting in. You sipped on a warm cup of beer as you looked around at all of the dancing bodies, wondering what you were even doing there. If you were being honest, it was just for the free booze and that sucked too. If you had known that it was going to be that bad, you would have just stayed home with a bottle of wine and your vibrator to keep you company. 

Maybe it was the alcohol in your system-you had only had a few sips-but you found yourself pulling out your phone to send a text. You scrolled through all of your conversations when you came across a name that you had completely forgotten about. Well, tried to forget. You couldn’t have forgotten him even if you tried. The way his hands moved along your body and the words he had whispered in your ear were all imprinted in your brain. The things you thought when you were trying to get yourself off or even just trying to fall asleep. 

Without a second thought, you tapped on his name and quickly typed something out, sending it before you could think too much about it. You then stood up from the couch and made your way to the kitchen to pour out the disgusting drink and throw your cup away. There was no way that you were going to stay there another second. Not when you got something better waiting for you. Well, you hoped so. 

Eddie’s phone pinged on his nightstand and he paused the video game he was playing with Gareth to answer it. He had no idea who would have been texting him so late. One of them was sitting next to him and the others were either working or sleeping. Once he flipped his phone over, his eyes widened as your name flashed across the screen. 

That one night the two of you had spent together had lived in that man’s head rent free. The hottest moans he had ever heard echoed in the back of his head when he pleasured himself and he wished you were right there with him, sucking him off, taking all of him into your mouth like the little slut you were. 

I’ll be outside yours at midnight. Need your cock so bad.

He was so close to moaning just from reading your text. The woman he had fantasized for months was texting him to hook up so there was absolutely no way he was passing that up. He was going to fuck you until you were seeing stars, to the point where you wouldn’t be able to walk for days. Oh, he was going to do so much to you and he was going to enjoy every fucking second of it.

Your phone pinged in your purse as you put your jacket on, closing the front door of the house. You pulled it out and rolled your eyes at the response from Eddie. 

How bad? 

Typical Eddie, always wanting you to beg. But you liked it, maybe more than you were willing to admit. You quickly typed out a response and sent it before getting into your car and pulling out of the driveway.

I guess I can just get myself off, don’t worry about it.

You always were a brat. I think you need to be taught a lesson. 

On my way.

You locked your phone and focused on the road as you drove to Eddie’s, feeling your cunt getting even more wet as you thought about him fucking you until you were raw, until you couldn’t walk, needing him to carry you up to his room because you weren’t in a place to drive home. You then wanted him to eat you out, lapping up every last bit of your slick and his cum because you wanted him to fuck you without a condom, feeling his bare cock inside of you, wanting this time to be even better than the last. 

As soon as Eddie got your text, he threw on his jacket and rushed out the door, barely even bidding Gareth a goodbye as he hurried down the stairs, almost falling down them as he did so. He then rushed to put on some shoes before heading out the door, practically collapsing onto his porch because of how fast he was moving. 

Your car rolled up to the curb and Eddie watched the window roll down. He descended the steps of the porch, making a beeline for you, standing awkwardly in front of your door. He put his hands behind his back, looking like such a gentleman for someone who was so rough with you the one time you slept together. 

You pulled down your sunglasses, looking up and down. He was dressed in an oversized band t-shirt, a pair of jeans and a leather jacket on top. It was honestly unfair how he was able to look so hot in something so simple. You were really looking forward to taking it all off. 

“Get in, loser,” you nodded your head to the passenger seat. “We’re going for a joyride.” He took no time to round the hood of the car and get into the passenger seat. Once inside, he turned to you, taking in your outfit. You were wearing a top that could have passed for a bikini top with a pair of short shorts that barely covered your ass. On your feet were a pair of white go go boots and on top, you were wearing a very fluffy, cropped jacket. 

You looked so fucking hot. Eddie always thought you dressed well, but this had to be your best look yet. You removed your sunglasses and set them in one of the cup holders before turning to face Eddie, that seductive look in your eyes. You two hadn’t even done anything and he was convinced that he was going to cream his pants. 

Before Eddie could register what you were doing, you were unbuckling your seatbelt and crawling to the backseat. He watched you, letting his eyes drift to your ass, seeing it hanging out of your shorts, begging for him to give it a squeeze, maybe even a slap. He desperately wanted to leave hand prints on it as you begged for more, loving the sting the slaps left behind. 

He knew that you loved being degraded and he was more than happy to oblige. He wanted to tell you just how much a whore you were while he pounded into you, making you beg for more as you left scratches down his back, making him-

“Are you going to drool all night, Munson, or are you going to fuck me like you said you would? I’m still waiting for you to teach me that lesson.” You had now shed your jacket, giving Eddie a perfect view of your chest, your cleavage, your hardened nipples that he could see through the thin fabric. 

Without a word, he climbed to the backseat and planted himself right next to you, his thigh pressing to yours. His brown eyes bored into yours as he slowly brought his thumb up and brushed your bottom lip with a featherlight touch. You grabbed hold of his wrist and slowly pushed his thumb into your mouth, giving it a hard suck and Eddie was damn near close to cumming right there in his pants. 

You looked up at him, your eyes staring into his as you continued to suck on his thumb, loving how you were able to make him come completely undone just by watching you sucking on him. He let out a moan as he thought about you doing the same thing to his cock. You had done it before and the image of your pretty lips wrapped around him was something that haunted still months later. 

You slowly removed his thumb from your mouth and and slowly rested your hands on his shoulders, inching your face closer to his, knowing exactly what he was wanting but needing him to beg for it. You were desperate to hear him whine for you, all but getting on his knees, whimpering that he needed you to fuck him right then and there. 

Eddie could feel your breath hitting his lips and he let out a shuddering breath, his hands moving to your waist, feeling your warm, soft skin underneath his hands. Your lips met his in a featherlight touch, slowly slotting together. They moved together as you tried to figure it out, but as soon as you got the hang of it, it became messy and rough. 

Your tongue swiped along his bottom lip, licking back and forth in a teasing manner and he was quick to open up, letting you inside. Your tongues tangled together in a sloppy manner as you pushed off each other’s jackets, letting them clatter to the floorboard. 

Your hand slowly traveled down to his, lightly brushing his rock hard cock that was tenting in his pants. You then pulled away, your hands moving to the button of his jeans, unbuttoning as slow as possible as a way to tease him, staring at his face, hearing that pretty whine pass his lips as he was growing frustrated with how slowly you were looking. 

“Look how hard you are,” you said. “And we haven’t even done anything.” You zipped down his pants and pushed them down to his thighs then pulled down his boxers, his cock springing free. 

“Been thinking about me, huh? About what we got up to last time?” 

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, his breathing becoming labored. 

“Need me to take care of this?” You asked, looking down at his dick that was already leaking precum. 

“Please,” he whined and you spit into your hand before pumping slowly, Eddie already letting out a moan as you did so. Good. He was right where you wanted him. 

You watched his eyes close as pleasure rolled through him, your movements getting even faster. He’d never tell you that this was exactly what he had been wanting for months, the whole scenario plaguing his mind more than he was willing to admit. Anytime he jacked off, he would imagine that it was your hand, your filthy words of encouragement filling his ears as he orgasmed, your lips connecting with his afterwards as you told him that he was a good boy. 

Your pumps got faster and Eddie was feeling embarrassed that he was already close, the thing building inside him, on the very tip of his tongue as he felt his vision go hazy. 

“Fuck,” he swore and you felt yourself getting wet as you watched him reach completion, loving how you were able to get him there in record speed. 

As he was coming down, you removed your shorts, making sure that he was watching, your movements slow as to give him a show, a treat for being such a good boy. His eyes moved down to your thong, a tiny white thing that you had worn with the intention of someone seeing them. You had secretly hoped that someone would have been him. 

“Wanna take them off?” You asked, tucking your thumbs into each side of the waistband, gingerly pulling them down to give him a peek, but not the whole thing. 

He didn’t respond, just scooted closer and ripped them off of you, a gasp leaving your mouth at how quick he was. You then pushed him onto his back, his eyes widening at how confident you had gotten since you had last seen each other. 

“I don’t have a condom,” you told him. 

“Me neither.” 

“But I’m on birth control and I really want to feel you inside me.” Your voice was so whiny and pleading that there was no way that Eddie was going to deny you. He would have given you whatever you wanted if you were going to talk to him like that. 

You climbed on top of him and you both let out loud moans as he entered you. Your hands moved to his shoulders and his went to your waist, the two of you moving together slowly to remember what it was like to be connected in that way. 

But as you got used to it, your movements got faster, your tits bouncing as you rode his cock. He felt drool collecting his mouth as he stared at them, wanting to see them, suck on them. 

You were so fucking hot that it was unfair and he was wondering what he had done to be fucking you in the backseat of your car outside of his house. And you had reached out to him first. You had sent the text when you had told him that it was only going to be a one time thing. 

“Oh,” you let out a loud moan and Jesus Christ. It was like you were wanting him to cum right there on the spot. It was even hotter than he had remembered. Anyone else would have probably said that you were faking it, but Eddie knew that you were just loud and enthusiastic. 

“Look so fucking hot on top of me,” he said, his eyes moving back to your tits, seeing the beads of sweat in your cleavage, driving him crazy. He was seconds away from licking them away. 

“Yeah?” You asked, your hands moving to where your top was tied at the back of your neck. You gave the string a pull and the whole thing fell, revealing your tits, hard nipples and all. “How about now?” 

“Fucking perfect,” was all he was able to respond. They were even better than he had remembered, somehow bigger, your tits already hard for him and now your were sporting piercings on each nipple. God, how had you gotten even hotter? He needed them in his mouth and he needed it right then 

Before you even realized what was happening, Eddie pulled out and pushed you down onto the backseat, his cum leaking down onto your stomach as he did so. He lowered himself on top of you, peppering your collarbone in kisses. You were driving him crazy on purpose and now it was his turn to have his way with you. 

He continued to work on your collarbone, mixing in his tongue, licking and sucking all across it and he didn’t miss your small sounds of pleasure. He then went in and nipped at the skin, causing you to let out another moan. 

His hand that wasn’t on your hip was massaging one of your nipples, the rough pad of his thumb feeling so good against your soft skin. You had imagined this exact scenario for months and now that you had the real thing, there was absolutely no way that you could ever fuck anyone else. He was just too good. 

His lips moved down your chest, continuing to lick and suck until he got to your nipple, his tongue swirling around it lightly as a way to tease you then taking the whole thing into his mouth and giving it a rough suck, another moan leaving your lips, your back arching. 

Eddie took that as an opportunity to slide his hands underneath your back, pulling you closer to him. He took your piercing lightly in between his teeth and gave it a light tug, causing you to let out an even louder moan. 

“More,” was all you were able to say, your words already getting slurred. He tugged a little harder and that caused you to come completely undone, His name falling from your lips in a loud scream as you reached your orgasm. But Eddie didn’t stop there. That was only encouragement to keep going. There was still so much he wanted to do to you and you were totally down to be pulled along for the ride. 

He moved to your other nipple and gave it the same treatment, but focused more on your piercing since that was what you seemed to like the most. Another scream ripped through you and Eddie tried his best not to laugh to himself, feeling proud of himself to make you cum twice in only a matter of minutes. That had to be a record of some sort, surely. 

“Fuck,” you breathed. 

Eddie brought his lips to your ear and you shuddered as his hot breath hit the shell of it. 

“There’s more where that came from, doll,” he whispered. “I’m fully prepared to devour every inch of you, making the prettiest marks on your body so everyone knows that your mine.” He then took your earlobe between his teeth and gave it a little nibble before pulling it into his mouth, giving it a suck before kissing along your jaw until he got to your lips, slotting his between yours. 

His hands moved to yours, intertwining your fingers as he kissed you, his movements so gently and slow, so different with how rough he had been with you, but you loved the duality. He then reached up with one of his hands and pushed your mouth open so he could slide his tongue inside, letting it swirl around yours. 

Your hands moved up his shirt, gripping the bottom of it and pulled it over his head, tossing it to the floorboard before pressing your hands to his back. Just when you were getting into it, he pulled away, hitting his head on the roof as he did so. 

“Do you want to take this inside? As hot as this is, it’s kind of cramped,” he chuckled. 

“Yes please,” you begged. Eddie grabbed his t-shirt and helped you put it on before the two of you finished getting dressed. He then climbed out of the backseat and held his hand out for you and you gladly took it. 

As your feet hit the sidewalk, your legs suddenly felt like jello. Eddie seemed to notice too because he grabbed hold of the back of your legs and helped you wrap them around his waist.

Your lips connected once again as he carried you to his front door only breaking away for him to open it and slam it closed behind him. He carried you to the couch, neither of you patient enough to make it upstairs. He was just grateful that he was smart enough to tell Gareth to beat it as soon as he had gotten your text. There was no way he was going to fuck you with anyone around. 

He threw you down onto the couch and got onto his knees in front of you. You removed your shorts once again and Eddie grabbed hold of your thigh, holding your leg up as he removed your boots and socks before spreading your legs wide. 

Your cunt was soaking wet and he was so desperate for a taste. He looked up at you hungrily and you were so close to yelling at him to go for it since he seemed to be taking his sweet time. His teasing was starting to drive you mad. 

“Eddie, I swear to god if you don’t do something, I’ll just take care of it myself,” you told him, but he only found it hot that you were bossing him around, that you were threatening to finish the job for him. 

“Do it,” he said, his eyes clouding with lust. The idea of you getting yourself off was so hot that he was going to cum again right then and there. 

“What?” You were unsure of what he was talking about. 

“Wanna see you fuck your fingers, doll.” 

“You do? I-I thought you were going to eat me out.” 

“Later. Wanna see you make yourself cum right now.” You hadn’t ever masturbated in front of an audience, but if you were going to do it with anyone watching, you wanted it to be Eddie. You knew that he would have been nothing but encouraging, wanting you to feel as comfortable as possible. 

You slowly brought your hand down to your cunt, closing your eyes as your fingers reached your entrance, moving back and forth across it, just like you did so many times before.

Eddie watched you, his eyes darkening as your fingers dove into your cunt, another moan falling from your lips as your head hit the back of the couch. 

“That’s it, doll,” he encouraged. “Just like that.” He never knew that he could get so much pleasure from watching someone else pleasure themself, but he was hypnotized, getting so hot from watching the whole thing unfold before him. 

You shoved them farther inside, on the hunt for that spot and once you watched it, you let out another moan and Eddie followed, not able to keep it inside. You were really doing things to him. 

You hit the spot again and your back arched in pleasure, another moan falling from your lips. Once you came down, you removed your fingers from your cunt and opened your eyes to look into Eddie’s. You then brought your fingers up to your mouth, giving them a suck, making the most filthy noises as you did so. Perhaps you were beating Eddie at his own game. 

He sat up, a whine escaping his lips as he leaned closer to you. You removed your fingers from your mouth and hovered them over his lips, batting your eyelashes as you did so. 

“Do you want a taste?” You asked and Eddie nodded, his Bambi brown eyes widening. 

“Fuck yes,” he whimpered. 

“Okay, open up.” He did as you asked and you slowly slid your fingers into his mouth, that all too familiar taste hitting his tongue. He licked and sucked until there was nothing left and all you could think about was having that tongue on your cunt. You were desperate now and couldn’t wait any longer. 

“Need your mouth on my cunt, Eddie,” you whined, the words coming out more desperate than you had intended. 

“I’d be more than happy to do that, doll, but I’m gonna need you to beg a little more.” Motherfucker. 

“Eddie, please,” your whine was even more loud and that seemed to do the trick. He spread your legs even wider to get a better look, your slick making a stain on the couch because of how wet you were. 

He grabbed hold of your ankles and pulled you closer to him, burying his face into your cunt, causing you to gasp at the feeling, your hands moving to his hair. His tongue licked a stripe from your slit to your clit before he began sucking on the area, trying to lick up every last bit of your slick, not wanting to leave a single drop behind. 

“Oh-” was all you were able to get out as you moaned. Your fingers wound further into his hair, digging into his scalp. 

Eddie took no time to stick his tongue inside you, on the hunt for that one spot that would make you scream his name. He was trying to see how quickly he could make you cum, wanting to be better at the job than your fingers were. As hot as it was to watch you get off like that, he was the one who wanted to do the job. 

He curved his tongue and your fingered tugged at his hair, your thighs pressing against his head and your ankles locking at the back of his neck. Jackpot. 

“Eddie,” you moaned. “Sh-shit. Oh my god.” He moved you lower, wanting to see it for himself. Wanting to watch you come absolutely undone. Your head was back against the back of the couch and your eyes were shut tight. Your back arched and your mouth wide open as another moan escaped. Your were so fucking hot. 

Just when you thought he was done, he lifted you up, grabbing onto your ass, burying his face further into you, his whole tongue making its way into your cunt and you let out another scream just as his fingers were digging into your ass. 

“Sound so fucking pretty. Wanna make some more noises for me?” He asked, pressing a kiss to your knee. All you could do was nod, but that wasn’t good enough for Eddie. 

“Use your words, doll.” Another kiss to your knees. 

“Yes,” you slurred and Eddie just let out a chuckle. 

“Let’s go upstairs, hm?” He asked, knowing just from your slurring that you were too far gone to consent. 

“Gonna fuck me good, Munson?” 

“In the morning, for sure,” he nodded as he pulled his t-shirt down to cover your pussy. He then grabbed hold of your hands and helped you to your feet, catching you right as you were about to fall to the floor. 

“Already falling for me, hm?” He asked as he picked you up and carried you to the stairs. You had fallen for him that first night together and that was why you told him it could only be a one time thing. 

But then you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The man plaguing your every waking moment, even when you were trying to sleep. You dreamed about him every night. Eddie sleeping on the other side of your bed. Eddie resting his head on your shoulder while you made breakfast, pressing kisses to your cheek and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. You were falling for him even though you didn't want to admit it. And looking up into his pretty brown eyes as he carried you up the stairs, you were beginning to think that maybe he was falling for you too.

[unlimitedlust]

The Death Of Peace Of Mind - Noah Sebastian x Reader (+18)

Author’s Note:

This story was a request by an anon, and I hope I made justice to their imagination.

Warnings: Lots and lots of smut as always, masturbation, oral (both receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v, creampie, aftercare, Noah’s chain living rent free in my mind.

Once again: english is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes.

Tag request: @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning

WC: 2.8K

Final reminders: requests are open with Noah, but they may have an expiration date because I tend to have writer’s block with people I see in real life (that happened back in my teenage years with Anthony Kiedis and last year with Till Lindemann), so since I’m seeing Bad Omens this October, my stories with Noah might come to an end after this date, so if you have anything in mind, feel free to contact me, I’m all ears!!!

Please, if you enjoy it, don’t forget to like, reblog and/or comment, your feedback is what keeps me writing!!!

End of Author’s Note

-0-

You missed him.

You texted each other daily, but you missed waking up to his beautiful voice singing random songs around the house, ordering take out food for anime marathon nights, fighting over ps5 games and even the bickering you had with each other on occasion.

But that’s the cost of being a world wide famous rockstar roommate.

You and Noah were friends for a few years now and even though the idea of being roommates was a temporary thing at the beginning, the dynamics between the two of you worked out so great you just settled with it, even though you already were financially stable enough to have your own place.

But honestly, that was just an excuse you kept repeating to yourself in order to deny the sparkles in your chest every time you saw him, every time you were with him or even thought about him.

You were friends and you never let those sparkles ignite inside you because you didn’t want to ruin it all and lose him.

However, being away from him for months now was driving you insane, and the fact he still had a couple of months on the road until he came back got you climbing up the walls in agony.

It took you his long absence to acknowledge that those sparks were actually a wildfire being kept under control by his presence.

And today you missed and wanted him so much you found yourself in his bedroom, rummaging through his clothes. You soon found one of his favorite hoodies to wear while home and put it on immediately, reveling in the smell of his cologne that lingered.

You studied his bed covered by a dark comforter and you couldn’t help but to wonder what is it like to have him there, unholy thoughts taking over your mind in record speed as you got all hot and bothered only by contemplating his bed and all the ways you’d crave for him to have you there.

You sprawled on his bed and a wicked idea came into your head as heat pooled between your legs.

Your hand found its way down your center while Noah’s image painted itself in your head. The first touch, despite being delicate, followed by a wave of pleasure spreading goosebumps all over your skin.

You closed your eyes and from there on, in your mind he was there with you. Those were his fingers instead of yours.

You imagined the way his thin nose would run up your neck before he kissed and nipped on it, the sinful ways his slender tattooed fingers would explore the curves on their way up your body until he wrapped them around your neck, choking you as he bottomed you out looking in your eyes.

Those thoughts alone were enough to make your fingers work harder on your nerve bud as your other hand squeezed one of your boobs from underneath his hoodie, his name leaving your lips in lascive whimpers as you got dangerously close to your orgasm in record speed, your hips shamelessly moving in sync with your hands for an extra shot of pleasure.

You were so concentrated and so close to your climax you didn’t hear the front door opening downstairs, nor the steps coming up the stairs and then halting by the bedroom door at the sight of you.

Noah, who’d came home earlier during a few days break to surprise you, was hypnotized not only by watching you fuck yourself off, but also by the way his name slipped out of your lips in filthy moans, and his pants seemed to get incredibly tight in matter of seconds.

He couldn’t help but to palm himself over his dark jeans, while he leant his other arm on the door jamb to get more comfortable to watch that show in front of him, his eyes switching from your lips chanting his name, to your hand on your breasts underneath his hoodie and to the hand inside your shorts, dying take them off and bury himself deep in you, to get coated in your slick, to feel you clenching around him.

He wanted to join you. He wanted you.

So when he realized you were a few strokes away from your orgasm, he cleared his throat to make his presence known, making you jump as you covered yourself, mortified that you’d been caught by him, your whole face burning in shame as you dropped your gaze, unable to take the smallest look at his reaction.

“I’m so sorry” Your apology came out as a whisper.

“I’m not” He licked his lips causing you to throb.

Noah closed the door behind himself and stood by the foot of the bed, arms crossed as he raked his eyes over your figure. He’d never looked at you like that, at least you’d never noticed, but at that very moment you were sure he also wanted you to be more than just his friend.

Still you decided to play dumb, you never thought you’d reach that point with him and now that he’d already caught you hands on, you wanted to see what he would do next.

“I’m so sorry, Noah, I shouldn’t have come to your room like that I…” He cut you off.

“You’re really sorry?”

“Yes”

“Then show me”

His words went straight to your core and your heart was beating so fast you thought you’d collapse in front of him.

“How?”

“Come here”

He motioned with his hand as you crawled on the bed towards him, his tall frame towering over you as you sat on your knees before him.

He cupped your cheek and ran his thumb over your lips, tugging on your lower lip, his eyes dark with lust as he watched you lick the pad of his thumb, twirling your tongue around it as he pushed his finger inside your mouth.

“I always knew you’d look good in my bed”

His confession made your blood run faster through your veins as he brought your head closer to his body, making you bend forwards as his fingers slid to the back of your head, entangling in your hair, your mouth now only inches away from the very evident bulge inside his pants.

Your hands went straight to his waistband, hooking your fingers on it as your eyes asked silently for his permission, which came with a reassuring nod in less than a second.

You pulled his pants down along with his boxers, freeing his very hard manhood right in front of your face, and knowing that he felt the same way towards you got you eager to show him how much you wanted him, how much you fantasized about him, how much you craved for him.

You flattened your tongue on the base of his underside, running it slowly all the way to his tip, twirling your tongue around it just like you’d done with his finger, making him let out a gasp as you kept on teasing his tip.

One of your hands moved up his thigh towards his shaft, holding onto its base as your lips wrapped around his tip and you started to bob your head up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks every time on their way back as your hand stroked the parts your mouth couldn’t fit in just yet.

But you’d make him fit.

Noah gritted his teeth when he felt his tip hitting the back of your throat over and over again as you fought your gag reflex, so hot by his reactions and by him getting close to his climax, twitching against your tongue, you just didn’t care.

When you were about to pull out a bit for some air, Noah kept you in place and thrust his hip forwards, going so deep your nose touched his pubic zone as he fucked your face. Despite being overwhelmed by the rhythm and the depth he was reaching, you couldn’t help but to squeeze your thighs together desperate for some friction as you almost came by how erotic having him fucking your face was.

“I’m… Fuck…” Noah tried to pull out as he was clearly at his limit, but this time you were the one to keep him in.

“In my mouth please” You whimpered against his cock.

Your plea along with your hollowed cheeks was enough for him to buck his hips and spill in your tongue and down your throat in hot spurts, the moan coming from his lips in such a sinful tone got you aching between your legs.

You swallowed every drop of his spent and then wiped away the saliva on the corner of your lips as he watched you mesmerized with glazed eyes.

“Take off your clothes” He commanded, still a bit breathless, while he finished stripping off of his own, the sight of his tattoo covered body in front of you made your mouth go dry as he kneeled on the bed before you, leading you to lay down as he appreciated the view.

Noah spread your legs open and licked his lips at the sight of your glistening slick running down your folds and wetting his bed.

“You always get this wet thinking about me when I’m gone baby?”

Your cheeks burned and all you could do was nod as he now hovered over you, lips so close to yours you could already feel them. Even after having him deep in your throat and swallowing his load you felt shy, and he knew that, he knew you so well you couldn’t hide any emotions from him.

“Would it help if I told you I’ve been dreaming about you like this for a very good while?”

He peppered kisses from your jaw to your neck, sending shivers through your skin as you closed your eyes and revelled in the feel of his soft lips against such a sensitive area.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve got hard just with the thought of you” He nipped on your chin and your eyes met again “Why do you think I came home earlier? I just couldn’t stay another second away from my girl”

His lips claimed yours in a breathtaking kiss, his tongue danced against yours erotically, eagerly, as if he was trying to make up for the time lost, as if he wanted to show you through that kiss how much he wanted and desired you.

“Fuck, Noah…” Your mind was foggy, you couldn’t process if his revelations were real or if you were having another wet dream with him.

“I will, but not yet”

He nibbled on your lower lip and traveled down your body, his tongue teasing and his teeth grazing and swirling over your nipples languidly on his way down before he settled himself between your legs, eyes trained on your dripping pussy.

“I need to finish what you started first”

Noah wasted no time on burying his face in you, his tongue expertly eating you out and collecting all of your arousal before he focused on your swollen clit, swirling hard circles on it, making you claw the sheets and moan out his name as he’d found your most sensitive spot in matter of seconds.

Never letting up on the work with his tongue and lips, he slid a finger inside you, immediately going for that magic spongy spot and how quick he found it made you gasp with the added wave of pleasure, the knot on your lower stomach ready to snap at any moment at that pace.

Once he realized he got you where he wanted, Noah added a second finger inside you and placed his free hand between your hip bones and below your navel, pressing down on it as he intensified both the work with his tongue and fingers, making you arch your back upwards and cry out in pleasure with a new found kind of pleasure bubbling up inside.

It all felt too much, too strong, too intense, the way his mouth and his fingers worked on you, along with the pressure on your lower belly made you snap in a way you never did before, your body trembling hard as electric shocks ran through your veins as you, completely overwhelmed by pleasure, felt yourself, for the first time in your life, squirt from such an intense experience.

The sight of him between your legs, all disheveled, face wet with your fluids and blissed out expression on his face almost made you cum again.

“How did you just do that?” You asked flabbergasted and he hovered over you again and kissed you, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

“You’d never had it before?” He asked amused and proud of himself.

“No”

“Better get used to it then”

You shivered at his promise and kissed him again as you wrapped your arms around him, one of your hands entangling your fingers in his dark locks as the other ran down his back, feeling his muscles flexing as he settled himself between your legs, feeling him hard again as he rubbed against you, coating himself in your arousal, earning small cries out of you due to how sensitive you still were.

His hands traveled over your body, from your legs around his hips, through your breasts to the back of your head as he devoured you in a breathtaking kiss.

The way he ground against you, skipping your opening every time on purpose just to tease you, got you clawing on his back in impatience as you moved your hips trying to meet him.

“Noah please” You breathed out, desperate to feel him inside you.

“On one condition” He lined his tip against your entrance “Eyes on me. Understand?”

“Yes, please pl…” Your pleading was interrupted by a loud gasp from your lungs as he finally pushed in, a low grunt coming from his lips as he sank himself inside you, your thigh walls making him grit his teeth as bottomed you out slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size.

“Fuck”

He mumbled as he started to thrust his hips, hard and steady, his pelvis rubbing against your clit and pushing himself all the way in every time making you roll your eyes back with each slam.

“Eyes. On. Me” He commanded as he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him as he intensified his movements and sped up his pace, turning you into a moaning mess under him as he claimed you with every thrust.

To watch him there, on top of you, the chain around his neck dangling over your face as he fucked you raw, plus the feeling of his cock rubbing all the right places inside you got you climbing to the top of the mountain of ecstasy for your next free fall.

Even your best dreams didn’t come close to how amazing he felt in reality, and that realization got you seeing stars as each pound.

Feeling the way your walls clenched around him, Noah stood up straight sitting on his knees and pulled you closer, putting your calves on his chest and shoulders as he held you against him with your thighs on his abs as he kept slamming himself in you, the new position and the new angle causing you to cry out in pleasure as he now set a frantic pace.

You tried helplessly to hold onto the headboard but it was no use when shockwaves spread over your veins again and your body started to quiver against him as the tight knot on your stomach snapped violently, sending you over the edge as you moaned out his name in pure bliss, the feel of your climax against himself making him cum with you, the way he twitched inside you emptying himself out in long hot spurts taking your high to another level at how erotic and sensual it all felt.

Seeing Noah before you, cheeks red, hair strands damp in sweat as he pulled out of you and watched his cum running out of you with a grin on his face almost had you ready for another round as you, exhausted, admired him with raw passion in your eyes after everything you’d just done.

He bent down to kiss you tenderly before he got out of the bed to his bathroom, coming back for you moments later with a towel in his hands, cleaning you as he peppered small kisses randomly over you, cherishing every bit of you while he finally got you clean.

He snuggled up in the bed by your side and pulled you into his arms, kissing your forehead as he held you tightly against his chest.

“You have know idea how long I’ve been dreaming about you like this here with me” He confessed lovingly, running his fingers up and down your arms.

“Bet you weren’t expecting such a welcome party when you decided to come home earlier” You joked, loving the way his laughter rumbled from his chest against your head.

“If I knew it I’d come home sooner” He breathed out in tiredness “I have something I need to ask you”

“What?” You questioned back, looking up to meet his eyes.

“Come with me for the rest of the tour?”

[merakiui]

I can't get Alien Jamil out of my head. He lives rent free now 😭

Alien Jamil who uses his ability to hypontise darling to spread their legs for them, maintaining eye contact to keep the spell. Darling being under his control as he filled darling up with eggs. Only looking away once he was done and Darling's stuffed to the brim <3

Then let's say Darling's a researcher for his species and is now being made to carry it for research purposes

(cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, breeding, oviposition, hypnosis, ntr/cucking)

:O !!!!!! Imagine being a researcher alongside Kalim... omg and Jamil watches day in and day out from his enclosure as Kalim attempts to get closer to you. Despite his outgoing and friendly personality, he's a little awkward with some of his flirting methods and so Jamil is able to pick up on Kalim's romantic interest in you fairly quickly. At first Jamil thought nothing would come of this, as you always seemed so absorbed in your research and you were always paying so much attention to him. Jamil is nice enough to act obedient and polite when you step into his enclosure to study him up close, feigning a harmless outward appearance. You're the only one who is allowed to do this; everyone else is frightened away or threatened with low hisses and sharp, piercing glares. Jamil has a soft spot for you, but he hides it with stoic indifference, choosing to look unbothered while you lean in close to admire his scales or the many snakes that make up his hair. You're so lucky he has an admirable amount of restraint, otherwise he would have plastered you to the ground and fucked you full of eggs months ago.

But it's when you actually start to entertain Kalim's interest that Jamil begins to worry. First the two of you would have dinner together (in front of Jamil, much to his annoyance) when you had to work late in the lab, and Kalim was just so irritatingly sweet to you. So genuinely himself. And you kept smiling and your body temperature was rising because you were flattered and happy and appreciative... Jamil refuses to lose you to that airheaded researcher. And then you'd work so closely together, side by side, shoulders nearly touching. Jamil is much too observant for his own good, which is both a blessing and a curse, because it only proves that you've warmed up to your fellow researcher.

It starts small. You can't understand Jamil unless he's hypnotized you, and then those fearsome hisses sound like the sweetest song, lulling you into a daze. For a while you seem more scattered than usual. There are gaps in your memory, and you're not sure why you always seem to come to in the lab. You could have sworn you were in your bed, sleeping so soundly until the whispers of something snake-like invaded your dreams... You're always led to Jamil. Maybe you really are so dedicated to your work that you're unconsciously drawn to it even when you're asleep. Kalim worries, insists you should rest more and that he can handle everything at the lab, but you don't want to push more work onto his plate. This is a team effort, after all.

It's like push and pull. Jamil holds you under for longer, slowly but surely snuffing your interest in Kalim, and releasing you from the spell of hypnosis before anyone can question it or grow suspicious. You're not going to love Kalim. You're going to love the specimen you look after. You're going to love Jamil. This is how it should have been, and this is how it will be.

Ultimately, it culminates in claiming. Jamil must stake it, must mold you to his form so that you'll only ever know him and no one else. The look in your eyes is empty and dazed, but you're smiling at him, entrapped in the coils of his tail, and it's a happy, drunken sort of smile. You're such a pretty human, so sweet for him when you open yourself without complaint or struggle, shedding that pesky clothing to reveal all of the curious parts to your anatomy he finds absolutely riveting. He fucks into your tight, slick warmth for hours, bodies pressed flush and never separating. Your moans fill the enclosure, adding to the sinful sounds of sex, and he falls for you all over again. You're truly so precious, so blissfully dumb and obedient when you're taking his cocks like the good researcher you are. Jamil can't resist; he has to fill you up, make this claim one you'll remember. And you can't object. You're not allowed to, not when he controls your every reaction. If he tells you to cum, you will. If he tells you to take just a few more eggs, you will.

And you'll like it because that's what you're told.

Only once you're filled to bursting, tummy packed full of his clutch, does Jamil gaze sidelong at Kalim, who looks on with concerned horror. Jamil tilts his head, acting as if he doesn't understand the smallest of human cues. He does, but Kalim doesn't need to know.

He smiles, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly. You're Jamil's now. Forever and always. As you were meant to be. And no one shall come between you.

[sukunas-princess]

tell me what's behind those eyes!

NSFW 18+ content ahead. Minors, do not interact with me or my works.

notes from poppy: Unclean Vocalist Sukuna has been living in my head rent free since I started talking about him two months ago and I'm about to make that everyone else's problem.

content warnings: spit play, size difference, exhibitionism

Wanna read more about Unclean Vocalist Sukuna and his band Scarlet Sea? C'mon! You know you wanna!

UNCLEAN VOCALIST SUKUNA is incredibly secret about his private life, but even more so with what he's into sexually. Fans like to make educated guesses back and forth in their own DMs, but that's all they are at the end of the day. Guesses.

Lucky for you, I'm here to tell you all about what he's into.

SPIT PLAY

Sukuna being into spit play started as a joke. It was just an honest-to-god joke. But if Sukuna were to lay the blame with anyone, it would one hundred percent be Choso’s fault.

Because if Choso hadn’t been off somewhere else being a freelancing producer every so often, then Sukuna wouldn’t be forced to record demos with his mishmash of second-hand equipment he had collected over the years. He’d much rather be over at Choso’s, with his sound-treated bedroom studio and immaculate set-up, but the muse refused to shut up.

And you would figure after doing this for over ten years, Sukuna would know exactly what to do in Choso’s absence, but that’s where you’re wrong. While Sukuna’s the heart of the band, Choso’s the brain. Sukuna barely gets microphone placement, room treatment, blah blah blah – why even learn when Choso was always going to be there?

Choso wasn’t going to come back for a couple weeks this time though, and Sukuna needed to get some sort of vocal track down or he was going to fucking explode if the song idea didn’t leave his head.

That’s where you came in.

“Wouldn’t it be better if you were over here?” You had asked him that night, dutifully hovering over the record button for whenever he gave you the signal. But he just shook his head before facing his mic set-up in the corner of his bedroom and disappearing back under the blanket. It was hot as Satan’s asshole under it, but he’d do anything to dampen the outside noise and give Choso as clean a take as possible to work with.

Don’t even get him started on his fucking spit problem. He swears It’s almost like there’s a little army of droplets in his mouth that goes Okay, hold off, men! He’s about to record! Aaaaaand��� NOW!

“Wait!!” You heard the massive blanket monster call to you.

“Now? Press it now?” You teased him.

The heavy blanket fell to the floor with a soft thud before Sukuna whipped around and squinted at you.

“Please be good. I’ve been tortured all week by this idea.” He begged you, and you giggled.

You watched on as he maneuvered a wastebasket over to him with his foot, and then spit deeply into it before disappearing back under the blanket.

And from over on the other side, even with the thick blanket muffling everything else from the outside world, he heard you as clear as day.

“God, I wish that were me.”

(He ended up having to do three takes, by the way, because the first two were trash. It was damn near impossible to remember the lyrics when your words kept rattling around in his head).

And it would’ve been fine, if the joke never left the house...

But then it left the house.

Any time he’d spit into the dirt – “God, I wish that were me”. Any time he’d spit in an alley after a show – “God, I wish that were me”.

And you swear on your fucking life, you didn’t do it on purpose in front of everyone, but Sukuna still thinks to this day you’re lying. Because the last straw for him was at a soundcheck, where, in front of all his band mates and some fucking strangers, he found a wastebasket to spit into, and you said, “God, I wish that were me.”

Yeah, it started as a joke, but not so much when you went home that night and shut the front door.

It wasn’t a joke anymore when you turned around and he swiftly pinned you up against the door, kissing you fiercely and leaving you breathless.

It wasn’t a joke anymore when he finally pulled away, his hand immediately reaching up and gripping your cheeks, squeezing your mouth open.

It wasn’t a joke anymore when he growled, “You want me to spit in your mouth? Mm? Is that what you want?”.

It wasn’t a joke anymore as you nodded, whimpering pathetically and opening your mouth as wide as you could.

How was he not supposed to indulge you when you looked so precious between his fingers like that?

SIZE DIFFERENCE

Honestly, nothing gets Sukuna harder than knowing he’s bigger and stronger than you. Nothing gets him going more than knowing he can just manhandle you and put you in any helpless position he wants to. Just a little fleshlight to him. The cutest little fleshlight to ever exist – your eyes all glazed over and your hands squeezing on to everywhere and anywhere on his body. You don’t need to do any work – no, all you need to do is be good and let him use you however he wants.

It was adorable to him the first time you tried to take him though. You insisted on getting on top, trying to be very logical about the situation – “That’s the only way it’s gonna fit”. He could get it to fit, you didn’t need to worry your pretty little head about that. But you looked so fucking determined to do it without any help, that he found it impossible to tell you no.

What followed was him trying not to laugh at how cute you looked, huffing and whining trying to get just the right angle, until your thighs finally ached enough and you gave up.

But oh, the look on your face when he held on to you tight and flipped you onto your back. How you whimpered after he gave you the softest of kisses.

And how your eyes grew wide as you felt him press against you and he murmured, “My turn.”

EXHIBITIONISM

Exhibitionism was always rooted there, deep down. He thinks it’s some psychological bullshit of wanting to be caught after years of having to be The Responsible One while looking after Yuji. He never got to take risks or do anything remotely scandalous, so he thinks his brain is making up for it now.

Or maybe he’s wrong. Maybe it isn’t that deep at all, and he just wants to fuck you in front of the other members to show them who you belong to.

Because he’s not stupid. He sees the way that some of them look at you. Choso at least as the common sense to not hit on you because of the best friend code he’s had with Sukuna for the past fifteen years. And Sukuna isn’t intimidated by Junpei, especially since he looks at Junpei as a little brother and a mentee. But Toji, Aoi, and Suguru are… a whole other monster.

While Suguru is much more methodical in his seduction – cheerfully listening to you talk about everything under the sun while also seeing how far he can push Sukuna’s buttons with flirty compliments for you – Aoi and Toji just like to show off. They like to brag to you about how much they can bench press, or how many one-handed push-ups they can do. The push-up contests usually end though with Sukuna walking over and shoving his foot into one of their sides, and one colliding into the other so the competition ends in a draw (and Sukuna being very touchy for the rest of practice).

And while Sukuna swears to god he isn’t jealous, he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t occasionally go to bed with a certain little scenario to send him off to sleep.

The scenario of those three sitting across from you and him, their hands pathetically stroking their cocks because all they can do is just watch him fucking you into next week. Just watch as Sukuna tells you to keep your eyes on him and only him. All they can do is just watch as you tremble against him, being so pliant in his large, calloused hands and watch his cock stretch you past your limits.

All they can do is watch until they come all over their hands, groaning deeply, wishing that they could have filled you up inside.

[cloverthebarbearian]

Do You Think Of Me...?

Rolan x AFAB/OC, NSFW, 6,034 Words

A fic inspired by an incredible piece of fanart by @sammakesart, the full image of which is a patreon exclusive that is well worth the money and has been living in my head rent free for weeks. For WEEKS. (Ref Sheet for OC)

"I mean. We live in the tower now, yeah? And its Big and all, but we still like to have rooms near each other. I don't know, it feels safe… comfortable, after everything. To know we're close by. But it also means, sometimes, things aren't always… private…" Clover slowly took sips from their pint, eyes still locked on Cal's darting gaze. Biting his lip, knuckles white in his lap. Clover's eyebrows raised, "Okay? And?" Cal lowered his head, "Pleeease don't make me say it…" Lia threw her head back and nearly yelled out in exasperation, "GOOOODS Cal you're such a BABY sometimes. Listen, Clover… Clover. We know," she shoots Clover an intense stare, "We knoooow things. About Rolan. Things no siblin's should know," her hand reached out to grab their arm, "An' Rolan? Reeeeeeaaally misses you…" a knowing smile crept up on her face. Clover's cheeks felt warm, but they weren't even sure why. The gears in their head not fully turning as the alcohol worked through their veins. "What… what do you mean?"

It was a lively evening at the Elfsong. Swarms of friends deep in drink and song flooded the tables of the tavern, the Hero of Baldur's Gate among them. Busy catching up with Cal and Lia, Clover took a healthy chug of their pint amidst the laughter around them.

"And THEN he tried to tell us 'an unseen servant would be more useful'," Lia continued her ranting, "Like, sure Rolan. Good luck gettin' an invisible jester ta' help with your customers."

Apparently, Rolan had been particularly difficult to work with this past week. Between drinks, Lia was busy retelling all of his criticisms and complaints over his siblings earnest attempts to help him run Sorcerous Sundries. Now that he was the Master of Ramazith's Tower, he had to learn all of said Tower's secrets - on top of learning to run an already successful business. Admittedly an overwhelming task as is, and likely even more so for a perfectionist like Rolan.

Cal followed Lia's complaints with his own, "I get that it's been a lot as of late. But you'd think the man would be grateful to have the extra hands about! And it's not like the patrons are complaining. Hells, some bloke even tried to ask Lia on a date after shift!"

Clover raised an eyebrow to Lia at that, who simply shrugged and sipped her own drink, "He was like, 60 years old at least. Or maybe 600. I think he was an Elf? Besides, if anything, its Rolan who needs someone to ask 'em out. Hopefully someone to help yank the stick from 'is arse." Clover snorted out a laugh in response.

"You really think that would help?" They pondered aloud, "Gods, I can't even see Rolan out on a date. Let alone finding someone attractive. That man only seems to care for Tomes and the Weave," Clover chuckled to themselves, "I mean hey, Mystra's single now, maybe I could set them up..."

Cal and Lia shot each other knowing glances, poorly hidden smiles curling at the corner of their lips. This was a look that Clover recognized immediately. That token Sibling Telepathy. Clover dropped their pint on the bar with a thud and planted their palms on the counter, shooting them their own knowing glance.

"Okay," they pointed between the two of them, "What's all this?"

The siblings eyes darted at Clover and then each other, trying to hide their bubbling laughter.

"Us?" Lia said sarcastically, hands raising up in feigned innocence, "Nothin'! Nothin', honest."

"Y-yeah," Cal said with a lilt in his voice, "You're totally right that Rolan doesn't even find anyone attractive, even. The mans practically a… a Eunuch!"

Lia groaned, "Cal, ew."

Clover rolled their eyes, "You two clearly know something. Some weird secret that I guess I'm not privy to," They folded their arms across their chest, "Very rude to withhold information from the person who's saved your lives on probably, Seven different occasions at this point?"

"Oh c'mon Clove, you can't hold that against us forever," Cal groaned.

"I actually think I can," Clover retorted, "Until you've saved my life seven times, at least." They picked their drink back up and finished the final gulp, tapping their mug against the counter with a wink in request for the barmaid to top them off once more before turning back to Cal.

"Alright Bud, I know you can't keep a secret. So, what the Hells are you two keeping from me?" Cal suddenly turned a bit pale, eyes wide.

"Clover, y-you know I don't do well under pressure…"

Clover leaned in closer to him, their barbarian eyes narrowing, a bite in their voice, "Exactly."

Lia, now tiptoeing between drunk and utterly sloshed, ran her finger around the rim of her cup, giggling to herself, "Clover… you're gonna make'm piss 'imself."

Cal groaned, "Listen, I'll tell you. But it's just. It's weird! It's weeeeeird, Clove."

The dwarf grinned to themselves in victory, "Alright, then. Spill." Lia stared at Cal with a sly grin.

"Yeah Cal. Tell 'em Rolan's little secret~" Cal groaned once more, shoving his face into his palms.

"Okaaay," Cal relented, "Gods above, I… Auuugh, so. How do I even…" he was struggling to find his words, "I mean. We live in the tower now, yeah? And its Big and all, but we still like to have rooms near each other. I don't know, it feels safe… comfortable, after everything. To know we're close by. But it also means, sometimes, things aren't always… private…"

Clover slowly took sips from their pint, eyes still locked on Cal's darting gaze. Biting his lip, knuckles white in his lap. Clover's eyebrows raised, "Okay? And?"

Cal lowered his head, "Pleeease don't make me say it…"

Lia threw her head back and nearly yelled out in exasperation, "GOOOODS Cal you're such a BABY sometimes. Listen, Clover… Clover. We know," she shoots Clover an intense stare, "We knoooow things. About Rolan. Things no siblin's should know," her hand reached out to grab their arm, "An' Rolan? Reeeeeeaaally misses you…" a knowing smile crept up on her face. Clover's cheeks felt warm, but they weren't even sure why. The gears in their head not fully turning as the alcohol worked through their veins.

"What… what do you mean?"

Lia's smile turned even cheekier as she threw her head back - fake, exaggerated moans falling from her lips, "Ohhh~ Fuuuck, Clover- Yes Clover, please! Take me jus' like that," her speech slurred as she rocked her hips in frantic thrusts. Cal lowered his head onto the bar's tabletop as Clover's eyes went wide and their face went fully flush.

"Oh, my Gods…" they muttered to themselves, lifting their pint back to their lips. Lia's mocking cries turned to raucous laughter.

"I'm jus' saying. If anyone could get that man to relax…" she lifted her cup in Clover's direction before taking another hearty swig.

Suddenly, the gears in Clover's skull decided to start working. Frantically.

"Well, then," they announced, hopping off of their bar stool, "maybe I should go get the job done."

Cal and Lia once again exchanged wide eyed stares with each other, "What, like… like, right now?" Lia asked, as if shocked into a sudden sobriety. Clover chugged their nearly full pint in a handful of large, thirsty gulps. The final drops of liquid courage they needed before slamming the glass back onto the counter.

"Yeah, I guess like, Right Now. Y'all've had a hell of a week, right? If I can help…" Clover smiled to themselves, "It's kind of what I do," they gave Cal a cocky grin, "I will count this as saving your life, again. Mark me up to eight."

"Gods dammit," Cal let his head fall back onto the bar. Lia began laughing, clasping her gut as she bellowed.

"He should still be closing up at the Sundries!" Lia started hollering after Clover as they began to leave the Elfsong, "We'll stay here tonight, so take your time!"

Clover heard Cal stammer out, "Lia, that's disgusting!" Before walking into the cool night air.

Sorcerous Sundries was but a brief walk away. And Clover couldn't help all but skipping towards their unknowing wizard, his dirty secret at the forefront of their mind...

The open doors of Sorcerous Sundries allowed a pleasant breeze to flow through the lobby. Rolan took in a breath of fresh air, busying himself balancing the account records of sales for the evening. A small crew of mage hands floated around him, carrying stacks of sales records, tomes to be organized, sorting through everything from profits to taxes to local investments.

He'd typically give himself the time to pat his own back at his creative means of multitasking. If only his mind weren't so overcome with the newfound pressures being Ramazith's Master have brought him. Yes, the Sundries was a success trade business. Yes, the tower held treasures and secrets and power aplenty. But Gods, had Lorroakan ever opened a checkbook in his life? The debts this man owed, the back taxes and unkept promises Rolan was now forced to follow up on. Though grateful to not have a cane to his jaw, the stress of picking up his former Master's mess was taking its toll.

The faint footsteps of a guest entering the building could be heard across the tiled floors.

"Ah, terribly sorry but we are closed for the evening- Oh," he glanced up from his busy work to see the Hero of Baldur's Gate approaching the Sundries counter, "it's You," he mumbled, the voice of customer hospitality lost in his tone, "What do you want?" He questioned, adjusting the pair of reading glasses sat atop the point of his nose, glancing back down at his records.

Clover hesitated a moment, "Ouch, not the warm welcome I was anticipating. Is this how you treat all your customers?"

"I don't anticipate you're here to purchase something," Rolan remarked, focus fully back on his paperwork. The mage hands organizing the storefront flitted around Clover's head as they continued to approach the counter. Rolan just barely took his eyes from his work to peak up at the dwarf in front of him. He paused, "Did you need something?"

Clover slid their hands across the countertop, "Oh, what? I can't just… happen to be in the neighborhood, dropping by to say hello to an old friend?"

Rolan rolled his eyes back to his work, "We're friends now, is it? And here I thought you were nothing more than my siblings overpaid babysitter," Clover's head cocked to the side.

"You don't pay me."

Rolan flipped to a new page on his countertop.

"I know."

Clover rolled their eyes, strumming their fingers against the polished wood, pondering how to get to occupied wizard's attention. He was dressed so casual - his robes gone, wearing just his loose undershirt and fitted trousers. Emboldened by the alcohol still buzzing through their bloodstream, and their newfound knowledge of Rolan's secret desires, they decided to walk themselves behind the Sundries counter.

"This space is for employees only," Rolan commented, without looking up from his records. Clover paid him no mind, walking up to him and lifting themselves onto the counter directly in front of the Wizard, who responded by sighing. Exhausted and irritated, he hung his head, laying his palms down on the counter before him, "Would you kindly be an utter inconvenience somewhere else? I'm trying to work here," he gestured to his documents, but couldn't seem to look the barbarian in the eyes.

"Oh, Rolan, I'm hurt," Clover responded, "Is that really what you think of me? I'm just an, 'utter inconvenience'?"

"Right now? Yes!" Frustrated, he finally found himself looking at Clover's face. But rather than maintaining his building rage, his breath caught in his throat.

They were much closer to him than he initially realized. He could see their mismatched eyes so clearly. Clear enough to see - no, smell - the magic enchanted in the blue glass eye to his left. He could also smell the heavy alcohol on their breath. Though their dwarven fortitude kept them composed, the sour wheat smell of beer was unmistakable. He found it mixed beautifully with their natural sent of musk, the sugar plum soaps he knew they preferred, and that faintest whiff of copper, from all the blood that often soaks their body after battle. Caught in the sheer aura of them, he nearly didn't register as Clover's hands gently gripped at his forearms resting at their sides.

"I'm sorry," they lied, "I must be a real bother right now. I'm sure you're thinking of a million different ways to get me out of your hair," they made a point of dragging their right hand up his neck and tangling their fingers into the hair on his nape. Without even thinking, Rolan's hands moved from the countertop to hesitantly reach for their thighs. Fingers hovering, as if touching them in earnest would cause them to vanish.

"Don't you just wish there were some way you could… shut me up?" Clover's heavy gaze flitted between his eyes and his lips. Rolan swallowed a lump building in his throat, and (unsuccessfully) tried to will away the growing pressure in his pants.

"C-Clover, what are you-"

"Tell me something Rolan," they interrupted, using their free hand to remove the glasses from his face. Their noses brushed against each other as warm breath mixed in the air between them.

"Do you ever think of me when you cum?"

Rolan's entire body shuddered, from head to toe to the tip of his tail. His fingers clenched around their thighs as he pulled their bodies flush.

"I…" He choked, holding his breath for a second that felt like an eternity, before letting himself go.

"Yes," was all he managed to say in response. Spoken in a heavy breath - a whisper, a moan, a prayer. They were already so close, neither one knew who moved first. But as soon as the word left his throat, their lips crashed together in a frenzy.

There was no patience, it was not gentle. Clover fueled by liquid courage and Rolan fueled by sheer desire. Tongues tangled as shared saliva slowly dripped from the corners of their mouths. They kissed each other as much as they breathed each other in, only pulling apart once Rolan bit Clover's bottom lip. Tugging at it gently, just barely breaking skin with his sharp incisors. Chests heaving as they both took a moment to collect themselves. Rolan lifted a hand in the air, eyes lidded and unfocused. With a flick of his wrist, Clover could hear the doors to the Sundries closing and locking shut, as the lights inside dimmed to the gentle flicker of that magical blue/green glow of enchanted flames.

"Well, someone sure knows how to set the mood," Clover quipped, draping their arms around Rolan's neck and leaning back in for a kiss. Which he returned, deeply, but briefly, before breaking away from them again. Clover whimpered in disappointment, trying to pull him back towards them. But Rolan's hands reached up to their arms around him, stilling their movements for a moment.

"Clover…" he whispered, his voice deep and aching, "Why are you here?"

He looked confused, almost scared, his burning yellow eyes glowing in the dim lighting, unwilling to look at them. It hurt Clover enough to not laugh in response, but they never thought Rolan capable of being so dense.

"Is it… is it not obvious?" Their fingers played with his hair. Rolan scoffed, smiling weakly.

"It just feels, surreal. It feels like I'm dreaming…" Clover lowered their head to catch his gaze.

"Well, you're not," they said softly, "but let's pretend that you are. Let's pretend this is a dream," they nudged against his nose with their own, trying to catch his lips, "You're dreaming. And I'm here," they whispered, "What do you want to do with me?"

Something stirred in Rolan's chest. Without looking at them, he captured their lips again, sliding his fingers beneath the hem of their shirt. He began to lift the cloth upwards, but stilled himself, pulling his lips away just for a moment. Clover smiled, whispering approval to continue before catching his lips again. Rolan pulled their shirt up, the hem resting on his wrists as his thumbs traced the shape of their skin, cupping their breasts as he passed over them.

Clover stilled their kiss briefly to let out a moan, and Rolan took the opportunity to remove their shirt completely before returning his kisses to their lips, down their chin, down their neck. Clover's arms wrapped tightly around him, hands holding the back of his head as his tongue traced a wet line from their neck downwards. He explored their skin, finding the shallow dips between their collar bone, kissing down lower until his tongue and hands met their puckering nipples.

"Fuck, Rolan..." Clover moaned, gripping his head by his hair and pushing his face into their chest. Rolan responded in kind with a deep, purring moan. His lips fully encompassing their nipple while his tongue traced around it. Quick, frantic flicks of his tongue followed by desperate sucking left Clover's chest bruised and swollen. When Rolan lifted his head up for a breath, he kissed Clover once more, then returned his focus to their other breast, making sure he provided both with equal pleasure.

The sounds leaving Clover's mouth were bordering on sinful. They had their legs wrapped around Rolan's body, kicking their shoes off their feet and rocking themselves into him. They could feel their own arousal pooling between their legs. Their hips bucked aggressively as Rolan took the stiff bud on their chest between his teeth, and pulled. Clover threw their head back and whined in pleasure.

Rolan smiled, his hands leaving the curve under their breasts and traveling down the soft skin of their torso. He hooked his fingers under the fold of their waistband, tracing his sharp nails across their skin towards the center of their pants. He began to deftly untie the laces of their trousers. Clover unhooked their legs from behind his back so he could pull the rest of their clothes from their body.

Rolan ran his hands along Clover's thighs as he removed one pant leg after the other. Fully exposed, Rolan took a step back to appreciate the creature in front of him.

Clover's chest was heaving, their pale neck and chest marked red from all the kisses and bites Rolan left on their skin. Their legs were spread wide open for him, the folds of their cunt dripping and twitching in anticipation. They had one hand propping themselves up on the countertop, but the other was dancing across their skin, tracing the ghost of Rolan's own fingers in his absence. They shivered, the chill of their bare skin mixed with anticipation.

"I know you're enjoying yourself," Clover mumbled, breath heavy with lust, "but if you don't come back over here and touch me, I'll-"

Rolan nearly tripped over himself returning to their embrace. He grabbed behind their ear with one hand, pulling their hips into him with the other, kissing them so deeply Clover could feel him shaking against them, before pulling away from them abruptly.

"What are you limits?" He asked in haste. Clover's response was hazy and confused.

"My… what?"

"How far are you willing to go with me? Do we need a… a… a signal? A safeword? To tell me to stop, or…" His hand tightened against their waist.

Clover smiled. Even in a situation like this - sat here completely naked, their body visibly yearning for him - he was so nervous. So mindful. They reached their hands under his chin and kissed him softly.

"We can do whatever you want," they kissed him again, a gentle laugh escaping their lips before saying, "though I wouldn't mind being thoroughly ravaged by you."

Rolan let out a sharp, sudden laugh. Or perhaps a grunt, even. Something almost animal.

"Then I hope you'll allow me to indulge myself," he responded, before quickly dropping to his knees. Hooking his arms behind Clover's thighs, he pulled them to the very edge of the counter, letting their legs drape over his shoulders. A wild look flashed across his eyes before he began planting kisses along Clover's inner thighs. Kisses, and bites, not shying away from biting hard enough to draw blood between their legs. Clover gave a sharp inhale, causing Rolan to glance up at them, an unspoken question.

Clover ran their fingers through his hair, clenching their legs a touch tighter against his back, nodding for him to continue. He purred again, a sound Clover's core was beginning to respond to in kind, before biting their soft inner thigh once more, creeping closer to their center. They smiled and shuddered, letting their head lull back, "Do all tieflings purr like that?"

Rolan licked the blood from their thigh, kissing their skin ever inwards, "Only when we're excited," he responded, before sliding his thumbs up between the folds of their cunt, spreading them open for him. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of their desire, and ran his tongue up their dripping arousal. He sucked their clit into a kiss, rolling the sensitive nub against his tongue.

Clover's hand immediately went from a fistful of Rolan's hair straight to his horn, pulling him in closer, "My Gods, Rolan - Fuck!" They nearly screamed as his mouth explored them. Thighs gripped tightly against his head, their hips rocking with a sudden urgency. Rolan could hardly control himself as he moaned, and gasped, and devoured their cunt. The nectar dripping from their swollen lips worth more to him in this moment than air to breathe.

He slid his tongue inside of them, holding the lips of their pussy open between two fingers with his left hand, and carefully massaging their clit with his thumb. Rolan could feel the inner walls of Clover's sex trying desperately to clench around him as he ate them out, and lulled his eyes up to look into theirs.

Clover was putty under his touch. Their chest was heaving, sweat building on their brow. Their cheeks were flush, their eyes were watering. Seeing the way their body responded to him made Rolan's dick twitch painfully beneath the restraints of his pants.

He slid a hand around Clover's thigh. A feeble attempt to loosen the barbarian's grip, which they thankfully understood. Rolan leaned back a moment for a breath of air before standing tall and crashing their lips together, allowing Clover to taste their own sweet musk of arousal. They had draped their arms around Rolan's neck, while the wizard frantically attempted to remove his own garments. Clover caught on to his movements and began assisting in removing his shirt as he wrestled with his own trousers. Both parties having a difficult time as they refused to let go of each other's lips in the process.

"I hope - it's not - to forward," he said between kisses, "But I - I," he grabbed Clover's face and held them in a deep, steady kiss, before pulling them away, "I think if I - If I don't have sex with you this instant, I may - I may go mad."

He took Clover's hand and brought it down to his throbbing member, though he let them take their own time in touching him.

They looked into him, a coy smile and devilish gaze behind their eyes. They gingerly took the tiefling's erection in their hand, and Rolan's knees all but buckled in response. He had to grip onto the countertop to stop himself from collapsing. Clover laughed quietly under their breath, stroking his cock with increasing fervor.

Rolan kissed them again, quickly tracing his mouth from their lips to the crook of their neck. Clover wrapped their legs around the small of his back, guiding the tip of his dick towards their desperate heat. They rocked themselves against him, sliding the length of his shaft between their slick folds. They could feel his entire body tremble against them, hearing the sweetest whimpers escape him as his face remained buried in their shoulder.

Barely audible, he tilted his head toward their ear and weakly begged them, "Clover… please…"

They traced the end of his cock back to their pulsing entrance and rolled their hips against him, allowing the tip to gain entry. They could feel Rolan's breath catch. His hands found their way to Clover's hips once more, holding them steady at the edge of the counter as he slid his entire length inside them with ease. The complex curves and ridges of his infernal features could be felt within Clover's walls.

"Rolan…" His name fell from their lips in a desperate moan as the tip of his cock reached the deepest parts of them.

Rolan stilled once fully sheathed, Clover's cunt pulsing and throbbing against him in pure anticipation. They rolled their hips ever so slightly. Rolan cursed in response, his voice shaky and low.

He began to drag himself out of their pussy once more, almost reluctant to leave them, until just his tip was teasing the entrance of their hole.

Rolan slammed his cock into them, hands fixed upon their waist so firmly his nails were threatening to break skin. He gave Clover a few long, powerful thrusts like this. Dragging himself out nearly in full before burying himself within them.

Soon enough the long, drawn out strokes were replaced with closer, more frantic thrusts. Rolan's hips barely leaving the embrace of Clover's own as he humped them like an animal in heat.

Rolan lifted himself from the shallow curve where Clover's neck met their shoulder. He pressed his forehead to theirs, grunting hard as he fucked them. Clover's hand gripped the back of his neck as they held his wanton gaze.

"How long have you wanted this?" They asked, panting, their hold on his neck tightening, "How long have you wanted to fuck me like this?"

Rolan's pace picked up, keening under his partner's commanding presence.

"Since - Since Last Light," he stuttered between his heaving breaths and desperate thrusts, "S-Since you saved - saved them. Since you s-saved us. Since you - Ah - since you freed me of - of my tormentor - and made me Master of this Tower," his movements grew sporadic and urgent as he spoke.

Clover laughed as they moaned, "Oh fuck, Rolan, that's right. You're the Master of this Tower now," They gripped him by his hair and gently yanked his head back. The whimper that escaped Rolan's lips at their touch was pitiful. Clover began running kisses up and down his neck, before tracing their tongue below his ear.

"Fuck me, Master Rolan," the lust dripping from their voice was intoxicating. Rolan's hectic and rhythmless thrusting sped up, his moans entirely debauched. Clover could feel their cunt clenching around him as they inched towards their own release.

"Yes, Clover - Fuck!" Rolan moaned and whined as he felt them on the edge, "Take your Master's cock. Take me just - just like that," Clover's grip on his hair tightened as their mouth opened against his neck.

"Rolan!" They nearly wept as they came over his thrusting cock, juices spilling out of them with every shallow plunge.

"Gods, Clover, I'm - I," he could barely finish his attempted warning before Clover caught him completely by surprise, pushing him out of them and dropping onto their knees. They gripped his cock as the shaft pulsed beneath their touch, laying the head of him against their tongue. They stroked him frantically, his member still sticky and wet with their juices.

"Fuuuuck!" Rolan's hands fell to the counter as a powerful orgasm ran through him. His legs shook as thick lengths of cum released into Clover's mouth. Strings of his spend so long they reached across their cheeks and nose. Clover smiled as they rubbed him through his release, sucking on his head to milk every last drop of him.

Once the last of the aftershocks finished running through him, Rolan dropped to the floor to join his equally exhausted partner. Their backs resting against the counter shelves. Slick with sweat, heaving chests, swollen lips, both covered in marks from each others touch.

Clover leaned their head against the wizards shoulder. Rolan placed his head atop theirs, turning and planting a kiss in their hair. Clover ran their fingers on the floor absentmindedly. Rolan took notice, and slid his own hand across the floor a touch, gently nudging his sharp claws against the dwarf's rugged, calloused hands. They responded immediately, interlacing their fingers with his own.

They turned to look up at the man who had just well and truly fucked them near senselessness. They had never seen him so disheveled. His hair was loose and curling with is sweat. He was still panting, this likely being some of the hardest physical work a magic user like him has had to do in quite some time. Still naked, Clover took the time to examine the man's infernal features. The spikes and grooves on his chest and shoulders that so starkly contrasted their own soft and squishy stomach and thighs.

They took their free hand and ran it up his chest, tracing the bumps under his skin. Rolan jumped at the unexpected touch and looked down at his partner, equally debauched. He laughed as he attempted to wipe some of his now drying spend from their face, instead opting for a quick prestidigitation. Clover smiled.

"How are you feeling?" They asked. They weren't really sure what to say, now that the deed had been done. But they were here to help him relax, after all. They should at least find out if it worked.

"How am I feeling?" Rolan responded, almost in disbelief, "That's a rather loaded question, I mean... I still feel like I must be dreaming -"

"But you're not," Clover interrupted, planting a kiss on his shoulder.

"I… yes. Okay, yes, but I'm not," he sighed, resigning to the truth of the situation, "Then I feel like… I feel like I just, um…" He cleared his throat, "I feel as though I just bed the most beautiful creature in all the realms. Gods, in my place of business, no less. I hate to see the mess we've made in proper lighting," He trailed off into his thoughts, almost embarrassed by circumstances.

Clover climbed onto his lap, straddling him in an attempt to get his full focus, "Thank you ever so much for the very literal explanation of our current situation," they expressed with a playful mocking tone, their hands running up and down his arms, "But I do in fact mean how are you feeling, emotionally. Do you feel okay?"

Rolan sat still for a moment. As if he truly needed to consider whether or not he felt okay after all of this. Clover's heart was pounding, suddenly worried if this was a bad idea. That is until Rolan reached up for their face, pulling them in for a tender kiss. When he let them pull away, he held both their hands in his own.

"Clover, I feel incredible. And I feel… confused? But the incredible aspects outweigh the confusion. And perhaps we can discuss the confusion some other time, because right now, I… I'd really like to bask in the incredible."

Clover smiled, and nodded, leaning into Rolan's chest. He wrapped his arms around them, breathing deeply of their scent, committing it to memory. As exhaustion fully took its hold on them, they melted into each other's embrace.

The morning light crept through the stained glass dome of Sorcerous Sundries in a dance of rainbow prisms. The twinkling causing Rolan's dreary eyes to squint tight before slowly opening.

He was sat on the floor behind the Sundries front counter, still undressed, with an equally bare dwarf sleeping soundly against his chest. The memories of the night before washed over him. Clover's body flush against him, calling out his name as they came with him inside them. It all sent a renewed wave of arousal crashing through his body.

That is, until he heard a shout from the busy streets outside, and the reality of his current predicament crashed over him even harder.

"Oh Gods," he glanced around himself. Papers strewn across the floor. Various bobbles lay in disarray, likely dropped by the mage hand assistants last night once he lost concentration on the spell. Drops of his own errant spend now dry on the shelves. Stains of sweat and what other fluids he could only guess marking the floor beneath them. He palmed his face, rubbing his temple between his fingers before rousing his partner from his arms.

"Clover, get up," he started to lift himself from the floor as his companion groaned, "Get up, damn you! We fell asleep," he was whispering, as if someone outside might overhear them. Clover sat themselves upright, eyes still closed.

"Yeah… We fell asleep. People tend to do that when they're tired…" Clover mumbled.

"We fell asleep in the Sundries you idiot!" Rolan was trying to dress himself while cleaning up after last night's… experience, "We have to leave - No, you have to leave. I have to finish cleaning up before I open," his movements were frantic. Clover watched him dart around, still sat on the floor. He conjured a quick bust of himself - a modified version of mirror image, perhaps? - swearing as he attempted to fix his hair. Clover yawned, lazily picking up their own clothes and dressing themselves at a snails pace.

Still sat on the floor, Rolan found himself tripping over them as he aimlessly paced around the counters. Stacks of paperwork flew from his arms as he fell. Clover tried to reach out and break his fall, though it did little help.

"Bugger it all!" Rolan slammed a fist against the tiled floor, propping himself to his knees, "Could you PLEASE get up and either help me, or leave!" He shouted in Clover's direction.

They both froze, Rolan held his breath.

"Y'know…" Clover slowly stood up and walked over to the wizard kneeling on the floor. At this height, they were at eye level with each other, "Calling someone an idiot and demanding they leave the morning after you've fucked them silly? Not exactly the best impression one wants to make," they tried to joke, lifting a hand to his cheek. Rolan didn't comment, his gaze locked onto the floor.

Clover sighed, pulling his head to their chest as they held him. Their strong arms felt both soft and secure, the rhythm of their heartbeat providing a sense of grounding Rolan didn't even realize he so desperately needed. As Clover spoke, their voice reverberated against his cheek.

"I'm no mage, Rolan," they started, one hand gently stroking his head as they spoke, "I can't detect your thoughts, or calm your emotions with a spell. I can't compel you into a zone of truth and force you to be honest with me. But I can tell when someone is overworked, and overwhelmed," they squeezed his head tighter for a moment before releasing him and holding his face in their hands. He looked up at them, his eyes glossy with tears he refused to shed.

"You need a break, you stubborn jackass," Clover said with a smile, "There's nothing wrong with that. I think the city will survive if the Sundries is closed for a day or two. And if you're truly that worried I'm sure I could convince Gale to come visit and-"

"Absolutely not," Rolan interjected sternly, clearing his throat, "Forgive me, but that man has no idea how to speak to patrons without coming across as a pretentious, pompous, know-it-all."

"Oh, but you do?" Clover retorted with a grin. Rolan seemed shocked at first, then smiled back. Chuckling to himself, he reached up to hold Clover's hand, pulling it from his cheek and planting a deep kiss against their palm. Taking a deep breath, he stood up, still holding Clover's hand.

"I'll set up the portal upstairs to take you to the washroom of the tower. Let me finish with what I had started last night, then I'll come join you," Clover cocked an eyebrow.

"You'll come join me, eh? In the glorious, magical washroom of Ramazith's Tower?" They tried to tease him, but he simply turned to them with devious look in his eyes.

"Yes, I'll be joining you. After I finish cleaning up the mess you made," he leaned down to their ear, "Be grateful I'm not forcing you to help," he said sweetly, kissing their cheek. He raised his hand and flicked his wrist, the familiar sounds of a transportation portal wooshing to life on the floor above them, "Now, off with you. I don't need any more distractions, especially if you'd like me to get this finished quickly."

Clover smirked as they began to walk off, "Whatever you say, oh great Master Rolan," a shiver shot up his spine as they dragged out his title across their tongue. He tried to compose himself, but his tail flicked with excitement as the dwarf ascended the staircase.

"I'll be waiting."

[buddierecs]

long (40k+ words) buddie fics

all mature rating!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

leave the light on (i'll be coming home) by: HMSLusitania "an accident on a call leaves buck with custody of chris after eddie is... missing presumed. while they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite eddie's parents' best efforts -- a john doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home." word count: 44k important tags: presumed dead, grief, mourning, angst, amnesia, getting together across our great divide (a glorious sunrise) by: catchingpapermoons "eddie gets buck to come to couples therapy with him." word count: 53k important tags: therapy, getting together, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, medding, idiots in love

little lies by: david3096 "chris tells a lie at school and now eddie and buck must give a talk about love and work pretending to be fiances." word count: 62k important tags: fake dating, idiots in love, mutual pining, miscommunication, fluff, christopher diaz has two dads tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) by: withmeornotatall "eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia" word count: 43k important tags: time loop, minor buck/natalia, heavy angst, eventual happy ending, weddings, love confessions i'll feel you forget me like i used to feel you breathe by: turningthepages "just another hollywood amnesia story the fandom probably didn't need but lived in my head rent free for too long." word count: 128k important tags: married!buddie, amnesia, car accidents, hurt!eddie diaz, angst, hurt/comfort, future fic (they have 3 kids) tell me about despair by: hattalove "the entity often affectionately referred to as the unrepression fic." word count: 148k important tags: therapy, ptsd, heavy angst, communication, feelings realisation, friends to lovers, slow burn

ripples all the way down by: iriswests "christopher partakes in some parent trapping" word count: 57k important tags: jealous!evan buckley, jealous!eddie diaz, slow burn, miscommunication, happy ending peace in austin by: angalwithwingsoffire "the story of evan buckley, losing all hope in la after the lawsuit and moving to texas to join the 126." word count: 156k important tags: post-lawsuit, 911 lone star characters, angst, evan buckely leaves the 118, depression, ptsd, emotional hurt hold steady, hold steady by: thetalee "after eddie's bombshell announcement on christmas, buck runs away and finds himself back on his first day on the job. a time-travel fix-it fic of sorts, ft. a stranger that totally just wants to help, honest." word count: 172k important tags: time travel, time loops, supernatural elements au, slow burn, shannon diaz lives, hurt!evan buckley, temporary character death

the persistence of memory by: withmeornotatall "buck gets shot, eddie has to keep reliving the day until he can figure out what the universe is trying to tell him" word count: 58k important tags: time loop, eddie diaz pov, angst, hurt/comfort, temporary character death, gay disaster!eddie diaz, make outs, gun violence heart of flowers/heart of gold by elvensorceress "after nearly losing each other, buck and eddie find their way to each other and their family’s happily ever after." word count: 144k important tags: season 4, friends to lovers, mutual pining, evan buckley takes care of eddie diaz, demisexual!eddie diaz, gun shot wounds you can tell everybody this is your song (series) by: woodchoc_magnum "it's not a date if chris is here with us." at that, buck's eyebrows flew up, and his face went pale. "a… date?" eddie nodded, a little nervously. "yeah. this is a date." word count: 640k important tags: romance fluff, boys in love, getting together, developing relationship, falling in love

boys of summer by: woodchoc_magnum "in which buck takes eddie on a summer road trip through the sierra nevada mountains, and they fall head over heels in love with each other" word count: 47k important tags: road trips, falling in love, boys falling in love, soft!buddie, family feels, team as family cause we belong together now by: smilingbuckley "on a call, buck and eddie meet an adorable little girl that they fall in love with and want to adopt. the only problem? they're not together romantically..." word count: 68k important tags: marriage of convenience, parenthood, adoption, slow burn, miscommunication, family fluff, pining, oblivious!evan buckley, soft!buddie, friends to lovers

[m3tal-f0x]

I decided to write more on my band au because I've gotten to work more on it!

Amy, Gadget and Barry's band is named Piko Piko Shoot and they focus on Pop Rock/Punk.

Amy is the lead singer, she grew up in a rich family and a prodigy in academics, music and skating. She ran away from her home to pursue a musical career with her two (loser) friends. She also dwells in grafitti art, all of which are designed by Barry.

Gadget is the one who actually started the band, he provides the guitars and back-up vocals. He works in a local cafe to pay up for rent and band expenses. He's a pro skater and has a huge crush on Infinite.

Barry is a simple artist and bassist who attended the same school as Gadget. He accepted to form the band in hopes of becoming someone and proving everyone who doubted him, wrong.

__

Chaos Blast is a band started by Shadow and his childhood best friend and sister, Rouge. They focus on deep and meaningful lyrics, mostly inspired by Shadow's older sister, Maria.

Shadow is the lead singer and to fans, a mystery. He prefers to keep any information on himself private, completely avoiding interviews and avoiding any social media. Truth is, Shadow started the band to, not only raise money for Maria's hospital bills, but also offer the young girl some entertainment.

Rouge is the bassist and stylist of the band, sometimes offering some back-up vocals for their songs. She's very gossipy and the main source of information for fans.

Silver is a shy and friendly bassist, he sometimes helps with songwriting and manages the band's social media account. He was born in Soleanna and has a love for gardening. He was close friends with Blaze before losing contact with her.

Knuckles is the band's drummer, known for channeling his short temper and rage into his work. He's quiet and very passionate about cooking in his free time.

__

Phantom Ruby was formed by childhood best friends Sonic and Infinite out of pure boredom, their lyrics being edgy for the sake of it.

Infinite is the singer and main songwriter. He's very open about himself, even coming across as egocentric. In his own head, Chaos Blast is trying to copy Phantom Ruby and steal their spotlight.

Sonic had a simple life growing up in Sunset City with his younger brother, Miles. He accepted forming a band with Infinite to pursue his dream career as a guittarist. He's very loud and energetic and has an easy time hyping up the croud. He's openly gay and has a crush on Shadow.

Blaze grew up in Soleanna and moved to the big city to purse a drumming career. She provides help with the lyrics and helps keep the other two in line whenever their manager, Espio has a hard time.

__

Other characters include

Miles, Sonic's adoptive younger brother, a prodigy and mechanical genius, dropped his studies to become the band's technician.

Espio, a mysteryous and serious person, Phantom Ruby's manager.

Honey, Phantom Ruby's stylist and social media manager. A big gossip always in touch with their community.

Wave, Chaos Blast's official stylist and manager. She grew up a graffitti artist and extreme gear pro. She's dating Rouge behind the scenes.

Maria, Shadow's older and sick sister. Her dream was to be able to watch a band live but due to her condition she was unable to.

Vector, Owner and DJ of the radio station JSR 095. He's very known in Rokkaku Street (Where Gadget and Barry grew up.)

Jet, Wave's younger brother and extreme gear pro. His gang controls Rokkaku Street with their grafitti art.

Ivo, the owner of IvoTech Empire, a company who creates multi-use and purpose robots and implementing them in society. He's also the creator of the extreme gear and his own brand of robo-singers.

[schmem14]

It’s my birthday! Celebrate with me by reading my top favorite fanfic discoveries this past year. (Feel free to flail with me in DM’s!) I feel so lucky to have found so many wonderful talented friends and amazing stories! 

1. flour and flesh by foxglovetonic (nocturn) Hermione x Pansy, wc: 666 rating: M

(Mind the tags) This sapphic horror fic gripped my soul from the moment I read it and it lives rent-free in my head because of its amazing imagery and masterful use of unreliable narrator. I’ll be forever creeped out by carving pumpkins and pie (but in the BEST way, I swear!) This is the #1 reason Halloween is my fav. 

2. Usually by @lumosatnight Percy x Oliver, wc: 1k, rating: E

What’s not to love about banter, chess as foreplay, and stripping down until there’s nothing left but heart-pounding hot AF sex? This pairing is fantastic, and Lani’s writing is on point, as always, and I was incredibly impressed by the real live chess match taking place in the background. Read it, you won’t regret it! 

3. drink up, boys by @emilyrickman gen work featuring Parvati Patil, wc: 1.5k, rating: M

(Mind the tags) I URGE you give this gripping revenge story a chance! Between Parvati’s confidence and the absolute heartbreaking and empowering ode to sisterly love, this story gave me goosebumps. Emily is such a great writer, and I can’t stress enough how well the feels come through on this one. Also, give the song What It Means To Be a Girl by EMELINE a listen as you read, it will elevate the whole experience! 

4. One Woman’s Trash by @nanneramma Lavender x Hermione wc: 2k, rating: T

My friend Nan can do it all, and I don’t care that coffee shop AU has been done a thousand and one times before, THIS is the one to read! Lavender is to die for in this, and the fluff is pure, gourmet sweetness. It will have you kicking your feet and squealing by the end. 

5. Head Over Heels by @vdoshu Narcissa x Mrs. Zabini, wc: 575, Rating: M

This itty bitty fic is singlehandedly feeding my Narcissa Mommy delusion. I want her to step on me SO BAD! Ugh. Doshu packs a punch with every story, and the punchline of this one is sure to have you gasping like a beached fish. Please come scream at me about it if and when you know what I mean. 

6. Welcome, Peasants by @fluxweeed Draco x Ron x Harry, wc: 15k, Rating: E

It was nearly impossible for me to pick just ONE of my favorite fics from Dronarry fest this year, but I narrowed it down to two. Strap in for an hour and immerse yourself because the payoff is WORTH IT!  This one blends the juicy polyjuice trope with a healthy dollop of mistaken identity and a pinch of jealousy. Better yet is the twisty reveal and the absolutely smut-tastic finale that follows.

7. For I Have Found Salvation by @lumosatnight Severus x Harry, wc: 7k, Rating: E

Yes Lani, I couldn’t resist another! I feel like I have to preface this by saying I’m not usually a Snarry fan, but this filthy Priest AU fic is EVERYTHING. The dynamic of guilt and forbidden church sex (while church is IN SESSION) is so fucking delectable. I’m going to just say it and embarrass myself: Insta-Wank Bank. Yep. 

8. Nightswimming by @sweet-s0rr0w Draco x Ron (x Harry), wc: 5k, Rating: M

…Which brings me to my SECOND Dronarry fest pick from this year, and I love it so much because it’s all banter and hypotheticals. Draco and Harry are a couple, but Draco and Ron share a car ride where it comes out that maybe they’ve been considering a three-way with Ron. They don’t even fuck, but the tension of them just talking about it is too hot to handle. Bonus: There’s art at the end! 

9. Mistletoe Mojito by @amethystheart2421 Sybill x Severus, wc: 3k, Rating: E

This fic knocked me flat on my ass. This lust potion fueled one-night stand fic had me laughing and crying (from hilarity and absurdity and sadness) all at once. Such delightful writing, and the perfect example of crack taken seriously. 

10. All That Is Beautiful, Burns In The Making by @sailtomarina Narcissa x Bill, wc: 8k, Rating: E

Narcissa is hot. Bill is hot. We all know this from canon, but imagine they get together and how much hotter they are as a couple! This fic contains such delights as werewolf Bill, seduction, forbidden love, infidelity, knotting, endless refractory periods, voyeurism, rough sex, and mating. It’s not quite A/B/O but it has a lot of the elements that make it such a juicy AU.

11. A Perfect Answer by @p1013 Draco x Harry wc: 9k, Rating: E

Downton Abbey AU. Harry is Draco’s valet and the love is very much forbidden. Contains: pining, jealousy, decorum, emerald cufflinks that Draco favours, and BATHS. Something about it reminds me of Jane Eyre, though I know that’s a different time period and there’s no crazy wife in the attic. I loved this fic so much because it was a well-written AU and it brought a breath of fresh air to an old favorite otp. The angst is divine, and the ending is such a lovely payoff. Enjoy! 

[dbnightingale24]

Fog In The Mind, Desire In The Heart

A Dark Curtis Everett Love Story

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Surprise! I decided to take a small break from the three novels I'm writing (I promise that your updates are coming!!), and finish the damn Curtis Everett one shot I promised you guys years ago. It may take me forever to get to the point, but I do eventually get there, in my defense. Anywho, this is a lot shorter than what you all are used to, but I hope you all enjoy it just the same! As always, thanks to the amazing @fuckingbyefor the moodboard! Here we go!

Word Count: 9911 (yes, you read that correctly)

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI 18+), Slight Snowpiercer AU, Slight Age Gap between Edgar and Reader (work with me people), Curtis Everett, Daddy Kink, Non Con/Dub Con, Drinking, Plotting, Self Hate, Loathing, Betrayal, Swearing, Angst, Mild Violence, Anger, Pining...I think that's it?

Songs That Inspired This Story: I'd Walk Through Fire For You, Just Let Me Adore You

Summary: Everyone stuck in the tail section dreamed of a better life for themselves. Everyone except for Curtis. For him, his better life would start when you were happy and by his side, no matter who he had to force out of the way.

~~

I do not give consent/permission for my stories/works to be posted/published elsewhere. I do not condone this type of behavior, this is for entertainment purposes only.

~~

~~

For as much as you hate Curtis, he lives rent free in your head all day. You sit at the bar that Nam so lovingly bar tends day in and day out, listening in and out of the conversation he makes almost every night.

“Right now isn’t the time, but you’ll see...the world will be livable again. Maybe another year or so, but we’ll be able to get off of this fucking train,” he tells you tonight, an echo of the same thing he’s been saying every night for the last two years.

“What did Curtis say?” you snicker, putting your empty glass down as he reaches for your favorite poison: whiskey.

“He’s busy,” Nam simply shrugs, refilling your glass with ice and the dark brown liquid.

“When isn’t he?”

“Y/N, you know what happened to Edgar-”

“He’s gone, Nam,” you snap unintentionally. “Whatever the hell Curtis meant to happen, didn’t. Edgar has been dead for two years and all the while we wait for the great Curtis Everett to come up with a fucking plan to make all of this not seem so shit as it is,” you sigh before downing your drink.

Your reasons for hating Curtis are very simple and clear for everyone to understand.

Everyone except Curtis.

You remember when you first boarded onto the stupid train that “saved” your life. You remember them ripping you away from your Mother, who sacrificed herself so you could have a chance at life, and her promising you that she’d meet up with you later on in the train.

She never did.

You know she only did it because she knew it was the only way you’d board the train, but the anger feel towards her never leaves.

It never has and it never will. 

That was the first time you saw him.

You were put into a group of young teenage girls, a place you barely belonged since you were almost 17, and you felt a pair of eyes on you. 

It’s not like that was uncommon, but it didn’t help anything. In fact, as time went on, on the train, you found that a lot of men had their eyes on you. You were beautiful, soft spoken but also opinionated, and kind. You were so understanding and helpful, unlike almost everyone else on the train who gave up hope as soon as the doors closed.

They all did their best to make you notice them, Curtis more than most, but you were more than happy to keep to yourself. 

At least, that’s until Edgar came of age. While he was younger than you by a few years, he was persistent and the only one who could truly make you smile and laugh. For as tense and gloomy as things could be, Edgar always found a way to soften everything. The first few times he asked you out (well, too hangout on his bed), you said no because of the age difference. 

“Who cares?” he laughed as he followed you to the little hospital section they had set up in one of the train cars.

“Clearly I do!”

“It’s not that bad!”

“Edgar-”

“What could it hurt? We’ll split a protein block, a cup of water, talk a bit, and I’ll walk you back to your bunk. It’ll be fun!”

“Edgar-”

“You know you want to, I see it in your eyes.”

“No Edgar,” you smiled softly before making your way to the children’s bunks to read them a story.

“You’ll say yes, you’ll see!” he called with a soft smile, before he turned and made his way back to his bunk.

After that, he didn’t let up. He asked almost every day until you finally caved and said yes. From that moment on, you two inseparable (after you both finished your daily chores). You loved to spend time reading to the children and he was more than happy to accompany you. The kids loved him anyway.

“What do you think about us having one?” Edgar asked one night as you two laid together after sex.

“Having one what?”

“Child?”

“Fuck no!”

“Shh,” he laughed softly, stroking your hair. “Why not?”

“You can’t be serious, babe. We live on a fucking train, the shittiest part of the train I might add, the world is frozen, the front end comes and randomly takes children whenever they please-”

“It won’t always be like this, plus, Curtis has a plan.”

“Oh? What plan is that?” you scoffed

Edgar had always been Curtis’ biggest supporter.

“Why don’t you believe in him?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in him, but I’m not willing to follow blindly behind him. Everyone else is, and I just don’t see a reason to,” you shrugged.

“Y/N-”

“You asked me a question and I gave you an answer. It’s not my fault that you don’t like the answer, baby.”

Curtis had always been the one thing that got in the way of your relationship with Edgar. Edgar would willingly follow Curtis, no matter what he said or what he did, and you weren’t buying into any of it. Sure, Curtis seemed nice enough and he was kind when he wanted to be, but there was also a silent anger to him. A silent anger that always seemed like it could go off at any time. 

Plus, it’s not exactly like he was thrilled when you and Edgar started seeing each other. Once again, a lot of the men weren’t, but everyone could see how happy you were. How well you and Edgar fit together. Curtis, on the other hand, rolled his eyes whenever he saw the two of you together. 

“Why don’t you come and help us tonight? You always have an idea-”

“No,” you laughed and Edgar scowled. “That’s your thing, not mine.”

“If you’d come, you’d see there’s nothing to hate about-”“I don’t hate Curtis!” you snapped softly and he rolled his eyes, “I just...something isn’t right there. You all just follow and believe everything that he says, and that’s not okay.”

“You always find a reason to doubt him and hes never given you a reason to.”

“And hes never given you a reason to trust him so much!”

“I’m not having another argument about this-”

“Good, because I’m tired of him somehow always becoming the center of our relationship.”

“Y/N-”

“You’re gonna be late. Go.”

You hated arguing so much with him about Curtis, but he didn’t know the things that you knew about him. Besides the fact that his eyes always lingered on you for far much longer than they should have, you knew about the things that Edgar was too young to remember. You knew what happened to his Mother, you knew what almost happened to Edgar, and you knew that Curtis would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

Besides, by the way he watched you like you were his prey, you knew he’d stop at nothing to get you. So, when it was finally time for the “great uprising” you begged Edgar to stay behind with you.

“We’ve spent too long planning and plotting for me to stay behind-”

“You can stay with me!” you sobbed and he shook his head.

“Trust me! Believe in me! I can do this!”

“Edgar-”

“We’ll have a future, children, space-”

“I just want you! Please-”

“I’ll come back to you and you’ll see. I promise you, it’ll be okay. I love you.”

That was the last time you saw him alive.

When word got back to you how he’d been killed, and who let it happen, something inside you snapped. You became violent, you lost all patience, you attacked anyone who got in your way as you started on your own journey to the front, and you led everyone who had stayed behind to the front of the train with you. By the time you got there, Wilford had been killed and Curtis was the new leader. Of course, no one noticed all of the changes in Curtis’ attitude, as if you all owed him your lives, because he’d apparently made your lives better. He made changes that made years of suffering finally seem like they had been worth something. 

Everyone except you.

“Curtis wants to see you,” one of the girls tells you as she approaches the bar. 

Sansa, who’s his regular girl. 

“Just give him time,” Nam repeats softly, filling your glass one last time. 

You roll your eyes and down your drink before you follow Sansa to the very front of the train.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been called to his bedroom. Hell, it isn’t even the 100th time. Not long after the battle ended and changes were made, Curtis Everette made it very well known to everyone on the train, that you are his absolute favorite. Not so much with his words, but with his actions. He’d made it seem as if it were out of honor for Edgar, but the way he watched you let you know that, that was bullshit. No, he never called you into his bed, but he also made sure to never let you get close to another man again.

He made sure you never had to work, you never wanted for anything, you always had fresh clothes waiting for you, and you had one of the best rooms on the train. 

“Edgar sacrificed his life so you could have a better one. It only makes sense that you have the best of everything,” he whispered the night that he’d helped you settle into your new room.

In return, you’ve made it known that you’ll always despise him.

“What?” you snap the second you step foot inside his room.

He looks at you with his bourbon shot eyes, and you scoff. He’s in one of his moods.

“You could be a little nicer to me, Y/N.”

“Everyone on this train is nice enough to you. Now, what do you want? What’s the point of giving me a room if you never actually let me stay in it.”

“What’s wrong with you today?” he sneers, pouring himself another drink.

“You’re still here and Edgar isn’t.”

“Edgar made his choice-”

“Edgar worshiped you and blindly followed you into battle, and you couldn’t give less of a shit about what happened to him.”

“That’s not true!”

You scoff and narrow your eyes at him, “then why do you call me here every fucking night?”

“I’ve never done anything-”

“I know you’re not drunk enough to lie to me,” you warn with a snarl.

No, technically Curtis has never done anything to you, but hes found ways to...mess with you. 

He’s had you stay in the rooms while hes fooled around with other women, sometimes multiple at once, if he gets drunk enough, he watches you bathe and get dressed, hes gone out of his way to show you just how badly he wants you, and he never lets you stay away from him for too long. No, he’s never forced himself on you and taken you, but hes always been just a few steps away from doing so.

With Edgar out of the way, he’s free to do whatever he pleases.

However, the problem is, Curtis wants you to want him. He wants you to burn for him just as bad as he burns for you. At one point, that would’ve been possible. It was never that you found him unattractive or unapproachable, something just always seemed...off. Now that, that’s been confirmed, you’re repulsed by the man.

Even if you do still find him painfully attractive.

A sick smirk comes to his face as he makes his way over to you, “I’ve never done anything that haven’t found yourself enjoying.” “Yes, because I love spending my nights watching fuck other women.”

“Could be you.”

“You can let go of that dream. If it never happened before, it sure as fuck isn’t gonna happen now.”

Without warning, he’s gripping your neck tight and forcing you against the wall, and you do your best to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach.

“You can pretend all you want to, but I know how bad you want it. I hear you at night when you think I’m asleep. The pathetic little moans and whimpers, and your desperate begging.”

Your eyes go wide and he chuckles darkly.

“You’re not as slick as you think, honey.”

“It’s not for you, so don’t go getting a big ego.” “It sure as shit isn’t for Edgar, even when you were fucking him regularly. He could never truly satisfy you. Not in the way you needed.” “You’re a bastard!”

“How many times did you picture me every time he fucked you, hmm? How many times do you picture me when you’re alone in that cozy little room of yours?”

You don’t know what the hell has gotten into him, because he’s never been this forceful with you before.

“Never!”

“You should be thanking me,” he growls, his grip on your neck getting tighter as he leans in close. “Maybe I should stop being so fucking nice to you and just take it.” “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“What will you do, huh? The only crying you’ll be doing is when I’m done with you and you’re begging for more of my cock.”

Of all the fucking times to be turned on.

“Curtis-”

“You fucking want it,” he continues, “even now, I know that little pussy is crying to be touched. To fucked until it’s ruined!”

You push him off of you and glare at him.

“Admit it! You orchestrated all of this so you could-”

“He knew what he was getting himself into! He knew the chance he was taking-”

“He trusted you!”

“That was his fault!”

There it is.

“So you admit it!”

“I’d do it again! Why did he deserve you but I didn’t?! I still don’t?! After all I’ve done for you?!”

“You’re monster!”

“Sticks and stones,” he smirks before pressing you against the wall again. “Maybe I should show you just how much of a monster I am.”

His lips are on yours and when you try to push him off of you, he doubles down on his efforts. Squeezing at the stitches in his other arm, he hisses in pain, dropping his glass and backs up for just a moment. He slaps you hard before going in for another kiss, but you’re quick to knee him in the groin.

“Bitch!”

You’re quick to run out and make your way to room, not sure of where else there is to hide, and before you can slide the door close, he’s pushing you in and slamming it shut behind him.

“Get out!”

“Get on the fucking bed!” “Curtis-”

“Fine, you want this to be rough? I can be as rough as you want me to be, baby,” he promises as he locks the door.

“HELP!”

“No one is going to go against me, no one is going to save you, and no one is gonna feel bad for you. Scream all you fucking want, they’ll know you’re just enjoying it,” he promises with a sinister smile.

Seeing no other way out of this, you rush him against the wall and just start hitting him with all the power you have in your body.

“I’ve never had to work for it,” he taunts, easily pushing you back. “Never had to make a bitch admit just how bad she wants me!”

“I hate you! I want nothing to do with you!”

“Is that what you’d tell yourself every time you’d make eye contact with me while he was fucking you? Looking down at me as he fucked up into you, telling you just how much he loves and adores you?” he counters, easily wrapping an arm around your waist, easily throwing you down on the bed. “When you knew I was getting off to your hushed moans? You didn’t want anything to do with me then either? You didn’t want me making you scream?”

You hate that he has a point because, to an extent, you did want one him at one point. You wanted him bad. It’s part of why you’d turn down Edgar so many times. No, you never had any intention of pursuing Curtis, but you were attracted to him. Far more than you were to Edgar, and you felt incredibly guilty about it. You would’ve been content to be alone, but Edgar never relented and you eventually found it cute.

Of course you knew what Curtis was doing whenever the two of you locked eyes, but you truly never thought he’d let Edgar get killed so he could get you. The worst part of it is, even now that you know the truth of it all, you still want Curtis. In some sick way, the fact that he did something so horrible just to have you all to himself drove you insane in the worst way. You aren’t losing the fight because he’s overpowering you, you’re losing the fight because you’re tired of fighting it.

“Don’t get quiet on me now,” he snickers as pulls his top off and throws it across the room. “Don’t tell me that you’re a filthy little liar,” he presses as he rips your top open.

“Leave me alone!” “No, I’m done waiting around,” he husks, pulling your bra down. “Fuck!”

“Curtis-”

“You’re gonna shut the fuck up and you’re gonna enjoy everything daddy has to offer you,” he warns before dipping down and enveloping his right breast in his mouth; lewdly licking and sucking on it in the most depraved way.

“O-oh! Curtis!”

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched by anyone else.

“That’s right,” he mumbles before nipping on your nipple, while his other hand works on undoing your jeans, “I know exactly what you need, you little bitch.”

Your breathing comes heavier as his hand makes its way down into your panties, finding your overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“You’re fucking soaked!”

“Stop-”

“Stop fucking fighting me!” he warns, his other hand making it’s way around your throat. “You fucking want it! You’ve always fucking wanted it!”

You’re not sobbing because he’s doing something wrong, you’re sobbing because he’s right. Edgar would probably be alive if you’d just kept saying no to him.

“That’s right, baby. Just let me take care of you,” he moans, easily sliding a finger into you.

“Curtis,” you moan, bucking your hips forward.

“So beautiful, baby,” he coos, finally giving your other nipple attention, “waited so fucking long!”

“Oh fuck!”

You do your best to block out all images of Edgar and every feeling of guilt you felt. For whatever reason, Curtis wasn’t letting you go tonight and you didn’t want him to.

“You can barely take two fingers,” he groans, adding another thick finger to your sopping cunt as you rake your nails across his back. “Gonna have to get you ready for me. God, these fucking tits!” he husks.

“Please!” you whimper, feeling both pleasure and pain at the way he’s pulling you apart, “don’t fucking stop!”

“We’re gonna be at this a while,” he promises with a smirk as he picks up his pace. 

He resumes his assault on your left nipple for just a bit longer, before he finally starts leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses down your body, pulling your pants down along the way. 

You’ve never had a guy go down on you before. Before you’d been put on the train, you’d only had sex twice and the both of you were inexperienced. When you were with Edgar, you two weren’t free to explore much. The most you’d been able to do was give him a blowjob, even that was uncomfortable.

“So fuckin’ pretty for me,” Curtis purrs against your pussy lips, “been waitin’ for me.”

The first lick is just a tease and you whine in protest, the second is right against your clit and whine his name as you dig your nails into his shoulders, and with the third he’s finally diving right in and claiming you as his own with his tongue.

“Oh God! Don’t fucking stop!” you beg pathetically, your legs starting to tremble as he massages your clit with his thumb. “Fuck!”

The sounds of his of his pornographic moans and roughness of his beard on your thighs somehow make you even more feral, and you can’t resist looking down. The sight of him buried between your legs has you biting on your bottom lip to keep from screaming. As if he can sense your feral gaze on him, you he looks up with a devilish glint in his ocean blue eyes, which have now darkened with twinges of desire and lust, as he starts fucking you faster with his tongue.

Your mouth hangs open and you’re right on the edge when he removes his tongue.

“What the fuck?!” you cry out and he chuckles darkly.

“I shouldn’t fucking let you cum at all,” he bites as he thrusts two fingers inside of you, causing you to buck your hips forward, “but I’m gonna get this tight little pussy ready for me,” he promises again.

The intrusion of a third finger has you throwing your head back in both pleasure and pain, and you try to push his hand away.

“None of that, fucking take it! Take it and then you’re gonna take my fucking cock,” he demands gruffly, applying more pressure to your clit with his thumb.

“Ngh- too much! Curtis please!”

“Then fucking cum! What, you don’t know how? Was it really that bad with him?” he taunts with a condescending chuckle.

You shouldn’t clench around his fingers the way you do at that.

“Not such a fucking saint after all, huh? Just a hungry little cock whore. Say it,” he demands lowly.

Biting down on your lip to keep quiet, you shake your head ‘no’.

Slapping one of your tits hard, he repeats, “say it!”

“ ‘m a cock whore!” you cry out, squirting hard and coating his wrist.

That’s new.

“Jesus fuck,” he growls.

He fucks you through your high, lapping up the mess you made, while you try to come down from your high. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know how wrong all of this is, but you can’t focus on that right now. The pleasure is all consuming, and you can’t think on anything other than how much you want Curtis.

How, in some dark and twisted way, you’ve always wanted Curtis.

The sound of him unzipping his pants brings you back to reality, and you know you’re going to hate yourself in the morning. Hell, you hate yourself now. 

“Don’t ever make me fight this fucking hard for you again, you understand me?” he warns, kicking his jeans and boxers off of him and your bed.

You watch him with wide eyes and it’s as if he can read your mind.

“Don’t you dare try and fucking run from me now. You’re mine, you’ve always been mine, and you’ll always be mine.”

He takes his angry red cock in his hand, stoking it a few times, before dipping down and kissing you like you’d finally been returned to him after years of being held captive. The taste of you and whiskey mix together perfectly, intoxicating you, and you moan into his mouth, as both of your tongues fight for dominance.

“You are mine,” he broods once you two break apart as he spears himself inside of you.

“Shit!”

He lets out a strangled groan, “gonna make you feel better than you ever have before!”

He’s relentless as he fucks into you, knowing exactly what you need as you trail kisses down his neck. 

“Y/N,” he whines when you find that spot on the crook of his neck, biting down on it hard before using your tongue to soothe the pain. “Fuck! What a good girl,” he praises and you flutter around his cock. “My pretty girl likes that? Being my good fuckin girl?”

You’ve never been so full in your life and the only response you can muster is a pathetic moan, sucking even harder on his neck. 

“That’s right, baby. Mark me up...make sure they know I’m yours,” he growls, using one hand to pin your waist down, while the other pins your hands down to the bed above your head.

You don’t even care that he’s using you as his own personal rag doll, because you need it. You both need it. So many years of anger, frustration, and denial have finally come to a head, and it feels good.

It feels so fucking good.

“Oh God! Daddy!” you cry out, wrapping a leg around his waist as he finds a spot within you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Fuck, there it is!”

“Too much!”

“No it’s not, you’re gonna make a mess for me again,” he demands as his movements start to become erratic. 

The hand he’s using to pin your waist to the bed travels down between the both of you, and you let out a choked sob as he starts to massage your clit.

“So beautiful, baby. Love you so fucking much,” he grunts, and you’re not sure if he means you or your pussy.

Your mind is so full of fog that you truly don’t give a fuck.

You turn your head away as you feel the knot in your core tighten and he whines, “look at me...waited so long, let me see you, baby. C’mon...let daddy see you come apart.”

Forcing your gaze on him, there’s something equally soft in his feral blue eyes, and you know you’re done for. No matter what you feel in the morning, you’ll want this again and again.

You’ll want him again and again.

A silent scream leaves your mouth as your orgasm washes over you, the leg around his waist falling to the side as you make a mess between the both of you.

“That’s a good girl...milk my fat fuckin’ cock, baby,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours as he paints your inner walls with his love.

Well, you’ve fucking done it now. 

He peppers soft kisses from your forehead to your cheek, as he rides out both of your highs, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he finally releases your arms. When he finally stills within you, half hard, you let your arms fall to your sides and close your eyes, feeling more full and desired than ever before.

Feeling more guilt than you ever have before.

You’re almost asleep when you hear, “clean daddy off, honey. We’re just getting started.”

He chuckles when he looks down at the confused look on your face.

“I told you: we’re gonna be at this for a while.”

You’re not sure what the hell has gotten into him, and why he’s so forceful tonight, but he keeps you up for hours in positions you’ve never even dreamed of. Exhausting your body over and over again, his lips covering every inch of your body that they can, and his hands exploring every part of you. It feels like heaven, and there’s a pitiful shame that washes over you with each orgasm. You lose count of how many times he tells you he loves you, and how perfect he thinks you are for him, and soon you’re just a mindless doll ready and willing to do anything he wants. You’ll give him anything as long as he continues to lessen the embarrassment that’s come with you finally giving yourself to him.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts from behind as you lull your head back, “ride daddy’s dick just like that. Like a fucking cowgirl!”

“Ngh!”

“I know you’re tired,” he coos against your neck, his beard making you shutter as he strarts groping your breasts with both hands, “gonna fill your perfect little pussy one more time, I promise!”

The thought of you leaking with his release again has you clenching around him.

“You love being so full of me, don’t you?”

You just nod as you grip his thick thighs, digging your nails into them.

“I know, baby. Just needed daddy to show you who’s boss, didn’t you? Too ashamed to accept what I was so willing to give you,” he moans, kissing your neck as one of his hands travels between your thighs.

“DADDY!”

“So loud for me and I fucking love it! You’d never be this fuckin’ loud for him, would you?”

You lazily shake your head ‘no’.

“Didn’t deserve you...he couldn’t make you happy like I can. Like I always will,” he promises as he slaps your cunt.

That’s all it takes. You scream his name as your body spasms and you make a mess for what feels like the millionth time. He pulls you close, filling you to the brim, as your body relaxes against his.

“What a good girl,” he praises softly, his own breathing shallow as he guides your waist to ride out both of your orgasms.

You’ve never been so exhausted in your life.

You honestly have no control over your body at this point, so Curtis has to guide you off of him and onto the bed. You flinch when you feel some sort of fabric between your legs, cleaning you up.

“I know you’re sensitive, just a few more moments, baby,” he coos.

Well, he’s certainly much happier now that you’re a useless and mindless mess.

You feel the bed dip from behind you as he gets in, pulling the cover over the both of you before pulling you close to him. The fight that’s left in you isn’t enough to kill an ant. Instead, you just relax against him as you drift off into unconsciousness, hoping that all of this is just a very strong dream crafted from loneliness and desire.  

The last thing you hear before you succumb to darkness is, “I love you.”

~~

“Y/N,” a soft voice calls as a pair of hands shake your gently.

You blink a few times, coming back to reality and trying to separate your dreams from reality.

“Y/N? Curtis wants to see you in his room.”

Curtis.

All of a sudden the pain in your face and body catapult you back into reality. Shame washes over you, as well as an intense amount of guilt, and you curl into yourself. God, how could you give into him? How could you get off to some of the cruel and lewd things he said? What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Y/N? Did you hear me? Curtis-”

“No,” you respond softly, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

“He told me not to take ‘no’ for an answer,” the woman responds mournfully.

You say nothing, silently crying to yourself and wishing you were anywhere else. Wishing you could get away from your one true forbidden desire.

“Y/N, please,” the woman begs.

It’s not lost on you that she’ll more than likely have hell to pay, but you can’t face him. The more memories come flooding back, the more you want to the train to swallow you whole. To add insult to injury, arousal pools between your legs as desire takes over your body. What the hell came over the both of you last night, and why did you let it win? There was a time that you would’ve fought till the last breath in your body to keep Curtis off of you, but last night, you barely put up that much of a fight. You didn’t want to.

You hear your drawers open and what you assume are clothes landing on your bed, and you just pull the cover over your head. He got what he wanted out of you, so why can’t he leave you alone? What else could he want from you?

‘I love you.’

There’s no possible way he could’ve meant that. He was drunk. He treats every other woman on this train like his own personal pleasure toy, so what makes you any different? So special?

“What did I tell you last night about making me fight for you?”Curtis sighs as he walks into your room, closing the door shut behind him.

You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t even heard the woman leave.

  When you say nothing, he pulls the cover from you, “come on, Y/N. Don’t make me get forceful.”

You just pull your legs tighter to yourself and cry harder.

“What?”

“Please...just go away.”

“Y/N-” “You did it on purpose, Curtis. He loved you and you just...”

“You didn’t seem to mind that confession so much last night.”

“Which makes me just as awful as you if not worse,” you sob, once again realizing just how terrible you are. 

Edgar loved you unconditionally and you let the man responsible for his death fuck you like a beast, willingly giving him orgasm after orgasm.

“Honey,” Curtis tries to reason, going to touch your arm, but you pull away.

It’s insane how you can long for and hate someone’s touch so much at the same time.

Letting out another frustrated sigh, he pulls the cover back over your body and steps away, “fine.”

You can hear the pain in his voice, but he should feel like garbage. You both should. The sliding door to your room opens and closes again, and you’re finally on your own again. As you continue to cry, you if you’ll ever know peace again. If you aren’t, how long will it take you to allow yourself the comfort of Curtis?

Curtis’ P.O.V.

What the fuck is wrong with me? It’s not the first time I’ve gotten drunk and tormented you, but to attack you like that? Confess the truth in such a condescending way? Of course you want nothing to do with me now that the fog has cleared. Yes, what I did was fucked up, but I’ve been right about you since day one.

You wanted me all along.

It’s not like I didn’t care for Edgar, and he deserved more from me, but he didn’t deserve you. Watching him with you was like a knife to the chest every day. Hearing your moans and whimpers every night that he was inside you? Those were mine. They were for me. That’s why you always kept your eyes focused on me. You knew it just as well as I did. Maybe you’re the real monster in all of this, because you used him just as much as I envied him. 

You weren’t happy, you were never going to leave him, so I took charge. I didn’t expect for any of it to work out like it did, but it did nonetheless. I figured if I gave you enough time and space, you’d come to me, but my patience could only last so long. Venting to Nam night after night only helped so much. 

Two fucking years.

Two years of me watching you, two years of me making every other man on board afraid to get close to you, two years of me being a lesser version of myself...two years and you still never cracked. I have a fucking train to take care of, I couldn’t keep spending all of my time and energy just trying make you jealous enough to give him.

I was all set to let it go and let you do whatever the hell you wanted, until I walked past your train cart yesterday morning.

“Fuck Curtis...fuck me just like that,” you whimpered so softly, I thought I imagined it.

Looking into your room made me cum instantly. You were completely naked, eyes closed, head lulled back, and riding your pillow. You’d never looked so fucking hot before, and that was my name leaving your mouth. Not Edgar’s, mine. I no longer needed you to fucking say you were mine, but you’d just confirmed it.

“Gonna cum so soon, daddy! Fuck!”

I couldn’t get it out of my mind, and my frustration wouldn’t leave my body. Why the hell were you fighting something you so desperately wanted? 

Because you’re not a monster at all.

Even without my confession, you’d always known the truth. I could’ve saved Edgar, but I didn’t. I made a million excuses as to why I couldn’t, and everyone believed them. Everyone except you. Of course you wouldn’t allow yourself to be with me. Not without force. So, after I finished up everything I needed to take care, I got drunk. I had planned on being level headed, but you came in with that fucking attitude, and I fucking lost it.

How the hell were you annoyed with me? I made sure you had the best life, and you were still ungrateful. Once again, I could’ve saved Edgar, but you wouldn’t have left him. You would’ve married him and had his fucking his kids, and what right did he have to you? What right do any of the guys on this hell hole have to you? None of them will ever love you like I do, they’re not gonna satisfy you like I do, and they’re never gonna care for you like I do.

You just needed to be shown, so I decided that I was done waiting. I knew you’d put up a fight, but I didn’t expect it to get me so worked up. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard, but you were being difficult. Squeezing the stitches in my arm? You knew better than that. It wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped, but when you finally surrendered, it was more than worth it. You were a fucking dream, better than anything I’d ever had or imagined.

How could I feel bad about Edgar when I finally had you right where I wanted you? Where I’d always wanted you. I didn’t have to say all of things I did, but we both knew they were true. You’d always wanted me, he’d never truly satisfied you, and you’d always wanted me. Whatever your reasons were for choosing him over me didn’t matter anymore, because you finally admitted everything. Yeah, it bothered me that you never said ‘I love you’ back, but I also know I can’t have everything I want at once. I know you do, and when you’re ready, you’ll admit that too. 

“She’s not here,” Nam says softly, pulling me out of my thoughts as he enters.

“No, she’s back to hating me,” I mutter with an eye roll. “I did everything wrong.”

“Did you explain?”

“Nope, I did the exact opposite. I took what I wanted and expected her to fall in line.”

He lets out an irritated sigh as he runs a hand through his hair, “Curtis.”

“Yeah, I fucking know, alright?”

“What now?”

“I’ll go back and see her tonight. I’ll talk to her. She loves me, she just needs some encouragement to see it. To admit it.”

“Be gentle, Curtis. You get angry and you don’t think.”

He’s not wrong.

“Did you hurt her?”

“We both hurt each other, but it’s not like she didn’t like it.”

“Is that what happened to your arm?” he asks, pointing to the bruise.

I scoff with a nod, “yeah, little devil.”

“She’s tough, I’ll give her that,” he laughs, taking Kronole out of his pocket.

“Will you stop with that shit?!”

“You beat women, I get high,” he shrugs.

“I don’t beat women,” I quickly counter, trying to keep a lid on my anger.

I really didn’t mean to hit you so fucking hard. Fuck.

He just rolls his eyes, “Should I send Yona to look after her?”

“No, we have work to do and we need Yona and her ability. I’ll send one of the girls to check on her and give her food.”

I know I should be the one to do it but with how you were this morning, I know we’re basically right back where we started.

“Curtis, should I send for Y/N again?” Sansa asks, poking her head in, disdain dripping into her words.

I can see the pain in her eyes, but I can’t bring myself to feel bad. She may be a regular, but she always knew she wasn’t permanent. All of them know. 

“I’ll see to her later. Make sure no one comes in except Yona,” I instruct dismissively.

“Yes sir.”

Yeah, I’m an asshole, but I’m an asshole who’s in love with and made better by you. The sooner you see that, the sooner things will be as they should. In time, you’ll see.

In time, you’ll understand.

~~

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Here, take mine,” a deep soft voice told you.

You looked over to your right to see that Curtis had taken a seat next to you, and he was holding out his protein block.

You shook your head and pushed it away, “oh no, it’s perfectly fine-”

“You’re hungry-”

“What will you eat?”

“I don’t like the way they taste,” he shrugged.

You laughed to yourself, “no one likes the way they taste.”

“Won’t haunt you like the taste of human flesh though.”

He had a point there.

“Go on, take it,” he offered again.

“You have to eat something. We’re all barely hanging on as it is.”

“Y/N-”

You offered him a half smile, “we can split it.”

He contemplated your offer before he nodded, “deal.”

You miss that Curtis. The one who showed remorse for his actions, cared about those around him, and was actually trying to help everyone and not just himself. Ever since Gilliam took him under his wing, there was an heir of arrogance to him, and it made you want him that much less. It got worse after Edgar got killed and Gilliam soon followed.

God, how could you still fuck him after his confession? If anything, that should’ve made you fight harder. Instead, in a sick way, it turned you on even more because it showed you just how much he wanted you. How much he’d do to make sure you’d always be his and his alone. 

Maybe being on the train for so damn long that it’s fucked with you more than you thought, or maybe you’re just that awful.

The servers have been trying to feed you all day, but the only thing you’ve consumed is alcohol. It’s the only thing that’ll keep demons and thoughts of self-hatred at bay. Plus, for as much as you shouldn’t, you do feel bad for Curtis. The man told you he loves you a handful of times last night, brought you to euphoric bliss time and time again, and you let him hold you close last night, just so you could ice him out today.

As much as you don’t want to believe that the mad man loves you, somewhere deep down inside, you know it’s true. A man doesn’t let the closest person he has to a best friend die over someone he doesn’t love. Yes, you knew Edgar could get on his nerves sometimes, but never enough for Curtis ever want something truly awful to happen to him. It’s not like you ever meant for things to become a sick and twisted games, but they had and the end result was the sweetest man you’d ever known getting killed.

All of this was your fault.

“You haven’t eaten today,” a soft voice rings out, stepping into your room.

“Please go, Curtis. You got what you wanted. Just go, I’m sure Sansa and the others will be happy to keep you company tonight.”

He sits down in front of you and takes your face in his hands, “I don’t love Sansa and the others.”

“Curtis-”

“Why have you been crying all day?”

You’re more than sure the look on your face screams, ‘really?’.

“It’s not like it was something you didn’t already know-”

“Stop being so fucking callous about it!”

“Why? I’d do it again, honey. I have no problem admitting that. If I had to do it all over again, I would without hesitation.”

“What the fuck is the matter with you?!”

“I love you, Y/N. I think I’ve made that pretty clear for some time now, and I’m not going to watch you be with some other man. I don’t give a fuck who that man is.”

“You can literally have whoever else you want-”

You yelp when he effortlessly picks you up and pulls you into his lap.

“The world could be the way it’s supposed to be and I still wouldn’t want anyone else. You were meant for me and I was meant for you. If people have to die for you to understand that, then so be it. I will never love anyone the way I love you, so stop thinking that this is just some fling to me,” he warns, his gaze on you tense and serious.

His words should make you afraid of him but, instead, they make you want him more than you did the night before.

“You don’t-”

“Who else do you want me to make disappear, hmm? How do I make you believe me?”

“Curtis...stop.”

“I love you.”

“That’s not love-”

“Why should I go about this the normal way? We’ve all had to fight to stay here, and I’m willing to fight for you. I will always fight for you because you’re mine, just like I’m yours. I love you.”

For now, you’ll just blame the alcohol as you lean in and kiss him softly. Just like the night before, he runs one of his hands through your hair and grips it tight as he deepens the kiss, his other arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you as close as possible.

He broods against your lips once you two break apart, “that’s right, baby. You’ll always be mine.”

“This isn’t right-” “Who gives a fuck about right and wrong when it feels this fucking good?”

“Curtis...”

“Just give into me,” he pleads before kissing you again, “give into me because you love me just as much as I love you.”

Once again, the fight leaves your body and you’re just giving into what you want. You kiss him deeply as your legs wrap around his waist, grinding against him. 

“That’s it honey,” he breathes with a moan, the tip of his nose ghosting over the outline of your cheek. “I won’t take anything you don’t wanna give me. Just like last night.”

You know good and damn well he’s saying that because last night he did force himself on you, but you both knew you were desperate for it. You both know you’ve been desperate for him for a while. It’s evident that he wants you to acknowledge that, but he’s gonna need to work a little harder for that. 

“If you truly love me, then show me,” you sigh as he bites and sucks on your neck. “Show me how much you need me to be yours.”

You must have awakened something feral in him because, instantly, he’s picking you up and standing up with almost no effort at all, and carrying you out of your room, quickly make his way towards his. Part of you wants to protest, because you’ve seen what he’s done with other women in his bed, but another part of you is desperate for it because it is his bed. Anyone else who was on it before you won’t ever matter again, because you’re all he needs.

He growls as he tosses you onto his bed, “take your fucking shirt off before I rip it off.”

You honestly don’t need much prompting. Between the amount of alcohol coursing through you, and the desire that you’ve been suppressing for years, you’re once again willing and ready to do anything that he wants. You whimper when he pulls his off and tosses it to the side, quickly getting to work on undoing his pants.

Yeah, you’re still sore from yesterday, but the pleasure always outweighs. You’ll take aspirin after.

“I thought I already fucking showed you,” he husks roughly, fitting your legs around his waist once on the bed and on his haunches. “I didn’t get my point across last night?”

You bite your lip and shake your head no, holding his gaze as you wrap your arms around him. 

He smirks as that devilish glint comes back to his eyes, “let me be firmer this time,” forcing you down on his cock.

“AH SHIT!”

He keeps a firm hold on your waist as he starts bouncing you up and down on his cock, “you’re mine, Y/N. Always have been and you always will be!”

You cry out as you lull your head back, “oh fuck, daddy!”

“Eyes on me, baby. Gonna make sure it sinks in this time,” he chuckles darkly.

Honestly, all you can do is hold on to him, and he doesn’t even make that easy. He spits on your cunt a few times before easily wrapping one arm behind your waist to keep you in place, and shamelessly slapping your clit with the other hand.

“Please....please!”

His condescending chuckle only makes you clench around him, “fucking pathetic.”

He dips down, the tip of his tongue lightly licking between your breasts and moaning as he licks up the sweat, before latching his mouth onto your right nipple and sucking on it as if it’s his favorite lollipop to exist.

You whimper, feeling safe in his strong hold, as you run a hand through his buzzed hair, “feels so good, daddy! The way you love me feels so good!”

Releasing your nipple with a ‘pop’, he looks up with brooding dark eyes, “and no one else will ever make it feel this good,” he promises.

Without warning, he starts massaging your clit with more pressure than you’re prepared for, and you’re screaming out his name as you make a mess between the both of you.

“So messy and all mine,” he praises, his voice strained as continues to fuck up into you. “Always been all mine, haven’t you?”

Once again, you’ve been turned into a mindlessly babbling toy.

“No answer?” he taunts, his breathing as he stops all together, laughing sadistically at your pathetic whimper. “Guess daddy still hasn’t made his point clear.”

He drops you down onto the bed, flips you over with ease, fixes your knees so your ass is propped in the air, before thrusting himself inside of you again.

“Aht!”

“You’ve always been mine, haven’t you?” he growls, fucking into hard and fast.

You just whimper into his pillow as claw at his bed, but he isn’t having that. Wrapping one arm around your waist and snaking it up between your breasts, he grips your throat while the other hand grips your hair tight, and he pulls you right.

“Use your fucking words,” he demands gruffly, fucking into you harder, “you’ve always been mine?”

“Y-yes!”

“Yes who?”

“Y-yes...y-y-yes daddy!”

“Always gonna be mine?”

“A-an-anything you w-want!”

He growls into your neck as you feel him spill into you, “fuck baby!”

Once again, there’s nothing going through your mind but fog and your body is exhausted. If he wants more from you, you’ll give it to him, but you can honestly fall asleep in his hold right now. He loosens his grip on your neck, and you take a deep breath, not even realizing how tight he’d been holding onto you. Lazily fucking you both through your high, he presses small, wet, open mouthed kisses along your neck.

His breath comes heavy and he sounds just as tired as you feel, “get the message this time?”

You nod as weakly attempt to fight off sleep, “mhm, you love me.”

The next question comes with a hint of fear, “do you believe me?”

“Mhm, yes.”

“Do you love me?”

The answer comes effortlessly, “yes Curtis.”

He’s gentle with you as he pulls out, growling as he watches the mix of your juices run down your thighs, and he lays you down. Once again, you wince when some fabric gently wipes over your extremely raw and sensitive flesh, and he gently hushes you. This time, when he gets in bed with you, you’re pulling him close and resting your head on his chest.

You’re too tired to fight it.

“I love you,” you repeat before effortlessly falling asleep.

~~

Once again, when you make up, you need a moment to adjust to your surroundings. The soreness is quicker to make your acquaintance this time, and you remember that you’re in Curtis’ room.

The very front of the train.

That’s when you realize you’re alone in his bed, and you’re slow to sit up and look around.

“I’m here,” he calls softly.

You look to the side and see him sitting across the room, sweatpants on only, hunched over, and resting his head on his hands.

“You should lay back down, I’m sure you’re sore.”

You keep your eyes on him as you slowly lay back down, “what’s wrong?”

He’s not wrong about you being sore. 

“Nothing-”

Scoffing as you prop yourself up on your elbow and rest your head on your hand, “you’re gonna start lying to me after the last two days we’ve spent together?” and he laughs softly.

“It doesn’t matter right now-”

“Curtis, what’s wrong?”

There’s a softness to his features, and it’s a softness you haven’t seen in a long time.

“I love you.”

You look down and play with the hem of the bed sheet.

“That’s the problem right there.”

“Curtis-” He sighs as he sits up, “I’m not complaining.”

“It’s not so easy for me, okay?”

“It was last night when you were drunk, and I fucking knew better. I knew better, but my emotions...” “There’s a lot that I have to come to terms with, and I’ve only had two days to do it.”

“Well, do you?” “Curtis-”

“It’s a simple yes or no question-”

“It’s not simple! I was with Edgar, and no matter how I may or may not have always felt about you, I did love him and you let him get killed. No, I’m not innocent in all of this, but he loved and trusted him and you betrayed him.”

“That was different-” “How? How am I supposed to know you won’t ever do something like that to me?”

“Because this is different! This isn’t even remotely close...since I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were meant for me, and I for you. I may have been 17, but I’d never been so sure of anything in my life. I still haven’t been,” he states, slightly hurt that you would even make a claim like that. “I know what I did was fucked up, that’s not lost on either of us, and I’ve done my best to show and prove to you that I’m sorry, because it wasn’t right. Edgar didn’t know, but you did. You knew and you felt the same for me.”

“Curtis-”

“Well you did, you can deny it all you want, but we both know it’s true.”

“It doesn’t matter-” “Well, why you’d pick him?”

You scowl and lay on your back, “you don’t want the honest answer to that question.” “I can handle it.” “Lets not-”

“Just tell me!’

“I really don’t think I need to, Curtis! There’s something wrong with you! Something in you is unhinged and it shows!” you snap, sitting up and facing him.

He sits back and lets out a heavy sigh, and it breaks your heart, but he’s the one who wants to know so bad. 

When he says nothing, you continue, “there’s something that flips a switch in you, and this darkness comes over you. You’re moody, argumentative, and violent. Anything can set it off and, while I get it to an extent, enough shit had happened and I didn’t want to deal with it. You would be so soft with me at times, but you could easily lose your temper with anyone else...with the exception of Gilliam. Edgar was kind, funny, and sweet. No, it wasn’t ideal, but I felt safe with him and I didn’t have to worry about him losing his shit on me. So yes, I had feelings for you, but I chose him. I know you took him under your wing out of guilt, but you were also jealous. The more he trusted you, the more you took advantage of that. It made me resent him. Then, when he went off with you for the uprising, I knew he wasn’t coming back. You wouldn’t let him.”

You can see the anger in his eyes, but he knows that he can’t call you a liar. Everything you’re saying is true and he’s not about to try and make a fool out of you.

“I did it for you,” he responds after a moment. “You don’t have to believe it, and I know you didn’t see it, but I did it for you. I’ve always wanted to keep you safe, take care of you, and have you by my side. Everything I’ve done has been for you, and while some of it has been less than humane, I’d do it again if it meant you could be happy. If it means you can have a better life, I’ll do it, and I don’t care who I have to hurt.”

“Curtis-”

“I don’t care how crazy any of it sounds, because you have to be crazy to survive in this world. I’d do anything to give you a better life and see you happy. I love you, Y/N,” he tells you softly and sincerely.

You shouldn’t feel an overwhelming amount or love and joy for him, but that doesn’t stop it from washing over you. Is there a shrink on this fucking train, because you both need your fucking heads examined.

“I’ll ask you again, do you love me?”

Slipping out before you have a chance to stop it, “yes. Yes Curtis, I love you.”

Your heart swells at the small smile that comes to his face, as he finally gets up and makes his way back to the bed, and gets in next to you. You ignore the shameful amount of guilt that overcomes you, because what happened in the past can’t be changed. All that counts is right now and the future you and Curtis will create together. 

You rest your head on his chest and make little circles it, “how are you so sure, Curtis?”

“So sure of what?” he asks, stroking your shoulder and finally relaxing.

“That you love me. How do you know it’s not just an overwhelming sense of lust?”

He laughs to himself and kisses the top of your head, “because when all the fog in my mind settles, there’s still a burning desire for you in my heart. A burning desire to protect you, make you happy, hear your voice, see you smile, and to love you until there’s no breath left in my body. When the fog clears, there’s always a desire to love you with everything I have in me.”

Pressing a soft kiss to his chest, you look up at him, “I’m sorry it took me so long to finally get here.”

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry, just promise to never leave.”

“I promise.”

“I love you, honey.”

“I love you, Curtis.” 

[council-of-beetroot]

Tolys humiliation ideas?

Always

I think he is more impacted by humiliation than by physical torture. With pain comes adrenaline and a sense of being stronger from enduring because I think liet prefers situations where he believes he is suffering for the benefit of everyone else. he is very self sacrificing in that way

Things that live rent free in my head

This ↑

Him being punished publicly at a world meeting

Bonus points if he is scolded, reprimanded, or berated, then forced to apologize because he caused scene

Making him ask for permission for even the teeniest thing

Having like Ivan assert his control over him in front of his own countrymen such as his own soldiers.

Give him pointless work and make him write a report on something that's like 50 pages hand written then make him redo arbitrarily because his handwriting isn't neat

One thing I love is having like Ivan make him repeat stuff and make him answer why he did something

One thing I love is having Ivan act like any legitimate grievance of Liet's is purely liet just being difficult and emotional.

Scenes in my head include Ivan killing someone in retribution and acting like Liet's anger is akin to a child being mad that their toy was taken away.

Scenes in my head include Ivan treating him like a disobedient puppy. No longer the iron wolf eh.

I have a whole pinterest board filled with weird ass dresses he should wear

Forced feminization is one of my favourite things of all time and I have a post somewhere discussing it and why it is an effective humiliation for him.

Setting him up to fail especially if it's something. Have him go grab something but cause him to trip up the stairs or the like. He thinks he can be the ruler of eastern Europe but he can't do such a simple task.

Make him sing patriotic songs. I feel like I've seen this in a fic where Ivan catches him humming a banned song so he does this.

Enroll him in ballet. It will keep him busy.

Keeping him on such an intense schedule where literally every minute is planned to the point that he has absolutely no control in anything he does in a day.

Really test his obedience akin to how you would a dog. He says he will obey this time around but why not have fun by making him sit and stay and roll over.

Make him choose between two equally bad options

Making him thank Ivan for punishing him

Having Ivan refuse to let him do things like hold silverware since "he can't be trusted with it"

Controlling who he is allowed to speak to

Collar with a bell

Make him beg for anything food, clothing, etc. Ooh Ivan having all the cards and just being arbitrary about ooh I don't think that was sincere enough.

Making him stand at attention for hours

Making him sit at Ivan's feet especially in front of people

Ivan renaming him. Tolys is his after all he can do what he wants

Make him sit on Ivan's lap

Make him the wager in a card game

[n30nwrites]

Bring Me To Life (Prologue)

Summary: Against all odds, you've survived. Having graduated high school and moved out of your Parent's place, your sibling decides to join you for the summer, and your first stop is Santa Cruz in California, you had always wanted to live there anyways so why not now that you're experiencing freedom? One problem: This doesn't look like the 21st century, instead it looks like a scene from your favorite movie, in fact it looks exactly like your favorite movie.

How are you meant to survive in the murder capital of the world? With vampires of all things, and your sibling hates this movie.

a/n: prologue for this fanfic, this will also be on AO3 and wattpad. Preface for this, fuck Max :}

Reader: Male Reader, uses Y/N, third person.

Oc uses they/she pronouns. Will be using both, Y/n refers to them as both sibling and sister, which is okay

Fandom: The Lost Boys

Pairing(s): Michael Emerson x Reader, Paul x Reader, Dwayne x Reader, Marko x Reader, David x Reader, Sam Emerson x Nonbinary! Oc, Edgar Frog x Nonbinary! Oc, Alan Frog x Nonbinary! Oc,

It was one thing moving the United States to California by yourself, it was another thing bringing your 15-year-old sibling with you, not to live with you, but to stay just until summer was over and school was starting again, your parents believed it would help with their 'rebellious streak'. That streak being that they just don't care enough to do class work and keep staying up all night playing video games, therefore they fall asleep in class.

Nik had a firm belief in changing the radio whenever any song that they didn't like came on, and you had a firm belief that your sibling needed to shut up because you liked your music and if you had to drive without some good tunes you would probably turn into the next psycho on the news.

You two did listen to similar music, but for this trip it was specifically 80s and 90s songs that you shouted loudly, windows were rolled down because the air conditioner in your car didn't work. It was small and shitty and cost a year of pay, thankfully your parents were there to let you live rent free. One of the few things you could be thankful for.

"Do you know how to be quiet?" Your sibling groaned, their jacket wrapped around their body despite how hot it was, "Put on Hozier, or Doja, hell I'll even take Taylor Swift over this... What is this shit?"

'Cry little sister'

"I know damn well you aren't talking to me about my music taste-"

'Thou shall not fall'

"What's wrong with mine?"

Come, come to your brother

"It's literally only tiktok songs, half of them aren't even good."

'Thou shall not die'

"At least I don't say 'They sung this on Glee'"

'Unchain me, sister'

"Every hot, mentally ill, gay person went through a Glee faze."

Thou shall not fear

"I didn't"

'Love is with your brother'

"That's why I said hot."

'Thou shall not kill'

You quickly stuck your tongue out in a childish way, before looking back into the road, ignoring your sibling who mumbled and repeated your words. "Theres a reason we're heading to Santa Cruz. Found a nice place right near the beach so we can-"

"Sleep all day, and party all night. I know, you've said it hundreds of times." Nik had heard the phrase from you so many times, you had tried to show them your favorite movie, even almost tricked them into it, but they were quick to leave the room. They simply hated it because you loved it, something you were forced to accept about them.

The car ride became silent as you got closer, to fill it, Nik had turned up the radio as it switched to a different song.

"Finally some MJ." The beat of Billie Jean came in, causing you to start tapping your hands to it as your merged.

"She was more like a beauty queen from a movie scene" The two of you belted the lyrics, switching over the 80s playlist to one consistently of Michael Jackson. "I said don't mind, but what do you mean, I am the one" you shook your head, "Who will dance" you turned to your sibling and sung the words to them before turning back, repeating it each time you sung, "on the floor" again "in the round?" and then turned back, "She said I am the one, who will dance on the floor in the round"

The house that you bought with a loan wasn't the biggest, at least not compared to your parents house. Two bedrooms, One master and One guest, and 1 in a half bathrooms. The half bathroom was connected to the master bedroom, which Nik tried to get but was quickly locked out. They would be staying in the guest room, while you set it up they would help. They were also supposed to attempt to find a job this summer, as their parents wanted Nik to learn some responsibility. 

"Okay, change outfits, shower if you need to! We are going to the beach!" You were excited, thrumming almost. You felt as if you belonged.

"I'm tired."

"Party all night!" You yelled, grabbing a suit case filled with your clothes. The two of you didn't have a lot. A few suitcases filled with clothes, and then a few boxes for the rooms. You didn't even have mattresses yet.

"Let's just sleep a bit." A nap did sound good, you didn't have the best sleep due to the anxiety about the drive.

"Fine, a nap! I'm setting an alarm." Nik went into your room, both of you grabbing the blankets and laying them on the floor, setting up some pillows and collapsing as soon as you could.

Instead of waking up to your alarm, you woke up to Nik shaking your shoulder, harsh rain hitting the window and the house was shaking.

"The doors are opening."

You stood up quick, running out of the bedroom to the backdoor refusing to close. You pushed against it but it quickly fell open, so you held the door. "Grab the heavy boxes." Nik followed through, pushing against the doors as lightning flashed. "It wasn't supposed to storm."

"Don't they get Hurricanes here." A siren went off, "Well-"

"Not another tornado." You groaned. You had your fair shair of them, being where your from. "We need to grab our shit, head to the basement."

The house shook again, you two grabbed your phones and chargers, rushing down into the basement that still had cobwebs. Nik almost ran upstairs at the sight of them, claiming they would rather take their chance with the tornado. You had to basically pulled them down as you two sat in the basement, the house shook as you two fell to the ground, hitting your heads.

Your eyes rolled back, your vision turns black as your body hits the ground. Your siblings hand lays against yours as their body falls onto you, and in that moment, you had gone through the impossible.

[kanene-yaaay]

Oh, To Die By Your Hands

Kanene's notes: IT SEEMS SO SERIOUS WITH THAT TITLE KJUHYTFRGHUJK Nah, just your normal tickle fic with not so much normal characters. Fit and Pac have been living rent free in my mind since before Purgatory and after their date??? I am dead on the floor. Get a man who will declare his feelings for you in your native language for real for real.

Warnings: Lots of nibbles, tickly kisses and raspberries in this one. Switch!Fit and Switch!Pac. Around 6.500 words. Also! I tried to add the way that Pac calls Fit because of his accent written on the fic because I think it's lovely and cute. Hope it isn't too much confunsing or strange :D

[~*~]

“Thank you for coming, Pac. Ramón really likes when you sing him that lullaby.” His voice was rough but soft, just like his entire form and self when it came to his son, his beautiful baby boy. 

Pac smiled, also following his example and lowering his voice, closing the secured door of the kid’s room carefully before they both headed to the other room where they held their first date, a prep on his step. “It’s no problem, Fitch! Actually, I don’t know why he likes that one so much, it literally talks about how a Cuca, which is like… a kind of monster? I don’t know how to explain. But how she will grab, or better, uh, snatch the kid away because the parents are out working.”

A loud peal of laughter was pried from the mercenary’s lips, staring at the other with unbelief in his eyes. “Wait, wait, that is the actual meaning of the song?”

“Yeah, yeah! I don’t know why they made it so scary. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if someone sang it to me before putting me to bed.”

“Damn, brazilian lullabies are just at a hardcore level.”

“Teaches you to sleep with one eye open, right?”

“That is right, that is right.”

They shared smiles. Arriving at the place, the air was still light, but it wasn’t difficult to see the question itching Pac’s throat, wanting to jump out of his body. It was in the way that he walked closely by Fit side and how he kept sneaking glances at him, quickly deviating them to look around the room before going back to stare, keeping the cycle for a while. Each time his steps got closer and closer until their hands intertwined in a hold.

It made sense he would be like that, of course. Fit would be just the same if his boyfriend woke him up in the middle of the night asking him to come to his place to help to calm down his kid after a nightmare because he wasn’t able to. 

Still, he was glad that no questions were asked, not when Pac arrived - barely half a minute later after he sent his message, sleep and anxiety clinging like a shadow to his form - and not now, as the storm seemed to have passed.

Shame, however, kept flowing hot in his veins. He and Ramón had been alone since… always, really. They both had dealt with each other’s nightmares and night terrors more times than they could count. This one wasn’t supposed to be different. Shouldn’t be different. He should be there the moment his boy opened the door of his room with tears streaming down his face, sobs stubbornly escaping from his firmly pressed lips and hands open for a comforting hug that Fit should be able to give, a rare show of a child that his baby boy was, but refused to demonstrate most of time.

And yet…

Fit himself hadn’t been much better. Hadn’t been better for a long time, now. Because everytime he closed his eyes the threat from Madagio filled his mind and nightmares kept permeating his every night for the past two weeks, crowding his mind with horrifying scenarios that shouldn’t, but shook his core. 

Usually, he would just wake up, push all of it - the feelings, the fears, the screams begging for their life - deep down his chest and hope that it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.

Nevertheless to say, as all the things in life, it definitely did. 

Because that night, when Ramón looked at his face - and god knows what he saw there - he stopped right in his tracks and carefully signed his name. He had been crying, he had been crying and scared and tired and all Fit could think - because words simply didn’t come out, no matter how much he tried to spill, spit them to comfort his kid - is that he could kill him. So quickly. Easily, even, with a twist of his wrist, a swipe of his trident, a pull from his bomb stacks, he could kill him and suddenly he was frozen on the spot, unable to even get closer to his son. 

If Madagio had any power like the Federation, it could control him and destroy his most precious riches in a matter of seconds. It wouldn’t need to come to the island. It wouldn’t even need to pull Fit from it to make his life a living hell.

“There is something that we need to talk, Pac. Please take a seat.”

So, he called Pac. He deserved to know exactly what he was getting into (how many times would they have this kind of conversation?) and Ramón deserved a father who would actually get his shit together and get over it.

Pac gulped and looked at him slightly startled, knowing very well what the serious tune could mean, probably with a thousand of scenarios already running at light speed in his mind. “O-of course, Fitch.”

He then softly squeezed his hand - because there was no universe where Pac wouldn’t be perfect and strong and there but sometimes Fit seemed to forget that so he had to remind him - and let it go, sitting on the blue couch Fit recently added on the room and expectantly waiting for the other to do the same.

Which he promptly did - of course, because there wasn’t any universe where he would go and Fit wouldn’t immediately follow him. 

“Wine? What about wine? Do you want some wine?” The brazilian offered, pulling glasses from his well trusted backpack and a bottle from the refrigerator nearby. 

“Already wanting to take me to bed, Pac? Wow.” 

“No! Stop it.” Pac lightly shoved his arm, both chuckling for a bit before Fit sobered, taking a deep breath and a sip of the liquid. It was good stuff, probably from Aypierre’s vines. “Thought we were here to have a serious conversation, no?”

“We are.” 

Fit stopped, pondered how he would put it in words. It didn’t matter, there was no easy way to put it.

“Pac, would you kill me if it was necessary?”

The scientist sputtered, almost choking on the wine before turning in alarm to stare at the other, his gaze zig zagging across his body as if it would transform at any moment into an enemy, a monster in disguise pretending to be his boyfriend right in front of him. 

He didn’t doubt Pac’s abilities, even if Pac himself hardly believed in them. He was an extremely good fighter, going through monsters and battles with a calm demeanor and precise, strong attacks that ended the conflict as soon as possible. Fit was very skilled, himself. But he was sure that if Pac used one of his brilliant plans and his scythe, it would take a lot, but he would eventually come down.

But, for that, he needed to know if Pac would go through with the plan.

“Why, why that, Fitch? Did something happen? Are you feeling weird? Is it…” He got closer. Fit’s heart beated louder. If it was him… if it was him it wouldn’t be so bad. “Is it the Federation, again?”

“No. It’s… the other.”

Understanding downed in his expression. “Oh. Did he contact you again?”

Fit shook his head. “No. But it did say that it would hurt you if I tried to betray our contract and I am not planning to but, Pac, I need to know if you’ll do it. If I become a threat.”

Pac bit his lower lip, thoughtfully. Fit’s muscles relaxed, glad to know he was taking this as a serious worry, not just some unfounded fear.

“We will save you. Just like we did before, just like you did to me, Fitch. I, I will be there for you too, when you need and for as long as you need, if you’re gone we will bring you back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t, but, if I have to kill you, Fit… how will I tell this to Ramón? Or Sunny? WHo is going to be her bodyguard? And what about the morning crew? Are we supposed to just… stay?”

“You are all very strong and I am sure that-”

“No.” His voice was determined, sad. His hands gestured widely. “No, no, no. I am not leaving you behind, Fit. What about when I’m in danger, who will rescue me? Who will share the island’s fofoca with me? Or give me a refrigerator full of food on the first date? Or kill the eye workers when they attack or tease Tubbo when he goes on a date with Fred, or help us to take care of Sunny, or, or, or…” Fit held the other’s hands, squeezing it tight when he started to talk too fast, snapping Pac out of his thoughts, making him take a big breath. “No. You can’t go away, Fitche. Never. I won’t let them take you too.”

Oh.

Oh.

Yeah, that… that made sense. 

This was Pac, who the first thought when seeing his friend being drugged and controlled by the Federation was going under the same treatment so he could find a cure for it. The one who forgave Cellbit in a heartbeat when he told him he had changed. Who refused to kill him - even before the date, when Fit couldn’t even put in words his feelings for the other - during Purgatory. Who threw himself into mines and danger easily without thinking twice and would do all of it again an again if it meant keeping someone he cared about safe, even when the Federation kept taking his family one day after the other. He would do it in a heartbeat.

It made sense he didn’t want to lose another one. He was smart, strong, kind… Fit would trust him with his life into his hands in a blink of an eye.

But…

“If I hurt Ramón, Pac. If ever get close to hurt any of the eggs…”

“I will lock you, Fit. And I, we! We will find a cure again. None of them will die and you don’t need to die either.”

“Do you promise?”

Pac nodded, composure and eyes kept firm in their place, holding him down and reminding him he was no longer on this alone. “I promise, Fit. And if your boss cat comes here to hurt them… Then we will kick his butt, right?”

Fit snorted, if it was anyone else, he would doubt, throw their words away as a senseless attempt to comfort him, without true meaning. His boss was god, some kind of entity with power enough to pull him out of a world of literal destruction and throw him into a dimension where all of it never existed. However, this was Pac. Both he and Mike have proven over and over again that there was no place, no rule, no limit that they weren't able to overcome and laugh at their face when the managed to overcome it.

Maybe… If it was him.

He could believe it. Besides, Pac did promise that he wouldn’t let him hurt the children. They were always the priority, afterall

“Yes, we will. Thank you, Pac.” He took a deep breath. Since he already started, he could as well… 

Talk. About stuff.

“Sometimes I… worry about, uh, what I can do.”

(Kill. Maim. Destroy. Break it down piece by piece until there is nothing left. Watch in the shadows and continue his way quietly through all the screams.)

Pac understood what he meant. “Oh. It’s fair. I think, it must be hard, when you think about it…” He then squeezed his hand before letting them go, starting to count on his own fingers. “But, I don’t think you should worry about it, Fitch. You can do a lot of awesome things, too! You’re a really good cooker, you can make very cool bombs and explosions, you’re good at hide and seek, at saving me when I am down. You are also very good at hiking and training, which makes sense, right? With how muscular and great you are, also-”

“Pac,” Fit voice’s took a firm tune, pulling Pac from his rambling and immediately catching his attention, wide black eyes turning at him attentively. “Pac, I was made for killing. All of this is just…”

(It doesn’t matter.)

“Nah.”

Fit blinked once, twice, quite astonished at how nonchalant the scientist sounded. Stared at those beautiful, soft eyes that watched him with a playful light that somehow nothing on the Island had been able to destroy. Strong. “Sorry?”

“I don’t think you were made for killing, Fit. No one is only able to do one thing and everyone can change. Besides… it gave you a lot of skill, right? Surviving there. That is why you’re one of the best fighters on the island, Fit! The codes, the eye workers… even Cucorucho is no match for you. You’re so strong, fierce, cool, fit and,” Pac’s determined tune tripped a little bit as his words got faster and a tad more distracted, his eyes deviating from his stare, looking at his face, arms, torso… Fit would be lying if he said he didn’t like how it hovered for a little while on his chest and muscles, “and you’re good looking too! Awesome, ruthless, muscular, handsome...”

“Ahalright!” Fit cut him before his face melted from how hot it felt, the tip of his ears feeling like they were on fire. His voice seemingly broke Pac out of his mind and made him immediately attempt to hide his face on his hoodie, trying to jump away to hide and being stopped by the gentle hand still holding his, keeping him close. That didn’t prevent more embarrassed snickers from also filling the air. “Sorry, sorry, I got distracted.”

“Take it easy, big boy, take it easy.”

Fit only laughed harder when the teasy nickname made the other shout in protest, a light hit landing on his shoulder. It successfully distracted him enough so his head peaked again from the deepness of his blue hoodie, so Fit counted it as a win. Especially when a playful gleam took over Pac’s glare.

“Actually, Fitch, I think you were made for something.”

“Oh, you think so?”

Pac got closer, smiling, nodding in such an innocent way that could only mean trouble. 

“Yeah, for kisses.” He laid his head on his shoulder and Fit could feel goosebumps travel his entire body from the skin contact. His voice became lower, slower, certain. “Can I kiss you, Fit?”

Fit definitely didn’t bluescreen, half words and meaningless sounds leaving his mouth in a string of incoherency that lasted a couple of minutes before he finally managed to get himself together enough to shove an actual sentence, with a too high pitched tune, through his throat. “I-I mean, of course you can, Pac! If, ah, if you want to.”

Pac’s answer was a single kiss placed in his collarbone before the brazilian focused his administrations on his neck. Soft, warm lips leaving a trail of tingles and electricity whatever they touched. Fit could feel the care in each one and it felt… nice. 

Cozy. 

Warm. 

Tickly.

Ok, actually, it was very, very tickly.

Fit closed his eyes and turned his face around, trying to hide the beginning of a smile that grew bigger with every light - so, so, so light - peck grazing his skin. Not wanting to actually ruin the sweet moment between them, especially after Pac got the courage to ask for what the mercenary had been wanting to do for a while.

(Cuddle and kiss his boyfriend. Oh god, when did he become such a softie?)

The problem with his hiding tactic is that it only left more spots in the open for Pac to attack and bash in attention, not leaving a single patch of skin alone without a caring goodbye kiss, unknowingly breaking piece by piece Fit’s barriers.

He twitched when his boyfriend got too close to the line of his jaw, the warmth racing up to the tip of his ears in a way he hoped that Pac didn’t realized. The one with blue hoodie and attentive eyes stopped in a hitched breath. Waited.

Fit got his racing heart and tickly tingles under control. He was not going to lose to a few accidental tickles. He was not.

He squeezed Pac’s and drew circles on the back of his hands, turning at him with a teasy smirk and crooked eyebrows.

“Oh, is it my turn now?”

Pac giggled and shook his head. “Wait, wait, I still got…”

Without finishing his sentence he dived and placed a light kiss right under his chin, successfully catching the other out of guard and making one of various locked snickers wheezily flee from his lips, quickly being followed by others when Fit tried to cover his smile, turning around once again.

“Oh, god, I am doing this wrong, aren’t I?” Pac pushed himself away and grumbled, starting to search in his pockets for his warpstone, increasing the other’s snickery fit. “Ok, ok, that is it.Thank you so much for calling, I had an incredible time so now I am going to throw myself off the Cristo Redentor and then go to bed, good night, Fit. Tell Ramón I loved him and tell Richas to take a shower, bye.”

“No, no, Pac. Calma, calma.” Fit held one of his wrists, pulling Pac back to his place on the sofa, chasing his black eyes when they kept running away from his while the scientist kept shaking his head from side to other in a dramatic despair. Fit ended up resting his other hand on his cheek, guiding his look back. “I would never laugh at my brazilian boyfriend.” He tried to not grin smugly when that melted the other’s pout in a shy smile “The kisses just tickled me, that is all.”

That immediately brought Pac’s attention. “Wait, Fit… you’re ticklish?”

“It seems like I am, but I am not sure. Not a lot of chances for bonding and laughing when fighting for your life in 2b2t.”

“Oh, I see.” Silence, Pac’s wrist wiggled out of his hold and suddenly there were warm hands flying to his neck, fingertips dancing on it, blunt nails and wiggly fingers tickling the sensitive spot softly. “So, you’re ticklish.”

Fit huffed a laugh at the strange feeling, instinctively scrunching up his neck all while he tried to not pry Pac’s hands away. Same hands that now spidered their way up to his ears, tracing them and giving each one a few scratches, Pac watching in awe as their tips became more and more colored with each passing second.

“Oh my god, Fit, your ears are so red! Are you blushing? That is really, reeeally cute, you know?”

 Fit’s shoulders began to shake slightly with the effort to keep all the giggles and laughter trapped inside, the task growing more and more difficult as Pac kept his exploring. Fingers tapping their way down to the mercenary’s ribcage, making his torso twitch from one side to another as they started skittering up and down, tracing senseless drawings and forms on the spot. Another fleeing snigger escaped from his firmly pressed lips. There was no way such light, barely even touching touch could tickle that much.

“You can laugh it out, Fit. I bet it will feel much better! Besides,” the gleam in his eyes got sharper and Pac didn’t really lower his voice, but something in his tune changed, a turning point that made a shiver run down Fit’s spine. It didn’t feel like something truly dangerous but alerts began flashing in his mind when the touch became just a tad firmer. 

Fit had to push down the squirms that threatened to push the other away. “You can’t just keep all that laughter only for yourself, now, that wouldn’t be fair. No, no, not fair at all. Keeping all those giggles and snickers hidden from me. Trapped inside. They deserve to be free, you know? So everyone can see how cute they are.”

“Pac…”

But then Pac started digging and his barrier broke. Loud laughter immediately followed the hands vibrating in between his ribs, scribbling, looking for any special spot that would make Fit go insane. Not that he was very far from this, now, head being thrown backwards with how strong his crackles were, because nothing in the world could ever prepare him for the feeling that was being tickled, to have each nerve screaming but not in pain, to have each touch bring a new kind of electricity that traveled his torso and filled his heart with a warmth that made him want to jump out of the sofa and at the same time bring Pac closer.

A curious prodding in a spot in his highest ribs that was almost on his back and Fit slammed his body on the cushion, a snort being pried from his lips and quickly being followed by another and another when the fingers kept drilling and kneading on the spot non stop.

Then he heard it, low as a whisper. “Beautiful….” It came in an awed voice, and in between half lidded eyes Fit saw the one with black hair shake his head, as if getting himself together before slowing down the tickling, thumbs rubbing the remnant tickles as he stared at him. “Sorry, Fitch, I, caham, I got, uh, distracted. Are you okay?” He nodded, chuckles taking over his words and disappearing with any hope of saying something without descending in more of a waterfall of giggles. Still, he tried, the proud smile in Pac’s face erasing his embarrassment in how silly he sounded giddy like this. 

“I’m fine, just surprised that I am dating a tickle monster.”

The brazilian laughed, shaking his head and hiding his face on Fit’s shoulder. “Não, não, não (No, no, no). Mike is actually the tickle monster in our team. I just learned a lot from playing fights with him.” Pac trembled in an exaggerated shudder. “He is merciless.”

“Really?”

“Uh hum.” Pac hummed, thoughtful, before doing a little ‘pop’ sound, hands washing down to his sides, tapping senselessly there. “He had this kind of attack where he would be talking to you and suddenly he would start to tickle you and like, it would be really, really light so you didn’t actually, you know, like, died laughing? But at the same time it would be crazily ticklish! Following you around no matter how much you squirmed or snickered.”

“P-pac, come on…”

The other just hummed, still talking and hands still spidering in their resting position, taking turns in between drawing circles on his sides, feeling how his torso would shake with a new round of chuckles blossoming anew, and scratching the little dive of his hips to make them grow faster.

“Then he would try to keep a conversation going and complain like ‘are you even paying attention to what I’m saying, what’s going on?’ as if he didn’t know what was happening, can you believe?! And you couldn’t just… walk away or keep silly giggling non stop and not answer him, because you’re still in a conversation and that would be rude, right? So you’re just there, laughing and wiggling and it always drives me crazy!”

Fit nodded, knowing the feeling very well, in his opinion. His brain trying to pay attention to his words but getting totally distracted by his own attempts to not wiggle around so much because everytime his body trashed to one side, Pac would just dig his fingers on his sides and drum, which made him jump in the other direction only to receive the same treatment, creating a maddening cycle almost impossible to escape from. 

Once again, laughing began flooding the room, high pitches and wheezy giggles chasing around one or two squeals when a tentative squeeze grazed the spot before quickly jumping away, the unexpected playful attacks blending with the soft scribbles and somehow making him not being able to predict nor prepare for one or the other.

“And then, out of nowhere he would get bored and that is where it lies the danger, Fitch.” Pac’s voice took a turn to a lower tune, torn between a warning and a threat. His tickling came to a halt, fingertips just laying on his waist with occasional twitches. What was more strange, though, was how, even so, the janitor couldn’t stop the titters taking over his mind and body. He wondered if that was how he would finally die, undone and destroyed by his very lovely boyfriend. Pac snickered in mischief and amusement, breaking his mask for a couple of seconds before cleaning his throat and coming back to his persona, interlocutor voice back again.

“Because, when he stops it means that he is getting bored. You know that he is getting bored and he knows that you know that he is getting bored and that it is just a matter of time before he decided that is enough and something happens” he highlighted the word by spidering quickly across his ribs. His voice sounded like it was closer. “So you just stay there, quiet, waiting for the moment he will strike.”

Fit held his breath, eyes closed. His smile was so big that it traveled from one ear to the other. No more laughter was falling from his mouth, but his shoulders still bounced with the phantom tickles that freely pricked his skin and seemed to follow his every squirm. Pac’s hands felt warm - dangerous - where they touched and he was pretty sure that his entire face would melt at some point of this game.

He waited.

Waited. Nothing.

A kiss was pressed on his forehead.

He opened an eye, muscles immediately untensing and relaxing with the scene, even if adrenaline still ran without control in his veins, of Pac happily smiling, just a few centimeters from his face.

“Oi, Fitch.”

“Roi, Pa-ACK!”

Loud, uncontrollable and unstoppable laughter filled the room, Fit still tried to finish his sentence before giving up and succumbing to the snorts and wheezing that took over his laughter. Squeezes, drumming and prodding attacked his sides, kneading on the ticklish spot before scratching their way up to his ribs, burying themselves there and then keeping their way up to his armpits - poking and scribbling and making him lock his arms on his torso - until it got to his ears, changing the loud peals of booming laughter to a hysterical string of snickers only to make he go back to crackling when he attacked his sides again and again, alternating between each and every tickle spot so he couldn’t picture where he was going to tickle next. 

Fit could even swear that at some point he felt a squeeze in his knees that fished a chortle from his lips and an uncontrollable kick from his legs.

It lasted only a couple of minutes. All the electricity and tickly buzzing teased and made him laugh like nothing else mattered, loud and free even when, between his own amused giggling, Pac ceased his mean attack and watched with a giant grin as the other tried to regain his breath, a light blush dusting his face.

“You were saying, Fitch?”

Nonsense. That was exactly what Fit was about to say. Because his brain kind of became a mush after all that attack and the airy giggles that kept flowing from his throat didn’t exactly help him to gather his thoughts nor fade the hotness running still on his face.

“I, er, huh…” and there it was, the sentence got lost to jumpy snickers again. Fit brought a hand to hide them and try to gain at least save a bit of face, but a quick poke on his defenseless armpit made it go immediately down again. He glared without any real heat at his boyfriend, who lifted his arms in rendition.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m done for real, now.”

The silence was extended for a few pieces of time, stretching across them like a cat after a nap. 

Fit was the one who broke it.

“That is Mike’s…” He coughed, cleaning his throat “special tickle attack, then? I can see why you call him merciless.”

“Nah, actually that is my own technique. Mike prefers to catch a person out of guard and tickle while taunting them until they promise to make something for him.”

The surprised, amused huff of laughter that came out from the mercenary’s mouth didn’t have anything to do with wiggly fingers this time and Pac joined him. 

“You’re such a sneaky guy, Pac, you’re such a sneaky guy.”

“Thank you. Gotta learn from the best right? Maybe someday me and Ramón will team up and win the hide and seek against you.” 

“Hmm, you probably would. But maybe I can convince Richarlyson to help me?”

“It would be good. Richas is the best in hide and seek. He would really like to. Hey! We should set up a playdate with them in our Hide and Seek arena. We can even call Tubbo and Sunny, maybe even Philza with Chayanne and Tallulah, if they are awake. The more the merrier, right?”

Fit was sure that if he was shapeshifter like Tubbo, without even wanting to, his eyes would be heart shaped. It never ceases to amaze him how Pac could accept and love everyone - him - like they were and would always be a family to him. 

“But, so?” The brazilian wiggled his eyebrows, a smirk opening in his face. “How is it the experience of being tickled for the first time?”

Maddening. Tortuous. Able to make someone go crazy, he was sure. Surprisingly tiring and unexpectedly effective. Strange. Itchy. A lot. Hard to explain.

But also, it was extremely caring. Warm. Soft. Funny. Bonding. Weird. Extremely silly. He couldn’t stop his smile and thoughts about the gleam and shine in Pac’s eyes when he discovered a new spot or how - strangely enough - light and giddy he was feeling right now.

Besides, he never was self conscious about his laughter or anything but listening to Pac calling him… beautiful, in such an amazed voice… Well, his ego really couldn’t complain.

“It was fun.” He decided to go with that, a playful grin in his face, his hands holding Pac’s and intertwining their fingers. 

“Oh, I’m happy in hear that! Actually, I-”

“But…” Fit cut him, purposely deepening his voice in a tune that never failed to catch the other of guard, sending a cold shiver through his muscles. “I can think of something even more fun.”

“Y-yeah?” Pac’s blush deepened when he looked at the dangerous, sharp, determined shine in Fit’s eyes, his entire mind getting overcomed with a choir of excited screams, burning face at realizing how their intertwined hands was both a soft gesture and a restrain. 

Damn, he was really, really gay.

“Uh hm,” his tune now was almost like a purr of a predator watching his prey wobbly smile back and hold his hands tighter together, knowing very well his fate and still not even trying to escape from it. “It’s something that back on 2b2t we liked to call… revenge.”

With a swift move he pulled their hands and lead Pac to lose his equilibrium, falling backwards on his lap, one hand keeping his arms up and the other lifting his hoodie just the slightest bit, the actual perfect amount for him to immediately shove his face on his stomach and start blowing raspberry after raspberry, quick and ruthless.

“FITCHE!” The sound that came out of his mouth could barely be called a word, the high pitched shout being quickly taken over by a hysterical crackling that made his entire body shake with each laughter. 

His boyfriend just chuckled, lifting his head just enough that his next words would be audible to the other, each one buzzing on the ticklish skin and making tiny, tickly electric shocks dance freely across it. “Oh my, Pac, what a delicious belly you got right here. One of the richest, rarest delicacies I’ve ever seen.” 

“NONONO, FITCH!” He kicked and trashed, trying to roll away from his predicament but being firmly held in place by the other, which was kind of nice, since he wasn’t sure how to explain to Fit that he definitely wasn’t going to run away if he had the chance. 

Still, that didn’t stop the fast, airy and high giggles of painting every syllable of his pleas that began flowing like a stream from his lungs, becoming more and more intelligible with each protest. “Please, please, Fitch anything but that! I will do anything you want! Do you wanna know all Mike’s most ticklish spots? Eu posso te dizer! (I can tell you!) he has this place right under his knees that if you poke he starts making ‘wee’ sounds e é muito engraçado (it’s very funny) Fitche por favor, espera, espera, wait!”

“Sorry, Pac, nothing I can do. I just have to try a little. Raspberries are so delicious and I just… I just gotta, ya know? I just gotta try a little, the tiniest little bit.” He lowered his head once again, carefully and softly nibbling on the ticklish skin and doing a bunch of ‘oh nom nom nom’ sounds as he did so, smugly relishing in how louder Pac’s laughter sounded at this, random portuguese and english being mixed in a series of incoherent talking that he couldn't even hope to understand, even with the translator. 

The raspberries and nibbles began taking turns, dancing all across his stomach and sometimes even escaping to attack one lower rib or two in a way that usually drove Ramón crazy. It was kind of funny and endless endearing to realize that both of his boys were extremely weak for the same kind of tickle attack.

All the while Pac was simply dying. There was no other way to describe it. He was utterly and completely dying, losing every tread of.. everything that wasn’t thinking about how much it tickled and laughing both because Fit (Fit!!!!! His boyfriend Fit!!!!) was teasing and tickling him and also because as it seems he was the goofiest dork that ever existed in this world while doing that and somehow that made all the butterflies flying crazy on his belly and tickly electricity following his nerves one hundred times worse and ticklish and it was amazing.

Fit enjoyed a couple more minutes of the silly attack, fondly realizing how much more hysterical and loud the crackles got everytime he added more “hmmm” and “nom nom nom” sounds.

“There we go, big boy.” He lifted his head and got a glimpse of a gigantic, dazzling smile and a red face before Pac immediately hid it behind his hands, wheezes and snickers filling the room.

“Shuhuhut up!”

Fit grinned, but let go of the teasing and took pity on his brazilian boyfriend. He could quite understand why Pac seemed so happy in destroying him minutes ago. There was just a something that made his heart beat faster just in realizing that he was the reason why Pac was so happy and giggly.

Also, the way that the brazilian’s accent got stronger, especially while saying his name in between unstoppable, uncontrollable giggling… Fit thinks he could live with that, yeah.

“Oh my god, Fitche… and you call me merciless.”

The ex-mercenary chuckled. His eyes hovered over Pac’s face, making sure that he was still breathing and alive (he hadn’t taken too far, did he?) when suddenly his look got attracted to his neck, the memory of what started all of this popping like a flashing lamp in his mind.

“Pac…” It was the low voice again, lighter, but still there. Pac’s entire body froze still for a second and alarmed eyes turned to stare Fit, who seemed strangely fixated on his hoodie. “Is your neck ticklish?”

Oh.

Oh.

Pac 100% blamed the gay screaming in his head for his next words.

“YES!” The shout was as excited as it was loud, making both of them wince at it, Fit looking at the one with black hair with a faintly surprised, crooked eyebrows. “I mean, er, assim, uh, no!!! It’s actually not! NOt even a little bit! What even is ticklish, you know? I don’t even speak english, senhor Fitch eme ce, na verdade, essa é a minha primeira vez aqui na ilha, quem é você e… Não!” (sir Fit eme cee, actually, this is my first time here in the island, who are you and… No!)

The babbling was promptly cut when, once again, Fit chuckled in mischief and shoved his head on Pac’s neck. 

Butterfly kisses followed the line of his jaw, attacked that spot under his chin, tickled the place where the collarbone and the neck met, each patch of sensitive skin getting a kiss and a raspberry as a gift, making a series of snorts and high dazed giggles quickly follow the initial surprised shriek and jump around the entire room, Pac’s arms coming to rest on the other’s chest, partially pushing him away and partially holding him, legs kicking behind them with how much adrenaline and giddiness jumped across his muscles and filled his heart.

Pac hid his face on the crook of Fit’s neck, attempting to at least survive a few more seconds from dying of embarrassment, each snort and hysterical high pitched snicker sealing even more his fate and putting another nail in his coffin.

A few curious squeezes on his sides and a final, long raspberry and then Fit finally let him go, watching as the other got his breath again, forgetting for once to hide his blush and brilliant smile into his hoodie, looking completely lost in his own laughing fit. Adorable. 

Sometimes Fit wondered how could he be so lucky.

A loud click and a flashing light brought both of them out of their thoughts. Pac almost falling from the sofa when he turned around and saw Ramón quickly hid a camera behind his back while passing three copies of the pictures to Richas, who stopped making gagging noises to hide them on his protected backpack before the adults could take it.

“Richarlyson, Me dá essas fotos!” (Give me those pictures!)��

“Ramón, what are you doing awake? You should be sleeping. It’s late.”

Ramón had the sense to look at least a tad admonished, but the expression quickly disappeared when Richas began jumping on the same spot, wiggling from one side to another like he always did when he wanted to cause more mischief. The kids exchanged a look.

“Nenê (Baby), no. Don’t follow Richas’ example, he is a little demon.” 

The sandal that went flying across the room and hit the brazilian in the face - which actually led to him falling from the cushions - only further proved this fact. Still, Richas let out plenty of offended noises while getting his sandal back, showing off his tongue when Ramón shoved him and shook his head in disapproval. 

Fit tried his best to not laugh and sound serious. “Richas, do not hit your dad.”

“Don’t worry, Fitch.” Pac tapped his arm, getting up from the floor, tsking. “There is no other way, I guess. I’ll have to kill him. Yeah, it was fun to have a son for a while.”

The mercenary laughed, knowing very well how much of a weak heart Pac had for his little troublemaker. “Calma, calma, Pac. I think I have the solution. Since the kids are feeling so… energetic, we should probably tire them out before putting them back in bed, right?” 

He also got up and gave Pac a Look, pretending to not see Ramón pulling Richas’ sleeve and exchanging warning words to him, knowing very well what that playful, dangerous shine in his dad’s eyes meant.

Pac grinned, mirroring his own devilish expression. “I think you’re right, Fit.”

Richas once again wiggled around in energy, his dragon tail tapping on the floor while Ramón threw a flower at Pac (smart boy, Fit thought, winning the melting heart from the dad that would have more mercy, very smart) and jumped on the same place, smiling and nodding in excitement.

He then pulled Richas away, starting the chase. Pac immediately following behind with joyfuls “I’m gonna catch you!”.

Fit chuckled.

Maybe Pac was right. 

Maybe life - he - was more than just die and kill. 

Well… he rolled his shoulders and followed his family in their game, laughing excitedly. He would have to enjoy it while it lasted, then.

[iambic-stan]

Trains

Feeling reluctant but excited, I present the fourth installment of my stories about these three queer folks who are living rent-free in my cardiophilia-addled brain haha. And here's a sorta related gif.

I talked myself into waiting months for this because I'd read the room.  I'd waited decades already--what was a few more months?  When I was younger I dreamed of finding someone who could relate to everything I felt.  None of the fantasies I composed in my head involved my girlfriend's best friend--or someone over a decade my junior, at that.  But being queer in the Deep South is very much about finding and making your own family, and that family might not look like what you'd initially envisioned.  Even though learning we were both cardiophiles made Elena perk up tremendously, once we got past the dozens of conversations about stethoscope brands and what I once thought would be a bottomless well of those childhood stories that screamed "oh I'm different" like feeling uncomfortable during the Pledge of Allegiance at school and finding oneself surreptitiously watching a teacher's neck pulse during a lecture, she mostly went back to being the Elena I'd known before.  She was quiet, shy, awkward, and afraid to take up space, unless I could get her drunk and see her babbling, playful side.  I knew it was always there because Tori had seen plenty of it, even during sober moments, so I realized I had work to do.  She needed to feel comfortable, to be assured that she was never imposing.  What I needed was patience because every time she took me and Tori on a hike, I took us to the skating rink, or we all danced the night away to someone crooning "Mr. Brightside" at karaoke, the feeling of my own heart pounding compelled me to look in her direction and wonder if hers was, too. 

One late night, the three of us stood mesmerized in a cramped bar as a queen decked out in a lot of green, red, and yellow latex with a fire engine wig flipped, death-dropped, and duck-walked her way through a club remix of Chappell Roan's "Hot to Go,"--the unofficial song of the summer.  By a lesbian, no less.  

"What's her name again?" Tori yelled over the loud music.

"Toni Sasseries," Elena yelled back.

Tori beamed, "I love her so much!"  She pulled a $5 bill out of her fuzzy pink wallet and skipped her way to the front of the crowd.  Elena and I watched as she reached up to the stage, holding the bill and smiling like a small child on a merry-go-round.  Her enthusiasm was rewarded by Miss Sasseries, who leaned over the edge of the stage, grabbed Tori's hand, kissed her cheek and took her bill all in one motion.  This excited Tori even further and we thought she might burst as then practically leapt her way back to us like some kind of human pogostick.  Elena beamed and gave Tori a quick hug. One thing that I noticed transformed Elena was a good drag show, even more so if booze was available.  Luckily, a live and in-person drag show was something we could all agree on.  Local drag was my thing, though I'd tried to watch Rupaul's Drag Race as a way to connect with Elena, who was only two or three steps away from being a "superfan."  But the scripted, contrived nature of the reality show, coupled with some lazy storytelling, made it a hard sell for me.  The queens couldn't seem to make it through an episode without engaging in a petty but trumped up squabble, more venom than tongue-in-cheek shade escaping their lips.  I always had to resist the urge to yell at the TV, "It doesn't fucking matter!  The conservatives want us all dead anyway!"  After a while I just stuck to YouTube highlights of the best lip syncs, Snatch Games, runways, and various acting challenges instead.  Better than paying for a subscription service anyway.  That way I could more or less keep up but keep my blood pressure down.

"She's like a prettier, greener Tina Burner," Elena observed, nodding in the direction of Toni Sasseries.

"Uh-huh," I nodded, thinking I might have to Google that one to jog my memory.

My kink, though I wouldn't call it that because it's far more, was seeing these ladies, gentlemen, enbies--you name it--in person.  I love beautiful gowns but I love crustiness equally.  And in a poor state, you get more of the latter than the opulence.  I wanted to be so close I could see the person behind the drag for myself.  I wanted to breathe the same air, maybe get a chance to chat after the show.  I wanted to witness all the physical flaws, the hardness made soft and vice versa, and the voices that didn't quite match the faces (and yet they did, somehow). I appreciated queer art that my usual no-nonsense t-shirt-and-wind-pant, no-makeup-wearing self could never create. When their necklines were low (or even if they weren't) I dreamed about bringing a stethoscope to the bar to listen to their hearts, especially following a strenuous dance number.  Back in college, there was one I knew well enough to ask--an older king named Beau Bridge who went on smoke breaks alone on the patio after the show.  He was a retired stage manager for the local community theater, hilariously irreverent show host, and avid reader of sci-fi authors I didn't learn about in school like Octavia Butler and Neal Stephenson. I don't know why I trusted him more than most people I met, but my instincts were correct.  One night I was carrying on to him about a bad breakup and he was imparting all sorts of wisdom as a 65-year-old domestically-partnered (same-sex marriage was illegal at the time) lesbian when I realized (with the assistance of a Long Island) that I might be bold enough.  He was amenable and two weeks later, I was back with a burgundy Littmann Master Cardiology. Other patrons looked on curiously when I pulled it out of my backpack.  I thought my own heart would burst as he unbuttoned a few buttons on his shirt, pulled his binder down to his stomach, turned to me so I could access the space between his breasts, and smiled mischievously.  Cigarette smoke wafted past while I listened and I hated the smell as well as knowing it was the reason his heart was racing, but it was so beautiful it took my breath away.  At intervals, I allowed myself to imagine it was beating so fast because I was listening, even though I knew better.  I probably sat there and listened for twenty minutes while his heart rate rose and fell and I caught a few PVCs here and there.  I felt like I'd learned something new about the woman behind this older king, hearing her heartbeat while he smiled at me.  There was a certainty--a steadfast rhythm in my mind, at least when I compared it to my own.  I couldn't really tell you how, but it made me confident of something I'd doubted for all of my youth.  I didn't think I'd ever be able to tell him, or the woman behind him, what a watershed moment it was for me.

When I was finished, he chuckled softly and said, "Ok, kiddo, you know all my secrets now?" 

I immediately blushed, then fixed my face into a small smile and said, "I just might."

That moment was what I remembered most from that night, though the public auscultation drew attention from other bar patrons, who wanted to borrow my stethoscope and listen to each other.  "What did you bring this for?" one person asked, while another exclaimed, "This is actually kinda cool," as they passed it to a friend and asked to be listened to.  For a fleeting moment, I was almost popular.  I did some more listening myself, but no one's heart compared to Beau's in my mind, really.  I think I was a bit infatuated with him and a little in need of some parental guidance at the same time.  I hadn't had the guts to tell anyone in my life about all of my conflicting feelings about my gender.

I never got a chance to tell Beau I'd come out as nonbinary my junior year, though, because he and his wife moved to her hometown in Maine after she retired from one of the local colleges.  I sometimes wonder if deep down, he knew.  I never even got to see him out of drag.  I knew his real first name was Thelma.  There was so much more I wanted at that point--for him to listen to my own pounding heart, to be able to hear his (well, hers) again--but there was no time and I had to tell myself it was enough.  Besides, he understood it, yet didn't.  It was a novelty to him, and something he did because he cared for me.  Not unlike Tori, just, well, minus the sex and romance.  But he was a huge part of why drag would always be something special to me. 

"Gawwwd what have you done?!?  You're a pink pony girl, and you dance at the club oh...by the way," Tori spoke-sang mid-song, "did you see where Elena went?"  I had not.

I found myself staring at her chest and the words registered slowly, as they sometimes do when you're wasted.  I rested my hand there and I could feel the vibration beneath it.  Indescribable.

"Are you feeling me up in public?" she asked coyly.

I was not, but it didn't sound like a bad idea in my inebriated state.  I laughed and shook my head, then saw the recognition in her eyes.  "Is it fast?" she asked sweetly.

"It kind of is.  Really nice," I told her.

"Ok, you," she laughed, rolling her eyes playfully.  "I'll grab more booze. You will go outside and see if Elena's ok, because I'm pretty sure she's on the patio.  You know how it goes."

"Me?" I asked, feeling like a man in a cheesy romantic comedy who fucked up and was stuck holding a purse for hours in a shopping mall or changing an infant's dirty diaper.  It wasn't how I meant for it to come out; it was just that it was always Tori.  She was Elena's friend first; she understood her getting overstimulated--or at least tried to.  "Ok I didn't mean for it to sound quite like that," I confessed.

Elena could be found just where Tori had suspected.  She seemed to be staring at nothing and I couldn't determine what state of mind she was in at first. 

"Konnor, hey!" she smiled. 

"We're missing you....aaaaaaaahhhh!" I yelped, jumping backward quicker than I'd approached.  "What the hell is that demonic-looking thing?!?"  A large bow-legged bug that seemed to have massive biceps and dead eyes sat on the railing right beside her, and she was petting it.

She turned to me and smiled, her eyes betraying this child-like happiness that seemed wrong for the circumstances.  "It's a giant water bug! I'm not handling it because their bite is painful, but I love my hemipterans.  They call them 'toe-biters', too."

"I'm sure they do," I said, deadpan.  We watched as the creature half flew, half leapt into a puddle of rainwater in the parking lot, wings momentarily illuminated by streetlights.  Good riddance.

I turned my attention back to Elena.  "So you're ok?"  I closed more of the space between us since it now meant I wouldn't have a miniature beast in my periphery.

"Oh yeah--I was going to come right back but then I was all oooooh lethocerus americanus, haha!  By the way, I talked to Toni.  For the first time, actually.  Usually I'm just admiring her from afar and liking everything she posts on IG and Tiktok.  But she was out here and an actual conversation took place, more or less.  She's doing a gig in New Orleans next month.  At this uptown brunch spot.  Maybe we could make it a day trip.  I'd be happy to drive.  Or if we all wanted to get tipsy, do some more exploring, or whatever, we could get a hotel suite or something.  So y'all have your own room."

She stopped abruptly and looked at me, somewhere between excited and panic-stricken, like she didn't mean to say everything out loud.  A few seconds passed, then she added, "I mean if y'all want--"

"Yes!  That would be so much fun!  Of course we need to make sure it works with all of our schedules, but if so, I'm 200% in."

"I hope so.  I haven't been to New Orleans in forever."

"Same," I agreed.

"Well I'm good for round 2 of the show if you are.  I had my little break," she smiled and started for the door.

"Um, wait," I faltered, suddenly thinking I needed to say it just then.  Of course at that instant, a train rushed down the tracks yards away, whistle blaring.  It was so loud, though I swore the pounding in my chest was louder.  What timing. I felt my face redden.  A ridiculous overreaction, I thought.  Neither of us even glanced at the train--we were so accustomed to conversations being interrupted by them in this part of the city.

Elena let out a chuckle and sat down on a bench.  I sat down beside her, glancing at the familiar stethoscope necklace she matched with her Sailor Moon skater dress.  For a few seconds, I stared at it and watched her breathe, marveling at the notion that the typically-anxious one of us was calmer.

"Can I listen to your heart sometime?"  There.  It was out there, hovering in humid, swampy air.  But not for long.

Her arms were around my shoulders before I realized it.  "I really want to listen to yours, too," I heard her say over my shoulder.  She pulled back and looked right at me, then shifted her eyes down to the ground.  "Also would want to use my new teaching stethoscope with you.  You know, so we could both listen to each other at once?"

"That, certainly," I said. "Wait, are you crying?"

"Oh, uh no--see how it's kind of misting out here?  Rain was in the forecast for this evening," she assured me.

"Right," I said with a knowing smile.

[three-of-crows]

9 People You Want to Know Better

I was tagged by @jean-dieu. Thanks for including me!

Three ships:

1. Lannya (Lann X Ekaterina) of course, because these two dummies live rent free in my head for more than one year now! And I didn’t finish their romance route due Capitalism issues (aka working as hell).

Although both of them have high wisdom, they play dumb for a long time, and are very aware about it. Lann for his fear of dying soon and leaving her alone and heartbroken. Katya for her current duties, and for she still blaming herself for letting beloved ones died because of her in the past.

But when the emotional threshold goes down, they are so soft with each other. And defend themselves more ferouciously than ever.

It takes me to the second ship, an actual OT3...

2. The Kindred, Kadyann (Kadira — @spyridonya 's creature —, Ekaterina and Lann). Three descendants of legendary people (and celestial being!) stuck together and slowly notice how much each one cares about the other. Though they came from different places, somehow there is a powerful force bonding them. Blood or spirit, it doesn’t matter: Ekaterina says for herself that she loves them on purpose.

3. Minovae X Regill. Mino is @silversiren1101 's creature. That pair is the Power Couple™️ Lannya aspire to be. Though without the part when they try to kill each other... thrice.

Last Song:

Cold Cold Man (Saint Motel)

Last Movie:

Last Night in Soho

Currently Reading:

Im about to start 'Forged in the Darkness' (Dr Joanna LaPrade)

Currently Watching:

Nothing for now.

Currently Eating:

For now, I just had a belated breakfast. Salty caramel cappuccino and bread.

Currently Craving:

My Vacation!

Favorite Color:

Purple

Current Obsession:

Coming back to Pathfinder WOTR brainrot yay

Last thing I googled:

Bus tickets

Skill I’d like to learn:

Customizing my own cosplays and larp-related itens. My husband and my mother-in-law are good at that, I'd like to be too.

Best advice:

You can’t do friends with everyone. Someone will always think of you as a prick. So be it.

Tagging (though I suspect that many of you already replied this one): @spyridonya @dujour13 @thesolemnhour @arrow90-quiver @arendaes @dmagedgoods @amatres @ you that is reading it right now

[princessleiadelrey]

Cherik song of the day is Goodbye My Green Heart by Dune Moss!

Little different take on this one- I think looking at this song you can go two ways (remember we’re in the movie-verse): you can liken it to Cherik, or Erik/Magda and the loss he feels during Apocalypse.

For the sake of brevity, I won’t be breaking down the Erik/Magda version but it’s easy to see.

Highlights include:

“You won't survive although I still try. Limitless kill all this hustle and bustle”

When I hear this I think about First Class, the death of their relationship. The second line “limitless kill…” is a good reference to how Erik’s life has always been transient, revenge based, hell bent on killing Shaw and those that try to harm mutants.

“Wake up the child It's time to run wild, I'll run away and while you fade to gray”

Good reference to Erik taking Raven and leaving - he’s running away and Charles is losing everything.

“Ohh goodbye my green heart”

Their relationship is full of goodbyes. I.e. Dofp “goodbye, Erik.” Being Charles last words to Erik.

“I can't flee you time never stopped for me the leaves are falling down”

Even as time passes Erik can’t help but think of Charles. (He lives rent free in Erik’s head)

“I can't see I only feel you cause the days are counting down”

Even miles (worlds) apart, at times Erik thinks he can still sense Charles. He remembers what it’s like to feel the telepath in his head (and in his arms).

“I have some pebbles and hefty big boulders, I have been trying to fit them inside”

This is fitting for Apocalypse Erik - dealing with being forced to always be the monster. The boulders are the trauma and pain he feels, they’re too big for his body, but he still tries to hold it all in.

“Thе wise crone is calling and I'll keep on stalling, I won't let go, I'll bleed in thе snow”

The wise crone in this situation could represent death, or succumbing to those animal/violent instincts. But he’s holding himself back because Erik knows that Charles said that he has good inside of him. He’s fighting those instincts to some degree - he knows that he can be good, he’ll bare the pain.

I adore this song, it’s almost haunting and I love the way it works for them!

Don’t forget to send song of the day suggestions! 💚

[whatgaviiformes]

i'm absolutely windswept

I started Thunderteers in May of 2019. I remember very distinctly being out to dinner with Hubs, coordinating the AU concept almost entirely for a long, epic first story. We were at a Chili's and I had my usual indecisive platter of appetizers as my meal. As of today there's only been 3 chapters of what mapped out that day. Some of it made it to paper. I've never been great at those long epics - I love reading them, but my writing brain is most solid with the 1K-6K word length.

So I started building the world with fic. I wrote about Virgil playing the violin, and how he made music. I explored Gordon's accident, and what it could've happened in place of a hydrofoil. I reached for Military!Bros instead of my usual FishTank, and explored the truth behind legends. I forced myself to make and break OCs, spent way too much time researching when songs were created, recipes of the time, if certain animals were classified the same way, and what name a city may have had in 1774.

Other things I decided not to research at all.

Above all that, before I posted a new story or fic, I asked myself if the imagery was there, and was it something I was proud of? Because I knew - the only way I could get others to set sail with me, was to make sure I was taking you on the journey. Not if it was historically accurate, but does this feel like our boys, and are they interacting with the environment in a way that feels like it would still be them? Is it possible to still see Gordon? Still see Scott?

That was my first AU.

Naturally, in asking myself this, I've had different images in my head all this time, and I was lucky enough this month to have the chance to ask the amazing @chenria to bring one of them to life for me. You can find the post below:

Sailor Gordon by Chenria.

Go like it, reblog it, send her support, consider joining her patreon if you can. She knocked it out of the park, and in so doing - inspired me along the way.

If you decide to read Thunderteers, just know - it's not always beautiful.

But this one - it's all love and heart. I've written the snippet for Windswept as a thank you to chenria's amazing work, to everyone who puts up with my reblogging posts for the age of sail (#ships ships ships) or who tag me in things to see, or have Wellerman living rent free in their heads and let me play along. Thanks to those that have read the story, maybe cried along, or sent me words of encouragement.

Thank you for letting me experiment with language and story, and sometimes - when I get really lucky- for the words I've written to matter to you.

*****

Windswept (~500 words)

As far as clouds go, Gordon is among the strangest. The wind tugs at his clothing, hanging loose and informally on his silhouette, and at his hair where he stands aloft amidst the sails. The seabirds close to shore weave their dance between the ropes above, circling him curiously. Even though his form is strange to them, he’s not unwelcome in their home in the air. If anything, he’s just a part of the flying clouds that make up the rigging of their ship.

The gulls’ calls sound like laughter, and he smiles with them. The birds will accompany the ship for a time, darting towards the quick meal at the bow where the front of the ship often disturbs the sea life below. If the voyage is to be a lucky one, they’ll grace the wood of the ship with a gift or two that’ll be left to wash away only with the next rain.

Gordon can feel the sway of the ship stronger from above; though with the Thunderbird still anchored close to shore, the waves are gentle as they lap against her firm hull. The movement is a tease for the voyage ahead, as Gordon has always found himself more comfortable in their journeys out to sea than he’s ever felt in his tentative steps on land. The ship has watched him grow and come of age, from awkward limbs racing up the rigging, to strong shoulders heaving her lines and helming her wheel. She’s given him the freedom to roam, to explore lands and seas unknown, and even with the thrill of adventure, Gordon feels most safe in the comfort of her embrace. If that isn’t a home, he doesn’t know what else is.

He knows her in the early morn - the way the sunrise paints cotton and how the mist tingles at the fuzz on his arms at the start of his shift. He knows the echo of their shanties within her oak beams, and the squeak of her joy when the creatures of the sea ride along with her bow waves upon them really catching the wind and when the tang of citrus remains on his tongue from breaking fast.

He knows her in the rain, the smell of wood and cotton when burdened with wet from above as well as below, the crackle of lightning in its brief and staggered illumination of her flags. He knows her in the cold, when the puff of his breath is visible and the wind cuts into his skin. Among whales, massive and elegant as they groan their song into her hull.

He knows her in the evening – Virgil and John’s cooking and their different nuances for flavor and spice, the vibrato of Virgil’s violin paired with the warm timbre of the Scott’s cello pulsing along her foundations. The way she creaks below Alan’s eager footsteps.  He knows the soft glow around flame-lit lanterns in the darkest of night and the hush of melodies uttered in multiple languages up towards twinkling stars. The way his hammock rocks him to sleep with her movement.

He knows her in both fair winds and motionless skies, in the brightest of sunlit days and the most cloud-covered of nights. Through doldrums, archipelagos, and the far reaches of the seas, and along coastlines, he knows her.  

And his soul trembles just as she does, her unfurled sails shuddering in anticipation of catching the wind.

TBC..?