#this is just a smattering of thoughts and feels and a little adorable kiss

[cower-before-power]

As Mortals Do

Pairing: Gale X Fem Reader

Summary: As much as you enjoy being with Gale in the Weave, you love being with him just as he is more- aka All The Ways Mystra Missed Out

Warnings: Implied sex, very light grinding, mentions of oral (both on Gale and reader), I guess a smattering of angst?? But mostly soppy romantic, sexy fluff. MINORS STAY AWAY!

Word Count: approx 1300

A/N: I haven't written anything for ages but I'm obsessed with BG3 and Gale, just had a little idea and decided to jot it down. I hate hate hate Mystra, Gale deserves all the love and adoration just as he is, and this is me giving it to him haha. I'm not a Weave sex expert, nor do I know for sure if Gale and Mystra did it outside the Weave, but this is my fic and I'll do what I want!

Mystra is a fool, you think.

It’s not a new thought. You often find your mind turning to the goddess, and the depths of her raging stupidity. How she cast aside a man so full of love and devotion, a man whose heart bled worship and loyalty, a man who gives and gives and gives. A man like Gale Dekarios deserves to be loved as much as he loves, to be held near and never let go of.

Her loss is your gain, you think to yourself smugly, as you lay on your lover’s chest, the two of you basking in the sweet afterglow of your lovemaking. Gale is all yours now. His mind yours to delight in, his body yours to lose yourself in, his heart yours to cherish as the precious thing that it is.

You do not intend to replicate her mistakes.

“I can hear the gears in your brain turning, love,” Gale’s rich voice rumbles softly under your ear. “Spare a thought?”

You prop yourself up on an elbow, allowing yourself to drink deep of his satisfied visage before you answer. Gale is truly a vision after you’ve wrung pleasure from him, eyes aglow and face flushed, happiness exuding from every pore. You keep the image tucked close to your heart, a special treasure for you and you alone to revel in.

“I was just reflecting on the folly of your previous lover, darling. As I often do.”

Mystra’s name no longer brings pain to his dark eyes. Instead, he quirks a brow, no doubt curious as to the train of your thoughts.

“Oh? And in what way do you find fault in her this time?”

You brush your fingers along his cheek, his forehead, the slope of his nose. His skin is warm and slick with sweat. “I couldn’t help but think how foolish of her to never have you like this, in this mortal plane. She missed out greatly.”

Gale catches the hand tracing his face, bringing it to his mouth to kiss each of your fingertips. A shiver of delight skitters up your spine.

“How do you figure that?” He asks, lips moving to press more kisses to your palm, your wrist. You want to melt into his gentle devotion, but you have a point you wish to make. Gently, you prise your hand from his grasp, settling it over his beating heart.

You grin down at him. “Don’t mistake me, sex in the Weave is incredible. Every time you take me in there, I’m drowned in ecstasy. Our very souls meeting, entwining like that? It’s not something I ever thought I’d experience, and I’m thrilled I get to. With you.”

Gale smiles at that. “I’m glad to show you those delights, my love.”

“But,” you lean forward and press your lips to his quickly, gently. “as pleasurable as the Weave is, it skips a lot of my favourite parts.”

Gale’s mouth opens, no doubt to inquire what you mean, but you silence him with a firmer press of your lips.

“Your ethereal paramour did not have many glorious experiences, darling,” your breath mingles with his as your lips brush teasingly. “She did not get to feel the smoothness of your lips the graze of your beard against her skin as you kiss her. Or how it bites deliciously against her sensitive inner thighs.”

You nip his bottom lip softly, relishing in the hitch of his breath and the flutter of his lashes.

“She did not smell your scent, sandalwood and mulled wine and bound leather, and how it mixes with the musk of sex and passion into an elixir I wish I could bathe in.” To drive your point, you lower your face to rest in the crook of his neck, inhaling a generous lungful of said aroma. It sends a visible shudder right through you, and you feel yourself already wanting for your wizard again.

Your tongue sneaks out to lave a long stripe up the side of his neck. and the soft groan that tears from Gale’s throat makes your whole being positively ache with need.

“She did not taste your sweat, the salty tang of your spend. She did not feel the wonderful heaviness of you on her tongue, the little twitch right before you spill. Or see the way you look so thoroughly and splendidly debauched after I’m done with you.”

You climb atop him, hands braced on his chest as he grips your hips harshly. Gods above, he is a truly beautiful sight. You think you are the luckiest woman in all Faerun, to have such a man beneath you.

“She did not get to feel how warm you are inside her, how delicious it feels to be flooded with your seed. How connecting in that base, physical manner can feel just as wonderful as a merging of souls.”

To emphasize your words, you grind your hips against his, mewling softly at the feel of him growing between your thighs. Gale himself is practically panting, his sweet brown eyes nearly swallowed by dark lust, his own hips rutting up into yours mindlessly as he hangs on your every word.

You lean over him, chest to chest, face to face. Close as close can be, just the way you always want to be.

“She missed out on so much you have to offer,” you whisper, “and I’m not sorry for her. I’m greedy, all of this-intimacy, unconditional love, an equal partnership-with you is mine and mine alone.”

Gale snaps then, leaning up to capture your mouth in a voracious kiss. You sigh and sag into him, letting him devour your mouth as his hands wander the expanse of your naked skin. His kiss excites, his touch inflames, your bodies melt together like they were made to be entwined.

You firmly believe they were.

Lips meet, tongues dance, sighs and groans mingle in the soft moonlight. You soft whimpers of delight however, are soon abruptly turned into a squeal as he flips you under him. “Gale!”

Your wizard simply smiles down at you in awe and reverence. You think his eyes might be glassed with unshed tears. “My love, your words….I would ask if you truly mean them, but you’ve been quite the persistent one in making me believe my own worth.”

You return his smile. “I am annoying in that way, aren’t I?”

“Doggedly so,” Gale teases, kissing your nose as it scrunches up at his jesting. “But, I appreciate it. More than even my verbose vocabulary can explain, if you can believe that.”

You giggle. “My wizard of words? Unable to explain something? I certainly cannot believe it.”

Gale’s smile turns salacious. “No matter. I’m learning the benefit of expressing myself physically when words fail me.” He shifts, hard as steel against you, and a moan strangles itself in your throat. “Now, my love, my light, my darling precious gem, shall I express my feelings on your lovely speech with my body? Allow you to enjoy all the things you just praised so eloquently?"

He shifts again, and you cant your hips upwards with a whine, desperation seeping into your pores. You want to have him, again and again again, unending, unyielding. You feel like you might go mad if you don't.

Gale’s reciprocation of your hunger shines down upon you like the sun. “Let me indulge in you, sweetheart,” he croons lowly, “let me bring you to the heights of pleasure. In all the corporeal ways that mortals do.”

Your heart cracks open, joy overflowing. There is no greater bliss. He is bliss, in all that he is and all that he gives to you.

“Yes, please,” you murmur, as Gale presses in and consumes you whole. “As mortals do.”

[dfortrafalgar]

Just A Little More Time

Law x Fem Reader

Law wants more, and winter break seems like the perfect opportunity. Indeed, he wants more... but not at the cost of your relationship.

A/N: Another bonus chapter for IMLY, the masterlist of which I will link below! I wrote this MONTHS ago and have a second part to follow that I still have to finish. You can definitely read this without reading the entirety of the main fic, but there are parts of this that directly reference IMLY, so there's a potential that these might not make as much sense ;3;

Warnings: Mentions of sex but nothing explicit, hints of past sexual trauma, allusions to medical issues, in general fluff and law being a dork

[IMLY Masterlist]

PLAY IT SAFE!  USE PROTECTION!

Law stared blankly at the bowl of condoms situated outside the student activities office.  A tiny index card placed beneath the pink plastic bin said they were free to take, but the biology undergrad felt beyond awkward reaching into the bowl to grab a few.  Would he even need them?  Everything had been going so well with you that he was worried he was going to jynx himself with every tiny action and idea.  For the first time in his life, he found something he truly, desperately wanted to hold onto.  He had fallen in love… and fallen hard.

Biting back his growing anxiety, and ignoring the off-put stares from students walking by, Law reached into the bowl, grabbed three wrapped condoms, and frantically stuffed them into the pocket of his baggy cargo pants.  He briskly trudged out of the building and began his walk through the brisk winter air across the campus to the dining hall where you promised to meet him.  A light snow was floating through the air, coating the frozen ground with powdery white that crunched beneath his shoes, the salted pavement of the walkways helping with traction.  His heart hammered at the mere thought of seeing you again- you had been so busy with final exams that the two of you had barely been able to spend time together, the pressure mounting even higher as the two of you wrapped up your third year as undergrads.  And although you were only officially dating for about three months, Law was endlessly looking forward to the next time he got to see you.

And he was really counting his blessings.  For the entire two months of winter break, you were staying together in his single dorm on campus.  He didn’t have much of a home to return to, usually choosing to stay with Shachi and Penguin.  You chose not to return home, finding distress in your family life.  And besides, who wouldn’t want to spend the winter cuddling under fluffy blankets with an adorable, nerdy med student?

Law pushed through the doors of the dining hall and proceeded into the expanse of tables and chairs, the same dining hall where he first found his heart racing at the sight of you.  The circumstances recently had been far nicer though, and it turned out his chronic resting-bitch face made for a pretty good bodyguard-type vibe, exactly what you needed to feel safe walking around the open campus of North Blue University.  You were hunched over one of the small tables in the back of the cafeteria, your chin resting against your fist as you flipped through a comic magazine, one that Law had leant you a week prior.  The bio student felt his lips pull into a small smile at the sight.

Sensing his approach, you picked your head up, a broad grin immediately appearing on your face as you stood from your chair and engulfed him in a hug.  A baggy crew-neck sweater adorned with the university’s logo enveloped you, your lavender and vanilla perfume wafting around Law in serene waves.  While he wasn’t ever a fan of PDA, there were so few people in the dining hall that he felt comfortable placing his hands on your waist and dipping you back just enough to reach the soft skin of your neck, peppering a smattering of kisses over your skin before releasing you.  Your bright, airy chuckles made his stomach twist with nervous butterflies.  The condoms in his pants pocket felt like they were lava, oozing and searing through the fabric.

“How was your last final?” you asked excitedly, pulling away from him to gather your things from the table.  You closed the magazine and held it toward him, Law happily accepting it back and tucking it into his backpack.

“It went well, I think.  I’ve never been great with language classes, though,” he muttered back, awkwardly rubbing his neck where the short black hairs reached the top of his spinal cord.

You grinned, almost blinding the man, slinging your own bag over your shoulder and grabbing his hand in yours.  Your fingers intertwined seamlessly.  “I’m sure you did absolutely amazing, you ace every single class you take.”

“I appreciate it,” Law replied, his voice low as he smiled at you, your eyes creased as they adjusted to the outside light.  “How were your’s?”

As quickly as your face beamed upon seeing your boyfriend, it morphed into a disinterested scowl.  “Language was fine.  Math on the other hand…”

“I thought it was an open note exam,” he inquired.

“It was.  The bastard TA decided last minute to make it closed-book.  Didn’t tell anyone until today, when the exam started.”  You were grumbling, stuffing your free hand into the pocket of your coat.  “I swear, the dude sitting next to me looked ready to end it all.  I might have too, but I have too much to look forward to.”

Law’s chest panged.  He knew it was a simple joke, but ever since forming your relationship, seeing you in any state other than happy and content was a health hazard for him.  He squeezed your hand, keeping the skin of your palm warm.  “I’m sure you did fine.  You tried your best, at least.”

“True, that’s all you can ask for, really.”  You stifled a yawn.  “Trying my best.”

The black-haired man’s heart raced more and more while approaching the door to his dorm building with you in tow, the three metallic-wrapped items in his pocket growing more and more scorching the closer he got to his room.  He was convinced he might pass out.  He was wildly regretting the choice to grab them, worried that you would get the wrong idea if you saw them, thinking he’d be pressuring you into something you weren’t ready for, thinking that this entire two-month relationship was nothing more than–

“Law?”

Your delicate voice broke him from his anxious spiral.  When did the two of you get into the elevator?

You were staring up at him, large eyes creased in concern.  “You look really nervous.  Are you alright?”

He gulped.  “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?  I can just go back to my own room if you’re suddenly not feeling well, I still have some things I have to pack up,” you offered.

Law’s hand was growing clammy in yours.  He prayed you couldn’t tell.  “No, you can stay.  I’m fine.”

Your own hand flexed in his, and while you turned your gaze away from him, you didn’t seem convinced at his answer.

One thing Law still struggled with, and something that he would probably always struggle with, was facing his emotions head on.  The last thing he wanted to admit out loud was the fact that he had grabbed three condoms from the student activities bowl with the hopes that two months of living in a small room with you would mean a potential score.  He didn’t even know if they would fit.  Were condoms one-size-fits-all?  He had no idea.  He’d never had sex before.

The low beep of the elevator’s button panel signaling their destination shook him once again from his own mind.  You losened your grip on his hand, worried that it was you who was the cause of his sudden nervous demeanor.

“Hey, Law,” you whispered, the quiet hallway absorbing your voice.  You stopped him in front of the elevator as it closed, standing directly in front of him to capture his eyes with your own.  “Take a deep breath with me, alright?”

You slowly inhaled through your nose, feeling how your ribs expanded ever so slightly as your lungs swelled with the warm air of the dorm building.  Law followed your lead, sucking in oxygen through his nose.  You had some sort of supernatural ability to make him feel better instantly, better than any form of medication or clinical treatment.  His shoulders relaxed as he exhaled with you.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t be,” you replied, a small smile on your lips.  You stepped closer to him, pressing a kiss against the corner of his mouth.  “I just want you to know that you can talk to me if something’s bothering you.”

Law swallowed another thick glob of spit down his esophagus before mustering a weak nod.  “I know.”

Footsteps down the hallway sparked a fire under Law’s feet, quickly dragging you to his door as innocuous as he could, jamming the key into the bolt and clicking open the lock.  He pushed the wooden barrier open with his hand and ushered you inside as you giggled over his frantic movements, not wanting to be seen by any potential bystanders.  Choosing to ignore any playful comments about his shyness, you instead kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your coat, making a beeline to Law’s single twin-sized bed and flopping onto the surprisingly plush comforter that covered his mattress.  As clinical and stoic as Law was, he had an absolutely adorable bedspread.  A simple blue comforter with an ocean wave pattern on it, plain white sheets, three pillows, and a large stuffed animal of a polar bear, which wore a peculiar orange shirt with a strange symbol embroidered on the front.  Everything was wrapped in Law’s scent, that familiar comfort of cedar and lemongrass.

Law chuckled, deep and husky, at the sight of you immediately wrapping yourself in one of the throw blankets situated at the foot of his bed.  “Comfy?”

You hummed in response, flopping onto his pillows and curling up under the throw, hiding your face and taking a deep inhale of the laundry detergent he used.  You might have fantasized about sharing a bed with him for the rest of your life, but he didn’t need to know that.  At least, not yet.

You peeked out from under the blanket as Law milled around his room, neatly situating your bag on the ground next to his, an action which made your heart flutter.  After only three months of steady dating, the two of you had already fallen into a routine when visiting your individual rooms, as if you had been together for an eternity.  Life with Law came so natural, despite the rocky start the two of you had upon first meeting.  The Law from the study room almost five months ago was a completely different man compared to the one nearly folding his clothing and organizing his desk to prepare for your stay, humming a small song under his breath.  He had reserved the top drawer of his wooden wardrobe for your clothing, the few sets of pajamas and day clothes that he wanted to keep in his room for when you spent the night.  (He had a few sets in your room, too.)

Deep in the crevices of your mind, you wondered what married life with him could be like.  He’d probably be just as domestic, if not more so.  He’d probably make such a great father…

“Hey,” he spoke, shaking you from your own trance.  The two of you were one in the same.  “Tired?”

“Nah,” you responded, sitting up slightly, letting the blanket fall around your abdomen.  “Just watching you like a creep.”

The laugh that left his lungs shook your ribcage, a heat fluttering through your veins.  “Do you wanna get changed?” he asked, pulling open the drawer below the one he reserved for you.

You swung your legs off the side of his bed, eager to get into cozier clothing.  “Obviously.”

Neither of you had seen the other naked.  Instead, you changed with your backs to each other, heads down, only turning around when the other gave permission to do so.  It was… comforting.  You assumed your stance behind Law with your back to him, quickly shedding your shirt, followed by your bra.  The sound of rustling clothes behind you signaled that Law was doing the same.  You had just pulled an oversized t-shirt over your head when you heard a few small paps on the floor, and a panicked, ‘Shit,’ from Law.

Not thinking, you turned around to look at what happened.

Three condoms lie on the floor next to his pants, Law frantically fumbling to scoop them off the ground.  He had forgotten to take them out of his pocket and stash them in his desk.  The force of him removing his baggy cargo pants pushed them up and out of the open pocket.

You quickly turned your back to him once again, your face flushed with heat, eyes wide.  It was too late, though.  He knew you saw.

“I…” he muttered, rapidly finishing changing and shoving the three metallic-wrapped packs into his desk drawer.  He was flustered, stuttering over his words.  He stumbled between muttering frantic apologies and explaining himself when you finally turned around.  His face was flushed a deep crimson as his golden eyes scanned your face for any form of discomfort or distrust.

“Were those for… me?” you asked, voice soft, apprehensive.

“No– I mean…” Law’s jaw snapped shut.  “Th… They were.  But only if you, you know– wanted to.  Or… fuck.”  He desperately searched for any appropriate explanation, terrified at the mere prospect of potentially driving you away from him, after he had come so far.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest at the thought.  On shaky legs, you approached the panicked man, gently grabbing his shoulders and grounding him.  “Hey, Law… breathe.”

He nervously licked his chapped lips, drawing a shaky inhale through his nose.  His eyes were clenched shut, too ashamed to look at you.  Your chest ached.

“Can we sit down?” you asked carefully, your hands trailing down his arms to grab his hands.  His fingers twitched at the contact, but he reciprocated your grasp.

You maneuvered yourself across the room, crawling back onto his bed and wrapping yourself in his blanket.  Law stayed seated on the very edge of the mattress, his feet dangling a few inches off the ground from his lifted bed frame.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, hanging his head.  His fluffy black hair shielded his eyes from your view.

“Please, don’t be,” you pleaded, scooting up behind him and resting your forehead against his vertebrae.  “It’s really alright.  I was just… surprised.  But flattered.”

Law slowly loosened his muscles.  He hadn’t expected ‘flattered’ to be the term to use.  “Really…?”

“I mean… yeah,” you replied.  “I’m surprised that you’d want that from me.”

The man’s stomach flipped.  He carefully turned around to face you, picking his legs up to sit more comfortably on his mattress.  “Why would you be surprised about that?”

The way you pursed your lips at his question made a million more concerns run through his mind.  You quickly shook your head back and forth.  “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

Law kept his gaze on you solid as your eyes darted between his wall, his hands, his blanket.  You nervously fiddled with your cuticles.  “The only time I’ve ever had sex with anyone, I bled for, like… three days.  And it hurt.  A lot.”

The man’s jaw clenched.

“I didn’t want to be rude and interrupt him, so I just kinda let it happen.  But ever since then I’ve been…” you swallowed.  “Scared.  Like… I’m worried I’m broken.”

He wanted to slaughter the man who hadn’t noticed your pain, no matter how long ago the incident was.  The look on your face told him that it still cut you deep despite your calm tone.  Law leaned toward you, concern heavy on his face.  “Did you speak to a doctor about that?”

You nodded.  “Only once.  My old gynecologist as a teenager suggested it could be anything.  He was like, ‘It could be absolutely nothing, or you might have endometriosis.  But you’re so young, so it’s probably nothing.’  So to deal with it I just never got close to a guy since then.”

The black-haired man rolled his eyes.  “That doctor sucked.”

This made a small laugh burst from your lungs.  “He did suck.”  After a few brief moments, you finally made steady eye contact with your boyfriend across from you.  “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“What?  No,” he blurted, waving his hands in the air.  “You didn’t disappoint me, you could never disappoint me.  If anything… I’m happy you trust me enough to share that.  I’ve…”  His voice trailed off.

You anxiously waited for his next words.

“I’ve never had sex before.  With anyone.  So all of this is still pretty foreign to me, too.”

A strange sense of relief filled your chest.  “Really?”

Law felt a tiny smirk twitch onto his lips.  “Does that surprise you?”

“A little, yeah.”  You were visibly loosening up, once again growing comfortable where you sat across from him on his bed.  “I mean, you’re crazy hot.”

Even more blood rushed to his cheeks making him feel warm from the crown of his head to the heels of his feet.  “If it helps… you are, too.  That’s… uhm… why I got those.”  He gestured with his head to his desk drawer.

You hid your face in his blanket, embarrassment pulsing through your blood with each rapid beat of your flustered heart.  “This makes me feel even more bad for being so scared.”

Law ghosted his hand over your shoulder, pulling you out of your slouch.  You reminded him of an armadillo in a way, curling up into a little ball to protect yourself from danger.  His mind flashed back to the movie night your friends had some months prior, when he found you behind the building with your head on your knees.  “Never feel bad, I’m serious.”  His voice was firm yet soft, revealing his intentions to make you feel as safe and protected as he could.  “I don’t care if we never have sex at all, or if it takes a long time.  I really don’t care.  As long as you’re… okay.  Healthy.”

You apprehensively peeked out from the blanket once more.  “Really…?”

“Really.”

The man bit down his surprise as light tears welled in the corners of your eyes.  You shuffled across the bed, closing the gap in between your bodies and wrapping him into a strong hug, the blanket shrouding his body as the two of you fell backwards onto his pillows.  You buried your head into his neck as his arms came to rest against the small of your back, holding you securely against him.  He could feel you grinning into him, tiny trickles of hot tears falling down the skin of your cheeks.

“I genuinely think you’re the best man I’ve ever met,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against the cotton of his shirt.

“I’m just sorry you’ve had such bad experiences,” he uttered back, staring at the ceiling as he held you against him.

“Don’t get rid of the condoms,” you sighed.  “I have a feeling we’ll need them eventually.”

Law grinned, squeezing your form in his secure arms.  “On your own time.”

“On your’s, too.”

[judeswhore]

On the Mason manspreading topic

Him sitting up in bed, back against the headboard, legs spread and you're laying between his legs on your side, your head on one of his thighs and he's just running his fingers through your hair, over your neck and shoulders while you're watching a movie with him (idk if I explained the position well)

And you push up his shorts so you can touch and kiss his bare thigh

Doesn't even have to end in sex, I just wanna cuddle with him so bad

i was post banned when u sent this so i thought i’d make it a teensy blurb while i had the time

“c’mere.” mason’s voice was soft, quiet in the dark room but you followed it immediately, crawled up onto the bed beside him. his smile was tired and a little lopsided, adorable in a way that sent flutters through your stomach and had your chest aching. there was a deep yearning to be snuggled into him, to have his warmth burn away the stress of your day and make you feel right again.

after pressing a gentle kiss to his lips you settled into your favourite position when it came to nights like this: pressed comfortably between his legs. you laid on your side between them, your cheek against the soft cotton of his shorts, a content hum passing your lips when his hand settled on your head. already his heat settled you, had the tension in your body easing as you brushed his shorts a little further up his thigh.

“what’re you watching?” you asked, lips tickling over his skin. you kissed his thigh, let your mouth linger a few moments as you gazed over at the tv. mason was working his fingers against your scalp, massaging with just enough pressure to have you melting against him.

“winter soldier.” his answer was edging on dismissive, his thumb working its way to the base of your skull. he smoothed soft circles there, one’s that had your eyes slipping closed as you ran your nails across his thigh. “i can turn it off if you wanna sleep?”

“hm? no, s’okay.” his fingers delved into a spot that had you moaning softly, head nuzzling back against his hand. “keep doing that.” mason’s chuckle was breathy, a soft sound that came from his nose as he awkwardly bent forward. he kissed your head once, paused for a few seconds before smattering some more over your hair.

“sleepy girl.” he hummed affectionately, unable to tamp down his smile as he straightened back up. you could hear it in his voice, the smile and the love and it had liquid heat pooling inside of you. it never failed to amaze you how a few simple touches from your boyfriend could change your entire mood, could relax you and fill you with comfort after a day from hell. he didn’t even need to speak to you, his presence alone eased you.

“promise i’ll be better company tomorrow.” you kissed his thigh again, grazed the skin with your thumb as you half nuzzled into it. it was soft under your cheek, almost better than your own pillow and although you felt bad about it potentially being uncomfortable for mason, you couldn’t bring yourself to move. he was propped up against the pillows to watch the movie and you knew he’d expected you to want these kinds of snuggles when he’d coaxed you into bed. it was always the same when you were overly tired.

“you’re always good company, whether you’re awake or not.” he stated, squeezing your shoulder once before his large palm covered the back of your head again and he went back to his methodical massaging. curling your own hand around his thigh, you squeezed in return, a silent show of your affection. “go to sleep.”

gentle fingers routinely switched between massaging the back of your head and your neck, occasionally shifting down to work his thumb into the knot of tension still in your shoulder. within minutes you were starting to drift off, sinking further into the space between mason’s legs, your face half smushed against the meat of his thigh. the tv hummed low in the background and you knew mason was fixated on it, his movements growing slow although they never stopped.

in your half asleep state you managed one last kiss to his thigh and a quick half hug to it, one that was a little awkward given your position. mason ran his palm down your arm.

“i love you.” you whispered, almost too quiet for him to hear but he felt the tickle of your lips over his bare skin and his own lips kicked into a soft smile again. you were already slipping into sleep when he replied but he knew you were more than aware of his feelings. he bent to press his own kiss to your head.

“i love you, too, baby.”

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Illuminated - A Frost/Reader One Shot Story.

@deathwhoregutfucker wanted some Frost fluff, so I wrote some :)

Words - 1,066

Warnings - Mentions of Frost's self-harm from UTLTU, but none other than that. Lotsa fluff!

A flash of black in a sea of white. He never fails to look a little out of place within your bedroom, with his near waist length curtain of black hair splayed out over his back as he sleeps, arms folded beneath the pillow he burrows his face into. Darkness bathed in celestial; a beauty unmatched. Your little void, you once called him. Of course, such a statement was met with a frown. He's very apt at frowning. 

“I’m not exactly little.”  

True enough. He stands at around six feet and has ample lean muscles. Especially those in his arms and back from his profession in battering the hell out of a drumkit. He offers a very delightful morning view when the sun streams in through the thin curtains, the white surrounding him acting as a natural illumination to the dark beauty taking up way too much room in your bed. No matter how much you nudge him, he still spreads again.  

You would take him and his starfish positions above not having him there at all, though. Every time. 

It’s that morning view your eyes roam over as you lie there slowly waking up, watching the way his arm positioning makes all the muscles in his shoulders and back flex, just about visible through his hair. God, he’s so pretty. You’d never call him that to his face, though. Oh, the frowning you’d receive, of course.  

Reaching across the bed, your finger traces the line of muscle that bulges the top of his arm, following it up to his shoulder and then down his back until finally, he stirs.  

One gleaming hazel eye opens. “Stop disturbing me.” 

“But it’s morning, time to wake up.” 

Your chirp is met by, yep, you guessed it. “I’m painfully aware it is morning. It’s too bright in here.” The frown is hidden as he returns his face to the pillow, groaning softly as he stretches. He hates your bedroom. Being in your bed with you is a different matter entirely, but the room itself? Oh, he had some thoughts upon awaking within it for the first time, not really noticing much the night before in the dark, his sole focus being upon you.  

“But why is it so white?” he’d asked, looking around, displeasure creasing his handsome features. 

“Because it’s a small space, so the white gives it a feeling of being bigger.” 

“Yes, I’m aware of the advantages of painting walls white,” he’d begun, gesturing with a hand. “But everything in here is white.”  

You shrugged, unbothered. “I like it.” 

“I don’t.”  

One might think him to be a stalwart of moodiness and little more from the above observances, but truly, he isn’t. The alter-ego of Frost is a different man to Kjetil. He’s still a very quiet individual, but much less dark. He makes you laugh more than some might think, for example, his humour very dry. 

He’s also extremely devoted, a very adoring boyfriend, evidenced that morning in his lazy affection as he wakes up more, grasping you and hauling your body across the bed to press himself against you. He melds to every contour, kissing your shoulder, a hand splaying out across your tummy.  

“It might be time to wake up, but it isn’t time to get up yet,” he murmurs, fingers circling, moving to your hip as he presses his face against the back of your neck. “You smell beautiful.” 

“I shouldn’t,” you remark, turning to face him, one hand propping your head as your other reaches to stroke over the dark smattering of hair covering his chest. “I woke up with sweaty boobs because of the amount of heat you radiate during the night.” 

He laughs softly, a short burst of amused sound through his nose. “I’m your own personal furnace.” 

True. He does run hot. “Which is great in winter, but during summer? Not so much.”  

“No,” he agrees, his fingertip trailing between your breasts. “I apologise, for the humidititties.” 

The snort of laughter that pulls from you, throwing your head back with a riotous cackle. “Did you make that up yourself?” 

He nods, moving to kiss your chest a few times. You can feel him smiling against your skin. 

“You’re very proud of that, aren’t you?” 

He starts to quiver with laughter, his chuckles filling the room. “I am, actually.” He hums contentedly, lifting your leg to rest over his hip, melding with you further, like two pieces of a jigsaw slotting together perfectly. “And I am fucking adamant that this room is still too bright. I’m buying you a blackout blind.” 

“Will you put it up for me, too?” 

He snorts softly. “Considering your history with screw drivers, yes. These lovely little hands do not need any further scars.”  

“You’re a fine one to talk about scars,” you say, your finger running over the one to the side of his neck, the one that had terrified you upon seeing it.  

He strokes your hand, pulling it away and kissing it. “Mine was not accidental, and I didn’t mean to scare you. Always trust I know what I’m doing.”  

It’s been months since he returned from Italy, where he did a live performance art piece that ended in him taking a knife and opening up one of his arms, as well as his neck. You always worried that one day, he might take it too far, that the darkness in him, the primal drive behind such visceral creativity would eclipse his very logical and well ingrained sense and reason. After he returned home, stitches holding together each huge gash, you cried in his arms and made him promise never to take it that far again.  

“But I won’t have to, because you won’t do it again, will you?” you speak again. He drops his gaze, your fingers lifting his chin. “Will you, Kjetil?” 

A particularly bright ray of sun comes through the curtains, illuminating him, his eyes looking like deep golden orbs as the lighter parts of hazel are picked out. “No, love. I won’t.” He then frowns, scrunching his eyes tightly shut. “But I will buy you that fucking blind.” 

A smile curves your lips, and he presses his mouth against them. “Today?” you ask. 

Turning you onto your back, his body blankets yours. “At some point. I have other things I must attend to first.” 

You happily let him. 

Author's note - Did you enjoy it? Please do comment and reblog if you did. It goes a long way to helping your hard-working authors!

[gracethyomen]

"Micro-Changes"

Hello again. It's me. The prophet. Welcome back to two idiots dancing around each other. I wanted to have a little bit of Natalie's personal life in this one, bonus points if you catch all the completely obvious hints from the last post and this one. We're getting into some violence so watch out.

Warnings: Mention of violence, mention of sewing wounds, mention of wounds, wounded character, implied beating/violence, angst (it’s a warning), heartache and gentle cuddle smut that maybe isn’t all that gentle. Matt Murdock’s Catholic Guilt is its own warning. Character named Natalie, female pronouns, mention of hair. Kissing, mention of pain, fingering (f/recieving), PIV seggs, unprotected seggs (wrap it before you tap it kids), cockwarming i guess if you squint. These two bitches are fluffy asf. Mention of injuries, mention of blood, domestic adorableness, these two acting like they totally didn't just fuck each other's brains out. Mention of violence, mention of stalking and kidnapping. Catholicism and prayer.

"I could do with some convincing." She countered, with only a little uncertainty in her voice. She thought she saw his lips turn up in the beginning of a smile before they were pressed against hers. 

All at once, their touches stopped being gentle and comforting. They turned exploratory and hungry. Fingers digging into clothes and skin, open mouthed kisses and gasps billowing down throats. 

She wasn't sure when it happened, but Matt's shirt was gone, and so was hers, and the sensation of their chests pressed together... The smattering of hair on his tickling her peaked nipples... It was all just so much. She broke their kiss with a soft gasp as his hands teased the waistband of his basketball shorts she'd been using as underwear and pajamas. When she opened her eyes, his eyes were looking through her, but she could read the hunger in them.

"What are you doing?" She panted, mindlessly pinching the hair at the back of his neck lightly between her fingertips. 

"I want to convince you..." He matched her volume, dipping his head to kiss her jaw, her throat... "If that's what you want." She nodded feverishly against him and his fingertips slid lower, just barely brushing the skin above her clit. 

The following moan made him bare his teeth against her skin, scraping the skin there lightly. "Say it." He urged, voice sounding more similar to the way it had when he'd found her in that parking garage, raising goosebumps on her skin. Everywhere. She felt his voice everywhere, and she found her legs widening just a little at his words, almost on instinct. 

"Please." She begged quietly, arching her back when the cold pad of his middle finger started to just kiss around her clit, making slow, barely-there circles. "Please, Matt. Please fuck me." That was all it took before he was kissing her again, hand disappearing in his/her shorts and delving deeper to where she wanted him. That same finger that had teased her clit now whispered against her entrance, feeling the little pool of wetness that had gathered there due to his ministrations. 

Suddenly that gentle finger was no longer grazing her skin lightly, but pushing inside her with earnest, curling to touch a little forbidden spot inside that made her stomach clench. The burst of pleasure was so sudden she couldn't help but let out a loud moan, clutching Matt's shoulders like a life raft.

"It's okay." He soothed against her mouth, thrusting that single finger in and out of her pussy so achingly slow... When he added a second finger she forgot that he had been kissing her, her mouth dropped open with her breath gasping out against his temple. Matt tucked his head close to hers, kissing along the line of her jaw as his fingers worked her closer to the edge of her climax. 

Unbidden, her hips bucked against him, grinding the heel of his palm against the sensitive skin of her clit. In a blind state of want, she snaked her hand between them to press against the hot, hard bulge in the front of his pants. 

He moaned softly against her skin then nipped her neck with enough force that she drew her hand back in shock. "Not yet." He scolded gently, picking up the pace between her legs. "Let me take care of you." She nodded shakily, another little sound dropping from her mouth as the perfect feeling at the base of her spine started to grow. "I love listening to you." He confessed, but she barely heard him over her own whimpering. "The pretty sounds you make when I touch you." 

A hot flush grew on her cheeks at his dirty praises, but she found she couldn't feel ashamed about them. 

"Used to drive me crazy for the longest time." He continued, Her incoming orgasm rising like a symphony ready for crescendo beneath his fingers. "Every time you did that cute little gasp when I held your arm." He groaned. "I didn't want to tell you how hot it made me knowing what that little touch did to you." 

"Matt." Natalie whined, hips rolling. She felt like she was straining towards something but she wasn't sure what it was, or how to get closer to it. 

"I know, Baby." He crooned. "Just let it happen." Almost like she'd been waiting for his permission, the orgasm crashed over her with a crushing pleasure. She wasn't sure what she was seeing, but it wasn't anything in front of her. Electricity touched every nerve in her body, blowing every logical and fully formed thought from her mind. All there was was Matt. Matt and his calloused but careful fingers and his soft lips and the scratch of his stubble against her skin.

“Look at you.” He whispered, fingers gently stroking her through the orgasm, savoring each sound that came from both between her legs and between her lips. “So beautiful.” He praised.

“Matt, please.” She panted, bucking her hips against him, seeking what she truly wanted. Her pussy clenched around nothing, feeling hot and sensitive but still needing something more. More of him.

“Say it, tell me what you want.” He demanded, withdrawing his hand from her and leaving her whining at the lack of warmth.

“I want you.” She whispered, slowly bringing her by hands down his chest to touch the waistband of his joggers. “All of you.” She finally met his unseeing gaze, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth as she studied his face. The lines of his cheekbones and the hardness of his jaw. “Please, Matt.”

She wasn’t sure how, but in the next two minutes he’d somehow managed to divest himself of his pants and her of his shorts, all without losing contact with her mouth. His tongue just barely brushed against her teeth and past her lips, tilting her head to deepen the kiss.

Then he had one hand tucked behind her knee, hoisting it around his waist and opening her body to allow him to align them. Both on their sides, pressed together like two coiled strands of metal forming a cable. Somehow behind, in front, above, below, left and right of each other. She wasn’t sure how but she could feel him everywhere. His hands bracketing her sides, fingers brushing up her thigh to the swell of her ass, his mouth on hers and the soft hardness of his torso on hers.

“Condom.” He said, forcing his head back despite his own lust. “In the desk drawer.”

“No.” She panted, kissing the corner of his mouth, his cheek, working down his jaw to his neck and grinding her hips to create a delicious friction on her clit, making them both moan softly. “I’m clean. I had my tubes tied two years ago. I haven’t been with anyone in-“

“Me neither.” He interrupted her, lifting one hand off her skin to grip the base of his cock, lifting to touch it between her legs. “I’m clean. Only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” She groaned, pushing her hips back against him to grind her pussy on the hot length of him, wanting to shift just that last inch so he’d be inside her. “I want to feel you.”

He captured her bottom lip in his teeth, biting with just enough force to draw a soft gasp from her. He took the opportunity to notch the head of his cock at her entrance, pushing that first little bit inside her. She threw her head back with a soft whine, and he ducked his head to her neck, sucking on the skin there.

“Fuck.” She whimpered, her head twisting back towards him so her lips were brushing the crown of his head, arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“Good girl,” Matt breathed against her skin, running her tongue over her thundering pulse. “Look at you, taking me so well.” He continued forward, pushing deeper until her clit was flushed against the skin of his pelvis. He ground against her there giving her the friction she needed. The little sounds of pleasure she made washed over him with a sense of sinful satisfaction.

He set a slow languid pace, thrusting in and out of her with enough force that their bodies undulated together on his silk sheets, creating a soft rustle that seemed so innocent compared to the accompanying sound of their skin colliding and the wetness between them.

As the pleasure built, they both forgot about any soft kisses or teasing touches. All Natalie could do was hold on to Matt’s shoulders for dear life as he rutted into her, relentless in his pursuit of her pleasure and his own. Their mouths didn’t quite meet, her lips brushing his hair and her fingers lifting from one hand to weave through it. His mouth settling where her neck met her jaw. Both basking in the sound of each others’ gasps and soft groans.

“Matt, I’m-“ She broke off on a loud cry as one of his hands weaved between them, touching where he parted her folds with a finger as his thumb rubbed gentle, slow circles on her clit. Sharply contrasting the brutality with which he forced his cock between her legs.

“I know, baby, I know.” His voice came out through gritted teeth, his own orgasm rushing at him with intense speed. “I’m there, with you, let it go.” Once again, her body was all too willing to submit to his commands the orgasm knocked into her like a bucking wave. She felt the impact like a blow. Like something was dragging her deep down under into a sea of something warm and heady.

His name slipped between her lips, and she clenched her fingers in his hair, the ones on his shoulder digging red half-moons into his skin that only spurred the feeling growing in his spine. Nat whined into his hair, the overstimulation making her skin burn with something that teetered the line between pain and pleasure. Just as it started to become painful, Matt’s pace started to stumble and he let out a long, low groan against her skin, warmth flooding between her legs as he gave a few last shaky thrusts, burying himself and their combined release inside her.

For long minutes they just lay there together, Matt cradled between her legs and her arms wrapped around him, breathing each other in.

“I’m sorry.” Matt finally broke the silence. “About what happened to you.”

“It’s not your fault.” She whispered, lifting her leg from his waist and slowly letting his dick slip out of her, followed quickly by a small dribble of thick liquid. “I gotta pee.” She said by way of explanation, walking naked to the bathroom.

With a soft groan, Matt rolled onto his back, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Suddenly, keeping the one thing he wanted most at arm’s length was becoming so much harder.

Natalie emerged from the shower wearing a pair of Matt's boxers and one of his buttoned shirts, the fabric haphazardly draped around her shoulders. She was welcomed by the smell of breakfast and the sounds of Matt getting ready to go to work.

She smiled as he dropped a plate off on the counter for her, leaving a cup of coffee with the other hand. "You cook for every girl you bring home?"

Matt chuckled. "Nah, just the ones I like." He flipped up the collar of his shirt deftly and wrapped his tie around it, fingers manipulating the fabric.

Without a word she stood and crossed the room, fingers covering his and moving the ends of the tie from her hands to his. "Headed in?" She asked, finishing up his tie and turning his collar back down, leaving a tentative kiss on his cheek before sitting back down. She wasn't really sure where they stood in this whole thing. If she was allowed to fix his tie and kiss his cheek or hold his hand. But she decided she was done trying to overthink herself and Matt. For now, she just wanted to feel.

"Yeah, Foggy's gonna be worried he didn't hear from us last night and I've gotta explain why you're not at your place." When she stepped back to go to her breakfast Matt grabbed her by the waist, tugging her back for a quick kiss. "I've got some explaining to do."

"If you wait ten minutes I'll go with you- ah!" She winced at a burning pull between her shoulder blades, feeling something rip just a little.

"Shit." Matt hummed, sweeping her hair off her back with one hand. "You just opened one of the cuts on your back."

Natalie laughed through her pain, scooting back to the barstool she'd originally been perched on. "How do you know that?"

"Can taste copper in the air," Matt explained, coming up beside her. "May I?" He indicated her- well, his shirt with a hand. No doubt preparing to administer to the cuts on her.

"Knock yourself out, Houdini." She chuckled as he slipped the shirt back to access the bare skin around the wound. She inhaled sharply when he touched the surrounding skin, pressing lightly. Despite her best efforts, a small groan slipped loose at the pain.

"The swelling's down." Matt nodded to himself. "Rib fracture's only a hairline. Couldn't tell before." He snagged a bandage from the edge of the counter, spreading it over the leaking wound carefully before replacing the shirt.

"You have X-ray fingers now?" Natalie shook her head, smiling.

"Can hear your bones shift when you breathe." Matt huffed, taking the stool next to her with a soft sigh and tucking a strand of her rosy hair behind her ear. "No grinding means nothing's broken."

Natalie smiled at his gentle touch, shoveling a spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth. "So what does a hairline fracture sound like?"

"An old ship." She laughed at that.

"How do you..." She snickered to herself, trying to put her questions into words. "I mean, I know that you're blind. But you... see so much?" She looked at him in something Foggy would call 'puppy-dog awe'. "How?"

Matt sighed, thinking. "I guess... You have to think of it as more than five senses. I can't see, not like everyone else, but I can feel things like balance and direction. Micro-changes in air density, vibrations... Blankets of temperature variations." Natalie smiled, trying to keep up with him. "Mix all that with what I hear, subtle smells... All the fragments form a sort of impressionistic painting if I focus hard enough."

Natalie rested one elbow on the table, meeting his 'gaze' head on. "But what does that look like?"

His smile dropped just a little as he finally answered. “A world on fire.”

Natalie hummed thoughtfully, lifting her spoon to offer him some of her oatmeal as he snagged his glasses from the counter. “If I all I saw was fire i’d probably want to punch people, too.” He took the bite quickly then sat back, getting serious for a moment.

"Natalie," he swallowed the food before continuing. "They know who you are now. They're not going to stop. I'd like you to stay here, with me, just until I can get this figured out."

"You're asking me to move in with you?" Natalie squeaked nervously. Dropping her spoon, forgotten, in her oatmeal.

"Is it working?" Matt asked, smiling softly at her. Natalie dropped her head for a second as her cheeks heated, reacting to his gentle tone and his closeness to her. The flush only got worse when Matt touched a finger to her chin, lifting it to meet him when he moved in to kiss her.

If the kiss the night before was fireworks, this kiss was the feeling of soft twinkle lights through water. Muted, warm, and comforting. No desperation was behind it, no adrenaline still pumping from a fight. Just simply his mouth on hers, not to distract her or to thank her for being alive but just because he wanted it there.

"I'll get you some clothes while I'm out." He whispered when they finally broke apart, his fingers toying with the ends of her hair. "You should stay and rest."

Natalie nodded as he stepped back, moving to grab his cane. "Why don't you go to the police?" She asked thoughtfully, clearing her throat and waiting for the heat in her cheeks to dissipate. "With all that you have on the Russians?"

Matt laughed softly, "I wear a mask and beat on people." He shrugged innocently. "Doesn't exactly mesh with police policy."

Natalie's playful demeanor dropped and she found herself fiddling with the slices of warm bacon on her plate. "You're going to end up dead if you try to take down the entire Russian mob by yourself."

"Well, maybe I only need to take down one man."

"Hey, Eleanor, it's me... Natalie... Again." Nat walked around Matt's apartment aimlessly, one arm crossed around her torso and the other holding her phone to her ear. "Can you just... Call me back when you get a chance. Please." She clicked the end button on the phone, leaving her third message in as many days on her sister-in-law's phone.

Without thinking too hard about it she wandered to the laundry room and inspected her clothes from the night before. Her skirt wasn't ripped and the stains had come out, her blouse had a small rip in the back but that could be fixed with one of Matt's jackets, and the smudge on her shoes looked like it could be rubbed out. she pivoted to turn towards the bathroom, inspecting her reflection in the mirror. a few bruises and a busted lip on her face, but nothing a good attitude couldn't cover.

She could make this work. She started hunting for her underwear in the washed clothes, stripping out of Matt's boxers with one hand and dialing Foggy with the other.

"Hey!" She called when he picked up. "Yeah, I'm okay. Nothing a little Tylenol can't fix. Hey, is Matt in?" She pulled the black panties up her legs, shuffling them over her hips and reaching for the skirt. "He just left? Yeah, you guys go to LZ I'll start working up a file and see what I can get off the tenancy board. Foggy, I'm going crazy, I need to work."

"You were supposed to be resting." She was interrupted from her typing by Matt's scolding voice and the click of their door behind him. "How did you even get here?"

Natalie shrugged, adjusting his jacket around her shoulders to hide the blood on her collar from where she'd opened a cut on her face earlier.

"Why is there blood on your shirt?" Matt was at her side in an instant, pushing her loose hair back from her face to inspect the offending cut that had barely scabbed over before he came in. "Nat..."

"I'm fine." She huffed, "I found a couple forms from the tenant affairs office that works for Tully's building." She explained even as Matt still tried to pull the first aid kit from her desk. "There have been two other complaints against him for unlawful- ow!" She hissed when he pressed an alcohol wipe to her cut, not too harshly, just dabbing, but with how close the cut was to her eye it stung.

"I told you I would take care of the caseload today, you should be sleeping by now." He murmured, pulling a couple steri-strips from the first aid kit and tilting her head to get a better angle on the cut. "It hasn't even been twenty four hours."

"The world doesn't stop for bumps and bruises, Matt." She whispered, looking up at him through her lashes as he tended to her wound. "You know that better than most."

"My world does." He insisted, turning her head with a hand so she was looking at him. "You should go home. The city won't burst into flames without you for one week."

"I have to pick things up from my place," She started but Matt stopped her with a finger on her lips.

"Let me handle it." He said firmly. "You've been my parachute for years, Nat. For Foggy and me. For once let me be yours." The sincerity in his voice brought tears to her eyes and she wiped them away hastily.

"If the city catches on fire tonight, I can't wait to say I told you so."

a/n: Who's gonna tell her... Who's... Who's gonna tell her about the bombs...? I probably will tbh. Some domesticity for us all because illness and shit. Updates might be slow for a week or two, I've got a few specialist appts. coming up and I've been having a rough couple of days health wise. Thankfully writing is something I enjoy most of the time lol.

Special thanks to @abucketofweird and @sunflowersandsapphires once again. You guys are great and this story wouldn't be here without your care and support.

For those who want to be notified when this story updates I've started a little tag list so far. If you enjoyed reading please consider leaving a note or following for more of these two, it really means a lot.

Thanks again, and have a good day/night whatever time it is.

- Sybil :)

tags:

@marytheweefrenchie

[chaoticallyfragmentary]

Suna Rintaro

“This is a bad idea,” you say.

“It most certainly is”

“Why are we doing this again?”

“Lost youth? Tendencies towards self-destruction? Poorly managed impulse control?”

You stare, lips parted in awe. All three were probably accurate and then some.

Suna smiles, a mischievous little thing. For a moment, you don’t feel like a set of problems to be solved, financially dependent and saddled with a family with whom conversation floundered and died like rotten fish. Instead, you felt a bit like an idiot which was wonderful. Looking at Suna, leaning against his bike, arms crossed in front of him, midnight breeze ruffling his hair, the neon lights of the club smattering a kaleidoscope of colors across his skin, you say yes, your voice no more than a tiny sputter of breath.

Even when he was young, Suna had been under no illusions about what he was like, spoiled and irritable, downright vindictive when angry, so he’d always thought it was lucky you loved him regardless of it all.

Suna’s fingers always find a place in the curls at the base of your skull, tiny pinpoints of pressure cradling your head as his thumb skims the length of your jaw. He always left you incapable of coherent thought as you witness the outright adoration on his face. He was is the biggest simp.

The first time you let him kiss you, his lips moving against yours, the taste of his tongue in your mouth, the only thing running through your mind was a barrage of chastising thoughts

Why did you wait so long? Why did you fight it?

Holy shit, that was not just a kiss. It was hungry, starving, skidding your ability to overthink to a sharp halt. It was worship. It was devotion and ardor as his mouth wandered along your jaw, your neck and a tiny patch of skin near your clavicle that made your toes curl.

Suna, who loves the face you make when he grins at you, eyes glazed, lips ruddy and hair falling forward into his face, warm and glowing.

Suna who moans when your teeth drag against his flesh, hands digging into your flesh as lips replaced teeth, pressing fleeting, featherlight kisses up the vertical length of his neck, towards the junction beneath his ear.

Suna, who arches a brow every time you try to prank him, engaged in an impressive display of restraint by not rolling his eyes.

“Come on baby, let me prank you just this once!”

His brow stays arched. Once you’d given up and let him hold your hand while driving and let him open doors for you, he’d lean in to whisper, “that’s a good girl”

The first time Suna realized he wanted you, like wanted your hands that lit him on fire, wanted to kiss you, hold you, go on midnight drives with you, make playlists for you, take pictures of you, when he realizes he likes you looking at him like that, with warmth, open and glowing, he does not accept the misfortune of being right next to you, because the weight of such a thing is insurmountable.

He simply leans back against the wall, closes his eyes in the middle of the fucking conversation and just breathes and counts slowly in his head. It is incredibly and unfairly impossible to ignore every impulse telling him to just fucking confess already because something in his chest wanted to get out, get to you. Some primal thing trying to claw its way out of a cage, to call you his.

Suna who lets you collapse into him after a tiring day, muffling tiny sobs against his chest. Suna who curls his arms around your shoulders, over your head, tucking you in and keeping you safe, his face pressed against the top of your head, telling you about the funniest things to distract you.

Suna who tells you, “You are my most favorite person in this world, you know.”

Bruh, I’m literally your girl!

Suna who takes the most unflattering pics of you for his private album but if you want to post some on your social media? He’ll slay. He’s got a polaroid of you in his wallet and your initials around his neck.

Suna who calls you love, who gets all soft and pitiful, gazing at you with those big puppy eyes and it’s not fair. You ate my fucking snacks boy!?

Suna loved you during all your midnight conversations, in the liminal space between wakefulness and staying asleep. Suna who loves it when you play the guitar for him, loves your singing that is a little off key.

Suna who loved you when you held his hand, pouted with jealousy, when your laughter escaped you. Suna who couldn’t believe that you, magic made life could love him, but fuck was he never letting you go.

[divine-misfortune]

Jealousy is one hell of an emotion. When he hears Dew call Phantom pretty, he wants to grab him by the face and force Dew's attention back to himself. Remind him of who he's meant to be adoring. His fingers twitch like he might just follow through on the thought but he keeps his hands at his sides dutifully. Doesn't even let the irritation show in his face, simply bites down on his tongue and watches his pack gather around the freshly summoned ghoul. Doting and fawning, and the envy feels violent inside him.

And maybe the kid is pretty. With his dark mess of curls and stray locks of stark white hair, his lavender glittering eyes, and not to mention the smattering of pale violet patches that decorate his skin. Maybe Rain feels his heart skip when he bats those long dark eyelashes his direction. And just maybe Rain wants to steal him away, selfishly keep those soft innocent stares to himself.

The first time he gets Phantom alone, really alone, behind closed doors, he learns just how sweet and easy the little ghoul is. Sinks down to the floor with only the slightest push on his shoulder. Drops immediately, Rain thinks his knees might bruise from it, and the thought makes his stomach swoop. He'd look lovely with those dark splotches on his body, and Rain itched to decorate him. Phantom looks up at him almost reverently, a little blush creeping into his face, and it makes his heart go a little soft. He just has to reach down and touch his cheek, chuckling as Phantom turns to kiss his palm, before cupping his jaw.

"You're beautiful..." Phantom sighed, "y'know that?"

"Oh sweetheart," Rain smiles more to himself "Of course I do."

Rain just hooks his leg over Phantom's shoulder and pulls him closer with a hand on the back of his head, shuddering when the noses at the seam of his sleep shorts. Phantom almost whines a little at the smell of his arousal, it makes Rain's little tdick throb. And when the little ghoul mouths at him through the fabric, Rain' head falls back and hits the wall a little too hard.

"Can i-?" He mumbled, barely pulling away from the space between his thighs to ask. Eagerness was cute on him.

All it takes is a little hum before Phantom's tugging the fabric to the side, burying his face into the heat of his cunt like a man starved. If it were anyone else, he'd have yanked them back by the hair and scolded them for being so greedy and insisting on taking, but all he does it smirk and fumble a bit to get his phone from his pocket.

"Buggy-"

His eyes flutter open, a little distant but not entirely vacant - fuck he's real easy, only a few minutes - and Rain admires him through his camera screen. Thick brows drawing up, Phantom makes a confused sound but doesn't stop sucking at his clit for a second. With his other hand Rain would push the hair from his face and pet at the base of his horn, cooing as his eyes nearly crossed.

"Eyes on me baby, want to make sure everyone gets a good look at how pretty you are with my cock in your mouth."

And fuck, he makes such a pretty picture Rain considers never letting him back up as he sends the short little video off to the group chat.

I think rain is the prettiest of all the ghouls

[for-the-first-time-inforever]

Just a Kiss Goodnight

So I had a lot of feelings last night about Bughead and then out popped this little thing. I don’t even know, but I know I adore our little Bughead fam

Just A Kiss Goodnight

Words: 1K

Rating: T(ish)

Read in here on AO3

(MAJOR SPOILERS FOR 1.06! IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED IT FIRST OF ALL WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THE BUGHEAD TAG?! BUT SERIOUSLY GO WATCH THE EP.)

Between the rush of excitement and fear at finding the car with Jason’s jacket, the sinking feeling when they get back to the scene with Sheriff Keller only to see the car has gone up in a blaze of glory, and the absolute desperation at realizing Polly was gone…it is a whirlwind of an evening. When Betty finally walks back to her house, soaking wet, the air still heavy with mist and disappointment, the only thing keeping her steady and on the appropriate course is the unwavering presence of Jughead at her side. 

It is only when they turn down the road onto her block that she realizes her palms are itching. Not in the odd way that precedes one of her panic attacks, when her fingers dig bloody crescents into the soft skin of her hands, no, this time, she realizes, they are itching to reach out and grab Jughead’s hand, to lace their fingers together until they are palm-to-palm. Betty has never felt this lightly burning desire before. The want to feel somebody close and breathe in their presence. She thinks back to earlier, her room, that kiss, and it takes every ounce of strength to not let a whispy sigh slip out of her mouth. They haven’t talked about it. Honestly they haven’t had the time in the midst of all this chaos, and the closer they get to her house, the more she wants to dig in her heels and draw up short, demand they talk and figure all of this (is there even a ‘this’ to talk about?) out. But there is also a weariness that has settled into her bones and chest and she’s aching for her bed. Jughead is quiet beside her, but not uncomfortably so. And she can’t bring herself to end this innocent moment. The rain patters softly on the concrete pavement around them, streetlamps spilling puddles of light onto the rain slicked ground and everything is so peaceful. It strikes Betty as odd that the world continues to spin so smoothly and at ease when her internal world is slowly falling apart. They sneak around the back of the house, the ladder that Jughead had used earlier to climb up to her (his quiet greeting of, “hey there Juliet” still lingers in her ear) is still propped against the window and later she’ll have the presence of mind to ask where the ladder came from, but right now all she can do is stare between her open window and Jughead. A heavy sigh leaves her body, robbing her of the ability to stay upright. So she mutters something that might pass for a goodnight, though she couldn’t tell for certain, and turns to scale the ladder into the safety of her room. Just as she turns, she feels a hand grabbing her own lightly, and she’s pulled around to face Jug. His eyes search her face for a long moment, and Betty flushes prettily under the heavy scrutiny. As her gaze hesitantly meets his own, she wonders briefly if this is what it’s like to be one of his stories, to be so intimately studied, to feel like someone is able to read every word that’s written across her soul and see the hidden meanings that are woven delicately between her ribs. Perhaps this is what it’s like to truly be a blank page: to put herself in the hands of an author, completely open and trusting him to find the perfect words to make her story a good one. Whatever it may be, she feels hot and flushed under his calculating eye, and she wants to duck her head, but she is lost in him. Just as she opens her mouth to finally speak, his hand reaches out to cup her cheek, a slightly roughened thumb brushing gently along the rise of her cheekbone and she can’t prevent the soft gasp that slips from her mouth. That is most certainly not the sound she had intended to come out, but everything about this…feeling…she has with Jughead jumbles her brain. And before she can blink again, he leans in. Presses his mouth to hers. It’s just like earlier, a soft, steadying pressure that gives way to this beautifully warm thrumming in her heart that tingles and dances along her skin. Jughead slants his mouth over hers, pressing more insistently and she flushes from head to toe as she sucks in a heavy breath through her nose. When she exhales, she melts. Positively melds into his arms that are taught around her waist as her own wind around his neck.   His hand flexes against her back before pulling her slightly closer, until there isn’t a bit of space between their bodies and despite the cool rain he is like the midday sun in July, warm and radiating heat and she is drawn into him like nothing she’s ever experienced. Eventually, though, air becomes a necessity and Jughead forces his mouth from hers with a rough yank. The look on his face matches her rolling emotions, the confusion and hesitancy are there, but so is the quiet whisper of 'this feels so right…why does this feel so right?’ But that momentary burst of emotion slips away into a soft smile as his thumb brushes along her kiss swollen bottom lip and he whispers, “Night, Betts. I’ll see you tomorrow.” It is a spur of the moment decision, but Betty is feeling bold and beautiful and maybe a bit reckless (he makes her feel like this; he makes her feel so much more) so she throws her arms around his neck, burying her nose into the warm skim there and hugging him tight. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with that, but after a few stiff moments he relaxes into her embrace and pulls her tight, his arms slipping around her waist once more. “Night Juggy. Thank you. For everything,” She whispers the words into the crook of his neck and she can feel the smile he presses into her forehead. “You know I’d do just about anything for you…you can always count on me.” She’s heard those words before, from other people (a vision of ruffled red hair and shining eyes flashes in her mind) but for some reason, Betty believes Jughead entirely. They say their goodnights and she climbs up to her room, throwing her wet clothes into a pile on the floor before pulling on a soft nightshirt and a pair of shorts and slipping into bed. When her eyes close, her mind is filled with images. Flashes. Polly. Jason. She’s going to be an aunt. Archie’s voice floats momentarily through her ears but then all she can hear is Jughead’s ragged breathing as his mouth moves over hers and her stomach tingles and her toes curl. Her fingers come up to her lips, and if she really focuses, she can feel and taste and smell him, surrounding her and wrapping her in warmth. When she finally manages to give herself over to her dreams, it is the most soundly she has slept in months.

[subspencer]

ummm, calling spencer princess and he pouts and squirms because he’s not a princess, jerking him off and rubbing your thumb over his cute tip 🥺

this speaks to me <3 reader can be gender neutral in this

wc: 1.1k. cw: handjob (male receiving), teasing/orgasm denial, oh and some light bondage but in a loving way

---

Spencer wiggled his ankles against his restraints; two of your favorite silk scarves, tied around each of his ankles. They were bound to two legs of his wooden chair, legs spread apart just a little. His hands were bound behind the chair, as well.

He was in this position because you loved him.

You came home earlier that evening to him, waiting for you in your apartment like he had always belonged there. He wasn’t doing anything special; just curling up on your sofa with one of your old books to pass the time. Wearing your favorite cardigan of his, a cup of tea in front of him. He looked so adorable like that. So deserving of your love, your praises, and all your attention.

So you had to do this. You needed him out on display for you, sitting pretty and patiently while you took your time to appreciate all of him.

You faced him in his lap, straddling both of his bare thighs. Your fingers pored over every inch of him, memorizing him just by touch. They left no stone unturned, almost. Avoiding only the areas where he wanted your attention the most.

You loved his long, perfect legs. Especially his thighs, which by far were the strongest part of him. He felt sturdy underneath you, like a safe place where you could always come to rest, because they would hold you. You could feel them flex and tense under you as he got more turned on; even feeling your body shifting with his, up and down, each time he tensed and relaxed.

And you could stare at his bare arms all day long. No one would ever know it because he hid them behind all his layers, but he had the most beautifully defined arms, that you never felt you saw enough of. Even on the lean side, they had a bit of tone to them. Not to mention the veins that ran through his forearms, down to the prettiest hands you’ve ever seen. All of those hidden things showed through when he did anything physical. Like strain his wrists against something he knew he wasn’t going to get out of.

He even had the cutest tummy. Soft and nearly hairless. Nearly. He had the lightest smattering of hair below his navel, which always guided your vision right down to arguably, your most favorite part of him. Your fingers traced that light path, tickling those wispy hairs and dipping low. Only the tip of your longest finger got close enough to touching the base of his aching dick before you dragged your hand back up again.

Digging your fingertips into his soft lower belly, you captured him in a heated kiss. One of your hands found its way up to his cute, tiny nipple. Flicking it roughly before taking it between two fingers, rolling and gently tugging.

“Please,” he broke off the kiss in a gasp, throat tightening the more you teased his chest, “please…please, please.” He didn’t even know what it was he was begging for, but he couldn’t stop saying it. He didn’t care what it was, he would take anything so long as you gave him contact where he needed it.

“What do you want, princess?” you mewled below his ear, nuzzling your nose into his soft brown locks. He always smelled like citrus and warm spice.

His chest rumbled at the name. He hated being called that.

You thought of it differently, but to Spencer, it reminded him of how absolutely helpless he was in your hands. Like a pitiful mess just waiting for someone else to take care of him. He loved you, and loved how much you loved him, but he hated the reminder that he was fucking needy.

“M’not a princess.” The words he tried to spit out got strangled up in his throat when he felt your hand suddenly grip his neglected cock.

You kept your hand still at its base, feeling him pulse inside your hand. His whines got pathetic as you gripped him tighter and tighter, getting close to making it painful. You brought him right up to the point where you expected him to cry out, and stopped just before it. Then, you released him.

“If you’re not my princess,” you scolded, grazing your teeth against his neck, “then you won’t get treated like one.”

You quickly jumped out of his lap. His regret was immediate.

“No, please! Please, come back.” His face was an absolute wreck; cheeks and lips equally red, a line of sweat above his upper lip right where that ghost of his stubble began to show through.

You walked around his chair, placing your palm flat on his chest and dragging it as you walked, across his shoulder and around to his back where you stopped. The other hand laid heavily on his neck, fingertips delicately placed over his pulse point. His heart was pumping fast.

“Say you’re my princess.” You cupped his jawbone, bending his neck back so he was looking up at you. His pulse picked up.

“Pleasee, I –”

“You know the magic words, baby.” You mimicked the big, puppy eyes he gave you and leaned forward, nuzzling your noses together. He just looked so cute when he wanted something.

Spencer swallowed, pushing his lips outward. You quickly bent in to give them a stolen kiss.

“Please make me your princess,” he whispered. You rewarded him by coming around and straddling his lap once more.

Your mouth slipped over his in a slow, tongue-rolling kiss as you finally touched his dick. It was flushed an angry red, the blush took over his entire lower stomach and sprawled up to his flat chest. Using the leaking precome to slick him up, your palm moved slowly up and down on him. Stopping every so often to thumb small circles over his tip, met with whimpers each time you dragged your thumb over his slit.

You pulled away from the kiss, just to ask, “Say it again for me?”

“I’m your princess.”

You moaned in his ear, working your hand faster against him. You could hear him say that over and over, forever. “Again?”

“I’m your princess,” he groaned, thrusting his hips into your closed fist, riding your hand with whatever range of motion he could afford.

“Again?” You worked him faster, your own breaths getting shorter as you felt him throbbing in your hand.

He was so, so nearly there and when he finally spilled himself all over your hand, letting it slowly drip onto his thigh, he kept mumbling, “I’m your princess! I’m your princess.”

[xamaxenta]

They resume and Marco sweats under the intense scrutiny of Sabo’s one eyed gaze, its dark blue and heated, feels his cock swell slightly when he meets Sabo’s eye

Ace is constantly looking up and down from his page, eyes flickering along the hard planes of shins to the knobbly knuckles of his toes, back up to the squish of his folded belly and the ripple of his ribcage, his arm doesnt stop moving

Its a different kind of observation, ignores how he smudges charcoal across his own face when he tucks back his hair out of irritation

Break number two and Marco wanders over to have another look, Sabos canvas remains mostly the same, more of the background has been filled than the model subject themselves, intrigued Marco leans in hand on Sabos shoulder

“I would like to understand your thought process.”

Sabo smiles and reaches up to gently trail his naked fingers (sign of trust between them) along the inner curve of Marcos wrist, seeking his pulse

“Isnt it more suggestive to leave things to ones imagination?” Sabo murmurs, stroking his ring finger against the slope of Marcos wrist

“Is it?” Marco questions, Sabos always been an experimental kind of artist

“Mm.” Sabo confirms, points at the negative space of where Marcos butt would meet the sheets, the fabric bunches up where muscle would rest and traces the curve with his nail, “i think I’d call this piece seduction, not sure. Work in progress.”

“Alright,” Marco leans in and closes the gap to kiss him on the head, leaving him with his silhouettes to go and have a look at Ace’s easel

Ace sits back so his shadow doesnt obscure the canvas, he looks a little frustrated, brow furrowed and charcoal streaking all up his hands arms and across his face, a smudge adorably smattered on the tip of his nose from where he must’ve rubbed at it

Its again, shockingly detailed, a glimpse into Ace’s keen observation skill, nothing gets past him, its fascinating to see it documented onto paper

Nothing is missed, not even the notch like scar in his left knee, the tissue swells out from a time past when the phoenix and he didnt exist

“I’m flattered.” Marco says eventually breath catching in his throat because he’s always been admired

For everything he thinks he shouldn’t be elevated for, Ace exhales, tension leaving his shoulders

“Dont be so hard on yourself.” Marco adds, also leaning in to kiss him on the cheek, just to see him smile, “youve made me far too attractive.”

“Because you are.” Ace finally speaks up, glances over at Sabo who nods in quiet agreement, its a vague tilt of his head, a silent challenge as if to ask ‘if the truth makes you uncomfortable why volunteer’

MAS where Marco poses and Ace and Sabo draw him

[blackbat05]

Thank you for tagging me in your post lovely! You're so kind! And congratulations on 100 followers! 💕 For the ask game:✍🏽 Rick Flag

Hey lovely! Thanks so much for the ask!🥰

Was inspired by the first few seconds of <The informer> trailer so decided to do a Domestic Rick Flag! Hope it’s alright!🙇🏽‍♀️ Once again thanks so much for the support!❤️

***

Home

Rick Flag x Reader

His muscles were screaming at him to stop, but Rick fought the urge to collapse on the pavement.

Not yet. He tells himself. Not when he was so close to reaching home. The recent mission had depleted energy that Rick didn’t know he had.

Cargo pants smeared by dried blood and face looking worse for wear, he just wants to get home and be in your arms.

Unlocking the door, it was as if the gloom hanging on his shoulders disappeared completely. He hears a smattering of little footsteps, preparing to be intercepted by his adorable there year old daughter.

‘Da Da!’

‘Hey munchkin!’ He stares into her eyes with adoration. ‘Where’s mama?’

Squirming her way out of his grasp, she runs down the hallway, beckoning Rick to follow. He chuckles. From your hair to your mannerisms, she was a mini you.

Trudging down the hallway, Rick picks up on the fragrant smell of pasta. He turns into the kitchen to see you at the stove. Hair slightly frazzled with an apron tied against your waist, you still radiated effortless beauty.

He was so glad to see you. Arms snaking around your waist, you turn around to see your husband, giving you the goofiest grin.

‘Rick! You’re back early.’ Setting the pot to a mild boil, you turned to give him a kiss.

‘Missed my girls,’ he refuses to let you out of his arms, bringing you closer. It must have been another tough mission.

‘Hey,’ you whisper softly, ‘you ok?’

Truth to be told? He wasn’t. Rick really wanted an out now that he had a life with you, a family. If he was here any longer, who knows what Amanda Waller would hold over him? That is something he doesn’t want to explore.

But there was some truth in what he told you - that he just wanted to be beside you and his little girl.

As if someone had heard his thoughts, your baby girl runs into the kitchen with a stuffed penguin that was almost the same size as her. Rick gently tears himself away from you, pretending to be a giant monster - one that they had played together when he could be at home. He chases her into the living room, her squeals bringing a smile to your face.

You lean against the sink, watching with a warm feeling in your heart. If someone told you five years ago that you would settle down with the hardened Colonel whom you absolutely couldn’t stand at your first meeting, you would have laughed in their face.

But life was funny in more ways than one. Here you were with a white picket fence, an adorable daughter and a loving husband who was with you every step of the way.

‘Gotcha little rascal!’

You peek out of the kitchen to see Rick swooping her into his arms, tickling her tummy mercilessly.

Yeah… Life was funny - but at least you had the two of them. You wouldn’t exchange this for anything else.

It was the three of you against the world.

***

[nagito-kissmaeda]

omg...but imagine sex with nagito on the beach 👀

ミ☆ Consider it imagined ;) Word Count: 2419

Contains: Gender Neutral Reader, Explicit sexual content, a little angst but not heaps Read on AO3

“I think I want to kiss you.”

Komaeda stiffens beside you. The gentle rise and fall of his bare chest ceases entirely as he holds his breath. His hair has just started to dry again after your swim, the ends are beginning to curl but the majority of the strands still lack their usual volume. It makes him look smaller, more vulnerable.

You can’t help but wonder if it was genuine happenstance that you caught him in the ocean tonight, or if his luck had a hand in it. Thinking about his luck too much always stresses you out, would seeing him standing waist deep in the water - droplets running down his bare skin and glinting the perfect moonlight - be considered good luck or bad? Did he curse his talent in that moment, or did he see the adoration in your eyes, the way your breath caught at the sight of him, and praise it.

You hear Komaeda laugh, a familiar sound. Pleasant, but altogether fake, like a strawberry milkshake with too much syrup, “I will admit, that was quite a funny joke, if a little hurtful.” he looks at you from the corner of his eye, “Though i cannot rightly criticise you for making jokes at my expense, there is little else i am good for.”

It hurts that he thinks you would make such a cruel joke. It hurts that he doesn't have it in him to believe it.

The wind rushes by and you shiver. Even though you are mostly dry after your brief stint in the ocean, the cool air still makes your skin prickle. Komaeda’s jacket is spread out on the sand beneath the both of you, a gesture that is likely more intimate than he intended for it to be. You worry, frequently, that for all Komaeda’s posturing about talent and hope, that maybe you still don't fit the bill. That you may be worthy of his worship, but fall short of being worthy of his love.

“I wasn't joking.”

Komaeda chokes on what might have been a laugh before it died in the back of his throat. You can hear him shifting slightly, his hands clawing nervously at the jacket beneath him. Again you can't help but wonder, if this moment is good luck, or bad. The sound of your heart is so loud in your ears, and your hands are shaking so furiously that you are surprised the stars in the sky haven't all imploded. The moment feels big enough.

You hear a little more movement beside you, clenching your muscles in a bid to keep still, like even the slightest twitch from you will scare Komaeda away like some frightened animal. Ridiculous, Komaeda doesn't scare easily.

“I won’t stop you.” he whispers, you turn your head just enough to look at him. He’s rolled over onto his side, his slowly drying hair cascading down over his shoulder, pale eyes glinting in the moonlight. Your heart is hammering at your ribs.

You wet your lips with your tongue, and follow his lead, rolling onto your side and carefully examining his face. His eyelashes are really pretty, and they’re faint, but at this proximity you can see a small smattering of freckles across his nose. Like constellations on a cloudy night.

His lips taste like salt when yours press against them, chapped but soft and undeniably gentle. You shiver with more than just the cold when you dart your tongue out just a little, and he readily opens his mouth to accept it. He lets you explore the inside of his mouth, the sharp ridges of his teeth, the underside of his tongue; a moan cuts loose from your mouth and you tangle one of your hands in the back of his hair. One of his hands comes to rest on your cheek and you almost sob.

“I want to do more than kiss you.”

His thumb strokes across your cheekbone, and your eyes meet his. He blinks slowly down at you, contemplative but hungry, “Again, if that is truly what you want. I won't stop you.”

There's a heavy weight in your chest at those words, at his assertion that you could have your way with him, but not a single shred of genuine reciprocation. You are ashamed of how weak your voice sounds when you whisper, “Do you...actually want to? Or are you just letting me because I want to?”

Komaeda’s head cocks to the side, “I don't understand why the distinction matters.”

“I’m not just chasing some momentary desire, Komaeda.” you laugh bitterly, “I have feelings for you. Romantic ones.”

He stiffens for a moment, and you can see the cogs turning in his brain. There's an icy chill down your spine as you prepare for his rejection. He loves everything about you, but he doesn't love you.

Unannounced, Komaeda swings his leg over your hips and rolls you onto your back. Looming over you with a smile that actually reaches his eyes. You can count how many times you have seen that on one hand, but here he is, grinning down at you with an indescribable warmth that you feel from your chest all the way down to your toes.

“I was more than happy to be used for your pleasure.” He breathes, eyes turning misty as they meet yours, “To be able to touch you for just one moment, but this...this.” a breathless laugh escapes him, shaking his boney shoulders, “for you to return my feelings...the bad luck around the corner must be immeasurable, but im…” he heaves a shaky breath, “im so happy.”

His feelings. His feelings. The words vibrate around your head as you struggle to even comprehend them. He has feelings for you. Nagito Komaeda is leaning over you, pale hair lit up by the moon eclipsed by his head. Bathing him in a halo of white light. He looks angelic, and he has feelings for you.

“I want you.” You breathe, “Please, Nagito.”

His breath hitches at the sound of his first name dropping from your mouth. So unbelievably intimate, so tender. He tilts his head down, and slots his lips against yours. This time his hands waste little time before wandering across your skin, the bathing suit you picked up from the supermarket hides little, and you feel your flesh buzz as his hands pass over it. In the end, his palm sits comfortably in the curve of your waist and his other hand is planted beside your head to keep his balance. The salt in his mouth is slowly dissipating, giving way to a taste that must only be him. Your arms twist around his back, tracing the bumps of his protruding vertebrae, dancing across his fragile skin.

Your tongue slips into his mouth and you feel his hips twitch. With only the layers of your bathing suits to separate your skin, you can feel his growing hardness very prominently. You buck your hips upward to feel it again, and Komaeda instinctively bites down on your lower lip.

“Oh no. Did I hurt you?” He whispers, pulling back and brushing across your lower lip with his thumb, “I’m so sorry, though I shouldn’t be surprised that someone as worthless as myself would cause you pain.” You feel him start to move, “I should go-“

In a feat of strength that surprises even you, Komaeda is now pinned underneath you, arms pushed backwards onto the jacket atop the sand and wrists gripped tight in your shaking hands.

“Don’t go.” You press a hot kiss to the side of his throat, “You didn’t hurt me. I liked it.” You graze his neck with your teeth and he quakes below you, “I don’t want to stop unless you do.”

His breathing is shaky, his thin body quivering so much that you're almost surprised you can’t hear his bones rattling, “I don’t...I can’t stop. If you could read my perverse thoughts right now, you would be disgusted by what you would find.”

You laugh, releasing his arms and running your fingers down his chest, “Doubtful. I think if anything I’ll find that your thoughts mirror my own.”

Komaeda squeaks when you pull one of his nipples into your mouth, sucking gently, you run your knuckles up and down the side of his ribs. Smiling when you can hear his heart race, “Such a pretty boy.” You whisper, circling his nipple with your tongue. His hips stutter upward to meet yours, he seems to like it when you whine.

“I...I…” Komaeda’s throat bobs, “I’m not doing anything...I should be worshipping you, but I’m just lying here…”

“Shh, Nagito.” You breath, grinding your hips down on his, gentle enough that he can only just feel it, “I like doing this to you, I’ve wanted to do this to you for so long.”

“You...you’ve also been thinking about it?”

“Thinking, among other things.”

Komaeda barks a laugh, covering the lower half of his face with a hand, “Are you implying, that all those nights I fucked my pathetic hand thinking only of you, that you were-“

“Three cabins down, thinking about you?” You giggle, dragging your tongue up his collarbone, “That sounds about right.”

“I must be dreaming…” he whispers, looking past you and up at the sky, “it looks like the constellations are caught in your hair.” His shaky hand comes up and cups your cheek, “I don’t want to wake up.”

You smile, gently working his swim shorts down over his narrow hips, “Then don’t.”

He pushes himself up on his elbows, pretty face turning nervous as he is suddenly naked in the open air, though he isn't alone for long. He watches in awe as you toss your swimsuit off into the sand somewhere, eyes wide and watery as they trace the curves and angles of your body. His hips dig into your thighs when you position yourself on top of him, hands pressed gently on his chest, worried that his birdcage ribs might shatter if you put too much weight on them. You can feel his heart racing under your palms, fragile, perfect, beautiful boy. He is shaking under you, pale skin shining in the light of the moon. You lose your breath, completely enamoured with him, with his big green eyes, the mess of his hair, his collarbones so sharp that you swear you could cut yourself on them.

“I haven't done this before.”

Komaeda’s breathless silence is filled only with the ebb and flow of the ocean behind you, with the salt in the air and the stars in the sky. He sits up a little, arms shaking under his weight as he holds himself at eye level with you. He takes in a wheezy breath, one side of his mouth quirking up in a familiar nervous smile.

“You don't have to.” He whispers, “I...I’ll only disappoint you.”

It only takes a gentle push to his chest for him to fall backward onto the sand. Blinking up at you with wide eyes as you slowly start to lower yourself down onto him, “You could never disappoint me” you breathe, and then he is inside of you.

Just where he belongs.

The prettiest moan you have ever heard rips loose from his throat, his head tossed backward onto the sand and eyes scrunched shut. He is twitching inside of you, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides like he isn't sure what to do with them. You lift yourself up just a little, and he almost sobs when you drop back down again. It feels good, you feel full. There's a twisting in your gut that tells you to just move, just move. You aren't sure how much longer you can resist it.

Komaeda is in a similar state. You are so warm, so tight, so perfect. He can feel his hips twitching with a desire to just give in, to pump himself as deep inside of you as possible. It’s pathetic, it’s selfish, but he wants you to be his. He wants to be so far inside that you can't pull him out again, he would do anything to be here forever. Completely naked, out in the open, in the middle of the night with you writhing on top of him. Your face twists in absolute pleasure, and he can't help lording over it. Over the fact that he is doing this to you.

Then, you moan again. Head lolling backwards as the guttural moan morphs into the syllables of his name.

He can’t hold back anymore. His hands snap up to your hips, digging in tight enough that your eyes open in shock, and he pushes his hips as far up as they will go. You call out his name again and it is all he can hear, hips snapping up again and again, dragging more perfect noises from your mouth and letting out moans of his own everytime he hears you say his name.

Your eyes drift down to his, letting out a sweet little whimper as he hits a spot inside of you that sets your insides boiling. Your nails dig tight into the taught flesh pulled across his ribs, turning his pale skin a bright red, your own hips meeting his every thrust with a desire to have him deeper, to have him faster. He throws his head back in a breathless laugh that almost sounds like a sob when he feels you clench around him, you’re perfect, you’re real and you’re so fucking tight.

You don't even have time to warn him before you topple over the edge, the world flashes white behind your eyes as your walls twitch around Komaeda’s desperate cock. He lets out a rattling breath, so close, so close, so close-

“Nagito” You breathe, “cum inside of me, please.”

He feels like he is going to explode, in more ways than one when he shoves himself up into you one last time, finally cumming with a high-strung moan that sounds suspiciously like a declaration of love.

Then, all is quiet again. The ocean breeze is your only company as the two of you come back down. At some point the jacket slipped out from under Komaeda, and now his messy hair is tangled with sand. You reach down and try to comb some of it out with your fingers, he nuzzles into your palm. Content.

You smile down at him.

“I love you too.”

[fireheartbuzzard]

my dream

day one: i just realized i’m desperately in love with you

author’s note: hi everyone!! this is my very first rowaelin fanfic, so i’m sorry if it’s bad lol. i’m also sorry that it wasn’t posted on time. my senior year of high school started at the beginning of september so everything was very hectic and crazy around that time, still is with college applications coming up, but i was able to finish this story. for all the other prompts, i either have an outline/idea for it or i’ve started writing something already. i know it’s late, but bear with me as i try to balance high school and everything else. i’ll add a header photo later, i think. idk. i’m new to this 😭

content warning: slight angst, lots of repeated words/phrases (sorry lol)

word count: 4.3k

~

Rowan’s eyes drooped as he walked into his home after a long day of work, desperately needing a nap on his lumpy couch. He set out to make some coffee for later tonight, knowing that he’d have to stay up again to finish another project for his summer class.

Rowan probably shouldn’t have procrastinated his assignment in order to spend time with Aelin at the carnival earlier this week, but he’d rather that than have Aelin spend time alone with Chaol. Just the thought of his name made Rowan scoff.

After being friends for a couple of months, Chaol had recently become Aelin’s new summer fling. Rowan always knew he’d had ulterior motives, but when the idea was brought up to Aelin, she’d laughed and said, “If anyone here had ulterior motives, it’d be me.” Rowan had no clue as to what Aelin was talking about, but she’d insisted that it was only a one-time thing and so far, had been determined to keep a buffer between them, which meant that Rowan had to accompany them on every single “date.”

Despite grumbling the whole time to Aelin at the carnival, Rowan had to admit feeling satisfaction after shoving the ice cream into Chaol’s face in order to prevent him from kissing Aelin. While Aelin looked amused during the whole ordeal, Chaol looked the exact opposite with a scrunched up mouth and furrowed brows. Rowan thought he looked constipated.

Maybe, he was. Rowan shook his head, no no, he was definitely angry.

Rowan smiled to himself as he poured boiling water into the coffee strainer over his mug. Letting it sit when he finished, he walked over to his couch and laid down, allowing his body to rest after hours of exhaustion. His eyes drifted closed as he thought back to Aelin’s situation with Chaol.

Rowan didn’t understand why Aelin wouldn’t just break up with him if she didn’t like him at all. Hell, he doesn’t even understand the reason why she does half the things she does, her mind truly baffles him. He wouldn’t trade her for the universe though, not for anything. Every single part of Aelin fuses to create the most amazing person Rowan’s ever met; Rowan adored everything about her—her witty remarks, her melodious laughter, her long golden hair, her beautiful turquoise eyes with a ring of gold, her bizzare and wicked humor, just about everything.

Gods, don’t even get Rowan started on her smile. Rowan fucking loves her smile. He would do anything in the world for her face to brighten with that glorious smile of hers. It’s the first thing he thinks of in the morning and the last before he goes to bed. Just thinking about her can light up his mood and make him smile.

Settling into the couch even more, Rowan drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face and his mind stuck on Aelin.

~

Rowan woke up with a start, accidentally jerking the dead weight on his arm. He felt warm breaths puff against his chest as he looked down at the culprit of his numb arm. Aelin lay in his arms, halfway on top of him, with her arm thrown across his waist and her legs entwined with his. Rowan smiled as he looked at her slightly open mouth and her golden blonde hair cascading down the edge of the couch.

Rowan had to get started on his project soon and he had his coffee waiting for him, but he couldn’t even move with Aelin lying on top of him, not that he wanted to anyway. So, giving in to this small defeat, Rowan stroked Aelin’s hair as he thought about his dream.

Rowan woke up to a smattering of kisses across his face and the loud giggling of a toddler, followed by quiet laughter. He felt a slight weight on his chest and small hands grabbing at the skin on his face. Opening his eyes, Rowan was met with striking cerulean blue eyes and a head of silver hair.

“Hey, papa!” The toddler grinned at Rowan, eliciting a smile from him.

“Hey, baby,” Rowan grabbed the toddler’s head and placed a loud smacking kiss on her forehead, evoking even more giggles from the kid.

He noticed Aelin drifting closer, hands cradling her swollen belly. “Alaïa wanted to wake you for breakfast. It only seemed fair to have her loudly slobbering all over you as your wake-up call since we all woke up early to make breakfast,” Aelin smiled as she spoke, her face glowing with happiness and amusement.

As Aelin sat on the edge of the bed, next to Rowan’s arm, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips. Leaning in towards his ear, Aelin whispered, “Hurry up and get your spectacular ass downstairs before all the food is gone.” Aelin gathered Alaïa into her arms before leaving the bedroom.

By the time Rowan was downstairs, breakfast was in full swing. Instead of going to the dining table, Rowan stayed standing at the foot of the stairs, observing his family. A girl—with the same golden hair as Aelin and the same pine green eyes as Rowan—ate quietly with her shoulders back and her head held high. The boy across from her—with Aelin’s eyes and a head full of silver hair—smiled at his younger brother who was struggling with getting the food onto his spoon. The younger boy looked exactly like Rowan, as if someone made a clone of him with his hair.

Alaïa was a sight to behold. With food on her face and clothes, she looked to be having trouble maneuvering the food to her mouth with her spoon, accidentally flinging it into her silver hair instead. She seemed to be on the verge of tears from frustration, but with one quiet laugh from Aelin, Alaïa peered over at the smiling Aelin and gave a little giggle.

Aelin glanced up at Rowan in that moment and opened her mouth to say, “Da—”

A small noise of content broke Rowan out of his reverie. Rowan looked down and noticed that he’s still stroking Aelin’s hair as she nuzzles her head further into his hands. A small smile graced Aelin’s face, making her appear peaceful. Watching Aelin sleep made Rowan smile; he could watch her do anything and never get bored because he was just so enamored by her.

Rowan jerked to a stop. Enamored? His brows furrowed in confusion as he thought back to Aelin. Rowan does not believe he can live his life without Aelin in it; he doesn’t even want to think about the prospect of it.

As a groan broke out of Aelin’s lips, she snuggled closer to Rowan. He watched as her eyes fluttered open and she took in her surroundings before smiling up at him. It was the sight of that smile that made Rowan realize the truth of why he’d felt so satisfied upon smashing that ice cream cone into Chaol’s face and why his heart beat a bit faster whenever Aelin’s attention was on him. Just like it was now.

“Hi,” she croaked, voice still hoarse from sleep.

Rowan smiled, “Hi.” He looked around before looking back down at Aelin, “So, how’d you get in here?”

Her brows furrowed in confusion before she quickly snapped her fingers. “I broke in by using a rock to smash your windows,” Aelin grinned. Rowan felt blood draining from his face at her answer.

“WHAT?!” Rowan sprung up from the couch and walked to his front windows. Knowing Aelin, that couldn’t be exaggerated and didn’t sound like it’d be far from the truth. However, as he got to the curtains, he heard quiet giggles and turned around in time to hear them turn into loud cackles of laughter.

“Calm down, Buzzard. I was only kidding. I snuck into your backyard and used the key you hid in your shed by breaking down the shed door.” Aelin rolled her eyes at his exasperated expression, “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, you told me where you hid the spare key when you were confessing secrets while drunk off your ass,” Aelin waved a hand.

Rowan was never so mortified before. Secrets? Not just one, but more?!

Aelin must’ve seen the mortification written on his face because why else would she bellow with laughter like she was right now. Rowan just shook his head as he walked into his kitchen and grabbed his mug of coffee.

By the time he got back, Aelin was scowling at her phone.

“What’s wrong?” Rowan asked as he sat back on his couch and took a sip of his coffee. Aelin only groaned before throwing her hands up in the air and kicking her feet like a petulant child, causing Rowan to chuckle at Aelin’s antics.

“Chaol wants to go on another date,” Aelin frowned. “He’s insistent on continuing to meet up until he has to go back to Rifthold by the end of the summer.”

Rowan couldn’t help but frown along with Aelin. “I don’t understand why you won’t just call it quits. You obviously don’t like spending time with him.”

Aelin rolled her eyes in return. “I find his company companionable and I want to keep having him in my life.” Aelin sighed, “Anyway, can you please join us? He wants to have a picnic on the beach this Friday.”

Rowan thought about seeing half-naked Chaol and his grabby hands around half-naked Aelin on the beach and grimaced. He did not like the idea of seeing Chaol around Aelin at all, let alone a half-naked Aelin, so Rowan definitely had to go.

Rowan sighed as he ran his hand over his face, “I’ll go.”

“Really?” Aelin beamed. At Rowan’s slight nod, Aelin shifted on the couch and squeezed Rowan tight around the waist. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She murmured into his chest. Rowan wrapped his arms around her frame and squeezed her back. Rowan could definitely get used to this. Aelin pulled back a second later and stood up from the couch. “Okay, I’ve got to head home and feed fleetfoot now,” Aelin smiled, “Thanks for the amazing power nap.”

“Break in again anytime,” Rowan smiled as he heard her chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, Buzzard.” Aelin waved goodbye before leaving the living room and closing the front door behind her.

Upon hearing Aelin leave his home, Rowan thought back to his revelation earlier today. Rowan Whitethorn was in love with his best friend and she didn’t even know it. He was screwed. He was so irrevocably screwed and he had no clue as to how he’d get himself out of this mess.

~

Rowan was fuming. He swore that steam was blowing out of his nose and ears like those cartoon characters. Aelin had given him a popsicle to “cool off” and right now, Rowan felt like a petulant child at the beach.

The whole day, Rowan’s been doing his damn best to block Chaol from Aelin, but it seemed like Chaol caught onto his game and is now quicker with his actions. Aelin hasn’t been helping either. Not with the way she’s voluntarily playing in the water with Chaol right now in her show-stopping black bikini with embroidered little golden dragons.

Earlier, Chaol offered to put sunscreen on Aelin’s body for her. Before Rowan could beat him to it, Chaol had already started applying the cream to her long tan legs. Aelin didn’t even protest, but she didn’t miss the sharp glare Rowan sent Chaol’s way, silently laughing at Rowan.

It certainly didn’t help when Chaol was applying the sunscreen slowly, as if trying to memorize the feel of her skin. And instead of quickly stopping Chaol, Aelin keenly kept an eye on Rowan, an amused look on her face as she caught the narrowing of his eyes.

A while later, they played in the sand together like two toddlers on a date. Aelin giggled the whole time as she buried Chaol in the sand and created a mermaid body for him. Rowan figured she needed help getting sand so he repeatedly kicked sand towards Chaol from where he sat on his beach chair. A lot of the sand landed on Chaol’s face, which earned him a shout and glare from Chaol, but it wasn’t Rowan’s fault that the sand landed on his face when Rowan aimed it towards his neck.

Totally not his fault. Must’ve been the wind.

Aelin seemed to be amused by the whole ordeal, if the twinkle in her eyes and the giant smile spread on her face were anything to go by.

The rest of the day seemed like it was “Ignore Rowan Time” because they both ignored Rowan and kept to each other. They went to buy popsicles together and deserted Rowan at the beach. They reappeared about twenty minutes later, only to desert him again to go into the water. Rowan had enough of it.

Now, Rowan watched from afar as Chaol put his slimy hands all over Aelin, carrying her onto his shoulders and dropping her into the water. Sighing in frustration, Rowan angrily bit down a big bite of the popsicle before throwing the rest into the trash can a few feet away.

Grumbling the whole way, Rowan walked down towards the water, looking for ways to easily throw Chaol into it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aelin spin towards him, smiling as she looked at him. Rowan returned a small smile, hoping it didn’t look like a grimace.

As Rowan crept towards Chaol, he kept eye contact with Aelin, conveying his plans to her through the movement of his eyes. Aelin’s face shone with amusement as her eyes held a mischievous gleam. Chaol, noticing something amiss and Aelin’s wandering eyes, turned just in time to be tackled into the water by Rowan’s broad shoulders.

Aelin cackled as Chaol’s arms flailed above the water, paying no attention to Rowan as he stalked toward her. It was already too late by the time Aelin felt herself get lifted by Rowan’s hands.

“Don’t you dare, Buzzard,” Aelin warned as she repeatedly slapped Rowan’s bare back. Rowan only slapped her butt in return, to which Aelin quickly gasped, “Rowan Whitethorn! You did not jus—”

Aelin was thrown into the water before she could even finish her sentence. Rowan watched in amusement as Aelin’s arms flailed before she pulled herself above water, spitting a mouthful of salty water at Rowan’s chest. Wiping the water from her face, Aelin glared at Rowan before running as best she could in water and trying to tackle Rowan. Rowan was immovable, but he grabbed her around the waist and fell backwards into the water anyway, pulling Aelin with him.

Up above the water again, Aelin glared at him and huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest, Rowan’s arms still encasing her to his body. Rowan’s chuckle reverberated through Aelin’s body from where their bodies were touching.

The sun was setting, creating beautiful hues of pinks and oranges that reflected off of the many white fluffy clouds in the sky. Seeing Aelin bathed in that light was surreal. The ring of gold in her beautiful turquoise eyes, eyes that Rowan loves, more accentuated in the golden sunlight. Her golden hair glowing as if it was on fire. Aelin looked stunning.

Aelin grinned as Rowan’s hand flattened against her waist, his fingers contracting as if debating letting her go. Rowan noticed Aelin’s hand lifting to cup his face. Her hand was warm, as though the warmth of the sun she personified extended to her fingertips.

Rowan stared into her deep questioning gaze, eyes inquisitive as if waiting for him to do something. Rowan could only stare as she carefully stroked her thumb across his cheekbone, her hands slick with the beach water.

His eyes locked onto hers as she lifted her other hand to his face, her fingers tracing the lines of the tattoo along his temple. Rowan’s breathing turned ragged as he was reminded of the day’s events: how he was constantly left behind to watch over their things, how he was left out of the activities Aelin and Chaol had chosen to do, and how utterly frustrated and defeated he’d felt when Aelin didn’t try to avoid Chaol’s advances on her.

“Rowan,” Aelin breathed as her fingers slid down the side of his tattooed cheek, reminding Rowan of the way she’d touched Chaol today and how she’d allowed that touch to be reciprocated.

He quickly yanked both wrists off his face. He didn’t want her to touch him when she was fawning over some other man. He dropped her hands and stepped back, staring at her as she briefly closed her eyes in hurt.

“Don’t do that,” Rowan rasped, “Don’t—touch me like that.”

Aelin swallowed, her face burning red, “I’m sorry.” She backed away a step. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It was nothing.”

Rowan’s eyes shuttered, “Good.” The word repeated in his head. “Fine.”

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Rowan kept a neutral face as he stalked away, trying not to look like a wounded puppy. He quickly toweled himself off before gathering his things and leaving the beach without Aelin in tow.

~

Rowan didn’t know why he was here. He’d definitely ruined things between him and Aelin if the hurt on her face was anything to go by. But, Rowan couldn’t go to sleep knowing that he’d done something that hurt Aelin. He’d lied in his bed, staring at his ceiling before deciding to just go apologize to her. He didn’t look at the time at all, just put on some clothes and left his house. He didn’t take his phone, didn’t take anything but the keys in his hands.

Now, Rowan was staring at a small two-story cream-colored house. Kingsflame flowers lined either side of the short path leading to the front door. Aelin’s favorite flowers.

“Fuck,” Rowan sighed. He shook his head as he slowly brought it to lean against his car horn. “I should’ve gotten her flowers.” He glanced at the clock to see if there’d be a possibility for him to make a quick trip to the flower shop. 2:48, the clock read.

The flower shop wouldn’t even be open at this time.

Rowan sighed as he quietly got out of his car and made his way up to Aelin’s door, dread pooling in his stomach at the idea of Aelin ignoring him completely. As Rowan waited after ringing the doorbell, he took note of the light ballad coming out of Aelin’s small home, the sorrowful melody hitting him in the chest. Aelin only ever listened to that type of music when she was feeling heartbroken and Rowan was hurt knowing that he’d been the one to cause that pain.

He rang the doorbell another time before deciding that she probably couldn’t hear if her music could be heard from outside. Sighing, Rowan pulled out his phone and called her, hearing the music pause for the duration of an unanswered call, and waited until the call went to voicemail before he reluctantly walked to the fourth kingsflame flower from her front door.

Rowan, then, got onto his knees and dug out dirt until he was met with Aelin’s spare key, which was only supposed to be used in dire emergencies.

Oh, this was very dire.

Grimacing at his dirty hands, Rowan walked back towards the front door and opened it before getting inside. Rowan threw the spare key onto the counter before rinsing his hands and hightailing towards Aelin’s bedroom.

Slamming open the French doors, Rowan’s eyes frantically searched for Aelin, finding the woman standing at the threshold of her connected bathroom in nothing but a blue towel wrapped around her lithe frame.

Shocked still, Aelin stood with wide, puffy, red eyes and a frown marring her beautiful face. Rowan knew she’d taken a bath to feel better, but it wasn’t enough to abate her emotions if the tears still lining her eyes were anything to go by.

Rowan’s chest hurt, his face crumpling in pain at the sight of her. “I am so, so sorry, Aelin,” Rowan apologized as he looked deeply into her sorrowful eyes. “I hadn’t meant to react like that—like your touch had been so repulsive that I had to quickly get rid of it. But when you did touch me, I was reminded of how you’d touched Chaol earlier in the day, how you’d allowed yourself to be touched by him. I didn’t like watching you with him, let alone touching him.” Rowan took a step forward and some of his anxiety quelled at the insistence in her eyes for him to keep talking. “I was mad and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

Aelin seemed at a loss for words as she silently processed everything he’d said, her eyes analyzing his face as she searched for the sincerity of his words. Her head tilted slightly as if trying to further understand his words. “Why were you mad?”

Rowan subtly winced as rubbed the back of his neck, ducking his head and staring at the wooden floor. “Like I said, I don’t like Chaol,” Rowan explained.

“No, no. You said you didn’t like watching me with Chaol. You were jealous,” Aelin deadpanned.

“Mad or jealous, I don’t care. All I care about is you and the fact that I love you,” Rowan shouted as he threw his hands into the air.

Aelin’s breath hitched as she stared in shock at his sudden outburst. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times before she gaped at him. “Wh-what did you just say?” Aelin sputtered.

“I had a dream, Aelin. I was woken up by a 2 or 3 year-old child and she was laying on my chest when you walked in. You told me that you had her wake me up by giggling and kissing my face because while I slept in, you and the kids woke up early to make breakfast. Our children were in that dream and you were pregnant with our fifth child.” Rowan ran a hand through his hair before he took the remaining steps between them and gently cupped her face as he looked into her eyes. “When I actually woke up, you were right there in my arms. I’d never been more peaceful and content than when you were in my arms. As you were laying there, I’d realized I wanted that dream to become reality. And, I wanted that with you. You’re it for me, baby. You’re my dream and my forever. I love you, Aelin. Please forgive me.” Rowan gently rested his forehead against hers as he wiped the tears streaming down Aelin’s face.

Aelin’s hands came up to grasp his elbows as Rowan leaned down and kissed her right cheek, his hands moving to tuck her hair behind her ears. His lips moved towards her other cheek, pressing another light kiss there before moving onto both of her eyelids. He continued placing light kisses onto her forehead, her nose, and her chin.

As Rowan got to her lips, he angled his head away from her face to stare into her eyes, seemingly asking for permission to continue his path. When Aelin reached her hands up and gently cradled his face as he slowly leaned in, Rowan threw all caution to the wind and finally pressed his lips on hers.

Kissing Aelin was better than anything Rowan had ever known. The soft and hesitant, yet determined and insistent press of her lips against his set his body on fire. Rowan felt like he was burning inside out, but he didn’t care because every second with this woman in his arms was worth burning to ashes.

Pulling away, Aelin looked into his eyes, placed her hands on his shoulders, and said, “I know.”

Rowan pulled back a bit, pressing another kiss to her lips before looking at her questioningly. “What do you mean you know?” Rowan gently rested his hands on her waist and pulled her closer to his body.

Aelin sighed, “I mean, I know that you love me. Don’t worry, I love you, too, Rowan.” Aelin leaned onto her toes to lightly kiss him on his lips. “Why do you think I’d devised all these plans to make you jealous anyway?” Aelin shrugged.

Thrown off guard, Rowan froze as he stared her down. “Plans to make me jealous? What are you talking about? How did you know?”

“All I have to say is that you need to learn how to control your alcohol intake. Getting a love confession from my best friend when he’s shitfaced drunk was not how I planned on learning about his undying love for me.” Aelin waved a hand, “Anyway, I had Chaol act like an obsessed lover so you would get riled up and finally make a move. He’s truly only a friend that’s visiting for the summer and he has a fiancée back in Adarlan; she's actually in on it too, so no need to worry. I’m not so sure if my plan was a good or a bad idea, considering the tumultuous outcome.” Aelin glanced up at him to gauge his reaction.

Rowan didn’t know whether he should laugh or cry. A sudden laugh erupted out of Rowan, startling both him and Aelin. “It was definitely a good plan if I’m able to be yours in the end,” Rowan muttered, leaning down to kiss Aelin.

Aelin pulled back and quirked a brow. “Who said you could be mine?” The question was paired with Aelin’s arms crossing over her chest. Rowan immediately paled.

“Well,” Rowan rubbed the back of his neck, “I assumed that since you reciprocated my feelings, you’d be my girlfriend now, but…” Rowan trailed off awkwardly.

“Did you ask yet?” Aelin inquired, a serious expression taking over her face.

Gripping Aelin’s hands in his, Rowan looked into her eyes as he asked, “Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, will you do me the honor of allowing me to become your boyfriend?”

Aelin pretended to be thinking for a few seconds, eliciting a pinch in the side from Rowan. Aelin grinned, a smile so beautiful, Rowan would be a fool to not smile back.

“Of course, Buzzard.”

[gryffindors-weasley]

Late Nights, Early Mornings

Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you can’t sleep, Benedict will always be there.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none—fluff, kissing

A sigh left your lips as you rolled further onto your side, resting your head tiredly on Benedict’s shoulder. You weren’t entirely sure of the hour, it could have been late in the night or early in the morning. Either way, you could not sleep and that much was certain. You’ve got far too much energy to sleep, though you were far too tired to do anything else but to stay in the comfort of your bed and hope dreams find you. Your mind wasn’t active with anything important in particular—well, maybe a few things.

Your mind was bouncing between one trivial thought to the next in a restless loop, anywhere from the happenings of early that evening to the walk you wanted to take through the garden with Benedict the following day. It left you no other choice but to settle for sulking, to dance your fingertips across his chest as you so often did. Your touch was featherlight as you did just that, eyelids tauntingly heavy as you continued the absentminded action.

It was a rather tiresome night at Lady Danbury’s estate, the events she holds always proving to be extraordinarily exceptional in all aspects. Your feet ache from a night of dancing with your beau and his brothers, your mind exhausted from holding one too many conversations, some of which with people you’d never even met prior to that evening. Not only that, but the event itself was much too long after the first hour or so, and the fatigue settling upon you would very much agree with that statement. You were quite sure you would be sore once you get up for the morning.

Needless to say, there was ample reason for you to be fast asleep in that current moment, but your mind fervently says otherwise as you remain awake.

Admittedly, it was rather peaceful as you lay there. The warmth of the sheets juxtaposed with the breeze filtering in through the open windows sweeping across your skin—it felt entirely calming. With it brought the subtle sound of said breeze gusting through the leaves on the multitude of trees in the garden, the scent of flowers wafting in. Moonlight streamed in through the arched windows, weaving around the burgundy curtains draping around them and stretching across the hardwood floor.

It was a sight all too beautiful—a different kind of beauty than that of elegant gowns and finely tailored suits, of polished dancefloors and well practiced music. While you did enjoy the constructed beauty of the estate you could call your very own home, even the very room you currently reside within, it paled in comparison to the natural glamour all around you. The intricate gold detailing around each and every door frame, the meticulously painted portraits on the walls, the grand pianos and chandeliers; they were all nothing short of gorgeous you must say. But there was something utterly enamoring about the way the curtains swayed with the wind and stars that twinkled above you.

Your gaze flits to Benedict as you breathe out another sigh, a soft smile on your lips. You’re smiling at the way his hair sits in tousled tangles of dark brown curls, dipping freely over his forehead. It was never necessarily neat and managed to begin with, and the thought alone had you stifling a quiet laugh. You gaze at the way his lashes curl over the tops of his cheeks, and the bridge of his ever so kissable nose and the soft smattering of freckles that dance across it. Your attention focuses on the occasional tightening of his grip around your waist out of instinct should you stray too far from him, and the moments he wakes up briefly just to kiss your forehead before drifting off. It was a seemingly unbreakable habit, one that you adored so wholly. It is but a wonder how his love can be so delightfully dizzying, how he himself could be so wonderful. But he is.

You hadn’t known quite how long you’d been caught up in your own thinking, in your own admiring, but you had most certainly known of the hand enveloping your wrist and the soft laugh sounding in the otherwise quiet room. One that startled you only slightly.

“I can feel you staring, my love,” he states, the corner of his mouth quirking to a smile before he turns his head and peeks an eye open at you. “I’m afraid you’re not as discreet as you may think.”

You smile brightly, beamingly as you lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. He smiles in bliss at the action, eyes fluttering closed only briefly.

“Sorry,” you mumble quietly, fingers still swirling on his skin, “couldn’t sleep.”

He hums softly in acknowledgment, your words capturing his attention fully as he turned his head to look at you. His eyes take in your sleepy expression, your grin there and just for him nonetheless. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me why?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to fight your growing smile and your efforts were quickly proving to be futile the more you held his amused gaze. He knew you were up to something, you always were and he always knew just when that was. He could tell by the very smile that had been playing on your lips and the mischievous look filling your stare.

“My mind won’t seem to let me forget the way you’ve twirled me directly into the Queen herself this evening.”

There it was.

His tired laughter continued once more at your words and you couldn’t stifle your own a moment longer, nor did you hesitate to scrunch your nose in displeasure at his reaction. “And I suppose you think that is all my fault? Never mind your perpetual clumsiness, of course it couldn’t be that.”

His jesting words were spoken softly against your lips, his nose brushing against your own as he kisses you to silence your inevitable scoff. Your inevitable complaint for stating the obvious. You relax against him then, almost letting yourself become distracted. Truthfully, you had, it wasn’t hard to with the way your lips meld perfectly with one another. Or perhaps it was the way he smiled against them because of the sheer love in his heart for you before continuing with a kiss far too intoxicatingly gentle and sweet to ignore. The way the warmth of his palm pressed gently to your flushed cheek before sliding down your arm as it had moments before. But, with all the reluctance in the world you part from him, a teasing smile on your lips.

“Yes,” you start, nipping the very tip of his nose. “I very much do think so, my love. And I do believe you are just as clumsy as I am.”

“Am not!” He defends, propping himself up on his elbow, his blue stare now narrowed playfully at you as his hand never leaves your arm.

You scoff incredulously, trying not to be swayed by your desire to kiss him once more though you will admit it was rather hard to ignore. “Need I remind you of the incident at Somerset House?”

He squints down at you as you raise your brow in a silent challenge, lips kiss swollen and pursed as you wait for him to break. He could deny it all he so desires, but you knew for certain that he’d had more than enough clumsy encounters for the two of you. You narrowed your eyes the more moments that passed, still amused and still patiently waiting as the brunette just inches in front of you bit the inside of his cheek. He was so close his breath fanned across your lips.

“That table was deceiving,” He explains, causing you to tip your head back and your laughter to escape you without hesitation as he flops back next to you with a bounce. “How was I to know it’d topple over like that?”

Your teasing smile had soon dwindled to a soft one as he settled close to you, your laughter mingling in the air. His eyes nearly sparkle as he looked at you, his grin equally soft. “Regardless, you nearly knocked a rather expensive painting off the wall in your attempt to grab my hand and flee from the mess you’d created. How ever shall I forget that?”

Your voice is soft and spoken with the utmost of lighthearted teasing, a squeal leaving your lips when his hand moves from your wrist to envelop your own, tugging you swiftly to be impossibly closer to him. His smile is sleepy and fond, your joined hands coming to rest on his chest as his thumb brushes gingerly over the back of yours. It’s quiet for a few moments, your cheeks flushing over the sheer lovingness held in his gaze.

“I don’t believe you shall ever forget it, you love to tease me far too much on the matter,” he chuckles, though not an ounce of exasperation finds its way in his tone at the obvious fact that surely you will mention it again.

Your smile is beaming as you nudge his nose with your own, lips brushing over lips and breath fanning warmly and softly over skin. Your kiss is tender and fleeting before you drop your head to his chest with a quiet sigh, hiding your face in his neck. He joins your sigh, his fingers trailing up and down your spine in a delicate touch.

For a short while you took the moment to bask in the safety of his arms, in the rhythmic beat of his heart as your ear remained pressed upon his chest. Traces of his laughter still shake you ever so lightly, his lips pressing to the top of your head in a simple moment of affection. He knew no matter how much you joked about it, the events just a few hours prior still bothered you. Even if it’d been just a little bit. It was the Queen after all.

The silence may have been brief but he felt as if he should say something, anything. He knew he needed to.

“In all fairness, you must know that you look rather cute when you’re flustered,” he states. He smiles when he feels your otherwise quiet laughter puff against his neck.

You lift your head slightly, resting it on his shoulder to better see him. “Must I?”

He lets go of your hand to brush the hair out of your face, to brush his thumb across your cheek. He felt as though his heart nearly bursted in his chest with the way the moonlight glimmered over you, with the way it made your eyes shine brighter than any star. With the way you looked at him, a look that will always give him butterflies, that will always make him melt. He nods. “Yes, you must.”

The corner of your mouth quirks up at his words, and you blink at him tiredly. “She nearly spilled her lemonade on my dress, and she hadn’t looked very happy with me.”

“Do not worry, darling, I have smoothed things over. She loves me after all,” he says, the pad of his thumb moving from your cheek to sweep over your lip.

The roll of your eyes was expected, something bringing out the softest of laughs in him as he tilted your chin up and kissed you. “Then I must say I don’t blame her.”

He parted from your lips to kiss the very tip of your nose, to kiss your cheeks, your forehead, your jaw. Your laughter sounded by the time he made it back to your mouth, his forehead rested on yours as he relished in that very moment. Any bit of time he has with you, just the two of you—it’s time always cherished. Even if it’s you teasing him in good fun for his clumsy mistakes, and him hopelessly trying to deny such clumsy incidents. It’s all he’d ever need and it’s all he’d ever want.

“I think we should go back to sleep now, Y/n/n,” he murmurs, tugging the blankets back up.

You finally could agree on that statement, the fatigue of the day just catching up with you as you yawn. He tucked you close, his hand soon finding yours as he lays back against your pillow. The moment you’re comfortable, your joined hands rest on his chest once more, fingers entwining and legs tangling.

“I love you, Ben,” you whisper softly.

He smiles at the nickname, peering down to meet your sleepy gaze. You press one final kiss to his lips to further confirm your affections, the action wordless and fleeting before you let your head fall to his shoulder.

“I love you more,” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a lopsided smile.

He’d love you forever—in the late nights and the early mornings.

—

Tags: @dreaming-about-fanfictions @awritingtree @writeroutoftime @elennox03

[dear-yandere]

[ kinktober day 1 — shameless. ]

yandere! snapped! leviathan x f! reader. scenario.

summary. levi’s got a nasty penchant for jealousy. marking you in front of his brothers is off the table… but camming isn’t.

— word count: 1445. — prompts: marking/creampie + porn/camming. — warnings: n/sfw (noncon, exhibitionism, hemipenis, begging), implied blackmail. — art credit: @_ivutyozo_.

kinktober masterlist.

Eyes pin to the screen like it’s religion; his mind is filled with you.

Every breath his lungs inhale, every touch his fingers find, every sight his eyes attend—he only knows of you. Wants to know every part of you—to know every twitch, every moan, every sound you'll make beneath him. Like a loyal disciple at the altar, he wants to burn the image of your face behind his eyelids, wants to sear the touch of your skin onto his hands, wants to brand your existence into his skin. He wants you, he needs you—he’ll have you.

And he wants everyone to know.

Fifteen.

The you before him is unfamiliar even in his wildest dreams—this is the first time he’s seen you so bare, so exposed, your body naked and pressed flushed against his chest. Warm thighs press one breast flat against your rib cage, and he hungrily prods the other away to rest his sweaty hand against your nipple, rubs the sensitive bud between his thumb and index, and admires the way you twitch at his touch. You’re dead silent—biting back shameful moans and ugly tears; he’d prefer hearing you cry out his name over and over, but he doesn’t hold that desire to you. His eyes are still pinned to the screen and he can see the fear in your eyes—the adoration in his. 

Twenty.

His viewers see the same thing he does, but they don’t know you. They just see another pretty face, another pretty hole getting stuffed, but they don’t see you. He’s not like them, he promises, swears. They don’t see the you he sees—they don’t get to touch, or smell, or kiss you. They don’t love you, they don’t get to love you—the closest they’re offered is the image of your tear-stained face on the screen, their disgusting hands jerking off their cocks as they fantasize about fucking you themselves.

Disgusting—but he can’t blame them. Normally, he’s not one to show you off like this—wouldn’t want anyone seeing you like this, but the thought of randoms jerking themselves off to you as he stuffs your cunt silly makes him drunk with desire. They can’t have you—and he can’t feel envious. He was in their position not too long ago, rubbing one out once or twice or thrice a day to the thought of your body against his and the thought of your little cunt stuffed tight. He doesn’t have to fantasize anymore. You’re in his arms right now—the reality of it all is shown on the screen and neither of you can’t look away. 

You’re finally his.

All that’s left is for you to—

“Say it...” He chastises, chants, orders in a tone that’s hardly commanding—and you flinch. “[Name], say it, say it. Please say it.” Devilish eyes travel along the screen, admires the twitch of your thighs pressed against your stomach, admires the slick on your folds as his cock bottoms out in your cunt. “Say it—I’ll do anything to hear you say it.”

If you’re his religion, those words are his prayer. Say it, say it, say it—say it for everyone to hear.

Your mouth stays closed.

Hips snap into yours hard and force you backward into his bare chest. His cock easily slips in and out of your wet cunt, the tips of his cocks rough against taut inner walls. The stretch of his penises still make your hips jerk upward for escape, but his fingernails dig into your flesh to keep you anchored against his waist. The gasp of pain on your lips hardly has time to manifest into little more than a whimper, and in your delirium, your eyes wander back to the screen. You see your hair disheveled, eyes wide like prey before a predator—and you see the numbers rising. 

Fifty.

Red—the red number how many people are watching you be violated. The red signifying that the viewer count keeps going up, up, up. The red signifying proof—proof you’ve never felt so low in your life.

“L-Levi, please... t-they’re watching, they can see us, I—” The words are sandpaper against your throat; the pleas on your lips are a prayer he blissfully ignores. Terrified to glance over your shoulder, your eyes flash to meet his through the screen just in time to witness sharp canines sinking into the delicate, thin flesh of your neck. He’s gentle, gentler than you expected, but the thrill of being watched by real people eggs him on; he suckles and nips into your skin without warning, never once looking away from the screen. You whimper and whine against his chest, finding the feeling of his fingers pinching your nipples wrong.

“No...” He breathes in your skin and hoists your ass closer to his hips. Pain shoots through your nearly-numbed legs at the sudden repositioning, and your body tenses. “Don’t care, let them watch... just lemme hear you.” A hand rests against your labia and collects slick against his fingers. You inhale sharply, watching him give your clit a quick pinch before bringing his spoils to your face. “You’re so wet. You’re wet for me.” He reveres, peering past your hair to admire the sight of your cum coating his fingers.

You can’t look any longer.

“Please...” His chin dips against your neck and drool trickles onto your shoulder, frigid against heated skin. He kisses the area between your jaw and ear and asks you again. “Say it for me, only me.” Eyes flicker to the screen, pretends the people watching are his brothers, pretends he’s won. “Say you belong to me.”

You’re in a daze. You don’t want to do it, don’t want to do this. And you get it in your head that if just you say it, just say that you belong to him, it’ll be over. It’ll all be over—he’ll turn off the camera and delete the video. He’ll say he didn’t mean it, he’ll say he’ll do anything to make it up to you. And you’ll forgive him—and it’ll be normal again.

So you say it.

“’m...yours, Levi.” You gasp. You tear your eyes from the screen, and your head lulls to the side in defeat. It’s over, you’ll wake up. Everything will be the same—“I’m yours, only yours! Only wanna be yours—nn!”

Luminescent cum coats his stiff cock, mixes with the white of your cum, and he stills, watches them mix together and drip from deep in your cunt. The sick clap of skin against skin is gone and silence settles over the room like smog. You don’t look up, don’t make a sound—the camera’s still on and you don’t wanna face it. He’ll turn it off, turn it off soon, turn it off and forget about it and everything’ll be okay again.

You didn’t expect him to laugh.

It’s uncontrollable, the way his giggles turn from lighthearted to insane. The pit in your stomach swells and bursts—you can taste blood and bile against your throat. His nose buries itself in the apex of your shoulder, revels in the scent of your sweat and shampoo; his laughter vibrates in your stomach and you want to puke.

He’s still looking at the camera, still reveling in the afterglow.

One hundred fifty.

One hundred fifty people watched you get fucked live—watched you get held down and creampied. One hundred fifty people watched you and didn’t help. 

This must be a sick dream.

But you can’t deny it. He owns you, he owns you now—the proof’s right there in your cunt, right there on video, right there for everyone to see. He doesn’t have to mark you in front of his brothers—it wouldn’t come close to the thrill of claiming you as his in front of this many people. Your body’s coated with proof, with sweat and tears and cum smattered across your stomach and thighs.

“I love you.” Lips press against the curve of your neck, uttering praise and adorations. You don’t have the energy to shove him away. He scoops the mixed cum from your thighs and spreads it across your skin, loves seeing it cover more and more of your person. “So happy,” he mumbles into your skin. “Love you so much.” He sighs in bliss and stares back at the screen. You’re still not looking at him, but he doesn’t mind. He’s used to seeing you look at other men—at his brothers.

But that’s changed. You fucked him and he’s got it on video, a precaution if you ever turn around and say you don’t feel anything for him. There’s no ‘you and his brothers’—only you and him. He’ll never forget this moment—he’ll always remember this moment. 

He made sure of it.

dear-yandere 2019-2020, all rights reserved.

[ceilingfan5]

Out of This World

congratulations to my 500 followers giveaway winner @terezis, who asked for “alien taako accidentally kidnaps kravitz”

and thanks to everyone who participated!!! 

“Where the hell are you going at this hour?” Kravitz’s roommate Sloane asks, looking up from the egregious snuggling she’s got going on with her girlfriend. On Kravitz’s couch, no less. 

“Didn’t you see that light? I have to go investigate! It could be- It could be any number of things! A meteor, a spatial anomaly, maybe even a-”

“Helicopter?” Sloane’s voice is dryer than the toast he had for dinner. Kravitz doesn’t let it dampen his mood. 

“It could be something truly mysterious, and I can’t abide letting well enough alone.”

“You never can,” she sighs. “Well, be safe out there. Don’t forget your keys.”

“Mhm,” Kravitz says, jamming his feet into mismatched shoes. “Don’t wait up for me.”

“Super won’t, so don’t die or get kidnapped or whatever.”

“I’ll be perfectly fine!” 

And Kravitz, who has no sense of predilection or self-preservation, thunders down the stairs and out into the streets with his fifty dollar flashlight and a passionately misplaced sense of adventure. 

He startles a few street cats, coos at a racoon, trips over trash, and just past the apartment complex, he spots it again. That powerful blue glow. It’s in the wrong direction for some kind of event or party--it’s closer to the farms at the edge of town than it is anything that ought to be blue in the middle of the night. And then, as Kravitz gets closer, he hears a hum, a soft, thrumming, nearly musical hum, and he sees it, he fucking sees it-

A spaceship. 

He cackles in unbridled validated glee and then slaps his hands over his mouth, dropping his fancy flashlight with all the lumens money can buy, reflecting on its way to the ground in three pairs of glowing gold eyes and a mouthful of sharp, sharp teeth. 

Something like a cross between static electricity and cement-hard water from doing a belly flop hits him, and he doesn’t see it anymore. 

  He wakes up in a space so white that it’s blue, searing his eyes with the brightness. His whole body is sore, but in a heavy way that almost feels nice. He blinks slowly, his eyelids sticking like windshield wipers on an old car during the first snow of the season, and something--someone? humanoid appears in his hazy vision. They have four arms and a long, golden brown tail, gilded with a smattering of freckles that reflect in the light like the bottom of a river untouched for centuries, and then, those six frightening, beautiful eyes, staring right into Kravitz’s soul, blinking asymmetrically, and twice. A nictitating membrane. Bafflingly cool. Kravitz tries to sit up and his head protests dramatically, and the figure swears--in English. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, what am I going to- how am I going to explain this- shit, shit, shit- Don’t do that, lay down, stupid adorable creature...” Two of those four hands gently press on his chest and he lays back down, mouth hanging open. 

“Who are you?” he asks, even though he could have opened with any number of questions, perhaps namely what do you want with me? 

“Oh, fuck, is my translator working? That’s a bonus. Oh, ancient skies, what a fucking mess...I can’t believe I- I’m going to be in so much trouble-”

“Because I saw you?”

“Well- yes, and also because I stunned you, and brought you aboard, which, believe it or not, has exacerbated- that’s a weird word, why is your language like this?--It’s made shit so much worse, because I’m dumb as hell and twice as fired. If not executed.” 

“Can I look around?”

“Babe, your listening comprehension isn’t great, is it? I’m gonna be in so much trouble for you even catching a glimpse of this- motherfucker, I should have stuck to cows, cows are classic, can’t go wrong with cows-” The alien, because, that’s- this person has to be an alien, there’s no other way, the set is too expensive and complete, the technology glittering at the edge of his vision is too complex, the makeup team would have to be intense?? The alien wrings two of their hands, and then the other two, fidgeting nervously. They pick grass off of Kravitz in a way that’s almost affectionate, and Kravitz has a hard time compiling all the facts, here.

“What’s your name?”  

“Taako,” Taako says, absolutely miserable. “But you shouldn’t know that. I should put you back--or kill you--but I don’t know if I can, I mean, look at you! Four little limbs and two little eyes! And you’re so curious and...cute.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Kravitz can’t help it. He’s always wanted to kiss an alien, and, presented with the road to that opportunity, he finds himself taking it with no hesitation. “What can I do to get you to not kill me today?”

“I could wipe your memory, I guess...”

"Not ideal."

"Not ideal, no, it does sort of tangle all your business up there a little." Taako frowns, which is a very strange thing to see a person with six eyes do. His lips are purple and they look...incredibly kissable, even drawn up in a frustrated little bow. Kravitz had probably better focused on not getting lobotomized, but he's as gay as he is a nerd, so he always would have been fucked in a situation like this. 

"Maybe, uh, maybe," he says, casting about for a solution, any solution. "Um, what, why are you here? What's going on with the, the cows?" 

"Well, we're studying your planet, obviously?" Taako walks away from Kravitz, pacing anxiously, and Kravitz takes the chance to sit up. It makes his mouth go dry and his head even more cottony, but he blinks blearily at Taako and smiles a little. "We're trying to learn how things work, how your society works, you know, see if you guys can handle the real shit, see if- You've got these incredible bonds, and I mean, my home sort of has those, but it's not the same, and- it would be real powerful if we could bring that kind of thing home."

"Guess you're not finding those bonds in cows, huh?" Kravitz has his out, and it's a good one. He can't stop grinning. He hopes Taako doesn't think it's a threat display. "Well, if I promise not to tell anyone about you, and you promise not to tell anyone about me, I could tell you some hot Earth facts, anything you want to know?" 

Taako bites his lip, folding both pairs of arms and pausing his pacing, and he looks at Kravitz, incredibly tempted.

"Anything?" 

"Anything. And if I don't know it, I'll look it up." Kravitz holds up his phone, and the reflection of it glints in Taako’s huge, hungry eyes. He grabs it and turns it on. 

"Oh this is good, this is very, very good. But-" 

"But you wanted to know about bonds, right?" 

"Right. And I promise I'm not trying to pry, but you keep thinking about kissing? And I want to know what that is." 

Kravitz swallow hard, knocked on his ass twofold. Taako can read his thoughts? Taako wants to kiss him???

"I can show you how, if you want," Kravitz says, embarrassed but also thrilled beyond all recognition. "Unless you think you're, you know, poisonous to me, or something-"

"It's probably fine?"

"It's probably fine!!" 

Taako walks over to him, tail flicking anxiously behind him. He's beautiful. Kravitz has finally met an alien, and he's beautiful. 

"We just- with our mouths?" 

"Exactly, just. Do what feels right." 

"Okay, I can, I can do that. And nobody is going to know, nobody will find out, it's fine-" 

Kravitz kisses him and Taako kisses back, sloppy and awkward and wonderful and Kravitz grabs the lapels of his uniform and pulls him closer and Taako makes a happy little trill and all six of his eyes flutter closed. 

They pull back to breathe, Taako panting a little, and he looks at Kravitz and nods. 

"I'm not going to kill you. Or. Scramble you, or whatever." 

"Nice," Kravitz says, grinning like an absolute idiot. "Can I tell you all the cool things I know about Earth?" 

"Maybe one more kiss. Or five. Can I have ten? Ten seems like a good number. Fuck, this is way better than cows!"

"I should hope so!" Kravitz laughs.