#would like to not test this further. I still have to go to work.

[kk095]

Kenzie’s Cardioversion

*good evening! Since my New Year's story didn't post the way I had hoped, I figured I'd post a different story I had saved. If you're interested in the new years story, I still have the read only link posted. Anyway, enjoy!*

The automatic doors of the emergency department slid open as a paramedic team wheeled Kenzie in on a stretcher. She was propped up, her broad shoulders and thick, sturdy, 5’11 frame making her look larger than life against the narrow confines of the gurney. Her light brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her blue eyes darted nervously around the bustling ER. Dr Sarah, the on-call physician, approached with her clipboard, her demeanor calm. Nurse Heather trailed behind, ready for whatever was next.

“Kenzie Cole, 28 years old.” one of the paramedics began, keeping pace with the stretcher. “Fainted at home earlier today, now presenting with severe chest pain, palpitations, and a pinching sensation in the chest. BP’s stable at 118/77, but her heart rate’s been sitting around 130. EKG shows some irregularities we couldn’t immediately identify.” The medic continued, relaying the information.

Kenzie let out a shaky breath and winced as another wave of pain shot through her chest. “It feels like my heart’s tryin’ to jump right outta me!” she said, her southern accent soft yet evident. Dr Sarah placed a hand on Kenzie’s arm to ground her. “We’re going to take good care of you, Kenzie. I just need you to stay calm for me, ok?” Sarah told her patient. “Mhmm…” Kenzie nodded, a hand on her chest. “Let’s get her into Trauma Room two.” Sarah instructed the paramedics, continuing to wheel Kenzie further into the hospital.

Inside the room, the team moved quickly, transferring Kenzie onto the trauma room table as the medics made their way out. “Hey, I need a CBC, BMP, tox screen, d-dimer, cardiac enzyme, and HCG.” Sarah called out to Heather, who sprung into action, getting the necessary equipment for the battery of blood tests just ordered. Sarah then approached the table. “Kenzie, I need you to describe the pain to me again.” Dr. Sarah said, her tone steady. “It’s sharp, like somethin’s pinchin’ me real hard right in here…” Kenzie replied, pressing a hand against her sternum. “And my heart just won’t calm down…” added Kenzie, looking down at her chest. “Alright, let’s start her on a beta-blocker to bring that heart rate down.” Dr. Sarah said to Nurse Heather. Turning back to Kenzie, she added, “Kenzie? We’re running a few blood tests to try and figure out exactly what’s going on. In the meantime, I want you to take slow, deep breaths.” Kenzie nodded, though her eyes remained wide with worry. As the heart monitor beeped steadily in the background, Dr Sarah glanced at the slightly irregular EKG readout, her gut telling her there was more to this case than met the eye.

“How’re you holding up, Kenzie?” Dr. Sarah asked, glancing at the EKG monitor again. Kenzie gave a small, nervous smile. “I’m alright... Just wish my chest would stop feelin’ like this...” The patient answered. “We’re going to figure everything out.” Dr. Sarah reassured her. “First, let’s get a chest X-ray to see if there’s anything structural going on. Nurse Heather, will make it quick.” The cute, nerdy redheaded doctor continued. While Heather stepped aside to arrange the portable X-ray, Dr Sarah continued her examination, carefully pressing along Kenzie’s chest and ribcage. “Any pain when I press here?” inquired Sarah. Kenzie shook her head. “No, ma’am. The pain’s deeper, like… it’s on the inside.” Kenzie answered. Just then, Nurse Heather returned, wheeling the portable X-ray machine closer to the table. “Alright, Kenzie, I’m going to need you to sit up straight for me and hold your breath for a second.” Heather said as she positioned the X-ray plate behind Kenzie. As Heather worked, Kenzie tried to distract herself from the discomfort. “Y’all don’t sound like you’re from Tennessee, huh?” she remarked, her soft drawl making Heather smile. “Nope, born and raised in Virginia, but moved here after I got out of nursing school. “What about you?” Heather continued. “Tennessee through and through.” Kenzie said with a small laugh. “I grew up in Chattanooga. Moved here for work a couple years back. Still ain’t used to the winters, though!” The patient continued. Dr. Sarah chuckled. “Can’t blame you there. I’ve lived here my whole life, and I still complain about the snow every year.”

Heather stepped back and nodded. “All done here. It’ll take a second to get the x ray processed.”

Kenzie leaned back with a relieved sigh. “Thanks, y’all. I appreciate it.” Sarah smiled for a second “of course Kenzie, that’s what we’re here for!”

As they waited for the results, Nurse Heather took a seat beside Kenzie on a stool. “So, Chattanooga, huh? What brought you here again?” asked the young nurse. “Oh, a job offer I couldn’t turn down.” Kenzie explained. “It’s a big change, but I figured it was worth a shot. Didn’t think I’d end up in an ER like this, though.” Kenzie went on, looking down at her chest again, eyeing the wires and EKG electrodes stuck onto her. “Most people don’t, but I promise, we’ll get this sorted out.” Dr. Sarah said, pulling a chair over to review her notes.

Minutes later, the X-ray results popped up on the screen. Dr. Sarah leaned in, her brow furrowing as she examined them. “Well, it’s clear…” she said, a mix of relief and confusion in her voice. “No structural issues, no signs of fluid or anything else abnormal.” Sarah shook her head. Kenzie looked between Dr. Sarah and Nurse Heather, her expression turning more worried. “So… what now? Is that good or bad?” the patient asked. “Now, we have to dig deeper.” Dr. Sarah said with a reassuring smile. “We’ll probably order an echocardiogram. It just means we have to keep investigating. Don’t worry- we’ll get to the bottom of this, we always do sooner or later.” Sarah reassured. Kenzie nodded, though the uncertainty lingered in her blue eyes. She leaned back against the table, her accent softening as she murmured, “I sure hope so, Doc. I don’t like this one bit…” Dr. Sarah gave her arm a comforting squeeze before stepping out to confer with the team about the next steps.

A short time later, the portable echocardiogram machine was rolled into the room, and Dr. Sarah and Nurse Heather began preparing Kenzie for the next round of testing. Kenzie lay back on the table, her wavy, light brown hair cascading over the bed, and her blue eyes fixated on the machine. “We’re going to take a closer look at your heart, ok Kenzie?” Dr. Sarah explained, snapping on a pair of gloves. “This ultrasound will help us see how it’s functioning and if there are any structural abnormalities we couldn’t pick up on the X-ray.” Dr Sarah continued explaining. Kenzie nodded, her tan complexion slightly flushed, whether from nervousness or her condition was unclear. “I ain’t ever seen my heart before… Kinda strange to think I’m about to.” she said, her southern accent softening her words. “Most people haven’t. It’s pretty amazing, though- watching the heart work in real time.” Dr Sarah smiled. Heather applied a cool gel to Kenzie’s chest, and she flinched slightly. “Sorry, I know it’s a bit chilly.” Heather said with a grin, adjusting the probe as Kenzie relaxed. As Dr. Sarah began moving the probe across Kenzie’s chest, an image of her heart flickered onto the monitor. Kenzie’s eyes widened in curiosity. “That’s my heart?!” she asked, her voice tinged with awe. “Yep, that’s your heart, Kenzie.” Dr. Sarah confirmed, her attention divided between Kenzie and the screen. “Right now, we’re looking at the left ventricle- the part that pumps oxygenated blood to the rest of your body.” Explained the doctor, pointing to the screen with one hand. Kenzie’s gaze didn’t waver from the monitor. The rhythmic contraction of her heart was oddly mesmerizing to her- a tiny engine working tirelessly to keep her alive. “It’s kinda beautiful, ain’t it?” she murmured, a smirk on her face. “Never thought about it like that before.” Heather chuckled. “Most people don’t until they see it. It’s pretty remarkable.” Chimed in Dr Sarah, eyeing the ultrasound monitor. Dr. Sarah adjusted the probe, capturing different angles of Kenzie’s heart. The sound of the doppler flow filled the room, a rapid whooshing noise that matched the quick rhythm of her pulse. “Looks like it’s workin kinda hard.” Kenzie commented, her tone a mix of fascination and concern. “It definitely is.” Dr. Sarah said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she examined the images on the screen. “Your heart’s pumping well, but it’s moving faster than it should be. No obvious structural issues so far, which is good, but we’ll have to keep looking.” Sarah explained to the her patient. Kenzie’s curiosity didn’t waver. “Can y’all keep that thang over my chest for a another second? I just wanna look at my heart a little longer!” asked Kenzie, her tone oddly excited. Sarah shrugged, “why not.” Kenzie’s blue eyes lingered on the screen a moment longer, watching the steady rhythm of her heart. “It’s wild, y’all…” she said quietly. “That thing’s been beatin’ inside me since before I was even born. Never really gave it much thought ‘til now…” Kenzie thought out loud. Dr. Sarah gave Kenzie an encouraging nod. “You’re right- it is amazing. And it’s going to keep going while we figure this out! One step at a time.”

A little while later, there were still no answers. Sarah glanced at the monitor- Kenzie’s heart rate was climbing, and her EKG was shifting into a more worrisome rhythm. “Still no labs?” Dr. Sarah asked Nurse Heather, her tone sharp with urgency. “They’re backed up in the lab. I’ve called twice, but they’re swamped.” Heather shook her head, frustration etched across her face. “Alright, let’s focus on what we can do. For now, we’ll manage her symptoms and keep her stable until we get some answers.” Dr. Sarah shook her head. Kenzie, who had been lying quietly on the table, suddenly grimaced and pressed her hand to her chest. “It’s getting’ worse, Doc!” she said, her voice strained. “Feels like my heart’s ‘bout to burst…” Her eyes pinched shut for a second. Dr. Sarah sprung into action and stepped to her side immediately. “Dizzy? Short of breath?” asked the doctor. Kenzie nodded weakly. “Both! It’s like my chest is getting squeezed, and my head’s floatin’ away.” Explained Kenzie.

The monitor let out a louder beep, catching everyone’s attention. Dr. Sarah’s eyes snapped to the screen, where the EKG now showed a concerning pattern: stable ventricular tachycardia. Kenzie’s heart was beating dangerously fast, and the rhythm had taken on an ominously irregular look. “She’s in stable v-tach.” Dr. Sarah observed, her tone calm but urgent. “We need to start chemical cardioversion now. Heather, get me an IV push of amiodarone.” The doctor called out. Heather nodded and hurried to prepare the medication while Dr Sarah leaned over Kenzie. “Kenzie, your heart’s beating too fast, and we need to slow it down. We’re going to give you a medication that should help. You might feel a little strange when we do this, but we’re keeping a close eye on you.” Dr Sarah explained. Kenzie’s blue eyes were wide with fear, but she nodded. “Okay… just… just don’t let me die, alright?” Kenzie answered. Dr. Sarah squeezed her hand. “You’re in good hands. I promise.”

Heather returned with the syringe and began administering the amiodarone through Kenzie’s IV. Dr. Sarah kept a close eye on the monitor, watching for any sign of improvement. “Take slow, deep breaths, Kenzie.” Dr. Sarah instructed. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. That’s it. Stay with me.” Continued Dr Sarah. Kenzie closed her eyes briefly, her tan complexion now pale. The chest pain was unbearable, but she focused on her breathing, trusting the team around her.

Dr. Sarah kept her eyes glued to the monitor as the amiodarone infusion ran through Kenzie’s IV. The jagged peaks of the EKG line showed no signs of calming, the ventricular tachycardia holding steady. She glanced down at Kenzie, who was visibly struggling. Kenzie’s breaths came quicker now, shallow and labored, her hand gripping the thin blanket tightly. She moaned softly, her face contorted in pain, tears brimming in her wide blue eyes. “Doc… it’s not workin’..,” she uttered, her voice trembling. “It’s getting’ worse. Somethin’ ain’t just ain’t right…” Kenzie shook her head. Dr. Sarah placed a reassuring hand on Kenzie’s arm, though her own heart sank at the sight of the monitor. “I know, Kenzie. We see it. We’re not giving up- just hang in there a little longer for me, okay? We’ll get this under control.” Soothed Dr Sarah. Kenzie turned her head slightly, tears slipping down her cheeks as she winced again. “It hurts so bad…” she moaned, pressing a hand to her chest. “It feels like somethin’ inside’s about to explode!” her voice wobbled. Nurse Heather returned to the bedside, her expression a mix of calm professionalism and urgency. “Vitals are holding, but her heart rate is still climbing-160 and rising. BP’s 124 over 78, but I don’t like how pale she’s getting.” Heather called out. Dr. Sarah nodded, her mind racing. “We need to stabilize her before this escalates. Prepare for synchronized cardioversion. Let’s get the defibrillator ready and explain the process to Kenzie.” Sarah told Heather.

Heather moved swiftly to grab the defibrillator pads while Dr. Sarah knelt by Kenzie’s bedside. “Kenzie, we’re going to try another method to get your heart back to a normal rhythm.” she said, her tone calm but firm. “It’s called synchronized cardioversion. It’s a quick electrical shock, but we’ll give you something to make you comfortable beforehand. This is the next step we need to take.” Explained Dr Sarah. Kenzie’s eyes widened with fear, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Shock me?!” she asked, her voice breaking. “You’re gonna shock me?! But my heart’s still beatin!” Kenzie asked, trying to make sense of what was about to happen. Dr. Sarah nodded, her expression softening. “I know it sounds scary, but it’s controlled, and it’s necessary. Right now, your heart’s working too hard, and we need to help it reset. We’ll give you medication to relax you first- you won’t feel a thing.” Sarah tried to reassure. Dr. Sarah took a deep breath, bracing herself as she crouched next to Kenzie. The young woman’s fear was palpable, her tear-streaked face turned toward the ceiling as her chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths. “No, no, no!” Kenzie sobbed, shaking her head. “You can’t shock me while my heart’s still beatin’! That ain’t right! Please don’t do this to me!” resisted Kenzie. “Kenzie, I know this is scary.” Sarah began, her voice calm but firm. “I need you to listen to me, okay? Your heart’s in a dangerous rhythm. If we don’t intervene now, it could get way worse- this procedure will help your heart reset before that happens.” Sarah went on. Kenzie’s sobs grew louder, her hands clutching at the thin blanket draped underneath her. “But it’s beatin’! My heart’s still beatin’! Y’all don’t need to shock me! Please don’t do this!” Kenzie continued to resist. Nurse Heather moved closer, her voice gentle but steady. “Kenzie, I know this sounds terrifying, but synchronized cardioversion is different. It’s not like the shocks you see on TV during a code. We’re going to time it carefully with your heartbeat to reset your rhythm. You’ll be relaxed, and it’ll be over in seconds.” Heather chimed in. Kenzie turned her tearful gaze to Heather, her body trembling. “You promise I won’t feel it?” asked Kenzie nervously. “You won’t feel a thing, and we’ll be right here the whole time, keeping you safe. Heather assured her. Kenzie sniffled, her sobs beginning to subside as she processed their words. She wiped at her face with the back of her hand, her breathing still uneven. “Alright…” she whispered shakily. “Alright, I’ll let y’all do it… but please… just get it over with so I’ll be alright.” Consented Kenzie. Heather nodded and began setting up the defibrillator, moving with practiced efficiency. “We’ll take good care of you, Kenzie. You’re doing great.” Smiled Heather.

As Heather peeled the adhesive backing off the defibrillator pads, she glanced at Dr. Sarah. “I’ll place these while you give her something to calm her down.”, to which Sarah nodded. Dr. Sarah met Kenzie’s gaze, offering a reassuring smile. “The procedure will be quick, and complications from this are very rare. You’re in good hands.” Sarah told her patient. Kenzie sniffled again, her tears still flowing but her demeanor more composed. She shivered slightly as Heather placed the first pad on her upper chest, the cool adhesive making her flinch. “Almost there, Kenzie.” Heather said softly, placing the second pad below Kenzie’s left ribcage. Kenzie nodded weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please… just make me better…” Sarah rested a hand gently on Kenzie’s arm, squeezing it lightly. “We’re going to take care of you, Kenzie. Just relax- we’ll handle the rest.” Reassured Sarah. Kenzie nodded again, her blue eyes fluttering shut, though a single tear slipped down her cheek. “Okay…” she murmured.

As Sarah administered the medication and synchronized the defibrillator, a quiet settled over the room. The hum of the monitor and the faint rustle of equipment were the only sounds. The defibrillator began to hum, a low, rising tone that sent a fresh wave of fear through Kenzie. She moaned softly, her body tensing in nervous anticipation. “I can hear it…” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “Oh God, I don’t wanna do this again…” Kenzie thought to herself. Dr. Sarah leaned in, keeping her tone calm but firm. “Kenzie, I know this is hard, but you’re doing great. Just stay as still as you can, okay? We’re going to try the first shock now. It’ll be quick.”

Kenzie nodded shakily, her hands gripping the edges of the table. “Alright…” she whispered, barely audible “Clear!” Sarah called, ensuring everyone had stepped back before pressing the button. Kenzie’s body jolted briefly as the shock coursed through her. “Ooooo!” she grimaced, her face contorting in discomfort. As the jolt passed, she exhaled sharply, her chest heaving. “That’s… that’s it?” she asked breathlessly, blinking back tears.

Heather leaned over the monitor, scanning the EKG. The jagged, rapid peaks of ventricular tachycardia remained stubbornly unchanged. “No change,” Heather announced, her tone clipped and professional. Sarah’s face tightened, but she quickly masked her concern. She stepped back to Kenzie’s side, crouching slightly to meet her gaze. “Kenzie, I need you to listen to me.” she said gently. “The first shock didn’t work, so we’re going to try again. This happens sometimes. It can take more than one attempt to reset your heart.” Sarah reassured. Kenzie’s blue eyes widened, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “Again?!” she groaned, shaking her head. “You mean y’all have to shock me again?!” Kenzie’s voice wobbled. “I know it’s not what you wanted to hear.” Sarah replied, her voice steady but compassionate. Kenzie sniffled, her bottom lip trembling as she tried to compose herself. “Alright… just… just do it. I can’t take too much more of this...” she whispered hoarsely. Heather gave Kenzie’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’re strong, Kenzie. We’ll get you through this.” Promised Heather. Sarah turned back to the defibrillator, resetting it for another shock. The hum of charging electricity filled the room once more, and Kenzie squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself. Sarah’s finger hovered over the controls. Kenzie braced for what was to come, unaware of how much her fight to survive would leave an indelible mark on everyone in the room.

The defibrillator charged again, the rising, electrical hum filling the room with a sense of tension. Sarah glanced at the monitor, the jagged peaks of Kenzie’s arrhythmia still unchanged. “Kenzie, we’re going to try another shock, okay? This one might do the trick.” Sarah eyed Kenzie for a moment. Kenzie barely nodded, her lips trembling as fresh tears streamed down her face. “Please… just make it stop…” she begged, her voice cracking. “Clear!” Sarah called. “AHHH!” Kenzie cried out in pain as the second shock hit her. Her body arched slightly off the table, her large frame twitching involuntarily before falling back against the table. Her breathing was heavy, and she clutched at the sides of the stretcher, her knuckles white.

Heather scanned the monitor. “Still in v-tach…” she reported grimly. Sarah sighed and crouched down next to Kenzie again. “Kenzie, I know this is hard, but we need to try again. I’m going to deliver a third shock. You’re doing so well- just one more try.” Sarah held Kenzie’s hand for a second. Kenzie moaned, shaking her head as her sobs grew louder. “No… no… I can’t do this anymore! Please, y’all, stop! I can’t take it!” she cried, her voice breaking. Heather leaned closer, her tone soft but insistent. “Kenzie, I know it hurts, but we’re trying to save your life. Just hold on a little longer and we’ll get through this together.” Reassured Heather. Kenzie couldn’t speak, her cries turning into gasping sobs. Sarah nodded at Heather, her expression resolute. “Charging…” Sarah said, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. “Clear!”

Kenzie let out a piercing scream as the third shock dashed through her. Her 5’11 frame twitched violently on the table, her legs briefly lifting off the bed. She collapsed back with a loud yelp, clutching her chest as tears streamed down her face. Heather’s eyes remained on the monitor, her expression tight. “Still no conversion, Sarah.” she said quietly. Sarah hesitated for only a moment before addressing Kenzie again. “Kenzie, I’m so sorry, but we need to deliver one more shock. This could be the one that works.” Sarah gently strokes Kenzie’s hair for a second. Kenzie’s head snapped up, her tear-streaked face a mask of anguish. “NO!” she screamed, her voice raw and trembling. “Y’all better not shock me again! I can’t! No more!” she resisted. She clutched at her chest, sobbing uncontrollably as the sound of the defibrillator charging filled the air once more. The hum grew louder, relentless, as Sarah and Heather exchanged a quick glance, each understanding the weight of the moment. Sarah crouched down again, her voice as soothing as she could make it despite the chaos. “Kenzie, I know you’re scared. I know this is hard. But we have to keep trying. You’re stronger than this- you can do it.” Kenzie shook her head frantically, her sobs wracking her entire frame. “No… no more… please…” she whimpered, but the charge was ready, and time was running out.

“Clear!” Sarah called as the defibrillator delivered its next shock. Kenzie’s body jolted violently again, her toes curling involuntarily at the end of the stretcher. Her large, size 13 feet tensed up hard, exposing the soft, thick wrinkles in her soles, and the faint sheen of her white toenail polish glinted under the fluorescent lights. She let out a sharp cry as the electrical current coursed through her, her frame trembling before collapsing back onto the table. Heather’s eyes remained glued to the monitor, her heart sinking as the v-tach persisted. “Kenzie?” Heather leaned over, her tone calm, trying to mask her growing concern. “We’re going to shock again, okay? We’re not giving up.” Heather explained. “NO!” Kenzie sobbed, her voice trembling with terror. Tears streamed down her face as she gripped Heather’s hand tightly, her fingers digging in. “No more, please… I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die!” Her voice cracked, raw with desperation. “I’m so scared!” Sobbed Kenzie.

Heather gave Kenzie’s hand a reassuring squeeze, locking eyes with her. “Kenzie, listen to me.” she said, her voice steady and soothing despite the chaos. “You’re not going to die. We’re going to fix this. You’ve been so strong- we’re not giving up on you.” Heather told her patient. Kenzie sniffled, her sobs growing quieter but no less heart-wrenching. She nodded faintly, her chest heaving with uneven breaths. “Okay… Just… just help me…” she uttered, her voice barely audible. Heather brushed a strand of light brown hair from Kenzie’s forehead. “We will.” she promised softly, even though deep down, she couldn’t shake the growing ominous feeling in her chest. The sound of the defib pads charging up filled the air again, rising in pitch. Time was running out, and the unrelenting rhythm on the monitor told a story none of them wanted to face.

“Clear!” Sarah’s voice rang out as she pressed the button to deliver another shock. Kenzie’s body tensed violently, her busty chest thrusting forwards as the current surged through her. “AHHH!” she yelped loudly, the sound echoing through the trauma room. Her hand shot to her chest, clutching it tightly as if trying to shield herself from the pain. Her tear-filled blue eyes darted between Sarah and Heather, no longer seeing the compassionate caregivers who had reassured her moments ago. Instead, her gaze was filled with fear and betrayal, as if she were staring at two torturers. Kenzie gasped heavily, her breaths labored and erratic. “I… I can’t… I…” Her words broke into a series of hyperventilated sobs. Her eyes dropped to her chest, her face growing increasingly pale. She started taking deep, dramatic gasps, her whole body shaking. “Kenzie, stay with us!” Heather urged, moving closer and resting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re okay. Just breathe with me- slow breaths in and out.” Heather continued. Sarah leaned over the monitor, watching her vitals closely. “Kenzie, we need you to stay strong for us, ok?” she added, her voice steady with subtle worry. But Kenzie didn’t respond. Her gasps grew shallower and slower until her eyes glazed over, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her body slumped back onto the table as her muscles went limp. “She’s unresponsive!” Heather called out, moving quickly to check for a pulse. “Crap. Start bagging her!” Sarah instructed, her own heart racing as she glanced at the monitor. Kenzie’s heart rhythm had degraded further. “Get the crash cart back over here! We need to act now!” Yelled Sarah.

“Heather, let’s move!” Sarah commanded, her voice sharp as the team sprang into action. Heather immediately lowered the bed and positioned herself beside Kenzie. Grabbing a pair of trauma shears, she snipped through the fabric of Kenzie’s bra in one swift motion, exposing her chest and large, natural breasts. She interlaced her fingers and placed her hands in the center of Kenzie’s chest, beginning firm, rhythmic compressions. Heather’s compressions, steady and precise, caused Kenzie’s body to shift slightly with each push. The sound of her effort filled the room, accompanied by the steady beeping of the monitor. “Come on, Kenzie, don’t do this…” Heather muttered under her breath as she worked tirelessly on Kenzie.

At the head of the bed, Sarah was laser focused on securing Kenzie’s airway. With practiced efficiency, she opened the intubation kit and inserted the laryngoscope into Kenzie’s mouth, maneuvering it carefully to visualize her vocal cords. Her own breath hitched for a moment as she caught sight of Kenzie’s wide, lifeless blue eyes staring blankly up at her. It was an eerie sight, as though Kenzie was silently witnessing the scene around her. “Tube ready.” Sarah said, sliding the 8.0 endotracheal tube smoothly into place. She secured it with one hand while quickly inflating the cuff with the other. “I’ll start bagging.” Sarah called out, attaching the ambu bag after taping the tube in place. The rise and fall of Kenzie’s chest with each squeeze provided a slight glimmer of hope amid the urgency. “Pulse check!” Heather called after completing her cycle of compressions, her face flushed. Sarah leaned over, her fingers pressing against Kenzie’s carotid artery. She shook her head. “Still no pulse. Resume compressions.” She instructed. Heather nodded and immediately began another round, her hands pressing deeply into Kenzie’s sternum. Each compression caused a ripple through Kenzie’s body, her large frame shifting around. Kenzie’s chest caved in hard, her large breasts juggling around in sync with each individual compression. Kenzie’s belly rippled out as Heather continued pumping away at her chest. “Epinephrine, one milligram, IV push.” Sarah ordered, not taking her eyes off the monitor. Sarah got the medication ready, and administered it into Kenzie’s IV line. “Let’s prep for another shock, she’s not converting.” she added, the tension in her voice rising. “Charging to 200 joules. Everyone clear!” shouted Sarah. Heather momentarily stepped back, lifting her hands off Kenzie’s chest as Sarah delivered the shock. Kenzie’s body jerked sharply on the table, her arms and legs twitching before falling limp once again. “Resume compressions.” Sarah ordered, her tone resolute. Heather immediately leaned back over Kenzie, resuming the relentless compressions, her hands pressing into Kenzie’s sternum with tremendous force.

Heather positioned her gloved hands firmly on Kenzie’s chest, her fingers interlocked and arms locked straight. With each forceful compression, Kenzie’s body shifted on the table, her chest visibly caving under the violent pressure. “five, six, seven…” Heather silently counted in her head as she delivered deep, rhythmic compressions. The monitor beeped steadily with no signs of improvement, the jagged waves of ventricular fibrillation mocking the duo’s efforts. After two minutes of relentless CPR, Sarah glanced up. “Okay, everyone, . Charging to 300 joules.” Sarah called out as Heather backed away from the patient. Heather stepped back, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand as the defibrillator charged. The hum of the machine filled the room, a sound that made everyone hold their breath. “CLEAR!” Sarah pressed the button, releasing the shock. Kenzie’s body flopped violently on the trauma room table, her head rolling slightly to one side as the electricity coursed through her. A sharp, guttural gasp escaped her lips- a reflexive response to the shock rather than a sign of life. Heather’s eyes flicked to the monitor. No change. The unrelenting v-fib pattern still dominated the screen. Sarah sighed heavily, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. “Still in v-fib. Resume compressions.” Sarah shook her head. Heather immediately moved back into position, pressing her hands against Kenzie’s chest once more. The force of each compression sent ripples through Kenzie’s sturdy, motionless frame, her pale skin glistening under the harsh overhead lights. “Come on, Kenzie…” Heather murmured under her breath, her voice almost pleading.

Heather’s hands moved mechanically as she continued chest compressions, but her mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Just a short while ago, Kenzie had been laughing nervously, chatting about her home in Tennessee, her southern accent adding a charming warmth to the conversation. Now, that same vibrant young woman lay motionless beneath her hands, her life slipping further away with each compression. “She was fine… she was fine…” Heather muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible over the whoosh of the ambu bag and the occasional beeps of the monitor. Her jaw clenched as she fought back a wave of frustration and helplessness, tears threatening to blur the young nurse’s vision.

At the head of the bed, Sarah worked diligently, her gloved hands adjusting the ambu bag between compressions to ensure Kenzie’s lungs were properly inflated. But her focus was fractured, her thoughts gnawing at her composure. “Did I miss something?” Sarah’s mind replayed the entire case like a film on fast-forward. Kenzie’s EKG abnormalities, the unsuccessful cardioversion attempts, the worsening symptoms. Had there been a sign- something subtle, that she’d overlooked? “She trusted us…” Sarah whispered, the weight of responsibility settling heavily on her chest. Her voice was so low that no one else heard it. She swallowed hard, pushing the guilt aside as best she could. There was no time for self-incrimination. Heather’s voice broke through the tense silence. “Another two minutes of compressions done.” she announced hoarsely, stepping back as Sarah moved to check the rhythm. The monitor still displayed the chaotic, disorganized waves of v-fib. Sarah closed her eyes briefly, forcing herself to take a deep breath. She had to stay strong for both Heather and Kenzie. “We’ll go another round,” Sarah said, her tone firm but betraying the faintest tremor of weariness. Heather nodded, stepping back into position, but she couldn’t shake the haunting image of Kenzie’s wide, terrified eyes as she begged them not to shock her again. Heather’s heart ached as she resumed compressions, the repetitive motion a grim reminder of how fragile life truly was. During this cycle of compressions, the air in the room grew heavier, the emotional strain palpable. Despite their best efforts, the team felt the creeping despair of a battle they feared they might lose.

Heather’s hands returned to Kenzie’s chest without hesitation, delivering powerful, forceful compressions. Each downward thrust sent subtle ripples through Kenzie’s thick, sturdy frame, a stark contrast between her strong build and her fragile condition unnerving to the team. “Charging to 360.” Sarah announced, her voice steady despite the hectic battle ensuing in the room. The defibrillator’s high pitched whine filled the air as it prepared for the next shock. “Clear!” Sarah called, stepping back as Heather moved aside. The shock was delivered, and Kenzie’s body arched slightly, her feet kicking up reflexively at the end of the table. Less than a second later, her feet plopped back down unceremoniously, her large feet landing with a soft thud, the deep, wide, prominent wrinkles in her soles on full display. Despite the dramatic response, the monitor’s display remained unchanged, with v-fib continuing to display. Heather let out a shaky breath, immediately resuming compressions. “Come on, Kenzie…” she murmured, her voice a mixture of determination and desperation as she continued to press into Kenzie’s bare chest. “Pushing another dose of epi.” Dr Sarah called out, her focus unwavering.

“Let’s prepare for another round.” Sarah instructed, glancing briefly at the clock. The code had been ongoing for several minutes, but she refused to give up just yet. Heather maintained the cycle of compressions, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead as she worked tirelessly to sustain circulation. The team worked in near-perfect synchronization, their actions precise and deliberate. “Hold compressions, Heather.” Sarah said, reaching for the defibrillator controls. The pads were once again recharged to 360 joules as Heather stepped back from the table. “CLEAR!”

The next shock was delivered, the current visibly jolting Kenzie’s body once more. Her arms shifted slightly, and her chest rose briefly before settling back down, but the monitor’s erratic waves refused to stabilize. “No change.” the nurse confirmed solemnly. Sarah clenched her jaw, her mind racing through the remaining options. “Resume compressions.” she ordered. Heather obliged without hesitation, her hands returning to their task as Sarah began to strategize the next steps.

The atmosphere in the trauma room grew heavier with each passing minute. The monotony of the code-compressions, medications, shocks- was relentless, each cycle blurring into the next. The monitor stubbornly displayed the chaotic, disorganized rhythm of ventricular fibrillation, its jagged peaks a grim reminder of Kenzie’s condition. Heather’s movements remained methodical, but her exhaustion was evident in the faint tremble of her arms as she pushed down on Kenzie’s chest. “Come on… come on Kenzie…” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. She fought the mounting dread gnawing at her, unwilling to accept the thought that their efforts might be in vain. “Another dose of amiodarone in.” Sarah informed Nurse Heather, her voice sharp despite the weight in her chest. She wiped her brow with the back of her glove, glancing at the clock on the wall. The minutes ticked by with an almost mocking speed, the relentless pace of time a cruel contrast to the stagnant rhythm on the monitor. “We need to shock. Charging to 360 again.” Sarah said, her voice steady but her stomach twisting. Heather stepped back as the defibrillator charged, the familiar high pitched whine filling the room like a warning bell of sorts. “CLEAR!” Sarah called, pressing the button. Kenzie’s thick body twitched slightly, her head tilting back as the shock coursed through her, but the monitor remained unchanged. “No response.” the nurse said quietly, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room. Heather stepped back into position, her hands returning to Kenzie’s chest. Her compressions were just as strong as the first cycle, but the emotional toll was starting to show. Heather avoided looking at Kenzie’s face at all costs, the sight of her lifeless eyes too much to bear. “We’re going to shock again, pushing another dose of epi and atropine first.” Sarah decided, almost her voice almost mechanical, as if detaching herself emotionally could shield her from the growing sense of failure. She caught herself glancing at Kenzie’s face, the memory of her vibrant personality from earlier flashing in her mind. The dread in Sarah’s gut turned into a cold knot. The duo continued, but the energy in the room was shifting. The once vivid determination had given way to a quiet desperation, each team member acutely aware that they were likely fighting a losing battle.

Trauma room two was filled with the incessant beeping of the monitor and the rhythmic thumping of Heather’s compressions. Kenzie’s body shuddered under Heather’s strong hands, her chest rising and falling with the brute force. “Charging to 360.” Sarah said again, her voice strained but composed as she prepared for yet another shock. The defibs whined as it powered up. “CLEAR.” Sarah called. Heather stepped back, her hands hovering as the shock was delivered. Kenzie’s body tensed, her head tilting slightly, and a faint, involuntary moan escaped her lips- a reflex, nothing more. Heather immediately resumed compressions, but the monitor showed no change. V-fib stubbornly persisted, as deadly and unrelenting as it had been since the start of the code.

Minutes blurred together, each one a cruel thief of hope. Heather kept going, her hands now aching with fatigue, her breaths short and heavy. At the head of the bed, Sarah leaned over Kenzie’s face, shining a pen light into her wide, unblinking eyes. Kenzie’s head bobbed slightly with each compression, her lifeless gaze fixed on nothing. Sarah straightened up, exhaling sharply as she slid the pen light back into her scrub pocket. “Pupils fixed and dilated.” she announced quietly, her tone edged with defeat. She checked the clock on the wall. “Kenzie’s been down for 35 minutes, still in v-fib.” Continued Sarah. Heather hesitated, her movements faltering for the first time. She stopped compressions, her hands lingering on Kenzie’s chest before she finally stepped back, her lips pressed into a thin line. The room fell silent except for the relentless alarm of the heart monitor, the jagged peaks of v-fib still mocking the duo’s efforts. Sarah scanned the room for a moment, before looking at Heather, her own face a mask of exhaustion and guilt. Finally, she drew a deep breath and made the dreaded announcement, “Time of death… 14:47…”

The words hung In the air, heavy and final. Heather swallowed hard, her hands clenched at her sides as she stared at Kenzie’s lifeless form. For a moment, no one moved. “Let’s clean her up…” Sarah said softly, breaking the silence. The room was somber as the team began the grim process of postmortem care. Dr. Sarah remained at the head of the bed, her movements mechanical as she detached the ambu bag from the ET tube, setting it aside. Her fingers lingered briefly on the monitor before she reached for the power. button, silencing the alarm that had marked every failed moment of the code. Heather worked delicately at Kenzie’s side, removing the IV lines from her arms and disconnecting the EKG wires. She peeled off the defib pads from Kenzie’s chest, each movement feeling heavier than the last. Her eyes darted to Kenzie’s face- a face frozen in its final, terrified expression. Kenzie’s wide, unblinking blue eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, a hauntingly beautiful stillness overtaking her features. The ET tube remained in place, its end hanging awkwardly out of her mouth, brushing lightly against her pale lips. Heather’s throat tightened at the sight of the death stare, a memory she knew would be impossible to erase.

Sarah filled out a toe tag, her pen scratching softly against the paper. She paused for a moment, as if the simple act of writing Kenzie’s name made the loss feel all too real. With a steadying breath, she knelt by Kenzie’s left foot and slipped the tag onto her big toe. It dangled there, brushing against the deep, thick wrinkles in the soles of Kenzie’s feet- a stark, unyielding symbol of the young woman’s untimely fate. Heather stepped back as Sarah got a cover from a nearby drawer. Together, they pulled the cover up and over Kenzie’s still form, concealing the lifeless gaze that had captivated and haunted them in equal measure. The trauma room grew quiet, except for the shuffle of their feet as they moved around the bed. The finality of it all settled over them, heavy and suffocating. Dr. Sarah placed a hand gently on Heather’s shoulder. “Let’s take a minute, Heather.” she murmured, her voice heavy with emotion. Nurse Heather nodded, but her eyes remained fixed on the covered body before them. No matter how many times she went through this process, the weight of loss never grew lighter. Just like that, Kenzie became the latest beauty to find herself toe tagged and under a sheet in our emergency department.

[icewindandboringhorror]

A very interesting cloud formation!

[gibbearish]

a weird little thing abt me is i will definitely mock shitty ai art but it never feels right doing it about the hands simply by virtue of the fact that a lot of them look indistinguishable from the hands i was doing years ago when i first got a drawing tablet

[angstandhappiness]

FASCINATING NO idea what au this is about

Kintsukuroi

'What if I put a clock pendulum in my torso' was the sort of question Bruce had come to expect when visiting Oracle.

"Pendulums are dependant on a stable base," he replied, because the last time he'd assumed they were being unserious Tim had tried to fit a chemistry test lab in his mouth and accidentally leaked the fumes through his mask.

"It'd be so aesthetic though," said Barbara, not looking up from the dozen screens she was surrounded by. "Listen. It would look so cool - Spoiler, robbery on fifth and main - Especially if I put a clock face over my heart."

"I thought you were trying to fit a super computer in it?"

"I was, but progress is slow. It's hard to fit it and enough padding to protect it plus leave enough room for ventilation. If I add the pendulum I might at least get inspiration." She gave a heavy sigh and pushed away from the desk, gliding in her chair to where her doll body was resting on a table, the glue separating the two halves of the smashed torso still glistening. Bruce followed, peering over her at the many scanners and wires hooked into it, flashing and beeping.

"Any luck?" he asked, and they both knew he wasn't talking about the computer anymore.

"Nothing."

He squeezed her shoulder, and she leant into it. They stayed there for a long moment.

"I just don't understand!" Barbara finally burst out, hands clenching on her chair arms. "I glued nearly every single piece back together! I made sure every splinter I could find went exactly where it should! I know the contract is still there. She's worked with more missing pieces before. But she's just not responding!"

"It's not you," Bruce soothed. "You've more than enough determination and strength to puppet, and we know the human body's state doesn't affect performance."

"That's the thing!" Barbara threw her hands up angrily, nearly smacking Bruce in the face. There was a chatter over comms, and both reached for their own. "One second," she said tightly, and wheeled back into the glow of the monitors. "Copy. BW, you're nearest? Thanks. Try and avoid the sniper this time. Wing, backup is in five."

She muted again and spun around, pinning Bruce with a heavy stare. "Is there anything, anything you can think of? We've - nothing I've tried has worked."

"Well...." He trailed off, one hand coming up to rub at the chin of his mask - a quiet night meant the opportunity to forgo the practical but muffling gas mask for his favoured plain black.

It was far from the first time a doll had been horrifically damaged. The incident with Bane came to mind - Batman had been in a very similar condition, body shorn clean in two and tossed to opposite corners. It was an awful memory, but the expression on Bane and the audience's faces as his bloodless body fell apart like a rotting tree trunk and then kept moving was a silver lining he'd always treasure.

But he'd been repaired and back on his feet in weeks, if bearing the incandescent fury of the doll for several more. It had been months for Barbara, and still nothing was happening.

"There's something we're missing, and I doubt it's on your side."

"I know THAT-"

"Listen," he demanded, and her jaw clicked shut mutinously. "There's something we're not seeing. Batgirl is in no shape to demand it herself, it seems. So its inaction is something we can't fully rely on."

"You've got the most experience with the dolls of all of us. Can you.. I don't know, sense anything?"

"Nothing more than the usual, with the Patriarch Doll, but we might get more if we return to the doll house -"

"No." Barbara interrupted again, but Bruce did not take offence. "She's not going anywhere. She doesn't want to head back to the cave."

Oh?

"She doesn't want to, or she doesn't care to?"

"I say she doesn't."

Interesting. This was likely a case of the doll exerting its will. The bats were well versed in avoiding the few lines their wooden bodies drew in the sand, treating them with the wary respect one would give a favorite blade or a highly trained attack dog. They could work together, share the highs and lows of life with them, but never get complacent. The dolls were forever a foreign, inhuman presence, and as with all wild creatures they would never be so arrogant as to assume full understanding. For Barbara to so strongly decide for the doll meant she was most likely not the only one deciding.

Which meant the solution would not be found in the cave.

"Perhaps there are upgrades she wishes to have?"

Oracle paused.

"Maybe," she conceded. "But there's practically a limitless amount of things I could do, and I wouldn't know where to start. And I could more easily do them when she's up and walking."

Not that then. If the doll wanted something to change but not receive upgrades or heal, than what?

... Not heal.

Batman hurried to the table. Oracle watched him with hawk eyes, but another call on the comms turned her away with a final warning glance.

Recovering every single splinter from a damaged wooden object and perfectly reattaching it was nigh impossible on a good day, never mind in the dead of night with a moving target. The dolls always returned to the cave to regenerate scratches and nicks they couldn't buff out, or accepted plaster to transmute with whatever supernatural power guided them.

The batgirl on the table, divested of all covering and armour, was still as chipped and scuffed as the day nightwing recovered last splinter.

The pieces fell into place.

"She doesn't want to be perfectly rebuilt," he realised. "She doesn't want the damage to disappear as it normally does... She wants it to remain visible. A different type of repair, then."

Oracle spun in her wheelchair to face him.

"Why?" she asked, something sharp in her eyes. Bruce chose his next words carefully.

"Perhaps she thinks such damage doesn't need to be hidden away," he said, slowly, and didn't comment when she turned away. Though she put on a strong face, and the doctors had recently released her full time, it would be a long time until the young hero was able to truly heal her mind.

"She doesn't need to do that for me. She's just causing me trouble."

"I don't think she is," he tried. "Dolls tend to reflect their puppeteer even after they accept us. You can't deny your trajectory has been changed."

They both sent a significant look to the enormous super computer taking up the wall.

"You've said you almost feel better able to protect Gotham now, with your reach and skills. Do you really feel that way?"

"I - I don't -" her mouth worked silently, and Bruce waited. "I mean I guess... But a part of me always assumed it'd be temporary, you know? Once I fixed batgirl.. It'd all return to normal." Her voice wobbled, and Bruce didn't hesitate to crouch before her, wrapping her in a long armed hug. She buried herself in his chest, regardless of the chilled metal.

"It's okay if you don't," he whispered into her hair, and held her as she shook. "I'm just throwing ideas around."

"I do though," she rasped. "I think I do feel that way. There's so much that can't be solved by violence, and it feels good to be out there but... I think I can help even more people, this way."

"That's good," he praised, "that's good. You can do whatever you set your mind to."

"You stole that from a parenting book verbatim."

"It's applicable to the current situation."

"Fine," she sighed, and pushed him away to roughly scrub at her eyes. "I'll give the doll another chance. Find some glitter glue or something, I don't know."

"Any materials you need will be provided," he promised. "I wouldn't recommend glitter glue or our usual tar."

He moved to pat her on the hair as the emotions of the moment faded, making sure to keep his unsheathed claws out of her hair.

"Once you fix her, though, I would recommend you puppet the doll during night hours still," he told her. "It wouldn't be good to put your body through twenty hour days."

"I've got a good system set up for now, but thank, B-man."

The computer dinged with another alert, and oracle spun to squint at it with a muffled curse, typing furiously. Batman escaped to the other side of the room, where the folders he'd originally come looking for lay. She waved, distracted, as he left, and although the doll could not smile, he could feel it on his face all the same.

@puppetmaster13u I summon thee dear mutual ^^

[cerastes]

We’ve heard about the seeming contrast of creators that make these super happy saccharine pieces of art being bitter people whose lives seem to be filled with agony whereas horror creators that thrive in the grotesque all seem to be super happy and positive people, the usual “Miyazaki Hayao vs Itou Junji” kinda beat.

There’s a similar, slightly overlapping dynamic between cuisine and blacksmithing. Chefs are the single angriest existences in the world and would piss on your grave seconds after stuffing your freshly gutted corpse in it. Blacksmiths are jovial, usually quiet dudes that work machinery and think your dagger is still very cool even if it’s got some balance issues.

Now, of course this is making reference to the Ramsay style of food shows, which is not the universal experience when it comes to the genre -- I’m more of a Cutthroat Kitchen kind of guy, because I like Mario Party -- but it’s always fun to me to go through an episode of Hell’s Kitchen where Ramsay annihilates his own vocal chords screaming “FUCKING DONKEY” and “IT’S RAW”, then right after, watch some old Forged In Fire and see the Filipino weapon master, Marcaida, test a short sword one of the contestants made and it fucking explodes into shards without nary a scratch on the pig’s carcass, obviously the shittiest weapon you could possibly make, damascus steel shards flying embedded in his arm, and he’ll calmly, with his signature friendly smile, lovable demeanor, and charismatic gait, face the contestant and be like

“Well, you see, Bob, your blade unfortunately suffered a catastrophic malfunction, and it can’t be tested any further. However, the handle on your weapon allowed for some very good balance and ease of swing, it fits my palm perfectly and it swings very easy. Despite the blade fracturing in 7 uneven fragments, we can see that the blade didn’t chip or roll at all. Good work, Bob” then they’ll shake on it and Bob is eliminated, and all he’ll say is “I’m sorry to have punctured 4 blood vessels on Marcaida, but end of the day, the other smiths were simply better, and I’m proud of them. I just gotta go and work on my fundamentals back at home now :)” meanwhile Hell’s Kitchen’s contestants are having a shootout with Glocks in their dorm because someone made fun of someone else’s raw scallops. 

[yanderenightmare]

part one

TW: nsfw, dubcon, blackmail

fem reader

As promised, you receive the pictures in the mail while the payment is forwarded almost emmidiatly. You don’t know which makes you gawk more, the photos of you or the numbers.

You also get an email—an invitation. The photographer is asking you to dinner. Or, asking is putting it nicely—which he most certainly didn’t. It’s phrased like a notice from your boss—matter-of-factly, he’s picking you up at eight, wear something nice.

You think about declining, but then you think about your friend again and how you don’t want to cause her any trouble. A free dinner isn’t really all that bad, is it?

It’s worse, actually.

“You should have told me you didn’t have anything to wear. I would have lent you something,” is the first thing he says when you get in his car. He hadn’t opened the door for you or anything, just sat in the driver’s seat waiting.

And though your cheeks burn with embarrassment, you think you’re foolish for it. You hadn't really dressed to impress him, after all��something you might as well tell him, “Maybe I just didn’t feel like dressing up. You didn’t exactly leave a good impression last time we met, so I don’t believe I owe you anything.”

He scoffs with a grin—face turned towards the road as he starts driving. “You have a lot more bite without your friend.”

“She has too much respect for you.” You cross your arms and look out the window. 

“That’s for sure.” You hear him chuckle, but he doesn’t offer any more of a response. You’re glad to spend the rest of the drive in silence.

You feel underdressed at the restaurant. You hadn’t thought he’d take you somewhere so nice. Most of the other couples there are dressed as if for a gala, while you’re dressed as if you’re going to an office party.

He hasn’t tried too hard himself. But still, he fits in—fat watch on his wrist, kempt hair, neat shoes, dress trousers, and a silk shirt with one too many buttons undone—a nauseating skinny chain beneath the collar as well as the hint of a chest tattoo. You bet it’s one of those dumb tribal inks, probably with some mundane Japanese characters he doesn’t know the meaning of.

“Is this where you undermine all the models desperate for your recognition?” you sigh as you sit down.

“We haven't even gotten our menus, and you’re already causing a scene?” 

He’s the one who was rude the moment you got in the car. In fact, he was rude the minute you met him. “Might as well speed this along.”

He chuckles—his smile genuinely amused instead of angered the way you’d imagined—the way you’d remembered from last time when he sent girls crying. “You know, for a face like that, you have one hell of a tongue.”

He orders wine by the name with ease and swiftness before returning to what he was saying.

“I like that. Most models are dull, but not you.”

“I don’t agree. And I’m a model,” you snip, showing no interest in his flirting.

 “No? Didn’t you see the pictures?” Your attitude doesn’t seem to deter him—rather, it only seems to egg him further on. “I have them all mounted on my walls at home—you should come see.”

This makes you falter. Looking at him from across the table with rounded eyes. “On your walls?”

“Framed.” He smiles, finally having broken through—he only intends to take it further. Not that what he was saying wasn’t true. “I just couldn’t help myself. I consider it my best work.” 

The look on your face is something between disgusted and uncertain—speechless in a sense.

It makes him laugh again. “Does anything flatter you?”

The wine comes. He’s poured a glass for testing.

“Not when spoken by men like you.”

His grin grows as he swirls the liquid around, smelling it like a phony.

“That’s a shame,” he says before taking a sip. He nods to the waiter, and you’re poured a similar glass. Meanwhile, he looks at you. “I’d like to flatter you—I’d like to spoil you even. You seem like you deserve it.”

You sip your glass. “No need.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You currently work at a diner, right?”

You gaze at him from atop your glass, brows furrowing. “How do you—”

“I didn’t.” It’s a lie, of course, he’d searched you up and gone over every little detail he could find. “It’s clear from the looks of you—”

“Fuck you,” you snap, putting your glass down a bit too harshly, enough to make a little wine slip and spill.

He doesn’t mind it. “Oh, I want you to,” he says instead. “After I pay for dinner and drive you back. We can fuck right under my favorite portrait of you.”

You’re stunted by his crude words, but only for a second. “How about we skip dinner, and you go fuck yourself.” 

His smile doesn’t drop, even as you get up to leave. “Settle down, sweetheart.”

“Make me, jackass.” 

You’re on your way to go, but his next words have you halting. 

“Either you humor me, or I make sure your friend never models in the country again.”

You turn around to look at him. You don’t really know why you’re so surprised. The card he just pulled is the very reason you agreed to the dinner in the first place. But an incentive is very different from outright blackmail, and suppose you just hadn’t really believed he’d take it that far.

“It’s my impression you don’t want that,” he continues.

You sit back down. He tops your glass off.

“I could make her big, you know?” he offers while pouring for himself as well. “Really speed her career along—set her up for life. I’ll do the same for you, too, of course.” 

He swirls his wine, lifting it as if to make a toast.

“And all you gotta do is come back home with me.”

You don’t have the words.

“You won’t be disappointed,” he promises. “I’m good at it.” As if that’s your concern. “You’ll never want to fuck anyone else again.”

You hate how right he is. 

You’ve never cum sooner or harder before in your life, not with anyone else or on your own. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced—so good, you’re screaming—moaning out in echoes throughout his giant penthouse, bouncing off the marble floors into all unlocked rooms, creating a cacophony of your undeniable pleasure.

He’s on his knees beneath you as you lean with your back against the window overlooking the city, barely able to stand as he buries his face between your soft thighs, canting his chin up while lapping hard at your slit and clit. His hard stare set on your face and the way you throw your head back while cumming in his mouth—your hand tussled in his hair, yanking on it hard enough to make him growl.

Your legs and feet give you little support. It's his hands that keep you up as you slide further and further down the floor-to-ceiling window until you’re almost about ready to drop your weight completely.

But he’s made you come undone three times by then, and just can’t wait any longer. 

He’s spun you around before you know it, making you face the pretty lights of the city skyline—his mouth hot on the shell of your ear, “I told you so, didn’t I?”

Your breath fogs the glass with your panting—knees wobbly, only standing thanks to the thick arms he’s got supporting you, each with a tit in their hand, giving them rough squeezes as he starts pounding away at your womb—hard enough to make the city lights blend in with the stars. 

“You won’t wanna fuck anyone else again.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Aizawa, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Oikawa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin ♡ AOT – Levi ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[tellafairy]

get anything you desire overnight; what is SATS? how do i use it? — a quick guide.

STATS is short for “state akin to sleep,” a phrase used by neville goddard several times.

for example, one of neville's most popular experiments utilizing SATS is called the "ladder experiment". this experiement demonstrates how useful sats is.

what was the experiment?

1. During one of his lectures, Neville instructed his students to visualize themselves climbing a ladder vividly. He asked them to repeatedly imagine this scenario in detail each night before going to bed. They were to feel themselves climbing the ladder, using all their senses to make it as real as possible.

2. on top of this, Neville told them to write down or say affirmations throughout the day such as, "I will not climb a ladder." This was meant to consciously contradict their nightly visualizations, creating a sense of disbelief in the process. The challenge was to see whether their repeated visualization of the ladder would override the conscious denial of the event.

3. Many of the participants reported that within a few days, despite their daily affirmation of "I will not climb a ladder," they ended up encountering situations in which they physically climbed a ladder. The experiment was intended to show that the subconscious mind, which was being impressed by the vivid visualization during the SATS state, was far more powerful than their conscious thoughts or affirmations.

essentially, Neville wanted to show that imagination, particularly when focused in the relaxed state akin to sleep, could create real-life outcomes, aka — attract your desires instantly.

so . . . how do i use SATS?

1. relax. sit or lie down, and relax your mind and body. this method does not need to be used at night. many people have used it during the day and have gone to sleep for only a few moments before waking up with their desire. This is basically just a form of meditation. A similar mental state occurs naturally in the morning right after awakening, and in the evening before bed, hence why some may prefer to do this method at night despite it not being mandatory.

2. embody the feeling. now while in this state, visualize your goal. Feel your desire completely. want someone to text you? imagine yourself opening your phone to that text message. want a new car? imagine yourself feeling the interior, smelling the new car freshener, testing out the radio. whatever it is, fully immerse yourself in the desire.

3. focus and persist. loop this desire on repeat as you fall asleep, it should be the only focus on your mind. quickly shift any other thoughts that may appear, back onto your desire. the more you do this, the more you'll feel the desire completely.

brief comments;

1. over time, it becomes more and more natural. it's very easy to get into the habit of using SATS to manifest whatever you desire. i often find myself using it without even intending to, just randomly deciding i want something and it becomes all i think about as i fall asleep. it's a very natural method that's easy to custom to.

2. yes, you can use this for shifting realities. there's a reason why so many people "randomly" shift when they stop using long complicated methods and just go to sleep with their DR in mind.

3. you don't need to take action. you don't necessarily need to do anything when manifesting. this doesn't just apply for SATS, but any other form of manifestation. you don't need to take action or do anything further to get your desires if you don't feel like it. remember; they're already yours. they can fall into your hands out of the blue. you don't need to put in effort.

i used several different articles and videos for this to explain it in the most simple way possible, since i know a lot of people tend to struggle with understanding this stuff to the maximum!! so i hope this is easy to read! ૮ ◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა

4. does this mean affirmations don't work?

no, it does not. affirmations DO still work for LOA. you CAN achieve anything through affirmations, it was never stated that you couldn't or that SATS is the only way. this only states that according to neville goddards experiement, sats appears to be a more powerful method than affirmations and that's how he viewed it. more powerful doesn't equate to the other method being completely incorrect or impossible. i also personally find this method to work a lot quicker as well.. similar to the void state.

edit; i didn't realize i wrote stats in the title and not sats lol, my mistake it was autocorrect

[thewritetofreespeech]

Tender Loving Care

pairing: Aemond x Reader

summary: after a training accident, Aemond's wife takes care of him. In more ways than one.

tags: heterosexual sex, cowgirl, massage, hand job, cum eating, cranky Aemond is a good boy for his wife, mentions of the other members of the Green but not present.

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

Training accidents were as common as breathing if one wanted to master the sword.

If one wanted to hold a blade, then one must also be prepared to suffer its bite. Aemond was well aware of this. Even though it was just training, play fighting for the knights & instructors brought in from all over Westeros to teach the prince, he had been cut before. Nothing serious. Nothing like his eye. He wishes it had been. It would make this latest injury less wounding than the others.

A simple misstep, that was all. His own clumsiness was what put him in this bed. His leg wasn’t broken or maimed, but twisted in his fall, to the point that he could put no weight on it. Or at least that was what the maesters said.

2 weeks. That was the punishment for his own mistake. He was not to leave this bed save to relieve himself and the few moments a day he was granted to stand & test his legs progress. Each day was a new torment. Not for the pain, Aemond could handle that, but the failure of trying his leg and only have it betray him again & again. He wondered how his father did it all those years trapped in his bed. Aemond would have begged for death sooner.

“Husband,” the prince looked up from his window and thoughts of limping over to throw himself out of it, when his wife’s voice came into the room.

One of his few constant visitors during his confinement. Helaena came to visit him but was busy with her children. Aegon only came once, to taunt him about his trip more than anything before he left and a back handed ‘get better Aemond the Fierce!’. His mother came as well but flapped between concern and scolding for his ‘recklessness’. She was the only one who seemed genuinely concerned for him, though her concern was not needed. Aemond did not wish to feel more like an invalid than he already did. “What is it?”

“It is time to change the bandage on her leg.” To keep it straight. To keep him bound, he thought with a spat, although Aemond arched a brow at the comment.

“Where is the maester?” His wife was many things, but she was no practitioner of medicine nor magic.

She sighed. “Did you really expect them to come back willingly after last time?” Aemond pursed his lips.

Under the best of circumstances, Aemond was aware that he was not the most agreeable person in the realm. Could anyone really blame him? His existence had taught him over & over that it was better to lash out and cut first, lest you be the one who is sliced. Metaphorically, of course. He wasn’t a mad man like some of his ancestors. And attached to this bed the only weapon at his disposal was his words. He had cursed, jeered, and ranted, honestly uncharacteristic of himself, at the maester who had attended to his leg the day before and had the nerve to tell him his progress was splendid. If it was so splendid then why was he still in this bed? If he was such a great man of knowledge and skill, why hadn’t he healed him yet?! He should go back to whatever dung heap he crawled out of and beg alms for to the gods for wasting a fine Citadel education on an incompetent!!

The prince said a few more unkind things before he forbade any of them from touching him again. He did not think they would take him seriously.

“So, they sent you to do the work of a common barrio healer since they do not wish to do their jobs?”

“I think it was more that they thought you wouldn’t scratch at me. More fool they then, hn?”

Aemond sunk further into his pillows, sulking. He doesn’t mean to scratch at her. He doesn’t mean to scratch at any of them, honestly. He just wanted to get out of his bed and go on with his life. To have the world move on around him, to grow weak and irrelevant in this bed, was the real punishment. “I’m sorry.” He apologized. “…thank you…for helping me…”

“You’re welcome Aemond.”

How quick she was to accept his apology. How quick she was to help him, already coming to his side despite his scratching, when he needed her. No wonder he was always alone….

The prince did what he could for her as he raised his leg from the pillow propping it up and held it there while she unwrapped the old dressing. “Are you sure you know what you are doing?” It was not meant as a slight. Just a genuine curiosity on if she knew the proper way to wrap his injury.

His wife just chuckled. “Yes, Aemond. Despite not wanting to come in here on their own, the maesters did instruct me on how to do it properly.” Cowards, he thought. “There! All done.”

Aemond looked at his leg with his good eye and tried to flex at his foot. His nostrils flared at the persistent pain, but it was wrapped correctly. He was impressed. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I want you healed as soon as possible as well.” Her hand reached for his on the bed and clasped it. “In fact…I was told of another treatment….one that might help with the…circulation in your leg.”

“Oh?” Aemond was curious about that. Trapped in this bed, his legs were not getting the work out that they normally would. Training aside, the walk around the castle was enough exercise for most lords. He hadn’t been able to go more than a few steps for days. His legs teetered between weightlessness and the sharp pricks of falling asleep all the time. “Will it improve my condition?”

“It….could…” She seemed unconvinced. Avoiding, even. But perhaps that was because the last person who made remarks about the improvement of his condition was threatened to be fed to Vhagar. “Will you let me try it?”

What was there to lose, he thought, and Aemond nodded before he helped her take off his lower bed linens so both his legs were bare. A small vial appeared out from her pocket, and she poured some of its contents onto her hands before rubbing them together and placing them on his leg. “Just…try to relax for me.”

A hefty ask, but he does try. All he could do recently was ‘try to relax’. ‘Rest, my prince’, ‘you need time to heal’. It was all he had heard for the past days, to the point that any word close to ‘relax’ had almost the opposite effect on him. But for her, he does try. For her it worked a little. His shoulders finally untensing. Looking at her in the candlelight. Soft feelings swelling at the touch of her soft hands. “Does it feel good?”

“Yes.” He answered, almost without thinking. It did feel good. He didn’t realize how stiff his leg was until this moment.

Aemond let out a deep exhale. Not really a sigh, just the release of all the air in his lungs and tension built in his body. His eye closed as he laid back and let his wife work. They aren’t strong, but persistent. He continued to enjoy until he felt her hands shift up higher. Up his calf where his injury was to above his knee. “What are you doing?”

“What??” Her shocked face was particularly adorable in the soft light. Wide, wild eyes. Body frozen save for a soft tremble in her shoulders. “I..I’m rubbing your leg. I told you.”

“My injury is not there though.” He told her logically. Gaze still fixed on her for any kind of reveal.

“I…I know…” Her hands shift to seem to want to move away from him, but she willed them to stay still. “I just thought…maybe there was some other tension I could help you with….”

It was Aemond’s turn to be shocked, but he doesn’t show it on his face like she does. His wife was a lady. A demure, kind, noble one at that. Though she wasn’t nearly as boring & cow eyed as the other noble ladies on offer to him at the time of his betrothal, or so Aemond assumed as he didn’t pay much attention to any of them, boldness like this was not heard of in their marriage. She never denied him. Seemed fond of when they were together; or at least made all the right noises like she did. But it was always he who initiated such acts in their bedroom. To see her offer, and on offer, as he finally took in her appearance and the thin robe she had come to him in, Aemond would not deny that it was quite arousing.

Without another word, Aemond parted his legs further to give her room. If this was her intention, he would not deny her. There was a flush on her cheeks that bleed down her neck towards the V of her robe when he did this. Her resolve seeming to waiver, and disappointment started to drip into his chest at the prospect he may have ruined this too with his terrible attitude, but she continued.

The prince sighed. Gladdened to feel her hands on him again and closed his eye with a newfound desire for his treatment, now that he knew what was going on. “Higher.”

“Here?”

Her coquettish tone was a tonic to his ears. She was enjoying this. She was enjoying touching him and playing with him. His cock jumped as it filled fuller. More aroused by the fact that his wife truly did want him than her hands close, but not close enough, to his member. “Higher.”

“Here?”

Aemond opened his eye and genuinely growled at his wife. Though this game was amusing, enticing, it had been days since he’d found release. Being stuck in this bed did not really spur a person on towards desire. And though she laid with him at night like a good wife she had been spared from her ‘wifely duties’ for some time as Aemond was either still in too much pain from his leg, or unable to move it to perform the act, or in too bad of a mood to make the effort. Having her close. Feeling her touch. It was like the flood gates opened on a dam he had long since locked up and threw away the key on. “Please….”

His kind, noble, demure wife took pity on him, and also took his cock in her hand. Aemond’s head tilted back as he moaned. Her soft hands stroking his member from under his night shirt slowly, deliberately. She had touched him before, so she knew how he liked it, but honestly she could have touched him anyway she liked. Like a clumsy novice that first night they were together, and he still would have melted in her hands.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes.” Again, without thought. But headier this time. More needy. He opened his eye to look upon his wife and found her staring at him. Those bright eyes darkened with desire. He’d never seen it before; mostly because when they were together her face was either buried in his chest, or shoulder, or in the pillows. Aemond bit his bottom lip hard. Trying not to cum at just the sight of her.

“It’s ok.” She told him in a whisper. Like it was a secret between the two of them. “You can let go husband. Will you let go for me?”

It was the softest command that Aemond had ever heard, and yet it forced him to obey more than any other. His back pressed further back into the pillows as his head tilted back again. His cock spasming in her hand as his seed leapt out from the tip. Covering her hand and perhaps getting some on her pretty robe by her knee. He would have to get her another one.

He opened his eye again after coming down from his high. Just in time to see her lick his seed off the palm of her hand. “What are you doing?”

“Well, the royal seed is sacred, is it not?” Her grin was soft, but mischievous. “We should not waste it.”

Aemond’s hand darted out to grab hold of her arm and drag her down to him in a deep, needy kiss. Apparently the flood gates he thought were released earlier were in truth just a leak in the levees. This was when the dam broke now. The need he had for her burning so hot that he could almost taste blood at the back of his tongue, his blood was boiling so hot.

He tried to spread his legs wider to make more room for his wife, but when he moved, he was reminded (painfully) of his injury. “Damnit!” The prince hissed against his wife’s lips. The throbbing in his leg almost in tandem with his cock.

“Sssh…it’s ok Aemond.” He wanted to bite at her soft words.

It was not ok! None of this was ok! He was injured, in pain, stuck in this bed, and now he couldn’t even fuck his wife! He felt useless. He felt angry. He felt humiliated not being able to do things as a man should, and he just wanted to get back to normal!

Before he could tell her any of this, however, his wife pulled back and removed her robe from her body. Mesmerizing in the fire light. No Valyrian alabaster, but still just as dazzling to Aemond. Shift discarded, his wife raised her hips and inched closer to hover them over his own. “The maester said not to move unless absolutely necessarily.” He wanted to argue that laying with his wife was absolutely necessarily, particularly in this moment, but all his words left him on a moan as she lowered herself onto him. “So you just stay there. L-Let me take care of you.” The little stammer in her voice as she started rolling her hips almost sent Aemond into a frenzy, but he endured.

He genuinely couldn’t move with her on top of him like this and his position on the bed. Though why would be want to? For the first time since his accident, Aemond was actually ecstatic to be stuck here in this bed. His wife lovingly impaling herself on his member. Riding him with skill just short of a dragon rider. If he had the wits still about him, he would have chuckled at his own joke. ‘Dragon rider’. As it was though he was stupid with lust. Dumb, witless, helpless at her mercy as she took from him everything and gave him back so much. He still had brains at least to return the favor.

His wife cried out when he reached up to cup her breast. The weight of them in his hands something he missed. Aemond does not get a lot of time to enjoy them, however, as his wife suddenly fell forward. Covering his body with her own. Hips still moving but at a much snappier pace with the depleted gap between them. He didn’t care though. His hands just repositioned themselves on her other mounds at her backside and pressed her to move faster.

“A-Aemond!” Her cries were his music. The tempo in which he set a new rhythm.

The wet sound of their sexes kissing along with their actual kissing fill the room, until it all stopped in one bright, shining moment of his wife shaking on top of him while her fists tried to fight his pillows and he spilled inside her this time.

He wished he could hold her like this for longer. Her weight a comfort, like a blanket, in his arms. But she rolled over onto his non-injured side to lay beside him. It was good enough. “Do you feel better now?”

Aemond looked down at her, having to turn his head completely as to not just look at her with the sapphire in his eye, realizing at last what this was about. Her idea of a good will effort. To lift his spirits and relieve his tension. Maybe keep him from trying to execute more of the maesters in the castle. “Yes. I’m feeling better.”

She smiled, then placed a soft kiss on his shoulder. “Good.”

The fingers from the hand around her own shoulders played with her hair as he stared at the ceiling. “Was this all just for me though?”

His wife looked at him with a perplexed look, but then realized what he was asking and blushed. She was smart enough to figure it out. “Not…all of it. I did want you to be in better spirits but…I have missed you.”

The corner of Aemond’s lips ticked up. Pleased, and pleased with himself. He did not think his sexual prowess was worth much compared to his prowess with a sword or strategy. But to hear that his wife wanted him, truly wanted him, was all the praise he would ever need. “So, you came up with this idea to satisfy both of us, ābrazyrys.”

“It wasn’t….all my idea…” Aemond arched a brow at his wife’s words. Curious now where she had got the idea from, as it had clearly come from somewhere. “Aegon commented on your bad mood and how someone should ‘cheer you up’. He gave me the idea, but the rest of it was all my doing.”

Aemond wasn’t sure which comment he was more shocked about. The fact that his brother knew how he was faring in his recovery, or the fact that he made lewd comments to his wife. He was battering between feelings of an odd sense of touched and white hot furry, but he decided to just let it go for now and enjoy his wife. “Well, thank you, regardless. In future I will try not to scratch at you while I am still confined to this bed. Lest you ask.”

She giggled when he kissed the top of her forehead. “And the maesters?”

“They are on their own.” Idiots. “I make no promises on their safety, but I will…endeavor to be of better character in the future.” At least not threaten to feed them to Vhagar. That seemed a reasonable adjustment.

[simpingland]

Req: Can you write something with Ewan Mitchell and his co-star (pronounced feminine) where they are on the set of season 2 and how he is surprised by every performances that fem gives (Fem's character is bad and perverse), since since the recordings of season one he was already staring at her surprised by her actings and now with Season 2 he wants to spend more time with her, plus he likes her.

The Rehearsal// Ewan Mitchell x Fem!actress

Summary: Ewan is a method actor and it has been working fine for him. But he regrets this decision when season 2 of HOTD starts with a love scene, being partner with a lovely talented actress who propaply hates him and his mathods. But nothing is better than asking for help when one needs it, right?

|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|

Ewan watched from the monitor, patch removed but wig still on, your close-up was impressive. One look at you and you could see all the ambitions that were going through your character's mind, and he himself regretted not having told you yet. The good news was that filming for season two had just begun, and in this new season, Ewan had the opportunity to do scenes only with you.

They shouted cut, and you immediately broke into a smile, laughing after such an intense scene. You received compliments as you were photographed to keep the raccord straight.

"Congratulations, that's a good start," the director said to you. "Remember you have a special sequence tomorrow, get a good rest."

Yes, you remembered. And Tom (who played your brother Aegon) smiled mischievously at you. It was a kissing scene with Ewan, with whom you had barely exchanged a word since the moment you were confirmed as part of the cast, a year and a half ago. You only spoke a little at the audition, which was a chemistry test, and he was a sweet, unassuming guy. When he was announced as the official actor of Aemond... it was something different. You didn't interact in the scenes in the first season, his scenes were shared more with Fabien and Tom, while you had shared scenes with Olivia and Phia (Alicent and Helaena). The chemistry your characters were supposed to have was only hinted by the placement of you both in the scene or montages of shots that you only saw once the series was released. And in the meantime, Ewan had stayed away from all those with whom he didn't share any dialogue, with the excuse of staying focused on his character. Tom had already told you numerous times that Ewan thought you were a fantastic actress, but you always responded the same way.

"If he does, let him tell me so. Then I'll be flattered.”

When the script for the second season came, both of you, in your respective homes, had your hearts skipped a beat. Your character would approach Aemond in the throne room in the middle of the night. And there they not only talk, but share a kiss that promises to go further in the following seasons. Aemond confessed his love for your character, and being that it was a story taken from the world of Game of Thrones, it was sure to end in much more intimate scenes. Normal for actors and comfortable for a cast that was so friendly and close. But with Ewan being so distant and serious? It was difficult. You didn't even dare to call him. Nor did he call you. What you did do was call Tom.

"She hasn't spoken to me once since we started filming. I've seen her look at me sometimes, like she's trying to talk to me but then, before I could say a word, she's gone quiet again. Tom...I don't think I should take being a method actor so seriously," he said to the other actor.

"It amuses me immensely to be the connecting point for both of you. Don't worry, Ewan, she's a sweetheart, and very understanding. She knows that everyone has their own procedure. So if she has respected your method, you should respect hers."

"And what is her procedure?"

"According to Phia, she loves to walk back and forth repeating her lines in a thousand ways."

Right, Ewan saw the video Phia sent around the group so everyone could see how lunatic you looked. And even there, after discovering you were being filmed, you smiled tenderly at Phia asking her to stop. What else would he have missed since you weren't talking?

You had already taken off your wig, your hair was loose and your dress had been off for quite a while. You were waiting to take off your make-up when your trailer was called. You were expecting anyone, happy to have any interaction with the wonderful team around you, but when you saw Ewan, the smile must have dropped a little.

"Sorry if I'm intruding. Is it late?" Ewan asked you as he saw your friendly greeting getting lost in the air.

It wasn't dark yet, and the next day's filming was starting early, so you genuinely didn't know what to say to him.

"Well... I have to finish off some of the lines for tomorrow.’

The lines you had to say with him, and he knew that. But since that wasn't an invitation, Ewan understood instantly and nodded.

"Well, I just wanted to tell you...it's been an awesome first day of shooting for you. It's no wonder you're a fan favorite."

That made you blush.

"Well, that means a lot coming from you."

He smiled sheepishly at you, you were taller than he was, standing on the trailer and he was on the grass a few stairs down. And yet he seemed way too big.

"I promise I'll be on time tomorrow so we'll have plenty of time to rehearse," he said, trying to get out of the strange conversation he had started.

You nodded and watched as he walked away, the patch in his hand and taking off his seatbelts. Did he come with the intention of chatting? My God, you'd had a chance to talk at length with your fellow cast member and you'd wasted it? You needed to go over the scene as much as possible!

"Ewan!" You called out to him, hanging almost on your doorstep, he turned with that agility that is so engaging on screen (and in person). "Are you done for the day?"

"I've got to get out of my costume. But...yes, I'm done."

"Would you mind..." you mumbled in an exaggeratedly loud voice for him to hear. How embarrassing. "Would you mind dropping by again to rehearse?"

Ewan stood still for a second. He watched you from afar, so affectionate and shy, totally contrary to your character, and felt a deep tenderness.

"I'll be back in half an hour," he promised you.

You looked forward to it, and you'd be lying if you didn't say that you'd put your make-up back on a bit. Ewan, on the other hand, was hurrying more than usual to remove his own clothes, forgetting to remove his fake scars in the rush that followed him. He was punctual, and in thirty and a half minutes, he was knocking on your door again.

"I really appreciate you doing this, Ewan," you said as he climbed into your trailer.

"Don't worry, it's going to be fun."

You looked at each other for a second, smiling, kind of gawking, which was nothing like the scene you had to recreate.

"How do you prepare for a scene?" You ask.

"I listen to some music. But I want to try what you do. "

He looked at you expectantly, and you suddenly felt embarrassed. Like the girls at the school function.

"So... I close my eyes, and I create a map where everything looks a little bit like the set."

"And what do we choose to be the throne?" Ewan smiled, which made you blush even more.

"Well... "There was a fully finished teacup, with the inelegantly squeezed bag next to it, dripping. You'd forgotten to clean it up completely. "That cup itself."

Ewan frowned slightly, teasingly, and nodded. The next step for you was harder to explain.

"Now, Ewan, I need some space."

He sat down on your couch, script to one side, the bastard having already memorized it all. And from there he watched live what he'd been craving for months, watching you pace back and forth. You read the annotations and your lines.

"They will never forgive our family for what I did," Ewan replied, intoning in the silky voice he gave Aemond.

"If it's any consolation, I doubt they would be willing to let us live even if we had given them the throne willingly, Aemond..." though you paced, your hands and gestures maintained theatricality, and you repeated the phrase three more times, all with trapped deliberation. "This pantomime of repentance can only convince Mother...but not me."

"What pantomime do you mean?" replied Aemond.

Then your character stopped looking at Aemond to stare at the Throne. In this case you stopped to stare at the ugly teacup. You had to hold back a smile. Ewan looked at it too.

"It's impossible to fool you, it always has been." Ewan got up from the sofa and approached you, as Aemond does with your character. "It is a crude, chaotic and ugly object, but always that which I have desired."

Then the laughter you'd been holding back escaped, unable to think of the mug as anything else. And Ewan laughed with you, all the tension disappearing instantly. Now he could understand the affection with which everyone spoke of you.

"I'm sorry, really," you said, getting serious again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, this is fun. I'm going to try your method. Shall we close our eyes?"

"That's right."

You closed them at the same time, thinking about the huge room, illuminated by a silver light that simulated the moon. And after a few seconds, Ewan opened his eyes to look at you. Although you didn't have your white hair, or the elegant dress, your eyes were the same, as beautiful and bright as they were behind the cameras. And he had the privilege of being the focus of your attention and having them in the foreground.

"Though I think I was always more subtle with another of my longings..." he whispered close to your lips.

"That you tried at least" you whispered back.

"When I get the throne I'll need someone as sharp as you to accompany me. There is no woman in the seven kingdoms who compares to you."

Then came the kiss. You looked into Ewan's eyes, up his nose and down to his lips. What was there left to throw yourself? Not much, but with him being so reclusive, with that being one of the few times you spoke to each other, it felt strange to pounce on him without consent. So you walked away, leaving the scene there.

"We can work this out with the director and the intimacy coordinator, if you like," Ewan suggested, a little flushed and extremely sweet.

You poured him a cup of tea while you discussed the romance that your characters might have developed over the years that the series skips. You imagined romantic scenes that might have led up to that kiss and concluded that they were a toxic couple, but possibly better than Rhaenyra and Daemon.

"You know, I love the way you act and I love that I discovered your process," he confessed. "I think the admiration part is not going to be too hard to act out."

"Oh...my process is really ridiculous, everyone laughs at me. I'm glad it at least works. But it gives me a hard time at auditions," you laughed nervously.

"Well, it's true that it's fun to watch. But it's certainly worth it. I don't think you have anything to envy the others, you're...magnetic." He said it with a seriousness that moved you, adding to his intense gaze. "I'm sorry I wasn't smart enough to tell you sooner, because I've been thinking about it since the day they put me in the same room you were in, back at the audition.”

You froze a little, so you just said what you felt in the simplest way and with the most honest smile.

"Thank you."

Ewan took the last sip of his tea and before he left you remembered one of the thousand questions you had for him.

"Is there a reason you haven't removed the scar? Something to do with method acting?"

"Scar?"

You touched his cheek, where the scar began, and Ewan understood instantly.

"Ah, gee, I completely forgot to go through makeup. I'll get a telling off tomorrow."

"Not if you sleep on it until tomorrow" you joked. "Let me help you, I love fake wounds."

You stood next to him, towering over him a little, and lifted the thin layer of silicone with the delicacy you had seen in make-up artists. You were envious of the woman who was in charge of characterising a person as curiously attractive as Ewan. He also smelled exaggeratedly good.

When you took it off, you threw it into the creepy teacup from earlier.

"I've almost run out from, the costume department before," he justified himself. You took the opportunity to wipe that part of her face with a makeup remover wipe. "I usually do this part myself..."

"I know, but I like it..."

And while you were stroking his face with the excuse of cleaning it, Ewan was watching your lips, and didn't notice that you had noticed. You pushed the wipe away, stroking his chin, and at the same time, you both pressed your lips together. A strange kiss, something special, sweet and soft. You stretched it out, standing almost still, afraid of what would happen if you broke apart. When you finally did, you looked at each other with a look of confusion, though neither you nor Ewan pulled away.

It was a dangerous idea, he was your partner, and you had been unprofessional. You broke away.

"I think you should rest. I've distracted you too much." Your tone came out agitated and Ewan rose slowly.

"No, it's all right. I liked it. I liked everything. Didn't you?" He had emphasised the word 'everything' and was looking at you with lambent eyes.

"Yes...I loved being with you."

He said goodbye with a smile of his, and you bowed at your door like a little girl. Most of the team had already gone to rest and you barely noticed.

You had to put on more concealer than usual the next day because of the lack of sleep you'd had from that strange kiss. Ewan had kept his promise and had arrived a good while earlier to re-rehearse the scene. You did it without the kiss or the lights, just with the director's instructions and with your cheeks flushed as you exchanged glances.

"Did you practice with the kiss?" the intimacy coordinator asked you.

You were completely silent. Ewan answered for you.

"Not really, maybe it's better to give a first kiss at the moment of the shot. More realism."

"Well, then I guess you've worked out the sexual tension and dynamics of your characters."

Ewan nodded and smiled, which made you smile. Had he put hours of sleep into your little meeting yesterday? Yes, he had, and he told the woman who was putting on his scar who asked him who had removed it the day before. When you returned to the set, lights on, costumes on, cameras rolling, Ewan looked at you in the distance, asking you with his eyes if you were ready. You nodded with a shy smile, and began to act when they shouted action.

Aemond, still dressed and coming from the castle library, walked into the empty throne room to watch you. You walked behind him, in a smart dressing gown, your hair loose and trying uselessly not to make a sound. Aemond then spoke aloud.

"They will never forgive our family for what I did."

You approached Ewan, who still wouldn't look at you.

"If it's any consolation, I doubt they would be willing to let us live even if we had given them the throne willingly, Aemond..." You leaned into him a little, as the director had recommended. He was so tall and so tense that you felt as safe as if you were leaning against a stone pillar. "This pantomime of repentance can only convince Mother...but not me." Then Aemond would look down to see you out of the corner of his eye, which made your character - and you - nervous.

"What pantomime do you mean?"

Then you looked at the throne, now there was no laughter to disturb you, only the terrible seat of swords before you. And Aemond was looking at it too.

"It's impossible to fool you, it always has been. It is a brutish, chaotic, ugly object, but always that which I have desired."

After a pause, he turned fully around to look at you, his height becoming primordial in that short distance. In that low light, Ewan's visible eye looked into your eyes, dropping to your lips subtly.

"Though I think I was always more subtle with another of my longings..." he whispered in his velvety tone.

"That you tried at least" you replied trying to keep your composure. If they knew how hard you were struggling not to fall to your knees at that moment they would have nominated you for an Emmy by now.

"When I get the throne I'll need someone as clever as you to accompany me. There is no woman in the seven kingdoms who compares to you."

He stroked your face gently, something that coming from Ewan was tender and expected, immensely pleasing, but then you remembered that Aemond could never be so gentle in the face of his urges, and you let your own out. You pressed yourself against him, pressing your lips together with all the assurance you had longed for the night before. You could feel Ewan intensify your kiss even more, placing his hand on your neck. All the possible kisses that had been going on in your head during the night were now dwarfed by the kiss that was happening right there. As fierce as your characters, with the longing you had just discovered that you and Ewan had shared for a year and a half.

It was only when they shouted 'cut' that you broke apart, catching your breath and barely breaking away. Some applause, chatter and comments from the team, you could hear little of what they were saying. You pulled away flushed, laughing at the sudden intensity. You looked at the director as Ewan smoothed his jacket.

"Let's look at the shot, I think it was simply perfect, congratulations."

Another round of applause, and you felt Ewan brush your unruly hair out of your face, stroking it as he ruffled your hair.

"What a pity not to have to repeat this scene..." He confessed.

"That's the thing about being so talented," you joked.

"Obviously..." he removed his patch and turned back to you to ask in a quieter voice, "although I'd love to have more private acting classes with you..."

You smiled at the hint.

"I'll give them to you if in exchange you let me remove your fake scars again."

"Deal."

[angelplummie]

ur art baby trapping fic is all i can think abt btw

but but but. what if after the first time it becomes a regular occurrence, and after the first few times, when he buries himself as deep as his long cock can go inside you and cums so hard he loses vision, you think maybe it’s time to be safe again. you’ve taken a few pregnancy tests, and it’s seeming like you’re getting away with the risky sex, but the risk is not worth the reward.

you saunter into the kitchen one morning, were art reads the news on his laptop, sipping a black tea. what a serious man you were dating. your arms snake around his neck loosely, and you kiss this top of his blonde head.

“i’m gonna order some more birth control. what’s that gynos number again? i know i wrote it down somewhere but i can’t remember.”

art stilled. he placed the mug squarely on a coaster.

“you don’t need that.”

he reached up to hold your forearm gently, to ghost the pad of his thumb against your soft skin.

“well, i do a little bit. we’ve been lucky, but if we keep going raw we might be in trouble. then you’ll be stuck with me forever.”

he hummed, stomach flipping. you were so close to figuring him out.

“that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

“what?”

he kissed the peach fuzz of your arm.

“i’d like being stuck with you.”

you didn’t let go, but you didn’t move either.

“are you saying you hope i get pregnant?”

“no,” he lied softly,”but if you did, that would also make me happy. wouldn’t it make you happy?”

you inhaled, shocked.

“i guess. i don’t- i don’t know how i would feel. i haven’t given it much thought. have you?”

he moved to get up, and you stepped back, unfurling yourself from him.

the chair scraped against the floor, and you watched arts feet as he moved around it to get back to you. he turned to face you, beautiful face set in a knowing, subtle smile. he took your face in his long hands, one on either side of your jaw.

“i’ve thought about a future with you and being with you forever, and about having a baby with you.”

your lips parted slightly, that rosy feeling cresting your cheeks and nose.

“i love you very much. i want you very much. is it that strange to think i might want to start a family with you?”

a cloudy feeling, humid and twinkly, filled your head. you drew in breath, but before you could make any kind of reply he kissed gently on your forehead, which nullified the part of your brain that might have any problem with what art was saying ever.

“why is that strange baby?”

“it’s not strange.”

“that’s right.”

and he pulls you into his chest. your arms remain tucked to you, and he wraps himself around you. tenderly his chin rests on your hair, and your breath in his smell. art was so clean, and so smart and kind. and he loved you. he wanted to be with you. you were so lucky.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.”

and that night, when he got you on top of him, cock buried deep in your tiny cunt, he made you feel even luckier. you were so wet it spilled down his shaft that split you open, down to his round full balls. his hands were clamped like shackles around your hips, preventing you from moving.

your hands splayed on his perky chest, you frowned in an effort to not fall apart, and he watched you with unbridled glee. you try to bounce, and your tits shake, but he holds you in place, all your leg muscles no match for the few at work in his arms. he watches as your titties settle still, his soft little angel.

“art please,” you dig your nails into his pillowy chest, but he doesn’t even flinch as you turn his pale skin pink.

“yes please,” you whisper. he smiles, thinly veiling his glee.

“you wanna ride me?”

your pussy clenches. even bellow you, he’s so far above. so much wiser and calmer.

“i’ll let you. on one condition.”

his fingers dug into your love handles, leaving white marks on your side. he readjusted himself, burying his cock inside your further, making you huff.

“tell me,” your cunt was so tight he had to pause as it squeezed him,” that you want me to get you pregnant. say the words.”

you blinked, trying to direct any of your attention away from the pseudo-pain of having him inside you still. his demanding tone alone makes your cunt throb, and wet his fat cock even more.

“what?”

“tell me you want me to cum inside you raw.”

your head tips back, and you swallow.

“i want you,” you say, thoughtless, desperate, so cock hungry it makes arts chest heave under your talons,” to cum inside me raw. get me pregnant please. please art, just fuck me.”

art grunted, and squeezed your hips even harder.

“yeah? you want that?”

and he drew you up on his dick, biting his lip hard enough to leave indents, to split skin.

he guided you up, so that only his pink tip stayed hooked inside your tight pussy hole.

yeah was the only word you could form, and you said it over and over like it was his name, like it was a prayer.

“ok baby. whatever you want.”

and he drove himself into you, holding you above him like an oversized fleshlight. you sounded like a fleshlight too, wet and soft and malleable to him. a wet schlick permeated the room with every thrust as he held you, suspended in the air, and fucked you like you weighed nothing.

your grip dragged up to his forearm, leaving a pink trail in your wake, jaw tipping open.

“art, art, art.”

as he moves sharply in and out, pounding your pussy, you legs turn to jelly, and you feel the distinct urge to writhe. you resist, and instead jerk with his every movement, moaning pathetically.

“you’re so tight. god,” he spits through gritted teeth. it’s like he’s angry at you, and he bullies your little cunt like he hates you. but he doesn’t hate you, he loves you very much. he can’t believe your his, he can’t believe you want to be his forever. he will make you happy. he will. you just have to give him a child.

his v-line and his hips crash into the softness of your thighs and make loud slaps. he grunts as he feels the tip split you open time and time again. you feel it, a deep thud inside you every time he presses down, and you whine absently.

“art, hold me.”

“what?”

“hold me.”

immediately, he rises from his lying position and props himself up on his head board, yanking you to him again. and then you were face to face, with his tousled blonde hair and blue, honest eyes, and his beautiful face. just as you asked, he held you. two strong arms encircled you waist, pushing your tits up on his chest.

digging his heels into the bed, he began pumping, buried so deep that he could only work the last increments of his cock into you. your eyes are misty, are big and desperate. your open mouth

"you ok?"

"yeah. I love you."

"mm."

and he kissed you again, tongue pawing at the inside of your mouth, like a kitten at a ball of yarn. he moaned rhymically, with every beat of your little heart. every moment you lived as his was total pleasure. you inched your hips forwards and back, against the force of his thrusts and kissed the side of his mouth, his cheek, his neck.

“you’re so beautiful,” he huffs,”you’re so pretty. i’m gonna get you pregnant.”

“please.”

“yeah, i know you want that.”

“yeah, i want it.”

you fuck yourself on him, and he kisses you again, harder, messier, noses smushing and tongues moving against each other.

“oh,” he says, and you know he’s close. so you say him what he wants to hear. what you know he’s wanted to hear this whole time. your clit presses against his pelvis, and as you tip over the edge you give him what he needs, like a good girl. friend. a good girlfriend.

“daddy, daddy.”

and it’s over. his grip tightens, pressing you harder against him so you can’t move at all in his lap. his hips stutter, and he lets out a grunting, groaning whine into your cheek, into your ear.

his balls tighten and twitch, and a fat load spurts inside you, clinging to your cervix and dribbling out of your spasming hole.

“fuck, god.”

one arms stays around your back, the other reaches up to your neck, to caress the skin and reach up into your hair. to stroke your jaw with his thumb as you both pant, slack jawed and satisfied.

“fuck.”

“art?”

“yeah?”

“i bet that did it. i bet i’m pregnant.”

“i bet you are. are you scared?”

you looked at each other and smiled, wide and goofy, forehead to forehead.

“no. are you? i really mean it, you’re never getting rid of me now.”

“darn.”

[daenysx]

hi! how about remus lupin with a shy reader? or something along those lines haha thank you and have a nice day :)

thank you for requesting!! <333 requests are open

remus lupin x fem!reader, fluff

"morning, dove" someone whispers against your ear. there's a kiss brushed on your cheek. you bury your face further into the pillow with a soft hum. the person in question chuckles.

you blink your eyes open. "remus?"

remus smiles, he leans on his elbow as he looks at you with lovesick eyes. "good morning."

he's in your room. on your bed. he sees your sleepy face and your messed up hair. god, he's so pretty and you-

"morning, remus." you jump from bed, your cheeks blushed under his playful eyes. "um- how did you-"

"shelby let me in."

you can't believe you forget you live with a roommate. how else would he be here? "oh- right." you mumble.

"i'm sorry, did i make you uncomfortable?" remus asks, he sits properly to look into your eyes.

"no!" you say, panicking. "no, of course not. i just- i wasn't expecting you and i'm-"

"so pretty." he says. his eyes are so easy to get lost in.

you shake your head. "um- i just, i'm gonna go to the bathroom, 5 minutes."

remus chuckles behind you, he leans back to your headboard.

you have a small bathroom mirror but it doesn't hide how blushed your cheeks are. "come on." you mutter to yourself. you can't help it, your stomach fills with butterflies whenever you see remus. having him on your bed, waking you up? both a dream and a nightmare apparently. you wash your face with cold water, such a poor attempt to calm down.

you leave the bathroom with slow steps, remus is in your kitchen now. he holds a coffee mug in his hand, you hear the sound of coffee machine. he extends a hand to you, long fingers covering your entire hand when you touch him.

"shelby left." remus says, pulling you closer to him. "i'm sorry again. i thought i'd surprised you."

you try to control your heartbeat enough to kiss your new boyfriend. it's only been two weeks but remus is a charming guy. he made his way into your heart quickly, you don't even know how to react to him most of the time. it's all too exciting- his every word and every touch.

"you don't have to say sorry." you say, lifting your chin. "i was surprised, so it worked."

remus leans down to close your height difference. "can i kiss you?"

you do something in between nodding and smiling. he presses his lips against yours and you close your eyes. you don't think you can manage to see his pretty face so close to yours right now. remus holds your waist to get you closer. you sigh happily into the kiss.

"you look so beautiful by the way." he whispers between two lovely kisses. "when you try to keep sleeping, when you frown against the pillow."

"please." you whisper. he should stop if he wants you alive in his arms.

remus kisses you so sweetly, you think you really need a cup of coffee to get back to yourself. his now free hand cups your cheek to rub the sensitive skin, the other hand still on your waist. you bring your hands to his neck, realizing he enjoys the kiss as much as you do. he is warm, your fingertips rest against his skin.

you have to stop for a minute or you'll lose your mind. can you get addicted to kissing someone? his lips are testing your patience early in the morning, his hands are whole another issue. remus smiles when you break the kiss, he brushes his lips against your forehead to keep you in his arms.

totally buried in remus's chest, you stand in the center of your kitchen. the smell of coffee is tempting but you can't separate yourself from remus. stolen seconds of the morning with him, is it possible to spend every early hours of your days like this now? your poor heart will not take it.

"what do you wanna have for breakfast?" he asks with a low voice.

"coffee." you say against his chest, lifting your head up to see him.

he laughs. "coffee's not a breakfast, sweetheart. tell me something with actual food."

you nuzzle closer to his chest. "avocado toast? and i got blueberries from the store yesterday."

"perfect." he says. "can i make your toast for you?"

"do you want to?" you ask with a stupid smile on your face. god, you're falling in love.

"of course i want to." he says. "okay, breakfast game, you'll sit on the counter and tell me where everything is as i prepare our toasts."

he lifts you quickly, you can see his eyes properly now that you're almost the same height.

you part your legs instinctively, your eyes on the ground. remus stays right there, standing in front of you with your thighs under his big hands. you want to kiss him like this so badly. you wish you can ask him without getting shy but it feels impossible for now.

"what's that?" he asks, his head following every move of yours. "what's with the pout, angel girl?"

are you pouting? you don't realize. you wanna kiss him.

"kiss?" you whisper. remus smiles. you blush. he kisses you, his lips move against yours delicately. his morning kisses are perfect, there's no rush, they are simply slow and passionate. he rubs the soft flesh of your thighs, you follow his lead on kisses.

he breaks the kiss this time. "we gotta eat something or else i'm gonna faint."

you kiss him for one more second. "it's okay, i'll take care of you."

"yeah?" he asks against your lips. "such a tempting little thing you are, and it's only 9 am."

your cheeks heaten up again but it's nothing unusual now. remus looks at you with barely open eyes, you swallow. he takes a step back, taking the mug he had in his hand earlier.

"coffee?" he asks, like he hasn't played with your heartbeat seconds ago. you manage to nod.

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 3

Part 2

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 1664

The next morning when Damian woke up everyone was much more prepared to deal with his inevitable attack. The restraint on his ankle and Alfred the cat still napping on him helped deal with most of the initall anger that radiated off him though. The goal right now was to convince Damian that he had been de-aged, and all he needed to do was stay with them until the magic wore off. 

The topic of Danyal would come later, for now they needed to focus on Damian. 

Everyone had also prepared an item to show Damian to prove to him that they were telling the truth about his current situation. Alfred was first and had brought him a cup of tea the exact way the young boy preferred when he had first joined them at the manor. Duke showed Damian his school yearbook, and had marked which pages had an older Damian in them. Jason rummaged through the art room and pulled out a few old sketchbooks. 

Those had done well enough to calm the baby assassin down so that Bruce was able to explain the details to the young Damian. Which only served to make him think that instead of this being a test from his grandfather it was actually a scheme to draw him away from his birthright as one of the heirs to the demon head. 

To help further convince him Tim printed out the first DNA test they had done with Damian; making sure to note that the dates on these can’t be altered. Then Dick had showed him photos of him dressed in his Robin costume. What was strange though is that Damian didn’t look pridefully at the photos, only confused. 

Finally it was Bruce’s turn and no one was surprised when it turned out to be a family photo album. It was filled with photos of everyone from the last few years. Pictures of both big and small moments that the family had gone through. What was surprising though is when Damian practically exploded with rage with every page he turned. 

“Chum, is something wro-” Bruce tries to start once he sees how affected the photo album is making him. Only for said book to be launched at his head before he can finish speaking. 

“Get out!” Damian snarls as his eyes dart to everyone around the room as he repeats his words, “Get out!” 

“I told you this wasn’t going to work.” 

“Not now, Jason.” 

Dick makes an obvious move of wanting to comfort Damian, but is clearly holding himself back knowing that his succor would only make things worse. “Dami…” 

“You do not have the right to call me that,” Damian's breath starts to speed up with tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “The only one that will ever be allowed to use that name has apparently been long absent from my life. So I will repeat myself only once more; get out.” 

No one makes any move to leave at first and it isn’t until Tim clears his throat as well as putting a hand on Bruce’s shoulder does the others finally move. It takes both Duke and Tim to get Bruce out of the room, and Jason ends up having to practically drag Dick out. 

“Why did you pull me away from him! He was clearly on the verge of a breakdown based around the fact that Danyal, his twin, never came here with him! Damian needs someone to be with him right now!” Dick angrily breaks out of Jason's hold on him. 

Jason, immediately matching Dick’s tone retorts, “Since when has that kid ever liked having family much less strangers comfort him? Cause newsflash Dickiebird that what we are to him right now, nothing but strangers who are trying to act way too familiar with him. The only thing your sympathy will do right now is just make things worse!” 

“I’m not going to let my currently 6 year old baby brother mourn a death by himself!”

“We don’t actually know if Danyal is dead or not right now. Just that he didn’t arrive with Damian at the manor 4 years ago.” Tim interjects before any more arguing between the two can continue. “For all we know Ra’s could have sent one twin away to here while keeping the other involved with the league.” 

“Wouldn’t have Damian said something by now if that was the case? He obviously cared a lot for Danyal.” Duke honestly doesn’t know what the right decision is right now, but he’s more inclined to agree with Jason right now. 

Tim runs a hand through his hair in thought, “14 year old Damian, maybe. The Damian that first arrived at the manor four years ago, no way. Especially if he was told explicitly not to say anything. That little brat was still deep in the league mindset, and would have done anything Talia or Ra’s said.”

“Wouldn’t have Ra’s already used Danyal against Bruce though? He’s had plenty of opportunities to use the knowledge of a second child to get B to do practically anything for him. What possible scenario would he be saving that information for?” Dick at this point seems to have calmed down. He’s still obviously wanting to be with Damian, but also knows that Jason is right about how his presence wouldn’t be appreciated at the moment. 

Jason instead of offering any answers to Dick’s questions turns to direct his lingering anger at Bruce, “You’re being awfully fucking quiet right now B, what do you have to say about all this?”

“... I think it’s time to call Talia. I wanted to wait and give Damian the chance to explain himself before doing so, but if the league does still have Danyal we need to start planning his rescue as soon as possible.” 

After asking the boys to keep an eye on Damian, and to check in on him every once in a while without distressing him more Bruce headed upstairs towards his office. Once there he silently stares at the phone in his hand. 

It had been devastating to learn that he had a son, and missed out on so much of his life. Bruce had been angry at Talia, furious even, especially when she had raised Damian to be a child assassin. To learn that she had done this not once but twice shattered him. Even more so when he thinks about how his second son might still be a part of that life when he could have been living here with him instead. 

The alternative to that thought though, the unfortunate more likely option, is that Danyal is dead. 

That he had failed yet another child. 

Bruce presses the number and puts the phone to ear. With each unanswered ring he sees flashes of what could have been if both boys had arrived that day. What was Danyal even like? Was he similar to Damian, or was he the complete opposite? 

“Beloved, what a pleasant surprise hearing from you.”

“I know about Danyal.” Bruce leans back in his chair with his eyes closed. Today has already been exhausting, and he knows that it’s not going to get any better anytime soon. “What happened to him?” 

The amount of silence that follows tells him that for maybe the first time he has truly shocked Talia with his words. Eventually though she answered, sorrow clear as day in her voice, “How much do you know?” 

“I’d rather you tell me what you know right now.” 

“Danyal died two weeks before Damian was sent to live with you.”

There it was, the hard truth. A child that he was never given the chance to hold, to meet, and to love was dead. Bruce had nothing to hold onto from a child that died way too young. 

“My Father and Damian are the only ones that truly know what happened in that room; I didn’t even know at the time that he had pulled the two of them from their afternoon studies.” She continues softly, “By the time I reached them Danyal was gone. I imagine Ra’s wanted to make an example out of him because he had put his body into the pits … only he never came back out. The pits had even taken his body with them.” 

“Did you never question what happened to him?” 

“Ra’s told me it was none of my concern when I questioned him, and he forbade Damian from telling me himself. He had all evidence of Danyal erased after that; he only exists now in the memory of those who knew him.” 

“Would you have ever told me about him?”

“No.” 

“Hm.” Bruce doesn’t do anything more than acknowledging her response before hanging up, and putting the phone down. He wasn’t going to get any more information out of her, and he had more important things to focus on right than interrogating Talia. It seems they’re all just going to have to wait for Damian to learn what happened to Danyal anyway. 

For now though he needs to go back downstairs and make sure they haven’t exploded into chaos due to his absence, but as he exits his office he makes a quiet promise to himself and Danyal. “Even in death you will be a part of this family; I’m so sorry you will never get the chance to know just how much they already love you.” 

Once he reaches the batcave once more he sees Tim and Duke at the computer, Jason laid back with his feet on the center table, and Dick leaning by the med bay door. All of them though stop what they’re doing and look towards him as he enters; waiting for him to tell them what has become of the brother they’ve never met. 

“Danyal is dead.” It hurts to watch his sons lose what little hope they had that maybe by the end of this their brother would be coming home. 

[johnbrand]

A Legend

Tracy could feel himself getting jittery, his nerves building up while he waited for his first customer.  He had never worked for a rideshare company before, but he was desperate for money. A guy could only go off of plasma donations for so long after college graduation, and without job offers piling up, Tracy deemed a temporary solution necessary. But now Tracy felt like everything was constricting; the small space inside his Prius, the oversized sweater he was wearing, his favorite pop divas singing from the stereo. He prayed that he would not have to talk much, wishing to be silent like those taxi drivers in every other movie set in New York. 

Taking a deep breath, Tracy heard the back door swing open and shut. Questions immediately flooded his head. Did he miss any hairs when he shaved this morning? Did he remove that pesky pimple patch? Ignoring the battering thoughts and turning around, Tracy found a muscular jock spread across the entire back seating area. 

“Are you Tracy?” the attractive customer asked, a bit confused. Despite being a couple of years younger than Tracy, the jock held a certain level of arrogance. This display of superiority intimidated Tracy and embarrassingly, turned him on a bit.

“I’m going to assume yes.” The jock asserted after waiting a moment longer. He then stuck out his hand with a smile. “Michael, in case it wasn’t obvious.”

Tracy’s eyes dashed between his phone and the handsome young man before him. “Oh uh…yeah,” the words spilled out clumsily as he took his hand.

“You’re new to this, aren’t you?” Michael questioned.

Tracy took a moment to respond, “Sorry, um I kinda am.” 

“No worries, man,” Tracy caught Michael’s smirk in the rearview mirror. “But with a name like ‘Tracy,’ I was expecting a chick or something.” 

Tracy blushed. “It was my grandfather’s name…” Trying his best to recover, he opted for a joke. “At least I didn’t get stuck with something worse, right?” Although his voice had come out a little tight, the attempt made the cut, as confirmed by Michael’s light chuckle.

“I guess,” Michael agreed. “But that’s why you go by Trace, right? Funny how that simple letter change can make you a whole lot manlier.”

“Hmm?” Having turned on the ignition and left the parking lot, Tracy was now juggling both driving and providing conversation. It was not a difficult task, but he found himself adjusting the stereo to better concentrate on the two tasks at hand.

“I mean you’ve been going by Trace since what, middle school?” Michael attempted to confirm.

Trace found himself a bit lost. “Why…how did you know that?”

Michael’s face broke out into a charming grin. “Stop being so timid, man. You’re a legend at the university! Even if you graduated a few years ago, your fame is still alive and well.”

Trace found himself a bit stunned. “Thanks…?”

“Don’t be so humble, bro” Michael frowned. “Everyone knows you were the star of the football team back in the day. The boys won’t shut up about you.”

“‘The boys’?” Trace asked curiously. 

“Yeah! ‘Trace was always committed to the team.’ ‘Trace was the epitome of masculinity.’ ‘Trace was…’, well, you get the idea.” Michael scratched idly at his pec before continuing. Tracy absentmindedly did the same to his own bulky counterparts. “Those guys look up to you! And by the looks of it, you hold up to your own legend.”

“I try to,” Trace smiled back, confidence creeping into his voice. Taking a wide turn, Trace could feel his thick forearm flexing while rotating the wheel, his bicep testing the limits of the tight athletic shirt’s fabric. Trace took a moment to examine himself in the rearview mirror. His stubble was on point, accenting his lantern-like jaw appropriately. His whole face in fact was quite macho.

“Checking yourself out, big man?” Michael caught Trace red-handed. The remark made Trace’s legs bloat a bit larger, forcing them further apart. “I’m surprised a guy with your height can even fit in this rust-bucket.” 

“You could argue the Fusion was meant for a 6’3 man,” Trace chuckled, his vocal chords a bit deeper. “But yeah once I get enough money, I’m getting a real, All-American truck.”

“Ah, so that’s what this side gig is for,” Michael nodded. “I was guessing it was a side hustle for the ladies.”

“What do you mean?” Trace turned the volume up slightly, the country music twanging a smidge heavier throughout the car.

“Isn't this just a stint to pick women up, double entendre intended? It's the other thing the guys are always talking about,” Michael commented. “‘Trace was always a lady killer.’ ‘Trace never pulled out.’ ‘Trace’s hit list was longer than anyone else’s.’”

Trace sat silent, turning into the destination’s parking lot.  “Is that part of the legend no longer true?” Michael pushed.

Once Trace found an open spot to station his car, he responded. “Oh it’s true,” he confirmed proudly. “In fact, you can tell the boys the number has doubled since graduation.”

Michael’s face copied Trace’s own cocky smirk. “I'll be happy to report that back. I’ll see you around then, man!”

Trace watched through the rearview mirror as Michael hopped out of the car. He then scanned his phone to find his next customer. Trace’s thick fingers automatically drifted to the “Female, 18-25” range, searching for someone to give a ride too, double entendre intended.

[dinogoofymutated]

Hi can you write something for Logan? I don’t have anything in particular in mind, but I never see this man get any love. Thanks!

NSFW!Wolverine/AFAB! Reader

Hope this is okay! I tried so hard to post it last night but tumblr kept failing on me. It wouldn't even save as a draft! If you see this before I've added the meat to the fic, it's because I'm testing because tumblr is being a dick and I'll edit in the good stuff soon.

Edit: Yay! It worked! I was just uploading too much at once I guess. Had to brake it all down for it to work!

Tw: MNDI!! pnv, fem reader, creampie, size difference, petnames. Praise kink.

If you asked him personally, Logan would say he's extremely unlucky, cursed even. and With everything he's gone through, he might be correct. But still, he is certainly blessed in at least one aspect.

Logan had a really, really nice cock. It wasn't pretty like the perfect ones in porn, but damn, was it nice. It has prominent veins that you couldn't help but spoil every time you your hands (or mouth) on him. He was flushed a deep red color at the stip, and proportional, a good 5 or six comfortable inches.

The only thing is, Logan's cock was thick. impressively, deliciously thick. When the two of you started to take your relationship to the next level, Logan didn't hesitate to warn you. That didn't stop him from Taking care of you though. He'd pump his thick fingers in an out of you, curling and stretching you, finding the most pleasure spots inside of you to get you to cum and cum hard.

But every time the two of you would get close to going further, he'd back out. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable, or that he didn't want to, he just wanted to make sure he didn't hurt you.He'd always end up saying “ ‘next time, sunshine.” Or “Just wanna make sure I take care of you properly.” and although it was sweet, you knew what you could handle, and you were determined to climb this man like a tree.

And if there was anything Logan knew more than anything, it was to never get in the way of a determined woman.

You had spent what felt like hours in Logan's sheets, his fingers curling deep in your cunt, stretching and touching the most sensitive parts of you. He kissed every tender part of you, letting you writhe and moan underneath him. He wanted to make sure that you were ready for him beyond a shadow of a doubt, knowing how stubborn you are when you really want something. This was no different. And after Cumming twice on his fingers, you were sure you could make it work. Logan sighed as you straddled him, grinding his cock against your slick cunt to try and lube him up. He sets his hands on your thighs, comfortingly caressing the plush skin. The two of you gasp when his head brushes against your Clit, an electric shock of pleasure bolting through your bodies. Logan is laid back against the pillows on his bed, looking up at you with a heated gaze.

“ ‘you okay there, doll?” He asks, the words rumbling through his chest with a groan. He smirks just barely as you scoff, adjusting yourself on your knees as you line his cock up with your slit.

“I'm- fine, I can do this.” You huff, grinding down against his thick head. Logan sucks in a breath as you do so, teeth latching onto his lip as we watches you desperately try to take him. He's not going in as easy as you thought he would, and it almost makes you feel discouraged. You were so sure you could take him, and you didn't want to quit now. Your eyebrows furrow as you struggle, and at some point his cock slips out and away from your hole. Logan lets out a grunt as you flinch, mortified.

“Ah- Sorry.” You're doing your best to not let it get to you, but there was such a sinking feeling in your chest. Almost as if he can sense it, Logan reaches up, taking your chin in-between his thumb and index finder and tilting your head down to look at him.

“It's okay.” Logan assures you. “Just relax. You'll get it.” His thumb drags across your lip, calloused hand brushing against your tits as he brings it down to your clit. He circles the nub gently first, then with a tad bit more pressure. You hear him chuckle as you eyes flutter closed, moaning at the pleasurable sensation.

“okay.” You sigh, trying to align himself with you once again. You try it a little slower this time, grinding down with just enough pressure. The both of you gasp when the head of his cock notches against your slit, an improvement from before. Then, almost suddenly, it slides in.

“Fuck.” Logan grunts. His cock was hardly halfway inside, but that didn't stop the moans you let out at the pleasure- and slight discomfort- of having him inside you. The stretch was slightly painful, but you can't seem to stop yourself from grinding against him, trying to take him further.

“Logan…” The whine of his name comes out involuntarily, and the strong man inbetween your thighs shushes you sweetly, adjusting himself so he's sitting against the headboard. He brings you closer to him, snaking his hand around the nape of your neck to bring you into a kiss. He hardly gives himself time to breathe in between kisses. Logan bites your lip, licking into your mouth when you gasp at the painful pinch. He groans when you clench around his length. Still not quite adjusted to what you could fit, and his hand grabs hold onto your thighs and squeezes.

“I know, sweetheart.” He says, finally pulling back. “I know. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.” You bite your lip, leaning your head on his shoulder as you begin to move your hips again. The process is slow, sinking onto him inch by inch as your body adjusts to the girth, but when you finally feel the base of his cock finally sink into you, you've never felt so accomplished.

“Good girl.” Logan grunts into your ear. “ ‘did such a good job.” You yelp a little as his hips jerk, thrusting up into you. You cry out Logan's name, holding onto his shoulders as he starts to slowly pull out of you, gently thrusting back inside as he cups your face, kissing you gently. It feels good. Like he's rubbing against every spot inside of you perfectly. His slow, loving pace felt good, so, so good. But it could only keep the two of you satisfied for so long. The next time Logan pulls out of you, you slam down with a little more force. He lets out a choked moan, before you hear him chuckle. He pulls away from you just slightly, arms wrapped around your waist as he smirks at the needy look on your face. You're impatient however, and grind against him sharply when he stops moving. A flicker of pleasure flashes across his face before he's growling. He pulls you against him, pressed flush against your body as he begins to thrust more aggressively.

“Couldn't be patient, could you?” He growls. Your noises are embarrassingly loud as he picks up speed, fucking into you just like you had spent so much time imagining he would- and he was right too. You couldn't be patient. He moves his hips just slightly, hitting that one spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You can't help but cry out, and without having to even tell him, he's hitting thay spot over and over again without fail. His grunts and groans are starting to get louder, and you can feel the knot in your stomach coming so close to snapping.

“Fuck- Logan!” He groans at the way you say his name, the knot snapping as you reach your peak and cum hard on his cock. He curses, burying his face into your neck as he starts to crumble at the feeling of your warm walls fluttering around him, desperately trying to milk him for what he's worth. He almost lets out a whine as he cums, and the noise surprises you. You can feel him twitch as spurts of his cum warm up your insides. By the time he's done, you're sure he must be leaking out of you. You lay against him, boneless as the two of you pant for air. Logan begins to press gentle kisses against your neck, praising you for how well you did. You sigh, content. Logan lays the two of you down on the bed, holding you close as his cock starts to soften inside of you.

Logan Howlett was definitely blessed.

[hel1nn]

Oh my good looking boy

︵⠀satoru gojo x fem reader ⠀◌Ⳋ𝅄

ꉂ`🍥 ⋮ fluff | smut nd 18+ content | cursed words | bf!toru to hubby toru:( |

Inspired by : good looking by suki waterhouse

His hair

After a long day at your school your finally able to cuddle your baby..oh satoru. His face is buried in your chest, you holding him as close as you can. Satoru and you have been dating almost a year. Both of you had never talked so much about some personal topics but. Whenever you see satoru coming back from one of his missions, not all the time but when you notice the tiredness in him your heart somehow sinks. He's still just a boy. A teen. Today is one of those days. Your usually the small spoon when it comes to cuddling but seeing him like this, you decided to hold him today, Whispering sweet nothings and few quiet i love you's. Your hand buried in his white locks. You press a kiss on top of his head, massaging his scalp. His six eyes were the reason of his almost unbearable headaches. But your alway there for him to make it bearable. His strawberry flavoured shampoo's smell fills your nose. Satoru softly groans, burying his face further in your chest. You smile before placing another kiss on top of his head, resting your chin on top of his head. Hus fluffy locks tickling your chin slightly but you don't care. All that matters right now is satoru. Your beloved.

His hands

Your sitting on satorus lap as satoru focuses on his paper work, his free hand interwind with yours. You had nothing to do for now but satoru had so many things to do. Yet all satoru wants is you. So here you are. Sitting on his lap as he fills uo the paper works. It kinda felt ridiculous yet your happy. Happy to be close to him. You snuggle closer to him. Tracing his veins on his hands, trailing up to his forearm then to his long fingers. Bringing his fingers up to your lips you press a small kiss on his pretty knuckles. You hear satoru chuckle slightly,he shifted his attention to you. Cupping your cute face in his free hand as he tilts your face,your eyes landing on his beautiful face

"you could ask for a kiss you know" satoru teases and you roll your eyes playfully, failing to stop the sweer smile appeared on your lips.

"then... just give me one already" you boop his nose with yours. Satoru grins, tenderly caressing your cheek before he leans down to kiss you.

His lips.

The room was filled with the heavy breathing of you and him sharing the first kiss of your relationship. Satoru looked like virgin fucking for the first time. (He is a virgin.) The little peck turned into making out. His tongue dancing with yours as he presses his lips to yours,you moaned in his mouth. His arm wrapped around you and you tenderly holding his face, pulling him closer. Both of your bodies pressed against eachother. You nibble on his lower lip gently and the pathetic whimper comes out of satorus mouth. God. You loved his lips. His lips were soft,sweet. Just testing like the candies you sneakily give him during classes. Your first lovely doubly make out session was going okay until the room's door slams open. A angry sugur standing there. The horror on both of your face was enough to make suguru laugh but he didn't. You and satoru now sitting beside eachother.

"you thought hiding in y/n's dorm would save you from me after leaving my clean room into a mess!!" suguru shouts, pulling satorus ear as if its a stretching toy or something, totally ignoring the seen he saw after coming in your room. You sigh,not knowing what to say. Satoru cries out in pain dramatically.

"suguru...dont be this much harsh.." you mumble out, trying to save satoru. Just then satoru pulls away pouting like a puppy who got scolded for eating food from dustbin. Hiding behind you. You slightly smiled just holding his hand.

"suguru, forgive him for now!" You simply said,suguru still thinks how do tou deal with a man like satoru..*pheww*

His eyes

"Your sure about this? I don't want to if you're uncomfortable.."

Satoru asks for the who knows how many time. You sigh, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Your hand rests on his bare chest. "Iam,toru. Or else i wouldn't have want this in the first place."

And here you two are.

His hips are gently thrusting into yours, his cologne filling up your nose strils. You gasp as he's long cock slides in and out from your tight hole. Your clinging onto him for dear life. Satoru's breaths are coming out shallow. Whimpering as your pretty hole clenches around him. Your eyes are clench shut as you feel him lean down to kiss you. Just then you hear a sniffle,yiur eys shots open,seeing a tear running down satoru's cheek as he his blue irises looks at you. You perk up on your elbow and cup his face in your hand, worry all over your face

"toru why are you cry-"

"your so pretty" satoru sobs out, leaning down to press soft kisses in your neck. His arms wraps around you, holding your bare body in against his warm chest. Your eyes wide in surprise,your face against rests,as a soft smile appears on your face. You again lay down on the bed, now holding in against you as he's sobs slowed downs slowly.

"your pretty too toru..* you coo looking at him,he pulls away to see your face. His blue eyes in the dark room looking like the brightest stars in the night sky. Oh..just like an angel. You don't know how but it starts to make sense slowly..satoru looks at you the same way, but with all these happening right he felt way too much lucky. "No your prettier" satoru pouts,you laugh softly caressing his cheek

"for you i am anything..toru" and then both of you continue your love making. His cock that was resting inside starts to thrust like before again. With so much love.

Him.

You stare at the white haired man in Infront of you. The veli on your face slightly making it difficult to see satoru. Your finally going to be his properly,satoru thinks is that how beautiful you were all the time? He always thought your soo much beautiful to him but today it kinda felt different. You looked like and angel who came from the sky to take hik away from thus cruel world. The white wedding dress on you looking perfect,the one satoru choosed it for you. The bouquet of blue roses in your hand,the shy look and blush on your face. The way you hair was styled. Everything felt like a dream. A dream he always had. Getting married to the woman he loves. His vision slightly gets blurred,the tears peaking out of hus eyes. He sees the cute smile on your face turns into worry

"s-satoru-"

"god your so beautiful.." satoru says before breaking into tears finally, cupping your face. He wants to kiss you,so bad. Kiss away the worry on your face. Somehow the worry on your face turns into a small smile, you giggle before speaking. Little tear peaking in the corner of your eyes

"maybe i wil cry soon because i am finally going to be yours."

A/N : sorry if i made mistakes and English isn't my first language:) posting drabbles since i am still working on the next chapter of my this series

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

hungry eyes | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick is a great cook, and a chef must taste-test all his meals, mustn’t he? including you.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving), finnick is a munch and a thigh man, praise, swearing, cum swallowing, fingering

notes: i’m so sorry about the long-writing-time-to-short-word-count ratio. i don’t know if i like this ahhh. lmk what y’all think <3

word count: 3.5k

You were passing through the entry room of your house when the front door opened with a slight creak. Stepping through the doorway was Finnick, dressed in a white billowy Henley shirt (he had a few buttons purposely left open and the sleeves were rolled to his elbows) and a pair of dark grey pants. 

His hair was a windswept mess of bronze waves with different strands poking out in various directions, but he somehow made it work. He looked… 

Wow. 

You, on the other hand, were still in your pyjamas, wearing a pair of thin cotton shorts and cosy thigh-high socks. 

As soon as he entered the house, you could tell what kind of mood he was in. Drained. That tended to happen whenever he had to spend the day with his prep team and prepare for an upcoming event in the Capitol. 

His cheerless eyes found yours and you swore a spark of life flickered in them.

“Hey, Finn,” you said. “Are y—oh!” 

Before you could finish, he had wordlessly stepped towards you and collected you in his arms. Your feet left the ground as he picked you up and continued walking further into the house.

“What are you doing?” you gasped.

Your legs curled around his back, your body leaning into his chest so as not to fall backwards. He smelled really nice, like how you imagined sunlight hitting the sea on a warm summer’s day would smell. 

“Making something to eat,” he finally spoke. His eyes briefly flickered to yours. “I’m hungry.”

Well, you did send him off that morning with some of last night’s leftover crab cakes, so he couldn’t have been that hungry. Plus, he was with his prep team. They would’ve had plenty of fancy Capitol-esque food on hand to satiate him.

Weird.

“So that means I don’t get a hello?” you teased.

Finally, a small smile worked its way onto his lips. He leaned forward and pressed his lips sweetly and softly to your own, his hands not-so-sweetly squeezing the plush of your ass as he did.

He pulled back and gave you a mischievous look. “Hi, sweetheart.”

You smiled bashfully in response. “Hi.”

You had passed through the archway into the kitchen, the entire room now being bathed in sunlight from the four o’clock sun. It was the picture of a perfect beach house—driftwood and seashell ornaments, sand-coloured benchtops, and large wooden-framed bay windows.

Finnick set you down on the counter facing the stove, your legs now dangling over the edge. 

“You just had to bring me into the kitchen with you?” you asked.

He was already out of your arms, scouring the cupboards for various ingredients for whatever it was he was planning to cook up. 

“Gotta have something pretty to look at,” he said, throwing a wink over his shoulder.

Warmth crept into your cheeks. “Right. Obviously.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, apart from the clatter of a metal pot being set on the stove and the splashing of various vegetables and chicken stock being thrown into boiling water. Your legs swung lightly as you watched Finnick in quiet admiration. 

Steam wafted into the air, bringing with it a sweet herbaceous smell. You hated to admit it, but Finnick was an unbelievable cook; much better than you were. He was constantly offering to teach you his culinary skills which often led to the two of you spending hours together in the kitchen. Burnt and over-salted meals were a common result. Regardless, you enjoyed the time together.

Sometimes it even led to other things as well… things very unrelated to cooking.

Finnick seemed to hyper-focused on the soup he was stirring; he was being unusually quiet, making you wonder what was going on inside his head. Had something happened during the time he was away?

“How’d you go today?” you asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, humming a vague response.

“Mm,” you copied, wearing a teasing smile.

He shot you a playful look over his shoulder. Then he did something weird. 

His head turned again, and he gave you a double-take, eyes falling from your face and to your legs. Your pyjama shorts had ridden up to the crease where your legs and hips connected, and your thighs were squished together on the counter, the cuff of your thigh-high socks digging into the soft flesh. His eyes flickered to yours once more before he turned back around.

Very weird.

An unexpected wave of goosebumps travelled down your entire body. You swallowed nervously and averted your eyes to your lap. It was absurd how a single look from him could cause you to react so strongly. He had so much power over you.

You crossed your legs, palms flat against the bench top on either side of you for support. The entire room was filled with the sweet aroma of the broth Finnick had made, causing your mouth to water from the mere thought of the warm liquid soaking into your tongue.

He lifted the pot from the stove and turned it off, scooping the contents into two bowls. However, when he turned around and walked over to you, he was only holding one.

“Just glad to be home with you,” he said and offered you the bowl.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, taking it into your hands.

The bowl was hot against your palms and fingertips, almost burning right down into your bloodstream as the golden liquid wafted steam into your face. Finnick’s gaze followed your movements as you lifted the spoon to your lips and finally felt the delicious heat seep into your tastebuds. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as you hummed a noise of pleasure, already craving another spoonful. “Tastes really good.” 

“Yeah?” He tilted his head.

Finnick was gently lifting one of your legs into his hands, massaging your calf through the cotton of your socks. His hand wandered down to your ankle, stroking over it with an affectionate touch before gliding back up to the underside of your knee. You had hardly noticed his affectionate behaviour, too distracted by the vibrant tastes filling your mouth. 

“Aren’t you gonna eat?” you asked half-heartedly, focused on getting another mouthful in.

“Sure am,” he murmured.

Selfishly, you paid his words no mind even though you really should have. You had just lowered the spoon back into the bowl, watching the soup cover the metal when suddenly, your leg was being lifted over the other. 

Now this got your attention.

You swallowed the warm liquid, eyes looking up at him in confusion. He uncrossed your legs, nudging them open with his hands on your inner thighs before he positioned himself between them. Your thighs were now hugging either side of his hips, your grip on the bowl frozen with uncertainty. 

“What are you…?” you began, but then he was gently taking the bowl and spoon out of your hands and placing them on the bench beside you.

“Told you I’m hungry, sweetheart,” he said. He placed his hands on either side of you, leaning in until your faces were inches apart. “Been waiting all day to see you. And these socks…” he trailed off with a sigh, sliding his fingers just beneath the band digging softly into your thigh before letting it snap back in place. “Well, now I’m practically starving.”

You stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape. God, you were already breathless. 

“Oh,” you whispered.

He bit his bottom lip and kept lowering his gaze to your mouth, looking at you as if you were a grand three-course meal and he was on death row. 

“I just need a taste,” he spoke almost pleadingly. “Will you let me?”

Not a single neuron in your brain was firing at that moment. With the way he was staring at you, how gorgeous helooked, and the fact that he was practically begging to be between your thighs, it was almost impossible to say no. It was also impossible for you to verbalise it as well.

“Please, baby. You’ll let me, won’t you?” he pleaded.

The growing desperation in his voice had you sinking your hips into the counter, feeling yourself begin to ache for him. Of course, as you did this your thighs grew expanded even wider from the pressure and Finnick seemed to like that very much. You could tell from the way his cock left a large print across the front of his pants.

You nodded, speechless.

“You will?” His hands found the sides of your thighs. “Good.” 

Within seconds, he had dragged your body to the edge and collided your pelvis with his. He felt as hard as he looked. You gasped at his eagerness but were immediately cut off by his lips crushing against your own, leading you into a kiss that mirrored the hunger he must have been feeling inside all day. 

His hand moved into your hair, holding you with a firm yet gentle grip. He was leaning into you, moving his lips so assertively that your body had to lean back to get a sliver of respite. You were buzzing with anticipation like electric currents were moving through your veins. If he was kissing you like this, what would it be like when his lips were further below?

He then pulled away to observe you. 

“My beautiful, beautiful girl,” he whispered, gently smoothing the hair beside your face.

You leaned into his touch, enjoying the brief tender moment. Your hand moved onto his and gently squeezed as you looked up at him, gaze doe-eyed and full of false naivety. You knew you were only spurring him on.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he said before pressing another peck to your lips. Then he started to go lower. First, he kissed the length of your neck and then the skin above your breasts exposed by your low-cut shirt. “Perfect eyes, perfect lips, perfect thighs.”

He was crouching now, trailing kisses down your stomach which had your fingers weaving into his hair. The descension halted at your upper thighs. His lips left a warm tingling sensation that spread across your skin with each tender touch. You watched him begin moving higher, entering a dangerous region of your inner thighs with lips that were trademarked for trouble. 

The air in your lungs was in short supply now.

“Just so sweet and so…” His fingers slipped into your waistband and pulled your shorts down your legs. The fabric fell from your ankles and there you sat, your glistening cunt bare and reflecting in Finnick’s green eyes. “So wet.”

Feeling nervous due to his penetrative stare, you attempted to conceal yourself and began closing your legs. He tsked and forced them open with two sturdy hands. He continued marvelling at the slick that coated your folds, committing the image to his mind.

“So perfect,” he exhaled.

You were getting impatient now.

“Finnick,” you whined. “Please. Just… Just do some—" 

You inhaled sharply. He had rushed forward and finally connected his warm mouth to your cunt. 

High-pitched breathless moans were already spilling from your lips as his harsh tongue delved between your folds, lapping up the arousal that had leaked out. Your body was restless, which was evident from the way your fingers pulled at his hair, hips bucked into his mouth, and thighs clenched around his head. 

Hunger and starvationwere not the right terms to describe how he was acting. Not at all.

He was insatiable.

Finnick’s shoulders slid beneath your thighs, forcing your legs to dangle over them. His arms were curled around your legs while his hands kept your legs clamped open from the top of your thighs. He suctioned his lips around your clit, the sensitive flesh growing more swollen as the pressure he applied increased.

You placed a hand on the counter behind you to keep yourself steady, keeping the other hand buried in his golden waves. Your head fell back with a loud moan. He was shaking his head side-to-side in a manner that could only be deemed as animalistic. He was eating you out like a fucking animal. Like he was a predator, and this was his kill. 

“Oh, my god!” you cried out.

He moaned into your pussy, tongue dragging from your opening and back to your clit, savouring every ounce of sweetness he could pull from you. A dull pain was coming from your upper thighs and you quickly realised Finnick’s fingers were digging into your skin. Each time your thighs tried to shut, his fingers buried deeper into your flesh. And mixed with the feeling of his tongue lapping you up, it felt rapturously overwhelming.

His tongue began flicking your clit at such rapid speeds that you weren’t even sure a vibrator could replicate it. You were now pulling, no, yanking at his hair all the while your hips were moving closer to his face. The pleasure was so devastating even your body wasn’t sure what to do with itself.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” his hoarse voice vibrated against your clit, “y’gotta strong grip.” 

Your chest heaved as you looked down at him. “Finn, don’t stop.” 

And of course, he pulled back an inch to look up at you. The sight of him between your legs was fucking glorious. A mix of your juices and spit was dribbling down his chin, coating his lips in a shine you wanted to taste. His hair was dishevelled in a way you could only describe as a sex-crazed mess. Oh, and the way his blown-wide pupils were looking at you… like he had a whim to devour you whole right then and there.

“Stop? Who said I was ever going to stop?” He smirked.

Then he leaned in and fell back into his previous rhythm. The heels of your feet dug into his back. He was essentially making out your cunt. His tongue was swirling around your clit and kissing it sweetly, as if doing so offered you any reprieve from the exquisite torment he was inducing. Your stomach muscles were aching in the most pleasurable way, sending signals of pure arousal to your brain that made you feel intoxicated.

“Like fucking sugar,” his voice muffled into you. 

He tongued your entrance, forcing as much as he could inside you. Your walls fluttered with warmth around him and you let out a needy little whine. He flicked his tongue upwards inside you as he slid in and out, thick eyebrows scrunched together as he moaned at your taste soaking into his tastebuds.  

One of his arms unravelled from your thigh and his tongue retracted from inside you. You whimpered in displeasure, only to gasp as something longer immediately replaced his tongue. Finnick’s mouth was entirely focused on suckling your clit, meanwhile, the two fingers he had slid inside you were focused on pushing your body over the edge.

“Fuck,” you breathed heavily. “Fuck. Oh, f—ah!”

The pads of his fingertips pressed into that swollen spot deep inside you, knuckles prodding your walls as he curled his fingers. He was wildly flicking his tongue over your clit with the added help of his head shaking side-to-side.

You were writhing. Your body had never known such powerful sensations before meeting Finnick. Even after all the time you had been together, you were still trying to get accustomed to how intensely he made you feel. Given that information, you could feel your orgasm rocketing from deep within and to the surface. Flames licked at the muscles in your stomach, spreading like wildfire from your clit.

Finnick looked up at you, and you looked down at him. Look how good I make you feel, his cocky eyes spoke. Your parted lips were dark, flushed with heat and arousal, letting each and every debauched sound echo around the ceramic-tiled room. He plunged his fingers inside you again and your head fell back. You knew he was laughing. You could feel it.

The noises filling the room were pure sex. The sound of Finnick’s fingers squelching inside you, of him sucking and lapping at your pussy, and your whiny half-crazed moans—they were all that could be heard. And then suddenly your body started tensing.

“I’m so close,” you panted. “Finn, I’m—I’m—Fuck!”

And there it was.

Finnick didn’t stop. Hell, he somehow even managed to pick up his pace.

Your thighs clamped harshly around his head; this would’ve worried you if your brain actually had a single thought running through it. Shockwaves of bliss crashed over your body; they consumed you. Your moans came out as choked noises and filthy gratified cries of Finnick’s name as he sucked and curled his fingers in and out. 

You felt him speaking, most likely words of praise to talk you through your high, but you couldn’t hear. White noise buzzed in your ears. Part of you could feel him collecting your juices with his tongue as the built-up tension gushed from your cunt. The other part of you was gone.

At least for a brief period.

When you came back to reality, Finnick was starting to stand back up. His hands were holding both your thighs, keeping them from violently trembling. You stared at him, waiting for the spots in your vision to disappear and the buzzing in your ears to settle. There was nothing you could do about the liquid seeping onto the bench top.

He surveyed your dazed expression, mild concern etched into his features as his eyes flickered between your own. His hand gently cupped the side of your face. 

“You here?” he asked, lightly dragging his thumb down your lower lip.

Sweetness coated the tip of your tongue as you licked your bottom lip. Well, no wonder he enjoyed doing that so much. You tasted really… good.

“I’m okay,” you whispered.

He gave you this beautiful dimpled smile, and he dropped his hand once more. His eyes were on yours, gleaming with mischief as he dragged two fingers up your folds, glazing them in a white shine. You were so sensitive that your hips jerked forward at the light contact, causing him to chuckle softly.

You watched as he lifted his fingers to his lips and within milliseconds, you were reaching out to stop him.

His fingers were so thick and long, and with your arousal coating them, it was damn near impossible to deny yourself the pleasure of having a little taste as well. So, with two hands holding his palm, you guided his fingers towards you. 

You eyed the liquid for a moment, hesitated, and then licked a long strip from the base of his forefinger and up to his fingertip. Then, closing your eyes, you wrapped your lips around the length and began sucking. It was a potent taste, both overpowering and lingering. Not bad though. You moved onto his middle finger, this time keeping your eyes on Finnick as you sucked it clean.

His expression reflected something of astonishment, letting out a perplexed chuckle as he watched. With a wet pop, his fingers were out of your mouth. You were holding his large palm and pressing a soft kiss to each of his fingertips, a tender and affectionate gesture compared to the act you just pulled.

Finnick shook his head at you, wearing a disbelieving smile.

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence. 

“What,” he echoed your response under his breath. He grabbed your chin, leaning down until you were face-to-face. “You play a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

Then his lips were on yours and when his tongue slipped into your mouth, all that could be tasted was you. That previous animalistic air about him had dissipated; he was gentler now, kissing you in a way that was adoring rather than bordering primal. Not that you had been complaining.

His pelvis was pressed against yours. More accurately, his cock was pressed against your pelvis. Whoever made his pants must have used strong threading. He was so hard that you were surprised the seams hadn’t ripped apart and exposed him altogether. You were surprised but also thankful because undoing his pants was your job. 

Your hands moved to his chest and pushed him backwards. His lips left yours with a displeased grunt. 

“Oh, don’t you worry, Finn,” you said, your hands trickling down his torso. “I’ve worked up an appetite myself as well.”

He looked down at you, eyes oozing with seduction. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

You slid off the counter, feeling his erection glide over your body. The fragrant smell of marinated vegetables and chicken still lingered in the room. You should have felt disheartened about not finishing the mouth-watering soup Finnick had made—or perhaps even the entire pot. But as you sank to your knees and began unbuttoning his pants, you realised there was one thing that was a great deal more appetising. 

Peering up at him through your lashes, you saw him looking down at you with a lazy smirk. 

Your lips stretched into a sinful smile. “My turn.”