#you’ve got the antidote for me

[leahsffs]

soo turns out i have a thing for closed off self-appointed martyrs who just need to struggle through life bottling everything up then?

[xazse]

okay hear me out…. reverse hybrid au… with tigerhybrid!sukuna bc nobody else can handle him because he’s so aggressive and overbearing .. so reader is their last resort zoo caretaker and they’re is shocked at how it’s like reader has a leash on tigerhybrid!sukuna 😚

I’VE GOT IT?

Synopsis: You’re head of a completely different department so why are you being asked to help with an odd situation?

Warnings: Female!reader + Mean!Sukuna + cringe tropes (sorry) + Hybrid!Sukuna: ears and a tail + heat + cumming inside + doggy + NOTPROOFREAD!!! + obsessed!Sukuna

Pairings: Tigerhybrid!Sukuna x female!Reader

Notes: I’m really working to improve my writing for you guys!! Esp my non-English speakers

“Miss please you know we would never beg like this if it wasn’t urgent.”

“I don’t specialize in that field, how many times must I tell you?”

You were getting sick of these scientists coming to you more often than normal, there’s three right now begging for you to take on a case that you didn’t want to do.

“Sukuna is out of control, he’s already injured five of our best, now they refuse to work with him”

“And I should be the sixth?” You say with a quirk of your brow.

They all stop and stare at one another, you have a good ass point what makes them think that you’ll be the antidote for their beast they decided to keep.

“Like I said, my stance on this won’t change.”

Another voice in the doorway of your office speaks up: “I’ll upgrade your pay and have you transferred up.”

Your ears perk up at this offer, to go even further where you are right now means business and a fuck ton of money. On the flip side it means facing whatever they’re against but you’ve always been a little greedy for money so you oblige.

The scientists made sure to throw you in the thinnest garments: “to let him know you don’t have anything on you.” As they put it.

They also had told you no sudden movements and to talk with him in a calm manner, show him you aren’t afraid and find out what’s been making him so angry lately. Easy peasy except your life is on the line!

You disregard any negative thoughts of death and make your way into the place where they keep their hybrids, it’s like little apartments where they can do as they please in return for information on their biology, as far as you know they love it here. You’ve once met puppy!hybrids Satoru and Suguru they were very sweet men, needy but sweet.

Your first step into the apartment is met with a strong smell, a smell of something primal if that even has a smell. It’s warm.

You start poking around his place, checking his fridge and looking for anything out of the ordinary, nothing seems amiss though. It’s not until you come up to one of the doors and hear slight noises. You press your ear up closer making the noise more clearer: whining it sounds like whining.

Could he perhaps be In pain? You knock three times and announce you’re coming in. The door clicks and you start slowly pulling it open. You see the man in all his glory resting upon his bed, arms wrapped around his pillow and an unreadable expression.

Sukuna is big, he’s a big man compared to all the other hybrids, he’s brimming with pure muscle. Does he workout in here? Your thoughts are interrupted by slight growling: he’s warning you. Step any close r and he will have no choice but to harm you.

You pay him no mind, instead you step fully in and start looking around without a care in the world.

“You’re making trouble- why is that?” You say while looking through his dresser.

“You’re being extremely nosy, leave before I kill you.” He threatens harshly.

“If you harm me I’ll have you sent somewhere else, I know where you come from and I’m assuming you don’t want to go back.”

The room goes eerily silent like he’s making a choice, he opens his mouth to speak but a groan accidentally slips past his lips.

Oh… the big oaf is in heat, and top scientists couldn’t tell or try to track his cycle?

“You in heat big guy?”

“No-“

“Such a liar, I’m not here to make fun of you, I’m here to make sure you get proper help.”

“The only way I’ll get proper help is if I fuck someone.” So damn blunt you think to yourself.

He continues speaking: “I think you know they won’t allow that though.”

“Would you like some toys? I can request that for you.”

“Useless.”

You let out the loudest sigh and plop down on his fluffy bed. Bending your head in his direction you see he’s not looking at your face but your body, eyes fully trained on your pert nipples because of the cold.

You allow the poor suffering hybrid to mount you, putting a good bit of his weight on your back you can feel the outline of his thick meaty cock resting near your cunt and ass.

He’s hard, fully hard and probably has been for a while: you feel almost a little bad.

Sukuna doesn’t waste anytime grinding down against you, it feels so fucking good, his cock is accepting anything even if it’s the bare minimum. Everytime he meets your ass he whines, such a needy tiger you coo.

He’s ignoring all the dirty little comments you send his way too focused on the only good sensation he’s felt for a while, his hand doesn’t compare to your rounded ass. You reach between your legs and pull his shorts down, letting his cock bob free for a minute before he’s pushing up against you again.

He’s producing so much precum that youCan feel it through your silky garments.

“Smells so good… really good.” “Mhhhphmmm-“ he’s now being open with his groans too focused on the feeling of his tip prodding your clothed pussy. His swishing tail is within your eyesight, you grab it and rub it for extra stimulation.

You help him a little bit by bouncing your ass against him. He places his head in the crook of your neck and starts nibbling on your neck, you can feel how sharp his damn teeth are and pray to yourself he isn’t going to bite you: killing you in the process.

He doesn’t do any of that instead he just lightly bites, using no strength at all. While he’s busying tearing up your neck you slip your panties off, grabbing his fat length and teasing your wet hole. Just feeling it in your hand has your body burning up in arousal it’s been a while since you’ve had a cock, especially a cock his size.

You slowly start inching it in, the stretch is so damn unbearable and uncomfortable. When he feels what you’re doing he starts moving his hips already. An impatient thing such as him isn’t gonna wait. He gets about halfway in and you feel a thick liquid fill you, did this beast just cum? Already?

“Nhhhnn.. fuck-..” this doesn’t deter him because he’s sitting fully on his knees and pulling you flush against him, his entire length snuggly inside your pussy. He doesn’t wait to bounce you back on him, you can’t comprehend anything properly so shocked by how he just made you take every inch of him.

Your lashes flutter closed as he ruts into you like you’re the damn sex tox he’s been given, one he wasn’t gonna take care of properly. His hold on you is extremely tight so you can do nothing but take him fully, even when your walls threaten to constrict around him he pushes through it and keeps fucking Into you.

You allow him, allow him to thrust like a wild animal, mercilessly pulling all the way out of you just to slam back in. Drool is seeping down your neck where he’s latched on in droves. He’s far too gone, pussy has never felt this good.

By the end Sukuna is still rutting uselessly, he’s not even hard anymore he just can’t stop leaking cum nor has that good euphoric feeling stopped. He’s made a mess of your pussy, his cum and yours seeping down your thighs and onto his ruined sheets.

Hes licking at your face and you can hear a deep rumbling in his chest, this big hybrid is purring in content. Any attempt to move from under him is completely halted, he won’t let you move even an inch.

He begins sucking on your nipples, they’re definitely gonna be sore later but now it seems he just wants comfort and you fully give that to him. Rubbing his ears and whispering sweet nothings to him.

After that incident Sukuna is completely attached, he constantly whines for you to come see him including the scientists also calling for you to calm him down. He won’t let you have a moments peace.

Even when you tell him you’re extremely busy he’s having none of it, if he wants you to laze around and do nothing but rub him or praise/coddle him he completely expects it!

As his mate you’re meant to be with him all the time you should be grateful he’s even letting you leave the nest.

You were left fully shocked when he first called you his mate but the scientists explained that you were his first and now you are his last, they had all praised you because testing was made easier if you were there.

They’re all surprised to see him completely like mush under you, like one time when it was time for his blood to be drawn he made you come and sit in his lap while he had it taken. The doctors said he seemed to be completely smitten with you, in love and so possessive.

[devotion-disorder]

be careful what you wish for...the village Killian's from is having a bit of a population crisis right now, and having a nice little human come by could be just what they need...

Oh noooo....I'm just a naive human lost in this big forest with no one waiting for me...would be a shame if some beautiful elves whisked me away and brainwashed me into thinking I'm their pet/breeding machine and only need their "love and devotion". That would be terrible /silly

- 🩵

wdym the beautiful elf men do not, in fact, have my best interests in mind and were planning something nefarious from the start </3 I was just gonna write down some quick thoughts but it kinda got out of hand LOL

Content warning for: implied drugging (hypnotics, aphrodisiacs), dubcon/ noncon touching (nothing explicit though), manipulation, slight obsessive/ yandere themes, general elven condescension?

Imagine that you’ve accidentally wandered too deep into the forest and lost your way, your shoes hardly holding up in the rough terrain, and the last remaining rays of the setting sun are snuffed out by the overgrown foliage…

To make things worse, you walk right into some sort of trap - a stumbling step is all it takes to activate the runic trip switch, and a suffocating cloud of purple gas is the last thing you remember before things fade to dark…

How clumsy of you! Good thing Priest Killian happened to be on his evening walks when he spotted your pitiful form twitching and writhing in the hunting trap he’d set up; carefully he scooped you up and went his way back to the village. Only the most observant would be able to discern that the Priests’ unmoving smile seemed a bit wider than usual.

It was a trap the elves set up for hunting animals, he’d explained. The poison was almost enough to be fatal, had he not been there in time to save you. It’ll also take a bit for all the toxins to be out of your system. No worries though, because Killian offers to take care of you in his quarters until you’re up on your feet again. 

You don’t even remember if you’d managed to give a response, what with lead-heavy limbs and relentless migraine pulsing in your head. Luckily, Killian treated you with utmost care. 3 meals a day (along with the antidote treatment) brought to your bed (well, his bed), and spoon-fed to you because you were too weak to even sit up. He massaged your stiff muscles and brushed your hair. He ran warm baths and washed you – and even then he never opened his eyes – so at least there was some comfort in that.

Under Killian’s care you gradually regain your strength, save for the occasional dizzy spell and fatigue. But he saved your life after all! Feeling indebted to him, you offer to stay longer in the village to help around. While Killian’s expression is ever-unreadable, you can’t help but sense a bit of…amusement from him upon your suggestion. Regardless, he agrees – so long as you agree not to wander too far outside the village, because it’s very dangerous out there, he said.

And of course, he maintained a watchful eye over you, shadowing your tottering form as you went around introducing yourself to the other villagers. How cute.

You worked whatever odd jobs the elves had for you. which isn’t much at all. Mostly just menial tasks, or perhaps relaying messages. Things that they could’ve easily done themselves with their magic, but it’s fun watching an over-enthusiastic little human do it instead, so eager to please. You would say they are…endeared, perhaps. Or maybe they’re just looking out for you, what with your unfinished recovery. Anyhow, the elves are charmed by the newfound presence in the village.

Killian gifts you a new set of clothes, made by the local tailor (you don’t remember visiting a tailor for measurements at any point though, strange). To help you feel more at home, he said. It's pretty, a delicate garment that flutters cool against your skin in the warm summer heat, with an unmistakably elven style of elegance. It is a little short but, well, elves are known for being tall so maybe they're not used to human proportions? The white silk is a bit sheer in places, and you tried to ignore how it clung to the contours of your body when you sweat…

You hadn’t expected elves to be so openly affectionate. Being a long-living race known for their high culture and intelligence, it made for the perception that they were maybe a bit prudish, engrossed in their endless pursuit of finer things to care about lowly desires. But you suppose the elves are as curious of you as you are of them. You got to know some of them quite well, and soon it was routine for them to envelop you in their embrace. They pet your hair and nuzzle into your neck (Killian said something about how common skinship is in elven culture), at times slipping their digits beneath your clothes…sometimes you don't really remember, because the medicine still made you a bit sluggish. But it's ok! Their affectionate nature is a surprise but one you welcome. You think. 

During all of which, your treatment continued. Just a little longer, Killian promised. The side-effects seem to show no sign of waning, if not worsening at times. Sometimes you struggle to recall what has happened and what has not. The elves didn’t seem to mind, gladly cradling your tired body when you are overcome with sudden bounds of weakness. You poor little thing, they cooed, one hand combing through your hair to distract you from their other that wandered along your body.

Some days the medicine leaves you feeling more flushed than usual, and a strange feeling you can’t quite place invades your senses; a deep, frustrating kind of yearning that throbbed in your core. You assume it's the side-effects of advanced elf sorcery/ enchantment in your antidote treatment. It’s a tad embarrassing, but you can’t really do anything about it when the elves (if not the Priest himself) check in on you so frequently. 

Your only reprieve comes when Killian slots himself snug against your smaller form at bedtime. Were you always this close? You’re not sure if you recall, trying desperately to suppress the suggestive thoughts flooding your brain. His cool hands trail over your body, and it feels way too good against your overheating skin, so good that you can’t even think about resisting as his lips come crashing on top of yours, when he slips his arm underneath your waist to push you closer, closer against him.

Stumbling out of Killian’s quarters in the dead of night, confused, and your vision blurred by hot tears, all you can think about is getting away from him, from this godforsaken place. The other elves stepped out of their houses from the commotion. It was as if something in the air shifted. Their friendly, curious pretenses have dropped completely, leaving a ravenous hunger and unyielding need in their place. The way they leer at your body, the disheveled elven outfit failing to provide much cover, makes your hair stand on their ends. The elves close in on you, their concerned voices laced with something unmistakably sinister. You’re trapped.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor.

“Now, now, I’m sure we’re all very excited about our little one here, but everyone will have their turn sooner or later.” Killian explains. He leans close to your ear, whispering in a volume only audible to you. “Look at you getting everyone so riled up already. Aren’t you such a needy little pet?” You’re paralyzed in fear, but his husky voice in your ears is still setting your nerves alight. 

“I’ll give you two choices. Either you let me 'take care of you' back at home,” his arms snaked around your body again, lithe fingers fanning across your thighs. “Or we’ll give everyone a show, and maybe let them get...a preemptive taste, as well. What’ll it be?”

[orphicmusings]

tasm who got sprayed with an aphrodisiac, so he goes to his roommate and fucks her well into the morning 🤭🤭🤭

A/N this deviated a bit but i needed to spread the munch agenda…hope you can forgive me friend…..

peter enters the apartment like a hurricane, his shaking body and heaving breaths impossible to ignore.

“peter?” you ask, eyes wide with concern. “what’s wrong?”

he doesn’t answer at first as he looks at you. of course you’d be wearing tiny pajama shorts right now, when he has no control of where his eyes land. he’s trying hard to catch his breath, his hands clenching into fists. he brushes the hair curled with sweat off his forehead and forces himself to look you in the eyes, raising his head higher. he anchors himself on your kitchen counter behind him. “aphrodisiac.” he breathed. “came home for my research.” he gulped, pushing himself to his bedroom, still evidently woozy. “gotta be an antidote.” he started to sway to the side, and you moved on instinct for him to fall in your arms.

“easy.” you drawled, arms shaking with his weight. you’ve never seen him in this state before. “where’s the antidote? do we have it?” you try to keep your voice level, but the urgency escapes your tongue in droves.

he shakes his head, looking up at you. his brown eyes have been blown even darker, the pupil completely swallowing his irises. “lab. somewhere. gotta go.” he pushes off of you, but you grab his shaking hand.

“there is no way in hell i’m letting you leave here like this.” you took a deep breath, knowing the ethics of this are dubious at best, since you’ve been attracted to him since the day he moved in and he is technically drugged. he’s obviously in pain, and you can’t let him go out alone all the way to the lab to get the antidote. you don’t even know if he’d survive. “look. it’s an aphrodisiac. i….” you closed your eyes before you continued. “if it will take the pain away, you could….take it out on me.” you swallowed, trying to put it gently.

peter looks at you in shock, managing to push himself off the ground all the way. “you mean it?” he asks, looking straight at your lips. “because it would…” his voice trails off, cracking.

“yes.” you grab his shoulders. “i mean it”

peter immediately grabs your face with his large hands and pulls you into him, his lips sliding against yours in an anxious release. you didn’t imagine your first kiss going like this, but it doesn’t count, right? as soon as he gets a bit of control of himself, though, he slows down a little, capturing you in a breath-sucking kiss, both of you breaking away for air twice. “are you sure?” he asks again, his voice a low rasp this time. you nod and he urges you to jump, carrying you with a kiss into his bedroom.

he lays you on the bed as gently as he can, and you immediately make work of sliding off your shorts and underwear. he’s so obvious with his staring, it’s adorable. “can i?” his eyes wander down and he asks again in that low rasp. “please?”

the way he said please sent a shiver down your spine. “yeah.” you answered breathlessly. “what do you want?”

“my face buried in your thighs.” he responds instantly, with the cadence of a casual conversation for something so brazen. you stifle a gasp and nod. he wastes no time gripping your thighs and hooking them on his shoulders. “you’re fucking dripping, baby.” he remarks as he starts to explore with his fingers. “this for me? you like seeing me worked up?” he almost whispers.

“i think so.” you manage to get out in between gasps from his fingers brushing against your clit. “do…do that more.”

“this?” he asks, rubbing his thumb in circles. “you like that, baby?” you squeeze your eyes shut and throw your head back with a stifled moan as your answer, and he grins. he takes this opportunity to start putting his mouth to work, his tongue lapping crudely as his thumb resumes pressing all of your nerves. the way he’s sucking and licking is filthy, the wet noises, his hums of delight and your cries of pleasure create a cacophony of pornography. you buck your hips against his face, pulling him closer lightly by his hair and when he groans you feel it inside of you. you whine, arching your back and he has to pin your hips down with a hand. he pulls his face away for a second, his mouth glistening with a smirk. “now who can’t control themselves?”

“shut up.” you whined in embarrassment, grabbing his hair and pulling him back down. he breathed a laugh against your clit, and you squirmed as much as you could in his hold. you’re not gonna last. he hummed and spoke into you, “yes ma’am.” and you knew you were done for.

“peter?” you whimper in between heavy breaths. “gonna cum.”

“yeah, baby?” he pulls his face away a bit, still keeping his thumb in position, only switching it to take your clit between his lips. “go on. cum for me.”

that’s all it took for you to release all over his chin with a weak little cry, your voice hoarse and breathless. you try to catch your breath, laying your head back on his pillow. “alright…” you breathed. “just give me a second…and you could…we could-“

“-about that.” he interrupted you. “i….i already did?” he says in a question, almost like he’s embarrassed, stark contrast to what his tone was minutes ago. “the effects wore off. let’s just leave it at that…” he trailed off, coughing. you prop yourself up on your elbows.

“did…did you…” you look down. “cum in your suit just from eating me out?”

he takes a deep breath, looking at you up and down. “maybe.”

you fall back with a giggle, and he immediately gets defensive. “what?”

“nothing.” you shake your head, the blood rushing to your face. “just so fucking hot.”

[calcifiedunderland]

The Prefect’s Kiss~!

—When a Night Raven College housewarden falls under the Sleeping Curse, only one person can wake them up.

Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia x gn! Reader

Riddle, Azul, Kalim ver.

“Oh! How terrible! Oh woe is me! How could this happen?!”

Crowley wailed at the news, sobbing fake tears beneath his mask. “What will I tell the parents?! The press?! How will I be able to afford vacation- I MEAN funding for my wonderful students?!”

Crewel rolled his eyes. He’d actually feel sorry for the Headmage if he was actually crying tears. The tissue clutched in Crowley’s fist was still dry.

Trein sighed, “this is the antidote recipe for Sleeping Death. Although, the materials are extremely hard to come by.” Crewel scanned the paper, noting the ingredients. “The recipe is possible, although they are quite expensive.” Crowley cringed, “how much will it be?” He screeched at the amount Trein said.

Meanwhile, Crewel muttered to himself. “The only other option is possibly true love’s kiss.” He looked up, “well, I’ll get the ingredients first thing in the-“ He stopped. Where Crowley was standing, was now a few black feathers fluttering down to the carpet. Crewel’s face fell, “oh no…”

In Ramshackle dorm, the Headmage chuckled nervously, sweating. You stared in disbelief, “I… honestly can’t believe that happened?” You were beyond shocked to hear that a Housewarden of all students had been knocked out with Sleeping Death. Crowley nodded wisely, “And I have decided to generously ask you to do the honors!”

“Huh?!” You stared incredulously at the Headmage as he ushered you out the door. He looked cheerful, “ah, aren’t I so gracious? I’m reuniting you with your true love!” You stared at him, jaw dropped, “HUH?!”

Leona Kingscholar

💛 “Are you sure he’s under a sleeping curse?” you asked, before Crowley shoved you through the Savanaclaw mirror without a second thought. You were left with more questions than answers. Namely, could you actually be his true love? It wasn’t like Leona really showed a lot of affection to anybody really. Sure, he didn’t chase you away when you bothered him in the greenhouse. And you supposed that he did help you a lot on your homework, even though he grumbled under his breath.

💛 Your own crush on Leona was painfully obvious. Sometimes you’d go out of your way to the greenhouses, or take some tasks from Ruggie to deliver things to him. You tried to keep your feelings in check. Despite his laid-back attitude and nonchalance, he was still a prince. And you were just a herbivore, as he always reminded you. Too bad you’d pout and look away every time - otherwise, you’d notice the soft look on his face when he called you that nickname.

💛 As you walked through the common room, you saw how panicked Jack looked, tail thumping against his legs. Ruggie lead you to Leona’s room without a single joke or clever comment, You noted how agitated he looked - his hair was a mess from running his hands through it.

💛 To be honest, if you didn’t know otherwise, you would’ve thought Leona was fine. But the moment you stepped foot into his room, you didn’t hear Leona’s light snores or see his chest moving as he breathed. He was completely still.

Sunlight streamed in, catching on Leona’s hair. You brushed some of it aside, thumbing one of his braids absently, “how long has he been like this?”

Ruggie sighed heavily, carding a hand in his disheveled hair. “Not sure. We… we all thought he was just napping.” He swallowed thickly, “just… get me if you need me. I have to wash his laundry.” You watched as Ruggie hefted a basket and left. Your attention went back to Leona.

“You’ve got everybody so worked up,” You bit your lip, surprising yourself as your eyes began welling up. “You’d probably think it’s funny. But I…” You gulped. “…miss you.”

You took a deep breath and softly slotted your lips against his. For an agonizing moment you thought it didn’t work. Until Leona groaned. “Hhh- hmm?” You pulled away quickly.

Leona’s ears twitched, and you felt yourself grow flustered when you made eye contact. You gawked, “I-it worked?” He shifted upright, giving you a lazy smirk. “Huh, never took you for the romantic type, Prefect. You went straight for True Love’s Kiss.”

You felt your face grow hot, but you couldn’t find it in you to feel embarrassed. Relief filled you, and you felt yourself relax as Leona loosely wrapped you in his arms. “Yeah whatever, you lazy lion.”

His hand reached up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. He brought his forehead to yours with a soft grin, “Ha, you really are just a herbivore,” he said fondly.

Vil Schoenheit

💜 The moment Rook burst into your dorm, Crowley suddenly vanished. Before you could react, Rook was already leading you down to the Mirrors, bringing you up to speed on what happened. The nervousness didn’t really set in until Rook began singing when you entered the dorm, “finally! Le Roi du Poison’s savior has arrived!”

💜 Apparently, Vil thought he was drinking apple juice from the fridge, but it was actually Epel’s mislabeled draught that he made as his potion. Oh how the tables had turned. At least Epel knew it worked. Task failed successfully?

💜 Everything you learned in Crewel’s class about Sleeping Death was swirling in your head. True Love was no small thing. Especially when it came to Vil. It didn’t matter that he seemed to soften whenever he looked at you, or that he paid extra attention to how you carried yourself. Or how often he had ‘extra’ beauty products and clothes that just happened to be your size.

💜 Epel was looked dejected when you saw him, and looked away from you. Rook solemnly led you to Vil’s room, and bowed as he opened the door “True love will prevail, mon cher trickster! I have no doubt in your abilities!” Thanks Rook, you’re not helping. Look, (Y/N) is even more nervous now.

Even in sleep, Vil looked picture perfect. You quietly padded into his room, perching softly next to him. He laid on his back, and hands were clasped over his torso. It looked like a scene out of a movie, you thought.

You gently brushed some hair out of Vil’s face, “it’s so unlike you to make careless mistakes,” you said out loud. Silence hung in the air. “Even Epel wants you back, y’know.” You frowned, pursing your lips.

“I… I really hope this works,” your voice cracked. You didn’t know what you’d do if it didn’t. You never thought you’d actually kiss a celebrity, let alone Vil, but somehow you were here. “Please don’t be too mad at me if… when you wake up.”

You took a deep breath and softly kissed him. You gasped and pulled away when you heard him breathe deeply, and Vil’s eyes fluttered open. “Prefect? What are you doing here?” Vil sat up and you felt your mouth grow dry.

You rushed out, “you were under Sleeping Death, and Rook brought me here-!” Vil shushed you gently, “so, you gave me True Love’s Kiss as the antidote?” You nodded hesitantly. Vil gazed at you, looking thoughtful.

He took your chin, looking at your mouth. “Hmm, it seems your chapstick wore off. No matter, you can use mine.” You were about to thank him when he snatched a tube of balm off his nightstand. You watched, dumbfounded, as he applied it to his own lips before capping it.

“This formula is my own blend,” he said casually before looking back at you with a glint in his eye, “and I’ve been wanting to test how it transfers.” He put a finger under your chin, tilting your head so you’d look at him. He had a soft, fond smirk, “you’ll help me, won’t you?”

Idia Shroud

🩵 Halfway through Crowley’s speech about True Love, Ortho burst through Ramshackle and began dragging you to Ignihyde. You probably would’ve been upset at the intrusion (and the bill to fix the door), but the robot boy looked so devastated. “You have to save big brother!”

🩵 Apparently, Idia thought he was mixing energy drinks together but he ended up putting Sleeping Death in his drink. Through Ortho’s explanation, Idia was pregaming for an all nighter of farming for the new SSR he pulled, and put the wrong drink in his exhausted-gambling-victory haze. You couldn’t say you were surprised. One of the things you liked about Idia was how passionate he could get.

🩵 Whether it was gaming, tech, or programming, it was always a treat to get Ignihyde’s resident shut-in to talk to you, the ends of his hair turning blush pink. Whenever you visited, Idia always had your favorite snacks and drinks. It came to a point where he had a whole gaming setup made for you, with your own chair and headset.

🩵 The two of you would spend hours gaming, taking the occasional break to watch anime or do snack runs. Idia always seemed a little more inclined to get out of his room if it was with you. During those times, Ortho seemed to hum with excitement. Some days, Idia even lent you one of his hoodies after you begged. Now, the lights of Idia’s screens were off, and the room felt even colder.

The only lights in the room were Idia’s and Ortho’s hair, glowing a soft blue in the dark. Ortho hovered anxiously as you walked to Idia. His hair illuminated his face, and he looked almost like a marble statue.

You suddenly realized how long you’d been staring at him, and became aware of Ortho when you heard his joints clinking nervously. “Hey, Ortho,” you said soothingly, “could you wait outside for me? It’ll just be for a few minutes. I’ll do my best to help.” You tried to smile like you had everything under control, but as Ortho left, you suddenly felt the weight of the situation.

Like a moth to a flame, your attention drifted back to Idia. The light from his hair softly cast a blue glow on him, and you sighed softly. You brushed your thumb against Idia’s cheek, moving your face closer to his. “Please wake up,” you pursed your lips, “for Ortho. For… for me.” Softly you pressed your lips against his.

You pulled away with a small gasp, inches apart. Idia breathed in deeply, face scrunching up. His eyes slowly opened, blinking blearily. “H-huh? Prefect?!” Immediately, Idia’s hair whooshed in dark blue flames tipped with scarlet, “What are you doing so close to my face?!” You pulled back immediately, eyes wide.

Ortho zoomed back into the room, “I sensed movement! Big brother! You’re awake!~” Ortho looked up at you innocently, “it looks like you’re his True Love after all!” Idia stared at you for a second, then his hair turned dark pink. “Wh-WHAT?!” The room suddenly felt several degrees hotter. Or maybe that was just your flustered face. Still, Idia’s nervousness lessened when he saw your eyes shine at Ortho’s words.

“S-so, uh…” Idia chewed his lip, “do you wanna stay over tonight?” Ortho looked excited, “do you want to stay forever?” Idia choked, “Ack- ORTHO!”

Malleus Draconia

💚 Saying you were shocked was an understatement. You couldn’t believe that the Malleus Draconia was under a sleeping curse, and you ran to Diasomnia before the Headmage could finish speaking.

💚 You’d thought it was strange that he didn’t show up last night. As per tradition, you’d wait up for him each night and the two of you would walk the grounds, enjoying each other’s company. Sometimes, Malleus would do small magic tricks - summoning balls of light, fireflies, even conjuring some thornless crimson roses and tucking them behind your ears.

💚 You began to look forward to seeing him. You’d watch in awe with your eyes sparkling, and Malleus couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this euphoric. And it was all thanks to you. So he’d try to show it through gifts. A dragon never parts easily with their treasures, but at this point, Ramshackle seemed like his second hoard. Though secretly, you were the most precious jewel there.

💚 When you got there, you saw Sebek wailing and Silver with a panicked look outside of Malleus’ room. “We’ve failed our duty! My Liege!” Sebek nearly broke your eardrums but you couldn’t find it in your heart to hush him. Silver nodded to you solemnly, and let you in the room. Lilia was with Malleus alone. You approached them silently, never taking your eyes off Malleus.

“How did this happen?” You whispered, sitting on the other side of the bed. . Lilia sighed, patting Malleus’ hands, “I’m not sure. He simply went to bed, and…” You bit your lip, feeling your eyes well up.

Lilia watched you carefully, frowning. “Did the Headmage tell you it was Sleeping Death?” You nodded, “h-he said I was…” you swallowed, “he said I could help.” You badly wanted to help.

You sniffled, tears running down your eyes onto Malleus’ cheeks. You whispered “Tsunotarou… you have to wake up,” before pressing your lips to his. You felt the slow rise and fall of his chest, and you slowly pulled away, hopeful. To your dismay, he stayed still, and you choked a sob, shoving your face into Lilia’s shoulder. “Try again, he should wake up soon” he whispered, patting you gently. You slotted your lips on Malleus’ again, closing your eyes.

You weren’t sure how long you were there. At last, Malleus stirred awake, and you pulled away with a gasp. He blinked twice, before realizing you were there. The small smile he gave you made your insides melt, “Child of Man,” he breathed, “to what do I owe this kiss to awaken me?” You sniffled, laughing as Malleus’ hand wiped away the last of your tears.

“I-I thought you weren’t going to wake up,” you wavered, “they told me I had to kiss you awake.” You weren’t completely coherent as you threw yourself on him, making him fall back into the mattress as you clutched him. He rubbed your back softly, hushing you. “Thank you,” he murmured, “this means more to me than you know.”

You sighed, relaxing against him. Slowly, you felt your eyelids grow heavy as the stress of the day wore on you. As you drifted off to sleep, Lilia watched you both with a small smile. “You know Malleus, they were worried about you. And Silver and Sebek were, too.” Lilia suddenly had a small mischievous smile, “perhaps I should use my electric guitar on you, like when I try to wake Silver?”

Malleus hummed as he held your sleeping form, “well, I suppose my ‘Power Nap,’ as you call it, did last longer than the average hour.”

———

Last part is up!!! Hope you enjoyed this is mini-series 😄

Comments, reblogs, and likes are forever appreciated!! Take care shrimpies~~

Xoxo Calci

[astraystayyh]

chan x reader. hurt and lots of comfort. description of an anxiety attack and its aftermath (based on my own experiences).

please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you

If you remain still long enough, breathe as quietly as you can muster, would the world forget you exist and pass your anxiety along to somebody else?

A selfish question, perhaps, but one that you can’t help but ask as you sit on your freezing bathroom floor, knees tightly hugged to your chest.

You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve sat in this position. Time suddenly seemed elusive to you, as if a concept too hard for your frantic heart to grasp. All you knew was the ache of your limbs and the feeling that doom was just around the corner.

It was one of those days where you woke up feeling anxious. As if your brain had made up its mind about you in your sleep, deciding to hold you hostage to your anxiety. The bed was cold, your boyfriend Chan long gone to his studio, his lingering cologne the only indication he was ever there. So, you tried to distract yourself throughout the day— going on a walk, listening to music, cleaning your house, but it didn't help. Nothing seemed to help you.

So here you were, hours later, sat on your bathroom floor, trying to calm yourself down, all alone. But you could tell that it wasn't working, that you were on a losing race against your own body. Soon, you wouldn't be able to control your anxiety, soon it would turn into a full blown attack.

You wanted to call Chan, you truly did, but he was busy, and you refused to be a burden. Especially since he told you through texts that he'd be home late, so that definitely meant that he was making a new track in his studio.

So, you settled on rocking yourself back and forth, your hands slowly moving up to your shoulders, patting yourself down. This is what you used to do before knowing Chan. When you didn't have anyone around you who understood. You’d trick your bruised mind into believing you were hugged, the warmth of your own touch easing your anxiety a little.

But tonight it had the opposite effect. Tonight, you broke down in sobs, your breathing more irregular than ever. You curled into a ball on the floor, your hand moving to your chest in a futile attempt to slow down your heart. You could no longer breathe, the air in your lungs morphing into unkind fingers, choking you from within. White dots started dancing in front of your eyes, as your entire being shook like a lone leaf, left to fend for itself before the unyielding winds.

It suddenly got too much— the sobs, the pain, the ache. You couldn't bare it anymore. So with trembling hands, you unlocked your phone, calling the only person who would be able to calm you down. Chan. You put the phone on speaker, before tossing it on the ground next to you. You couldn't even muster the energy to hold it to your ear.

“Hi my love, I'm a bit busy right now can I call you later?” Chan's rushed words ring through the bathroom, your anxiety intensifying before the possible antidote. “Honey?” he asks again when he doesn’t hear your reply.

“Chan—“ you sob, the only word your weighted tongue allows you to speak of.

“I’m here, I'm here baby. I'm coming right now,” his panicked voice rings through your ears, following the frantic rush of your boiling blood. The sound of shuffling indicates that he’s getting up and leaving the studio, the confused ‘what’s going on?’ Han shouts confirms it.

The only reply you give him is your sobs, and his heart constricts, twists and turns at the sound of your cries. “Hey, hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re okay. Breathe for me, okay? Take a deep breath with me, please—” his voice breaks, “please baby.”

You try, with all your will, to force a steady breath to rise from your stomach to the tip of your tongue. It escapes faintly, but Chan catches it. “You’re doing well, baby. Fuck—” he turns on his car’s engine. “Um… Minho bit my ass today.”

His words catch you off guard, the gears in your mind stopping for a split second. You remember a faint conversation under your covers, months ago, when you told him that distractions help you when you’re anxious. Force you to redirect your thinking somewhere else.

He remembered.

“Was it tasty?” you breathe out, and he chuckles, a sweet sound intermingled with a sigh of relief. “I don’t know, I need to ask him baby.”

You nod though he can’t see you, willing yourself to breathe again. In, out, in, out, Chan’s own breathing guiding you. “Should I bite him in return?” he asks. Tears pool in your eyes once again. “I’m close, so close,” he reassures.

“Okay.”

“To the biting?”

“Mm,” you manage to hum, as you hear the door of your apartment open, Chan's hurried steps echoing in your home. You knew he was looking for you but you couldn't call out to him. After painfully long seconds, stretching out as if to torture you even more, he finally opens the bathroom floor.

He finally finds you.

“It's okay, I'm here. I'm here,” he wastes no time before scooping you into his arms and hugging you. He knows that the pressure eases your anxiety so he tightens his hold without you having to say so, pulling you as close as two pages of the same book.

With you on his lap, he starts rocking back and forth, his words coming out a jumble mess. He can’t settle on what to say to you, switching between stupid jokes his friends told him, and words of reassurance he repeats like a promise.

His words break, his tongue faltering each time your sob gets louder, but he speaks. He speaks and speaks for twenty minutes, all to distract you, all to keep you grounded, and safe.

After a long while, the storm finally passes, leaving behind an excruciating exhaustion. You turn into a puddle in his hold, softening like malleable clay. He holds you as gently as a porcelain vase.

His warm palms settle atop your cheeks, his eyes gazing into yours for the first time since he got here. A sheen glaze taints them, one you know is mirrored in your own. His thumbs gently swipe away your remaining tears, grazing your face with a tenderness that makes your being ache. Your lips press a faint kiss onto his palm, his find their way to your forehead, and you feel it all, through his kiss. His fear, his relief, his love, soft and gentle, for you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice slightly hoarse as you kiss his forehead back.

“I’ve got you my love. Always,” he smiles at you softly, his dimples appearing like the sun after a cold day.

“Did Minho really bite you?” you giggle faintly, and he scratches his ear sheepishly. “No, but I don’t put it past him to do it.”

“Is that something you’re into?” You cock a teasing eyebrow at him, and he shakes his head, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek. “Only if it’s you,” he says as he wraps his arm around your waist, picking you up swiftly.

“I’ll consider,” you yawn, wrapping your arms around his neck, your face finding a refuge in the crook of his neck.

“Why thank you,” he smiles as he leads you to your bedroom, settling you gently atop the bed. He quickly climbs in with you, bringing you so close to him, his warmth ends up spreading through your entire being, filling up every nook and cranny of your soul.

“I think as long as you’re near, I’ll always be okay,” you say, as your eyes close slowly, you miss the tender smile that blooms in his face at your words.

“Good thing I exist to be near you, then.”

please consider donating for gaza through my kofi. we have exceeded 1k dollars and our goal is 1500! a little goes a long way, you can donate as much as you can! thank you

[moonstruckme]

have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble

lovely weather for a bonfire tonight!! congrats on 5k you beautiful beautiful writer 🫶🏼🫶🏼

can i please get forced proximity with remus 🤭

Thanks for requesting gorgeous!

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 874 words

You look up at the sound of movement in the stacks, and you groan when you connect the dots. 

“You’re joking.” 

Remus lifts his brows as slides into the seat across from you, the scar next to his eye stretching with the movement. “You look surprised to see me.” 

“Slughorn told me he’d ‘connect me’ with a tutor.” You roll your eyes, dragging your thumb and forefinger over the feather of your quill so it ruffles. “He didn’t tell me it’d be one of Gryffindor’s golden boys.” 

“He might have suspected you wouldn’t accept the help.” You scoff but don’t deny it, and Remus starts taking books out of his bag, one amber eye on you. “I’m a bit surprised you need tutoring, to be honest.” 

“I barely do,” you say, hating how petulant the lie sounds as soon as it’s out of your mouth. “I just like to stay on top of things. Don’t want to fall behind.” 

He hums, a soft curl to his bottom lip as he sets his books down on the wooden table. “Suppose that’s how you’ve always stayed right on my heels.” 

“I’m going to pass you in charms this year,” you reply reflexively. Then heat rises to your face, because you very well might, but Remus will likely pass you in potions. Though the two of you have been nearly neck-and-neck for marks since you got to Hogwarts, you’ve always been better than him in potions, at least until now. 

Remus must see the shift in your mood. His posture changes, and you hate the gentleness of his tone when he says, “You probably will. So, what are we working on?” 

You huff out a breath. “Um, I’m supposed to be brewing an antidote to this poison Slughorn gave me.” 

“Okay, and what’s the problem?”

You glare at him, but Remus only looks at you steadily. “I don’t know what the poison is, much less how to find the antidote. I’ve memorized every poison in our textbook, and it doesn’t seem like any of them.” 

“It may not be in the book,” he says, voice lower and far less sharp than yours. “Do you have it with you?” 

You dig in your bag, retrieving the small vial of liquid. It’s clear but thick, a sludge that sticks to the edges of the glass when you try to swirl it. Remus takes it from you. 

“It’s not about knowing what the poison is so much as what’s in it.” He removes the stopper, sniffing tentatively at the semi-liquid stuff inside. “Once you can figure out some of the key ingredients, you can use other ingredients to nullify those in your antidote.” He holds it out a few inches from your nose. “Smell.” 

You lean directly over it and breathe in, and instantly, instinctively, recoil back into your seat. You feel your face scrunch up, throat convulsing in a gag. 

“Fuck,” you choke out, “is that how it kills you?” 

Remus chuckles, and the sound tickles down your spine like a grazing touch. 

“You did that on purpose,” you accuse. 

“It wasn’t on purpose, but it was entertaining.” 

“Dick.” 

He grins. It’s an effort not to return it. “How did it smell?” 

“Rank. As if you don’t know.” 

Remus’ grin worsens. “I mean what did it smell like, love.” 

“Oh.” You ignore the way your heart stutters at the endearment, slipped in at the end of his statement like it’s automatic. “Um, kinda like piss? But mustier.” 

“Good.” Your tutor’s voice is coaxing. He leans his elbows on the table, his eyes on yours. “What common ingredient in poisons does that remind you of?” 

The realization must show on your face, because Remus’ lips twist upwards before you even speak. “Hemlock,” you breathe. 

“There you are,” he says, nearly as quietly. “And what is the easiest ingredient to counteract hemlock with?” 

“Bezoar.” You tilt your head back, covering your face with your hands. Remus laughs again, and you hear him stoppering the vial. “I can’t believe I’ve spent all week agonizing over this, and it was that simple. I just need to make a potion with bezoar?” 

“And preferably a few other things to counteract the less fatal side effects, but yeah.” You lower your hands and Remus is giving you a knowing look, almost proud, as he passes you back the vial. “See, you managed it.” 

“Thank you,” you tell him sincerely. 

“I think you’re getting too in your head about needing to memorize everything,” he says, propping his chin on a hand. And he looks nice like this. Boyish, like someone you could honestly enjoy talking to. His hair pushes up above his ear. “You’re a hard worker, but you need to give yourself some credit for your intuition, too. You knew what the poison was once you let yourself think about it, you were just too focused on the facts to get there without help.” 

“You shouldn’t be telling me this.” You feel a smile tugging at your lips. “I’m just going to use the knowledge to beat you out in potions and everything else, you know. Being nice to me doesn’t get you a free pass.” 

Remus’ eyes crackle with challenge. “Wouldn’t expect any different.”

[freedomfireflies]

How Many?*

Summary: An extra for One for the Money*

The one where Mr. Styles has had a rough day, and fucking you hard and slow is his only remedy.

(Inspired by this softdom!harry prompt!!)

Word Count: 1.8k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Shit, honey. I know. I know, Peach. Stay still for me, yeah?”

You nod quickly, lip between your teeth as your nails scratch down Harry’s back. 

You’re still getting used to his size. Always needing an extra minute or two to catch your breath, which he dutifully gives you. 

Normally, he eggs you on. Mocks your inability to take him. How your tight, little hole is just too tiny for him to fit through. How he’d ruin you before he even got halfway in.

But today is different. Today, he kisses your cheeks, your nose, your lips. Helping the seconds go by as he whispers, “Doing so good, my love. Feel so fucking good for me.”

You try to relax your mind, your body, your muscles. Wanting to feel him as deep as he can go more than anything in the world. Almost wishing he’d just drive himself to the hilt and wreck you if that’s what it takes.

He nuzzles into your neck, breathing you in. His heart is racing against your own and you feel your stomach flip.

It’s rare he lets you see the bad days. It’s rare he has them at all. But instead of hiding them from you—instead of hiding from you—he’d come home and taken you into his arms. 

He held you, and kissed you, and touched you. Gently brushed at your clit before mindlessly stroking through your folds. It was clear what he needed.

You.

And he has you. For now. For always. His body and yours connecting as one until his hips are pressing down into you. His cock now sheathed completely inside your cunt as you exhale a deep, strained, and pleasured breath.

You grab onto his ass and help roll his hips. Whimpering as the sensation in your stomach begins to build again. Soft and slow.

“S’a good girl,” he murmurs, and it’s so very heavy. Yet filled with relief. As if you’re the antidote he needed. As if you’re his remedy.

“Sir,” you whisper, nipping at his earlobe as he grabs onto your leg and hooks it around his hip. You follow suit, tossing your other one around him as well until your ankles can cross near his spine. Aiding in his slow but pointed thrusts.

“I know,” he says again, swallowing a groan as he rocks into you. “Fucking missed this. Missed this pretty pussy today.”

You make another noise as he suddenly nudges his nose against yours. Calling your attention to him.

“Missed you,” he adds gently before kissing you until there’s no air in your lungs.

And you can’t deny the leap in your heart from the thought. The idea that he thinks about you even when you’re not around.

His fingers dance between your bodies until they find your clit. Again, he presses and rubs in cruel but beautiful ways. Making stars scatter behind your eyelids as you gasp and arch from the bed.

“How many times should I make you cum today, hm?” he asks, glancing down at your overused and sensitive nerves. “Already came for me once. Or was it twice?”

Your head buries into the mattress as you struggle against the overstimulation, feeling ruined beyond repair.

“Peach,” he warns, pinching you tight and forcing a gasp to rip from your throat. “I asked you a question.”

“…twice,” you just barely manage to pant, skin incredibly warm. “Made me cum twice, Sir.”

“And how many times should I make you cum now?” he asks again, kissing the side of your nose sweetly. “Three? Four?”

The feeling between your thighs is expanding. Exploding. Making your nails curl into his skin until you’re sure you’ve drawn blood.

“I’ve always been rather fond of the number five,” he muses before suddenly pressing his thumb into your clit and watching as yet another orgasm tears you apart from the inside out.

You know he wants to be proud of the way he’s teased you but feeling you cum around his cock is always his favorite part. And you can see that euphoric haze dance across his face as he sucks in a sharp breath and releases your clit so he can slide his thumb into your mouth.

You suck it with purpose. With appreciation. Whimpering from the taste and the warmth of his hand. Letting your tongue explore the digit before settling him between your lips contently.

He balances his weight on his forearm to keep you satisfied. Continuing his gentle thrusts as you come down from the rush. “You okay, honey?”

You hum quietly, head nodding as you keep his finger snug in your mouth.

He seems pleased. “Gonna give me another one?”

Posed like a question but you know you have little choice. He wants five orgasms from you, and he won’t stop until he either gets them or you safeword. 

So you motion your agreement once again and release his thumb. “Yes, Sir.”

He grins. “Good fucking girl.”

With that, he kisses you, and delivers another sharp thrust. 

He finds a familiar rhythm, uncurling your leg from his hip so he can press it into the bed. Needing a deeper angle before he’s slipping an arm beneath your back and lifting you altogether. 

You cry out his name, grateful the cameras aren’t rolling so you can use his real name. The one that melts from your tongue like butter on pancakes. Warm, and soft, and so deliciously sweet as you say it again just to hear it.

You feel a shiver roll down his spine at the sound. At the feel of you around his twitching cock. 

“Harry,” you breathe just to see his lashes flutter. “Harry, please…please.”

In any other moment, he’d chastise you for the use of his name during a scene. Cameras or not. But today he needs it. Today he craves it.

You feel his muscles quiver under the weight of your adoration for him. He’s too far gone in his idea of you to think straight, and the dominant man you’ve come to know dissipates into the lover you cum for.

He returns to your clit as tears return to your eyes. You’ve always been sensitive. Perhaps too sensitive, especially right now as he works on your fourth.

“Please…please,” you gasp, writhing beneath his hold until he has to use his weight to keep you still. Pressing your body into the mattress until you have no other choice but to take the continued pleasure. “Sir, please—”

“Does it ache, honey?” he coos gently, glancing down at the way your body reacts to his touch and overstimulation. The sensitive nub much more swollen than it was before. “Sting?”

You nod fervently, lip tugged between your teeth until the taste of metal fills your mouth. “Can’t…can’t…can’t—”

“You can,” he murmurs. Firm yet oddly comforting. “You can, Peach. Daddy needs you to cum again. S’gonna help him feel better. And you wanna help him, don’t you? Help him feel better?”

He knows how to play you. Knows how to encourage the response he wants, and your skin is on fire as you squirm beneath his hand. 

“Yes,” you pant before glancing up at him through tear-stained lashes. “Yes, Daddy. Want you to feel better.”

And you do. To the point that you’d endure hours of torture and overstimulation if it made him happy. 

So you allow him to pinch, and pull, and rub until you’re beginning to sob. And you don’t mind because you know he’s watching and monitoring each reaction. Making sure that he never gives you more than you can handle.

But then you feel that strange and somewhat rare blooming in your chest. The kind that makes your eyes roll back into your head as you grab onto his shoulders and gasp.

You don’t have time to warn him. Don’t even have time to understand what’s about to happen.

But he does.

He’s seen this look on your face before and this is exactly what he’d wanted. More than anything, and the smirk the spreads across his face when he feels the rush of liquid over his cock is incredibly smug. 

“There you go,” he coos, glancing down to watch the way you squirt for him. The way you soak his thighs, and hands, and stomach. The way you drench yourself and douse the bedding beneath in your arousal for him. “Just like that, honey, keep going. You’re okay.”

You’re whimpering so hard, your throat is sore. But he loves it. Indulges in each needy whine and groan as you melt under the weight of his strong frame.

You’re still sobbing, cheeks wet and warm. Hair matted to your forehead and skin sticky.

It’s the most beautiful look in the whole world, and he can’t help the rush of pride and appreciation he feels as he gazes down at you.

He slows his thrusts to allow you just a moment of reprieve, hand coming up to stroke down your face lovingly.

“Shh,” he whispers as you hiccup. Thumb tenderly brushing at your tears. “You’re okay, Peach. Did so good for me.”

You try to reply but your chest is heaving with more cries. “S’too much…too much, Sir—”

“I know,” he hums, cupping your jaw and dipping down to kiss the tip of your nose. “I know, baby. M’really pushing you, but you’re doing so well. Almost done, yeah? Just need you to cum for me one more time. Want you to cum with me.”

You begin to shake your head, the idea almost too much, and you catch the worry in his expression. 

“Do you need to stop?” he asks now with an air of seriousness. “What’s your color, my love?”

You pause to catch your breath, allowing yourself enough room to decide. “It’s…it’s green.”

“Green,” he repeats but he’s unconvinced. Brows furrowing as he studies you. “Are you sure?”

You sniffle a bit before nodding slowly. “Yes, Sir. It’s green. Just needed a second.”

“You can have all the seconds you want,” he tells you, pressing his lips to yours caringly. “If you need to call yellow or red—”

“I don’t,” you insist, suddenly overcome by the fear he might stop. And you know he will. “I don’t, Daddy, promise. Was just a lot.”

“I know,” he says again, beginning to smile. “Know squirting takes a lot out of you, hm?”

You nod again and nuzzle into his palm. “Yes. But I’m okay now. Really.”

He regards you carefully, searching for any signs of deceit. “I need you to be sure, Peach. You’ll hurt Daddy if you lie to him.”

“M’not,” you whimper, turning to kiss his hand as if to solidify your promise. “M’really not. Wanna feel you cum with me, Sir. Need it. Need it, Sir, please—”

Your begging has always had this innate ability to turn his brain to mush. And it seems that hasn’t changed as a certain expression passes over his face and his thrusts begin to pick up once again.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, sliding his hand down to your throat. Squeezing it gently, yet enough to make you feel secure. 

You sigh contently as you dance your hands down his spine, taking hold of his beautiful ass to help him along. 

He smirks.

“Then let’s get that number five.”

Next Part:

~ Yellow* (Extra)

~ Full One for the Money Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @narry-heart @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz

[frvnkcastles]

Your work with Frank is incredible! Could I please request one where you’ve been feeling lightheaded/dizzy all day but brushing it off until you’re making dinner and you can’t ignore it anymore and faint and Frank finds you there after coming in from taking out the garbage so you wake up on the couch, washcloth on your forehead and Frank worrying over you and won’t let you walk or lift a finger for awhile and if you get worse then he absolutely insists on taking you to urgent care or the er

THE ANTIDOTE TO EVERYTHING ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: You’ve been dizzy all day but you try to deal with it until you finally faint, leaving Frank worried about you.

Warnings: Fainting, implied existing condition, fluff, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.3k

Author’s note: Thank you so so much for your sweet words, anon <3 Sorry for making you wait, I hope you like this!!

Realistically, you should have known the dizziness you had been dealing with all day wouldn’t end well, but you refused to give in. You told yourself it was no big deal, it was nothing new and surely you’d be able to tolerate it — and because it wasn’t that serious in your mind, you didn’t tell Frank, either. He was a worrier when it came to you and you didn’t want to stress him out over nothing, so you found it best to keep it to yourself.

Still, no matter how insistent you were that it would pass, the sway in your head was persistent as hell. As soon as you got up from the couch to go to the bathroom, you stumbled and staggered, and when you were washing your hands afterwards, your vision blurred. You had all the telltale signs of an incoming fainting spell, but you chose to ignore it, hoping it would will it into leaving you alone.

Besides, you had promised Frank to cook his favorite pasta dish and you couldn’t walk back on your word like that. So, despite your unsure footing, you planted yourself by the stove and began working on dinner, silently reassuring yourself that you could do it and everything would be okay.

”Did ya hear me, sweetheart?” Frank’s voice cut through your thoughts, and only then realizing he had joined you in the kitchen, you turned to face him. He was looking at you curiously, a hint of concern in his deep gaze, and his hand came to rest on your back. ”Asked if you needed any help with dinner”, he repeated himself when you just stared back at him, his eyes darting between the pot you were mindlessly stirring and your troubled expression.

”No, no, I’m all good. I got this”, you assured with a weak smile, and reluctantly, Frank nodded. ”You could take the trash out if you really want to be of help”, you added, and with a chuckle, he snuck past you and gathered the garbage bag from its hiding place.

”Makin’ me do all the chores you don’t wanna, huh?” he teased, but before you could defend yourself, he was reaching in to kiss your cheek. ”I got it, sweetheart. Be right back”, he declared before stomping out of the apartment with the trash in tow, earning a smile from you.

The happy look on your face was wiped away quickly, though. A wave of disorientation washed over you and your head started spinning, forcing you squeeze your eyes shut. You tried to regain your balance but nausea took over and you felt the undeniable urge to lay down. With panic rising in your chest, you moved to turn off the stove, figuring it would be wise to continue cooking later.

Before you could move to the bedroom or even the couch, you lost the fight between you and the nasty dizziness that had been bothering you all day, and you collapsed.

The last thing Frank expected to see when he came back inside was you unconscious on the floor. The sight made his heart sink and he quickly tossed his keys onto the counter before rushing to your side, kneeling down and pulling you into his arms. Fear surged in his heart, even though this wasn’t the first time you had passed out on him — nevertheless, it unsettled him just like the first time.

”Hey, hey, hey, sweetheart. Shit”, he rambled, swallowing hard as he picked you up from the floor effortlessly. He carried you to the couch and set you down as gently as he could, his usually steady hands trembling just a smidge as he wiped your hair away from your face and assessed the situation. You didn’t seem hurt, which was a relief to him, but he wasn’t going to breathe properly until you’d regain consciousness.

He got a washcloth and draped it over your forehead, and with a gentle caress on your cheek, he remained crouched by your side and tried to help you come to. His typically stoic expression faltered as he watched you lay there, and there was an uncomfortable weight on his chest. He was worried, but at the same time, he was charging a rant about your well-being, knowing for a fact that you had probably been feeling lightheaded all day.

Eventually, you blinked your eyes open, grimacing at the weird sensation in your body and the bright lights of the living room. It took a moment for your vision to focus, but when it did, you found Frank staring at you with alert eyes, his jaw clenching and his hands hovering over you.

”There you are, darlin’”, he cleared his throat, eyeing you up and down. ”How you feelin’? Found you passed out, baby”, he explained, and slowly remembering what had happened, you gave him a nod to acknowledge.

”I—I’m okay, I think. Lying down helps”, you reminded, and licking his lips, Frank wiped his thumb across your cheek tenderly.

”Yeah, I figured. Ain’t the first time we’ve been here, sweetheart”, he noted, and with a sheepish chuckle, you supposed he was right. Deciding to just shake it off, you tried to sit up from the couch, but Frank reacted immediately. With no real pressure, his hand pushed against your chest to stop you, and you gave him a puzzled look.

”I feel better, Frankie. I need to get back to dinner”, you said like it was the most obvious thing, and in an instant, Frank snorted, amused that you’d think he was letting you do anything.

”Nah, baby, you ain’t goin’ anywhere. Gonna just take it easy for the rest of the day, hear me? I’mma take care of dinner, aight? Don’t worry ’bout a thing”, he announced firmly, unwilling to argue about it. His decision was final, as it often was when your health was in question.

You smiled softly, touched by his worrying. ”But—”, you began, but he cut you off promptly.

”Not hearin’ you out on this, sweetheart. Y’know layin’ down is the best for you right now. Yeah?” he stated, and unable to insist otherwise, you nodded to confirm. Sighing deeply, he took your hand in his own and gave it a soft squeeze. ”Why didn’t ya say somethin’? I know this didn’t just come outta nowhere. Shoulda never been up and cookin’ dinner in this state”, he continued, his tone just slightly scolding but you knew it came from a place of love.

You gave him a shy shrug. ”I thought I could tough it out. Didn’t want to worry you, either”, you explained, a little embarrassed that you had overestimated your ability to handle it so terribly.

Chuckling, Frank lifted your hand up to his mouth so he could kiss your knuckles. ”Darlin’, worryin’ ’bout you is my job. You don’t gotta feel bad ’bout it. Just lemme take care of you when you need it, yeah? It don’t make you any less tough if you need to lay down every now and then”, he pointed out, the tiniest of smiles on his lips.

”I guess that’s fair”, you admitted, ”I’ll tell you next time.”

Satisfied, Frank leaned in to kiss you, sweet and brief but enough to remind you that despite his stern tone, he loved you very much. ”Attagirl. Now, I’mma continue with dinner but if you need anythin’ at all, you shout, yeah? And if it doesn’t pass, I’m takin’ you to the ER”, he informed you after pulling away, making you smile. He took your fainting very seriously, as he did with every other aspect of your health, even when you tried to play it off as nothing serious.

”I love you”, you spoke sincerely, so grateful to have him looking out for you, and with adoration obvious in his eyes, he replied.

”Love you too, sweetheart.”

[2018-01-20]

if you still have your 1k words of kissing satoru pls bestow it to me 🧎🏽‍♀️i’m grabbing him by the back of his blindfold and making out with him fr

pairing. high schooler!gojo satoru × gn!reader

content. fluff + one kiss, implied that reader is shorter than gojo, somewhat proofread (i hate everything) read slowly!!

sticky-note. IM CRYING the way u worded this ask made me want to write an entirely new thing of making out w gojo 😭 ty for sending this in leeee 🫶

it is no secret that gojo satoru looks like a good kisser.

he’s attentive; one large hand on the small of your back to hold you steady while the other rests on your hip, eyes on you to see if you’ll make the first move. to both his and your dismay, you don’t move a single inch.

“i can’t do it,” you finally say, exasperated, pulling away to quickly hide your face in your hands. you awkwardly twist away from his figure, unable to stand the way that you’re able to see his stupidly pretty eyes through his sunglasses. it infuriates you to no end. “i give up. this is too embarrassing.”

“that’s so mean of you to say,” gojo whines not unsimilar to a toddler, but there is only amusement in his tone as he lightly tugs on the waistband of your pants, trying to get you to turn back around. “shouldn’t you be honored to kiss the one and only gojo satoru?”

“shutupshutupshutup,” you chant, mostly to yourself than to the obnoxious boy behind you. you swat weakly at his hand while trying to ignore the demonic voices in your head.

it is no secret that you’ve liked your classmate for a long while now. as cute and funny (and hot) as gojo is, he is twice as annoying and unpleasant. you swear he makes it his daily goal to get your blood boiling every chance he gets. that is the sole reason why you don’t plan on professing your love anytime soon: due to the fact that shoko will forever be disappointed in you and will never let you live it down if she knew. you don’t even want to think about what utahime would ultimately think of you.

he continues to bug you, “c’mo-on...” you can practically hear him sporting his signature smug grin. “do you really wanna go back to jujutsu high like that and kiss suguru instead?”

at that, you spin around in an instant—a mortified look on your face that further urges you to stab an accusatory finger at his chest. “y-you’re a damn liar! there is no way that there is an actual curse who’s goddamn antidote requires you to kiss someone when you get hit.”

sneakily, he wraps a palm around your wrist but makes no move to push your hand away. “but you just got touched by that cursed spirit, right? doesn’t your skin feel all sticky and itchy, like i mentioned?”

as much as you hate to admit it, you know that he’s right. before the two of you had gotten into the fight in the first place, he warned you not to get hit and the symptoms you would have to face if you did. your skin does feel like you just took a swim in poison ivy, and your head feels dizzy with a sudden migraine that should not be there, since gojo had instantly caught you the moment you faced a hit from the cursed spirit.

“b-but it doesn’t make any sense,” you sputter out, a weak last-minute resort. you really do not want to kiss gojo satoru—at least, not because of a measly curse—and have to hear him blab about it later on to your friends. you rant on, “if such a technique exists, then why didn’t you just kill the thing right away? aren’t you the strongest? why am i even on this mission with you?”

“hey!” he feigns an offended gasp, “are you saying that you don’t like hanging out with me?” he groans and dramatically lays an arm on his forehead, reminding you of a mistress in distress. you stare blankly. “how cruel of you. and besides, just because i’m the strongest doesn’t mean i can kill a first-grade so quickly.”

you keep staring at him with a disapproving look, but he only looks back at you with a joyous glint in his eyes. “...you’re insufferable,” you finally huff out, your hand still in his. but the both of you can hear the undertone of surrounder in your voice.

you stand awkwardly still in front of him for a few solid seconds, narrowing your eyes as he returns your defeated glare with a sheepish smile. you can’t help but sigh to yourself—you’re going to have to prepare yourself for a mouthful from shoko when you both head back.

you let him pull you closer when he tugs at your hand, your other palm moving to rest on his chest to steady yourself. but even then, you don’t get to kiss him until he leans down from that freakishly tall height of his— gently meeting his lips with yours.

it isn’t a quick peck. in fact, it’s a sweet and slow kind of kiss that makes your heart skip a concerningly amount of beats. a free hand of satoru’s moves up to softly cup the back of your head to deepen the kiss. nothing about his movements show that he’s in a rush to get the whole ordeal over with—and as much as you would like to lie and say that you hate it, you can’t help but step forwards to reach him better too.

your mind is in so much of a daze that you don’t even realize that satoru turned his limitless infinity just for you.

when you finally step back into reality and—reluctantly—pull away, gojo is grinning brightly with his sunglasses tucked into his hair. you didn’t even notice that he pushed them up to make the kiss more comfortable for you. however, you do notice that your skin still very much feels uncomfortable on your body and your head is pounding (whether it be from the symptoms or the kiss, you don’t really wanna know).

“you’re so cute,” gojo chuckles unabashedly, laughing again when you avert your gaze with another huff and a warm face. you are more than used to his flirty remarks and his more-than-platonic habits, but somehow it feels more... genuine this time around.

“and gullible,” he suddenly adds, the out of blue comment making you turn back towards him with a raised eyebrow. you squeak out a sound of surprise when he unexpectedly, but gently, pushes your head downwards, his other hand now in your line of sight. you feel more confusion swirling in your head when you see him holding a small vial with some clear, greenish liquid inside of it.

“here’s the real antidote,” gojo casually cheers, and he does not have a single shame in the world. a whole minute seems to pass by until you connect the dots, and when you do, the first thing that pops up in your mind is the thought of absolute murder.

“are you serious?” you practically screech. “you made that whole kiss thing up?”

[ohmygodshesinsane]

Partners 🌧️⚗️🗒️

James is the last person Lily expects to visit when she's ill in the Hospital Wing, but the new Head Boy has more than one surprise for her. For Jily Week 2024, Day 2: Partners in Crime. Or - in this case - in being head students :') @sunshinemarauder @kay-elle-cee

read it on ao3 or under the cut!

Rain splattered the windows of the Hospital Wing, droplets glistening in the autumnal light of late afternoon, and Lily groaned as she hefted herself onto her elbows, the aniseed aftertaste of Madam Pomfrey’s last potion lingering on her tongue. Her head was foggy, her bones hurt right to their marrow, and Pomfrey herself had put her on strict bedrest, but some things couldn’t wait. It was just her luck to fall ill in only the third week of seventh year; right as the assignments were doled out and the prefects grew needy. She adjusted the pillow behind her back and reached for the wheeled table, pulling it up the bed towards her. Mary had promised to bring her notes from a few of their subjects, but there were several the two didn’t share; and there were three notes that had been left by prefects while she’d been asleep. She yawned, wishing she could have some kind of caffeine, but Madam Pomfrey insisted it interacted poorly with the antidotes she was taking. Of course. She stretched, arching her back, and decided to take a look at the prefects’ notes first. The first was from the mousey new Hufflepuff girl. She smoothed it out, ready to read.

“No.”

“Sorry?” Lily’s head bolted upright, forming a retort to whoever had arrived to boss her around – she was Head Girl, thanks, and her bout of illness had rather shortened her temper. She stopped the moment she saw who it was. “James.”

He leaned over her, black hair rumpled, still in his school robes – lessons would have not long finished, Lily supposed. His hazel eyes crinkled along with his clear smile, and his glasses slipped down his face as his gaze met hers.

“I said no,” he repeated easily, nodding towards the note. “Fairview, right? I headed her off already. She should’ve come to me in the first place, mind – I told them to, but no. Can’t have prefects with common sense – might break the system, I’m afraid.” And before she could protest, he flicked his wand with a muttered spell. The note caught flame. Lily gaped at him, shock and amusement battling within her.

“You shouldn’t do that,” she said, with no real weight. James shrugged and sat down gently on the bed, by her knees.

“She shouldn’t rabbit on so much.”

“Some prefects do have common sense,” Lily added, rubbing her throat and raising her eyebrows. James squinted one eye, tilting his head.

“Hmm,” he said slowly. “…Nah, I don’t think so. Nobody with common sense is doing work when they’re in the bloody Infirmary, are they?”

Lily huffed instead of replying properly, feeling strangely… touched, by James’s handling of it. By all rights, he was as in charge as she was, so he ought to be sharing the load – but when she’d discovered he’d be at her side this year, she’d not expected him to take it seriously. It was supposed to be just another feather in his cap – Quidditch Captain, Head Boy, Special Services to the School… A year ago, she wouldn’t have thought he’d ever bother to learn the name of a girl like Maisie Fairview.

“McGonagall wants an essay on mid-weight Conjuration by next Thursday, but I talked to her and she knows you’re in here, so she said you’ve got ‘til the Monday after,” James started absently, grabbing the pitcher of water. Without asking, he filled two glasses and offered her one.

“Thanks,” said Lily, surprised. With the first sip she relaxed; it was cool on her raw throat.

“I’ve got notes from Defence too – you can have them when you get out,” James said, wagging a finger at her, “not in here. Metaphysical properties of defensive spells. Proctor’s real into theory. S’pose they didn’t want another Auror sort, after last year. If I ever get my hands on Mulciber…”

“He’s not causing trouble?” Lily sat up straighter, frowning. James snorted.

“I wish, I’m itching to take points.” Lily’s twitching smile belied her attempted look of disapproval. “Nah, he’s just glowering up the back of the classroom. Better that way, though.” James ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been devastated to discover that some things are more important than getting an excuse to hex someone to Wallonia and back.”

“That sucks,” Lily said, grinning.

“Cost-benefit,” he said flippantly. “Anyways, I know Mary’s got you covered for Charms and Potions – thank Merlin for that, I hate Potions – ah. I’ve got Moony’s notes for Ancient Runes for you too. When you’re out of the Hospital Wing,” he added sternly. Lily folded her arms across her chest.

“You make me sound like a child wanting sweets before supper.”

“Because you’re acting like me,” James replied, and before Lily could protest, he went on, “being a complete idiot. Any work you do while you’re feeling crap will turn out crap, and the more you push yourself, the worse you’ll feel. What you need to do is rest.”

Lily took another mouthful of water, washing away the last of the potion. “I know,” she said, and she did, logically. “But –”

“You’re not on your own, you know,” James said. Lily faltered. He set his glass down on the tray table and inched a little closer, jaw squared. “You’re not missing any lessons, really – we’ve got everything you need for when you’re better. And I know I wasn’t a prefect or anything, but… Well… I can do it.” The most bizarre expression crossed his face, and it took Lily a moment to identify it – awkward? She hadn’t known James was capable of looking awkward, but there it was, albeit a very handsome, smooth rendition that most regular people would’ve killed for. “We’re partners,” he said softly. “If one of us is down for the count, then… well… I can handle it all, Evans.” He swept up the remaining messages from the prefects. “I just want you to feel better, all right?”

The air thickened. Lily was painfully aware of the pillow digging into her back, that she’d not showered since she’d been admitted yesterday morning, that she was in an unflattering, stripy pair of pink pyjamas, that there were two second-year boys making farting sounds with their armpits a few beds over, and that James’s side brushed her knee, the contact brief and burning and tingling from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair.

She was lost for words. And she had no right to be: James was, essentially, just behaving the way any decent Head Boy ought to. Lily shifted, guilt slipping over her shoulders like a ragged old cloak, clasped too tight at the neck. James watched her, the rain outside reflected in his rectangular lenses. Genuine. Patient.

She had underestimated him. Her stomach prickled.

“Partners,” she echoed, and set her glass down too, using her free hand to extend her pinkie. “Thank you, James. I suppose I got pretty lucky.”

“You got lucky?” James grinned and shook his head. His smallest finger wrapped around hers, and the friendly touch made her shiver. His finger had a callous – from catching Quaffles, she reckoned. He never wore gloves. Ruined his technique, apparently. She didn’t know why she remembered him saying that. “So is this a promise, Evans? You’ll take it easy?”

“‘Evans’?” Lily said, sounding bolder than she felt, thinking that she could blame this in the future on her illness or the potion (but it wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t). “If we’re partners, James, we might need to be a bit more cordial than that.”

His face lit. It was magical. “Right you are. So, you’ll rest for me, Lily?” His voice was gentler on her name, tongue caressing the ‘l’s, each vowel a reverent breath.

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

Their knuckles brushed. Partners.

[idontmindifuforgetme]

how do you fall in love with yourself

unlearn the idea that confidence is conceit. i see this belief imposed on women especially, that if they’re very unapologetic about loving themselves it automatically means they’re narcissistic / think they’re better than everybody else. that’s not true at all. you can love yourself while also acknowledging you’re not inherently better than anyone else. you can love yourself while also being kind & supportive to others. it’s okay to be both of these things at once.

let go of the scarcity mindset. women (everyone really, but especially women) get pitted/compared against each other all the time. you see it w female celebrities in the media, but it’s very prevalent in real life as well. this is very much years of societal conditioning & both women & men partake in this behavior. ignore it. rest easy knowing that there can be multiple beautiful women, multiple smart women, multiple funny women in any environment at any given time. there is enough clout to go around; you don’t need to feel like if there’s another pretty/smart girl it means you no longer have the space to also be a pretty/smart girl. instead operate from an abundance mindset: always (alwaysss) be happy for other girls when they succeed, when they’re praised, when they’re loved, whatever. see them not as competition but as inspiration. envy is such a colossal waste of time bc nobody else’s accomplishments have any bearing on your own!!

get to know yourself more. i love the analogy of dating yourself bc it’s true. i went through a rough period of being around my ex 24/7 to the point i didn’t even know myself, and then i spent the post-breakup year hanging around everyone else constantly to numb my thoughts. now i’m spending more time alone than ever & i’m getting to know myself so much. learning about my taste in fashion, music, everything. and i’ve had so much more time to invest in hobbies & skills, which is very instrumental to building healthy self-esteem. ofc there’s a more balanced way to do this, but make sure you’re not running away from yourself!

what do you like outside of everybody’s opinion? don’t interpret this the wrong way—it’s completely fine to be inspired. every single person you know has copied someone else to an extent. but if you find yourself going too far, not trusting yourself to make the simplest decisions, just following trends blindly and nothing else, you’ve left the inspiration territory and started crossing into plagiarism. move from a place of self-direction and really think about what is naturally appealing to you. it doesn’t matter if it’s not popular or nobody else likes it. if you like it & if it makes you happy, that’s all you need.

practice self-love! i had to do this lol but it works wonders. i started intentionally telling myself that i trust my own taste, that i trust my own choices, that if i think something’s cool it’s good enough, talking to myself kindly etc etc. eventually all this stuff will become natural to you & you won’t find yourself having to expend so much energy into simply loving you for you. don’t give up even if it’s hard to believe at times.

don’t give a fuck. seriously. just don’t give a single flying fuck what someone else has to say. there will always be That One Person who tries to tear you down, belittles you, gaslights you etc etc and if you know in your heart you’re not doing anything wrong, just ignore and keep it pushing. you can’t be everyone’s favorite person (nor should you want to be). think of your favorite celebrity. anyone ever. they probably all got subjected to hate. now think of how they’re successful still & how it didn’t take anything away from them. there you go <3

if literally everyone on this planet starts hating you, loving yourself is still the antidote. to clarify, how others perceive us does hold weight. but if legit every single person i know started hating me, and i still loved myself, i’d probably still live a full life bc my perception is all that really matters in the end. i don’t need anyone else to be my #1 fan—i can do that myself just fine. it technically is actually your world & everyone else is just living in it. so enjoy that! stop giving a hard time to the one person who will always be w you through thick and thin (yourself). eat good food & watch good shows & read good books & just have fun. i love u

[glitteredrry]

GQ couples quiz

summary: Y/N quizzes Harry to test if he’s truly been paying attention during their relationship.

warnings: fluff

wc: 700+

“Greetings, I’m Y/N.”

“And my name’s Harry,” He cut in, eyeing the camera with a bright smile.

“Today we’re doing,” I said looking over to Harry to get our timing correct.

“The GQ couples quiz,” we said at the same time. We held up our hands in the air, silently cheering that we got it right.

“Are you ready?” I asked him pretending to be being more serious than I could ever possibly be around him.

“Hit me with all the questions, bunny.” He said confidently while adjusting himself in the seat.

Clearing my throat, I looked at the cards that GQ prepared for us trying to get ready to speak. “Mr. Styles, what is my full name?”

Harry pondered and teasingly hit his head as if he could not remember, “I think your name is Y/N Y/L/N. You weren’t given a middle name like us common folk.” I let out a laugh throwing the card in the air moving to the next one.

“What was the name of my first pet? For bonus points, what kind of animal was it?” I squinted my eyes at him because truthfully I believe that I’ve only mentioned it once. The time that I did mention it, we were at the beginning of our relationship.

“It was a cheeky name, I can’t think of the name. But I’m positive that it was a guinea pig.” My eyebrows shot up in surprise while I smiled. I can’t believe he remembered the animal.

“I’m shocked you remembered good job baby-”

“Sargent tater tot!” He interrupted excitingly remembering the silly name I picked out at six years old.

“GQ give him all the points you can, I told you that like the first month of our relationship. How did you remember?” He shrugged his shoulders confidently.

“I’ve just got better memory skills than your average person. Next question, bunny.” He said while giving me a small laugh.

“How did we first meet?”

“Easy. You went to a show of mine with a dear friend of mine. We got acquainted backstage, you fell madly in love with me. The rest is history.” I turned my head to the camera, giving it a moment of silence.

“That is how we met, Y/N.” He called out, breaking the silence.

“No, it’s not! You just don’t remember, but we met when you were performing at the Victoria Secret fashion show. I was an invited guest.”

“Oh, that doesn’t count. I didn’t even get the chance to speak to you! We only said hi.” He was right, that night he was the center of attention and we didn’t get a proper greeting. It still counted to me.

“I say let’s give him a half a point.”

“Deal.” He agreed to it, even though I could tell the competitive part of him wanted the full point.

“How many years have we’ve been together?”

“Three long, long, long,” he said looking at the camera as I laughed at his theatrics. “Loving years.” He ended up saying; causing everyone in the studio to awe. He shook his head nodding with a small smile, soaking in the attention his answer was getting him.

“Let’s go to the next question, you little attention seeker.” Harry bursted out in a cackle at me calling him out in-front of everyone.

We ran through the questions, making everyone in the room fawn over our relationship. Harry’s eyes never left mine, and him getting all the correct answers caused a bright blush to never leave my cheeks. Laughs went across the room as we told some antidotes that were behind each answer. The room calmed down as we approached the final question of the video.

“So far, you’ve had a winning streak,” I said to him, causing Harry to give himself a slight pat on the back.

“Are you ready for the final question, babe?”

“This is a lot of pressure, give me a moment.” He took a dramatic, drawn out deep breath as if he was meditating. “I’m ready.”

“What was the very first, and I do mean the first professional gig I had?” My career as an actor began before I could even count to three. My first acting gig was different from my first professional gig in the industry.

“You’ve been acting your whole life…but when you were six months old?” He said questioning the age. “Yes, six months you modeled for Gap?” He said still unsure of his answer.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have ourselves a winner! Harry Styles, come on up and claim your prize.” Harry shot up celebrating as he walked over to my directors chair to plant a kiss on my lips.

“My man knows me well,” I said to the room, causing them to laugh. Harry began to hug me, not caring about the cameras being there.

“GQ, we are Harry and Y/N. Thanks for having us.”

[clareguilty]

Ghost/Soap/Reader | Sex Pollen, Breeding kink

This fic was written for Kinktober 2024! Let me know what you think <3

Ghost/Soap/F!Reader | Sex Pollen, Breeding kink, strength kink, dacryphilia Rating: Explicit | WARNINGS: EXTREMELY DUBIOUS CONSENT Word Count: ~3400

The last thing you expected when you answered the knock on your office door was the sight of two uniformed soldiers, both broad enough to fill the entire doorway each, expressions grave. You ushered them inside your small, cluttered office tucked away in the biochemistry wing of the university building. Being the head of the pharmacology department did not come with a sprawling mahogany desk and glorious window views. You were lucky to have a desk and a window at all.

Still, you were the best in your field, and that had granted you tenure and funding to continue your research as well as a small team of graduate students and postdocs to boss around as you pleased.

One of the soldiers introduced himself as Captain Price, the other a corporal under his command. You cleared off space on your desk as the corporal opened a locked case and pulled out a laptop.

“Anything you are about to see is highly classified information,” the captain warned you. “Our intel pertains to ongoing operations to stop a dangerous organized terrorist group.”

You nodded along, but your focus was on the footage being played on the laptop. The drone shots and shaky handheld cameras, clips of lab workers handling samples while suited head to toe in protective equipment. There was footage of soldiers experiencing a variety of symptoms: aggression, paralysis, psychosis.

The corporal opened a file for you to scroll through. Pages and pages of reports.

“Biochemical weapons,” you murmured to yourself. “Inhalants?”

“Gas,” the captain confirmed. “Your security clearance is still in the system from your field work on that operation in Andorra. Our people are using your research as the blueprint.”

You were the leading expert on biochemical weaponry, much of your research was centered around synthesizing field antidotes. It had been a few years since you were last out in the field, taking samples from warzones and the sites of attacks.

“You need me out there?” You asked. But you already knew the answer. They wouldn’t be here in your office otherwise.

“You’ll be working with our top tactical operations team. The best men we’ve got. Whatever they’re making in these labs, we need to put a stop to it, and then we need to figure out how they’re doing it.”

You looked at the footage again - civilians this time - and felt your stomach turn at the sight.

“When’s the earliest we can leave?” You asked, closing the laptop to hide the horrifying images.

-

The body armor on your last field operation had been simple: a bullet proof vest with a mask and helmet. You had worn your civilian clothes and brought along everything else yourself.

“Alright, Dove, arms up,” the special forces sergeant, Soap, grinned as he dropped a heavy vest over your head. You dutifully raised your arms so he could fasten the tangle of buckles until you were secured.

“Thanks,” you glanced down at the overwhelming amount of gear that was now covering your front.

“You’ve got your radio,” he tapped the top left pocket, “Compass, shears, three mags of extra ammunition, scopes, batteries, and torch.” You watched him point out each item. “On your belt here you’ve got your pistol, knife, and canteen.”

Soap put his own gear on much faster than it had taken to kit you out. He carried even more equipment, but he somehow made it look easier.

You had been staying at the temporary base with Captain Price’s 141 task force for days now. Without access to quality lab equipment, you were working tirelessly to find answers about the biochemical weaponry using whatever was available. As impressive as your makeshift setup was, it wasn’t near precise or thorough enough to save lives.

It felt a little ridiculous. A researcher surrounded by a bunch of special forces giants. They were welcoming and friendly - except for the terrifying lieutenant with the skull mask, but you knew you were out of your depth surrounded by cases full of rifles and grenades. Sleeping on a cot and eating rations cooked off a gas burner.

Captain Price had done whatever he could to make you more comfortable. The encampment was a few secured buildings and several large tents. And while you were accustomed to the conditions after your previous field research, they had afforded you as much privacy as possible. 

Underneath the teasing and jokes, Soap was kind and friendly. He’d nicknamed you their ‘peace dove’ on the first day, and you hadn’t been able to shake the moniker since.

Even Lieutenant Ghost had been considerate as you tried to keep up with the heavy military jargon and unfamiliar protocols. He slipped you candy bars that were definitely against regulations and sat with you after the countless briefings to explain all of the commands that had flown over your head rapid-fire. He was still scary.

The last military squadron you had worked alongside had mostly ignored you, frustrated with your inexperience and occasionally downright cruel. They hadn’t respected your expertise or your research despite your attempts to explain how vital it was to their safety.

There was none of that here.

After several days of monitoring intel and surveillance, Price had finally made the call to infiltrate the terrorist labs. The only way to stop these weapons would be to secure the materials themselves.

Soap and Ghost were assigned to clear out any hostiles, and your mission was to gather anything in the labs that would help to stop production of the weapons and synthesize antidotes.

It was difficult to keep up with them as they closed in on the lab. You had been instructed to hang back a ways while they engaged, but even then you were struggling to match their pace.

You had never known anyone who could make an assault rifle look small until these men. Like they were holding a toy. Despite their size, both the sergeant and the lieutenant were exceptionally fast even with all their gear.

As you approached the location of the terrorists’ labs, Ghost signaled for all of you to halt. He grabbed you by the shoulders and pressed you into a crouch inside a copse of brush where you would be able to keep cover.

“Stay here. We’ll engage the hostiles and bring you in as soon as the site is secure,” he ordered.

Both he and Soap immediately made to move in, but you managed to catch Soap by the hand. “Be careful,” you warned. “We have no clue what kind of shit they’re cooking up in there.”

“Don’t worry, Dove. We’ll do just fine,” Soap promised with a grin.

And then they were gone.

The silence that filled in after their retreating boot steps was excruciating. The sharp cracks of gunfire that rang out in short bursts were somehow even worse. You couldn’t radio in without risking the operation - the noise could give away their position - so you were left waiting until Ghost signaled the all clear. As the minutes dragged on since the last round of shots, you prayed you wouldn’t have to fall back on your contingency extraction: if you didn’t hear from either Soap or Ghost after two hours, you were to make your way to a designated pickup spot.

Your radio crackled.

“You there, Dovie?” Soap’s voice came through. He sounded uninjured.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.” That was Ghost this time. “We’ve eliminated all hostiles. Give us ten more minutes to secure the site, and then I’ll send Soap to come get you.”

“Copy that.” An unbelievable amount of tension seemed to melt out of you at that, and you let out a heavy sigh.

Not even a minute later you heard a distant bang. Not gunfire. A small explosion.

“Lieutenant?” You immediately called over the radio. “What was that?”

“Fucking hell!” Soap shouted. “The lab was rigged!”

“Lieutenant?” You were already pushing to your feet, rushing out of the safety of your cover and towards the labs.

“We tripped something,” Ghost finally responded. “They had canisters set to burst if the lab was tampered with.”

“You mean you got dosed?” Your fingers were numb with fear as you fumbled with your radio. “Are you experiencing any symptoms? I’m on my way now!”

The radio was silent for a few moments, but you were sprinting as fast as you could toward the site. If you could get there quick enough, maybe you could find an antidote somewhere in the labs. They wouldn’t know what to look for, but if you could find out what was in those canisters, surely you could fix this.

“Wait, Dovie,” Soap’s voice was rough, breathy. “Stay where you are. Don’t come near here.”

“I’m the only chance you have at finding an antidote,” you shouted into the radio.

“Hold your position. Do not approach. That is an order,” Ghost snarled, but you were already at the entrance, flying through the path of carnage Soap and Ghost had left. The satellite images in the briefing had given you a rough idea of where you needed to go, and the trail of bodies confirmed you were on the right track.

As you came up on the entrance to the labs, someone tackled you into the wall, pinning you in place. You screamed, but a gloved hand covered your mouth.

“It’s just me,” Soap assured you. “But you shouldn’t have run in here without your weapon drawn. Shouldn’t have come in here at all.” He pulled his hand away so you could gulp down a breath.

“Whatever you were hit with, they might have an antidote. If I can get to it before it’s too late-“

Soap cut you off. “You’re worse than me at following orders.”

”Let me go.” You tried to squirm out of his hold.

Soap made a choked off sound in your ear. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Fuck, I’m sorry. It’s the gas. I swear. We didn’t know the lab was rigged.”

“What the hell is going on?”

“Jesus, Dove, you have to forgive me. Promise? I can’t fight it.”

“Whatever it is, you’ll be okay. Just let me go, Soap.”

He was pinning you in place with his entire body weight, panting against the back of your neck as he easily kept you still despite your attempts to break free.

Thankfully, you heard the sound of heavy boots approaching. That had to be Ghost.

He rounded the corner and you cried out. “Lieutenant! Please, sir!”

Ghost snarled when he saw you trapped beneath Soap. He crossed the room in three easy strides and ripped the sergeant off of you. Soap hit the floor with a groan, and you tried to back away.

Except the Ghost was closing in on you, knife drawn. He cornered you easily, and the fear had you freezing in place. You weren't a trained soldier. You weren't equipped to handle these kinds of situations.

You flinched as Ghost grabbed for you, squeezing your eyes shut and preparing for the worst, but there wasn't any pain - just the sound of tearing fabric and the sensation of your body armor falling away to a heap on the floor.

“Gotta get these off you,” he growled, crowding even closer against you. His voice wasn’t nearly as rough or as breathless as Soap’s. When you finally worked up the courage to open your eyes, Ghost was leant over you with his face in your neck taking deep inhales. Was he… smelling you?

They’d both been dosed. You had never seen symptoms like these before, but it wasn’t a typical toxin. Surely you could find an antidote if they just let you go.

And then Soap was back, pawing at the space between your bodies. “Please, Ghost,” he was begging, “feels like I’m about to die. Fuck. Need it so bad.”

Ghost pulled away from your neck, reached out to grab Soap by the jaw, holding him still. There was a moment of quiet save for both yours and Soap’s panicked breathing. “Alright, Johnny.” He finally assented. “You gotta go easy, you hear? Don’t wanna break her.”

You didn’t like the sound of that one bit, but struggling was absolutely useless when Ghost was holding a knife. You knew what he was capable of.

It was too quick for you to even register. Soap was fast. He snatched the knife from Ghost and cut your clothes away, taking you down to the ground with some sort of wrestling maneuver you were never going to escape from.

“I’m so sorry, Dove,” Soap was apologizing again. “Can’t fucking help it.”

He shoved his own gloves and gear away, fumbling to open his trousers before freeing his cock. He was achingly hard, and dripping. He was also fucking huge. His eyes fluttered shut in relief as he wrapped his hands around the length and gave a few lazy strokes, but you weren’t naive enough to believe that would be all it took.

“Please,” you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Don’t fuss,” Soap placed a finger over your lips to quiet you, then he shoved it inside your mouth. You weren’t sure if biting him would end well for you. He grabbed your legs by the knees, raising your hips until your pussy was on display for him. “That’s a good girl.” He spit on his fingertips and began rubbing at your entrance, as if that would be enough lube.

He pressed two fingers inside of you, but you were so terrified that it didn’t feel right at all. It hurt. You screamed, and suddenly Ghost was there.

“This is the only way to help,” he said, and you noticed he had a silver canister in his hands. “I promise this will make it easier.”

You didn’t have enough time to react before he crushed the canister with just his gloved hands. A deafening hiss drowned out the sounds of your own sobs and your vision went white as the contents of the canister filled the air. You couldn’t hold your breath at all, not when you were sobbing with gasps of pain. The gas settled over your skin, inside your mouth and nose. You instinctively swiped your tongue against your teeth and cheeks. It tasted powdery and sour.

“Give her a second, Johnny,” Ghost ordered.

You were almost glad they had cut your clothes away because your skin was suddenly too warm. Too clammy. Your mouth went from bitter and dry to watering with saliva in a matter of seconds. Every sensation felt sharper, and the pain disappeared. Soap was just as warm where you were pressed against him, and his fingers inside you were now drenched in slick wetness.

How were they even able to think like this? They’d been dealing with these symptoms for longer than you and somehow still had control of themselves. You had been exposed to the gas for less than a minute and all rational thought had left you.

“That’s a good girl,” Ghost’s voice reached you through the drunken haze and you whined. “Spread yourself nice and open on Johnny’s fingers.”

Oh. You were fucking your hips against Soaps’ hand. He was watching the sight with his pupils blown wide as he pressed a third finger inside of you. The stretch felt amazing, but it wasn’t enough.

“Please,” you begged. “More. Please.”

Soap curled his fingers inside you and you cried out. He held your hips still with his free hand so he could fuck you harder on his fingers. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he had you gushing over his wrist in a matter of seconds.

“Gonna fuck you now.” He settled between your thighs. All you could do was beg because his finger hadn’t been enough. “Gonna breed you full, alright, Dove?”

“Yes. Yes, please,” you panted.

You would never have been able to take his cock if Ghost hadn’t dosed you with the gas. Even after the rough fingerfucking you still cried out at the stretch. But it didn’t hurt this time. You loved the way he filled you, the sensation of him sinking deeper inside.

He was too impatient at this point. Had been holding himself back for too long. The moment his cock bottomed out inside you it was like his final thread of control snapped. You were long past him, having never once stood a chance after Ghost crushed that canister.

“Jesus, Dove, you’re so tight. Feel so good on my cock,” Soap was panting against your skin as he fucked you. You were much less coherent beneath him, just a stream of sobbing and begging. You understood what Soap had said earlier: you felt like you were going to die if they didn’t fuck you. If they didn’t ruin you on their cocks. 

“I’m already close.”

You were surprised Soap had lasted this long, considering how quickly you had come on his fingers. It was definitely the toxins in your system, but you needed him to claim you. Needed to be bred full. You must have begged for it, because Soap was soothing you as he picked up the pace.

“You’re okay. I’m gonna give you what you need. Just take it like a good girl, right Dovie?”

He forced his cock as deep as he could when he came, rocking against your hips to make sure it would take. You could feel it, so hot and sticky inside you, dripping out around his cock as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm.

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before a huge shadow filled your vision. Ghost. He shoved Soap aside, taking in the sight of you beneath him.

“Johnny made a mess of you didn’t he?” A gloved hand trailed over your tear stained cheeks, through the string of drool hanging from your lips. He forced your thighs apart to see Soap’s come dripping out of your used pussy. “Look at you, pretty girl,” he teased.

“Please,” you whined. The strange panic was taking hold of you again. You were scared what would happen if Ghost didn’t fuck you. “Please, sir. I need it.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Ghost swore under his breath. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. Should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to fight it off. Poor thing.”

He tossed his gloves aside, running warm, calloused hands over your sticky, sweaty skin. “I’m bigger than Johnny,” he warned. “But something tells me you’ll like that.”

All you could do was beg. How did Ghost have so much control? It was almost like he wasn’t affected at all.

He took mercy on you, dragging his cock against your pussy to slick the length of it before pressing inside. He was slower than Soap, more careful. And even under the effects of the gas, you needed it. Fuck. He was huge.

“You’re fucking noisy,” Ghost grumbled. And then there were two fingers pushing past your lips. You swirled your tongue around the digits to chase the salt and the sweat, and the relative quiet seemed to appease the lieutenant as he finally bottomed out inside you.

You had never been so full in your life, split open on the lieutenant’s cock like this. He groaned beneath the mask as he fucked you, rhythm faltering as you squeezed tight around his cock.

Even with his fingers in your mouth, you must have picked up your whining again because he leaned in to shush you. “Don’t worry, I’ll fill you up again. Breed you just like you need. We won’t let you go until you’re full of us.”

It should have sounded threatening, but all you could focus on was the promise that they would take care of you. That they would leave you dripping with their come.

The initial rush of the toxins had given way to a sort of timeless haze. You couldn’t focus on anything except the feeling of Ghost fucking you and his fingers in your mouth. It could have been hours. You just needed to be full.

“Here it comes, Little Dove,” Ghost warned you. “Better take every last drop.”

He pulled you so far onto his cock that a glance of pain managed to reach you in the haze, but it only left you craving more. You could feel his cock twitching inside you as he came, filling you even more than Soap had.

“Such a good girl.” He only pulled out after he was sure he had fucked his come into you as deep as possible. And when a few drops began to spill out, he swiped them up with the fingers he had just pulled from your mouth and forced them back inside your pussy again.

“Hey, LT,” Soap grinned where he was slowly stroking his cock. “Does this mean it’s my turn again?”

[apocalypse-shuffle]

BLADE | ERIC BROOKS (1990 trilogy)

—

“Argent” (Blade | Eric Brooks x Fem!Reader)

| Eric sets up a meeting between him and one of the only vampires he’s ever trusted. Truly trusted. It’s less about business and more about pleasure however.

| NSFW, 18+, minors dni, canon typical action & violence mentioned, blood drinking, oral sex, blowjob (male receiving), cunnilingus (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), (TW: Eric drugs the Reader-Insert to kidnap her; she doesn’t mind and he gives her the antidote immediately, but yeah) mild-ish rough sex, pain play, blood play

| Pic Source: Blade (1998) - ignore the context of the last photo, okay, the pictures were too perfect to pass up

| Happy 4 days till Halloween!!!🩸

| 5k+ words

Your sight has still yet to clear and your veins are still on fire from failing to run away and being hit by a dart.

Liquidized Silver.

You take a second to feel the way your veins burn, and yeah, it was definitely still in you.

Who did you piss off now?

You groan, head swiveling without purpose on your neck, and crack open your eyes. Just as you’ve blinked the black from the corner of your vision you feel someone else appear in your presence.

Or maybe they’ve been around you this whole time and you’ve just been too out of it to pick up their heartbeat or scent.

You suck in and then let out a rush of air you don’t need.

“Fucker,” you curse, frown twisting at your lips.

An unnaturally smooth palm cups your cheek and then drifts to the back of your head, propping you up as another hand pries your lips open. You’re held tightly against someone’s buff form as a wrist, bleeding fresh, is held against your mouth.

You moan without preamble, fangs dropping, and plunge eagerly into his offering. You’ve been poisoned, nothing was going to neutralize the shit swimming in you like pure blood was.

There’s an answering groan behind you and you can’t help but savor the taste even more. Human blood was delectable, but daywalker blood was an out of body experience. You whimper as he pulls his wrist from your fangs sooner than you’d like but then rush to lap up the remaining blood around the closing wound.

Once the dark wrist in front of you is cleared of every bit of liquid red you sigh out.

"You could just call, you know…?" you mutter against his skin before he moves his hand.

There’s an answering grunt behind you and then you’re spun around. It’s Blade’s smug face that greets you, devoid of his shades for once, and you roll your eyes.

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

“I didn’t answer…” you screw your face up at him. “Motherfucker, did you bother calling more than once?”

He grins at you.

“By that reasoning I should’ve tracked you down the second I saw your black ass plastered all over the news after you declined my calls.”

“Phone got blown up. And why didn’t you? Could’ve used the help,” he side eyes the door to whatever bedroom he’s got you in, “and someone I can actually stand.”

You laugh, “So the rumors about you hanging with a new crew are true?”

He reaches for you and when you accept his advance he circles his arms around your waist.

He scoffs, nostrils flaring, and stares you down. “Mostly out of necessity.”

“Mmm,” your fingers drum over his chest. Only a thin black shirt keeps you from his skin. “I was dealing with my own shit show so I couldn’t have helped anyway.”

You give him a tight lipped smile. Your hands press over where his heart miraculously beats.

“I’m sorry about Whistler, by the way.”

Blade goes morose for a second, stilling while he takes in your words with a vague nod. The only steadying sound left is the pat pat of his supernatural heart. It’s nice to be near one that operates so well, that won’t accelerate in fear around you.

In the next beat his lips purse and he glances away from you.

“You didn’t come here to talk about my life did you?”

You frown.

“You kidnapped me, actually, but message received. I won’t bring him up again.”

Those amber eyes pin you in place for another mini eternity before he thanks you. The mirth trickles back into his expression then, and you relax.

He chuckles when you wrap your hands around his shoulders.

“So then. I’ve been staying out of trouble, Daywalker. Do I get a cookie?”

“Yeah,” he rasps. One corner of his mouth twitches upward. “Here’s your fucking cookie.”

He slams his lips onto yours, just about kissing you dead a second time with how long he takes before separating for air. You take a second to regain yourself, forehead pressed against his as his soft breaths puff against your mouth. Despite his pants he grins, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth while you piece your thoughts back together.

You clear your throat.

"I heard about Dracula’s little cult too by the way, but if you brought me here to interrogate me about it you’ve wasted your time.”

Blade doesn’t answer right away. Instead his lips trail across your jaw and down your neck, coarse facial hair tickling your skin. One of his hands runs up your body and the other ghosts across the side of your neck.

"The true Dracula’s business doesn’t have shit to do with this. I was just…craving your company,” he says, biting the delicate skin over your jugular.

You gasp at the sudden sharp movement but arch against him at the familiar prick of his bat-like incisors making a sizable mark on you. He kneads your skin gently with them, but doesn’t pierce the skin for any blood.

"Let me take you...." he whispers, leaning back and ripping one of his gloves off.

Your throat grows tight as his fingertips run down your cheek, the stolen blood in your body singing across the dark skin that he touches.

"You screamed so loud for me last time… . Let me get you like that again."

With inhuman speed, he pushes your back against the wall, one of his legs wedging between your own. The hands on your hips pull you further onto his muscled thigh and he begins to rub you up and down on it.

A mewl slips past your lips at the sudden movement, feet fighting for purchase on the floor and hands resting on his shoulders for balance. Before long your mewls are replaced by breathy moans and you can’t help jerking and pushing down against Blade’s thigh, hands clawing desperately at his shirt.

You bite back a groan of annoyance, but a growl escapes in its absence and you rip his shirt apart in seconds. A small growl emits from his lips and Blade nabs your wrists, yanking your hands from his chest. He gives you a sideways look.

“Really?”

You lean your upper body forward with a shrug. It’s a little hard to do with the way he’s restraining you but you make it work.

“You're not the only one craving something, Daywalker. Now are you gonna make me cum or not?”

He grins, a mean flash of white against his umber skin before letting you go.

"Fine. I'll give you what you want."

You don’t have time to do anything with your newly renewed mobility because in the next second he’s back on you. Lips meet yours for one more enveloping kiss before he leans away. His deft fingers trail over your mouth and he hums as his eyes shine with a dark sort of mirth.

"How about you put that mouth to better use."

His voice is rough as his index and middle fingers slide into your mouth, his other hand squeezing your ass. You glare, eyes gaining their yellow vampiric appearance, but ultimately don’t complain. Instead you look him dead in the face and slowly swirl your tongue around his digits then suck on them gently. A smirk pulls at the corner of your mouth when the mirth fades from his eyes, replaced by a hungrier expression.

"Floor," He orders, regarding you with a steely gaze as his fingers slide out of your mouth. His hands drop to his sides.

Cocky smile in full place, you slide down the wall to your knees. Placing you at eye level with the prominent bulge in his leather pants.

His eyes, now alight with lust, never leave your own and he quickly unhooks his belt and fly before dropping his hands for you to do the rest.

Blade hisses as you pull his pants down, his curved dick immediately jumping out at you, and you chuckle before wrapping fingers only marginally warmed by stolen blood around his shaft.

“Mmm, someone’s eager,” you tease.

Quick as very few things in your world were, his hand flashes forward. One of his now bare hands cups your jaw, allowing you a moment to nuzzle into it, before his free hand grasps the back of your head to urge you forward.

The way his grip shifts, loosening and tightening in a few steady increments, tells you just how much he’s struggling to keep himself under control. It’s a heady power to hold.

After all, he could never keep his monstrous tendencies under as much tight control when he was around you.

Eric looks down at you and scoffs. His amber gaze flares when he taps at the top of your head and a smirk, pushing against well worn frown lines, ticks up one corner of his mouth.

“I’m not the one on my knees.”

A part of you wants to shiver. The other knows you’re too undead for such poultry shit, but is tempted to pantomime the reaction anyway.

It doesn’t take long for you to make yourself tremble for him; your monster cowering in the face of his mounting one. Like you were some brown skinned starlet in a flowing white dress; distressed but still with your teeth barred in the face of the big bad wolf.

There wasn’t anything safe as that here though, just the cut of the daywalker’s grin and the slow baritone build up of a growl in the back of his throat.

Yet, his human side was still as dangerous as his vampire, you muse, kitten licking the head of his dick with your cool tongue.

Comparatively, Eric’s entire body is miraculously warm and the way his dick twitches and pulses over your mouth is nearly intoxicating.

Eric grunts, his hand tangling into your hair as he watches you. With a low hum you place sloppy kisses down his shaft, cupping his balls as you lick a hard line across the veins on the underside of his dick. He groans when your tongue swirls over his precum slick glans.

When he tries urging you forward, head pressed to your two-toned lips, you pull off entirely.

Keeping your grin from breaking free is a herculean effort.

Jaw ticking, Eric looks down at you like he’s about to fall. Face open in its desperation and thick lips already bitten ruddy.

"Goddamnit, stop playing games with me, Slick..." he says, voice strained. His hand tightens in your hair and your lashes flutter as you allow yourself another shudder.

Grin finally breaking free, you smile shamelessly up at Eric and wait until he kisses his teeth in irritation to move.

Eyes glinting, you meet his eyes and then take him in fast and deep. The sound of the slide of his back teeth cuts off short with his muffled shout.

His dick twitches in your mouth, heavy and solid on your tongue, an unignorable presence at the back of your throat, and he lets out a filthy sounding moan.

The very sound makes you want to please him more; do something better than just eagerly moving your mouth up and down his shaft. So bobbing your head, you pull back to twirl your tongue around his head before taking him deep again, playing around with the speed and depth of how deep you take him in turn.

After a few minutes his composure has nearly all but been forgotten. One hand remaining tightly wrapped in your coils while he uses the other alternatively for support against the wall and an emergency muffler. His sweat glossed body shuddering in pleasure, growl grumbling in his throat, and the occasional deep curse turned you on more than anything.

Hand gliding over your head until he can cup the side of your ear, he tugs sharply at the pointed tip of it to make you look back up at him. Your stare is only a little cross.

"Hold still." He murmurs, smoothing the pad of one of his fingers over where he’d tugged.

Nodding, you do as ordered and he cups the back of your head again before slowly beginning to thrust into your mouth. His hips snap forward hard and deep and you have to fight to keep your throat from reflexively shutting.

It doesn’t take long for him to speed up, but he only allows it for a moment before pausing and pulling back to guide your mouth over his dick. He coats your plush lips with his pre, the drag slick.

"Fuck, you’re good,” he mutters, eyes intent on his ministrations.

You can’t help but to growl at the prospect of being guided and at his praise.

Eric chuckles.

It’s then, that low pleased croon falling over you, that your own self-control wanes. Your hand wanders between your soft thighs, needing to touch yourself at seeing him so undone. Hating that you loved the idea of him using you for his own pleasure in that moment so much, but helpless against the euphoria of it.

With a jerk, Eric’s dick leaves your mouth entirely and his hand yanks back sharply at the roots of your hair, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"I don’t remember saying you could touch yourself," he warns, eyes bright but hold unrelenting.

You stare up at him with wide eyes for a long moment, dead air still as usual in your chest, then slowly nod your head.

“…correct.”

A light tug.

"So?"

Blinking, your brows furrow briefly before, with a start, you cut your eyes up at him. "So I have to wait for permission to masturbate? That’s how we’re doing this?"

He chuckles, eyeing you just as narrowly with a smirk. "Uh huh,” he grunts, voice as soft as it gets. “Exactly that.”

Finally he starts to move his dick again, dragging it across your cheek and teasing it across your lips. You’re still giving him a sour look though and you watch his teeth grind before he reiterates himself.

"Fine, I’ll be clearer. I haven’t given you permission to touch shit, act like it.”

"Alright,” you mutter, leaning back into his hold. “I got you, E, I’ll behave."

Quickly, you look up at him after the “nickname” slips off your tongue. Eric was picky about that shit, and really the only person you’ve ever seen him not correct or kill for calling him anything other than Eric (or especially Blade) was Whistler.

Eric only hums and loosens his grip on your hair though, scratching carefully over your scalp as you eye him.

No biting comment. Not even a warning look. He doesn’t seem to have caught the abbreviation at all.

Well.

You can’t imagine why he let you calling him outside his name slide, but you weren’t going to speak on it if he isn’t.

With a soft exhale you let your eyelids fall to half mast and nod for him; reconfirming. If he wanted you docile you could play at it for a bit, for him.

“I would’ve let your ass cum earlier if you weren’t so damn impatient,” he reminds you, never one to let you forget you’ve got a wound and he’s got plenty of salt.

You really ought to just deck him in the face, you muse as he strokes himself. There was just truly no way a day could go by without his ass doing far too much.

“Don’t push it,” you mutter.

Eric scoffs, having heard you crystal clear despite your distance and low pitch, and brings his hand down to cup your cheek.

For a few seconds he stays silent, just brushing the soft unblemished pad of his thumb over your brown skin, before his grip grows firm enough to keep your head in place. His hold doesn’t hurt, but it stays a steady reminder that he’s in charge right now and you don’t fight against that, letting him push his dick past your lips and begin thrusting slow and deep once more.

"Mmm, I'll let you cum eventually. All you have to do is listen."

With a noise of confirmation, you start bobbing your head, meeting his thrusts with each pass.

Eric groans low, thrusts deeply, and holds his dick there. The way his chest heaves registers as cute to you, so very human; seemingly too delicate for such a dangerous killer.

"Hn— fuck yes,” he rumbles.

You hum low in your throat, an idea popping into your mind when his hips snap forward on reflex and his pelvis rubs your inner lip against the area above your teeth where your fangs retreat. The pressure threatens to make them drop without your say so.

Silent, you grasp his shaft and slide him out of your mouth with a small pop.

“Y-n—”

"I’m not fucking with you, just hold on," you say, cutting him off as your freezing hand grasps his inferno of a dick.

If Eric minds it’s not enough for him to take himself back; only one of his eyebrows raise in question and that’s the extent of it.

Meeting his gaze, you let your fangs drop with a click — slow enough so he can see, but he still doesn’t stop you — and take his length in once more.

He moans.

Teeth protruding, you take him in until your nose is tucked against his pelvis, fangs scraping against his sensitive dick all the while. Have him swearing under his breath and his hands trembling as he clutches both at the back of your head; your mouth suctioned to him, his hands cushioned by your plush hair, and fingers sunk into your curls the only things keeping him upright.

Your eyes slide shut and you surrender completely to how he uses you, hands clenched painfully against your thighs and blood dilated drool gliding down your chin.

Eric’s head snaps back and his body trembles as his cum coats the back of your esophagus, a garbled shout tearing from his throat.

He holds you in place, likely watching how your throat bobs as you swallow his seed.

After a few minutes of him calming down, breathe hitching at the brush of your fangs when you retract them from his welted flesh and every time you subconsciously swallow, his grip softens and he releases his hold on your head entirely as he slips out of your mouth.

Eric laughs, low and steady and fucking perfect like he practically never does.

It’s only then that you remember to open your eyes and you blink slowly up to him.

His fangs are out now, a trickle of blood running down his chin from where he bit clean through his bottom lip, and his eyes…

You feel yourself sigh before you can stifle the urge, and undeniably he notices because those already bright eyes seem to glow with their amber as they meet yours.

Eric was prettier than one man had any right to be.

He puts his bloody, already healing, dick away and zips his pants back up. Something you’ll be sure to rectify after you’ve let the man sleep before you slip back into the night. Dhampir or not Eric shouldn’t have the beginnings of bags under his eyes, not with his healing factor.

But Eric’s inability to allow himself to slow down was something you had plenty of practice with amending by now; whether that be with a fight or a fuck.

“You gon let me get my hands on you now?”

Something like that.

With inhuman speed you crawl up Eric’s body. Strong shoulders and steady legs hold your weight without budging before his arms wrap around you to keep you in place.

“Bed,” you order, wrapping around him in turn, your ankles crossed at his back and arms around his shoulders.

You smile at him as he’s securing you, full-toothed and a little mean. Run the tips of your sharp manicured nails over the subtle indent of his scalp tattoo and the fine hairs prickling at the back of his head, and wait while he moves you both across the room.

“You’re eager,” Eric grunts, one corner of his mouth ticking up.

Laughing, you lean into him even more, lips grazing the shell of his ear and teeth nipping at his lobe.

“You’re the one carrying me.”

He cuts you a look and you shrug. He can’t tell you shit when you were clearly speaking the truth, though, and his mouth stays steady shut.

"Only the best for the greatest vampire hunter in the world," you snicker, kissing his cheek.

All the Daywalker does in the face of your teasing is grumble unintelligibly and then you’re falling through the air.

You’re flipping him off before you’ve even landed, and your middle finger is still in the air when you’re bouncing atop his mattress.

“Is this new?” you question immediately after, eyes panning over his black sheets and contemplating the higher level of cushion beneath your ass.

Color you surprised that was the way his new “friends’” influence has impacted him. Barely six months ago Eric wouldn’t have thrown away a t-shirt he’d been beaten and mauled in, just thrown it in the wash and stitched the shit back up “good as new”, let alone buy a new mattress without it having basically been split in half.

“Who convinced you— shit!” you exclaim, too slow to speed out of the way so Eric can’t catch you up.

He’s looming over you in a blur, smile almost boyish.

Eric hikes your leg over his hip, warm breathe fanning over your lips, “What I tell you about playing with me?”

The smile that pulls at your lips to meet his own is slow forming but wide.

You cock your head.

“Oh so when you’re in charge you get to fuck with me all you want, but I don’t get to do what I want with you when I am?”

“Stop being a smartass.”

"Having captured the attention of someone as rare as you, Daywalker, I don’t think I can be anymore." You brush your lips against his, taking the hand he’s not using to prop himself up and guiding it where you want him to be. "Now do what you promised, pretty boy," you coo, pressing his hand into your soaked underwear.

It’s damp with a mixture of natural slick and blood and Eric shivers, breath hitching, before quickly stripping you of your panties. The fabric rips and he doesn’t even blink at your noise of complaint, just makes sure you hook your other leg over his hip as he throws your soaked underwear to the ground.

When the dhampir moves to make out with you it’s smothering, the press of his lips all consuming, and the fangs that nip at you sharp. You match him kiss for kiss and bite for bite.

Eric grips your upper thigh tight and you dig the heel of your foot into the small of his back as his fingers glide across your wet folds.

A string of tiny curses and whines for more leave your lips at the sudden fullness of his fingers thrusting into you and his thumb teasing over your clit. Groaning into his mouth, you open your legs wider for him and arch into his touch, eyes squeezing shut.

"Nng, Eric please,” you moan into his skin, your hands scrambling up to wrap around his shoulders.

His pounding is relentless, only just missing your g-spot on every thrust, but you want more.

You sink your fingers into his cropped hair, yanking on his tight curls and pushing down at him with your other hand on his shoulder to urge him where you want.

Eric chuckles, letting up from your mouth to nip little welts down your throat and place tender kisses to your neck and collarbones as he moves his fingers, still simultaneously thrusting and rubbing your clit. It doesn’t take long till your legs are shaking uncontrollably against him and he’s hiking both over his shoulders though.

You nearly sob in relief when he finally runs the point of his fangs over your outer labia, engorged clit pulsing with the assistance of the stolen blood still in your veins (both Eric’s and not).

When Eric delves into your sex it’s with the vigor of a man starved. He licks and sucks and drinks his fill all while you’re bucking your hips into his mouth, muted unbidden whimpers falling past your kiss bitten lips.

His hands rub soothingly up and down your raised thighs, heedless of their trembling over your stomach and the way you let your chest heave.

"You about to come for me already?" he chuckles against your folds, voice cocky.

Not giving you time to snap at him he takes one of his hands off your thighs, trusting you to keep it up, and makes a point of waiting until you open your eyes to question his dawdling before making his next move. Eric locks eyes with you, rubbing two fingers through the pale red arousal pouring from your vagina with little urgency, and you’re a beat of his heart away from swiping at him for fucking with you when his fingers sink into your slick pussy.

You shout, that nebulous point of euphoria edging nearer.

His hand speeds up soon after. Once again giving you little mercy while he pistons his fingers in and out of you and your slick runs down your dewy skin without care for the sheets under you.

Vampiric claws scrape at Eric’s ink decorated shoulders as you pepper him with demands and bits of praise, only stopping to hiss out roughly in pleasure with your fangs bared when he takes to sucking on your clit like he’s trying to draw blood.

“Fuck,” you growl, eyes rolling to the back of your head and hips bucking wildly.

Eric pins you down, spread of his hands wide where he’s holding onto your thighs, and bites. The juncture between your leg and pelvis flares with pain and you choke before pitching into a wail and falling straight over the edge into an orgasm.

You barely have the mind to snap your arm up so you can bite into your forearm and muffle your noises as Eric sinks his fangs into you and drinks even more of his fill. And whatever crimson mead he got from your vagina clearly hadn’t been enough because the man was sucking on you like a damn Capri Sun.

“J— Jesus fuck, E,” you gasp, slumping into the bed.

Your legs tremble with the aftershocks of your orgasm. The sounds of his gulps the soundtrack to your hazy bliss.

When he’s finished Eric doesn’t lap at you the way you had his wrist; instead he pulls off, easing your legs to flop down to the bed too, and rubs his thumb over the trickles of blood running from your inner thigh.

He holds his thumb up to your lips and you open up to suck it into your mouth. Your ice cold blood is a cacophony of types. A mixture of AB, O, and B dance across your tongue while Eric gazes down at you like you’re the closest thing to a god he’ll ever need.

Eric removes his thumb, sucks at your saliva, and then slumps against you.

The vampire hunter kisses delicately over the undead umber skin of your forehead, the press of his lips soft and unscarred.

You let yourself sigh, stretching out your body as your refractory period ends, and tuck yourself under your occasional partner’s chin.

When Eric — big bad Blade — cradles you to his chest in turn your eyebrows tick up. Head resting against his chest, you drum the pads of your fingers over where his heart beats and go with it anyway.

“Touchy,” you hum lowly.

Eric grunts in response, pretty much just ignoring the twinge of accusation in your voice.

You grin into his skin.

It was worth a shot.

“How long till you leave?” he asks, tone his poorest attempt at nonchalance yet even with his grumbling.

You sigh, shifting in his hold so you can look him in the face. His arms tighten around you, the gaze he pins you with shadowed with something too close to sorrow.

"As soon as possible," you say, a frown pulling at your ageless features. “I’ve got some time sensitive targets.”

“Mm,” he grunts. He looks away from you, jaw clenched. “So I’m outta luck.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say that yet,” you say, moving to kiss the corner of his scowl. “I can spare a night.”

“Huh.” He squeezes at your hips. “You sure? Thought you’d be more into all that sleeping in coffins bullshit.”

You chuckle, tone dark. Skilled fingers brush across his jawline, touch delicate and nails sharp where they dip into his skin.

They don’t break blood, however.

And Eric doesn’t stop you besides.

Softly, you click your tongue, “I mean, I like a good coffin every once in a while. Frills, fluffy pillows, dark and locked tight, you know the drill.” Meeting his eyes, you smirk. Show him a little fang. “Your arms are good too, though.”

“Thanks.” Eric gives a grunt of a laugh, shaking his head.

He doesn’t remotely dislodge you though, and that shadow you could see slipping over his face stays askew over those pretty amber eyes still.

You could spare a night with Eric, be something of a haven of familiarity for him, before he embarked on another hunt and you went back to knocking out hearts in the name of human protection for breakfast.

Or you know…in the name of your own bloodlust.

Tomato, Tamato.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!!!!!

Yeah, I tried.

The reader-insert isn’t on her period, I just kind of went the ‘blood is every bodily fluid’ route for the vampires here ala True Blood. And I know the rule is not to use teeth ever (and for good reason) but I just find the idea that vampires are built different fun.

Also, if this is bad you can tell me, but please be nice. I’ve been working on this thing all day and I’m tired. And honestly by the time I got to the reader-insert’s orgasm I only had four hours and thirty minutes left in the day.

Mind any typos, I’m half asleep rn, and I’ll probably catch them later.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[the-sound-of-her-wings]

hi! can i please request a kaz brekker x reader fic based off of episode 5 of season 2 (despise your heart)? when kaz panics in the market reader finds him and takes him somehwere safe and gives him his gloves, and in that moment kaz kinda of realizes how he feels about the reader. and then the poison fog the reader hallucinates about kaz and him finally making physical contact and giving her love and she thinks it’s real until someone shoves the antidote in her mouth, once she regains consciousness she rushes over to help kaz and kaz sees her pulling him out of the water and the readers just sitting there holding his face and anything else you wanna add !

if it’s a little complicated i understand, thank you have a great day :))

You were always in plain sight

❀ Word Count: 2,145 ❀ CW: Panic Attack, Discussions of Trauma, Pining, Admissions ❀ A/N: Added a few more scenes than requested. I hope you enjoy!

He’s going to panic, you think to yourself. 

In fact, his body was already panicking, even if he wasn’t. Nina is too focused on the target's heart rate to notice, but Kaz’s heart rate has been slowly increasing ever since he took off the gloves.

You watch as the woman they were meeting with gets up, and Kaz goes to follow. Unfortunately, another woman immediately runs into him, spilling tea all over the front of him, and definitely accidentally touching him.

“Give me his gloves,” You whisper to Inej.

She hands them over silently. You put on your own set of gloves, a pair you keep on you in the event something like this happens. 

Nina places her hand on top of Kaz’ and you watch the life drain from his face. And then he’s running.

“You follow the target. I’ve got him.” You say. 

It doesn’t take you long to catch up to him, but by then he’s already completely disassociated and in complete panic. You take him by the arm, leading him to an empty alley, careful only to touch the clothed parts of his arm. Even with your hands in gloves, you are worried any kind of touch to his exposed hands will send him spiraling further. 

He collapses to the ground in an unceremonious heap. 

“You were supposed to follow her,” He says.

“Inej has it covered.” You reply, sitting down on the opposite side of the alley, a decent distance from him.  

There’s a moment of silence before you add, “Someone had to follow you. You can’t be by yourself when your…” And you don’t know how to finish the sentence. Traumatized? Panicking? Having a PTSD flashback to an event you refuse to discuss with anyone? “...like this.” 

It pains you to see him so deep in his own pain, so desperate to keep other people out of it. To keep you out of it. You place his gloves close to him, but far enough away that it doesn’t look like you’re trying to touch him.

He notices your gloves, “When did you-?”

“A while ago. There just in case-” And you cut yourself off with a sigh. In case this happened. “Do you want me to stay?”

Yes? Kaz thinks, but he’s still panicking too much to say anything. In fact, the thought sends him into even more of a panic, because he’s not ever had a thought like that before. 

“I’ll be on the other side of the alley. We’ll regroup once you’ve had a chance to calm down.” You say, leaving him to decompress.

XXXXX

“Nina wants an explanation,” Inej tells you as you watch over Kaz from a distance. He’s finally come out of the worst of it and is now trying to act like nothing happened. It’s a behavior that you simply have never gotten used to, despite years by his side. 

“Then tell her the truth.” You say.

“Which is?” Inej asks. She sometimes thinks you know more than she does, but that’s not really true. You both know exactly the same thing about Kaz- which is that Pekka Rollins killed his brother and that he absolutely cannot stand another person’s touch. 

“He had a panic attack.” You reply. “She’s not going to tell the others, is she?” 

“No. But I think Jesper should know. He hates it when we leave him out of the loop.” Inej states. 

“I think I’m going to try to talk to him this time. See what else is going on.” You say, watching as Kaz sits down, clearly deep in thought. 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” 

“I didn’t think you’d be happy about that idea.” You say, cleaning the dirt from under your nails.

“He will open up when he’s ready.” Inej tries to reassure you.

“We both know he’d never be that vulnerable.”

“Then why ask?” She asks.

So I know how to fix it. 

“Let’s just get this over with, shall we? The world isn’t going to save itself.” You state, heading towards Kaz and the rest of the group to figure out the plan. Maybe you’ll ask him once all of this over.

XXXXX

“We should talk about what happened in the market.” You say, sitting on his desk. 

“Must we?” Kaz replies, lowering the newspaper he had been reading to meet your gaze.

“Yes.”

He set the paper aside, making his way over to you. He towers over you in a way he’s never done before, closer than he’s ever been. “What do you want to know?” 

“I want to know what happened.” 

“You saw what happened,” He says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I want to know why, Kaz.” You respond. 

“Why?” He retorts. Is he flirting with you or just trying to get under your skin?

“I want to fix it. Or prevent it or- I don’t know! I just. I never want to see you like that again. I don’t want to see you suffer.” 

“It won’t happen again,” He reassures you, a gloved hand coming up to caress your face. You block it with the back of your forearm.

“Won’t it? Jesper told me what happened when you got thrown in that cart together. I watched as you tried not to panic while helping Inej clean her wounds. Do you think I can’t sense your heart rate when people get too close to you? That I don’t know exactly how your body reacts? Who hurt you so badly that you can’t even be physically near another person without wanting to vomit?” You ramble, letting out all of the questions and feelings you’ve been holding inside for all of these years.

“Pekka Rollins” He replies, the answer he gave you before. It’s always been the answer, and in some ways, it really is the truth. 

“Kaz… I just want you to let me in. You carry so much inside of you that you let nobody see. But I want to see it… I want to understand.” You say, and you want to reach out and hug him but you know he can’t receive that kind of affection. 

But then he does something you aren’t excepting. Slowly, he begins to remove his gloves. He sets them on the fireplace, one by one. One of his ungloved hands traces its way up the side of your neck and rests on your cheek. You gasp at his touch. 

And then you are staring into each other’s eyes, into each other’s souls. Like you’ve always seen each other- like you’ve always known. Kaz plays his cards close to his chest, but you don’t. Nina has teased you for it relentlessly.

When he kisses you, you can’t believe this is happening. It’s perfect. These are things he would only do in dreams. These are things he would only say in dreams. These are…

“This is a dream,” Kaz tells you, or rather, the Kaz of your imagination tells you as he ends the kiss.

“I know” You reply, opening your eyes.

You see Inej hunched over you and taste something disgusting in your mouth. 

“We were poisoned. Go to the door- Wylan will give you another antidote.” She says before leaving to go wake up Jesper.

You crawl your way to the door, still feeling the lingering effects of the poison. “Wylan. Antidote?” You croak.

Once you are given the butterfly, you make your way over to Kaz, the only person still under the effects of the poison. 

XXXXX

Kaz is confused. He wakes up, back on that mountain of bodies in the river, but his brother is alive.

“Jordie?” He asks, confused.

His brother stares at him, full of rage. Without a word, he begins to drown him. Just when Kaz has almost lost all of his oxygen, his brother pulls him back out from under the water.

“Who are you without your vengeance?” Jordie yells. 

“Kaz. Wake up” You say, one gloved hand cupping the side of his face, the other moving his jaw to try to force him to chew. He can’t hear you.

“What is the worth of life if you have no one left to fight for?” Jordie asks, before plunging him under the water again. 

“Kaz” You repeat, and he hears you this time. “You’re going to be alright” 

You come into focus in a water gaze, the remnants of the poison still giving a dreamlike quality. It takes him a few moments to realize that it’s no longer a hallucination and that both of your hands are on his face. Gloved hands.

You pull your hands away from his face as soon as you see him come out of it. 

“Sorry,” You say. 

You don’t have to apologize, he thinks. 

XXXXX

“Kaz, a word?” You say, wanting to get him alone. You’ve obtained the Neshyenyer and are getting ready to head to East Ravka. 

He nods in acknowledgment while the others in the room make no effort to leave.

“Alone.” You add, so the others get the picture. 

Everyone exchanges suspicious glances with one another except Kaz, who is only looking at you. Nina winks as she passes you on her way out of the room. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. 

You position yourself by the door, a good five feet away from him, in order to respect his boundaries. The boundaries that you’ve consistently had to cross recently to protect him.

“What do you need?” He asks. 

“Are you okay?” You ask. 

Of course he isn’t, but you want him to admit that. You suspect he’ll respond with something defensive, something clever, something like “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” or “Why does it matter?” or “We have a job to do”. For it to be like the dream. 

“Are you?” He responds.

“No. And I’m getting a little tired of pretending I am.” You answer honestly. The difference between you, and all the other crows, and hell, everyone else that you interact with, is that you aren’t emotionally repressed. You don’t hide it under a sense of revenge, don’t mask it with a face of no emotion, and don’t keep your true thoughts and feelings hidden under a veil of humor. He told you it was a weakness, once. 

“You’re still wearing the gloves.” He comments.

You glance down at your gloved hands and then back at him. “So I am.”

“You don’t have to do that for me.” You don’t have to do anything for me, He thinks. 

“I know.” You say, “I just don’t want to hurt you.” 

There is a long silence as you look at each other, not really sure what to say.

“I wanted you to stay,” He states, looking away from you. Almost as if he’s ashamed that he’s allowing himself to be this vulnerable. “When you asked me in the alley… I wanted you to stay.”

You feel your breath catch in your throat at the admission. Maybe the poison-induced hallucination wasn’t too farfetched after all. 

“I’ll stay.” You take a step towards him, still unsure of his boundaries. Still unsure how close or far you can get without causing him pain. 

“Will you tell me why?” You ask. I can’t help you through something when I don’t know why it causes you pain.

“I don’t know if I can,” It’s the first genuine answer you’ve gotten out of him in a long time. 

“When we were poisoned I- you were in my hallucination,” You admit, taking a few more steps closer to him.  

“What happened in your hallucination?” He asks. Throughout this, he’s made no effort to move from his seat at the table, but his heartbeat has become steadily faster, stronger. 

“I was angry at you- but you seemed to understand why. And you took your gloves off and touched me and- that’s how I knew it wasn’t real.” You reply. “What did you hallucinate?” You add, not wanting him to ruminate on your confession too long. 

“My brother was drowning me,” He states.

“I’m sorry,” You say, reflexively. 

“He asked me, ‘What is the worth of life if you have no one left to fight for?’ and then I saw you,” You’ve never seen him sheepish before- vulnerability doesn’t exactly suit him. 

“Oh,” You breathe. “So what now?” 

“We go to East Ravka.”

“Right,” You say, trying not to let the disappointment show in your voice. “Time to save the world. Again.” 

“We’re not saving it. We’re just getting paid.” Kaz responds.

You steel yourself, trying not to beat yourself up for thinking you were finally getting somewhere. That this would be anything more than words.

"After. We will discuss us after." He adds, quelling your doubt. "We still have a job to do."

You nod.

"I'm here if you need me." You say, turning to leave.

"I know," Kaz replies.