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#grow up and unclench. let live
meyhew · 6 months
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i dont like... go here anymore or care even but it was never that deep. will never be that deep actually why r u acting like people need rehab 😭
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spacebarbarianweird · 4 months
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Baby Fangs
Synopsis: Baby Alethaine is severely sick, and Astarion is afraid his daughter is going to die.
Tags: hurt/comfort, dadstarion, dhampirs
Alethaine's age: 5 month
Thanks @queenofthespacesquids for beta-reading!
Read on AO3
Masterlist
Headcanons
Astarion has never been so afraid in his life.
Not when he was dying in the streets of Baldur’s Gate. Not when he thought Tiriel had gone. Not when Cazador had inflicted tortures on him.
It just can’t compare to the fear of losing a child.
“She needs to make it till morning,” the healer says. “If she is alive by sunrise, she will get better.”
“But can we do anything?” Tiriel looks as if she is going to fight. “There are healing spells, potions, anything!”
“And most of them aren’t fit for a five month old child. Astarion, Tiriel, I give you my word. I’ve done everything I can. There are probably some clerics and wizards who can heal your child immediately but none of them live in Daggerlake. I am sorry.”
The healer walks away, leaving a dreadful silence in the house.
Astarion sits on the bed, clasping his hands together. Of course, things couldn't be this good. Of course something had to go wrong! How could he have been foolish enough to believe that things could be good for him?
His little daughter, Alethaine, is such a miracle, such a gift. When he first held her in his arms, he dared to hope that everything would be all right from then on. And now they tell him she's dying? That she would be dead by morning?
Alethaine whimpers weakly. She is already too tired to cry.
Tiriel looks terrible. She is a warrior, a fighter, but for the first time in her life, she has no enemy to kill. The enemy is her daughter's fever, and she can't beat it the way she beats monsters.
The baby starts coughing.
Astarion doesn't need to be a vampire to feel his daughter's pain. Her muscles are too tense. Her breathing is ragged and her heartbeat is too weak. Alethaine is suffering at this very moment, and there is nothing her parents can do about it.
Can’t give her medicine. Can’t soothe her pain.
There is a grip of death around her tiny heart and neither Tiriel nor Astarion can unclench it.
Tiriel sits on the bed, cradling Alethaine in her arms. Astarion wraps his hands around them.
“So what do we do?” he asks.
“We wait,” she answers. Her voice sounds exhausted.
He nods.
Yesterday, Alethaine was perfectly healthy. She tried to sit up, but each time her head proved too heavy and she fell on her back. Then her black eyes clouded over and a fever rose. She refused to eat and only cried like a wounded animal.
“What if she doesn’t make it?” Astarion asks.
Tiriel doesn't answer and he sees tears flowing down her cheek. “We will keep living. Could you please bring a blanket?”
Astarion reluctantly lets them go and picks up a thick fur blanket from the floor. Then they sit together with their backs against the wall, covering their sick daughter with the blanket. Only a desperate cough echoes through the room.
Children die all the time. Mostly little kids like Alethaine. Daggerlake isn't a very big town, but Astarion knows that at least three babies have died this year. From disease. Small children like this are too vulnerable. It happens all the time.
There's a chance that tomorrow Astarion will have to dig a grave and put a tiny bundle in there that never had a chance to grow up.
It's so unfair that it makes Astarion want to howl.
"Astarion," Tiriel touches his curls. "Let's talk. The silence is killing me."
“What do you want to talk about, my sweet?”
“I don't know… Anything.” Tiriel places the girl in his hands and Astarion flinches sensing the heat of Alethaine’s body. Fever. A terrible killing fever. “Do you think she is a dhampir?”
“She is an elf like I was before I died.”
When Tiriel was pregnant, he read as much as possible about dhampirs. Deadly and fast, half-vampires don’t need blood and can live in the sun. But they have vampiric strength, can walk on ceilings, and regenerate much faster than mortals. No wonder vampires are often jealous of their children.
But at the same time, the life of a dhampir is full of hardships. Neither a vampire, nor a mortal, they are doomed to be alone. Once they feel bloodlust for the first time and fangs replace the canines, they are outcasts often disowned by their own mortal families.
But does it have to be like that? Astarion has been fighting the odds against his vampiric nature for the last twenty years. Why can’t his daughter?
But Astarion is afraid they will never learn the answer to either of their questions. Alethaine opens her mouth and makes a deep breath as if suffocating. Something doesn’t allow her to breathe and she makes hissing sounds. Her little eyes are watery - by this time she can only cry.
So can her parents.
“I wouldn’t want to, I think,” Tiriel says. “If she is dhampir it means she is alone. Even if other spawns have children too, what is the chance she will ever meet them?”
Astarion kisses Tiriel’s cheek. if Alethaine dies, they bury her and leave. Daggerlake is a welcoming town but it will be a place of sorrow for them.
Tiriel adjusts herself a bit.
“Fuck” she mutters. Astarion immediately smells the blood. Tiriel’s thumb is bleeding. “A fucking splinter.”
Alethaine cries at the top of her lungs.
Astarion stares at his daughter with shock. She screams with the strength they didn’t know she posseses. It’s desperate. Angry.
Demanding.
This moment she doesn’t sound like a child. She sounds like a little beast.
Before Astarion makes up any coherent thought, Tiriel puts her bleeding thumb to Alethaine’s lips, making the blood pour into her mouth.
“Tiriel, what are you doing?”
Tiriel doesn’t answer. The girl makes sucking movements as her mother squeezes drops of blood from her finger.
And then her dark eyes turn red.
They glow in the half-lit room like two tiny lights.
Tiriel puts her fingers away and Alethaine makes a disgruntled sound. Her elven ears twitch.
The eyes stop glowing so intensely and return to their natural black color.
And then Alethaine laughs.
She is kicking her legs and stretching her arms to her parents.
The girl is happy. Happy like a well-fed vampire.
“Astarion, look at her gums.”
Two baby fangs. Very small, almost kitten-like.
“It wasn’t a fever,” Astarion mutters. “It was a bloodlust.”
Of course… If she was older she would just try to get blood from somewhere.
But when you are five months old you can’t do a lot of things.
Poor girl, how she suffered those two days.
Is dhampir bloodlust the same as vampiric? Was she feeling her stomach being ripped apart, her throat hurting and bleeding? Maybe it was even worse for her? Maybe her mortal nature was fighting the bloodthirsty monster, causing Alethaine to cry in pain?
Helpless baby alone with her pain and fear while her parents didn't think of the most obvious explanation.
** Astarion sits at the doorstep with a plushie doll in his hands. The toy has white hair and elven ears, and now Astarion is stitching small fangs to its mouth.
The tears prickle his eyes.
He’s condemned his child for a life of hardships. For loneliness, for constant war against herself. If someday Alethaine shows up at his doorstep blaming him for all her tragedies, he will not even try to defend himself.
“No, kitten, I don’t care if you don’t like it! I can’t breastfeed you anymore and I am not giving you any blood! You eat normal food!” He hears Tiriel’s voice from inside the house.
Alethaine isn’t going to comply easily.
Then he hears footsteps from behind.
“What are you doing?” Tiriel asks.
“Adding fangs to her toy.”
Tiriel sits beside him.
“You have mash in your hair.” Astarion notices
“I know. You should see the other girl. How do you feel about giving her a bath?”
“I don't think you should ask. It’s my child. It seems like… even more mine now.”
“Hey, don't be upset. We knew it was possible.”
“I just… Her eyes, Tiriel, you saw them.They were like theirs… My siblings…Cazador… the same fucking glowing eyes as if she was a vampire, too!”
“It’s because of blood. She doesn’t have to drink it, she can eat normal food.”
“We should have found the cure before making a child.”
“But we didn’t find any.”
Tiriel takes a wet piece of rag and wipes her hair. “Astarion, I am going to talk to you seriously and, please, pay attention to every word I say.”
“I am all pointy ears, my love.”
“I was beaten and humiliated daily for who I was. My family didn't even give me a name because they despised me. But when I met elves for the first time they called me “garbage” - Biir. Half-something, half a person. Half elves aren't uncommon. There are surprisingly many in big cities. But I’ve been taught to despise my body, to hate my ears, to be embarrassed of my own existence. And our daughter is a dhampir. And I am sure there aren’t many like her. This world will have a thousand opportunities to shove her differences up to her nose. This world will teach Alethaine to hate herself. I can guarantee you she will try to pull her fangs out or maybe will ask someone to knock them out. She will cover herself not to let people see how pale she truly is. And we must not be a part of her problems.”
“Tiriel, I would never - “
“She is a girl, Astarion. Her image of herself will be formed mostly by you, not by me. The way you will perceive her will be the way she will see herself. And if she sees resentment, if she senses your sorrows that she isn’t a normal child, she will start hating herself. She will feel it. And it will stay with her till her long days are over.”
“Tiriel, what exactly in my behavior tells you that I am going to mistreat her? She is my child! She is…”
“I didn’t mean to ignore the fact she is a dhampir. You must cherish her differences. We must love her for being a dhampir. We must form this idea that it’s good she is a dhampir.”
Astarion chuckles. To be honest, he has never accepted his vampirism. It happened against his will and he would give anything to get rid of it. It is a curse. And now… his daughter is cursed as well.
“Astarion, this is important. Even the tiniest things will affect her. And we will have to deal with the consequences.”
The girl cries for her parents, and Tiriel, planting a kiss on Astarion’s forehead, returns inside.
Several hours later, when a washed and clean-clothed Alethaine is happily lying on her parents' bed and trying to make some coherent movements, Astarion finally finds enough moral strength to accept the reality.
He takes his daughter in his arms and walks up to the ceiling. The girl laughs and tries to bite him.
"Aren't you the cutest dhampir in Faerûn?" he mutters. "I can't wait to teach you how to use those fangs in battle. You will be deadly, my princess! But don't bite your mother, that's my prerogative."
--
Tag list
@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96
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freedomfireflies · 11 months
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Hers*
Summary: The fifth and final part to Mine*
Your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has made you a deal.
Two for the price of one. He'll share you with Asher. For one night. And one night only.
And all you have to do? Be good and take it.
Word Count: 9.6k (...don't ask)
*Contains Mature and Explicit content, so please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞*
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“Easy, mama. Breathe. That’s it, that’s my girl. Relax for me, okay? Relax.”
Forcing a shaky breath through quivering lips, you do your best to oblige Harry’s request, allowing your muscles to uncoil as you settle before him.
“Good,” he hums, large palm smoothing across your hip. “Don’t want it to hurt, my love. Need you nice and loose for me.”
“I know,” you say, lashes fluttering shut. “I know, m’sorry.”
“Don’t have to be sorry, honey,” he reminds you, although there’s a hint of reprimand. “Just have to be relaxed.”
You nod again and unclench your fists from around the blanket. He’s doing his best to help you along, making sure to keep his touch light and comforting. And it’s something you thoroughly appreciate as he gingerly circles the tip of the plug around your hole.
“Talk to me,” he suddenly demands as he pulls the item away. “Tell me what you’re looking forward to about this weekend.”
He’s trying to distract you, and you smile as you glance toward the pillows at the head of the bed. “I’m excited to be with you,” you tell him honestly. “Both of you, but…especially you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you share before.”
“And you won’t again,” he snorts under his breath before you feel his puckered lips meet your ass cheek. It’s a quick peck, meant to encourage you, and your grin grows. “Lucky I’m even considering it this time.”
You turn to sneak a glance over your shoulder. “Why are you?”
He doesn’t meet your eye, instead keeping his focus on the task at hand. “Because I can tell it’s something you want. And I want to give you everything you ever want. Everything you deserve.”
Your heart jumps. “You think I deserve Asher?”
You smirk to show you’re teasing, and he chuckles to himself as he gently guides your thighs further apart. 
“I think you deserve the best,” Harry replies cooly. “Maybe that’s Asher, maybe it’s not. That’s why I want to be there. To find out.”
You run your tongue over your bottom lip. “Do you trust him?”
He looks up.
“I trust you,” he says softly. “I trust that if this is something you want…then you’ll enjoy it. And I trust that if at any point it’s not…you’ll tell me.”
“I will,” you agree quickly. “You know I will. But I don’t want you to do this just because of me. Not if it’s not something you actually want.”
“I want what you want,” he repeats, a bit firmer. “This time, that’s Asher. I’ve seen the way you are with him. And I’ve seen the way he is with you. The only thing I expect of him is that he takes care of you. Which he does. And as long as he continues to do so…I’ll continue to let him keep his heart inside of his body.”
You snort and glance back down at the mattress, readjusting your position. “I think you just like knowing how scared he is.”
You don’t have to see Harry to know he’s grinning. “It’s fun to watch him sweat.”
“You’re a horrible friend.”
“I’m not his friend. I’m his boss.”
“Well…you’re a horrible boss, then.”
“Considering all I’ve allowed him to see and do, I’d say I’m pretty generous.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to.”
“He did,” Harry says quickly. Confidently. “Believe me, honey. He wanted to. He told me.”
“He told you and you let him live? I’m shocked,” you tease, feigning a surprised gasp.
However, this earns you a gentle but loud smack to the ass as you chuckle.
“Watch it,” he warns. “Yes, I let him live. Because I knew he wasn’t a threat.”
“No?”
“No.” He squeezes your hip, calling your attention back as you look over your shoulder.
Your stomach flips when you see the somber expression on his face.
“You love me,” he says. Not a question. Not a theory. A statement. “He will never change that.”
“No,” you echo, and your answer overwhelms you. “No, never.”
He reaches around to take hold of your chin and give it a squeeze. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “I want to do this with you—with him—because it’ll make you happy. Because you deserve to be taken care of. And I know he’ll do it right.”
With that, he drags the tip of the plug down to the arousal already collecting between your thighs, effortlessly lubricating the small object as the question is put to bed.
You reel, gasping through a slack jaw as you steady yourself on your hands and knees.
“Remember what I said,” he reminds you, patting your hip softly. “Gotta relax for me.”
You nod quickly, silently commanding your body to comply, to unwind, to loosen.
And then…he dips down.
Spit dribbles from his lips, landing between your cheeks as you mewl and wiggle closer to the strange sensation.
He makes a noise—either of approval or disappointment, you aren’t sure—before his finger is diving through the pool of saliva and slipping inside.
He’s already been stretching you for the past few minutes, attempting to make this experience a bit more pleasant.
And you’re more than thankful for that now, lost in the feeling of your muscles being coaxed into submission, the feeling of your walls being pushed apart, the feeling of him.
His digit alone is such a fantastically full feeling, you know a cock will send you on a one-way ride to heaven.
“There she is,” he hums, seemingly proud of the way you’ve begun to unwind. “Feels good, hm?”
“Yes,” you breathe, practically pushing back into him. “Fuck—”
“Been a while, I know,” he remarks before he retracts his hand and brings the plug back. “Proud of you, mama.”
Your cheeks warm from the praise before allowing your body to fall quiet. Limbs going utterly still as you await the feeling of the toy, eyes falling down to the dark duvet beneath you.
There’s not much resistance, and you can’t feel too surprised. In fact, it’s quite the subtle but enjoyable feeling. Made even more pleasurable by the way Harry speaks to you.
“That’s my fucking girl,” he whispers, making sure to keep a steady pace. “Oh, honey. Look so pretty right now. Wish you could see how well your sweet little hole stretches for me.”
You bite back a moan. Clenching certainly won’t help, and you almost wonder if he’s trying to be lewd on purpose, just to test you.
Once it’s seated snugly within your ass, Harry hums again and presses his lips to the base of your spine. “There you go. How’s it feel?”
“Good,” you whisper, allowing for a moment to indulge in the sensation. “Full.”
“Yeah? Good,” he repeats, taking a handful of hip in each hand before pulling you back just to watch your cheeks spread. “Fucking hell, mama. Don’t know if I can wait till this evening.”
You smirk as you settle onto your heels, lacing your fingers through his. “Then don’t. Call him over now.”
“Wish I could,” he sighs as he walks around the bed to face you. “But I need to swing by the warehouse, and I need you somewhere safe.”
“And why again am I not safe here?”
“Told you,” he says, caressing your cheek with his palm before running a thumb down your lip. “This location could be compromised if something goes wrong. S’better to have you in a safe house while we have the meeting. And once it’s all over, we can come home.”
Home. A singular word filled with a lifetime of memories. You love the way he says it. Love the tenacious way he speaks about the shared space you both belong in. The place you yearn to come back to.
You press your mouth against his finger, kissing him gently. 
He smiles.
“Okay,” you agree. “As long as you’re not gone long.”
“Try not to be.”
“Promise?”
He frowns but there’s a hint of playful amusement within the firm expression. “You know how I feel about promises.”
“I know,” you reply, sneaking your hand around his wrist to keep him close. “But I need you to promise me anyway.”
He sighs. “Honey…”
“I need to hear you say it,” you insist softly. “I need to know you’ll come back to me.”
Now he understands, and his eyes fill with a desperate longing. “Always,” he nearly growls, using both palms to take hold of your face and bring you to him. “Fucking always, mama. Always come back to you.”
You smile as your nose brushes against his. “Promise?”
He exhales a deep breath, as if you’ve stolen the air right out of his lungs. “I promise.”
You kiss him. And you don’t let him go for quite some time, thankful to have him in this moment…and all the rest.
“But you have to promise me something, too,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your cheek.
“Yeah?”
He nods before that devious grin finds its way back. “Promise me…you won’t tell Asher about this little surprise until tonight,” he says, reaching down to smack his hand against your ass. “Think he deserves a little treat.”
And you can’t help but laugh as you agree. “I promise,” you vow before the sound of the door opening echoes throughout the apartment.
Asher announces his arrival as Harry helps you to your feet, making sure to keep you steady as you adjust to the newly acquired object.
“Get dressed,” he instructs softly before releasing you to walk toward the door. “He’s gonna take you to the safe house, and then I’ll see you tonight.”
“Okay,” you reply, equally as quiet. “Har?”
He stops just before he’s completely disappeared into the hallway. “Hm?”
“I love you.”
He smiles, and it makes your heart sing.
“I love you, honey,” he calls back. “Now be good for me.”
You grin. “Yes, daddy.”
And he laughs. In that beautiful, symphonic way. It almost makes your chest ache as you watch him slip into the living room to debrief his right-hand man while you’re left to put your shorts back on.
Once you’re ready, you join the boys by the door, catching the tail end of their hushed conversation.
“—until tomorrow,” Harry is murmuring. “Unless we draw him out.”
“We will,” Asher replies, nodding once. “Matthews is a fucking idiot. He thinks he’s got a shot at infiltrating our system, he’s not gonna pass that up.”
“No,” Harry agrees. “Especially not after Sean—"
The muted discussion comes to an abrupt end when Harry’s eye catches you sneaking through the living room.
“Hi, sugar,” he calls, a bit louder than necessary, almost as if alerting Asher of your presence, too.
Asher turns, and when he sees you…he smiles.
“Hi,” you say back, nodding at the second-in-command.
“You ready?” Harry asks.
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure what to bring, but—”
“Asher’s got it,” Harry answers simply, shooting you a reassuring grin. “Don’t need to bring anything but that cute little ass.”
The teasing remark is a double-edged sword, and you and Harry exchange a smirk as your skin warms and Asher’s brow raises.
However, he doesn’t question it. “In that case…are you ready?”
You nod again. “I think. How far is it?”
“Couple hours,” Harry replies. “Just outside the city.”
“Is Paul coming?” 
“No.”
Your brow raises. “Okay…why?”
There’s a beat as Harry reaches into his suit jacket pocket to retrieve a cigarette and a match. “We’re not compromising your location,” he says as he places the filter between his lips and strikes the light. “S’better if fewer people know.”
“So, just you and Asher?”
“Mhm.” He inhales deeply before plucking the object between two fingers and pulling it free. “You’ll be safer that way.”
And despite how methodical he makes the whole affair sound, you know this is something he’s actively fighting himself on. 
He prioritizes you above all else, even when that means sending you two hours away so he can conduct a meeting with someone on the black market. 
But he hates it. You know he hates it. He absolutely cannot stand being away from you, especially in moments like this.
And he doesn’t want you to know just how weak you make him.
Fighting a gentle smirk, you stride toward him and snatch the cigarette from his grasp. 
He huffs as you smash the ashes against the wall, effectively putting out the light before tossing it into the trash can. 
“What have I told you about this?” you remind him, tone playful with just a hint of admonishment. 
He sighs, glancing down at the lost nicotine with a mournful frown. “Well, what else do you expect me to do?”
“I expect you…to kiss me,” you whisper as he drags his eyes back to you.
It doesn’t take much more for him to slip his fingers around the back of your neck and tug you to him, his mouth instantly colliding with yours.
It doesn’t matter that he’d already kissed you a mere ten minutes ago.
Because this kiss—and all of his kisses—are like snowflakes. Unique, and special, and one of a kind. 
It makes your stomach flip, and your head grow fuzzy, and your ears ring.
Because it’s never just a kiss.
It’s an unspoken vow of love and loyalty.
“I love you,” he whispers, soft enough that you imagine only you can hear.
You nod quickly as you press your lips into his bottom one. “I love you,” you repeat. “Don’t be stupid.”
He grins as he releases you. “Never.”
With that, you follow Asher out of the apartment, leaving Harry to finish a few things before heading to the warehouse. 
However, instead of Asher’s familiar car, you’re brought to a stop in front of a rather intimidating looking motorcycle.
“And what…is this?” you ask as he grabs a helmet off the handle.
He chuckles while outstretching it toward you. “What’s it look like, sweetheart?”
“You want to take this?” you nearly stammer, eyeing the dark black death machine. “What was wrong with your car?”
He lifts his shoulder in a casual shrug. “Not nearly as fun, now, is it?”
Your response is a flat expression, and he laughs again.
“There’s a higher chance of somebody recognizing my car,” he explains as he moves to swing his leg over the bike. “But they won’t recognize this.”
It’s an adequate justification you suppose. And you aren’t opposed to riding one. You and Harry used to ride together all the time back when you first met.
But never when you had a plug in.
Swallowing your nerves, you slip the helmet over your head as Asher starts the engine, his observant eyes flicking across the dash.
Straddling onto the back of the seat behind him, you watch while he revs the throttle, and props his foot up.
Then, he glances toward his shoulder. “You ready, sweetheart?”
You swallow, arms slipping around his dark black t-shirt. “Where’s your helmet?”
He smirks. “Only have the one. But I don’t need it. I’ll be fine.”
You can’t help the disapproving frown that forms. “Ash—”
“Don’t worry,” he insists, chuckling as he returns his attention forward. “Just hold on, yeah?”
With that, the bike jolts forward, and you cement yourself to his back as he swings a right and leads you both out of the parking lot.
He’s on the highway in twenty seconds flat, swaying from side to side as he slips between the cars. It’s one effortless, fluid motion that makes your heart drop to your stomach, but more than that…it’s exhilarating.
In fact, you don’t even have time to be anxious when each bump you hit and turn you make stimulates the small object beneath you.
And you’re trying not to let it affect you. Trying so hard to keep your focus on the two-hour ride you have ahead of you.
But then the tires will roll over a small rock, and your eyes will roll back in your head.
Your fingers dig into the fabric on Asher’s chest as you squeeze for dear life. And he glances back from time to time, just to make sure you’re all right.
But you’re not all right. And you won’t be until you take this damn thing out.
“You okay?” he yells once you’ve left the city.
You nod. “Yeah,” you call back, although your boa constrictor-like grip suggests otherwise. “Just peachy.”
You catch his smile before he gets off the exit and begins down a seemingly abandoned back road.
There’s still ninety minutes to go, so you will yourself to relax. To focus on anything else besides the throbbing between your legs. Or the position of your clit against the seat. Or the way your chest is pressed to Asher’s back.
But it seems as though the entire universe is working against you in this moment, and despite your best efforts, you find that you’re losing the game.
And when the bike rounds a particularly sharp corner, it all comes to a hilt.
A rather airy moan slips free as you scratch your nails down his chest, and you catch the way he sneaks a look back at you.
“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks again, seemingly unaware of the nature behind your noise.
However, speaking will only make things worse, so you nod mutely and pull your lip between your teeth.
This answer satiates him for a while longer before it happens again, and your whimpers become harder to hide.
He doesn’t question you this time around, but a quick glance over his profile proves that he’s beginning to understand why these noises are different.
And so familiar.
You’re thankful he doesn’t ask you to explain. That he doesn’t directly call out your subtle grinding or the desperate whines that dance through the wind and find him.
Instead, he carries on with the ride as though he hasn’t noticed, and this alone gives you the strength to keep your impending orgasm at bay.
After all, Harry would be quite disappointed to find out he’d missed such a sight.
And you don’t imagine starting off the evening with Harry’s disapproval will work in your favor.
The next hour feels like the slow crawl of death. The tortuous journey nearly dragging you to the finish line as Asher finally arrives at the gated building.
You just about moan with relief when he punches in the code, pulls into the parking lot, and brings the motorbike to a stop.
And the moment the engine is killed, you have to bite back a whine, thankful for the reprieve from the vibrations against your cunt.
Asher helps you stand to your feet before slipping the helmet off your head and placing it back on the handle.
You notice he’s smiling in that charming, boyish way. A look that you’re more than familiar with, and it instantly calms your remaining nerves as he leads you inside.
He spends the first few minutes surveying the premises. Checking each closet, door, and hallway for any security risks or planted bugs. He then radios Paul and instructs him to confirm to Harry that the location is secure.
Finally, once Asher is satisfied, he joins you in the living room, and returns his gun to his belt.
“How you feelin’?” he asks, perching on the edge of the seat just beside you.
You swallow thickly and squeeze your thighs a bit tighter together. “Hm? Oh, good. Yeah. Good. Better. Now that we’re…on the ground again.”
He exhales a gentle laugh, and you feel your cheeks fill with heat. “Yeah, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, it’s okay. It was…fun.”
His brow jumps up. “Yeah?”
Shit. You glance back down at your lap and nod once. “Mhm.”
Once again, he finds amusement through your timid behavior and lack of eye contact. But you can’t explain why, and you can’t exactly fight it. So, you surrender to the docile demeanor, keeping your focus on your cuticles as you wait for Harry to join you.
“Hey, Ash?” you venture after a moment, breaking the comfortable quiet.
His head turns to you.
“Are you…nervous? About tonight?” you begin hesitantly, letting yourself steal a glimpse of his quizzical expression. “I mean…is this something you really want to do? Or is Harry manhandling you into it?”
He laughs, and the warm sound echoes around the room. “Believe me, sweetheart. I am more than okay with it.”
You shift in your spot on the sofa, angling your body to fully face him. “Okay, but…are you sure? Just because he’s your boss doesn’t mean you have to do everything he says. He won’t kill you if you say no.”
He grins so big you can see his teeth. “That’s not why I agreed. I agreed because he was right. It’s my job to take care of you.”
You sigh, features playfully unamused. “I think this goes well beyond the specifications of your job description.”
“Maybe. But you’re his girl. And I’d do anything for either of you.”
“Even this?”
“Even this.”
“And it’s not…weird?”
“I don’t think so. Do you?”
You hesitate. “No…I’ve known you forever. I feel safe with you.”
“Good.” He seems genuinely pleased with this. “This isn’t about me, sweetheart. This is about you. About both of you. Harry likes an audience and I’m happy to give him one.”
You suppose this is true. You’ve always known this about your boyfriend and truth be told, you can’t imagine a better audience than Asher.
You spend the next half hour or so exchanging stories about the aforementioned man. The different moods he has, the different coping methods he’s developed, and even a few of his more taboo kinks.
Asher remarks on how different Harry was when he was younger, although he’s not surprised that this is the man he became. And he’s happy that you found each other. That you can be Harry’s light.
And you’re happy that Harry can be your darkness.
Not long after, the security system calls a shrill word of warning from its spot on the wall as Asher leaps to his feet and heads for the door.
He sneaks a hand behind his back, fingers curling on the base of the gun still hidden beneath his belt while cautiously approaching. Then, after a quick look over the monitor, he presses a button and instantly steps back to allow the door to swing open.
And in strides Harry.
He looks about the same as when you left him. He’s still donning his dark, matte suit. His hair is still perfectly displaced, and his skin is still thankfully free of any blood.
A good sign.
But everything else is off. His ordinarily indifferent expression has grown hard. Unforgiving. His jaw seems to be clenched so tight, you’re worried he might chip a tooth. The veins in his neck are corded and pushing against his skin, and even from the sofa, you can see there’s an emptiness in his eye.
Asher begins to frown. “What happened?”
Harry’s head shakes as he looks from his right-hand man to you. “Not now,” he says simply, voice dripping with malicious disdain. “I don’t want to think about it right now.”
Instead, he brushes past Asher and makes a beeline for you. And your heart flutters inside your chest as you look up at the tall man coming to a quick stop before you.  
He reaches out and snatches your chin in his palm, gently but firmly tugging you upright until he can connect his lips with yours.
This kiss is angry. Vindictive. Filled with remorse and malevolent indignation. It captures each desperate gasp for air, and he swallows your timid compliance mercilessly. 
When he feels generous enough to allow you a breath, you’re tucked beneath his arm while he presses his mouth against your temple.
“How was it?” he whispers, and there’s a certain strain to his inquisition that suggests he’s wrestling a larger demon within himself. 
You nod gently and let the smell of his familiar cologne envelope you—calm you. “It was good.”
“Yeah?” He looks to Asher. “No problems?”
“Not…exactly,” Asher replies, and you watch the corner of his mouth dance with the idea of smirking.
Harry’s eyebrow raises. “And what does that mean?”
“Well, it wasn’t exactly a problem,” Asher explains, letting his focus fall to you. “But I think she did have a bit of an interesting ride.”
Harry’s head rolls until he can look down at you. “Oh?”
Your skin warms under the heat of his gaze as you tangle your fingers into his nice shirt. “Couldn’t help it. Felt so good, Har.”
You watch as Harry’s calloused features dissolve into that of smug intrigue. “I bet it did, mama. Does he know why?”
The spotlight swings to Asher, who stands a few feet away, exceedingly curious.
Your lips roll into your mouth as you shake your head.
Harry smiles. “Then why don’t you show him?”
Eager to do just that, you stand back, and lace your fingers around the waistband of your shorts.
Slowly, you turn around, and begin shimmying the denim material down your thighs. Then, you continue to guide the pants down to your ankles, body bending until they reach the floor.
And the moment you’re bent over, you hear Asher curse.
He’s got a direct line of sight to the purple object Harry placed neatly between your ass. And now he understands why the ride on his motorcycle was so…stimulating for you. Why it had you whimpering in his ear as he rocked the bike from side to side while racing through the mountains.
And after you’ve stood back up and turned around, you can see exactly what this revelation does to him.
Harry chuckles underneath his breath as he slips his palm across your bare hip, guiding you back to him. “S’pretty, isn’t it?”
Asher swallows visibly before forcing a curt nod. “Mhm. Very.”
“All nice and stretched for you,” Harry murmurs before grinning down at your hopeful expression. “Aren’t you, honey? You ready to take him?”
You nearly mewl as you nod your enthusiastic agreement, once more grasping onto his shirt as if to plead with him.
“I know,” he coos, cupping your cheek in his palm. “Bet it’s been aching all day, hm? Know you’re so excited.”
And you are. You’ve never felt more infatuated with an idea, and the longer they take to ruin you, the worse the need gets.
“My sweet girl,” he whispers, guiding his thumb toward your lips before slipping it inside your mouth.
You suck, instantly calmed as you sweep your tongue around him, and allow yourself to settle.
“Gotta go over some rules first, yeah?” he says, a bit louder now so you both can hear.
Asher steps closer.
“One…this is about you, mama,” Harry begins, echoing Asher’s earlier sentiments. “We’re not here to hurt you, or punish you, or make you feel unsafe. Is that understood?”
You nod.
He pops his finger free just to take hold of your jaw. “Two…you use your words. Always. You tell us that you’re okay or if you need to stop. If you don’t, I end it.”
You nod again, but he frowns.
“Okay,” you agree verbally, and he hums. “I will.”
Pleased, he carries on. “Three…” He turns to Asher now. “You don’t come inside her. Not her ass. Not her throat. Nothing. You pull out, you get yourself off, and that’s it.”
For some reason, you almost feel embarrassed by the unrelenting and rather strict condition that Harry proposes.
But Asher merely replies, “Understood.”
“And you wear a condom,” Harry adds. “I won’t risk her health because of this. I don’t care if you’re clean, I don’t care if you’re gentle. The only one that gets to feel her is me.”
“Understood.”
Harry’s attention returns to you. “If at any point you want to stop, or you want him gone, or you feel unsure…you fucking tell me. I don’t care if we haven’t come. I don’t care if you think you need to make us happy, make us finish. You tell me. And we’ll talk about it.”
Another resolute rule. “I know, Har. I will. I promise.”
But he’s not finished. “And if you slip into your subspace, then I make the call. If I think you need to be through, then we’re through. And I don’t want any whining or begging. We stop, and that’s that.”
The anticipation just about kills you. Already, your eagerness to be put in these situations lures you into a submissive state of mind. Until everything whittles down to what he’s saying. What he’s offering.
“Okay,” you breathe, bouncing on the tips of your toes. “Okay, I swear.”
He studies you for a moment. Perhaps looking for any deception or perhaps he’s deciding if you’re truly hearing him.
But you know he’s just as keen as you are to begin, so he nods his approval before tapping his finger over your mouth once more.
“Good girl,” he hums. “Now…take my rings off for me.”
Your breath hitches as you step closer, instantly taking hold of his wrist to hold his hand where you need it.
And both men watch as you lick your tongue up his palm and right toward his middle digit.
Once you’ve reached the tip, you wrap your lips around him and move down, teeth gently grazing his skin as you go.
You vaguely catch his mumbled curse as you reach the delicate piece of jewelry. But you pay it no mind, instead keeping your focus on swirling your tongue around the ring before latching onto it and sucking it back up.
Once it’s off, he holds out his other hand, and you let it drop.
He smirks. “Good girl. Now the others.”
You move to the next one, repeating the pattern of pulling and guiding, all while making sure to put on a show.
You never once deviate your eyes from his, allowing him to see just how much you enjoy completing such a menial, borderline degrading task.
And you let him know just how much you love when he’s in charge.
It’s rare he offers to let you take the reins. But when he does, it’s still quite fun. After all, he thinks it’s cute when you’re his dominant and you think it’s cute that he pretends you actually are.
Once his fingers are ring free, he slips his palm around the back of your neck and gives it a squeeze. “Bedroom. Now.”
Slightly disappointed to steal yourself from him, you nod and begin for the room just off the hallway.
The boys follow a few feet behind, and you can hear their soft murmurings, but you don’t inquire to know the details. You imagine you’ll find out soon enough.
Once you’ve all gathered around the mattress, Harry takes your hand, brings your knuckles to his lips, and winks.
Your skin warms from the rather innocent display of affection before he’s leading you to the bed. You’re placed between his legs while he settles back against the headboard, and the moment you’re comfortable, his large hands curl around your thighs and drag them apart.
Then, Asher makes himself known, crawling into the newly made space until he can nestle down onto his stomach.
He takes hold of your hips, and with a little help from Harry, manages to lift you up so he can slip a pillow beneath your ass.
You swallow.
“It’s Asher’s turn to taste you,” Harry tells you simply, dipping down until his mouth can dance across your ear. “And I’m gonna be nice…and let him.”
You push yourself into Harry’s chest, head dropping onto his shoulder as you scratch your nails down his arms. You can’t find a response. Don’t really need one. You just need them.
Asher seems encouraged by your willing silence, smiling to himself as he scoots closer and smooths his touch up your legs.
“You ready, sweetheart?” His voice is calm. Reassuring. Familiar and all around safe. 
You nod before Harry pinches your thigh and reminds you of his rule. “Yes,” you say aloud. “Yes, I’m ready.”
You feel Harry smirk against your cheek.
With that, Asher dives forward. You weren’t sure how he would feel. You know how his fingers feel. Know his touch, and his voice, and the way he looks at you.
But this…this is new. Wonderful, and soft, and just a bit dangerous.
It’s even a bit messy. How could it not be with the way you’ve been drenched since the moment Harry put the plug in. Truth be told, you’re not sure the difference between your arousal and Asher’s contribution. 
Either way, his large tongue licks up your cunt like this is the first drink of water he’s had in years. Like you’re the only remedy to his deprivation. As if he knows this is the first and only time Harry will ever allow him to taste you.
 He indulges in you. Nips at you with the fervent desire to feast. To lick through you, to devour you, to savor everything you have to offer.
He’s relentless and yet patient. He takes his time because he knows you have more to give. Knows that you’re enjoying this as much as he is.
“Look at you, mama,” Harry whispers, his strong fingers pressing marks into your tender skin as he keeps you spread. “Fucking love this, don’t you?”
And you do, so you nod zealously, whimpering beneath a pained breath as you squirm between Harry’s legs.
“How does he feel, hm?” he asks next, running his nose along your temple. “S’he making you feel good, honey?”
Your answer comes in the form of a salacious moan, your jaw going slack as you suck in a sharp breath.
“Is that a yes?” Harry pushes. “’Cause if he’s not…I’ll put a fucking bullet through his head.”
And you can feel Asher curse against your pussy before he’s sucking your clit into his mouth, cheeks hollowing as you whine. 
The threat lingers for just a moment, met only with more needy whimpers, and lewd licks to your cunt. 
You don’t imagine Harry would ever follow through on such an ultimatum, but the look in Asher’s eye almost convinces you otherwise.
Harry’s decisions are rarely ever made through calm, sound logic. More often than not, his choices are the result of a short temper and lack of patience.
And you. Despite what he might tell you, you are the sole reason for his insanity. He will stop at nothing to keep you with him. Keep this little life you two have built.
And if Asher happened to compromise that…
You shiver from the very thought, and from the way your orgasm is beginning to unravel. 
“Are you close, sweet girl?” Harry murmurs, pulling you a bit wider. “Hm? Does it ache, baby? Need to let go? Need to come?”
You’re trying to nod, trying to breathe, trying to do anything but cry desperately as you writhe between his arms.
He only hums. “No.”
With that, Asher pops his mouth from your clit and straightens up, leaving your swollen, sensitive, and quite red cunt where he found it.
You wilt. Become absolutely unhinged as the loss of pleasure leaves you desolate and depraved. 
“Harry,” you nearly gasp, whining as you tug on his wrists.
“No,” he repeats calmly. “No, not gonna waste your first on him. Want your first around us, mama. Gonna be around our cocks, yeah?”
Truthfully, you want nothing else, and you just about purr as you murmur your agreement, and scoot back into his body.
He chuckles when he feels the way you’re trying to pull your legs from beneath his hands, clearly desperate for some sort of friction. And you hope he’ll have pity on you. At least let you find a bit of relief before you begin. 
However, he only smacks his large hand down your naked thigh in warning before you feel his mouth press to your cheek.
“No,” he repeats for a third time. “Enough. Told you to behave, didn’t I?”
You fight to catch your breath. “…yes.”
“So behave.”
God, you could just about come from his tone of voice alone. The angry and virile hiss that he only uses when he’s truly lost on you. In the need to own you, claim you, ruin you completely.
He smacks your leg again, albeit gentler this time around. “Up.”
A bit confused, you wearily push yourself onto your knees until you can straighten up and steal a glimpse of the man behind you.
He smirks when sees the confused expression on your face before jutting his chin toward his pants. “Take ‘em off.”
And you’re more than happy to oblige. So, while Asher stands from the bed and begins to strip himself of his own clothing, you get to work on Harry.
Shaky, excitable fingers move for the dark waistband around his hips. They pinch the zipper and drag it down before tugging on the material until it can slip down his legs.
You wiggle backward as you guide the pants off before tossing them aside to focus on his briefs.
And you just about drool when you get to see him. His strong, tan thighs. The muscles that quiver and dip as he scoots up. The way you can see the bulge straining against the fabric of his underwear as you greedily move closer.
The moment you make contact with the band, however, Harry snatches hold of your wrists to slow you down.
“Easy, mama,” he instructs softly, thumbs stroking across the joints of your hand. “You’re okay. Not nervous, are you?”
Having mistaken your trembling touch for unease, he attempts to pull you to him.
But you merely smile and shake your head. “No, I promise. I’m excited.”
“Are you sure?” His expression is quizzical. Scrutinizing. Looking to see if he needs to make a call you can’t make for yourself.
But you grin and surge forward, pressing your lips to his as he sighs. “Promise,” you repeat, using this distraction as an opportunity to rip his briefs down.
He hisses when his cocks comes free, forehead finding yours before he looks down to see it.
In fact, you both look, and you feel utterly mesmerized by the way it calls to you. The way it’s hard and ready to be touched.
All for you.
You’d take him into your mouth right now if that’s what he wanted but you know he wants to save each ounce of his pleasure for you.
So, you simply toss the underwear aside, and anxiously stare at his shirt.
This is what you’d like to rid him of next, but without his explicit instruction, you’re forced to wait. To stare at the black fabric until he realizes what it is you want.
And when he does, he smiles.
“All right,” he concedes, sitting up so you can peel it off. “Go ahead.”
You waste no more time, slipping your hands around the hem before pulling it up and over his head.
Now…you see him. All of him. Naked, and sculpted, and so goddamn beautiful. Your own work of art, right here in front of you, ready for the taking.
And you can’t wait to take him.
Now, the attention returns to you. You’re still in the oversized t-shirt you’d slipped on earlier, and while it’s quite comfortable, you know for Harry, this just won’t do.
So, he smooths his palms along your thighs, over your hips, and across your stomach before guiding the shirt up. 
You shiver with every brush of his skin against yours, and nearly whine when you feel his thumbs sweep just below the swell of your breasts.
But he doesn’t linger. Because of course he doesn’t. Instead, he plucks the material from your body, and tosses it onto the pile of clothes already gathering on the floor.
The bed dips, reminding you of your guest, and just before you can turn to see him, Harry grasps onto your jaw.
He keeps your focus on him, an emphatic frown sitting comfortably on his mouth. “Promise me.”
You hesitate, momentarily unsure what he means.
Then…you do. 
You squeeze his arm between both hands and smile gently. “I promise.”
And you’ve never seen him so happy.
A second body appears behind your own, a subtle warmth radiating from the soft skin as it ghosts across your back.
You quickly relax, already feeling safer from the way you’re sandwiched between the two men.
And Harry is pleased with this, letting his eyes flick to the second-in-command just over your shoulder. 
“Take it out,” he instructs before his hands move to your hips. “Gonna need to breathe, mama.”
 You nod as Harry pulls you over his lap, settling one knee on either side of his hips until you’re in the position to straddle him.
And Asher shuffles forward as well, kneeling between Harry’s bent legs while Harry scoots a bit further down until more of his back is on the mattress.
Then, you feel a set of fingers dance across your ass and toward the toy so snugly placed within. 
Your lashes flutter as Asher uses his other hand to sweep some of your hair over your right shoulder, allowing him a better view of your back.
“There you go,” he whispers encouragingly as he gets a grip on the plug. “Ready, sweetheart?”
You pull in a quick breath. “Yes.”
Harry smiles.
Without another thought, Asher begins to slide the object out of your tighter hole, agonizingly slow as Harry brings you toward his cock and pushes the head against you.
The dual sensation makes you stumble over a frantic gasp as you place your hands on Harry’s chest to brace yourself.
But this is only the beginning as Harry nudges himself through your soaked folds and toward where you drip for him.
Then…he thrusts up.
The moment his cock slips in, Asher completely removes the plug, leaving you empty and yet somehow full.
It’s confusing, and wonderful, and overwhelming. And you can’t seem to focus on any one thing as you hear the toy being tossed onto the mattress before Asher is bringing himself closer.
“Okay, honey, you all right?” Harry grits between clenched teeth, clearly fighting the urge to ram himself into you.
Or perhaps he’s merely fighting the sight of Asher pressing his chest to your shoulder blades.
Either way, you nod. “Yes, m’okay. Ready.”
“That’s our girl,” Harry breathes, and you hear Asher hum behind you. “Gonna have to relax for me, mama. If you keep squeezing me like that, I’m not gonna make it.”
You do your best to unclench. To mellow out, slacken the strain on your muscles. And it works, allowing Harry to push in a bit further as your chest just about caves in.
It’s enthralling, but it always is with him. And despite how well your body knows his cock, it continues to stretch for him, beckoning him in as he groans and digs his fingers into your thighs.
“There you go,” he murmurs, the muscles near the edge of his jaw twitching as he surges forward. “S’a good fucking girl. Taking me so well, sugar.”
You mewl as you wiggle over him, needing him to fill you all the way before you’ll feel fully satisfied.
And Asher attempts to help ease your neediness, familiar hands smoothing up your arms and toward your shoulders.
Then, he presses his lips to the side of your throat, and you just about collapse.
However, the moment your eyes roll back, Harry makes one final thrust, completely disappearing inside of you.
He curses as you whimper, a rather pathetic noise scraping from your throat as your head drops forward until your chin meets your chest.
“Fucking hell, mama,” he grunts, nails scratching patterns into your feverish skin. “Feel so good for me, sweet girl. You like sittin’ on my cock? Hm? Like getting to feel me in your tummy?”
But you can’t speak. Can’t. Your entire mouth has gone numb as Harry slowly begins to lift you back up just so he can thrust into you again.
“What a tight little pussy,” he seethes, the sound of him slipping through your arousal echoing throughout the air. “He’s gonna fucking love it, isn’t he? Gonna fucking love to feel you the way I do. Gonna make his fucking day.”
And almost as if to prove Harry’s point, you feel the head of Asher’s cock brush against your lower back until a sharp chill runs down your spine.
A thin layer of sweat has begun to coat your entire body as you impatiently wait for the second-in-command to join in. You know he won’t until Harry deems you ready, but you wish he’d just do it anyway.
It might be fun to see Harry mad.
Already, you feel that familiar tinge of pleasure making a home between your legs. It’s far too easy with the way you were edged earlier but now it just about ruins you.
“Okay,” Harry murmurs, his own chest rising and falling with quick breaths as he sheaths himself inside your cunt. “Okay, Ash, go. Go.”
And before you can even thirstily dwell on the implication of this permission, you feel another hand on your hip as the tip of Asher’s cock sweeps down your ass.
“Easy,” comes the sultry command of the man behind you. “I’ve got you, sweetheart, yeah? Just need you to breathe for me.”
“Okay,” you pant, head rolling back until it can settle into his shoulder.
He smiles against your cheek. “Doing so good. M’gonna go slow, okay?”
“Okay,” you repeat, eyes screwing shut from the lack of stimulation. 
You hear him pump himself a time or two, the sound of the lube he must have applied when you were focused on Harry making you whine. 
Then, you feel him pull your cheeks apart, and gingerly trail the tip of his cock between.
“Breathe,” Harry reminds you, straining to speak through his clenched jaw. “Make daddy happy, honey. Come on.”
So, you do. You suck in a greedy gasp for air, hold it in your lungs, and then release it back into the room. 
Pleased, Harry brings one hand to your chest, tweaking your nipple between his fingers, and right as he does, you feel Asher slip in.
Your mouth drops open, a frantic moan catching in your throat as you roll forward, nearly collapsing onto Harry’s chest.
But he catches you. They both do, quick to encourage you back upright so Asher can continue, and you feel your mind grow hazy.
“There she is,” Harry whispers, kneading your tit in his palm. “Shit, mama. M’so fucking proud of you. Look so pretty right now, taking him. Does it feel good? You feel okay?”
And you appreciate his concern more than anything in the world, your heart fluttering in your chest as you nod.
“Yes,” you whisper, an airy reply that’s almost lost beneath the sound of Asher’s forced exhale. “I’m okay. Promise.”
Harry releases your chest to press his hand to your cheek, thumb stroking just below your eye. “My precious girl. Knew you’d behave for us. Love getting to see you like this. All fucked out and happy. Are you happy, sugar?”
You are. So utterly and unconditionally happy right now that you feel tears spring to your lash line as you turn to press your mouth into Harry’s palm. 
He sighs at the feel of your kiss against his skin, but the tender moment between you is cut short when Asher finally pushes in to the hilt, forcing a surprised whimper.
The overwhelming feel of both men—both cocks—stretching you from the inside out is almost more than you can handle. Because it’s everything. Everywhere. All at once. You know them both in the most intimate of ways, and a mangled cry rips from your tongue as they offer you a moment to adjust.
“You okay, sweetheart?” Asher asks, nudging his nose beneath your jaw. You can hear how hard he’s trying not to groan—can feel the restraint he’s using to keep himself still.
It takes you a minute to find a response, nearly winded from the all-consuming rush of pleasure.
Then, Harry taps your cheek firmly, and moves his hand to your throat. “Speak, mama. You know the rule.”
“I’m…yes,” you huff, attempting to roll your hips. “Yes, please…please, Har. Need…need—”
You watch his eyes flick to Asher before he swallows thickly and nods once. “Okay. All right, we’ve got you.”
And so begins the soft but purposeful thrusts. 
They work in tandem, easing out of you slowly just to push back in, basking in the sound of your wetness dripping down their cocks, and the way your body tenses.
They speak in hushed but lustful tones. Their hands never leave you, their focus never leaves you. 
Asher commits to kissing along the slope of your shoulder while Harry obligates his attention to running his fingers down your skin. 
 He scratches, and pulls, and squeezes every inch of your body. And he watches you. Watches you with the kind of adoration that makes the coil nearly snap into a million irremediable pieces.
Suddenly, Harry reaches around your hip to grasp onto Asher’s wrist, and you watch with wide eyes as he brings the right-hand man’s palm to your stomach.
Then…he thrusts up.
“Feel that?” he just about growls, looking between you. “That’s how fucking deep I am. That’s how well she fucking takes me.”
The pressure of their touch against the bulge in your belly has the whines falling miserably from your mouth. A sound that mixes almost wickedly with Asher’s own animalistic grunts as Harry hisses between clenched teeth.
This is what seems to set them off. Their rhythm switches from slow and soft to hard and fast. Needing to feel the way your warmth completely and wholly clenches down.
“So fucking tight, sweetheart,” Asher grumbles, his chest knocking into your back with each snap of his hips. “You feel full? Feel good?”
“Yes,” you cry, nails scratching down Harry’s chest as you move in time with their pattern. “Please…don’t…don’t stop—”
“Never, baby,” Harry bites, driving in so deep, it almost hurts. “Fucking never stop. Give you everything—”
“Shit—”
“Can feel you, baby. Feel your little pussy squeezin’ me. You gonna come? Gonna come for us?”
“Yes…yes, yes—”
“Yeah? Go ahead, mama. Fucking come. Let him feel how fucking good you are to me. Let him know what it’s like to have you coming around his cock—”
You scream something akin to his name when it hits you, eyes rolling so far back, you see stars. 
You lose time. Lose everything, nearly lose consciousness. And they don’t stop. They fuck you through every second, and the sounds they make almost send you into a second.
You can’t differentiate between the two, but your ears fill with the melodic sound of whimpers and grunts of appreciation as they fuck themselves deeper. As they hit each spot so perfectly that it almost kills you. 
But Harry’s not through. He presses his fingers into your clit and chases after another orgasm. Pinching and pressing and rubbing until you’re attempting to squirm away from him, begging him to stop, to let you breathe.
Your cheeks are stained with ecstatic tears as you come undone for a second time, quicker but still blissfully euphoric. 
“Please, please, please,” you hear yourself whine, slumping forward as Asher wraps an arm around your middle to keep you upright. “Please…Har…please. Can’t…can’t…”
“Shh, you’re all right,” comes the distant but gentle sound of Harry’s voice, vaguely keeping you present as your mind attempts to float away. “So fucking proud of you, mama. M’not through with you yet.”
“Please…”
“Easy, honey. It’s okay. Just gonna play with you a little longer. You’ll let Daddy play you with your little clit, yeah?”
You nod mutely, humming to yourself as he pinches the sensitive nerves between the pads of his fingers. “Har…”
“I know,” he coos as Asher releases a deep breath in your ear. “Hurts, doesn’t it? All swollen, aren’t you?”
Again, you can do nothing but move your head up and down lazily as you lean back into Asher’s chest. 
“Gonna give me one more, baby,” Harry instructs, thrusts faltering the closer he nears his own release. “Just one fucking more, and Daddy will be so proud. Both be so proud of you.”
And that alone is enough to encourage your compliance, forcing the third to hit you fast like a runaway train before you can even see it coming.
You make it about halfway through the glaringly wonderful rush of endorphins when Harry is suddenly straightening up, placing a hand on Asher’s shoulder, and shoving him back.
Asher’s cock slips from your hole as he’s pushed away from you, leaving you to gasp. 
“No,” Harry seethes, shooting a malevolent and unyielding look toward his second-in-command. “You’re done. You fucking finish over there.”
You aren’t afforded the chance to understand just what’s occurred before Harry is settling back onto the bed and thrusting his hips upward.
His cock completely disappears inside your pussy, forcing a debauched sound to bleed from your mouth as he twitches and finally releases himself into you.
And it’s exactly like you remember. Warm, and good, and exciting. The look on his face as he fills you. The way his tan skin glistens with a sheen of sweat and the beautiful sounds that slip between his lips. 
You’d stay here a lifetime if you could.
Which seems to be his intention because even after he’s finished, he refuses to let you move. Instead wrapping his arms around you and tugging you into his chest, his chin meeting the top of your head. 
He keeps his cock warm inside you for quite some time. All throughout the sound of Asher pumping himself off until he comes over his hand and stomach.
Minutes pass until the room falls silent. Until you’ve all caught your breath and found your way back to the present.
Eventually, Harry shifts, and you can hear him murmur something to the man behind you. 
You don’t catch it through your hazy state of mind, but you feel comforted in hearing the familiar cadence of their voices.
You’re scooped up into a pair of arms and walked into another room. You blink the fog from your eyes as Asher flips on the shower and Harry places you back onto your feet.
You’re kept steady as you’re guided beneath the warm, gentle stream of water and you instantly nuzzle your face in Harry’s chest as he chuckles.
The two men dedicate their time to running some soap down your body, between your legs, along your back, and across your chest.
Harry is gentle when he massages the shampoo into your hair, despite the way you pout as you’re pulled from his body.
But the moment he’s finished, you bury yourself back into his arms, smiling to yourself when you feel his chest vibrate from laughter.
Asher and Harry continue their quiet conversation as they clean themselves. Still, you can’t quite decipher the distinct words or topic of conversation, but do manage to make out one exchange in particular:
“Are you sure?” Asher asks.
“Always,” Harry whispers. “We will always be hers.”
Once thoroughly bathed, they help you step out, and lead you back to the bedroom. Harry is there to put you in clean underwear and one of his shirts while Asher gathers his things and heads back to the living room to keep watch for the night.
“Sleepy girl,” Harry hums as he lays you onto the mattress before slipping in behind you. “M’so fucking proud of you, honey. Thank you for letting us make you feel good.”
And you giggle to yourself, confused as to why Harry would need to thank you for something like that. “Always.”
He chuckles as well.
Sometime in the night, long after you’ve fallen asleep, you feel a particular and familiar chill travel up your cunt and settle in your stomach. 
After shaking the sleep from your mind, you push up onto your elbows and glance down.
You see Harry’s tattooed arm peeking out from between the blankets, rolling and flexing in time with the blissfully sweet ministrations between your thighs. 
Then, you see Harry.
“Shh,” he whispers, leaning closer to press his lips to your jaw. “M’sorry, mama. But I need one more. Need your last one to belong to me.”
You smile as you nuzzle into him, nodding quickly in support. “Please, Har…”
“I know,” he replies, trailing his tongue down your neck. “Gonna make it better.”
With that, he takes his hand from your cunt only to wrap his fingers around the fabric of your underwear…and rip.
It snaps from your body as you gasp and instantly wiggly against the mattress, still sensitive from everything else before.
Then…he tosses it toward the shadows in the corner of the room.
Your eyes follow the lace as it’s flung through the air, choking on a whimper when you see a hand quickly outstretch to capture it.
Asher.
He’s sitting comfortably in a lounge chair, smirking at you both as you attempt to work out what you’re seeing. The soft light from the moon outside the window cascades across the side of his face. Just enough for you to make out his intrigued expression.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he calls, and the teasing but always caring sound of his voice makes you sigh contently.
“Hold these for me, yeah?” Harry instructs his partner, who nods and tucks the underwear into his fist.
Then, Harry’s attention returns to you.
“Think you can give me another?” he murmurs, grinning down at you with so much love, it makes your chest ache.
You shiver as the tips of his fingers return to your clit.
“Always.”
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God, why do I love them??? Technically this is the end but I will be doing blurbs because I am needy and cannot let them go!!!
Thank you to everyone that's read and been so kind!!! I appreciate you so much!! As does Asher, who would not have had such an important role if it weren't for all of his fans!! 💞💞
Next Part:
~ Remedy* (A Mine Extra)
Previous Parts:
~ Mine* (Pt. 1)
~ Ours* (Pt. 2)
~ Yours* (Pt. 3)
~ Theirs* (Pt. 4)
~ Full Mine Masterlist
~ Other Harry Blurbs
~ Full Masterlist
Tag List:
@vamprry @acesofspadess @stylesfever @narry-heart @virqinvirgo @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses
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xhoneygirlxx · 7 months
Text
because work has been kicking my ass and i'm a wh*re for virgin Eddie, here is this small little blurb as a treat :)
virgin!eddie x reader (reader and Eddie are both in their 20s)
rated r: smut, oral receiving, swearing, mentions of sex. (18+ minors GO AWAY)
You and Eddie sit on the small couch in his trailer living room, the blue glow from the tv highlighting him in the most beautiful way. The eerie music of Halloween plays through the tinny speakers, the soundtrack of your night. Although the metal head has watched this movie more than he can count, you can’t help but notice your best friend has become instantly tense the moment Lynda’s tits appear on screen.
Eddie’s virginity wasn’t a secret in your friendship, he’d constantly asked you for advice on how to please his partner when the day finally came, but watching him squirm in his seat at glimpse of bare tits makes your heart melt. To be completely honest you had a crush on your bestie for as long as you can remember, to be fair who wouldn’t? You’ve thought about him a few times when your hands were in between your legs, fingers pumping in and out of your sopping cunt.
You’ve thought about offering taking Eddie’s virginity but you would hate to take something so special from him especially when it should be with someone he loves. So you kept your offer to yourself, helped him with any advice he’d asked, and remained supportive in his search of a partner.
The continuous bounce of Eddie’s knee pulls your attention from the screen, too entertained by his constant fidgeting. The scene that got him so riled up as now ended with the pretty blonde being killed but his growing length beneath his jeans continues to strain against the unforgiving material.
Even though it’s selfish and you’re dying to know what he hides beneath his pants, you give in and ask him the one thing you’ve been dying to ever since the two of you turned eighteen.
“Eds, are you good?” Leaning forward, you curl your legs underneath your bum.
His head snaps towards you, eyes bugged out and cheeks flushed. “M-me? Yeah I’m fine, m’good.”
Eddie nods his head slowly, not only trying to convince you of his words but also himself. Your face falls, mouth pulling into a straight line clearly unamused by his horrible acting.
“Okay let’s try this again but this time tell me the truth,” You say sternly, “are you good?”
Letting his head fall to the back of the couch, Eddie closed his eyes and lets out a harsh breath. “I’m just, the movie it’s,”
The nervousness in his voice won’t let him finish his sentence, every thought in his brain melting together in a bowl of mumbo jumbo.
Placing your hand on his thigh, a little higher than usual, you look up at him from under your lashes. “Her tits got you all hot and bothered, is that it?”
Snapping his eyes open down at you, he stares at you as you spoke in a completely different language. Having too much fun with his blush intensifying, you lean forward just a bit more putting your cleavage on display.
“It hurts, huh? Feels like you’re gonna burst at any moment.” Your voice is sweet like sugar, dripping with an intoxicating amount of intensity that Eddie’s never heard.
His hands that sit by his sides clench and unclench, jitters pouring through him at an alarming rate. Too dumb to speak he nods, curls bouncing with every motion.
“Awe baby, s’okay,” you coo as you hook your legs over his thighs, “if you want I can make it all better. Want me to kiss it better?”
Eddie stares at you unblinkingly, mouth parted slightly in awe. Again he nods but this time you tsk at him, shaking your head back and forth in disapproval.
“I asked you a question, honey, I need your words. Do you want me to make it better?” You pout your lips at him and he swallows harshly.
“Please make it better, hurts s’bad.” He slurs, already drunk off your touch without even really feeling it just yet.
“Such a good boy begging me so nicely.”
Slowly you move forward, capturing his soft lips into a needy kiss. Despite being a virgin Eddie does a good job kissing you, not going overboard with too much tongue or sloppy movements.
Taking a chance and wanting to take care of the growing pulse that grows in between your thighs, you begin to rock hesitantly over his hard length. The intense spark you feel jolting through your veins is verbalized with the wanton moan that rips from Eddie’s throat and vibrates into your mouth.
Picking up your momentum you can’t help but roll your eyes into the back of your head, the rough material of his jeans adding extra intensity to your pulsing bundle of nerves. Eddie isn't any better, his face is flushed red, bangs sticking to his forehead due to the amount of sweat that beads from his hairline, and his chest rattles from all the moaning sobs that leave his open mouth.
Opening your eyes you can't help but snort at Eddie's awkward hand placement. They hang in the air, itching to grasp at something but too nervous to give into the temptation.
Letting your hips come to a complete stop, you gently cup his cheeks in the palm of your hand. Hazy eyes open and look right at you, a thousand tiny specks of glitter shimmer in the big brown pools, sweeping you right into his vortex.
"Eddie honey, do you want to touch me?" Despite the dryness that lingers in your mouth, your words drip and saturate the boy beneath you in love and care.
"If that's okay with you, I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. So like if you don't want me to I won't-" You stop his rambles with a quick kiss to his lips.
Pulling away with a small giggle you look at him the same way he's looking at you, disgustingly in awe.
"I want you to touch me, Eddie. Bet your hands would feel so nice on me, so big and strong."
With the thought of it makes your underwear even wetter, so wet that you know when you get off his lap there will be a big wet stain. Not wanting to wait any longer you pull your shirt over your head, revealing the pretty white lace bra that holds your breast into place.
Eddie looks something like a fish, opening and closing his mouth with unspoken words that get caught in his throat. Although it's funny watching your best friend so speechless, you can't help but adore his childlike wonder.
Gripping his wrists in your hand and pull them towards you placing them on your tits, squeezing his fingers around the doughy flesh causing you to hiss in satisfaction.
"F-fuck you're so hot." It's breathless when it comes out.
Eddie follows your lead, fondling your round breasts in the palms of his big hands. The feeling of his grip causes you to resume your motions, grinding harder on his lap trying to relieve the hammering thump in between your legs.
You remember in the fog of your lust that this wasn't about you, it was in fact about your best friend who is currently trying to hold himself together.
Again you stop your movements, pulling his hands from your lace covered chest, and move from his lap.
"W-wait, what's- what are you doing?" Eddie is more than frantic, he's completely distraught with the absence of your weight on his legs.
Pinching his cheek sweetly, you push his legs apart to create enough room for yourself. Sinking to your knees, you move into the space you've created for yourself.
"I'm doing what I said I was going to do, I'm going to kiss it better." You drag your nails up his jean covered thighs, gazing up at him with doe eyes acting as if you aren't making one of his dreams come true.
"Yeah yeah, fuck okay." Babbling like an idiot, Eddie stares at you completely shocked as if you didn't promise this to him earlier.
Raising your eyebrows at him, you wait for him to catch on to what you're waiting for. It doesn't hit him until you clear your throat and point at the handcuff belt that hold his jeans in place.
"Oh shit, right. Let me just get these off." Going as fast as his shaking hands will allow him, he goes to undo his belt and push his pants just below his balls.
His cock bounces from their confines, hitting his tee shirt covered navel with a small thud. You can't help but gawk at the sight of him. Eddie's packing more than you ever imagined, long and thick with a prominent vein running along the underside. The tip is a pretty pink shade that shines from the pearls of precum that dripples from the slit.
Your mouth fills with saliva just from the sight alone. The dark brown thatch of curls that sit at the base match the hair on his heavy balls. You weren't someone who found genitalia appetizing but man oh man was did your best friend's look good enough to eat.
The small silence that settled between you two has clearly made Eddie anxious. His chocolate brown eyes look anywhere but you and the thick chunky rings that sit on his fingers have become his clear fascination, twisting them around and around his thick digits.
Not wanting him to sit with his thoughts any longer, you lean up enough to capture his kiss bitten lips in a passionate kiss. This time it's all teeth and tongue, spit swapping between the two of you.
When you both pull away you wish you could continue kissing him, fuck the oxygen that you need all you want is Eddie.
Sitting back down on your knees, you let spit dripple down onto his stiff shaft. Clasping your hand around him you begin to jerk him off slowly, not wanting the moment to be over fast.
Eddie on the other hand is fighting for his life, lip pulled between his teeth and his eyebrows pinching together. You drink it up like a plant in the middle of a drought.
"You're s'pretty, Eds and your cock, fuck it's so pretty too." You coo, to prove your point you press kisses up and down his length.
"Mmm s-shit, your ha- your hand feels so good." Eddie's voice is completely strained, his jugular vein pocking out every once and a while.
It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that Eddie's nearing the end, the shaking and tensing of his thighs a clear sign. Wanting him to experience it all, you envelope the tip of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and licking along the slit to collect the salty bead of pre that beads out of it.
Moving your mouth lower, you take him halfway into your mouth and allow your hand to jerk off whatever you can't take. The hand that braces itself on his thigh snakes its way to the heavy sack that sits just below his cock, kneading it in the palm of your hand gently.
Without needing instruction Eddie's hand finds it's way to your head, gripping your hair at the scalp and pulling out it with vigor. The pain and arousal that sparks within you causes you to moan around him, making him sob out in ecstasy.
"F-uh, oh don't stop I'm gonna- shit I'm gonna cum!"
Moving your head as fast as you can, you move to the tip to avoid chocking on the salty release. Still pumping your hand up and down on his cock you collect his warm seed in your mouth, letting it pool on your tongue.
Above you Eddie is a screaming mess, blabbing nonsense and groaning loudly. To no one's surprise Eddie cums and he cums a lot, so much so that it starts to dripple out the sides of your mouth with the string of your spit.
Once his breath returns to his lungs and his grip loosens on your hair, you let him fall out of your mouth with a lewd pop. When your eyes make eye contact with his own, you open your mouth to show him the pearly white of his release that sits on your pink tongue. Closing your mouth and swallowing it with a loud hum, you open your eyes to see Eddie completely gobsmack.
"Jesus sweetheart, you can't do shit like that unless you want me to get hard again." He says with an airy laugh.
You take his words as a threat, one that you'd be stupid not to take with the way your pussy flutters in need.
"Who said I was done, Munson?"
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miinatozakiii · 9 months
Text
gemini
detective!jihyo x spiderwoman!reader. (pt.1)
summary: jihyo should not be letting you into her apartment at 12 in the morning, and she should definitely be turning you in, but she doesn't.
wc: 1.3k
warnings: blood ; slightly suggestive ; proofread but not well
pt.2
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a/n: happy hyolo!
-
There’s a knock at the window and Jihyo nearly jumps out of her seat.
She turns to see the masked vigilante outside, waving. Jihyo groans at the sudden arrival but still opens the window. She stares at you, brows furrowed and jaw clenched,
“It’s twelve in the morning, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jihyo had asked, irritation in her voice. You had chuckled at her response and Jihyo couldn’t see your face, but she could tell that you were smirking.
“Miss me, detective? I couldn’t resist paying a visit.” You responded teasingly, letting yourself into the apartment and glancing around.
Jihyo should be turning you in, Jihyo should not be this calm. She should most definitely be wondering how the hell you know where she lives. Jihyo crosses her arms and raises a brow, her stern expression not faltering, 
“You know you just broke the law right? I could turn you in right now.” Jihyo threatens,
“But you won’t.” You mutter, and you’re right. You look at the way her expression softens, and how her jaw unclenches. 
You had saved Jihyo’s life not once, but twice. It changed her whole opinion of you and whatever vigilante activities you had been up to, she would be lying to herself if she thought you were a criminal – You had saved not only her life but many others as well.
“The chief would,” Jihyo responds.
“You’re not the chief though, detective. And I know you secretly like having me around.” You tease. Jihyo rolls her eyes playfully in response, her demeanor slowly breaking down.
“What do you want, Spiderwoman?” Jihyo groans.
The detective freezes as she notices the two drops of blood that fall on her wooden floor, the faint sound of the blood making contact with the floor is loud in the quiet hours of the night. She uncrosses her arms and concern replaces the annoyance that was once on her face, 
“What happened to you?” She asks, inching closer to look at the cut on your rib area, “Sit down.” She quickly orders, and all the suspicion and annoyance that was once present had turned into worry and concern. 
You don’t say a word as you sit down, wincing. You’re still a bit lightheaded from your injuries. 
Jihyo rushes around her apartment to find a first aid kit and quickly gets to work on your injuries. She also notices the cut in your shoulder, it reveals some of your skin and seems to have ruined your suit. 
Jihyo begins to clean your wounds, but your suit makes it difficult to clean them fully as some of the material gets in the way. You push Jihyo’s hands away from you lightly before ripping the suit, allowing a better view and access to the wound. You also lift your mask so that it only shows the bottom half of your face, you only do it to make it easier to breathe. Jihyo looks at you in surprise and her cheeks seem to flush a bit as she looks at the newly exposed skin before her, and the bottom half of your stupid face (it's only half of your face, but Jihyo is captivated by how beautiful your lips are, and the sharp edge of your jawline).
“Like what you see?” You tease. Jihyo looks at you, a stupid grin tugging at your lips.
Park Jihyo can do this, there is nothing she can’t do. Detective Park can patch this vigilante up and kick her out. It’s simple – so why is there a sudden attraction growing in her chest? Why do her cheeks feel so warm? 
“Oh shut up before I make you leave half patched up.” 
“Yes detective.” You respond playfully. 
Jihyo rolls her eyes and gets back to work, putting alcohol on the wounds. You wince and let out a low groan which should not be making Jihyo feel things, but it does. Her fingers make contact with your tense skin again and you flinch, throwing your head back whilst biting your lip, gripping the chair tightly. The mood of the room shifted, and it was almost too heated and intimate for Jihyo.
As you continue to make such noises, a jolt of desire courses through Jihyo’s veins. Your abs are visible from the tightness of your suit, and they seem to flex and relax with every hitched breath. Jihyo wonders how you’d look groaning with that mask off, how you'd look with that damn suit showing more of your skin. Jihyo clears her throat.
“Are you enjoying this?” You question with an annoying smirk on your lips, amused by the reactions you get from the detective. Jihyo’s blush deepens and the hue on her cheeks betrays the words that come out of her mouth,
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She manages to mutter, her attempt at authority sounds unconvincing even to her.
“You’re so cute, detective.” You sigh. you hold onto the chair once more as she purposely adds a drop of alcohol to your wound. You laugh through the pain, “I didn’t know you were into that.”
Park Jihyo can do this. Detective Park can overcome anything. She can get through your teasing and flirting, the way your gaze sits on her, the way your breath hitches, the way your teeth bite at your lips, the smile on your face, and the sounds you make – Jihyo can get through this.
Eventually, Jihyo finishes treating your wounds, her heart pounding in her chest. The sudden intimacy shared in the moment between the two of you had Jihyo both exhilarated and conflicted. She knew she shouldn't be involved with you, especially with the police force against your vigilantism – you were Spiderwoman after all. Even so, she had let you into her home and patched you up, Jihyo couldn't deny the trust and interest she had for you after you had saved her life twice. 
You stand up and wince a bit, looking at Jihyo with admiration and gratitude.
“You never told me what happened,” Jihyo speaks, worry in her tone. 
“Just a scuffle with some criminals, it could’ve been worse,” you say that as if it was normal. As if getting sliced in your side was comparable to stubbing your toe. Jihyo looks at you with a newfound softness in her eyes, your heart aches a little knowing that you worried her.
“Do people ever notice all these injuries?”
“What?”
“You're,” Jihyo pauses. She looks you up and down, “You’re a normal person like me. I know you must have people who look after you, there’s no way no one notices these injuries.”
“I hide them well.” You explain, shrugging your shoulders. 
Silence fills the air as Jihyo looks at you concerned, she wonders how you’re able to live such a dangerous lifestyle without anyone noticing, how you deal with such damage to your body and act like it's something like a small bruise.
“Did you choose to do this? Or is there someone that sends you to do all of this 'hero' stuff?” Jihyo asks. 
You shrug in response.
“I just don’t want people hurt,” You begin, “We’re really similar, detective. My motives are the same as yours.” You add.
Jihyo stays silent and you take that as your cue to leave, you smile at her once more and pull your mask back down. The detective watches you depart, turning and opening up her window to climb out of it. You disappear into the night and leave Jihyo alone in her apartment. A new warmth is in her chest, as well as a stronger interest in you, even if she doesn't know a single thing about you other than your desire to help others.
Jihyo cannot be attracted to you, but she'd be lying to herself if she were to say that she didn't find you so alluring.
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turtlecleric · 30 days
Note
Imagine.
You watched with growing anxiety at the agitation in Leo’s movements as he paced in front of you. His hands clenching and unclenching as if he was resisting the urge to hold onto something.
Your own hand came to cross over your chest, clutching the fabric of your shirt over your heart as you tried to soothe it's frantic hummingbird pace.
He…couldnt be serious could he? This…this wasn't a joke. The icy feeling of dread crawled over your shoulders and settled like a dead weight into your stomach at the realization that…maybe…none of this… none of this had been a joke at all.
The question fell unbidden from your lips. A small croak of uncertainty and a necessary follow-up from Leo’s explosive confession just a few moments earlier.
“Do…do you really mean that? You’re not joking…you… love me?”
It came out smaller and more tentative than you would have liked, but a dangerous dangerous seed of hope had been planted by Leo’s words. It's roots slowly dug their way into the softness of your heart, coiling and squeezing to the point that you felt like you couldn't breathe. But you needed an answer.
Leo’s pacing came to a screeching halt directly in front of you, and his head snapped up at your ghosted whisper.
His plastron heaved with a barely controlled movement as if he were restraining himself from something. For all of his composure, or lack thereof he couldn't hide the look in his eyes.
A dark smolder was lit in his eyes, as his heated gaze bore into you with such an intensity that it made you instinctively take a step back.
Your movement snapped whatever thin chord of restraint Leo still had been leashed with and he moved.
Sometimes you forgot he was the greatest ninja of all time. Forgot the speed and the strength that pulsed underneath that leathered, scaled skin, like an untapped live wire.
Because in a flash, Leo had made up the distance between the two of you and somehow had you advanced backwards to the point your back slammed against the wall behind you.
You let out a little “oof” as the air was knocked from your lungs at the force of impact. Before you could even catch the breath that was so rudely extracted from you, you felt Leo’s hand slammed onto the wall right next to your head.
A small squeak of surprise emitted from your throat as you jumped, your head snapping up to meet Leo’s solemn gaze.
“L-Leo?”
You whispered, still working on catching your breath.
Leo, for being a man of many words, was uncharacteristically silent. And the way that he just stared at you so intently, with his own shallow breaths hitting your face in small pants, set your nerves sparking.
He didn't speak, but instead, the hand on the wall came to cup the back of your neck, tilting it up to meet his gaze. The slight tremble of his fingers against your neck was the only hint of his true feelings.
Imagine.
Leo’s body pressing you securely up against the wall with no chance of escape, one hand cradling the back of your neck with an aching tenderness that was at complete odds with his earlier explosion of feelings.
Imagine.
Leo’s other hand coming to gently pull yours away from where you clutched it over your heart. He took your hand into his and with a sagging sigh, closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against yours.
He brought your shaking fist to his lips and began to press slow kisses to each of your knuckles, murming against the skin.
“Does this answer your question?”
Leo tenderly unfurled your clenched hand and placed it against his plastron, pressing it against his heart with his own hand.
You could feel it thundering underneath your palm and your own heart rate began dance in reply.
“I-I don't understand…”
Leo’s whole body shook at your reply, and his hand around the back of your neck tightened slightly, his thumb coming to agitatedly stroke the soft flesh. Each little touch sent sparks of electricity up and down your spine, your breath hitching slightly.
Leo’s forehead pressed more firmly against yours with a low-sounding groan emerging from the base of his throat.
He slowly drug your hand from his heart, over his collar bone, up his neck and moving your fingers to feel the pulse point directly underneath his jaw.
“Can you feel it? Can you feel how you never give me a break?
Ohhhhhh you could feel it alright, and you're pretty sure with how close Leo was and how tightly was holding you, he could feel it too.
You let out a small incredulous laugh and shook your head, not believing this was happening.
“O-oh is…is that what this is?”
At the sound of your laugh, a dark almost guttural sound emerged from Leo’s throat and he moved his head down to gently knock your jaw upwards with his nose.
He held you hostage there for a moment, just breathing in your intoxicatingly sweet scent, unable to believe that he was finally this close to you. Holding you just the way he had dreamed about for years.
Then imagine.
With an aching amount of measured slowness, Leo beginng to drag the smallest of kisses up the pulse line of your neck, starting at the juncture between where your neck met your shoulder and working his way up to the corner of your jaw.
Imagine the timbre of his voice as his warm breath ghosted over your skin with every kiss.
“Dont. Laugh. Can't you see how serious this is?”
Just…just imagine.
~Ninja
Oh... I'm imagining, alright
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littlespoonevan · 1 year
Text
left half my heart in our living room
that episode did severe emotional damage to my psyche and then i turned on grow by sigrid and proceeded to make it worse :) i don’t know what this is i just needed to write some words because buck and eddie said So Many words in this ep and i felt all of them 💔
spoilers for 6x15
-
I feel like she sees me.
The sentence sticks in Eddie’s head. Niggling at the base of his skull like an itch that won’t go away.
“You’re quiet,” Buck says when they’re on the way home from the cemetery and it’s around that moment that Eddie realises he hasn’t said anything since they got in the jeep. Too consumed by their conversation from before.
I feel like she sees me.
He looks over at Buck now, one hand on the steering wheel, one resting on his lap, and he looks…comfortable, on first glance. But then Eddie notes the tense set of his shoulders and the way he seems to be staring at the road a little too hard, like he’s purposefully trying not to look in Eddie’s direction.
For one bitter moment, Eddie wonders if Natalia would notice those things but he shakes the thought away. He shouldn’t put this on her. She only knows what Buck’s told her.
“Do you really believe that?” he asks finally, voice quiet and a little bit too tentative. “That she sees you better than-“ me “-than any of us?”
Buck’s mouth parts and it’s clear he hadn’t expected the question. Eddie watches him while he works himself up to an answer – the way he shifts in his seat, the way his eyes dart to the rearview mirror instead of Eddie himself, the careful intake of breath before he finally decides to speak.
“I mean, it’s different,” is what Buck settles on. “Her perception of death and how it affects you, it’s-“
“Because none of us have ever had any experience with death,” Eddie can’t help cutting in.
“Eddie,” Buck sighs and it sounds like please.
“Chimney’s heart stopped last year,” Eddie says. “And when I got-“
“She doesn’t look at me like I’m a ghost, alright?” Buck says, sharp and slicing through Eddie’s intended comment about his own brush with death.
The words make him stop short. He clenches and unclenches his fists in his lap as he digests them. "What d’you mean?”
Buck sighs again and it seems more upset than before. “Maddie, Bobby, you- you all look at me like…like you’re not even sure I’m really here. Like I’m gonna disappear at any minute. You think I don’t see it but I do.”
“Because you died, Buck,” Eddie exclaims, frustrated and weary and more vulnerable than he’d planned on letting himself be. “You died. And for three minutes and seventeen seconds I thought I was going to have to live in this world without you and I didn’t want to.”
That makes Buck clap his mouth shut and he doesn’t say anything else but Eddie can see the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. The car stops abruptly then and he takes stock of his surroundings for the first time since they got in the jeep. They’re outside his house now.
He takes a measured breath and unclips his seatbelt, shooting a wary look in Buck’s direction. His hands are still gripping the steering wheel and he’s staring straight out the windscreen but he cut off the engine, at least.
“Come inside,” Eddie requests softly, climbing out of the jeep and not waiting to see if Buck follows.
He lets himself into the house and hears the slam of Buck’s car door as he’s dropping his keys on the side table. He hesitates when he gets to the living room, unsure whether he should keep travelling to the kitchen or just drop down on the couch and bury his head in his hands.
Buck comes inside before he can decide, the click of the door soft as he closes it behind himself.
“You looked at me like that too,” Eddie says without turning around. It’s easier saying it without Buck looking at him, even though he can feel Buck’s stare like a brand on his back. “After the well. And- and the shooting. I remember.”
“I’m used to losing people,” Buck says after a beat. “The fact that I got to keep you felt like a trick somehow. Like if I looked away for too long you’d be gone again.”
Eddie huffs a humourless laugh, feeling tears sting behind his eyes. He finally turns, finding Buck standing in the entryway. He gives Eddie a helpless shrug when their eyes meet.
“And I’m not allowed to feel like that?”
“You are,” Buck insists, body shifting like he’s about to charge forward but in the end he only takes one step. “I just don’t know what to do with it.”
“Why not?” Eddie asks and they’re teetering dangerously close to a conversation they’ve never let themselves have before but he doesn’t know how to stop pushing either.
Buck answers anyway.
“Because if I think about how much you see me – how much I let you see without you even asking – I feel terrified. Because I’ve spent years trying to get you to let me all the way in but it’s really fucking scary to imagine me doing the same thing. To believe that you’d even want that.”
Eddie works his jaw, swallowing against the heaving ache in his chest. He gets it, is the thing. No matter how much they’ve taken care of each other, no matter how much they’ve acted as one another’s soft place to land, there’s still a voice in the back of his head that says, you’re being a burden. Stop it.
“I don’t care if you want to start dating again-“ Lie. That’s a lie. “-but don’t- don’t say-“
As if sensing he can’t actually get the words out, Buck immediately starts shaking his head. “I won’t,” he says. “I won’t. I’m sorry.”
Eddie nods, clears his throat, and glances between the couch and the dining room. He doesn’t know what to do now, doesn’t know how they go back to having a casual beer, but before he can come up with something to say to break the tension Buck is stepping forward, crowding into his space and folding him into a hug.
I don’t remember the last time we did this, Eddie thinks even as his muscle memory reacts. His arms come up around Buck, one hand gripping his shoulder while the other wraps around his waist. Buck’s face burrows into his shoulder and Eddie only hesitates for half a second before he presses his temple against the exposed line of Buck’s neck and breathes him in.
“I’m not gonna disappear,” Buck whispers and, ridiculously, it makes fresh tears spring behind Eddie’s eyelids.
“Me either,” he replies and Buck’s arms tighten around him in response.
And he thinks they’re at an impasse now, a sort of crossroads they can’t turn back from but aren’t able to move forward from yet either.
If this is where they have to stay for now, he thinks he might be okay with that.
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Note
i am BEGGING for sub matty
like him being all whiney and shit and whimpering
sorry i’m a whore
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pairing:  matty healy x f!reader
content: sub!matty, bondage, too much dialogue, begging, praise kink, Matty Healy Crying During Sex™, choking if you squint
wordcount: 1289
this blog is 18+. minors, do not interact. this blog is a safe space. no hate or disrespect of any kind will be tolerated. all work is my own. do not reupload my work on any other site without my consent.
a/n: we're all whores here <3 you are welcomed with open arms
it wasn't very often that you two got moments like this together. the mixture of matty's hectic schedule and your classes made it almost impossible to see your boyfriend, so you savoured any time you got with him, even if it was sometimes over the phone.
“are you sure you want to come over? i figured you'd want to get some rest." you had said, feigning shock at the fact that he wanted to see you. matty's days off are always spent with you, and this one was no exception.
you heard him chuckle, "i will, love. later. y'know, after." he said, making you arch a brow.
“oh? after what?” 
he could hear the smile in your voice and grumbled on the other end of the line, knowing that you were already becoming smug from his suggestive tone. “come on matty, use your words. you'll rest after what?”
there was something wonderful about the contrast between how confident and prevalent matty was on stage to how small and fragile he became in your arms, pliant and needy. it never failed to amaze you how much different a person just a couple of words could turn him into.
the teasing words, the distance, the pure desperation; it all led to this. to matty, looking up at you with wide eyes, soft rope stark against his pale skin as he squirms in the chair he's bound to. 
"please, love," matty begs, biceps straining. “you’re gonna make me come just from watching you.”
a short burst of laughter slips out of your mouth, morphing into a moan as you rock down onto two of your own fingers. “if you do,” you breathe, “i’ll never let you live it down, i hope you know that.”
“oh baby, i wouldn’t expect anything less,” matty grins, wriggling beneath you. "please just fuck me — i think my dick is going to fall off.”
“don’t be so dramatic.”
“don’t do this, don’t do that,” matty mocks. “next it’ll be don’t touch and don’t come and —”
your other hand shoots out to cover his mouth. “how about don’t talk? think you can manage that?”
matty's hips buck up at your harsh tone — his cock brushing against the place where your hand meets your sopping cunt. he nods frantically as his eyes grow cloudy.
“you’re so good for me, matty. so pretty when you get like this.” you withdraw your fingers from where they were buried within you, keeping your other hand over matty’s mouth. you pick up the bottle of lube from where you’d tossed it earlier and popped the cap with one hand, only moving the hand covering matty’s mouth to slather the lube over his cock.
“oh, fuck, babe,” the man underneath you groans, “yeah, yes, finally.”
“don’t be fucking greedy or i’ll just make you watch me.”
matty’s jaw drops open and his brows pinch together slightly. “please no. please, love. you can’t do that. i’m so — i’ll die. please.”
smirking, you toss the bottle aside and scoot forward so you’re positioned right over matty’s hips. “you sound so good when you beg, y’know that?”
“please, please let me fuck you. c’mon, ‘need you so bad, please, i can’t —”
“yes you can,” you interrupt. “and you will. beg all you like, matty, but you’re not getting anything unless you be good and shut up.”
satisfied with his silent nod, you lower your hips slowly, revelling in each inch that enters your body, sliding down halfway and then lifting off again.
“baby,” matty breathes, clenching and unclenching his hands. “shit, i’m not gonna last.”
“you say that every time, yet, you somehow manage.” you say as your thighs tremble. “but if you come before i say you can, i will edge you every night for a whole week.”
matty groans and his head falls back. “fuck me, you’re such a little shit when you’re in charge.”
hiding your laugh behind a hum, you take another couple of inches of his cock. “yeah,” you say, gasping at the stretch. “and you fucking love it, don’t you, baby?” 
“look at me,” you wait until matty’s eyes flicker to meet yours to start rocking yourself back and forth. he swallows, a soft whine pulling from his throat when you lift your hips and started fucking yourself on his cock. “keep your eyes on me. i want you to see how good you make me feel. you’re so good, so good for me.” 
matty’s a mess under you; eyes rolling back, face flushed, thighs shaking. his head falls forward onto your chest when you clench around him, and his mouth moves to lick and suck over your collarbones. 
“babe,” he chokes out. “‘m so close.”
“already? god, you’re desperate for it,” you settle down on matty’s lap, grinding down slowly. he whimpers at the drastic change of pace and his eyes slip shut and before you can think too hard about it, your hand shoots out and grabs him by the hair, yanking his head back so his neck is exposed. “i said look at me.” 
the once cocky man chokes out a moan and his eyes shoot open. “fuck, you can’t do shit like that or you’ll make me come.”
your grip tightens. “no, you don’t come until i let you. got it?”
“yeah,” matty breathes. “ yeah, i got it.”
“look at you. you’d do anything i wanted right now and you’d just listen. so fucking good for me, letting me use you — shit.”
his mouth drops open - cheeks pink and lips swollen. dark eyes slip shut and tears roll down his cheeks and, for a split second, like every time matty cries while you’re fucking, your heart stutters. but then matty moans out a breathy yes, fuck, and that just spurs you on even more.
“baby, i — please. please, i don’t know if i —”
“yes you can,” you cut him off. “you can do it. you’re so good, matty, doing so well.”
more tears spill down his cheeks as his head falls back, hitting the headboard. he gasps as one of your hands moves to rest at the base of his throat and your nails dig in. the sharp pain makes matty gasp, and his hips buck up.
“fuck, i’m close. fuck, matty — oh — ”
“love, please let me come,” matty whines. “please, ‘m so close — please, please baby.” his muscles strain against the rope, your name slipping from his lips over and over in gasped moans as his teary eyes try to make out your face.
“you wanna come?” you’re relishing this moment, soaking up the view of the cocky, confident rockstar reduced to shaky limbs and blushing cheeks. “come on, matty, come for me.”
at your permission, matty’s hips thrust up to meet yours and his whole body shakes as his orgasm wracks through him. 
“shit!” it’s a gasp — a garbled curse rendered almost unheard under matty’s cries, and your head falls onto his chest as your orgasm flushes through your body. every nerve in your body thrums as if on the brink of overheating, and it’s only heightened by matty’s throaty groans that have your stomach swooping and your walls pulsing around him. 
“fuck, matty. so good, you’re so good. did so well, shit.” you’re rambling as the last waves of your orgasm roll through you. “you look so pretty like this,” you mumble. “all fucked out and pliant.”
“fuck, i love you,” matty breathes, still catching his breath as you untie him. “shit, love. who taught you how to torture someone like that?” 
you grin at him, leaning to kiss his puffy lips gently. “who do you think?” you whisper back.
“uh, no. i am not that cruel.”
“wanna bet?”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------© 2023 justlikemebutsixfootthree - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, or claim as yours
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Text
Not A Demon In Hell
Dean x Reader
Word Count: 2,173
Summary: The reader is taken by a Djinn and the turmoil that follows.
Trigger Warnings: Swearing, mention of death, injuries
AN: Requests are open! Please send them to me. If you’d like to be added to my tag list, please let me know!
Masterlist
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Guilt, anger, fear. These are the emotions flowing through my veins as I pace in the confined space of the motel room. Guilt, because she is missing. Fear, because I could not stand the thought of something happening to her. Anger, because whatever took her, was going to have hell to pay. My fists clench and unclench, my body so filled with adrenaline that my hands have gone stiff and cold.
I could faintly hear Sam on the phone with Bobby, discussing what had happened and what they think could have done it. But I cannot listen, the only thing I can do is pace. If I sit down, or stop to dwell on it I will go crazy. I will break anything or hurt anyone if it means getting her back. My body is on fire, like a live wire sparking on the ground. Every muscle amped, every sense heightened. Ready. Waiting. 
“Dean.” Sam said softly, jerking me out of my thoughts. I did not respond, just pause in my steps and look over at the younger Winchester. Sam sighs, his brow creased, the bags under his eyes nearly as bad as my own.
“Bobby and I talked, we think it is a Djinn.” Sam’s words echo around my head, every second it repeats it distorts and grows louder. Djinn. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end, goosebumps spread quickly over my skin. Those ugly bastards. The memory of the one that had me, chilled me to my core. What hallucination did it have her locked up in. Was she scared? Was she alone? Did she think I had abandoned her? Where had we encountered the Djinn? I had not let her out of my sight this whole trip, we had been together the whole time, except...
"The bar. Sam, the bar." My voice is soft at first, rising steadily as I recall when, and where we were. "I left her to go get another beer, the Djinn must have been there and poisoned her!" I curse, clenching my hands into fists again, to keep from punching a new hole in the motel wall.
"Where would it take her?" I question, mostly talking to myself. I resume my earlier pattern of pacing, every second I waste feels like an eternity. How long had she been gone? How long had she been in pain? How long until that Djinn drains her entirely? He did not know.
"They tend to like caves, are there any cave systems nearby? We should start there." Sam says, already pulling out his laptop to search for whatever he could find.
The next hour passes so slowly, every minute dragging out longer than I thought possible. The level of fear and anxiety running through my veins, something I had not felt in a very long time. Maybe never, before this terrible day. Y/N is my best friend, there is nothing in this world I would not do to keep her safe. Keep her earthside. This is all my fault.
We had met as children, on one of the numerous occasions dad was out of town and left me to take care of Sam. The same night that the Shtriga came for Sam. She had been at the arcade, entranced by the same game that I had snuck away to play. The one that almost cost Sam his life, if my dad had not come home just in time.
I kept her at arm's length for a long time, unable to trust anyone besides Sam and my father. But she just kept showing up, she would not give up on me and I just could not figure out why. I eventually stopped resisting and slowly, overtime grew to love Y/N. Platonically at first. Over the years, we grew closer. I shared every aspect of my life with her that I could, leaving out the demons. I did not want her to think I was crazy, but deep down I really did not want her to worry about the monsters that plague my nightmares.
It was not until her parents died, an accident that I was trying to prevent. One of Sam's visions predicted it. But we didn't get there fast enough. It was then, that I told her everything. I spared no detail, fully expecting her to scream at me, tell me never to talk to her again. Y/N listened, absorbed every word, her face passive. When I finished telling her everything, what happened to mom, where I had been all of those years, why I was always travelling, what happened to her parents, I quieted. I did not dare to look up from my shaky hands.
She simply crossed the room and hugged me. Telling me that she had known something was different about me all along, and that she was grateful for someone like me, keeping others safe.
It was not long after this that she brought a case to Sam and my attention, begging for us to let her tag along. Since she was the one that did the research. I finally caved, after days of her calling and texting, she finally showed up at the door to our motel. How could I have turned her away? We were all she had left, Sam and myself.
I have known, since that night when I told her everything, that I loved her as more than a friend. I just could not bring myself to cross that line. She meant too much to me to risk losing her all together if the feelings were not reciprocated. I would rather have her in my life in a strictly platonic capacity, then not at all.
"I found it, Dean. There." I am jerked back to reality by Sam, sliding his laptop across the table and pointing to a cave system. Twenty minutes north of where we currently were.
"Lets go."
-
We wasted no time, grabbing the gear we would need to send this bastard back to hell. Hopefully never to return. Sam drives, which is probably a good decision. The adrenaline at an all time high as we near the caves. I am silently praying that Y/N is there. Begging any God or Angel that might exist to keep her alive, just a little while longer.
"We are going to find her, Dean." Sam says, his foot pressing the accelerator to the floor. Driving as fast as he possibly can, the need to get to Y/N just as important to Sam as it is for me.
Time is still dragging, but we eventually pull up to the spot that Sam thinks to have an entrance to the cave system. We hurriedly jump out of the Impala, wasting no time to rush into the woods.
Her flannel, rain soaked and torn is laying a few feet in front of me. A sharp punch in the face. She was here. She has to be close still. Sam sees it at the same time and nods, a silent understanding. We both approach the spot and see the entrance to the cave.
"We're comin' sweetheart." I whisper, following Sam into the darkness. It takes my eyes a minute to adjust, not wanting to use a flashlight and give away our location to the Djinn. It is relatively easy to navigate, the cave not nearly as big as the map had made it out to be. I am grateful, if it had been any longer I might have gone crazy. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest, reverberating in my ears to the point where I cannot hear the gravel crunching under my soft footsteps.
We walk as quickly, but as quietly as we can. Finally reaching an opening in the cave, wooden beams formed a rough structure within. Rope dangles down from the cross beams, loops tied in the ends. Bastards. This was definitely a Djinn. The question still remains, where is it? My grip tightens on the silver knife in my hand, the lambs blood still dried on the blade.
I turn the corner and all the air is knocked out of my lungs. Y/N. She's there, her wrists strung up above her head. Limp, Pale, sweaty and covered in bruises, but she’s breathing. In that moment, nothing else matters. I rush across the cave, my senses overwhelmed. The only sound I can hear is my heart thumping in my chest. I wrap an arm around her waist, hurriedly cutting the rope that is suspending her in the air. Her body slumps against my own, I cradle her close one hand on her back the other gently grasping the back of her neck. I brush her hair back from her face, wiping away dirt and sweat in the process.
“Y/N, sweetheart, it’s me. I’ve got you” I whisper, pressing my lips to her forehead. She’s so cold. It’s at this moment that I hear Sammy yell out a warning, my eyes snap up, locating the danger that is present. I lean Y/N up against the nearest wall, quickly stepping in between her and the Djinn that had made a sudden appearance.
“Hey, asshole!” I yell, the anger returning full force, flooding my senses. He grins, and charges full speed towards me. I grab the handle of the knife that I had sheathed, in order to hold Y/N. A fact that he fails to notice, running straight into the outstretched blade.
“Lambs blood, very useful.” I twist the blade as I speak, wishing I could have made him suffer longer for what he had done to Y/N. The Djinn falls to the floor and a small wave of relief washer over me.
“Dean.” I hear her say, a whisper, barely heard over the adrenaline pumping through me. I turn around on my heel, immediately walking back over to her. Dropping down onto my knees, I cradle her in my arms once more.
“I’m here, sweetheart. You’re okay. I’ve got you. I promise.” She looks up at me, her eyelids fluttering, exhaustion sweeping across her face.
“Am I dying? I thought I was dying, we were together in my.. my dream? It was weird, things were different-“ she stutters, confusion overwhelming her features. The grip she has on my T-shirt increasing.
“No,” I interrupt her, “no, you’re not dying. You’re okay, I’ve got you now.”
-
Back at the motel I insisted on patching her up myself, ignoring all of her firm protests. I couldn’t bear to let her out of my sight. Every bruise and cut, every scrape and mark on her skin hurt me as if they were my own injuries. She sat, on the counter in the small motel bathroom, the scent of antiseptic overwhelming my senses. Her eyes swollen from tears, lips trembling, brows drawn together in a heartbreaking manner.
“I don’t know how it happened De, one minute I was with you and the next, I was just gone.” She whispers, shivering slightly as I cleaned another gash I had found on her ribs.
“I know, sweetheart. Im so sorry. I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight, I never will again. This is all my fault.” I drop the antiseptic wipe in the trash and pull her into my chest. I wrap my arms around her as tightly as I dare, not wanting to hurt her any further. She relaxes against me, her hands gripping the back of my shirt pulling me even closer. I can feel her trembling, fear and anxiety still coursing through her veins.
“It’s not your fault De, you found me. I knew you would. I knew you’d never let me die. It’s one of the things I love about you.”
Her words cut me to my core. Now that I have the time to reflect on everything that had happened tears sting the corners of my eyes. How close I had come to losing her, the fear that she had experienced. Everything came flooding over me at once.
“There’s not a demon in hell that could keep me from you, sweetheart.” She sighs, wrapping her arms around my waist and slipping her hands under the hem of my shirt.
“Y/N, I can’t keep pretending here.” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “This may be terrible timing, but I love you Y/N. More than anything in this world, or the next. I love you.” I can’t bring myself to look at her, keeping my eyes trained on my reflection in the mirror behind her.
Her hands find my face, tilting my chin down towards her own. My eyes flutter closed as she presses light kisses over my chin, the corners of my lips, my jaw until finally, slowly. She presses a soft kiss to my lips. Her fingers gently stroking the sides of my face.
“Dean Michael Winchester, I love you, too.”
AN: Requests are open! Please send them to me. If you’d like to be added to my tag list, please let me know!
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luvring · 11 months
Text
WANNA GET BREAKFAST?
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time skip + gn!reader | fluff (?), mutual pining w no resolution. Lol.
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the first time atsumu shows up at your house this week is for a movie marathon. he moves through your home as if it was his own—no hesitation in opening cupboards he knows have bowls and cups, grabbing his go-to blanket from your closet, and taking up more space on the couch than you until you shove his legs away.
he falls asleep during the third movie, head on your shoulder and arm across your lap. when he wakes up, he denies your claims of him snoring and drooling on your shirt.
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the second time he shows up is the morning after, 30 minutes after calling to ask if he left his charger in your living room.
you open the door to find him wearing pyjama pants and a shirt you bought him years ago as a birthday gift, hair still messy in a fluffy, you really want to reach out and touch it way. “mornin’.”
“good morning.”
otherwise wordlessly, you offer his charger and he wraps it up to fit nicely in his pocket. he thanks you, and you shift on your feet to lean against the door frame.
a beat passes where neither of you move to say goodbye.
“do you wanna grab breakfast together?” he asks suddenly.
“you want to spend another day with me?”
“woah, i never said that. just breakfast.”
it isn’t just breakfast. though you guessed as much hours ago.
you’re back in your room that evening laughing over things that happened years ago—things you’ve talked about a dozen times but never seem to grow tired of. your head is on his chest, and you can feel his laughter run through you while you reenact a god awful sex ed class that haunts you to this day.
atsumu stays until your eyes droop and you keep yawning, and he figures he should head home to make sure nothing somehow caught fire while he was away.
you manage to walk him to the door, and his hands find their way to pull the blanket tighter around your sleepy figure. “you sure you can make it back to bed?” he teases.
“goodnight, ‘tsumu.”
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the third time, again, the morning after, atsumu doesn’t bother calling to check if you're home before you hear the doorbell ring.
“‘tsumu? did you forget something again?”
he doesn’t respond at first. he isn’t even looking at your face when he snickers. “yeah, actually. the sweater someone that isn’t me happens to be wearing.”
looking down, you see the familiar MSBY logo on your chest and feel your face warm. it hits you then that when you reached for your hoodie, it had been in the laundry, not at the corner of your bed.
maybe that's why you fell asleep to the smell of his cologne.
“...shut up.”
you move a little too fast to take it off, if only to cover your face by pulling it over your head. “didn’t say y’had to take it off.”
you freeze, and just like the day before, the both of you stare at each other for a second.
maybe two.
your hands let go of the sweater edge, clenching and unclenching your fists instead. “good. it’s comfy.”
“mhm,” he hums. “it suits you.”
ignoring the compliment, this time you’re the one who asks, “do you wanna get breakfast?”
he shoots you a smile. “sure. you paying?”
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the fourth time that atsumu shows up, you’re the one who called.
“are you missing something?”
“what? am i s'pposed to say you?” he answers, voice still groggy.
yes, a part of you thinks. “no, idiot. you left your headphones here.”
“...oh.” there’s shuffling on the other side of the line, and you imagine he’s looking around to confirm as if you weren’t holding the headphones in your hand. “guess i did.”
“i’ll come over then. breakfast after?”
the question makes you smile. “yeah, but i’m too lazy to go out. wanna cook something?”
“fuck no.” atsumu lets out a breathy laugh. “how is cookin' any less work than going to a café?”
“okay, baby, do you want cereal?”
“woah, woah, woah, baby?” he asks loudly. the grin on his face is audible. “i knew y’had a crush on me.”
“that’s not—god, i’m hanging up on you.”
you don’t hang up. not until he finishes laughing and you hear him confirm, “be there in 20.”
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it’s the fifth time atsumu comes over that really confuses you.
“why are you here?”
“that's how you greet your best friend?”
“stop it, you know what i mean. i didn’t find anything you left behind, we even double checked before you left,” you point out, brows furrowed.
“yeah, i know. kinda ruined my plan.” he pouts at you.
you blink back at him.
“what plan?”
atsumu, jokingly aghast, softly says your name. he drags out the last syllable in that teasing, endearing way that makes your stomach do a flip. “you think i’d just forget things i use regularly at your house 3 times in one week?”
“i—well,” you start and sputter. it sounds stupid to say now but, “i mean, yeah, i guess?”
a laugh escapes your best friend and even as your face warms in embarrassment, it's a nice sound. he leans in slightly, tilting his head. “and you call me the idiot?”
looking at the grin on his face, witty remarks, statements, any words at all flash in your head, none staying long enough for you to figure out what to say. your eyes flicker between him and anywhere, everywhere else.
cute, atsumu thinks.
maybe if you weren’t looking at the tree behind him, you would have noticed his eyes flicker between yours down to your lips.
they stay there, on your mouth, a little longer than he expects. only by a second, but whatever confidence atsumu has falters as his face starts to go red. clearing his throat, he moves back a breathable distance away.
“nevermind, you'll figure it out. you, uh, still wanna get breakfast?”
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@devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @dimslover @kuroaka @sunaslay @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @curiouslilbeast @fiona782 @cvhenia @mitskiologist
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aphrodisiac-siren · 1 month
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Home~ Neteyam x Metkayina!reader
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Summary: Leaving behind everything he knew was hard for Neteyam and then adapting to the ways of the new clan was even harder. He'd push himself, overwork and exhaust himself even, to live upto his family's expectations; never really giving his own wants a second thought. That's why Y/N was the prefect companion for him, someone who kept things in his life balanced, who made sure to let him know that what he wanted was just as important, perhaps even more so, than what everyone else wanted of him.
//slow burn, angst, Lo'ak growing a braincell? And did I mention angst??// tìyawn-Love
masterlist
Part 7
🫧
[Flashback]
Pacing.
That was one thing he could remember distinctly from that day.
Pacing.
That's all he did outside the tent in which Y/N was, still very much injured and on the cusp of life and death.
While Norm and a few others were doing whatever they could to keep her from dying, all Neteyam seemed capable of doing in that moment was worrying.
His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, his heart pounding louder than the sound of an ikran's screech. He knew he was absolutely of no help but he refused to leave, not wanting to be anywhere but near her.
He had yet to tell her about what he felt, even if he himself hadn’t fully understood it himself. His constant need to see her every day, his desperation for her attention, how he craved fleeting touches. How an endearment as simple as 'pretty boy' started this whole whirlwind of foreign emotions.
He couldn’t bare the possibility of all of that coming to an abrupt halt, all if it being ripped away from him.
Y/N being ripped away from him.
He'd grown so accustomed to living alongside her that he could barely imagine a future without her in it.
It wasn’t fair.
Someone who was nothing less than kind, a little feisty and a whole lot of emphatic being given death after everything she’d done for his family, was just cruel.
Neteyam always trusted Ewya's judgement but in that moment, for the very first time, he abhorred her.
For Y/N to be snatched away like this was just. not. fair.
Amidst his loathing, he even pleaded to take him instead of her. Because according to him, the world would still be the same regardless if he was in it or not but take Y/N away and everything loses its light.
And while he awaited impatiently and helplessly, all he could irritatingly,
Was more pacing.
[End of flashback]
This was probably the first time Lo'ak witnessed Y/N in a rush to just get her lesson over with. In all his time knowing her, not once did the star pupil, soon-to-be Metkayina warrior, Neteyam's-personality-clone ever seem to end her training as soon as possible. Maybe his influence was finally rubbing off on her.
"Are you sick?" he smirked at the girl, looking at her amusingly as she impatiently tapped her foot.
"I'm already great at archery" she groaned, ditching her bow as she sat down upon the warm sand "way better than you in fact, I think that’s reason enough to call it quits for today"
"Okay, first of all" Lo'ak joined her, ditching hiw own bow and arrow. He wasn’t going to complain about ending a lesson early, if anything he was tempted to give her a hug for it "ouch. Second, did I ever tell you you’re my favourite person in the whole world? We should partner up for lessons more"
"Yes, you absolutely adore me. What’s new?" Y/N replied promptly with a smirk earning an eye roll and a playful shove from the boy next to her.
She fiddled with her fingers a bit, chewing on her lip as she contemplated whether or not she should just ask him about something that was gnawing her mind for days now. Her attention span had become almost nonexistent with that one particular instance chewing away at her sanity.
"Can I ask you something?" She looked up at him and he immediately nodded a 'yes' before he lied down on his back, arms behind his head "Neteyam and I had another argume-"
"Jeez Y/N" Lo'ak let out an exaggerated groan, looking at her like he was about to drop dead from boredom "for a minute I expected you to tell me something interesting and, I dunno, new?"
"Don’t be an asshole" She shot him a glare, contemplating throwing sand at him but out of the good of her heart, refrained from doing so "we fought and he said something but I don’t know what it meant"
"Ah so you need me to be your trustee translator" He wiggled his eyebrows at her, an undertone of mischief lacing his words. He pretended to be in deep thought while tapping his finger against his lips "what am I getting for all of these years' worth of english dialect translation, hm?"
"I don’t throw a spear at your butt anytime you say something stupid"
"I am thy humble servant" Lo'ak blew a kiss at her that had her roll her eyes at his antics. She'd grown accustomed to it over time but still, it never failed to amuse her "ask away my princess"
"Drop the theatrics" she said in a monotonous voice that had him chuckling at her reaction "so like I said, Neteyam swore at me in your stupid sky people language and then refused to tell me what it meant. Something m..ma.. lovh? I guess. Now I know it’s gotta be real mean if he..."
Despite her heavy accent and poor pronunciation, Lo'ak understood what she meant to say perfectly. He shot up instantly with a crazed look, like a fish being yanked out of water.
"He- what" His eyes widened and a grin etched its way to his face.
"I knew that it!" Y/N immediately shot back, pointing toward him as if her doubts had been confirmed at last "it was a really bad word"
"That bitch" Lo'ak ignored her, too thrilled at this newfound piece of information that seemed to make him very happy for some reason "he's flirting now huh? I knew that the idiot had some stupid reason for avoiding you, that blue lizard can’t talk to girls! Ohh wait till I-"
"Whoa, okay let’s back up" Y/N snapped him out of his deluded trance and brought him back to pandora "can you elaborate how you connected him swearing at me to flirting?"
"He didn’t swear, ma Y/N" he changed his tone, now talking to her like how his dad spoke to him when he tried to sound intelligent "he called you 'love', his love, to be more precise. Which is something you say to a person you are absolutely fond of. Ya know, like his tìyawn"
"You are seeing things that aren’t there" Y/N was tempted to throw a fistful of sand at him. Maybe even a small rock, just a tiny one "that's just some cute shit friends say to each other"
The idea that Neteyam could be infatuated with her seemed absolutely absurd. She could imagine an ilu speaking fluent Na'vi but Neteyam having a crush on her? Impossible. Not after he distanced himself from her more and more after each year.
"Look, I know my brother. He has never been a guy to do anything remotely close to cute.. like, okay forget that stupid endearment, but the never ending bickering? The whole looking-away-after-eye-contact on loop? You both constantly rambling about how annoying the other one is?" Lo'ak was tired of it and he was going to let it out. He tried with Neteyam and now he was going to rant about it to her as well "you both want to be around each other but don’t know how to do it anymore so you settle for getting into senseless fights. And when you’re not around each other all you both can do is talk about the other person"
All Y/N did in response was scoff.
There was no way she was going to let Lo'ak convince her that her animosity toward his brother came from a place of love and longing. No, it came from pure hatred and annoyance.
She was his close friend all along and then after the battle, she was nothing more than a pest. It was almost as if her presence was repulsive to Neteyam.
It confused her. Why did he all of a sudden, not want her.
Perhaps the whole incident of her getting shot was what pushed him away. While the rest of his family showered her with attention whilst she was healing and pampered her until they were sure she was sick of it, Neteyam made it almost a rule to never come in contact with her. Did the idea of having to tend to and look after her drive him away? Was that sort of responsibility too much for him?
If he'd decided that she wasn’t worth going through the trouble of looking after her, after she quite literally took a bullet for him then there was no use in trying to be friends again.
While Y/N was in deep thought, thinking of all the ways she could lure Neteyam into the mouth of an akula, Lo'ak was busy mumbling to himself about how he was going to tease and harass Neteyam about his unofficial crush on Y/N.
Maybe I should feed them both to an akula, Y/N made a mental note, Yea, both sounds good.
~
"You’ve finally lost it"
Neteyam was convinced he'd died and reached one of those seven somethings of hell his father once told them about. An odd story, purely fictional he thought; up until now.
His younger brother had been dancing around him in their pod, going on and on about how he knew about his crush on Y/N. Lo'ak at one point began to enact a make-believe scenario for him, using his hands as puppets.
"yo bro, check it out" he said in between his boyish giggling, ignoring his brother groaning in annoyance. He deepened his voice, trying his best to mimic his older brother, putting on a horrible accent.
"Hey bebe~ I don’t know how to act around you Y/N because I'm so in love with you so now I'll just start irritating you just so you engage in conversation with me" he then looked at his other hand-puppet which was supposed to represent Y/N, making his voice high pitched to mimic her's "ugh, I'm in love with you too Neteyam and I will also irritate you for your attention because all my sensibility leaves when I'm around you"
Lo'ak then proceeded to make some weird smooching noises while making his hand puppets kiss.
"Ay, stop that" Neteyam whacked the back of his neck, his other hand slapping Lo'ak's wrists when he refused to cease his dramatics "were you dropped as a baby? I do not have a crush on her"
"Liar" Lo'ak grinned "you have never, in your entire life called a girl anything besides her name. It would take a miracle for you to even address her by her nickname, much less call her something like my love"
"It just slipped out, jeez let it go" he sighed, too tired to offer any more of an explanation.
"Why won’t you just admit it?" Lo'ak was stubborn and wouldn’t drop this topic until he got a satisfactory answer "Why are you acting like liking her is the worst thing in the world? Why are you trying so hard to cover it up? Why is-"
"For fucks sake Lo'ak-" Neteyam was losing both his patience and his temper. His brother had no right to prod and question him about any of this.
"No, tell me-"
"Because I hated the way she made me feel"
Lo'ak went silent. He did not expect for his older brother to yell at him, much less give him the most vague and unhelpful response to his question but he decided not to poke for answer in that moment; he did not want to trigger any more outbursts.
Still hot headed, Neteyam left their pod. He needed to get away from Lo'ak and his prying inquisition. He owed him no explanation whatsoever for how he handled his relation with Y/N. Lo'ak had no idea about how he felt and what drove him to push her away but Neteyam knew that he did it for everyone's good.
He needed to cool off, he needed air.
Lo'ak and his teasing made his house suffocating and all he wanted was to be alone for a while lest he explode and let his anger out on another family member.
Calm down Neteyam, he scolded himself, if you can’t keep yourself together, you cant keep this family together.
It was like he wasn’t allowed the basic right to feeling. Be it anger or sadness, he denied himself to feel anything. He needed to be calm, composed and always smiling. If he allowed himself to succumb to such emotions it only went to show that he was weak.
His heart was already hammering in his chest from all that frustration but when his eyes met her's, it felt as though his heart would jump right through his ribcage.
Y/N stood a few feet away from him, momentarily freezing in her tracks and Neteyam did what he always did when he ran into her by himself:
Turn and go the other way.
This time though, plagued with indignation, he proceeded to scoff before he turned his back on her, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N.
Y/N's jaw was agape. He had some nerve to run into her, proceed to very obviously turn away from her and then scoff at her, unprovoked.
"Okay, I've had enough of you" she snapped, walking faster to catch up with the older boy who had no intention of stopping until he was far away from her "what exactly is your problem?"
Neteyam ignored her, picking up pace in a desperate attempt to be rid of her.
Y/N, as he knew, wasn’t one to back down and much to his dismay she followed him all the way to the beach. Despite his silence, she continued to babble, taunting him with ever passing second until he lost it with her too.
"Fuck! What is wrong with everyone today?" he snapped, finally turning to look at her. Just as he suspected, she was taken aback by his tone.
"You don’t get to act like an ass and then talk to me like that" her voice despite showing no lack of rage, failed to fully mask the pain she was feeling. Overcome with a wave of emotions that she'd suppressed for all these years, she allowed herself to just blurt all of it out "you one day wake up and decide you’re too good for me? Running away from me like some immature child.. why'd you initially act like you cared if you didn’t to begin with-"
"Oh great mother, I've had it! With Lo'ak and now you" Neteyam never allowed himself to act whilst hot-headed but he had reached his limit of tolerance for the day "how dare you say that I never cared about you. You have no idea-"
"Cut the bullshit Neteyam. If anything, I was the only one who cared between us" Y/N was merely annoyed at him but now she was outright furious. This boy really had the guts to argue that he cared about her despite his contradicting behaviour that he'd been exhibiting for the past six years "is this how you show people you care? By walking out of their lives?
"Do you know what I went through during those two days when you were recovering? When you were unconscious and Norm had the fucking balls to tell me to say my goodbyes because there was a high chance you wouldn’t make it, instead of going back in there and doing something to prevent that from happening?" Neteyam's chest rose and fell rapidly as he continued, his breaths slowly coming out in pants from all that yelling but he needed her to hear it once and for all. He could endure the name-calling and the verbal altercations but an accusation that stated he never cared about her? That was where he drew the line.
"For a moment I felt like I couldn’t breathe, and then I actually stopped for a few seconds, driving myself into a full blown panic attack. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, not then and not ever" He appreciated her silence as he continued, her expression slowly softening "I-I grew so attached to you that I needed you more than air. And as scary as that was, the heightened dependency on you and how strongly I felt for you, there was something else that was even scarier"
Neteyam dared to look into her eyes, something he avoided for years now. They glowed in the light of eclipse, those flecks of lilac even more prominent during this hour.
"I didn’t really know it at the time, how deep my feelings were but I knew that I had fallen for you. While I waited outside that tent in which you were, machines and wires all around you, I couldn’t eat or sleep or even think about anything that didn’t lead back to you and it terrified me, caring for something so much it..it.." He tore his gaze away from her, now feeling very small in her presence after being so vulnerable with her "but what terrified me even more was, you being in there because of me. You cared about me to a point where you took a bullet for me, to a point where you put your own life on the line. And so I..I.."
"What are you saying?" Y/N softly asked, eyes looking up at Neteyam who shied away under her gaze.
"I protect, that’s all I know and when I couldn’t protect you, someone I loved so so much it just felt like a stab to the heart" he could practically feel her gaze burning into him but he still couldn’t look at her, not just yet "you sacrificing yourself.. I didn’t know what I would do if lost you. When Tuk ran out, screaming that you'd woken up I felt like I could at last breath but then there was a thought looming over my head: What if something like this happened again? I didn’t want you putting yourself in harms way because of me. I needed you not to care about me, so that you wouldn’t put yourself in the same situation. That’s why I did what I did; I cut myself off, It’s my way of protecting you"
Y/N blinked, not a single word leaving her lips.
A few seconds of silence passed by but to Neteyam it felt like hours and the silence was getting unbearable.
"Say something" he pleaded, finally turning to look at he. He was half expecting her to be teary-eyed, maybe a smile or something on her face after he said all of that but to his surprise she stood there with her brows scrunched in confusion.
"You don’t get to decide that all of that shit you did was out of protectiveness" she snapped, finger jabbing at Neteyam's chest.
"Huh?" The boy shook his head and blinked twice to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Was this really her reaction? "Did you hear anything of what I just said?"
"You don't get to decide what’s right for me and just shun me away." she continued to jab, her piercing gaze never wavering "You took everything we had and just threw it away because you thought that that would protect me? That your sudden closed off nature would keep me from ever running to your aid if you found yourself in trouble? Do you hear how stupid you sound?"
"I did it for you!" Neteyam grabbed her wrist, the jabbing getting a little too annoying for him to tolerate.
"I didn’t ask for it.. I didn’t want it!" Y/N tried to shove him with her other hand but Neteyam easily caught it, now holding on to both her wrists to keep her from anymore attacks "If I run in between you and a gunman that is my choice, I did it then and I'd do it again if i have to. I didn’t need you to do any of this"
"But-"
"I liked what we had, I liked you but you ruined everything" Y/N's voice faltered for the first time in the presence of someone other than her own family. She knew she was about to cry, that was something she couldn’t hold back any more. She'd done so for six years but still, she didn’t want him seeing her crumble like this. She rested her forehead against his chest to keep her face out of his view, sniffling as she tried her best to keep her voice steady "for once Neteyam, stop thinking so much about what might be good for someone else and start doing what is good for you"
He placed her hands on his torso before he let go of her wrists. Suddenly he was a boy again, the same one who yearned for those innocent touches from Y/N. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around her, holding her awkwardly since he wasn’t sure how she'd react to being hugged.
"Did you want all of this?" She backed up slightly to look at him which caused his hands to drop around her waist. Her eyes were brimmed with tears that streamed down her cheeks when she blinked. Neteyam brought one hand up to wipe away the tears, heart shattering at the fact that he was the reason behind them. She didn’t resist his touch but she did repeat herself, emphasising on a particular word "did you want all of this?"
Of course he didn’t. Neteyam dreaded the idea of seeing her but not being able to touch her. Hearing her laugh and knowing he was no longer the cause of it. Accidentally looking into her eyes and then forcing himself to look away to avoid his feelings from growing. To then someday watch her slip away from completely, to watch her mate with someone who wasn’t him.
Did you want all of this?
"No"
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midnight-vixn · 2 years
Note
(sorry if I'm spamming or anything, I just love these stupid demons boys too much)
But IMAGINE a virgin/little experienced Levi. You dressed up in a cosplay for him to take some pictures with, and he's totally not trying to hide a boner the whole time. Then after you change out you go to take a shower and give him all the clothes back, and whoops your underwear was also in the pile.
Poor boy goes RED when he finds it. He's stammering between should he give it back, or it's just like some anime he saw and he needs to smell it, just once, for science right?
Before he knows it he's jerking off to/with it. He's degrading himself for being so perverted and a gross otaku. His cocks are leaking all over the fabric when he comes in it.
Maybe you'll walk in to ask about the pictures and catch him like that. He's muttering apologies, but his hands are still moving. You just have to give the poor baby some help~
No don’t worry I absolutely love hearing others thoughts on the boys! As long as you don’t mind me adding on to them ksksk Virgin!Levi lives in my head rent free omggggg
Reader is mentioned in a skirt but no pronouns used or genitals described
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Leviathan thought all his dreams came true the day you agreed to dress up and actually go to a convention with him, just a local one held here in the Devildom but he didn’t care because he had you going with him. You dressed as one of your favorite characters, in an outfit that hugged all of your curves and a skirt that barely covered your ass and swayed with each movement of your hips. Levi felt his pants growing tight before you guys even left his room.
The two of you spent the entire day running around together, taking pictures every chance you got, poor Levi constantly trying to readjust and hide his growing erection while you were blissfully unaware of his predicament. He dreaded seeing these photos later because he knew his face was bright red in most of them and he was almost positive there was one picture where his bulge was painfully obvious.
The two of you headed home, you undressed and went to return the outfit to Levi who was unusually quiet. You assumed he was just exhausted from being social all day and didn’t mention it. In reality Levi was trying to focus on your words and not how gorgeous you looked in your sleepwear, your after shower glow making his head spin even more.
Leviathan takes the clothes and goes to put them away to be washed later, turning back towards his computer he notices a piece he had dropped, he picks it up and freezes, nearly dropping it again. This wasn’t part of your cosplay. That’s your underwear. His heart races and he’s immediately panicking about what to do. Part of him knows he needs to return them but how?? He can’t just walk down the hall holding them and then give them back to you like no big deal. Maybe Asmo could or even Mammon in his own tsundere way, but him?? He could never.
The rest of his body has already decided how to handle the situation. His face is burning, palms are sweaty, his cocks are even harder than they were before. Is he really going to do this? Is he really that low and perverted? His cocks twitch as your scent hits his nose. Fuck.
Before he knows it Leviathan is in his bed, pants discarded, legs spread apart, the bottom of his shirt being held in his mouth so he can get a better view of what he’s doing, your underwear wrapped deliciously around his two cocks. He can barely think straight but flinches when his moans echo back to him.
What a fucking loser.
He lets out a whimper. His conscience is right, he is a loser. Laying here playing with himself and using your underwear to do so. He can’t help it though, when he finally unclenched his fist and took a good look at your underwear he had noticed the wet spot on the crotch. His brain had shut off as your scent filled his mind, he couldn’t stop himself. He had moaned and rubbed his face against the fabric, licking the wet spot and tasting the faint sweetness left behind. That’s how he ended up here in his bed.
His mind kept trying to torment him but Leviathan learned a long time ago that he loves to be degraded. You’re such a loser. What if they find out? What if they walk in on you?
Fuck what if you did find him like this?? What if you found him laying here pumping his cocks, your underwear rubbing up and down his shafts and him moaning your name. Would you call him a disgusting freak? Would you shame him for being so gross? The thought only turned him on more. Levi pumped faster while chasing his high, your faint scent mixing in the air with his, he tries to imagine what you would look like underneath him, he tries to imagine what you would sound like calling his name.
“Leviathan?”
Shit. That sounded too real…
His eyes fly open and find you standing over his bed. Leviathan is mortified, not only did you find him here masturbating with your underwear but now you know he really is a monster. He’d never shared with you that he had two dicks, he was too afraid of how you’d respond, but here he was. As terrified as he was Leviathan was still aroused by the situation, his cocks throbbing and leaking out a heavy amount of precum, only adding to his embarrassment. He waited for you to scream at him but instead watched you smirk.
“Who would’ve thought the shyest brother would have the most cock in the family.”
Fuck. Don’t do that. Don’t compliment him, he can’t take it. He knows you’ve seen his brothers, he knows you’ve had his brothers. Asmo can’t keep his mouth shut (or his legs for that matter), he’s smelt Mammon on you several times at breakfast, he’s heard the growls, grunts and moans coming from Beelzebub’s room while your own was empty. So if you sit here and praise him for his cocks he’s bound to cum and that’s not what he wants you to see. But you’re not making it easier to prevent.
You crawl on top of him, your hips hovering just above his own, and you caress his face. He lets out a strangled moan at your touch, his hand hasn’t stopped pumping the entire time but it stutters slightly. He’s completely helpless, looking up at you and hoping you give him more.
“Levi,” you say in an all too sultry voice. “You’re a virgin right?”
Yes, fuck yes. Shame him for it, please! Make fun of him for being the only virgin left in the house. He wants you to degrade him so badly, he wants to hear you call him a gross, perverted, virgin demon. He nods quickly, his mouth open just slightly and letting a high pitched whine escape. Your smirk turns into something more sinister and you lock your lips with his. He moans into your mouth while squeezing his eyes shut, bucking his hips into his hand and causing his leaking tips to brush against your ass. You pull back, face flushed but a confident look in your eyes.
“Why don’t we change that?”
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not-goldy · 5 days
Note
Chapter 2 should've been the shutdown of 2 of the biggest lies circulated in this fandom.
1) Tk being a romantic ship. Tkk are the biggest problem in this fandom & for the boys & deserve no place here, esp if you ship them romantically. When one half of your ship is publicly chasing another person, following her IG, couple selfies, private pic leaks, following her around the world on vacations in NY & Paris & Jeju & all without Jungkook. Its time to pay attention. You watched Tae go from embracing the leaks & not denying them & to taking it public & holding her hand. Instead of supporting him at his most vulnerable (aka his private & intimate info leaked), you helped shit on him & make it worse for him. You don't deserve him. The truth is TK is not real & never has been unless you think Tae & Jk are both cheaters/homewreckers cause its the only way your ship works & from where I'm sitting, Tae showed you Taennie is the real couple. Taennie started in 2021 when Tae followed her. Tae gave you a warning shot then, but your ignored him. Now look. Let it go cause y'all beating this TK are real dead horse to death.
2) The 'Jikook aren't close & fanservice' lies should've died years ago, but def in Chapter 2, cause no way in hell I'm traveling alone with someone I hate, starting up centered lives about that person, spending a couple holiday with them alone with no one else or enlist with them or spend my last days before enlistment alone with them, when I could be with friends & family I really like, not with someone I don't. Give it a rest already. You don't have to believe JIkook are real, but if you quit lying to yourself, they're company forced & hate each other & actually accept they're genuinely close, you'd be happy for that travel show too & be able to enjoy it like their real supporters & fans are gonna do. Have fun being miserable, cause its happening.
Y'all are fighting the fucking air, cause look at all this crying, lies, reporting, tagging, sabotage, rumors, conspiracies, theories y'all been doing since chapter 2 and guess what, despite it all, Tae was still dating Jennie despite your tears & went public with her & Jikook are still close, traveling the world together & together today in the military by choice. In other words. Vminkook don't care about how you feel, they only care about how THEY FEEL and that's how it should be. Unclench & grow up already.
💜💜💜💜
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wizardofrozz · 1 year
Text
Crescendo
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Commander Fox x senator!reader (fem), OCs (Caitri and Clone Trooper Cayde)
Word Count: ~3.3k
Warnings: light swearing, mention of war
A/N: It’s finally here! I’ve been impatiently waiting to post for the @cloneficgiftexchange and I’m excited it’s finally time. My gift is for @homie-one-kenobi​ and I picked Commander Fox for her prompt “I am convinced you never graduated kindergarden.” I tweaked the prompt a little to fit into the SW universe a little better but I hope you like it! 🤍❤️
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         Chaos. There was no other word for the state of your apartment but absolute chaos. Members of your team were buzzing around every inch of the space and all you could do was stand in the eye of the storm and hang on. Between TC-26 chattering anxiously about the mess, your assistant cutting in every few minutes about another event you had been invited to, and the muffled sound of your wardrobe manager arguing with their staff, it felt like your head was going to explode. You nearly snapped when a gentle hand landed on your shoulder. 
         “Unclench a little,” Caitri teased, moving to stand at your side. You let out a slow, measured exhale, glancing at your dear friend with a pleading look.
         “Can I run away yet?”
         “If you take me with you,” she chuckled, folding her hands over her stomach. “Come on, you aren’t excited to go home?”
         “Not when I have so much to do here,” you huffed, stifling the urge to cross your arms. “I know the gala takes place at the same time every year but it seems like I’m busier than I’ve ever been before.”
         “A galaxy-wide war will do that,” Caitri sighed, her head turning synchronously with yours to watch TC-26 hobble past. “On the bright side, everything is just about ready.”
         “Oh thank the Maker,” you breathed, letting your head drop forward. 
         “The shuttle is mostly packed and the hyperspace jumps are calculated. All we’re waiting on now is your security detail.” You turned a narrow-eyed glare on your friend, already anticipating her light ribbing. A small squad from the Coruscant Guard had been tasked with escorting you home, a non-negotiable stipulation sent down from the Chancellor himself. It made sense with how often senators were being attacked but their presence wasn’t what bothered you. 
         “Please don’t start already,” you muttered, massaging the spot over your right eye.
         “I wonder what commander they’ll send,” Caitri mused, completely ignoring you. 
         “Don’t get your hopes up,” you insisted, taking a step back to make room for the trunk of clothing being carried toward the door. “Commander Fox is in charge of the entire Guard; he has better things to do than escorting a senator home for a party.” You had to force the words out, stuffing down the spike of disappointment. Fox had been one of the first clones you met at the start of the war and to your surprise, he took a liking to you. He was one of the people, aside from Caitri and a few other members of your team, that you felt normal around. Trading quiet jabs when you crossed paths, which only made your growing crush that much harder to hide. 
         “You never know,” Caitri sang, nudging your elbow. You immediately rolled your eyes to keep up the front but deep down you enjoyed her teasing. It made you feel like a regular young woman gossiping about a cute boy instead of a prim, professional senator. 
         “I do,” you argued, scanning the mostly empty living room, “but knowing Fox, he probably assigned Thorn to the detail.” You bit your lip to hide a smirk as you glanced at her out of the corner of your eye. At least you weren’t the only one with a crush. Caitri opened her mouth to argue but TC-26’s voice cut her off, the jade-plated protocol droid shuffling to your side.
         “Excuse me, mistress, Marshal Commander Fox is here to see you,” she informed, tilting her head slightly. 
         “Oh, uh, thank you, two-six,” you stammered, darting your eyes to the dark figure near the doorway. 
         “I suppose I’ll meet you at the shuttle,” Caitri chuckled, bumping you with her shoulder as she moved for the door. Fox returned her nod as he passed, slowing to a stop a few feet away, hands folded behind his back. 
         “Senator,” he greeted with a nod.
         “To what do I owe the pleasure, Commander?” He hadn’t removed his helmet yet but you could picture the smirk on his lips solely based on the cant of his head. 
         “We’re set to depart shortly, correct?” he asked in a tone that implied he already knew the answer.
         “We,” you sputtered, blinking rapidly at him. Fox’s rigid posture loosened, his arms falling to his sides as he looked around the room needlessly.
         “I am in the correct apartment, right?”
         “Oh shut up,” you sighed, twisting your mouth to the side when the urge to smile was almost overwhelming. His shoulders jumped with a quiet snort, your pulse fluttering when his dark visor lifted to your face again. 
         “I’m leading your security detail, in case you were wondering,” he explained, motioning for you in the direction of the door. You turned your head just enough to scan his mostly red faceplate. As you approached the door, Fox stepped to the side, resting one hand on his stomach and extending the other, leaning forward to usher you through the door. You made sure to twist enough that he could see your exaggerated eye roll. 
         “If you’re here, then who’s running Hell?” you quipped, raising a brow. Your stomach flipped when Fox jolted forward, a strangled laugh coming through his helmet’s vocoder. 
         “Well, I have always said Thorn’s a demon spawn,” Fox laughed, falling into step with you. A hand shot up to try and muffle the string of giggles that fell from your lips, his head turning to look down at you. “But, to answer your question, the boys weren’t taking no for answer.”
         “That’s sweet of them,” you said, a faint smile still lingering on your lips, “you’re always stuck on Coruscant.” Fox shrugged in response and a part of you wondered if he was secretly excited to see a new planet. He fluidly side-stepped behind you when one of your aids came hurrying towards you, making you hyperaware of his presence looming over you. The landing pad came into view but Fox didn’t return to your side, electing to cover your back as you stepped into the afternoon sunlight. The muscles along your spine tightened when you felt the muted brush of his hand near your waist through layers of fabric. 
         You were starting to wonder if this was a bad idea.
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         Returning home to the madness of gala preparation was the last thing you wanted, especially when your mother was in charge of planning. You had barely stepped off your ship before you were whisked off, the five clone troopers standing a little stunned at the bottom of the ramp. It was astounding how much still needed to be done the day before the gala, leaving you to force down a frustrated scream. As if you weren’t stressed enough. 
         Fox eventually found you standing in the banquet hall of the palace, angrily scrubbing at your tired eyes. You had finally snuck away for a minute of silence, your head spinning with the list of tasks that still needed finishing. His faint footsteps had you spinning on your heels, lashes fluttering when you were met with his bare face. 
         “You look like shit,” he noted, raising a dark brow.
         “Thanks, just what I wanted to hear,” you huffed, rolling your eyes. His observation was a little harsh but it was nothing new; Fox had always been a grump but you liked the change of pace. The people around you were always sugarcoating their true thoughts, using flashy explanations to soften the edges. You appreciated the blunt honesty he offered…most of the time.
         “Welcome,” he deadpanned, stopping at your side. You let out an extremely unflattering snort but you couldn’t find the energy to care, especially when the corner of Fox’s mouth lifted. “Here, thought you could use this.”
         “Oh,” you chirped, blinking down at the steaming flimsy cup. The smell of caf finally hit your nose, bringing a soft smile to your face. “Thank you, Fox.”
         “Think I got it right this time,” he mumbled, carefully watching you take a sip. His shoulders relaxed enough for you to notice when you nodded; you blamed the heat rolling off the drink for the warmth in your cheeks.
         “Did you find your, uh, uh, sleeping areas?” you asked, wrinkling your nose as you stumbled over the word you were looking for. Fox didn’t seem fazed despite only ever seeing you at your best around other senators.
         “Mm, we did,” he answered, tilting his head back to take in the decorations hanging overhead. “Cayde might steal one of those pillows though.”
         “Go for it,” you laughed, letting your gaze linger on his profile. You already felt some of the stress melting off your shoulders simply by Fox’s calm presence. Suddenly he looked down, warm brown eyes finding yours, making your breath catch. He was always intense, giving the feeling he was staring into your soul, flaying you open with a single look. It made your chest feel too small and you had to stop yourself from swaying closer. 
         The near-frantic shout of your name shattered the moment and you stifled a sigh, turning to face whoever was hurrying into the room. You jumped when a warm hand gently curled around your elbow, drawing your attention back to the commander beside you. Fox tugged you a little closer, ducking his head to keep the conversation between you and him; your heart rate picked up, rivaling the pace of a drumroll. 
         “Try not to stress too much,” he murmured, lightly squeezing your arm, “I’m sure the event will be amazing.” He released you without another word, the ghost of a smile on his lips before he slid his helmet on again. You watched him stroll out of the room until he disappeared, forcing you to absorb whatever the anxious staff member was trying to tell you. 
         You hated that the feeling of his warm breath against your cheek would haunt you indefinitely.
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         You almost thought about refusing to leave your bed and burrowing under a mound of blankets instead of getting ready for the gala. Of course, Caitri would never let that happen but one could dream. The royal family’s home was buzzing with excited energy as the guest arrival time drew closer and although you were exhausted, you weren’t immune to the high spirits. You had caught glimpses of red armor here and there as you helped with any last-minute preparations, however, none of them were Fox. 
         You finally got a chance to take a breather when guests started to arrive, the hall filling with beings dressed in their finest. You tried to convince yourself you were scanning the room for Caitri and not a certain commander when you caught a glimpse of plastoid near the door. It was slightly worrisome when you didn’t see him, mainly because you were so exposed, not that you felt like you were in danger but protection was their job on this trip. 
         “Looking for someone, milady?” a familiar voice rumbled in your ear. You didn’t turn to face him immediately, especially when you noted that his voice wasn’t masked by the vocoder in his helmet. 
         “In fact, I was,” you replied, looking over your shoulder. Instead of a startlingly white shoulder bell, you caught a flash of starched, gray fabric that had you twisting around. Fox’s head was angled down, the lights spaced around the room highlighting the streaks of gray peaking out from under his hat.
         “Hm, maybe I can help,” he mused, allowing his eyes to wander lower, appraising the dress you had settled on.
         “No need, I’ve already found him,” you countered, bumping your shoulder into his chest. Big mistake. You had never seen him in anything but plates of plastoid armor but this uniform emphasized the width of his shoulders; your tongue was glued to the roof of your mouth as your eyes followed the subtle curve of his biceps. 
         “Must be a lucky man to draw the attention of such a beautiful woman,” Fox said, meeting your eyes on the last word. Warmth bloomed in your cheeks and you desperately wanted to turn away but held his heavy gaze. 
         “Mm, well he looks quite handsome as well,” you countered with a playful smile. His confidence wavered for a moment, the tips of his ears turning pink as he ducked his head with a husky laugh.
         “Who knew GAR-issued grays could make that possible,” he teased, his gaze softening. You turned to fully face him, making a show of scanning his figure, humming under your breath, and ignoring his half-hearted eye roll. 
         “I think they suit you,” you complimented, resting a hand on his arm. Muscles flexed under your fingers, Fox’s eyes fixed on where your hand sat before he held out his other hand, palm up, in your direction. 
         “Care to dance?” That threw you for a loop, your brows arching up as your lips parted. That was probably the last thing you expected him to ask, although, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny the offer.
         “I would love to,” you whispered, gently placing your hand in his. The crowd had filled in, forcing you to press tighter against Fox’s back, not that you were complaining. The ensemble was playing a light classical piece, a range of other couples swaying along to the music, allowing you to blend into the crowd. Fox found an empty pocket, turning to face you only to hesitate. Your hand was still resting in his and you used the point of contact to ground yourself before taking a step closer. 
         The distance closing spurred him into action, his arm circling your waist to rest a hand on your lower back. The warmth of his palm seeped into the fabric of your dress, searing the feeling into your skin, forcing you to shove down a shiver. You followed his lead, resting your free hand on his shoulder, a little closer to his heart than was custom but he didn’t seem to mind. For a moment, you worried he would feel the drumming of your heart when he pulled you closer but every thought was ripped from your head when you looked up. 
         The soft golden lights overhead made his eyes twinkle, the sight stealing the air from your lungs. You wondered if he had any idea how handsome he was. Then, as if he was out to completely turn your world upside down, he took a step to your left, your feet following on instinct. 
         “You know how to dance?” you blurted, staring wide-eyed at his slightly smug expression.
         “Don’t seem so surprised,” he scoffed playfully, leading through the next few steps.
         “Can you blame me?” you huffed, wrinkling your nose to stop from smiling. “With some of the ridiculous things I’ve seen the Guard do, there are times I am convinced you never finished your kindergarten modules.” Fox’s mouth fell open, attempting to look offended but the amusement dancing in his eyes told a different story.
         “I’ll have you know, I was a great student,” Fox argued primly. “I thought Seventeen was going to cry when I passed.”
         “From relief,” you snickered, digging your teeth into your lip when he narrowed his eyes. The glare only lasted a few seconds before a huff of laughter passed his lips; you fought down another shiver when you felt it brush against your lips.
         “Mm, you might have a point,” Fox chuckled. You were thankful for the years of etiquette lessons that had your feet moving on autopilot because you were entrapped by the soft smile on Fox’s face. He looked happier than you’d ever witnessed, making the longing you managed to hide well enough come back with a vengeance. 
         “Who’s Seventeen?” you asked, hoping to distract yourself. The plan backfired when Fox’s smile grew and all you wanted to do was feel the curve of it against your lips. 
         “Alpha-17. My - well my batch’s older brother,” Fox explained, glancing at something over your head before his eyes dropped back to your face. “The alpha class clones were assigned command cadets to train and to keep an eye on; Seventeen was ours.”
         “He was older than you?” you wondered, soaking up the chance to learn more about Fox.
         “It’s hard to explain,” Fox mumbled, his brows pinching together. “Physically, yes, he’s older.”
         “What is he like?”
         “Brutal,” Fox answered immediately, though he was smiling. “However, it was fun to watch him run ARC training because the others had no idea what they were in for.”
         “He sounds like an interesting character,” you chuckled. Fox blinked at the sound of your voice, almost like he forgot who he was talking to, but recovered quickly, clearing his throat.
         “That’s an understatement,” Fox mumbled, shaking his head. “Yet, I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else. We’re the soldiers we are today because of him.” Your face softened and before you could talk yourself out of it, you slid the hand resting on his shoulder to his face.
         “You’re the man you are because of him,” you argued quietly. Fox’s eyes widened, and his grip on your other hand tightened as he slowed to a stop. The gala’s commotion died down to a distant buzz when you met his eyes, the intensity of his stare making your stomach clench. When had his face gotten so close?
         “I - I think the song ended,” Fox whispered, eyes shifting between yours.
         “I think you mean the second song ended,” you giggled, pulling your hand out of his to rest it on his shoulder. He immediately curled his arm around your waist, caging you against his chest but you could feel the hesitation in his movements. You sucked in a long breath, deciding this was the perfect time to put your news into words for the first time. “You know, this is my last gala as a senator.”
         “What?” Fox snapped, going rigid under your touch.
         “My senatorial term ends soon,” you explained, brushing your thumb along the edge of his stubble. “I’ll be reassigned as an advisor instead.”
         “So you’ll stay here?” he asked, a crease forming between his brows. You caught the hint of disappointment in his voice, a swarm of butterflies erupting in your stomach. 
         “No, I’ll still reside on Coruscant but I won’t hold any weight in the senate,” you answered, finally letting the corner of your mouth twitch up. Fox just looked at you for a moment, then the pieces fell into place and he leveled you with an unimpressed look. 
         “You couldn’t have started with that?” he grumbled, shaking his head. His ‘irritation’ only lasted a few seconds before his features softened, nervous energy hanging around his shoulders. Then you caught the glimpse of something giving way like a weight had been lifted. Fox slowly leaned closer until there was barely any space between your lips and his, his forehead almost touching yours in a gesture that nearly brought tears to your eyes. The world slowed, the party becoming nothing more than background noise as you swayed into him. “Tell me to stop and I will.”
         “Why would I do a stupid thing like that?” you breathed, sliding your hand around to the back of his neck to pull him closer. It was hesitant at first, lips meeting for the first of many kisses you’d share with Fox but you already knew there was no going back. If he hadn’t pulled away, reminding you of the environment around you, it would’ve been so easy to get lost in the feel of his lips. Fox didn’t go far, letting his forehead fully rest against yours as a hand slid up to cup the back of your head. 
         “Never thought I’d live to do that,” he confessed, tracing the bottom of your hairline with his thumb.
         “I’m nowhere near finished with you,” you giggled, bumping your noses together, “so don’t go dying on me now.” His laugh was airy, almost disbelieving but he canted his head slightly, lips hovering a hairbreadth away.
         “Yes ma’am,” he whispered before capturing your lips again.
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A/N 2: Clone trooper Cayde is one of my Coruscant Guard ocs that I created a while ago, meaning he’s not the same trooper that was introduced in the bad batch.
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missmeinyourbones · 2 years
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I WAS BORN SICK (BUT I LOVE IT)
cw: mentions of blood and scars, mentions of touya’s backstory & family, saw the new pic of little touya and this appeared
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As Touya Todoroki sits on the floor of his bathtub, cold and trembling underneath the consistent stream of the shower head, he finds himself thinking of you. 
Maybe you’re in the bath, too—muscles unclenching as they seep beneath the warmth of scolding water and steam. Maybe you’re in bed, a book resting to your left as you doze off in the comforts of your cotton linens. They’re soft against your skin, unlike his scratchy sheets that irritate his legs. Maybe you’re cooking dinner, and the small apartment kitchen you occupy is filled with the scents of spices and heat and love. He hopes you’re relaxing, at peace, wherever you are.
Peace, he echoes. The word tastes foreign and sour on his tongue. 
He thinks of his younger self—of a small child with flaming red hair and the drive of a fire engine. He wants to grab him by his boney and sore shoulders and shake him until he cries. He wants to hold him, to tell him to run and don’t look back. Tell him to start new before he can be ruined by his own flesh and blood—by his own father.
His father. A man with a burning desire to outlast, to overpower. A coward who turned him into a weapon and then got mad when he did what weapons do—destroy. 
He stands up from the cold ceramic tub and turns the faucet off. He doesn’t even think he washed himself, he can’t remember. He’s pretty sure he just sat underneath the water for about an hour, knees clutched to his chest like an incompetent and weeping child.
He’s wrinkled all over—except now, it spreads across the few patches of pruney pale skin he has left, not just the plum-colored bumps decorating his limbs. 
He grabs a towel hanging from the rack and runs it through his soaking wet hair, shaking his head around like a wet dog. Wiping his face, he leans onto the sink for support. 
He looks in the mirror at his reflection. He thinks of cutting his hair, for the sole purpose that he can’t get his hands on anything else worth cutting. He can’t sear off the split ends of selfish people or unwanted memories with the rusted scissors from his kitchen drawer. Maybe if he cuts it shorter, he’ll look less like himself—or less like whoever is currently staring back at him in the foggy bathroom vanity.
No, he decides against it. Because again, hair is temporary—just like everything in his life seems to be. It doesn’t matter whether it’s black, white, or red. 
If he cuts his hair, it will just grow back. If he bandages his wounds, they will bleed at the next tearing of skin. If he calls you up and invites you over, you might stay the night, but you will slip through his fingers with time. He’s certain of it. 
He thinks it’s better to let himself suffer. Wait by the phone like a feigning addict for your call, just to ignore it and let you move on—from him, from whatever hurt and disappointment that he will inevitably place on you. Cold turkey, rip the bandaid off, stop it before it even begins. 
But it's already began, because now it has to end.
And Touya regrets ever knowing you, because he knows he has to live a life without you.
Maybe the two of you could’ve had a chance if you’d met ten years prior, before he died for nothing. Before he dreamed for three years just to wake and find himself written off as dead, gone, buried. 
Before he returned home to see the same reflection of himself in his younger brother beaten and bleeding on the floor, the same shadow of a father standing above him tall and broad and far too strong.
Maybe you would’ve stopped them from prematurely building a shrine to silence the suffering mentions of his name. Maybe you would’ve waited for him. He could’ve shown you around Sekoto Peak.
A younger version of you might’ve known peace, maybe it wasn’t too late for you to rub it off on him. He’d always been a quick learner. That’s what his mother would say.
What if you had a smile brighter than his flames, before they turned a strained and burning turquoise? What if the color of your barrettes complimented the cherry of his hair nicely? 
The two of you could’ve left together, gone somewhere rural and lonely and your own. He didn’t have to do the things he did, walk the road he’d forced himself to choose. You would have Sunday dinners, rainy day laundry, morning showers, and sleepless nights. All with him, all with each other. 
But it was all too late.
You found him too late. All chances of redemption for Touya Todoroki came too late. Too late too late too late.
And now he’s like this—barely held together with rusted sewn staples and a fire he can’t put out unless someone loses. Unless his father perishes at his hand, or unless he dies trying. You deserved to know the him before the accident, when he had the potential to be something worthy of your love. When he had the chance to become a better man, to become a better lover. 
The apartment he’s managed to lock down is nothing close to a home, not like how your small place feels warm and tender to the soles of his feet. How he can breathe without thinking in your presence, but struggles to gasp in his own. The lights barely work, the floors are barren of rugs, the sink is filled with dirty dishes and packaged leftovers to be thrown away. 
A knock is heard against his door, light and thrice as knuckles wrap against the uneven wood. There’s only a handful of people it could be, as limited contacts know of his current location.
It could be Hawks, here to pretend to be his friend while scouting his place for fingerprints. Or Shigaraki, needing a place to lay low for a few days before traveling like a phantom beneath the city. 
He doesn’t know why he lets his mind entertain itself with hypotheticals, because he knows it’s you on the other side of the door.  
He doesn't open it, but you feel the weight of his back rest against its frame with a thump. You know he’s right there, separated by a single piece of wood that could be disintegrated within seconds if he pleased. You know he’s fighting something off, wrestling with his own thoughts of who and how and why. You know he’s refusing to let himself become yours.  
Your whisper is muffled through the door. 
“Touya,” your voice is shaky, but somehow still allows relief to surge through his veins like electricity, “can I come in?”
Touya will let you go. He will free you from his own personal shackles of death and despair and destruction. He’ll rid you of the dark cloud that follows him everywhere he goes, hovering over his head and contaminating all of those around him. 
He will—just not today. 
“Yeah, doll,” he closes his eyes and steps forward, though his back remains facing the door.
“You can come in.”
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keepingeahalive · 10 months
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Cerise Hood Headcanons:
Her full name is Cerise Lovelle Hood.
She was a very playful, rambunctious child. She’d chew on the furniture as she was teething and bark at people if she didn’t like them. This was a problem for her mother, especially if they went outside.
She and her mom live on a property isolated from the Hood/Badwolf settlements. It was for Cerise’s safety. But neither of them is happy to be away from their “pack”.
She had been best friends with Rosabella since they were little. They were able to be themselves around each other and understood how hard it was to hide parts of themselves. She didn’t approve of Rosa’s relationship with Ramona because she didn’t think Ramona was a good fit for her friend. Ramona hates keeping secrets, and all three have secrets to keep.
The three little pigs used to pick on her as a kid. They’d follow behind her, pull on her cloak, and mockingly sing about being afraid of the Big Bad Wolf. Cerise put up with this for years until it all suddenly stopped one day. Something happened between her and the pigs, but all anyone knows is that the pigs were found with apples in their mouths and are now terrified of her.
She tried peanut butter once. It took her mother, three cows, and a winch to unclench her jaw.
Her mother calls her “Cherry.”
Cerise has a complicated relationship with her grandmother. While they love each other and have a close bond, her grandmother does not know who Cerise’s father is and is extremely prejudiced against Wolves.
She’s allergic to chocolate.
She’s better at hunting than Ramona. She tries not to rub it in her face.
She and Cedar have a very close bond, and she considers her one of her best friends. She does not know that Cedar knows her secret.
Cerise’s mother never let Cerise be ashamed of her wolf side, but she made her aware that people would not be as happy with it as she was. She told Cerise to keep her hood up “over the river, through the woods, and all the way home.”
She doesn’t have very many memories of Ramona growing up. Their parents thought it would be too suspicious if the girls grew up with each other and only arranged meetings a few times a year when they knew they would be safe. 
Cerise and Ramona would leave little presents for each other when they were kids, usually food. Cerise stopped doing this after coming to terms with their destinies, but Ramona still finds a peach on her dorm room’s doorstep sometimes.
Her hood is a family heirloom that has been passed down since the first Little Red Riding Hood. It’s been refurbished over the centuries, but Cerise has to take good care of it. 
The so-called “family secret” isn’t as much of a secret as Cerise likes to believe. Most of the student body knows, but they don’t say anything. They’re either too scared of Cerise, care about her too much, or don’t care at all. As she’s made more friends, she’s gained a lot more supporters who would jump to her defense. 
Her parents were very worried about her trying out for sports. She evaded suspicion by using the excuse that it’ll help her “outrun the Wolf”.
She doesn’t like to show or talk about it because it’s not her main priority, but Cerise really wants a “mate and a pack” of her own someday. She wants the family experience she never had as a kid.
Cerise was only partially responsible for Ramona being sent to reform school. She had always been skeptical of Ramona’s relationship with Rosabella, knowing her sister wasn’t one for secrets. She was proven right when Rosa called things off, because Mona wanted her to reveal her beast side. Cerise confronted her sister about this and, with the breakup still fresh, Mona tried to maul her. She still blames herself for Ramona being sent away, but she will always defend Rosa for her decision.
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