#'v been wantin to do this for a while

[didderd]

bitty Tic, Tac, n Tou doodles from earlier in th day :3

they all got a Tourette's ribbon to tie around a part of themself :> (lil Tac tore his in half to tie around his forearms n hide his bite tic scars)

(these aren't quite finalized designs. still needa think abt a few things)

#lil tou th only one wif shoes lmao #m' hand's still not in great shape #but i wanted to draw th bbys #'v been wantin to do this for a while #;^; #i'v had the ribbon idea! for so long! #OUGH #i luv #i still needa get tou's ref out hhhhhhh #*cries* #'m sry 's still not quite finishedddd #soon as #m' hands well enough #i needa finish it #(or even jus use text instead of hand writing bc that's all that's rly left lmao) #tic sans #tac sans #tou sans #tic bitty #tac bitty #tou bitty #tourette's sanses #undertale #undertale au #didderd ocs #didderd art

[satoruhour]

*runs in*

colllege athlete!au where jjk men see you in their varsity jacket and just goes batshit crazy. They defo win the game afterwards and fuck you in it, best orgasm of your life.

*runs out*

❄️

a/n: MY LORD .......................... YOU JUST UNLOCKED SUM IN ME ICY !!!!! discussions of p -> v sex, unprotected sex, breeding, oral f! receiving, name calling, semi-public sex, long LONG post

gojo would def be the one to suggest it at first. hes even offering to buy two jackets just for you but then youre like “but i dont want you to waste money satoru... plus i want it to smell like you..!” omg that makes gojo cum on the spot lmfao. but is mostly caught off guard when you first wear it - it happens when its the half time of the game and his team is not doing particularly well bc he made u a little upset the night before and he felt bad :( youve been on his mind for the whole game and hes so distracted poor boy. but u also think you were being a little childish in how you reacted, so youre stealing his varsity jacket way earlier than he leaves and hes so confused when that morning he cant find it. shows up to the game in another jacket and got an earful from his coach that no one really likes, and bc theyre doing so badly, at half time the coach didnt want to meet with them for pep talk either. boo fuck the coach but anyway, youre rushing down to the lockets and whatnot in his jacket. feels like straight out of a movie dude omg. that troy and gabriella shit bc gojo is dragged outside and is hugging you close and muttering apologies into your neck, kissing u all over sigh. its gotten him a big boost of adrenaline tho! and as the star player of his team a lot of his teammates feed off of his energy. gojo is the last to leave the locker room, wanting to have a little more time with you. he twirls you around and admires you in his large jacket and makes out with you until he hears the buzzer from outside LOL. gives u a deep kiss, “ill win and fuck you good later, alright princess?” “go get ’em, satoru. i’ll be here always.”

yeah he def fucked you good later on, making you strip out of everything but his jacket and pounded u nice and good in the locker room long after everyone left. made you ride him on the benches, ate you out as you sat on the benches and kept thanking u for being his lucky charm thru all his matches. the grip on your hips were so heavy they were pprobably bruised, and the clanking of the lockers were so noisy it was a wonder you two werent caught. “that’s right, baby— taking my cock like the good girl you are,” you’re pushed up against the university lockers and railed into from brhind, sticking his fingers into your mouth as he made u arch your back in that varsity jacket of his. ooh lord. brought you out on a winning date and fucked u in his car, fucked you back at his home all the while wearing his jacket !!!!!!!

/

geto has never thought of it personally, but he wonders about it one day, thinking bout you in it without anything and he gets hard as heeellllll. has been wantin to put you in it for the longest time but just didnt have the opportunity to - youre always prepared with a cardigan or jacket of your own or you simply just dont get cold much to suguru’s dismay. so when you’re shivering one day before a game (sometimes they would watch the match before to get a sense of the two teams, and also bc you wanted to travel light handed for the date geto was going to bring you to after), geto’s so so quick to offer up his varsity jacket before you can think of any counter to it. but what you dont tell him is that youve been “avoiding” in a way, just bc you know if u get access to his jacket he will never. get. it. back. you have a knack for stealing his clothes bc geto smells good good and youre addicted to his scent. but either way youre trying not to gasp at the largeness of the jacket ... 🙏 same girl. you’re slipping one arm and then the other, wrapped in the safeness of geto’s jacket and hes trying so hard to show u that he isnt shivering LMFOAOAAOAO thank god the match was ending already and his team was up next. gojo only nods towards you later in the locker room as you stay thru their coach’s talk, smiling sickly bc he just knew what his best friend was going to do afterwards.

soon enough he can hear the cheers of the spectators flood his ears but hes only focused on you running up to him from the bleachers and hugs you close in his sweaty body (which u protest against and laugh about), but hes whispering “you dont mind though, right baby?” yeah you DEF dont mind it when he pulls you into the janitor’s closet and his body is grinding against yours. “was so hard playing through the game, yknow how difficult that is?” you reply back with i cant imagine with a giggle and let him do whatever he wants to you: hes so impatient he cant pull his game pants down all the way and the same goes for you. both your bottoms are stuck atound your thighs, and youre trying to stay quiet in that squeezy closet. it’s hard. youre so wet you dont exactly need foreplay, just maybe some brief fingering which has you whining into his neck and he slips in after. fucks you until the pails and cleaning supplies are falling to the floor and youre hoping to take off the varsity jacket but he refrains you from it, loving the way ur white shirt is turning wet from all your sweat. it’s sloppy, disgusting, juices spurting everywhere and youre so tight from your pressed-together thighs. i guess he has no choice but to put you in a mating press too and he goes so deeeep in that position you moan out loud. “yeah— made to take my cock like a slut, ain’t ya? only natural when you’re lookin’ so good in my jacket.” getos gross and u love it.

/

nanami fits better as an alumni whos come back for a friendly current students vs alumni match. hes entering the gym with haibara and his two annoying seniors gojo and geto and while they talk a lot of crap theyre great players. nanami comes up to greet you since youre still their manager and hes one year above you. dating across years is a little difficult esp with how nanami was in his last year of uni, and now that hes looking for work while u finish your last year .... it’s hectic thats for sure, but u guys make it work perfectly fine bc nanami prioritises you a lot!! but late youve been busy with midterms and him with settling in with his new job that he almost forgot about today’s match. is met with nostalgia the first time he steps intothe gym again but he never expected you to wear the varsity jacket that’s stuffed deep into your closet. frankly it doesnt fit him at all any mroe but you thought it to be fitting to wear it in this once in a lifetime match (bc hes just so busy!!!! to book a date w/ nanami is like going to the army dawg). nanami’s jaw drops when u first step foot into the gym and oh my god youre going to be the umpire too? he is going to become too distracted, instantly taken back to the many many times hes gotten you trapped in the gym bathroom with his cock in your mouth, or the time you ride him in the empty gym in the corner (it was late at night!!!!), or also the time right after his loss where he took all his anger and frustration out on you, jersey between his teeth as he uses you. something switched in nanami that day when u expressed how much u liked the roughness tee hee. surprisingly hes even more focused, in a way of proving something to himself bc he can probably count on everyone’s hands the number of times hes missed a cue from a teammate before when he was still in school just cause u were wearing his jacket 😭😭😭 man you dont even need to be in the jacket! thats how obsessed he is with u!!!

shoots you a small smile after each point and is trying to hard not to run to you to get a good job kiss. also finds the fact that youre judging appropriately and not showing biasness just cause nanami’s on one team really really hot! the way you call the shots, give the accurate penalties and that booming voice of yours echoing thru out the gym ..... youre so good at being umpire that even the juniors cant deny they lost fair and square and not just cause youre nanami’s girl. altho bc you two are so good at hiding they dont rlly suspect anything until hes kissing you - something that even he isnt that comfy with but he just needed to show off !!!!! that isnt the case when later he has you back in the gym, reminiscent of that one time!!! but nanami found it so hot, hes backing you back up into the quiet gym, illuminated by the moonlight. its way late after dinner and the uni students have gone back to their dorm already while the alumni has departed for their homes and its just you. thank god the gym is also located in a place that is a little secluded and disconnected from the campus so it isnt long before youre both making out against the walls of the gym, moans and sounds echoing in the large hall. “just like old times?” “yeah. except ill be taking my time with you” yeah, u take ur time indeed: the gargling of your mouth and groans of nanami is so disgustingly filthy, slobbering all over his dick and he also eats you out on the floor. when he stretches u out with his fingers you can hear yourself bc youre so wet that you drip to the floor. but none of u give a shit when you settle atop nanami and start riding him needily, bouncing and moaning out his name. the way the sounds of your slapping skin makes it way back to is gross!!!! but so hot!!!! its so lewd !!! you get tired soon enough and nanami thrusts up into you with whispers of ur name in the gym. u do that hot thing where you pull up your shirt and pull down ur bra so your tits r spilling out .... OOOOOOHH it gets nanami cumming instantly, esp with the large frame of the varsity jacket on you that he cums more than usual <3333

/

toji, rather than a player, is a coach for the team. youre the manager whos helping with all the admin stuff and waterbottles/towels and with moral in the team - kind of like kiyoko and yachi in hq, but when u show up always no one knows whose varsity jacket youre wearing. they all speculate between themselves and have their thoughts but the team members never suspect that it’s their own coaches one. it looks too similar to the team’s with no name on the back, the sewing is exactly the same and the small logo of their team takes its place on the left breast as usual. but they never bother to check the inside where toji has made a large blotched ‘T’ on the label and your name squeezed in on the underside. toji loves to see it on you, esp in games and while hed love to see it on you outside of it he cant run the risk that he’s dating the manager. but he also especially loves it when you surprise him at home: wearing his jacket with nothing but your panties, prancing around and doing chores as he comes back from another gruelling match. ohhhh the things he’d do to you... but the best is when you do it in public. that changes the whole game

you’re helping with practice here and there, picking up the stray shuttlecocks/volleyballs/whatever sport around the gym as they practice their drills, but toji realises you dont reach over and bend like you usually do - normally youd do it when you know toji’s the only one to be standing behind you so he can see your panties under the short skirt but you dont do ANYTHING so he wonders if he did smtg wrong. but also you’re squatting down to pick up things? it’s only later when you saunter up to him as his team is distracted and you unzip the jacket just a little and he gets the glimpse of the lingerie set he bought you and very very riskily bringing his hand down to your centre where you’re bare. toji groans to himself when he feels that youre already so wet, playing with your folds just barely until his student calls out to him and youre both shocked out of your daze. “you’re in for it, doll.” takes u to the equipment room, and fucks right after dismissing the team. “doing this typa shit in front of the boys? dirty girl.” youre holding onto the shelves of the equipment and it’s rattling so much that things are tethering so close to the edge, it’s insanity. the sight of his cock disappearing into you while you wear that short skirt is just pure serotonin for him, plus your moans echo a lot throughout the room along with the slapping of ur skin. stuffs the collar of the varsity jacket into your mouth to keep you quiet as he cums in you <3333 “look at that...” sighs when he removes his cock from you and cum drips to the floor, “my pretty manager.”

OKAY BYE . I NEED TO BE SPAYED.

#❄️ anon #asks #WOOOOOOWWW #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk thirsts #toji smut #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #geto smut #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #toji x you

[coramatus]

Under the City Streets (part 8)

The Old Man of the Mountain and the not-very-sudden-but-very-inevitable betrayal.

or

Happy New Year! Have an update!

For why Emmet and Volo are bothering with a weird old dude who might be Arceus in disguise, read part 7.1 - 7.5, but mainly 7.5.

When Emmet and Volo reach the foot of a mountain (more like an overlarge hill) with rotting wooden steps dug into the side, Volo insists that he is going no further. Emmet doesn’t care and says Volo can do whatever.

And yet Volo still frets as he watches Emmet ascend the steps.

As Emmet crests the hill, he finds a decrepit old shack surrounded by a veritable junkyard of wood and metal objects. A covered porch lines the sides of the shack, where an old man sits in a rocking chair facing away from him, whittling away at a piece of wood into some kind of doll.

“Hello!” Emmet greets the old man, sharply adopting his signature point and call pose, “I am—!”

“Emmet!” a chipper wizened voice finishes for him. The man doesn’t turn around as he chuckles, “Don’chu worry none. I know who ya are.”

Emmet’s pose slips. He’s never been interrupted like that before.

“Um… then, you are—?”

“Yep! I’m the Ol’ Man yet lookin’ fer. Be wit'cha inna minute, kiddo,” the man quips easily, “Just gotta put on some finishin’ touches fer ya.”

The carving knife is set aside in favor of a stump of an old black grease pencil which deftly makes a few marks on the doll.

“Aaaand done!” the Old Man announces. He turns to face Emmet with a gap-toothed grin as he tosses a small wooden doll at Emmet, who barely catches it in time. The man eyes him expectantly, “Whaddya say? Pretty spot on, I reckon.”

Blinking in confusion, Emmet gets his first look at the doll and is given pause.

It’s a simple, stylized human figure, its stumpy left arm pointed forwards with its right pointed to the side. It’s painted in white with trademark brown bands along the sides and along its flared sleeve cuffs. A familiar white hat sits on its head, bearing the distinct blue and white livery of Gear Station. Its simple face bears a v-shaped smile and unmistakable pointed gray sideburns.

“O-oh! This is… me?” Emmet says with a puzzled tilt of his head. For a long moment, he stares blankly at the effigy of himself before a faint smile breaks across his face, “Neat.”

The man snaps his knee with a gleeful cackle, “Boy howdy, you’re the first fella in a while to not up and run off on me! The second I give ‘em their doll, it’s like they seen a ghost! I like ya, kiddo!”

“Thanks?” Emmet says, his smile hesitant, not entirely sure why anyone would flee from a display of an omniscient person’s power.

He looks back down at the doll, noting that it depicts him in his complete outfit, not his current shredded, torn and injured state. A state he wishes he could go back to. Pushing past the feeling of loss, he refocuses on the Old Man, smiling with faint hope,

“Then you really know everything?”

“Just about. ‘Round these parts anyways. And whatever else comes through!” the Old Man laughs as he rises from his chair onto stooped legs to hobble past Emmet. A shaky hand grips a knobbled, white cane, its pointed tip covered in polished brass. He shakes his head as he pushes open a sliding, wooden door and shuffles in, “Ain’t never a dull day in these here parts, kiddo. Always folks wantin’ to find answers until they get ones they don’t like. Then it gets real messy.”

Old Man invites Emmet into a mildly hoarded out cabin. He is a very gracious host, offering food and drink. But Emmet cuts to the chase.

“Something happened to my brother and I need to know what that was. People call him the Woodsman but his real name is Ingo.”

“Straight to the point. I can respect that,” the Old Man nods as he hobbles along. He prepares some tea on a banked fire, as he recounts, “Yeah, I know that fella. Kid’s got a real mean streak in him. And he used to be so nice too.”

“Yep… he was the nicest…” Emmet confirms, a fond smile playing at the corners of his lips. However, it quickly fades as reality reasserts itself, a deep sadness settling in his chest, “But now I’m not sure who he is anymore…” He looks up to the Old Man, pleading, “What happened to him? I need to know.”

The Old Man sucks on his pipe, his previous manic demeanor falling away to an alert calmness, staring at him evenly, “And why would that be?”

“Because I do not understand!” Emmet shouts, shooting to his feet. His fingers grab his hair as he paces the cabin, his thoughts and feelings boiling over as he rants in desperation, “I cannot understand! Why won’t he listen to me? Amnesia does not explain his refusal to listen!” He groans, despairing, “What am I missing? What am I doing wrong?!”

Emmet is left shaking and panting, struggling to hold back tears. He’s not sure why he lost control like that in front of someone he just met, but it hardly matters now. He doesn’t resist as the Old Man guides him to a seat. The Old Man patiently stays by Emmet’s side as he works his tangled knot of emotions under control, taking careful, controlled breaths.

“I’m sorry…” Emmet whispers, his dull voice choking with pain, “I just want him back so, so much…”

The Old Man soothingly rubs Emmet’s back, not unlike a doting grandparent would to an upset grandchild, “That fellah’s got no clue how lucky he is to have such a wonderful brother lookin’ out fer him.”

“How wonderful can I be if I can’t even get him to believe me?” Emmet answers mournfully.

He shifts but he accidentally jostles his burn, making him cry out in pain as he doubles over. He’s left cradling his injured arm to his chest, shaking and whimpering as fresh tears form in his eyes.

The Old Man offers to take a look at the wound and Emmet lets him, holding out his trembling arm. With great care, the Old Man unwraps Emmet’s tie and audibly winces at the sight. But as he examines Emmet’s burn, his expression darkens. He asks if Emmet is feeling any different, to which he just sighs and admits that he feels a lot more tired. The Old Man warns him that he needs to keep a closer eye on his moods. This wound has the potential to take his life if he's not careful.

Emmet isn’t sure what he means but guesses that it could get infected and go septic. He just nods along halfheartedly, letting the Old Man apply a salve to ease the pain before wrapping his arm back up.

From Emmet’s sullen demeanor, the Old Man surmises that he’s had it rough enough and could use a real break.

So the Old Man offers a wager. He likes Emmet and will give him information no matter what. But which sort of info that will be depends on if he can best the Old Man. If Emmet wins, the Old Man will tell him that which he wants to know. If Emmet fails, he will be told what he needs to know. Emmet figures the end result will be the same so he easily agrees.

The Old Man nods sagely.

The challenge?

“Hit me.”

Emmet stills, uncertain he heard correctly.

“…say again?”

The Old Man grins wide at him with his nearly toothless mouth, “You heard me. Hit me. Deck me. Punch me. Slap me. Kick me. Ya land a hit, ya win. If you don’t by the time I get bored, then ya lose.”

Emmet thinks about this. He pushes up his tattered sleeves. With a spark of life back in his eyes, he drops into a fighting stance, declaring,

“I am Emmet. And I like winning more than anything else!”

“I know ya do, kiddo,” the Old Man gives him another gap-toothed grin.

Unfortunately for Emmet, the Old Man is far more spry than he lets on. No matter how much Emmet swings at the Old Man, his opponent slips just out of reach or catches his blows and throws him off or simply trips him. More than once, Emmet finds himself crashing into a wall.

In the end, Emmet doesn’t hit the Old Man. But he does tackle him, which is better than not touching him at all. The Old Man laughs at his clever tilting of the rules. Emmet didn’t win but neither did he lose.

So the Old Man offers Emmet a tidbit of both what he wants and needs to know.

Emmet is told how his brother disappeared. Simply put, his brother did not leave of his own free will, slipping through an unexpected tear in space-time. It was just bad luck. Wrong place, wrong time.

A weight lifts off Emmet’s chest. He was always afraid Ingo left because he’d grown sick and tired of his weirdo twin. It’s a relief to know Ingo didn’t choose to be here.

As for why any of this happened?

The Old Man won’t say it himself, but he grimly informs Emmet that he needs to ask his little Starly friend.

Volo knows exactly why.

Volo hops back and forth before the hill steps, sort of a Starly version of pacing. He’s deep in thought, having begun to piece things together. For a moment, there’s a faint flutter of hope that perhaps his ordeal might see an end.

But when Emmet returns, Volo needs only one look at him to shatter that hope.

Emmet’s thin smile has vanished entirely. He watches silently as Volo tries fussing over him, nervously asking if he learned anything useful.

Instead of answering, Emmet quietly asks Volo what he has to do with everything that’s happened.

Volo’s heart sinks as he realizes what the Old Man must have said to Emmet. He tries to beg off but Emmet isn’t having it.

“Tell me the truth, Volo,” Emmet says, his flat voice rendered positively frigid. His silvery eyes bore burning holes into Volo, “Are you the reason why my brother was taken? Was Ingo’s disappearance your fault this whole time?”

“I-I can’t… I wasn’t targeting him specifically-! He came through by accident-!” Volo sputters, unable to stop the words even as he internally screams at himself to shut up.

Emmet’s eyes widen in shock, but it’s quickly replaced by a disgusted glare.

“You knew,” he hisses.

Volo is quick to make excuses, his wings outspread, pleading, “I-I’m sorry! It was such a long time ago, I didn’t think-!”

“This whole time, it was your fault,” Emmet whispers. He turns away from Volo, unable to face him as his voice trembles from barely restrained anger, “…I trusted you.”

“E-Emmet, it was an accident-! I didn’t think he was anyone important—!”

Emmet can’t even look at Volo, only uttering a single word:

“Leave.”

“Emmet-!”

“I SAID LEAVE!!!” Emmet screams, spinning on his heel to glare daggers at Volo. His face, usually so open and friendly to a fault, is now twisted into a snarl of such pure rage and hatred that it stops Volo dead in his tracks. For a split second, Volo thinks Emmet is about to stomp him flat. But instead, Emmet sharply turns away from Volo and storms off without another word.

All Volo can do is watch as what was once his only friend walks out of his life. Anger bubbles up in his chest, the unfairness of it all making him snap.

“Fine! Fine! You know what?” Volo spits back at Emmet, furiously flapping his wings to hover in place, “I will! I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again! How do you like that!!”

Emmet doesn’t even acknowledge him. There is not a hint of hesitation as he marches forwards in furious determination. His eyes are set ahead, resolutely ignoring everything else around him.

This just sets Volo off even more, “Yeah! That’s right! Leave! Just walk away like everyone else! Don’t bother looking at the only reason you even got this far! I don’t matter to anyone in the end!!!”

But by this time, Emmet has already walked well out of sight. Realizing he’s completely alone, Volo’s indignant fury deflates, fluttering to the ground, his wings drooping and despondent as he stares out at where he last saw Emmet.

For all his rage, even Volo knows he deserves this in the end.

“Emmet… Sinnoh, I am so sorry…”

Part 9

#pokemon #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon black and white #pokemon black 2 and white 2 #under the city streets au #submas #subway boss ingo #volo #starly #arceus #maybe? #coramatus's artwork

[strywoven]

@inhumann has requested a story : he hoists their legs over broad shoulders, uncaring for the way they squirmed and whined beneath him. "lil doe... why ya actin' up like this? ain't this whatchu wanted?" a teasing smirk formed as he spoke and only grew in size as he dragged his lips across their inner thigh. "bet yer just soaked right now. been wantin' this to happen for the longest time. can't hide from me, I'm a demon little doe." 

tilting his head to the side ever so slightly he parts his mouth and digs his sharp fangs into their supple flesh. sweet iron tang fills him with a rush of power and he moans against their skin. "'m gonna make ya scream my name." / :''') hi kaen marko came for your entire life

𝑼𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒅.

This , a consequence of chasing after his affections for so long.  Long have they been playing with one another , teasing at something MORE THAN THEY ARE , wherein the godling had come to believe Marko would n e v e r consider them as anything beyond a rare-blooded contract.  Well , never say never , Kaen realizes with a fleeting , dazed wonder , splayed there on their back , watching him smirk up at them from between their legs— Such a turn of events , indeed , the tension between them at LONG LAST comes to its heated apex ; what a mess he’s making of them , and he has done barely anything at all … At least , not y e t .  Though they know a certain promise in the eyes when they see it , they know the tone of w a n t when they hear it ( ah , as if looking in a mirror , for is this not the very same way his little doe has treated him since their contract began ? how rewarding it is to see the roles reversed ) .

Oh , gods alive , oh — !  They did not think this far ahead , the poor thing , so unfamiliar with intimacy , now being thrown so far out of their depth and overwhelmed by all that’s happening.  His taunting them does little to help , and they can only think to try and g l a r e down at him , pinning their ears while smoke curls in dark , cindering wisps from their nose.  Already their body is responding to him , ATTUNED TO HIM ; every touch , every whisper of breath to their fawny-flesh … Did we forget the unspoken part of his doe’s heritage ?  A godling of SEX & FERTILITY .  Their instinct knows what to do even before they do , their blood likely s w e e t e r , calling out to the demon , addictive for the pheromones spilling into their scent and draping across their flesh.  Kaen always despised ( always feared ) this part of their nature – how hungry it was , how greedy – their father often described it as a BLOOMING , but for Kaen … It was an OVERGROWTH ; a raging inferno set in their gut that expanded and began to devour them , urging them to heed to temptation and desire.

… And what if they did ( if only the once ) ?  Isn’t that what they wanted ?  What they BOTH wanted ?

Kaen whimpers again when he bites into the thick swell of their inner thigh , the crystal of their antlers and stones flickering b r i g h t l y as their body jerks at the pain , at the pleasure that smooths the sensation.  It won’t take much to make them weak , but – they think – they can make Marko WORK FOR IT just the same.  Trembling though they are , Kaen props themself up , their heart racing , their mind hazed.  Hand reaches out , gentle – at first – with scarred fingers sifting through black locks before seizing tresses TIGHT & YANKING .  ❝ Y’re– y’re right.  An’ ye’ve kept me waitin’ , ❞ They chide lightly , eyes burning in the dim of the room , smoke and cinder spilling out of their lips and twirling ‘round the rough r u m b l e of their words , ❝ Mo deamhan … ❞ My demon , Kaen calls him with no sore lack of affection , their legs hooking a little tighter about his shoulders , drawing him c l o s e r , ❝ Ah really ‘ope y’re not makin’ me empty promises t’night … ❞  They know he isn’t , but they want terribly to rile him up further , to see exactly HOW FAR he shall go.

#❧ ⸺ how can ( queue ) say there is no story here ? ❞ #❧ ⸺ ch. kaen | answered ❞ #❧ ⸺ ch. kaen | verse i: main ❞ #inhumann #inhumann | marko #suggestive cw #let's play ... turbo really came for us in this ask and made me put up or shut up #sweating spongebob . jpeg #i was not prepared for this #but i loved it so much #i love these two sm

[diannabridden]

[V][D]

@itsvinzenzdarling The vampire followed her in her lead, swinging the bottles gently as he strolled leisurely. Dianna’s nerves were strong enough to cause a knot to form in his gut. Or was it his own emotions? At times like this, when one is more overwhelming than the other, it was hard to differentiate which was his and the other’s. By now, he had gotten so used to being smothered by unsolicited emotions and moods, it was like second nature to him. But on the occasion that he might be feeling the same, or it’s so intense that he simply can’t focus, it felt new to him. He hoped she would at least enjoy herself tonight.

“A place that I had scoped out before on one our many outings as teams. I’ve been to this place a few times and narrowed it down to ‘which establishments are appropriate for a first date.’ That’s why I’m….partially thankful you dressed for the occasion. The other partiality is that I think you look cute. Ahem–It’s B-Y-O-B, which is why I brought a little something along,” he said, rattling the bottles a bit for emphasis. “You don’t seem like a wine person, so I went with something general. If it’s not at all to your liking, I can pick up something else. T’is no trouble.”

Alright, it’s a little bit of trouble because then he’d have to run and get another brand which would delay their date, but he wasn’t going to admit that and make her feel bad. He can count on one hand how many dates he had in the past that ended awfully. Practice makes perfect. Tonight was supposed to be fun, not worrying about the right thing to say or do.

Walking most likely was the best way for the pair of them to get to where they were going simply because it was in an environment that Dianna was familiar with, seeing as she often would climb on top of her camper or go hang out in her keep whenever she was stressed or feeling some kind of way, just enjoying the smell of the trees and the quiet around them. With them being on the cusp of spring it was nice enough out that she wasn’t dying from the cold, and the smell of everything on the verge of blooming was enough to help smooth down a little of that anxious edge to her emotions. Though no amount of trees could stop the quick flush of pink that shot to her face when Vin explained he was thankful she had dressed for the occasion, and then so casually threw in that he thought she looked cute, making her fingers spin the strand of hair she played with around her fingers with anxious speed. Needless to say taking a compliment wasn’t her strong suit.

“Ha....yeah, I’ve neveh really got inta wine.” She agreed softly as she stepped right over his previous statement to focus on something she could handle at the moment. “‘Course mostly everyone I know doesn’t really drink it either. So maybe it was just shit wine.” Yep. Talking about alcohol was a lot safer than talking about her looks and what he thought of them. Or worse, his looks and what she thought of those. “No, no. It’s fine. I’ll drink just about any kind. An’...thanks for bringing some with us. ‘Course if ya were wantin’ ta get me drunk, Whiskey would be a betteh bet.” Her laugh was soft and low and just a little awkward as she realized what she said, and how much that statement was actually true, or the possible outcomes if he had decided to bring that instead of beer. She really should have had more to drink before he arrived.

“So....uh, ya look like yer tha wine kind of person. I mean with just tha way ya usually dress, I’d guess that.” When it came to looks Vinzenz for sure looked like he was some top shelf wine or some other fancy drink that people would spend a lot of money on for just a glass, while she felt like she looked like that can of beer that got stuck in the back of the fridge that people forgot about. “Or are ya one of those champagne people? That stuffs pretty fancy right?” Giving the medic a small half teasing glance as she questioned him on his tastes, though the huntress was more or less rambling a little at this point to try and fill the silence to attempt to keep things from feeling more awkward. 

#blood rain #bloodxrain #itsvinzenzdarling #diannabridden #[look who's finally replying]

[santigarcia]

fly away with you

an ezra x reader fic~

rating: m for smut; virgin reader; some violence 

word count: 6,780

summary: Waking  up with no memory after a head injury, you find yourself in the presence of your rescuer - a handsome stranger named Ezra. 

a/n: I AM SO SORRY i’ve had this fic like...finished but i just never got around to posting it. i had it broken up in chapters, but i just decided to post them all here w/ breaks to signify where the chapter would have ended. (im also adding the first two parts - so if anything seems familiar this is why!) 

Ringing. There’s a loud ringing in your ears. Your vision is blurry, and that ringing won’t stop. You can’t hear anything else, and you’re not sure what you’re seeing. The color brown and green seem to blur together. What happened? Did you hit your head?

Reaching up to touch your temple, you feel wet. Your hair having been matted down with something sticky. Pulling your hand away, you look at it. Not that it does any good because your vision is still blurred. But there’s enough red on your fingertips to know it is blood.

Suddenly you smell it, your blood. And dirt. And earth.

Something else is mixed in, maybe smoke? Something in the air is foul.

The air.

You panic. Where’s your helmet? How long have you been breathing in this air? It’s the air you smell that’s foul. What if it’s toxic? Frantically you try to get up, but you can barely get your legs under you. You’re still too dizzy.

When your vision finally clears, you see your helmet on the ground next to you. There’s a large crack leading to a hole. Shards are everywhere. Some have blood on them, and you assume this is where your head injury is from. But upon further inspection, you see blood on the rock nearest you.

What happened?

It’s still foggy, but you try and retrace your steps from the day.

You had been with your cousin, whose whereabouts now you have no idea. It wasn’t even your choice to come along. But he claimed that your hands were the steadiest, and you’d be best for the harvesting. You had no idea what he was even talking about. You only agreed because your home world is the last place you want to be right now. And hey, he said he’d pay you so why not?

The ship ride over was a nightmare. It was smooth sailing quite frankly, but you’ve never been a fan of space travel. You like it on the ground. Though at the present moment the ground is covered in your blood, what a day it’s been. And you can barely remember it.

You do remember harvesting a couple of those things, you can’t even think to remember what your cousin called them. It wasn’t easy but it wasn’t hard either. You did just fine.

You also remember some arguing? Something was happening? There were these other people?

It’s starting to come back to you, but this air is getting to you. How long have you been walking? Are you even going in the right direction? You feel dizzy again and things are starting to spiral.

Then everything goes black.

A voice this time brings you out of your stupor. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but you can make out it’s a male voice. It’s not your cousin, this voice has a thick accent.

You blink several times to clear your vision again, and you take in your surroundings and this stranger.

First you notice you’re inside laying on a cot of some sort. Everything in the room is an olive green. An ugly yellow light shines overhead. It’s very dim. The space is small, it seems to be a large tent. There’s medical supplies and strange photographs on the wall. Where is this?

The man is sitting near you in a metal folding chair. He’s got no choice but to sit close to you, there’s not any room in this area.

He’s in a suit not unlike your own. His face is kind. His voice is deep, but nonthreatening. Light scruff dusts his cheeks and jaw, and his eyes are pleasant. There’s a small blond streak in his brown hair. And a haggard scar on his cheek. His kind eyes and kind smile almost seem out of place next to that scar.

He’s still talking, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. He’s gesturing with his hand. Just one. It’s only then you realize he’s missing his right arm. You feel dizzy again. What if this man is dangerous? Or did he just lose that arm in some accident?

You reach up to touch your temple again, and you feel cloth. A bandage has been wrapped around your head. And you notice, other than a slight headache, you’re not in any pain.

“Where am I?” you wonder aloud. Your throat is so dry your voice croaks.

“At last, the lady is with us!” the man speaks and this time you understand him. His voice sounds nice. That accent is so strong. “Alas, I must admit, I myself do not know where this is. But I was out and about on my harvest when I saw you lyin’ unconscious on the ground. You were gaspin’ for air. So, I took it upon myself to bring you to shelter and here we are.” he gestures with his arm while he looks around the room. That ugly yellow light shines on his face, and suddenly the light is not so ugly on his tan skin.

“Thank you,” you tell him sitting up a little. You’re still feeling dizzy, but you feel safe. “What happened?” you think aloud again. And where is your cousin?

“I heard what sounded like gunfire off in the distance,” he explains, “that’s how I came to find you.”

“I was with my cousin; did you see anyone?”

“I am afraid I only saw some bodies, miss. You were the only one I saw alive.”

Your cousin, and whoever attacked you must have been near where you first woke up. But in your daze, you started walking and missed the bodies entirely.

You were warned this was dangerous work. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Grief and shock are setting in. Your cousin is gone, and your harvest.

“I’m stuck here,” you whisper.

“Nonsense,” the man smiles, it’s a warm smile. He seems so kind. You want to trust him. You may have no other choice. “I could not in good conscience leave you behind. You have suffered a mighty fine wound to your noggin, and your poor lungs have breathed in this nasty shit air we got around here.”

He is talking so fast that you can barely keep up.

“Now, I’m sure you’re a-wonderin’ if you can trust me. And right now, little birdie, I’m all you’ve got.”

In any other situation, if a stranger called you a pet name, you might recoil. But he says things so casually, you don’t feel any malice or perversion behind it.

“You can help me harvest, and I can get you outta here. There is my offer plain and simple. You can surely decline, but if your cousin is gone, my condolences. And you have no way to get home.”

Home. You don’t want to go home. You don’t want to stay here, but you don’t want to go home.

“What’s that?” he leans forward, his eyes squinting. He’s trying to hear; you didn’t realize you’ve just said that out loud. “Where are you from?”

“Zulara,” you mumble.

He winces, clenching his teeth, “I do not blame you one bit for not wantin’ to head on back to that planet. I am currently residin’ on Anvarvis V, and I’d be glad to take you along with me.”

You sit for a moment weighing your options. You’ve heard good things about Anvarvis V. or was it IV?

“We’ll split the harvest 50/50?” you ask.

He nods.

“Ok. It’s a deal,” you nod and stick out your hand.

“Alright,” he grins. “I’m Ezra, what can I call you?”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 And that’s how you began a partnership with Ezra. You worked well together. Tuns out you were really good at the harvesting part, and Ezra’s wit and charm made him a good salesman. He brokered deals and sold the product you’d harvested for a lot of money.

You’ve been so busy; you’ve not even gone to his home planet yet. But somehow you liked this life with him. There’s space enough of his ship for you, and you quite enjoy his company.

Truth be told you enjoy his company more and more each passing day. Your cheeks warm now when he calls you “little bird.” Your heart leaps into your throat if he ever touches you.

That first week with him he touched you a lot. Yes, okay he was checking the bandage on your head, but his fingers would graze skin and he was standing so close to you.

That’s when it first started you think. Being so close, seeing his soft lips surrounded by a dark stubble. His gentle brown eyes looking over your wound.

Maybe you were just lonely. Or maybe it was sharing such a small space with your rescuer. But you had a crush that only seemed to grow.

It started to suffocate you being so close to him and not being his.

The two of you fell into a natural routine and you grew accustomed to seeing him shirtless. That first time seeing him without a shirt almost sent you over. You ached to touch his olive skin. He looked so warm. You had to force yourself not to stare.

He thought you were looking at his right shoulder, where his arm used to be. And he began to ramble on about how it happened. You were embarrassed because that’s not what you were looking at, but you listened to his story all the same. He was opening up to you.

Ezra has the gift of gab, and he talks nonstop. But if you ever have anything to say, he listens with a deep interest. You’ve never felt so heard before. He never talks over you. His constant talking if often stories or little tidbits of trivia, but after that night of him opening up about his arm, things changed.

He was almost always in a good mood, but when he couldn’t complete a task due to his arm, he’d be a little grumpy and frustrated. But after telling you what happened, he let you help him without protest.

Maybe he got the feeling he could trust you back.

“Thank you, little bird,” he always said. And the last time he said it, you know he saw your cheeks turn red.

You figure at some point he’ll ask, or you’ll admit your feelings. You’re not sure which, but both options scare you. You’ve never done this before.

Back at home, you spent most of your life in school or working. There was no time for relationships, as much as you wanted one. You read stories of lovers, you kept them hidden under your mattress. The want was there, but no experience to fulfill that big question in your mind of what it’s like.

What it feels like to be loved by someone, to be held. You always were a little shy about the sexual parts of the book, yet those were the parts you couldn’t tear your eyes away from.

“What are you thinking about over there?” Ezra’s voice cuts in. A deep blush stains your cheeks. You’d been remembering of a story you’d read where a man pleasures a woman with his mouth. You look at Ezra’s mouth and feel your stomach drop and pray he can’t read your mind.

“Nothing,” you chirp at being caught.

“From that look on your face, I’m gonna wager a gamble and say it’s definitely something clanking around in that head.”

Scrambling, you try to think of anything to change the subject. He’s watching you squirm, and he’s delighted in it. Maybe it won’t be too hard after all to tell him if he can already see it.

“When’s the next sell?” you ask, nibbling the skin off your bottom lip.

“Pretty soon,” he replies. “I will head out soon. Won’t be gone long. Will you be alright to wait here until I make a triumphant return?” he grins.

You nod, returning his smile. You feel a heat pooling in between your legs. You shift a little in your seat trying to relieve the pressure. As soon as he’s gone, you’ll do something about it.

Two nights ago, you touched yourself thinking of him. That was the first time. You’d seen his bare ass when he was exiting the shower area. He had to have known you might see, and you couldn’t decide which thought thrilled you more. But the image of him naked was seared into your mind. And that night while he slept soundly, you touched yourself - wishing it were him.

You’d come up with a dirty fantasy, one you will play out again as soon as he leaves. And he can’t leave soon enough.

Normally, you’d go with him. But this buyer is a familiar one and can be trusted. You’re not worried about Ezra taking care of himself in a fight. He’s been in plenty of a scrap or two.

But if you’re honest, your brain is so clouded with the thought of getting a release you’re not worried about him in the slightest.

The thought passes in your mind you don’t know how long he’ll be gone, so you elect to leave your pants on. You lay down on your bed in your little corner of the ship.

The main hanger is around room, your beds are on opposite walls but still in the same room. So, you can see his bed from yours, and you consider going over to his bed, but you’ve already got your hand down your pants thinking about him on your bed.

You begin to tease yourself and you’re already wet from your own imagination. You think of him naked. What he looks like from the front. What he must look like when he’s hard for you. You think of his lips, and how his hand feels. What they must feel like on sensitive skin. You think of his stubble scraping your thighs. How good his long thick fingers would feel like inside of you. How he’d be gentle taking you for the first time.

Your thighs shake and you clench around your fingers wishing it were him.

The release hits you hard, and you gasp. It echoes through the ship. Your breathing is heavy but beginning to calm, when suddenly you hear:

“Well hello there little birdie!”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Horror floods through your veins and your heart is pounding in your head. You’re still coming down from your high, while fear spikes within you. Your eyes are wide, and you’re frozen staring at him. Your mouth is hanging open, and his mouth is curved in a playful smirk. 

When tears begin to fall from your eyes, his expression softens completely. 

“Little bird, I-,” he sticks his hand out trying to demonstrate he didn’t mean to embarrass you, but it’s too late. Tears pouring down your cheeks you run into the bathroom chamber and push the button to close the door harshly. It hisses loudly, and the moment it closes you sink to the floor. Cheeks red with embarrassment. 

In those books you’ve read, maybe the character wouldn’t have cared. And would have let the man know what she was doing. But this just isn’t how you wanted this to happen. As much as you do want Ezra to know you want him. The shock of the moment startled you. 

Ezra outside in the main hangar is uncharacteristically quiet. You can hear him rummaging around. From the sound of it, he’s taking off the bulky outer suit. It takes him a moment since he only has the help of one arm. 

He’ll be sitting down on his bunk and unfasten the clips and zippers. He grits his teeth sometimes, other times he bites his lower lip. You tease him about the different faces he makes when he’s concentrating on something. 

Deciding to clear your mind further, you turn on the shower. For a moment you hope he doesn’t need to take one after being outside, but you imagine he’s letting you have your space for a moment. 

While you shower, you try to decide what you’re even going to say. 

“Hi Ezra, I was touching myself thinking about you.” 

Well. That might not be a bad way to start. But that feeling of nerves hits your gut. What if he doesn’t want you back? What if he does want you? 

You mull this over in your mind and wash yourself clean. Normally the thought of being naked in here while he’s out there has sent you a thrill. Now you’re even more aware of him. 

You decide you do want him. But you don’t know where to start. Him seeing you is one way to break the ice. 

Gathering your courage, you wrap a towel around yourself and exit the bathroom into the main hanger. Your eyes fix upon him, and every nerve is on fire. 

As expected, he’d changed out of his suit. He’s sitting on his cot in comfortable pants, a worn black Henley, and some socks. His hair is sweaty, but it’s sticking up in multiple directions from obviously running a hand through it. His right arm sleeve is tied in a knot near his shoulder to stay out of his way. He’s got something propped up on his left knee, and he’s practicing his hand strength with his left hand. He pauses when he sees you, he doesn’t speak. 

He’s waiting for you to say something first. He can read the terror in your eyes as you step closer. Giving you full attention, he frees his hand, and watches you approach him slowly. 

When you’re right in front of his spread legs, he reaches out a hand to grab yours. 

“You doin’ alright there little bird? You are tremblin’ like a leaf on a tree with strong winds blowin’ every which way.” 

You open your mouth trying to think of what to say. You’d forgotten your entire plan you’d cooked up in the shower. Now that you’re here in front of him and he’s looking at you with those soft eyes, your mind is blank. 

You almost wonder if you should just drop the towel and climb on him, but you can’t help but want some romancing. 

“Say what’s on your mind little bird, I see the wheels turning in your head.” 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” is all you can think to say. But are you sorry? You don’t know what’s going on. 

“I’m not,” he grins, but the grin softens, and his eyes are gentle. He stands and presses his palm to your cheek. Shaking a little from the touch, you lean into his hand. “But I am sorry that my presence startled you so, and that I saw such an intimate act without your permission. I admit I was only present for the uh, grand finale as it were, but on my honor, I will not speak of this again if you would prefer it.” 

Your cheeks darkened as he spoke, and you can see the look in his eyes. It’s a gentle attraction. 

“I-” you start but only blush deeper under his gentle gaze. His eyes are big, he’s listening intently. 

“I understand your profound embarrassment, but there is nothing to be ashamed of seeking a fine release such as that. If I may say little bird, I’m only sorry I was not the one to give it to you.” 

Your eyes widen at the last sentence. You swallow hard. 

This is it. 

“You want me?”

“I do little bird. I have for a quite a spell now. You are, simply put, the sweetest thing I have ever had the pleasure to know, and you have brought a light into my dark life I did not know I was needin’.” 

His hand is still on your face, his thumb brushes you bottom lip. 

“I want you too,” you give him a shy smile which he returns, “only I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“You surely seemed to know a few moments ago,” he winks. 

“Ezra,” you groan and bury your face in his shoulder. 

“My sincerest apologies,” he teases, “I already broke my promise.” 

He’s trying to make you laugh, which it does. And the two of you share a moment of laughter before you pull back to look up at him again. 

“I’m serious though, Ezra. I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never-”

“Never what?” he repeats, thumb rubbing your flushed cheeks. 

“I’ve never even been kissed,” you tell him. 

“Well, little bird. It would seem the honor has been bestowed to me to teach you the lovely ways of liplockin’.” 

“What do I do?” you whisper, which he seems to find amusing. 

“You know something, I have never once been in situation quite like this in my lifetime.” 

That coaxes a smile from you, and you’re already feeling relaxed. 

“I can’t say that I have either,” you laugh. 

“First step, is to close those pretty little eyes of yours.” 

You close your eyes, and smile, you trust him. You think back to when you met him all those weeks ago when he saved your life. You certainly didn’t imagine this happening then. 

“Now, tilt your head just a little,” he pushes a little with his hand guiding you. “And open that mouth of yours, just a smidge.” He pushes down your bottom lip with his thumb. 

His voice stops, and you feel his breath on your face. He smells like mint and sweat. You decide it’s a good smell. 

You feel the tip of his nose first press against the top of your cheek. Then his lips gently press against yours. His tongue just barely touches your lips. His stubbly chin and upper lip scrape on your skin in a way you didn’t know you’d love this much. His hand holds your face gently, and what he doesn’t say, or can’t say during this kiss, is he wishes he could wrap his other arm around you. 

Your knees buckle, and you let go of the towel that’d you’d been holding on to so tight and mold your body to his. A strong thigh is in between your legs, your hands cup his face and you pull away gasping. Your heart is fluttering.

He’s slow to open his eyes, the smile splits his face before his eyelids even flutter open. 

“Now that,” he licks his lips, “was simply divine.” He leans in and places a couple quick pecks to your lips getting a laugh from you. 

You take a step back, and the towel is going to fall. And you were going to let it. But much to your surprise, his hand stops it by pressing his hand against your chest, keeping the cloth from exposing you to him. 

“Hold on now,” he breathes. “That little heart that’s fluttering under my hand has surely had enough excitement for one day. And as much as I would love to see that body of yours, I am not wanting to take you to bed in this dirty old ship. I would rather take you home. Since I am unfortunately missing a tool of the trade, I am not experienced in taking lovers into my bed with ol’ lefty here. It’ll be a learning experience for us both little bird. You alright with that?” 

You nod, putting your hand over his on your chest. 

“Then let’s get you home.” 

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Your head is pounding, and you can see him. Your cousin. It’s like you’re on the outside looking in. You see the clearing of trees and two men with your cousin. It’s a standoff, everyone is frozen. There you hear a sharp crack somewhere in the woods, causing the men to take fire. One man shoots your cousin, the other steals the harvest from your cousin’s dead hands. Then that man is shot, he killed his own partner and took the harvest from his hands. He turned around to face you, and you saw his face. 

It was Ezra. 

With a sharp gasp, you jolt awake. Sweat is on your brow, your heart is racing, and you feel sick to your stomach. Panic sets in because you can’t remember where you are. 

Looking around you realize that you’re home, with Ezra. 

After your kiss with him, he got the ship ready and punched in the coordinates to head home. His home, but now it would be yours. You expressed to him your apprehension of space travel, and he took down the med pack to give you a medicine to calm your nerves. 

“Fear of flying is not uncommon,” he’d told you warmly with a kiss on your cheek. 

After the flight and landing, he gave you another medicine to help your lungs adjust to the air of this planet. 

You were so nervous, but full of excitement! You have a new home with this wonderful soul. 

The planet is gorgeous. The ship landed out the outskirts of the city. It’s nighttime so you can see it’s all lit up, and it’s blue. Every light is a twinkling blue. 

“It’s beautiful!” you’d gasped. Ezra was proud to show you his home. 

He was not originally from this planet; this is where he lives now when he isn’t prospecting. 

He owns a small house is near the outskirts. He could afford a city apartment if he wanted, but he preferred living out away from the hustle and bustle of city life. He likes his view of the trees from his living room, which are also blue. 

His house is humble. One bedroom, one bathroom, a quaint kitchen, a small table, and a sitting area. The shelves and walls are covered in artifacts and trinkets from other world’s he’s visited. You love it. It feels like a lived-in home. 

“We will have to share this bed unless you want me to take the couch?” Ezra tells you when you collapse onto his bed. It’s been too long a day with all the space travel. 

“I don’t mind,” you tell him, and he grins easily. 

“No gettin’ to business tonight little bird. I gotta rest, you do too.” 

You nod, you’re too tired for that. Though if he wanted to, you wouldn’t have said no. 

You fell asleep that night with his body close to yours. 

He’s still close by when you wake up from your dream. 

“Little bird?” he asks waking up, rubbing his eyes with his hand. “You alright?” 

You scramble out of the bed to get away from him. Your heart is beating so fast. 

“It was YOU,” you gasp, tears are beginning to fall. 

“Me? Birdie, I do not have a damn idea what on this planet you are referring to.” 

“You shot and killed my cousin! I saw it in my dream!!”

He sits up and tries to calm you down. 

“Little birdie-”

“Stop calling me that!” you cry. You hug your arms around your waist. 

“Look at me. Look at my face.” He waits til you look at him, there’s no joke or smile on his face. His eyes are wide, and you can tell he’s upset you’re upset. “I did not kill him. I didn’t even have my gun with me when I found the bodies.” 

You think back to when you first met him, and what you can remember from then, he didn’t have a gun on him. 

“But it looked so real,” you sniffle. 

“I had hoped this would not happen to you, but one of the side effects of the medicine I had given you is nightmares. You’re on a new planet, in a new place. It would not be a surprise to me if you had weird dreams. Now as to your cousin, I do not think you will ever uncover the mystery of his death. I can recall to you what I saw again if it will ease your mind.” 

You sniffle again and nod. 

He tells you what he remembers, and you do trust him. But that dream still felt so real. 

You had been finishing up a harvest when your cousin went to look for another. Your memory is hazy after that. 

Ezra fills in the gaps based on what he saw. He’d seen two bodies; one was your cousin and then another man. Your harvest was gone, and there were footsteps leading in another direction. Ezra, not wanting to get into it with this guy, went the opposite way. Which is when he found your shattered helmet and blood. He followed your footprints which led him to you. 

“So, I killed my cousin,” you bury your face in your hands, sitting down on the bed. 

“You are making less and less sense,” his eyebrows crease. 

“You said there was a large branch and I must have tripped, so me tripping sounded the alarm causing the gunfire to go off,” you being to cry into your hands. 

Ezra scoots closer to you to wrap and arm around you. He holds you close to him and kisses your hair while he shushes you. 

“That was a whole tricky situation and no one’s fault. I have been in a sticky situation like that before and it would seem that people who are trigger happy need no cue to fire away. You are not at fault. Besides, if all this had not occurred, I might not have met the love of my life.” 

You look up from your hands, tears still in your eyes. 

“What?” 

“You heard what I said,” he kisses the shell of your ear. 

Crying now tears of joy, you throw your arms around his neck and kiss all over his face. He topples backwards, laughing the whole way down. 

“I love you too,” you say between kisses. “I’m sorry I accused you of murder,” you laugh. 

He laughs, rolling over so he’s on top of you. He kisses your face and dries your tears. You start to writhe under him when you feel him beginning to harden on your thigh. 

“What do you say to some breakfast and then we come back to this bed huh?” 

Feeling a little bold, you reach down to cup him through his sleep pants. He gasps out in surprise and buries his face in the crook of your neck. 

“Why leave?” you ask, unsure of what to do, but you like touching him. You continue to, until your stomach rumbles loudly. He raises an eyebrow teasing you, even though you still have your hand around his cock. “Fine,” you laugh, “breakfast first.” 

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 While Ezra makes breakfast, you look around your new home. Since the house is small and his voice carries, you ask him questions about different objects, and he rambles on from the kitchen.

There are photographs of him when he was younger, those are your favorites. You’re looking at one particular photograph, when he had both arms and no blond streak. He looked like a completely different person.

Your thoughts are torn away when you hear him call your name.

“Could you reach that spice for me off the shelf?” His one hand is too busy to stop and reach. “Just set it down on the counter there,” he nods. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you smile and wrap your arms around him from behind. Kissing his cheek, he hums. “I’m sorry I’m acting so strange, I think I’m a little nervous,” you admit kissing his shoulder blade.

“Well birdie, it is no small feat to be joined in a union with another person in such an intimate fashion, especially when one is not experienced. It is a lovely thing but can be an overwhelmin’ experience. I am glad to assist and ease the knot in your belly of nerves.”

“I love the way you talk,” you smile kissing his shoulder again.

“And I quite love the way you are holdin’ me right now.”

“I’m sorry again about this morning. I’m sure that’s not the morning you had in mind.”

“No to worry. Grief and change do a wonder on your mind. I know that from losing my arm.”

“Tell me how you got that blond streak in your hair,” you murmur and lean your cheek against his shoulder.

“Now that is an interesting story!” One of which he tells for the rest of the morning. And when he’s done, you’re still not sure what exactly happened. But you laughed and all but forgot about the nerves in the pit of your stomach.

So much so that when he stands and reaches out his hand for you, you’re not sure what he’s doing.

“You ready?” he asks, motioning his head toward the bedroom. Your heart skips, but you nod, yes.

He leads you back into his room, and has you sit down on the bed. He moves around the room setting the mood. First, he pushes a button on the wall that lowers the curtains, dimming the room. He closes the door behind him and sits next to you on the bed.

“How does this work?” you ask a little timid, but very eager.

“Lay back,” he tells you. He lays down on top of you and begins to kiss your face and your lips. Anywhere his lips can kiss, he kisses. Your cheeks, your ears, your eyelids even. The tip of your nose.

Then he moves to your neck and chin and jaw. He adds some bites to your neck, and sucks on your clavicle.

“Can I?” he asks tugging on the hem of your shirt. You nod, and with his help, you pull it off exposing chest to him now. You swallow, feeling a little shy watching him eye your breasts.

You’ve never seen him so speechless. Instead of talking, he puts his mouth to use and suckles your perked nipple into his mouth. His hand cups your other breast and thumbs over your nipple. When you gasp, he sucks harder and pinches his fingers harder. Your hands fly to his hair and you pull. He growls a little and you feel slick between your legs.

“Ezra?” you whine. Your breast is shiny with his saliva, and there’s a sting left behind from his teeth and grit from his facial hair.

“What do you need birdie?” He murmurs into you flesh. His hand smoothing down your skin and gliding over your tummy and to the waistband of your pants.

“Ezra wait,” you gasp.

“Are my ministrations too fast for your likin’?” he questions, lips dragging along your stomach. He’s trying to make you laugh again, or at least relax you further.

“I-” you pause.

“It’s ok,” he smiles and kisses your tummy. “Help me?” he says tugging on your pants a little. You help him push your pants and underwear down, and you watch in equal parts arousal and embarrassment as he sees you.

He touches a pointer finger to your entrance, touching the slick gathered there. He dips inside and you arch your back feeling the drag of his finger inside. His thumb brushes your clit and you jolt.

“Now remember, I am not as well practiced with my left, so you’ll have to excuse any inexperience on my part, though I do know how to please a lady.”

“Ezra!” is all you can think to say when he slides a second finger in.

“But as it seems, you’re enjoying this regardless. That’s good,” he smiles and presses a loud kiss to your thigh. He doesn’t stop the toying with your clit. Even after you hit that first high and come around his fingers. He keeps going. Teasing you just a little more. “You are doin’ so well my girl,” he purrs.

He looks up at you when he pulls his hand away, his grin is pure lovesick. Your eyes are hazy from the high you’ve just been given, and there’s still more to come.

“I want just one more from you before we get down to it alright?” He tells you. He’s working his way up the bed, and you’re not sure what he’s doing. He pulls the pillows together, and he flops down on his back, his head on the pillows. “Alright little bird, c’mere,” he says and taps his chin.

Taking his meaning with heat covering your body, you climb up and carefully lower yourself onto his face. His tongue and mouth ready to accept your heat. You groan in unison as he makes the first lick. You’re still so sensitive from before, but wow it feels good.

Oh.

This is really good.

His mouth, of course, of course his mouth is as skilled in pleasure as it is in talking. His tongue moves expertly on your flesh as if he’s done this to you a million times. You’re coming on his tongue in mere minutes.

His arm is tight around you, and you buck against him as you come down.

His eyes open, and he looks up at you, he’s quite pleased with himself.

“Now if this isn’t the best view a man could have then I don’t know what is,” he smiles, his eyes lingering on your breasts for a beat, then back up to your face.

Carefully, on wobbly legs, you lay down on the bed, and Ezra works to take off his pants. You lean up to look at him, he’s on his knees now, naked. He’s stroking himself lazily, getting ready for you.

“Can I?” you sit up reaching for him.

“Be my guest,” he reassures, and you wrap your fingers around him. He winces and groans a little. “It has been far too long since I’ve been held but someone other than my own hand.”

He feels nice, and you have the desire to keep moving your hand until he finds his high. But he pushes your hand away.

“I do appreciate the eagerness, but if you keep that up, we won’t get to all the fun. Lay down for me alright?”

You do as he asks, and he pauses for a moment. He’s thinking.

When he gets the idea, you see it come across his face with a little “oh!” and a grin. He lays down on top of you, you’re chest to chest.

“Little birdie, I need you to wrap your legs around me? Got it?” You nod and do as he asks. From this position you can feel the tip of him at your entrance. Putting his weight on you for a moment, he reaches down between your bodies and lines himself up with you. “There might be a little bit of a pinch, but we’ll work ya through it alright?”

You nod again, and he pushes inside. He moves his hand back up to smooth your hair out of your face. He moves slowly, watching your face, kissing you more to get you relaxed. Once he’s fully inside, he waits.

He gives you a moment to breathe, then when you give the ok, he moves. His arm is up by your head now, keeping him from putting his whole weight on you and giving him some leverage. His thrusts are steady, and your body moves with him, gasping each time he hits that spot in you.

“It pains me that I cannot reach down to tease that lovely pussy of yours, but birdie, you gotta touch yourself for me. Can you do that?”

You slip your hand between your bodies and touch yourself in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Good girl,” he coaxes. “Don’t stop,” he tells you nibbling your ear. And you don’t. You keep going until you feel the high approaching. When it hits you, he’s not far behind. His cock twitches and pulses, and he comes deep inside you.

Exhaustion hits him and he puts more of his weight on you. Now with a free hand, he pushes your hand away and touches your clit again just to touch you a little one more time. That touch has you jolt, and he laughs darkly in your neck.

“Ezra?”

“Mmm?” he looks up at you, and you start to smooth his hair back.

“Can we do this again? Tonight?” you bite your lip.

“Hmm,” he pretends to think. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Ezra!” you laugh and playfully hit his chest.

“Okie,” he shrugs and begins to blow raspberries on your chest.

You stay with him then, tangled in the sheets all morning. And all afternoon, and into the evening. You can barely keep your hands off one another. And there’s not much desire to go prospecting any time soon, not when you’ve discovered something much richer in each other.

xx

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[stormfall1327]

It’s been AGES since I’ve written anything, and with all of the amazing fic lately from @viktorsvector and @eurodynesass, I thought I’d try and add my own smut piece to the fandom. Written on mobile at 1 am, so apologies if there’s a ton of typos or formatting weirdness. No real plot to speak of. Just good ol’ fashioned F!V/Viktor smut.

When V accidentally finds out that Vik likes it rough. Dirty talk, vaginal sex, biting, hair pulling.

Wild Fire

The atmosphere in Vik’s clinic was charged. The gentle hum of the various monitors and machinery was punctuated with sighs and breathy moans. The usual smell of antiseptic, chrome, and oil tinged with the heady aroma of sweat and arousal. Their little sparring match had ended with Vik pinning V to the wall at the back of his clinic, her legs wrapped around his waist as he ground the sizable bulge in his pants into her jeans. One arm was wrapped under her ass, the other braced against the wall as he nuzzled his face into her neck, stubble scraping the sensitive skin. “Do you have any idea what you do to me, V?” he murmured into her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. 

“Hmm? How -hard- you make me, watching you like that? Wild-eyed and practically fucking feral during a fight?” Another roll of his hips. “Watching the sweat drip down your body and wantin’ to chase it with my tongue?”

“Mmmm, fuck, Vik!” she ground out between clenched teeth, rolling her hips forward to feel more of that delicious pressure against her core. Her fingers tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck and she gave an experimental tug. His entire chest rumbled against her as he let out a low groan. She pulled again, harder this time, and Vik’s hips bucked forward as he looked at her with fire in his eyes. “So, the doc likes it a little rough, does he?” she quipped with a smirk, using her legs to pull him closer. She leaned forward and kissed her way from his earlobe down his neck and when she found his pulse-point, she bit down - hard. Fuck, if the noise he made wasn’t the sexiest thing she’d ever heard in her life. The wet spot on her jeans grew noticeably larger as he cried out, hips stuttering and cock twitching against her. His knees almost buckled as she laved her tongue over the reddened skin, soothing the sting with that hot, wet muscle.

“Couch. Now.” Vik’s voice was rough in his throat as he readjusted his grip and carried her over to the worn leather couch. He practically tossed her down, eyes blazing and chest heaving, as he stared at her, palming his dick through his pants. V moaned appreciatively at the sight, grinding her own palm against her core to relieve some of the pressure. As much as V enjoyed being manhandled by Vik, though, she had other ideas in mind tonight. Shooting him a shit-eating grin, she leapt off the couch and lunged at him, catching him off guard as their lips crashed together. Almost losing his balance, she took the advantage to spin him around and pin him to the couch, her body pressed deliciously tight against him as she straddled his lap. Having the tables turned on him like that had Vik’s head swimming with desire. He’d always preferred being the dominant one in bed, but when it came to V pushing him around like that? Fuck, he’d almost come in his pants right there.

His hands went to her hips, fingertips digging in hard enough to leave bruises and V squirmed against him, plunging her tongue into his mouth as her hands went to the lapels of shirt. Bunching up the fabric in her fists, she yanked her hands apart, buttons skittering across the floor. “Hey! That’s my favorite...!” “Quit bitchin’, Vik. We have more pressing things to attend to, wouldn’t cha say?” as she ground down on his lap. Smirking, she reached down to tug his tank top up and over his head as he reached up to do the same for her. His thumbs circled her nipples, pebbled from the cool air, as she tugged his belt free and slid off his lap. He lifted his hips to help her slide his pants down, groaning as his cock sprang free, head red and weeping. V stepped out of her own pants and leaned down to swipe her tongue over his head, moaning as the slightly bitter taste of his precum met her tastebuds. Vik threw his head back, choking on a moan at the feeling of her hot mouth on him, hand instinctively tangling in her hair. Tossing him a saucy wink, V climbed back into his lap and carefully positioned herself over him. Without warning, she plunged herself down onto him, biting into the taut muscle of his shoulder and Vik’s vision whited out.

He yelled out, his whole body tensing as she set a brutal pace, her moans getting louder as she rode him. Her nails scraped against his chest and arms, leaving angry, red welts in their wake, muscles rippling beneath them. She nipped and bit at his neck, sucking purpling spots into his skin, never letting up her pace as she bounced in his lap. When his thumb found her clit, V yelped, burying her hands in his hair and tugging again. Vik was fighting a losing battle. He rubbed furiously at her clit, leaning forward to pull one of her nipples into his mouth. He bit down and V screamed, her sudden orgasm tearing through her like wild fire as she convulsed in his arms, her cunt spasming against his cock. He rocked his hips forward and cried out, coming deep inside her as he wrapped his arms around her body and pressed his face into her sternum.

His heart was still thundering in his chest as V slipped off his lap to snuggle into his side. They sat like that for a while as their breathing slowed, V’s fingers idly tracing patterns onto his belly. “So... about my shirt?”

#this idea wouldn’t let me go #I’m so thirsty for this man #my writing #smut fic #viktor vector/v #viktor vektor #victor vector #viktor vector #cyberpunk 2077

[clonecaptains]

FLY AWAY WITH YOU | an ezra x reader fic series - part 1 of 6

rating: m for eventual smut; but none in this chapter

summary: Waking up with no memory after a head injury, you find yourself in the presence of your rescuer- a handsome stranger named Ezra. 

a/n: all the parts are written except the final part, i’ll probably post them every few days or so!!! this is my first time writing ezra!! feedback is much appreciated! and thank you so so so much to @pascalispedro for everythingggg i couldn’t do this w/o you. 

FLY AWAY WITH YOU

Ringing. There’s a loud ringing in your ears. Your vision is blurry and that ringing won’t stop. You can’t hear anything else, and you’re not sure what you’re seeing. The color brown and green seems to blur together. What happened? Did you hit your head?

Reaching up to touch your temple, you feel wet. Your hair is has been matted down with something sticky. Pulling your hand away, you look at it. Not that it does any good because your vision is still blurred. But there’s enough red on your fingertips to know it’s blood.

Suddenly you smell it, your blood. And dirt. And earth.

Something else is mixed in, maybe smoke? Something in the air is foul.

The air.

You panic. Where’s your helmet? How long have you been breathing in this air? It’s the air you smell that’s foul. What if it’s toxic? Frantically you try to get up, but you can barely get your legs under you. You’re still too dizzy.

When your vision finally clears, you see your helmet on the ground next to you. There’s a large crack leading to a hole. Shards are everywhere. Some have blood on them, and you assume this is where your head injury is from. But upon further inspection, you see blood on the rock nearest you.

What happened?

It’s still foggy, but you try and retrace your steps from the day.

You had been with your cousin, whose whereabouts now you have no idea. It wasn’t even your choice to come along. But he claimed that your hands were the steadiest, and you’d be best for the harvesting. You had no idea what he was even talking about. You only agreed because your home world is the last place you want to be right now. And hey, he said he’d pay you so why not?

The ship ride over was a nightmare. It was smooth sailing quite frankly, but you’ve never been a fan of space travel. You like it on the ground. Though at the present moment the ground is covered in your blood, what a day it’s been. And you can barely remember it.

You do remember harvesting a couple of those things, you can’t even think to remember what your cousin called them. It wasn’t easy but it wasn’t hard either. You did just fine.

You also remember some arguing? Something was happening? There were these other people?

It’s starting to come back to you, but this air is getting to you. How long have you been walking? Are you even going in the right direction? You feel dizzy again and things are starting to spiral.

Then everything goes black.

A voice this time brings you out of your stupor. You can’t make out what they’re saying, but you can make out it’s a male voice. It’s not your cousin, this voice has a thick accent.

You blink several times to clear your vision again, and you take in your surroundings and this stranger.

First you notice you’re inside laying on a cot of some sort. Everything in the room is an olive green. An ugly yellow light shines overhead. It’s very dim. The space is small, it seems to be a large tent. There’s medical supplies and strange photographs on the wall. Where is this?

The man is sitting near you in a metal folding chair. He’s got no choice but to sit close to you, there’s not any room in this area.

He’s in a suit not unlike your own. His face is kind. His voice is deep, but nonthreatening. Light scruff dusts his cheeks and jaw, and his eyes are pleasant. There’s a small blond streak in his brown hair. And a haggard scar on his cheek. His kind eyes and kind smile almost seem out of place next to that scar.

He’s still talking, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. He’s gesturing with his hand. Just one. It’s only then you realize he’s missing his right arm. You feel dizzy again. What if this man is dangerous? Or did he just lose that arm in some accident?

You reach up to touch your temple again, and you feel cloth. A bandage has been wrapped around your head. And you notice, other than a slight headache, you’re not in any pain.

“Where am I?” you wonder aloud. Your throat is so dry your voice croaks.

“At last, the lady is with us!” the man speaks and this time you understand him. His voice sounds nice. That accent is so strong. “Alas, I must admit, I myself do not know where this is. But I was out and about on my harvest when I saw you lyin’ unconscious on the ground. You were gaspin’ for air. So I took it upon myself to bring you to shelter and here we are.” he gestures with his arm while he looks around the room. That ugly yellow light shines on his face, and suddenly the light is not so ugly on his tan skin.

“Thank you,” you tell him sitting up a little. You’re still feeling dizzy, but you feel safe. “What happened?” you think aloud again. And where is your cousin?

“I heard what sounded like gunfire off in the distance,” he explains, “that’s how I came to find you.”

“I was with my cousin, did you see anyone?”

“I am afraid I only saw some bodies, miss. You were the only one I saw alive.”

Your cousin, and whoever attacked you must have been near where you first woke up. But in your daze you started walking and missed the bodies entirely.

You were warned this was dangerous work. Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Grief and shock is setting in. Your cousin is gone, and your harvest.

“I’m stuck here,” you whisper.

“Nonsense,” the man smiles, it’s a warm smile. He seems so kind. You want to trust him. You may have no other choice. “I could not in good conscience leave you behind. You have suffered a mighty fine wound to your noggin, and your poor lungs have breathed in this nasty shit air we got around here.”

He is talking so fast that you can barely keep up.

“Now, I’m sure you’re a-wonderin’ if you can trust me. And right now little birdie, I’m all you’ve got.”

In any other situation, if a stranger called you a pet name, you might recoil. But he says things so casually, you don’t feel any malice or perversion behind it.

“You can help me harvest, and I can get you outta here. There is my offer plain and simple. You can surely decline, but if your cousin is gone, my condolences. And you have no way to get home.”

Home. You don’t want to go home. You don’t want to stay here, but you don’t want to go home.

“What’s that?” he leans forward, his eyes squinting. He’s trying to hear, you didn’t realize you’ve just said that out loud. “Where are you from?”

“Zulara,” you mumble.

He winces, clenching his teeth, “I do not blame you one bit for not wantin’ to head on back to that planet. I am currently residin’ on Anvarvis V, and I’d be glad to take you along with me.”

You sit for a moment weighing your options. You’ve heard good things about Anvarvis V. or was it IV?

“We’ll split the harvest 50/50?” you ask.

He nods.

“Ok. It’s a deal,” you nod and stick out your hand.

“Alright,” he grins. “I’m Ezra, what can I call you?”

xx

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[madeofsplinters]

Playlist Notes: “Strike Me Down; I Am Unarmed”

Continuing my series - I’m gonna write “liner notes” for all my fic playlists eventually.

Listen along: [Spotify | YouTube]

Fic for this playlist is “Strike Me Down; I Am Unarmed” on AO3. If you haven’t read the fic, be aware this does not work as a general character playlist for Vader or Tarkin (or Daala, who also gets a few songs); it’s specifically a playlist describing the events of this particular AU fic.

Halestorm - The Reckoning

You made a mess outta me Where do I begin? You'll pay for your sins

We don't ever see Vader killing Palpatine onscreen in this story, but this story is all about Vader having killed Palpatine, so I couldn't resist starting with my favorite Revenge Song...

Billie Eilish - bellyache

My V is for Vendetta Thought that I'd feel better

The story actually begins with Vader waking up in his tank, beginning to recover from the injuries he sustained mid-revenge. His triumph hasn't fully sunk in, and he's confused, ill, and generally a mess. Wasn’t this big, dramatic revenge supposed to solve everything?

Billie Eilish - you should see me in a crown

Watch me make 'em bow One by one by one

It's a total gimme! It's on everyone and their dog's villain playlist already! Am I putting it on my villain playlist anyway? Heck YES. (In my original brainstorming notes for this story, when it talks about Tarkin having to wear Imperial robes now instead of his military uniform, it literally just says "you should see me in a crown dot gif")

Poppy - Fill the Crown

You can be anyone you want to be You can be free, you can be free

This is the song for the earlier chapters of the story, where Vader is blundering around trying to figure out how to be Emperor, while knowing in the back of his mind that Emperor and Sith Master is not actually what he wants to be. The sheer cognitive dissonance of this song is lovely - one voice promising a bright, happy future, much like Tarkin's optimistic view of what's in store for Vader now, while the other one meanders in and out promising atrocities and pain.

DIAMANTE - Sleepwalking

I feel you in my dreams You're everywhere, you won't go easily

Vader, dreaming of Palpatine's ghost.

laye - likefck

Wantin' you is evil When it's hard to have you here

This song is about the loneliness of a long-distance relationship with a wealthy, powerful, neglectful man. I heard it at just the right (wrong?) time, so now it's Daala's song, while she’s exiled to the Maw Cluster and waiting for a word from Tarkin. (But of course, in this fic, she isn't going to stay there...)

Icon For Hire - Supposed to Be

I fear now There's not much left of me When you take the sick away Who am I supposed to be?

The sheer dissonance of Vader trying to be Emperor inevitably leads to a mental breakdown. Now that Palpatine is gone, the natural impulse is to recover somehow from the things Palpatine did to him. But when evil and sickness are as thoroughly baked into someone's life as they are into Vader's, what does recovery even look like? Where do you begin?

Evanescence - Imperfection

I'm gonna save you from it Together we'll outrun it Just don't give into the fear

Tarkin comforting Vader during his mental breakdown, promising they'll fight the ghost that haunts him together. This song is probably too effusive and out of character for Tarkin but I just love it so much. (Spotify informs me that it was my #1 most-listened-to song during the hellyear of 2020.) That little growl on the "don't you dare surrender" in the last chorus. Fuck yes. Fave.

Beth Crowley - Empire

So fear me or love me It's all the same

This song was supposed to be about Game of Thrones, but too bad, it's mine now and it's Tarkin's song (as he sorts through Palpatine's effects and resolves to be an even better Emperor than his predecessor.)

Little Mix - Monster In Me

Why don't we kill each other slowly? What can I say? Baby, what can I do? The monster in me loves the monster in you

Most of these songs give a particular character's perspective at a particular time, but this one is the theme song of the whole, sad, evil polycule. <3

Halsey - Strange Love

And everybody wants to know 'bout how it felt to hear you scream They know you walk like you're a god, they can't believe I made you weak

This song works pretty well for Daala processing some thoughts about Tarkin, the secrecy and scandal and power imbalance of their relationship now that it's become something they can talk about in public, and what she does or doesn't owe to anyone involved.

DIAMANTE - Ghost Myself

If I could build a fire and burn down my life That would be the one thing I got right

Vader's suicidal ideation, set to a catchy beat. ("Ghost," used as a verb here, is already suppoesd to be a pun but considering the role of Palpatine's ghost in this story, it's now a triple entendre. Wheeee.)

In This Moment - The Beginning - Interlude

I am the moon and the sun that you bask in I am the name written on your grave

Just a creepy little overture as the characters approach Exegol and prepare to deal with whatever spooky Sith Ghost bullshit they find there. Vader’s ghost, whispering to him.

Delain - Masters of Destiny

I am the dreamer I roll the dice and I'm alive My hands aren't tied

This song and the next two make sort of a trio in my head, all intertwined with each other, all taking place at almost entirely the same moment, or at least in the same scene. In terms of what order Vader figures things out in the story, maybe it should go later; but in terms of making the trio work musically, when I listen to it in order, it goes first. This song is Vader feeling trapped by destiny and by the plans that have been made for him, only to finally realize he isn't trapped at all.

Beast In Black - Unlimited Sin

Swallowed by blind rage Once pure, now bloodstained Evil flows through your black veins

This is, obviously, The Palpatine Song. (UnLiMiTeD pOwEr!!111) It's goofy as fuck. It makes me giggle and bounce around. It almost doesn't belong in this playlist because of how goofy it is. But, even if Palps himself turns out to be really and truly dead, this is the part of the story where Vader comes face to face with his legacy and his impact on Vader's life. And I think the goofiness... sort of works, in a weird way. Even when he is rightfully dead and gone from the narrative, chances are good, Sheev Palpatine is still cackling at you.

In This Moment - Roots

I'm stronger than I ever knew I'm strong because of you

"Songs where women thank their abusers for toughening them up" is an entire genre and I have extremely mixed feelings about it, but In This Moment's approach is sufficiently ambivalent and angry that it works for me. This is Vader coming to terms with his feelings about Palpatine. He'll never not be someone who was shaped by what Palpatine did to him, even with Palpatine dead. But he can claim a strength and a freedom and even a defiance within that.

Lauren Jauregui - Invisible Chains

Keep running, on my way, I can see the light Got a hundred miles left and I'm feeling like I might stay alive

Closing credits. This is a song about working through trauma and mental illness and at last finding a glimmer of hope, and it's the soft little heart of this story. That last cry of "I already saved myself," like it's a revelation to the singer as well as the listener. God I just love it.

#fic playlist

[nep-moved]

lotsa nyall don't know Iothric so here is my overly long post in which i tell u abt him 👁👁

i'm bad at talking nd idk how 2 start this off but here we go fjdjsk. i will be leavin out lotsa stuff abt the game bc i am just here 2 talk abt my husband gjfjsk

the game describes everythin so vaguely so forgive me if this this part sounds confusing but: in dark souIs there's this thing called the first flame !! it brought the age of fire, nd it was a v prosperous time nd bred lotsa nations !! before the age of fire was the age of ancients; the world was unformed nd not much existed there.

to keep the first flame going nd therefore keep the world from returning to that time of darkness, a rly powerful soul has 2 be given to the flame to keep it goin fr a while. lord gwyn was the first one 2 sacrifice himself to the flame (( he's also gwyndoIin's awful dad but this ain't abt him )) but ye. as time goes on there's more and more sacrifice needed to keep the flame alive.

in the time of dark souIs 3, Iothric's family wanted 2 create a child so strong they'd be the perfect person to link the flame. but they couldn't have a child like that naturally, so they resorted to 'unspeakable means' and that's all the game tells u gjfjsk. i'm not sure if i wanna know what they did BUT as a result of it, Iothric was born cursed. he was supposed 2 be a champion so strong he could link the fire but ALAS he was weak nd had v frail health, nd he didn't grow much, as an adult he could still wear his swaddling as robes, nd it's the only thing he's ever worn. why didn't nyall giv this boy some fuckign CLOTHES ffs.

but also can i gush a bit 🥺🥺 pls lookit him i think he's v cute despite his resting bitch face gjfjsk. also he looks like he rly needs a nap.. ME TOO c'mere let's snuggle.

nd pls note i say "despite" him always lookin grumpy but i lov that abt him gjfjdk

nd i'm sure nyall hav heard me talk abt his voice lots nd how much i adore it gjdjk. so pwease listen 2 him if u haven't his voice is SO preddy i am in lov nd i swoon whenever i hear it gjfjdk

NYWAYS !! Iothric has an older brother named Iorian !! the game never states why, but he decided to share Iothric's curse. a lot of ppl think it was 2 help ease his suffering which is 🥺🥺🥺 but nyways !! the curse left Iorian mute and unable to stand, nd their souls were nearly inseparable bc of the curse; they could nearly meld together. but it's said they're also nearly inseparable in kinship !! which u can tell bc Iorian obviously cares a lot fr Iothric nd givs up everything in order 2 protect him ;w;

eventually Iothric decided he didn't want to link the fire. we don't know exactly why but alas. him doing this sorta makes him the main antagonist of the game?? bc if he just linked the flame none of this shit would be happenin but LISTEN he is not bad ok. i don't blame him fr not wantin 2 do it, he had no say in it he was destined to from birth :(( it's v understandable that he doesn't wanna burn esp when ppl are tryna force him to fjdjsk. nyways him nd Iorian decided to hide far away nd just. wait for the fire to fade.

many ppl have attempted to come and kill them, but ofc they haven't succeeded gjfjsk. the ashen one, the character u play as, has to (( among lotsa other things but i am here 2 talk abt Iothric not the whole story of the game )) find nd kill him. him nd Iorian are the last boss u face before the Final Battle™️. so lemme talk abt their boss fight 👀

when u start off the fight Iothric's way up on his bed where u can't get to him, but this ain't an issue since he doesn't attack gjfjdk. just Iorian does, nd since he can't use his legs Iothric helps by teleporting him around the room !! when u kill Iorian, Iothric teleports down nd revives Iorian !! then he clings onto his back, nd that suggests he's too weak 2 walk :(( nyways during the second part of the fight u still gotta deal w Iorian but now Iothric's on his back shooting magic at u gjfjdk.

a v interesting thing abt that !! he can use RLY powerful magic, if being able 2 bring his brother back from the dead didn't already tell u that gjdksk. nd he does it all w/o a catalyst !! it's not said why he doesn't need one, but it's impressive bc even gods like gwyndoIin need one to cast spells but Iothric can do it w his bare hands just.. bc he wants to i guess JFDJK. either way i'm v proud of u sweetie !! nd remember when i said his soul's intertwined w Iorian's?? yea bc of that Iorian can't truly die unless Iothric does as well, so if u don't kill Iothric he'll just keep reviving his brother gjfjsk. but when Iothric dies Iorian also does immediately :((

there are multiple endings in the game nd in one of em u don't even hav 2 link the fire, but ur still required to kill Iothric nd Iorian?? why?? fr context in the game ur told 2 kill Iothric so u can go link the flame urself since he won't gjdjsk. but if ur not gonna link the fire?? why do i still hav 2 kill them?? i hate u fromsoft fjdjsk neither of them deserve this.

OOH can i talk abt this other thing 👁👁 i've been meaning 2 but never hav gjdjdk. OK SO !!! when i said Iothric was meant 2 be a champion nd all that, he was also expected 2 wield a special platinum sword !! but bc of his poor health he couldn't do that. nyways originally he was supposed 2 wield a scythe !! the sexiest of all weapons 👀

in conclusion...

its fuckign BIG so there's no way he'd be able 2 wield this if he couldn't do the same w that tiny sword gjdjsk but !! i always think how cool it'd be to see him use it in the fight... alas that will never happen gjdjsk 😔😔 NO MATTER i am happy enough seein him cast his pretty magic..

so uh. i think that's it?? unfortunately we do not get 2 know anythin abt him personally ;(( at least we have headcanons gjfjsk i hav many~

i lov my husband SO much he's brought me sm happiness.. nd i hope i can giv him plenty in return ;; he's been thru sm nd he only deserves the best jgdjkd i just want him 2 be happy nd safe :(( i Also lov my big brother Iorian w all my heart nd he Also deserves only the best !! both these boys r so good pls appreciate them

#i typed this at 3 AM apologies fr any typos nd. stiff that doesn't make the most sense GJDJSK #but here it is !! #shoutout if u actually read this #👑; ʟᴏᴛʜʀɪᴄ #nep gushes #this is the ultimate gush post FJDJAK

[cleverfandomurl]

Two Hands, Twenty Questions

So this was inspired by a sweet lil gif i saw a while ago of David Harbour’s “secret talent”. Im pregnant and horny soooooo....

Fair warning, this is ALL SMUT. NO PLOT. 18 PLUS ONLY.

“Ah fuck.” You muttered, trying to pull your now ripped belt loop of of your door handle to the kitchen. Today had not been your day, hell not even your week. The fucking kids had been getting into shit and damn, if you didn’t want a nap. A really, really, long nap. 

You sighed and just ripped the bitch off your jeans. You’d regret it later but you had to make it to the Sheriff’s Department for the part-time cleaning job you’d regrettably signed up for a little cash. Continuing to swear and mutter under your breath all the to the car, out of the driveway and through main street, you weren’t paying attention to the speed limit until mother fuckin’ Cheif Hopper’s blazer lights and siren popped up in your rear view mirror. 

Hitting the steering wheel and yelling a loud FUCK to the rear view. You reached into the center console, grabbed your license and registration and sat steaming until the bastard came up to your window. Taking his sweet time it would seem, too. 

“Well, look who it is...Y/N Y/L/N, the town flirt, speeding down main street. What ever are you in a hurry for?” He grinned, leaning in your mom’s car. 

“Look if this is about me getting ready to show up late to clean the department, I’m sorry but I do have two younger siblings to care for.” You gritted out, shoving the paperwork at him hoping he’d give you a warning and let you just leave. 

“Y/N, come on,” he said quietly, “I’m just giving you a shake down, relax. Just slow it down, alright? I’ll see you at the station.” He sighed out, standing up. Hop rolled his eyes, walked back to his car and slammed the door getting in. You both pulled off the curb after each other and headed to the station. 

About four hours later, after the ridiculous amount of stale donuts, what you think might have been chinese food at one point, and sweeping a metric ton cigarette butts had been swept and disinfected you sighed and threw the spray bottle back on the cart of cleaning supplies. You had worked up a sweat cleaning despite not have to finish the whole place for another week. Tired, sore and hands dry, you wheeled the cart back to the janitor’s closet that also needed to be reorganized. 

Walking back past the reception desk, you saw the chief’s light still on. Stilling, you looked at the door, partially cracked. This was a bad idea. After he threw you in the drunk tank a few weeks ago and you threw up on his shoes, you’d been steadily avoiding him. Admittedly, it’s hard to admit that you have a crush on someone after you puke on their standard-issue boots. You bite your lip and groan internally before going up to knock on the door of the office. 

“What?” comes a grumbled, angry reply. “I’m busy.” he continues. 

“Chief. It’s almost midnight, you should go home.” You say, pushing the door open. You lean against the frame, only for the hole from your ripped off belt loop to catch against the door hinges and rip the right butt pocket clear off your pants. 

“God dammit, motherfucking shit…” you start swearing and grumbling. Hopper leans back in his chair, failing not to laugh. 

“Fuck this shit, i’m going home.” Barely holding in tears, face going red with shame and embarrassment you turned to go to your car, pocket hole wide open. 

“Look Y/N, wait! Let me walk you to your car?” He looked at you pleadingly. 

“Fine, but hurry up, i’m tired.” You sigh. He flipped off the office light, locked up the station and followed you out to your car. Getting in, you throw your stuff on the passenger seat and shoved the key into the ignition, only to find that the car wouldn’t start. Tears welled back into your eyes and started to spill out all over again. You felt Hopper’s hands grab your arm and pull you out of the car and watched as he shut it, and locked it with the key.

“C’mon. We’re getting drinks.” He mutters and pushed you gently in the truck, heading off to the closest dive bar in town. “You’ve been avoiding me.” He says, after a few turns down town. “Well, I did throw up on your shoes.” You point out. “And like I said, I have a lot going on.” You sigh and look out the window. 

Hopper pulls into the bar parking lot and jumps out of the SUV, looking back with a look that throws “Well come on.” 

One bottle of Jack, three beers a piece and one fruity drink later, you’ve both dissolved into snorting and borderline giggles about nothing. “Okay, okay, what question are we on?” you slur to Hopper, drinking down another shot. “Nineteen? I think?” he mumbles out, smiling. You start to sober up, for just one clear moment and ask “What did I tell you that night you hauled me in?” you smile slyly. Hopper’s face fell for a moment and then smiled darkly. “You told me exactly what you wanted to do with my big, rough, hands.” He purred out. His tongue split his lips, slid over his bottom lip and back in, your eyes following the slow, enticing movement. 

“Oh did I?” You breathed out, sparks of heat hitting your cheeks, neck, and abdomen. The stare he gave you was heavy. It held secrets you weren’t sure you wanted to know. “Y/N,” he growled out, and reached for your arm. You pulled back, unsure if this was just the alcohol, he did fancy a younger woman and twenty two was still plenty young. You ran to the bathroom, shooting up quickly and banging your knee on the table. Hopper followed you to the door, hitting it trying to get you to open up. 

“Please, Y/N, I need you. Been wantin’ you since you told me you wanted me to take me hands and mark you, fuck you with my fingers.” Hands pressed on opposite sides of the door, both of your breathing heavy. You then find yourself opening the door, staring down Hopper as he breathes heavily. 

Like a tidal wave, you two crash together, legs wrapping around Hopper’s waist, lips touching everywhere, hands grabbing his hair. You moan, and he seizes the moment to lick along your lower lip. You growl, he pulls back and grabs hair at the nape of your neck. 

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” You heave and smile, his hand firmly holding your head back. 

“I’m gonna do much more than that.” He grins. Hopper pushes you on the sink, the faucet pushing against the hole where your pocket is missing. He pulls your neck back, licks a long stripe of sweat and bites down, earning a groan from you. 

“You’re gonna have t’be quieter than that.” he grins sadistically. “Lift.” he commands and pulls your jeans and underwear down, then shoves your wet panties in your mouth as a gag. Then your hips get pulled forward there’s a sudden jolt of hot and wet licks up through your clit. You bite down on your underwear and try to stifle a moan. Hopper licks stripes up and down your slit, circling around your clit and sucking. You start to gush and clench against his tongue assaulting your pussy. He slips a long finger in and curls it, massaging your g-spot gently. 

Your moans get louder against the make-shift gag and Hopper growls deep in his throat, lapping and fucking you with everything but what you truly want. He adds a second finger, and you shuffle closer, pressing harder against him because you need more. He fucks you harder, faster and keeps going as you shake and writhe. The pressure slowly builds as you grind against his face while he laps and grins. 

“Fuck,” he growls against your core and it brings you so close to your climax, almost there when he stops. “I want this pink mouth against my cock, can you do that?” He licks his wet lips, pulling his tongue through his teeth and grins. You spit out the gag-panties and smile, wobbly legs barely catching you when you slide down Hopper’s legs as you unbuckle and pull his pants down. His cock falls free and you grin. Gently tugging him fully out of his pants, no underwear though you notice, you wrap a hand around his base and lick a long line down the vein under his shaft. Sucking his head into your mouth and bobbing your head up and down quickly Hopper grunts your name. He’s taken aback by your boldness and confidence, the shy girl he used to know in the library of the high school long gone. He wonders where you learned to do this so well. The thought is forgotten as you give a rather hard pulse to his shaft and you swirl the flat of your tongue along the slit of his dick that’s slowly been leaking precum. 

“Dammit!” he nearly yells and you pull back smiling. “Can’t contain yourself Jim?” You smirk and raise an eyebrow. Hopper grabs your jaw and starts to fuck your mouth. You choke at first push, but quickly pace with him and bob and suck till he growls and pulls out almost as fast as he pushed in. “Gotta condom big shot?” You choke out lightly, your throat a touch sore from Hop’s cock hitting the back of it repeatedly. He pulls a foil out of nowhere, ands slides the lubricated rubber on. “You sure you ready for this?” He gruffs out quickly and you nod, turn around and face the dingy mirror hanging above the sink still slightly damp from your juices and the water that had been spilled by previous patrons Jim takes you in as he grips his cock in his right hand and pushes in lightly. You stretch, on your toes to try and meet his dick easier and moan soundlessly on to the mirror. It fogs, and you look towards Hop’s grimy reflection, blissed out and mouth open. You smile and try to push back onto him to get your point across. You aren’t a virgin, haven’t been for a long time. Hopper grins and slams into you hard the last few inches, your v-neck Def Leppard tee stretching down so your chest presses to the counter edge. “Gonna fuck you good little girl. Been so bad. Teasing me,” He thrusts hard, “Walking around with the hole in your jeans peeking that navy blue lace all damn day,” He bucks up into you, nearly lifting you off the ground, “Gonna show you what happens when you tell me how you want my hands marking you. Choking you. Bruising you.” Each ‘you’ ends with another and another thrust. You’re so wet from his earlier tongue worship and you kept your clit stimulated while he fucked your mouth. His cock is practically dripping and he can feel the drops of wetness sliding down his balls, mixing with his sweat. 

You clench at every filthy thing that he says, gripping and fucking on his hard length as best as you can leverage with the little stability you have. Hop feels you struggling and slows, pulls out, and flips you over. Your upper back is now laying over the sink, almost in a strange backbend. Hopper pulls your shirt down with one cup of your bra to expose a breast and erect nipple. He laps it while grabbing your throat, slightly closing off your airway. He goes back to fucking deep and hard into you, hand around your throat and long tongue flicking over your nipple. The counter dug into your back and everything was just too much. 

“Ho-Hopper, ‘m gonna-” you were cut off quickly by the pressure releasing so hot, white and intense that your body seized and gripped down on Hop’s arms, shoulder whatever your hands could reach. You squirted so hard, so wetly that Hopper was pushed to the edge after you. He shuttered, grunted and dropped his head in between you bare and covered breast. The wetness dripped between the both of you, and the small puddle by Hopper’s boot rippled as the drops fell near. 

“Fuck.” He breathed out. “That was...something else.” 

“I don’t regret it. I’ve never done that before.” You mumbled, air returning to your lungs. You let out a little laugh and put your wrist to your forehead. You both started to laugh and he pushed off of you, throwing your discarded under clothes in your general direction and discarding the condom in the trash can. 

“I’ll meet you out there, ey babe?” He grinned, slipping out the door. You smiled, cleaning up your nether regions with some damp paper towels and stepping out to follow.

[sharkfish]

this post is now updated since original posting in june! 

a human heart - 3k - demi cas

Dean is crass, obnoxious, imprecise, has very little understanding of boundaries, and Cas really, really likes him. He can’t pinpoint the moment Dean went from a thinking agent who only existed to make sure nothing goes wrong in space to an emotional agent who tells Cas to go fuck himself and storms out after a disagreement — as much as a visage made of light can storm out — but it seems feelings have been the ghost in the machine all along.

caught in an updraft  - 1k - ace cas

“I need someone to help with grooming.” Cas looks down and he sounds a little small when he says, “It’s — intimate.”

“Ah,” Dean says. “You’re wantin’ to keep your V-card.”

every apple core - 6k - ace dean

Alec hesitates before he takes the wallet, like it might shock him. He opens it, and there’s a driver’s license right there. It’s not him — it’s an older him. Dean Winchester, born 1/24/79.

Alec’s says Alec Ramsay, 10/1/91.

everyone for someone - 1k - ace cas

Dean holds Cas, firm but gentle, until Cas pulls away. “How was that?” Dean asks quietly.

“Very nice,” Cas says. “It’s been — a very long time, since someone hugged me like that without expectation.”

“I hear that a lot,” Dean says, resting his hand on Cas’s knee. “It’s easy to forget how lonely we are.”

fact of the day - 1k - ace dean & cas

“I’ve got a fact for you, though,” Dean says, looking down and turning curiously pink. “I, uh. Haven’t dated anyone since I figured out I was ace.”

happy little accidents - 2k - ace cas/demi dean

The problem is that now Cas knows what Dean’s freckles look like from centimeters away. He knows — however briefly — the softness of Dean’s mouth. He can’t stop wondering what it would’ve been like if Dean had kissed back instead of drawing away and looking at Cas like he’s an idiot.

honeysuckle - 4k - ace cas & demi dean

“Your omega’s here, ok? Everything’s ok.”

Cas closes his eyes and leans a little into Dean’s solid warmth. His omega is here. He can smell them all over each other already.

“You made me such a nice nest, too.” Dean’s voice is low, honeyed and soft. He smells sweeter, it hangs thick and heavy in the air. “Show me.”

longing for grapefruit - 2k - demi cas

Dean lights up and takes the first hit, but instead of exhaling, he leans over towards Cas. It’s not a proper kiss, breathing in Dean’s air, but it’s intimate, and they take turns sharing hits in between kisses.

Cas is flying. Cas can feel everything, Cas is out of his body. “Baby,” Dean says, soft in between them. “Let me make you feel good.”

like january - 8k - grey-ace cas

“I told you that I’m asexual,” Cas says, “and that’s true, but I’ve always understood myself to be more gray-asexual than purely asexual. That means --”

“I know what it means,” Dean says, letting out the breath he was holding.

“I haven’t been attracted to someone in so long, the distinction no longer seemed to be relevant.”

like october & sequel a long & winding road - 2k - ace dean

“Listen,” Dean says, “I just don’t like sex, ok?”

Cas pulls back. Like he’s disgusted, Dean thinks. “Oh,” Cas says. “Ok.”

out in the black - 1k - ace dean & cas

Dean misses everything about Cas that he can’t get over video — the way they smell, the warmth of their hands, the quiet, reverent way they kiss — but sometimes he worries about how quickly the memories started to fade. Maybe Cas doesn’t remember what it feels like when they’re together at all.

rejoining - 9k - ace dean

“You moved an alpha in and didn’t even think to ask me?!”

“I didn’t ask you when I moved Charlie in.”

“I didn’t live here then, jackass. And she’s a lesbian, so it doesn’t count.”

“I thought it would be a little rude to ask Castiel his sexual orientation,” Sam says, being a fucking priss. “Maybe he’s straight.”

spinning & sequel past the breakers - 5k - ace cas

“Listen up!” Dean hollers, louder than necessary in the small space. “We are spinnin’ this bottle, and then we’re going to do some kissin’! Happy New Year!”

sunday morning coming down - 2k - demi cas

Smoke can do all kinds of stuff to you, maybe. Maybe make you want to touch, want to kiss. Maybe make you want to cook dinner and lay together reading and laugh together on long drives through the Hill Country, Baby’s wheels tried and true around the curves and bends

sunflares - 3k - ace cas

Dean’s hand reaches to guide Cas’s chin into another kiss. This feels like the fore-warning to satiation, the promise of a rich meal to come, and Cas’s wings curve forward to hold Dean closer to him.

the only permanent thing - 8k - demi cas

When Dean looks down, he’s shocked he hadn’t noticed it before. The bunting that has lived under the soft dip of his elbow his entire life, frozen in flight, is perched on a branch covered in leaves.

The bird isn’t moving now, but sometime last night he did, and sometime last night he was given a place to rest.

trustworthy for such work - 7k - demi cas

Cas needs to fix this somehow, but can’t think of how, and it just keeps getting worse, because he realizes he doesn’t know if Dean has a vague knowing or if he — oh, god — saw the specific things Cas had been thinking about.

Lately, Cas has been wondering what Dean tastes like. His mouth, the markings on his chest, his cock. Does Dean know the ways Cas has touched himself, wishing it was Dean?

honorary mention for dcj fics:

in the brutal rain - 2k - grey-ace cas

Cas has always been “not quite right,” as his and Jimmy’s mother put it, so it was a shock to find out that Dean was interested in him in the first place. Jimmy’s usually the one that people like, while Cas stands off to the side, looking at flowers.

Was that hesitation before inviting Cas along? Was that a grimace when Cas embarrassed them in front of their friends? Are there whispers when he leaves the room?

more like a song - 4k - ace cas

“Ok,” Dean says. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think the point you’re getting to is that Cas roughs you up, but you don’t fuck.”

#sharkwrites #ace fics #ace pride #destiel

[dadbodsarehot]

confessions; the rewrite

rating: general 

pairing: johnseph 

summary: i didnt like the original confession fic i wrote with the rest of the fics i wrote so i rewrote it better ENJOY

“Why did you give me this?” Joseph fidgets with the ring around his neck, rolling it in his fingers. It’s only him and John around the fire, right now; everyone else in camp had gone to bed. Stars glimmer bright overhead and cricketsong drifts in on the balmy wind. “What do y'mean? Wanted you to have it.” “Why me? Why didn’t you…. give it to Abigail? Why didn’t you want her to have it?” He hopes John doesn’t notice how his voice shakes. John becomes visibly uncomfortable, staring into the fire now instead of looking at him. “Do we have to talk about–” “Yes, we do.” He sighs. “I….I don’t know. Thought it would look better on you than her, is all.” The words are mumbled, and Joseph can tell that his cheeks have picked up a flush. The next question is harder to ask. “Why did you….leave me?” “……….You don’t wanna know that.” “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t wanna know.” He can feel himself shattering again, just like that night, but he has to know. If he’s the only one feeling this, he’ll move on with his life, leave this gang, leave this camp, and never look back. But Arthurs’ words ring in his head - it might matter more than you think- and he has to know. “Please, John.” John’s next words are an outburst. “Because I wanted to stay, okay? more than I’ve ever wanted nothin’, and it scared the hell outta me! Because I realized that I- that the longer we spent together, the less I could lie to myself about…. how much of wantin’ to stay was that I wanted you.” He brings his hand up to the back of his neck, rubbing shyly, and his gaze averts away from him and back to the fire. Compared to the utter rejection he expected, the warmth that spreads through him and the way his stomach does little flips is like heaven. Is this happening? Could he have dreamed something like this? He doesn’t think he could; he probably would have every night that ends in Y. “If you still….want me…..I’m yours.” Joseph had moved closer to him without realizing it at first- their thighs are touching, the contact electric. At the small, impassioned words John turns to face him, also seeming to notice their sudden proximity but wrapping an arm low around his waist instead of moving away; testing the waters. “Say that again, God, you gotta say that again…..” He sounds desperate, like a man starving to death. Rough fingertips curl against Josephs’ cheek delicately, and his heartbeat is going wilder than an untamed horse. Eyes like dark, deep liquid shimmer in the firelight, taking in every inch of him, drinking him up in disbelief. “I’m yours, John.” Breathless, soaked in desire. “I’ve always been yours.” A pair of chapped lips press against his own, needy, and he presses back with a heady gasp, lets his eyes flutter shut, cheeks burning hot and stomach fluttering wildly as the kiss escalates and Johns’ tongue explores him, tastes him. His free hand trails up the deep V of Johns’ shirt, fingertips drifting over the column of his throat, across the stubble on his jaw and the scarred side of his face. Joseph can feel him tremble under the gentle touches, in between their moans mingling in his mouth; he never wants to stop feeling it. It’s over too soon, cursed by both of their need to breathe. John rests his forehead against his own, playing with his ring on its chain while they pant heavily. “This might be a little forward, but…..how you feel about wearin’ this on your finger again?” It takes Joseph too long to realize what he means, eyes filling up with tears. It’s too good to be true. The scenario he didn’t even let his daydreams have. “But what about–” “Forget about her, it’s done. I’ve been a fool all my life, but I ain’t bein’ one when it comes to this. Not again, and not for another minute. I love you, Joseph. Enough to give you my life and my last name and everythin’ else.” He doesn’t even have to think about it, pulling him into a much softer kiss and not even trying to fight down the butterflies when John smiles against his mouth. “I’d be honored.”

#my writing #johnny boy #im gay and cant be stopped

[alitheamateur]

Lights, Camera, Action?

TOMMY CONLON ONE-SHOT

Characters: Tommy Conlon/Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Explicit Sexual Content. Language. Slightly dominating male. Public sex.

Summary: Tommy is coaxed into making a PR appearance for an upcoming tournament, and needs to let off some steam before smiling for the cameras. When you deny him, that need only grows for Tommy, leaving him no choice but to take matters into his own hands. 

Word Count: 2,395

You had been dabbling recently with an edgier sense of fashion, and after careful consideration (and several grueling hours of window shopping) decided on a timeless black strapless jumpsuit. The fit wasn’t tackily form fitting, but hugged your waist tastefully and ever-so-slightly complimented your modest chest. Thankful for Tommy’s sufficient height, you slid on the backstrap of a rather heighted stiletto while tucking a loose wave of hair behind your ear.

“Fuck me....” you heard his gravelly undertone huff from behind, sounding as if the sight he beheld literally exhausted him to look at.

“Tommy Conlon!” Standing straight, you turned to discover his sulky arms crossed in the entryway of the bathroom, shaking his head with a sinful upward turn of his mouth. 

He was a vision every day in faded sweats sitting on the v-cut of his hips, and a probably torn t-shirt. But the man was absolutely murderous in a suit on the rare occasion he was somehow coaxed into wearing one. No one forced Tommy to do a single thing that he didn’t want to, but occasionally you could pout your mouth just right, and maybe persuade him into a thing or two.

“That was a demand, not an observation, y’know…” he said, sauntering toward you with a lip pinched between his slightly uneven top row of teeth. He began to pull lightly at the top button of his crisp white shirt that contrasted his tanned skinned like sunshine and moonlight, readying himself for the very act he had suggested.

“Ah, ah, ah! Freeze,” you warned him with one ample finger to the exposed, hot flesh between his collarbones. “We’re already late, and I didn’t buy this outfit for nothing.”

The pair of you were to attend a PR event for a summer tournament Tommy was participating in, and his trainer threatened to pull him from the card if he couldn’t put on a professional face and make his requested appearance. So tonight, he’d resentfully wag you around on his arm, rolling his gray eyes every time the cameras flashed, and you would definitely take shameless advantage of the impressively stocked open bar.

He chivalrously escorted you down the brick stairs of your duplex and opened the passenger side of his newly purchased, classic model Mustang. It was a purchase he had made hastily with one of the first checks from an impressive victory, and spent overly excessive amounts of time rebuilding it to it’s full potential. The dark hues of the four-wheeled stallion suited Tommy faultlessly. Dark, potentially dangerous, and seeping with raw sexuality.

His thick fingers brushed away your long, chestnut waves to one side exposing a July sun-kissed shoulder where he placed a sticky, lingering kiss. You heard an airy chuckle in close proximity to your ear, no doubt knowing it was a reaction to the rash-like chills he instigated all over your body.

“How you gonna hold out on my lookin’ like this, Y/N? You know I ain’t gonna be able to behave…” the always animalistic aroused man filled his grasping paw with the swell of your taut backside.

Tommy was uncontrollably sexual from nearly sunrise, to sunset. Not that it was a complaint per say to have the likes of a statuesque man such as him fawning over you constantly. But you were all too familiar with the twisted, sensual games he liked to play when you attempted the valiant effort to muster up the courage and turn him down. The night was still very young, and already Tommy had on his best game face.

Upon starting the car to back carefully from your driveway, he leaned to place a hot hand just north of your knee. You assumed it was his request to hold your hand on the drive, but when the veined hand in question squeezed agonizingly tight, and deliberate you knew those suspicions were far from correct. Shifting in your seat, you mocked your movements to appear as if merely adjusting into a more comfortable position, careful to stifle the airy squeak of desire from your throat. But, resulting from the nervous squirms, your seatbelt strap had minimally exposed a teasing peak of your breast, pulling open the u-shaped sweetheart neck of your jumpsuit. As if smelling out the accidental uncovering of cleavage, Tommy lifted finger to trace teasingly upon the curve of your bosom leaving one hand safely on the wheel.

“You tryin’ to get me to pull this car over, are ya’?” Tommy wiggled awkwardly in his own seat, drawing attention to the very clear outline of the pulsing member thru the confines of his slacks. He licked his wanton mouth like a lapping kitten, and laid his head frustratingly upon the headrest.

Unconsciously, your mind began testing strategies on how he could take you in the car considering the inconvenience of your one-piece outfit, when you suddenly felt a whispering breeze of air on your chest. Taking advantage of your clearly distracted state, Tommy had finagled a way to pull down your top and was now rolling and tugging at your standing nipples.

“To… Tom. Tommy, are you crazy?! Someone could see,” you weakly scolded him behind closed eyes and a lulling tongue. Your body reacted by tensing like stone, but somehow your legs felt as tottering as Jello.

“Why d’ya think I got the darkest window tint on this car, baby? Ain’t nobody gonna get a sight of these creamy tits but me. I promise.” He continued the sinister rubs of his hands, and you felt the speed of the car slowly declining while the passing headlights seemed to speed furthermore.

When your mushed brain was able to relay the message to open your eyes, Tommy was easing the car into a corner parking space at a park in close proximity to the conference hall where the event was being held. Once placing the gear to the “P” on the dash, he searched the side of his seat for the lever to scoot himself further from the steering wheel of the car. Clearing making room for whatever tantric scenario he was rehearsing in his mind.

“You gonna crawl on outta that little outfit, or you plan on makin’ me tear it open to get what I been wantin’?”

You couldn’t look away from his delicious, hypnotizing stares and remained unmoved where you sat, breasts still catching the light of a full moon, and the green haze of the radio dials. Taking way more time than he saw fit, he opened his door exiting the car. Sitting awestruck and panting there alone in the still running vehicle, a sea of confusion drowned you. But suddenly, when a dark figure loomed on the outside of your murky, tinted window and nearly ripped the door from the hinges upon opening, it all made sense.

The impossibly broad man grasped you gently, but purposefully about the wrist and guided you to raise from your seat. You instinctively reached to shield your naked torso from the possible wondering eyes, but then noticed the vacant lot around you. Tommy was no fool, nor amateur to these racy situations, and he brought the two of you to this particular place knowing the solitary location. It was no accident you wound up here. He sluggishly discarded his suit jacket to your now empty seat, and unfastened his belt as he calmly relocated to the front end of the black sports car.

His lack of vocal explanations made you shutter with orgasmic exhilaration, knowing whatever Tommy planned would have you perspiring and writhing at some point in the exchange.

“C’mere, Y/N. I need some’n from ya’.” The headlights of the car had been shut off, but the dim orange of parking lights highlighted the calm demeanor across Tommy’s slightly scruffy face.

Wise, and aroused enough to not protest, your heels clacked boldly against the cracking chunks of blacktop below you as you followed the delectable mans’ orders. You should’ve been properly accustomed to your beau and his otherworldly visual aesthetics by now, but it seemed he had made a dirty deal with father time himself, and only got more handsome with age.

“And what makes you think I’m just going to hand over whatever it is than you need, Mr. Conlon?” You cooed, dragging lower the upper half of your clothing, now revealing the feminine skin just below your navel.

He lifted you then with little effort onto the hood heated by the smothering summer air, flat on your exposed back, stuffing his hands inside the rolled up mess of your jumpsuit to tug your legs from it. His eyes glazed with rigorous, carnal desire when he was met with only bare flesh underneath your clothing.

“Wha’ do we have here then, hm? Somebody was askin’ for a lil’ romp wi’ me by the looks of it.” He chuckled sultrily. His Pittsburgh lilt coming through more dominant as it usually did in when he was kidnapped by unmanageable lust.

“Don’t flatter yourself, mister. It was strictly for…… comfort purposes,” you attempted a logical excuse, but the tilting nod of his head gave way that he knew for certain the cheeky gesture was intended only to rile him.

Tommy lifted one of your petite legs to lay atop his shoulder and kissed the protruding ankle bone next to his mouth. Never missing a beat, he lazily slid his nose up the line of your calf, knee, mid-thigh, seemingly to inhale your aroma like a predatory jungle cat. His tongue almost unnoticeably stuck from between his lips, leaving a trail of saliva upon your skin to catch the effects of the breezy night wind. Your breathing pattern hitched when two coarse fingers sketched a tickling trail between your now parted southern lips, and Tommy exhaled a breathy laugh of giddy passion.

“By the feel of this slick spot between ya’ thighs, I think you’re gonna be just fine with givin’ me what it is I need from ya’, little girl.” One of the assaulting fingers curled inside your warm entrance, and the other unhurriedly followed suit. The bustle of passing freeway traffic only a short mile or two distance from us only augmented the allure of the already risky situation, and you knew Tommy’s adrenaline was indeed off the charts.

A heated moan of welcome danced from your lips as your back arched further into his slow-pounding hand, all the while the car beneath you rocked rhythmically with his motions. Licks like tepid bath water poured over the lobe of your ear and the pulse in your neck, and you felt slight twitches take over your legs.

“Tommy, I’m almost there. I wanna feel you, please…”

I knew I wouldn’t need to beg. Tommy didn’t care how you got your release as long as he was the cause, so he wouldn’t have any arguments in satisfying you with another member of his body.

He kept a thumb perfectly pressured on your begging clit while smoothly taking down his zipper.

“I guess I oughta get these outta the way, huh. Since I know you’ll go ‘n make a mess of ‘em,” he teased dropping the dark navy shade of his pants just above his knees.

He yanked you sternly and eagerly lower on the hood, evening himself up to the desired target before entering at a torturously slow pace. Thankful in that instant you had decided on loose, relaxed hair for the evening considering the rutting, flailing movements of your head. Tommy never closed his eyes when the two of you made love, afraid he may miss the bounce of your perfectly portioned breasts, or the needful way you gnawed on your lip almost drawing blood when he grazed your internal sweet spot.

“That’s what my girl likes, ain’t it? Tell me, baby. How’s that feelin’?” He antagonized with a furrowed, smiling brow. Tommy was a man of few words in the public eye, but an explicit poet in the bedroom, and he expected the same of his partner.

He knew your body as well as he knew the pages of an MMA rulebook, so he understood fully just how stupidly crazy those slow thrusts made you. He said you were the first woman he’d known to go ‘fuckin’ ape shit’ with hard, drawn-out movements rather than the sloppy, highspeed pumps. But he quickly grew to love himself those less exaggerated speeds, and found a happy medium to suit you both.

 The modest leg coverage of your clothing choice would be necessary when he was done with you, feeling the aches of fingerprint bruises already embedded into your thighs. The marks of crescent moons would still be lingering there tomorrow, a naughty reminder of how powerfully possessive Tommy was.

“Just like that, Tom. I’m getting so close. You’re so good, babe,” I showered his ego with unashamed compliments, feeling a tight knot tangling in my lower belly.

He pulled you up to rest on your elbows, desiring a plainer view of the contorted screams of orgasm that impended closely, then nearly knocked you unconscious with the strike of his kiss.

A shrieking cry pulsed from inside you, followed by the increased cadence of his in and out movements, announcing his own guttural explosion. Tommy’s head lilted backwards facing the open sky, and from my point of view, he resembled a feverish werewolf calling out to the fullness of the moon.

“Much betta. Now maybe I won’t lose my shit and break some reporters nose at this fuckin’ thing,” he stated while offering you a hand in aid as you scooted to drop onto the ground.

“Would you mind handing me some clothes, Conlon. I’d prefer not to get arrested tonight for public indecency.” You tiptoed for a kiss as the man offered an open leg of the jumpsuit for you to step into.

 The two of you giggled like law-breaking teenagers the entire night, feeling sly that no one in the room knew about the very public ravishing that had taken place just hours earlier. Tommy seemed annoyed, yet controlled amongst the vast media questioning and countless photo-ops, and you gave yourself the proverbial pat on the back for probably being the cause of such. All the while in your mind, you amped up for the next public event he’d drag you to, wondering whether these bathroom doors had locks on them.

#tommy conlon #tommy conlon fanfic #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #oneshot #explict #tommy riordan

[fleurdebleue]

While I’m uh, coh▎rent enough to talk and able to talk, I feel like telling a st▎ry. Maybe it won’t gl░tc▆ so much and everybody will be able to r▆ad it.

So, this was... ages ago. Like, I’m talking centuries. I could give you the exact amo▆▍t of years, but let’s round it up to 1200. Time acts fu▆▍y back where I’m from, that’s probably bec▀ ▍se of people like me. (We were kind of comm▎n, so people ended up ge▎▎ing used to the time distortions, since too much m▓ssing around with higher forces caused time to go all out of so▓ts for everyone.)

I was in a party with roughly five to six other people, situation depending. There was the “pal▚din” Aedn, the “cleric” Lily, the “▚arlock” Xav, the “▃ogue” Sky, ▎he “sword▊age” Marin, an▊ me, the... wel▒, I gu▂ss technically I’d be the “range▛”. Those are really loose labels, just so you ca▟ understand how all of us worked, more or less. As a whole, we were all consid▚red Hunters. T▌e best of the best, actually. If it weren’t for w▊at happened at the ▄nd, ▘e could have been legends. Now no one even speaks of us anymore. Ah, whatever, this i▜▕’t ▀hat sto▇y.

This ▟tory is about Aedn▐ Marin, an▇ I. The others were taking ▖are of their families, so us three were the only ▔nes ▒v▎ilable.

I ▓hink I was about uhhh... 28 at the ti▇▉? 28, 29. Somew▃ere around there. (I to▌▖ you. Time is weird there.)

▃ut! Regardless. We d▇cid▆d to go t▉ a taver▝ and get ourselves drunk as all ▟uck. It was ▍fter ▕ hunt, and our next one wasn▊t due for at LEAST another three weeks. (We▄re the ones y▄u call when things ha▖e gone t█ hell in a handbasket and cast▁es are being ripped to shred▁. Pretty t▖ll order of a group of five p▓ople, if you don’t count our Guild Leader occasionally joi▘ing us on a hunt.) You know, relax a little bit, h▓ve a little ▓un, pay for everybody’s drinks. Being gentlemen and whatnot.

Ma▎in, the bloody wank, dared me that I c█uldn’t outdrink Aedn. T▊ey knew I would take u▇ on t▁e dare because My Pride Is Stupid A▜d Weird L░ke That.

See, the problem was▖’▜ the drinking. The problem was w▀o I was drinking with. 

Aedn is w█at most w▚uld consider “the stereotype tank”. Big dude, heavy set wi▂h ▄uscle (not bodybuilder but like▎ BUILT to take hits be█ter than I was), for fuck’s sake his usual damned weapon was a greatsword built with ▋tarmetal. (Starmetal is alr▍ady heavy as it is, Aedn scared me ▓ll the time with ho▜ ▇asily he could swing that thing around like I did wi▂h chain-locked sickles▐) And most of all, he’s Glaswegian w▐o grew u▗ half in Glasgo▆ and half in the ▎hoddy parts of Dublin. He can f▁cki▗g drink my fellas▃

I grew up in Louisiana, around a stickler of a Lich who already didn’t care for drinking. 

(Leans into the mic.) You know this ▖sn’t going ▙o go well already but I’m telli▊g you anyway▐

Don't get me wrong. I'm not a ligh▎weight, Lucife▗ can tell you that much. But w▌ile I c▋n hold ▔y liquor ▏uite well, drinking to▇ much at once ░ill make me sick and shaky inste▄d ▊f get▓ing me d▇unk▕ The first ten drinks went down like no▒hing. E▗eventh, I could feel ▂ys▂lf trying to s▏op dri▒king and in▉tead wantin▏ to heave up everythin▏. My prideful arse tho▇ght it wo▕ld be a goo▀ idea to shove aside my n▋▟▛ea and keep drinking. Twentieth, I'm no▉ sure if I wa█ properly buz▌ed or so sick to my stomach that I could no longer get myself t▍ want to thro▂ up. Thirti▄th, there were bet▂ go▔ng up to see who would ▆o down fir▃t: Aedn or me. Th▒rty first? ▋ooking at the glass made me want to fuck▂▖▘ pass out. Logic said ▔o stop and take ▌are of myself p▀operly, pride said I could do it. Of cou▁se, I liste▕ed to my pride.

Even Aed▎ w▀s telli▁g me to take a break but lo and behold I took it as a c░allenge and not ▅ concerned ▆arning▝ I'm Booboo ▚he Fool.

S▆mewhere along th▋ ▊ine of my dri▊king I heard "I got a new shipmen▟ o▎ dwarve▟ brew" and I blacked ▄ut after that. I woke up t▛o ▊ays later t▉ a not so proud face of my Guild Leade▆ lookin▜ a▃ ▔e, with Aedn nervously sitti▃g at the ▎able in the ▚orner with a pint ▌f ale.

A▐▆arently I c▅all▎nged a noble to a fight ▓hile I was "bl▋cked out" a▙d embar▊assed him by winning. A s░ber trai▍ed noble lost a fight to a dru▇k exhausted Hunter. That is. Just s█d. An▞way I'm currently drinkin▒ now and I'm about to fucki█g pass out again on th▅ couch so see ya when I'm back to ▃ormal.

#txt #[[ #abt. #]]