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coveredinsweetpea · 7 months

Note

not to be a whore........... but imagine making out with Eddie's buldge through his underwear 😩

🥴🥴🥴 tbh I think there are two different scenarios and I wanted to choose only one to elaborate on but I couldn't so here I go: you're both either too lazy to care and this evolves from a sleepy cuddling session OR you're being needy and clingy, begging for his attention - just a whiny mess basically, and this is all that he's willing to give you. Both detailed under the cut 🥴🥴 (the 2nd one is pure filth, humiliation, degradation etc 18+!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

It's summer, Wayne's not in town and you have all the trailer to yourselves. But it's still early, no one's in the mood to party yet, it's hot and you're both too lazy to move.

Eddie's starfish on the bed, a comic book having him completely under its spell, while you lay lazily with your head on his tummy, hoping sleep would envelop you. But it doesn't; Eddie's too caught up with a plot twist he didn't see coming, and ideas start coming to you.

Your eyes fix the outline of his cock and without saying a word, you palm him in your hand, your fingers drawing random patterns on the material of his boxer briefs.

Eddie doesn't react, at least not to your knowledge, but one eyebrow does pop up. You don't see it however and decide to keep going, moving your hand a bit to the side so you can rub the length of his cock.

"Sweetheart?" Eddie lifts his comic book so he can look at you, "What are you doing?"

"Nothing"

You don't even look at him, just keep teasing him through his boxers, until he can't help but tense his thighs. "Love?"

"Yeah?" again, you answer without bothering to face him, but this time you do move. Just in the opposite direction, nonchalantly pressing your lips against his bulge.

The gesture was light, not too sudden or too strong, but the reason he froze for a second is the pure confusion that washed over him. But he doesn't get a chance to ask, because when he feels what you're doing - understands that you're right now literally kissing the length of his cock, he can't help but chuckle.

"Sweetheart, you know I can take those off for you, right?" Eddie teases, one hand on the top of your head as you keep going.

"Nah" you shrug and wrap your lips around his clothed tip. One of your hands slips lower, your fingers brushing against his balls as you start sucking.

"Ah fuck" he gasps. But you don't budge.

You keep at it - licking, sucking, grabbing, your teeth lightly grazing the tip of his cock.

"Baby, damn it" the comic book flies across the room, his attention now fully on you. "You wanna make me cum like that?"

But you don't answer. You just shove your hand up one of the legs of his boxer, cup his balls into your hand, and resume full on making out with his cock.

The sheer feeling of him getting hard under your lips, the way he can barely control his breathing, how his thighs tense and how his abdomen clenches every time you apply just a little bit more pressure, makes you want to see just how far you can go.

Brushing your thumb over the wet patches on his underwear, you look up at him, "Yeah, I wanna. Can I try?"

"Try?" he laughs and rubs your cheek with the back of his fingers, "Darling, you're halfway there"

You beam under his praise and resume your quest, eagerly sucking and tugging through the material as his cock visibly stiffens.

"But then you'll take yours off. You can play around all you want, but you know I can't stop until you've made a mess on my face, doll"

Fine by you.

You being clingy isn't anything new. The planets sometimes settle so that some days the only thing you want is his attention and nothing else. And it's usually not a problem, Eddie being more than happy to oblige and give you what you so desperately crave, but there are also days when that is not possible.

Like this one.

Busy with tasks Wayne left for him, the campaign needing some last minute fixes, Dustin asking for a ride and a Corroded Coffin concert late in the evening - this day is bound to suck for the both of you.

You manage to compose yourself for as long as you can, but by the time you reach the venue for the show, you're almost out of your mind. Begging, teasing, whining, throwing yourself at other men to get his attention - you do everything in your power to get his attention. But you fail. Miserably. As once you finally get home, things don't play out the way you had hoped - at all.

"So fucking desperate, like a fucking whore" Eddie scoffs, plopping down on the couch. He spreads his legs and nods, "Do your thing"

Normally, you'd whine and complain, but your brain isn't cooperating so you listen to his command. You kneel in front of him, undo his jeans, and then helplessly look up at him, bottom lip popping out. "Eddie…"

"Do you need help, kitten?"

You nod.

"Do you deserve it? You acted like a dumb slut all night. Why would I help you? You can't even take my dick out, why would I let you suck it?"

"Please, Eddie…" you cry.

"Look into my eyes, doll" he commands, his hand on your chin forcing you to face him. "Apologize for the way you've been tonight"

"I'm- I'm sorry" you sniffle, "Please-"

"Sorry for being such a cock thirsty whore that you can't even function unless you get to have my dick down your throat?"

"...yes"

"Say it, baby. You need to hear yourself saying it. And look into my eyes while you do it, love. Show me how bad you want it"

"Please, Eddie-" you blink, "I'm sorry for being such a whore, but I need it, please. Can I please, please, suck your cock, please?"

And your pleading might have been enough but you'll never know. Eddie doesn't even get a chance to fully strip before he sees the hungry look in your eyes. "Come here" he motions as he stands up, his jeans now pooling around his ankles. "Show me you want it"

For a second, you look up at him in confusion, but the way his cock stretches the material of his underwear has you feral all over again.

So you don't question it, don't complain, you just get to work. He's hard - throbbing almost, the wet patch of precum making your tongue tingle as you make out with his cock as best you can.

"That's my girl" he grins, patting your head, "My good girl, keep going. Make me cum. If you can do it, you get to swallow it all, baby"

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x reader #eddie muson fanfic

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monstersdownthepath · 7 months

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Lord of Pits and Executions: Nightripper, the Promise of Pain

CR 24

Chaotic Evil Medium Outsider

Inner Sea Bestiary, pg. 34-35

Centuries after his death, the madman and serial killer Riktus Scroon is still a known name. Being quite possibly one of the most prolific murderers in the world's history, Scroon proudly boasted about killing nearly a thousand people on his own, a horrifying number for an Archmage, let alone what appeared to be a normal, though skilled assassin. Though only 43 were confirmed for certain to be his, Scroon provided worryingly exact details for the gravesites of over 900 different people he claimed to have killed, and though it may have been the exaggerations of a madman, it nonetheless moved the authorities to execute him as swiftly as they could.

Gallows, guillotines, spells, even mundane weapons all failed either due to malfunction or sheer misfortune, to the point people began to wonder if Scroon could be killed. His infamy growing ever larger with each failed attempt on his life, it was nonetheless the 13th execution (the execution method is not described) that stuck and finally rid the world of the human stain of Scroon... at least for a while. His soul was so black that it could not be scrubbed by the machinations of the Courts of Purgatory, and rather than entering the Abyss as a pathetic larvae with dim memories of his former life, he entered as pathetic larvae who remembered his legacy perfectly. Such wickedness caught the attention of the Demon Queen, Lamashtu, who scooped him into her foul arms and gave him something rare and beautiful: A job offer.

Twisted into a unique demon by Lamashtu's blessing, Nightripper is now her personal right hand when it comes to torture and assassinations, a job he likely performs with worrying amounts of gusto. When Nightripper is on your trail, you know for certain that your death will not be pleasant; no, to have such a horrid fiend called upon you, your suffering will be legendary... and not even death will save you from it.

Nightripper is a Nascent Demon Lord, not quite on par with most of the people we'll be seeing this month, but he's nonetheless a terror you never want to encounter if only for one singular line in his statblock: A +5 Vorpal Bastard Sword that he can swing four times a round. Seeing a Vorpal weapon or, indeed, the word "vorpal" anywhere on a monster's statblock should cause some careful reconsideration about whether or not engaging the creature in melee is wise, because it usually means "this monster has a 5% chance every round to outright kill you."

Alright, the math isn't quite 5%; not only must the Vorpal weapon roll a natural 20 (and only a natural 20 works, something I've forgotten many times in the past!), but he must ALSO confirm the critical hit, which substantially lessens his ability to actually snicker-snack a tank's head off... but if he ambushes someone without ridiculous AC, an attack bonus track of +43/+38/+33/+28 is plenty intimidating! What's worse is that evasion tanks get absolutely shafted by Dazzling Display (allows him a full-round action attempt to Intimidate everyone within 30ft) and Shatter Defenses (shaken, frightened, or panicked foes are flat-footed), and he has little reason not to open combat with Dazzling Display to catch at least SOMEONE off-guard and focus that unfortunate victim down.

Heavy armor tanks take the largest amount of terror out of his weapon, giving him only a 1 to 3% chance to instantly kill them every round (remember, 4 attacks with that blade if he Full-Attacks!), which if you ask me is still high enough to make me sweat bullets every time I hear dice rolling. Even if Vorpal never comes into play, his sword still deals 1d10+18 damage with every swing and can critically strike on a 17 or higher, giving him a decent damage output if he can Full-Attack.

It doesn't stop there, though; you may notice those intimidating claws growing out of his back, and those fingers the length of shortswords. Neither weapon is particularly threatening on its own, his claw dealing 2d6+4 damage and his back-talons a mere 1d6+4, but all three attacks inflict 2d6 bleed to assure the damage keeps ticking round after round. ALL of his attacks can potentially tack on +3d6 Sneak Attack, and if his summoned demons don't allow him to flank, remember that Dazzling Display + Shatter Defenses can potentially inflict shaken on several members of the party, which causes them to become flat-footed!

Like fellow Medium-sized melee masters like the Eremite, the relatively low base damage of each of his attacks means that getting out of his 5ft reach (15ft with his back talons!) causes his damage to drop off dramatically, and he lacks the Step Up feat and similar to prevent enemies from doing exactly that or Vital Strike to make up for the damage loss. What he does have, however, is some of the most obnoxious crowd control you could ask for: Acid Pit and Hungry Pit 3/day and Spike Pit at-will. You want to know what all of those spells have in common? They can be cast while under Time Stop, which he has at 1/day. With no will or need to waste time buffing in stopped time, Nightripper can waltz up to the party and create a giant hole underneath each of them, then rabidly attack whoever succeeded their Reflex save (or climbs/flies out of the hole). Alternately, he's smart enough to simply Air Walk down his spiked pits and savage the poor soul that just fell to the bottom, the spikes unable to pierce his DR 15/Cold Iron and Good, swiftly and gruesomely killing the isolated victim and forcing anyone who wants to protect them to leap into the pit to save them... or, yknow, fire on Nightripper from below. Just be aware that he can use Greater Teleport at will to pop back to the top of the pit if he takes too much heat.

A rather delightful tool he has is a 3/day Quickened Blade Barrier, but don't be hypnotized by the the prospect of casting BB inside of one of his created pits to slaughter everyone and everything inside; each block of BB is 20ft tall and 20ft wide, so unless the DM wants to fudge how the spell works, it can't be cast inside the Pit spells, which are 10x10. I can't imagine it'd feel very fair for the players, so it's probably for the best. Blade Barrier does make the space between all his pits more dangerous than they already were, of course, and with an at-will Telekinesis, Nightripper can just keep shoving people through the whirling blades for 15d6 damage capped off by a fall into the pit, which I imagine is incredibly insulting if you've just clawed your way to the top! Remember those pits linger for minutes at a time, remaining a danger for the entire fight!

So, that's two things to put on your list if you want to survive Nightripper: Flight and immunity to fear. Without any ability to bypass fear immunity, no fear-inducing spells of his own (relying wholly on any spells his summons might have), and even lacking Frightful Presence, he's got no way to induce fear past his opener with Dazzling Display unless he wants to waste a Full-Round Action doing it again mid-combat, and that's a round where you're not being savaged by his attacks or being pushed into pits. Savor it! Wait, hold on, what's this I see here... Swift Cuts? What's that do? Hmm... hum hummm, "treats foes who are staggered, nauseated, or under the effects of a Slow spell as flat-footed." Well that's not too bad, since he has no inborn way to cause staggers and nausea either! His best bet is summoning something with Stinking Cloud or similar!

He does, however, have a way to cause slow. Constantly, without limit, and as a free action: His Slowing Gaze, which does exactly what you think it does every single round someone looking at him fails a DC 30 Will save. ONE failed save and not only can you not make a retaliatory Full-Attack, but he CAN, and he does it with his Sneak Attack added to each strike. And remember how I said he didn't have Vital Strike? I kind of lied. He has something arguably worse: Deadly Stroke, a feat seldom ever seen due to the difficulty of getting it and setting it up, so here's a quick rundown: Someone with Deadly Stroke can use their standard action to make a single attack against a stunned or flat-footed opponent. If the attack connects, it deals double damage and inflicts 1 Con bleed.

Not nearly as scary as four hits from that fearsome bastard sword, but if you keep moving out of his melee radius like some kind of coward, he still has something to say once you succumb to fear or his Slowing Gaze.

Before we wrap this up, why not talk about his most horrifying ability? Yes, worse than the endless pits he can layer a battlefield with, worse than the Blade Barriers he can shove you through, and worse than his Full-Attack... though for you to even be affected by it, you must succumb to one of those. This ability is quite possibly one of the most upsetting and grim powers in any book, which is quite fitting for such a sadistic man: The Curse of Living Death. Once per round upon killing a living creature, Nightripper can force that creature to make a DC 30 Will save. If they fail, they become afflicted by an incredibly cruel curse. A victim cursed by Living Death simply cannot die, their life and consciousness remaining trapped within their broken body and forced to endure the pain of their new existence. It cannot take any actions, not even to move its eyes or breathe in or communicate with any form of telepathy, existing as nothing more than a vessel through which they can experience an agony unlike any other.

A cursed victim cannot be raised or resurrected, because they're not dead, and with no means to communicate with a cursed victim, there's no real way to tell just what the Hell happened unless the curse is revealed to the party somehow. Horribly, the cursed victim is completely conscious of what's happening in the world around them, but special focus is placed on the pain of their new and inescapable state. The sense of their never-closing wounds and the rotting of their own flesh slowly drives them mad, draining 1d4 points away from their mental ability scores each day, and if their scores ever hit 0, the DC to remove the curse jumps from 30 to 34. Not even completely destroying the body frees the victim from their torment, their spirit lingering as a bodiless, invisible force at the last location of their body, now trapped in what is essentially a sensory deprivation chamber. Until the curse is lifted, they cannot be resurrected and cannot enter any afterlife.

It's almost horrifying enough to make you forget his real name is RiKtUs ScRoOoOoOoOon, isn't it?

You can read more about him here.

#monster spotlight #CR 21 to 25 #Pathfinder #Lords of Sin Month #blood #gore

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ranchracoon · 13 days

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Ch. 18 Investigation

You couldn't sleep, all night you tossed and turned violently, threw the covers off you just to cover yourself back up. Exhaustion crept in slowly and eventually you fell into a dreamless, cold, sleep only to be woken up a measly few hours later. The sun leaked through the cracks of the curtains and illuminated the room in a soft, yellow glow. You sighed in frustration, you could hear the faint ringing of bells and presumed that it was meant for the maids to start their day. Your mind couldn't stop wandering back to Donna, hoping that she'll be okay and that Mother Miranda hasn't already interrogated her.

Breakfast was quiet, Alcina watched you like a hawk watching a mouse scurry across a field. Cassandra broke the silence by requesting to go to the village with her sisters, you perked up to join them but Alcina refused before you could let out a breath. She granted her daughters permission but made it abundantly clear that you would not be going anywhere. After the sisters were dismissed you started to stand when Alcina raised her hand to stop you, she motioned for you to sit back down and you obeyed. She sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair, she crossed her ankles and looked out the window adjacent to the dining table.

"Walk with me." She suddenly said.

She stood up and walked to the double doors directly behind you, you got up from your chair and followed behind her into the courtyard. It was cold. You shivered and hugged yourself in a futile attempt to warm yourself, silently wishing you had Donna's cloak to keep you warm. Morning mist blanketed the courtyard, Alcina stopped walking underneath a gazebo in the center breathing heavily before she reached into her own cloak and pulled out a metallic box. Inside was a row of cigarettes neatly holstered on one side with an intricately detailed lighter on the other. She looked over at you, silently asking if this would bother you and you only shook your head.

The cigarette was placed delicately between her perfectly painted lips, you couldn't help but stare at her as your breath crystalized and disappeared in front of your vision. The lighter flicked to life and the end of the cigarette caught aflame, she tucked the lighter back into place followed by the metallic case. She took a long inhale of the addictive chemical before blowing it out into the empty space above her. After this moment of tranquility she seemed to remember you were there too, she shook her head alert and chuckled embarrassingly.

"Oh my dear I apologize. Here."

Alcina shimmied her shoulders to remove her outer cloak, underneath she was wearing a body-length, eggshell dress with long sleeves that hugged everything. She wrapped the cloak around your shoulders, the sheer size threw you off first for it never occurred to you just how tall she really was. The cloak swallowed your entire being with part of it dragging on the ground, the smell of her and cigarette smoke drowned you in a dizzying cloud. You wouldn't deny that the warmth was welcomed, but the lack of Donna's scent pained your heart. Alcina cleared her throat and drew your attention away from your thoughts and back to her as she looked down at you.

"You know, Tatiana was one of my best maids. She was more like family than a servant really, her parents passed from a horrible disease when she arrived here. We were all she had. Mother Miranda wants to bury her in the village graveyard, but I hope she'll allow me to bury her in the family graveyard here at the castle. It's where she belongs." Alcina spoke quietly.

"I'm really sorry for your loss." You whispered.

"Why? You had nothing to do with her death, but I would be a fool to think that her death was accidental." There was a long pause as Alcina snubbed her budd out in a tray nearby.

"It was Salvatore." You blurted out.

Alcina turned to look at you, "Do you have proof?" She asked.

"No, but I know that Salvatore is somehow involved."

Alcina sighed heavily, "It is not for us to decide. Mother Miranda will investigate and deliver her judgment based on the evidence."

"Mother Miranda will pin it on Donna and we both know it."

Before she could counter, you take off the cloak and hand it to her, then thank her for it and leave without another word or listening to anything she says. You go to the guest room and lay on the bed staring at the wall as tears spill from your eyes. A frantic knocking on your door woke you up. You don't know when you fell asleep, or how much time has passed but you sat up and rubbed your sore eyes before getting out of bed. The second you clicked the lock Cassandra burst in with Bela and Daniela hot on her heels. You blinked a few times to comprehend the sudden intrusion but quickly closed the door and looked at the three of them, all of them fidgeting anxiously.

"We have news." Daniela breathed out.

"Johanna and I scoured every inch of the church-"

"And each other." Coughed Daniela.

Cassandra glared at her and rolled her eyes before she continued, "and we did find some interesting things. First we found a cigar near which points toward Heisenberg so we started to go in that direction until we saw signs of a struggle in the opposite direction. We followed what seemed to be a trail of somebody being dragged and guess where it led to?"

"The bay." Bela injected, "Daniela and I went to the bay and Salvatore was nowhere to be found and his boat was out, which normally wouldn't be suspicious except that he left all of his fishing gear on the dock. About an hour later he came back and went straight to his cabin."

"Unfortunately that's all we could find before Mother Miranda caught wind of us. We wanted to check the ravine first but she was already there with a few others. I tried to eavesdrop on their conversation but couldn't make out anything. After that we had to make ourselves scarce." Daniela finished.

You sighed heavily, "that's not much to prove anything. I know Salvatore is behind this."

"We agree with you, but maybe we should go to our mother with this." Bela offered.

"She won't believe anything. I already tried talking to her this morning but she is convinced that Mother Miranda will make the right judgment."

Cassandra snorted at that, "look I like Miranda but, she's no different than all the others mothers before her. She takes everything at face value. To make matters worse, Karl and Salvatore might be working together which means that any evidence we found will be merely hearsay, and they most likely already altered anything else."

The dinner bells rang aloud throughout the castle, you looked at the sisters and sighed heavily at having to face Alcina again. You feel guilty for how you left things but at the same time, your anxiety was at an all time high. You walked with the sisters to the dining hall and you froze in place upon seeing Mother Miranda sitting at the end of the table opposite Alcina. Alcina eyed you and swirled her wine in her glass as she nodded her head in the direction of the seat next to her.

You took your seat and looked at Bela who only stared back at you with her shoulders shrugged. Mother Miranda stood up, you could tell from her facial expression that your worst fears are about to come true. You tightened your hands into fists, they became clammy and sweaty as you felt your heart thud in your throat.

"Myself and the local officials of the village have looked over the case of Tatiana, we followed the trail from the ravine and found nothing in the immediate area. However, upon further inspection we found blood in front of the gate leading to Beneviento manor. When we walked the path toward the manor we found multiple sets of footsteps, more blood, and signs of a fight. We also found pieces of her uniform caught on the blackberry bushes."

Mother Miranda locked eyes with you, all you could see was sympathy, "it pains me to say but the village officials are demanding Lord Beneviento answer for the evidence pointing toward them."

"But it wasn't them!" Cassandra slammed her hands on the table.

Alcina stared at her daughter in shock, "Cassandra! Manners!"

"Mother, we went to the church and also found evidence pointing to Karl and Salvatore. There was a patch of grass torn up as if someone was fighting, all the way to the bay there were broken branches and two divots in the mud as if someone was dragged." Bela added in defense.

"Girls!" Alcina yelled.

"We didn't find any of that in our search. Accusing Lord Moreau is a very serious accusation. Do you have any proof that he did it?" Mother Miranda said calmly.

"I have proof that Donna didn't do it." You chime in.

All of them looked at you surprised, you closed your eyes and cursed yourself for slipping. Again. You would have to deal with the repercussions another time, but now was not the time. Mother Miranda's once welcoming and kind blue eyes now stare at you with nothing but ice.

"Well?" Mother Miranda beckoned.

"I was with her that night. We were together until early in the morning, Angie can attest to that. Look at the body again, you'll see that the timeline doesn't match up, there's no way Donna killed her because she would have been with me."

Mother Miranda stood, she walked painfully slow to you until she stood in front of you. You swallowed a lump in your throat as you looked up at her, her eyes examined yours briefly before she sighed. Her hands rested on your shoulders and squeezed, not in a malicious way but in more of a 'disappointed mother' way. You were well acquainted with that feeling.

"You are on very thin ice Y/N. I want to believe you, but I need more."

"Do you want me to flash my breasts and show the hickies? Would that be proof enough?" You snapped.

Daniela coughed and choked on her drink, she slammed the drink on the table and coughed violently. Bela patted her back soothingly as Daniela eventually sucked in a breath and her coughs got more even and her breathing came back. Mother Miranda squeezed your shoulders tighter, she kept her face composed but the redness of her cheeks gave her away. You yanked your shoulders away and kept your gaze on Mother Miranda who folded her hands in front of her as she looked away.

"That won't be necessary. I will speak to Lord Beneviento and Angie on their whereabouts. I make no promises though."

Mother Miranda turned away but paused in the doorway leading to the main hall, "oh and Alcina? They approved your request to bury Tatiana in your family graveyard. Goodnight."

The only noise that followed was that of Alcina's chair scraping against the wooden floor, you looked over your shoulder at her and she didn't look at you. Instead her gaze was locked in front of her, she stood upright and took a deep breath.

"Girls. Rooms. Now. I will talk to you three later."

The three sisters got up from their seats, they each stole a glance at you before they proceeded to look at the floor in shame. You watched them leave before turning your attention to Alcina who finally locked eyes with you, her expression unreadable. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

"You are rather annoying, you know that? I can see why Donna likes you. The quiet ones always go for the loud, fiery ones." She sighed again, "I have the subtle suspicion that you'll disobey my orders and sneak out to see Donna anyways so, I am putting all of my faith and trust that you are correct in your suspicions. Go and spend what might be your final moments together."

"Do you mean it? What about Mother Miranda?" You ask surprised.

Alcina opened her eyes and sighed softly, "I will deal with Mother Miranda, she knows she cannot truly touch House Dimitrescu. However, I do not want to be caught in the middle of this mess. You've already dragged my daughters in and I will not let you continue any further. So go before I change my mind and chain you in the basement."

Part of you wants to think she's joking, but the other part firmly believes that she is, in fact, not joking. You step forward and hug her tightly on her side, you feel her muscles tense at the contact but they slowly relax the longer you hold her. She sighed and brushed your hair back, planting a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Go to her my dear." She ordered.

#resident evil village #re8 #alcina dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #x reader #resident evil women #resident evil fanfiction #donna benviento x reader #donna beneviento

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andnatiabrosca · 9 months

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Self-Rec Tag Game

Rules: Share five of your own fanworks (fic, art, etc.). Then, tag five more people to share the things they've made. I’ve put categories below, but they’re more guidelines than rules. 1. Something you absolutely adore 2. Something that was challenging to create 3. Something that makes you laugh (or smile, if that fits more comfortably) 4. Something that surprised you (in how it turned out, how much other people liked it, etc.) 5. Something you want other people to see

@layalu (@dungeons-and-dragon-age) tagged me & this is the blog I Do Stuff on! now that my weird bug was resolved where I couldn't access my mentions, onwards and upwards. I'm going into my files for stuff, not necessarily what's been published yet, because my tagging system...needs work. Cut for length.

1. Something you absolutely adore

Well, absolutely and without question, my current longfic is well-adored. It's [love knows life] on Ao3. Here's a snippet:

The fear rolls and boils and threatens to swamp her the deeper they venture into the Temple. And like a log, buffetted in the swells – the eyes of a friend. It’s a test, she knows, but does not hurt any more for it. “What’s shapin’?” the memory of her brother asks. His voice is too thin, and he flickers in and out of sight, not like a real ghost would. She leans into his rough smile. “Topside as bad as you thought?” Pretends the shadow play behind her eyes is a fear, not a memory. “Ancestors, you’re a bitch.” He growls. It doesn’t fit, just like the solid Trade that Leske never spoke. “You never really cared about us. Knew you were meant for greater things. Up there. The Surface.” It’s a bad memory. It’s missing rough-big-brother Leske. “You’re the one always told me to leave,” she bites back before her mind finds her. He laughs, one solid, rough bark of her friend as he glows blue, then fades back to smooth, wavering grey. “I know it’s been playing on your mind, how you left us in the darkest muck-pit this side of the Deep Roads. But it’s all right. Don’t want to be all mopey. You can let go and forgive yourself, salroka.” He pauses for a few moments, fading between that grey and that lyrium blue. His voice quiets as blue memory finds living brown. “I forgive you.” That she believes. The last time she knew those eyes, they were thanking her as her blade pulled free from his stomach, breath caught in blood pooling on the stone. He’s gone – again – before Nat’s voice winds back to her.

2. Something that was challenging to create

This is a bit of a deep cut, but I did [this] back in 2017, somehow fit in around 19 credit hours of engineering coursework.

I've got more details in the original post, but this entailed (1) learning how to draw like. at all. (2) using MatLab and the wiki's list of known dwarven words (and a lot of sitting and reading them aloud) to count the frequency of each phoneme within the dwarven language, then trying to isolate graphemes from the written dwarven in game (I remember using the stone from Anvil of the Void), counting those, and trying to find some correlation to assign graphemes to phonemes, THEN writing all of the Blight Brigade's names using the new cypher.

I am looking to revisit that project in future, actually. I've got more understanding of linguistics and the courage to take a good stab at conlanging. But not the note-taking skills.

3. Something that makes you laugh/smile

I'm not putting any snippets in here because it's a rated M fic and also is super short, but I find [this kinktober fill I did] pretty funny. It's Alistair semi-intentionally stumbling across Nat and Zev finding some private time away from camp.

4. Something that surprised you

[I recorded a podfic of Seventeen] and, frankly, I'm surprised anyone even clicked on it. I'm extremely proud of how I did it and the sheer number of skills I learned from it.

5. Something you want other people to see

This is a snippet from an unpublished/unfinished fic from my series [seventeen years]. Its working title is "Twenty-Six"; it's meant to be written to hold a mirror between Natia (old form of Nat) and Maran Trevelyan. I still really like using Maran trying to live up to the folk hero juxtaposed against the reality of Natia being a child during the Blight.

Maran Trevelyn was sixteen when word arrived to the Free Marches. The Blight – the Blight most hadn’t realized had even begun – was ended. There were stories, left and right and center; everyone claimed a different version of the truth. The Hero of Fereldan was human. The Hero was a mage. The Hero was Dalish and the Hero was dead. Mar didn’t know which words were true, but she knew which ones she wanted. When Mar told herself stories, late at night, lying in a dreamless bed, the Hero was old, wise, brave. A human warrior who knew battles and knew wars and fought with every fiber of her being to save the world, because it was her duty, not because it was right. Duty meant a lot, to the youngest daughter of a Marcher noble. In Mar’s world, the Hero was the woman she could become, if only she trained hard enough. If only she fought herself and her desires until there was nothing left. (Her Hero died in the end, but that really didn’t matter. Duty first.)

#birch speaks #tag games #self rec tag game #fsafds I got so lost looking at stuff to decide what to put in the recs TT #I'm still lost. I am still lost. but just remembered I wasn't just reading old fics #thanks for the ask!!#I write primarily angst so trying to find sections that are Good and fairly stand-alone without also being Very Heavy was. difficult

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meanderingstar · 1 year

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Hi, I was wondering what you thought of Priory of the Orange Tree and if you're planning on reading the upcoming prequel?

I gave it 2.5-rounded-to-3 stars

honestly, I think the book was very mediocre. It took me a while to acknowledge that to myself because I wanted to like it very badly and was caught up in my own anticipation and hype, but I was very dissatisfied during my reread months ago. Please keep in mind, though, that these are purely my opinions; if I criticize something and someone else is able to overlook/enjoy it, it's fine.

Ultimately, I think the crux of my issue with the book is that a collection of interesting (albeit staple) ideas and in-depth research does not automatically translate to good storytelling.

Its pacing was abysmal - it was too long, it started too slowly and ended too fast, and it's genuinely bizarre that in a book with multiple kingdoms and a looming draconic apocalypse, we spend more than half the story following a single nation's daily court life + political intrigues that ultimately has no literal or thematic connection to the overarching plot and felt very disjointed and aimless as a result. It also wastes too much time on incessant filler descriptions about irrelevant details + scenarios that don't matter. When the grand finale against the Nameless One finally arrives, it lasts for less than a chapter and is resolved with embarrassing ease; I recently saw an ask that compared it to the final battle of Blood of Olympus, and that's a hilariously apt comparison. The book could and should have been trimmed down, because it could have been easily concluded in just half the page length.

It had an incredibly uneven and unbalanced focus: The West is given immensely more attention and pagetime than the East, which results in the latter seeming reactive, unimportant and vague in comparison. Many people have commented that dragons, despite being used to hype up the book pre-release, were minimally present in the story. The Pri/ory of the Or/ange Tree, despite giving the book its name, also plays an extremely negligible role in the story and barely receives any pagetime; it's also extremely ridiculous that a society of magic-wielding women whose entire purpose resolves around the Nameless One doesn't even fight in the final battle against him. Ead (I'll get to her in a bit, I have a lot to say) is the only one who gets a role. This is explained from an in-universe perspective, yes, but from a writer's perspective, my question is: what's the point of glorifying the Priory, of emphasizing the truth of Cleolind's history, if her legacy doesn't even matter to the plot beyond the actions of one member? I don't know if this is a criticism or a skeptical observation; take your pick.

The book also felt very flat, which was the most irritating aspect to me personally because I'm drawn to books based on their sheerness and the emotions they invoke, and while the language of this story was descriptive, the tone was dry, lifeless and monotonous. It had no sense of stakes and failed to invoke plausible surprise, tension or dread - characters having arguments is written with the exact same intensity as a world-ending apocalyptic battle. The Nameless One is an utterly lackluster villain: despite being told that he is terrifying, we don't feel it because the pov character (Ead) has a negligible emotional reaction; and he's defeated in less than a chapter with barely any difficulty.

Everything also felt far too convenient. The plot is full of ridiculous coincidences where characters just happen to stumble upon objects they need to find or people they need to meet - and so there's no actual sense of anticipation or active engagement. To give you some examples: Loth has to infect himself with a life-threatening, lethal plague to escape? No worries, it's just temporary, there's an easy cure that a group of people have vigorously hidden for 1000 years but he's given explicit directions to find. This results in a global, terminal plague seeming like nothing more than an aesthetical backdrop with no direct relevance to the story. A legendary sword has been missing for centuries, has been hunted for several queens to no avail, and is crucial to defeating the big bad dragon? No matter, it's conveniently connected to two characters despite no prior indication of such a relation, its vague location is almost instantly predicted and its precise location is directly fed to another character via a riddle that took her about two seconds to crack. Multiple nations with rivalries, cold wars, and deadly feuds are meant to ally together for an apocalyptic threat with no concrete evidence except for a random letter written by a woman who is regarded as a myth in one continent and almost completely unknown in another? It hardly matters because all of nations - I kid you not, ALL OF THEM - agree to ally with barely any conflict and without the traditionally established (as per our world and their own) pact of marriage. It's fine if these things happen once or twice; coincidences can be fun. But the plot of Pri/ory is not just laden with them, it's dependent on them. It would crumble without them.

Oh, and hardly anyone dies. A lethal plague, feuding kingdoms, fire-breathing dragons, a (poorly written) grand battle on the sea, and hardly anyone dies except for a few negligible side characters. Lmao.

The characters are stiff and abstract with little to no emotional resonance, at least not for me, which is a symptom of her descriptive but dry, overly formal tone, but also because 1) the author relied too heavily on broader concepts, aesthetics and superficial personalities to define and differentiate them, and 2) wrote a book with an incredibly uneven chapter focus between her povs. Her characters also had very similar internal voices: the vocabulary used and the way scenes/scenarios are described, for instance, are exactly the same in all their povs except certain instances with Niclays, despite their vastly different backgrounds and backstories.

I was very bored/dissatisfied with the pov characters in particular. Loth and Niclays were barely relevant to the plot and could easily be scrapped with little to no change to the overall story. Tane had the most potential: the combination of relentless ambition and haunting fear, the brief moment of greatness before the inevitable fall, and the grieving climb back to the sky was fascinating as a concept, although the dryness of the book obstructed its resonance. But she's constantly given the short end of the stick: she's barely present in the middle of the book and her relationships with people from the East are barely explored (eg: Susa's death, despite its importance to Tane's story, was utterly unimpactful to me because we barely knew Susa at all beyond what we are told about her relation to Tane). Even worse, although she's supposed to be one of the two main characters as a wielder of a jewel, her connection to the overarching story feels purely coincidental and disjointed. She had no arc of discovering the threat on her own the way characters from the West were afforded; instead, it's only due to her link to them that she becomes involved in the main plot at all. Loth tells her about the Nameless One, she and her dragon are used to heal Ead, and Ead explains the full situation and decides their course of action during the final battle. It's a massively uneven balance of narrative attention and respect, especially considering she's our only Eastern pov. This is repeated in the final battle, where she loses the sword which is retrieved by Ead; where she's unable to bear the Nameless One's voice even though Ead somehow knows how to respond to him. Tane's only able to properly succeed with Ead by her side; she's allowed no discovery or victory on her own.

Ead is probably the most irritating to me because 1) blatant authorial favoritism drives me bonkers, and 2) despite dominating this book's pagetime and clearly intended to be its main protagonist, she has no concrete personality to show for it. I loved her chapters the most and her pov the least: she, more than anyone else, is primarily defined by an Aesthetic because her narrative voice is incredibly flat and her characterization is vague and all over the place. The events that occur in her chapters are interesting in theory (although the writing remains deeply dry and unengaging) and she's the only character who's given the chance to Do Things, but that is even more aggravating because 1) she's simply not resonant or characterized enough to stand on her own and is therefore subsumed by her own story, and 2) several other characters get sidelined and disregarded to enhance her importance. She also had an incredibly static arc, imo: while her situation has changed by the end of the story (she is Prioress, in love with Sabran, saved the world, etc), her individual character has changed very little. And that's because her motivations are entirely external rather than internal: she reacts to the plot, but she's never actually affected by it. She has no journey of discovery and risk like Truyde (who was framed very weirdly by the book), arc of acceptance like Loth, or story of ambition, downfall and reclamation like Tane. I'm not saying any of these were written well, but the concepts were there and they could work for Ead as well. But she was, ultimately, stagnant. There's very little introspection, internal conflict or overarching goal for her as an individual; it's always in relation to the current plot, which arranges itself to accommodate her (eg: the moment there's a spark of tension between her love for Sabran and loyalty to the Pri/ory, it's revealed that the current Prioress wants to send her to Ungulus and murdered her mother. There's no tension or actual choice: leaving the Pri/ory to aid Virtudom is her only option, and it's conveniently the only moral one with no room for complexity or ambiguity. The isolationist plotline was also very arbitrary - we do not see Ead actually contemplating this policy in Inys, so her disagreement with Mita falls entirely flat; we don't see her contemplating it after she leaves the Pri/ory either, and so her proposal that she'll be able to "shape the future of the Pri/ory" to "ensure the stability of the new world" feels utterly random. Similarly, Ead becoming the Prioress at the end had no satisfaction or catharsis because 1) the Pri/ory barely played a role in the story, and 2) we only learn that Ead has always wanted to become a Red Damsel 150+ pages into the book. Nor does she consider becoming the Prioress/conducting a coup against Kalyba to save the Pri/ory until the queen of Lasia explicitly tells her that she'll be offered the position after they win. Compare it to Tane's overarching goal of becoming a dragonrider that drives so much of her arc, despite how flatly it's written; Ead is extremely scattered and lacking in comparison). Since she has the most pagetime and is clearly meant to be the protagonist, my irritation with her is more than the others.

I liked Sabran, though! Rulers burdened by their weight of their crowns, legacies built on dust and lies, selfhood devoured and finally reclaimed. However, when her arc reaches its pinnacle and she has to confront the truth of her family and her name ... the book falls flat. It seems like Sabran is barely affected by the reveal beyond "it will take time for me to come to terms with this". She argues for a few lines, and that's it. We're told that she's grappling with it, but we're not actually shown anything and it seems like she just moves on. And at the end, her proposal regarding abdication and succession change came from literally nowhere - she surprises Ead by saying "I have something to tell you" and surprises the reader as well because the last I checked, she was still struggling to accept the lies of her ancestry, and she led her people into war as their queen. Abdicating and removing the monarchial structure altogether is a huge decision that requires a lot of internal conflict and development that we're simply not shown; instead, we're merely informed of it once she's already made up her mind. It also feels extremely uncomfortable that the overhaul of an entire political system is limited to Sabran's own personal experience rather than, yk, an external exploration of how it affects the people who are being ruled. I also think the book would have also benefitted from her pov, at least for some specific scenes/a few specific chapters. Ead's perspective and observation has its own merit, yes, but I think it does Sabran a disservice to view her from a purely outside perspective and it lessens the impact of her arc. God knows she's more relevant to the actual story than Loth and Niclays.

One of the most potentially interesting concepts of the book to me was the intersection of history and mythmaking. However, I personally think it was executed quite shabbily? There is no proper build up or gradual uncovering or startling revelation: we are matter-of-factly informed of the truth right alongside the myth within the first 50 pages of the story. From an in-universe perspective, as mentioned before, Sabran, the descendant of Galian who staunchly believed in this lie all her life, is barely affected by the reveal. Nor is this publicly revealed to the nation as a whole; all we have is Sabran's promise that she'll eventually do it once the story is finished, so there's no proper collective impact, either. And to be really honest, how does this origin myth actually matter? I don't dispute the injustice that was inflicted on Cleolind's legacy on a personal level (although her true story is remembered and revered in the South) but how does this traditional gender dichotomy actually shape and impact the Bereth/net dynasty and Inysh society? Because as far as I can tell, it does not. Inys is a matrilineal queendom with no concept of gendered roles or customs with Cleolind as the sole, inconsistent exception. And frankly, in a world where gender is largely irrelevant, where misogyny doesn't exist, how does Cleolind get cast into such a traditionally gendered role (a "swooping waif" as Ead calls her) in the first place? I think Sh/annon wanted to explore patriarchal reconstructions of myths but also wanted a patriarchy-free society, and imo, those two ideas are pretty contradictory. Or maybe they're not, and it simply wasn't executed very well here. Either way, it ultimately felt scattered and illogical.

Religion and its differences across cultures is another major theme in the story, but I found its portrayal very surface-level. I'm agnostic, so take this with a grain of salt, but again, it feels as though Sh/annon mainly relied on aesthetics rather than exploring how it shaped her characters? Two instances where this was prominent pertained to Ead and Sabran. Sabran, by all accounts, is an extremely devout follower of her Faith and a devoted believer in the myth of Galian and Cleolind. Yet, like I mentioned, when she's actually confronted with the haunting reality of the truth, that her entire religion was a lie ... apart from a few lines here and there, she accepts it and moves on with mind-boggling ease. Another instance was Ead and her feelings for Sabran. Because honestly ... Sabran isn't just a queen of Virtudom, she is Virtudom. She is the descendant and the embodiment of a lie which she subscribes to entirely and which is the direct antithesis of the Pri/ory. Ead had to convert to remain at her court, she has called Ead's people and her beloved mentor "heretics" to her face, she commanded Ead to stop recounting the southern version of the story in favor of the Inysh version instead. The fact that Ead, a passionate follower of the Mother who holds the Inysh myth in contempt, falls so quickly for Sabran is simply bizarre. I might be forgetting, but I don't remember any guilt or anguish or fear or crisis of faith. Her love for Sabran seems entirely disconnected from virtually everything she is and everything she believes in. It could be an interesting dynamic, but the book didn't really explore or emphasize that. Maybe it's a personal issue for me, though.

That being said, I'm definitely reading ADO/FN. Despite Pri/ory's many flaws and lack of engagement, it was readable with some interesting (if staple) ideas and some genuinely beautiful lines/paragraphs; and I'm aware that it was Sh/annon's first book in the series and the genre of high fantasy. I'm also very partial to prequels, and from what I've seen regarding the world and characters of this one, it seems a lot more interesting and fairly promising. At the very least, I enjoyed her worldbuilding posts. Let's see.

Ik you sent me this weeks ago, sorry for answering so late! I'm planning on starting ADO/FN soon (probably tomorrow), so I figured I should probably write down my thoughts before I begin. Again, these are just my personal opinions and nobody has to necessarily agree or disagree!

#ask #my post #When all's said and done though...I'm glad this book did so well. I'm sure it opened a lot of doors in the industry and that's #extremely commendable despite what i personally think about it lol #tpotot #samantha shanon #complicated books

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dholwrites · 2 years

Text

On Your Wings

Relationship: Erenville/OC(Junior)

Summary: Junior couldn't help but ramble about the few things he actually understands and Erenville finds it cute

Notes: I may or may not have spent an unnecessarily long time doing research on bird wings because I don’t want to just toss any pair of wings on them.

The pleasant tinglings rush through his entire body as Junior gently traces the length of his wings. It was amusing to watch him go starry-eyed over something as simple as a pair of wings but he found it too cute to tease the miqo’te about it. Erenville has been complimented on his before, some of them would even ask for him to fully stretch out his hawk-like wings to marvel at its sheer size. The praise he enjoys the most is from the few that look past how pretty and large they are and understand their use. Junior is one of them.

“These are perfect for all the traveling you do,” The retainer mutters under his breath while his fingers slide along the spine of long black feathers like they’re a rare plant. Erenville lifts up his left side to see what has caught the other’s eye. The wings are large enough to almost shade him from the sun. The rays slipping through cast a heavenly glow on his face. Not that Junior would notice distracted as he is. “The gaps between these feathers would help lift you higher in warm air and make it possible for you to reach distances even if there is no wind to take you there.”

Junior keeps gushing over the finer details as he admires the tint of gold that he could see in the daylight. The childlike joy is almost contagious. Erenville couldn’t help but ask, “How do you know these things? I thought that you specialize in plants, Junior.”

What he didn’t expect is for him to stumble over a simple question. His cheeks turn rosy red as he tries to curl up into a ball. Junior’s wings are much shorter than his and don’t do as good of a job of hiding him. His feathers are much longer than his, colored a mint green that is neatly accented by purple plumage along the top. They are beautiful in their own right, eye-catching in a way that suits his personality. One wing finally moves for Junior to peek at him with his good eye. “One of my employers was obsessed with studying wings and birds, they really enjoy sharing all the details and I started to pick a few things up over time. It is a good way to appreciate what we have. When I first met them, they told me that they picked me out purely because of my wings.”

That is enough to earn a raised eyebrow, “What have they said about your wings?”

“‘A marvel’. While my arm span is short and makes it difficult to travel long distances, I am excellent for taking off and moving through tight spaces” Junior’s ears wiggle at the memory, and Erenville is inclined to agree with the description. It was almost as if the retainer was born to spend his days ducking tree branches and playing. The Viera reach out to run the back of his hand against the pretty feathers. An urge swells in his chest that beckons him to pull the winged miqo’te into a kiss. To feel those soft lips against his own or even part to say his name. The gleaner shakes his head of the thought and turns back to Junior.

“I would agree.”

#erenville #Wondroustailsofffxivwriting #ffxiv fanfic #Wondroustailsofffxiv #fanfic #I'm here to continue to both you about these two

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goddessofthundathighs · 3 years

Text

*Taps mic* Is this thing on? Okay, I know it's been AGES since I blessed your dashboards with new content, but listen... Shit happens, okay? This is my submission to @nahimjustfeelingit-writes Smut Challenge. And in the words of the great Erykah Badu, keep in mind that I'm an artist, & I'm sensitive about my shit. Enjoy!

“The story you 'bout to hear is complete fiction

It is however made up of a group of stories

True stories about real people

Thus creating real characters going through real things

Thus making the story itself real, true, and a real story, a true story

Is non-fiction…”

Non-Fiction x Ne-Yo

“Wait a damn minute! He did what?!” Alexandria screeched, nearly choking on the smoke of the freshly pearled blunt she’d rolled. Her eyes were wide with excitement and mild disbelief at what I had just told her.

“You heard me, bitch,” I replied, sipping my glass of wine. This was girl’s weekend and what better way to kick it off than spilling the details of the day’s freaky deeky adventure.

“How the fuck did that even happen?” Kenya inquired, crossing the threshold to the kitchen. I smirked, biting my lip at the memory of what had happened only a few hours prior.

“Chill out,” I giggled. “I’ll start from the beginning…”

The day started like any other. After my morning meditation and journal session, I grabbed my phone, smiling wide at a particularly generous tip on my latest CamSoda release. Public masturbation was the theme this week and everyone seemed to love the clip of me in the back of the music hall, including my music professor.

“Thank you, Dr. Turner,” I said aloud as I ventured to my bathroom to begin my skincare routine. Once my face and body were squeaky clean, I slid over to my perfume wall to pick the day’s scent.

“Champagne Toast or Sunrise Woods?” I mused before settling on the Sunrise Woods. I’d picked it up during my latest mall adventure. Upon smelling it, I fell in love with the way the sandalwood and cashmere notes complimented my mocha skin as well as the way it layered with my cocoa vanilla shea butter. For it to be a Bath & Body Work scent, the combination was very grown and sexy. I then slid over to my closet to pick the day’s outfit. I was working from the office today so I needed something that was sexy, but still professional. I decided on a white mid-length blouse with a black pencil skirt and sheer black thigh highs with my favorite pair of So Kates.

The commute to work was surprisingly short, given the amount of traffic on the freeway. I parked in my usual spot and made my way to our shared office suite.

“Good morning, Ms. Baptiste. You look stunning as usual.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stevens,” I replied in the sweetest voice. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll have your schedule ready.”

“Take your time,” he replied, his voice laced with mild seduction. “I have something to handle before I get my morning started.”

“That sounds nasty, but I’m gonna let you have it,” I said with a chuckle. “Did you still want me to organize your email inbox?”

“Would you please? Every time I try, I get overwhelmed and frustrated and shut down the whole damn system,” he admits.

“No problem, I can get started on that right now. Would you mind bringing me a coffee since it looks like you were headed down to Starbucks?”

“Sure, caramel macchiato, right?”

“Look at my boss, remembering what I like! You get brownie points for that, Mr. Stevens.”

He huffed a laugh before turning on his heels to leave the suite. After compiling his schedule and sitting it on his desk, I began the gruesome task of organizing his emails. I compiled everything into folders based on importance and was about to click off before another tab caught my attention.

“What is this?” I ask aloud, clicking the folder. My eyes grew to the size of saucers when I saw the contents.

“So you are a freak.”

I lift my eyes slowly to meet his gaze. How he managed to get to Starbucks and back so fast is beyond me, but here he was standing in front of my desk.

“Did you like what you saw in the video, Ms. Baptiste?” he asked, seeming to stare directly into my soul.

I nodded as he began stripping out of his suit jacket and tie.

“Good, because I wanna see if you can do better.”

He casually strolls to my side of the desk, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal the most beautiful body I had ever seen. Each ab was perfectly sculpted and riddled with intricately placed crocodile scars. When he was within arm's length, I reached out to touch, rubbing my hands along each scar. The sensation was electrifying. He grabbed my hand, sliding it down to the growing bulge in his pants, licking his lips when he noticed my mouth watering.

“Wanna taste?”

“Yes Daddy,” I moan.

“Good girl. Pull him out.”

I wasted no time undoing his belt, taking his dick as far back as my throat would allow. The moan I got in return sent the blood rushing to the apex of my thighs. He was bigger than I was used to, but that didn’t faze me as I continued to lick and slurp.

“So how do you wanna do this, baby girl? You wanna be cute and suck this dick like a lady, or can I fuck that face like the slut I know you are.”

I pulled off with a pop, lifting my head to meet his gaze.

“First of all, I’m a Princess and you will address me as such. Second of all, I’ll take the face fucking for $500 Alex.”

He grins slyly before his hand fisted my hair, using that as leverage to fuck my face at a ferocious pace. Spit dripped down my chin and onto my shirt as he pushed past my gag reflex. I groan, sliding my hand between my legs to ease the pressure building at my core.

“Who told you to touch my pussy?” he growls softly.

“N-Nobody, Daddy,” I whine, stroking his balls with my free hand.

“But you're doing it anyway. Disobedient little girl,” he chuckled darkly. “So how are you gonna make it up to me?”

Before I could answer, a shrill voice caught my attention.

“Lyric!”

My head whipped around at the sound of my name. I didn’t even realize that I had disassociated until I saw Ariana standing in front of me with her hands on her exceptionally wide hips.

“Huh?” I answered after realizing where I was.

“I asked of Mr. Stevens was back in his office. He and I have some things to discuss regarding my internship.”

“Oh yeah, he’s in there. Give me a second and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

She nodded as I walked to the adjacent door.

“Mr. Stevens, Ariana is here to see you. Umm, quick question.. Did you ever bring me my coffee?”

He blinked, before flashing an innocent smile. “You got your coffee three hours ago, Ms. Baptiste. It’s about time for your lunch break isn’t it?”

I checked the time and sure enough, it was 12:30 in the afternoon. Had I really been watching his homemade porn for 3 hours?

What the hell? I thought to myself, trying to wrap my mind around what the fuck was happening and whether or not I was losing my damn mind. He seemed to notice my struggle as he leaned forward on his elbows.

“You aight?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

I nodded quickly, smoothing my hands down my skirt. “Yes I’m fine, I opened the window to let in a little fresh air and it must've gotten too hot in my office. I’ll see you in an hour.”

“See you then, Lyric. You can send Ms. Banks in.”

There’s something so hot about doing something spicy where you really shouldn’t be doing it. After finishing my lunch, I made my way down to the employee parking lot. I pulled up the CamSoda app, opting to go live instead of filming a regular video.

“Who wants to see their goddess masturbating on her lunch break?” I asked seductively, pulling my rose toy from my bag. Once the video had a substantial amount of views, I began the show.

“Oooh fuck,” I moaned as the vibrator sucked my clit with precision. With one leg propped on my console and the other on my dashboard, I went to town on myself, occasionally looking around to make sure no one important could see. I imagined that the toy was Erik’s tongue, licking and sucking until there was nothing left. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I remembered one of the videos in the hidden folder. He had one of the other interns bent over his desk while he stroked her pussy with a vengeance.

“Oh shit, I’m about to cum,” I moaned, burying my face in my hair as my orgasm began to build. I squirmed and bucked against the seat and was just about to squirt when I heard a knock on my window. I opened my eyes to see Mr. Stevens staring back at me with a stern look on his face.

“Aww fuck,” I said readjusting my clothes. “Gotta cut this one short, babies. Love you guys!” I blew a kiss at the screen before ending the steam. I tucked the toy back into my bag and stepped out of the car, looking down at the pavement sheepishly.

“My office, 5 minutes,” was all he said before walking away.

“Mr. Stevens!” I called after him but he just kept walking. “Man damn!” I cursed loudly as I followed him. When I made it to our shared suite, I noticed that his office door was closed. I sat my purse on my desk before knocking softly.

“Mr. Stevens?”

“Come in, Lyric.”

I stepped into his office and before I could think, the words began flowing like diarrhea.

“Mr. Stevens, I’m so sorry. Please don’t fire me. It was a stupid mistake and I promise it’ll never happen again.”

He looks up from the legal pad that he had been writing on, twirling a pen between his hands.

“Ms. Baptiste I’ve only said two words to you. Calm down.”

I nodded, sitting down in the chair across from his desk to collect myself. I stared at the floor awaiting my punishment.

“Look at me.” His tone was soft, but his voice was stern. I bit my lip before lifting my head to meet his gaze.

“We’re both grown, Ms. Baptiste. So be honest with me, that’s not the first time you’ve done something like that, is it?”

I sighed softly. “No.”

“How many times have you done it before?”

“Four.”

“So you’ve recorded yourself masturbating on my time in my parking lot four times, correct?” he repeats, almost tauntingly.

“Yes, Mr. Stevens. But--” he puts a hand up to stop me from continuing.

“Do you think of me when you touch yourself, Ms. Baptiste?”

My mind went blank as I stared back at him. He simply chuckled before continuing.

“You know,” he said, scooting back from the desk. “If you’re gonna show the internet how wet your pussy gets from thinking about me, at least invite me so I can show them how messy she can really get.”

I’m sorry, what?

“O-Oh... I .. Umm,” I stuttered, watching him.

“C’mere,” he instructs. I comply, moving to sit on top of his desk.

“Thinking about me fucking you the way I fuck the girls in those videos gets you wet, huh?” He asked, sliding his hands up my thighs as he placed his body between my legs. My words were dead in my throat so I could only nod, but he understood.

“Tell me how bad you want it,” he said, stroking my still throbbing pussy through my panties.

“I want it bad,” I replied in a needy tone. In a flash, my panties were pulled to the side and he was stroking me like a prisoner fresh out of a 20-year stint. My moans were loud and uncontrollable, but that didn’t stop him.

“You never answered my question, Lyric,” he teased, licking the shell of my ear. “Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

“Yeeesss,” I moaned, digging my nails in his thigh as he plunged deeper.

“You've been dreaming of the day I fucked you, huh? You've been wanting this dick bad, haven’t you?”

Why do men feel the need to ask questions when they’re tap-dancing on your g-spot? As if the answers they’re going to receive will be coherent or make sense. My pussy answered for me, sending a wave of juices down both of our thighs.

“Gushy ass, fat ass pussy,” he growled, sliding his hand up my body to grip my throat.

“Oh shit!” I screamed as I squirted, successfully wetting his entire lower half.

“Oh she’s a Super Soaker,” he laughed. “Do it again.”

He pulls out, slapping his dick on my clit, before diving back in.

“Eriiiiik!”

“Yeah, gimme that shit, Princess,” he encouraged, sending over the edge once more. Once his thrusts became erratic, I knew he was close.

“Where you want it, ma?”

I slid down off the desk and onto my knees, opening my mouth wide. He granted my wishes, releasing his thick load down my throat.

“Good fucking girl,” he moaned, smoothing his hand down the back of my head. I drank his unborns happily, before standing up to fix my skirt. He grabbed my chin, kissing me sloppily before pulling away.

“See you Monday, Ms. Baptiste.”

#my shit #vanity writes #killmonger fic #smutchallenge #erik killmonger #killmonger smut #killmonger x oc

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breakyeol · 3 years

Text

touch it (sensual oils)

one shot

┗ pairing : baekhyun x reader

words: 4k

warnings: smut, sensual massage, byun-booty, hand job, light overstimulation

a/n; because baekhyun deserves it

Baekhyun had a bad day.

That much was glaringly obvious from the very moment he stepped through the door, looking about ready to crawl beneath your bedsheets and never come out. He collapsed into your arms with a pathetic whine the moment you rose from where you were situated on the couch, the full weight of his body thrown against your chest. You grunted at the unexpected impact, quickly wrapping your arms around his slim waist when you felt his knees beginning to give out.

“Baek!” You yelped, struggling feebly to support the both of you. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m too tired to stand,” he cried out dramatically, voice muffled against your shoulder, “my body feels like it’s turning into mush.”

You clicked your tongue at his familiar dramatics, a fond smile flitting across your lips in spite of yourself. “Oh my poor baby~” you cooed playfully, petting the top of his head, “they worked you into the ground?”

A heavy pout tugged at the corners of his lips, big droopy eyes swinging up to meet yours as he bobbed his head. “I’m already sore. I’m not gonna be able to move tomorrow.” He complained noisily, hands curling into tight fists around the material of your sweatshirt.

This close, you could easily make out the lingering scent of sweat clinging to his skin, and you didn’t doubt for a second he worked until he was drenched in it. There was a flash, an image that passed before your eyes, of Baekhyun, sweat rolling down the smooth slope of his chin, dripping from the fringes of his bangs, glistening enticingly above his brow, his mouth pink and open, gasping. It vanished just as quickly as it had come, and your attention was drawn back to the whining mess of a man squirming against your chest.

“Go shower,” you suggested, not trusting your voice above a careful whisper, “then come to bed, okay?”

“I don’t want to. Just hold me.”

You snickered, combing your fingers through the short hairs on the back of his neck, feeling the way his body melted into the tender caress. “I will gladly hold you for the rest of the night… after you take a shower.”

He only offered an unintelligible grunt in response, showing no signs of detaching himself from your body, his hold around you tightening in a display of stubborn resistance. There was little doubt in your mind that he’d keep this up for as long as your patience allowed – which, given how soft you were for the man, was a fairly long time –, but you knew you’d both be better off once he felt clean and refreshed, cleansed of the day’s many hardships.

“You’ll feel a lot better afterwards.”

A groan this time.

“I’ll make you feel a lot better afterwards.”

At that reparation, his head snapped up, eyes wide and, despite the exhaustion, glinting with a hint of excitement. His spine straightened, grip around you loosening somewhat as strength seemed to return to his muscles. “Really?” He whispered, pink tongue slipping out from between petal lips. So easy. You could’ve scoffed, but thought better of yourself, settling for a suggestive cock of your head that could be interpreted in a number of ways.

“Go shower,” you hummed, pinching his chin between your thumb and index finger and guiding his face down towards yours, “then… we’ll see.”

He let out a huff of breath, eyes going hooded as they flickered down to trace the smug curve of lips. “You’re mean.”

You laughed lightly, planting a kiss that was far too short for Baekhyun’s liking to his pouted mouth before skillfully untangling yourself from his arms. “We’ll see just how mean I can be once you come to bed.” You called teasingly over your shoulder, grinning in wild amusement at the low curse that followed.

It wasn’t too long after you’d made your way into the bedroom that you heard the soft hiss of the shower. You waited until you heard the low groan that told you that your boyfriend had finally stepped beneath the hot spray to permeate through the separating wall before you jumped into action.

This wasn’t the first time Baekhyun had come home looking ready to collapse and you doubted it would be the last. There wasn’t much you could do about him having to go to work. No matter what you said or how many times you told him he should give himself a chance to rest and recover, he would always put his everything into his work, because that was just the kind of man he was. He was all passion and fire and unrelenting persistence even when he felt like he might die. It was a quality that sparked both admiration and fear inside of you.

There was a certain helplessness that came with being the person he came home to after a long day of work, body and mind teetering dangerously on the brink of exhaustion. There wasn’t much you could do to ease his stress, as he wasn’t the type to verbally unload or express his unease to its full extent. Sure, he was dramatic, but only in a playful sense. That was his way of downplaying and covering up his true feelings, to both you and himself.

But, there were still other ways you could help. And, with some brainstorming and a bit of research, you’d come up with the perfect plan to help ease some of Baekhyun’s tension. Though, you had to scramble a bit to set the scene, you knew it would be fully worth it to see the look on his face.

It was just as you’d lit the final candle, completing the final touches, that you heard the shower shut off. Perfect timing. You quickly situated yourself on the edge of the bed, the cool air caressing your scantily clad body, rousing goosebumps across your skin.

But, the chills tickling your spine were little more than a second thought as Baekhyun stepped into the room donning nothing more than a towel that hung dangerously low on his full hips. He paused just inside the doorway, his brows shooting upwards as he took in the state of your shared bedroom. Wide eyes danced over the flickering candles laid out strategically across the hardwood floor to encircle the bed, swept over the scattered rose petals, before finally landing on you.

You, wearing a deep crimson lingerie set, a sheer silk robe, and nothing more.

His bare chest, still glistening with water droplets, rose sharply as his breath hitched. A low curse tumbled from his lips, almost too faint to hear over the seductive instrumentals pulsing from the speakers.

A satisfied smirk broke across your face at his reaction, pleased with yourself for having successfully caught him off guard.

“Surprise,” you sang, voice low and silken.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his own amazement rooting him in place as he visually inhaled the sight of you. Your skin was hot beneath the intensity of his gaze, blazing as it trailed torturously slow up the length of your body, not daring to miss a single detail.

A faint buzz of nerves fizzled in your gut.

You’d never done anything like this before. Presented yourself in such a way to him, that is. All wrapped up in silk and lace of only the most sensual nature, bathed in smooth orange candlelight that tickled your ankles and crept up the smooth length of your lower legs. This was something new for the both of you, something unexplored. But it also wasn’t everything you had in store.

When he moved, it was with the utmost cautiousness, as if stepping too quickly or too harshly might disturb the beautiful illusion spread before him. But still, he moved, unable to resist the temptation.

Without speaking, his hands found your face, curving around the shape of your jaw and winding around the back of your neck. They were cold against your skin, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that rippled down your spine as he leaned over you. You let out a soft hum at his touch, head rolling back under his gentle coaxing.

Not a beat passed before his mouth found yours, eager and impatient. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back, easily finding the smooth slope of his naked waist and tugging him closer. He moaned somewhere low in his throat, tongue slipping out to trace the seam of your lip. You allowed as much, indulging the hungry press of his mouth, the careful nips of his teeth — until he tried to lay you down.

Your palms met the swells of his chest, and he pulled away, breathless and confused. “What is it?” He asked hoarsely, licking over his swollen lips. You’d be lying straight through your teeth if you said he didn’t look irresistible in that moment, wet hair hanging messily over his brows, dark, hooded eyes, all haze and lust as they stared down at you heatedly, full cheeks blushing a feverish shade of red. But you had plans for tonight, plans you didn’t intend to discard for the sake of sexual pleasure.

“I’m not fucking you.”

He gasped, disbelief coloring his features. “What? Why not?”

“Because,” you grinned, settling your hands on his hips, “I’m going to give you a massage.”

“A massa— ah!” his words cut off abruptly with a high pitched yelp as you suddenly spun him around, all but throwing him down onto the petal covered mattress. He could only stare at you in shock as you crawled over his nearly naked body, mouth curved into a playful smile.

“A massage.” You confirmed, sounding rather proud. But, he still looked less than amused, so you elaborated. “You’ve been working so hard these past few weeks, and I know you’ve been stressed and your body is exhausted. A massage will help release some of that tension.”

“You know what else releases tension?” He asked, sinking his teeth into his lower lip. You cocked a brow, feeling the light press of his fingertips as they feathered over your thighs, taking an obvious path upwards. Desire and mischief swirled in his eyes, voice low and thick as the words dripped slowly from his dangerous tongue, “Hot… passionate… s—”

You snatched his hands from your skin before they could reach their destination, pinning them to the mattress on either side of his head. “Shut up and roll over.”

He huffed, pouting up at you scornfully but obeyed nonetheless, rolling onto his stomach. “Do you even know how to give a massage?” He snipped as you settled yourself on the back of his towel clad thighs.

“I’ve done my research.” You offered lightly, sparing a moment to admire the lithe, sinewy build of his shoulders and back before you moved, reaching for the tall bottle you’d situated on the nightstand earlier. He followed your movements from the corner of his eye, curiosity breaking through the petulant facade.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit cruel?”

“Perhaps,” you teased, pouring the translucent golden liquid into your palm, “but you’ll enjoy this, I promise. Just… relax.”

A defeated sigh escaped his chest, his body deflating beneath you. “Fine. But, this better feel better than sex or I swear to god I will—” he jolted with a soft gasp as you suddenly pressed the heels of your oil lathered palms into the area just between his shoulder blades and pushed outwards, “sue.”

You smirked smugly to yourself at the breathlessness with which he completed his sentence, obviously not having expected the pressure to feel that amazing.

“Good?” You asked, voice tinged with arrogance.

“Uh-huh,” he admitted immediately, moaning throatily as you rolled your thumbs deeply against the base of his neck, “oh fuck that feels so good.”

You chuckled, skillfully working your fingers across the planes of his broad shoulders. He melted deeper into the mattress with every knot you deftly unwound, soft, relieved moans breaking from his open mouth. The smooth, lavender scented oil glistened captivatingly on his sun-kissed skin, the delicate aroma gently permeating through your bedroom. It was a lovely, soothing smell, subtle and unimposing. You spread it diligently across the smooth expanse of his upper back, before gradually beginning to work your way downwards.

His sounds of bliss lowered in pitch the lower your hands reached, dipping into silky tenor groans when your hands reached the delicate dip of his waist. But, as you moved to massage the area just above his hips, he suddenly jolted, spine arching, a strained curse rushing from between clenched teeth.

You couldn’t help the concern that sparked to life in your chest at his response. “Does it hurt?” You asked, easing up on the pressure but not removing your touch completely. Sucking his lips into his mouth, he nodded with a soft, hesitant hum, glancing back at you from over his shoulder. “What happened?”

He made a strange noise in the back of his throat. “I just… twisted it weirdly during practice, I guess.” He offered weakly, shivering as you poured a small puddle of oil in the small of his back.

“Did you take a break?”

His silence was all the answer you needed.

“Baek,” your tone turned scolding as you gently worked your fingers into the tight dip of his waist, “just because you can fight through the pain doesn’t mean that you should. You’re not doing your body any favors by pushing it this hard.”

“I know but I—“ he sighed heavily, pressing his face into the sheets, “I just… don’t want to disappoint anybody.”

Oh, your poor, sweet Baekhyun. Always trying to please everyone else even when it ends up hurting him.

Pausing in your movements, you leaned forwards, bracing your hands on his shoulders so that you could speak in his ear. “Nobody is disappointed in you, Baek. You work so hard everyday to be the best you can be, and it shows. Everyone knows that you put your everything into what you do. And everyone’s proud of you,” you pressed your lips against the curve of his throat, slowly working your way up to the curve of his jaw, “I’m proud of you.”

He glanced back at you through his eyelashes. “Really?”

The question is so soft, so uncertain, and you feel your heart clench painfully in your chest at the thought that this man truly doesn’t understand just how many people adore him for just being… him. “Of course.”

You didn’t miss the rising of his cheeks, though he tried to hide himself beneath his arm, suddenly shy. You bit back a grin of your own, pressing one final kiss to the shell of his ear before returning to your earlier position and resuming the massage. He felt a dozen times more relaxed beneath you, the previous tension occupying his muscles having magically dissipated.

Sometimes, all he really needed was a little reassurance.

The smile that settled across your lips was unwavering as you took to kneading at the supple flesh of his hips, just above the top of his towel. Somewhere in the back of your mind, there was a flicker of a thought. A mischievous, dangerous thought. A thought that had your attention lingering on where the towel was tucked and secured on his right hip. Glancing up at the back of his head, you allowed your fingers to trail discretely towards the damp, white fabric, toying with it lightly so that he wouldn’t notice — not even as it came undone.

It was only as you peeled it swiftly away from his body and Baekhyun felt the rush of cool air across his backside that he realized what had just occurred.

“H– Hey!” He yelped, swinging his head around fast enough to give himself whiplash, eyes wide with disbelief.

“This is a full body massage, Baek. It’s not a full body massage unless it’s full body.”

“My butt does not need massaging.”

You grinned, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you cocked a challenging brow. “I beg to differ.”

“Pervert.” He hissed.

You gasped, splaying a hand across your chest. “Who told you?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes at your antics, but put up little resistance as you nudged his hands away from his butt. The tips of his ears and the back of his neck turned a dark, lovely shade of pink, and he quickly buried his face in his arms. Taking that as his nonverbal cue to continue, you poured yourself some more of the lavender scented oil, overturning your palm to let it drizzle onto his cheeks. He flinched slightly, the sensation catching him off guard.

So cute. You bit into the inside of your cheek to keep from cooing at him, opting to set your hands upon the gentle curve of his ass and knead your fingers into the soft, toned flesh. Baekhyun stifled a moan in the crook of his elbow, eyes fluttering as his body responded to the soothing touch.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” You asked, tone teasing.

“Shut up.”

You snickered, massaging deep circles into the muscles of his upper thigh. He groaned deeply, fingers curling into the sheets. “Right there, right there— fuck, right there. It’s so sore.”

Heat flickered faintly in the pit of your stomach at the low rasping of his voice, grunted roughly through clenched teeth. Geez, why’d he have to sound so damn sexy…

Brushing off the thought as best you could, you forced yourself to focus on massaging the tension from his hamstrings. But each brush of your fingers over the insides of his thighs, intentional or otherwise, coaxed a round of violent shivers and breathless moans from your very much nude and very much oil covered boyfriend. You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, jaw clenching as you squeezed your hands around the backs of his lower thighs.

The sounds he was making weren’t helping your… situation in the least.

“How are you so good at this?” He asked, somewhat airily as your hands glided upwards, to just below the curve of his ass before returning to the crook of his knee. The question snapped you out of whatever trance you’d put yourself in watching the way his slick, honeyed skin dipped and curved deliciously beneath the pressure of your touch.

“Re- research. Lots of research.” You cleared your throat, shifting downwards on the mattress to set to work on his calves.

“You’re hands are fucking magic.”

Warmth slipped into your cheeks at the praise, your heart picking up speed within your chest. He was making it difficult for you to focus.

“I told you you’d like it.” You hummed playfully, beginning the slow ascent back up the length of his naked body.

“You were right,” he conceded easily, sighing in bliss as your hands slid over the small of his back, “I love it. Feels so fucking good, you have no idea.”

A content (and perhaps a bit smug) smile settled across your face. You couldn’t have asked for anything more. All you wanted was to make Baekhyun feel even just a little bit better after what you knew had to be a long, hard day— and you goddamn succeeded.

“Baek,” you murmured, and he gasped softly, not expecting your lips to be right next to his ear. He let out an unsteady hum, blinking hard twice when he felt your lace covered chest press against his back, “roll over for me?”

Swallowing thickly, he nodded. You lifted yourself off of him to give him just enough room to turn onto his back beneath you. All at once you were nose to nose, soft puffs of breath caressing your mouth. He was looking up at you with those eyes again, those hooded, wanting eyes, his hands clenching at the sheets somewhere down by his sides. You could see the dark flush on his cheeks, the desperation slowly seeping into his expression.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” The question was quiet, barely a whisper on his delicate pink lips. But the fire it ignited inside of you was anything but— loud, violent, and devastating, ripping your so well kept self control to shreds in a matter of moments.

“Yeah,” you whispered, sliding a slick hand down his toned stomach, “but I’m going to touch it first.”

He barely had time to react before your hand was around his cock. He gasped, back arching, forcing his chest flush against yours. Surprise flickered across your face upon feeling him already fully hard and throbbing against your palm. “Oh?”

“What?” He huffed out breathlessly, swinging the tip of his tongue over his lower lip, “did you expect me not to get hard while my sexy girlfriend wearing sexy lingerie rubs every inch of my body with oil?”

Pausing, you squinted down at him. “It was the butt massage, wasn’t it?”

He glared, and you grinned.

But any annoyance was wiped clean off his face as you squeezed your fingers around him, stroking his dick at a slow, borderline torturous pace. The remaining oil on your hand combined with his precum provided the perfect lubrication, the slide smooth and wet, the lewd sound of it making you clench around nothing. Baekhyun’s head rolled back, mouth falling open in a silent moan. But, not for a moment did his gaze break from yours. You bit your lip harshly, a violent heat licking at your veins, the sheer intensity of his dark stare making your head feel dizzy.

“You look… so hot right now.” You hadn’t intended to say the words out loud, but you also couldn’t find it in yourself to feel even the least bit ashamed.

The corner of his mouth curled into a sultry smirk, an airy chuckle rumbling somewhere low in his chest.

“Yeah?” You nodded. “Then kiss me.”

You did so without hesitation.

Baekhyun let out a heady groan, hands surging up from between your bodies to cradle your jaw as your lips worked against his with a hunger you hadn’t realized you possessed. It was uncoordinated and messy, all lashing tongue and vicious teeth, biting and sucking and licking until you were certain your that lips were raw. You were dizzy and intoxicated by the taste of him, and he wasn’t in much of a better state. With his cock in your hand and your tongue in his mouth, it didn’t seem like he’d last much longer.

Beneath you, Baekhyun’s hips bucked and rolled, frenzied and desperate. Your hand stilled around him, allowing him the luxury of control as he fucked himself violently into your closed fist. Each moan that tumbled from his mouth into yours was louder than the last, and you relished in the unabashed displays of pleasure, taking an immense amount of pride in knowing that you were the cause of it.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasped the warning, his nails biting harshly into your shoulder, “fuck— fuck, wait— I’m g-gonna come.”

“Baek,” you panted, still trying to catch your breath from the kiss, “come for me. Please.”

His back arched, the furnace of his body overwhelmed but still trying feebly to fight back his oncoming high. Baekhyun didn’t like coming first. He’d always had the tendency of putting your pleasure above his own, making sure you came at least once (if not multiple times) before him. But tonight wasn’t about you. Tonight was about him. And you were going to make sure he knew it.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, sucking a dark bruise into his skin while simultaneously rolling your thumb over his sensitive tip in a way that had him trembling pathetically beneath you.

“Oh god— oh fuck— y/n—!” He came with a hoarse cry of your name, hips bucking, muscles tensing, skin shivering. You felt his hot release spilling over your knuckles, slipping between your fingers. He whimpered and squirmed as the overstimulation kicked in, but you didn’t stop stroking him until he started begging. “I can’t, I can’t— baby, please—” his chest heaved and his eyes went glassy, the dangerous cocktail of pleasure and pain making his head feel dizzy.

Looking down at him, so wrecked and fucked out, with those flushed cheeks and heavy eyes, you felt your heart flutter at the same time arousal coiled in your gut. He was just too damn pretty for his own good.

You relented, gently releasing his spent dick from your hold. He let out a shaky breath before tugging you into another mind numbing kiss. You moaned softly against his lips, feeling one of his hands coil around the back of your neck while the other explored the expanse of your back. It didn’t take long before they discovered the clasp of your bra, deftly unclasping it. Distracted by the skillful flicks of his tongue, you didn’t realize what he’d done until you felt the lacy fabric slip down your arms.

A giggle bubbled in your throat, and you whispered against his mouth, “naughty boy.”

His lips curled, and then all at once you found yourself sprawled on your back. “Naughty girl,” Baekhyun retaliated in a low, playful growl, pinning your hands to the mattress on either side of your head, “making me cum even after I told you to wait...”

His head dipped and you gasped softly as he nipped at the sensitive part of your throat, one hand sliding down to grip at your naked breast. You bit your lip to suppress a whimper as he circled your nipple with a rough thumb.

“Guess I’ll just have to pay you back for it…”

You weren’t about to object to that.

#baekhyun fanfic #exo smut #byun baekhyun #exo #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fic #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun #exo baekhyun #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo fic #exo scenarios #exo oneshot #exo imagines #kpop smut

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whimsicallywayward15 · 3 years

Text

Kinktober 2021, Day - 14: Reward.

A/n: Hello, hello! My sleepy ass wrote this in literally less than two hours. I'm gonna go and proceed to die now.

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Pairing: Leviathan x MC (Ariadne Kondos)

Rating: Explicit (18+ Audiences)

Content Tags: Demon Form Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Transformations, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Possessive Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut

Summary: Leviathan gets a reward from MC (Ariadne Kondos) for studying hard.

Prompt: Transformations | Breeding | Pillow Humping

Word Count: 1,271

Note: Find the prompt list I am following here.

AO3 Link

“Finally! I was beginning to think that the midterms would probably go on forever!” Asmodeus exclaimed as he walked alongside his brother Satan and their human housemate. “Hey? How about we got to The Fall this evening? The strawberry blonde suggested. However, the human shook her head.

“I would have. But, I have something to do this evening. Do have fun though!” She exclaimed with a grin.

“Something? Or… someone?” The question has the woman flustering, her cheeks and the tip of her ears hot. Of course the Avatar of Lust would notice. The human’s reaction had both the demons chuckling. “Oooooooh~ Seems like I hit the nail on its head! How interesting.” The strawberry blonde remarked with a snicker. “I need to know aaaaaaall the details when we go shopping tomorrow, darling~”

Ariadne shook her head. “Uh huh, Asmo~ Loose lips sink ships.” She told him before walking ahead of the two demons. Once at a considerable distance, she stopped and turned back to look at them. “Come on, slowpokes!” She teased as they increased their pace to catch up to her.

That evening, the blonde stood in front of the full length mirror that occupied a corner of her room. On the bed, there lay an array of different lingerie sets as she tried them all, trying to decide on the one she wanted to wear for a certain indigo-haired demon. Leviathan had been extremely stressed the entire duration of the midterms, working his ass off to study and score satisfactorily to escape Lucifer’s wrath.

Having left the examinations behind them for now, Ariadne wanted to help the demon in relaxing. And not the way he usually did. And therefore, she had gone ahead to buy some lovely lingerie sets to wear for him.

Finally, she settled on a lace and sheer lingerie set with matching garters, which barely hid anything. Once she had worn it, she opened the camera on her DDD and proceeded to click a selfie of hers in the most tantalising pose before sending it to the aforementioned demon, a sly smirk playing at the corner of her rosebud mouth as she texted him that she was on her way. She then dressed up in knee-length shorts and a tank top before making her way to Leviathan’s room. It was really a good thing that all the other occupants of the House of Lamentation were out except the Third-born otaku and her.

The moment she reached the entrance to the otaku’s room, she knocked gently before slipping inside quietly. The Avatar of Envy sat on the beanbag, staring at his DDD, his eyes wide. He didn’t notice her, at least not until she had gotten closer. On the screen of the device, the woman could see the picture she had sent minutes prior.

“Ahem.” She cleared her throat to get his attention, almost giggling at how flushed he was already looking when he looked up at her. “Are… are you trying to kill me?!” He asked her just as she took her rightful place in his lap, kissing him. Almost instantly, the demon felt his weeks-long stress evaporating.

As the kiss deepened, the Third-born managed to tear open her shirt, his breath getting caught in his throat. “Oh fuck…” He cursed as his lips moved to her jaw before trailing down her neck, making her gasp in surprise. It was clear that her teasing pictures had done more than what she had expected. Ariadne ground her clothed pussy against his crotch as his hand reached up to squeeze one of the soft mounds on her chest. It was evident that the demon was already rock hard underneath her.

While she continued her teasing, Leviathan tore off her shorts with his demonic strength, revealing the entire ensemble for his eyes to feast on. The fact that she was wearing his colours made him growl as he suddenly transformed into his demon form. “I hope no one has seen you in this yet.” He growled once more, backing his hips into her teasing ones and making her moan, his claws digging into the soft skin of her thighs.

“N-no! This is… this is only for you. Your reward for working so hard.” She replied wantonly, her brain short-circuiting as always at the sight of his demon form and at the feeling of his claws on her plush thighs. “Good.” He replied, sucking at her pulse point and leaving a lovely bruise in the wake of his plundering lips. “Oh Levi…” She gasped out.

His fingers trailed up and down her sides as he looked at her, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “How attached are you to this?” He asked bluntly. “N-not much. I… I bought it for you.” She answered quickly, a guttural groan emanating from her sinful lips when he systematically shredded every piece of the orange lingerie set. Immediately, his lips found a nipple, his hand moving to tease the other one. He played with the perky buds for a long time before his mouth and hand switched places, putting her through similar torture once more as her walls clenched around nothing, begging to be filled up.

“Levi please…” She breathed out, the teasing becoming too much for her. He moved to push his sweatpants down his ass, enough for his dick to be freed from its confines, standing up proudly. Ariadne drooled at the sight, looking at him with pleading eyes as he grasped his dick, sliding it along her dripping folds and making her moan at the delicious friction. However, it wasn’t enough for her.

“You’re mine.” Leviathan growled into her ear. “Tell me you’re mine, Ariadne.”

“Shit. I’m yours, Levi.” She moaned back as the head of his cock nudged her throbbing clit. “I’m fucking yours. Just fuck me, Levi.” The moment those words left her mouth, he slipped inside her waiting pussy, groaning at the feeling of her walls hugging him. Meanwhile, Ariadne pulled him closer, her nails digging into his back just as she felt something nudge at her back entrance while he began rocking in and out of her. It was his tail. The appendage moved downward towards her leaking cunt, covering itself in the copious amounts of her essence that was starting to flow down her thigh before moving back to her asshole, teasing it. Before long, however, it pushed past the tight ring of muscles, leaving them both a mess.

“S-so tight… so perfect around me… don’t wanna leave this pussy…” He babbled as he fucked her pussy, his tail pumping in and out of her asshole. “S-so good, Levi... “ Ariadne moaned, clenching down on him when he hit her sweet spot. He then angled his hips a certain way before picking up his pace, now hitting that spot with every thrust, making her lose every bit of articulation. All she could do was call out his name every time he buried himself upto the hilt.

“I’m close-” The Avatar of Envy informed her, his pace becoming absolutely brutal. “M-me t-too-!” She stuttered out, the pace just too much for her human body. Without a warning, her orgasm hit her like a freight train, leaving her mind completely blank. A few thrusts later, he joined her, biting her shoulder.

Once they had come down from their respective highs, Leviathan smashed their lips together while holding her close. “Are you ok?” He asked softly. “Yeah. And you?”

“More than ok. If that’s gonna be my reward every time, I might just take these examinations even more seriously though.” He replied, earning him a smack on the forehead.

DM me or comment if you want to be tagged in future posts!

#obey me leviathan #leviathan obey me #obey me leviathan smut #leviathan avatar of envy #leviathan x mc #obey me game #obey me shall we date #obey me smut #obey me writing #kinktober #obey me fanfic

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jadelynlace · 3 years

Note

Ivar and his uniform kink….in a request?

oh. Oh.

content warnings: it's fucking filthy.

pairing: [Ink Drinker] Ivar Ragnarsson x F!Reader

catch up on the series here!

The rotation of the coffee mug was taking too long—the seconds seemed like minutes as you watched the vessel move in a circle, until you felt hands encompass you and the press of Ivar’s groin into your back side.

“I just want my coffee,” You say to him.

“And I just want you,” His sleep laden voice comes back, floating through your ears. The husky confession makes you momentarily weak, a slow flutter in your lower abdomen as you feel how he’s already slightly hard from behind you.

“Ivar I haven’t slept in two days,” You sigh back but you’re already melting into his grasp.

“Then why are you making coffee?” He asks, his nose trailing over the curve of your head as he rests a cheek against your hair. You’d curse this man if he wasn’t so adorable when he was nearly comatose. Even though you don’t answer his question, he still hums, holding you against the stove and there’s a slight sway to how you two are standing. “What are these?” He asks as his hand trails to the side pocket of the cargo pants, the pink plastic handle of the trauma sheers running under his fingers.

“Trauma sheers, in case we have to cut clothes off of someone,” You answer back while you rest against him.

“I just thought you were just running around with scissors, baby girl,” Ivar says and it sounds like he’s already half asleep from where her stands. “I really want you, baby…please?” He adds against your locks and his hands crush you closer to his body, even through there’s no additional space. The tone of his begging sets a fire in your tummy that leeches to your womanhood and takes up an old pulse of arousal. You feel so snug up against him, the giant blanket of a man and you can’t deny him if your life depended on it.

“Sit down in the chair, Ivar,” You tell him.

“The bed,” He whines back like a bargaining child.

“I have to take off my uniform—unless you really want to be in the bed while I do that?” And you know that thought alone has him reconsidering his negotiation.

“I’m moving to the chair as we speak,” Ivar rasps back, suddenly backing away from you and the warmth leaves you when you hear him sink in the chair. You’re quick to turn, the undoing of your uniform comes so naturally that you’ve done it in record time, but Ivar’s hands halt you. He pulls your belt closer and your standing between bent knees as his eyes glance over you. Wide in anticipation and you want to make a snarky comment about his uniform kink but you don’t with how gingerly he takes your belt off, opening you like the last Christmas present of the morning. His fingers work against the button and then the zipper, agonizingly slow and you watch how his chest heaves. The lace of you panties catch his eyes and you’re pulled closer, his mouth under your navel as his teeth graze the sensitive skin that lives there. Palms reach around you, pulling at your ass as the pants hit the floor and you think for a second this man is going to devour you like a meal at that very table. Ivar’s lips go across your skin while rolling the lace down, as he moves to rests his forehead against your chest. “I fucking love this damn uniform,” He growls back and you shimmy your legs to make the cargo pants a distant memory as your palms plant on his shoulders. A naked lower half grazes where he’s covered and Ivar groans, hearty and sinful and you only savor the sound for the first few seconds after it comes from his throat. Blue eyes are watching you, stuck on how you look across his lap like it’s your throne before you softly press a mouth against his. There’s coffee on your tongue that slides to Ivar’s and his hands start back up again, fueled by the heat of the kiss and he grabbing at your chest but making no haste to pull the top off.

There’s a quick tease from his fingers through your folds, juices collecting and Ivar moans against your lips when he feels how wet you already are. You breathe softly in response just as his hand moves away, only on a journey to roll the band of his boxers down as you feel how his length slips from its confines. Tapping his abdomen and throbbing between the two of you as your tongues wrestle and your teeth clash. He feels you move, one hand coming from a shoulder to grab at him as you take the reins and move him so you’re sinking down on his cock. Ivar shakes slightly under your grasp as your cunt inches to swallow him whole with your wetness sliding down against his shaft. When you’re resting over him, thighs spread and shaking alike, his eyes remain closed until you roll your hips, cradling his head against the logo on the uniform top and his eyes flutter slightly. Caught up and wondering again how he got so lucky—how you feel tighter every time he slips into you and how he just simply fits despite how your womanhood grips him. With nails against his scalp, Ivar’s hands grace your sides and you flick your hips again, smallest of movements but this man is a near mess under you. Throaty groans and panting as you keep riding him and he twitches inside of you, throbbing as the head of his cock nudges your sweet spot. Through a raise of hips again, you start to climb off of him just enough to make him whine and pull on your hips in an attempt to gain control back. And right before he slips out, you slam back down on to him. Every vein and inch, groove and notion of his cock going back up inside of you and Ivar lets out the thickest groan you have heard to date.

“Baby—I’m gonna fucking come,” He rasps and you swear it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. The past shifts being worth the time apart, long sirens and calls and too many patient care reports, because you are able to come home to this man. This man that simply loves to feel your body, loves to make you feel as worshipped as you are. You only hum in response and his hands take control of your hips again, one gripping there to keep himself focused and the other moves up your back before sliding to grab where he can on your chin. “Y/N—oh fuck,” He moans and his hips move on their own, shoving up into you and through a bounce you maneuver your lips to find his again. Sheathed in your warmth, Ivar bites your lip as he pushes deeper inside of you. Hand pulling your hair and you feel him tense. “I’m coming baby—I’m coming,” Ivar whispers and you squeeze your walls on his cock as tightly as your body will cooperate, Ivar’s hips jutting as he comes.

The sounds were simply over whelming, small rolls of your own hips to help him float down as you feel his seed spill in and coat you. His thumb moves suddenly over your clit and you jolt against him, humming with your teeth sinking into your bottom lip and it only takes a few calculated movements to make you peak. Your release mixing along his and coating between the both of you and Ivar feels the flutters of your walls from your orgasm against his cock, trickling some with sensitivity but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care because you sound like a Goddess as you come for him. Your hands search for something to grab as you try to ground yourself—Ivar’s hair on his shoulders, and in your quest you tug it slightly and another growls rolls off his tongue and into your skin. As his head tips back to rest, your lips move to his chin, tongue following as you peck every silent confession of your love for this man along the curve of his neck. Over the inklings of detail, line work and the shades of colors while Ivar’s hands trace up your spine.

Climbing off of him, you feel how his hands won’t separate from your hips and instead of you having the ability to turn on your own accord Ivar has you up on the wood of the dining table. A squeal comes from your mouth as he uses your thighs as leverage, turning in the chair and pulling your cunt closer to him as he dives in between your folds. Slurping the mix of releases from your womanhood and your back bows from the stained wood grain. Ivar growls from where he is, pulling you apart like a starving man as your thighs are yanked again and his tongue dives deeper. Tasting your nectar mixed with his spunk and he can already feel the blood flow back to his cock. You hold his hair like reigns, tugging at the brown locks while your pelvis rotates, pulling up while Ivar pushes you back down. His digits comb through the mess of juices in you before he wraps them around his own shaft, squeezing slightly and Ivar’s mouth opens against your cunt. Taking in your smell against his face as his hand starts quickly, jerking his cock when his lips start up again and you reach out for his free hand. White washing your knuckles against his and you’re worried they might burst into confetti before he does.

Your second peak is about to grab you as Ivar slows his hand down, the blue of his eyes flicking up as he watches your chest heave, the perk of your nipples under the uniform. The colors of the pins and the badge and he stops suddenly. Rising and pulling you against him as he’s holding his cock before pushing it back inside of you. Your eyes fly open as he fucks your over the table, holding your hips as he watches himself rock in and back out. When Ivar comes for the second time you’re right there with him, his forehead coming down to rest between your breasts as he moans again, and curses as another white, iridescent load graces your walls. The backing of the wood on your spine isn’t the slightest bit comfortable as your head clears and Ivar is still panting from somewhere over you.

“What the hell has gotten into you, Ivar?” You ask through a breathless laugh and his shoulders shake as he laughs back, the sound being soaked up by the blue polo.

“That damn uniform baby,”

Ink Drinker Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @queen-sarang @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @walkxthexmoon @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @istorkyou @victoria-styles @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @another-bryk-in-the-wall @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @tgrrose

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

Death and an Angel part 3

Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: You and Din have an unexpected heart-to-heart about what it means to be Death and a Cupid on route to a planet where Din’s potential soulmate lives.

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,500

Warnings: Pining, smidge of angst, more plot development, Razor Crest (RIP I miss you darling!), a made-up home world for the reader (yes, yes, there’s like a million I could have picked but my brain said NOPE)

Author Note: Ahhhh, the comments are so amazing from you all! Thank you everyone out there sparing time to check out my little universe, it makes me sooo happy you have no idea! As always, I hope you enjoy this new segment as I try to plot this story out and get these two idiots to acknowledge there just might be something between them.

Also special thanks to @codenamewitcher for including the first two parts on Weekly Fanfic Recs. Be sure to go check out the list for a whole bunch of fantastic stories!

Links to Part 1, Part 2 and Part 4

Photo Inspiration: (What I imagine is beneath the armor in this scene...*dreamy sigh*)

There is a distinct silence that can only be found in hyperspace when the stars outside resemble sparkling streaks of silver tinsel and your breath is trapped within your lungs as you’re awestruck by the sheer beauty of it all. You experience this silence aboard the Razor Crest, sitting in the cockpit behind Din as he pilots his beloved gunship. It isn’t the first time you’ve been a passenger, having traveled with Din on two previous ventures where your Cupid services were required on planets far away from your home on Umbriel.

Off-world assignments for you were generally rare since your bosses were more inclined to choose Cupids of higher ranking to handle those clients, but sometimes you were the only available option left. Which, come to think of it, is exactly how you became the one roped into meeting with Death every full moon. Your bosses decided someone needed to check up on him to make sure he wasn’t reaping anyone before their fated time and thus messing with the natural order of things. You privately have reached the conclusion it was a decision made during a fit of paranoia as you had yet to find any evidence suggesting Din ever broke a single one of the universe’s rules, let alone even considered the mere possibility.

When you did travel for assignments, you never stopped feeling like a goldfish being dumped out of your familiar little bowl and into a massive ocean full of strange oddities. You would often find yourself wasting time trying to successfully navigate the unknown world when you should have been focused on tracking down your client’s soulmate.

That’s why Din had offered to start traveling with you. Actually, in his own words it was because, “You think about love so much you don’t see trouble until it’s an inch in front of you. Someone’s got to be there to look after you.”

You’d tried to argue, told him you had never experienced trouble and that if you did then you could handle it with your bow. All Cupid’s were required to master archery for self-defense purposes, though Din’s responding snort of derision made you suspect he wasn’t convinced of your skills. You wondered if he thought, just as humans incorrectly did, a Cupid only used their bow to spread love and lust. Or maybe he just thought you weren’t capable of such finesse. It was an insulting assumption, fueling you with the burning desire to prove him wrong. One day, you keep telling yourself, a repetitive chant. One day you’ll show him just how capable you are with your weapon and you imagine his look of shock, whether worn openly on his face or hidden beneath the visor of his helmet, will be utterly priceless.

But in the meantime, you’re in no hurry to encounter trouble. Finding enjoyment in taking these trips with him on his ship instead.

The Razor Crest had actually been a complete surprise to you when Din first welcomed you on it; primarily because the notion of him using such a primitive form of transportation despite the powers he possessed as Death was too outrageous to wrap your head around. However, it took less than ten minutes soaring through space for you to discover just how many details of the universe you were missing by relying on your Cupid abilities to teleport yourself between locations. Never would you have imagined Death to be the one to teach you to love the slowness of travel, to let your eyes linger on all the beautiful wonders along the way. But that’s exactly what happened.

You turn your head away from the window to look at Din. From your angle, all you glimpse is the back of his helmet, reflecting the passing starlight. Soon you’ll be introducing Din to the first immortal on your list of potential soulmates.

Death, you quickly correct yourself. He’s only Din when he’s around you.

You initially thought he elected to wear his armor because you told him he could to ease his comfort, but now you think it’s because this is him meeting his potential soulmate as himself. It is easy to forget sometimes this is the image of Death—a warrior enshrouded in beskar, cunning and ruthless—that is recognized throughout the universe. And feared.

If the handsome face he concealed was known instead, you wonder if mortals would readily choose to embrace the ending of their lifetime, rather than foolishly seek to run from its inevitability.

“What is it?” Din’s baritone voice startles you as it shatters the quietness. The modulator within his helmet gives his tone a low raspiness that never fails to send a chill down your spine when you hear it.

“Huh?” You respond ineloquently.

“You’ve been staring at the back of my head for the last five minutes, angel. I figured you had something worth saying.”

“Oh, no. I was just thinking about you.”

Immediately you wish a meteor would collide with the ship, providing you with the necessary distraction to escape and find somewhere you can hide until the end of time.

“...What about me were you thinking?” Din wonders after a solid thirty seconds of pure silence, voice somehow conveying an equally blended mixture of intrigue and wariness. He flips on the ship’s autopilot and turns in his seat to pin you with his gaze, apparently unwilling to let you try and weasel yourself out of the conversation.

You roll the question around in your mind, wanting to give an answer that satisfies him without it also embarrassing yourself further.

“I was thinking how much of an enigma you are,” you murmur at last, leaning back in the chair with your arms crossing over your stomach. “You wield such incredible powers and yet you choose to wear a human face, to call this man-made ship your home and to also spend your spare time living amongst those you will eventually reap. Why are these your choices?”

He tilts his head, and you just know there is a little crease of bewilderment appearing between his eyebrows right now even if you can’t see it. For as much as he is a puzzle you can’t put together, he is also at times an open book that you will never tire of reading.

“I would think you, more than most beings, would understand the discomfort that stems from loneliness and the lengths one will go to ease it,” he says, not unkindly. He mirrors your position, maneuvering himself until he’s comfortable in his seat and totally oblivious to the dilating of your pupils as you observe every subtle shift of his armor-clad body. “Isn’t that the true purpose of Cupids? To spare individuals the ache of living a life of solitude by introducing them to someone to love so they no longer feel it.”

“That’s a poetic way of putting it,” you answer, smiling softly and shrugging your shoulders. “My superiors would just quote our mantra back at me when I used to ask. Amor vincit omnia.”

“Love conquers all.”

You shouldn’t be surprised he’s able to translate such an ancient and obscure language, but your eyes widen regardless. “That’s right.”

His voice is unusually soft when he asks, “Do you like being a Cupid?”

You stare at him, caught off guard by how easily he’s changed the topic of the conversation from himself to you. You’re used to taking orders and being thanked for your services, but no one has ever asked you if you liked doing any of it.

“I’m good at it,” you finally say, even though it’s not really an answer.

He nods his head still, as if he understands. A part of you thinks he actually does.

You lick your lips, eyeing him hesitantly. “Do you...like being Death?”

“I’m good at it,” he echoes, but your words sound somber coming from his lips.

The cockpit fills with hushed silence again, but there’s a unique tenderness unlike ever before. Minutes seem to stretch on for entire seasons as you watch one another, content to simply coexist and revel in each other’s presences.

It would be so easy to slip off his helmet and kiss him right now.

You stiffen, stunned at your own thought, but you aren’t given the chance to analyze it further as an alarm on the ship’s control panel announces with a resounding beep you’ve reached your destination.

Din spins in his seat, reclaiming control of the steering to begin the ship’s landing process. You look out the front window at the large green-blue planet drawing nearer with every anxious tick of your heartbeat.

“We’re here,” you say needlessly, forcing excitement into your voice. Fake it till you make it, isn’t that the human expression?

“Who is it we’re meeting on this backwater skug hole?” Din asks, pressing a series of buttons above his head.

You kick the back of his seat. “Be nice,” you scold when he shoots you a look. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath as he turns back around, prompting you to roll your eyes. “She’s a goddess of springtime and motherhood. The locals call her Omera.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @becauseican2, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @eleine-t1d, @nicotinebirds, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee

#the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #Din Djarin #Mandalorian #soulmate au #my fic #my writing #death and an angel #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din x you #din x reader

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rosesbxrry-main · 3 years

Text

Cat ears and tail 🐾

Warning: NSFW

Characters: Todoroki Shoto with Female Reader

Summary: The thing about being a Hero is that sometimes, mistakes can happen; which is why Todoroki got hit by a villain’s quirk by accident. Now, he doesn’t know which one is more embarrassing, having cat ears or having a cat tail. But nothing tops off his embarrassment by the fact that he had to come home and see your reaction to both of the traits on him.

“Let me guess-“ You said, staring at Todoroki’s cat ears; which is something you never imagine witnessing until now. The colour of the ears corresponds to that of his own hair colour that splits into red and white.

You glance sideways to catch a glimpse of his tail (which was oddly only white) and tried your best to stifle a squeal at how adorable he looked.

“-A villain’s quirk?” You ask, hands cross with pursed lips. It was a facade; you really want to pet his hair now because of his cute and fluffy ears. But you and Todoroki have been together for years now and you know for a fact that, judging by the expression on his face-he doesn not like this.

To him; this was humiliating. If only he dodge it fast enough, he would have avoided the villain’s quirk. He was lucky that the mission had ended before the agency decided it would be best to dismiss him for the rest of the day.

Hia first concern was to avoid any paparazzi, fans or anybody he knows on the way home. That's why he opted to wear a cap to hide his ears and tie a jacket around his waist to hide his tail (he tried to hide it in his pants but it was too uncomfortable so he had to cut a hole at the back).

His second concern was you. Coming home to see your reaction was what he dreaded the most. Todoroki can’t explain why he felt so embarrassed. Maybe it’s because he always wants to show his capable side to you; and showing up with cat ears and tails is not one of them.

“Come on, dinner’s ready”

You said, a small smile on your face before you walk back to the dining room. Todoroki nodded, grateful that you had brushed the topic aside.

You had prepared cold soba for dinner; which is something easy to make when the both of you are busy. You secretly watch as he put a mouthful of soba noodles in his mouth with his chopsticks.

“It’s good”

He stated, his voice monotone like always whenever he talks. You had gotten used to his deadpan face and learn to differentiate the littlest detail between each expression that indicates his emotions.

But then, his cat ears twitch with the tips curling forwards a little bit. Glancing at his tail, it was standing upright aligned with his back. You let out a small chuckle which causes him to stare at you with a confused look.

“It’s nothing. It’s just... you must really like the soba tonight” you try to explain, but you failed to mention how his cat ears and tail showed how happy and satisfied he was with the food; in contrast to his blank face.

How can someone be so adorable?

Todoroki went to shower after dinner while you busy yourself with cleaning up. You turn around after washing the dishes to him standing behind you; wet hair with dropping cat ears, hands occupied with a towel. Cheeks flush as he stared at you with a nervous look, eyes lowered to the floor.

“Can you dry my hair for me?”

Something in you combust at the sight of him. Was he trying to give you a heart attack? You try to remain composed and calm, clearing your throat with a slight blush.

“Of course, let's head to the couch then”

The both of you sat facing each other at the couch of the living room. With the towel in hand, you begin to gently tousle Todoroki’s damp hair; making sure to not accidentally rub too hard on his sensitive cat ears. Your eyes kept darting to his tail that was twitching ever so slightly.

Todoroki close eyes in content; shoulder relax at your touch. For some reason the way you pat and wipe his hair was stimulating him; especially when you rub certain spots that make his throat itching to let out soft humming.

The sounds he let out does not come unnoticed to you as his head begins to lean closer to you, as if to let you know he wanted more. You try to wipe every surface and discover the spot that made him purred more; just at the back of his human ears above his nape.

You focus on the spot by messaging it in circular motion. The sensation was electrifying the more you rub. Todoroki could feel an overwhelming pleasure arousing in him; like the feeling of finally being able to scratch the area at one’s back that was pulsing with itchiness. Goosebumps start to form on his skin and he shudders before letting out soft moans of delight.

Your movement stops when you catch sight of his crotch. The material of his grey sweatpants was tight against his hard cock, the outline now very visible to your eyes.

Todoroki’s drooping eyes watch as your cheeks flush before his eyes follow yours. He looked down before realizing that his dick was now hard and very aroused by you drying his hair. He was prepared to apologize to you but the sight of you shamelessly staring at his hard on sensually causes him to grab onto the towel on his head, pulling it away to drop it on the floor.

You glance back at him because of that, feeling his hands grasping your wrist to pull you closer to him for a kiss. You move to sit on his lap, straddling him on the hips as he grabs your nape to deepen the kiss.

You let your fingers wander around his hair, reaching to touch the cat ears; fingernails lightly scratching at the thin soft surface. It twitches at your touch, which causes a mewl to erupt in his throat muffled by your lips on his. He shifts uncomfortably at the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through his body from his ears.

He pulled your body closer, rubbing his clothed dick against your heat.

“Ahh...Shouto...mmhmm...I need more...”

He complied; pulling your shirt together with your bra up, releasing your breast with a bounce. He salivates at the sight of your perked nipples, engulfing one of it into his mouth and sucking it.

You cried out his name, feeling his tongue flicking at the slit of your nipple. You gather the strength to strip your shirt and bra completely before pulling his head flushed against your chest. While you were high on the pleasure of his mouth on your nipple, Todoroki’s fingers started to strip you of your shorts and panties.

A loud moan ripple through your throat; back arching on his lap when fingers rub against the lips of your pussy. His own groans vibrate against your breast, causing your eyes to water at the amount of pleasure.

He could feel how wet you were as his finger continued to stroke your soaked folds rapidly with an even force. Your juices were starting to coat his fingers, the fluid running down his palm. He kisses your breast a few times before pushing you down on the couch with him on top of you.

Todoroki proceeds to strip himself of his clothes, his heterochromia eyes looming over your figure. He moved his body so that his face was close to your heat while he maneuvers his legs to cage your head side.

His dick was at eye level to you; the smell of his semen filled your nostril and you could see a stream of precum leaking down his length. You reach out with an open mouth to engulf the head, sucking and licking as much as you can take.

At the same time, Todoroki proceeds to lick you folds; swirling his tongue over every crevice of your moist pussy. The sound of wet slurping filled the room mixed with moaning and groaning.

You grip onto his thighs when Todoroki begins to lightly thrust into your mouth, his own pace quickens when lapping your heat. A familiar feeling tightened in your gut as the pleasure took over every sense of your body when he began to push his tongue into your hole.

His tail caught your attention; it swayed side to side above you. Something urged you to grab onto the base of the tail, squeezing it with much difficulty as tears began to blur your vision.

Todoroki immediately flinches when he feels your hands on his tail; an explosion of overwhelming pleasure obliterates his senses. He let out the most high pitch moan you had ever heard, back arch and mouth agape as you watch his whole body trembles.

“Fuck- not there..ahhh...it’s sensitive there...nghhh...i’m cumming....”

You felt his dick throb in your mouth before he came into your mouth, the intense aroma of his fluid filled your nose and the salty taste invaded your taste buds. You could hear his toes curling as he repeatedly let out streams of moan as he continued to empty out his seed into your mouth.

Todoroki could barely see anything; hear anything. The only thing he could feel was the overwhelming pleasure as he climaxed. He tries his hardest to not collapse his body on top of you as he was beginning to lose feeling in his legs and arms.

You swallow down every bit of his seed, enjoying the view of him coming undone; though your lips and mouth was numb from his cock stretching you for a long period of time.

When he began to calm down and regain his strength, Todoroki moved away to sit down; head resting on the backrest of the couch. You sit up and wipe away the remains of his semen at the corner of your mouth. You gaze at him; face flush with sweat dripping down his neck, chest panting and eyelids drooping down.

He looked almost spent after the intense high of the climax.

He looked so fucked

You glance down at his crotch, surprise to see his dick still standing hard against his stomach; the veins around his length protruding out as if begging for another release. You crawl towards him across the sofa, your weight dipping on the cushion, causing his eyes to glance at you approaching him.

He welcomes your body on his lap, circling his arms around your torso, connecting each other's lips together for a wet kiss.

All the while, you reach down to grip his dick, rubbing it against the entrance of your heat.

“Shouto, I need you inside. I can’t wait any longer” you moan at the warm feeling of his slick dick against your trembling hole.

“Shit-“ Todoroki hissed at the feeling, his head still sensitive from his previous climax. But he can’t deny the feeling of wanting to be inside you as well.

You push his head at the entrance before slowly descending his whole length inside, feeling him stretching your walls.

“Your so big Shouto...ngghh...it’s touching me everywhere”

You began to bounce on his dick, hands gripping on his board shoulder for support. Every time his dick thrust into your sweet spot, you let out a stream of moans- gasping for air as you quicken your pace.

Todoroki watches your face contract with pleasure as you mercilessly move up and down his cock. The warmth and tightness of your pussy pushing him at the very edge of madness. His eyes lowered to watch your tits bounce at every movement- nipple hard and perk.

He dip down to swallow a nipple into his mouth, suckling the nub which in return, you let out a few mewls as he abuses your tits with his mouth.

The heat pooling in your gut was becoming bigger and as if he could sense it, Todoroki grabbed onto your ass- thrusting hard to meet your own movement.

“nghhh...harder shouto...i’m close”

The sound of wet slapping noise grew louder. He continues to shove deeper into you, every thrust feels like he was getting nearer to your womb. Your moans turn to an almost shout, eyes tearing up as your climax approaches.

“Fuck- cum baby, i’m close to-“ His thrust becomes more rapid, almost animalistic as he ram into you as hard as he can.

The both of you come intensely, orgasm wash over the both of you like a tsunami and you feel his seed filling you up to the bream. He continues to thrust slowly even after coming- making sure to milk out every single drop of his seed into your pussy.

The both of you pull each other closely, feeling the heat radiating off each other’s body. You rest your head against his shoulder, eyes close- feeling his hand slowly patting your back affectionately.

When they have settled down, Todoroki lay you down on the sofa before proceeding to clean you up with the towel on the floor. After that, he opted to cuddle with you on the couch, his car ear tickling your cheeks as he rested his head on top of your chest. You pet him, feeling the vibration of his purring against your chest.

You were glad that the quirk wore off the next day, or not, you don’t think your heart can handle Todoroki Shoto in cat ears and tail for long.

#bnha x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shoto smut #todoroki shoto #bnha #bnha headcanons #bnha imagines #bnha smut #shoto x reader #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #mha #bnha scenarios #bnha x y/n #bnha fanfic #todoroki

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canyouhearthelight · 3 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 148

This chapter got... long. In a good way. I mean, who objects to a chapter that is practically double-length? Right.

Speed-run shout outs this week go to: @nagisa-666, @crimson-faith27, @colornotes23, @theronisengard, @gam3rgur1.

Beta-reading thanks go to @baelpenrose, along with general thanks to @the-raven-fae, @anotherusrname, and @charlylimph-blog for being amazing people.

A few things I want to note: the technology behind these suits is NOT my creation. They are very strongly based on the suits used by Rifters in Peter Watts’s Rifters triology. I wish I could take credit for them, but honesty is the best policy.

I hope all my readers are okay wherever you are. There’s been a lot of severe weather in the last couple of weeks, and I just want you all to be safe.

Once we had Charly, Antoine, and Maverick on board to help with our project, Grey and I agreed that a meeting of the Council would be necessary to cover what we were hoping to achieve - especially once we discovered that the original plan behind the bivouac suits was only waiting for our votes for full approval. For once, I was looking forward to a full, in-person meeting so that I could glare down every one of my peers, face-to-face.

Glaring over video just lost a certain…. je ne sais quoi. Even Tyche and Arthur agreed.

As I entered the rarely-used Council chambers, the sheer lack of people caught me off guard. Grey and Pranav had not arrived yet, but the only others present were Xiomara, Eino, and Huynh. Eino seemed to notice as I stopped short, and smiled gently. “I know it has been quite some time, but it is protocol that when the Council is voting to override our hosts, or one or more Councillors actually oppose an initiative that impacts the entire ship, only the sitting members and Miys are included in the meetings. Not even administrators are allowed.”

I blinked slowly. “When did that start? Even Arantxa’s trial had administrators in attendance.”

“Witnesses,” Huynh shrugged. “This isn’t a trial, it’s a debate, and our votes cannot be influenced by outside parties.”

“And, thanks to you and Grey, we’re sequestered until we reach a unanimous agreement,” Xiomara added, glaring.

“I disagree, Xiomara,” Grey responded as they breezed into the room. “The entire reason we have a Council is to ensure that the needs of the many are being considered. Sophia already has a back up plan in the event that our hopes do not pan out, one that is quite more agreeable than what you initially took into account I dare say.”

Eino, ever the peacemaker, held up one pale hand. “Please. Let us save our arguments for the actual debate. Instigating hard feelings will only extend these proceedings, and I believe several of us have lives outside of work we would like to return to.”

“What are the two of you bickering about now?” Pranav sighed as he took his seat. I hadn’t seen him come in after Grey, but apparently he had been in the room long enough to secure a plate of biscuits and what smelled like tea. The look I gave him only garnered a wink.

“Before they start in again,” Eino responded as loudly as he ever got - which was a firm tone but not terribly loud in all honesty, “The entire Council is present, so we will be starting shortly. I would like to confirm that our esteemed host is present as well?”

“Indeed,” the reply came from the ceiling. “And per human custom, I have only myself to consult with. Councilor Emeritus Rodriguez is not present.”

“Thank you. With that, we may call the session to order.” Eino stood, acting as parliamentarian for the duration. “As you are all aware, Miys recently brought to our attention that humans are, in fact, considered a Class III Biohazard within the greater Galactic community. To protect the Eko-mari fleet that will be escorting us, we are asked to comply with safety protocols which ask that we wear the bivouac suits.”

I stifled a giggle when, rather than showing a projection to the group, he pulled out one of the ridiculously tiny suits. The only one who apparently heard me was Xiomara, who sat in her customary seat to my left and kicked my shin gently. For all that we were at loggerheads on this topic, it was apparent that we were both ready to lay it to rest and celebrate-slash-commiserate over a meal.

As he handed the sample-suit off to his left, Eino flicked up a schematic. “For the edification of the group, the bivouac suits are structured from a reflex-copolymer sheath which is selectively permeable, hydrophobic, and resistant to extreme temperatures. Oxygen and nitrogen are able to pass through the suit from the outside, while carbon dioxide is able to pass from the inside. They seal in the back with a semi-intelligent macromolecule, with a second macromolecule across the mouth that allows us to attach nutrient packs so we can eat while in the suit.”

This was so much worse than I expected, and I could feel my heart beginning to race and my gag reflex kicking in. I wasn’t even claustrophobic, but just the idea of putting one of those suits on made me feel like I was suffocating. Glancing around the table, I could visibly see at least Huynh’s opinion changing from apathetic to… sweaty and fidgety.

Eino continued, dismissing the schematic. “The vote today is whether this is the correct solution for the situation, or if other options should be considered. Xiomara Kalloe, as you are defending the majority opinion, you have the floor first.”

“Thank you,” she acknowledged as she took the floor. “Council, my acceptance of the bivouac suits is quite simple - this is standard Galactic safety protocol when interacting with a sentient species that could be considered harmful to your own or others simply by virtue of existing in the same atmosphere. As our species is the one considered to be the biohazard, custom expects that we would be the species in containment. Otherwise, there is a possibility of danger to not only the Ekomari, but also any other species that stepped on their ship until it is properly decontaminated. While decontam is a simple process for the Ark - as Hujylsogox ships are designed with such measures in mind and largely handle the process themselves, at all times - records indicate that decontamination of an Ekomari ship would require near-complete disassembly, along with replacement of any porous surfaces.”

Even I had to whistle softly at that. Okay, then. We are that gross, got it. Not surprised, given the number of plagues humanity had experienced, combined with some of the people I had dated in the past.

“I believe the impacts of your statement are quite apparent, Councilor Kalloe. Thank you,” Eino stated. “Dissenting opinion is being provided by Councilor Sophia Reid. Questions will be addressed after dissenting opinion has been provided and a fifteen minute recess has been taken to allow consideration. Sophia? Your floor.”

“Thank you, Eino.” I smiled gently before composing myself. “While mine is being considered the ‘dissenting’ opinion, due to the exact reasons that Xiomara herself provided, I entirely agree with the need to be careful and considerate of other species, especially regarding the potential to repeat the smallpox-blanket mistakes of our past.” Without fail, the entire group winced. “Exactly. We all agree that we aren’t doing that again - not should not, are not. All that I am asking the Council to take into account is the potential to traumatize members of our own group by only considering the bivouac suits as a possibility. Yes, the bivouac suits have proven themselves out by the entire galactic community, they are completely safe from a physiological perspective, et cetera.”

This is where I had to take a deep breath, since this was literally my entire argument, and I had already admitted as much. “I am not arguing the use of them entirely, I am arguing the use of the suits, strictly. Selfishly, I find myself experiencing a panic response at the idea of wearing them, and that is only by being more familiar with them - I’m sorry, Eino, but before you gave more details, my personal opinion was ‘I will sweat, but I can suck it up’. Now it’s ‘oh hell no and I’m not even claustrophobic, eff this’.”

“Understood,” he conceded gently.

With a nod, I forged on, encouraged. “However, that is just for myself. There are members of the Ark who cannot bear the feel of clothes, who fear restrictions, or the dark… Valuable members of our crew who will experience severe psychological trauma if forced into one of those suits. And that, I cannot let go unspoken of, or unnoticed, without being remiss in my role as Councilor.” I steeled myself from glancing at Xiomara; she was over Health and Safety, and any form of addressing her directly would be considered a direct attack on her competence. “I have alternatives, to be used in conjunction with the bivouac suits, so that we can all keep those escorting us as safe as possible while also protecting our own people.”

I took my seat, and as soon as my hands dropped to my lap, Xiomara grabbed one and squeezed my fingers. The debate was over, the rest of the Council just had to figure that out.

“Thank you, Sophia,” Eino nodded seriously. “We shall take our break, and then convene for questions. Xiomara and Sophia, we ask that you remain at that side of the room. Councilors, you are asked to stay on the opposite side of the room. You are allowed to speak among yourselves, but any questions for Sophia or Xiomara are to be held until we as a group can consider them at the same time.”

Xiomara leaned over. “Derek,” she whispered sadly.

“Or Nixe,” I admitted. “Can you imagine forcing her into one of those?”

“Not without reinforcements and enough sedative to drop a horse,” she admitted, squeezing my fingers one more time before releasing them.

The break ended quickly, and Pranav was kind enough to quickly-but-silently set snacks and drinks, along with an enormous pitcher of water, in front of me and Xiomara before we picked up with the questions they were allowed.

Without hesitation, Huynh’s hand shot in the air to ask the first question. While I never quite got around to actually liking him, I could very much appreciate his tendency to get straight to the heart of what he wanted to know, with very little patience for anything he deemed less important. “Clearly, you both agree on the need to quarantine ourselves, there is no argument there. Sophia, you mentioned alternatives to the bivouac suits. What are those?”

Grey gave me a pointed look with a slight squint. They were smug in the knowledge that we had already turned one vote, and I resisted the urge to grin in response. “Absolutely. As I mentioned, there is a significant portion of the population on the Ark that would be psychologically triggered by the bivouac suits. I have already spoken with members of the medical and engineering teams, and there are several options that we can adapt for our use, all of which are already in use within the Galactic community.”

With a flick, I brought up one example on the table emitter. “First, we have portable bioelectric fields, similar to what was used in medical when we first came on the Ark. Our teams have seven-nines of certainty that they can have these ready before rendezvous.” Flick, another example. “For more drastic situations, or simply so that we are not required to wear the suits at all times, even when we are back on the Ark, quarantine procedures in specified areas - similar to an airlock - so that anyone who does not or cannot wear a suit or personal field can remain safely in quarantine to keep the fleet away from our general biological ick.”

Nods circled the table. Xiomara went from drumming her fingers to pressing them down hard enough to turn her nail beds white - she was literally gripping for dear life to keep from laughing. I coughed to hide my smile, and forged on to the third option. “For the next example, I want to be clear: this is an entirely serious suggestion, regardless of how comical it looks. Even without knowing the composition of the bivouac suits, we did practical tests with the sample that Noah was kind enough to leave with my office. Again, I am entirely serious, this is not a joke, no matter how much it looks like one.”

Despite my warning, I heard a round of snorts and no few giggles as I put the next example up on the emitter. I ignored them, completely understanding how comical it looked, allowing them to compose themselves. Gesturing at the nearly-spherical generic-human shape that was being projected, I soldiered on. “This is one of the bivouac suits, with added atmosphere to avoid claustrophobia.” With both hands, I pivoted the image to point at the back, just where the neck met the spine. “An atmospheric generator has been added here, to re-inflate the suit in the event that the person wearing it needs to eat or otherwise breach the suit. Obviously, this would be done in one of the aforementioned quarantine areas, not on the actual Ekomari vessel.”

Huynh’s grin was nothing short of feral. “These are all quite solid suggestions. Thank you.”

“Wait,” Pranav sputtered. “You’re quite serious about the… balloon man?”

Grey slid a pocket-sized atmospheric generator over. “Practical demonstration, if you want to try it on.”

Shaking his head with a smile, he slid it over to Huynh. “I am certain his department can do more with it than mine, but it should prove to be… quite an introduction to our stellar neighbors.”

“Any further questions?” I asked, feeling significantly more confident.

“I have one for Xiomara, and possibly Grey, actually,” Eino asked, clearing his throat. “Despite the fact that this will be readily apparent, I feel like I should preface this would not have been something I previously considered, but now I must know.” Oh, shit. My glance down at Xio revealed a very similar sentiment. “It has been mentioned that humans are considered a Class III Biohazard? We have put a lot of effort into defending the Ark from the potential of pirates, looting, and possible enslavement. If we are a Galactic biohazard, what value would there be in any species abducting us only to potentially die or experience at least a plague if we are encountered? Would that not… deter? Species from attacking us?”

Xiomara pinched the bridge of her nose. “I see where this is going. Please convey this to the person who I am reasonably sure you are asking this for: Yes, being a Class III biohazard also makes humanity a Class III bioweapon. And while that would initially make others hesitant to abduct us, eventually there are groups that will figure out quarantine protocols, just like we have, and will realize that they can just… smuggle a human on a ship, wait for everyone on board to die or get to ill to function, and then sweep in to just… I don’t know, blow the locks. Who thinks of a weapon as a person? It’s not like they’ll worry about what happens to the human who gets swept into space.”

“And all of ‘the humans’ are on this ship, eventually on that colony,” I added, with all the gravity I could include. “Meaning we all know that ‘bioweapon’. There are seven ‘bioweapons’ in this room, alone.”

The room fell into silence, until Eino was brave enough to clear his throat. “So. If the debate is over, let us vote. We will await suggestions for stepping up drills and defense training.”

The motion carried quickly in favor of using the proposed combination of containment measures, with unanimous agreement.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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chaos-mybeloved · 3 years

Text

S.H.I.E.L.D Business

Hello! I'm now fully on Summer vacation and I forgot how fun it is to write things without an academic purpose so I decided to try something new. I wanted to write my first ever fanfic but then didn't know where to start and this happened instead. I hope someone enjoys it! Its a reader insert, first time writing one of these. Also, I'm black so I had black reader in mind when writing but I didn't really describe anything in detail.

Word count: 1500 (ish)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female agent!reader

Warnings: There's some smut in there, not overly explicit but its there 18+ content

Agent Y/LN is one of SHIELD's best agents

She and her team are SHIELD's elite, even more so than the STRIKE team. She works directly with Fury and Agent Hill

Steve Rogers knows all of this. He's read her mission reports, watched her training footage, he even has every word in her SHIELD file memorized. He's a little obsessed

When Bucky turns up and with that the threat that Hydra might still exist within SHIELD, she is called into work with the Avengers; all of Fury's most trusted agents working together

Steve is more than excited to work with her, he's been dreaming of an opportunity like this since he's heard of her

However, things aren't working out quite in Steve's favour when it turns out that she has taken a liking to Bucky more than Steve. She laughs with him and brings him out of his shell better than even Steve has been able to since his return. Something about kindred spirits.

Steve shuts down a little, sinking into his pit of despair and self-loathing, so much so that he makes a bad call on a mission and nearly gets everyone killed

Y/LN takes over and gets the mission back on track, saving everyone's ass in the process

When they get back to the base she seeks Steve out to ask what has gotten into him. The conversation gets heated and Steve gets angry enough to tell her that she's the problem

She sees that Steve needs the release so she lets him when he reaches out and kisses her. She lets him stick his tongue in her mouth and taste everything she has to give

She lets him run his big, smooth hands from her face, down her neck and over her breasts to finally slip under the tank top she’s wearing. She feels him moan into her mouth and she swallows it down, knowing how bad he needs this. He almost got everyone killed because of how bad he needs this so she lets him

The first touch of skin to skin seems to break some of the restraint he had left because suddenly his hands aren't just exploring anymore, they're demanding. He grips the flesh on her tummy hard enough to bruise and she lets him do it simply flicking her own tongue over the roof of his mouth, giving back just as much as she's getting.

Her hands haven't left the confines of his hair. The golden strands slipping and sliding through her fingers like silk. She's in no rush to move any time soon, content to let Steve rush enough for the both of them. He seems to be in a fever now; his hands are hot and searing as they knead and squeeze every inch of skin they can reach.

When he finally makes his way back to her breasts, his finger immediately finds her nipples and pinch. The little sigh she lets out cracks him open even further. He wrenches his mouth away from hers and trails it down her jaw and neck instead. He bites and sucks and she knows he wants to leave marks, reminders that he was here, that he got to have this if even for a short time. The marks will stay for a while, she knows, and she lets him anyway.

When he starts mumbling incoherently into the junction between her neck and shoulder she knows he's too far gone to think about this anymore. She huffs internally thinking about how he's probably thought about this enough to fill a lifetime. She hopes her reality won't disappoint.

He bunches the material of her top up under her armpits and his mouth moves down to her fully exposed breasts. His sucking and biting continue there now too. His tongue feels just as hot as his hands did as it flicks over a nipple and then the other one as if he can't decide where to place his attention. His hands, however, seem to have an idea of their own. With his mouth now covering where his hands used to be, his hands move down, down, down, until he's teasing at the button of her tac pants.

He hesitates. He doesn't want to stop but somewhere in his desperation-filled brain, he can register that this might be too far. He was moving out of sheer desperation before but he finds that he needs the verbal confirmation that she wants this just as bad. Without removing his mouth, he opens his eyes and looks up into her own. The deep blue of his eyes has been swallowed almost entirely by black. He looks consumed and neither of them are even fully naked yet.

"Tell me you want it. Tell me you want me."

It's the most coherent thing he's said since he kissed her even if he did mumble it around her nipple. She looks down at him fully taking in his trembling fingers poised to strike the moment she says so. She's used to having power, she's even used to people giving up theirs to her but this feels different. This is almost intoxicating, and alarm bells start going off in her head because it feels just a little bit addicting too. It feels as if he stopped right now she might also, not fall apart, but definitely splinter somehow as if something is missing. Something will be missing. Goddamn you, Steve Rogers.

"Go on, soldier," she smirks down at him, "do your worst."

He nearly rips her pants straight down the middle with the force he uses to pry the button open. She chuckles but it quickly turns into a moan when he dives straight for her pussy. His fingers feel a lot bigger down there than they had on her chest. They're nimble though; artist fingers no matter how much of a soldier he is now. He rubs at her eager but slow, sensual. She's about to lose her damn mind.

She can't decide what she wants out of this. She knows his strength, he can give it to her hard and dirty if she asks but the pace he's set now is good. Slow and dirty and rough might be the way to go tonight. They don't really have the time but that all seems irrelevant as he slips one of those long fingers into her.

He's started mumbling nonsense into her skin again. He seems content with the work he's done on her breasts for now. The brown nipples are puffy and shiny with spit. Her entire chest really is covered in Steve's spit. It's a subtle claim but a claim nonetheless.

"What am I allowed to do?"

It takes her a second to register the question; his fingers haven’t stopped their slow attack on her pussy.

"Whatever you want, Captain," her breath rushes out of her as his thumb gently massages her clit. "You're the one who started it and I'm trusting you to finish it."

And finishes he does. She had caught him in an empty board room and so the large desk in the middle of the room will have to do. He removes his hand and her pants and then picks her up without any warning, almost in one complete motion. Before she even realizes what's happening she's on her back with her legs over his shoulders and a face in her pussy eating like it's his last meal.

She lets go after that. She doesn't keep track of her first orgasm of the night, nor the next one, nor the one after that leaves her clenching around the thick length of him. She doesn't keep track of the praises he whispers into her skin like prayers, words she realizes he's been saying the whole time. She doesn't actively process the feeling of his lips back on hers but she thinks she kisses him back. She must because he's moaning again, right into her mouth like the sound is only for her. It is only for her she realizes much, much later. When everything is over, when the heat has cooled between them and those dark blue eyes are no longer peering into her soul, and her body has stopped shaking with leftover pleasure that's when she realizes what just happened between them.

She drags herself off the table and back onto her two feet. It's a lot harder than she thought it would be. She slips back into her pants and top as Steve sits there watching her. She lets him do that too.

"What happens now." Million-dollar question Steve. She looks at him, really, really looks at him. The golden boy sitting at the edge of the desk naked as the day he was born. He's huge. All bulging biceps and tight abs. Tree trunk thighs and hulking frame. With all of that though he's still just a man. His shoulders are pulled up towards his ears, his arms are tucked against his torso, his head is ducked, and he's looking up at her through his golden lashes. He's huge but he seems so small.

She thinks she's going to ruin him. He's going to let her.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve has a crush and nearly gets everyone killed #it's okay though because the reader is badass and can handle it #steve rogers x female reader #reader insert #G takes on writing

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scathecraw · 3 years

Text

BBRae Week 2021 - Day 3: Into The Woods

“Summer camp has been so much fun, Rachel. Teether hasn’t cried once since the day after you dropped us off, and Tommy got first place in the obstacle course. You were right, we should have done a camp last year, too.” Melvin chattered excitedly on the office phone while Rachel listened patiently. “They’ve made a bunch of arts and crafts, and the woods here are so cool. They’re really old, and Gar knows so muchabout all the trees and animals and bugs.”

“And who is this Gar, Melvin? A new friendof yours?” Rachel’s emphasis was obvious, and Melvin’s blush was practically audible.

“NO! He’s a counselor. He’s really nice, but he’s really old. Like, 50 or something. You’ll meet him on parent’s day next week.”

Rachel didn’t remember anyone older than the director, a middle aged woman she had spoken to when getting them enrolled and again during drop-off. She suspected Melvin was fibbing to cover her embarrassment, but she brought it on herself by teasing the preteen. “I’m sure I will. Does this mean that you’re going to drag me out into the forest when I come? I thought it was going to be an afternoon of arts and crafts and then some campfire songs, not a forced march.”

“Duh. Arts and crafts are lame. Gar said that next year he’d show us how to whittle, which sounds better than making lanyards.” There was muffled adolescent shouting, and Melvin covered the receiver and yelled back. “I gotta go. We’re going swimming. I’ll call you on Friday. Love you, bye.” She hung up before anything could be said back, and Rachel was left with dead air while Melvin sprinted after her friends, untied shoelaces flailing behind her.

Arriving at the aforementioned “Parent’s Day”, Rachel wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The camp had at first seemed like a good way to get the three adopted children outside instead of rotting their brains, but the sheer noise of a few dozen milling, clamoring kids and groups of socializing parents made her wonder what she had subjected them, and by extension, herself, to. She was late, which probably didn’t help the situation, but she looked around the chaos in an effort to find her own three chaos engines. Instead, she was spotted.

A wild, dirty missile made a high-volume impact with her legs, nearly toppling her and babblingso fast that even Rachel’s practiced ear couldn’t discern what he was saying. She was wobbling and about to fall over when a firm hand caught her upper back and helped her regain her balance. “Teether, dude! I said you could go get her, not try to body slam her.”

Rachel finally planted her feet, acknowledged Teether with a gentle hand on his head, and looked up. And up. They both froze for an instant, but the tanned, blond man recovered first. His slack jaw snapped into a smile, and he said “Hi. You must be Rachel. I’m Gar, one of the counselors here.”

His hand was still on her back and heat radiated from it like afternoon sun. Her face had never fallen into the silly expression his had, but unconscious thought raced before she could regain her composure. ‘Definitely not fifty,’ she thought. “Hello. Yes, I’m Rachel, Teether’s mother.” She peeled Teether from her leg with practiced ease, and he sprang off of her and ran.

Gar realized that his hand still rested behind her, almost possessively, and retreated to a more respectable distance. He chuckled, nervously. “Heh. Um, Melvin and Tommy are with their friends, still, but we should probably get them. Ms. Waller asked me to show you around – she said you had just moved to the area?” It wasn’t a question, but he phrased it like it was. They began walking back towards the milling crowd of parents, children, and quite possibly enough noise to drown out a jet engine.

“Yes, it’s our first summer here. She mentioned that most of the kids made this an annual activity, but I didn’t think we’d be so strange as to warrant a personal detail.”

“Oh it’s nothing like that, it’s just that there’s not really many other summer camps around, and ‘cause we go from K-12, we get pretty much everyone. A lot of the other parents already know everybody. You’re not strange, just… new.” His eyes never left her, even as they began walking.

Back with the crowds, Melvin and a gaggle of similarly aged girls watch the two of them. One of them nodded decisively and turned to Melvin. “Okay. They’re too cute together. Look at how awkward they’re being.”

Anotherhuffed a little. “They’re just staring at each other. They should be holding hands or something, right?”

Melvin’s eyes narrowed critically. “It’s been like 10 minutes and they aren’t kissing yet. Gar’s probably too much of a nerd to do anything. We need to do something to make sure they know how perfect for each other they are.”

“Like what? They aren’t going to start making out in the middle of the crowd.”

An evil smirk crept across Melvin’s face. “Maybe not in the middle of the crowd, but what if they were all alone in the woods? Then they’d have no excuse not to!”

A look of awe crossed her companions’ faces. “That’s evil. I love it.”

But the smirk fell, half-formed plot evaporating. “But how could we get them out there alone? It can’t be anything serious, or else Rachel will ground me forever, and I bet she won’t even go unless we can trick her into it.”

“Could you just tell her you feel sick?”

“No.” Melvin shook her head slowly. “Then she’d either stay with me or just take me home early.”

One, heretofore silent, chimed in. “I think I know what we can do. But Mel, you’re going to have to make a lanyard.” She giggled at the disgusted look, and said “C’mon, we only have like 15 minutes before they start wondering where we are.”

Across the crowd and a million miles away, Garfield and Rachel were, in fact, being tremendously awkward as they watched the kids run and play. Gar fumbled his words and couldn’t decide to stare at her eyes, the curve of her neck, or decidedly anywhere except her. Rachel was the opposite. She answered in short, monosyllabic whispers and swallowed, trying to ease her desperately dry throat.

“So, uh, you said you just moved here! Do you have a job, er, of course you do, unless you don’t! That’s fine, too! Nothing wrong with… that. Yeah.” He trailed off, before gamely trying again. “So what do you do when you’re not, y’know, coming to summer camps?”

Rachel took a deep breath and centered herself. Gar started. “I’m not, like, annoying you, am I? I’m sorry, I tend to blabber -”

“No. I’m just… a little off-kilter. I’m a curator of antiquities at the museum.”

“That is so cool. Gar’s eyes were like dinner plates. “I love the museum! I always wanted to volunteer there, but I never feel like I have time between summers here and planning classes during the year.”

“Oh, you’re a teacher? Grade school or high school?”

“High school and occasionally some classes at the community college. I figured I was already teaching AP and college bio isn’t much different. I’m sure the kids get tired of me after the sixth year, though, heh.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, uncomfortably warm even for a summer afternoon.

“I suppose they wouldn’t let you teach so many years if you weren’t good at the job. Not that biology is my area of expertise.” She clarified, hearing his unspoken question. “I studied history and preservation, so a natural history museum is certainly a big change.”

“Wow, I bet. Still, nobody does what they expected to when they were in college. I got a bachelor’s in Environmental Science, but it turns out most of those jobs are just telling corporations what they want to hear.”

Rachel leveled him with a newly assessing gaze. “Believe it or not, so are quite a few jobs in archaeology. It’s what put me off of the field.”

“But hey, teaching led me to Jump and to Lake Titan Camp, so I can’t complain.”

While the two nominal adults conversed, a far more intricate conversation was happening in the craft cabin. Kole, a pink haired co-conspirator of Melvin’s, was creating a half finished lanyard in pink and purple while the rest strategized. “Okay, so I need to throw her off so she’ll agree. The pink and purple color scheme is good – pink for me, purple for her, but I need something to knock her off her game.”

“You could tell her something that surprised her, maybe. But what?”

Realization dawned. “Okay. This is a little mean, maybe, but I was planning on talking to her about it anyway. I know just what to say. Kole, how’s the lanyard coming?”

“I’ve got it to the perfect length. Just long enough that you might ‘Need a little while to finish it, pretty please.’” She held up the dangling lengths of string. “Everything ready? We’re running out of time.”

“Now or never. Let’s go.” Melvin took a deep breath and led them to the doorway.

Garfield and Rachel were deep in conversation. The initial awkwardness had faded, and while there were still sparks flying whenever they made eye contact, it was more a static buzz than the almost painful live wire sensation of their first glances. At some point they had migrated closer to where Teether and Tommy’s two groups had merged into a supercrowd of children all making noise, forcing them to stand closer to one another to be heard. They were in this huddle, all focus on each other except for both of their frequent check-in glances to the children. Rachel had dipped her toe into a hint of vulnerability to test the waters, quietly and without fanfare explaining that she had adopted all three of them from the same orphanage she had found herself aging out of.

Gar reciprocated. “That’s really incredible. I was adopted pretty young by some family friends. I know how complicated that sort of relationship can be, but it’s doing something amazing for all three of them.”

Melvin, seeing their closeness, hesitated, just a bit. She was messing with fate, a little. But she was certain it was for a good cause. And it was now or never, they were already cutting it close to “Shared Activity Time” for her age group. “Umm. Rachel.”

“Yes, Melvin?” Rachel saw that Mel was nervous. Melvin was never nervous.

“I want to finish a project for you, but won’t have time later. So, uh, I need you to find something else to do. During the Activity Time, I mean. I just want to finish making this. Please, M-mom?”

Time stopped for Rachel. She had adopted them six years ago, and there had never been a time when Melvin had consciously called her “Mom”. Forms asking for “Mother’s Name”, sure. Mother’s day celebrations, absolutely. Even a few mostly-asleep, teary pleas, but never, never while Melvin was in control of her faculties.

But while time had stopped for Rachel, it marched onward for everyone else. Melvin held her breath and waited for long, tense seconds, but Rachel didn’t seem to be coming back to her senses, so she hurriedly spat out “Okayloveyouseeyousoon,” and fled back to the safety of her friends.

Gar, too, was frozen. Not to the same degree, nor for the same reasons, but he felt like he had intruded on something intimate that he had no business being a part of. He looked around, helplessly as Rachel gaped. After several seconds of silence, he couldn’t not do something. “Uhh. Rachel? You… okay?” More frozen immobility. He waved a hand in front of her face. “Rae? You there? Do I need to get a doctor?”

She seized his hand. “Did… did she just call me “Mom”? Or did I have a stroke?”

“Yeah, ouch. She did. I’m guessing this was new?”

“I… Yes. She’s never… What… what do I do? Was she angry I didn’t answer? Where did she go?” Rachel began looking around for her.

“Whoa, slow down. She’s with her friends. She wasn’t mad, it seemed like she was nervous, but not scared. And what you do is let her come to you and talk to her like you always do, and just make sure she knows you’re okay with it. As long as you are okay with it, right?”

“Of course. I just thought...” Rachel trailed off.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about! She loves you and just told you how she feels. That’s a good thing. Let’s give her a chance to do whatever she’s doing. The rest of the kids are about to go do an activity, so we have time.”

“I think I need to get away from the crowd for a minute. I can’t believe I’m asking this, but is it alright if we just go for a walk?”

“Of course.” Gar’s grip had at some point shifted to be holding her hand back, and he led her down a dirt path towards a grove of trees. “This path is quiet and not too hard.” Her sudden harsh look had him follow up. “You’re not really wearing the shoes for hiking, Rae.”

“Hmf. And since when did I say you could call me Rae, Garfield?”

He looked stricken. “I am so sorry. I dunno what I was thinking, Ra-chel. Rachel.”

She narrowed an eye. “Rae is… acceptable, as far as diminutives go. Just don’t make a habit of it in public.”

“Cross my heart. Hey, at least being a little mad at me put your mind off of Melvin, right?”

“And now it’s right back. So very helpful,” she deadpanned.

“Easy come, easy go, right?” His smile grew a little. “I don’t wanna pry or anything, but is it really that surprising? She said you were her mom like, a dozen times during camp.”

“I suppose not. It caught me very off-guard, though. Teether and Tommy sort of switch between Rachel and Mom, but Melvin’s never really seemed like she even wanted that sort of, I don’t know, ‘Official’ title for me.”

“Listen, the whole ‘mom’ thing isn’t as scary as you’re making it out to be. You’re already giving her the kind of love a mom is supposed to, and she loves you. She talks about all the time with stars in her eyes. Being adopted doesn’t make her less your daughter. Rita Farr isn’t any less my mom for taking me in when I was eight, and Marie Logan isn’t any more or less important to me just because she’s not around.”

Rachel took a breath and sighed it out. “Thank you. That does make it easier.” They walked in silence for a short time. “Wait, Rita Farr, as in the movie star? As in, the philanthropist and art collector, married to Steve Dayton?”

He blushed a little. “Whoops, probably shouldn’ta dropped that so casually, I guess. Yeah. Steve and Rita adopted me when my parents died. It’s not always easy, but I love ‘em.” He watched her reaction carefully, hoping she wouldn’t suddenly start treating him differently for having such well-known parents.

Rachel schooled her face after having that bombshell dropped on her. “Well, if we ever meet we’ll be able to talk about some historic pieces she has that I wrote papers on.”

A beat passed, then Gar’s loud laugh broke relative silence of the forest. “Aw man, she is gonna love you.”

And just like that, the tension was broken. All the concern, the lack of balance, everything fell away, and the static buzz of easy conversation punctuated by something just a little too close to intimate for an average friendship was back.

They wandered together down the shady paths, miles away and only a few trees distant from the campground. Rachel didn’t notice the distance she had walked on the formerly dreaded forest hike, and Garfield forgot to try quite so hard with his jokes and wise cracks. They walked, hand in hand and only somewhat realizing how close they were to one another, shoulders nearly touching.

The spell was eventually broken, as they always are. They rounded a final bend, seeing in the distance the campground they had left, what, less than an hour ago? And the reality that they had left behind when they entered the sun-shafted canopies woke them up, and they found that really, their hands were quite slick. Had they been clasped together the whole time? And Rachel, especially, was starting to sweat from the heat and the walk. Garfield was suddenly nervous, after all, he never talked this much, not without making a fool of himself.

But even after emerging from that hazy dream, they held on, gently rising out of the fog and into the real world so no sudden movements could disrupt the memory, the closeness that two almost strangers that fit together like complementary puzzle pieces had shared.

It wasn’t even fully dispelled when their hands slipped apart to be wiped on cargo shorts or dark jeans, though the almost hidden flight from behind a few low-branched trees of blonde hair and untied shoelaces and quiet giggle quickly sobered them.

Garfield turned. “Was that -?”

“Melvin. Oh, that little brat, she is too damn smart for her own good. I would put money on her scheming to get us alone.” Rachel fumed and her face tightened into a mask of cold anger. “I can’t believe that she would manipulate me like this! How could she – How could she finally call me -” and the mask broke, shifting from anger to near tears in seconds.

Gar panicked. “Whoa, hold on, no. She’s not that cruel, I know it and so do you. We’re probably missing something. You just said you can’t believe she would do this – she probably didn’t. Rae I promise you, there’s got to be an explanation that makes sense.”

Rachel took a deep breath, followed by another, centering herself. “I am going to get to the bottom of this. Where would she be doing this “project” she made up?”

“The craft cabin. I’ll take you there, but I guarantee you it’s not as bad as it might sound.”

It was like the crowd parted for them without even reacting. No one looked at the worried counselor or at the steely featured parent, but nonetheless they found their path almost unimpeded. Gar held up a hand just outside the door. “Let me get you two some privacy. Please.”

“Fine. Do it.” Terse and unhappy, Rachel’s displeasure was apparent in her voice, and it made Garfield wince.

He opened the door to see five preteen girls, huddled and tittering. At least until they saw him and his serious frown. Then their eyes went wide, and they looked to Melvin in a panic. “Out, girls. Clear the room. Not you, Melvin.” He stopped her when she tried to take shelter in the middle of the pack. He turned to follow them, and glanced back almost pityingly, then shook his head and exited.

The girls all ducked their heads when they saw Rachel just outside the cabin and hurried off, racing to be the first around the corner and away from the ticking time bomb.

Garfield simply nodded, and left her to it. Rachel entered the cabin and saw Melvin almost trembling, and it broke her heart. She had worked up a head of steam on the walk and the wait, but seeing her precious daughter actually afraid stopped any real anger and left only a bitter emptiness.

Rachel wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hands. She settled on a vague, open armed shrug gesture. “Why, Mel? Was it just a prank? Just a way to manipulate me?”

Tears brimmed in Melvin’s eyes. “No, I just wanted to give you guys a chance to talk alone. I’m sorry I lied, I really did try on the lanyard, but I’m just bad at them so I had Kole do it. I’m sorry, I am.”

“What? What lanyard? Melvin, I don’t care if you had a friend help with a lanyard! I just can’t believe that you would call me your mom, just to trick me into talking to someone. I can’t tell you how badly that hurts me. I… I love you too much for that.”

“What!No, nononono, Mom, I promise that wasn’t a trick. I promise. I was gonna talk to you about it, but I just – I thought that if I – I thought that maybe if I just did it you’d just let me and maybe you’d talk to him and then it everything would be perfect. I promise. I love you, Mom. I do. And I was just trying to maybe make you not spend all your time watching me and talk to him. He’s really cool, and I could tell you like him, and he’s completely in love with you, and you’re perfect for each other. I was just trying to help you be happy!” She sobbed, breathless.

Rachel froze, then instinctively wrapped her daughter in her arms and let her cry. “Mel, you don’t need to worry about me. I am happy, I promise. I don’t need you to try to trick me into being happy. Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to say I’m not mad, but I get it. You don’t have to trick me into talking to, what did you call him, “really old, like 50 years old” guys? If we talk, we talk. That’s how adults work.”

“No, it’s not! I’ve never seen you go on a date, and you just ignore people when they try to talk to you. I know it was dumb, but I had to try something ‘cause otherwise you’d just give him that serious face until he ran away, and he’s perfect for you if you’d just give him a chance!”

“Mel. Mel, okay. I promise. I will give him a chance. But you don’t need to be worried about me. I don’t need a twelve year old playing matchmaker. You should be doing kid things, not bad romcom plots.”

“*SNRK*. They’re not bad. They’re sweet. And you like them, otherwise you wouldn’t have so many of them.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and glowered.

Rachel internally cursed Kori. “If you say so. Now let’s sit here for a minute, then we can go wash your face and you can go hand out with your friends. And I will have a talk with Garfield, and you will not stick your nose into my dating life. Understand?”

“Yes, mom.”

It still startled Rachel to hear that coming from Melvin, but it also warmed her heart. She hadn’t even known she wanted it until it happened, but it was like a spoken guarantee that she really was doing things right, and her little family really was working.

They sat together and Melvin showed her the lanyard that she had made via Kole. Rachel put it on the silver chain she wore around her neck and let it rest beside her heart promising mostly to herself that it would be kept safe at home. Then, when Mel had calmed down, they headed to the bathroom where Mel cleaned the tear tracks from her dirt-smudged face and rinsed her red rimmed eyes. Rachel gave her a final kiss on the forehead, and sent her off.

Gar found her standing there, staring off into space against the wall of the concrete shack. He leaned against it and slid down to sit around the corner and next to her. “So.”

“So,” she said back.

“Not saying it just to confuse you?” He glanced at her, gauging her reaction.

“No. But she wasn’t against confusing me.”

His eyebrow cocked. “Not mad?”

“Still mad. Still going to be grounded, probably. But she did it out of love.”

“Y’know, I don’t want to say I told you so, but...”

“But you totally want to say ‘I told you so,’” she finished for him.

“Yep. So what now?”

“Now, I guess I do what I was going to do before we had all this to deal with,” she said, the soul of nonchalance.

“What’s that?” he said, and when she didn’t respond, he stood up and looked around the corner. “Rae?”

“This.” with only his head around the corner, she turned and kissed him, gentle and sweet, and far too short for either of them. “I’d like to go out sometime. I want to take you to a behind the scenes at the museum, and I’ll let you choose the restaurant.”

His head spun and his eyes were out of focus. His thoughts were like molasses and he could barely get out the word “Okay.” before she was gone, a little bounce in her step.

AO3 FF.net

#bbraeweek21 #bbrae #fic

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