#like who the fuck else am I going to make bloom what other choice do I have </3

[arolesbianism]

Bad news guys I'm having thoughts abt that stupid bndori + sekai eternal gales au again. Anyways Ive come across the horrible realisation that everything adds up perfectly for Chu2 to be Bloom someone kill me please

#rat rambles #eternal gales #band posting #sekai posting #I was like it might be easier to fit chu2 as bloom instead of a sekai character but then I was like no cause then au chu2 would be a thing #and I dont wanna imagine chu2 in her 30s #but then I was like wait fuck. pareo could be colin. fuck. #and she would be like 11 with my timeline shit here so like. fucking hell Id be stupid to pass up this oppertunity #like who the fuck else am I going to make bloom what other choice do I have </3 #plus it gives me room to be more leniant with my fydd choice #also Ive decided whos going to be aris and tali but like in a very 5d chess sorta way #ako is aris and mafuyu is tali. but also au mafuyu is kinda au aris also. and au ako is au tali. it makes sense in my head ok #also I dont think I said this but uhhh the crossover siblings are the snake triplets sorry for being cringe #theyre the reason I made this damn au lol #but yeah now Im enforcing a strict no more bndori characters as the human kids rule theres already 3 and rly thats 3 too many #luckily theres only 3 more I need to decide on if Im remembering correctly #and by 3 I more so mean 2 because Im like 80% sold on kanade as dodie already it just depends on if I can find a good mase for her

[toji-girl]

can we have a merciless sukuna just pounding you for hours and hours to take his cock in front of a mirror and him saying "look how fucked out you are" AKJFHKAJFHKAHFAKH -👺

18+ content only - mdni

this is really short knajge but I'm dipping my toes back into posting! this is not my best writing but I wanted to post this still sknjrtr

tags: fem reader + explicit smut + true form! Sukuna + double penetration in one hole + overstimulation + sukuna is occ because I made him a love-sick fool

"Sukuna! Slow down!" You squealed trying to get the King Of Curses to listen to you as you hurried behind him feeling your heart thud with each step that brought you closer to the kitchen where the servant who tried to put a move on you stood preparing dinner.

He finally stopped when you grasped his robe tugging on it with all your might. With blood rushing to your ears you took a step back when your lover turned around to look down at you. "I'm going to kill him and put his head on a stake so everyone knows." He muttered.

You stepped forward to slide your much smaller hand into one of his four. "It's not even seven am and you're already talking about murder, let's go enjoy a bath together or something, because here soon you will not have any servants left if you keep offing them." You told him.

Sukuna was a man, or monster that most people called him wasn't someone you wanted to argue with but you knew he had a soft spot for you, his wife. You were the only one not scared to step up to him.

He liked seeing the fiery look in your eyes when you challenged him, at first Sukuna enjoyed having you as one of his servants until he made you his wife. "Then they need to stop looking at what's mine, you're my brat, not anyone else's." He tutted rolling his eyes.

"You know The King Of Curses doesn't pout, right?" You teased turning away to make your way down the hallway that brought in a natural light that bathed you in it stopping Sukuna in his steps to watch you disappear around the corner.

It didn't take him long to reach the bedroom in time to see you dropping your robe before stepping towards the bathroom but you were stopped when he swept you off your feet quickly tossing you on the bed gently hearing you giggle and squeal his name.

Your laughter was one of the sounds that didn't grate on his nerves and he wanted to be greedy and lap it up, the man who has killed many and has done unforgivable crimes knows he doesn't deserve you but Sukuna never claimed to be a good man and he wanted you.

The idea of his servants eyeing you made his blood boil with anger and a protectiveness that flared deep within him like a flower under the warm sun after a long reason of rain and cold, the petals blooming and taking over.

Sukuna joined you on the bed hearing it creak to cover your body with his.

That's how you ended up on your knees with Sukuna behind you an hour later, two arms wrapped around your waist, one between your legs to circle your clit, and the other holding the back of your neck when you rested his head on his shoulder feeling both cocks slide back into you with a wet squelch that made you huff.

It was quite a mess really with how he kept pulling orgasms from you like a magician does with scarves out of his hand, Sukuna controlled your body and you wouldn't have it any other way when he made you feel this good. "Look at you, so fucked out." He growled in your ear.

He knew what he was doing too when he made sure that same servant had to pass the bedroom to hear the bed squeaking and your unashamed moans, the same man who wanted you also had no choice but to see it happening with the door open for him to see.

Sukuna caught his gaze as you continued to stare in the mirror at your husband who cared greatly for you before catching onto the silent stare-off between him and the servant.

It wasn't the first time this had happened and while you never minded if people watched you both there was something inside you that snapped knowing that he wanted you, your pussy gushed around Sukuna as he stilled to bury himself deep inside you with a groan.

Later that night when you entered the kitchen for a late-night drink you were met with Sukuna cornering the man from earlier. "Kuna?" He whirled around to see you standing there confused.

The man couldn't be more grateful for you in this moment as he scurried away from certain death.

#💌incoming #👺anon #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader smut #jjk smut #ryomen sukuna smut #Sukuna x you smut

[ladybeug]

Alright so

It has been about 24 hours since i finished @peachcitts fanfiction metamorphosis and i spent at least 3 of those hours making a fanmix.

Listen, Im sorry, this is just who I am, Im someone who wants to make a playlist about a specific iteration of ml characters. Especially if there are some grey morals up in there.

read the fic, listen to the fanmix, follow me under the cut thats where the party is

...and by party I mean analytical summary of each song.

I'm about to talk about some of these choices I made in depth, as a treat for myself. An indulgence. I'll keep the fic references high level but there may be some theme/tone spoilers so real talk go read the fic and meet me back here.

@peachcitt I know I tagged you but this will get long you do not have to read it or acknowledge this homage just know I appreciated your story and thought a lot about it.

so.

the whole playlist is meant to be listened to start to finish, its half the tragedy and half the hard work to get your life right side up and the rewards.

I actively tried not to put Cry for Judas on here and i did ANYWAYS

its on so many of my playlists already, I'm loose with this song. But frankly if i could only keep it on one I would keep it on here. I mean I just don't think any other adrien iterations do things just to see how bad they'll make him feel QUITE like this one and i just HAD to have that as the first line of lyrics in the playlist.

I'm just also obsessed with sad and angry, can't learn how to behave?? The tragic acceptance of being unable to be good??

find me a better match. this song had to be on here and it had to be first.

Your Ghost - this might be the only song thats only about Marinette which is a crime because I really connected with her pov but the truth is that this is an adrien fanmix and i need to accept that.

But for real the acceptance but inability to move on in this song is just perfect.

Can't Lose - maybe the angriest song on here? A little angrier than I was going for but I had to keep this one though because, I mean, "I'm thinking I can't move if there isn't somewhere else to go?" like, the, 'sure what im doing is bad but what else IS there' of it, I mean, what can I even say. It had to be on here.

If you only listen to one song on here listen to Animal Mask.

It's a song about partners in a wrestling match written as a metaphor for when John Darnielle's wife was in labor, and its so tender and sweet, and frankly it sounds like it could have been written for metamorphosis for like every single flashback of ladybug and chat noir.

I could quote every line and be like 'this is them' but like, 'hold on,' I cried, 'I'll be right there', pulled your mask down through your hair. they won't see you, not until you want them to. What am I supposed to say?? It moves me deeply I'm having emotional problems please come join me. Every other song on this playlist doesn't matter.

Anyways intermission, while we're here, let me share this experience that I had today with you:

I did then proceed to count, was appropriately ashamed that about 25% of the playlist was mountain goats, and extremely painfully chose to remove 'oceanographer's choice'.

[tangent about Oceanographers Choice vs Haunted House]

As obsessed as I am with going straight from the unbearably tender memory in animal mask to oceanographer's choice, first line: "well, guy in a skeleton costume, walks up to a guy in a superman suit, runs through him with a broadsword", the anxious switch in music, and then straight into a song about a fucked up guy fighting the woman he is still complicatedly in love with.... and he doesn't know how else to be....

oh no, listen, as I typed that I half convinced myself to add it back in again

but I won't because I even more love the transit of animal mask to the shrill and tense line in Haunted House, "I was buried in the summer, all those parties ago", and then a confused and hysterical song about dissociation and loss of control in a world where nobody seems connected to what you're going through. The tone is more ungrounded, and scared, and less resigned. Which matches what I was going for - I tried to avoid songs that were just like... "yeah i'm evil >:) thats my identity"

[end tangent]

Little Pistol I feel like I barely have to justify, but I will say what really sold me is the reference to 'I want what's best for me, and I think I know just what that means'. But then also the slight change in tune at the end? Delicious?

The Run and Go, just read the fic ok

I Wanna Get Better is one that honestly feels like it doesn't fit perfectly but I'm really drawn to a sharp turning point in the playlist from 'bad and spiraling' to 'desperately clawing my way up' which is how reading the fic felt at a certain point, and this song feels like the perfect tonal shift and has the end-of-a-movie screaming conviction that I want. Its also just so good

Do it Anyways might be the second most important song... third most important? on this fanmix. The frantic, panicky music matched with the unwavering conviction to improvement is so unmatched honestly and if we're talking about how hard it is to be your best when you feel your worst, oh my god. Read the fic, listen at 2:44 and meet me back here and there's nothing else I even need to say

Absolute Lithops Effect.... I tricked you, this is also a mountain goats song :) its a cover though so I'm not counting it.

This is one of the most beautiful songs about hope for the future and growth that I know its very important to me. The title of the playlist comes from this song. Here's what you need to know about it:

Lithops are these:

They grow so slowly they don't look like they're growing at all. But they are.

Love Love Love: Ugh don't talk to me about love love love. I'm not going to explain how this connects to the fic. It does, I'm right. There's nothing I can say about this that can't be said better by Mr. Mountain Goats himself:

"The point of the song is, you know, that we are fairly well damaged by the legacy of the Romantic poets--that we think of love as this, you know, thing that is accompanied by strings and it's a force for good, and if something bad happens then that's not love. And the therapeutic tradition that I come from--I used to work in therapy--you know, also says that it's not love if it feels bad. I don't know so much about that. I don't know that the Greeks weren't right. I think they were--that love can eat a path through everything--that it will destroy a lot of things on the way to its own objective, which is just its expression of itself, you know. I mean, my stepfather loved his family, right? Now he mistreated us terribly quite often, but he loved us. And, you know, well, that to me is something worth commenting on in the hopes of undoing a lot of what I perceive as terrible damage in the way people talk about this--love is this benign, comfortable force. It's not that. It's wild, you know?" — NPR interview with Linda Wertheimer, 14 May 2005

Metamorphosis: okay this one I added to make myself laugh but I also stand by it thematically

SUPERBLOOM: Don't we all deserve a little celebration for the hard work we do?

Anyways this is my fanmix, if you read to here I love you and you're welcome for all the mountain goats songs I peeled off of here that I didn't even tell you about. I didn't even put heel turn 2 on here. Whoops ok now i've told you about that one.

#I get into this routine where I start a playlist thinking... this is just for fun #its just for me #i love to have a fanmix it will be a fun project for me to express and create and reinterpret #and organize and sort #and then i spend so long on it and think so hard about each song and the order and the tone #that it becomes a piece of art im attached to and then i want to share it even though its SO NICHE ITS ALWAYS SO NICHE im so sorry to do th #im doing it though #Spotify #anyways thank you for humoring me sorry to everyone #this is so long and uncalled for (except by me im calling so much)

[sheviolentlyher]

Friday and the only thing I can think is that god is the infinite nothingness. It’s why people are more content with calling it “the universe “ because it’s something we know has energy and we know exists, with the same thought of something being more powerful than us, igniting the worship.

smoke weed and draw. channel creativity. I can see things no one else sees. That’s how I fall in love with myself over and over again.

Queen of underground- queen of creativity, queen of new world, maker of reality.

I may be manic. I may be just bored. I become manic when bored. But because I realize it — it’s artistic and articulate. Sometimes I let it be destructive- just for fun. I can find excuses for anything really. But what or who deems them excuses? Why not dreams?

there isn’t a single fucking cloud in the sky, and it looks like an upside down ocean.

I’m thinking crazy. Everything that I want wants me, and again I’m worry free and begin attracting. Choice is only an illusion when applied to reality. Choice is a mentality.

the choice is mine. I choose to think- I choose to love.

I am a phantom bride that dances the halls of my mansion mind, perfectly happy she is alone and there is no one there to reject her. What if ghosts are afraid of our rejection? What if energy is afraid of our rejection? What if what is meant for us is afraid of us? It can’t afford our hostility, so it circles us just out of reach—- I don’t really like being relaxed in my void. I can’t do nothing for long, but I’m learning to listen to the silence.

the birds here are absolutely stunning. The loudest I’ve ever experienced— it makes me feel like Snow White and again I’m lucky.

I was thinking about my husband yesterday. The way he thinks is so solid, he seems to have no visible anxiety or worry- ever. He is a straight shooter and recovers quickly when presented obstacles. I know this because this potent masterpiece of masculinity keeps my divine feminine soft, nurturing, creative, blooming, free and most importantly stable. He’s my best friend, but I want to make him my lover. Him and I jumped into life so quickly, but he never let go of each others hands. And now it’s time for me to get to know him as a lover — it’s time he gets to know me as a lover — being me attracts him the most, it gives him satisfaction to see me happy and moving authenticity. He knows there are a million different versions of me and seems to be accepting that they always make one of me.

I am not ashamed to admit my lust for money, sex and violence. That is a monster that lives inside me, a muse, a slave. It may be a monster but i am a bigger one and i have control of reality, more so than i think now. Yes im hard on myself, but it’s all constructive even if it may project as destructive. I stand in my belief that destruction is inevitable so you might as well learn to become the architect of you head, your mind- your thoughts. Building carefully, maybe pulling like jenga- it may fall but the pieces are always still intact, so there is no “real” loss- only the feeling of loss. Are we tired? Yes. But I mean either way we become tired—- so what will your intentions be? Intentions live subconsciously.

We need to capture them like kings. Never being the victim but the victor. Battle isn’t pretty but it can be slow and silent like a game of chess. ♟️ don’t let the world convince you battle only counts if there is blood, you don’t need to bleed, you need to think. Exercise your god damn mind. It is a muscle for god sake- the most valuable, the most magical, without the mind we are vegetables.

You are loved. You are noticed. You are wanted. You are of god. You are of the stars. You are human. You are beautiful.

-x

#it’s friday #friday vibes #girl in pieces #girl interrupted #self concept #human nature #human behaviour #human #diary #tumblr diary #diaryposting #personal diary #poetic #writeblr #writing #writers and poets #poetry #poetry blog #please reach deep into my mind #deep thinking #dear diary #deep thoughts #deep writing #free writing #thoughts into the void

[m5ria]

Chapter 16: The Letter

I wake up with less pain, but the same mixed feelings as yesterday.

My mother used to say to listen to my instincts when something is unclear. And, as far as I can tell, my instincts tell me to run and start a life somewhere else.

The only reason why I haven’t left yet is I was trying to make sure that this is the best decision. I’m still not sure, but not doing anything is still a choice.

So, for the rest of the day, I’ve been plotting my departure. I can’t be too obvious and I need to somehow send Charlie a message to ask her not to look for me. It’ll have to be convincing enough.

A letter! That will do.

Another aspect to consider is where I’m going to stay. Unfortunately, the Radio Demon knows about my forest and the remaining of my house. I can’t go back there for the time being. If there’ll be a search party for me for some reason, that area would be the first one to inspect.

I hate that I’ll have to abandon it. I am not even sure for how long. Some years might be necessary for every demon that interacted with me in the past few days to forget about me. Which means I have to find a new home.

I search on my hellphone for the Pride Ring map. It seems there are some mountains somewhere in the southwest of Pentagram City, quite far from the awful city. I could lay low there for a couple of months.

It doesn’t sound ideal, a life of a nomad, but for the past eleven years, I’ve lived like this. When I escaped home, I had to travel around Europe to erase the trace of the girl I was. I had to change identities, homes, countries, and languages. 

It wasn’t the worst life, having the chance to explore so many cultures. It was free, independent, and fulfilling. It’s true that it was lonely as well, and sometimes I had mental breakdowns, not seeing any reason to live anymore if there was no one to remember me.

That was until I met Fleur. With her life somehow bloomed. We were strangers, me a huntress, and she the daughter of the chef I used to sell my venison to. The circumstance brought us together as friends, and then the best of friends, something I’ve lacked my entire life. I don’t know when or where I realized that what I felt wasn’t for a best friend, not having any experience in friendships, but one time she kissed me and... I liked kissing her back.

The worst part of her incredible memory is that I don’t remember the last time I saw her. We were still together when I died, I know that for sure. But I remember almost nothing about my death. Was she in our cottage? Was she waiting for me to arrive home? Did she find me dead under the night sky? 

It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. She lived and I didn’t. I can’t reach her. And, if she... 

No. She didn’t die. But if she did... She’d be in Heaven one hundred per cent.

I look out the window, where the Pentagram Star shines above the horrible black buildings. I hope she is well, wherever she is.

I finish packing my few possessions and teleport downstairs. I checked if there was anyone there before I appeared in the hallway. With the letter for Charlie in my hands, I walk towards the bar. But, before I let it sit on the counter, I hear someone opening the big entrance doors. 

I don’t have time to react as I turn around and see Angel and... another sinner, coming in and talking. I prepare on explaining my letter and backpack, but they don’t seem to see me. I look down and see... Nothing.

I’m invisible.

“It’s chaos out there!” Angel rolls his eyes. “No one wants to fuck anymore, all so worried as shit!”

“Who isn’t worried in Hell?” the other sinner mutters.

“For this exact reason there are drugs,” Angel points out, grabbing a cigarette from one pocket of his suit.

Angel lied to me. Why?

“You think it’s best to smoke here?” the other one glances around, his eyes passing through me. “I don’t think you want Vaggie to see you...”

“Fuck Vaggie!” he inhales from his cigarette. “In da last few days, I only hear her scream at me.”

“So, you want her to scream even more at you?”

“I don’t fucking care!”

“Angel, if you need to talk...”

“Damn straight I wanna talk,” the spider cuts in. “This gets outta hand already. It’s enough that I have to avoid him, but now I have to literally detour the entire City because of his lackeys. And they’re not even looking fer me!”

“They are looking for the sinner who involved you in the heist,” the other sinner points out. A shadow of guilt on Angel’s face quickly disappears. “If they see you, it’ll be double reward for him.”

“So what? Ya, tell me to just sit here fer the rest of my (after)life?”

“I tell you to wait,” the stranger grabs Angel by his shoulders, making the spider stay still. “It’ll pass. Now, it’s dangerous out there. The Vees are searching every corner of Pentagram City. Hell, of the entire Pride Ring! Except the hotel. It’s safe here.”

“Don’t tell me what’s safe and what’s not,” Angel shoves his hands. “I get that speech millions of times from Charlie already.”

“Then maybe you should listen!” the sinner pushes Angel lightly. “We’re just looking out for ya!”

“I don’t need anyone looking out fer me!” Angel hisses. “I’m fine!”

“Are you, tho?” the other eyes him, knowingly.

“Fuck you!” Angel drops his cigarette on the floor before stepping on it, and then he bolts to the staircase.

The unknown demon stays silent for a few seconds, looking tiredly at where Angel has disappeared, and then they go the same way. 

There are so many questions whirling in my head: who is that demon? Are they another hotel resident? Why haven’t I met them already? What are them to Angel?

Then, I replay everything they’ve said: the Vees are looking for the sinner responsible for the heist. Jane, the Wild One, who hunts for a living. I bet they’re not searching only the industrial areas with the information I’ve provided... more like the wild ones. 

How far can they search for me? And for how long?

And they don’t search the hotel? It’s one of the most obvious choices, due to Alastor’s association with me. But maybe they’re... scared? Was their defeat that awful?

I realize that it might not be as safe to walk the streets of Hell or stroll in my woods as before... And it wasn’t safe then either. What if I’m caught? This time, Valentino wouldn’t underestimate me. And he clearly is more powerful than me. 

But I can’t hide here forever!

I look around at the hotel. The letter in my hands feels like warming up. Why do I reevaluate my decision? I thought I have agreed on leaving!

You are running away... Again... It’s the best thing you can do.

Not true.

Right. The best thing you can do is hide. Not much of an alternative...

What do you want me to do? Fight? I’m helpless. I know almost nothing about my powers or how to use them. I’m like a child with a gun. Pathetic.

This is Hell. Its inhabitants would not hesitate to torture me, kill me, or hand me to the ones who search for me. Make my (after)life a living hell.

But Hell doesn’t mean only sinners. Hell has other demons, who were born here and can choose to be good. Like Charlie. 

Can I trust Charlie?

I look at my letter. I know (for some reason) that my words written there would sadden the Princess. Something in me thinks I can trust her. Should I trust my gut?

It saved me so many times before. Why refuse to listen to it now?

I turn myself visible and rip the letter into tens of pieces. 

☽

Alastor POV:

After my late evening podcast, I decided I wanted to stall my arriving at dinner. It was Vagatha’s turn to cook and, judging by the soft smell, she made a disgustingly sweet meal.

This won’t do.

I’ve been leaning on the rail of the last-floor balcony for a couple of minutes now, watching the Pentagram City roar its usual pained song. Reminiscing the days, I used to play that sound, louder and so much more beautiful.

Somewhere out there is my worst enemy, still healing his wounds we’ve caused him. Or nursing his pest boyfriend who has been taken down so easily by a mere naive sinner.

The thought only brings me immense joy. Humming a random melody, I ponder on what he might do next. We already know it was Lucifer who sent them, despite the fact that their goals align ever so perfectly. However, ever since then, there is no word from the King of Hell.

All the better. I so relish surprises.

My contemplation is joyfully interrupted by Diana’s materialization. 

It took her only one day. This should be fun.

I don’t make any move to acknowledge her presence. I’ll let her break the silence. Something she despises.

“I…” Diana begins to say, then she clears her throat, “I have been thinking about your offer. And I’m still not accepting it.”

I prevent a burst of laughter from surfacing. This little darling is most amusing!

“Not under the terms you’ve mentioned,” she adds. I can literally hear her words being ripped out from her throat.

“Oh?” I turn around and lean my back on the rail. She is standing straight like a statue. The way she faces a threat. 

Of course, the thought only makes my smile grow.

“There are four powers I know of,” she admits bitterly. “You’d guide me through each of them and, in return, I’d do a task for you. Not a favor. A task. For each session.”

I cock an eyebrow as I watch her trying to emanate control. She’s somehow a combination between both Charlotte and Vagatha. Control obsessed and stubborn, yet intuitive and hope delusional. Of course, nothing truly special about her, as I’ve met a dozen Dianas both alive and dead. Regardless, it’s an uncommon and entertaining combination. 

“Neither of these tasks can be me offering my soul or (after)life to you. This deal will not be longer than it’s supposed to be,” she finishes with her black and blue eyes set on mine. Daring me.

Alright then. I’ll play your game.

“And what if you fail to do one of these tasks?” I lean my head curiously.

“I can assure you that won’t happen,” she smiles devilishly. 

“Ho ho ho,” I chuckle, delighted. “I’m going to need more than that!”

I truly enjoy this game.

“What?” she provokes. “Do you suppose I’m not a woman of my word?”

“Oh, no, dear,” I finally stop laughing, still grinning. “I am sure your intentions are to keep your word. However, I don’t believe you’d survive to keep that promise.”

“You underestimate me,” she smiles smugly. “I would do whatever task you would assign me to. That is, if you accept my offer.”

Ooh, now this is her offer? Let’s change that …

“If you’d fail to achieve one of these tasks, it’d mean you’d be in my debt,” I walk to her. “I believe you know what this implies.”

I reach her ears and whisper ever so quietly: “Your soul will belong to me.”

I’ve glimpsed her ears shudder almost unnoticeable. I take two steps back to regard her, but other than that, I don’t see any signs of surprise. She is good.

“Fine,” she agrees. “Oh, and there’s one more aspect to tackle.”

Oh, yes. She shall never cease to surprise me.

“The fact that you’ll know about my powers,” she resumes. “It is important to you. Why else you wouldn’t tell Charlie I have them in the first place? Information is power. So, if I am to give up on it, you’ll have to give up on some too.”

She grins, watching me with whole focus. 

“After your tasks, I shall ask you a question of my choosing,” she continues. “As unpredictable as your tasks. To be fair. And you’ll have to answer it honestly. And not a simple yes or no,” she quickly adds. “That... Would be cheating … Detailed answers. Satisfying answers.”

I study her, looking for any signs of weakness, besides the fact that she returned to me. She truly wants to be more powerful, but this isn’t her endgame. There is something else, something I shall find out if I take the deal.

Yet, I don’t particularly appreciate the way she thinks she can pull the strings. She’s a mere sinner, toying with a Hell Overlord. She should know her place. She should know that being a hotel resident doesn’t protect her from Hell’s wrath... Or my own.

She will learn in time. And, oh, how I’m going to enjoy myself in the meantime...

“Alright, then,” I agree. I grin when I notice her unintentionally surprised eyes. “You may ask one question, after every task you successfully complete. That is to say if you survive all five of them!”

“Oh, I will!” she says before registering my words. Then, with a look of confusion, she asks: “Wait. Why five? I told you I know of four powers. Is this a ploy to get a bonus task??”

“That would be a bonus task, with a bonus question!” I wink. “Consider the last session as a summary! See if you learned something. Maybe combine your powers together. See if there emerges any new power. You never know!”

Before she contradicts me, I quickly say: “Besides... Four? Such an ugly number! Even numbers are for the dead!”

I see my remark has surprised her so much, she forgot to argue. I can literally see the wheels turn in her brain, before she agrees: “Fine. Five sessions, five tasks, five questions. But then, it is done.”

“One way or the other.”

I wait for her to cower away, to be frightened, but the only thing she does is walk to me and say: “We’ll see what you’re made of, Radio Demon.”

“So...” I smile widely, as I once again summon the green pact, “It’s a deal, then?”

This time, she looks at me instead of my palm. With her eyes fierce, she grabs my hand. Her grip is as strong as mine, even when the green fire burns our clutched palms. 

Something about this deal feels a little bit different. I don’t feel her soul in my control like I used to. Instead, there’s only a replica. A counterpart for when she’ll fail.

And she will fail.

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A/N: Hello, guys!

I'm sorry for my big delay! Final exams and everything tend to occupy your time more than usual ...

I'm working hard to get back on track!

Thank you so much for your support!

~ ria

#alastor #alastorandoriginalcharacter #alastorhazbinhotel #alastoranddiana #dianathorn #angeldust #charliemorningstar #charliemagne #vaggie #vaggiehazbinhotel #charliehazbinhotel #angeldusthazbinhotel #husk #huskhazbinhotel #hazbinhotel #valentinohazbinhotel #voxhazbinhotel #luciferhazbinhotel #lilithhazbinhotel #fatnuggets #hell #helluvaboss #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbinhotelcharlie #hazbinhotelangeldust #hazbinhotelvaggie #hazbinhotelhusk #hazbinhotelnifty #hazbinhotelcherrybomb #cherribomb

[percontaion-points]

Crave chapters 45-47

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 45

“When I hit on you, it’ll be because you want me to. And we’ll both know exactly what’s going on when I do.”

Chapter 45 summary: The earthquake is a small one. After it ends, Grace texts Jaxon, but he doesn’t respond. She wants to go back to his room, but eventually decides “fuck him. He should come to me now.” 

So instead, she goes to the library, where she meets the librarian, Amka. She’s a witch, and she can control some of the elements. She makes it snow inside of the library a little. Amka then tells Grace to go down this one aisle where she can learn more about dragons, and gives Grace a bottle of water before she goes. 

However, instead of finding a book, she instead finds Flint. He pulls out a bag of marshmallows, and they do this thing where they fling the treats up into the air and Flint roasts them. When Grace pulls out her bottle of water and freezes it over. And then he makes flowers bloom all over his arm and he puts them into her hair. 

Grace then gets uncomfortable with the last bit, mainly because while she does like Flint, it’s not in the same way she likes Jaxon. Flint is quick to assure her that he’s not hitting on her… although it’s spoken like a guy who was called out for trying to flirt with a girl. 

Chapter 46

“What’s going on?” I ask again. 

“I don’t know yet. But the Order is on the move.”

You know, considering all that’s happened to Grace, you’d think hiding her away in the library would be the best course of action.

Oh wait, I’m using that pesky logic again. We can’t have that, because then she’d simply be eating marshmallows in the library, and not stirring up more drama. 

And when he takes my elbow in a grip that is as gentle as it is unyielding, I go with him. Because, honestly, what else am I going to do?

Chapter 46 summary: Things are suddenly quite awkward between Flint and Grace. But mercifully, the author has a “get out of awkward lulls in plot” card handy. Flint gets a bunch of texts, and tells Grace that something is happening with the Order, aka Jaxon’s group of friends. 

The two of them race from the library, and catch up with a bunch of other students. Grace sees Jaxon and tries to call out to him, but he’s either too far away or he’s purposely ignoring her. 

Anyway, Grace and Flint follow the vampires into one of the student lounges. In there, Jaxon uses the force to slam one of the werewolves into the wall. This sparks a huge fight between the vampires and werewolves. Other students get in on it, too, but Grace and Flint watch from the doorway of the room. 

After a moment, there’s a lull in the fight, and Grace begs Jaxon to stop. He instead picks up the kid in a force-choke. Grace screams at him to stop, and tries to go forward, but finds that she physically cannot because of a forcefield around her. Jaxon releases the boy and roughly bites him on the neck. Once he pulls away, Jaxon says “this is your only warning”. 

He then steers Grace away from the room. 

Chapter 47

“Is there something wrong with you?” he demands. “Or is it just that you have a death wish?”

That’s a fair question. Grace suffers from “being too stupid to be alive” syndrome. And literally the only reason why she is alive is because she’s the main character. 

“It means, which part of what I just saw should I be afraid of? The part where you threw everyone across the room? Or the part where you hung someone in the air and choked him with your mind?” I ignore the frisson of discomfort that works its way down my spine at the memory. “Or am I just supposed to be hung up on the biting part?”

This isn’t some multiple choice question where you can only pick one. You can be horrified over each of those things in different ways. It’s not an “either/or” situation. 

“I mean it. I need you, Jaxon. I need you.”

IT HAS BEEN FIVE FUCKING DAYS. JESUS CHRIST ON A CRACKER, SLOW DOWN HONEY. 

And then sinks his teeth into my neck, right below my jaw.

Chapter 47 summary: The chapter starts off with three goddamned pages of Grace’s thoughts about everything that happened. THREE PAGES. 

Anyway, they then spend a lot of time going over how Grace “isn’t afraid” of Jaxon. And then way too many pages of Grace asking if Jaxon is okay. 

Finally, she’s like “I need you!” This goes on for way too long, too. But eventually, he bites her neck. But like… in a sexy way. 

#Crave series #Crave (Crave 1) #chapter 45 #Chapter 46 #chapter 17 #jaxon vega #Grace (Crave) #Flint (Crave) #HEADDESKING #girl you are dumb #what the fuck is this #so much padding #I would ask where the editor was but I think we all know there was none #bad timeline

[mellowswriting]

I saw that requests are open! would it be possible for you to write a follow up to Second Chances with javi and reader? Maybe you have another kid and this time javi is able to be there for you throughout the whole pregnancy, and get to experience the first kick, you giving birth, etc (I am a sucker for domestic!javi if you can't tell haha) I think it would be really cute!!

From the Beginning

pairing || Javier Peña x afab!Reader

summary || Javier gets to experience the chaotic excitement of welcoming a new baby to the family.

word count || 6,466 

warnings || kid fic, pregnant reader, non-graphic childbirth, some spiciness but no smut, dad!Javi being adorable 

a/n || I can’t even express how much I love writing about the boys as dads, especially Javier! I really hope you all enjoy this, it was so very much fun to write.

Main Masterlist  |   Join the taglist!

Early spring mornings always had a special quality about them. The air was never too hot, pleasantly warm with a hint of a cool breeze that still lingered from winter’s sharp grip. Plants were beginning to bloom, the trees regaining their bright green foliage that ruffled in a symphony with every pass of the wind. Spring was the bringer of warmth after the ice and snow, the nurturer that coaxed seeds to sprout and flourish, the guide for new life and hope.

Ironic, then, that those very qualities you had grown to love were the ones causing you so much inner turmoil that you couldn’t even enjoy the gorgeous morning happening around you. You hadn’t even realized what was happening at first. Mother nature hadn’t exactly gifted you with a cycle that could be easily followed and predicted. Instead you had the supreme pleasure of having to carry around menstrual products everywhere you went and having to replace your underwear far more often than usual. So when you went two months without the waves of cramps and frustration of your period, it wasn’t all that remarkable.

It was when you were doing some last minute grocery shopping the night before that you realized something was off. Well, more off than usual. The sight of the shelves of tampons made your stomach bottom out with realization. You must’ve made quite a sight as you stood in that aisle with a cart half full of food, just staring at tampons with dread. Two boxes of pregnancy tests got tossed in with the various other items in your cart and you hoped that Javier was too tired from work to insist he help you put away the groceries.

For once, the universe appeared to be on your side. Your husband was sitting on the floor with Elianna, a spread of coloring books and crayons scattered on the living room carpet, and he actually listened to you when you waved him off to carry the bags in yourself. The tests were tucked away in the bathroom behind your tampons - ironic, yes, but it was the one place Javier really wouldn’t be poking around.

Honestly, a part of you felt bad for not telling Javier right away. He had more than proven himself as a great father and husband in the nearly two years since he returned to your life. Those irrational little fears of him leaving you and little Ellie had been crushed into nothing in the wake of the role he readily took on with his daughter, but this was different. Maybe it was pretty naive of you to not have that conversation with him, but it was something you thought you still had time for.

The plus sign on the pregnancy tests told you the time for that conversation was now, apparently. You were grateful for the timing of your little realization. Saturday mornings saw the standing trend of your sister whisking Ellie away for some ‘auntie and niece time’, and you really didn’t want her to feel the tension you were carrying. She was such a perceptive little girl that had an eye for everything.

Javier was still asleep. You usually slept in with him on the weekends, but you were restless to find out if your period was just pulling a fast one on you or if you actually were pregnant. Now you had four positive tests sitting in front of you and a sleeping husband who you couldn’t decide whether or not to wake up. Luckily, you ended up not having to make that choice since two sharp raps of his knuckles against the bathroom door snapped you out of your trance.

The door opened a millisecond after you snatched up the tests and hid them behind your back, not so unlike Ellie when she was hiding a treat she wasn’t supposed to have yet. The difference was that you didn’t know if this would be a treat to Javier. He was still half asleep, his thin pajama pants slug low on his hips and his eyes squinted against the bathroom light.

“G’morning,” He grunted as he moved to shuffle past you. “Move over, I gotta piss.”

You were rooted to the spot, though, your brain floundering to gain control of your muscles. “Uhm…”

“What’s wrong?” Javier slowly perked up through his sleepy haze at the realization that you looked downright terrified. He put his hand on your bicep and squeezed slightly. “Is Ellie okay?”

“What? No, yeah, Ellie’s fine. She’s with Amelia.” You spluttered, cringing at your inability to function.

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Javi pressed. There really wasn’t any hiding things from him. Ellie must get that sharp eye of hers from her father. “What are you holding behind your back?”

You tried to swallow down the thickness that enveloped your throat to form some sort of words, literally anything to convey to him what the hell was going on, but your body was seized with fear. So you held out the tests wordlessly. His eyebrows furrowed as he took the bundle of tests from your hand, staring at them with a split second’s confusion before it dawned on him. “This…? You…?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. The worry in your voice must’ve been obvious because Javier was on you in a second flat, his arms crowding you into his chest with a crushing strength.

“You’re pregnant?” Javier croaked into your neck and the dam of emotion in your chest crumbled. His voice was full of excited disbelief, and relief crashed over you.

“Yeah, I am.” You said with a tearful chuckle, winding your arms around him to burrow yourself even further into his chest. “I know we never really talked about having another kid but… is this something you want, Javi?”

“Fuck, this is ironic.” Javier laughed quietly and when you looked up at him, he avoided your eyes with an almost bashful look. “I was gonna ask you today if you ever thought about it. Do you have any idea how many times I went over it in my head?”

You couldn’t help it - you cracked up laughing. The whole thing was almost ridiculous - the both of you worrying despite wanting the exact same thing. Tears of relief and laughter soaked into his t-shirt as you both broke into chaotic laughter, fingers clutching at each other’s shirts as you tried to catch your breath.

“So, uh… are we doing this?” Javier sounded nervous, his hands rubbing up and down your back as if to reassure himself. “You really wanna have a baby with me? Again?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was choked with a tense mix of emotions, so you cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I do.”

“I can’t… fuck, I can’t believe you - you’d… thank you.” He babbled, nearly unintelligible in his scramble to convey how fucking grateful he was, but you knew. It wasn’t the first time you had heard the desperate need to spit words he couldn’t really find, the words that matched the swell of emotions in his chest that still wasn’t used to voicing. “Fuck, Ellie’s gonna be such a good big sister.”

That choked you up more than you expected. She really would be, you knew that for a fact, but it was a dream you had boxed up and shoved on a shelf with all your other unrealistic dreams for your future. Never in your life did you let yourself really think you could have the whole package deal - the loving (albeit gruff) husband, the big house, the sound of little feet chasing each other through the halls…

“Wait, how long have you been…? Or do we have to see a doctor first? Oh shit, we have to find a doctor for you, what the fuck are they called..? A fucking... obstetrician!” Javi rambled in a mix of nerves and excitement, breaking from your embrace to pace the length of the bathroom. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help, because -”

“Javi, breathe!” You calmed him with both hands out to stop his walking and braced your hands on his shoulders to rub at him firmly. “We have plenty of time, okay? Let me go make some coffee for you and we can sit down and make a plan. First, didn’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Oh… yeah.”

----------

Javier couldn’t stop bouncing his knee. It was a subconscious thing, something he stopped the moment he realized but soon found it moving of its own volition all over again. He really was trying not to let his nerves show even though he knew that you could tell. It was all so new to him, which wouldn’t be a problem if the reminder didn’t gut him every goddamn time. He couldn’t imagine how alone you must have felt the first time around when you were pregnant with Elianna, especially in these cold, sterile doctors offices.

His grip tightened on your hand. The feeling of your fingertips pressed against the top of his hand kept him grounded, helped him remind himself that there was no going back and changing everything else that happened. All he could do was be there this time around, be the best version of himself that he could be for you and his kid - well, kids now. Plural. The excitement was almost enough to drown away the guilt. Javi really could barely believe that he was getting the privilege of experiencing this with you.

“I’ve seen files on drug lords shorter than all that.” Javier nodded at the pile of forms and paperwork you held in your lap and you laughed brightly. He preened a little at the sound. It was something he could never get enough of, that laugh of yours. “I love you.”

You looked up at him, the pen in your hand stopping its constant scratching for the first time in forever, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I love you, too.”

There was no way he wasn’t going to kiss you after that adorable little display. Your cheek felt soft against his palm and the little sigh of relief you huffed against him was addictive. Just knowing that he was an anchor for you made Javier feel so incredibly loved and important and all he wanted to do was imbue you with that same sense of security. He held you close, his hand slipping back to the back of your neck to keep you right where he wanted you, and gave you those soft little kisses that never failed to make you melt.

“Mrs. Peña?” A nurse called out and he had no choice but to let you go with one last peck against your lips. He followed you and the nurse into the exam room, nerves and excitement soaring even higher in his chest.

It was kind of fascinating, watching you answer the nurse’s barrage of questions. Questions about your medical history, how many pregnancies you’ve had, all about your menstrual cycle. The two of you went back and forth for at least fifteen minutes, tossing questions and answers back and forth like a tennis match. The nurse left with the promise of the doctor being in momentarily for an ultrasound.

“Come hold my hand?” You asked, and how could he deny such a sweet request?

“Of course,” He pulled a chair from across the room and settled himself next to the exam table, both of his hands wrapping around one of yours as he brought it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “So what happens now?”

“The doctor will give me an ultrasound. She’ll probably want to run some blood tests, too.” You sighed, obviously uncomfortable at the thought of needles.

“I’ll hold your hand then, too.” Javier promised.

“It’ll be good practice for you, ‘cause once I’m in labor I’ll probably break your hand.” You teased and yeah, broken fingers didn’t sound all that great but fuck, he was more than ready to let you do just that. Javier wanted to be your rock, wanted to support you through it all - especially since he couldn’t the first time.

Two quick knocks sounded against the door made Javier straighten up hastily. The doctor came in with a smile and a large machine wheeling in behind her. “Good morning, mom and dad! How’re we feeling?”

“All good here, Dr. Hall. A little nauseous, but still… good.” You gave Javier’s hand a little squeeze before letting go to unbutton your jeans and fold the waistband down, followed by pulling the hem of your shirt up. It was hard to believe that the beginning of an entire new life was right there between your hips.

“Good to hear!” Dr. Hall fiddled with the ultrasound machine for a moment before turning to you. “So today we’re going to take a look and find out how far along you are, make sure mom and baby both look healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” You and Javier said in unison, and he took your hand again, needing to feel you there with him.

The gel must’ve been cold based on the way you hissed slightly. Javier watched the screen as Dr. Hall trailed the wand over your belly, lips parting at the sight of the black and white image. It was hard to make out what exactly he was seeing at first, but the image shifted slightly and he could make out the tiniest, vague shape of the newest edition to his little family.

“It looks like you’re about ten weeks along.” Dr. Hall murmured without taking her eyes off of the screen. “Baby is about the size of a plum.”

Javier squeezed your hand lightly, the both of you sparing a glance at each other before staring back at the screen in wonder. The doctor pointed out the baby’s head and a little foot as she took her measurements, reassuring you both that everything looked perfect. He gave a rushed “yes, absolutely” when she asked if he wanted the ultrasound photos - there was a spot in his wallet that he had in mind for it already.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in situations that left him shocked before. This was Javier Peña, after all. Life and career experiences had given him plenty of moments where his mind was completely washed blank with surprise, but never had it been such a good thing. There were so many times that the shock was accompanied by grief or anger, but excitement? Gratefulness? That was new to him, left him reeling the entire drive home, all throughout dinner. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him that he couldn’t be like this when Ellie got home the next day. She was smarter than he could’ve imagined any kid being at three years old and even though he agreed with your assertion that no one should know about your pregnancy for a few more weeks at least, Javier was certain his daughter would be able to needle it out of him.

Those expert interrogation skills must be hereditary.

It wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed that it really hit him how real it was, that you really were sitting in the bed you shared with him, pregnant with his baby and making plans for the usual Sunday brunch and park visit you all did every week. As he set his wallet on the nightstand, he couldn’t help but pull out the little ultrasound picture. He had a feeling he would be doing that a lot, especially when the new cadets were driving him crazy at work. It all swelled up in his chest, the appreciation and excitement and disbelief, because holy shit, how did he get so lucky? One finger traced the little image in his hand, and he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Thank you.”

The confused look you gave him made him flounder for the words.

“I just… I know everything was fucked up the first time around but I swear, it’s going to be different this time. I am not going anywhere.” Javier slid closer at the sight of the tears in your eyes, easily welcoming your arms around his neck as you practically drug yourself into his lap. He held you close to his chest, trying to instill the certainty and promise of it all. “God, fuck, and I thought I couldn’t get enough of you before…”

“Javi…” You croaked, laughing wetly into his neck.

“I’m serious! You’re gonna have to tell me to fuck off when you want space because I can’t keep my hands off you.” Javi teased, relief washing over him at your seeming acceptance of his promises. “And now like this, growing my baby… fuck, I am in this with you. Me and you and Ellie… and our little plum.”

That night, Javier fell asleep with his head on your shoulder, his face buried in your neck, and his hand tucked into the waistband of your sweatpants to cradle that precious space that held his newest child.

----------

Ellie couldn’t stop touting her new title to anyone who would listen.

“I’m a big sister!” She told the cashier at the grocery store, the other kids at the park and their moms for good measure, and even the mailman when they came by each morning. The brightness in her eyes when she said it made your heart flip in your chest. You had expected some sort of confusion or even for her to be upset at the idea of a new sibling, but she launched right into a story about how her friend from playgroup has a baby sister, and you knew that she would be just fine.

With your sixteenth week rapidly approaching, you couldn’t be more grateful that Ellie was excited for the new addition to the family. It was one less thing for you to worry about amidst the chaos of bringing a new person into the world. The fatigue was something you definitely didn’t miss about pregnancy - it washed over you without warning, left you nodding off wherever you sat. Thank god Javier was such a hands on father. He had no problem herding Ellie off into the backyard or off for a walk to let you get some much needed rest.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a hands on husband, though. Sure, you knew he was excited and you knew he already loved everything about your body, but he really wasn’t lying when he said pregnancy made him want you even more. Every night, Javi’s hands gravitated to your body to ease the kinks out of your muscles, to rub your feet until the aches went away, to cheekily offer you an orgasm if you were up for one. It made you feel cherished, something you sorely missed the first time you were pregnant.

“Thank you, Javi,” You groaned lowly as those strong hands of his worked at your lower back. He easily hitched your thigh up slightly to ease some of the pressure on the new swell to your belly. There was a slur in your voice when you said, “Feels so good.”

Javier chuckled behind you, moving on to rub your feet. “Be quiet, you don’t want to wake Ellie.”

“Did you ever see this being our life?” You murmured though your voice was muffled by the pillows you buried your head in. “Telling each other not to wake the kids, making bacon smiley faces for a toddler’s breakfast?”

“I didn’t think I’d actually get it, but I wished for it. Dreamt about how pretty you’d look all full of me.” Javi placed a teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh. “The real thing is so much better.”

You could only groan under his praise. His thumbs dug into the arch of your foot and rubbed in methodical circles, drawing another pleased groan from you that you muffled in your pillow. The pain slowly melted from your tired muscles under his thorough ministrations, leaving a pleasant warmth in his wake that made you all pliant and drowsy beneath him.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Javi asked as he rubbed his hands up your calves and you smiled. You knew exactly what he was gunning for.

You eased yourself onto your back and reached out for him with both arms, bringing him forward with grabby hands that he could never refuse. Javier settled between your thighs, a knowing smirk on his face, and leaned down to kiss you deeply. “‘M feeling good, Javi.”

“You know I love making my girl feel good,” Javi murmured as he kissed down your neck, one hand trailing back and forth over your hip and thigh lovingly. “Can I make you feel even better?”

“Please?” You asked breathily and your husband was more than happy to oblige. The loose tank top you wore was the first to go, followed quickly by your shorts and underwear.

Javier set about lavishing your neck and chest with affection, his touch more gentle than usual on your oversensitive breasts, and once again you were struck by the surrealness of it all. The fact that this had begun in Colombia all those years ago as two coworkers using sex for stress relief and had blossomed into this beautiful life you shared together was a thing of dreams. But there you were, with Javier Peña making love to you, quietly as to not wake your daughter and gently as to keep you and your baby safe and happy, and you could barely believe it.

“I love you,” You choked out through the tears that sprung into your eyes and Javi sat up to look at you with a concerned expression.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes roaming all over to find the apparent source of your tears.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You tried to pull him back down to you but he didn’t budge, the concern unwavering.

“Then why are you crying?” Javier brushed a thumb under your eyes to wipe away the evidence of your strong burst of emotion.

“Because I love you,” You chuckled as you held his hand close to your cheek and pressed a kiss to the middle of his palm. “And I’m pregnant, so everything is a thousand times more intense and you don’t get to tease me for that.”

“I would never,” Javi muttered but the mischievous grin on his face betrayed him. “Let me make you feel better, baby,”

“I’m already better, Javi - oh,”

----------

Two o’clock in the morning was not an ideal time to wake up, especially since Javier knew that Ellie would be awake and full of energy by seven, but something felt off. Even in his unconscious state, he could feel the absence of you in bed and his mind nagged at him to get up and find you. The hardwood was cold beneath his feet as he wandered from the bedroom, finding the bathroom empty before he made his way down the stairs. You often would rest on the recliner in the living room when your back was bothering you particularly bad, especially since your center of gravity had so drastically changed the further along you got in your pregnancy - but you weren’t there either.

Before Javi could start really worrying, he heard the refrigerator open and found you peering into the illuminated fridge in search of… something. A pint of ice cream was already in your hand, a spoonful of it hanging from your lips as you browsed with a frustrated look on your face, and honestly… Javi loved how you looked. It was so domestic and sweet, the sight of you in your pajamas that barely covered your belly as you raided the kitchen.

Thirty-six weeks and four days. He could barely believe how much time had passed since he saw those positive tests. It felt like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time, and he was beyond excited to meet his newest little one.

“What are you looking for, sweetheart?” Javi asked after a moment of watching you helplessly search around.

The sheepish smile you gave him made his heart swell in his chest and he automatically opened his arms as you shuffled over to bury your face in his chest. “Your kid is driving me crazy with the cravings.”

Javier hugged you tightly, relishing in the way you relaxed against him. “Well, if they’re anything like me, they probably want those barbecue chips, then.”

It didn’t take long for him to get you herded back up to bed with the chips in hand and the sight of you sleepily munching away while burrowed in the blankets eased an almost innate need Javier had to see you safe and happy, all nice and taken care of in his bed. He climbed into bed once he was sure you didn’t need anything else, settling on his side with his head propped up against his hand to watch you despite his own sleepiness.

“Let your mama sleep, troublemaker.” He murmured to your belly as he rubbed gentle circles over the spots he could feel the nudges of his little one retaliating to their father’s stern words. “Need some lotion?”

“Hmmm, please?” You hummed.

Rubbing lotion into your skin was something Javi had taken a particular liking to. The first time he had seen you doing it yourself, he was quick to take over. That was the first time he felt his little one kick at his hands and he fell even more in love - something he hadn’t thought was possible. It was a good way to feel closer to you both, to his wife and the baby you were bringing into the world, and the way you dozed slightly as he helped you relax made him feel needed, like he was doing right by you. That’s all he ever wanted to do.

A nudge to the edge of his hand made Javier glance back down to where his hands were running all over your belly, but it was the sight of the baby rolling that made him do a double take. “Holy shit,” He whispered, hands frozen as he saw what had to be the imprint of a little foot or hand poke out before disappearing. “There really is a whole person in there.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” You grumbled, grimacing slightly at the feeling. “It’s aerobics hour, apparently.”

“That’s fucking crazy.” Javi tentatively resumed massaging the lotion into your skin. It was hard to fathom, the idea that your body was so capable of creating and nurturing a brand new life, and for the millionth time he found himself thanking the universe for letting him have this second chance.

----------

Gabriel Peña came early, quick, and with a sharp cry you were sure could be heard throughout the entire hospital. His little nose was scrunched up, his face all red from his wailing, hands curled into angry fists over his sudden eviction from the warmth and darkness he was accustomed to. It was a short labor, so very different from your first with Ellie for so many reasons but the biggest being the strong presence of Javier at your side. The moment the contractions began at the crisp hour of six a.m., he was alert and full of nervous excitement.

True to his word, Javier let you clutch onto him through it all - every contraction, every push, every angered grumble you threw his way for getting you pregnant in the first place. That sharp mind of his kept up under the pressure. He spoonfed you ice chips and let you use him for support as you rocked your way through particularly bad contractions.

There were tears in Javier’s eyes as he carefully set his hand on his son’s head, carefully musing the shock of dark, wispy hair on his head. You leaned your head against Javi’s shoulder, exhaustion, relief, and happiness warring with each other after hours of labor. You felt his lips press against your temple before he sniffled and whispered, “Thank you.”

Javier stayed by Gabriel’s side the entire time the doctors checked him over and cleaned him up, per your instructions, and he was the one to return your son to your arms. It was the most careful you had ever seen him, his movements slow and deliberate, eyes on the baby’s adorable, chubby face.

“Seven pounds, nine ounces,” Javi murmured as he drug a chair as close to your bedside as possible and settled in, his hand resting on your thigh. A disgruntled whine came from the baby wriggling in your arms and you smiled, knowing he was hungry and could probably smell the milk your body had been preparing to make for his arrival. You pulled the gown down to expose your breast, propping your arm with a pillow to better support him, and adjusted his latch to settle in.

“Nice latch, mama,” One of the nurses said as she finished settling the blankets around your feet.

“Not my first time at this rodeo.” You chuckled quietly. It had been a while since Ellie weaned but you still remembered the struggle of figuring out how to get a newborn to latch properly when you had no idea what you were doing. You set your hand over Javi’s, smiling at him when he blinked sleepily up at you. Neither of you had gotten much rest before Gabriel decided to make his appearance into the world. “Can you hand me some water, honey?”

“Of course,” Javi perked up with the small task you gave him. There wasn’t much he could do at this point, but you wanted him to feel involved, to feel like he was helping you, and even though his mere presence helped you relax, you knew he was an ‘action’ kind of man. He needed something to do to feel useful. He held the straw steady for you and everything, your sweet husband. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired.” You answered honestly, leaning into his hand when he brushed stray hairs from your face.

“I know this wasn’t easy. I’m proud of you.” It was a simple statement but it hit you right in your chest. As excited as you were to have another baby, it was hard. Exhausting. He could see it all, how tired you were and how hard you were working just to carry on like normal through your pregnancy, and while he did everything he could to ease some of that burden, the plain acknowledgement of how hard you worked felt good.

“I love you so much.” You whispered, pulling his hand close to kiss his palm.

“I love you, too.” Javier leaned over the side of the bed and kissed you softly, careful not to jostle his son where he sleepily nursed against you. “How are our kids so damn cute?”

You huffed a laugh, which made Gabriel shift against you before settling back down, sighing suspiciously similar to his father. “It helps that their dad is incredibly good looking.”

“True,” Javi said, trying for that cocky tone you loved but you didn’t miss the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. Compliments always got him like that, all red-faced and adorable - though he would never admit it.

A short nap later and you had one very excited Ellie fidgeting in the chair next to your bed, impatiently waiting to meet her baby brother. Javier stood behind her, quietly reminding her to be careful as you helped keep the squirming newborn steady in her lap. Your heart damn near exploded when she began cooing at her brother and very gently touching his soft cheeks. She was enamored by him, asking so many questions that you and her father could barely keep up.

“Can we share my bed?” “No, he can’t sleep in your bed, baby. He has to sleep in a special bed in mommy and daddy’s room.”

“Does he get a special seat like me?” “Yep! Daddy’s putting his carseat in next to yours right now. You’ll get to talk to him the whole way home.”

“Is he gonna cry a lot?” “Yeah, he will. That’s how babies let people know they need something since they don’t have words like we do.”

“Can I share my crackers with him?” “Not yet! Right now, he only drinks milk.” “Milk? Like for cereal?” “Kind of, but it comes from your mommy.” “What?!” “You ate the same thing when you were a little baby, too.” “What?!”

The entire drive home was full of little Ellie chatting away at her baby brother, mostly about the stuffed animals she had at home that she promised to show him the moment they got home. There was a small smile on Javier’s face as he drove, his hand curled around yours on the center console. He practically radiated contentment and damn did it look good on him.

----------

For what felt like the millionth time, you woke before the sun had a chance to rise. Though this time, it was to the feeling of a full bladder rather than the sound of a hungry baby, so that could be counted as a small win at the very least. You tried to ignore the ache in your healing body as you stumbled your way to and from the bathroom, near silent in your movements even though you were half asleep. It was a well practiced dance, getting out and back into bed without waking your sleeping children.

But something was off. The sheets were cooler than usual, missing the fire-like heat that Javier radiated constantly. You sat up, blinking against the drowsiness and darkness to see your husband passed out on the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Gabriel curled up on his bare chest. Skin-to-skin contact was something Javier couldn’t get enough of. He told you how close it made him feel to his son and you couldn’t complain. It was a precious sight. Avoiding the creaky floorboards, you carefully covered Gabriel with a soft baby blanket and smoothed it down his back.

“S’wrong?” Javier mumbled, words slurred with sleep, his eyes barely cracking open. On instinct, his hands shifted over the little baby asleep on him to hold him closer, even more secure.

“Shh, nothing’s wrong.” You soothed as you gently tucked his curls back away from his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay.” And with that his eyes were closed, back to dozing like he was never interrupted in the first place. You were glad. Tomorrow was an early morning, and paired with all of the midnight feedings and diaper changes, you all could use some rest. So you laid back down, sleep dragging you back under swiftly.

Javier was practically bouncing with nerves just hours later, even though he was trying not to show it. It brought you back to that first appointment when you were pregnant, only this time he held a sleeping one-month old who he was trying not to wake up with his nervousness.

“I just want it to go well.” He grumbled when you asked if he was okay.

“It will.” You reassured him, rubbing circles into his knee. “They’re both perfectly healthy, the pediatrician will tell you that, too.”

You were right - then again, when weren’t you? Gabe was a healthy nine and a half pounds, strong heart and lungs, and good reflexes. Javier was hooked on the pediatrician’s every word, nodding along and giving you a relieved smile with each positive statement. And of course, Ellie’s rambunctiousness had the pediatrician and nurses completely captivated as she told them all about her preschool and the antics she got up to while they checked her over.

The pride on Javier’s face with every positive comment and reassurance that both of his kids were on track developmentally made your heart flip. You felt so beyond lucky to have this little family of yours, with two beautiful children and the man you always loved. It felt too good to be true sometimes, especially when Javi pulled you close for a tight hug and a kiss to the side of your head before he worked to get one wiggly Gabe back into his onesie.

One impromptu trip to the park later and you and Javier had two very tired kids on your hands. Ellie was already passed out by the time Javier pulled into the driveway but Gabe was quickly venturing into ‘overtired’ territory. He was grumpy, wriggling around in your arms like he couldn’t get comfortable, all the while giving little whines and grunts that threatened to turn into full on wailing. He didn’t want milk, he didn’t need a diaper change, he just wanted to sleep but was too frustrated to let a nap take him.

“Give ‘em here.” Javier offered and you freely handed him over. The postpartum fatigue was no joke, and even though it was lessening with each passing day, you were damn tired so you had no issue with letting your husband put the baby down for a nap. You curled up on the couch, not quite going to sleep but still letting your mind and body rest as you listened to Javi try to negotiate with Gabriel as if he were some sicario and not just a particularly stubborn baby.

“C’mon, little man. Just go to sleep. All of your problems if you went to sleep right now? Solved. Completely solved. Instead of crying you could just… go to sleep.” Javier whispered over the cooing and grunting of his son. “Oh, don’t give me that face, mister.”

You snorted a laugh - you knew exactly what face Gabe was pulling. His nose and eyebrows would scrunch up, lips pursed as he huffed angry breaths like a little baby bull. It was an exaggerated copy of the face Javier pulled anytime he was frustrated, which you found ridiculously adorable. Slowly, the grumpy grunts became more and more quiet until they disappeared completely, and a few moments later, Javier flopped down on the couch next to you with a sigh.

“Got him down.” Javi said as he pressed close to you, burying himself between the back of the couch and your body to press his face into your neck. A blanket of drowsiness must have settled over the entire house as both kids napped peacefully in their beds and you cuddled up to your husband in the living room. The both of you would doze until the sound of little feet on the hardwood or the sounds of a hungry baby woke you, and then it would be back on the grind of parenthood, but you knew… with Javier by your side, you could do it.

{Taglist}

@iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @leonieb @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @freeshavocadoooo @chattychell @ew-erin @i-ship-it-ironically @artsymaddie @mrsparknuts @wyn-dixie @notabotiswear @lunaserenade @jitterbugs927 @theorganasolo @the-witty-pen-name @northernpunk @lemonlime09 @la-lunaluna @andruxx @greeneyedblondie44 @bloodsuckingbastards @coldlilheart @gracie7209 @green-socks @paintballkid711 @lord-of-restingbiface @asta-lily @xgoldenjenny @mummifymecaptain @cjbtw @a-skov @himbotroy @xjsteph @marvelousmermaid @over300books @castleamc @darnitdraco @janebby @cannedsoupsucks @itssmashedavo @mtjoi @triggerhappyflygirl 

#javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #narcos

[early20sfailingplenty]

A conversation with Vincent // comfort.🥺💗

(Please he’s so beautiful, I want to cry😭😭😭😭)

No warnings other than the fact that food is mentioned (not sure if this needs to be a warning but I’m noting it just in case), and there’s swearing. 

Just fluff & comfort. Vincent’s speech is ASL & denoted with italics.

GN!reader, no coded language, “you” and Y/N format.

Word count: 1, 061.

You carefully took a hot drink and a plate of food (Vincent’s favourite and made just how he liked it for those extra bonus points which always made you feel like flowers were blooming in your heart) down to the workshop, taking slow and careful steps so that nothing was spilled. You didn’t need yet another thing to do this day, so long was your to-do list, and so precious was this space to Vincent and therefore to you that you didn’t want to risk somehow damaging or staining the wax.

You huffed as you reached the bottom of the stairs and continued with your painfully slow pace. You were itching to get to Vincent, but you had to be careful with the wax. Finally, finally, the beautiful sight of him working on a smaller sculpture, one of his own creations, came into sight, and you cooed at the sight of him hunched over, his dark hair falling over his shoulders like a dark halo, a fallen angel was he. “You’re so pretty, Vinny.”

He turned to look at you, then, and his eye crinkled at the corners in such a way that you knew he was smiling under his mask. The crinkles deepened as he spotted the food, and he put down his tools quietly before he turned to face you fully.

“I brought you some food. Figured you hadn’t eaten for a while. Don’t think I didn’t notice you skipping breakfast this morning.” Your teasing scolding had a darker edge to it, which Vincent noted. His blue eye hardened somewhat and you grinned in an attempt to defuse any attention. Vincent was difficult to read during the best of times. “Don’t worry, I skipped breakfast too. I get it, honey.”

So where’s your lunch?

“S’upstairs. Wanted to bring yours down first.”

Both of you heard the, you’re more important to me than I am, which was implied in that statement. Neither of you voiced it; it was a conversation you had had a hundred times before. Vincent frowned, huffed, and stood up to take the food from you. He put it all down carefully on his work desk and set the drink away from the water he used on his wax. He’d made that mistake more times than he cared to admit to. Of all the times you had seen him do it, it never failed to make you laugh. Sometimes you wondered if he did it deliberately just to hear it. You wouldn’t put it passed him.

Thank you. Go get yours; we’ll eat together.

You paused, unsure if it was a welcome intrusion. “But, Vin - “

Vincent crossed his arms over his chest, stood up to his full height, and stared at you. He didn’t blink. He didn’t look away. He maintained his posture, telling you quite plainly in his own way that you had no choice now that you had exposed your hypocrisy. You would be eating with him. He wanted to make sure you were looking after yourself, even if you didn’t want to. 

You felt your face heat up. Fuck, that was the hottest fucking thing he could have done. You loved him in his brutality and in his passion alike, no side of him was left unloved by you and you both knew it. You sighed. “Fine, I’ll be quick.” Having a lunch date with Vinnyyyy ~ was the only repeating thought inside your head as you rushed up the stairs, grabbed your own food and made your way back down with little care. Oh, but you loved spending time with him. Every second was cherished, adored and thought about during the times when you couldn’t be by his side where you belonged.

Vincent made a small noise to catch your attention (not that he had ever lost it), and said, what’s the matter? You are easily irritable today. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. He echoed your earlier words at you to let you know that he was asking most sincerely, and there was no pressure to tell him if you didn’t want to. He was giving you an opening to have a candid conversation if you want one, partly to make up for how he had intimidated you earlier (though he much preferred to think of it as tough love), but partly because he cared about you, his muse.

You sighed, “Skin just feels a bit... tight.”

You need space, Y/N. Working too much.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Vincent shook his head. Not guess. Know.

He hadn’t touched his food yet, so pointedly, you hadn’t touched yours. It didn’t take long for Vincent to notice this, so he lifted the mask just enough for him to be able to eat, that side of his face turned away from you. Your heart seized in your chest and you cooed, “such a beautiful man.” Vincent gazed at you in adoration, he always did whenever you complimented him. You maintained a companionable silence while you ate together, enjoying the quiet moment forcibly carved out of a busy day (or else would life not give you a break, and so you would take one for yourself) and when you were both done, you slid off the stool you had been sat on and grabbed your plate, putting it on top of Vincent’s to be taken back upstairs with you. 

Do you want a hug?

Vincent had slid his mask back down, but you didn’t mind. Whatever he was comfiest with was more than okay with you. Sometimes you didn’t want to be touched when you had a “mental itch”, as you liked to call it, so Vincent always asked first. 

“Would you mind?” Oh, help you, but now you wanted to cry. 

Vincent smiled and you felt it, though you wished you could have seen it, too. He tilted his head at you, bemused. His long dark hair hung across his mask and you reached out to tuck his hair behind his ear, freeing up his limited sight. Why would I offer if I minded?

If you launched yourself at Vincent and if he caught you and tugged you impossibly close to him, who was to see? It was just you and Vincent down there in the basement, which was precisely how you both liked it. The spider and the fly, the artist and his muse.

#vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair imagine #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #slasher community #slasher x reader #slasher fic #slasher imagine

[mostly-marvel-musings]

How about a smut prompt no. 7 with Tony Stark ? ❤❤❤❤

Love to lose

A/N: Thanks for requesting this lovely! Hope you like it :))

Gif’s not mine! Credits to the owner

Prompts used: Oral sex & “First one to make a noise loses.”

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, it’s dirty okay...

Word count: 2k

Requests & Challenges

Tony Stark Taglist: @raspberrymama @boop-le-snoot @ladyeliot @make-a-memory-drink-it-up @loveisallyouneed1125 @ownsmyheart @anthonyjanthony666 @downeyreads @the-secret-thief @getlostsquidward @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @elemephstudies @mycosmicparadise @feetoffthetablee

Everything Taglist: @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @suchababie @another-stark-sub @littlegasps @kahlanmars @supraveng @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias @fanofalltheficsx @ladyburberry

Taglists open! Send me an ask or DM if you wish to be in any of these ;))

.

“First one to make a noise loses? Seriously?”

“Yeah!”

“No!”

“I honestly thought you’d be more adventurous Tony.”

“Honey you’ll get all the adventure you want once I’m done with this project. You remember the night of four times, don’t you?”

Tony raised an eyebrow and smirked as your eyes lit up with thoughts of the night he mentioned, cheeks growing warm as your mind flooded with memories of the aforementioned night.

That night you’d lost all sense of cognition and your legs were pure jelly from being utterly fucked out.

It was never a dull moment when it came to you and Stark in the bedroom. He knew all the right ways to drive you crazy and you had come to learn to push all the right buttons to drive him insane.

“Tony come on! I know you’re up for it.”

You pointed to the half-mast erection currently staring back at you.

He glanced down at it before shaking his head and returning to the screen, soon getting engrossed in the information displayed in front of him. Eyebrows knitting together in concentration while his fingers flew over the surface, probably in search of something you didn’t care about.

You scowled for a little while, arms crossed over your chest before walking towards him with a look of determination that hid unattended lust.

Tony didn’t mind you stepping in between his legs as he leaned against the table behind, until you ghosted your fingers over the button of his denims.

Once you popped it open and undid his fly, he shot you a warning look before his phone rang, giving you time to push the jeans and his boxers down just enough to let his erection bounce free.

“You’re free to do whatever you want only if you’re prepared for the consequences sweetheart.” He warned before answering Phil Coulson’s call.

Desire bloomed deep in your belly as his words sent tingles down your spine, knowing the punishment would either be really good or really bad, depending on Tony’s mood. But you were willing to take the risk, it was always worth it in the end.

Shrugging, you dropped down to your knees, his semi-erect cock waiting for your ministrations as you eyed it before gazing up at Tony through your eyelashes innocently.

He was deep in conversation on the phone but the tight grip of his free hand on the edge of the counter and tapping of fingers against the surface indicated he was waiting for you to make your move.

Tony exhaled a breath he was unconsciously holding as your hand wrapped around his length. Taking your time with it, your hand lazily stroked his cock, thumb brushing over the tip every now and then.

“Please I understand Agent, don’t bore me with those unnecessary details..oh!”

Glancing down, he suppressed the rest of his reaction as your tongue joined the party. Small kitten licks over the tip before you drew a strip all the way to the base, all the while watching his demeanour change from composed to flustered.

You took him in your mouth and began swirling your tongue around his length, smirking when he faltered and brought his hand down to move your hair out of your face.

“I’m going over the details n-now. Oh yes—yes I’ll call Fury once I’m—I’m almost done here.”

Tony didn’t wait for Coulson to answer before he cut the call and practically threw the phone away. Letting out a groan, he jerked his hips forward, pushing himself deeper in your mouth as he grabbed you by your hair roughly, guiding your mouth over his cock.

“You’re in so much trouble baby...”

You simply hummed in response, continuing to finish him off as you increased your speed, feeling him twitch against your lips already. The little grunts Tony uttered spurred you on to bring him closer and closer to climax. Your own arousal had turned your panties moist as you watched his lust-blown eyes shut and bite his lip.

“Ah shit! You want me to cum in your mouth?”

You nodded eagerly as Tony’s hips jolted forward and he cursed out loud before shooting spurts of cum down your throat, face contorted in pleasure as he emptied himself, the warm salty liquid travelling down your throat.

He grabbed you by the back of your neck, making you stand before crashing his lips to yours, tasting himself as you deepened the kiss. You moved your clothed core over his softened cock to get some friction, gaining another groan from Tony who felt how moist you were.

“So wet my dirty girl. Will you give me an hour? I promise I’ll make it worth it.” Tony whispered softly, grabbed your hips to stop your grinding. Reluctant to let you go but the urgency with which Phil had called left him with no other choice than to make you wait.

“Fine. But if you’re late…”

“Trust me babe. I’ll be there sooner than you think.”

“Whatever.” He pecked your pouted lips one last time as you pulled his pants back up, turning to walk upstairs to your shared bedroom.

“Don’t touch yourself.”

“You’re in no position to make demands Stark.”

“Am I not?” Even with your back to him, you could sense he was giving you ‘the look’. The one that screamed ‘no matter what, I’m always in charge’. The man was really going to be the death of you some day.

“Ugh. Fine. Hurry up.”

.

“Okay so we need to establish some ground rules first.”

Your eyes snapped up from the book you were pretending to read as Tony swung the bedroom door and got in, locking it before sliding in next to you, resting his back against the headboard.

You were celebrating your victory on the inside because just minutes ago he’d made fun of you for coming up with this game, only to now come up with modifications for the same.

Like a good girl you had behaved, controlled the urge to bring yourself to an orgasm after that little session downstairs. You were still wet, which meant he already had more chances of winning at your game.

This was a bad idea. Why hadn’t you thought this through?

“Hon?”

“Huh?”

“The rules?”

Mentally shaking yourself for zoning out, you sat up straight and faced him.

“Alright. Whines are allowed. Moans aren’t.”

“Fair enough.”

“No oral sex.”

“Not acceptable. You know I owe you for that amazing blow-job. Come on now..”

“Fine. But no fingering.”

Tony made a non-committal huff but agreed, knowing how much his fingers spurred you on.

You went back and forth discussing, rejecting and accepting the terms and conditions as if it were a legit deal.

Soon after you shook on it, there was a switch in the air and neither of you felt the need to say much else except get on with the game.

Climbing in Tony’s lap, you cupped the sides of his face and pressed your lips to his. Softly grazing against each other at first while you fingers teased the base of his neck.

He carded his hands through your hair before pulling you against his chest, hands now splayed across your back as he slanted his mouth over yours and deepened the kiss.

Maneuvering a little so his legs straightened out on the bed, Tony heard a tiny sigh escape your lips as your aroused core met with his growing bulge. Keeping those noises that threatened to leave your mouth turned out to be harder than you had both imagined. You two were quite vocal when it came to sex.

It was difficult, but all the more exciting.

After a while, the make-out session turned out to be insufficient and Tony had you on your back, your clothes removed and thrown carelessly somewhere behind as he settled between your legs.

You had to bite back a moan as Tony’s lips travelled down your neck, littering tiny kisses all over the skin before he found that junction where your neck met your shoulder, the pulse point which he so generously marked a spot on, sure to leave a purple bruise in its place. On cue, your head moved aside to grant him more access as your breaths turned to pants, finding it hard not to think about his bulge that was rubbing so deliciously against your heated core in slow but deliberate thrusts.

You had to push him away to make sure you didn’t lose so soon, that sure earned a chuckle from the genius. Moving further south, he latched onto one of your nipples and flicked his tongue along the bud all the while massaging and kneading the other in his hand. A sigh had involuntarily slipped out, it wasn’t breaking any rules but it sure made Tony gaze up with lust-blown eyes as a smirk appeared on that handsome face.

Trailing kisses along your navel, he reached between your legs and stopped. You shot him a warning look as you sat up on your elbows when his fingers teased along your wet folds, causing him to throw his hands up in surrender before diving in face first into your pussy.

Closing a hand over your mouth, you let your head fall back onto the pillows as Tony licked a fat strip along your wetness, his nose brushing against your bundle of nerves. It didn’t take long for you to feel your heartbeat on your throbbing clit, Tony leaving no stone unturned to make sure you were a needy mess below him.

“What was that baby girl?” He purred, facial hair glazed with your juices when he emerged, giving you a shit-eating grin after you shook your head.

You were so close.

Flipping you on your stomach, you heard him unbutton his jeans and drop them in a low thud on the ground. His hands pulled your ass up in the air, urging the cheeks apart before his cock met your entrance, gathering your wetness, your pussy aching for release at this point.

“Tony..”

“Giving up already?”

Instead of answering, you reached behind, grabbed his cock in your hand and lined him up at your entrance before pushing your hips back. Both of you swallowed your groans as he bottomed out, stretching your walls to the fullest before pulling all the way out and thrusting in.

Your knuckles turned white from gripping the sheets as you were almost ready to give up and accept defeat, until you felt his cock twitch inside you, a sign Tony wasn’t too far along from doing the same either.

Your walls clenched around his cock deliberately, hugging it in their wet warmth and eliciting an involuntary groan from the man.

“What was that honey?”

You teased, repeating the action only to have Tony pull out suddenly, turn you around once more and pull your legs over his shoulder before entering you again.

“You fucking tease..”

“You’re the one to talk. Now shut up and fuck me.”

Snapping his hips to yours at a furious pace, Tony gripped your legs roughly and bit your ankle. The silly little game long forgotten, you let out a pornographic moan as you felt the muscles in your belly contract, thighs tremble and mind turn into a fuzzy blur.

“Cum with me Tony..” you begged as he let go of your legs and buried his face in your neck, a hand snaking downward to rub your oversensitive clit.

“Do that thing again.”

His urgent whisper came out muffled by your hair but you knew what he was talking about. You granted his wish by pulling on his cock with your walls and felt his hips lose their rhythm. He came loud and hard, spilling inside you in spurts triggering your own orgasm as you cried out, digging your nails in his back as you shuddered.

Once you felt yourself float back down to reality, you brought your hands to caress Tony’s hair while he chuckled against the skin on your neck, repeatedly kissing you over there.

“It’s a draw then?” He mumbled.

“Yep.”

“You want a rematch?”

“Definitely.”

#tony stark smut #tony stark x you #tony stark x reader #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark imagine #tony stark oneshot #tony stark fic #iron man x you #iron man fluff #tony stark fluff

[shedobewritingalittle]

From the Dining Table

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader

Summary: Sam decided to visit the Reader and her daughter in the months following Steve’s death.

Word Count: 2k

Rating: T

Warnings: a child, mentions of infertility, mentions of a miscarriage, talks of pregnancy, mentions of loss, death, feelings of loneliness, depression, grief

Y/N looked exhausted.

Sam watched from his seat at the kitchen island as she bounced the crying infant in her arms, trying to soothe little Sarah Rogers. The bundle of pink was screaming her, upset at everyone and everything. Y/N smiled at him apologetically, holding her child with one arm while the other went to work grabbing a bottle from the fridge.

"I don't know if you can tell, but I wasn't her favorite parent." Y/N tells Sam, only joking slightly as she pops the lid off the bottle with one hand. She cradles her daughter carefully before giving her the bottle, silencing her cries. A smile stretches across her face, happy that her child's cries had stopped.

Y/N had been dealt a bad hand by the universe.

Steve and Y/N had tried for years to have a baby. Both of them had desperately wanted a family, wanted some slice of normalcy in their lives. At first, in that first year they were married, it had been fun, playing that guessing game each month. They weren't seriously trying then, just letting whatever happen to happen. Then as one year turned into two, they got a little more serious about the whole thing. Both of them did everything they needed to do-they got tested to make sure everything was working right, did everything the doctor told them to do. Dozens of false positive pregnancy tests had plagued them in those first two years, constantly getting their hopes up old to rip that all away. Trying in the third year was halted by the Sokovia Accords and the team fighting each other. Y/N and Steve both thought it would be a bad idea to try to have a child while they were on the run, so they stopped their efforts. The fourth year had brought heartbreak when Y/N had actually gotten pregnant for the first time, but lost the baby before she was twelve weeks along. They tried a few times in the fifth year, months after Thanos had snapped his fingers and wiped out half of the galaxy. It had felt wrong though, to be trying to bring life into the universe when so much loss had just occurred. In the span of the five years that everyone was gone, Y/N had been told she was infertile. She just had to grin and bear it, helping Pepper and Tony take care of Morgan whenever they asked. Steve and her just sort of gave up, not wanting to deal with all of the heartache for the rest of their lives.

It was towards the end of their ninth year of marriage, their ninth year of trying to have a baby, someone smiled down upon them. As an early Christmas gift, Steve and Y/N received a positive pregnancy test. They were incredibly cautious, doing everything to the 'T' to make sure that they child would be okay. And in August, Y/N gave birth to a beautiful baby girl- Sarah Rose Rogers, named Sarah after Steve's mother. Things were great until October, when they had to fight against Thanos one last time to make things right and Steve decided he would much rather go back in time to be with Peggy, coming back an elderly man.

He died a few months later, right after his daughter turned five months old.

"How are you doing?" Sam asks quietly, not wanting to disturb the hungry child. Y/N sighed softly, looking up. She had deep dark circles under her eyes, clearly showing that she hadn't been getting much sleep. Her cheeks didn't look as full, making Sam wonder if she wasn't eating.

"I'm surviving. It's definitely difficult, trying to balance everything." Y/N replies, her eyes glancing back down at her daughter, "It's-Everything is all new to me. Most of the time I think I'm doing everything wrong."

"When was the last time you slept?" He questions, shifting on the bar stool. Sam felt guilty. Steve had asked both him and Bucky to look after his wife and child, to make sure that they were doing okay without him. Sam hadn't. He had other things to deal with-such as trying to readjust to this new world and talking to his family-so checking on Y/N had slipped his mind. Yet as he looks at her, taking in every little detail, Sam knows that he should've been calling her more, should've talked to her more.

"I can't sleep." She answers honestly, leaving out the 'without him' that was sitting on the tip of her tongue. Y/N had been so used to sleeping next to Steve that she had found it almost impossible to sleep without him. She fights the urge to yawn as she continues, "Besides, it gives me time to take care of things around the house. There's always a ton of laundry to do and I have work -"

"Woah woah hold on, you're supposed to be on leave, Y/N." Sam announces, raising an eyebrow at her. Y/N continues to feed her daughter as she glances up at him, her lips pressed tightly together.

"I'm not going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs, Sammy. I-I need to keep myself busy." Y/N replies, her voice wavering. She withholds the words that want to follow. I don't want to think about him. Sam turns his head, his eyes landing on a box sitting in the table that sat in the kitchen. A layer had dust had gathered on top of it. It probably hasn't been touched since it had been placed on top of the table. Written across the side of the box in black ink was PICTURES + RIBBON BANNERS. Things from the funeral, he realizes, left in the box to collect dust.

"Are you going to therapy? Like we talked about?" Sam questions, his voice a lot softer, like he's talking to a child. Y/N's shoulders seemed to slump and her mood starts to sour. She looks down at her daughter, who is blissfully unaware of what's happening around her. When Sam asked if he could come over, she should have assumed that he was going to act like this but she didn't. Y/N had thought he was just coming over to visit, but then again that should've raised some alarm. Like everyone else after Steve was put in the ground, Sam had left to live his life. Y/N had to struggle with being a new mother and living without Steve all by herself. No one offered their help or checked in to see how she was doing. The only one who she talked to was Rhodey, but that's because they worked together.

"You thought about him didn't you? That's why you're here. Something reminded you of him and then you thought of me." Y/N replies, the emotions leaving her voice, "Because if you did care, you would've called or texted or something."

"Y/N-" He starts, but Y/N quickly cuts him off, pulling the now empty bottle away from her daughter's mouth. Sarah looks up at her mother, her little hands rubbing at her eyes. The baby shifted in her mother's arms, trying to get comfortable. Y/N carefully puts the bottle into the sink.

"No, no don't try to tell me that you came here on your own volition, Sam. You don't text me, you don't call, you don't try to talk to me for a few months and all of a sudden you want to drop in?" Y/N sighs, shaking her head, "I-I appreciate you coming here, I really do, but don't waltz in here suddenly concerned over me."

They stay silent for a moment. Sam knew she was right. He had kept himself busy and as the days passed by, Y/N and what she might be going through slipped from his mind. It wasn't until last week when he was asked by someone about how Y/N was doing. He knows that he should've been making sure she was okay. Y/N had been one of his closest friends before Thanos snapped his fingers. He had watched her and Steve's relationship blossom and bloom. Hell, he had been Steve's best man at their wedding. He should have been right there for Y/N, should have been her shoulder to cry on after Steve had been buried, should have helped her take care of Sarah, but he hadn't. He had decided to run away, leaving her behind, leaving her to reassemble the shattered pieces of her life by herself. Sam had gotten to move on with his life. Y/N couldn’t.

"I'm sorry. I know that should've called and made contact after the funeral. I know that I should've come by. I just..." Sam sighs, his eyes focused on her, "I didn't know what to say to you. I wanted to help, wanted to console you, but I-I just couldn't. I didn't know how to tell you that everything was going to be okay when I didn't know if it was going to be okay."

Y/N doesn't respond. Instead of looking at Sam, she casts her eyes on Sarah. The child yawns, stretching in her mother's arms. Sarah had her mother's eyes, but had her father's blonde hair. It shined softly in the light as the baby curled up against her mother. Sarah was all Y/N had left of Steve, her last reminder of how much she loved him. But as she looked at her sleepy daughter, she felt that familiar pang of heartache, the same one she would get every time she looked at Sarah because she was reminded that Steve had abandoned this sweet little baby, had abandoned Y/N to make a family with someone else, someone who probably didn't have to try for years to have a baby with him. Y/N wanted to direct all her anger towards Steve, but she had started to think about what things she might’ve done wrong, even though Y/N knew that there was nothing she could have changed to make Steve stay. He was the one who made that choice, he was the one who decided to leave, so he should be the one she was mad at, not herself.

"I-I've been doing everything I'm supposed to be doing. I go to therapy. I take my pills. I started working again so I have some sort of normalcy. I make sure Sarah is okay, I try to be the best mom I can be for her. I do everything I am supposed to do and still-I still feel bad. I feel so fucking bad all the time, Sammy." She suddenly announces, tears starting to pool in her eyes. Sam can feel his heart splinter in his chest as she continues, "I just-I don't understand why he left. He-He told me that he loved me every day and that he loved Sarah and I just....Why would he leave us?"

Sam didn't know how to respond to any of that. He didn't have an answer for her. He didn't know why Steve would leave his family. The whole situation confused him as well and left him with a bad taste in his mouth. The man who he had thought Steve was, that man wouldn't have just up and abandon his wife and infant daughter. No, that man would happy, over the fucking moon that he had a family. The Steve Sam knew wouldn't have left behind his wife and child to make a family with someone else, with someone who already lived a good life. Sam didn't understand what could have happened in those five years that would make Steve do that.

Instead of saying anything, he stood up and walked around the island. Sam carefully pulled her into his arms, making sure sweet little Sarah didn't get squished in between them. The infant looked up at him, probably wondering who the hell he was. Sam held the two of them in his arms as Y/N cried, her shoulders shaking with her sobs. Her child rested in her arms, completely unaware of what was going on.

#sam wilson x reader #sam wilson #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader #anthony mackie x reader #tfatws

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

fine line - a close reading

gonna cry bc i’m at the end, gonna cry bc it’s fine line.

(x x x)

want to give the same disclaimer as with lights up: this song is so layered, so multi-faceted, that i could never hope to give an exhaustive analysis. due to its vagueness and openness for interpretation, i assume that everyone, just like me, has their own ideas about it and has attached importance to it in ways that no one else’s words can or should alter. this song means the world to me for reasons that aren’t necessarily in this post, and that’s how it is with art that touches us deeply. i’ve tried my best to pull it apart, lay it bare, spread it open, if you will, so it’s almost as free as it can be for you all to form your own opinion on it. in the synthesis i will make my own conclusions, but feel free to ignore that if yours are totally different. i’m just one set of brain and heart taking in fine line and projecting whatever i think is right onto it. alright, let’s go

fine line, track 12

sung in falsetto

live version at the form: first verse not sung in falsetto - after first chorus goes into falsetto - like “thinking of her” has summoned her

live version at the form: first verse not sung in falsetto - after first chorus goes into falsetto - like “thinking of her” has summoned her

Put a price on emotion

pouring emotions into the art you create: how much is genuine / how much do you show - line between being authentic to your audience and giving away too much, wanting to keep things to yourself and not feeling truthful with what you’ve written

exploits of the industry: lay your soul bare - or the exact opposite, some pretend emotion - to score that hit

I'm looking for something to buy

cynical. emotions aren’t genuine, right? where can i go buy some?

～ lights up themes. fake life, industry, being a sell-out

You've got my devotion

But man, I can hate you sometimes

“you” = career, music, Harry Styles™. devoted to the craft, to the job, all the ups and downs of it, despite the hardships it brings 

“man” is deliberate: can be seen as an offhand interjection, like “man, that’s rough”, but nothing is casually placed in this song. “man” is: The Man, the heads in the industry, the people pulling the strings. The man in Harry, the man he’s been in the media all these years, the part he’s played/had to play, the man that’s in him

⟶ “hate you”: hate for industry shit, self-hate created by having to play pretend (～ only angel analysis, the persona of the Bukowski womaniser)

“sometimes” - it’s not fucked up all the time

“you” could also be a lover, but the sudden “hate” there then would be for that person, which is absent in any other song about them, doesn’t make any sense

I don't want to fight you

And I don't want to sleep in the dirt

like there’s a choice to me made, but he doesn’t want to make it: either I fight this “you” or I sleep in the dirt

“you” as the industry: if he doesn’t fight them, he might end up being a beggar, lose all his self-worth bc he gave in to everything they asked/told him to do

“you” as himself: fight your instincts, part of who you are/the persona. if he doesn’t fight to figure himself out, though, he fears he’ll also lose

“sleep in the dirt” as a sense of rejection, as well

We'll get the drinks in

So I'll get to thinking of her

drinks to cope - falling, only angel, from the dining table - or to be braver and confront emotions better - tbsl

who is “we”? who is “her”?

narrative of “you” as “lover” further disproven: if “I” and the lover get together over drinks and “I” starts thinking of “her”?

⟷ “her” could be the lover, but then who is “you”? the industry? some other person, besides that lover, harry is devoted to? multiple lovers, all of a sudden? no.

⟶ “I” and “you” are all harry, that get to thinking of “her” because she is in daydreams with him. the narrative that harry is fighting a part of him, the persona he has (had) to play bc of industry limits, makes most sense. that persona is within him now, and part of his work, but all of him, “we”, is begging to come into the light - of which she is a huge part

We'll be a fine line

balancing act. let everything coexist but pay attention that those lines don’t get crossed the wrong way. what we are, what i am, is a fine line between what makes us go under and what lets us thrive

we will be: determination to fulfil this prophecy, statement of fact “we always will be”

“we’ll be a fine line”: other way of interpreting it is that on both sides of that line is what entails “we”, all that is harry. what merges on that fine line is where it’s just right, when harry is fully himself in every way

“fine line” can also be an echo of criticism, bigotry, in the style of: it’s a fine line between being simply flamboyant and queer, between dressing like that and people thinking you’re a transvestite or summat (cause we wouldn’t want that, now, would we) - “we’ll be a fine line” could be owning all of it. putting himself in the middle of all those messy lines, as someone queer without a category

Test of my patience

patience with himself - kindness to self - took a long time to figure shit out and it was a challenge

waiting for change: industry and its allowances/openness

There's things that we'll never know

my favorite line

“we” = harry / harry and company / us in general, all of us listening 

～ tpwk “i don’t need all the answers”: deep sense of acceptance

peace to be found in accepting this!!

You sunshine, you temptress

“sunshine” - as in all the love songs (blue skies, sunflowers, summer days…): lover - possible that there are multiple “you”s in this song?

sunshine could ofc also be directed at the temptress, still

female “temptress” - “i’ll get to thinking of her” - she - it’s tempting for harry to think of her all the time, to lose himself in the “her” in him

other interpretation for “temptress”: woman he knows with negative influence in his life - resemblance to woman “you flower, you feast”, so echo of Bukowski ～ only angel, kiwi (my sunshine, my love, who is involved with this temptress…)

My hand’s at risk, I fold

⟷ tpwk “dropping into the deep end”

not showing his cards just yet / forfeits

anxious to show all of him, to take the chance, with all the risks and consequences involved

Crisp trepidation

I’ll try to shake this soon

nervousness, anxiety - about (not) taking (enough) chances, (not) laying himself bare (release of the album that reveals much more than before)

“crisp” fresh, this feeling is unfamiliar - change is coming “soon”

sense of agency: I can get rid of this feeling by my own volition and make these changes - hesitant, insecure: “try”

wants to be braver. he’s not going back, but still needs to calmly coax himself further and further into the light, out into the open (“we’ll be alright”)

Spreading you open

Is the only way of knowing you

(can anyone else hear “spread thin” like a whisper under “spreading”? or am i imagining things.)

“you” is back - the only way of knowing “you” is to spread them open - the physical

to spread someone open - very literal, don’t need to paint the picture, or to lay bare, to lay it all out 

⟶ “you” as himself - the only way of knowing who i am is by doing this: writing this album, performing these songs, letting others listen in and form their own interpretations, let this world grow where i’m laid bare and OPEN and exist as this person who has issues, who is angry, who doesn’t know who he is a lot of the time, but is still so happy to be here - let it spread and let it all circle back to me so i can grow deeper into myself

We'll be a fine line

We'll be alright

“we” = h & self, h & lover, h & fans

collectiveness from tpwk

(notes on a piano sounding like drops, like he’s emerged from the water and dripping dry)

SYNTHESIS

Everything about this song is plural. Personal pronouns are all over the place. I, you, her, we. The sound is incredibly layered, with Harry’s own voice echoing through its verses like he’s singing to himself in an empty cave. Meanings can be attached to every word like it’s a wax tablet used too many times. What Harry has said in interviews for once holds pretty true to the actual meaning, in my opinion. 

“It felt like it described to me the process of making it and how the album felt in terms of the different kinds of songs on it.” (Capital FM)

This can mean a lot of things, and I think it means all of the things, of course. It means Fine Line is a summary of all of his emotions he visited on the album, of the things he’s laid bare. And it means that the actual process was also described, as one that can be frustrating and challenging, with added industry shit. 

Harry has expressed straightforward gratefulness to his label for "leaving (him) alone” while making the album and that speaks volumes. This time, he had the chance to make his art without the constant interference of a label, which meant he could weave in criticism as well. “Put a price on emotion” is first and foremost a critique on the industry. It’s the first line of the song, setting the tone for the interpretation of this song is about the risks I took while making this album. It involves criticism on an industry that creates such an atmosphere that only a certain type of music and artist breaks through or can be successful, that limits people in their personal expression. Convinces them that it’s better that way. That it’s better to hide who they love because the general public won’t accept them. That it’s better to create a song about a fake emotion than be honest. Harry loves writing songs and being on stage, but it’s taken a while for him to be fully comfortable there as a solo artist and bloom into the person that could make Fine Line. He loves his career, but it’s also limited his freedom in ways beyond our comprehension, and it’s exploited him to the point where he didn’t know who he was, in ways that have clearly taken a toll on his mental wellbeing. To a point where he finishes this album reassuring himself, most of all, that everything will be alright.

That process of making Fine Line obviously includes Harry confronting emotions he hadn’t before. He has stated that he experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows while making it. There are things he hates, he was fighting but doesn’t want to (anymore), uncertainties he was trying to figure out but had to accept he couldn’t, risks he still doesn’t know he can take without shaking. At the centre of it all is this sense of “knowing you.” The different personal pronouns in the song paint a fractured picture, which is ultimately deliberate. That the “you” Harry is devoted to and can hate sometimes doesn’t line up with “her,” that the end focus does seem to be this “you” that is mentioned in the same breath as “man” and “temptress,” forming the “we” together with “I”. 

After having songs like Lights Up, She, Falling and even TPWK, one of the central themes on the album has undoubtedly been self-discovery, in all its pain and glory. There are no female pronouns on the album besides, obviously, in She, and then here, in Fine Line. She is about a man living with a woman “just in his head”, who “sleeps in his bed while he plays pretend.” It is very clearly a trans narrative, the story of someone struggling to put into words what they’re experiencing in terms of gender. To a point that they fantasise about running away. Fine Line brings the ideas of knowing what it all means, which Lights Up kicks off (“do you know who you are?”), Falling deepens (“what am I now?”) and Treat People With Kindness turns on its head (“I don’t need all the answers”), together. Harry is still doubtful, and the questions asked earlier in the album haven’t disappeared, but he has accepted that “some things we’ll never know.” His aim, however, is still “knowing you.” 

To have Fine Line, as the summary of these emotions of self-growth and self-discovery, echo that one female pronoun, speaks volumes. It is a direct reference to She, to that story about gender. “Her” in this song refers to “she (who) lives in daydreams with (him).” The one who still only fully comes out when they’ve had a drink. The one he’s still working to include in who he is, as he tries to figure out who he is, all of it. The song where he sings in falsetto, just like on Fine Line. Of which he sang the first verse an octave lower live at the forum, switching between those voices, those perspectives. That’s also why “you” in this song is also Harry to me. We get this fractured sense of self, this “I” and “you” conversing over a drink, this “you” Harry is devoted to and wants to figure out. “You” and “I” form “we” and all of them are Harry. The lines are blurry on purpose, there is no way to figure out where “you” ends and “I” begins. 

“You sunshine, you temptress” is the most enigmatic line in that respect, and to me blurs those lines even more between the pronouns. “You” is suddenly also identified by a female noun. And no this isn’t about some kind of love triangle. “Sunshine” aligns with all the odes to his lover in the rest of the album. So what does that mean? That there are multiple “you”s in this song, meaning that Harry is addressing both his lover and a temptress? So “her” he’ll get to thinking of, the only other female pronoun used in the song, is identified as a temptress, but tempting to do what? To take risks? And no I won’t forget the “man, I can hate you sometimes,” where "man” is not a casual interjection but an identifier of “you.” 

Or is it an echo of “the light” from Golden’s “bring me back to the light” and Light’s Up’s “step into the light”? So that the “sunshine” symbolises being in the clear, being out of the darkness running through his heart, the darkness caused by not knowing who you are. “You sunshine,” you beacon of light. “You temptress,” risk-taker and source of anxiety. You, one I need to spread open to figure out, to know about, source of happiness and despair, one I’m devoted to but also hate. You, man, you, temptress. You there, in the mirror looking back at me. 

All of you, and myself included, we’ll be a fine line. And we’ll be alright.

This song is about all of that. The self in art, the self on its own, the other, the journey, the chances, the fears, the passion. Hope. Reassurance. Confidence. And, most importantly, that everything will be alright in the end.

x

read all my lyric analyses here

#lzjrkfhlejrhgfzjehgrfjhaegrfjhger #i'm done #it's done #this is it #did i have to take breaks to get through this? yes #did i write this with tears in my eyes at times? yes #very much yes #this song.............. oh this song #will i fret and fret wondering if i did it justice? permanently #it means so much to me and it literally makes barely any sense #it's so fucking beautiful #we can try to make sense of it but it's impossible #as it should be #wow #cause of death: fine line #fine line analysis #my post #lyric analysis #gaaaahhhhhh #harry what you do to me #long post

[kyotarou]

One bed scenario for izuku, shouto, tamaki and dabi? I really liked the last one

characters: izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, tamaki amajiki, dabi

plot (deku, shoto, & tamaki): you’re invited to a weekend getaway for a class celebration, but some miscalculations lead to some awkward situations

warnings: mild swearing

a/n: since dabi isn’t part of u.a. the plot for his scenario will be explained below :) also this is a bit long i apologize if it’s a lot to read

part 1

Izuku Midoriya

Class 1-A takes a trip to Kyoto during the spring when the cherry blossoms have bloomed and the city is pink

Everyone is free to do as they please as long as they meet back at the hotel by a certain time or else everyone is going to assume they were kidnapped

Deku’s excited cause he’s never gone on a trip with all his friends like this before

He’s the type of person to have a backpack full of water, snacks, money, and a map with a ton of places marked off

Drags you by the wrist all over the city and manages to cross off all the spots on the map with enough time to squeeze in some extra destinations

At the end of the day, you and Deku head up to the room you decided to share, exhausted and ready to sleep until noon

Upon opening the door, you both do a double-take

“Uh, Izuku, am I seeing things, or is there only one bed?”

“Nope, there’s only one.”

“Um, I guess one of us could take the floor?”

Neither you or Deku actually want to sleep on the floor, but you don’t want to come off as rude, so you play a game of, “No, I will,” until it gets too tiring

“Let’s just share, yeah?”

“Oh, (Y/N), are you sure?”

“Well, we’re not getting anywhere aren’t we?”

He’s trying his best to not seem flustered as you crawl into bed next to him

It’s not as uncomfortable as you thought, but you’re worried about Deku and how he looks like he’s about to have a heart attack

You scoot to the edge of the bed with your back to him, hoping it makes things less awkward, and fall asleep

You wake up to the sound of rustling and try to get up to check the time but something’s holding you back

You look down to see Deku’s arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you tight, while his lips brush against your neck, murmuring your name in his sleep

Your face heats up and you realize staying like this for the rest of the day isn’t so bad

Shoto Todoroki

You hang out with your friends but grow tired quickly and decide to head back to the hotel early and relax at the spa

You’re surprised to see Shoto in the spa house too, towel draped over his shoulder, no shirt, with shorts on

It makes your heart race and cheeks burn with embarrassment because holy fuck does your crush look good right now

He’s super chill about it and thinks your red face is from the steam of the hot tub or the sauna

“Hello, (Y/N), why aren’t you out with the others?”

“Oh, um, I was getting tired and just wanted to relax.”

“I see. Well, care to join me?” He hangs the towel on a hook and settles into the hot tub

You’re standing there, legs shaking, realizing you’re going to have to strip in front of him

Shoto stares at you expectantly and sees you hesitating

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I’ll look away.”

After taking off your clothes, swimsuit underneath, you get in beside him

It’s a bit tense at first, but soon you loosen up and have some good, interesting conversations

At bedtime, Iida is listing out the pairs and the room numbers and you hear him say, “(L/N) and Todoroki, room 207.”

“Huh?! Iida, are you sure? I was supposed to be with Denki!”

“Hm, it says Denki’s with Sero on the list. You two must’ve gotten mixed up, I apologize. Will you be okay or do you want to switch?”

“I’m fine with it, how about you (Y/N)?”

You feel like you’re going to collapse because your crush just agreed to be in the same room as you, but you nod a little too excitedly and take the elevator up

As if the day couldn’t get any better worse, there’s only one bed in your room

Even Shoto is a bit taken aback but, being the responsible boy he is, he offers to request a different room, or at least bring a cot up

Without thinking, you blurt out, “What if we shared?” and your whole body stiffens in embarrassment

Surprisingly, Shoto isn’t opposed to it, but he asks if you’re 100% with it first, then gets into bed

His body is cold next to yours and you shiver a little too violently, back turned to him

Shoto takes notice and you feel his breath on the back of your neck. “Sorry, let me warm you up.”

He uses his Quirk and heats up the bed, and although you know it’s an innocent gesture, your mind can’t help but wander elsewhere

“Oh, um, thank you,” you whisper, relaxing in the warmth

“Of course.”

Little did you know, Shoto’s heart was beating a mile a minute, because he too didn’t want to scare his crush—you

Tamaki Amajiki

Tamaki stays in the hotel the entire day

It’s not that he doesn’t want to be with his friends; he’s afraid of getting lost or doing something to mess up the trip for his classmates

You stay with Tamaki in his room, chatting about whatever comes to mind

“Are you sure you want to stay? I don’t want to hold you back.”

“It’s alright, we have two days left anyway. I like being with you, Tamaki!”

He hides the blush growing on his face and you smile because of how cute he looks

Tamaki’s room only has one bed, which isn’t surprising, since it was noted one person would need to be alone due to the odd number of students

Problem was it wasn’t stated who would be alone

As you’re exploring his room, gawking at the view from the window and all the cool little knickknacks, you throw open the closet doors and freeze when you see your stuff

“Huh? Why is this here? Tamaki, did you take my bag on accident?”

“Ah, no! I only brought my stuff up, someone must’ve put it there by mistake.”

You call Nejire and ask about the rooms

“Hmm, it seems like you and Tamaki must’ve been given the same room. Sorry for not checking it over, do you want to be moved?”

“Ah, it’s fine, I guess.”

You and Tamaki try to go back to your conversation but you can tell how nervous he is since night is approaching quickly

Bedtime comes and Tamaki nearly screams when he feels your body pressed against his

Guilt washes over you; “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. I’ll go down and get a cot.”

As you’re about to slip out from under the covers, Tamaki suddenly grabs your arm and buries his face in his pillow

“Uhm, (Y/N), i-it’s okay. Y-You can stay, uhm, ah-”

He opens one eye and quickly shuts it, pressing himself so far into the pillow you swear he’s going to suffocate

Confused, you look around, but there’s nothing in the room beside you two in the dark

It hits you— “Tamaki, are you… scared of the dark?”

“What, no! I-I-”

He lets out a little squeak when you stroke his hair, face inches from his

“It’s okay, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dabi

You were a vigilante, an anti-hero who believed in helping others but despised the flashiness and celebrity status of pro heroes

Your Quirk, Feline, which gave you the characteristics of a cat, allowed you to work in the comfort of darkness where it was difficult to catch you

You rarely got injured due to your agility, but this night, your target had a Quirk that allowed them to see in the darkness, and left you stumbling down the street with a gash in your side

“Rough night, little kitty?”

Dabi stands under a streetlamp with a smirk

You and Dabi weren’t friends by any means, but you held a certain level of respect for him; part of it was so he wouldn’t cremate you

“Shut up,” you scowl. “I’m perfectly fine- hrgh.”

You press your hand over the wound, blood slipping past your fingers

Suddenly, Dabi throws you over his shoulder, your head knocking against his back as he carries you to his place

“What the fuck- Put me down!”

He lays you on the bed, uncharacteristically gentle, and cleans your wound with a towel

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not gonna let my little kitty walk around like this.”

Dabi covers your wound with a bandage and throws the blanket over you

It’s past midnight and you’re getting sleepy, but you realize you’ve taken up all the space on the bed

Plus, it’d be kind of weird to crash at the place of the man you barely know

“I’ll go then, thanks for the help.” 

He pushes your shoulder and you fall against the pillows

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home?”

“Not like that, kitty.” He circles around to the other side

“Where are you gonna sleep? There’s only one bed.”

“So?” 

Dabi flops onto the mattress and slings one arm around your shoulders, tugging you close— “Go to sleep, kitty.”

Unable to move from the pain and his grip, you have no choice but to snuggle close

Despite his casual demeanor, your heightened sense of hearing amplified the rapid beating of his heart

A smile spreads across your face; this is gonna be great blackmail

#izuku midoriya #shoto todoroki #tamaki amajiki #dabi #deku #deku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #dabi x reader #dabi x you #todoroki x you #deku x you #tamaki x you #tamaki amajiki x you #tamaki amajiki x y/n #dabi x y/n #izuku x you #izuku x y/n #tamaki amajiki fanfic #tamaki amajiki headcanons #tamaki amajiki imagine #todoroki imagine #dabi imagine #shoto todoroki x you #bnha todoroki #todoroki fluff #izuku headcanons #dabi fanfic

[the-broken-truth]

May I ask for a blacksmith male reader and Lady Dimitrescu where she has to come to him to ask him to repair something from the castle and she's condescending and talks down to him until he tells her 'either treat me with respect or get the fuck out and find someone else.' The fact he stood up to her despite him not being of the Cadou like her makes her come back a few times to get to know him. Maybe a romance blooms from there. Thanks friend I love your work!

Broken Truth (Raises an eyebrow): Smart-Ass, huh? Alright, I can worth with that. Let the words weave together.

Broken Whispers: And before you ask - yes, that was a Mass Effect Reference.

[[Y/N] [L/N]'s Metal Works]

The sound of a hammer hitting steel echoed throughout the small blacksmith shop as the owner pounded away at the bent heated sword to get the curve out of the blade. This man was [Y/N] [L/N] - The Lord of Steel; while he did master in shaping all kinds of metal, that title of Lord of Metal belonged to Lord Karl Heisenberg of House Heisenberg - the sword he was actually working on was for the 4th Lord of the Village.

The sound of the bell at the front desk made the man stop his hammering and he was pleased to see the sword was now straight as it should have been. He rose to his feet and placed the heated blade in a tub of water before he grabbed a cloth, wiped his face and arms of the coal dust from his flesh, and walked from the backroom to greet his customer.

Imagine the surprise on his face when his [E/C] eyes locked with the golden eyes of the Dragoness of Castle Dimitrescu glaring down at him from the other side of his service counter. Compared to the blacksmith - who was tall in his own right as a human (7 feet, 4 inches) - the tall woman was still at least 2 heads over him. He cleared his throat and began to speak.

"Greetings - Welcome to Metal Works. What can I do for you today?" He asked.

"Metal Works? Such a basic name for a shop but at the same time, there's not much to be expected when a pathetic male is running it." Alcina said with a scoff on her face while the man just raised his eyebrow.

"Excuse me? Just who do you think you - coming into my shop with the nerve to insult me?" The man asked as he folded his muscular and scarred arms with a scoff of his own on his face.

"You fix your lip to talk back to me, You Stupid Man-Thing?! I am Alcina Dimitrescu - First Lord to Mother Miranda." Alcina said with a smirk on her face.

"I wouldn't give a Lycan's furry ass if you were Mother Miranda or Queen Elizabeth herself! You do not come into my shop - the one thing I've made without aid from anyone, spilling my blood and sweat into each stone and creation - to and disrespect me when you are in need of my services. You have 2 choices: Either show me the proper respect or get the hell out of my shop and ask someone else to deal with your problem!" The man yelled back at her - tired of her bullshit. Alcina looked at him for a moment before she handed him a broken shield that bore the Crest of House Dimitrescu.

"My daughters broke it during their roughhousing. This shield was the first relic of House Dimitrescu & I do not wish it to remain in halves." She said.

"Very well - I can have this fixed tomorrow morning." He said as he took the two pieces in his hands. "The total will be 1,000 Lei upon retrieval."

"Wait, only 1,000 Lei? Why so cheap?" Alcina asked.

"I get a lot of business a day so it would be horrible if I charged too much - it would make me feel like I'm ripping off the citizens of this village." [Y/N] said as he bowed to the tall woman, took the shield pieces & retreats to the back room, leaving the lady standing there for a while before she leaves.

When she did return the next morning to retrieve the shield - she noticed it looked far better than it did. He did more than putting the pieces back together. It was polished and painted - it was as if the shield had been restored.

"What is this?" Alcina asked as she looked at the new shield.

"A Grand Piece like this needed special treatment." He smiled as he handed her the shield. Alcina gave him the money and was about to leave with the shield when she heard the man curse, she turned to see him looking at an empty tea canister.

"Is something wrong?" She asked.

"I ran out of my tea. That was the last canister I had and the peddler who sells me the tea won't be back until the end of the month." The man said as he tossed the empty canister into the trash.

"Blacksmith..." Alcina called out causing the man to look at her, "I have a few varieties of tea - would you like to accompany me to Castle Dimitrescu?" She asked. The man looked at for a while before smiling and nodding his head with a bow as he began to close up shop and follow the tall woman to the grand castle that overshadowed his small shop.

That's how it all began - [Y/N] would be invited to Castle Dimitrescu whenever he had a free day or Alcina would go to the shop whenever she was bored or just wanted to see the Blacksmith; they visited each other so often that [Y/N] made Alcina her own chair to sit on so she wouldn't stand for so long & Alcina made a guest room for the mortal man.

When [Y/N] met the daughters - he showed no fear and smiled at them, regardless of the feral grins on their faces. When he learned of Alcina's need for blood, he offered himself as her donor and his blood was the sweetest thing she had ever tasted. The daughters loved it when the human came over - they would run to greet him when one of them saw him coming.

Soon enough - Alcina and the Human came more than friends, they were living in the same castle, sharing the same bed, and the human's last name was added to the great name of Dimitrescu.

[End]

#resident evil 8 #alcina dimitrescu x male reader

[studyingmoominvalley]

my analysis of Moominvalley (2019)'s season one soundtrack

(yeah I may not be great at this and I may be missing a lot, but bare in mind this is my analysis, not anyone else's. Please be nice to me ;-;)

I'm Far Away:

Snufkin has travelled for the Winter. The first verse is like Moomin leaving letters in Snufkin's bag, wishing him with good travels and a safe return hope. Snufkin is longing for something to change, or maybe something in him to change... The second verse is more talking about his travels and how he longs to return no matter what happens.

Starlight:

I don't know, reading this and thinking of Snufmin makes me concerned. It's SO obvious that it's from Moomin's perspective that it gives me a cavaty. "Please say you'll never leave 'cause it's in your hands" If that wasn't obvious enough, idk what is. This is him just... wanting to be with Snufkin. He knows deep down that Snufkin has to travel, yes it's in his hands but not completely. It's a part of him. This is obviously his mind in a point of time where he hasn't gotten used to Snufkin being away from him, possibly what is reflected in Teety-Woo.

Summer Day:

Moomin doesn't like the Winter because it feels wrong without Snufkin. But he has Snorkmaiden with him at least, and that's good enough right? Snorkmaiden loves Moomin, almost in a similar way Moomin loves Snufkin, but Moomin just feels tied down in the relationship. He thinks he's just thinking like an adult, like a moody teenager or something. But then again, he feels Snufkin is the only one who understands him ("But when you put your hands in my hands/You speak a language only us can understand"). It feels like Summer with Snufkin, but not with Snorkmaiden. He reassures himself that Spring is coming and that he'll see the one who knows him best soon.

Back To The Cave:

We get to look into Snufkin's brain, ooo! This is mainly about Snufkin's feelings about himself and how he hides his true emotions from Moomin and the others. "They can't see behind the camouflage" this is him hiding behind a wise and carefree persona, when deep down he is conflicted about almost everything. It seems when he runs out of things to say or when he fears that he'll show his emotions, he finds time to be alone, shown by the lines "We're running out of punchlines/So watch us crawl/We're crawling back to the cave". But his feelings are getting too much, his fears of being forgotten most likely because he doesn't express himself in the way he should "There's a storm/It's rising". So basically he doesn't know what to do anymore. And I guess the "you can't be truly free if you admire somebody too much" quote can link to "There's no time/There's no place for idles", showing more that this is about Snufkin's emotions.

Love Me With All Your Heart:

now this song choice was intentional. This is mutual pining, their emotions mixing into the same song. They've loved each other for a long time, be it platonic turning to romance or be it always romantic. They both want each other, they both long for each other. But they don't wish for their relationship to change, they want it to stay the same ("When we're far apart or when you're near me", "Love me always as you've loved me from the start").

Home Again:

Snufkin is back home, and he could not be happier. Yeah he likes to travel and be with his thoughts, but nothing is better than being with Moomin, shown by the lines "Nothing could be better/Than when I hold you close to me" and "Who I was back then and who I am now/Makes no difference when I'm by your side".

There Is Something In The Forest:

One day, Moomin and Snufkin are just adventuring as they usually do. But something feels different. Something new. Moomin realises it that night, when sitting hand in hand with Snufkin. He finds himself losing track of time, only paying attention to his friend. When he goes home, all he can think of is Snufkin. He thinks of it as he walks, embracing his new emotions as love, a deep love, for Snufkin. And he never wants to let it go. Ever.

Home:

Moomin has noticed how off Snufkin has been acting, and one day he decides to comfort him. He tells him that if he ever feels like he needs to hide ("Sometimes you only want to hide") or that nobody is there for him, that Moomin will always be there for him. This song can also link to Snufkin's own saying "You must go on a long journey before you find out how wonderful home is", and seems like Snufkin has found his home in Moomintroll.

All Small Beasts:

nah this is crime anthem. Little My is cheering Snufkin up, telling him that people with lots of dreams, emotions and all that should just let it out in a huge show! Commit crime! Burn some signs! Fuck Hemulens, who's to say what they can or can't do? The first verses are her making fun of people being neat and telling Snufkin that bottling up your emotions is just going to tease at you and bite you in the tail one day. But this can also be seen in another way, brought to my attention by my friend Bloom. It can be a song about owning up to your mistakes instead of keeping them away.

Free Spirit:

must I say anything? Snufkin likes being alone and free. The second verse is what I want to focus on however. He knows it's good to be alone and not worry about anything, but his avoiding of responsibility is doing him worse than he knows (much like the "owning up to mistakes" analysis by my friend Bloom).

Country Air:

This is what Snufkin wishes he could say to Moomin. They're relaxing together in Summer, Moomin asleep. Snufkin is thinking in his brain about how much he loves him and just wishes he could say SOMETHING. Winter is coming soon, almost time for them to part. Maybe he can ponder more on his emotions then?

By Your Side:

it seems Snufkin is accepting and returning Moomin's offering of comfort, showing that he cares for Moomin and that he doesn't even need to ask for help, he'll do anything to make him happy.

In Blue:

oh boy

Snufkin fears he made a mistake already. He let out his emotions. Even when reassured that it was okay to do so, he feels utterly guilty, shown by the lines "I built a house from sticks and twine/And you said it would serve me fine/But then the rain could soak me through". He begins to fear that he's being put up with, like he doesn't matter anymore ("Anything to keep me quiet"). But he can't help but feel a strong admiration for Moomin. Snufkin has made so many mistakes, and has so many bad feelings ("I caught a fever like I always do"), yet Moomin is still his friend ("And still you let me stand with you, in blue"). He feels his emotions are his fault, and wonders if he should just stay in the valley and own up to his mistakes and allow others to show their true emotions for him, shown by the lines "I bet next year I'll see you all the time/The fault is all deserved as mine", "Was it all on purpose?/Was this true?" and "Tell me and be honest, was this you?". The phrase "In Blue" could refer to the saying "into the blue", which refers to the unknown. Snufkin is "In Blue" because he is in a stage where he is unsure of what he is hearing and wants to know if it's true or not.

Nothern Lights:

Snufkin's feelings for Moomin are increasing to what is obvious to him as love. "Will you find peace in your heart?" this line could be Snufkin talking to himself. Will be ever come to peace with his emotions and open up?

Ready Now:

Moomin has been there for Snufkin all this time. Through all his doubts, through all his sadness. Snufkin has no idea how to express himself, so Moomin helps him. They take it in turns to just talk about things, and "To my surprise we found my words". All this time, Snufkin believed himself to be free. But now he knows that opening up and embracing how you feel is true freedom. He is ready now.

The Author:

This is more about Moomin. He feels like his future will be like his father's, he already met Snorkmaiden during a big childhood adventure after all, just like Pappa. But he finds his story is changing. He's fallen in love with Snufkin. He slowly realises that his future is his own and that he is in charge of his story. And his story begins with being there for his best friend.

#moomins #moominvalley #snufkin #moomin #moomintroll #snufmin #analysis #soundtrack

[author-morgan]

Your work is so good, you should do this for a living! Your Ivarr stories are treasurers! Because quality Ivarr content that matches up exactly with my fantasies are rare, and I'm shit poet...

Could you please do one where the clan's dainty sweetheart secretly has the hots for Ivarr but avoids him because she doesn't know how to act around him.

He's also into her but thinks she hates him.

She gets terribly drunk for first time ever, throws herself at Ivarr...

Confused but also turned on, he internally struggles because doesn't want to take advantage of her.

He puts her to bed/or gets someone else to do it? Ubba? Because he doesn't trust himself to be alone with her?

Finds her when she's sober and not hungover, confronts her because drunken words are sober thoughts. She's embarrassed but they end up having really great sex!!!

i do write for a living, just not creative writing oh the joys of academia. apologies for the long wait, but here's more Ivarr! hope you enjoy! ♥ i kind of went overboard (like 3.3k words overboard) but it's Ivarr and i'm thirsty as hell for this bastard. Ivarr the Boneless x fem!Reader

EIVOR SHAKES HIS head. His arms crossed with a frown playing on his lips. He doesn’t see what you do —why of all the people in Midgard, you only have eyes for Ivarr the Boneless. Even Ubba would be a better choice, he thinks. It’s in Eivor’s nature to worry over and protect the ones he loves after all he’s lost. You are another example of Styrbjorn’s charity to those he considered friends, just as he is Sigurd’s brother in all but blood, you are their sister and have been for many years —becoming a temper for the two rowdy boys, favoring the healing arts over swordplay and battle.

Since Eivor’s initial meeting with Ivarr in Repton, there’s been something about his methods and outlook that sets Eivor at unease, even more so now that he’s caught Ivarr’s gaze lingering on you —like now during the autumn feast. Some jest, saying opposites attract, and while that seldom seems to be the truth, it is for you and Ivarr. He is cold iron, warm blood, a harsh winter —and you’re soft silks, a cool breeze, fresh spring blooms.

He’s seen the looks you share with Ivarr. Fleeting and flirtatious, but that is nigh all you share besides few rushed words in passing. Ivarr cuts an intimidating presence, and you’ve never been quite sure how to converse with warriors beyond your brothers. It’s nigh as difficult for Ivarr —all he knows is bloodlust and his fellow drengrs— finding the right words to say is not a battle he thinks he can win. There’s fondness between you, almost everyone can see it, but there are times when Ivarr is left to wonder if you truly like him or if your soft smiles and kind words are only a product of his reputation.

Ivarr’s feelings are clear to himself, though, especially as he watches you among the people of Ravensthorpe, partaking in the autumn festivities. Seeing you wear a crown of gold and amber leaves, dancing with Ceolbert to the drunken tune of Bragi and his tagelharpa with a tankard of Tekla’s mead in hand makes his heart beat faster, and his mouth go dry. He keeps to the benches, reminding himself that a drengr does not dance —at least not this type of dance.

The evening fades, but the festivities don’t. Soma claims her clan throws the best feasts, though you’re tempted to challenge the jarlskona for the title since Ravensthorpe has grown. You look around, searching for your brothers, but Sigurd has retired for the evening, and Eivor is slumped over on one of the tables, asleep —his hand still curled around the handle of his mead cup. Sighing, you find Ivarr’s gaze in the hazy air of the longhouse, half-shocked by the intensity and darkness, half-eager to return the lust-laden stare with your own.

Emboldened by the mead, you gather another horn and move across the longhouse where Ivarr sits. With a smile, you offer him the horn of mead before taking the empty spot on the bench next to him. He eyes you, curious, as he turns up the horn —downing the mead in a few gulps— and turns his attention to you. Spurred on by the moment, you lean closer, twisting to drape your legs across his thighs, squirming more than needed. “What game are you playing at, little dove?” Ivarr asks, his gaze dark and tone dangerous. You only smile, flitting your eyes up to meet his as you tip up your cup.

The soft plucking lyre strings and the low thrum of the tagelharpa are nigh enough to lull you to sleep coupled with the stillness. When you start to sway, both from the trance of the music and the heaviness of your eyes, Ivarr brings you closer to his side before deciding it best to see you off for the night —lest he is on the receiving end of Sigurd or Eivor’s anger. Ivarr pushes the bench back from the table, slipping his arms around your shoulders and beneath your knees, rising with you cradled in his arms —head resting on the leather of his shoulder pauldron.

When Ivarr places you on the straw and rag stuffed mattress of your cottage at the eastern edge of the settlement, you are not eager to part with him —the bulge tenting his britches tell you he’s not eager to leave you either. “Don’t” —you hiccup, lips turning into a pout as you lift the hem of your skirt to show the bare skin of your calves and beyond— “don’t you want me?”

Gods, Ivarr wants you. Just the thought of lying with you sets his blood hot and racing —like a giddy boy before his first battle. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted a woman more. But he can smell the mead on your breath and see the weariness hiding in your eyes. Ivarr knows it is the drink speaking for you, and he will not be the one to dishonor such a woman as you. “You’ve too much drink, little dove,” he chides in a rough chuckle, uncurling your fingers from their hold on his tunic. “Sleep,” Ivarr says, sitting back on his haunches —drinking in your appearance for a final time, “I doubt you’ll say the same thing come the morning.”

MORNING BREAKS AND so does your uneasy rest. The scent of smoke and mead clings to your skin and clothes, as does a dried sheen of sweat. Rising, you strip out of the soiled clothes and into a linen shift. With the hour still early and some only just retiring for bed from the feast, you gather up a cake of soap and boar-bristle brush, heading toward the small waterfall and pool at the northern edge of the settlement. Sparing a quick look around and now certain you’re alone, you strip, stepping into the clear, cool water with a sharp inhale.

Humming a soft song, you wring the suds from your hair and cross toward the bank where your clothes lay, but the snap of a branch underfoot stops you. Gaze darting around, you see him emerge from behind the trunk of a large tree near the stables. “Ivarr,” you greet, not shying away from his wandering gaze. His silence and the look in his eyes make you smile as you wade in his direction, stopping when the water brushes the underside of your breasts. “Are you watching me?” It’s a redundant question that needs no answer besides the hungry look in Ivarr the Boneless’s eyes.

“What you said last night–” he starts, voice surprisingly cautious, but you cut him off with a wave of a hand and scolding grin. “I was not that drunk, Ivarr.” Tekla’s mead had not dulled your senses, only gave you the courage to act on buried feelings. He lifts his brow and rakes his hand through his parted hair. “And yes. I meant it,” you tell him, wearing the same look now as you had last night nigh begging Ivarr to have his way with you. If Ivarr is surprised by the truth of your feelings, he hides it well. You motion to the pristine pool of water and bite down on your bottom lip before finding his gaze again. “Join me?”

Ties and buckles rustle as he hastily kicks away his boots, drops the fittings of his armor, and does away with his britches and tunic. Ivarr circles you like a wolf eyeing his wounded prey, and then he pounces, wrapping an arm around your middle, pulling your back flush against his chest. He leans forward, trailing his nose along your shoulder and neck —rough hands trailing up your sides and around to your breasts, squeezing them and teasing your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers.

When you gasp, he bites down on your shoulder and rocks his hips into your ass with a low chuckle. “You know who I am?” He means it as a warning —a warning of his bloodthirsty and unkind nature, that he is not a man to sing sweet songs or offer tender caresses. You already know that, having been privileged to witness Ivarr the Boneless in battle and know him outside of his craft.

“I do,” you answer, unwilling to shy away. He sucks in a sharp breath when you turn to face him, stepping closer and look up at him under lidded eyes with a wicked smile that sends blood rushing to his already half-hard cock. Careening toward Ivarr, you brush your lips across his jaw, settling one hand over the dark tattoo of Yggdrasil on his breast. “And if I wanted gentle,” you breathe at his ear, nipping at his neck, “I would fuck one of the Saxon monks.”

Ivarr laughs, grinning, but it falters when you reach below the water and squeeze his cock and balls, giving no doubt to your intentions or your wants. “Careful, little dove,” he hisses, tilting your chin up. He hunches, ashen hair half-falling before his face as he leans down and kisses you, warm, open-lipped, and intoxicating.

You pull back with a groan, and Ivarr chasing your lips, stopped only by your hands cupping his face —thumb tracing the deep scar on his cheek. “While giving the gods a show sounds delightful” —Ivarr’s lusty eyes take on a twinkle at the thought. Suddenly he’s picturing you splayed out on a Christian altar, spent from his love with his seed dripping from your cunt. His cock twitches, pressed tight against your belly— “Sigurd or Eivor finding us like this is less enticing.” Had it been anyone other than Ivarr, your brothers would have turned a blind eye, but neither have particularly liked the interest you and Ivarr show in one another.

Stepping back, you grip onto his wrist, staying his hands from their wandering assault, and pull him toward the waterfall and the small cave beyond. Before Ivarr has a chance to move again, you smile for him in the dim light, sliding an open hand to the nape of his neck, drawing him closer. With your lips pressed against his, Ivarr can only reciprocate —he parts your lips with his tongue, hands curling into your hips in a vice grip. But when the kiss breaks, you shimmy from his grasp and trail your lips to the dip in his neck —licking and laving.

“Having your lips on my skin is torture,” he inhales, hand fisting in your hair as you move down to the tattoo of Sleipnir at the center of his chest. You laugh softly and lean back, his eyes piercing through you. The smile on your lips is roguish, but you do not let up, making your way to his abdomen where a few small scars are clustered. Ivarr moans above you, and you haven’t even touched his aching, dripping cock yet. His hand reaches for your breasts, but you knock it away, having yearned for this moment for too long to let it slip away.

He titters at your enthusiasm and rolls his hips forward. Not dissuaded, you press your lips to the scar next to his navel, right below one of the dark runes tattooed on his abdomen. The hand still twined in your hair tightens, pushing you down to your knees. Ivarr’s legs are powerfully built, the muscles of his calves and thighs flex as you run your hand over them appreciatively, still finding small scars to trace and kisses, purposefully ignoring the hard cock pressed against his stomach. His hands clench as you kiss the skin of his thighs, your hair tickling the underside of his cock.

You smile at his surprised gasp when you drag the flat of your tongue along his cock, tracing along a vein running up the length of his shaft. Ivarr’s unable to hold back his groan when your fingers wrap around his girth, giving a few heavy strokes. And then, without warning, you wrap your lips around the head of his cock. He tastes of salt and iron and something forbidden and dangerous. Taking his cock as far as you can, you press your tongue against the underside, silently humming.

Above you, Ivarr chokes your name like a ragged prayer —it fills you with pride to know the son of Ragnar Lodbrok is coming apart at your hands and mouth, unable to say anything but your name. The lords of England may fear the whisper of his name, but right now, he is at your mercy.

Slowly, he begins to thrust himself into your mouth, but he makes no move to command your movements. Instead, his impatience wins over. He pulls you away from pleasuring him with your mouth. “Enough,” Ivarr says, his voice ragged as he crouches down, hand sliding from your hair and down to tweak one of your pebbled nipples, then lower still until he comes to the warmth between your thighs, slick with arousal. You whimper, gripping onto Ivarr’s shoulder when he pushes two fingers into your cunt, curling and thrusting. “On your knees, little dove,” he rasps. He warned you, and now he means to make good on his silent promise.

You struggle to gain your balance on the uneven ground of the small cave, but soon did, only to nigh lose it again when Ivarr slides the blunt head of his cock through your slick folds —thrice over before gripping onto your shoulder with one hand and guiding himself into your warmth with the other. Ivarr’s moan when he sinks inside you is breathless and airy, a misplaced sound from the likes of him. He grips you tight —one hand on your shoulder still, the other on your hip— holding your squirming body still as he eases his way into you. Your shoulders curl forward at the sudden wide spread of his cockhead into your body, fingers digging into the soft earth beneath you.

Ivarr pants against your shoulders —you can feel the open brush of his mouth along the sensitive skin of your spine and neck— as he draws his hips back and slams his cock back into you. You buck your hips back in time with his thrust, and Ivarr growls. You move with him as he fucks into you, squeezing with your inner muscles and whimpering in loud gasps. “Ivarr,” you chant, over-and-over.

He’s pounding hard immediately, giving in to the hunger that’s been consuming the both of you for far too long to be decent. His fingers are strong, streaking against your skin as his grip slides, something to discolor and bruise you by evening. But it feels so fucking good. You toss your head back, finding a glimpse of his face in this aching position with back arched, teeth shining in the low light, and eyes burning on you. He’s feral and ruined, and his fingers bend on your skin.

The building tension fades when he draws back, leaving you aching and empty. Ivarr spins you to face him as he reclines. “Ride me,” he commands, kissing you quickly, with an open mouth and teeth scraping your bottom lip. You pull away from the kiss, moving so you could sit atop him, straddling his hips, his back against a smoothed boulder. Breathless, Ivarr cannot be bothered with the loss of control —reckless abandon shines in your eyes, and he cannot help but grin as you slide down on his cock. He grunts enthralled at the feel of your warm cunt around him, walls clenching to feel every ridge and vein.

Moments pass, and you begin to move on top of Ivarr, rolling your hips into his. He groans, rough hands torn between holding onto your hips or pawing at your breasts. Instead, he decides to push himself up and let his lips attack your jaw and throat —biting and suckling— and annoyed at the slow in pace, Ivarr thrusts his hips up into yours, a sign to move faster. You don’t hesitate —lost to the exquisite bliss, clawing, desperate and eager. Holding Ivarr’s face in your hands, you try finding his lips with your own, but all you can do is moan and pant with him into his mouth, lost in the craven pleasure.

Ivarr bites hard in the crook of your shoulder and neck as he repeatedly drives his hips upward, chasing his and your releases. One of his hands slips between your bodies —his calloused thumb teasing your clit in a way that makes your hips stutter and body trembles, nails clawing into Ivarr’s shoulders. He grits his teeth, wondering if his little dove had broken skin. The burst of pain fades quickly as he watches your body bounce in time with his thrusts and listens to the moans and pants echoing off the cave walls and water.

He knows he’s close, his pants ragged and thrusts sloppy and desperate. The hitch in your breathing when he presses his thumb against your clit tells him you’re close to. It’s the boiling heat between you that takes hold, curling your toes and parting your lips in a silent throe, hands digging into Ivarr’s biceps as he chases his pleasure —teeth bared and bright eyes burning. Several thrusts later, his body tenses, and a dull warmth spreads between your connected bodies, and still, he is not done with the thrill of how you tremble and whine above him, but the rhythm soon slows, and you fall forward, resting your head on Ivarr’s chest.

You sit there, savoring the last twinges of carnal gratification, with your bodies rising and falling as you breathe in unison. And when the haze clears, you trace the small scars near his shoulders and follow the blue-black runes tattooed on his middle.

After what feels like an eternity, you feel him shift underneath you, sitting up on his hands. Ivarr glances over you —the small purple marks at the base of your neck from his lips and teeth, how your nipples are still hard, begging to have his mouth on them, and how your bodies are still connected. His cock is soft now, his seed seeping from your cunt and drying on your thighs —Ivarr thinks it a glorious sight. He hisses as he pulls himself out of your warmth, slowly, relishing in the gasps and whimpers you make at the resultant empty feeling it leaves between your thighs.

With flushed cheeks and swollen lips, you tell him you must go —this escapade would have already made you late for your daily duties, and the last thing you wish is for one of your brothers or Valka to find you in this state. He follows you from the cave behind the waterfall, back to the bank where his and your clothes are strewn. Gentler than you’d imagine, Ivarr kisses your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, before cupping your face with strong, rough fingers and moving your lips back to his. You let him move you, kissing you back, smiling against his mouth. “Come to me at nightfall,” you breathe against his lips, parting to gather up your clothes and shoes.

Ivarr grins, swatting your ass before pulling you against his chest, keeping you from reaching for your linen shift —his chin resting on your shoulder as his hand slides between your legs and two fingers sinking into your cunt, still slick with your essence and his seed. “That eager for my cock again, little dove?” He laughs.

He’s silenced when you grind back into his hips with a glint of mischief shining in your eyes. Ivarr lets you go, though reluctant, and watches you dress from the corner of his eye. It’s impulse driving you when you decide duties can wait. Smiling, you grip onto Ivarr’s wrist —he’s only half-dressed in his britches and boots, tunic in hand— and drag him away from the waterfall and toward your home in the settlement. Consequences be damned. It feels as though the gods made you and Ivarr for one another, and you aren’t willing to let another moment be wasted.

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#Ivarr #Ivarr the Boneless #Ivarr Ragnarsson #Ivarr x Reader #Ivarr the Boneless x Reader #Ivarr Ragnarsson x Reader #Ivarr Imagine #Ivarr Fanfiction #Assassin's Creed Valhalla #Assassin's Creed #my writing #requested #alexisp787 #i found it really hard to write an 'embarassed' reader when it came to fucking Ivarr #so I hope you don't mind that little change #its partly because i would jump that man #and let him do unspeakable things to me