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nereidprinc3ss · 5 months

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relax

in which spencer helps university student reader de-stress after a particularly exhausting assignment

18+ (smut) warnings: fingering, overstimulation, happy crying, lowkey softdom spencer, slight d/s dynamics, reader is referred to as a girl, ????idk i've never had to tag for smut before lols wc: 2624 a/n: been doing some insane literary cooking. lots of smut AND more fluff in the works (all uni reader... lol... ). idk if i love this but again need to fucking get it out of my word doc so here u go, PLEASE lmk if you like it!!

You don’t even realize the room has gone completely dark until Spencer comes in the front door and flicks on the light.

“Why did you do that?” you snap immediately, looking up from your laptop screen for the first time in potentially hours, blinking hard as your eyes painfully adjust. Your boyfriend gives you an odd look.

“Hello to you too...”

“I’m sorry. Hi. How was dinner?”

“It was good,” he says, crossing the room to the couch that has been your entire world for the past five hours. You sigh, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders when he leans down to kiss your head and set down a to-go box on the coffee table. “Have you moved since I left?”

“...no,” you admit, moving your eyes dejectedly to the keyboard.

“You made progress,” he appeases, leaning over you to angle the laptop upward. Immediately you wrench it away, holding it protectively against your chest.

“Stop! I don’t want you to read it yet!”

“I could help you with it though,” he pleads, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch. You look up into his hazel eyes, where he’s definitely playing up the puppy dog factor. His tie brushes your stomach, and he smells like lavender and clove and--

“You need to go away,” you realize, snapping back to reality and shrinking into the couch, away from him—trying to escape his all-encompassing sensory presence.

“Wh- I just got back!” he scoffs, straightening.

“You’re distracting me,” you accuse, throwing him a baleful look.

“I’m literally offering to help you.”

“And I’m respectfully declining because I care too much about your opinion to show you this essay until it’s less terrible. I really just need a couple more hours to finish it, please?”

Spencer sighs, regarding your pitiful state before moving to sit down next to you. Automatically you move your legs out of the way before settling them in his lap and damn it he’s supposed to be going away. Your iron grip on the laptop involuntarily loosens a little as his hands begin to run back and forth over your legs. No—you must stay focused.

“Spencer,” you whine, flopping your head back. You let the implied complaint hang in the air.

“You’ve been writing all day. Your brain is exhausted, and your synapses aren’t firing at a rate that is intellectually productive.”

“What is the point of having a brain if I can’t even use it half the time!” you almost-shout, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes until you see fireworks.

The couch shifts and you feel the warm, robotic weight of the laptop unpin you as Spencer lifts it from your lap. “Don’t read it,” you beg, watching through parted fingers as he sets it on the coffee table, and relaxing slightly when he settles back into the couch.

“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply, you pull yourself up just enough to fall into him. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, one hand slipping under your shirt to rub your back in hypnotizing passes. “I think you burnt yourself out,” he mutters.

You nod into his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his warmth, letting yourself sink into a lavender-clove fog, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into it. The darkness behind your eyes glows an inviting amber, threatening to pull you under...

But the essay...

“Stop thinking about the essay,” he demands.

“But I have so much to do,” you sigh against his jacket, the words coming out muffled.

“The best thing you can do now is give your brain a rest. I promise you you’re not making that paper any better if you’re exhausted.”

“I am not exhausted,” you insist, although your eyes are still closed, “I’m just really stressed.”

Spencer hums, continuing to rub your back.

“Do you need me to help you relax?” he says innocently.

Oh?

One of your eyes opens to peer up at him suspiciously. He sweeps some of your hair out of your face.

“Because I would be happy to.” A moment passes—him looking down at you fondly; you wondering if you’re picking up what he’s putting down.

“And how would you go about doing that?” you ask suspiciously.

“Orgasms reduce tension and stress and improve brain function.”

Damn. Why did the nerdiest, most un-sexy pickup line ever just turn you on?

You groan, burying your face further into his shirt—mostly to hide any trace of a blush.

“You know what else would reduce stress and improve brain functioning? Taking an Adderall and finishing my fucking essay.”

“Angel, you're such a smart girl, and you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to—but I will lock your laptop in my gun safe before I let you look at that essay again tonight.” He speaks so softly, and his fingers are still gently combing through your messy hair... all in all, you put up a good fight, right? Maybe you should just listen to him...

“... fine.” you say eventually, reluctant to give in too quickly even though the idea quickly has filled your stomach with butterflies.

“Fine?” he says, pausing his motions as you turn your head just enough to look up at him. “Sounds like you don’t really want it, baby. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Or I could take you back to your-”

“Spence,” you whine, gently grabbing the front of his shirt. Now he’s going to make you beg? As if it wasn’t his idea? Those puppy dog eyes of his are deceiving.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he sighs, hand moving from your hair to your outer thigh.

“Please?” you whisper, dignity forgotten as you look up at him imploringly.

“Lean back, sweet girl,” he says, helping you adjust your position til you’re lying against his chest, legs sprawled across the couch. Your head lolls on his shoulder, intoxicated by his close proximity. “Perfect. Such a good listener.”

Normally, you’d be quick to make a defensive remark, but with the way he’s slowly hiking your shirt up, running his hands over your sides so lightly it gives you goosebumps—you're really in no position to argue. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands grow bolder in their explorations, crossing your stomach, fingers just slipping under the waistband of your shorts and skimming over your hipbones before coming back up.

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, and you nod lazily, apparently losing access to your language facilities after running them dry all day. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem good enough for your boyfriend. “Do you remember when the last time I touched you like this was?”

Through the hazy blur of your exhaustion, you try to think back. Was it... two days ago? Three? More?

“Almost a week ago,” he supplies the answer for you when you take too long. What? That can’t be right.

But when you think about it harder... it is right. It was right before finals week started.

An errant hand straying up your torso distracts you. “Do you remember what I did?”

You flush.

“You... yeah,” is the best you can offer, too flustered to say exactly what he did to your body. That stray hand moves over your breast. Your back arches just slightly at the stimulation through the thin fabric of your bra.

Thankfully, he lets you off the hook.

“I made you cum three times, right?”

“Mhm,” you hum through closed lips, tense with anticipation as he finally slides both hands down to your shorts and wordlessly directs you to lift your hips so he can pull them all the way off along with your underwear.

“You’ve been so busy lately, huh. Working so hard.”

You unconsciously drop your bent legs open, brain too foggy to be insecure about how utterly bare you are—allowing him to slowly rub up and down your inner thigh.

“I’m gonna make you feel good, honey. I don’t think three times was enough for such a stressful week.”

You gasp when his fingers finally brush your clit, whimpering slightly when they just barely skim your entrance before tracing the wetness back up.

“Give me your hand,” Spencer says, taking his own from between your legs and holding it up. You don’t even think about it, releasing your grip on the arm he now has wrapped around you and holding it out for him. At this point, you’d do anything he tells you to without hesitation.

He takes the proffered hand, gently guiding it back between your legs. Your fingers meet slick, soft warmth. “Do you feel how wet you are?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, seeing how your fingers glisten when you pull them away. His remain, running slowly up and down your clit. Your brain seems to be vibrating in your skull as warmth spreads throughout your body.

“Who’s that for?”

“You, Spencer,” you whimper. He hums in approval before the room falls into silence as you both watch his teasing intently, your breath baited as you try to be patient. But your body isn’t with the program, you keep twisting slightly, your hips cant upward. “Please, please,” the words escape on a held exhalation as you finally break, arching your back against him as your search for more friction.

Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside you. The slight stretch after not having taken anything in a week scratches an itch you didn’t even know you had, and you let out a broken moan.

“I know, honey. You’re so good, I know.” Spencer kisses your head as he speaks over your cry, barely moving his fingers for a few moments while you get comfortable.

Still you’re not ready for it when he withdraws and pushes back in.

“Look at that,” he breathes.

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, watching how your arousal completely coats his fingers as he slowly, slowly begins to fuck you with them.

Again you feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs slightly—probably at your earlier insistence that you didn’t desperately want this. The laughter fades as you both become entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into you, and your stomach twists with pleasure. His pace remains languid, and he seems to delight in the filthy, wet sounds his hand is producing between your legs.

“You okay, baby?” he asks after a moment, seemingly snapping out of some trance.

“Uh huh,” you whimper. One particular drag of his fingers at just the right angle has you dizzy, and then he’s speeding up. Your jaw drops at the change in pace and your hips chase his hand, wanting even more.

“So pretty,” he mutters as his other hand moves to spread you open.

You attempt to shut your legs around his wrist, but instead he just ruts his fingers deeper into you, palm pressed against your clit. You attempt to twist away from the extreme stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it.

“Too much,” you squeak, bucking your hips inadvertently.

“No it’s not,” he states, like you’re talking about the weather.

“Spencer, I really c- ah- can't!”

“It feels like a lot, huh?” he asks soothingly, not letting up one bit.

“Yes!” you cry, eyes stinging as tears begin to well.

“You’re okay, angel. It’s just been a while.”

You are so completely fucked. Each stroke of his hand feels like an electric jolt through your whole body. It is too much, but at the same time, pleasure is pooling deep in your stomach and at the base of your spine and you never want him to stop. You throw your head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut.

“Relax,” he mutters, carefully bearing down the pressure across your waist with his arm to try and keep you from squirming.

A rhythmic whine breaks through the barrier of your sealed lips as you focus all your energy into taking it, when the all-consuming need to kiss him hits you. You twist your neck to look up at him, observing the furrow of his brow and the way he’s tucked his bottom lip into a bite. Thankfully he notices your movement—his eyes dart from your own half-lidded gaze to your lips and he understands what you want.

The kiss is messy and the angle is awkward and you’re moaning into his mouth half the time anyway, but it feels so good to have his lips moving on yours that you don’t care about any of it.

“I—ah,” you cry into him, unable to form a coherent thought as your stomach drops like you’re mounting the peak of a roller coaster.

His fingers again change their angle and he finds the spot inside you that makes your legs spasm. Attempting to hold in whatever noises you were making is now futile—the whimpers and pants turn to full-fledged keening moans interspersed with taut silences as you fail to breathe properly.

Your wrench your gaze and lips away from Spencer to watch through a blurry haze the rapid movement of his hand between your bare legs, the way your hips buck and twist and the way your leg bends as he hooks his free hand under your knee and hoists it toward your chest.

“You’re doing so well, honey. Being so good for me.”

Moisture spills over from your eyes, tracing down your cheeks and down your neck as you begin to come with no warning and a desperate, broken cry.

A string of praise from Spencer underscores your pleading moans, but you can’t focus on anything other than the buzzing warmth emanating from your core, the bright, pulsing white that blinds you and the feeling of stardust flowing through your veins.

Your boyfriend continues pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you for a blissful few moments, before sensing the tail-end of your orgasm and bringing his fingers up to rub lazy circles over your clit. Aftershocks resonate from the hypersensitive area and make you clamp your legs shut around his hand as your toes curl and you attempt to squirm out of his grip.

“Done! I’m done,” you squeak, rocking your hips back and forth to try and escape his toying.

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relieving the pressure of his hand between your legs and moving it to run over your stomach as you come down.

You lie in silence for a minute, enjoying the liquid sensation weighing down your muscles and basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.

“Shit,” you breathe shakily after a moment. Spencer chuckles. You manage to turn yourself over, laying your cheek on his shoulder and slipping your arms under his waist. He looks down at you as he moves on to massaging your back and bare hips, eyes full of warm adoration.

“Feel better?”

You hum an affirmation, wiping your eyes on his shirt.

“Oh, honey, did I make you cry?”

You laugh into his chest and nod, a few stray tears leaking from your shut eyes. “It’s okay. Not sad tears.”

“What kind of tears?”

“Orgasm tears,” you mumble, a tidal wave of exhaustion you’d been fighting all day finally washing over you.

“That makes sense. Orgasms can be cathartic or even therapeutic depending on your head space. Major losses and life changes are often associated with sexual dysfunction but the opposite is actually just as if not more common. A spike in libido can—”

Spencer pauses, looking down to see that you’re either asleep or close to it, and smiles to himself. You’ll probably be mad about it when you wake up, but he had to get you to stop thinking about that paper somehow.

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tojisbbg · 1 year

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𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗲, 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆!

❝but, you’re my baby, and i love you so much!❞

♡ rin itoshi ♡

a/n: i kept getting tiktoks on my fyp of this trend and i couldn’t help but think of him.

content: rin itoshi x reader, established relationship, gentlelover!rin, reader is a little mean, very fluffy, kinda short, not grammatically checked.

---

it was almost nine and you were stressed.

every little thing in this entire world was pissing you off because you couldn’t finish this stupid fucking project your professor decided to assign you this morning. to make things even better, it’s due before the beginning of class the next morning and it’s group work.

surprise, surprise! your group mates are shit and the responsibility of the entire project was now shoved up your ass.

how beautiful.

you were barely finished with the other assignments that you received from your other classes, which meant that you’d have to pull another all-nighter.

who the absolute fuck told you that it got better in college? ‘cause right now you want to kill yourself.

you were trying to reach over to grab your binder when suddenly your hand knocked over the cup of coffee you had on your side. you gasped as your eyes widened.

it spilled all over your laptop.

“no, no, no!! fuck.” you panicked, quickly ripping a bunch of tissue to wipe the liquid away without getting it further into your device. and just because god loves you so much, your phone began to buzz.

you groaned in annoyance, leaning over to swipe the decline button. you upsettingly sighed, seeing that your laptop was already starting to malfunction, which meant that you were screwed.

“ugh, what the fuck, man. i’m gonna end my life, i swear.” you grumbled to yourself. your phone began to ring again and your face had a scowl painted on it as you roughly grabbed the small device, swiping green.

“y/n?” the familiar voice on the other end called out as you received the call.

“yes, yes, what is it rin? i’m really busy right now and your constant calling is wasting my time. couldn’t you have just texted me instead?” you snapped at him, making him become silent for a few seconds and he was trying to process what the hell was going on.

“are you okay? you seem upset.” rin responded in a worry tone, making you roll your eyes.

“no, rin. i’m actually so happy right now that i can die. whatever, why did you call?” you decided to cut to the chase, figuring that it was no use of getting too distracted right now.

“it’s fine, i’ll see you at home.” he shortly said before hanging up, leaving you with your mouth open.

“then what the fuck was the reason for calling me?!” you yelled at your screen, which was pointless because your lover wasn’t on the other line. you angrily slammed your phone on the table before going back to your mission of trying to revive your laptop.

about thirty minutes has passed and you gave up on your laptop, deciding to finish your paper assignments first and then try again later. you furiously scribbled writing on your assignments, your handwriting progressively getting sloppier and uglier as you bullshitted them.

you no longer cared if your work was absolute doodoo, you just wanted to get it done and over with. so invested in your work, you didn’t even notice when rin slipped inside your shared apartment.

he usually had soccer practice which ended later on the day during the weekdays. the 6′1 striker entered the kitchen, rummaging through some things before his footsteps came towards where you sat.

“this shitty ass laptop still won’t work!” you whined, banging your fists on the keyboard in frustration as you felt like ripping your hair out.

rin pulled the chair next to you out so that he could sit down and watch his very stressed and mad girlfriend work.

“wanna talk about it, baby?” rin finally got the courage to break the thick silence that was fogging up the entire room.

“no.” you sharply answered back, your tone nearly slicing his heart.

“you sure? taking a small break wouldn’t hurt.” he softly suggested, bringing a hand up to stroke your hair. for some odd reason, his persistence was getting on your nerves and you would then do something that you knew you’d instantly regret if not now then later.

you angrily shoved off his hand, making rin look at you with a shocked and confused face at your unusual behavior.

“for fucks sake, leave me alone! can’t you see that i’m trying to finish my work? you don’t have to worry about college like i do because you have your entire future set by kicking a stupid ball. i don’t! so just fucking go, rin!” you yelled at him, watching his face fall as he stood up from his chair. suddenly, the words on your tongue died down, your throat becoming dry.

fuck.

you knew you messed up real bad, but the damage has already been done. rin let out a heavy sigh before looking down at you with sad eyes.

“okay, i’ll stop bugging you. also, your laptop most likely won’t turn back on, so stop wasting your time on bringing something back after destroying it. just use mine, it’s in my duffle bag.” rin dryly spoke before turning his heels, walking towards your shared bedroom before you heard the slam of the door shutting, making you flinch.

“fuck you professor, i hope your wife leaves your for another man.” you swore under your breath, closing the lid of your dead laptop. you walked towards the sofa where rin’s duffle bag was, opening it to pull out his laptop for your use.

you walked back to your spot, turning on his device to begin working. it was almost midnight, so, if god was on your side then you could hopefully finish the project by two in the morning.

as soon as the laptop turned on, the first thing you were met with was his wallpaper which was set as a collage of your photos. you couldn’t help but take in a few minutes to stare at it, and as each minute passed, your heart began to ache even more.

you knew that rin didn’t deserve to hear those words, but you couldn’t stop yourself from saying those awful things to him in the heat of the moment. shaking your head to shoo those distracting thoughts away, you retracted your focus back onto your project.

---

you finished typing the last word on the report and you could almost shed happy tears. you were finally done with this shit, your hands shaking and your eyes begging to close. without hesitation, you submitted the work. who cares about checking for grammar issues when your soft bed was calling out for your ass.

“not bad, it’s only one-thirty. hm, i guess i should eat before going to sleep since i’m kinda hungry.” you talked to yourself, shutting off rin’s laptop as you lazily made your way to the kitchen to fix yourself up some instant ramen.

your eyes fell on the white plastic bag on the kitchen counter, an eyebrow cocking upwards as you curiously opened the bag. you gasped as you realized that it was your favorite takeout.

“oh my god, i’m such a piece of shit.” you whispered, head hanging low as you thanked the heavens for blessing your with such a loving and kind boyfriend whom you didn’t deserve at all

you eagerly reheated up the food in the microwave before speed walking back to the dining table. you settled your food down on the table, allowing it to cool while your pack your bag and put rin’s laptop on charge so that he could use it for his classes tomorrow.

after eating and cleaning up, you decided to skip your usual night routine since you were pretty tired. you quickly brushed your teeth and went straight to the bedroom.

you quietly opened the door, noticing how the lights were off and the only source that was providing some form of light inside your room was the small lamp on the side.

tiptoeing to your side of the bed, you slipped under the covers as you sat up, leaning against the headboard. you could hear rin’s soft snores coming from the side, the cute man sleeping on his back as he faced the ceiling.

your eyes scanned his features, which every nook and cranny of your brain had memorized. he looked so cute while he slept and an overwhelming wave of sadness hit you like a tsunami as you recalled the way you treated him earlier on the night.

tears began to sting your eyes as guilt washed on your face, the warm liquid streaming down your face. without thinking twice, you climbed onto him as you straddled rin’s waist before hugging his sleeping form, burying your teary face in the crook of his neck while you sobbed.

feeling the wet and warm tears stain the flesh of his neck, rin began to squirm in his sleep as he groaned.

“what the hell?” rin groggily said, opening his sleep filled eyes as he saw a lump on top of him shaking and crying. he wrapped an arm around you before carefully sitting up, leaning against the headboard as he rubbed your back.

you decided to face him, even though you knew you looked hideous. you face was probably wet and red like a tomato.

“oh my god, you look even cuter now!” you cried even harder after taking one look at him, leaving rin nothing but confused as fuck. you peppered his face with kisses before wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as you pulled him into a hug. you squeezed him closer to you until it was humanly not possible.

“i’m so sorry, rinnie! i was such a jerk to you all night because i was so upset about my stupid project. it’s just everything was getting me so mad ‘cause my group mates ditched me and my dumbass spilled coffee on my laptop, a-and the-then i-” you were choking on your tears and words from crying and talking to fast.

“shh, it’s okay baby. i’m not upset because you reacted that way, i know you were stressed. we’re okay, y/n.” rin’s words were gentle as it helped you calm down from your crying frenzy. you raised your face up to look back at his face, seeing a soft and warm smile painted on his lips as his gorgeous teal eyes sparkled with love.

“i know but you’re my baby! and i love you so much! god, i was so mean, how could i even say those things? i’m so, so, sorry, rinnie. i shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you i’mtheworstgirlfriendeverohmygodwhydon’tyouhateme.” you ugly sobbed, your words weren’t even coherent as rin couldn’t help but chuckle.

he knew that you didn’t mean those words and he also knew that this would happen as well. once again, your gentle boyfriend knew you like the back of his hand.

“ahh, what a crybaby. hm, you can make it up to me by giving me a smile. i want to see my girlfriend smile before i go to sleep, not in tears.” he playfully said, as you lifted your head to meet his eyes once more. the sight of such a domestic scene made your stomach fill with swarming butterflies.

fuck, you just wanted to marry him.

“i’m gonna eat you up if you don’t stop looking at me like that.” you poked his chest, making him laugh as wiped away your tears with his fingers.

“and exactly how am i looking at you?” rin asked and you mumbled.

“like you wanna grow old with me until i die.” you bluntly responded, making his smile widen.

“and what if told you that it’s exactly what i want?” he gave you a cheeky grin, making you blush as a giggle left your lips.

“then what’s stopping you, idiot? marry me! i do, i do, i do!!” you exclaimed before crashing your lips with his. you placed your hands on the sides of his face, pulling him closer to you as both of your lips molded into each other’s. rin’s arms securely wrapped around your waist, following the rhythm of your lips.

the kiss wasn’t intense, it was sweet and lasting with a touch of innocence. it was a kiss in which you both enjoyed each other as lovers. and you loved this feeling, the feeling of breathing, tasting and touching him.

your sweet, kind and gentle lover, itoshi rin.

pulling away, you looked at him with adoring eyes, swiping away the strands of hair that covered his eyes. rin looked at you like you were the most beautiful and important thing in his life.

to which you were.

“i’ll make you my wife and keep you in my heart forever. i love you so much, y/n.” his heart swelled with his love for you. your eyes nearly shape shifted into hearts upon hearing his words.

“i love you more, rinnie.” you smiled, placing a smooch on his lips, purposely making noise as he chuckled.

“come on, let’s go to sleep. you have class early in the morning, i don’t want you to fall sick.” rin said and you nodded, the both of you getting comfortable on the bed. you scooched closer to your boyfriend, wrapping all your limbs around him as you placed your head on his chest. your ear was right on top of his heart, hearing the thumping noises of his heart beating.

it brought you peace to know such a perfect man existed, alive and in your hold right now. his pulse lulled you to sleep and soon enough, you were knocked out.

rin glanced down to his chest and saw you fast asleep, his lips curling upwards as he bent his head down to place kisses on your lips and forehead.

“oh, before i forget.” he leaned over to grab your phone, unlocking the device as he went to the submission box of your project assignment. he unsubmitted the report, going to the title page as he erased the names of your group members. a satisfied smirk was plastered over his face as he resubmitted the finished project that had just your name on it.

“tch, not giving those fuckers any credit for what was all you, my love. sleep tight.” he said before ending his words to himself with a yawn, his own eyes feeling heavy. you were very warm and soft, which meant that rin would be out like a light soon as well.

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talaok · 7 months

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Can you write a pedro x sick!reader story, but the reader doesn't just have a little cold im talking SICK reader. Like rushing to the emergency room hurt/comfort kinda thing.

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

a/n: ok first of all im incredibly sorry for the wait, genuinely im really really sorry. and secondly im not 100% sure i did what you had in mind, which makes me feel like shit even more, so if it's not, you can tell me and ill try to write it again

"Sir I need you to calm down"

"I will as soon as you answer my questions"

"sir," the paramedic said more sternly now "I've already told you I'm not a doctor so I cannot answer your questions, now please calm down"

And he wanted to fight more and beg that woman to answer his questions because, after all, the only one he cared about was: Is she gonna be ok?

But your eyelids fluttered and the ambulance took a turn and all the sudden he couldn't talk or think or do anything anymore but take your hand in his and start a low chant of the only thing he would allow himself to think, the only thing that still made him able to breathe oxygen into his lungs:

You're gonna be okay, sweetheart, he whispered, his words verging on prayer as he squeezed your hand and watched your beautiful face pale more and more You're gonna be just fine

__ __ __

And as it turns out, his prayers were answered.

"the surgery went well, she's gonna make a full recovery"

He had no words, all he could do was smile like a fucking idiot while he passed a hand through his hair.

She's ok

That's all his brain was able to muster up, and then for some reason he was hugging the doctor.

"thank you" he grinned "Thank you so much doctor-" he smiled, leaning away "Can I-can I see her?"

The woman cleared her throat, clearly taken aback a bit "Yes," she nodded "she's in the first room on the left, but just so you know the anesthesia is still wearing off so-"

"yes, yes, thank you so much doctor," he couldn't wait for her to finish as he was sprinting to the room already "thank you!" he said one last time, finally opening the door to your room.

He had to stop for a moment and look at you lying on the hospital bed, looking just as perfect as ever.

She's ok

"hey" he spoke softly, approaching your bed, and seeing a smile slowly part your mouth.

"hey"

"How are you feeling?" he asked, moving some hair out of your face and letting his hand linger on your cheek

"not great"

"I'm sorry" he cooed, taking your hand in his and feeling you squeeze it as your eyes watered "What's wrong?" he panicked "Does it hurt- do I call the doctor-?"

"no" you sniffled as a tear fled your eye "I just-"

"what is it, sweetheart?"

"I was just... I was s-so scared"

"oh baby" he murmured, bringing your hand to his mouth to leave a kiss on it "I'm so sorry" he cooed "I can't even begin to imagine how scary that must have been... but hey" he offered you a soft smile as he crouched down to be at your level "you're ok now, there's nothing to worry about anymore" he promised, gently kissing your forehead "you can relax now. I'm here for you, whatever you need you just ask, ok?"

"ok" you nodded, taking a breath "thank you... for everything" you murmured, looking into his kind eyes "for this, for calling the ambulance, for being here for me... just- thank you"

He didn't know what to say, so all he did was kiss you,

"I love you" he smiled "and sugar... don't you ever think about scaring me like that again"

You couldn't help but snort at that

"oh so this is about you then?" you joked

"damn right it is" he laughed in that way he could only do with you "they were about to have to assist two people in that ambulance," he said jokingly (although it was the truth) "and I think I was annoying one of the paramedics so much that I was about to get thrown out"

"oh no what did you do?"

"let's not think about that now," he said, the smile on his lips not able to go away from the first second he saw you

"Baby..." you tilted your head, scolding him silently

"I've brought you a kit-kat" he smiled that smile of his that made you forget what you were talking about every single time

"You did?" it was as if your eyes sparkled

"Of course" he nodded, handing you the candy bar "I'm not sure you can eat it, we're gonna have to ask the doctor, but I wanted you to have something you liked when you woke up"

Your eyes watered again, but this time, for an entirely different reason

"I love you" you whispered

"I love you more, sweetheart"

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just-some-trans-nobody · 5 months

Text

December Christmas Monstet stories

December 8.) Horny Krampus

Sorry everyone this one was supposed to br way longer than this but I'm having really bad writers block. I might try to rewrite it eventually I just had to finish what little I had if I want stick to the schedule.

Warnings: NSFW, spit as lube, bare minimum prep, swearing, possessive behavior, stalking behavior

Minors Don't Interact!

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Three weeks.

You only got three weeks a year with him and then you had to wait longing for his touch until next year.

It was like clock work. December 1st at midnight the sound of heavy hooves landing on your roof waking you. The last two years you would wake up a minute or two before the stroke of midnight in anticipation of his arrival.

Giddier than a kid on Christmas day you threw the blankets off yourself and rushed to the living room. Some years he came down the chimney, sometimes the window. He always kept you on your toes never fully knowing where he was going to enter. You weren't sure how a man of such a large size could fit down a chimney but your brain always turned off when he was around. Too dick whipped to think about anything but him and the pleasure he gave you.

Hearing his low growl rumble from behind you, your body trembled in response. He had come through your bedroom window expecting you to be there. Seeing you weren't there made him mad, he wanted his cock in you immediately. Having to wait irritated him. Turning you smiled at him before letting out a gasp when he grabbed you pushing you against the nearest wall. “Fuck.” You moaned out, leaning your head back. He let out a low rumble hearing your moan. The sounds you make when he's with you calmed his raging soul, if only a little bit. Seeing that you were still dressed he growled before ripping off your clothes. His clawed hands tearing your clothes to shreds. You know you should be mad about it but the act had only served to turn you on even more.

Heart pounding in your chest you reached out to hold onto him as he lifted you up pinning you to the wall with one hand. Your legs dangled, unable to reach the floor by a good foot or two. He effortlessly freed his cock from its restraints with his free hand. Lifting a leg up you rested it on his hip spreading your legs for the large man.

Biting your bottom lip you trembled at his touch as he held your chin. “Open.” He growled in a low voice that rumbled in your chest. Obediently you opened your mouth, lightly sticking your tongue out. His fingers immediately slide into your mouth causing you to close it around them. He hardly ever took the time to lube you up first so this felt special for you. Keeping eye contact with him you made sure to lube up his fingers with your saliva as much as you could before he finally pulled them out of your mouth leaving a trail of saliva from his fingers to your plump lips. The trail broke after a second landing on your chin causing him to let out a low rumble at the sight.

Lowering his hand to your entrance he pushed the lubed up fingers inside of you causing you to moan. He wanted to take you so much it hurt but he knew you haven't had him in such a long time you would need to be stretched out first. By the end of the month he would be able to slip it in without reliance, but that was then and this was now. He would never admit it to himself or anyone else that he cared deeply about you to the point it scared him. As much as he loved making you scream out in painful pleasure he didn't want to hurt you so badly he scared you off. He needed you more than he realized.

Hearing you moan from just his fingers made him smirk in pride. He loved hearing how well he pleasured you, he wanted to hear more. Spreading his fingers wide he continued to pump them into you faster drawing out more moans from your lips. “O-oh oh fuck keep going! Gonna cum!” You moaned, throwing your head back against the wall. Your words encouraging him to pump his fingers harder. Reaching your orgasm with a cry you clung to his arms closing his eyes.

You barely had a moment to come down from your orgasm when he slid his fingers out and replaced them with the tip of his cock. Gasping you opened your eyes to be met with his hungry gaze. Letting out a quiet moan you rolled your hips against his taking in more of his cock. He let out a low moan feeling his cock go deeper into you. It drove him mad. Growling he snapped his hips forward pushing all of his cock into you causing you to sob lightly. It stung but felt good at the same time. Whimpering softly you clung to him as tears welled in your eyes. He waited for a moment letting you adjust for a moment before he started to slowly rock his hips. Once your face started showing more pleasure than pain he sped his pace up thrusting faster into you. Pressing against you harder he pushed you against the wall even more making you feel a little squished. “Harder.” You moaned scratching at his arms. It was a request he was more than happy to comply with.

The room was filled with the sounds of your needy moans and the relentless thrusts of Krampus. It was utter bliss being with him. December was by far your favorite time of the year and Christmas had nothing to do with it.

#monster #monster fucker #monster stories #monster smut #december christmas monster stories #krampus x reader #fluffy monster #monster x male #monster x female #monster x human #monster x girl #monster x reader

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hitomisuzuya · 1 year

Note

JUST READ YOUR POST! I SHALL SUBMIT MY TIGHNARI REQ NOW ❤️❤️ just imagining Tighnari in heat.... trying so hard to contain himself for the whole day then at night he was on patrol with fem!reader and he couldnt hold back anymore so he told the reader he was in heat. AND THE READER BEING A BITCH WOULD TAUNT HIM BY SAYING HE HAS TO CATCH THE READER SO BE ABLE TO BREED EM 🫶🏻🫶🏻 just a whole game of cat n mouse in the forest at night. Obvi tighnari catches her and fucks her into oblivion 😳😳😳

a/n: omg I read something similar to your ask recently. I always wanted to write something like this. Tighnari in heat 😳😳😳 I hope you enjoy it.❤️ I have been waiting for the chance to write for Tighnari again. I didn't think anyone would request anything for him due to certain circumstances.

Tighnari x fem!reader. Tighnari in a heat cycle. Predatory! Tighnari. Cat and mouse game incoming.

Tighnari's heat cycles were particularly hard for him, especially since he'd met you. Before he met you, he always dealt with his heat cycles quietly and private, not wanting it get in the way of his duties as a Forest Ranger.

It took one week into his cycle for him to break. You were on patrol with him in the forest, chatting idly about the weather, or certain birds you see. Your demeanor may have been relaxed, but Tighnari's wasn't.

You smelt so good. Staggering a little, he leaned up against a tree. He was panting quietly, a hand over his mouth. His lips felt dry, and his cheeks were flushed.

"Tighnari? What's the matter? Are you sick?" You asked, your gaze boring into his hazel eyes. You were so concerned, and your eyes looked so beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to gaze down at you as you writhed beneath him, telling you how much he wanted breed you.

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm not sick. I'm in heat," his ears drooped a little, "to be frank, I don't know if I can restrain myself any longer. It would be best if you went back to Gandharva Ville without me. I'll finish this patrol on my own." This was his first cycle with you, he didn't want it overwhelm you.

Like hell you were going back. In fact, you upped the ante. Go big or go home as they say. Reaching up, you gently tugged on his ears. "Chase me, Tighnari," you said. His ears pricked up. "I'm more happy to cool you down," you smirked, "that is, if you can catch me first."

Tighnari sighed. Why did you have to be so difficult, especially at a time like this? "Run," was all he had to say before you took off. "Just wait until I get my hands on you."

Honestly, for a second you wondered if you were in over your head. Tighnari knew this forest like the back of his hand. This was his territory. And so were you. There more than likely wasn't one place you could hide from him in that he wouldn't find.

You looked over your shoulder before cutting a hard left. Tighnari had thankfully given you a head start. You stopped to hide behind two large mushrooms, catching your breath as quietly as you could, pressing a hand over your mouth.

You waited, your body coiled like a spring as you listened for leaves to start crunching as Tighnari got closer.

Tighnari lifted his head, sniffing the air as he ran. "Come out, come out wherever you are," he called out. At first he'd been annoyed, but now he was enjoying it. He felt exhilarated, his heart pounding with excitement and lust. Your spontaneous game of cat and mouse had excited him than he thought it would.

"I smell something good behind these mushrooms." You darted out, bolting into the forest again. Tighnari was hot on your heels now that he had sussed out your hiding place. It was foolish of you to let your guard down.

You looked over your shoulder again. You'd put a little bit of distance between you. You were so distracted with how turned on you felt being chased down like this by Tighnari that you didn't notice a root of a tree sticking out of the ground slightly.

Tighnari caught you as you tripped. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he braced you against him as you both tumbled to the ground.

"I've caught you, my love," he said, pinning your wrists above your head as he crawled on top of you. "You didn't make it easy for me though."

"I'm impressed, 'Nari, I thought I was faster than you this time," You blushed a little, your pride actually hurt a little bit. You couldn't believe you'd tripped like that.

Tighnari chuckled, "Well, you did trip. But that doesn't matter," his hands were already roaming over your body. He nuzzled your neck, his tail flicking with excitement. "I was going to catch you anyways whether you tripped or not."

Tighnari had always put his research and his duties as a Forest Ranger first and foremost in front of anything like finding a mate. He'd never fixated on anyone like this before.

Now he finally had you right where he wanted you. Tighnari didn't tear your clothes to shreds as he stripped you and himself. He wanted to, but you would need something to walk back home in. A feeling of possession suddenly gripped him. Tighnari bit down on your collarbone, inhaling your scent. You moaned as he sucked a bruise onto your skin. "Mmm~, I think you taste even better than you smell," he mumbled, nursing his tongue against the fold of skin.

One love bite turned into two and three. Tighnari was marking you, marking his territory, taking care to leave them in visible places on your neck. He didn't want any of the new recruits ogling you to begin with, but if they had to (and he couldn't blame them) they would see his marks and know you belonged to someone.

Belonged to him.

You were squirming beneath him, spreading your legs so he could grind his erection between them. Tighnari could feel the heat of your need. He was thrilled that you want this just as much as he did.

Tighnari prepared you as best he could before thrusting his cock inside of you. He kissed you gently when you winced softly in pain. He didn't even start thrusting right away. He breathed in a sigh of relief, soaking in the way his cock felt inside of you.

You wiggled your hips a little as you tugged on his ears, making him whine. "Fuck me, 'Nari."

That was all he needed to hear. Tighnari's thrusts were slow at first, his ears flicking a few times upon hearing your moans, especially when you moaned his name. The way you sounded was like heaven in his ears. It made him feel more feverish, bordering on feral.

His pace quickened, his cock squelching as he drove himself home. His mouth watered when he saw your breasta beginning to bounce in time with his thrusts. He nuzzled your neck again before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking as he swirled his tongue it. "I'm going to breed you full of my pups, I promise."

My goodness weren't you the lucky one? The fennec fox mates for life.

The feeling of his cum spilling inside of you ushered in your orgasm. You arched your back, his name tearing from your throat in a scream. He kissed you lovingly as you both rode your high.

Over the next month, it became common for you to isolate yourself in his hut with him. You soon discovered, much to your delight that he was absolutely insatiable.

pps. This turned out longer than I thought it would. I hope it's not too long. I may have gotten carried away a little. Both Tighnari and Scara always seem to make me do that lol😭

#genshin impact #genshin smut #tighnari #tighnari smut #tighnari in heat #tighnari x you #tighnari x y/n #tighnari x reader

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ametrictonofaudacity · 9 months

Note

How would the yandere Batfamily react if reader got sick? Maybe reader ends up so fevered that they start crying if someone isn’t holding them because they don’t understand what’s going on.

Boy oh boy do I love this ask!

Enjoy!

Warnings: altered mental states, overprotectiveness, paranoia, and captivity. Also medical stuff (the use of liquid IV to rehydrate, as well as pills to reduce a fever)

There’s a cool hard carding through your hair and it’s so much better than the cold tile beneath you. The tile was great, sure, but it was hard and uncomfortable and not nearly as nice as the way the hand brushes back your hair and presses against your forehead.

You groan, and blink your eyes open. Dick is kind of fuzzy above you, and his face is twisted in worry, making you want to reach up and wipe that worry away. You manage to weakly push yourself up, before a strong arm supports you, holding you up and keeping you steady. You decide you like that, and hum, the sound a little cracked because of how much your throat hurt.

“Oh, god..”

Dick murmurs, and he sounds almost panicked as he presses a cool hand to your forehead.

“Let’s get you to Alfie, yeah? You’re burning up, Y/N.”

He hums, and strong arms hoist you up, cradling you against an even stronger chest. You sigh, snuggling into the embrace, and you hear that huffy laughter Dick gives when he’s trying not to be mean but finds something funny. Or cute. Could be both.

“How come you aren’t this snuggly without the fever, huh?” He teases, and you’re vaguely aware of the sensation of movement, which makes your stomach twist and churn. He notices.

“Just hold on a little longer, okay? Then you’ll feel so much better.” The man soothes, and at some point, there’s a new body next to you, walking alongside Dick, silent and small but comforting.

It’s Cass. You blink at her, exhausted, and she gives you a gentle smile. You liked Cass, out of all your siblings, she was one of the best. She didn’t crowd you, or demand things you couldn’t give. She could be cuddly, and it was nice when she was, because she always knew when you were upset and tired and frustrated.

You reach out to grab her hand, and she takes it. They’re just as cool as Dick’s, like ice on your fevered skin, and you sigh. Her thumb soothes over the back of your hands, over the delicate bones there, and you hum.

When Dick sets you down, there’s immediately a distressed sound trying to escape your throat, something between a sob and a yell, and Cass is suddenly there, wrapping you up in cool arms. Cass was much closer to your size, and it was nice.

“You’re okay. We won’t leave.” She assures.

You sigh, glad that someone was with you when your body ached and your head was pounding. You lean into the coolness of her embrace, and she runs her fingers through your hair, gently untangling it the best she could. You thought that wasn’t the best idea, since you felt sweaty and gross, but she didn’t seem to mind and the feeling was too nice to really protest.

There’s a prick in your arm.

When you turn your head, the needle is already gone, and you wonder just how long it had taken for your fevered brain to register it.

“Crap. Cass, can you..?”

Cass is pressing something to your lips before Dick finishes, and you take the pill without even thinking about it. A liquid, vaguely sweet, follows it. It’s practically heaven on your parched throat.

“How are they?”

It’s the first time you hear Bruce’s voice all day, and he buries his hands in your hair, not seeming to mind that it was sweaty and kind of gross. You practically melt into the gentleness of it.

“Has their fever gone down any? Have they had enough fluids?”

He questions, even as he moves around you, reaching for things you can’t see and don’t bother looking at. Bruce never risked your health, and your head hurt too much to really care.

“Cass have them some fever reducers and liquid IVs.” Dick hums. “We just administered it, and we’re monitoring their temperature.”

Bruce hums, and you blink when Cass slips away, and you make a distressed noise, tears springing to your eyes. You felt wrung out and exhausted, so when

Bruce is there instantly, wiping the sweat from your face with a damp cloth, and you lean into it, breathing out a sigh of relief. It felt so much better than even Cass’s cuddles, or Dick’s cool hands.

“You’re going to feel better in a little bit. Just hang in there.” He assures gently, and you nod. You trusted Bruce. Or, with this at least. It was hard not to, with the worried gleam in his eyes and the way he held you so gently.

“Why can’t you be this cuddly healthy, huh, baby bat?”

Dick asks, and there’s a tiny pinch in your arm. You cringe at the sensation and he makes an apologetic noise.

“Sorry, sorry, that’s the I.V. We just need to get some fluids in ya, mkay? And bring the fever down.”

You nod, and Bruce runs his hand through your hair again, fixing the strands.

You sigh, drifting off, confident they wouldn’t leave your side.

#yandere dc #yandere platonic x reader #yandere platonic batfam #yandere dick grayson #yandere platonic batfam x reader

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iluvjacobelordi777 · 7 months

Text

author's note: this is my first ever fic, it sucks so bad i'm sorry. hopefully the next one will be better 🤞🤞

WARNINGS !!!! SMUTTTT (w/plot?) dom!ellie, sub!reader, mentions of knives, mentions of blood, swearing, kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), face-riding, lots of gay stuff !! homophobes DNI !!!!!

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“WHO IS THAT? SHOW YOURSELF.” Ellie shouts into the shadows at your figure as you slowly come towards the camp.

You walk out of the brush clutching your side as blood gushes through your shirt. Your clothes are torn up, hardly even covering you anymore.

“It’s me Ells, it’s just me,” you shout with one hand up and one hand still putting pressure on your wound.

“Oh my god Y/N, what the fuck happened to you?”

“It was those guys from last week. They recognized me and started asking about you. I just pulled a knife and tried to fight them but clearly that didn’t work out very well. Eventually I just ran and made sure I lost them.”

“Holy shit, why would you do that? You can’t keep putting yourself in danger for me.”

“Well, to be fair they would have had to hurt me to get to you so it was kind of done out of my own selfishness,” you chuckled.

“Well, thank you. Either way.”

“You’re… fuck….. Welcome”

Ellie leads you into the camp and has you sit on the small mattress you share every night. She begins to clean the wound. The bleeding has slowed down but any kind of pressure on it hurts so you aren’t very comfortable to say the least. Ellie finishes covering the tear with a fresh, white bandage.

“There, better?”

“Much better. Thank you for always taking care of me Ellie. I know it’s cringy to say but seriously, you’re always so thoughtful.”

“Of course, hun. Do you need anything else?”

“I mean, a distraction would be nice…” you smirk.

“Do you want me to… keep taking care of you?” Ellie begins to kiss down your chest to your stomach, carefully avoiding your bandage.

“That would be- fuck. That sounds perfect,” you stutter.

Ellie works her way down your stomach and positions herself between your legs. She kisses the inside of your thighs inching closer to your throbbing core. Every kiss is a wave of pleasure, washing away the pain in your wounded side. You’re aching for her, already dripping for her mouth. She notices.

“You’re so wet for me. You want me to make you feel good?”

“Yes- Ells please. Need you.”

“How do you need me, hun? Use your words.”

“Inside. Need your-” you mumble, unable to form coherent sentences.

“Speak up.” She begins laying soft kisses along your clit.

“Fingers. Please.”

“Whatever makes my girl feel good.”

Ellie teases your entrance before dipping one finger in, then two. She pumps them in and out curling them up with every stroke. She continues licking and kissing at your wet cunt. You thrust into her mouth, wanting more pressure but trying not to hurt your already damaged side. Ellie notices you struggling and proposes something to make you feel better. She stops what she’s doing and flips over onto her back.

“C’mere. Sit down.”

You straddle her and inch towards her mouth. You feel her hot breath against you as you hover over her face. You don’t put all your weight down at first in an attempt not to hurt her. As if she can read your mind, Ellie smiles and says

“You’re not gonna hurt me, hun. You have to ride.”

“Oh ok… like this?”

You lower down immediately feeling the contact of her lips to your pussy.

“Atta girl… fuck.”

Ellie melts underneath you. You audibly moan as you begin to ride against her. This was WAY less painful than before and you’re already inching closer to your release. Ellie puts her tongue inside of you thrusting it in and out. Her nose rubs against your swollen bud as you rock into her. She pulls her tongue from your entrance and begins suck on your clit. Ecstasy fills your body as you cum in her mouth. Ellie moans at the taste. You lower yourself off of her and lay on her chest. After a few minutes of heavy breathing and silence, you stutter.

“Did you.. want me to…?” You gesture to her pants.

“Oh- no haha! I’m uh… already taken care of.”

Apparently, the friction of her jeans and the thrill of the whole encounter were enough to make her finish on her own.

“Oh god. Well, maybe next time we can… switch places?”

She smirks at you.

“I’d like that.”

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whitedarkmoonflower · 4 months

Text

Feeling you 2

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: this was planned as one shot, but the story doesn't let go of me. So as promised Part 2 is ready and there will be Part 3 coming soon if nothing extraordinary happens. You know me already - if there is not a healthy portion of angst it's probably not my story 😉

Warnings: angst, heartbreak

Word Count: 3,6 K

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius@hb8301@zillahvathek@alexagirlie@gemini-mama @verenahx@mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog

If you want to be added to the tag list - write to me.

Eanflaed's voice, both comforting and irritating, pierced through your consciousness, pulling you back to the dimly lit main room of the old alehouse. “You are dreaming again,” she said. Your friend busied herself at the counter, cluttered with empty ale mugs, and leaned forward on her elbows, waiting for you to wash and refill them.

“You need to put an end to this”, she insisted, striving to capture your attention, though she knew you were hardly in a state to listen. Persistent as always, Eanflaed never ceased trying. You knew she meant only good for you and she was right, and you loved her for that with all your heart. Eanflaed had always been the bastion of reason, a reliable friend in the gravest situations. Someone you deeply trusted.

“You realise he won't come back to you. We've all been through it. Falling in love with a client can’t have a happy ending,” she added, placing her hand on yours, compelling you to pause and meet her gaze.

“I know, and I’m not in love,” you mumbled, averting your eyes as a surge of warmth tinged your cheeks, “I just can't shake him from my mind. It's foolish, but I can't help it. Sometimes, I wish for them to return, and for him to simply overlook me, choosing another for the night. Then, at least, I'd be certain he's forgotten me. It would hurt, but I'd finally know it's over. I'd understand that there was never anything between us in the first place."

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Eanflaed's voice softened. "When I asked you to hump him, I was just trying to help you get over it, to move forward. He seemed so sweet and somehow lost and I thought that maybe he could snap you out of this funk you've been in since that bastard... well, you know." Eanflaed's words halted abruptly under your stern gaze. "I'm sorry," she murmured, releasing your hand.

You finished filling the mugs, ale frothing at the brim, and Eanflaed quickly picked them up, heading back to the few guests at the tables. You let your palms glide over the rugged and worn surface of the old, cracked wooden counter, feeling its grooves and notches, the sensation under your fingers strangely calming. Noticing an ale splash, you grabbed a rag to clean it up. Keeping busy always helped you stay grounded, stopped your mind from wandering too much. It was a quiet evening.

It had been half a year since you last saw Sihtric, but for some reason, you couldn't get him out of your head. You just couldn't shake off the memories - that soothing feeling of his warm body pressed against yours, his strong arms wrapped around your naked frame, holding you tight as if he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go, that gentle touch of his lips on your neck, the tickling sensation of his breath against your skin. But above all his big, expressive eyes, the look in them tinged with inexplicable sorrow mixed with youthful eagerness and goodness were etched in your memory.

He had asked your permission to stay with you, even though he knew he didn’t have to, as Uhtred had paid for the whole night. He had carefully tucked the blanket around both of you, his legs entwining with yours, enveloping you in his presence and leaving no space between your bodies. You could still almost feel his fingers tracing a gentle path from your shoulder down to your palm, interlacing with yours as he whispered a soft “Thank you,” in your ear, and his steady heartbeat coupled with his even breathing had lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep for the first time in two years.

Morning had arrived with loud knocks and Uhtred's brusque voice demanding the horses be readied. Startled, Sihtric leapt from the bed, his cheeks colouring as he scrambled to dress, muttering under his breath while struggling with the stubborn laces of his breeches.

You had watched him from the bed's warmth, a strange lump forming in your throat. With each passing moment you realised that this was the end. The end of what? Your mind was harshly insistent there hadn’t been anything. You had humped the young and handsome warrior. It was nothing special. It was what whores do for money. And you had been in this trade far too long to know it better.

Closing your eyes, you sank back into the pillow, the last thing you wanted was to watch Sihtric hurry out of the room. You were certain he wouldn't look back. Why would he? But just as you braced for the definitive sound of the door closing, you felt a weight settle on the edge of the bed. Your eyes fluttered open just as Sihtric's lips hesitantly brushed your forehead.

A shy smile played on his lips. “I have to leave now,” he said, and you couldn't discern if his voice held a hint of regret or sadness, or if it was just your imagination. “Can I… will I see you again, if we… when we return?” Sihtric's voice wavered slightly with his last words. Was it due to the uncertainty of his future, or a genuine desire to see you again? You tried to speak, but no words came out, choked by the lump in your throat. Instead, you just nodded and exhaled sharply as Sihtric's lips met yours in a brief, tender kiss.

You had so much you wanted to say – to wish him luck, to say how much you enjoyed the night with him, to tell him you'd be waiting. Thoughts swirled in your mind, but your voice failed you as you watched him walk towards the door, turning for one last, lingering glance before leaving.

And since then, you waited, though you weren't sure for what. What could you expect if he did return? “Nothing,” your mind whispered, while your heart screamed, “Everything!” Deep down, you knew it was a lost cause. He had probably forgotten you the moment he left town, or at least by the next alehouse with its array of young, charming girls. Yet, each time the doors of the old alehouse creaked open and men entered, your eyes involuntarily searched among them, your heart racing with hope.

"Sigefried's here again, asking for you to join him at their table. What should I tell him?" Eanflaed queried with a teasing grin, returning with a batch of empty mugs.

"Just say I can't," you replied tersely, bracing yourself against the counter with your hands and shooting a challenging look at your friend.

"He's a decent man, and he's taken a liking to you. His wife passed away last year," Eanflaed pressed on, oblivious to your brooding expression.

"That's precisely it. Barely a year since her death and he's already on the hunt for someone new," you retorted sharply, your voice laced with disdain.

"Hey, go easy on him. He's only human, not a saint. And in his defence, he's only had eyes for you. Never once has he chosen another girl here. I think his visits are just to see you," Eanflaed whispered, trying to persuade you. "I'm not suggesting you to hump him. Just be courteous and say hello."

"I'm really not feeling up to it today," you replied, turning away and glancing towards the back chamber behind the counter. "Ealfwin, could you take over? I need a break," you called to the young girl in the doorway, who was surveying the room. She nodded in acknowledgment. You left your apron on the counter, which Ealfwin picked up as you made your way to the door.

You shivered, feeling goosebumps rise on your skin as the cool evening air brushed against you, a stark contrast to the house's cosy warmth. Rubbing your upper arms to ward off the chill, you hesitated before stepping outside. Heading towards the stables just around the corner, you found comfort in the familiar scent of fresh straw and the soft sounds of horses snorting. Leaning against one of the stable poles, you took a deep breath, soaking in the tranquil hush of the approaching night.

The sound of the main door creaking open and footsteps drawing near reached your ears. Without turning, you knew who it was.

"Uh... erm... good evening. Sorry, I hope I'm not intruding," a deep, resonant voice broke the silence as you slowly turned to face the man now beside you, his figure casting a shadow in the light spilling from the alehouse. "I was wondering... about my offer... have you thought about it?" he asked, stepping closer.

You remained silent.

"I realise it might seem rushed, but as I've mentioned, I find you very appealing, and I'm in need of a wife to manage the household and care for the children. My estate isn't large, but it's sufficient for all my needs and more. With me, you wouldn't have to worry about anything ever again," Sigefried spoke with a measured, casual tone, but his words sent a shiver down your spine.

He had calmly and logically presented his proposal a week ago, urging you to consider it. And you had given it thought. The offer was undeniably tempting – a roof over your head, freedom from the worry about which meal you have to leave out today, or about your clothing slowly turning to tatters with no money to replace them.

It wasn't about love or affection; it was a deal, pragmatic and sensible. It was a polite way of asking you to sell yourself, and the price he offered was more than fair for someone in your position. It was an escape to a different life, one you had often dreamt of – a life filled with esteem and reasonable wealth, a life where you would be attending church on Sundays instead of scrubbing mugs in an alehouse. Yet, in this new life, under the guise of a wife's respectability, you would still be selling your body, just as before. You would still be a whore, only with a different title, and that until your dying day.

Tears began to well up in your eyes as you leaned your head against the pole, closing them. A gentle breeze played through your loose hair, and you felt your fingers tremble as you adjusted your dress, bracing yourself to the cruel truth that there was no other life for you, you were trapped in your own dreams and the cold misery of this world and there was no escape for you.

"I... I've thought about it," you stammered, your breath quickening with each word. Sigefried reached out, taking your hand in his and gently lifting it to his lips. The confidence in his gaze made you swallow hard. He understood the appeal of his offer, assured in its allure. There was no malice in his eyes, only lust mingled with cold calculation – and that was the final push in your decision, one that had been resolute from the start. You knew this was a choice you might regret.

You parted your lips to speak, but before a word could escape, Sigefried's lips pressed forcefully against yours, eliciting a surprised gasp. You remained immobile, spellbound, as Sigefried's greedy lips moved over yours. Shock rendered you unable to respond, while a growing sense of disgust churned in your stomach, absorbing all your other senses so that you even failed to notice the figure of a young man, halted in his steps, clutching a bunch of flowers, his gaze fixed intently on you and Sigefried.

—-------------------------------------

Sihtric stood motionless, unable to avert his gaze from you and the man who had just proposed to you, now kissing you with such intensity. Time seemed to slow down as he observed you both, completely absorbed in each other, oblivious to the world around. With a concerted effort, he finally managed to look away. His eyes fell to the flowers he clutched, and a wave of heat rushed to his cheeks, flooding him with embarrassment. Flowers. He couldn't help but think how silly it was to come here with flowers.

His hand opened, letting them slip through his fingers and tumble to the ground, while his eyes followed their swirl in the air before landing in the dirt. An urgent need to escape washed over him, to flee before the overwhelming heaviness in his chest became too much to bear. Stepping over the now-crushed blossoms, Sihtric silently turned and continued his way, each step feeling heavier than the last. Reaching the door, he paused, inhaling deeply to steady his rapid heartbeat, then pushed it open, alehouse's raucous laughter and loud voices hitting him as he entered.

Uhtred and Finan, sitting at a table at the room's far end, were easily spotted, their laughter ringing out.

"Look who's here! Our lovesick warrior," Finan greeted with a teasing smirk as Sihtric approached. "Tell us, Sihtric, did you finally confess your undying love to the alehouse beauty?"

Uhtred placed a cautious hand on Finan’s shoulder, his eyes noting the miserable, lost expression on Sihtric’s face, his cheeks flushing and fists clenching, as he slumped onto the bench, burying his face in his hands.

"I need a drink," came Sihtric's hoarse voice. He reached for the ale mug Uhtred slid towards him. "And... and I need a woman," he added, setting the now-empty mug back on the table with a thud after a couple of hearty gulps.

Finan's face shifted from amusement to concern as he shared a worried glance with Uhtred.

"What's up? Did you see her?" Finan asked, his tone now serious.

Sihtric tried to speak, but words escaped him as the image of you and Sigefried locked in that intense kiss replayed in his mind again and again, each time like a fresh wound to his heart. He was not angry at you; he was angry at himself for being unable to forget you, to move on from you.

He had made every effort. He had tried to erase the memory of your deep, sorrowful, yet captivating eyes, and had sought to quell his yearning for your soft, tender touch in the embrace of other women. But nothing had worked. Something about you had ensnared him from the very first moment your eyes met. There had been something so familiar yet intangible in the way you spoke to him, the way you touched him, that lingered in his memory, impossible to shake off and forget.

He had felt safe with you and he had felt loved. Yes, loved – he had felt a genuine care and acceptance of who he was, emanating from you, a feeling he thought long forgotten and buried together with the only person who he knew had truly cared for and loved him.

He understood that he had no right to expect anything from you, but deep down, he had hoped that unique bond he had sensed – that understanding and shared feeling of each other’s unspoken pain and sorrow – wasn't just a delusion conjured by his imagination. He longed for it to be real, mutual. This feeling had ignited a relentless flame within him, driving him forward, guiding him in the battle, consuming his thoughts and breathing new life in him. He had never experienced that feeling again, regardless of how young, beautiful, or eager to please the other girls were. This flame had driven him to return to you, it had carried him, made him fight like a madman, spurned him and given him wings to fly.

Yet he had arrived too late. And even if he hadn't, what could he possibly offer you? How could he rival the proposal he had just overheard? You deserved the security and prosperity that the other man was offering, and he would rather cut his own hand than attempt to deprive you of it, even if it meant leaving his heart bleeding.

"I'm such a fool," Sihtric finally managed to utter, his hand tightening around the ale mug.

"Hey, that's how it goes sometimes, lad. We tried to warn you, but you wouldn't hear it. She's an alehouse girl, Sihtric. You couldn't have seriously expected her to wait for you for half a year," Uhtred said, placing a comforting hand on his younger friend’s shoulder.

"Thank goodness there's no shortage of beautiful women around," Finan chuckled, his smile broadening as he watched a group of giggling girls emerge from the back room, making their way to the guests.

It was that time again and the room was full of freshly arrived warriors, signalling a potentially profitable night.

—------------------------------------------

Your heart pounded like thunderous drum beats in your ears as you flung open the doors, bursting into the alehouse's now noisy main room.You had been away for no more than half an hour and within this short time the quiet and drowsy alehouse had morphed into a bustling hive, filled with energy and noise.

Your hands trembled, the vivid memory of the recent moments still fresh in your mind. You had slapped Sigefried with all your might, pushed him away in revulsion, and fled. The image of his stunned, confused expression lingered in your mind – his hands reaching out to you, his voice calling your name, offering apologies. But you didn't look back; you just ran, driven by an overwhelming need to return to the safety of the alehouse, to escape his grasp, to avoid his presence.

Your gaze swept quickly over the buzzing main room as you made your way to the counter, trying to dodge Eanflaed's sharp glare.

"What took you so long? Where have you been? We're swamped with guests. Uhtred and his men are back, can't you see? I need you here," Eanflaed's words washed over you forcefully. Your heart seemed to leap into your throat as you spun around, scanning the crowded room. Then, you saw him.

There he was, seated at the far end, his laughter cutting through the din and loud chatter, his arm comfortably draped around the waist of a girl you instantly recognised as Ealfwin, nestled in his lap and whispering something in his ear. Your hands clutched the counter, a desperate anchor as your knees weakened.

Try as you might, you couldn't tear your eyes away. They were fixed on that familiar, handsome face, those broad shoulders, and muscular arms highlighted by his sleeveless armour, pulled in by the sound of his infectious laughter echoing through the room.

He had changed. That insecure, shy, hunched over and sad-eyed boy, who once tried to stay hidden and mask his true strength, was gone. In his place sat a formidable warrior, exuding confidence and self-assurance, adorned with golden rings on his fingers and armbands around his wrists.

A soft gasp slipped from your lips as you took in the sight of him, completely unaware of your presence, entirely focused on the girl in his embrace. He cupped her chin with his fingers and drew her into a fervent kiss. Ealfwin giggled, playfully withdrawing from his lips, her fingers tantalisingly trailing down his arm, while her other hand playfully tousled his hair. Sihtric chuckled again, pushed his ale mug aside, and stood up, effortlessly lifting Ealfwin onto his shoulder, making her laugh and wiggle with her feet, as he made his way towards the stairs that led to the upper chambers.

In that brief moment, as he passed by, your eyes locked with his. You felt rooted to the spot, mesmerised by those deep eyes casually glancing at you, flickering with a playful spark, yet showing no sign of recognition.

“Where’s the ale?” a gruff voice from a nearby table cut through the air, as Eanflaed nudged you sharply with her elbow.

“Snap out of it,” she whispered urgently, “Now you know…,” she trailed off, but you were no longer listening. Gasping, you spun around and hurried towards the door. You barely managed to stumble down the few steps as you felt your guts revolting and overcome by the nausea you bent over to vomit the scant contents of your stomach. Time blurred as you stood there, cold sweat beading on your forehead, your body convulsively heaving.

Feeling hands gently gathering your dishevelled hair and steadying your trembling shoulders, you realised it was Eanflaed, preventing you from collapsing to the ground.

"Come on, sweetheart, I'm so sorry," Eanflaed's soft, familiar voice grounded you. You grasped her arms, looking up into her eyes filled with compassion, your own tearful gaze brimming with gratitude as you realised your friend had simply left her bustling alehouse and its demanding guests to be by your side. Eanflaed wrapped her arms around your shoulders, holding you firmly with a strength one would never suspect from her delicate frame, as she gently guided you to sit down on the steps, settling next to you.

“You deserve so much better,” she said, her smile tinged with sadness as she tenderly tucked your dishevelled hair behind your ear. “You're too sweet and kind for this harsh world.”

"Sigefried proposed to me tonight," you managed between sobs, "And I rejected him. I slapped him when he tried to kiss me. I just couldn't stand his touch, or the thought of anyone else touching me.”

“Oh, heavens. It just keeps getting more complicated,” Eanflaed sighed. “You need to rest and get through this night. Things always seem clearer in the morning. Come, I'll get a bed ready for you. And no, you're not going home alone in this state,” she stated firmly, cutting off any weak protest you might have had. In truth, you didn’t have the strength to argue. Nodding in agreement, you allowed Eanflaed to help you to your feet and guide you gently back inside.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

#sihtric kjartansson #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #the last kingdom #tlk #arnas fedaravicius #arnas fedaravičius #sihtric fic #tlk fic #the last kingdom fic #sihtric

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amm479842356 · 6 months

Text

Timothee was never a very popular kid. He was always the kid that everyone either hated or liked. He was at the top of his class and on the chess team. Worst of all, he was made fun of for being gay. The jocks always thought it was funny to pick on him. He hated them so much. He was absolutely revolted by the thought of ever even being friends with one.

One day Timothee was sitting is in the gym locker room when the most annoying of the jocks came in, Jake. "Yo wassup bro" Jake said. Timothee had just made a B+ on his math exam and wasn't happy about it. "Go away" he said. "Oh we got a hero, now do we? We'll see how long that lasts." And with that, Jake whistled for his bros.

Timothee tried to make a run for it but one of Jake's friends grabbed him. "Where do ya think you're going, nerd?" He was forcefully sat down and the jock put leather restraints on his legs while another put them on his hands. Finally, a strap was put on his neck and with that, Timothee couldn't move.

He could hear the other jocks laughing. Jake turned the lights off and said "Night, bro." "Why would he say br-" and with that, he heard a loud hissing sound and when he looked up, he saw it. A gas pouring out from the ceiling. He started to get dizzy and right before he passed out, he felt a sharp jab in his neck.

When he woke up, he wasn't in the locker room, but in what looked like the Janitors closet. "What the fuck? Where am I? Wait, why did I say that, I know where I a- I- uhh I kno- I don't know".

Timothee went home and continued his night like normal. He got a shower the next day and while getting ready for a wedding, something weird happened. "Bro I don't know what to wear." Normally Timothee always picked out the perfect outfits, not to mention the night before. "Whatever, must have forgot." He put on his clothes and thought nothing more of it.

The next day. Timothy was at school and he had a quiz in Alegebra. He knew everything super well. "Ima fucking ace this shit. Huh? Why di- uhh whatever, I'm ready for this shit." Except when he finished, he got a C-. "Wait what!? I always get a- wait, I got a C. That's fucking good."

When Timothy went to gym something felt weird. Normally, he would sit in there all period but for some reason he wanted to get dressed, so he did. He took all of his clothes off and before he could put anything on, "Yooo dude wassgood?" said Jake. Normally, Timothy would've been disgusted to hear his voice but for some reason, he wasn't.

"Wassup bro. Bro? Why would I say that? What's happening to me? Wh- ats up?" Timothy had completely disregarded the fact that he said bro to Jake for the first time in his life.

"Come workout with me bruh" Jake said. Timothy had never worked out in his life but that didn't stop him from going. Timothy got in the weight room and suddenly all the lights went out and there were spinning spirals all around him, followed by the same hissing noise. He feinted.

When Timothy woke up, he was surrounded by all the jocks he once hated. "You're name is Tommy" said Jake, followed by a snap. Tommy didn't know why the fuck Jake would try to tell him something he already fucking knew.

Tommy didn't remember anything after that...

"You're iq is lower than anyone else's. You're straight as fuck bro. You love football, wrestling, and baseball, cause you play them all dude. Your dick is so long bro. You fucking hate school. We know what's best for you. You love to get sweaty as hell like real men. Your pecs are so fucking big. We're your bros. You got the tightest bubble butt ever dude. You only wear compressions clothing bro." Said all the jocks and followed by multiple snaps, that was it.

"Yo bro, what happened?" Tommy asked. "Nothing bruh, don't worry about it." Jake said. "Wow, you really need a haircut dude." Suddenly, Tommy wanted, no, Tommy needed to get a haircut, so he did.

From that day forward, everything about Tommy would change. The walls in his room went from being filled with posters of superhero's and books and science and math to posters of football, baseball, wrestling, and nude women. His interest shifted from school and chess to working out, getting sweaty, hanging out with his bros, and doing what coach said.

Tommy would never be the same.

#dumb jock #hypno hunk #jock bro #lycra bulge #sexy hunk #dumbification #jockification #gay to straight

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anxiousgaypanicking · 4 months

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I noticed that you're accepting requests for good omens 👀 aziraphale coming back from heaven after leaving Crowley and things escalating up to apology sex/giving Crowley the opportunity to let out his pent-up frustrations? Whoever's the top or bottom is up to you

Apology

Warnings: pretty standard sex

Aziraphale stands idly on the steps outside what was formerly his bookshop. Despite having entered and exited these doors plenty of times, he now feels unsure of whether or not he was welcomed inside.

He had seen Muriel pass by the doors, holding an unsteady stack of books in her arms. Seeing her reminded him of his first days on Earth, and even of the first books he got to hold in his hands. He hoped she hadn't given any away, but he wouldn't blame her if she didn't understand their value. Those books were important to him, and he'd abandoned them anyway.

It wasn't the only important thing he'd left behind.

Just barely visible through the window of the door is Crowley. He's laying back on one of the comfortable couches Aziraphale's ex-bookshop houses. Normally, when he'd stretch out on the piece of furniture it was when he and Aziraphale were engrossed in witty conversation. Now he looked as though he was miserable, if not rotting away on the cushions.

Aziraphale didn't blame him in the slightest.

Fear of rejection is the only thing that keeps him hesitant outside the doors. He doesn't deserve Crowley's forgiveness, but he's prepared to beg for it anyway.

Swallowing the spit in his mouth, Aziraphale heads inside.

As he pushes the door open, the bell above it jingles, and though Crowley doesn't stir, Muriel's feet can be heard excitedly pattering towards the doorway.

"Hi!" she exclaims, before she's even before the door, "welcome to A. Z. Fell & Co..." Muriel trails off before she can even finish her sentence. She gasps when she fully processes who is standing before her.

"Aziraphale!" she exclaims, though Aziraphale has a hard time interpreting whether it's out of surprise or excitement.

The proclamation of his name has Crowley whipping around in his seat though, staring at Aziraphale with his eyes obscured by his familiar black glasses. Aziraphale swears it was just yesterday when Crowley felt comfortable enough to slide his glasses off every time he walked into the bookshop. Now here he was wearing them just to lay around.

"Hi, Muriel," Aziraphale says, though his voice is unsteady, as though he's trying to keep a shuddering sob suppressed. "Hi, Crowley."

"I've kept everything tidy for you!" Muriel states, smiling, though her eyes reflect a certain disbelief. "And Mr. Crowley told me you didn't want any books actually sold."

"How sweet of him." Aziraphale smiles at Crowley. Crowley scowls in response, turning away from him in such a way that drew attention to the cold air wafting between them. There's thick tension that settles along with the silence, which has Muriel bouncing on the heels of her feet awkwardly.

"Why don't you go... tidy something up in the back," Aziraphale then urges Muriel, as soft as he can. She seems relieved at having something to do, and nods at the request, before walking off and leaving Crowley and Aziraphale alone.

For a few seconds, Aziraphale waits, wondering if Crowley will say something. He doesn't. And so, Aziraphale clears his throat and breaks the silence, stating "I came back."

Crowley doesn't stir.

Taking a few small steps toward the sofa Crowley was spread out on, Aziraphale adds "I suppose this warrants a lot more than the apology dance?"

"I don't want to talk to you right now."

Aziraphale's chest aches at the words, but still he presses onwards. "Crowley..."

"I don't even want to see you."

That has Aziraphale's eyes feeling wet. He blinks away the tears before they even have the chance to fall, and sets his hand gently on the back of the cushions, standing behind Crowley's head. So close, Aziraphale could reach forward and cup his face.

"I'm sorry."

That has Crowley drawing in a sharp breath. He doesn't answer Aziraphale, inviting him to say more. Apologize again, or plead his case maybe?

Whatever the reason, Aziraphale knows this is potentially his one chance to make things right.

"I'm sorry," he repeats, believing it to be a good place to start from. "I shouldn't have left you. I shouldn't have left Earth. I was... I was hoping that, as the Supreme Archangel, I could make a difference. I could allow Heaven to see just how special Earth was, and... that I could have you with him. But I couldn't have either." Aziraphale's voice shakes. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but I don't know what the right thing is anymore. Everything is so skewed."

He has to take in a breath to keep himself from slurring his words.

"Jim... or, Gabriel, told me when he'd lost his memories that being around one particular person would make things okay. That if you had nothing else, and you were lost, that one particular person could make things feel better. You are my person."

Crowley is still. Aziraphale continues.

"You don't have to forgive me. I... I don't even know if I'm asking for your forgiveness. But let me at least be with you; I beg of you." Aziraphale's hand slides from the back of the sofa down to the armrest Crowley's head was leaning against. His fingers slowly crawl up Crowley's cheek, caressing his tattoo oh so gently, before cupping his angled jaw and just holding his face.

"I'll do whatever it takes to make things right," Aziraphale promises, and he means it. Once more, his shining eyes are welled up with tears. He's gotten so good at reading Crowley throughout the years, but as Aziraphale looks at him now, he hasn't the faintest clue what he could be thinking. Truthfully, as much as Aziraphale wanted Crowley to accept him, he knew he just as rightfully deserved to be turned away.

Finally, Crowley sits up. He just stays sitting, facing away from Aziraphale for a few moments, before turning back to him and scooting himself to the arm of the settee so that they're face to face.

"I'm still angry with you," Crowley states. Aziraphale smiles sadly, and nods his head.

"I figured you would be. And- it's justified, of course."

"What made you leave?"

The question surprises Aziraphale a bit, but he supposes it makes sense that Crowley would want to know, especially after Aziraphale had begged him to come with.

"I missed you." Aziraphale stares into Crowley's glasses, finding only his sad reflection within them. "I missed the world. I missed my world."

Aziraphale's fingers travel upwards, dancing against the side of Crowley's glasses. Upon being met with no resistance, he slowly slides them off of Crowley's face, and sets them aside. Crowley's eyes are wet, but otherwise hard to read.

"I'd like to be on our side, if that's okay," Aziraphale quietly says, speaking those words to Crowley and Crowley alone. A side that would consist of just the two of them. A group of the two of them.

Crowley's hand sets itself atop Aziraphale's, holding it against his face, before it slithers upwards, sliding over the length of Aziraphale's arm until he's holding Aziraphale's own soft cheek, studying his countenance.

"I shouldn't forgive you," Crowley utters, voice raspy and low. "But after six-thousand years of being around you, it was devastating not feeling your presence on Earth."

Aziraphale exhales, shaky and apologetic, sighing as his eyelids flutter shut momentarily. When his eyes reopen, Crowley is still staring at him, but his gaze has softened in such a way that Aziraphale can sense forgiveness, though both of them know things are different now. For once, they both seem to agree on where they stand in relation to Heaven and Hell, and in relation to one another.

For a few moments, they just stand in each other's presence, Aziraphale leaning against Crowley's hand while his own thumb rubs over Crowley's cheekbone. Then Crowley's pulling him closer. Slow, at first, as though testing the waters, urging him to bend down so that they're face to face.

"Am I moving too fast?" Crowley whispers.

"I should be asking you that question," Aziraphale responds, feeling relief wash over him at the way Crowley's looking at him. He's still angry - he probably will be for a while - but at least temporarily Aziraphale is forgiven.

He can feel Crowley's warm breath on his lips, but there's a pause. Perhaps Crowley is waiting to see if Aziraphale will pull away, or if he'll truly make up for his departure by connecting their mouths in a much softer fashion than Crowley initially had. Regardless of the reason, Aziraphale can't take the lingering much longer, and so slowly tilts his head to the side and presses their lips together.

It's gentle, as most things with Aziraphale are, and just as apologetic as he is. Though he hesitates, his hands eventually find Crowley's shoulders, no longer afraid of embracing him. Crowley lets him move at his pace, and his hands slowly grasp Aziraphale's coat, keeping him close but not pulling him in as he had before. They're close enough as is. Close enough for their foreheads to rest against each other when Aziraphale pulls away slightly, leaving an air of fluster between them.

"So..." Aziraphale speaks, voice low and unsure. "What now? No apology dance?"

Crowley finally snorts, a smile creasing the corner of his lips just barely visible as he turns his head to the side. It helps soothe Aziraphale further, and finally allows him the ability to smile as he straightens back up.

"No, I suppose not," Crowley answers, as he smooths out his pants and leans back against the couch. "Though, if you're still insistent on making things up to me somehow, I have a few ideas."

That has one of Aziraphale's eyebrows quirking up, as he replies "oh? I'd love to hear them, if you'd be so..." he stops before saying 'kind,' and uses "willing" instead, smiling after. Crowley smiles briefly at him in turn, before his face falls to a more neutral expression, and then a more contemplative one.

"I have one that I'm particularly inclined to suggest, but I'd like to know before I suggest it that you'll be completely honest with me," Crowley states, as he finally works his glasses off his face, allowing Aziraphale to see his gleaming yellow irises. He looks serious, though.

"I will be," Aziraphale affirms.

Crowley stares at him for just a few seconds, before pushing himself off the sofa and taking Aziraphale's hand, lightly enough for Aziraphale to pull away if he so desires but still firm enough to lead him forward. He takes them upstairs to the now-vacant bedroom Gabriel-turned-Jim previously used during his temporary stay. Aziraphale's eyes him curiously, having not yet caught on to Crowley's implications, up until Crowley's fingers are sliding beneath his coat and pulling it off of him, slowly slipping the coat down Aziraphale's arms and running his fingers down them all the same.

"Oh..." Aziraphale breathes, eyes darting from Crowley's hands to his face.

"Is this okay?"

Aziraphale lets his coat fall to the floor, and despite his urge to pick it up and hang it over a chair or something, he stays planted where he stands, Crowley's fingertips lingering over his knuckles.

"I suppose," Aziraphale answers, shying away from Crowley's gaze. "Though, it's a bit unfair."

Aziraphale reaches for Crowley's jacket, and Crowley lets Aziraphale pull it off of him, though he does comment "I thought this was all about making it up to me. This was my idea after all."

"I'm just making a few suggestions of my own, Crowley," Aziraphale replies, pulling Crowley's grey, skinny-scarf off of him as well. "If you disagree with them, you can say such."

"No, no," Crowley is quick to say, face warming at Aziraphale's casual nature. Despite this quite literally being Crowley's choice, Aziraphale had adapted rather quickly, and with a lot more relaxation than Crowley truthfully expected. "I have no complaints with this."

"Good." Aziraphale's hands still pertain a little bit of hesitancy, as doubt fills any silent moment they have, but he pushes himself to continue anyway. Who's going to stop him from touching Crowley now that he's finally allowed? No one is.

He's had Crowley's body, but he's never felt Crowley's body, and there's a clear difference between the two. And Crowley just stands there and lets him run his hands along his sides, fingers pushing against his ribcage and hip bones before ever so slightly sliding beneath the waistband of Crowley's tight pants, and it's only there that Crowley stops him.

"You'll probably need some help with that bit," he states, though Aziraphale's eyes shine at the joking manner in which Crowley speaks. While he would much prefer to go the more humanly route of properly stripping Crowley down, he knows that logically Crowley's pants probably can't slide down further than a couple millimeters without coming to an impasse.

Pulling his fingers up, Crowley makes a quick flicking motion, and in a matter of seconds his clothes are miracled off. If he has any shame about standing nude in front of Aziraphale, he's doing a great job of hiding it, and instead just takes to unbuttoning Aziraphale's vest.

He's careful with the angel's clothes, sliding them off his body slowly and making sure they land on an area of the floor where they won't be accidentally trampled. Aziraphale has little shame in being naked either; he's been alive for six thousand years, he's been indecent once or twice, but the way Crowley looks at him once his pants are dropped makes him burn internally, as though Crowley is igniting hellfire inside of him.

"Look at you," Crowley murmurs, so soft Aziraphale takes a step forward to hear him better. "You're gorgeous."

His hands linger above Aziraphale's chubby stomach, wanting to touch but hesitating despite their mutual vulnerability. Hovering upwards, Crowley instead holds Aziraphale's face, pulling him forward and leaning down to kiss him again.

It reminds Aziraphale of his time spent in heaven, longing for the taste of Crowley's lips. They'd been the last thing he tasted before departing, and he hadn't realized just how much he'd craved them until they were unattainable.

A moan slips past his lips, which has Crowley pulling away immediately.

Startled, Aziraphale almost goes to apologize, but is quickly rendered speechless by Crowley tilting his head upwards and thumbing over his lips.

"Beautiful," Crowley breathes, so delicately Aziraphale could have believed the word emerged from the wind itself. "I wish it hadn't been muffled."

"I'm sure the others won't be," comes Aziraphale's assurance, though both of them go pink in the face at his implications.

"Well," Aziraphale then begins, clasping his hands together in a flustered bid to move things along, "shall we mount the bed? I assume that's why you brought us up here in the first place." Aziraphale nods at the mattress, and Crowley looks between it and Aziraphale as though his initial plan hadn't just involved wanting to move away from the downstairs windows.

"Right, yes, of course," Crowley exclaims, nodding and pressing his lips together into a thin line. "After you."

Aziraphale smiles softly, though pulls Crowley slowly to the bed, urging him onto it first. "No, please. I insist."

Surprised, but interested, Crowley lays himself back on the bed, scooting partially up the mattress until a pillow hits the back of his shoulders. Aziraphale crawls onto the bed after him, sliding between Crowley's thin legs until their bodies are pressed together, guiding Crowley's calves around his waist.

"I never would have expected - in all of six thousand years - to be doing this with you," Crowley admits, as Aziraphale's soft hands glide over his bony figure. Unlike Crowley, who displayed more reservations about touching, Aziraphale has no trouble getting right to it. They've never properly embraced, he's realizing, and now at their most vulnerable they're going to get to.

"Have you thought about it?" Aziraphale asks, as his fingers dance down Crowley's pronounced hip bones, and then over his thighs.

"Yes."

Aziraphale nods, not saying anything in response, though his cheeks flush at the confession.

His hands slide back to Crowley's hips, rubbing over his prominent ilia, before he sheepishly asks "who... who do you want to be in control?"

He would take the reins himself if Crowley so desired, but felt it necessary to ask. This had been Crowley's idea after all; he might have had a specific way he wanted this all to go down. Besides, after no doubt feeling out of control during Aziraphale's leave, he may want to be the one to guide things.

But surprisingly, he takes Aziraphale's wrists, and pulls them until Aziraphale is falling forward, hands planted on either side of Crowley's face.

"You can take the lead," Crowley says, slurring his words a bit in an attempt to be smooth. "Might as well, with the position you're in."

Very lightly, Crowley's fingertips brush through Aziraphale's curly hair, as he feels Aziraphale's stomach press against his body. Aziraphale stares into his eyes, before they're both moving to kiss in tandem, soft and slow, appreciating the other for all they're worth. To some extent, every kiss in the near-future will be a somewhat bittersweet reminder of Aziraphale's absence - and even his initial rejection - but it was sweet enough to be worth tasting. Addicting enough to have Aziraphale pulling away to catch a breath, before kissing Crowley again, his own arms shaking in a desperate bid to keep his body from laying flat against Crowley's own while kissing him feebly. Pleasure courses through his body, but he doesn't place why until he's being lightly pushed back.

"Angel," Crowley gasps, turning his head to the side to prevent Aziraphale from kissing him once more. "You mustn't tease me."

Aziraphale goes to ask him what he means, but as he sits up he sees that Crowley's hard, leaky cock was trapped between their fronts, no doubt stimulated by any miniscule movement. Aziraphale's own cock - also hard - was in a similar position, explaining his previous arousal.

Aziraphale sits back on his calves, leaving Crowley to prop himself up on his elbows as he watches Aziraphale curiously wrap his thick fingers around his cock, and give it a few unintentionally teasing strokes.

Crowley's fingers dig into the blankets at the pleasure, and his teeth grit as he muffles an embarrassingly loud moan, tucking his head briefly into his shoulder until he can steady himself. When he sees Aziraphale watching his face with pink cheeks, he's quick to spit "well? Get on with it then!" He can feel the blood rushing to his own cheeks, and he knows Aziraphale's noticed after witnessing the angel's lips form into a soft, embarrassed smile.

Performing a small, quick miracle, Aziraphale summons a small bottle of lube. He pours some onto his fingers, and then makes sure the digits are fully coated before pressing his fingertips against Crowley's hole.

Bitterly, Crowley objects "is this really necessary?"

But Aziraphale's response is firm and sweet, as he states "of course it is. Safety first."

Two of his fat fingers then push into Crowley's hole, spreading him open leisurely as Aziraphale focuses on stretching him out. Crowley groans at the feeling, sliding his forearm over his mouth to muffle his sounds as he leans his head back against a pillow. Aziraphale watches the way his Adam's apple bobs each time his fingers slowly thrust inside.

Crowley says something, and though Aziraphale can't understand it due to his arm in the way, he can assume it's something along the lines of "hurry up." It has Aziraphale huffing, but he wants to please Crowley, and so scissors him open just a tad longer before retracting his hand, musing at the whine that slips from Crowley's throat in the process.

The bottle of lube is reopened once more and spread over Aziraphale's thick cock, before it's shut and set aside with Aziraphale's hands taking hold of Crowley's hips once more.

The tip of Aziraphale's cock presses against Crowley's hole, before slowly sliding into him, with Aziraphale leaning over Crowley as he moans. That has Crowley gasping, as he slides one of his arms around Aziraphale's body so that his hand is pressed against his back. His nails just barely sink into Aziraphale's soft flesh, but he's careful not to hurt him.

"This is quite the apology," Aziraphale murmurs, voice light and breathy as he his cock pushes fully into Crowley. "Much better than the dance, I think."

"I quite like the dance," Crowley utters in response "Perhaps I'll have you do it for me when we're done here."

Aziraphale snorts out a laugh, before he's kissing Crowley's throat. This was truly a great deal of exertion, but it was worth it to see Crowley's cheeks glow red with each bit of affection Aziraphale gave him, despite having been the one to initiate this level of intimacy.

"Tell me when you want me to move," Aziraphale then says, voice gentle. "I want to go at your pace."

"You can move now," Crowley states, almost immediately. "Don't make me wait any longer." His arm falls from his face in order to cup Aziraphale's in turn, before Crowley whispers the softest "please" Aziraphale has ever heard.

Aziraphale is filled with the upmost desire to please, and so pulls his cock halfway out, before pushing it back into Crowley, shivering at the gasp the latter lets out at the action.

Here Crowley was telling Aziraphale he sounded beautiful when his own noises were just as addicting in their own right.

Aziraphale is slow and precise with his movements, and though his eyes watch Crowley's face contort with curiosity and pleasure, his mind is dually focused on making sure Crowley feels as best as he possibly can. And maybe - rather selfishly - Aziraphale is focused on the way his cock feels buried in Crowley's ass.

He tucks his face into the crook of Crowley's neck, trying to adjust to the rather sensitive sensation of having sex for the first time. As generally sexless beings, Aziraphale would never have guessed they'd do something so human. But humanity, to some extent, was what brought them together, so really it only made sense this would happen eventually.

Eventually. Aziraphale flushes as he thinks of that word.

It's rather intense though. Sex is. His nether regions are sensitive and his body is warm, especially as it presses against Crowley's.

His lips rest against Crowley's skin as he thrusts slowly into him, and despite his urge to keep his face tucked beneath Crowley's jaw, he pulls away after a few seconds, pressing a parting kiss to Crowley's sharp collarbone.

He brings one of his hands to Crowley's cheeks, running his thumb along his cheek, before he goes "your eyes truly are gorgeous. I missed you, of course, but I missed your eyes especially."

Crowley groans at the attention, and immediately slots an arm over his eyes to obscure them. Immediately, Aziraphale is tutting and quickly grabs his hand, peeling it away from his face and pinning it to the bed beside his head. He entangles their fingers, and scolds him softly for trying to hide any bit of himself.

Under his breath, Crowley grumbles about Aziraphale being a tease, but Aziraphale just kisses him into silence, grinding their bodies together as he attempts to speed up his thrusts. With hard thrusts, he pulls himself most of the way out, and then snaps his hips all the way in, stretching Crowley open with each movement.

Crowley's own cock slides against Aziraphale's squishy stomach, stimulated relentlessly while Aziraphale moves atop him obliviously.

Suddenly, Aziraphale's hand is being squeezed by Crowley's own as he breaks away from the kiss with a loud cry, head falling back as his back arches off the bed.

Aziraphale's thrusts slow immediately, unable to read the reaction as pleasured or pained.

"Are you okay?" he asks, tightening his fingers against Crowley's hand, only to flush when Crowley doesn't even try to repress a trembling moan.

His eyes are squeezed shut as he answers "prostate..." followed by a panting "sensitive area," which has Aziraphale going red in the face as he nods wordlessly.

His body presses further into Crowley's as his cock speeds up again, this time with Aziraphale looking considerably more focused as he attempts to aim solely for that spot over and over in order to make Crowley feel the best. And he does a considerably good job, with the tip of his cock repeatedly jutting against Crowley's prostate, making the demon moan with each thrust.

Crowley's legs squeeze around his angel's chubby waist, helpless to do anything but squeeze his eyes shut and suck in shaky gasps for air. He's only able to focus on the intense onslaught of pleasure that he's facing.

He expected this to be a learning experience for both of them, but Aziraphale is surprisingly good at this. He wonders briefly if Aziraphale has ever done this before, and then thinks about how they definitely need to do this again in a non-apologetic context, before he's being quickly distracted by another thrust to the sensitive bundle of nerves within him.

Choking out a moan, Crowley grabs Aziraphale's upper arm and clings to it, nails ever so slightly digging into his skin as he forces his eyes open to watch the way his angel's stomach looks rubbing pleasurably against his slick cock.

Aziraphale's stomach engulfs it, sliding over it, before lifting up slightly and letting Crowley see the strings of sticky pre connecting his cock to Aziraphale's pudge, before he leans back down and once again squishes Crowley's shaft beneath him. Aziraphale himself feels hot, and pants as he works to please them both.

"Angel," Crowley pleads, as warmth overtakes his body. He can feel sweat building on his brow, trickling down the sides of his face.

"What do you need, Crowley?" Aziraphale asks, knuckles white with how firmly he's holding Crowley's hand. "Anything, and I'll do it." And he means it.

Yet, he doesn't expect Crowley to suddenly grit out "come in me."

Clearly, he's embarrassed as he asks for it, but Aziraphale is equally as flustered to hear it, and can't help gasping at the request as he presses his forehead to Crowley's. Against Crowley's lips he breathes out "okay, okay," while Crowley moans between his affirmations. He's straining to hold back his orgasm, waiting for Aziraphale. Always waiting for Aziraphale.

Aziraphale's own eyelids stay lightly shut as he lets out a moan of his own, soft and barely audible, driving his cock into Crowley with increasingly sloppy thrusts before his breathing picks up, face red as he presses his body fully against Crowley's. Chest to chest, as close as they could possibly be, Aziraphale thrusts his shaft deep into Crowley a final time, before coming hard inside of him. He moans as semen spills from his cock, thrusting through his orgasm, before he feels Crowley jolt beneath him.

Breathing heavily, Aziraphale pulls back in order to watch Crowley bite his bottom lip, muffling a guttural groan as his back arches into Aziraphale's chest, scratching Aziraphale's arm as he comes, before falling back against the bed with a dramatic huff as he struggles to catch his breath. Aziraphale stays above him momentarily, before pulling back and sliding out, sitting on his knees between Crowley's legs - that remain loosely wrapped around him - as he sees the mess Crowley made of their stomachs, and his own mess spilling out of Crowley's hole.

Aziraphale rubs Crowley's thigh until they've both calmed down, before he asks "would you rather miracle away this mess, or clean it up the traditional way?" which is promptly answered by Crowley waving his fingers and miracling himself a clean pair of boxers, and their mess to be wiped clean.

"Ah. I suppose that answers that."

Aziraphale slides off the bed with shaky legs, and grabs his own boxers off the ground. He slides them on carefully, before turning back to Crowley, who is staring at him as though he's holding back a question.

Smiling, Aziraphale wordlessly gets back into bed, and watches the way Crowley lets out a quiet sigh of relief, lightly wrapping his arms around Aziraphale as Aziraphale slides his arms around Crowley's back, tucking Crowley's face into his chest.

"I'm not much for sleeping, but I know you enjoy it," Aziraphale says softly. "How about you get some rest, and when you wake up we can talk about things over tea."

"And a bit of gin?"

Aziraphale laughs, gently rubbing his hand over Crowley's back. "Whatever you'd like, Crowley. Whatever you'd like."

#good omens #good omens smut #ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands smut #agp smut #aziracrow #aziracrow smut #guys im branching out

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atticsandwich · 10 months

Text

move fast, keep quiet

pairing: raphael / gn!mc [obey me!]

sfw - this is just pure fluff lol

hallway brushes that turns into casual conversations, that turns into walking to your next class together, that turns into whispered nothings, that turns into something more

[set in the OG timeline, pre-NB]

"Good morning."

His tone is casual, monotonous. You look up from your D.D.D to see the angel in front of you, arm raised halfway in a greeting.

"Raphael! Good morning," you respond in kind with a smile.

You haven't known Raphael for long, but you realize that sincerity is laced in every encounter you've had with him, despite what the tone in his voice might suggest. Although the brothers describe him as strict and meticulous, you find the silence that usually comes with his presence quite comforting, a complete contrast to the daily rambunctious antics in the House of Lamentation.

"You're early today. Don't you usually come with Mammon?" he asks, glancing around you in case he missed the demon in question.

"Oh, Diavolo asked me to come in early so I can look through some of the proposals regarding future exchange programs," you respond. "I actually came with Satan today, but he wanted to stop by the library first."

"I see..." he trails off, as if in thought. "Can I walk you there?"

You blink in surprise.

"To the student council room? Sure, but are you sure you're not busy?" you reply, not expecting the offer. He gives a curt nod.

"I'm waiting for Simeon and Luke, so I don't have anything to do until then."

"If that's the case... yeah, let's go! I could use the company," you smile. Though his face remains unchanged, you can sense he's content that you accepted.

The two of you chat about recent happenings, from Mammon's latest grimm escapades to Luke accidentally drinking Solomon's concoction that he left in the fridge ("--he should really stop doing that", you interject.) that made the poor angel croak for the entirity of the afternoon. Luke was apparently grumpy for the rest of the night, so Simeon baked some cookies to cheer him up, which worked. ("--the cookies were good," he commented.)

The walk to the student council room isn't too long, and before you realize it, you're both standing at its doors. "I might as well say hi to Lord Diavolo and Barbatos," was what he said as he held the door for you. You whisper a quiet thanks as you walk past, and hear the scuffle of his feet as he walks in right after.

"There you are, good morning!" Diavolo's voice resounds within the room, enthusiasm peaked as always. Barbatos bows beside him in acknowledgement, walking off to prepare your seat.

"Good morning, Dia, Barb," you return their greeting accompanied with a warm smile.

"Hm? Is that Raphael behind you?" The prince finally notices your companion, who gives a nod.

"Good morning, Lord Diavolo. I was merely taking them to you. I apologize for the intrusion."

"Nonsense!" The prince laughs in assurance. "You and the other angels are always welcome to stop by."

You glance at the angel, who only gives another nod in response.

"I'll be on my way then," he turns to you.

"Thanks for walking me here," you say, thanking him with a smile.

"See you around."

You might've imagined it, but you were almost certain your fingers brushed for a second as he walked back, and you swallow the warmth that overtakes you, pushing it aside so you can start your duties.

Walking with Raphael becomes somewhat of a norm.

The repeating trend goes like this - you've just finished your Devildom History class, and as you walk out, he's somehow also nearby, which ends with him walking you to your next class. Sometimes, one of the brothers notices, and he ignores every one of their whines when they point it out. There are days when Luke and Simeon join the two of you (and if it's lunchtime, the twins are there with you too).

You talk about many different things - you ask a lot of stuff about the Celestial Realm, and he'll often tell a story or two from back when the brothers were still angels. There's a fondness in his tone whenever he recounts those memories, but you know he's content just knowing that the brothers are all together and happy in the Devildom. He asks you about your life in the Human Realm and what you were like before the exchange program, and you tell him of your days before the greatest plot twist of your life.

Somehow, you also manage to convince him to start teaching you how to sew. ("--literally not a day goes by where I don't have at least one tear on my clothes," you tell him.) You told him of that one time Beel started chewing through your school jacket because you spilled some juice on it, and then another time you tripped over a tangled wire in Levi's room, causing the seam of your jeans to split. ("--it's a miracle you still have any clothing left to wear," he comments. You swear you saw him hold back a laugh, but you don't mention it.)

Eventually he starts walking you back to the House of Lamentation, too. You're usually stuck doing student council duties after classes, so when it first happens, you're surprised to see him still on campus.

He manages to find a different reason each time you ask.

"I was at the library."

"I was sitting in the garden and lost track of time."

"I forgot something in the classroom so I came to pick it up."

He doesn't bother defending himself when one day, you walk out of the student council room, waving at him - "Thanks for waiting for me." He simply nods in acknowledgment.

When he walks side by side with you, sometimes your fingers brush; some instances longer than others, and you can't help but wonder what his hands would feel like on yours. Simeon once mentioned that angels had higher body temperatures, so would that mean his hands would be warm? Gentle?

As these thoughts run through your mind, you don't notice turquoise eyes on you the entire time, almost mapping each crevace of your face. He looks at your empty hand right next to his, and he finds himself wondering how it would feel like as he held it.

One day, the dam finally breaks.

He's walking you back to the House of Lamentation as always, and you're talking about Thirteen egging on Mephisto earlier that day. You stifle a laugh as you recount the noble waving his cane around ("like an old man," you describe), as he chased the reaper.

Your fingers are brushing against his again, but unlike most days when it's an unspoken tension, you feel the other hand slowly creeping up to yours, before it wraps it in its warmth. You look at your now-intertwined hands, and then to his face, seemingly avoiding eye contact with you. There's a warmth in his cheeks, and you feel his hand squeeze yours lightly, as if asking for assurance.

"Your hands are warm," you whisper, squeezing in return. From the corner of your eye you see his lips twitch upwards in a small smile, but you don't point it out.

When you reach the house, it takes some time for him to release his grip, but as he does, he takes his other hand, holding yours with both of his, and he brings it close to his face and plants a kiss to your palms, his eyes on you the entire time.

Your face is flushed, both in embarassment and twitterpation, as you try to avert your gaze from his - to no avail. You fear he can hear how fast your heart is beating even from a distance, as he sets down your hand he's been holding.

"I'll see you tomorrow," a rare smile is plastered on his face, which only worsens your poor heart's pounding.

"Yeah," you finally manage to breath out. "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."

You watch him walk away, heading back to Purgatory Hall, and start formulating a plan to get back to him. Maybe a kiss when he's not looking? You'll polish that thought later.

And as you drift off to sleep that night, you dream about the warmth of his touch, and wonder how warm the rest of him is.

[a/n: i haven't actually written a fic in quite a while so i'm kinda rusty ;; feel free to send me suggestions, etc! i wanna get back to writing more... Thank you for reading!]

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me raphael #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me raphael x reader #obey me fanfic

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gatzilksis-2 · 5 months

Text

My Stepfather Joe: 2023 Christmas Special Final

Last Part Here

18+

December 24, Christmas Eve

I'd fallen asleep on the couch on purpose. I was more likely to hear Joe's farts from there.

I woke to his footsteps pounding into the kitchen from their bedroom, accompanied by one long, wet walking fart. Joe grinned as I lifted my head, wearing olive green shorts with the full belly out. "Morning! Didn't know you were out here."

"Morning." I got up with a stretch and a yawn. It was half after seven. I got a cup of coffee as Joe started working on the food for the big meal. "Want help?"

"No, this time you'd just be in the way." Joe stood close to me to get his own coffee. He extended a thick finger to me. "Pull my finger."

"Really?" I hadn't heard that one in a while, but I pulled the finger.

PWRRR-wrrrrrr-rrrrr...

The fart was deep and guttural, my favorite fart sound. It stopped after a few more grumbling seconds, and Joe began to wave it to my face, taking his finger back to use both hands.

I stepped back but widened my nostrils at the same time. I was sure his farts smelled a little worse with age. I'd known that was a thing from my late grandpa. When he was alive, you couldn't even light a match around him.

"That was a good one," I admitted as Joe laughed.

"It was. Thanks." Joe slapped my back and went to get something else from the fridge.

I retreated to the living room, and Mom came out only a few minutes later. "You're leaving today, right?"

I nodded. "Bus gets to McDonald's at 5."

"Plenty of time!" Joe yelled from the stove. "Dinner should be done by noon."

"Yay!" I clapped my hands, and Mom smiled.

The food took forever, and I had only heard parts of Joe's farts as he cooked and prepped his way around the kitchen in circles. He would get mad if I went in, so I couldn't smell any of them, either.

But noon finally came, and the table was filled with all the traditional Christmas food. Joe put on a blue tie-dye T-shirt and sat down with us. He overfilled his plate as Mom and I put normal amounts on ours.

Joe leaned away from me halfway through his plate. BWRRR-RRT! He wiped his mouth and beard, glancing at me with a smirk.

"At Christmas dinner?" Mom asked him.

"I've always farted at Christmas dinner, honey," Joe countered with a chuckle. "And I'm pushing it this way, anyhow."

He waved an arm towards me, sending his new, thick fart at me. It smelled like spoiled stomach, but it had that thing, that sweet signature Joe's gas carried.

"Towards my son?"

I rolled my eyes at Mom. "It's not like it's a surprise."

BWRMP! Joe pointed it at me again. His mouth was full. "Wazzat a su'prishe?"

I laughed, and Joe did, too, after swallowing. Mom shook her head at us. "You guys are something else."

A few minutes later, Joe's plate was completely clear. He burped and then leaned a third time. PRRR-WRRrrrrp! "Ah, yeah! Honey, there may be a gas leak tonight."

"Wonderful," Mom groaned.

Joe's "gas leak" was when he couldn't stop farting. I wished I would be here for tonight's show, but I had a bus to catch. Damn.

Still, I enjoyed all of his farts accumulating into an unmoving cloud. The smell was layered, thick and rotten but so skunky and delicious in the same moment.

Joe refilled his plate as I finished my first, having had a lot less than him. Mom and I got more, too. There wasn't much talking, just a lot of quiet eating.

"Can we turn on the TV or something?" Mom got up and grabbed the remote from the couch.

"Too quiet for you." Joe lifted his entire ass, pointing a fart at the back of his chair. br-VWAAAMP!

I couldn't help cackling. "That sounded like it hurt."

"Nah, it's fine." Joe pushed another bite into his smiling mouth.

Mom came back to the table, waving a hand through the air before resuming her own meal. I was happy eating in the middle of the stink.

Joe finished his second plate and loaded it up again. "Eat up. We don't wanna have leftovers forever."

"I'm already full," I said.

"Me too," Mom agreed.

"Always down to me." Joe took his third first bite.

"I'll get the pies ready." Mom left the table with her dishes.

I checked my phone, watching Joe scarf down his food out of the corner of my eye. He rarely chewed with his mouth closed, and the extra air helped his fart production.

I stayed in my seat until he was done, pretending to be on my phone while I was actually just waiting.

Joe sat back in his chair, breathing heavily with a smile. He pushed his shirt up to rub his belly. "Can you take my shit to the sink, please?"

"Sure." I grabbed my dishes and his and put them in the sink.

VWAMP! VRRT-WORT! Joe laughed behind me, having let his fart echo off his wooden chair. "Now, that one kinda hurt."

"That's why you lean, right?" Mom joked as she placed pieces of pie on paper plates.

"Yeah, but it sounds funny with the chair," I happily replied.

"Exactly!" Joe pushed himself to his feet, his shirt falling. "We opening presents now? And then pie?"

"That works for me," said Mom.

Their tree wasn't up, so they had to go get the wrapped gifts from their bedroom. Mom came out in a Grinch nightshirt, and Joe followed in only a pair of boxers, something I'd never seen from him. The boxers were red with a big Christmas tree in the middle of his fat ass, right where the farts came out. His belly hung over the front of them, jiggling as he paced closer to throw me a box.

I caught it with no problem. "See, you do look like Santa! Those are some Santa ass boxers?"

"No, the ass is a tree." Joe turned his butt to me, over a foot away. "See?"

"I see!"

I expected him to fart, but he just stepped away, sitting in his spot on the couch. "Open your present!"

I did, kneeling on the carpet and ripping the paper off to reveal a new Keurig. "Yay! Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Santa!"

Mom covered her laugh with a hand as Joe gaped. He slowly started to laugh. "You asshole."

Joe got up from the couch. I pulled out my phone. "Let me take a picture, and I'll show you how much you look like Santa right now!"

With a sinister smile, Joe dropped to the floor and reached for my phone. I held it away from him, trying to open my camera. He grabbed it. "You're not taking a damn picture."

He shoved me and pushed himself to his feet, staying bent at the waist. The boxers were right in my face, the Christmas tree inches from my nose. gr-BWRRR-wrrrr-BRRR-RT! His normal fart scent had been greatly increased by all the Christmas food. It was so thick I could almost taste it, and that was incredible to me. It wasn't close to the worst he'd ever done, but it brought an actual tear to my eye.

Joe fell into hysterical laughter as he stepped away from me. He held up both arms in victory. "That's the one I've been waiting for!"

"Goddamn," I said, though it was Christmas Eve.

Mom fanned the air from her seat. "It's already over here!"

Joe returned to his seat, proud of himself. "That was a damn good fart."

I almost agreed, but I thought it might look weird. The only Christmas gift I really wanted was more of what had just happened.

We turned on yet another Christmas movie, and I took my seat next to Joe on the couch.

BWMMMP! Joe pushed a fart into the cushion. He glanced at me. "Could you feel that?"

"No."

A few minutes later...BRRRRMMMP-FRRRP!

I smiled, having just slightly felt it in the cushion. "Okay, I felt that one."

"Now smell it," Joe stood suddenly, causing the farts sealed between his ass and the couch to release.

It hit like a hot, smelly wave, and I resisted the urge to sniff deep. From the loveseat, Mom yelled "Go grab the spray!"

"No." Joe padded to the plated pies. "It's Christmas."

"What's that have to do with it?" Mom argued.

It didn't go any further than that. We all got pieces of pie and ate them in front of the TV. When we were done, I didn't have much time left. "Hey, Joe? Didn't you say I could pick some stuff to take with me?"

"Yeah, you wanna go look? I'll grab my robe." Joe hurried to their bedroom.

I thought it was funny how he got so excited about his new business.

"See you in an hour," Mom quipped.

Joe wrapped a dark blue robe around himself, putting on flip-flops before going outside. It was almost dark, but motion-sensing lights led us to the garage. Of course, I let Joe go in first. He flipped on the lights above the tables and boxes of crap. "Anything you're thinking about?"

"No," I answered. None of the stuff, at least. I looked around slowly. "There's so much."

"I know." Joe stepped in front of me. BWRRRT! "There's actually a couple little fart machines somewhere in here."

"Like you need that."

"Yeah, right." Joe walked around to adjust little things, leaving his awesome gas behind. "Your mom's gonna kill me if I don't start taking those pills. I just didn't wanna have a migraine while you were here. Plus, farts were like our thing."

He mentioned the past, and I still wasn't sure how much he knew. However much it was, he didn't seem to mind farting around me. I smiled and finally noticed something cute, a box with the Tree of Life carved into it, on a bottom shelf behind Joe.

"I think farts are a thing between you and anyone." I reached down behind him to grab the corner of the box. "I want this."

"Wait! I don't got a fart yet!" Joe chuckled down at me over his shoulder.

I was right behind his ass again. It wasn't really on purpose; the thing I wanted happened to be behind him. Did he actually expect me to wait for a fart to come?

I straightened up, holding the box in both hands.

"Damn!" Joe yelled, though his smile stayed. "You walked right into it, and I didn't even have one ready!"

I wanted to give him a freebie, but that would completely give me away. I headed to the door, but Joe got in front of me. He blocked the door and pushed his ass back. VWRP! FRRT! BRRRT!

They were small for a normal guy but tiny for him. I stood behind him, surprised that the smell was the same for the baby rips. "You stopped up? Don't shit yourself."

"Haven't done that in years." Joe went out the door, shutting off the light as I followed him.

We got back into the house, and I quickly got my clothes and other things together. I emerged from the guestroom to see Joe lying down on the couch, again in only his Santa boxers, his belly hanging to the side.

"Ready to go?" Mom asked, putting on her jacket by the door.

"Yeah." I took a look over Joe. "Nice to see you again. I missed you."

"Come back sooner next time!" Joe lifted one arm in a wave. "Oh, wait!" He pulled his arm down in a crank motion and raised a leg. PHWOORRT! FRRRR-RR-BLRRT! "Ahh! There it is!"

I wish I could've had it in my face, but you can't have everything. "Nice one! Bye, Joe!"

"Hey, come hug me!" Joe yelled.

I couldn't hide my smile and walked over to him, taking in the awful, amazing aroma of his long, proud blast. I bent down to hug him, and I heard some quiet gas whisper. "That really stinks."

"Isn't it great?" Joe sniffed his own gas and sighed.

I wanted to agree, but I walked to the door instead. "See ya, Joe! Love you!"

"Love you. Be safe."

I followed Mom out. Though Joe's fart remained fresh in my nostrils, I was already getting sad. My time with Joe (and Mom) was over, and I had no idea when I would be back again.

I wish he could've driven me home and farted the whole way with the windows up. I wish I could've just stayed with them. But neither of those things could happen, so I was back to just writing and reliving my wonderful moments with my stepfather Joe.

End

#farts #gatzilksis #eproctophilia #fart kink #eprocto #flatulence #fart fiction #fart stories #male fart fiction #male fart stories

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zukosdualdao · 7 days

Text

will the scars go away with night? / try to smile for the morning light

zutara month day, 4: katara kept her scars, @zutaramonth

summary: the morning after the ember island players, katara trains earlier than usual. zuko notices the scars on her hands when she unwraps them, and they talk about some things.

warnings: references to the noncon kiss in teip. also some references to ableism wrt scarring and facial differences.

other notes: the title is a lyric from "a little's enough" by angels & airwaves.

When Katara finishes her training for the morning, running through the forms that still challenge her most in the courtyard of the Ember Island house Zuko took them to, she’s unsurprised to find Zuko waiting at the edge. She knows he usually wakes earlier than any of them to do his own training before a second session instructing Aang, and she’s often taken over the space after.

But she’d had an uneasy night of sleep after what was maybe the worst play anyone had ever put on, complete with the terrifying reminder of what was at stake in the coming weeks.

After what happened with Aang on that balcony. The way he kept pushing and then just… kissed her, like that could fix that she didn’t know what she wanted, didn’t know how she felt. After she’d already said so.

And if she can’t sleep, she might as well practice. When she’s unsure of everything else, at least she never feels more at peace than when the water yields to her command. It helps. A little.

“Sorry,” Katara exhales as she approaches, running the back of her hand over her forehead to wipe out the sweat of both exertion and the summer sun that’s finally starting to rise. “I’m done. I didn’t mean to steal the space from you,” she adds, smiling and trying not to linger on the image of his shirtless form as he leans his side against one of the pillars.

“It’s no problem,” Zuko replies, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I like watching you.” It takes a moment for the words to catch up to him, his right eye growing wide as he waves an unsure hand in explanation. “That’s not—I mean, because you’re so talented—”

Katara giggles, feeling more of the tension melt out of her as she stretches her arms and watches him stumble over the words. “It’s fine. It’s not like I’ve never watched you,” she admits in a soft voice. “You’re talented, too.”

Zuko blinks, looking… surprised and maybe a little embarassed, she thinks as she begins to unwrap her hands. He opens his mouth to say something but pauses when his gaze flits down to them before quickly looking back up into her eyes.

There’s a part of her that feels tense and strange about it—mostly, she tries not to to think about the burn scars that swirl around her hands. She often wears her bandage wraps when they’re out, so as to be ready for battle as needed, and even when she doesn’t, she mostly doesn’t mind leaving them uncovered. It’s only when she catches strangers staring too long at her mottled skin or when Aang makes passing glances at them with a look of guilt that her stomach clenches and she feels an angry kind of shame.

But… she knows it isn’t like that with Zuko, that he’s not thinking what other people are when he looks.

My face, he’d said in the light of those green crystals, all those months ago in Ba Sing Se, far more hurt than she’d thought him capable of being before that point. I see.

“I got these a while ago,” Katara says as she raises them to show him.

Zuko nods but doesn’t ask how she got them, though she knows Aang told him the bare details of the incident. Instead, he asks quietly, “Do… do they hurt?”

Katara considers it. It hurts to look at them. It hurts to think that Aang just… hadn’t listened to her, even though she knows it was an accident and how badly he felt afterward. But still. It was just like how he hadn’t listened to her last night when she said she needed time, needed to think, that she didn’t know.

And sometimes, she still thinks she feels the echo of the pain from the first moments after the burn, bright and searing and deep, but it usually goes away as quickly as it comes on.

Katara thinks maybe part of her does know, when it comes to her and Aang, and just hadn't known how to tell him that.

“Not usually,” she settles on softly as she moves a little closer toward Zuko. She knows the others love her, and that they would listen if she wanted to talk about it. But this is something else that she and Zuko share, something only he can understand.

Katara so longs to be understood.

“When I first healed them, it took away most of the pain. But they still scarred. And sometimes, they still feel…” She doesn’t finish the thought, instead lowering them and turning them over, inspecting her palms as she does. “Sometimes I look at them, and I don’t think I recognize myself. See?” she adds, moving them closer to him, though she doesn’t quite know why.

Zuko nods slowly. He raises one of his own hands and hovers it inches away from her, ready to retract it at the first sign of distress.

“Is this okay?”

Katara nods, feeling choked.

Zuko traces the lines of her left hand briefly with a delicate finger. I see you, he says without saying anything at all. I do.

Katara nearly shivers at the touch, the feel of it muted but still so gentle that it sort of makes her want to cry. She looks up at his face. There’s no pity there, no fear or disgust or anything else Katara’s come to anticipate from those looking at her hands, either.

Just a look in his eyes like he gets it, the shiny, textured skin set against his left eye making her feel safe to trust him with this.

“Aang kissed me last night,” she says suddenly, wanting to know what Zuko, the real Zuko and not some exaggerated, unreal stage version, might say to that. “And he said he wants to be with me, and he doesn't know why we're not together."

Zuko looks up to stare at her, but there’s no judgment there, nor any particular shock. He’s just searching for something.

“What do you want?” he asks after a long moment, the words like an echo of something that maybe he once heard.

Katara curls her lip, thinking it over. “For you to keep holding my hands.”

In an instant, Zuko reaches to take her other hand and holds both of them in his own. He squeezes them in a light, gentle motion. Katara swears she can hear her own heart flutter.

#zutaramonth2024 #zutara #zutara month #zuko x katara #katara x zuko #what is tone. what is natural event progression. etc.#my fic #will the scars go away with night? / try to smile for the morning light #trigger: noncon kissing.#trigger: ableism.#jic #atla

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