#(they did not shoo us out i think they were even working on cleaning up all the other stuff before asking if they could take our dishes away

[whomerlockwood]

matched with this cute woman on a dating app and we decided to meet in person like two days later (she was very surprised because she's used to exchanging messages for weeks prior to meeting personally) because she is going on holidays for three weeks and we (especially i) wanted to see each other before that

i regret it so so much that i didn't kiss her on our first date because now i will be thinking of her pretty lips and what they must feel like for the following three weeks until i see her again (she wants to see me right the day after she comes back from holidays so yey she's as excited as i am 🥰)

[devil-in-hiding]

On The Run pt 2

By the time the five of you are in the house, you’re soaked through once more, teeth chattering when the cool air of the house hits your skin as Gaz opens the door, holding it open long enough to let the dogs trot in.

“Hey! Shake over there!” He shoos, flinching when Maggie sprays him with her shake off.

“Let’s get you taken care of pretty.” Price murmurs, and you push weakly at his chest, struggling to get down. Your mind is foggy, exhaustion fighting to take over, but there are four strange men now standing in your living room, and that seemed more pressing.

Price grunts, but finally gives in, setting you on your feet, and you put as much distance between yourself and them as you can. “What do you want? What is going on here?” You demand, trying to ignore the shake of your voice.

They glance at each other, having a silent conversation, and you glance towards the stairs. You had an old cell phone, and the service this far out was absolutely shit, but it was a chance-

“We would like a place to stay.” Price’s voice interrupts your thoughts, and your eyes shoot to look at them, and a shocked laugh tumbles past your lips.

“A place to stay? After what just happened? For god’s sake I don’t even know you!” You laugh, slightly hysteric, and Price takes a cautious step towards you, holding up his hands. “We didn’t mean to scare you sweetheart, honest. Didn’t think anyone lived here by the looks of it.” His tone is soft, comforting. He approaches you slowly, and you back away until your back hits the wall.

“How did you even know we were in there?” Ghost speaks this time, eyes trained on your face and you try not to crack under his gaze.

“You spooked Sebastian. In the six years I’ve lived here nothing has ever spooked that horse.” You glare, anger flaring when the four of them laugh. “You think scaring my stallion is funny?”

“No little bird, just…” Ghost trails off, chuckling and you can feel your eye twitch ever so slightly.

“It’s cute how protective you are over some animals.” He finishes, and he can tell his words are winding you up, the crinkle around his eyes indicating he finds this amusing. Bastard.

“They might just be animals to you,” You start, your frustration seeping into your words as you straighten your back. “But when I found this place they were starving and on the brink of death. I worked my ass off to make sure they made it. I worked for their trust after some asshole abandoned them here to fucking die. They are my herd, this is my land!” Your shoulders heave, sucking in a deep breath as you try to calm your racing heart.

They stare at you, quiet and you close your eyes, clenching your fist as you struggle to maintain yourself. “You broke into my barn and scared my animals, held my own knife to my throat and invited yourselves into my home. Why is god's name should I let you stay here?” You ask, opening your eyes to stare them down, and for the first time tonight, they seem to crack under your gaze for once.

“Have you… Do you have any way of hearing the news?” Price questions, wincing and you frown. “The radio when I’m cleaning the barn. Why?”

They hesitate, looking between themselves as they shuffle their feet. Your eyes bounce between them, trying to think back to anything of importance that a reporter has broadcasted as of late.

Missing sheep from a town more than four hours north of you, a four way pile up down one of the highways,a break out at the prison, a wheeler transporting 60,000 gallons of wine tipping near the river…

A break out at the prison.

You freeze, all air leaving your lungs as you stare at them, four wanted criminals standing in your living room. You feel your knees buckle.

They notice your realization, hesitation crossing Price’s face when he notices your stiff figure.

“Please. Let us explain ourselves.” He all but begs, and you feel your hands shaking.

“You are wanted criminals!” You hiss, and they cringe, their previous bravado has disappeared.

“We will explain everything to you, we swear. Just… Please give us a chance.” Soap steps forward this time, big wide eyes trained on you. They’re just as soaked as you are, and in the light of the living room you see the bags under their eyes, the tension in their shoulders. They look exhausted, and not just from this night. There’s a haunted look behind their eyes, and you curse yourself when you feel your heart ache ever so slightly.

You make a noise at the back of your throat, turning to head up the stairs.

“Pretty where are you-“

“You’re soaking my floor. You can explain it to me after I’m out of this damn gown.” You mumble, hearing one of them mumble ‘damn shame’.

“I heard that!”

After a few moments you come back, a box of clothes in hand and they all raise a brow. “Thought you said no one else lived here?” Gaz asks suspiciously when they notice it’s a box of men’s clothes. You roll your eyes, shoving it into his hands.

“They’re my ex-husbands, I took it by mistake when I moved my boxes.” You huff, crossing your arms. It’s your turn to raise a brow at their shocked expressions. “What’s with your faces?”

“What kind of eejit divorces such a gorgeous lass?” Soap asks, and you feel insulted, till you realise he’s not joking. They all look you over, and you feel your face warm at the way their eyes darken. Turning away, you clear your throat, pointing up the stairs.

“The guest room is down the hall, it has a bathroom and towels. Leave your clothes in the tub.” You order, making your way towards your bedroom. You feel the stairs shake as they bound up them, and as they pass, Price give’s your hip a little squeeze and you swat at his hand.

“Thank you pretty.”

“I haven’t said yes yet. You were just ruining my hardwood floors.” You sniff, smacking his hand once more when he doesn’t let go.

“You are testing my patience most of all.”

“You haven’t made us leave though.”

“I can change that very quickly.” You snap, pulling his hand off your side and he takes the opportunity to pull you close, leaning down next to your ear.

“But I don’t think you will, will you sweetheart?” He whispers, and you bite your lip, pushing at his chest. “For god's sake, go change you old perv.” You hiss, wiggling in his grasp and he flashes you a grin before letting you go.

You slip into your room, locking the door before pressing your head against it. What have you gotten yourself into?

You quickly take a hot shower, letting the scalding water bring warmth back to your stiff joints. You towel off quickly, slipping into an oversized hoodie and some old pajama pants.

You can still hear the shower running down the hall when you step out, a boom of thunder sounding in the distance. You slip down to the kitchen, grabbing one of your mugs. You had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

How could you be so foolish as to be letting escaped convicts use your bathroom?! God the feds were probably spread to every point in the world trying to track these men down. You can’t remember much the broadcast had said, just that there were four dangerous men on the run from one of the maximum security prisons a couple of hours away. How on earth did they wind up here?

You’re so lost to your thoughts you don’t hear the stairs creak, staring out into the backyard as you mull things over in your mind.

“‘Ppreciate the clothes lass, loads better!” A cheerful voice spooks you and you jump, dropping your mug to the floor. “Shit!” You curse, a matching ‘ah hell’ leaving Soap.

“Didn’t mean to scare you again bonnie, I’m sorry.” He sighs, running a hand over his face. You’re surprised to find genuine guilt there, and he gives you a sheepish look. “I’ll clean this up for ye.”

“Gone and lost us our chance Soap?” Gaz asks, frowning at the glass on the ground but Soap just waves him off. “Accident, scared the poor lass.”

“We keep doing that, she'll never give us a chance.” Gaz smiles at you, soft and sweet but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, the bags under them worse after having cleaned up, and you feel that strange ache in your chest again. You glance at Soap, who is picking up the shards with his bare hands and you frown, swatting his hands away as you kneel beside him.

“Are you trying to hurt yourself?” You scold, and he gives you a surprised look before smiling, shrugging as he gently stops your hands from piling the remains of the mug. “Could ask the same of you bonnie, hands like these are much too pretty for such sharp things.” He mumbles, scooping up the shards without a care.

The two of them eye you nervously, and you can feel knots in your stomach. Taking a deep breath, you motion towards the living room. “Sit. I’ll make something to drink.” You offer. They raise a brow and you glance at the ground.

“I’m sorry, I just thought-“

“No need to apologize, it’s just…” Gaz starts, trying to find the words and glances at Soap.

“We’re honestly surprised you didn't run for the nearest house possible when you had the chance.” Soap says bluntly, and you wince.

“No one around for miles.” You admit, and their faces fall slightly, shoulders tensing and you clear your throat. “I said I would hear you out. I plan to.” You say firmly, turning to walk into the kitchen, just to bump into a large chest.

“I gotta worry about you keeping your mouth shut little bird?” Ghost asks, arms crossing over his chest as he stares you down.

“I do have a radio that connects me to the closest ranger station. And another for the Police station in the little town 3 hours north.” You admit, and you see his eyes flash, but you hold up your hand before he speaks.

“No. You aren’t taking it.” You snap, and his eyes narrow, exhaling sharply.

“If they don’t hear from me periodically they get worried. It’s a small town, everyone knows one another and I do have to take trips to the store every month or so.” You don’t back down from his dark gaze, but your palms feel clammy.

“They ever check up on you unannounced?” Price is last to arrive, voice stern as he levels the same cold glare as Ghost and you swallow, standing straighter, Gaz and Soap looking between the three of you nervously.

“Not unless I ask them to or I haven’t called in a few weeks. Takes too long to get out here.” Your voice shakes towards the end, slipping between the two looming men.

“You’re all here, you can start talking anytime.” You quip, and Ghost scoffs. “Got a mouth on you don’t-“

“You are asking to stay in my home. Watch it.”

He snaps his mouth shut, glaring at you and you turn your back to him. Price clears his throat, his gaze heavy on your back as you turn on the stove.

“Listen. There has to be some type of trust for this to even begin to work. You haven’t hurt me, and besides that oaf holding a knife to my throat,” You and Simon glare at one another, but he breaks first, eyes crinkling in the corners. “You’re a feisty little thing.” He laughs, crossing the kitchen to plop down at the kitchen table like he owns it.

“Besides that, you haven’t given me any reason you’re here to harm me or rob me, considering you have no car. You could easily overpower me and keep me locked in one of my own rooms and you haven’t. That’s a good start.” You finish, hands shaking slightly as you start to make your tea, and Price gently takes the kettle from your hands.

“But you’re still scared.” He states, and your shoulders stiffen. “Four men are in my kitchen asking to hide from the police. I’ve only put together who is who with your little code names by listening to you talk to one another. I’m sorry for being a little frightened.” You spit, jumping when you feel his large hand on your hip.

“Oh if you don’t quit that-“

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you pretty.”

“Okay! I think we all need to take a minute, yeah?” Gaz announces, him and Soap staring at the three of you nervously. You pry Price’s hand off your hip, again, pushing him away.

“Start talking, now. Before I let Soap and Gaz stay here and let the two of you rot outside.” You huff, taking a seat at the table and they seem surprised.

“I told you, I put together who is who, and those two,” You point, glaring at Price and Ghost as you speak. “Have been very respectful and kind.”

The two of them perk up, lapping up the small praise like thirsty dogs as their chests puff out.

Price frowns, keeping eye contact with you as he slips into the chair opposite of you. “We’ll behave.” He mutters, cutting a look at Ghost when he makes an offended noise in the back of his throat.

“We’re sorry. We didn’t mean any of the harm or fear we have caused you, really thought this place was abandoned. The boys and I appreciate you hearing us out when you have absolutely no reason to. And I… apologize.” He clears his throat, casting you a glance over before meeting your eyes once more.

“Haven’t been around such a gorgeous little thing like yourself in a long time. Forgot my manners.” He grins now, causing heat to bloom in your chest and you splutter, narrowing your eyes at him as you fight the heart crawling up your neck.

“Story. Now.”

“Oh come on pretty, am I at least forgiven?” He asks, and you know he’d deny that he’s pouting, but it still makes a small smile tug your lips.

“I’m thinking about it.”

“I could sweet talk you some more.”

“Much more interested in why you were in prison.”

Price sighs, but there’s a smile on his face as he relaxes in his chair.

“Better settle in. It’s a bit of a tale.” He crosses his arms, settling back.

“I’ve got all night.” You shoot back, resting your chin on your hand as you get comfortable.

What have you gotten yourself into?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITAH for telling my wife no?

My wife (35f) and I (38m) have been married for 12 years, dated for 3 before that. We have 3 kids (10m, 7f, and 5f). We both work full time in separate fields, she does some chemistry thing that I don't understand and I am a manager at a computer repair store my friend runs, and also a short story writer when its slow. She is definitely the breadwinner bill payer between the two of us, but I bring in the fun money for our family and would be completely listless if I didn't at least work part time. We also fully own our home because of her job.

Also, my parents watch the kids for us during the week when we are working. It's been this way since our son was born, and they've been doing it less since they are all in school. But it's free childcare, they refuse to accept money unless it's reimbursing for buying food.

Ok, now that all of that backstory is set, here's where the problem begins.

A couple of months ago my wife started pepper into conversations about a possible promotion coming up that would get her out of the lab and into a more "manage the lab team" position, with less dangerous hours for more pay. Ever since the first time she mentioned it I've been hyping her up and telling her she's a shoo in for the promotion, especially since she's been working there since her masters internship and now she has a PhD.

Last night she told me she was getting word today if she got it! After she left for work this morning I called my boss up and told him I couldn't come in today, and then told my parents the kids were saying with me. We spent the day cleaning the house, drawing congratulations cards, and making a congratulations banner. We also made a couple cards that say sorry and we love you for if she didn't get it. I was working on making her favorite dinner (lobster rolls with lobster bisque, because she's a fancy lady) when she got home earlier than normal. Everyone was surprised, because noone is usually home at this time and yet here everyone was. She got tears in her eyes seeing everything we were still working on, got down and hugged our two youngest, and said she got the promotion! Cheering all around! And that's when she dropped the bomb, saying we need to get a realtor in a state three away from us so we can relocate within the next two months.

I was stunned, and just said no, we arent moving for this promotion. In all of her talks she never mentioned that the promotion wasn't for the same location she's been at. All of our family is here, her parents and mine, all of our friends are here, my job is here. She insisted that she's mentioned relocating before but I swear she never did. That set of a completely new argument about never listening to her and only hearing what I want to hear, and how this will make it so I can stay home with the kids and not even need a fun money job. During this I noticed she was typing on her phone, and when I asked why she was multitasking an argument she said she was texting my parents to get the kids so they don't have to see this.

When my parents got here they congratulated her on the promotion and asked how long until we move.

She told my parents the promotion included relocation.

I'm typing this on the couch in the basement, because I can't face her right now. My parents knowing means she probably did say we would need to move if she got it. I don't want to move, I like my job, and our house. I like being near my parents. I know this would practically set us for life but I don't want to. I know I'm being selfish, and I know I must not be listening when she talks, but I still don't think she should accept the promotion. I still think no.

What are these acronyms?

[megumiluvv]

Choso has noticed these little things with you lately. Just simple things, like how you clean his apartment while Yuji naps, or how you take naps on his couch on particularly boring days. He finds himself subconsciously leaving a blanket out on the couch before he leaves for work, or stacking the pile of dishes in the sink so it’d be easier to manage.

He comes home after a rough day, working one of his umpteen jobs where many customers (who aren’t always right, he finds) yell at him for hours, and sees that you’re asleep on the couch, the dishwasher is going, and dinner has been cooked. Though nothing regarding the dinner has been actually eaten, maybe you were waiting for him to come home? He sets his things down, trying to be quiet and let you sleep, but his keys fall and wake you up with a start.

“Who’s there?” You sit up, sleepiness evident in your voice.

“It’s just me, don’t worry.”

“Gah, I fell asleep,” you mumble and get off the couch, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders.

“That’s alright. Yuji still asleep?”

“Yeah, gotta wake him up…”

“I’ll do it,” Choso says.

“No, you look like you had a rough day, and if I sit down again, I’ll go back to sleep.”

“Didn’t know my couch was that comfortable.”

You laugh and go to wake Yuji, while Choso warms up the food. Yuji clings to you when you exit the boy’s bedroom, Choso can tell he’s been asleep for a while. The kid perks up when he sees food, though, and hops from your arms to the dinner table.

Another little thing Choso has noticed: you always walk certain paths to get somewhere in his apartment. Like taking the left side of the hall to get to Yuji’s room, or going behind the couch to get to the bathroom. Round the corner quickly and dodge the ends of the kitchen island by curling your body the other way. However, sometimes you miss and hit your side, making Yuji giggle and eliciting a groan of pain from yourself.

You sit down, rubbing your side that’s sure to bruise tomorrow, and poke Yuji’s nose playfully. The boy giggles and shoos your hand away, then takes a bite of his food. Choso sits with you two and eats quietly, just observing.

When did this all start to feel so normal? You’re just his neighbor, but you feel like part of the family now. You’ve also gotten used to when Sukuna visits, even combatting the witty remarks with some of your own.

“Choso, chooosoooo, anyone there?” You tease and get his attention.

“Hm?”

“Are ya tired or somethin’? You’ve barely touched your food.”

“Ah, sorry about that.”

“No, it’s alright, just wanna check on you is all.”

“Thank you. I’m alright, just had a long day at work.”

“I see. Go get some sleep, I’ll put Yuji to bed and lock the door on my way out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ve got this. Take care of yourself, Choso.” You smile and place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Why are you so perfect?

Yuji watches as Choso goes to bed and looks up at you. “He looks at you like how Megumi looks at pretty flowers.”

You would’ve choked on your food if you didn’t swallow two seconds before the boy spoke. “What does that mean, Yu?”

“I dunno, maybe he thinks you’re pretty. I think you are. I’m gonna go put on my pajamas.”

And just like that, the boy disappears, leaving you alone to process the words he said. You eventually snap out of it and clean up, tucking Yuji into bed and making sure he’s asleep before going next door to your apartment. What did Yuji mean by that? Is there a chance he likes you too? You never noticed anything out of the ordinary, so what little thing did Yuji notice?

Masterlist

Taglist (ask to join anytime): @samaraxmorgan @cherriee-ee @auor4 @chaotic-ish @meowsannie

@mediokerrv @flooftoof @dazaisfavgf @mysteriaqueen

[aevallare]

excuses

light plot. heavy smut. mind the warnings. you can read on ao3 here

pairing: astarion/f!tav

word count: 4424

warnings: Aphrodisiacs, Semi-Public Sex, Squirting, Gags, Vaginal Fingering, Soft Dom Astarion, Wall Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Creampie, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Biting, Hand Kink, Inappropriate Use of Tadpole | Illithid Parasite Powers, Established Relationship, Rough Sex, Hair-pulling

preview:

“Go.” Auri's voice is hoarse. “This isn't your problem.”

Astarion's eyes narrow. “If you really think that I'm going to leave you here by yourself–”

“Astarion, please.” Again, Auri begs. “Something was wrong with that meat I ate. It feels infernal. Everything’s so warm. I can't–”

enjoy!!

-----

The orthon’s dead and his stronghold is now their camp for the evening. It’s a nice change from the usual; after barricading the entrance, they won’t even have to take watches. It’s well-fortified and Auri’s reasonably confident that they’ve wiped out anything in the immediate area that might want to kill them.

So spirits are light.

When Wyll jokingly tells her to lick the spider, Auri rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t be stupid. We’ll take it back to camp and cook it.”

Astarion won’t partake regardless, but he does afford her two raised eyebrows in response. Shadowheart grimaces and Wyll barks out a laugh that fades when Auri doesn’t join him.

“You’re joking,” Wyll says weakly. Auri sets her mouth in a line.

“There isn’t much else to eat down here.”

“Unless you’re Astarion,” Shadowheart snorts. It’s true enough, though it makes Auri blush. The marks on her neck are testament to that.

Wyll stares at Auri as she harvests meat from the spider with a dagger she pulls from her belt, and he says, “I’ll stick with what rations we have, I think.”

Auri shrugs. She ate worse when she was on the street. Her knife cuts into the spider’s corpse with a sickening crack through the exoskeleton before Astarion asks, “What are you doing?”

Auri looks up at him. “I told you I wasn’t going to let it go to waste.”

“No, that’s not–” Astarion pinches the bridge of his nose and crouches down next to her. “Move. You’re mutilating it.”

Auri’s barely started and he’s criticizing her. When he shoos her to the side with a flick of his wrist, Auri lets herself be dismissed. She stands, and behind them, Wyll and Shadowheart get to work setting up camp.

They’ve all long shed their armor. Astarion’s careful to push up the sleeves of his shirt before pulling a dagger of his own from his boot. The veins of his forearms thread down into his hands, thick and protruding, and as Auri watches, he gets to work.

“Did you moonlight as a butcher while you were a magistrate?” Auri asks.

Astarion exhales a laugh. “No, but as you might have guessed, taking things apart was an oft-used skill of mine after my time as a magistrate.”

The joke is dark, but Astarion doesn’t seem upset. In fact, he continues, “Are you really going to eat spider meat?”

“I put vampire in my mouth all the time and you never seem to complain about that.”

“True. Your exotic appetite is one of my favorite things about you.”

His dagger filets with grace; no movement is wasted. When he’s finally picked the spider clean, he looks up at her. The dagger’s still in his hand and he toys with it absently.

Auri’s always been enamored of his hands. Her own are calloused, roughened by years of playing every instrument she could get her hands on. They’re a lyrist’s hands. There’s nothing wrong with them; they’re nothing but tools.

His, though.

Astarion’s hands have never made music as far as Auri knows, but they make the world sing at his discretion anyway. Flesh and skin bow and warble at his fingers’ mercy, and gods know that her body’s sung under his touch more times than she can count.

Her hands are tools. His are art.

Astarion’s thumb brushes over the hilt of his dagger a final time before he stows it once more. Auri’s mouth is dry and it occurs to her that she’s staring. Astarion’s eyes catch hers and he smirks.

“See something you like, darling?”

His hand drifts up to push his hair out of his eyes. Auri’s gaze follows the movement like it’s a compulsion.

“Always,” she manages, and Astarion laughs for real then, a soft, secret thing that she’d never be graced with if Shadowheart or Wyll were nearby.

“Be careful staring like that. I might get the wrong idea.”

Auri blinks at him, finally pulled from the single-minded fixation she’s had on his hands. “What do you mean? We had sex just a couple of days ago–”

“Details.”

Auri gathers the meat in her hands and walks to the campfire. No one bothers her as she stokes the flames before skewering the meat on a sharpened stick and setting it to roast on the fire.

Shadowheart settles in next to her, and when she does, she wrinkles her nose. “That smells awful.”

“Everything down here smells awful–”

Astarion’s taken a seat and cracked open a book, but without looking up, he says, “You’re both right. This place absolutely reeks and that filth you’re cooking is making it worse.”

Wyll laughs. Auri frowns. Shadowheart huffs.

When the meat, for all intents and purposes, appears cooked, Auri pulls it from the fire. “You two are sure you don’t want any?” She looks at Wyll and Shadowheart in turn.

Wyll, at least, says, “No, thank you.”

Shadowheart just scoffs. “I’d rather starve.”

Auri shrugs. Her teeth tear through the spider meat, and if Auri doesn’t chew, it doesn’t taste so bad. Shadowheart’s grimace grows more and more disgusted, but Auri’s got a full stomach, so she doesn’t particularly care.

-----

There’s been little time to be unfocused in the Gauntlet of Shar. Everything is a potential or actual threat, and though he’s more or less convinced of their safety in this fortified pocket of ground that the orthon carved out for himself, Astarion still trances with a dagger in arm’s reach.

Still, his trance is light, and it’s been less than a day since he’s fed. He’s so much more when his senses are thrumming with Auri’s blood–

And it’s the sound of Auri that wakes him.

It’s a stifled, strangled, choking noise that pulls Astarion from his trance. It’s not close by, but he’d recognize Auri anywhere. It doesn’t sound like she’s in danger, exactly–

But Astarion slinks out from his tent anyway. Wyll and Shadowheart are nowhere to be seen; if he focuses, he can hear them both, breathing heavy with sleep in their tents. It’s hard to do that, though, when Auri’s gasping grows more and more labored.

So he follows it. And he finds her. And the reason she’s so far from camp isn’t hard to deduce once he does.

Auri’s slouched against a crumbling stone pillar. She’s managed to find a place free from bloodshed and gore, and her mind is entirely elsewhere (though she almost certainly wouldn’t have noticed Astarion anyway). From this angle it’s difficult to make much out, but Astarion doesn’t need to be able to see her in order to know what she’s doing.

Even from here, he can hear her ragged whimpering. He can smell the heat between her legs.

There’s something in Auri’s mouth, but when she slumps further down the pillar with a moan that dances on the line between relief and frustration, there’s no mistaking what she’s doing. She’s just made herself come, and she’s unsatisfied with the result.

She pulls the cloth from her mouth and whines, “Fuck.” Her body heaves and she fists both hands in her hair, leggings loose around her hips.

The idea of just watching her is appealing, but as Astarion looks on, tears prick at Auri’s eyes. He can see her bite the inside of her cheek in the way that she does when she feels that things are hopeless, and when he says, “I hope you don’t mind me saying, love, but you’ve looked better,” Auri doesn’t even startle. That’s when Astarion knows that something is truly wrong. He’d guessed, of course – there’s a feverish sweat beading on her brow and it’s unusual for her to wander off alone – but when she greets him without her usual bright smile, there’s no room left for doubt.

“Go back to camp. Please.”

There’s desperation in her voice. Astarion tilts his head to the side. “Darling–”

The pet name barely leaves his mouth before he feels her parasite push into his mind. It doesn't ask permission before it enters; Auri's lost control entirely. Astarion grunts in shock and then the assault of her tadpole on his comes into focus.

What afflicts her is lust incarnate.

“Please.” Auri struggles to form words but she tries anyway. “I'm not… myself. I can take care of this on my own. I swear.”

She's whimpering, filled with so much desire that it's causing her physical pain. When Auri tells him to leave, it's not for her own benefit. He can tell because of what the tadpole pushes into his mind, Auri's will be damned.

I could think about his hands forever. If he was the only one to touch me for the rest of my life, I'd be satisfied.

Astarion doesn't recognize what magic this is exactly, but her lust is unnaturally strong. “Not that I'm not flattered, but–”

There's a stone slab that was probably used as a table. I'm bent over it. Astarion's behind me and neither of us has bothered getting undressed. His cock pushes into me and when it does, there's finally some sense of relief. If it weren't for the gag, I'd scream loud enough to attract every enemy from here to the Underdark when he thrusts.

Astarion, suddenly, is also finding it difficult to form coherent thought.

“Go.” Auri's voice is hoarse. “This isn't your problem.”

Astarion's eyes narrow. “If you really think that I'm going to leave you here by yourself–”

“Astarion, please.” Again, Auri begs. “Something was wrong with that meat I ate. It feels infernal. Everything’s so warm. I can't–”

Auri lets out a muted moan. When Astarion steps forward, she does her best to shrink away, but the pillar she'd been using for support stops her. She doesn’t want to ask. She doesn’t want to put him in a position where he’d have to say yes or no.

He puts his palm on stone in the space next to her head.

“Would you feel better if I touched you?” Astarion asks.

Auri’s fingers shake. Her eyes flit between the hand that he isn’t using to support himself and his face.

“I don’t know,” she says. Her pulse throbs in her throat. “You don’t have to–”

He interrupts her, ignoring the latter half of her words. “Would you like to try?”

A sob wrenches itself from her body. “It’s the only thing I can think about.”

And at last, he won’t be the one at the mercy of her kindness. Maybe he’d feel used if it were someone else. But it isn’t. It’s her.

Astarion dips down to kiss her, and again, Auri’s lust pours into him. She bites at his lip greedily, hips bucking forward gracelessly into his.

When he pulls away, hand sliding beneath her waistband, Auri says, “The gag.”

Somehow, Astarion had forgotten about that. “The gag?”

Auri nods her head, a moment from falling apart without him even having touched any of the places she likes best. “The others– I don’t want the others to hear.”

When a finger slides inside her, Auri’s eyes roll to the back of her head. She’s warmer than usual, but other than that and the desire rolling off of her body, she doesn’t seem to be in any danger.

Yes. He can take care of this.

Astarion’s palm pushes up against her clit as his finger gets to work, and with his other hand, he pulls Auri’s makeshift gag up from around her neck. “What is this?”

“I stole a clean bandage from Shadowheart’s things. Another finger, please. It’s not enough–”

The Auri he’s used to is a tender thing, though she’s more than capable of playing rough. He punctuates the second finger that she asked for by stuffing the cloth bandage into her mouth. She was wet already; when the gag’s back in place, she clenches around his fingers.

“Do you want to talk or do you want me to take care of you?” he asks.

There’s fire in her eyes. Auri can’t speak, but the images she pushes into him are obscene. Astarion doesn’t even have time to process them all before he says, “Well, we can certainly try a few.”

Astarion feels the tension inside her play up with each touch. Her leggings have fallen to her ankles and the hand that’s not buried in her cunt massages her breast. He gives her nipple a delicate twist, and the strangled moan that escapes her is more than worth his trouble. The other breast falls prey to his mouth instead, and when he bites at the soft flesh there, Auri’s knees buckle.

“We can’t have that, love,” he says, and he heaves her leg up, the crook of her knee in his hand. She’s still technically wearing her leggings; they’re just in a pool around the leg still holding her to the ground. Auri’s eyes go wide at the new angle, but there’s no complaint. From here, Astarion can touch her easily, freely, and as his pace quickens, so too does her heart rate.

Please, Astarion– please–

The gag’s occupied her mouth, but she’s still able to beg through the parasite.

“I do love how you look when you come for me,” he says, and with his fingers hitched inside her, Auri shatters. It’s different from usual but no less entrancing, and for the briefest moment as Auri squirts into his hand, she almost looks like herself.

Her eyes are wide. Gods.

“That’s new,” he says, and Auri would probably laugh if the gag wasn’t still in her mouth. “Feel better?”

His cock’s hard, but that’s hardly the point of this venture.

Auri pauses before nodding, and maybe Astarion would believe it if her body language wasn’t completely at odds with her mind flooding him with the image of him spilling himself inside her as she's bent over the slab of stone that he can see from the corner of his eye. Astarion smirks, feathering his thumb over her hypersensitive clit as he pulls his fingers out from inside her. She whimpers for him, and he whispers in her ear, “Liar.”

This isn’t your problem, she says again.

Astarion licks the evidence of her orgasm from his hand. Her eyes lock onto the motion, and when he’s done, he lifts her into his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“Unfortunately, without you around, my meal ticket disappears. So you are indeed my problem.”

She’s bare from the waist down. Auri’s slick enough that Astarion can feel it through his clothes. His cock’s already straining against his trousers.

She’s his problem in more ways than one.

When he lays her down on her back, he’s careful to make sure her shirt’s pulled down. The slab’s rough, unfinished, but she doesn’t seem to care. She sits up, pulling the gag from her mouth, and she says, “Let me.”

Auri reaches for the laces that will free his erection, but Astarion takes a step back so that he’s out of reach. He plucks the gag from her hand, and says, “I asked before. Do you want to talk or do you want me to take care of you?”

A shiver runs up her body and she doesn’t answer.

And that's answer enough, really. Well. That and the picture of him pulling her to the edge of the slab, bottoming out inside her, her breasts bare.

With painstaking restraint, Astarion exhales through his nose. “Oh, darling,” he says through gritted teeth. “Lie back for me, would you?”

If pressed, he’d admit it’s not the most graceful way he’s ever pulled out his cock, but it’s difficult to care when Auri is quite literally dripping in front of him. Her throat quivers and her fingers twitch; she’s doing everything she can not to touch herself, though Astarion’s not quite sure why.

He strokes himself thoughtlessly, like it’s the only natural course of action, but he won’t leave her wanting. This isn’t a night for games, although they’ve both been having fun despite her condition if the state of her thoughts is any indicator. When he dips down and presses a kiss between her legs, Auri cries out.

The gag’s still in his hand.

He fills her mouth with it in the same moment that he fills her cunt with his cock.

To distill Auri down into one word is impossible, but when he’s inside her, Astarion would struggle to name any adjective but warm. She’s a billion things, of course, not least of all naive, gullible, and foolhardy, but more than anything, she’s the essence of the sun made flesh. She’s made warmer still by whatever it is that’s afflicting her, but her body always leaves him in awe anyway.

A marvel of mortality.

When he thrusts into her, the gag swallows up a squeal that Astarion would frankly have liked to hear in its entirety. Auri’s hand reaches up behind her, nails scrabbling for purchase against unrelenting stone. When she turns her head to the side, saliva pools under her cheek, her eyes half-lidded. The underside of her breast teases him from beneath her shirt, and it’s like she was made for him–

Rip the shirt. I don’t care.

Somehow, even through her addled haze, she’s still thinking about his enjoyment. He could wonder at it, but he’d rather spend the time doing as she says. Astarion fists a hand in the front of her shirt and pulls her close. Auri’s head lolls backward before she regains the wherewithal to support herself, and before Astarion can second-guess himself, his fangs tear into her shirt enough that his hands can do the rest.

He takes a breast in his hand and squeezes as he pushes her down onto her back again, but not before he lifts her legs up onto either of his shoulders. Auri folds almost in half for him, his hips grinding against her clit as he buries himself fully inside her.

Frantic need and desire ripple through her, and if Astarion isn't careful, he'll lose control himself. The new position's made her tighter, and she's close. Astarion can feel it in the way her hips match his rhythm and from the desperate want in her eyes as her walls clench around him.

“My beautiful, depraved thing,” Astarion says, thrusting deep. It's impossible to keep his voice unaffected, but it doesn't matter. It has its intended effect anyway. “Look at you, those pretty tits bouncing as you take my cock. What would the others think if they saw you like this?”

Astarion–

“Their pretty little leader with her shirt torn open, bare on her back, coming for me again? It's a sight beyond compare.”

He won't spend himself inside her yet, though the temptation is certainly there. She's been pouring images of him fucking her into his head since they started, and this time, he returns the favor. When Auri sees herself as Astarion sees her, pupils blown out, blotchy all over, gag soaked through, she unravels. The parasite explodes with her orgasm; Astarion feels it rip through her like it's his own even as she spasms around him.

His own eyes roll back as Auri’s scream fights against the gag, but he doesn't come, and even as the climax is still rolling over her, Astarion hears her.

More– I'm sorry; I need–

She never asks for what she wants – not like this. Auri's always thinking of what he needs.

And she'd shown him before what she wanted.

“You need my cum, don't you? You want me to fuck you until I empty myself inside you?”

Whatever other thoughts she might have had go mute. Her eyes lock with his.

And this really isn't about him, but it occurs to Astarion that that's exactly what he wants, too.

He pulls his cock out from her and misses her warmth immediately, but it's a necessary evil. The beautiful thing about the tadpole and all the time that they’ve spent together is that they’re always a little bit in each other’s heads. The thought is terrifying if Astarion considers it too long, but it’s convenient that they’re on the same page about her scrambling off of the slab. Before she can readjust, Astarion presses his lips to her neck. That, too, makes her moan, and the echoes of her affection rattle along their connection.

I adore you, Auri says, and they could have done all this without Auri’s feverish state as an excuse, but it does remove an element of vulnerability that makes things much easier for Astarion.

The feeling’s mutual, though voicing it still makes his skin crawl. He doesn’t have the vocabulary for it anyway.

His fingers trail up her jawline. Auri’s eyes shine. “That’s my good girl,” he murmurs instead, and when she reaches down between his legs to take him in her hand, his nostrils flare.

She’s still the sun compared to him. Warmth radiates from her. His judgment’s impaired by his personal desire and the feeling of Auri’s hand on his cock, still slick from being inside her. Astarion’s eyes flutter shut.

Briefly, he registers that she isn't quite as warm as she was before, but there's no room for the thought.

Show me what to do, Auri says, as if she doesn't already know. It's the opposite of how this started, when she didn't want to put him in a position where he'd feel obligated to please her.

Auri's tadpole brushes up against his, and he'd known anyway, but it becomes crystal-clear.

Take what you want.

She makes him so fucking hungry.

In the fastest motion he can manage, Astarion pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the slab. The least he can do is make sure that it doesn’t mangle her.

Auri bites her lip as she releases him from her grasp, and Astarion wouldn’t say he’s being rough, but he certainly isn’t gentle when he turns her so her back’s flush with his chest. A thrill thrums through her, and then Auri’s bent over, upper body splayed across the stone.

When Astarion sheaths himself inside her again, it’s home. There’s no resistance. Auri’s body takes him like it’s what she was made to do.

There’s no patience left in him. Every time his hips meet the curve of her ass, he’s another moment closer to his own release. Auri whimpers and whines, and each sound that escapes the gag increases his pace. The freckles on her back are a constellation he’s rarely afforded the privilege of seeing while buried inside her, and his thrusts grow shallower, undisciplined–

Hells, Auri manages, half-coherent this time as he fucks her. Her singular word spurs something carnal in his gut, and he leans down, fisting a hand in her hair and pulling her face up and away from the slab.

When he does, she looks up at him from the corner of her eye. Her walls clench and his cock twitches as her gaze meets his, and she can’t really smile around the gag, but devilish pleasure is evident in her face.

He’s close. They’ve been in this position for barely a moment, but everything leading up to this moment has left Astarion close to undone as is. His grip on her hair tightens, and when she says, I can take whatever you give, Astarion’s last bit of self-control gives way.

He pulls her up, hand never releasing her hair, and when his other hand grips at her thigh, Auri knows what he wants. With only a little help from him, his cock never leaving her cunt, she kneels on the slab. Astarion exposes her neck and kisses the spot that’s his, the place he’s marked a hundred times over, and Auri shivers. Drink while you come in me– she starts, but his fingers interrupt her when they brush against her clit. Auri inhales sharply against the gag, airflow made more difficult by Astarion’s unloosened grip in her hair.

“Come for me again,” Astarion says. It’s almost a command but not quite, and Auri makes every desperate, needy sound all at once. His fingers rub at her clit, slow, deliberate, like he isn’t a hair’s breadth from shattering himself. “You taste better when you come.”

His touch quickens as he speaks, and he could lose himself in her. He already has.

Auri’s back arches, her ass pushing into him and her neck craning up until her head nearly rests on his shoulder. The artery in her neck sings its siren song, and Astarion’s not in the habit of denying himself what Auri’s body offers him.

This time when his lips meet her neck it’s a different kind of kiss, though it has Auri gasping anyway. Her saliva’s dripping down her neck in the same way her cunt drips cum around his cock. Auri’s blood pounds down Astarion’s throat as he fucks up into her, her climax pushing him to his own end. His teeth tear at her skin as he spills himself inside her, and Auri’s parasite radiates what he can only call unparalleled ecstasy.

Astarion doesn’t even want to think about what she can hear through his tadpole.

Auri shakes in his arms; her knees barely seem capable of supporting her. It’s always the hardest thing that Astarion’s ever done to pull his fangs from Auri’s flesh, and it’s made doubly difficult when he pulls his cock from her warmth at the same time.

“Alright, darling?” he asks, releasing her hair from his grasp. It’s a silly question. Astarion doesn’t know why he asks it.

Auri pulls the gag from her mouth and regards it with a look of disgust, dropping it to the ground. “When we do this again, can we get something a little more, erm–” Auri wrinkles her nose, but she hardly seems unhappy. “Dignified?”

“When we do this again?” Astarion teases, relacing his breeches. “Planning on eating more of that spider meat?”

When Auri turns to face him, she lets herself drop into a kneeling position. The adoration’s never faded from her eyes.

“If it gets you to fuck me like that, I’ll do just about anything.”

So, yes. She seems to be perfectly alright. Almost too alright.

Astarion’s eyes narrow.

“Whatever that was– it lost its grip on you after you came for me that second time, didn’t it?”

Auri smiles at him shamelessly. She’s made no move whatsoever to get dressed, entirely content to be here with him in a state that’s wholly vulnerable.

“We were having fun, weren’t we?” she asks.

Astarion laughs, soft and low.

“Yes. We were.”

[sodamnradd]

“Heya, mate. Is Hermione Granger around?”

Draco leaned over the counter, giving the pathetic, gap-toothed wanker sporting a Flourish & Blotts t-shirt a bored look. “Hermione Granger?” he intoned as if he had never heard that name before.

Gap-Tooth shuffled uneasily. “Yeah. She works here. Doesn’t she?”

“Does she?” Draco inspected his nails.

Gap-Tooth wandered off awkwardly, pretending to scan the shelves.

Draco’s eyes narrowed when he paused at the Love Potions, kept under strict lock and key.

Gap-Tooth asked, “Erm are you able to—?”

“No,” said Draco, point-blank.

Something about Draco’s expression made him pale, and he was out the door less than ten seconds later.

When Gap-Tooth was gone, Draco glanced down and said, “You’re all clear.”

Dusting off her trousers, Granger rose to her feet and picked up the inventory scroll again. “I’ve told him I’m not interested,” she said, purposely avoiding Draco’s eye.

“You didn’t drive the point. He probably thinks he’s being cute stalking you everywhere.”

“It’s fine.”

“You don’t even visit Flourish and Blotts anymore.”

“Ordering books in the mail is more efficient.”

He might have believed her if it weren’t for the countless times she’d returned late from her lunch break, carrying teetering piles of new books. But ever since Gap-Tooth started working there, lunchtimes were reduced to eating soggy sandwiches in the lab.

Gap-Tooth returned two days later.

Granger didn’t see him coming through the shopfront window and he caught her unaware, shelving cloud-shaped vials of Dreamless Sleep. His voice made her jump, a couple of bottles flying out of her hands and shattering.

Draco groaned, enchanting the mop and pail to clean up the mess but keeping his distance while Granger attempted to dodge Gap-Tooth’s advances.

Gap-Tooth: Something, something “…thought you worked here but…” gesturing to Draco.

Granger, giggling awkwardly: “Did he? Draco’s such a…” Something.

Draco raised a brow, wondering what she’d called him because it almost sounded affectionate.

Gap-Tooth: Mumble, mumble “…go out sometime?”

Granger more awkward giggling, cheeks pink: “…so busy… not really dating… you’re nice but…”

Gap-Tooth, realising he was losing his chance: “…just one date… promise I…” Stepping closer.

Granger, nearly tripping over the oscillating mop in her retreat: “…it’s just that I’m not… I don’t…”

Gap-Tooth, even closer, grinning impishly, hideous teeth on full display: Something, something “…casual? You look like you could use some fun.”

Draco bristled. The audacity of this wanker.

Having had enough, he rounded the counter and stepped in between Gap-Tooth and Granger. “Did you ask her out?”

Gap-Tooth frowned, looking a little afraid. “Yeah, so?”

“Did she say yes?”

“She was just about to—”

Draco turned to Granger. “Were you about to say yes?”

“No,” she mumbled, dropping her gaze. She was too bloody nice for her own good.

Lucky for her, Draco wasn’t.

“There’s your answer,” said Draco, shooing Gap-Tooth towards the door. “Stop harassing her.”

Gap-Tooth looked at Granger, but she refused to look back. Disheartened, he made his way to the door.

Draco called out, “Oh, and if you bother her at Flourish and Blotts again, I’ll turn you into a rat and dump you in our lab cage.”

“Malfoy!” Hermione swatted Draco’s arm once Gap-Tooth was gone, but her eyes were bright with laughter. “That was so unkind.”

“Yes. And?” He waited.

She sighed as if it physically pained her to say, “Thank you.”

He grinned, pleased. Then tugged at a curl that had come loose from her clip. “And?”

She stepped closer, looking up at him with large brown eyes. “And you were right.”

“And?” Draco’s stomach fluttered. He was usually so composed, but nothing about Granger made him feel ordinary.

“And…” She rose to her tiptoes and locked her hands behind his neck, parting her lips in anticipation as they met halfway. “…maybe we should start telling people about us.”

(638 words, prompt: Yes. And? from Twitter)

[multiversxwhore]

Richie x plus size black!reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, slight breeding, oral (f) receiving, public sex, sex around/near food in a public kitchen, use of the phrase “daddy”, age gap: reader is in their twenties ( 24/27).

Timeline: before The Original Beef underwent renovations, and became, The Bear, around season 1.

A/n: yeah…I felt slutty writing this, and I totally blame all the TikTok edits for the down pour of Richie thirst videos I’ve received from my friends. Anywho, it’s not anything too special considering I’m posting at 5am. Hope you enjoy, please reblog, and follow me for more.

Ate pm

It was late, and the kitchen had closed, everyone had already gone home. However, Rhichie made you promise to show him your sweet potato recipe, “are you gonna pay attention to what I’m trying to teach you, or are you gonna keep goofing off?” It was an innocent enough ask, however, he’s been trying to get at you for a while, and would take any opportunity to flirt with you. Especially if it was away from spying eyes. During work hours you liked to pretend he wasn’t flirting with you all day, Carmen had even made a sly comment about Richie not being able to keep up with girls half his age. To which he arrogantly replied, ‘my mouth works just as well as my dick motherfucker,’ it nearly made you spit your morning coffee.

“I’ll pay attention when you stop talking, and actually show me something.” He quickly rebutted, he smirked when your words got caught in your throat, and instead of arguing back you turned to your food. Something about the attention he relentlessly gave you got you all hot and flustered, but you loved it. He’d slide past you and whisper a, ‘fucking gorgeous today,’ on the way through the kitchen. Recently, you noticed how territorial he’s become from all the compliments you’ve gotten from male customers. Too nice to turn down men’s persistent advances you would take the phone number offered to you, and it got to a point where Richie would start taking orders, and working register with you just so he could shoo the men away. ‘Aye, you’re holdin up my line jackoff, beat it.’

“Are you gonna let me taste it?” He asked in a soft voice, almost a whisper, you weren’t aware he could be so quiet because he’s usually so boisterous. He stood with his hip leaning against the counter, his head tilted, and an expression of amusement on his face.

You looked over at him with a shocked look. “What?” You stood frozen in place, you felt like if you blinked you’d miss something. ‘Am I crazy or did he just–’ Richie held your gaze, he pushed himself upwards, and leaned in closer to you. The scent of his liquor store oils invading your senses, you didn’t like men’s Versace the last time you smelled it, but on him it was perfect.

“The pie y/n, can I taste the pie filling?” He clarified, but his fingers were already dipping into the bowl before you had a chance to stop him. By the time you processed what he had done, his hand was already moving to his mouth where he sucked the mixture clean off. You couldn’t help but watch as his fingers slowly slid from his lips, the way they glistened reminded you of your own when you delved as deep into yourself as your atomy would allow. You’d guiltily call out Richie’s fingers wishing it was his hand pleasing you instead, over and over you’d plunge into yourself till you’d spray all over yourself and the bed sheets.

“How does it taste?” You asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the corners of his mouth twitched as he fought back a grin.

“I think it’s a sweet, smooth consistency, just how I like my pie filling. But maybe you should test it, I’m sure your palate is better than mine.” His eyes darted towards the glass bowl beside you, and without hesitation you dipped your own finger in, then into your mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed as you took in all the flavors, a habit you developed when you became an at home cook. It’s habitual for you to let out a satisfactory breath when something exquisite hits your taste buds. Richie had been temporarily forgotten about as you slowly slid your index finger from your mouth. He grinned, he had you right where he wanted you, he knew if he got you away from the eyes of the nosy coworkers you'd become a completely different person.

“Good isn’t it.” His voice jolted you out of your train of thought, those beautiful blue eyes of his took you in, something had shifted in you as it did him. The tension was different as you became more aware of his intentions, and more honest with yourself in the fact that you decided to submit to him. You made up your mind that the next move was completely up to him, and you wouldn’t say no. He trapped you between himself and the counter behind you, not trusting yourself with words you nodded your head. “Hm, you got a little bit here.” Richie reached up, his hand gently grabbed your chin, and swiped at a drop of sweet potato filling that dripped to the corner of your lip.

Your gazes locked, your mouth opened wider, and your tongue slipped out to lick his thumb clean. “Fuck…I fucking knew it.” Richie cursed under his breath, he swallowed as you sucked on his thumb, he pulled away only to take your face between his hands, and press his lips to yours. The both of you were caught up in a heated kiss, desperate to have more, your nipples hardening painful as goosebumps prickled your skin. Your hands wrapped around his shoulder holding onto him for dear life as he gripped your hips. When you ran out of breath only then did you separate, that didn’t mean he was done with you, he trailed kisses down to the base of your neck. His lips pressing directly over your pulse, his hands moving down to your peach shaped booty. He alternated hands gripping one cheek with one hand, and slapping the other cheek with his other hand.

“Richie.” You moaned out, not even your food made you feel this good, his hands slid up your back, underneath your Original Beef work shirt, and unhooked your bra. The words you meant to say currently escaped you when he slid your shirt over your head, and threw it onto the floor along with the bra. That beat up piece of shit bra could have ended up in the trash for all you cared for. Then he pulled off his shirt, carelessly tossing it.

“That’s it, talk to me baby, tell me what you want.” He mumbled as his lips wrapped around your nipple, and his unoccupied hand cupped your other breast. His thumb played with your dark brown bud, then he switched, and worked his way back up to your neck.

Your back arched causing your chest to press again his, “please eat my pussy, I need it.” You begged, he didn’t waste time, his hands were already working on the button, and zipper of your jeans. Eagerly you whined not wanting to wait any longer than you were now, Richie undid his own pants, and let them hang off his hips. Carefully he pushed your bowl, and cooking tools out the way, then helped you hop up on the counter.

He hooked his fingers around your panties, and tugged them off. You spread your legs wider, giving him a full view, and putting yourself on display. “Goddamn look at that, hm fuck you’re mine now sweetheart.” His fingers gently pulled your lips apart exposing your clit more, he slid one finger into you with his other hand, and sucked you into his mouth.

“Oh.” You cried, your head immediately fell back, your hand made its way to his head, and gripped his hair. He lapped up every single drop you had to offer him, he finished you off with his thumb relentlessly rubbing circles on your clit, and his tongue delved deep into you. “Just like that daddy, don’t stop, I wanna cum in your mouth.” You were so loud, but you did care, the way you were throbbing there was nothing that could pull the two of you apart. “Just how I imagined it.” You mumbled to yourself, Richie popped his head up, a shit eating grin spread across his face.

He licked your essence from his lips, “oh yea? Did you imagine it like this too?” He pushed two fingers into you as deeply as he could, reflexively you clinched him. Your words were caught in your throat as he watched you, mouth slack jaw, and the curse words written across your face. “Let it out princess, I wanna hear it, tell me how good it feels.” He plunged into you with one hand, and still with the same hand he continued the circular motions on your swollen pink bud. The sound of your juices accumulating sounded more like squishing sounds in your ears, and you hated how patient he was to let the build up happen.

“Goddammit, fuck I’m such a slut.” You breathed heavily, that didn’t alleviate it a fucking thing, slowly you could feel your muscles tightening.

“Yes you are, but you’re a pretty fucking slut. Isn’t that right?” Richie encouraged you, his voice calm, and gentle. “Say it, let me hear you say it.” He demanded, and you were sure if you had the voice for it, but you mustered the strength,

“I’m a pretty fucking slut.” You cried, only enough brain power to remember to breathe through your nose.

“That’s right, say it again, I got you baby, you just make sure you let that shit out.”

“I’m a pretty fucking slut, I’m a pretty fucking slut, I’m– ohh!” At first you were leaking, then you were spraying onto Richie’s stomach, your toes curled, and your mouth agape as your orgasam took over your entire body. As if that wasn’t enough, he took his face and pressed it between your thighs. He wrapped his hand around the shaft of his dick and proceeded to massage himself in his palm. His tongue slipped back into you, he loved the way you felt clenching, and needy to be filled up again. He loved that it was him that made you feel that way. He loved the way your thighs closed around his head, completely enclosing him in your essence.

He tapped your thigh, “let me up baby, I need to be inside that pretty little cunt of yours.” His voice came out muffled, but you understand his words. You giggled, then spread your legs apart, and let Richie up for air.

“We should stay late more often.” You laughed, Richie grabbed you by the waist and helped you off the counter. He rolled his eyes playfully, then turned you around so that your back was to his chest.

“It’s always the quiet ones trynna get me into the most trouble.” He pressed his lips to the shell of your ear, you could feel his dick press against your ass cheek, the precum feeling sticking against your skin. You didn’t deny his accusations, there was always a part of you that always wanted to do risqué things like this, but didn’t think anyone would be down for that. Until you met Richie. “Lift your leg baby, give daddy a good view…fuck just like that.” You leaned over the counter and propped your leg up to give him a clear view of you for the back. “Damn your so thick, look at this ass, so fucking delicious..mm.” He slapped your ass cheek bringing his hand down as hard as possible.

“Shit Rich–fuuuck.” The stinging of your cheek was quickly subsided by the toe curling stretch of his thick penis pushing into you. He wasn’t too big, or small he fit inside you just perfectly.

“Fuck, you take my cock like a good girl.” He grunted out, his thrust started off at a slow steady pace, despite that your knees already felt weak. His other hand reached around and played with your clit rubbing it in an off beat rhythm. You were still so sensitive it didn’t matter, you’d come undone to anything at this point.

You rocked your hips back meeting his thrust half way, “can I cum all over that cock daddy? Please?” You whimpered out, the sound of flesh, slapping, and your cheeks clapping together could be heard through the restaurant. It was 9 pm at night, the streets of Chicago were busy, but not a single soul was privy to the two of you slamming into each other like wild animals. Richie’s heavy breathing sounded more like grownling, and your cries of pleasure sounded more like a prey begging to not be eaten.

“Fucking hell, you don’t even have to ask.” He rushed out, he pounded away, not even thinking how sore you might be tomorrow. All he could think about was how fucking warm you felt, inside and out. All the times you’d wear a denim skirt to work, and he could see the way your thighs rub together as you walked around the restaurant. All he wanted was to be the friction between those thick thighs of yours and he finally got that wish. “Ughhh shit I’m gonna come.” He groaned out, what you said next was just the cherry on top for him.

“Ohh that cock feels so good, fill me up daddy, please.” You moaned, desperate to feel his hot stickiness inside you, his thrust came to an abrupt stop. He buried himself as deeply inside you as he possibly could, and let his milky white cum inside of you. He filled you up with as much of himself as he possibly had to offer, he stayed in you like that for a few moments longer letting you slide back and forth on him.

“Fuck, that’s it baby, milk me just like that…oh fuck.” Richie breathed out, he was still stuck in a bit of a haze, but that didn’t stop him from talking his shit. “This pussy is mine, if I catch anyone else giving you a number I’ll kill him.”

[lovesick-x-prince]

3 or 17 for the whumptober promts? Which ever you prefer!

Prompt: Set Up For Failure / Fingerprints / Wrongfully Arrested / “I warned you” Fandom: Hermitcraft Pairing: Desert Duo/Scarian Notes: I went with number three! Thank you for the prompts :D

Scar tried his best to shift into a more comfortable position, but it was hard when his hands were cuffed far too tightly behind his back and his body was covered in bruises. Each movement only caused the ache in his bones to worm deeper, making him grimace under the cover of his mask. He was sweaty, somewhat bloody, and likely had a mild concussion. Simply put - Scar was not having a good day, zero out of ten, do not recommend.

“HotGuy,” the woman from the heroes commission spoke up, from her place in the front passenger seat. Her voice was low, meant to be taken as a warning. “Sit still. Any attempts to escape will be considered resistance, and appropriate measures will be taken.” “Appropriate measures?” Scar laughed, feeling decidedly unamused. His mouth tasted like blood. “You’ve already arrested me without providing an explanation. You’re taking me to an unknown secondary location. Even if I don’t resist, will I really survive this?” She didn’t answer.

Still, Scar gave up trying to get comfortable. It really wasn’t possible. Instead, he slumped back against the leather seat behind him, looking out the tinted window as streets blurred by. This could be the last time he ever saw his city, the city he had sworn to protect. He loved it - he loved it so much he could burst with it - no matter the corruption that ran below the surface. The heroes were meant to fight that corruption. They were meant to bring light to the city, to its people, to everyone - from those wadding through the lowest filth the city had to offer to those sitting in their glass towers surrounded by their riches. Joining the ranks of the heroes had always been his dream, so he could make a real change. He was in the position he had so desperately wanted, and where had it truly gotten him? What changes had he made? The second he exposed another so-called ‘hero,’ the commission had turned against him, instead of thanking him. No matter that the list of crimes that the ‘hero’ had committed was long and bloody. That had to be what this was about. There was no other explanation. Scar swallowed the bloody, bitter taste in his mouth, and didn’t move his gaze away from the window. An elderly lady selling flowers by the sidewalk… a group of teenagers walking and laughing together… a middle-aged couple holding hands and smiling… I did it for them, he wanted to scream, reaching forward to shake the two commission agents, don’t you get that? Don’t you feel anything? Will you feel anything, when you kill me? Would they use poison? The prick of a needle, sending death into his veins? Would they shoot him, clean through the skull, and pass it off as a mugging? Would they keep him tied up, and toss him into some body of water? How did the commission hide their dirty deeds? It was time to find out. There was a heavy thump overhead, as something landed on the roof of the car. The car jerked, nearly swerving out of its lane as the driver cried out in shock. “What is that!” he demanded, voice high-pitched. Scar straightened slowly, hands jerking painfully in his cuffs. “Uncuff me,” he urged. “We could be under attack by some villain -” “Or it could be one of your friends, coming to save you,” the woman snapped. Scar could see her move, grab something from her waist. A second later, he heard the sound of the safety of a gun being clicked off. “Don’t think we’re not aware of the way you’ve been in cahoots with vigilantes and villains on the side.”

“Cahoots!” Scar repeated, protesting. “I haven’t worked with anyone whose moral viewpoint I disagree with! If you would just listen -” “Stop talking,” she interrupted, raising the gun where Scar could see it. 

Before Scar could choose whether or not to listen to her rude order, the car shook again - and then a knife slammed through the roof of the car, scant inches from Scar’s face. Scar yelped, trying to jerk further away from the knife, and almost fell over in his useless attempt. “Watch out!” he snapped, even though their mysterious passenger very well could have been aiming for him on purpose. Switching her attention to the larger concern, the commission agent rose her gun to point it upwards, at the car roof. Her finger hovered over the trigger. The knife slid through the roof of the car like butter. The thin metal screeched, crumbling under the force, a few small sparks flying as the knife carved a large, wobbly, and uneven hole. As soon as the hole was complete, the section of the roof fell inwards, landing at Scar’s feet. “Hello,” CuteGuy grinned, leaning over the hole. The two wings on either side of his head folded shut, while the black and pink wings on his back curled inwards and around him - as the commission woman fired off a shot, it harmlessly collided with CuteGuy’s wing, the bullet dropping uselessly to the ground. The second shot suffered the same fate. Scar grinned, his throat dry as he stared up at the vigilante. They had worked together countless times, and Scar was certainly biased towards this particular contact of his, but it didn’t explain why he was there, now. “Hi,” he returned the greeting since it was only polite. “I warned you,” CuteGuy sighed. “The heroes are just as bad, if not worse, than the rest of us.” “You did,” Scar agreed, hopelessly, tracing his eyes over the thick, pink ribbons and bows that criss-crossed over CuteGuy’s skin. “Are you here to help me? My knight in shining armor,” he crooned, lowering his voice. CuteGuy rolled his eyes, but Scar was delighted to see the way his cheeks flushed, turning slightly pink. Reaching down, the avian slashed Scar’s seatbelt with his knife, before dragging the man up and out of the hole with only one hand. Scar marveled at the strength in that movement, giving CuteGuy’s forearm an appreciative glance. The commission agents were shouting in the background, the woman still attempting to shoot at them, blocked by CuteGuy’s wing. Scar ignored them. Settling Scar on the roof, CuteGuy kept a grip on his arms so the heavy wind wouldn’t send Scar flying off the car. He frowned, glancing up and down Scar’s body. “What did they do to you…?” he questioned, voice low. Scar could spot that odd, purple glow he sometimes got in his eyes, when he was feeling especially emotional. “I suppose my knight in shining armor will just have to play doctor and patch me up as well,” he sighed. At his flirtatious comment, light and devoid of pain, the purple glow faded, just a little. CuteGuy laughed. “Well then, I suppose we should get going.” “Your patient awaits your care!”

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

There is a curse in me that will not sleep (and a home in you that will not leave)

Day 1 of Thank You, Haikyuu - event masterlist here

pairing: hinata shouyou x reader (gn) x kageyama tobio

length: 7.6k

genre: fairytale au !! fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: very vaguely beauty and the beast inspired, a bit of miscommunication but it's all resolved in the end, I know it's angsty but I promise there's a happy, comforting ending and everybody ends up alright, basically just a lot of emotional stress but that's my trademark by now

a/n: woooow ok au week has officially begun !! I am still kinda scrambling to get all of these finished in time ahaha but this first one is monumentous so I hope everyone enjoys <3

tags: @love-and-lore

It's not often that you see Hinata Shouyou this way, weary and sullen, with his brows furrowed and his gaze turned down. It looks wrong on him, like he's wearing someone else's face - someone else problems. So, of course, you throw the rag you'd been using over your shoulder and flip the open sign by the window of the tavern, quietly sending your barback home for the evening as you make your way over to Shouyou.

He's so distracted by whatever's going on in his mind, so wrapped up in the heaviness of running a town like this that he doesn't even notice your presence until you tap your knuckles on the wood of the bar next to him. 

"Did you want a refill?" You offer gently. Shouyou just blinks, spinning on his stool to see the empty tavern before turning back to you.

"You're closed. I should go, I don't want to bother - why isn't anything cleaned or put away? Where's that new barback you hired?" You laugh at his jumble of words - the way his mind bounces around is nothing new to either of you and serves as a comfort that he isn't too far gone right now. You take his cup away from him despite his gentle protests, frowning as he lets you peel his fingers off of it so that you can dump out his ale, serving him a new, fresh pint.

"I sent him home," you say easily. "There isn't much to do tonight, I can take care of it myself."

"You work too hard."

"What were you thinking about?" Shouyou shoots you his best attempt at a scathing look when you dodge his comment, but he turns into such a lovesick puppy when you're around that the effect of it falls short. You merely cross your arms and raise your brows as you wait for him to speak.

"I'm… worried," he sighs eventually, shoulders sagging in defeat as he admits it.

"Cleary," you quip back gently, moving to begin wiping down tables. "What about, though?"

"Did you know they're raising taxes again?" He says quietly. You sigh and pause your cleaning, rolling out the tension in your shoulders - or trying to.

"I thought you had some say in that?" You ask. Shouyou scowls into his cup.

"This may be my town to look after, but I'm only a nobleman. When the royal family demands it, even I have to obey." You hum in understanding as you throw your rag onto the bar and move to begin hauling benches up and onto the tables. Shouyou makes an alarmed, disbelieving sort of sound and shoots to his feet to gently shoo you away, picking up benches in your place.

You roll your eyes, of course, making a big show of huffing and mumbling under your breath about how you can do it yourself. He just smiles in that gentle way of his and you know that the heat in your face and the honest care in his eyes as you move to put up the small chairs, instead, give away the show of it all.

Hinata Shouyou is in love with you because you let him be - desperately against your better judgment. 

"We've dealt with raised taxes before, Shouyou," you say quietly. "We'll be ok."

"For how long?" He snaps back, holding his hands up in surrender when you shoot him a look. "I just mean that there's a limit. I'm worried about… well, I'm worried about the whole town. There's only so much the people can take."

"So what will you do?" You ask as he puts up the final bench and lets you usher him back to his seat at the bar - the only chair you'd left available. 

"I'm… going to talk to the prince." That makes you pause, eyes wide as you stare at him.

"No you're not," you say quickly. Shouyou looks at you with a care that rattles you, an apologetic sort of love showing on his face.

"He's going to help me… he has to. It's the only option I have." You sigh at Shouyou's words and grip the edge of the bar.

"People are warned away from that castle for a reason, Shouyou," you say quietly. "The king banished his son there for a reason. The forest is impassible for a reason."

"I know, my beloved." You don't even have the heart to chastise him for calling you that when he pulls himself to his feet and sweeps his way around the bar to stand in front of you, the silk of his shirt shimmering under the dull, flickering candlelight. His hands grip yours firmly and he pulls them up to press kisses across your palms, making you scoff and turn your head away. The gold of his rings are cool against your skin and the jewels in them shine, reflecting their colours onto the stains of your apron. 

"I must," Shouyou goes on to say. "I must do what needs to be done to take care of this town… to take care of you."

"You will not die stupidly for me." Your voice warbles as you speak and you curse yourself for it. Shouyou just smiles, keeping his fingers intertwined with your own so that he can swing your connected hands back and forth between the two of you.

"I will not," he says firmly. "I will leave at first light tomorrow and be home by dusk. You'll see. Before the flowers on your mantle wilt, I will be back here with you, beloved."

It takes two days for the petals on your flowers to start curling and falling, two days without Shouyou's return before you've driven yourself mad enough to go after him, entrusting the tavern to your young, nervous barback and setting off on your horse. It takes another day entirely to maneuver through the dense wood that separates the town from its wretched, looming castle, the trees thick and sturdy and blanketing the forest floor in darkness. 

You wonder, in a crawling, frightened sort of way, if Shouyou's out here somewhere in the depths - if you'll stumble over his body being taken by the forest. 

But it does not happen. Nothing happens until you stumble, finally, onto the castle, dark and crumbling, with ivy crawling up the walls and moss covering the stone. Once, you can tell, it was beautiful, but that age of it seems to have died out long ago and the remnants stand haunting and silent until the end of time.

The silence, of course, you test as you shove open the great doors and stumble into the vast, arched entryway. There are no soldiers, no footmen or maids or anyone. There is only you and the silence and the sliver of light from the open doorway. 

Maybe it was the nervous whining of your horse outside, her hoof pawing at the ground, that made enough noise to draw attention. Maybe it was your own fault with the way you pushed open the doors. Maybe it was - well, it doesn't matter, you suppose, as the prince himself stomps down a spiralling, ornate staircase and towards you, regal cape flying out behind him and scowl clear on his face.

"Go," he spits angrily, the fury rolling off of him like thunder as he points out the open door behind you. You remember, somewhere far away, of the stories you've heard - of his endless pride and selfish ego, of the day he was banished by his parents, sent to live in exile while his sister was groomed to take the throne instead of him.

You should leave, you think haltingly. You should run and remind yourself how lucky to are to have a life to flee back to, you should -

"Don't be rude," you snap instead. The prince, for what it's worth, merely stares at you and holds his hand to his chest, recoiling from the way you slapped his pointed finger away from you. "I'm looking for someone."

"There's no one here," he says back, voice heated and loud. You cross your arms.

"Perhaps not now, but he would have passed through. It's Hinata Shouyou, the nobleman presiding over the town -"

"I know who my own nobleman is." Tobio''s voice is thunderous, echoing in the otherwise empty entrance hall. You snap your mouth shut for just a moment. 

"Perhaps then, you'd be helpful enough to know where he is." Surely, you shouldn't speak to royalty like this, you think distantly. But surely, an exiled prince living in a crumbling castle of a time long gone, a living ghost residing in a relic of the past, cannot threaten as much harm as you've been led to believe. 

"He is gone," he says simply before turning, his cape swinging elegantly to hit you across the knees, causing you to stumble as you chase after him.

"When? Where? Wh -" Your incessant questions have Tobio turning from halfway up the staircase, scowling down at you where you skid to a halt and look up at him.

"He, smarter than you perhaps, left when he realized that his trip was fruitless. You will, as well," he says stubbornly. You begin up the stairs again and he tips his head back and sighs.

"He never returned home," you shout back stubbornly, your voice matching the volume of his, ricocheting off the stone around you. "He could be dead because of you, lost somewhere out there and gone and -"

But not even your voice, loud as it is, is enough to drown out the crack of thunder outside, booming and quaking as dark stormclouds stir over the horizon, beginning to blanket the land in darkness. 

"The sun is beginning to set," Tobio says rather quietly. "Anyone would die trying to cross the wood at night." You turn to face the open doors at his words, your eyes wide and jaw tight at the darkening sky and the onslaught of rain that begins over the valley. Your hand grips the bannister of the staircase as you stare, as you consider the possibility of dying tonight alone in the wood, of never going home and seeing daybreak again. 

"The valley will flood," you say quietly, eyes still trained on the darkness outside. "The wood will turn to a marsh and the landslides will block the trails. I will not make it home tonight." 

"I am not so fool as to be unaware of the weather," the prince says haughtily, making your hand tighten on the gold leaf of the bannister in anguish. You wonder painfully, for a moment, if this is what happened to Shouyou, if he was sent to his death so uncaringly, as well.

But then Tobio sighs like he's been burdened by something great and turns to continue up the stairs.

"A room will be prepared for you here. You will leave at first light when the rain stops."

You realize at dinner that night, that perhaps the prince is not as alone as you'd all thought - the realization comes to you as you shift in your plush velvet seat at the large banquet table, servers appearing on either side of you to load rich, delicate food onto your plate. 

But something sits heavily in your heart as you think back to the way he'd demanded that you dine with him, the way his eyes stared hollowly at the long, empty table. It must be a curse, you think, to have such space in your heart and home and no one to fill it. You wonder if you could even tell yourself you have a home at all in such conditions.

But then you think of Shouyou, of his beaming smile and kind eyes and soft, firm hands, and the kindness you've been fostering is tampered out again. 

"How could you not help him?" You say abruptly, letting your cutlery clatter onto your plate as you sit back in your chair.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your people are suffering and you sit here living in lavish solitude and turning away the one person who was brave enough to ask you for help."

"Asking is an interesting way of putting it," Tobio says dryly. You falter, unsure of his meaning and letting your words die out.

"What… exactly happened here when Shouyou came to you?" You ask eventually.

"It is none of your concern." He looks away stubbornly, the candlelight illuminating a faint dusting of blush across his cheeks. It must be from the wine, you tell yourself. Nothing more.

"He is my concern," you snap. The prince stares at you, then, something deep and looming in his eyes that you can't place - something that makes you shift again as his gaze bores into you.

"What a life you live, having someone to make you act in such a way," he says softly. You splutter out a defence about how you're friends and look away. The shadows of the pillar candles flicker and splashes of light dance over your faces, like the golden heat is trying desperately to breathe life into this cursed place.

"You have not told me why you will not help," you say in lieu of addressing his comment and his disbelief at your denial.

"And I will not," he responds stubbornly. Your eyes narrow as you glare at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You're lying." Perhaps, you think desperately as he slams his fist against the abruptly, you've hit a nerve. Perhaps Shouyou was right all those times he told you that this mouth of yours will get you into trouble.

But then the prince sighs and murmurs something about this being his second tiresome overnight guest and you perk up, locking onto him again.

"The second? You mean -"

"Yes, of course, your beloved Shouyou stayed for far too long - days, in fact. What did you think happened to him?" Tobio says cavalierly. You huff and run a hand through your travel-dampened, tangled hair - much to Tobio's displeasure.

"Why didn't you lead with that?" You snap. "He was probably on his way back to me as I left - he's probably arriving home now and thinks I'm dead - or worse, stuck here with you." That comment, you think mildly, probably wasn't necessary, but the scowl on the prince's face is reward enough. 

"Then he's home," he spits the word. "And he's safe. There is nothing to be concerned about." Tobio says it like it's final, like there's no ill will that could befall the two of you now, but as you look out the stained glass window toward the night sky and the storm that stretches endlessly onward through flashes of white-hot lightning, you fear that the worst is yet to come. 

As Shouyou stands in your empty tavern, listening to your barback stammer on about how you'd left to go after him and haven't returned yet, he thinks that there is no pain like this, no fear like what he feels now, knowing that you're alone in that cursed wood because of him.

It's begun raining, thunder crashing in the sky and lightning striking down from above and illuminating the horizon as it stretches over the valley. There is no way you'll survive a night in the wood like this, Shouyou realizes as he stumbles to a bench, sagging down onto it and putting his head in his hands. There is no hope on a night like this. 

So he stands abruptly, declaring that he's going after you, when the barback all but throws himself in front of the door to stop him.

"You'll die out there," he says earnestly. Shouyou's hands tremble as he clenches them into fists so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

"They could already be dead," he snaps.

"And if they aren't, then you're just killing yourself." Shouyou tries to remember the name of the trembling boy in front of him. Yamaguchi, he thinks you'd said once. But then he thinks of you again and a crash of thunder rattles the glasses on the bar.

"There's no use in both of you dying tonight," Yamaguchi says quietly, his voice shaking as his eyes grow wet. Shouyou sighs and puts a hand on the boy's shoulder gently, a comforting sort of apology as his shoulders sag and defeat takes hold of him.

"At first light, then," he says stiffly, and a flash of lightning illuminates the gaunt fear on his face. Yamaguchi finds himself wishing that you'd never left home at all. 

That night, you're aware, should've been a fitful sleep with the large bed chamber and silken sheets and mounds of pillows that you're surrounded with. After dinner that night, Tobio had had you well taken care of - a hot bath drawn for you and fresh clothes laid out, the fireplace lit and glowing golden and the bed given fresh linens.

But there had been something eating at you all night, something akin to guilt clawing at you from the inside as you thought of Shouyou out there, lost and without you, while you luxuriate in bed. When you wake from your turbulent night - from nightmares of the nobleman that had you tossing and turning, all hopes of returning to him are stamped out by the darkness that still swirls overhead.

The storm, you realize when you run to the large, ornate window, is still raging, darkening the endless sky and wreaking havoc over the land. There will be no returning home for you today, and there will be no safety found in Shouyou's arms.

Three days, the cursed storm lasts, raging overhead and causing the ancient castle to shutter and sway. Three days of you trapped in this stone maze with Tobio, trailing after him to ask why, why, why couldn't he bring himself to be a good person just once? It's late in the evening, on the third night, when the two of you find yourselves having cracked open a bottle of wine and sitting on the lavish, soft rug that lays in front of the great fireplace in his lounge. It had taken some convincing - and some drinks to get him down there, but the wine has begun flowing easily and Tobio, you realize delightedly, is almost relaxed. 

He softens a bit more, much to his own displeasure, when you sway with how tipsy you are, leaning into him so closely that he can feel your breath on his lips. But then he looks down at you and the sparkling mirth in your eyes and he finds them clear and alert - not nearly as hazed from the wine as he'd expected to see.

"You're drunk," he murmurs anyway. You just smile.

"No more than you," you point out, letting your gaze flicker down to his lips for just a moment. It's enough, you learn quickly, to make him lean into you, closer and closer and melding his body to yours.

It's the wine jumbling his own thoughts, Tobio assures himself, that leads him to close the gap, pressing his lips to yours and tangling a hand in your hair. He makes a small, whining noise somewhere in the back of his throat, something burning in him at the touch of you against him - at the touch of something living against the ghost that he's become. 

When you part, your chests heaving a bit too much and your lips both kiss bitten and reddened, he sighs and tips his head back to thump against the settee that you're both leaning against. 

"No wonder the two of you are so in love when you're both so ready to use your wiles to get what you want from me," Tobio murmurs, his eyes closed enough that he doesn't notice you staring at him.

"What does that mean?" You ask breathily. He snaps his head up and looks at you with wide eyes.

"Nothing," he says hastily. "I don't know what I was saying."

"Oh my god," you say bluntly, seemingly ignoring his assurances that he was simply talking nonsense because of the wine. "You slept with -"

"It doesn't matter," Tobio all but whines, petulantly screwing his eyes shut and refusing to look at you. You just laugh, though, a loud and honest thing as you pat his shoulder comfortingly. Tobio opens one eye wearily and you're smiling at him gently, not a hint of mocking to be found in your gaze.

"I don't blame you," you shrug. "He's… well, he's Shouyou." Things quiet down significantly at that and you sober noticeably as you look out the window towards the blackened, stormy sky. 

"He will come for you," Tobio says somberly.

"He shouldn't have to," is your simple response.

"Why do you deny him?" Tobio's fingertip traces over your exposed shoulder where your shirt's slipped in your tipsy, giggly state and thinks back to when he gave you the clothes, to when you spluttered and looked away and told him how inappropriate it would be for you to wear his belongings. But you hadn't brought anything with you, as he'd pointed out, and silk often feels nicer than three-day-old cotton.

"He doesn't really love me," your quiet, sullen words make Tobio pause, his fingers freezing on your skin as he considers what you've said. "He asked me to marry me again before he left, you know."

"Again?" Tobio asks breathily, cursing himself for the weak sound of his own voice. You hum in affirmation.

"For the third time, yes." You swirl your wine in your cup as you speak, something lonely and hollow flitting through your eyes that reminds Tobio a nauseating amount of himself.

"Why?" He asks simply, pulling his hand away from you as something clenches in his heart, as something in him aches. It's loneliness, he knows, deep and penetrating. Jealousy, perhaps. 

"He's noble," you say it like it's obvious. "He can't marry someone like me. It's fun, but that's all - like a little bubble of happiness that has to burst one day." You pluck at the rug as you speak, pulling at threads that are worth more than your home. You wonder what home you'll have to return to, after all this.

Tobio, sitting next to you and reeling from your words, can't fathom why you think so lowly of yourself when you look up at him, beautiful and kind and smart as a whip. As you sigh and reach for the wine bottle, topping up your cup and then pouring into his without comment, he wonders what it must be like to find home in someone like you.

Shouyou, as he wades through the forest paths towards the end of the storm, clings desperately to any semblance of home that he once had with you. He's not sure it was worth it to wait until the weather began to clear, although if Yamaguchi had his way, he'd be waiting until the rain slowed even more before setting out. The boy had been near tears again when Shouyou'd announced that he was going now, and by foot so as not to risk his horse's safety. 

He wonders, in a nagging, guilty way, if that boy is about to inherit the life of someone else - if he's about to mourn the people who he's just begun to call home. 

But three days of wondering if you died to try to save him was enough to drive Shouyou to hysteria, pushing him out and into the cold, back towards the towering trees and wall of darkness. As he wades through broken branches and felled trees and tumbling rocks and floods, he thinks about you all the while - about every moment, every fleeting glance.

He thinks about the first time he'd asked you to marry him, earnest and honest and caught up in puppy love. You'd laughed at him then, reminded him that he'd only known you for a week since you'd moved to town and opened the tavern. You'd asked him, at the time, what your favourite flower was, and when he didn't have an answer, you asked how he could possibly know that he wanted to marry you if he didn't even know you.

You'd assumed, of course, that that would be the end of it, that he must have just been some flirt who thought his money and influence earned him the right to toy with who he pleased. But Shouyou is nothing if not persistent, and day after day he appeared by your side, his gaze only growing more lovesick as time wore on.

He thinks, as he slips on a mossy rock and stumbles into knee-deep mud, about the second time he asked you to marry him, a few years after that. You'd hired your barback, much to Shouyou's relief, and you'd chosen a shy young boy who needed coin and a bit of life experience and someone kind to help him get it. He'd watched you help Yamaguchi throughout the day, showing him how to run the tavern, how to pour the ale, how to check to see if the bread was rising well.

Shouyou had looked past you, then, at the vase of orchids that you kept by the counter, at your favourite flowers. He'd gotten them for you days ago, he'd remembered, so it must have almost been time for some new ones. When you'd come over to refill his cup, he'd asked you again to marry him. You'd laughed - again, and told him to ask again when he was sober, pressing a kiss to his cheek and stopping to water your orchids on your way past him.

The third time, of course, was the night before he'd left. He'd stopped by the tavern as the sun began to rise and bathe the town in a dripping, golden glow that stretched beyond the valley and towards the looming wood. Standing next to his horse, he'd let you clutch his hands in yours as tightly as you'd needed to, shushing your worries gently and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. You were scared for him, notably, in a way that made his heart ache as he realized how foreign the sight of you trembling and nervous was. He'd asked you to marry him again, in that moment, whispering it against your hair as you let your face tuck into the safety of his chest. You'd squeezed his hands tighter at that, and Shouyou braced himself yet again for another no when you'd looked up at him earnestly, instead.

You'd made him promise to come home to you safely. You'd promised that you'd say yes when he returned to you without harm.

Alone in the wood, in the dead of night, slipping on loose rocks and mud, Shouyou desperately wishes he'll get to see you again - that he'll get to hear that yes. But something in him stirs painfully, a worry nagging at his gut. What is he to do, he wonders, without a home anymore? What is he to do without you?

Waking up in the morning with a raging wine hangover and Tobio's arms wrapped around you is certainly a jarring surprise, one that has you shooting up from where the two of you had fallen asleep on the plush rug. He's groaning and throwing a hand over his eyes to block out the light and ward off his headache, you assume, when the realization that light is streaming in through the windows catches your attention. 

The storm, you realize as you look out towards the clear, rolling horizon, is finally passing. You turn to tell Tobio, to announce to him that you can finally return home, when you're faced with him sitting up and leaning back on his hands as he looks out past you towards the shimmering, golden sun that illuminates the crumbling corners of the place he's lived in for so long.

His face, hard and solemn, has you snapping your mouth shut. You both understand the truth - you will leave and he will disappear again, returning to roam the halls of a life that should not belong to the living, eternally alone in this curse of his.

"Tobio -"

"I'll send a messenger ahead," he interrupts you. It's the first time you've said his name, he notices immediately, and it rings through his heart in a painful, abrupt way. He can't remember the last time someone said his name. He notices, rather painfully, that he'd almost forgotten someone could. "That way your beloved Shouyou will know you're safe and you can wait for the forest paths to be cleared a bit before you leave."

You should disagree, you know - you should fling yourself out the grand front doors and never look back, returning to your sunshine love and the life that you've built for yourself. But you move, instead, to sit on the settee next to Tobio's head and place a hand on his shoulder, agreeing quietly. There is a sadness that pours off of him, oozing onto the floorboards and seeping into your soul. There is something about him that makes you stay, some cursed sort of pull that brings you closer.

You stay by his side more than you should - and you know that, somewhere deep down and ignored. You don't sit opposite him at breakfast, separated by the long banquet table. You sit next to him, letting your hands brush accidentally every now and then as you eat.

"It is wrong," he says quietly, toward the end of the meal. You freeze, the closeness between you feeling sweltering as Tobio points it out. "The raising taxes, the treatment of the people… I know it's wrong."

Oh, you think slowly, right. There is more to this world than the hand that brushes against yours.  

"Then why not change it?" You ask slowly, tilting your head to look up at him. He stares ahead, at the faded family crest on the chipped wall and the dust that's collected on it.

"My family stopped listening to me a long time ago. I am… powerless, these days. There is nothing I could do."

"Oh," you say flatly, letting your hands twist in your lap. You consider that perhaps you should've known that - should've known that someone so cast out would lose any ties, watching them sever over time as the vines climbed higher over his castle walls and sealed him away from the world. "Tobio, I'm sorry -"

"My father is too old to carry the crown these days. He's stepping down… my sister's coronation will be within the month." He says abruptly, moving past your sorrow, your sympathy. You suppose it means nothing to someone whose life is already dead, already mourned for and buried. 

"Will you… go?" You ask hesitantly. He shakes his head.

"Of course not. But I will write. I love my sister, as much as I am capable. It's not enough, I know, but I hope it will be sufficient to sway her. A plea from her brother must mean something, still… and the people do not deserve to suffer by my family's hand." He says it like it's simple, like his words ring with undisputable truth. But it's in your nature to dig up mountains when you find them in your way.

"You are capable of love, Tobio," you say simply, the firmness in your voice making him pause and stare at you intently. "I've seen it." Tobio just scoffs at your words, though, earnest as they are. 

"You don't understand what you're saying," he says, his voice hard. You frown at him as you lean back in your chair, crossing your arms.

"What is it that you think you are? Hm? What is it that you're so afraid of me seeing? I have spent three days with you, Tobio, and you are no more than a man." You say stubbornly. The prince looks at you hard, his eyes dark, striking against the backdrop of the golden sun pouring through the windows and into his life.

"Monsterous things don't often show themselves as monstrous things." Tobio's voice is as icy as he can make it, cold and cutting and sharp. But it wavers, ever so slightly, caught by the voice of a boy who lost everything before he'd even been given a chance to learn how to hold it.

"There is nothing monstrous in you," you respond gently, leaning towards him. He leans back, away from you, away from the light that you pour into him. "You are beloved to me and that is all."

"Stop," he says firmly, squeezing his eyes shut as if your words burn through him. "Don't say that."

"What?" You push. "The truth? Don't say that I love -"

But commotions, you've found, always hit at the worst of times, and a shouting, banging disturbance down in the direction of the entrance hall draws the two of you away from each other. Tobio, for his part, sighs like a knife blade had been lifted from his neck and stands quickly to attend to the issue, leaving you to run after him and through the winding, dark halls.

Shouyou's yelling voice is what greets you when you get closer, the volume of it carrying throughout the castle as the panicked spluttering of the messenger that had been sent out hours ago follows. You nearly trip over yourself rushing to the hall to meet him, to see him looking up at you, dirty and tired and desperate. 

Shouyou meets you at the bottom of the staircase, having gotten over his initial shock of seeing you here and alive and well so that he can crush you into a hug, a hand cupping the back of your head protectively as he holds you against him and buries his nose into your hair.

You hold onto him, of course, gripping onto his shirt as tears blur your vision and wet his collar. He shushes you with all the gentleness that you remember, swaying you back and forth to comfort you as he tightens his arms around you and whispers delicate promises in your ear that he's here, that you're alright and he'll take you home. 

And Tobio… Tobio watches, looks on from the staircase at the two of you coming home to each other and feels the walls closing in on him, feels the gilded, arched ceiling press down, down, deeper into his soul. 

Shouyou pulls away from you just enough to grip your face gently in his hands, tilting your head back and forth so that he can look at you thoroughly and make sure you're unharmed. Fortunately… you're really fine. Three days of lavish living with fine meals and lavender baths have treated you well, and you look up at Shouyou with shining eyes and a bright face.

He looks just past you, then, as if he's finally noticing the prince sweep down the rest of the staircase towards the two of you. He… blushes when their eyes meet and shifts on his feet, but there's a cold, impassive stare on Tobio's face.

"You may stay as long as you need to recuperate after your journey. Then… you may be off. The tax problem will be dealt with." Tobio disappears at that, spinning on his heel and gliding up the stairs, leaving the two of you alone in the vast emptiness of the hall.

You're with Shouyou in the bedroom that you'd begun to call your own later that evening, with him freshly washed and in new clothes and sitting by your side on the settee by the window. You're curled up against him, letting him hold an arm over your shoulder and stroke up and down your arm gently. 

"What happened between you and Tobio?" You ask suddenly, causing Shouyou to freeze against you. He coughs a bit, clearing his throat and shifting as he looks out the window instead of at you. The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in violets and pinks as it begins to dip below the horizon that stretches on over the valley.

"I… tried to convince him," he says carefully. "And I failed."

"Mhmm," you respond easily, a teasing note entering your voice that makes Shouyou blush. "But you tried really hard, didn't you?"

"I -" he clears his throat again. "I… yes. I did." You laugh at that, relief painting Shouyou's features as you melt further against him and squeeze his hand comfortingly.

"I got wine drunk and made out with him… if knowing that makes you feel better," you shrug. Shouyou sits up so fast that he jostles you, making you grumble as you sit up, too. He stares at you, mouth open in shock for a moment, before tipping his head back and laughing, pulling you into a close hug. 

"He's really not what he's made out to be," Shouyou says quietly, swaying the two of you back and forth where you sit, your legs tangled together on the settee.

"Yea…" you respond, tipping your head back to look up at him somberly. "Some people are like that…" Shouyou looks down at you softly, stroking a hand over your cheek as you peer up at him. He says your name quietly, an earnest sort of prayer given to you as he smooths his thumb over your cheek.

"Shouyou…" you whisper back, pulling yourself closer to him as you grip onto the front of his shirt.

"Will you marry me?"

"…What about Tobio?" Shouyou laughs at your question, letting his head drop to your shoulder and sighing before dropping a kiss to your neck.

"I think that perhaps…" he begins slowly, lifting his head to look at you again, his face serious. "Perhaps our beloved Tobio has been the lonely prince for too long." You smile in a quiet sort of way at Shouyou's declaration, pulling yourself closer to press a gentle, firm kiss on his lips. 

He makes a shocked sort of noise in the back of his throat before pulling you closer, a hand cupping the back of your neck to keep you against him. When you do finally part, he makes a point not to stray too far, resting his forehead against yours and grinning broadly.

"Do you have any idea how many years I've been waiting for you to do that?" He asks breathlessly. You giggle a bit and kiss him again, a quicker, lighter touch of your lips against his.

"Ask me again," you murmur, your lips brushing his.

"Will you marry me?" He's choked up by now, his voice warbling and eyes watery.

"Yes," you respond earnestly. Outside, the sun finally dips below the vast, reaching horizon and drowns the world in darkness, but Shouyou holds you to his chest and presses kisses to your ring finger while the fireplace glows with the heated embers of the evening's flames and the sound of home calls to you. 

The days, admittedly, start to blend after that, with you and Shouyou taking up residence in the castle under the guise of him recovering. He is recovering, you assure yourself, it's just… taking a while. Surely… surely there's nothing else keeping you here, no ghost walking these halls that's drawing you to this life.

It's over breakfast one morning, the three of you taking up space at one end of the long banquet table, when Tobio announces that he's received a letter from his sister. 

"She was… responsive," he says carefully, like the touch of joy seeping into his tone is something that he shouldn't be allowed to hold onto. "It was good to have her hear my pleas. She will be better in our parents' stead. She will be a better leader."

"And you?" Shouyou quips, a challenge rising in his voice. You shoot Shouyou a look, but he's staring determinedly at Tobio, and you're pleasantly surprised to see his gaze matched by the prince.

"It's high time I stepped up and began taking care of my people again," Tobio says firmly, a conviction ringing in his voice that has you smiling softly, reaching to brush a stray hair out of his face. Tobio can't help but soften at the action, taking your hand in his to smooth his thumb over your knuckles and brush against the engagement ring that Shouyou had given you all those nights ago. 

Learning that he'd been keeping it with him, that he'd had the ring on a chain around his neck since the day he first proposed to you… well, you'd been thankful for the bedroom you'd been given that night - for the silk sheets and plush pillows and the privacy of the sprawling corridors outside. 

As Tobio thumbs over your ring, you feel your face heat at the memory of that night, and as you shift in your seat and Shouyou send you a beaming smile, you know that he's smugly aware of what you're thinking of.

"Well," Shouyou says happily. "You may need some help, you know, coming back to your people and learning how to be what they need."

"And you might need some companionship," you chime in. "What, with this big, lonely castle and all." Tobio leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, trying desperately to maintain the stern look on his face - but a blush dusts itself over his cheekbones and a smile twitches on the corner of his lips.

"And what of your beloved tavern?" He asks you.

"There is more to me that is beloved besides the tavern," you say easily, glancing between the two of them. "And besides, Yamaguchi's been doing well enough on his own. He can take care of it while I'm away, and if the forest paths are finally looked after and kept safe, then the journey back and forth isn't so bad. Maybe it's… maybe it's time to move forward in this life a bit, hm?" Tobio sighs at that, letting his shoulders drop as his smile finally breaks through as he thinks of taking a step forward, of being alive once more. Shouyou whistles happily at the sight, leaning back in his chair and grinning.

"You two are getting married, or haven't you forgotten?" Tobio snipes, but there's mirth in his voice as he arches a brow.

"Well," you drawl. "A castle is such a beautiful place to hold a wedding."

"And what a perfect start," Shouyou chimes in. "There's no better way to gain back the people's love than by hosting an event like that. Open your home up to them, let them in."

"Well, sure," Tobio sighs, tipping his head back to look at the arched ceilings, the golden morning light shining in and illuminating the family crest hung on the dining room wall. "After all… this is a home now, isn't it?"

The wedding, of course, is as grand and extravagant as you could've imagined. Tobio'd fixed up the castle for the event, his sister having sent staff to make sure that everything was repaired and polished and restored to its former glory. Tobio was pleased by it, in his own way, tight-lipped and subtle and small about the whole thing. You and Shouyou would never comment on it, would never bring attention to it, but there is a life in Tobio now that wasn't there before - a colour in his cheeks and a shining light to his eyes.

But true to himself, even as he stood at the altar and officiated the wedding, he remained stoic and upright while you and Shouyou held hands and kissed, teary-eyed and trembling. It wasn't until that evening, late into the night when all of the guests had gone home, that the mask began to crack.

It's a privilege, you think as you lay in the master bedroom, to get to see Tobio like this - soft and smiling and laughing once he's really relaxed. By the end of the night, the silk sheets send cool chills across your exposed skin as you lay between your two lovers, Shouyou's hand intertwined with yours so that he can see your ring next to his, shining in the dim, golden light of the fireplace. In turn, you twist the fingers of your other hand through Tobio's matching ring - the one that you'd slipped on quietly during the festivities while the three of you snuck off somewhere private.

There had been chatter at the wedding, of course, about the prince's sudden appearance and the light that begun to fill up the corners of the valley. Even the forest, people whispered, had thinned, ground solidifying into safely travelled paths and creeping vines receding. The air had shifted, the clouds had dispersed, and the sun had risen in its endless way to shine light down to patches of the land that had not felt that warmth in years. It's like time, people began to say, is finally moving in the proper way, and life has been breathed back into the valley.

There's a sort of haze that fills the air surrounding the three of you, a comfortable safety that blankets you as you're tucked between the two of them, skin pressed against skin in the privacy of your home. You giggle at the thought, placing a kiss on Tobio's exposed chest where your face is pressed against him.

"What are you thinking of, my beloved?" Shouyou asks quietly, his voice a hushed whisper in the quiet room. 

"Just that it's nice to be home," you whisper back, your words making Tobio hum in agreement and tighten his arm around your waist.

"It is nice, isn't it?" He says lowly. "To be somewhere… to have someone's that's home."

[drunkoffsmoke]

Hello ! Could I request relationship headcanons with Porco and a male reader 🙏🏼 ? Maybe before dating and during ? If you're up to it ofc

a/n: YOO-HOO !! hope you didn't forget about this anon, i promise i saw it. i've been meaning to get to this for awhile, but of course my motivation is absolutely fucked. i apologize. hope this satisfies you ^^

PAIRING : PORCO GALLIARD x MALE!READER

FANDOM : SHINGEKI NO KYOJIN / ATTACK ON TITAN

GENRE : FLUFF, HEADCANONS, ROMANCE

! WARNING ! : contains spoilers

reader is a marleyan and works as a shop keeper.

little story yahoo !!

What a day. First, two kids place foot inside your store, watching in awe at all of the artifacts for sale—and next thing, two grown men arguing next to the younglings. Not to mention the fact that they're soldiers.

Things were about to get physical before you stepped in. After all, this was your shop. You couldn't risk these arrogant warriors would tear this place up.

The taller, blonder man was more understanding—he wasn't really paying attention to the arrogant and obviously irritated shorter male. Matter of fact, he looked tired of him. So, obviously, all of the blame turned to stranger with the undercut hairstyle. He wasn't very pleased.

"I didn't start anything!" He protested, throwing his hands up in defeat as he glared at his comrade. Just as he was about to speak once more, one of his arms subconsciously jolted backwards, knocking off the shelf a vase.

Looking down at the shattered object, silence fell in your shop, the tension thickening as seconds pass. With a twitch of an eye, you fold your arms and glare at the man.

"You have to pay for that, jackass." Your grip on your arms tighten, clearly irritated with this whole scene. "You come into my shop, cause a ruckus, and now you break things. I think you should get out, right after you pay."

At that point, one of the children was dragging the other—who wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon, being too invested in this little argument—outside and instead watched from the window.

The shorter blond scratched his head, looking down at the mess while grumbling a few words underneath his breath. Patting down his pockets, he pulled out his wallet while murmuring a quiet 'sorry'.

"How much was it?" He questions, trying to ignore the shards littering around his feet. You laughed, looking inside his pocket. "A lot more than whatever you have in there. Just forget it, you already did enough."

You shoo the two men outside of your store, inhaling and exhaling sharply. You grab the broom and the dustpan sitting in the supply closet and began cleaning up the mess.

All while someone was watching from the window, a certain glint in his eyes that few have seen.

before dating.

Surprisingly enough, he feels guilty for what he's done. Sure, the vase wasn't that grand—but he could tell it was an antique that many would want to have in their homes.

So, with gritted teeth and clenched fists, he returned a few days later to your shop.

Slamming money on your counter without uttering a word, the sum of it nearly shocks you. You wondered how could he get this much cash in just a few days. Oh, right. He's a soldier. The pay is good.

You take the money hesitantly, narrowing your eyes at him. He was about to turn around and leave, when your collection of guns caught his eye.

Of course, the two of you had to talk about them. Sharing the knowledge with eachother as you led him to other war-related artifacts you owned, the tension between you two began to fade. Hell, he even smiled once at your knowledge. Most civilians wouldn't even stress themselves to learn the basic military procedures.

Yet look at you. You're literally a walking encyclopedia. Secretly, he admired it. Just before you turned around, his smile faded, and pretended to focus on the details of the dagger you were showing.

Aside from artifacts, you also had cigarettes and razors for sale, and many more items that were useful in the daily life. So, because he was in need of a few things, he decided to visit your shop once more.

At first, he thought he was buying things from you because he needed them. Later on, he came to the realization that it just wasn't true.

During his visits, you often chatted about news and war, but also cultural knowledge. He still made snarky remarks and sometimes appeared rude, yet deep down, he respected you. Sure, he often belittled you, but Porco would be willing to fight tooth and nail for you.

He was intrigued by you, he wanted to know why. But the more he thought about his feelings for you, the more he grew anxious and scared.

Was he in love? God, please, tell him he's not—what would others think? A man loving another man? Impossible, a sin.

That's what they say.

And unfortunately for Porco, his suspicions were confirmed. He was in love. I mean, how could someone's heart not flutter when looking at you? You were smart, capable, good-looking. You had it all.

But you were a man, just like him.

In order to hide his feelings, he began visiting less and less, hoping that this 'foolish attraction' would pass.

Unfortunately for him, you took notice of that. And unfortunately for him again, you also grew close to the two kids that visited your shop that day.

Gabi and Falco, that's who they were. When you asked about Porco, Gabi suggested you see him yourself.

And that's what you did.

You found him sitting on a bench, away from everyone, with only silence to keep him company. You startled him once you took a seat next to him, causing him to shift uncomfortably and look elsewhere.

You asked him why he hasn't been visiting like he used to, and he hesitated to answer. As nothing came out of his mouth, you frowned and stood up to leave, when he abruptly grabbed your wrist, insisting that you stay.

Sitting back down on the bench, your heart was pounding as his fingers were still wrapped around your wrist. You didn't look at eachother, both of your minds screaming with unanswered questions.

Until his hand traveled down in order to hold yours.

during dating.

He doesn't show much affection in public, still afraid of what others may think. But, with his subtle touches and occasional glances, you know that he loves you.

He visits your shop more often now—and when others question it, he simply states that he finally found someone smart enough to have a proper conversation with.

While alone, Porco is keen on physical touch and relies on it in order to tell you how much he loves you. He's always had a rough time expressing himself, but when he's with you, he feels as if a simple forehead kiss or a hug speaks louder than any word he wants to say.

When he's away for missions, he longs for the day he gets to hold you in his arms again. He fights for you, he kills for you, he does anything if it means that he'll be with you again.

Sometimes he has nightmares of your death, and when he wakes up sweating and with glossy eyes, he finds you there, gently caressing his shoulder. You let him hug you tightly, tears staining your shirt as he quietly weeps.

Most of the time, it seems like he doesn't listen. Oh, you're so wrong. At this point, he has notebooks with your favorite things and interests, just in case he forgets. But does he ever forget? Nah.

He listens to you talk, he takes you out on long walks and always make sure to stop by the bench where it all started. Most of the folks living nearby have been spotting you sitting on that bench often, and even made a common rule that nobody besides you and Porco get to sit on that bench during the afternoon.

And even after death, he offers solace from above by dropping flower petals next to you, on that special bench, during the afternoon.

a/n 2: holy dang this was actually so sad to write like.. its 3 am and now im crying because of myself UGHHH ANON THANK YOU FOR MAKING ME WRITE THIS, i apologize if it's ooc though i finished aot a long while ago and i forgot a lot😭

[wtfsheikura]

Prologue

"WE SHOULD BREAK UP," SUKI announces on our way out of algebra class.

Her unfeeling declaration shouldn't surprise me since I knew this was inevitable, but I didn't expect her to dump me a few hours before prom.

I stop in the middle of the hallway, not caring that I'm blocking traffic. "Why now?" I ask, tightening my grip on my backpack straps.

She looks down at her pink painted nails, refusing to make eye contact with me.

"Things have been different since the accident. You're different." Translation: Now that your face is fucked up, I can barely stand to look at you. "Graduation is right around the corner, and with me leaving for Kyoto at the beginning of the summer, it only makes sense for us to part ways now." Translation: I want a clean break so I can date someone I'm not embarrassed to be seen with.

Now that I'm no longer the "ruggedly handsome Basketball player," as she so fondly used to call me, she's eager to replace me with someone who won't ruin pictures with a jagged scar marring half his face.

"Satoru, are you listening to me?" She waves her hand in front of me to grab my attention when I don't respond.

"My face may be fucked up but my ears work just fine, Su," I say through gritted teeth.

"What did I say?" she challenges, hands on her hips.

"That you're embarrassed to be seen with me, and you want to date other people. Does that sum it up?" Okay, so those weren't her exact words, but we both know that's what she's thinking.

"You're twisting what I said," she retorts, raising her voice and taking a defensive stance, arms folded tightly across her chest.

The sound of someone snickering catches my attention. That's when I notice the sizable crowd of students lingering in the hall, interested to hear how this argument unfolds.

"You're right. We have grown apart," I say, keeping my voice steady.

Suki's eyes widen in shock at hearing me agree. That's when she notices our audience, causing a sudden shift in her blasé attitude. She gets fidgety and twirls a piece of hair around her finger, shifting from foot to foot.

"What are you saying?" she demands, glancing back at her friends who have joined the group of spectators.

From her reaction, one would assume she's the one being dumped in front of an audience, not the other way around.

"We should break up," I say, echoing her earlier declaration.

"Just like that?" she demands. "You're not even going to try to convince me to change my mind? How could you humiliate me in front of—"

"Cut the theatrics, Suki," Suguru interrupts her rant, standing beside me in a silent show of support. "You said it yourself. It's over. Don't embarrass yourself more than you already have."

He must have been in the crowd watching things play out. We've been best friends since preschool, and he's one of the few people I can count on always to have my back.

"Mind your own business, Suguru," Suki spits out. "This is a private conversation between me and my boyfriend."

"Ex-boyfriend," I interject. "You were just telling me you wanted to break up, remember?"

"And from where I'm standing, this is as far from private as you can get," Suguru adds. "Now, why don't you and your friends get lost?" He shoos her like a dog.

Suki's cheeks turn bright red when the hallway fills with laughter. "Are you really going to just stand there and let him disrespect me?" she whines.

"Suguru's right. It's best if you leave," I say calmly.

"You'll be sorry," she fumes. "Don't come begging to win me back when you see me with my new prom date tonight. He's a freshman in college," she throws in my face before storming away.

Her entourage hurries after her, and the crowd quickly disperses now that the spectacle is over.

It shouldn't surprise me that she has another date lined up. She would never risk the humiliation of going alone.

"Good riddance," Suguru mumbles under his breath. "Remind me again why you dated her. She is such a diva."

"I don't know." I shrug. "She was nice when we first met. Plus, all the guys on the Basketball team kept saying we'd be good together, so I figured, why not?"

In truth, I can't be with the girl I've always wanted, and Suki was a welcome distraction. She is attractive and popular and made me feel important—until my accident.

"College chicks are going to fucking love your scar. It makes you look badass." Suguru pats me on the back.

"Thanks, man," I say, ready to move on from this topic. "Where's Y/n?" I scan the hall as the group disperses, but she's nowhere to be seen.

Y/n, Suguru's twin sister, tags along most of the time, making her one of my closest friends.

The smug expression on Suguru's face turns serious. "You're not the only one who was stood up for prom. Toji broke things off with Y/n right before eighth period." His voice drips with fury. "He left her crying alone in the school parking lot."

I clench my fists at my side, the urge to kick Toji's ass building inside me. Y/n is the sweetest, most beautiful girl in school, and frankly Toji never deserved her.

"What a scumbag," I spit out in disgust. "He needs to be put in his place." No one disrespects Y/n and gets away with it.

"Get in line," he snickers.

"Where is she now?"

"I'm not sure. She said she wanted to be alone and took off on her bike," Suguru says with a worried frown. "I should skip prom and go look for her. I'm sure Shoko will understand if I have to cancel our date."

I shake my head. "There's no reason for you to spend the night wallowing in misery like the rest of us. Go home and get ready to pick up Shoko. Don't worry, I'll find Y/n." There's only one place she would go if she wanted to be alone without dealing with unwanted visitors.

Except for me, that is.

"Are you sure?" Suguru asks, concern etched on his face.

"Absolutely. We'll make a night of it," I assure him.

If I could convince Y/n to attend prom with me, I'd do it, but knowing her as I do, she'll want to stay as far away from Toji and the dance as possible.

Suguru nudges me with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Look, there's Toji now." I glance over to him walking toward the school entrance with his friends. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Suguru questions.

"That it's time for payback?" I smirk, cracking my knuckles as I stalk toward Toji.

Suguru cracks. "You read my mind."

As I pull up to the old Yaga's place, a smile crosses my lips when I spot Y/n's robin-blue bike parked against the house. The place has been abandoned for over twenty years, but it's become the hangout spot for my siblings and friends. N/n, in particular, has taken a liking to it and comes here when she needs peace and quiet.

I make my way through the overgrown lawn to the backyard, where I find Y/n. She's stretched out on a flannel blanket, her sanctuary under the shade of the giant oak tree, lost in a book. Her h/c hair falls in waves down her back, a sight that always takes my breath away. I smile when I see she's wearing her favorite pair of Doc Martens.

Seeing her like this takes me back to the day in our tenth-grade English class when she came in wearing a white V-neck top, light-wash jeans, and those same Docs. Even though we've known each other our whole lives, that was the first time I saw her in a new light and I swear my heart skipped a beat when she waved at me with her signature megawatt smile. I couldn't take my eyes off her during class.

When the bell rang, Suguru grabbed me by the collar and dragged me out into the hall, shoving me against the closest set of lockers. He noticed me watching Y/n and warned me she was off-limits.

I couldn't jeopardize our friendship because of a crush on his sister, so I did my best to suppress my feelings for Y/n. It wasn't easy. Something about her called to me, and it kept drawing me in like a gravitational pull, despite my best efforts.

Like she can sense that I'm thinking about her, she looks up at me with tear-stained cheeks as I approach. My chest tightens at seeing her sad. I would do anything to take away her pain and bring a smile to her face.

"Mind if I join you? I brought dinner." I hold up a bag of takeout from Maidreamin Café—Her favorite Store in Shibuya.

"Did Suguru send you?" She eyes the food warily.

"No. He told me what happened with Toji, and I figured this is where you'd be," I answer truthfully.

Without waiting for an invitation, I sit on the blanket and set the bag in front of me. Y/n watches with interest as I take out two bacon cheeseburgers, fries, and a chocolate shake topped with extra whipped cream and a cherry—all her favorites.

"Why come if you knew I wanted to be alone?" There's a hint of sass in her voice.

She's not afraid to go head-to-head with me and doesn't hesitate to set me straight when I'm out of line.

"My mom always says chocolate is the best cure for a broken heart." I hold out the shake, a smile tugging at my lips when she takes it.

"She's absolutely right." Y/n grins as she takes a sip. "Want to tell me why you're here with me instead of at prom?"

"Suki dumped me after school," I state flatly.

"Oh, Satoru, I'm sorry." Y/n places her hand on my arm. "I hate that bitch," she says with conviction.

Her touch sends a jolt of electricity down my spine, and it takes every ounce of willpower to maintain a poker face. She has no idea how I really feel about her, and it has to stay that way.

A few weeks after Suguru told me Y/n was off-limits, Suki showed interest in me, and I threw all my energy into our budding relationship. She was the perfect distraction, helping me temporarily forget about my attraction to Y/n, those feelings simmering below the surface.

"It's for the best." I shrug, reaching across Y/n to grab a fry.

"Oh my god, Gojo," she gasps when she spots the swollen knuckles on my left hand.

"What happened?"

I grin at her use of my last name. She's called me that since ninth grade when I started playing Basketball. Gojo was stitched across the back of my jersey, and the nickname stuck. Y/n has always resented that Y/n calls me that, but I couldn't care less what she thinks now.

I like it when Y/n uses it. I love it.

"Tell me what you did," she presses when I don't answer her question right away.

"Toji Zenin said something that pissed me off, so I punched him in the face," I tell her with a grin.

She gasps, her eyes wide with shock. "Oh, Satour, please don't tell me you did it because of me."

"Do you want me to lie?"

She shakes her head. "I want the truth."

"I did it because he hurt you," I confess simply. "He deserved it." When he called Y/n a frigid bitch after Suguru and I confronted him for dumping her, I let my temper take over. I have zero regrets.

"You shouldn't have done that," she scolds me, a worried look on her face. "What if he had hit you back? You could have been hurt."

I laugh, pointing to the scar on my face. "As long as he aimed for the left side, we wouldn't be able to tell the difference."

"That's not funny, Satour." Y/n scolds me. "Toji was provoking you. His dad is the president of the school board, you know this. What if you get suspended?"

God, her protective side is so adorable.

I've been sent to the office so often that I'm on a first-name basis with the principal. I have a habit of letting my fists do the talking when someone is being a bully and am late more often than not. One more offense won't make a difference.

In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter anyway. Graduation is only a month away, and I don't think I want to go to college. Not that I've had the courage to break the news to my parents yet.

"It was worth it," I promise Y/n. "Now eat before the food gets cold."

"You don't have to tell me twice." She grabs a burger and unwraps it before taking a large bite. A subtle moan escapes her lips as she chews.

"Good?"

"Mm-hmm," she acknowledges around her mouthful of food.

I'm entranced as I watch juice dribble down her chin. Without thinking, I gently wipe it away with my finger, freezing when I realize what I've done.

"Sorry," I say as I yank my hand back.

Her e/c eyes meet mine as she traces her mouth where my finger grazed.

"Don't be." She offers me a reassuring smile. "You know I'm a messy eater, so I appreciate it."

I clear my throat. "Yeah, I'm happy I could help." I brush the sauce off on a napkin before I do something out of line like lick it from my finger.

Thankfully, Y/n isn't paying attention. She's chewing methodically, lost in thought. "Why are boys so stupid?" she mumbles under her breath.

"I could ask the same question about girls," I tease.

"Hey." She playfully slugs me on the shoulder. "We're not all self-absorbed snobs like Suki. Honestly, I'm not sure what you ever saw in her."

She was a distraction.

What stings the most about what happened with Suki is the fear that other people will react the same to my scar. I used to be comfortable in my own skin, but since the accident, I'm not so sure anymore.

"Hey, Gojo," Y/n says, her sing-song voice snapping me out of my pity party.

"Yeah, N/n," I reply.

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

"I'm not sure," I answer honestly.

"Is it weird that I do?" She watches me, anticipating my reaction. "I like to think there's one person out there that I'll grow old with and who will love me unconditionally, no matter what." She chews on her lower lip as she considers her next words. "What if I'm destined to date losers for the rest of my life?"

Y/n is a dreamer who sees the world with a glass-half-full mentality. Which is why I don't have it in me to tell her that Toji most likely won't be the last man who breaks her heart.

Relationships are messy and tangled up with so many emotions, and I, for one, plan to avoid them in the future. They're nothing but complicated, inevitably leading to pain. Why anyone would want to subject themselves to that brutality is beyond me.

"N/n, you're only seventeen," I remind her. "You've got plenty of time to find your one."

"But what if he never comes?" She leans back, looking up at me with those innocent e/c eyes.

God, why does she have to be so pretty?

"I'll tell you what." I give in to temptation and play with a strand of her hair. "If you can't find him, and we're both still single when we're thirty, we'll get married."

Y/n bursts out laughing. "You can't be serious."

I've never been more serious in my life.

In an alternate universe, I like to think that I could be her one. The person to make her laugh every day, her Prince Charming, and the one she couldn't live without.

In this reality, I'm just the court jester she tolerates because of my sense of humor and upbeat attitude. I'm not the prince who sweeps her off her feet, or the knight in shining armor she rides off into the sunset with.

"I may not be your first choice, but I promise you I'd be an excellent substitute," I tease.

Y/n raises a brow in a silent challenge. "Oh, really?"

"Absolutely. I would make you laugh every day, make sure you had an endless supply of takeout from Maidreamin Café, and build you a dedicated room for your shoe collection."

She bats her eyelashes. "How could I ever refuse such an offer?"

"Do you have a pen in your backpack?"

An idea strikes me, and I decide to run with it, fully committed to this ludicrous, yet oddly inevitable agreement.

"Yeah, sure." She nods, grabbing her bag from the other side of the blanket. She pulls out a black ballpoint pen and hands it to me.

"Thanks." I take a napkin from the pile that came with our food order, set it on the discarded fry box, and hunch over to write.

"What are you doing?" Y/n cranes her neck to get a better view.

"You'll see." I cover the napkin with my hand so she can't see what I'm writing.

Midway through, I look up to find her gaze locked on mine. It's as if time stands still and we're the only two people in the universe sharing a connection deeper than words. A silent agreement, connecting us in the moment.

She's the first to look away, and I quickly return my attention to the note.

"There, that should do it," I announce triumphantly when I've finished.

"I don't know if a napkin would hold up in court." Y/n giggles when I hold it out for her to read.

Satour Gojo & Y/n Geto promise to marry each other if they're both single when they turn thirty. This agreement is legally binding.

"Well, we better sign it then." I scribble my name at the bottom and pass it to her along with the pen.

She uses her book as a hard surface beneath the napkin, sticking the tip of her tongue out in concentration as she signs her name neatly next to mine. I'm mesmerized by the details of her heart-shaped face, the smattering of freckles across her nose, her long eyelashes still damp with tears.

What was Toji thinking, letting her go? She's so damn beautiful.

And off-limits, I remind myself. Suguru has made that crystal clear.

"There, all done," Y/n declares with her signature smile.

Someday a lucky son of a bitch will give Y/n everything she deserves—but it won't be me. The consolation prize is knowing that I did something today to ease her heartache, even if just a little, and her smile makes it well worth the effort.

[talesfromthesnogbox]

Nailed It

Summary: Eddie paints Steve's nails, Steve realizes some stuff. That's it, that's the fic.

Words: 1,745

Notes: This is all because I got my nails done on the weekend and thought "hmm, it's like super intimate having someone touch your hands for the better part of an hour"

AO3

-----

“So, whaddya say Harrington, yours next?”

His Saturday afternoons off had become Steve’s sacred Eddie days. He loved hanging out with Robin, but she usually worked the closing shift Saturday, and ever since adopting Eddie into their rag-tag group, Steve found himself wanting to hang out with him more.

On this particular Saturday afternoon, Steve and Eddie found themselves in Eddie’s messy bedroom of the new townhouse the government had gifted the Munsons. It wasn’t anything unusual for them, lounging on Eddie’s bed, a joint half-smoked between the two of them, a Bowie tape on in the background. But today, Eddie had pulled out something new.

From his closet, he’d pulled a dusty basket out, filled with nail polish in a rainbow of shades. He’d picked a forest green one, and got to work on himself, buffing his nails carefully and painting the varnish in smooth coats. Steve watched aptly, almost missing Eddie’s question.

“Sorry?”

Eddie smirked, and gestured to the basket. “Pick a shade, you want in?” 

Steve scoffed. “Isn’t nail polish—”

“Dude, if the next words outta your mouth are ‘for girls’, I—”

“No! No, that’s… I just… I don’t think it really fits my whole…” Steve waved his hands around his torso. “You know? You’re… well you’re you, it goes with the whole metal thing. I’m…”

“Hawkins royalty?” Eddie deadpanned.

“Come on, that’s not what I meant. You don’t think it would look out of place wearing black nail polish with my whole… I dunno… prep thing?”

The other boy scoffed. “Who said it had to be black polish? There’s a world of colour here Harrington, pick one.”

Steve eyed the basket carefully, looking through all the options. Eddie really did have a wide array of colours to choose from. It was clear Eddie used nail polish as yet another way to express his loud personality, stomping over gender norms and challenging people’s perception of who he is by the array of soft pinks next to the shiny black and vibrant red. He thumbed over the tops, picking up a few colours he thought could look nice, pretty even. 

It had taken El calling Steve pretty for him to understand that it wasn’t just something you could call girls. Boys could be pretty too, hell he’d even thought that on a few occasions, seeing men in passing with soft billowy shirts and perfectly coiffed hair. Steve looked back up at Eddie, his tongue between his lips as he focused on steadying his non-dominant hand, his hair half tied up falling in his eyes… and oh, he thought, a moment of understanding washing over him, Eddie is also sort of… pretty.

His cheeks burned red and he turned his attention back to the basket of varnish in front of him, picking a random colour from the bunch. It was fairly neutral, a soft terra cotta orangey brown that didn’t seem to be totally opaque; he thought it would look nice against his skin. “This one?”

Eddie nodded his head in approval of Steve’s choice, shaking his hands to dry the paint on his own nails. “Go wash your hands, scrub the gunk under your nails, I’ll start after mine are dry.”

Once Steve’s hands were sufficiently clean, Eddie got to work. He shook the bottle and twirled it between his hands, then took Steve’s hands in his to inspect his canvas. Steve almost immediately flushed. 

You see, Steve loved holding hands with the girls he’d dated. It was customary to hold a girl’s hand while you walked, or over the table waiting for dinner, but he’d never had his hands held so delicately by someone else.

Eddie thumbed over Steve’s nails, checking for rough or sharp edges. He definitely didn’t notice how Steve gawked at him.

“Looks good man, tell me if you hate the colour and I can start over.” 

Steve nodded, speechless in the moment while Eddie shook the little bottle again and twisted the lid. He took Steve’s hand again, shaking it a little.

“Dude, let go, you’re tense as hell.” 

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, just not used to this.”

“Don’t worry big boy, I’ve gotcha.” Eddie threw to him with a wink.

Steve flushed at Eddie’s words, watching him go to work on his nails. The other boy was once again lost in concentration, the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips as he swiped the paint over Steve’s pinky finger. He gave Steve a look, searching for approval with the colour, which Steve nodded to, and let Eddie continue. 

It was a wonder to Steve just how soft Eddie’s touch was. His hands were rough in a way that he could tell Eddie had been helping his uncle with their new vegetable garden in the backyard, the tips of his fingers calloused from playing his Warlock. But despite all that, his touch was just so damn gentle. Loud, boisterous Eddie with the touch of an angel.

“You good up there Steve-o?”

Steve blinked, and shook some hair from his eyes, coming out of his Eddie-induced trance. “What? Yeah, yeah I’m fine, why?”

“Well I’ve asked you like three times what you think Robin is gonna say about this.”

“O-oh.” Steve chuckled as a deep flush painted his cheeks. “Robs will love it, she’s begged me to let her paint my nails every time she stays the night like a ‘proper slumber party’, maybe I’ll actually let her do it sometime.”

“Oh? And why haven’t you?”

She’s not you. 

Steve shrugged away his answer, brushing off Eddie’s question. Every instinct within him told him to flirt, but this was Eddie, this wasn’t some random Hawkins girl he’d met up with on a whim. The Harrington Charm™ wasn’t meant for just anybody and —oh… did he want to flirt with Eddie? 

“Dude.” Eddie snorted. “You look like you just saw a ghost. You’re not gonna hurl on me, are you?” 

“You wish Munson.” What???

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he paused. “No, I really don’t actually.”

“Yeah, no you’re right.”

The other boy tightened the cap on the nail polish bottle, setting it aside. “Are you like… good? Like are you okay man?” 

Steve straightened, taken aback by Eddie’s question. “Yeah, yeah! Totally. I’m great, I’m just…” Eddie looked at him expectantly as he looked down to check out his nails. “Do you think they need another coat?”

Eddie smiled and took Steve’s hands again. “That can definitely be done. But I think they need to dry off a bit more first.” 

“Cool.” Steve and Eddie locked eyes, Eddie still holding Steve’s hands. 

“I can like… let go if you want me to.” 

“Yeah… no… yeah I’m good like this.” 

“Cool.” Eddie echoed Steve, not letting go. A few moments passed, before Eddie broke the tension with a sharp inhale. “Alright I think they’re dry enough for round two.” He got back to work, and this time, Steve had no issue unabashedly staring at his friend.

The tongue poke of concentration was back, and Steve wondered if he even knew he was doing it. His hair was a mess as per usual, but today he’d pulled the upper half of it back into a messy bun, leaving his neck exposed. His jaw looked strong, clenched, and his neck long and biteable. Biteable. I’ve never thought someone’s neck looked biteable. Eddie wore a tank top today, loose around his thin frame, but Steve noticed the definition in his arms; it was clear that toting around amps for Corroded Coffin had been paying off, among other things.

But still, his touch was so incredibly soft. 

People had Eddie all wrong. Sure, he was an oddball at times, making nerdy references, listening to loud music, wearing all the chains and the leather and the hanky that alluded to his preference for S&M, but he wasn’t some big scary mean nerd. Eddie could be a lot, but he could also be caring, and sensitive, and funny. He didn’t take bullshit from his friends, he held his inner circle to a higher standard, and knew that they’d expect that of him in return. Eddie was good, and oh god, do I have a crush on Eddie? 

Steve flinched with the realization, Eddie smacked his hand, bringing him back to the present. “Gonna make me get it all over you, hold still.” And wasn’t that something Steve had probably said in a much different scenario.

When he was done, Eddie pulled Steve’s hands up to eye-level to admire his work. “Not bad, usually Red complains that the colour bled into her cuticles but I think she just likes to complain. Whaddya think?”

Steve (reluctantly) took one of his hands out of Eddie’s grasp to look at his newly painted nails. It actually looked quite nice, and something about the fresh coat of paint made him feel different, like he was breaking out of a mould he once shaped.

“It looks awesome, thanks man.”

Eddie smiled bashfully, fiddling with the bottle. “No sweat. Hey, give it a sec and I’ll give you some lotion.” He pulled out a green tube and spread a dollop on each of Steve’s palms. “Wayne swears by this stuff in the winter, his knuckles get really bad.” With both of his thumbs, Eddie got to work rubbing the lotion into Steve’s palms and over his knuckles. “Wouldn’t be a proper manicure without a little massage, would it.”

All thoughts left Steve’s brain, it felt like Eddie’s fingers left a trail of fire where they went, gently but firmly coating his hands with lotion. It was good, Steve was relaxed, and he felt closer to Eddie than he ever had… but he didn’t want to move away.

“There. Now you’re done.” Eddie brushed his thumbs lightly over Steve’s palms, still not letting his hands go.

“Hey Eds?” Eddie quirked his brow in response. “You wanna grab dinner?” 

Eddie’s face was unreadable. “Like… out somewhere?”

“Yeah.” Steve paused. He’d never asked out a guy before, would Eddie think he was asking him to dinner just because he was the only gay guy Steve knew? Would he think Steve was trying to make fun of him? “Or, I dunno, we could order a pizza or something.” Nailed it coward.

The other boy smiled. “Sure Harrington, but if you fuck up those nails with pizza grease or something, I’m not redoing them.” 

Steve chuckled and smacked Eddie’s arm lightly. Maybe next time.

[l0serloki]

Cooking with Valorant Agents!

(Chamber, Sova, Fade, Viper)

CW : OCD? (Chamber), Eating, not much else

A/N : I am so hungry but I really just don’t want to get up. This was an idea I had a few days ago but just now wrote up. Per usual, if there’s mistakes… no there isn’t. ALSO, I wrote this one on my phone so the text might be different.

Chamber :

I feel like he would be one of two things. Either a really good chef, or not know how to cook.

Look, he loves expensive food that fits his palate but with that money…

You think he’s cooking that lobster himself? Maybe. It depends on his mood! If he wants to cook and be alone, he can. If he really wants an amazing meal - he gets someone to do it.

He knows how to cook basic meals but that won’t do for my sacred mans tongue.

If you ask him to cook, he will join you. But expect a lot of complaining. He wants to keep everything super clean!

“Vincent, I love you but this is so unrealistic.” You could only sigh as your boyfriend frantically sweeped.

You two had been baking for not more than ten minutes when his little ‘cleaning mode’ had started. There was a bit of flour dusting around the table, and some egg shells laying out to be tossed. It wasn’t much and not really a priority of yours while you were cooking but to Vincent… It was the end of the world.

“Oh my. The counter will probably be stained! How did I not notice this sooner?” The mans shrill voice echoed throughout the room. You could only stand and chuckle, watching the scene unfold.

“Like I said. It’s not the end of the world. This is about us, not some egg shells.” You reassured him, lips smothering his face in kisses. His body eased under your touch, breath slowing.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Let us finish up and then we can relax.” Chamber’s arms wrapped around you, lips kissing at your temple. You hummed under the affection, glad that he was over his fit.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

Sova :

He cooks a lot! I feel like his Grandma taught him dishes and he loves sharing them.

Sova will be the one to ask you to cook! He wants to see your favorite foods & spend time with you!

This man LOVES desert. (It’s supposed to be a secret though! Hide some chocolates for him <3)

Overall, he loves to be in the kitchen and will gladly serve you OR cook with you!

“Oh, Y/N! This was so fun!” Sova smiled, arms setting down the hot pan. The two of you had spent the evening cooking per his request. You had not expected it to be as exciting as it was. Sova had taught you a lot and still made you feel smart.

“Mm, this was fun. We will have to do my idea next time.” You kissed at the mans cheek, sneaking a bite of the food.

His hand wrapped around your wrist, snickering at your embarrassment.

“Yes, we should. But what did I just say? The food is hot! Now shoo! I’ll bring it to you, minx.” Sasha teased, pushing you away from eating more. You grinned, making your way into the living room.

“You better! If you eat it all yourself, you’ll have to make more!”

Fade :

I feel like she’s iffy on cooking. Don’t get me wrong, she cooks all her meals. She just doesn’t get super excited about it or anything.

But, if it’s something you love or enjoy then she will pitch in!

She’ll be your little helper! She sets up all the ingredients and makes sure to measure things ahead of time.

Fade also has a big appetite and will be glad to have a nice meal!

“You are really good at this.” Fade’s voice whispered as her arms wrapped around your torso. The two of you had been making some snacks for the base. It was an idea you had to spend time with your girlfriend and still get stuff done.

“You’re too kind. Can you grab me some sugar, love?” You asked and the woman had already departed. It was cute how rigorous she was. All the ingredients were at your disposal within seconds, her hands working to help you in any way possible.

“Here.” Fade sat down the sugar, lips caressing the nape of your neck. You rubbed your fingers over her hand, murmuring a quiet thanks.

Maybe you should ask Fade for help more often!

Viper :

WOW.

She shocks you at how good she cooks! Occasionally she will make dinner and it’s always amazing.

“I just followed the instructions. I’m good with measuring. It’s what I do with my poisons.”

“That’s so reassuring, babe. Thanks.”

If cooking is what you want to do, she’s got the apron strapped on.

She’s the type of girlfriend to lick stuff off your face or finger just to fluster you. Better watch out!

Not even two days ago you had mentioned how you were missing a good meal. Well, your girlfriend never ceased to surprise! As you got home from work, Sabine had dressed the table for dinner. The meal looked and smelled delicious. You slumped, delighted at such a treat.

“Baby, this looks amazing. Thank you.” You grinned, giving the woman a kiss as she settled next to you.

“You’re welcome. Eat up.”

You did as told, digging into the food. It was more than good. The best way to describe it would be comparing it to an expensive restaurant. Who knew Viper could cook this well?

“Sabine, this is mind-blowing. Since when did you cook so well?” You raised an eyebrow. Viper only snorted, waving her hand in nonchalance.

“I am not that good. I simply followed the recipe. You know, getting ingredients is a lot like my poisons. Maybe that’s why it ended up so well.”

You choked at the comment, not expecting such an answer.

“Wow babe, that’s so reassuring.”

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

(A little continuation of Muscle Memory, anyone?)

-

The day went well, more or less - only one little ol' fire, and it was put out practically right away! Honestly, Tango probably wouldn't even have remembered it happened if not for the way Jimmy's brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down as he frowned at the scorch marks inside the microwave.

"I don't know what happened! I could have sworn I - " Jimmy turned his head and coughed into his elbow. "I really thought the pizza was already in there. Sorry."

"Hey, it's okay!" Tango nudged Jimmy's shoulder with his own. Skizz glanced over from where he was locking the door and flipping the sign to 'closed' before grabbing the mop. "You did amazing. We would have been in so much trouble without you."

He expected Jimmy to smile. He didn't expect the smile to feel so weak, to fail to reach those bright hazel eyes that were usually so determined.

"I could have been a lot faster," said Jimmy. "Forgot what I was doing a couple of times, and that definitely slowed you down. You and Skizz work so hard, and I just - "

Skizz leaned the mop against the wall and took Jimmy's face in both his hands, squishing his cheeks. "You stop that right now! You are an integral part of this kitchen, an excellent chef, and - woah, you're kind of hot, dude, are you okay?"

"Heh." Jimmy's smile was a little more genuine now, but the flush on his face wasn't from Skizz's words. "Bro, right in front of my rancher?"

It was Tango's turn to frown, mentally kicking himself for not realizing sooner that something was up. When Skizz let go, Tango put a hand on Jimmy's forehead, confirming for himself what was wrong. "You should have said something if you weren't feeling well. We could have done without you for a little bit. I mean, not well, because you're a superstar, but we could have managed."

"I'm fine, really," Jimmy insisted. "I'm just a little, tiny bit - um. Maybe a lot bit dizzy." He let his head fall forward onto Tango's shoulder. "Didn't want to be a bother," he mumbled.

"Hoh boy. You wanna get him home while I finish up here, Top?" Skizz looked as worried as Tango felt.

"I can still help clean up!" Jimmy straightened back up, trying to look as alert as possible, but whatever illness was about to hit him was catching up fast now that he didn't have the urgency of a busy restaurant to keep him moving. "I can't leave you to do all the work when you two already do so much more than - "

"Jimmy. You work just as hard as we do, maybe harder," said Tango firmly. "You are not a bother. There isn't much left to do, and Skizz can handle the rest of it just fine, okay? Let us take care of you."

Tango knew from his own experience that telling Jimmy to stop thinking like that would be ineffective. He knew from his own experience that it might take him a while to truly believe the compliments, if he ever did at all - but it didn't matter. Tango would remind Jimmy of his worth a hundred times a day for a hundred years if he had to.

"Okay," said Jimmy in a small voice. "Can - can we get some ginger ale on the way?"

Tango smiled. "Yeah, we can do that. Wanna veg on the couch and watch some bad movies?"

Jimmy nodded, looking absolutely miserable now that he wasn't trying to hide it, and Tango wanted to have him bundled in a blanket ten minutes ago. Skizz shooed them out, assuring Jimmy that he would be fine, honest, he just had to finish the mopping and a couple of dishes and he would be right behind them, and if Jimmy didn't stop fretting and leave right now then he was going to be carried home.

"Gosh, I think he means it," grinned Jimmy, letting Tango take his hand and pull him out of the restaurant.

"Oh, he does," said Tango with his own grin. "Impulse tried the same thing as you, once. And I do mean once. Skizz scooped him up like a sack of potatoes and dumped him in bed. The look on his face was priceless."

His grin faded a little when Jimmy's laugh turned into a cough, and it wasn't long before he had him safely home and tucked against his side while they flipped through TV channels. The restaurant would have to be closed for a few days - Skizz could handle closing up on his own, but running the entire place by himself was too much to ask. Tango was sure Jimmy would insist he was fine on his own, but he wasn't going to hear of it, and he knew Skizz would agree.

"You're not a bother," he whispered against Jimmy's forehead, even though Jimmy had dozed off at least three cheesy plot developments ago. A hundred times a day, if he had to; whatever it took to re-train the muscle memory of Jimmy's self-depreciation into self-worth instead.

}{ Part Three }{

[lolasimms]

a lots gonna change pt.2

Summary: Married life isn’t great, infidelity ensues and things change.

next part

“She's finally asleep" Ellie drops to the bed and pulls you into her. Her cold hands reach inside of your sleep shirt, massaging your breasts. You gasp in surprise at the feeling.

“Your hands are fucking freezing” you laugh as she nuzzles her face into your neck, you can feel the smile on her face growing.

“Mmm I missed this mama” She squeezes them one last time before taking your face in her hands and leaving a kiss on your lips.

“I missed this too, I also have to ask you something" you say, pacing yourself as you were aware that she hated mingling with people even if it was Dina.

"What is it" she asks quickly, her face unreadable, almost guilty looking. This is it she thinks, you had found out she’d been having an affair. She felt her heart was about to leap out of her chest.

"Well, Dina’s invited us both to dinner tomorrow, with Jesse, can you please come?." Her face relaxes and she releases a short breath of relief. Of course she’d fucking come, she thought this conversation would go completely differently.

"Why not?” She smiles at you and you’re slightly taken aback at her willingness, it usually took you hours or days to convince her to go out with you. You couldn’t complain though and decided to text Dina that you’d both be coming over the next day.

-

"When she's going to sleep, leave the binky on her onesie clip, she does this thing nowadays where she wants to put it in herself" Ellie explains to Joel what her already knows, and you can tell the old man wants to roll his eyes at her authoritativenesses.

"Honey, I've done this before, it's just going to be 3 hours, plus she sleeps over at mine all the time" he, says as he begins shooing the two of you out the door.

"Alright bye old man, bye Lila" Ellie says as she looks down to her daughter who rests in the man’s arms. Lila waves the two of you goodbye and rests her head on Joel’s shoulder.

"Bye baby, I'll be back soon okay?"

"Bye momma"

-

Dina let’s the both of you into the house and you’re welcomed by the smell of the grill and loud shouting coming from what you assumed was her sons room.

“The place looks clean for once, did you hire a maid of something” Ellie teases, knowing Dina hated cleaning up.

“Oh shut up, I cleaned it myself for your information, now go get the wine glasses and put them on the table” She commands, earning an eye roll from Ellie.

“Fine” Ellie agrees as Dina stares daggers at her, not before flipping her off and then running into the kitchen.

"Hey, you look nice" Dina smiles and pulls you in for a hug, her sweet perfume catching your breath. Before you could pull back she whispers to you. "How did you manage to get her here so easily"

"Thank you, and honestly I don’t even know, she’s been pretty agreeable as of recent" you laugh as she lets go of you.

"Jesse’s just getting the salmon off the grill, he’s trying to copy a recipe of this fancy cookbook, so if it sucks I apologise in advance" you just laugh and the two of you head into the dining area.

-

"So Y/n, when do you think you'll be going back to work?" Dina asks, before picking up her wine glass and downing a gulp of the red liquid.

"I'm not actually sure, I've been toying with the idea of working from home but I- I don't know" you say.

"Since when?" Ellie asks, her voice sounding more agitated than you'd like it to be.

"Since I like spending time with Lila, she's not that bad of a kid" you try make light of the situation, after all the two of you were in the company of your friends and you didn't want to start an argument in-front of them.

"You said I pressured you into staying home and now you’re deciding that you finally want it?" Ellie’s voice has risen, and you can feel the embarrassment seeping throughout your body.

"Ellie, we're in the company of others, tone it down please" you hiss at her.

"No. Why is it that when I suggested it, it was pressure and now that you want it, it’s just your choice" Dina and Jesse are sat across from the two of you, awkwardly. Trying not to add fuel to the fire. Jesse fidgets with his fork and Dina swishes the wine in her glass, in circles.

"Ellie stop" you whisper shout, as if they aren't across from you two. Ellie gets up and excuses herself, walking out the front door. You remain in your seat and drop your head into your hands. Dina immediately rounds the table to come to your side and Jesse gets up and rubs your shoulder, as he makes his way outside.

"You okay y/n?" She questions as she kneels next to you rubbing circles around your back, trying to soothe you.

"She’s just so complicated, I'm trying everything and we just can't seem to make it work. I didn't want to tell anyone, because I don't want anyone knowing how much of a fuck up I am but, we're in couples therapy"

"There's nothing embarrassing about that y/n , Jesse and I did that too" she confesses. Your ears perk up and you lift your head from your hands.

"Really?"

"Yes, after I had JJ I struggled with horrible postpartum depression, and Jesse felt like it was his fault, and then we started drifting apart, so we saw a counsellor."

"Was it, i don't know... did it help?" You sniffle, while looking up at her expectantly.

"Obviously our relationship will never go back to how it was at the start, we'll never get back the honeymoon period , but we managed to mend the broken bits of our relationship. Trust me y/n wounds mend over time." You smile up at her, sniffling while you wipe away your tears and hug her.

The front door opens, and Ellie and Jesse make their way back into the dining room. Jesse smiles up at you, empathetically and sits down next to Dina, leaving a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Y/n , let's go" Ellie murmurs softly as she stands by the dining rooms arched entryway. You look at Dina and she nods, getting up and walking you to the door.

-

"Thank you so much D, it was amazing before... you know. But either way, the food was amazing. Jesse I said the dinner was great"

"No problem, and I'll pass your regards to the chef" she smiles and hugs you as you climb into the passenger seat.

"Ready to go?" Ellie asks as she turns to look at you, you mutter a quick yes and she starts the engine of the car. You ignore her for the rest of the car ride, a tactic you know will always get to her, as she is insatiable for attention at all times. Instead of going the route to your home, she pulls into a secluded are, of what you assumed was a recreational park.

"I'm sorry." She says firmly, grabbing your face by the chin to look at you, eye to eye.

"I don't forgive you." You spit back, as you turn back to the windshield and cross your arms like a child.

"The attitude, really?" She questions, you can hear the smirk rising in her voice.

"Mhm, it's what you deserve." She starts unbuckling her belt and you can't help but clench around nothing, you loved when she was dominant like that.

"Can I fuck you, right here, right now?" She questions, you're still pissed at her, livid if anything but you can't deny her, you needed the hate sex. No you CRAVED it.

"Fine" you act nonchalant, when in reality, you're drooling, sopping wet. You're sure there's a snail trail left behind on your underwear.

Whimpering with need, you slip your free hand up your dress, push aside your panties, and toy with your clit. She rubs, back and forth, twice and then reaches for your breasts . You mewl the moment she begins to knead them. Your wife begins pinching your nipple and tugging at it. While your fingers grow slick with your own juices.

She begins to bunch up your dress, pulling it up and over your shoulders. You greedily move your body in a way that allows  her to do so. Neither of you waste any time. Her hands are on your hips, and you are swinging your leg over so that you can straddle her.

Ellie mouths your cleavage, her tongue leaving trails of saliva that follow as she kisses her way down. You place your hands on her shoulders to keep your from falling as she leans you backwards. You can feel the strap prodding you. You ground down against it, earning an array of curses.

She positions you on your hands and knees so that you are stretched across the leather seats. Her fingers dip into your panties and for a moment, before she retracts, making you all the more greedy.

She tugs your panties down. The strap teasing your entrance, swiping along your folds. She fucks your outer lips, her hands guiding your hips back and forth. Drool begins to trail out of the corner of your lips, and you slurped what you could back into your mouth so that you don't give her the satisfaction of knowing you are aroused.

"You don't deserve this, pussy" you moan, not caring how out of breath you are, or how petty you sound. She snaps her hips forward angrily, stroking the spot inside of you that has your legs nearly in spasms. She knows your body so well.

"Really, cause by the way you're squeezing on me, it seems like I do" she replies cockily, before letting out a loud groan. Her lips are now on your neck, her body envelops  yours as she thrusts wildly in and out of you. You turn your head to the side, catching her lips. Your tongues danced together, hers working against yours more fiercely when she begins to toy with your clit with two fingers.

Your vision blurs, eyelids flutter as your orgasm washes over you. Her hands keep you from collapsing. Neither of you made the move to break apart for several seconds. You enjoy the feeling of her so full inside of you, of her holding you as you both come down from your high.

"I love you" she pants as she slips out, you let out a loud wince at the emptiness. You turn back around and quickly search for your dress and throw it back on.

"Then start acting like it." You say to her, as you pull down your dress and buckle yourself in.

[6thofapril1917]

Funny Girl

BLIND DATES FEST 2024

Introducing: Magdalena "Maggie" Zielinski (ft. Ken Lemmons) I'm so excited to be participating in @blind-dates-fest 2024! Thank you to @mercurygray for hosting. I didn't even realize this was happening until today, but I just knew I had to participate. Meet Maggie, your new favorite ground crew girl - I hope you guys love her as much as I do. Show: Masters of the Air

“And that’s how you clean a hardstand.”

Maggie whooped as she watched the fuel go up in flames. Somehow, despite hardstand cleaning being a near-daily occurrence in the ground crew’s lives, watching the oil burn off the concrete never really lost its allure.

“That’s one hot bastard!” the boy next to Lemmons yelled, voice full of a wonder entirely at odds with the profanity that spilled from his lips. Maggie burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” a small, oh-so-English voice asked.

“Nothing, Grace,” she replied, trying desperately to smother her laughter. “Now try to keep your head still for me, okay?”

For an air base, Thorpe Abbotts sure had a lot of children running around. And by god, had those kids already seen enough war to last a lifetime.

So, in between fixing engines and cleaning hardstands, she and the rest of the ground crew did their best to make sure that their childhood memories wouldn’t entirely consist of air raids and rationing.

Grace was a sweet, shy little girl with a mop of shiny brown hair and perpetually dirty knees. That afternoon, she’d scurried up to Maggie and asked her, voice barely louder than a whisper, if Maggie could please plait her hair the way she plaits hers because she thinks it’s really pretty and she’s tried to do it herself but it never looks quite right.

Maggie had obliged, obviously—how on earth could she ever say no? Besides, she was glad that at least someone on base appreciated her hairstyle. She knew her two twin braids weren’t the most fashionable hairdo on earth, but they kept the hair out of her eyes better than anything else she’d tried. Lord knew there was nothing worse than having to constantly swipe flyaways out of your face when repairing a fort.

Her hands made light work of Grace’s hair. For all that it looked wild and unkempt, it was surprisingly soft. She tied off each braid with a little piece of cord—she wished she had ribbons, but this would have to do for now.

“All done,” she said as she finished tying the last knot. “You look swell.”

Grace turned and smiled, missing teeth and all. 

“Thank you!” she cried.

“No problem, sweetheart,” Maggie replied. “I don’t got a mirror for you, but I think Helen might have one. Maybe you can convince her to give you a donut, too.”

She didn’t have to tell her twice. The girl leapt off of the stack of crates which the two were sitting on and bolted off, braids flapping in the wind.

“That was pretty damn sweet of you, Zielinski.” 

Ken Lemmons had just finished shooing the two boys off the hardstand as the fuel fire quickly petered out. 

Maggie looked up. Had any other man on base told her that, she would have assumed he was making fun of her. With Lemmons, there was never any doubt that the man was being genuine. It was just the way he was.

“Well, not all of us can teach the kids to swear and light things on fire,” she replied.

Lemmons chuckled.

“Hey, you thought it was funny, too. I’m pretty sure the whole base could hear you cackling.”

“Oh, please, I wasn’t that loud, was I?” she asked, face flushing. “Oh, who am I kidding. Getting that little Englishman to curse was the funniest thing I’ve seen all week.”

Lemmons began to snicker. It was contagious. Before she knew it, Maggie was laughing to.

“C’mon,” he said, holding out a hand. “The forts’ll be back any minute. We’d better get ready.”

“Yeah,” Maggie replied, accepting his outstretched hand and hopping off the crates. “I suppose we should.”