#DO I SMELL A HINT OF GRAPES

[happilyhertale]

Fire and blood - Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Author’s note: Before I got into my usual summary, this fic is part of a collab with a bunch of my lovely moots! @lady-phasma came to us with an ask about period sex and Daemon and being as lovely as she is, she offered us all the chance to collab on it. Choosing our own characters and how to play the story.

Please find the masterlist of everyone's fics here.

English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Summary: You haven't been married to your husband Daemon Targaryen for very long - but you've learnt to enjoy your marriage to the Rogue Prince. But unlike normality, you haven't sought out Daemon for a few affectionate visits throughout the day, and that makes him suspicious…

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Period smut; fingering (f in v), p in v sex - implied

Word count: 2.2 k

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Daemon opens the door, but only darkness reveals itself to him. He raises his eyebrows slightly, but steps into your shared chambers. He is looking for his wife, who has been by his side for several moons now.

During this time, he has already become accustomed to you seeking him out throughout the day, sometimes just to get a little peck and sometimes because you want to tell him something - but today you have not sought him out.

His heavy footsteps sound in your chambers as he walks further inside.

"Are you hiding from me, woman?" he murmurs.

He walks over to a small table with fruit and sweet dishes on it. He takes a bunch of grapes between his fingers before letting them disappear into his mouth.

"Has another moon gone by?" he asks into the room and turns to your bed, where he recognises the outline of a figure under the covers. A slight grin plays around his lips before he walks towards the bed.

But as he gets closer, he picks up an unusual scent.

"What's that smell?" he asks.

And suddenly your voice rings out, "It's oak bark tea... My abdomen is a cramp," you mumble from under the covers.

He's still smiling and comes closer to the bed.

"What have we got here? I wonder what trouble could be brewing under here," he says, reaching lightly for the blanket.

"No... Go away," you say quietly and try to hold the blanket tight.

But Daemon pulls the blanket down further and kneels on the bed with one knee.

"Ah... there you are... what a view," he says sarcastically as the blanket reveals your face. Your hair lies dishevelled on the pillow, your face a little sleepily puffy as your annoyed gaze meets his. "Yes....my beautiful wife," he says and smiles. He pulls the blanket down further and a "Go away," sounds from you again.

He smiles at your words, "Why would I do that when I have such a sight in front of me?" he says, a hint of sarcasm still in his voice again.

You sigh and try to turn away, but you feel Daemon kneel down further on the bed and his hand grips you gently.

"Ah, ah, ah," he says and lies down next to you, his arm wrapped around your middle.

His warm breath brushes the back of your neck as he presses his face into yours, "What's wrong," he whispers.

You sigh again and already feel his large, surprisingly warm hand on your abdomen... a warm touch of your dragon.

"I'm bleeding..." you say almost inaudibly, but Daemon hears your words and smiles slightly. He knows how you feel during your period. You're vulnerable and sleepy. The cramps force you to lie down and only warmth and strange teas from the maesters give you some relief... well, and other things.

But you're his wife and according to him, you should always feel carefree - but he can't refrain from teasing you a little.

"Pardon?" he whispers, smiling slightly, while you sigh lightly again.

"I'm bleeding..." you repeat your words and mumble into your pillow.

"Love..." he whispers again.

You close your eyes and feel this inner tension that tickles your fingertips.

"I'm on my period," you say a little louder into the pillow.

"Love... Sorry, I don't understand," Daemon replies and his lips graze your neck.

His behaviour makes you seethe, why can't he leave you alone?

"Daemon! Seven hells! I'm on my period! I'm in pain and I'm bleeding!", you call out and raise your head slightly.

He chuckles, "It's fine... no need to shout like that..."

You shake your head slightly, wanting to push his arm away, but he has a firm grip on you. His hand slides slowly downwards, his fingers make light, circular movements and you stiffen slightly.

"Daemon, what are you doing," you suddenly whisper.

"I want you to feel good, love... It'll help you relax..." he murmurs into your ear, nibbling lightly.

You gasp and hold his hand back, "Daemon... there's blood... a lot... it's the first day..." you say hesitantly.

He continues to nibble on your earlobe, his fingers sliding along your thigh, not in the least impressed by your words.

"You know there's nothing to be ashamed of. A woman's body is a natural, beautiful thing.... It's beautiful because it's you," he kisses your cheek and lets his nose glide gently along it. His hand strokes along your thigh and you feel a slight throbbing between your thighs alongside the numbing pain in your abdomen.

"Do you want me to take care of you?" he whispers, kissing the soft skin behind your ear.

You bite your lip lightly, but you shake your head slightly.

"Daemon... There really is a lot of blood..." you repeat your words quietly.

He chuckles softly again, another kiss landing on your neck, "Love... a true warrior isn't afraid of a little blood..." he murmurs.

His hand slides further, "Just relax..." he whispers and you try. Slowly, you close your eyes and try to concentrate on his touch as a heavy breath leaves your lips.

Gently, he kisses your neck and shoulder as he holds you close."It's nothing to be ashamed of either. Especially not my wife. It's natural," he whispers in your ear.

His fingers pull your nightgown up, very slowly. His fingers leave a fiery trail on your thigh and you try to ignore the dull ache that runs through your abdomen.

You can't suppress it, your hips begin to move in slight circular motions as his fingers glide through your pubic hair, caressing you. You gasp as you can already feel his arousal from behind as he presses himself lightly against you.

His fingers reach their destination, slowly running along your folds, and you gasp again – your legs spread slightly.

"That's it... I'll take care of you..." he whispers in your ear and you nod slightly.

The sweetest moan escapes your lips as his fingers find your pearl and apply light pressure. Your legs spread wider and a smile graces his lips.

"Daemon..." you gasp.

"I know..." he whispers, nibbling on your earlobe again as his fingers rub gently over your clit.

"Your body is natural and beautiful. Even in all its bloody glory," he whispers and you nod, your breathing quickening.

He kisses you on the cheek again as his fingers tease over your glistening entrance, gently spreading your folds.

You feel the familiar stretch as his fingers slide inside you. But not all the way in, he teases you a little and you exhale heavily, your hips moving towards his fingers, longing for his touch. And then he fulfils your craving – his fingers stretch your walls, trying to find a good angle, pushing deeper. He revels in the slickness that coats his fingers, the evidence of your arousal mingling with the blood that flows.

"Feel how wet you are for me," he whispers teasingly, his smile pressing against the back of your neck.

"Daemon!" you gasp, but also a small moan leaves your lips.

He chuckles briefly, but your concentration is once again fully on his movements as his fingers penetrate deeper.

"Gods..." you gasp and he grins. Slowly, but firmly, his fingers push forward. He can feel your walls clench, longing for release.

"You know I love all the sounds you make, but I love your moans the most. I can feel your walls tighten around my fingers as if your body wants to hold me inside you while I make you tremble..." he whispers in your ear.

You moan again as his thumb grazes your pearl. He continues his expert ministrations, he is determined to make you forget the discomfort, to lose yourself in a wave of pleasure that only he can provide.

His fingers curl inside you, beckoning you as his thumb presses against your clit again.  You press your arse against his hardness and he moans into your neck. As he feels your hips moving towards his fingers, urging for more, he complies, increasing the intensity of his movements. He curls his fingers, angling them to hit that sweet spot within you, knowing exactly how to drive you wild with desire.

"Moan for me…" he commands, his voice laced with dominance, "Let me hear your pleasure, let it echo through these chambers."

And you obey as his fingers thrust deeper. He bites into your neck as his fingers tease your walls. His fingers continue their exploration, delving deeper inside you, seeking out the spots that make you writhe with pleasure. He maintains a steady rhythm, his touch skilled and attentive to your body's responses.

Smacking noises echo in your chambers as his fingers pump in and out faster. His fingers sliding in and out of your wetness with ease. With each thrust of his fingers, he can feel the slickness and warmth of your arousal, heightening his own desire.

He starts to apply more pressure and lets a third finger slide in. He knows what you like and he gives it to you the way you need it. He stretches your walls while they continue to clench around his fingers. Daemon's eyes gleam with a mixture of desire and possessiveness as he feels your response to his touch. He revels in the power he holds over your pleasure, his fingers moving with a practiced precision.

"Oh, my sweet wife," he murmurs, the words laced with a mixture of possessiveness and anticipation. "You are so responsive, so eager for my touch."

His body presses against yours, his hard length grinding against your backside as he continues to pleasure you with his fingers. His lips find your ear, his breath hot against your skin. Your fear of smearing him with your blood is forgotten, you need more.

"Daemon... Daemon," you whimper again and again, your arm reaching back, to the back of his head. Your fingers reach into his silky hair and he grunts. As he continues to drive you towards the peak of pleasure, Daemon's own desire grows, his need for release becoming undeniable. But at this moment, he's focused solely on your pleasure, on taking you to the edge and beyond, on helping you forget your discomfort.

"Yes... my love... Come on, come on my fingers, milk them like you always milk my cock when I fuck that delicious cunt," he growls into your neck.

And that pushes you over the edge. You cry out, your walls tightening around his fingers and Daemon grunts out.

You whimper, your hand gripping his hair tighter as he kisses your neck. Your eyes are closed, your breathing rapid as he pulls his fingers out when your walls stop clenching. A pleasant warmth flows through your abdomen, soothing away the pain more effectively than every maester's tea could.

As you catch your breath, you glance slightly over your shoulder and look at Daemon. He chuckles as he looks at his fingers, they're covered in blood.

"This is a sight I couldn't have imagined at the beginning of the day..", he kisses your neck again, "But I'm going to enjoy it“, he whispers into your ear.

"Daemon, no!" you say with wide eyes.

He just grins as you avert your eyes and blush. You hear the smacking sound as he licks his fingers.

But now you have to laugh as you stare at him again – his eyes are closed and he seems to be enjoying it.

"You're impossible..." you say softly as he still licks his fingers.

"Daemon, stop it!" you say and giggle, but he just grins and pulls you closer to him again.

"Delicious," he murmurs.

He starts stroking and caressing your belly again.

His breathing slows down as he holds you close. The sounds and smell of you, your little body in his embrace, it's almost more than he can bear at this moment.

He gently grabs your chin, as if he were holding something fragile and precious, and gently pulls your head upwards. When you return his gaze, it is gentle and tender.

"And you are my wife. You may feel sick, you may bleed, sometimes I may even be the cause of your anger. But that's all part of your body's natural rhythm. So please, my sweet girl, never hide from the pain, never keep your misery a secret. Otherwise, I promise you, it will cause me more grief than your blood..." he says gently. These moments with him are rare, but you savour them – your lovely husband. You lean towards him and let your lips slide onto his. He growls slightly and you feel his hand on your arse. You giggle slightly and feel his smile on your lips.

But the grip on your arse tightens and he pulls you towards him, positioning you perfectly against his crotch. He still can't hide his excitement and you gasp slightly. Your lips are still dancing around each other, you can feel the coppery taste on his tongue as he starts to undo his trousers. He growls again as his hand spreads your cheeks slightly and presses his hardness between your thighs from behind. You whimper as his cock slides along your folds.

"Let's see if we can give you a little more relief, shall we?" he growls against your lips and you moan as the tip of his cock presses against your slick entrance.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

[trulyumai]

sweet wine and messy lips

pairing: emperor geta / empress! reader

synopsis: in which geta and his wife get drunk. even clumsy and lost in a stupor, the emperor still tries to adore you in his own way.

warnings: geta talking down to people, grabbing.

a/n: im re-entering my heimdall phase (gow2) so be on the lookout for that and I apologize in advance for another hyper fixation taking me over completely

enjoy!

your hand nudged the goblet towards geta, tipping it ever so slowly to his lips until a bright maroon dusted across the pink expansion.

“try it— you’ll like it my liege I swear it!”

Geta only scoffed, his cheeks red with drunken clumsiness.

“get that away from me, wife. I’d rather drink poison than to sip on such a disgrace of wine.”

you pouted instantly, already drunk yourself, the sweet wine wafted off your figure like a cheap oil. “pretty please, husband? it’s got all the flavors you like,”

listing them off slowly, your other hand began its decent up his arm and finding passage massaging his shoulder. Geta, ever soft for your hands couldn’t help but relax in such a comforting hold.

“cherries, a hint of cinnamon—“

gods you smelled divine.

so sweet, so alluring to the man that he could sweep you off your feet right then and there.

“did I say grapes? it has honey too, just the right amount—

“wife,” the emperor shuddered. your fingernails found their way up his chest, lightly circling and smoothing their way across it as you were lost in thought, too busy naming of ingredients instead of paying attention to the now flustered lord.

“wife!” Geta interrupted, seizing your moving hand with his own ringed one.

fearing you did something wrong, your posture instantly froze; rigid and stiff.

‘calmly, you fool.’ Geta’s thoughts rang out, his grip lightened and with a feathery touch made its way to the jawline just in front of him.

clenched and tightened with stressful thinking.

“I… apologize, little wife,” he finally gritted out. you were so beautiful tonight. it’s as if the stars molded across your eyes and lit up the expansion of your pupils with untold dreams and conquests.

He wanted to drown in them.

“im tired, hm?”

your lip wobbled before a look of surprise took over the reddened and messy features you displayed.

“of course, my emperor! how could I be so silly?”

getting up off the man’s lap, you felt a tug upon the material of your robe.

it was light, but firm enough for you to turn your neck back around with a slow uneasiness and to the emperor once more.

he laid comfortably against the seat, sagging into it while his legs spread with enough of a widened expansion for your body to mold into.

his arm, the one that wasn’t connected to your delicate robes— sat against the ginger hairs littering his head, with his fingers pushed against the pale temple, making his upper body lean to the side.

he looked relaxed. happy, one might say.

“you will return with me, won’t you, wife?” although it sounded like a question, you knew it wasn’t.

even in your drunken state, the man’s stature—his temper is a trait you won’t easily forget.

so instead of having one more glass, like you had intentions of doing, you nodded in agreement.

it’s all geta needed to hear, or rather, see before clumsily gathering himself out of the throne.

instantly, the party goers raised, bowing their head completely before the man could demand them of it.

usually, the emperor would make a show of this. mumble on about how well trained they are, how obedient.

“their more like animals,” he would scoff, laughing vehemently while tugging you along. possessive fingers grazing your waist with the cool feeling of the rings brushing against any revealing skin.

such a touch brought you back to the present, cold and calculated against the backside of your dress.

following your husbands bounding steps, you avoided the looks that were thrown your way. it wasn’t wise to get drunk in front of so many people, you knew it wasn’t.

but geta had insisted.

“we’re winning the war, dearest.” he had all but giggled, pouring heaps of wine into your (once) empty goblet.

“I ordered it special for you, drink up before Caracalla gets to it, hm?”

you had peered into the drink with newfound interest. a little smile entered your face and pushed against your cheeks. such a sight almost made the emperor flustered—he’d blame it on the wine, most definitely.

it was indeed a light red, the color of the sweet wine you always loved to sip on. upon closer inspection, the smell made its way up and into your senses.

what was a few drinks? you had thought. And with a quick note of appreciation to your husband, the goblet had graced your lips.

who knew it would bring you here, barely holding yourself up against geta as you both made way for the chambers?

his left palm spread out easily against your back. with a firm hold he took lead, guiding you through the stone walls and to the bed that was calling his name.

his other hand braced against the rough wall to the side—just in case he needed to push against it.

“husband?” he heard you call out, with a low drawled out hum, geta responded.

“thank you for the wine.” your sweet voice spoke so low.. so softly against the muffled laughter and voices that spilled out of the throne room.

his fingers came up to the back of your neck, seizing it with a loving grip before his lips crashed upon the top of your head.

he had aimed for your cheek, but this will do.

“anything for you, lovely.” geta purred against the softened locks, already his arms snuck their way under your buttocks, groping and touching the flesh there.

the guards had to move a bit behind, just beside the corner of the wall to avoid any further groping and kissing that was being displayed.

it was turning out to be a sweet night indeed.

[atsoomi]

"I'm disappointed in you." 

There are times in your relationship with Nanami where you feel like you're dating a forty year old father rather than a twenty eight year old sorcerer, now is one of them. You set your cup of tea down and inch closer to him on the couch, having been through this many times before."You always say that." 

He sighs, "you always disappointed me."

You laugh and place your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arm around his firm bicep. He smells like jasmines and white grapes, your favorite deodorant, one you've been using before you even met. Ever since you introduced him to it, he hasn't been anywhere without smelling like jasmines, without smelling like you. You bury your nose in his suit to take it in, humming against his shoulder.

"A bad grade isn't the end of the world babe." You speak, craning your neck to look up at him through your lashes, hoping that your allure would be enough to get him to abandon the grade report paper— the damn paper that's stealing all his attention right now. How'd you lose to a piece of paper? 

"I know," he sighs, again, "but I specifically helped you with this subject. Was my aid not sufficient? Do you need a private tutor?" 

His voice shouldn't be so raspy and sexy when he's scolding you like a disappointed father, but it is, and you can't do anything about it except pretend to show remorse so he can kiss you breathless when he's done.  

"No, you're good enough, baby. I just made a few dumb mistakes on the final, don't worry about it." You kiss his cheek, wrapping your arms around his neck. One of his arms comes up to wrap around your waist and you internally cheer at the small win. 

"I see. You'll do better next time, then?" He turns to look at you and your faces become so close that you can feel his warm breath against your lips,your stomach aches with desire to close the gap. Mindlessly, you nod, "mhm." 

"Good," his eyes move down to your lips and your heart skips a few beats in anticipation, "then I trust you're ready for punishment if you don't improve next time?" 

The word punishment when he's so close sets your nervous system on fire, you feel your breathing accelerate, your response comes out breathless. "You can do anything you want to me Ken, I'm all yours." 

He smiles slowly, "anything?" 

"Anything." 

"Good," he pauses, "next time you get a bad grade, we'll be sleeping in separate beds." 

It takes you a minute to process what he said and leave the lavender haze you were so conveniently drowning in a few minutes ago, but the shift in tone doesn't stop there. The arm around your waist retracts and you feel like the carpet's been pulled out from under your feet, he looks back at the report card. 

"It's truly a shame that I put so much effort into helping you and you lost so many marks over dumb mistakes." He stands up and you're left leaning on air. "I expected better from you," he shakes his head in disapproval, making his way to your bedroom. 

Your mind is malfunctioning but you slowly realize he's about to lock himself in, effectively prohibiting you from your daily Nanami dose. You stand up immediately, stumbling over the couch as you try to regain balance. 

"Wait nanami, babe, wait, where are you going!" 

He continues walking as you trail after him, he actually starts speed walking, you have to start running. "I'm leaving you alone to reflect on your actions, maybe that'll make you rethink when you're making dumb mistakes."

"Oh my god, Kento," you catch up to him, pulling on his blazer like a desperate child, "when I said I wanted you to be my daddy I didn't mean like this." 

He finally stops and turns to look at you, you can see a rare smile on his face, maybe even a hint of teasing. 

"Well it's a full package," he wraps his arms around you again and you sigh in relief, "you either take it all or leave it." 

You pout and poke his chest, "you're so mean to me." He kisses your forehead, the smile he kisses you with causing a warm tingle in your chest, "I'm only disciplining you my love. I go too easy on you sometimes." 

You rest your chin on his chest, wrapping your arms around him as you look up, "I like it when you're easy on me though." 

He laughs, a low rare sound that rings inside your shared apartment, a sound you don't think he produces outside of these walls, and the deep vibrations it sends from his chest to yours makes your heart sing. The sight of his laughing face, the kindness in his eyes, the sweet taste of his lips that you know you'll get to try every day from here till forever— you love nanami kento, and everything is alright.

"I know," he plants a soft peck on your lips, pulling up to admire your face before he goes in for a full kiss, making the teasing all worth it, "I know, my love."

[fairytsuk1]

no caller id | (s)

apart of maki's kinktober: the 2024 anthology

prompt: ghostface, exhibition/voyeurism, stalking

pairing: alex quackity x reader

words: 6.1k

warnings: scream!au, mentions of murder and violence, stalking, exhibition and voyeurisms, stockholm syndrome, friends to lovers, masturbation, phone sex, oral sex, vaginal sex, condom usage

There were few things you and Alex disagreed on. You had your moments, sure, but you were thick as thieves. Anyone and everyone could see that. You were his, and he was yours, “it’s totally not romantic, just platonic companionship!”

So, you got along well. Horror movies, though… That was one unfortunate, disagreeable thing between you two. You would go all in with the popcorn and the candy and top it off with a fuzzy blanket draped over your form. Alex would signify his leave the minute you got comfortable before acquiescing and sitting next to you, face anxious and full of fear as he sat still.

He just wasn’t the type of person to indulge in such media. That’s why seeing Alex so enthralled in the Ghostface killings happening around town was so utterly shocking. He flips his phone towards you, and you’re graced with gory crime scene photos and a news article, “Alex! I don’t wanna see that.”

Alex sighs and nods before showing you another photo as he leans across your countertops. He’d come over for a late-night study session, but after too many Celsius drinks, it was safe to say that you were not going to pass your exam.

“This happened right by your dorm! You should see, you’ve gotta stay safe with that killer out there.”

He says it in the midst of your kitchen, wearing your too-big t-shirt and too-big sweatpants. He was fretting over you. It’s so domestic, your heart squeezes at the fond way he gazes at you; he’s warmth and love that tastes like the finest wine. You couldn’t get too distracted admiring the dotted freckles on his cheeks and wisps of dark hair, no. That wasn’t platonic of you. You shake your head, “I don’t care. I just don’t wanna get freaked out by that stuff.”

Alex hums and scrolls some more. He’s withholding, and your fingers come to poke at his ribs, “what?”

“You probably don’t want to know who died then, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

You give him an incredulous look with raised eyebrows. Alex makes a face and looks away before snapping back to look at you. He hems and haws before the words slip past his lips faster than he can stand them.

“Carlos Rodriguez, ring a bell? Says here he was dismembered walking home–”

“Oh god! Stop, that’s…” horrifying.

“That was the guy you went on a date with,” he pops a grape into his mouth like it was the most casual thing in the world, “right?”

“Yeah, yeah. It was.”

He observes you for a moment. Your eyes look guilty, and he can’t place why. It makes something inside of him twinge. He’s rounding the counter in seconds and wrapping an arm around your shoulder in a protective embrace. Alex smells like warm musk, spicy with a hint of cinnamon. You instinctively curl towards him and bury your face in his neck. He was always comforting.

Alex preens when you go in for the hug, feeling your chest squish against his as he pulls you close to him, “it’s alright. He’s in a better place now! You have me; I’ll keep you safe.”

It’s a sweet sentiment. As if Ghostface would come after the two of you. You try not to hone in on his ‘you have me.’ He was considerate of your feelings and wanted to make you feel safe. Your heart pitter-patters in your chest. His hand rubs small circles on your back, and you shudder, pressing closer to his warmth.

You both stay like that. Alex keeps you enveloped within him for as long as he can, purring soft comforts into the shell of your ear. His lips brush against the sensitive skin before he picks you up into his arms and drags you to the couch. 

“Come on. It’s movie night!”

It doesn’t really leave your mind, though, even as you sidle up close to Alex while re-watching your favorite movies.

“And you’ve known Alex for how long?”

A gaggle of your friends sit around your dorm, Christina being the first to start the interrogation. It’d been a week since Carlos had been killed, and you’d been spending all your time with Alex. It was for safety, you said. It’s just so nothing happens, you reiterated. Your friends knew better.

“Five years? Six?”

“Oh my god! He wants to date you,” Imane exclaims. “It’s obvious, he buys your lunch, you guys cuddle: you just need to man up!”

“Woman up,” Noah emphasizes before sipping on his beer. “But I agree, he’s got it bad for you.”

You sit in the center with flushed cheeks, “we’re just friends, guys!”

“Friends who wanna fuck,” Christina adds with a laugh.

“But isn’t it suspicious he hasn’t made a move yet? Like, what’s he waiting for?”

“Guys, come on. He’s not bad or suspicious or anything! He’s just shy…”

You defend your man, but Noah blurts out the unthinkable. The inconceivable.

“Maybe he’s Ghostface!”

The silence was deafening against your speakers, humming a tune of bedroom pop; you could hear your blood rushing in your ears. You all pin Noah with a deep stare. How could he say that?

“That’s not funny, Noah.”

“I’m not saying anything! I’m just saying maybe he doesn’t want to date you because he’s too busy chopping up people’s bodies or something.”

“Noah! Enough,” you cry with hands covering your ears. “I’m not listening to you! I don’t want to listen to you.”

“Listennn, I like the guy. Trust-wise? He’s on my list.”

What if he was? Can you tell? You’re not sure, and you think about it for a while. There was something about the Ghostface persona that you’d initially joked about being hot, but that was before it hit so close to home. You were unsure and unsettled. Alex couldn’t be capable of something so horrid. He was your best friend and, admittedly, your crush. It just wasn’t believable.

You’re stuck in your head for the rest of the kickback. Alex had said he couldn’t come; he was “swamped with homework.” It wasn’t exactly believable since you shared a Google Calendar together: even more definitive proof of you two toeing the line between friends and lovers, a sentiment echoed by your friend group.

The sun sets into an inky black night, and your friends are filed out of the room. You’re left alone and freezing. A hot shower might do you some good. You take your time. The bathroom fills with its warm steam as you turn the knob and let your clothes drop one by one. Your phone rings. Your wrist is dampened from the brief spray of water, pulling out your arm to decline the call.

They call again, and you’re huffing as you swing your phone up to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” a gritty voice filters through and purrs your name. “Getting ready for bed?”

You know in your heart who it is. That telltale voice, the way he repeated your name… Ghostface had asked you a question, and your legs tremble as your mouth gapes, “it’s in your best interest to answer.”

“Yes! Yes, I am,” you squeak out.

“That’s nice. I like your panties. Teddy bears? How cute.”

“How do you know that?”

Your voice is firm, yet its slightest wobble makes Ghostface chuckle. This couldn’t be happening. It was impossible. The shower drips and sputters in the background as your breathing grows heavier. It was impossible.

“Let’s play a game. Tell me your favorite scary movie.”

Unshed tears glisten in your eyes, “I don’t want to.”

“You have to. What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“I don’t know! Please, I don’t–”

“I’m not gonna kill you, so just answer the fucking question, pretty girl.”

Rivulets of tears stream down your cheeks as you choke out an answer. The panic and sickening arousal courses through you. He kept complimenting you, making you feel all gooey inside, all while the threat of his power loomed over you like a fog that grew thicker every moment you stood in fear. He grew on your fear, he devoured it whole.

“I like the Chucky movies.”

Ghostface laughs, and it’s so familiar, but then he’s going from joyful to mad as he teases you over the phone.

“Ah, with the doll? Not as big of a fan of me, hmm?”

“Y-You’re scaring me,” you whisper, phone clenched in your fist. “What do you want from me?”

There’s a deep pause before he continues.

“I just wanted to play with you before bed. You should show yourself off more,” he hums and then sighs. “Enjoy the shower, pretty.”

He can’t help but add, “you don’t know what you do to me.”

Click. Ghostface hangs up, and your dreadful face stares back at you in the mirror. Were you meant to feel slick between your thighs as Ghostface lulled sweet compliments towards your body? No, it was wrong! It was so bad that you had to gnaw on your lip to prevent yourself from pressing the “call back” button.

Water streams down your forehead and nose, pooling at your feet before sliding down the drain. Your hands run through your soaked strands with a slight tremble as you sniffle, wondering if that murderer stands under a similar stream of water to watch crimson flow down the drain. You can’t get it out of your head as you towel off and slip on silky pajamas. Your heavy body sinks into the covers, and you stare at the ceiling. It’s almost on instinct for you to reach over with a huff and pull up Alex’s contact.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I can’t sleep,” you murmur as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “Will you come over?”

You can hear him yawn, and you’re quick to apologize even as he waves you off, “don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll be there soon.”

Barely ten minutes pass by before a gentle knock sounds at your door. There’s a stream of light as he enters that shines and is then blown out when he closes the door behind him.

Alex tiptoes in, toeing his shoes off by the door, “I’m here.”

You’re already breathing heavily and scooting over to give him more room. Alex looks at your sleepy eyes that stare back at him in the dark, joining you and slipping under your fluffy duvet to get close to you. You aren’t touching, but you’re so damn close. You need him closer, and the need to feel his skin against yours is overwhelming your entire being.

“Can we cuddle?”

Alex adjusts with his head on his hand, arm bent, and lying on your pillow as you snuggle a little closer, “yeah. C’mere.”

A buff arm wraps around your figure, and it’s heavenly. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and inhale his freshly showered scent, making you instantly relax in his arms. Your feet tangle with his, and he lets out a soft hiss at the cool feeling of your toes against his ankles. You both fall asleep, tangled in soft breaths, and the comfort of muscle looped around you. As you dream of nothingness, it then turns into something hapless.

“...Alex?”

Your voice is dreamy and wispy. You can hardly speak out, let alone yell out. Ghostface and Alex sit facing each other, and you call louder, eyes fluttering and blurring as you draw closer. You know it’s a dream, but you can’t help but take it as fact, as reality.

“What are you doing?”

They both turn towards you, Ghostface’s mask shaped in a long, menacing grin as he tilts his head towards you. Blood starts seeping from the edges of the mask and runs down its contours as it continues staring into your soul. You turn towards Alex, horrified to see him with a sickening grin as ruby red drops splatter on his face, “what’s wrong?”

There’s no reply as they both reach for you in a desperate bid to make you join whatever fucked-up seated circle they were reveling in. Revelling. That was the reason Alex was smiling. You awake with a gasping start.

It’s hard to focus on classes, on homework, on your relationships. You’d be holed up in libraries and study rooms with your ringer on in case another killing happened. They did happen, two in the same week. You couldn’t stop thinking, wondering if he’d sweet-talked his victims before brutally shoving the knife in deep till the fight leaked out of them. Did he call them, too?

You’d have told anyone, but there was no one to tell. Your friends would encourage you to tell the police, and there was no excuse for hiding something as crucial as a phone call from Ghostface. You’d be vilified within seconds. You couldn’t tell Alex, and it wasn’t even your fault. Alex had been distant. Busy, he’d said. Liar, you bit back.

He blew you off on the days you typically get lunch. He packed his bag up quickly as he bid you goodbye. The eye bags on his face only got darker and deeper, you were feeling worried. Maybe he was just as affected by the killings as you were. Just as affected by Ghostface as you were. It was still hurtful.

It hurt even more, knowing that your heart would beat rabbit fast at the thought of him. It was clear now, crystal. You liked Alex; you only wanted Alex. You thought this was mutual. You cuddled, were close, and shared your first kiss at a dumb high school party. Maybe he didn’t feel the same or care about your crestfallen expression as he urged ahead to leave class early.

You tried to repeat to yourself that he was just busy. Though you were unaware of it in his absence, Ghostface had you right where he wanted you. Open, pliable and all his. The phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” Ghostface elongates your name, and you can hear his smirk through the phone. “How are you?”

You should just hang up. You shouldn’t even entertain it, he needed to leave you alone. You press the phone closer to your ear.

“Please, stop calling me!”

“Mmm, no. I want to talk to you. Don’t deny me.”

“You just wanna talk because you’re a freak,” you retort and sit up in bed with your hands angrily fisting the sheets. “Leave me alone.”

“Freak?”

Ghostface bursts into a peal of deep laughter. It’s mocking, and you wonder if he’s watching you.

“The only freak here is you refusing to hang up the phone.”

“I-I’m not refusing! I’ll hang up right now–”

“But you won’t,” he interjects quickly. “I know you won’t.”

“And how do you know that? Maybe I’ll call the police!”

“I know you won’t do that, either.”

He’s right. You’re too stricken and impulsive, fighting every word he says with a monologue. Your teeth worry your lips as you take a deep breath, “are you watching me right now? Like in the shower?”

“Yes,” his breathing seems deeper. “I’m watching you right now. You look fantastic.”

“I’m just in my pajamas.”

“I like how they look.”

You shouldn’t indulge in this any longer. It was so wrong, and you were making yourself so vulnerable. Socked feet cross as you turn to glance out your window; there’s nothing there.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

A hand that has a mind of its own comes to the hem of your shirt. The mingled breaths between you two nearly echo on the call, and you’re slipping a hand under the cotton to touch your stomach.

“That’s a nice sight,” and there’s a rustling of fabric as he seemingly shifts positions. “What do you think you’re doing, hmm?”

“Testing you. If you were gonna kill me, you would’ve done it when I was in the shower.”

“I’m not so cliché.”

“Really? I beg to differ,” and you’re not sure where the confidence comes to set your phone down and peel your top off from your body.

Your nipples harden instantly as the cool air. You sit with your chest exposed and a rapid heartbeat, quickly putting the phone to your ear just to catch the briefest groan, “are you still there?”

“Of course. Take off your shorts.”

His command makes you hesitate. Were you really going to go through with this? Ghostface’s voice crackles in the still air, “don’t be shy.”

The drawstring is undone in seconds, loose fabric slipping down your thighs to your ankles before you unceremoniously kick them away.

“There, I did it,” you whisper as if someone was listening to your debauched call. There’s a long stretch of silence and rustling. “Hello?”

“You look really sexy like this,” he whispers in a breathy tone.

If you listen even closer, the wet squelch of him fisting his cock is obvious. Your hand starts at your collarbone and dips to squeeze your tits, “aah…!”

“Play with them, let me see.”

It doesn’t matter that he’s watching you from God knows where; your eyes slip closed as pathetic mewls escape your lips with every grope of your fingers.

“A-Ah, fuck,” you whisper before laying back to let another hand follow the curve of your sternum to the flat of your tummy. Ghostface openly moans when your manicure nails brush against your waistband. He moves his hand faster; you’re intoxicated by every ‘thwip’ of his fist as he jerks off.

“I wish I could touch,” his grunts echo, and he teases himself lewdly with his thumb running over his leaky slit. “I-I’ll fuck you so good.”

Your clit is throbbing when you finally start rubbing pathetic little circles. Writhing, your lips part to breathily whine out, “Ghostfaceee!”

“Ohmy, fuck. Put them inside. Fuck yourself, pretty.”

It’s easy to do what he says, your whole greedily sucks your fingers in deep. Your hand tweaks your nipple while your toes dig into your plush bed, “fffuck me! Oh my god, feels so good!”

“Gonna blow my load all over you—ngh, shit. I can’t wait to touch you for real. Yeah, yeah; fuck. Soak ’em for me.”

Ghostface’s rambling spurs you on, and your fingers rub right against that spongy spot that makes you convulse and gush all over your hand.

“Oh, fuuuck!”

Your face presses hard into the pillows as he cums. You could imagine his hips popping up as he came all over his knuckles. A few minutes pass, and the only thing audible is your mingling breath while you both come down from your eyes.

The phone is pressed to your ear as you eagerly ask if he’s still there.

“I am,” he says slowly. “Have a good night.”

“W-Wait!”

You call back several times, but they all go unanswered. He leaves you spoiled and naked in bed with a slick drying on your inner thighs.

The post-nut clarity left you sleepless and wondering if you had just made the biggest mistake of your life.

The guilt wears down on you like a weighted blanket; every square inch of your body can’t stop imagining the voice, and the guilt coats you in another heavy layer of shame. You try to fight back, but the fabric is never-ending, and you’re useless against its power.

You had to tell someone. Anyone. It has to be Alex; no one else needs to know anything other than him.

[you]: hey

[you]: will you come over?

[you]: need to talk to you

[alex]: be there in a few <3

The heart makes you smile. Locking your phone and setting it aside, you tug your knees to your chest in waiting. How would you tell him? More like admitting to him since you were undoubtedly hiding this fact of admiration because it was so shameful and wrong. Alex knocks lightly on your door, and your voice is shaky when you call, “come in!”

He looks calm, if a bit confused. Alex’s eyes scan you before sitting beside you on your plush bed. He always looks at you with those amber eyes that show pure devotion.

“What’s got you all wound up, huh?”

A gentle hand releases your knees from your embrace, Alex’s arm slinking past the back of your neck to cup you close by the shoulder. You tuck yourself into his side with ease. He hums for a bit, rousing you with a shake.

“Hello?”

“Sorry, it’s just… I don’t know. Something happened.”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yes! I’m okay,” you take a deep breath, and your head tilts up to peer at him with anxious eyes. “Just don’t freak out that bad, okay?”

He doesn’t reply, only maintaining eye contact as his thumb rubs circles into your soft skin.

“Ghostface… called me. We had a conversation.”

“...What?”

He says your name with a laugh, “you probably just got prank called!”

“No, Alex. I’m serious! Please,” you grab his shirt and tug him so close that your noses brush. “I talked to Ghostface, seriously. You need to believe me.”

“How do you even know it was really him, hm?”

Oh, you knew. The telltaletelltale scratchy voice. The deep, mirthy laugh. How he coaxed you to orgasm through simple words of, “you can go harder than that; I’ve seen you.”

“I-I just know. It was him, he was stalking me.”

“Okay… so Ghostface is coming after you?”

“I don’t know what he’s planning! I guess so,” you bury your face into his beauty mark-dotted neck. “I don’t know what to do. What if he’s just waiting to kill me?”

“No way. He’d be stupid, you already told me. I’m, like, almost a witness to it.”

That was true. Now that Alex knew if anything happened… you’d have someone to back you up. You squeeze him in gratefulness.

“Then what should I do? Hire a bodyguard!?”

“I don’t think you have bodyguard money,” he teases. “But I can always walk with you anywhere, everywhere. And what if–no, never mind.”

“Alex, you need to tell me everything you’re thinking,” you urge.

He looks apprehensive, teeth tugging his lip between them to gnaw at the sensitive skin. He looks all around your room, his eyes landing on a framed photo of the two of you at an amusement park. Alex is grinning while holding a peace sign; your hair flies wildly and without abandon as the sun shines down on you two, “what if we found a way to catch him? You know, set a bait.”

Your face twists up immediately.

“Bait? I’d be the bait! This is a horrible idea–”

“Hear me out! I’d be waiting there and see if he shows up. You could make sure it’s obvious you’re alone. Ghostface comes, I tackle him, and boom! We call the police, and he’s finally gonna be held accountable.”

Alex eyes you, “what do you say?”

It was such a dumb idea. Every part of you screaming to lock the door and shut the blinds. But you don’t. Alex texts you periodically to check in, but the plan was just an unsafe waste of time for a while. But your phone rings at half past eleven.

“...Hello?”

“Hiya,” he croons your name, and your blood runs cold.

“I’m hanging up!”

“Don’t you fucking dare, or I’ll gut Alex myself.

You whimper, “I don’t want to die!”

“Then play a game with me. How about warmer or colder?”

It gives you a sickening pause. You held Alex and your own life in the palm of your hands, the threat of losing what means most to you evident. Your valued life and love would be lost through the gaps of your fingers like rivulets of clear water. You stand.

You had to be brave for both of you.

“Are you in my apartment?”

“Now, you’re playing,” and he chuckles over the phone.

A thick gulp sticks in your throat as you swallow. Something takes you to the kitchen where you peer around the corner to gaze into the yellow-lighted tiles and counters filled to the brim with your things, “colder.”

“Where the fuck are you?”

Ghostface has no reply. You move away from the kitchen, soft steps padding against the ground like a knowing prey animal. You glance at the living room, eyes scanning for a Ghostface-shaped hiding spot.

“Warmer,” his voice lulls, and he sounds so fucking amused that it makes your heart clench.

“Where’s Alex?”

Ghostface has no reply, and you frustratedly groan at him over the phone, “watch your tone.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re bratty today, hm? All wound up over Alex?”

“Just stop talking about him!”

It makes warmth spread all past your cheeks and ears. You venture forward and stare at the looming hallway before you. Finally, you registered the tremble in your knees as they knocked against each other.

“Hot.”

Your hall closet stares menacingly at you, and your stomach drops. You got to turn, but his voice commands you to stop, “freezing!”

There’s a shake in your lip as your ears fill with salty tears that threaten to spill over onto your cheeks. You blink them away and take step by step closer. Breathing grows heavy and restricted before you’re standing before the hall closet.

“You’re on fire.”

The door is yanked open forcefully, revealing beige and white towels with silk sheets. There was no one there. He lied! Only then, does Ghostface leap from your bedroom door to wrap his arms around you from behind. You try to scream, but a gloved hand slots easily over your mouth as he begins to tug you.

You kick and scream and cry like a petulant child as you fight with all your power. He doesn’t seem all that interested in your pleas. He only grunts softly as you land whack upon whack on him. However, he’s undeterred as he hoists you up like a sack of potatoes on his shoulder.

“No! No, lemme go! Let. Me. Go!”

“Come on,” he drawls your name as he lays you flat and helpless on your back against the couch.

He easily fits over you and pins your wrists to the fluff of the furniture. The two of you stare at each other, and you’re panting wildly with fear and adrenaline. Ghostface adjusts to straddle you, sinking down till his hips are flush against yours.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“A-About what?”

“Fucking me. I know you have, you wanna know how I know?”

“Yes! Yes, please, just–”

The mask is ripped away to reveal a harsh, shocking truth. It’s Alex, sweaty with matted hair that sticks to his forehead. You nearly go limp from the shock and stress as he looks down at you with pleading eyes, “don’t shy away from me, now. You weren’t like this earlier.”

“I don’t, I don’t understand! W-What’s going on, ‘lex?”

You murmur his nickname desperately, watching as he gnaws on his plush bottom lip. His lip trembles as he peers at you, his hands loosening their grip on your wrists. You wiggle a hand free and wrap it around his shoulders, your hand splaying flat against his back and holding him protectively, “but why?”

“I needed you,” he croaks. “I needed you to realize you want me.”

He starts nosing at your neck, lips planting gentle kisses on the smooth expanse of your throat. A weak whine rises and dies from your lips.

“Alex, I–wait, this is!I–”

“What you’ve been craving, right? What you’ve been needing.”

He sucks on your pulse point, and you arch lewdly into his all-encompassing black robes. He’s sticky with spit as he collides the two of you together into a heady kiss.

It’s all you’ve been wanting, but it’s all the wrong circumstances. He presses with such need into you, such desperation; your mouth slips open wider to tangle with his syrupy tongue.

“That’s it,” he huffs and lightly rocks his bulge against your sweatpants.

He’s so hard, you can feel him shudder as he presses forward again to lightly hump against you.

“Wanted to just have you all to myself.”

He joins you once again to heavily make out, both of you growing more and more eager by the second. You bury yourself within him, his hand groping your breast with a groan of satisfaction.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” Alex tugs your earlobe with his teeth. “Every time we cuddled, hugged… I just wanted to fuck you to tears.”

It makes such a hot moan escape, your toes curling as you writhe beneath him.

“Fuck, really?”

“Yes, I needed you more than I could stand!”

Alex’s hands are eager as they skim your stomach to reveal more of your glowing skin. He bites his lip in anticipation, observing as the shirt reveals your perky tits; he can’t help but latch his mouth to your budding nipple and suck.

“Oh, fuuck. Alex, shit.”

“Feels good, right? Mmm, love how these feel.”

He grins before diving in and peppering love bites and suckles along your sensitive skin. Buff arms wrap around your middle and pull you closer, teeth grazing the underside of your tit; he laves a dark mark and pulls away with a wide smirk.

You realize Alex’s clothing is still on. You’re tugging his robes up the minute your eyes are able to focus–he was a god with his tongue, and you needed it more than just toying with your boobs.

“You need to take this, ngh, off.”

“Yeah, you want it off?”

“Don’t tease me, ‘lex. I wanna see you. Not Ghostface.

It gives Alex pause, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he pulls back to look at you.

“... You really mean it?”

“Yes,” you purr. “I really do.”

Alex quickly tugs off his draping outfit, sighing as his bare, caramel chest is given its glory. Suddenly, you see him for who he is. A man, a man you’re soaking your panties for. You need him like a fish needs water.

The two of you meld together like it’s all you’ve ever known. In a way, Alex is all you’ve ever known.

Your hands greedily feel him up, squishing his pecks and running your thumb over his hardening nipples. His hips pop once with a meek whimper escaping him, “I-I should be doing this to you.”

“But you’re not,” you taunt and latch your mouth to his chest and suck.

A keening whimper escapes Alex as his fingers tangle into your tresses, pushing his chest further into your tongue with a whine.

The two of you meet in a sloppy kiss, Alex pushing you onto your back as he leaves love bites down your neck. He leaves more on the other side of your breast, sucking soft, supple skin to leave bruises of remembrance.

Alex pauses, his eyes flickered to yours and a steamy gaze, “can I… Can I eat you out?”

It doesn’t feel weird, even if he’s your best friend. Your knees fall apart wider as you give a shy nod, “y-yeah. Be gentle—I’m sensitive.”

He hums and levels with your pussy. Alex’s right hand comes to entangle with yours as his breath fans over your soaked panties. You both stare in a terse, heated moment before he’s licking with the flat of his tongue.

“Ooh! Shit…!”

Alex makes it sloppy while teasing you over soaked cotton. His smirk is evident when you cry out and practically crush his hand as he laves over your swollen clit.

“You taste like candy,” he pulls your panties to the side with a groan. “And you’re so wet.”

“You’re embarrassing me—aah! Ohmygod, ‘lex!”

He dives in like a man starved, and in a way he is. Alex slurps messily at your folds, tongue swirling your creamy hole before sucking your clit into his hot, wet mouth.

Your fingers grip and tug ferociously as you grind your cunt against his face. Alex’s eyes slip closed as he loses himself in you, his adept tongue working you open.

It burns hot and white as your stomach clenches. You ride his face, and he lets you, “‘lex!! ‘M gonna cum!”

There’s a wet, inaudible groan, and Alex is pressing his tongue at your entrance and tongue-fucking you. The hot strand of pressure snaps, and you cum with a needy cry.

“Alex,” you sob out, knees squeezing his head as he helps you through your orgasm. “C-Can’t! Too much, please!—”

He pulls away with a glistening mouth and jaw. He’s so hard in just his boxers, and you can taste yourself as you bring him in for a messy kiss.

“I can’t believe I just,” you cut him off with another desperate peck, “mmf—just ate you out.”

“Don’t brag about it,” you murmur against his lips before he settles back on his haunches.

Alex starts to claim he’s not “bragging,” but you hone in on the reveal of his thick, bobbing cock after freeing it from his boxers. The fat tip smears pre-cum on his navel and your mouth waters. God, you needed him.

He fishes out a condom from his black robes, and you draw close to help roll it on. He’s hot to the touch and shivers at how your hand barely wraps around him, “thank you.”

Your hand is still on his dick as you smile up at him. Alex gives you a tender grin before motioning you to lie back. He uncoils like a snake, stretching across you to lay between your legs. His dick just barely brushes your throbbing clit, and you jump at the contact. Alex swallows and seems nervous as he grips his base.

“I-I love you,” he says. “I love you.”

The world seems to stop for a moment. You stare into the galaxy of brown amber held in his eyes.

You can hardly breathe, and you swear your heart’s crawling up your throat and about to beat past your lips. Alex’s eyes search yours for something, anything. You hadn’t realized how silent you’ve been, “I love you, too.”

Alex laughs and scoots a little closer, his cock head just barely pressing against your fluttering hole.

“God, you really made me nervous there.”

“You’re about to be inside me! I wasn’t ready for a confession…”

Alex kisses your pout away and sinks into you with a hefty groan, “holy shit.”

You’re scratching his back from the deliciously sinful way he stretches you out. With the legs looped around his hips, he starts to shallowly thrust. His dick plunge is deep and drags heavy amidst your spasming gummy walls.

“Fuck me, oh, yes!”

“Ngh,” he grunts, and his hips are hitting yours with punishing claps.

Alex makes you submit, laying there in a writhing heap as you take him in your guts. His hips angle upwards, and he’s battering your g-spot while uttering sweet nothings into your ear, “you’re such a good girl. Ah, ah, fuck; c-can’t believe I’m fucking your pretty pussy.”

Your lips are swollen red and parted as Alex fills you entirely over and over and over! You cling to him in a pathetic embrace, barely able to keep your eyes open while staccato moans fill Alex’s ear.

“Alex, I-I can’t for m-much—ooh!! Ohgod, gonna cum…!”

In between your sweaty, grinding bodies, Alex’s sneaky hand slinks down to messily rub your clit, “you’re fucking perfect.”

His voice shakes with a compliment, and his thumb presses his hard circles on your sensitive nub. It’s enough to break you down in a mix of cries and sobs as you cum all over him, “oh fuu-huh-ck!”

Alex inhales sharply, chasing his own high as your walls squeeze him during your orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck. Baby, I—!!”

He lets out a whimpering squeak before burying deep and emptying his balls inside the condom. He thrusts once, twice, before collapsing down onto you with panting breaths on his lips.

You both are exhausted. Your bare foot presses against the cool plastic of his mask, and you blurt your question before you can even think.

“Did you really kill all those people?”

He doesn’t look at you, merely planting kiss after kiss on your exposed skin, “I did it all for you.”

There’s no guilt or apprehension this time. Only the way your heart sings with love.

-

“It’s hard to say whether Ghostface had help this time,” the newscaster reports. “But, it’s an ongoing reminder to lock your doors and report any suspicious activity…”

The screen goes black as Alex laughs and cuts the TV off. Your eyes trace his features, the delicate curve of his nose, and the slope of his lips; he is stunning. Neither of you speak of the mutual dried flecks of blood on each other’s cheeks.

[shrimshrim4fun]

Headcanons for Cabernet:

Note: I’m so sorry I haven’t been posting I’ll try my best to post more but school has been stopping me with some other stuff :( I truly do apologize. I promise I will try to post more thirsts and other stuff as soon as possible 😭

SFW:

-Loves cooking for you, when you two are home she likes to cook together with you in the kitchen even though it’ll make a mess.

-Spoils you rotten. All your clothes are hand tailored and everything you own now is the best brand. Loves taking you to three star Michelin restaurants and always having the best food for your appetite

-Loves having her hands on you. She likes to hold hands and keeping you close enough she makes sure you don’t in danger. But in private she is pressed into you for hours on time, breathing in your scent as you lay in bed. Very affectionate

-Possessive. Gets jealous quickly but doesn’t really show it. How her hand tightens around your waist or her eyes narrow as she sees another person talking with you for a bit too long. Oh how she wishes she could lock you up and let you only smile for her…how angry or scared you’ll get when she traps you up. Though those are only her thoughts, right?

-Loves smelling you, especially from behind. Nuzzling into the back of your neck as she takes a deep breathe in. She’ll notice immediately if you smell different. Asking curiously if you changed your shampoo or your perfume for the day. “Your scent is so intoxicating, makes me want to gobble you up whole. What’s that look on your face, you know I’m just joking.”

NSFW:

-Continuing on with loving your smell, she loves it when you smell like her. The subtle hints of grape within the fragrance strikes a hidden desire to mark you as hers. Peppering your neck and shoulders in warm kisses as it turns into something more

-Loves eating you out, will spend hours diving her tongue in and out of you as your legs squeeze her head. She loves it when you eat her out too saying it’s the most divine thing she has ever done. Her hands lacing through your hair as you guys become a tangled mess

-Takes pride in marking you especially the red lipstick marks she litters on your body as you look up at her. The hickeys peeking at your neck the next day as you try your best to cover them up makes her so amused yet aroused, wanting another round of

-She doesn’t like to use the word kinky but instead “indulging in each other’s desires to its limit” Is willing to try anything and everything with you. From any kinks, to role-play, or even certain places you want to do it in. Especially big on you eating food off of her. Licking whipped cream off her breasts or eating grapes off her stomach. Thinks of it as a way you both can savor each others flavors to its best

-Bondage is also pretty big, tying you up with the vines as she presses a vibrator to your clit. Hearing your soft moans and whines for her to fuck you hard makes her tip over the edge. She sees how your soul ripens beneath her as she holds back the urge to taste it

[jeanspookiebear]

What I think Genshin Men Would Smell Like

Author’s Notes:

Basically what the title says, but I’m going to add 2 sections for each character. One for just what they smell like on a day to day basis and another for what type of cologne I think they’d use

Only doing the tall male characters sorry 😭 I’ll probably do another post for the tall female characters as well.

Neuvillette

First off, HAPPY BIRTHDAYY to him 💙 Anyways, he looks like he smells like laundry detergent. I wanted to just straight up say he smells like WATER but that’d be so boring so I’ll go with laundry detergent.

As for cologne, I think he’d wear something powdery. He’s a pretty man so of course he has to smell pretty as well. I really doubt he’d enjoy those really strong masculine scents. He basically smells like a grandma 😭 I see him preferring perfume over cologne anyways

Zhongli

He probably smells like incense. He works at a funeral parlor, and at least in my culture they always put up those little green incense sticks so that’s what I’d imagine him to smell like.

As for cologne, he’s another grandma smelling guy. LMAOO IM SORRY but I seriously cannot see him smelling like anything else. Even in the archon quest he liked the grandma perfume soo i’d assume that’s what he’d go with if he were to choose a scent. Also wanna mention he’d probably like a more musky powder while Neuvillette likes one that’s more sweet, so that’s where they both differ.

Diluc

Okay so this is where I start to get really descriptive. I can see him smelling very smokey but with a hint of fruit. But he probably smells like alcohol as well. It’s a weird combination and if I had to compare it to something it honestly reminds me of smoked ribs. THIS SOUNDS GROSS BUT IMAGINE IT WITH A GRAPE UNDERTONE

Compared to the other two I mentioned, he definitely smells a lot more masculine but he wouldn’t over do it. He’d definitely choose something with a very heavy scent but he keeps it very faint. Definitely more on the woody side compared to something fresh or oceany.

Childe

He just smells like bar soap. When he’s out fighting people then he probably smells like blood and that’s a little icky but most of time he smells fine, he’s kinda just there you know.

AXE SPRAY WARRIOR. he uses so much and it’s so strong it burns your nose when you walk by him. Is convinced he smells great but it overstimulates anybody who’s in a 5ft radius of him.

Itto

He smells like shit. You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. He’s big and sweaty and it is not a pleasant smell.

He’d also use axe, probably uses a whole can and that’s his definition of getting glammed up.

Wriothesley

Compared to Itto, he smells a lot better. He’s a big boy and he’s sweaty but he cares about his hygiene. I can see him smelling like tea with a hint of rust, probably something like earl gray or jasmine. Very sweet, just like him<33

Similar to diluc, he’d choose a rich scent but I feel like he’d gravitate towards a white musk more than wood, something oriental definitely.

Ororon

He probably smells like dirt 😭 He spends his time with his vegetables a lot and that equals a lot of dirt so he just smells like dirt.

FLORALLL he looks like he smells like sweet peas or lilacs. A mix between vanilla and floral, he likes perfume more than cologne. Him being a hybrid probably means he has a better sense of smell so cologne is a bit too much for him.

Ayato

Probably the only guy who regularly wears cologne. He always smells good, very refreshing.

I can’t choose between something citrusy or something ocean based. You know those bath and body works hand sanitizers that say stuff like “ocean breeze” that’s what I think his cologne would smell like.

Thoma

He smells like nothing, like literally just air. Maybe he smells like dog from time to time.

Very sweet, he’d probably choose something with a vanilla base with a hint of musk.

Baizhu

Smells like bleach 😭 It’s all the medicine he’s working with.

He’d choose a very spicy cologne with a hint of florals, very similar to a peony but with some hints of spices.

@jeanspookiebear - ask to translate, repost with credit !

[homestuckreplay]

Gushers Tasting Notes

(page 974-979)

John is, once again, coming along in leaps and bounds with his sylladex activities. His array of queuestacks (great band name) looks like a circus tent in the panel overlay. Perhaps John is recalling the embarrassing memory of Cirque du Soleil filing a restraining order against his dad (p.253).

But mostly this update is Gushers themed, so let’s get some important historical context. Gushers were created and marketed by Betty Crocker in 1991, a subsidiary of General Mills. Betty Crocker is a fictional character crafted by the company to be relatable to 1920s housewives, and she also makes Fruit Roll-Ups and Fruit by the Foot, so John needs to be careful.

Gushers were originally made in strawberry and grape flavors, but tropical and watermelon have since become popular. Since the start they’ve been made in the famous hexagonal bipyramid (‘grist’) shape. They’ve always been marketed to kids, as focus group testing showed that younger people liked the product far more, and are known for their weird commercials. From 2005-2009 they’ve run the ‘Gushers Re-Do Your Room’ flash game, where players can rearrange furniture and paint walls in a digital bedroom, and get extra items through codes on Gushers packs . The gushers-grist connection and this game being a simpler Sburb makes this a very unexpected, but possibly intentional, Homestuck intertext. In 2009 Gushers are also running the ‘Beware the Gush’ promotion. They’ve created thirteen pieces of web content, accessed by codes on Gushers packaging and ranging from a fake German TV commercial to a Google Maps tie-in, intended for kids to “gush their friends” – the multimedia aspects of this are also very Homestuck, and I bet John is gushing his friends.

I found a mini packet of Gushers in my craft box, so have done a taste test right now instead of relying on memory. Now my favorite candy is Welch’s fruit snacks blue variety bag, so to me Gushers are a pale imitation of the king, but even so I will taste these Gushers like they are a fine wine.

Appearance. Mass manufacturing takes its toll on the Gushers shape. The barest hint of the bipyramid is visible, but these candies have been squashed and battered into near-unrecognizable blobs.

Flavor diversity. The Gushers packet still includes nine candies, the same as in 1991, although the size of the actual candies has shrunk. I got all four flavors, but four blues and only one orange.

Smell. Gushers of all flavors carry a gentle aroma of wax, reminiscent of a basic candle, which makes me wonder how one would behave if set on fire.

Texture. The outside of a Gusher is a homogeneous squeaking silicone with just enough resistance to provide enrichment. The inside liquid is surprisingly cool, resulting in a pleasant contrast in temperature as well as consistency.

Taste. A lick of the Gusher’s smooth outside reveals The green Gushers are fairly sour, with notes of sherbet, while the red have the overt, juicy sweetness of a maraschino cherry. The common blue Gusher’s notes of pineapple and mango conjure ideas of ‘island time’, and the rare orange Gusher dares to suggest bright, ripe clementine.

After effects. Having recently consumed Gushers, I can feel a faint film of sugar clinging to my tongue. I have not begun tripping or suffered any adverse health effects as of (13.4 minutes post consumption) but I will update this post if this changes.

Overall opinion. As the ancient truism states, ‘Gushers don’t gush, they ooze.’ I found that the oozing center of the Gusher best revealed itself when eating the Gusher in two halves, otherwise, the liquid was too engulfed in its prison to come to the forefront. With this in mind, I award Gushers a 7.5/10. I would be cool with getting these for my birthday.

For a moment John considers taking an extended candy break, and honestly he’s earned it. Unfortunately it seems like John may never eat a Gusher again, because he’s realized for the first time that his arch nemesis the ‘heinous batterwitch’ is the mastermind behind them.

In [S] John: Mental breakdown (p.979), John, looking very smart in his new suit actually, is surrounded by pulsing Gushers and definitely-real flavors: Cool Fructose Monsoon, Kiwi Mango Colonic Rush, Wicked Watermelon Groin Injury, Mixed Berry Social Anxiety Disorder, Neon Green Ecto-Facial Blast, Jammin Sour Diabetic Coma, Wild Cherry Apeshit Apocalypse and Ranch Dressing Rampage. (His new box is Massive Tropical Brain Hemorrhage). He looks concerned, then afeared, then terrified and near-screaming, and eventually comes to the conclusion that ‘this is stupid’, accompanied by record scratch.

I do not think this is stupid. I do think it’s notable that John’s had similar breakdowns before when WV has been commanding him, and John doesn’t respond to anything besides the voice shouting in his head. Watching this I wonder if this is a problem John has dealt with more generally – I think there’s a solid argument that John has depression and/or autism, and freezing in the face of a difficult situation could be linked to either of these.

In terms of this specific trauma, John has had food pushed on him to the point of pain or sickness, I find it very believable that he’d physically struggle to eat anything made by the brand he associates that with, even if he knows it’s irrational. Betty Crocker also represents the ideal of the American housewife, someone who devotes her life to cooking and caring for the house and kids. Someone who, due to the expectations on her, might be considered stuck at home. Or something. Dad is filling that role in John’s life so it’s not quite so gendered in their house, and Betty Crocker the cultural idea could be another reminder of a suburban nuclear-family future that John wants to avoid.

On another note, I’ve noticed a few instances of color in the narrative text recently, which has previously always been black. This first showed up on page 919 where Jade takes over the narrative with her speech, finishing with a red ‘<3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’. It happens again on page 934 with the green word ‘ectobiology’, and it’s here on page 978 with John’s ‘WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY???????????’ in Betty Crocker red. The only earlier examples are page 640 (an embedded image reading ‘SWEET CATCH!’ in green) and page 663 (a link to Sweet Bro & Hella Jeff using red Comic Sans). Based on all this, I wonder if color enters the narrative text when one of the main characters ‘takes over’ and wants to add something. Although these uses don’t correspond to Pesterchum colors, they all seem intended as things the kids are saying or writing, except for ‘ectobiology’, which is so closely associated with John that it’s practically his name.

> John: Search house for non-Crocker branded candy.

[theangelsheardyou]

In a ranchuu mood so here's some late night headcanons !!!

Chuuya does all the chores at home. He doesn't trust Ranpo with any of them, but when the latter is trying to apologize, he starts picking up things to clean and cooking (burning) something for chuuya to eat. This is usually how chuuya knows he's done something stupid and/or wants something

The way the ada found out they were dating vs the way the PM found out are complete opposites. One lazy day at the office someone wondered how the gravity manipulator was doing, ranpo said something a little intimate, which had everyone surprised. Ranpo just took the lollipop out of his mouth unfazed and said "Oh you didn't know? We've been dating for three months"

The way the PM found out, there was a plan to ambush the ada for whatever reason that was kept from chuuya (mori had a feeling he wouldn't want to hurt dazai figuring their past relation, but little does he know chuuya would pay good money to kill that tall skinny bastard) but chuuya stopped them in order to protect ranpo. There was a whole "why are you protecting him?!" "Because I LOVE HIM!!" moment like in the movies and everyone just went😦

Chuuya definitely confessed first. It was out of frustration that he had been flirting with ranpo for a while now but he seemed to not be getting the hint.

"I like you you smart little asshole!!!" ".....oh. yeah I knew about that."

Ranpo goes to chuuya when he wants to buy something like how a child asks his parent for ice cream

"Can we get this" "no" "please🥺" "*sigh*.....get my wallet"

Sorry but I'm a bottom chuuya truther and something I headcanon they do in the bedroom (that I've made a fic about a while back) is how ranpo will use his ability to deduct every little stimulation in chuuyas body in order to fuck him better. He gets a lay of the land and nothing gets past him. He knows everything that makes chuuya cry and moan and whimper and scream.

It also helps that chuuya thinks ranpo looks sexy in his glasses

They share clothes but not in a fetish-y "uwu it's so big on me🥺" type. Since they're practically the same size they often get their stuff mixed up, and they don't even realize it until they get home.

Ranpo: *reaches into his pockets and finds money* oh sweet!! Oh these must be chuuyas pants

Chuuya: *puts hand in pocket and pulls it out in disgust* who the fuck left all these candy wrappers in here

Chuuya hates when ranpo makes fun of his hats but finds it unbelievably sexy when he wears them while they fuck. Something about how the weight of the hat drapes his hair against his sweaty forehead just makes him melt

When it comes to Dazai's opinions, I could see it going either way. In one, he's perfectly fine with their relationship, the slug is ranpo's problem now. He'll probably tell him all of chuuyas dirty little secrets too

On the other hand, he could feel uncomfortable that chuuya had moved on, especially with someone he interacts with almost daily. Everytime he looks at ranpo from his desk all he can imagine are his hands caressing chuuyas body, his chin resting on his neck, his nose deep into his orange hair and smelling his expensive shampoo. That was me once, he thinks, and while he may not have wanted to get back together with chuuya, he still gets a bit uncomfortable

Ranpo loves sweets, chuuya hates them. Chuuya loves wine, ranpo says it tastes like fermented grape piss. Chuuya takes good care of his hair and body, maintaining a skin and hair care routine religiously. Ranpo uses those 4-in-1 shampoo as conditioner, soap, and toothpaste.

Ranpo likes to yap and chuuya likes to listen. He can listen to ranpo go on and on about who knows what all day, even being interested enough to ask questions and react. He doesn't realize how important that is to ranpo.

Chuuya loves shopping, and his clothes are all expensive and trendy. Ranpo will only go shopping for clothes if he absolutely has to, and he hates it. It's boring walking around and fitting dumb shirts and pants, it's tiring too. For a while fukuzawa had to buy him new clothes since ranpo wouldn't even if his pants had holes in them. When chuuya found out about this, he forced him to go out on a shopping spree with him to get him all new clothes, and ranpo hated every second of it. But he did like that chuuya spent the whole day with him.

Ranpo is the one who makes the playlists. I like to think chuuya doesn't have a lot of time to just relax and enjoy music, so ranpo is the one who knows more bands or genres. He occasionally makes playlists using insults for chuuya as the titles, and chuuya says he hates it but he listens to them every night they are apart.

They're both okay with PDA, but ranpo is definitely the more clingy one. He'll suddenly manhandle chuuya while they're walking on the street bc he saw a couple walk past them holding hands. He'll be the one to initiate the cuddle sessions and the last one to pull away from a hug.

Chuuya is very independent so he doesn't act as clingy as ranpo does. But when he asks for affection, it's usually really subtle, and it makes him upset if ranpo doesn't see it right away. He's insecure and so his mind goes off the rails, wondering if ranpo just doesn't love him anymore. But ranpo is always there to reassure him.

Arguments are the lifeblood of this relationship, but in a healthier way than it was for skk. For skk, there was a lot of hate and anger involved, that was what fueled the fire of their relationship. For ranchuu, it's easier bc it's more light-hearted and the words are never meant to actually hurt. It's usually insults that don't even offend either one of them, and arguments about small things no one really cares about. But what it's based on is not as violent as skk.

Chuuya def has a higher libido than ranpo. Sometimes he'll suddenly get horny and ask ranpo to "take care of it". Usually it's triggered by something ranpo did, like something he wears, or said, or him acting responsible for a change. As for ranpo, he gets horny a little less frequently than that, but he still gets up on his high horse to call chuuya needy when he's practically climbing up his leg.

They are both young orphans with remarkable abilities, and so they've received a lot of praise for their strength/wit. So when they hear them now, it sounds almost empty, hollow even. They don't get anything from it now. But getting compliments from literally anybody else? that's what gets their hearts going.

Okay that's it for now lol, pls tell me which ones you agree with!! I'm always looking forward to meeting people with the same rarepair as me😁

[fortheloveofarchons]

Xiao being tipsy in front of Aether

Inspired by @kiboyr on Youtube! Go check them out!

C.W. - Paimon being a little shit - Xiao being a bit tipsy - Aether being the forward one - Kiss and make out (mild sexual content) - Past Zhongli/Guizhong - Guizhong dead - Mentioned Zhongli, Guizhong, Venti and Verr Goldet

.

.

.

To my lovely traveller, 

The breeze combing through your hair today feels a little different, don't you think? A little sweet with a hint of grapes, right?

You must be wondering, you’re in Wangshu Inn, why would you feel my breeze? 

Hehe, that’s because I have left a gift for you. 

A few days ago, I paid a visit to this very same inn to try out their drinks, and guess who did I meet? 

If you’re guessing your beloved Vigilant Yaksha, you’re correct! Though he declined my offer for a few cups of drinks and company, I left him a gift and I told him this, 

“No takesies-backsies!” 

And I immediately left with the wind before he could process what’s happening. 

If you could smell it right now, I wouldn’t be surprised if you could pick a hint of sweetness in today’s wind. That’s because I left him a bottle of wine, haha! 

I know Xiao would only keep it instead of trying it, so I may have told a little lie that it may help with his karmic debt. I know, I know… it’s not good to lie about this. 

Still, wine and any kind of alcohol have been therapeutic to me. Almost like… a salvation. 

Nah, that was too strong of a word. 

So, if anything goes wrong with Xiao– in which the worst scenario is being tipsy, you can take care of him! 

How did I know you’d be here today? Well, a certain pretty bird told me– or rather, a pretty lady working in the inn told me about your upcoming visit. 

I do apologise for giving you this task which is partially my fault, but hey– at least you and Xiao can spend more time together, ehe! 

From your favourite bard, 

Venti. 

“Oh Venti…” Aether folds the letter neatly, letting out a sigh of resignation. 

Though, Paimon doesn’t notice the upward curve on Aether’s lips. 

“Hmm… Paimon doesn’t get why that tone-deaf bard is doing this,” Paimon says as Paimon floats in the air, munching on some cookies. “But we should check up on Xiao to see if he’s okay.” 

“Paimon, why don’t you let me handle this one?” Aether asks. 

“But Paimon wants to help!” Paimon stomps her feet in the air. “Hmph! You always leave Paimon alone when it comes to stuff like this! Paimon is not nosy, Paimon is just concerned!” 

“I know, Paimon…” Aether lets out a sigh once again. 

It’s just that you always say the wrong things at the wrong time… 

Aether could never forget that moment when Paimon, out of concern, asked about Navia’s parents whereabouts… even when Navia had told them both that they passed away years ago! 

Or how Paimon was so rude to Furina that Aether almost wanted to knock Paimon’s head. 

Paimon totally though you were just a bit of a diva at first. 

Oh, sounds like you’re really struggling to cope…  Ah, there it is. You don’t know how to cook! 

Oh… Right, Paimon totally forgot both your parents are dead. 

Even with that faint recollection, Aether’s ears feel red from remembering these moments. It wasn’t the first time for Paimon to say such insensitive words, and Aether is sure it wouldn’t be the last. 

“Paimon, why don’t you go and order some food?” 

“But–” 

Aether quickly brings up a small bag of mora from his inventory, shutting Paimon up instantly. The moment Paimon could hear the clinking sound of coins in the pouch, her eyes were shimmering like the stars tonight. 

“Thank you Aether!” Paimon gives Aether a hug that almost choked his neck, then grabs the bag of mora and finds herself a seat in Wangshu Inn to order what Paimon wants for today’s dinner. 

As soon as Paimon is out of his sight, the golden-haired traveller walks up to the lady named Verr Goldet, who is wearing a traditional, dark red, Liyue overcoat with gold accents and a chunky orange bracelet on each of her arms. 

“Welcome, traveller.” She smiles at him, just like how she would to any customers. “What’ll you have? We have dishes from both Mondstadt and Liyue, and our Almond Tofu is particularly popular.” 

“Then, I’d like a dish of almond tofu, please.” 

A few minutes later, the dessert is right in his hands. It has a silky-smooth texture with a long-lasting aroma of almond. Perfect for the adepti. 

He then quickly walks up to the inn’s topmost floor, where customers could see the whole view of Liyue: Rocky mountains that stands tall and proud alongside the stone forests, the open plains and lively rivers make up Liyue's bountiful landscape, all of which shows its unique beauty through each of the four seasons. 

As Aether could only hear the soft breeze, he called out a name, softly. 

“Xiao?” 

“You called my name, traveller. What do you need assistance with?” Aether quickly turns around to find the Vigilant Yaksha appearing in front of him, with hints of wispy black smoke. The first thing Aether instantly notices is the tint of blush around Xiao’s ears and cheeks. 

 “If… you don’t need anything, then I shall take my leave right now once and for all. I don’t have time for your mortal ideals, humans do waste my time–” 

“Wait! I called you because…” Aether takes a deep breath before he continues, stretching out his hands to show him the dish. After all, he didn’t want Xiao to disappear on him again, which the yaksha would always disappear with a wispy black green smoke behind. 

Truly a signature move. 

“I want to give you almond tofu and… I’d like you to stay for a bit.” 

 “Huh? Almond tofu?” That made the Vigilant Yaksha’s ears perk up, raising an eyebrow. He looks up and down, both to Aether and the delectable dish in his hands. “So, you just want me to stay in your presence…?”

Aether’s eyes shine bright like a puppy, twinking with pity. 

“Oh, fine. But only this once.” 

Settling himself onto a stool, the Vigilant Yaksha slowly chews onto his plate of almond tofu, savouring its silky sweetness. Meanwhile, the traveller sat right next to him, smugly stares at Xiao’s tipsy state as he continues to chew onto the tofu. Aether’s eyes follows the gentle movement of Xiao’s hands as he brought the porcelain spoon to his mouth, savouring each bite of his meal. 

“Why are you staring at me like this?” Xiao asks, noticing Aether’s burning stare on his left cheek. “You’re staring at me weirdly while I’m eating, I dislike it… I demand you to stop.” 

A soft smile grace Aether’s lips, reflecting the joy he found in simply being in his presence. He admires the way Xiao savoured the almond tofu, the way his eyes would gradually light up with delight at every delicious morsel.

“Traveller… you’re being very, very quiet tonight.” Xiao puts his spoon down on the finished plate. “You really want me to stay, huh?” 

All Aether could do was to prop his chin up with the heel of his hand, smiling at him in return. In that moment, Xiao could feel the traveller’s eyes lingering on his face, tracing every line, etching each detail into his memory: The flustered, furious blush, the prickling heat fanning across his chest and creeping up his neck, along with his clenched fists under the table.

“Fine, so be it.” Xiao quickly turns his head to avoid the traveller’s gaze, hiding his own expression. “I shall stay by your side, just… just this once.”

Ba-bump! Ba-bump! Ba-bump! 

“...What is this feeling?” Xiao mutters the question to himself. “Why am I… feeling like this?”

Heart, I demand you to stop feeling like this! NOW!

Letting his guard down, Aether gently holds Xiao’s chin with his fingers, turning his head to face each other, his touch tender and affectionate. 

“Oh Xiao~~” 

That only made Xiao’s face as red as a Jueyun Chili, stumbling on his sentence. “T– Traveller… Y– You c– You dare to consort me to your pleasure?! How absurd!” 

Xiao removes himself from the golden-haired hero’s hands, standing up abruptly before he tries to walk away. 

“Xiao, you know I wouldn’t do something like this.” He could feel that the traveller's words were firm from behind. “You’re blushing, by the way.” 

“Enough!” Xiao puts his hand to his chest, clutching onto the fabric of his uniform. He could not stop his heart from fluttering like a butterfly spreading its wings when it saw a Qingxin flower. “I hate this feeling…”

“Describe it to me then, maybe I can help.” Aether’s voice is as gentle as always, and it makes Xiao’s heart pang. “Xiao, I know you’ve been holding back. You don’t have to say everything if you don’t want to, but I will listen.” 

“This feeling… uneasiness.” Xiao reluctantly replies, trying to piece his sentences in place. “Your presence isn’t scary but– it’s strange at the same time. I don’t get it, I really don’t.” 

To Xiao, he’d always ask himself this question. 

Can one who has lived in darkness dreamt of a sun? 

[spicybeefnoodles]

sharing food

summary: kenshi visits kung lao

warnings: suggestive at the end :)

Kenshi breathed in the fresh air of Fengjian, the only sound being the rolling of the suitcase and Raiden’s voice. It was a much needed change of pace from the smoggy air of Los Angeles. He had flown into China a few days ago and taken a cab straight from the airport, but now he was exhausted and in much need of a nap and some good food. Raiden met him at the outskirts of their village, and they caught up as they walked along the unpaved roads underneath the sweltering sun until they both appeared in front of Kung Lao’s house. Raiden pat Kenshi’s back, told him good luck and to not worry, and left to go back to the White Lotus Academy to train the initiates. Kenshi and Raiden had been planning the surprise for a few days now, and Raiden had ensured that Kung Lao would take a break from work today so that Kenshi could show up and surprise him, take him out to dinner, woo him, and then confess his feelings.

Kenshi wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and raised his fist to knock on the door. Rapping three times on the door, Kenshi shoved his hand back into pant pocket and tried to look as nonchalant as possible when he heard Kung Lao open the door.

“Kenshi?! What are you doing here?” Kung Lao sounded very much surprised, and Kenshi could imagine how his eyebrows were raised in surprise.

“Surprise?” Kenshi smiled but internally smacked himself for saying such a cheesy line.

“Oh my god! Let me get your suitcase! Come in! Come in! Shoes off though.”

Kenshi just laughed at the comment and reached his hand out. Kung Lao took it and led the swordsman inside his home. Kenshi could hear Kung Lao kicking around some things on the floor to try and make a clearer path for the swordsman to walk around the home, and Kenshi could feel Kung Lao’s head grow warm and sweaty as though he was embarrassed.

“Sorry about the mess. Um, here, wait on the couch, I’ll bring something for you to eat. You must be starving!” Kung Lao led Kenshi to the couch, throwing something from the couch onto the floor, and made sure that the swordsman had sat down before sprinting over to the kitchen. Kenshi listened to Kung Lao running about the kitchen, opening and slamming the fridge door before opening it again because he forgot something in there. The swordsman breathed in the scent of Kung Lao’s home: it was an earthy smell with a small hint of something spicy. Kenshi couldn't stop himself from smiling. He had missed being around Kung Lao.

“Here, some fruit.” Kung Lao placed a hefty bowl into Kenshi’s lap and the swordsman raised an eyebrow at how large the bowl seemed. “So…why’re you here?”

Kenshi felt the other flop down right next to him and blushed when he felt their thighs squish against each other.

“Sorry, it’s a loveseat. Didn’t think I needed a bigger couch since I’m living alone.” Kung Lao explained, reaching into the fruit bowl in Kenshi’s lap and munching on something crisp. Kenshi gathered his thoughts, trying to ignore how his side was pressed flush against Kung Lao’s and how he could feel the definition of Kung Lao’s muscles through his thin shirt. It didn’t help that the two of them were quite large, and the loveseat was quite small.

“I got some time off and thought that I might come and visit you.” Kenshi replied, feeling around the food bowl and identifying slices of apples, slices of mandarins, and some grapes in the bowl. Kenshi popped a grape into his mouth to try and calm himself a bit more when he felt Kung Lao shift and put his arm on the back of the couch, his arm grazing the back of Kenshi’s neck.

“Oh! I mean- I’m glad you came to me, but, uh, why not Raiden? He’s got a…cleaner home.” Kung Lao’s voice dropped off at the end, and he shifted in his seat a bit uncomfortably.

“I wanted to see you.” Kenshi answered, hoping that the comment would placate Kung Lao and that his face didn’t betray his racing heart. The other man was silent, and Kenshi munched on an apple slice, hoping that the silence meant that Kung Lao was just a bit dumbstruck and not grossed-out.

“I was hoping to take you to Madam Bo’s?” Kenshi mumbled out the question, trying to fill in the silence of the room, but when Kung Lao didn’t answer, Kenshi felt his stomach drop. The swordsman passed the fruit bowl into Kung Lao’s lap and stood up.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll just-” Kenshi reached for his cane and suitcase, intent on leaving and booking a ticket to go back to LA and drown himself in alcohol.

“Wait, wait! I’d love to go to Madam Bo’s with you! I mean-yeah, of course, why wouldn’t you want to come to Madam Bo’s with me? I’m just that cool, and um…yeah.” Kung Lao gripped onto Kenshi’s wrist and tugged him back onto the couch. Kenshi slowly sat down, a heat spreading across his face as Kung Lao pushed the fruit bowl back into Kenshi’s lap and leaned into the swordsman’s warmth.

Kenshi gripped the bowl tightly in his hands, grounding himself back into reality as the realization that he just scored a date with Kung Lao settled into his head. His mind felt buzzed, as if he had just drank a few shots, and Kenshi fully believed that if he wanted to, he could fly.

“So, um. I’ll take it that means you like me too?” Kung Lao asked in a meek voice. It was so quiet that Kenshi almost missed it. Too? Kung Lao liked him back? Forget flying, Kenshi could ascend to heaven right now.

Without answering, Kenshi turned to face Kung Lao. He placed his hand onto Kung Lao’s chest and felt the Shaolin’s heart pound underneath his fingertips. Gaining confidence when he heard Kung Lao’s breath hitch, Kenshi trailed his fingers up to trace Kung Lao’s neck and then cupped his face. The swordsman leaned in a little bit, a silent ask for permission. Kung Lao closed the distance, his hand flying up to cusp the back of Kenshi’s neck and bring them closer together. Kenshi’s heart was ablaze, like a fire burning in his chest. Kung Lao tasted sweet, like an oasis in the middle of a desert or the best pastry in the world. The Shaolin’s hands were holding onto the swordsman roughly, but his lips were soft and inviting. Kenshi could live like this forever, oxygen be damned. He deepened the kiss and brought his other hand up to hold Kung Lao in his arms.

Distantly, Kenshi heard something clatter to the floor and ignored it, but Kung Lao pulled away at the sound, Kenshi still leant forward to try and chase Kung Lao’s plush lips. He heard a shriek come from the man.

“The fruit!” Kung Lao immediately jumped from Kenshi’s lap, and the swordsman immediately missed the warmth. He could hear Kung Lao pick up the fruit on the ground, before running off to the kitchen and turning on the faucet, presumably washing the fruit of the dust of the ground. Kenshi leaned back onto the couch, pressing the heel of his palms into his eyelids as he tried to calm his beating heart. If it beat any faster, he was going to have a heart attack. 

Kung Lao cleaned the fruit and the floor like a mad man, but when Kung Lao was done. Kenshi felt the Shaolin settle into Kenshi’s lap, the swordsman’s hands going to Kung Lao’s waist instinctually. He squeezed at Kung Lao’s waist, still amazed at how slim it was, and Kung Lao yelped, slapping at the swordsman’s chest.

“Don’t do that…please.” Kung Lao weakly protested, but Kenshi had heard the small whimper that had escaped the Shaolin. The swordsmans smiled wickedly and squeezed Kung Lao’s waist again, causing him to let out a small whine and grind down onto Kenshi’s lap.

“How about we skip Madam Bo’s and go straight to dessert?” Kenshi pulled down Kung Lao’s head for another kiss, and the Shaolin melted into the swordsman’s lap.

When Kung Lao came into the academy the next day, his hand interlaced with Kenshi’s and walking a bit funny, Raiden just smiled and clapped Kung Lao on his back.

[cqsuanla]

My little fucked up OCs which started as a dark nat au LMAO here’s another. Expect me to disappear again 😘

Tw: violence, hints of stockholm syndrome, cigs

“Hi.”

You rouse, blinking up at the static your punisher calls constellations.

She leans over you like an eclipse and waves a tightly bound bundle of grapes over you. “Hungry?”

You clear your throat with a nod. “Y-Yeah. Thirsty too.”

A happy hum. She conjures up a vase of water from somewhere. “Open up, honey.”

You do so, but not without a quick glance downward to the sword wedged between your rib cage. Yep. Still there.

She feeds you with an almost adorable amount of concentration. Adorable were it not for the fact that she had impaled you on some piece of shit antique and left you to rot for a day.

“Can I-” She shoves a grape between your teeth and you dutifully chew and swallow before beginning again: “Can I go home now?”

Home being anywhere but here. The big ugly house she lives in and, you suppose, also you now. Or—a pipe dream, really—home in the distant, clouded lands of your maker. Tabletops full of power tools, blue-papered designs you can’t even fathom. The smell of life and movement, and a view of spilled light, pinpricks of stars. Oh, stars.

You glare up at the static.

She winces at that, cricking her head back in an unnatural way. “Still not right? Damn. What about now?”

The sky suddenly sharpens up as if she had clicked the Smart Sharpen button in Photoshop. “Forget it. Take the fucking sword out.”

Now, she pouts.

“Sorry,” you say automatically, clenching your eyes shut. You feel like you’re made of wax. Maybe you are. Maybe she did that while you were asleep.

A cold hand cards through your hair, nails scraping pleasantly at your scalp. “Forgiven,” she sings mildly—it is quite literally music to your ears. She thinks she’s funny for things like that. “I’ll take you home in a couple more hours. How about that?”

“Hasn’t he seen enough?” And you will freely admit you’re beginning to sound desperate. You can’t even feel the sword. You’re really just going a little stir crazy. “Isn’t this punishment enough?”

She slants you a look. The whole point of this shit is that it’s never goddamn enough. She’s said this to you countless times and you never seem to get it.

“Could I have a smoke, at least?” you finally grumble out.

A long, thin line of tobacco wrapped in delicate pink paper. Blueish smoke spirals away from the tip.

“Come on,” you groan, “enough of this old timey shit.”

And you’re registering the stinging pain of it before realizing she’s slapped you across the face. Then, the agony. The searing red-white-blacking out pain of a sword jammed into your chest. You scream, sweat beading out your pores, limbs locking up in a shock.

It dies as quickly as it came and you feel a small part of you dislodge and follow that pain to the eternal nothing. You wish the whole of you could go. You wish nothing of yours would ever touch those final gates, peering up at the blank eyes above. The glassy eyes above. Something hot splashes across your cheek.

“It’s all I know,” she whispers angrily. Embarrassed. The smoke has been bent, paper jutting out smoothly and impossibly around the corner to patch it up. “It must be enough for you.”

You sigh through ragged lungs. “Okay. Just. Fuck, imagine it shorter and, like, this- this thick.” You hold apart your thumb and forefinger. “The paper is white except the filter, which is orange. No holder-thing, please.”

The cigarette transforms accordingly as you instruct it. The little piece of metal she typically uses to grip her smokes dissipates in a mist. She hands you the lit cigarette and straightens up, conjuring up her own to match.

There’s the sensation of muted horror echoing in some part of your mind as you watch her lean on the hilt of your sword. It slices further into the left side of your chest and more blood lurches out. You puff at your smoke, glaring daggers at your own predicament.

“Yum,” she says after a while. Eagerly, she produces another cigarette. “Want another?”

You give her a shaky thumbs up, spitting the butt out from the corner of your mouth.

She puts her cigarette out between your collar bones where a small, red pool has formed. You hear the sizzle, though you don’t feel it. She relights and sticks it in your mouth.

“All right, then,” she says, kissing your cheek. “I’ll see you in a bit.” And she leaves, pixels above you blurring at the edges as her mind wanders away.

[1u11ablues]

2/Cotton Candy and Racing Hearts(Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x Reader)

Prompt: Trust Issues, Amusement Park, Role Reversal

Warnings: Fear of heights, hints of past trauma

The sweet smell of cotton candy teased your senses, its slender finger beckoning you to one of the many carts of fast food littering the amusement park.

You tug at his hands.

“C’mon, babe. A snack for our Ferris ride.”

Kyle Garric had very rarely uttered no when it comes to you. So he let you led him to the cart and paid for the glittery yellow snack while you pay for his generously dusted-with-icing-sugar funnel cake.

That’s how it has always been. Give and take.

It took half of the snacks for the both of you to reach the Ferris Wheel and get in line for it.

But as your turn loomed near, Kyle had gotten quieter, the last quarter of his snack untouched.

“Are you okay? Gaz?”

The bracelet you wore dangled over his eyes as you caressed the sides of his head.

“Last time we went here, it wasn’t this tall, love.”

You followed his gaze towards the Ferris Wheel. Once upon a time, you were deathly afraid of the ride itself—a result from some traumatizing childhood experiences—but Gaz was so patient with your desire to overcome it that a trip to the amusement park had become an annual thing for the both of you. Well, except when he’s away for deployment.

The last one weren’t too kind to him. And that was an understatement.

It wore him off helicopters for some time. And you understood.

“We can skip it this year, okay?”

He shook his head. “If you can overcome yours, I can do mine.”

The confidence he wore doesn’t follow him at the topmost point of the Wheel, however.

“How long has it been since they’ve serviced this thing?” A creak. His lips paled. “Honey, I feel like we’re going off-axis.”

A quick glance tells you that the ride was working perfectly fine, but you didn’t make any quick moves disproving his theories.

God knows what was replaying in his mind for someone to just dismiss it like that.

So you took the distraction course.

“Babe, there’s this really nice corn dog stand right near the Merry-Go-Round. Think you have space for something savoury after this?”

You pointed out to the distance, at the red parasol of the stand, trying to prompt him to take his eyes off the mechanical makings of the Ferris Wheel.

“Don’t laugh, but my heart is beating really fast, and I think I’m going to be sick.”

You reached out from your seat to close his eyes with your hands.

“Don’t think about anything for now. Open your mouth.”

You feed him a piece of cotton candy and let it melt on his tongue.

“What does that taste like? Not your usual plain sugar, isn’t it?”

His head shook behind your palms.

 “No,” he answered, “it’s citrusy. Was that lemon?”

“Yeah! Was that better than plain ones? There’s grape and strawberry too, I think. Can we try to get other flavours after this?”

He snorted. “What will your dentist say to that?”

“I’m not saying anything if you promised not to?” 

That earned a chuckle out of him. And, God help you, but being so close to his lips like these made it so easy for you to just lean in for a kiss. Or five. Just a little shy of a full on make-out.

Pretty soon, the gondola you were in lowered bit by bit, solid ground a comfortable height for you to remove your hands from his eyes.

“That felt like time travel,” he explained, pleasantly surprised. A bit breathless from your activity. “Thank you, love.”

“Grape floss and two corn dogs as your reward?”

[yourlocalnicknackkinnie]

Garten of BanBan HC: 1

Ok, so I had this HC that all of the Garten of BanBan characters have a specific scent based on their color and/or vibe-

like, they would either smell like Fruits or a curtain kind of food.

Scents of the mascots under the cut (all)

BanBan

He smells like sausages/j (Hehe, Filipino sausage lookin man)

Ok but fr, He smells like Cinnamon (A hint of it)

Banbaleena

She gives me Vanilla Rose vibes

Stinger Flynn

I would go for Orange or a citrus scent

(Ik Orange seems obvious but I wanna scent that gives off Fresh vibes)

Jumbo Josh

Green apple + Lime

Captain Fiddles

I chose Tutti Frutti for him (Since he has many versions of him in the game)

Opila Bird

Mixed berries

Slow Seline

She was giving... Honey lemon vibes

NabNab

"Blue" Raspberry

Zolphius

Mint

Nabnaleena

Blackberries and Blackcurrant

With a hint of lavender

Tarta bird

Strawberry

Plus a bit of mint

Tamataki + Chamataki

I'd choose Mint chocolate

It's the classic thing that goes with mint so I gotta choose it

Sheriff Toadster

Mocha (aka Chocolate + Coffee)

A ref to the chocolate frogs in Harry Potter (I'm not into Harry Potter and ik Toadster is a toad but I gotta do it)

He gives me Coffee person vibes

Queen Bouncelia

Plum

With a hint of lavender

I thought Grape would be a too obvious for her

Plus Lavender suits her probably

Bittergiggle + Experiment Jesters

Bittergiggle would smell like grapes (like, grape flavored candies and such)

He smells like that one purple Juicy Couture perfume basically

For the other jesters:

Yellow pink (Watermelon Lemonade)

pink cyan (strawberry blueberry)

blue Yellow aka Magician ("Blue" Raspberries lemonade)

Green Pink aka Poet ( Green apple, watermelon)

Kittysaurus

Smells like Gingerbread

Syringeon

Cranberry + rose

Again, idk much about this character why not-

[sombritas-des]

Accustom

-body count au-

-Driftcells au-

[previous]

------

I don't know why..but I truly like writing domestic stuff... anywho we're like two chapters left before I need to return to fix the writing on the third part...or not...I don't know to be clear ahhah

----

The Beheaded hands shot out, pushing the Drifter down onto the couch. It was a rough gesture, but the Drifter just chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

He knew that push was a sign of progress, a sign that the Beheaded was feeling more comfortable around him. It was a subtle indication that they were starting to let their guard down, to relax in his presence.

"Ah, yeah that was definitely a compliment," the Drifter said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You only push people away when you're feeling vulnerable, right?"

The Beheaded gaze narrowed, their eye flashing with a hint of annoyance. But the Drifter just grinned, his eyes never leaving theirs.

"I know you're feeling better, Beheaded," he said, his voice softening. "I know you're starting to trust me. And that's all I need."

The Beheaded expression faltered, their tough exterior cracking for a moment. The Drifter saw the glimmer of uncertainty, the hint of vulnerability, and he knew he had won a small victory.

The Drifter stood up from the couch, his movements fluid and graceful. As he rose, the book he had been reading earlier fell to the floor with a soft thud. He bent to pick it up, his eyes flicking to the Beheaded as he murmured an excuse. "I'm actually getting a bit hungry. Think I'll grab something to eat."

The Beheaded watched him, their gaze following the Drifter as he moved towards the small kitchen. For a moment, they seemed frozen in place, their eye fixed on the Drifter's retreating back. Then, with a quiet nod to themselves, they stood up and followed him.

Their footsteps were silent on the floor, their movements eerily quiet as they trailed behind the Drifter. The kitchen was small, with only a few cabinets and a compact cooling system. The Drifter opened the cabinet door, revealing a sparse but neatly organized interior.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked, his voice low and conversational, as if they were old partners sharing a meal together. The Beheaded leaned against the counter, their eye fixed on the Drifter as they waited for him to rummage through the groceries.

The Beheaded response was a simple, almost dismissive, "No idea." But the Drifter knew better. He knew that the Beheaded palate was essentially a blank slate, that everything would taste good to them after centuries of not eating.

The Drifter chuckled to himself as he scanned the fridge's contents. He pulled out a few items - a loaf of bread, some cheese, a handful of grapes - and began to assemble a makeshift snack.

"Alright, let's see how this goes," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "You're not someone to be picky about."

The Beheaded watched him, their eye fixed on the Drifter's hands as he worked. They seemed fascinated by the simple act of food preparation, their gaze intent on the way the Drifter's fingers moved.

The Drifter smiled to himself, knowing that this was a small but significant moment. He was helping the Beheaded to a world they thought they'd never experience again - the world of taste, of smell, of simple pleasures.

The Drifter presented the Beheaded with a simple, yet endearing, grape jam sandwich. The Beheaded gaze fell upon the humble creation, and for a moment, they just stared.

But as they looked at the sandwich, something shifted. It wasn't just a sandwich anymore; it was a gesture, a symbol of the Drifter's care and attention. The Beheaded eye softened, their expression transforming from indifference to gentle appreciation.

The Drifter's hands, though unskilled in the culinary arts, had crafted something special. The Beheaded gaze lingered on the sandwich, as if savoring the emotions it evoked rather than the taste.

The Beheaded and the Drifter sat together on the couch, the plate of jam sandwiches between them. The Drifter ate quietly, savoring the simple pleasure of the food.

But the Beheaded experience was different. They approached each bite with caution, as if rediscovering the sensation of taste. The first bite was tentative, a small nibble to test the flavors. The second bite was a mouthful, as if they couldn't get enough of the sweet and tangy jam.

Their eye widened with each successive bite, their expression transforming from curiosity to delight. The flavors danced on their palate, a symphony of sweet and savory notes that left them captivated.

The Drifter watched them, a warm smile on his face. He saw the wonder in the Beheaded eyes, the joy of discovery that came with each bite. It was as if they were experiencing sweetness for the first time, and the Drifter felt grateful to be a part of it.

The silence between them was comfortable, punctuated only by the sound of eating and the occasional soft hum of pleasure from the Beheaded. It was a moment of connection, a shared experience that transcended words.

The Beheaded gaze drifted off, lost in thought as they savored the last bites of the jam sandwiches. The Drifter, too, was caught up in the comfortable silence, enjoying the warmth of the moment.

But then, the Beheaded question cut through the tranquility, snapping the Drifter back to reality. "We're returning to your mission tomorrow, right?"

The Drifter's eyes widened, his mind racing as he struggled to recall his original purpose. He had been so caught up in the moment, so swept up in the Beheaded presence, that he had forgotten all about his mission.

"Ah, yeah... tomorrow," he stammered, trying to regain his composure. "I mean, yes, we should get back to it."

The Beheaded gaze narrowed, their eye is searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt. But the Drifter's expression was resolute, his determination renewed.

"I'm not going to let you face whatever is out there alone," the Beheaded said, their voice firm. "We'll do it together, okay?"

The Drifter expression softened, a hint of gratitude flickering across his face. He nodded, a warry smile playing on their lips. "Yeah...”

The Drifter's expression remained resolute, but beneath the surface, he felt a twinge of dread at the thought of returning to his quest. He had grown comfortable in the Beheaded presence, and the sensation of normalcy it brought was addicting. But he couldn't let his guard down, not yet.

As he stood up from the couch, he gestured towards the plate. "I'll just go wash this and get everything cleaned up."

But instead of heading to the sink, the Drifter made his way to the corner of the room where the bag of stolen books lay. He had barely glanced at them since their last mission, too caught up in the Beheaded presence to focus on his research.

With a sense of trepidation, the Drifter began to gather the books, his mind racing with the realization that he was nowhere near ready to face what lay ahead. He had been winging it for so long, relying on his charm and wit to get by, but he knew that wouldn't be enough for what was coming.

As he stuffed the books into the bag, the Drifter felt a sense of unease settle in. He was in over his head, and he knew it. But he couldn't let the Beheaded see his doubt, not now. He had to maintain the facade, no matter what.

The Drifter returned to the couch, bag in hand, and cleared his throat to get the Beheaded attention. "Hey, you look like you could use some rest after, well…all of that, Why don't you go get some sleep? I'll join you later."

The Beheaded nodded absently, their mind still elsewhere. "Yeah, okay... thanks."

The Drifter watched as the Beheaded stood up and made their way to the cramped space he calls bedroom, their movements mechanical. Once they were out of sight, the Drifter let out a sigh of relief and began to rummage through the bag of books.

He knew it was a lie, that he had no intention of joining the Beheaded anytime soon. But he needed the time to prepare, to devour the information in these books and hope that something stuck. He couldn't keep winging it, not when the stakes were this high.

With a sense of determination, the Drifter settled in for a long night of reading, the dim light of the room casting eerie shadows on the walls as he delved into the world of ancient texts and forgotten knowledge.

It took some minutes more that they would admit for the beheaded to realize they were fooled, they were already sat on the mattress when they realize drifter wasn't coming,their gaze wonder as it lays on the still lit common area, they eyebrow simply knit as they stood up an walked back.

The Beheaded eye narrowed as they stood behind the Drifter, their gaze fixed on the books and notes scattered before him. The soft glow of the drone cast an intimate light on the scene, and for a moment, the Beheaded just observed.

Then, with a hint of amusement and a dash of annoyance, they spoke up, their voice barely above a whisper. "Really?"

The Drifter's head jerked up, his eyes wide with surprise, as if caught in the act. He hadn't expected the Beheaded to return so soon, and certainly not to find him surrounded by books and notes.

The drone, sensing the tension, hummed softly and adjusted its position, as if trying to deflect attention from the Drifter's obvious deception.

The Drifter's face went through a range of emotions - guilt, embarrassment, and finally, a sheepish grin. "Ah, yeah... I just wanted to get a head start on things."

The Beheaded raised an eyebrow, their expression skeptical. "At this hour? With all these books?"

The Drifter's grin faltered, and he looked down at the notes, his eyes scanning the pages as if searching for an excuse. But he knew he'd been caught, and the Beheaded gentle tone only made it more awkward.

The Beheaded frown deepened, their eye sparkling with a mix of amusement and exasperation. With a gentle yet firm motion, they reached out and dismissed the drone, its soft hum fading into silence.

Then, with an ease that belied their towering frame, the Beheaded slid their hands under the Drifter's armpits and lifted him off the couch. The Drifter's eyes widened in surprise, his body stiffening as he felt himself being effortlessly picked up.

For a moment, he just hung there, suspended in mid-air, feeling a strange sense of vulnerability. The Beheaded grip was gentle, yet unyielding, and the Drifter couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment at being treated like a wayward child.

"We'll do it tomorrow," the Beheaded said, their voice soft but firm, as they carried the Drifter back to the bedroom.

The Drifter's face flushed, his eyes darting around the room in search of an escape or an excuse. But the Beheaded grip was unrelenting, and he knew he was beat.

With a quiet huff, the Drifter relaxed into the Beheaded grasp, letting himself be carried off to bed. As they moved, the Beheaded grip shifted, their arms wrapping around the Drifter's torso in a gentle, yet firm, hold.

The Drifter's eyes met the Beheaded, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. Then, with a soft sigh, the Drifter let his gaze drop, feeling a strange sense of surrender wash over him.

The Drifter's face still burned with embarrassment as the Beheaded placed him down in the bedroom, feeling like a scolded child. The Beheaded expression, though gentle, still held a hint of disapproval.

The Drifter rubbed off his neck, trying to shake off the feeling of being chastised. "Hey, no need to treat me like a kid, okay?" he said, attempting a weak smile.

The Beheaded frown softened, but their eye still sparkled with a hint of amusement. "You were acting like one," they said, their voice low and even.

The Drifter chuckled, feeling a bit sheepish. "Fair enough, I guess."

The Beheaded gaze lingered on him for a moment before they nodded and turned towards the bed. "Get some rest, it's been a long day, for both."

The Drifter watched them, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. He knew the Beheaded was right, but it was hard to shake off the feeling of being scolded.

The Drifter nodded to himself, acknowledging the Beheaded wisdom or more likely stubbornness. He made his way to the small space they claim restroom, the soft glow of the bathroom lights illuminating his path.

As he changed into more comfortable clothes, the Drifter's mind began to unwind, his thoughts slowing down. He knew the Beheaded was right; he had been pushing himself too hard.

The Beheaded, sensing the Drifter's routine, waited patiently in the bedroom. They knew that the Drifter needed his moments of solitude, his rituals to calm his mind.

The sound of running water, the rustle of clothes, and the soft hum of the bathroom's ventilation system created a soothing background noise. The Beheaded eyes grew heavy, their lids drooping as they waited for the Drifter to return.

In the bathroom, the Drifter took his time, letting the warm water wash away his fatigue as his hands were rinsed to get his medication. He changed into a pair of soft, worn pants and a comfortable shirt, feeling the familiar fabric envelop him like a gentle hug.

Finally, he returned to the bedroom, his eyes meeting the Beheaded. For a moment, they just looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them. Then, without a word, the Drifter climbed into bed, the Beheaded following suit.

As the Beheaded arms wrapped around him, the Drifter felt a sense of comfort and security wash over him. He reciprocated the embrace, his arms encircling the Beheaded waist.

The Drifter's head naturally came to rest just under the Beheaded chin, the gentle curve of their jaw fitting perfectly into the crook of his neck. He could feel the Beheaded body relax, their muscles releasing tension as they settled into the embrace.

But the Drifter's own body remained taut, his mind still racing with thoughts and worries. He tried to let go, to surrender to the calmness of the moment, but his muscles refused to release their tension. Beheaded seemed to sense this, their arms tightening slightly around the Drifter. They didn't say anything, just held him closer, their presence a soothing balm to the Drifter's frazzled nerves.

As they lay there, the Drifter began to feel his body slowly relax, his muscles unwinding like threads unspooling from a spool. His breathing slowed, his heart rate calming, but his eyes, those were still open, a tired gaze that seemed to draw the drifter into a state of awareness.

The Beheaded sensed the Drifter's body relax, but also knew that his mind was still racing.

"Hey, can't sleep?" the Beheaded asked softly, their voice barely above a whisper.

The Drifter hesitated, unsure of how to respond. But the Beheaded gentle tone put him at ease."No, I...can't turn off my brain," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The Beheaded nodded, their chin moving slightly against the Drifter's head. " insomnia again, can I help?"

The Drifter chuckles softly at the offer and whispers back, curious. "How?"

The Beheaded arms tightened around him, their hold comforting.”Maybe this could work still."

The Drifter was taken back as he felt beheaded fingers slowly trace the back of his neck and down his spine, feeling a sense of trust wash over him. He closed his eyes, letting the Beheaded soothing touch wash over him.

"It's less odd now…that i don't have to be, well.. careful," the Beheaded began, their voice gentle and calming. "At least this time…I won't burn you..."

Drifter recalls those nights,were he's brain would play ticks on him and force to relive of his days, beheaded would let hem nest in their embrace on the couch,their flame would be kept high in order to not cause harm, they would tentative run their callous hands on his back until he felt asleep. This time was no different.

As the Beheaded spoke, their touch wove a spell of calmness around the Drifter, slowly but surely drawing him into a peaceful slumber.The Beheaded warm embrace was like a weighted blanket, enveloping the Drifter in a sense of security and comfort, a gentle hum of satisfaction that seemed to vibrate through every cell in their bodies.

As they held each other, the Drifter's eyelids grew heavy, his breathing slowing as he succumbed to the exhaustion that had been lingering just beneath the surface. His insomnia, a constant companion for so long, seemed to melt away under the Beheaded tender touch.

The Beheaded arms tightened around him, holding him close as they felt him relax, his body going limp in their embrace. They smiled softly, their own eye growing heavy as they watched the Drifter drift off to sleep.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the Drifter's mind was quiet, his thoughts still and peaceful. His body was relaxed, his heart rate slow and steady.

The Beheaded gaze lingered on the Drifter's face, their expression soft and adoring. They knew that they had done this, and had brought peace to the Drifter's troubled mind and body. As they drifted off to sleep themselves, they knew that they would hold onto this moment, cherish it and keep it close. 

As the night wore on, they slept entwined, their bodies still wrapped in each other's arms.Drifter was the first to stir, slowly opening his eyes to find himself in a warm, cozy cocoon.

He gazed at the Beheaded, who was still fast asleep, their face peaceful and serene. The Drifter's heart swelled with a sentiment so strong, he couldn't help but smile.

He gently brushed a strand of hair out of the Beheaded face, his touch soft and tender. The Beheaded didn't stir, lost in the depths of their own slumber.

The Drifter's gaze lingered on the Beheaded face, taking in the sharp lines and curves of their features. He felt a sense of wonder and gratitude, marveling at the experience they now shared.

As he lay there, he realized that he had never felt this way before. The Beheaded had brought a sense of chaos and peace into his life, and he knew that he couldn't imagine a future without them.

The Drifter's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his own stomach growling, reminding him that they had skipped dinner the night before. He chuckled softly, knowing that they would have to rectify that situation soon.

But for now, he was content to simply lie there, wrapped in the Beheaded arms, and bask in the warmth of their now shared love.

The Drifter's eyes darted back to the Beheaded, who was still fast asleep, oblivious to the Drifter's inner turmoil. He couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of wonder and awe at the depth of their connection.

He gently nudged the Beheaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Hey, sleepyhead. Wake up."

The Drifter chuckled softly, amused by the Beheaded response. He had come to realize that they were a heavy sleeper, but this was taking it to a new level. They looked like a corpse completely relaxed and deep in the grogginess of their slumber.

Beheaded voice was rough as their face buried deeper into the mattress “five more minutes…”

"Five more minutes, huh?" the Drifter whispered, his voice teasing. "I don't think so. We need to get up and get moving."

He gently shook the Beheaded shoulder, trying to rouse them from their slumber. But the Beheaded just snuggled deeper into the blankets, their arms wrapping even tighter around the Drifter.

The Drifter sighed in amusement, feeling a sense of joy and contentment wash over him. He could only imagine what resting felt for the ,seeing the Beheaded like this, so relaxed and peaceful.

"Okay, okay," the Drifter whispered, "but just five more minutes, deal?"

He settled back into the Beheaded embrace, feeling their warmth and comfort envelop him. As they lay there, the Drifter couldn't help but think that this was where he belonged – in the Beheaded arms, surrounded by their love and affection.

The Beheaded stirred slightly, their voice barely audible as a soft unthoughtful mumble left their lips. "Love you..."

The Drifter's heart skipped a beat, his own voice whispering back in an impulse response, "Love you too.”

Drifter's mind went blank, in one hand beheaded was again fast asleep unaware of the shared words they did, but he simply smiled as he settled and back onto the feel. They both would eventually get up, but for now he simply wishes to embroid this memory on his skin.

[Masterpost] [Next]

[upontherisers]

a/n: did a wui (writing under the influence) exercise with a friend last night. this is what came out. the lake harding cape cod trip is an au of an au at this point.

mats of tan-and-green reeds stick out of the dunes, the clouds are conch-purple against a navy sky, and the wind’s picking up because the rain’s moving in again and he reckons they don’t have that much time— five, ten minutes tops—but he wants to stay for a while and watch her in the sea breeze, dark and radiant. 

he has to walk backwards to look at her, buffeted by gusts as he turns. she’s wrapped in her white shawl which snaps into the air behind her. her braids cut across her profile like sheets of dark rain as she gazes out to sea. he wants to lean in and get another sniff of what he had when he leaned in at the restaurant. sweat and the salt sea air and apples? he thinks, but it was bright and bit through his mind like Damascus steel. 

the sun is long gone, turning the lights from the boats out at sea from shadows to semi-stars. and she’s an Rorschach test inkblot against the dark of it all. green and grape purple pools stick to her gentle form like a bruise, like the iridescent mother-of-pearl of plum’s skin, like velvet, like the cover of Moonlight, like a pigeon like a raven, like night—pressing and warm. 

his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth—it’s just the salt in the air, he’s sure of it—and he wants more of her pasta at the restaurant, all garlic and salt and tomato sauce and tinny as his teeth scraped her fork for a hint of her lips.

it’s not the place for a proposal, he knows that, but he does think of it briefly, so briefly. so briefly he even forgets he thought of it as he gets drawn up in her hair in the wind and the gulls warning overhead and the snaps of the umbrellas in the tables along the sidewalk. he has the thought again—get down on one knee, fuck the rest of it—but keeps himself upright and finds the path to their connected gate. she has their keys, and she flicks a braid over her shoulder as she digs in her tote. 

thunder cracks from above and bucky can smell the rain on the breeze. he wouldn’t mind the storm; he wouldn’t mind anything for a second more with her, but she’d have a fit, or catch a cold running around in the house she’s keeping at freezing.

“i don’t got all day,” he says.

“suck my dick.” her voice is muffled by her bag.

their keys clack together with a shout of their own and she hands him his set with a smug raise of her brows. 

“you’re lucky i had these.”

“i didn’t get one sniff of a drink,” he says, lowering his face to hers. 

she pushes the pad of her index finger into his forehead and shoves it away. kiss me kiss me kiss me.

he follows her up and over the path through the dunes until it forks, and he heads to his door and she heads to hers.

“you didn't have to do that,” she starts from her keypad, squinting in the low light, “back at the restaurant.”

“well.” he slips his thumbs through his belt loops and leans back. “chick says i oughta be a little more chivalrous to ya, so i’m being chivalrous to ya.”

“cool it, oklahoma,” she says. “i’m just saying that you have… you’ve had my back more than i’ve had yours this year.”

“who says my back needs having?”

she stands to her full height and he gets a nice long look at her—the hills of her shoulders, the dip of her breasts into her dress, that goddamn belly button piercing that he wants to tangle in his teeth pressing circles under the sleek fabric, the stretch of her stomach as she breathes. thank god for sundress season. 

her eyes narrow and she shifts on a heel. “don’t get all soft on me just because i fell off a ladder.”

whoa, this is not where he thought this was going. he leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest, settling in for this conversation if they’re going to have it now. right here in the coming storm. 

“because you fell off a ladder.”

“yeah,” she huffs, “because otherwise, otherwise you’re just… just…” her feet shift as she looks down at them. “of all the things i need from you, pity’s not one.”

the breeze picks up, suddenly cold and wet and freshwater; they should be inside. he waits. “what do you need from me?”

thunder cracks overhead and he can hear a shout from inside the house. she can hear it too and breaks into a smile as the rain begins to fall and steal his view of her.

wagging a finger at him. “if you start being nice to me, i’ll kick your ass. remember that,” she calls and slips inside.

he takes a moment for the storm. the drops click against the pebbles lining the path, teasing him. yeah, yeah, laugh it up, he thinks.

“what the fuck was that?” he says to himself as he unlocks the door and heads inside. 

[salmoniid]

what i think different botw/totk elixirs taste like

bright elixir: corn syrup, smells a bit like medicine

chilly elixir: lifesaver mints and club soda

electro elixir: flat mountain dew

enduring elixir: honeysuckle, faint notes of carrot

fireproof elixir: ash.

energizing elixir: sour apple candy

hasty elixir: blue raspberry, but SPECIFICALLY the blue raspberry flavor on ring pops (how DO you mess up blue raspberry that bad i've always wondered that) as well as hints of seawater

hearty elixir: cherry gumdrops, and, hear me out-

-the hearty elixir also kinda tastes like what dr stinky gummi bear scratch and sniff stickers smell like. hear me out just hear me out

mighty elixir: carrots and those pale, too-sweet and too-husky oranges that you regret buying

sneaky elixir: huckleberries with strong notes of what sharpies smell like as a flavor. and hints of lavender.

spicy elixir: cinnamon candy and fruit roll ups

sticky elixir: tastes like water with a strong earthy tone to it, almost muddy. smells sickly sweet. oh and it's the texture of watery slime so have fun with that :)

tough elixir: grape candy and blackberries