#I MIGHT BE. getting ANOTHER fucking bump on my left side and that gives me a lot of info actually

[moe-broey]

FINALLY. DOWNSIZING MY PIERCINGS (MOST LIKELY IF MY PIERCER SAYS THEY'RE READY TO WHICH I'M P SURE THEY ARE BUT I WAS WRONG THE FIRST TIME)

[rafeandonlyrafe]

eventually

words: 700

warnings: established relationship, college student!reader, long distance relationship, cheating, not a happy ending, wheezie is a queen as per usual, mentions/implications of hooking up but the fic is pretty sfw

“it'll be… it'll be really hard and i understand if you want to break up.” just the words coming out of your mouth breaks your heart.

“is that what you want?”

“what?” you shake your head quickly, moving to sit even closer and taking rafes hands in yours, squeezing them tightly. “i love you. i don't want us to ever break up, but im going to college three hours away.”

“we will just have to go long distance.” rafe raises your joined hands and kisses the back of your hand to your fingers. “im not giving up on the only good thing in my life.”

“oh, rafe.” you pout, launching yourself forward into a tight embrace.

--six months later--

you smile at the email approving you to take your exam early. it's the last one you need and considering you already have a 4.0 in the glass, you don't see it dropping just because you get less time to study.

you quickly close outlook and open up your text messages. as much as you want to tell rafe that you'll be coming home two weeks early, you also really want to surprise him.

hey wheezie girl!! I need your help…

--

“where is he?” you whisper as wheezie let's you into the house.

“in his room.” wheezie also keeps her voice low. “he might be asleep though so i don't know if you want to wait.”

“no.” you shake your head quickly. you just got home and the first thing you did was drive to tanneyhill, you're not sure if you can wait even a minute longer. “i got it from here, thanks girl.” you give wheezie a big hug. “i missed you too, ya know.”

wheezie hugs you back before letting you tiptoe up the stairs, keeping your steps as light as to not wake rafe.

you take a deep breath when you see his door, excitement filling in you knowing he's just on the other side.

you grip the brass handle and turn it slowly, attempting to keep the door from creaking as you step into the dark room.

your eyes take a second to adjust to the darkness, the morning light blocked out by the heavy curtains. you recognize a figure in bed and take a few steps closer, but with every movement, your heart drops further.

the sob rips from your chest before you even realize you're crying, waking rafe instantly.

“baby?” he sits up quickly, his voice frantic. “what are you doing here?”

“baby?!” you squeal. “you don't get to call me baby when there's a girl in your fucking bed!”

the clearly naked girl, gripping the blanket to her chest is now awake and staring at the both of you in confusion, probably some touron who had no clue what she was getting involved with.

“p-please.” rafe stutters, standing quickly. “it doesn't mean anything, i don't even remember her name i just needed to-”

you hold your hand up. “i don't want to hear it. i can't believe you… this is over. we are over.”

you walk quickly out of the room and stumble down the stairs, feeling like the house is suffocating you.

you don't even realize that you bump directly into ward, practically crashing into him and forcing him back into rose.

“y/n, what's wrong?” ward asks just as rose asks you when you got home, the whole family knowing when to expect you.

“what's wrong is your son is a cheater.” you give rafe a glare as he stands at the top of his stairs in only his underwear.

“rafe-” ward growls out. he knows how good you are for his son, he's seen the shift in his behavior since you left.

“baby, i still love you, she means nothing to me! it was just casual-”

you leave the house as his pleas continue, not wanting to hear another word of his bullshit arguments, knowing two years has now gone down the drain.

“im sorry.” you look up to see wheezie standing by your car. “i didn't know for sure but… but i guessed. i know you needed to see it with your own eyes. he went to a party last night and-”

“oh, wheeze.” you quickly give her a hug. “it's okay. ill be okay.”

“you will?”

you don't know the answer to that question, not for certain as you look back at the house, rafe stood in the doorway but not following you as ward lectures him.

“not any time soon.” you admit honestly. “but i will be. eventually.”

sfw taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @ethanthequeefqueen @ladyinbl00d @drewsephrry

[d0youc0py]

Hiii can ypu write something with the 141 boys and their wife who starts a new job and her male coworkers are obcessed with her and dobt believe she is happily married. Please and thank you

“John?”

“Yes, Honey?” 

“Something interesting happened at work.” You said slowly. He turned in his office chair, leaning back with a heavy sigh.

“That so?” He hummed. His large hand grabbed your waist resting you on his leg. You hummed back running your fingers up and down the front buttons of his shirt. He leaned into you.

“Remember that guy at work I told you about? Harrison? Anyways, I was walking past his desk and I noticed it was empty. I asked my boss about it and she said he quit in a panic this morning.”

John nodded his head in agreement. “That is interesting.” He gave you a soft smile, running a hand up and down your back.

“John?” You asked again slowly. “What did you do?”

“My job.” He whispered leaning forward planting a quick kiss against your lips.

“Meaning…..” You trailed off swallowing hard.

“Protect you.”

“Did you kill him?” You whispered back, your eyes darting around as if someone was eavesdropping. A chuckle escaped him causing you to jump.

“No, sweetheart. I did gently urge him to fuck off though.”

“Si, can you pick me up please?”

You could hear him already getting his things over the phone.

“What happened?”

“Nothing serious. Remember that new guy I was training? Well he still hanging out in the parking lot and everyone has already left- it just doesn’t feel right.”

“Good Girl.” He praised. You could hear his truck starting. “I’ll be there in ten, just keep talking to me. How’s that book you’ve been reading?” His voice calmed you. You did as you were told, not bothering to question how he was going to make a thirty minute drive in ten minutes.

••••••••

He had made the drive in twelve minutes- the longest twelve minutes of your life.

“I’m outside, start heading down.” You breathed a sigh of relief opening the doors, the chilly night air hitting you.

“There’s my girl.” He quickly wrapped an arm around you giving you a peck on the top of the head. He opened the passenger side door of his truck, hoisting you up. He walked around to his side of the truck, leaning with his back against the door. His cold eyes staring directly into the grey car across the lot. It didn’t take long before the grey car tore out of the lot. Simon had a satisfied smirk on his face as he hopped into the truck. “I’m gonna start dropping and picking you up from now on, yeah? At least till that prick knocks it off.”

“Thanks, Si.”

“Mac! What’re you doing here?” Not that you weren’t excited to see him, he just wasn’t due home for another week.

“I missed you.” He murmured against your hairline.

“I missed you too.” You breathed, enjoying the way his cologne tickled your nose.

“I heard what you said on the phone, about our little problem.” His eyes scanned around your office building wondering who the group of bastards could be.

“Is that why you’re here? John you didn’t need to do that.” You assured, waving him off.

“Yes I do, Bon. This is your dream job and those bastards are already making you wanna quit- now point me in their direction and then we can go to lunch together, hmmm?”

“Please don’t make a scene Mac.” You whined tugging at his shirt. “How about I give you a tour and we just so happen to bump into them?”

He sighed, wanting nothing more than to give each one of them a black eye for how miserable they’ve been making you. But you and those damn puppy eyes outweigh his desire for blood.

“Alright. I might ‘accidentally’ trip one of them though.”

“How’s my pretty girl doin?” You could hear his smile on the other side of the phone.

“Best I’ve been in a week.” You smiled back. “I have a feeling I owe it to you.” You chirped, running your nails across the dinning room table.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby.”

“Yeah, sure. Well let me fill you in since you ‘don’t know.’ This morning I walked into work and you know those guys I was telling you about? The ones who take turns practically cornering me at my desk to ask if me and my husband are really ‘that serious’ and if I would like to go out with them for a ‘bitchin’ time’.”

“I do remember those guys, yeah.” Kyle mused from the other line. He wished he was there to see the air quotes he knew you were doing.

“Well this morning I walked in and they wouldn’t even look at me!” You cheered. “Ky, I don’t know what you did, but I owe you massively.”

“Don’t owe me a thing, pretty. Just happy you’re not scared anymore.”

[authorhjk1]

Interlude: Doctor appointment turns into bunny breeding sessions

( Kim Minji X Male Reader)

You sigh as you look around the waiting room. It has been a couple of minutes now, since the two girls left. About to stand up, you suddenly see one of the doors open.

The woman in the doorframe makes your eyes widen. Who is she?

The Korean woman wears a black jacket and a pair of shorts. The shorts almost make it look like she isn't wearing anything to cover her core at all. Her black choker and leather boots complete the all black outfit. It looks like she is also wearing fishnets, which barely even reach her knees.

"Ugh! I hate it here."

She slumps down on the chair on your left. Only now you realize she is also wearing a black top.

"How come?"

You decide to talk to her. This isn't an actual waiting room after all, which means she must live here. And that means, she is probably in on all this.

"The doctor is crap."

She doesn't even look at you as she blows a bubble with her gum.

"Which one?"

"The one with the pink hair."

She has her legs and arms crossed, while she sits next to you.

You frown. The two girls you met at the airport had brown and black hair. Whom is she talking about?

"What's your name?"

"Minji. Yours?"

"(Y/n)."

She offers you her fist and you give her a fist bump.

"Is something going on downtown?"

"What?"

You look at her in confusion.

"Is something wrong with your..."

She deliberately looks down at your crotch.

"Why would you ask that?"

"Because the doctors here are specialized in that area."

Minji blows another bubble, letting it pop loudly.

"I see."

It's silent for a couple of moments, before she asks again.

"So? Something going on?"

You ponder if you should tell her. This is still fake. So maybe you will get something out of this. You eye her from the side. Her face looks like that of an angel, although she is currently going for the opposite persona. Her black top is low cut, which means you have no trouble enjoying the view. Because the lower part of her jacket is covering her shorts, it looks like she isn't wearing any pants. Her long, creamy legs are on display.

"I produce too much.... You know?"

You glance at her face as she looks at you.

"I see."

She nods while blowing another bubble.

"And you?"

She shrugs her shoulder.

"I have this kink. Although the doctor says it's an addiction."

She scoffs, before shaking her head.

"What kind?"

You might have sounded a little too curious.

Minji ignores your question as she suddenly looks around.

"Hey, can you make sure no one comes in?"

A little surprised, you nod, before seeing Minji leaving her seat. She walks towards the "counter" before leaning over it. Her jacket rides up as she reaches for something. Her tight black shorts hug her butt perfectly, giving it a perfect shape.

But your eyes are quickly caught by something else. Black ink is decorating her left thigh, right above the back of her knee. The tattoo seems to be made out of three small butterflies.

Once she found it, she turns around, holding up her phone.

"Those idiots took it away from me. They said, I can't stop reading this stuff, but they are just overreacting."

"What kind of stuff?"

You watch Minji walking back to her seat next to you.

"I keep reading fan fiction about me. I'm a rock star, you know?"

"Oh, really?"

"Surprising, right? A sweet girl like me?"

She wiggles her eyebrows mockingly, before turning her phone on.

"And what kind of fan fiction?"

"I found this amazing story on Wattpad least year. The author's name was something with HJK? I dunno. But it was deleted. Luckily, I took a few screenshots."

"And what is it about?"

Minji winks at you.

"It's about how I get my back blown out by the reader."

You don't know how to respond to that. You are glad she keeps talking.

"I'm supposed to have a throat fuck kink, according to the story."

"And is that true?"

You are surprised at how freely she talks about this.

"Well, yeah. I like it. But that's not my favorite thing."

You see her opening her Tumblr account "timetobreedminji". After seeing her username, you are already able to guess, what her favorite thing is. Still you ask her, wanting to hear it from Minji in person.

"And what is your favorite thing?"

The Korean girl looks up from her phone to look at you. Her eyes are big and dark.

"Beeing bred."

Her eyes suddenly become a little darker as if you just triggered something in her.

"The doctors try to convince me, that I'm delusional, but that's not true. Do you know, why my fans call me bunny or rabbit?"

You shake your head. You expected another kind of name for a rock star, but you are in Korea after all.

"Because they all want to breed me."

"Really?"

You don't sound as surprised as you thought you would. Minji nods her head.

"The doctors told me, I'm fertile as hell. Perfect for breeding."

Her phone is lying forgotten on the seat next to her. Glancing at it, you read the title of the post, which she is currently reading. "Doctor's appointment turns into bunny breeding session"

(Author's note: "What the...??")

Minji looks around the room, before sighing heavily.

"Do you know how long it has been, since someone tried to breed me?"

You shake your head.

"About a week ago. I feel so empty."

By now, your dick in your pants is already hard. Forget about Yoohyeon and SuA. You have to fuck Minji first.

"Wait a minute."

She scans you up and down.

"You said your balls are producing too much cum, right?"

You nod your head hesitantly. Minji makes this roleplay stuff feel very real.

"Isn't that great for breeding?"

You should have known this question would come eventually.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the more you cum in me, the higher the chance you breed me properly."

"But I have an appointment soon."

Minji rolls her eyes in annoyance. Her rock star persona shining through.

"I don't give a fuck. Those doctors are dumb anyways. Wouldn't it help us both?"

You think about it for a moment. She is not wrong.

"You would lose some of that cum of yours and I can be your breeding bunny. That's a win-win."

"I don't see the harm in that."

As soon as you agree, Minji straddles your lap.

"Finally I'm gonna get some cum in my belly."

She whispers, before kissing your lips.

You hold onto her thighs to steady her on top of you. Her soft, creamy skin feels smooth underneath your palm.

Minji grinds on you, rubbing her center against your own. She can feel your hard cock in your pants, which makes her even wetter. As she imagines, how you would cum in her, you start to attack the flawless skin on her neck.

You immediately realize, that Minji only has one goal in mind. She already starts to undo your belt. Having sex is just a way to get what she wants. It's just a means to an end. You wonder if that's the role she is playing, or if that's actually her.

You lift your hips as you feel Minji pull off your pants and your underwear in one go.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have time to suck you off."

The Korean girl's breathing becomes faster as she reaches for your cock.

"I just need your cum in me. As soon as possible."

She let's some spit fall out of her mouth and onto your dick. Her hand makes sure that it's all wet. Still a little surprised at her speed, you are only able to watch as she lifts her hips.

"Get them off me. Please."

She sighs, while waiting for you to pull her pants down as well. The black fabric is tighter around her body as you expected. It takes a second to peel her shorts off of her. She isn't wearing panties, only a small stripe of hair decorates her lower region.

"Put it in already."

Her demands turn into whines as she waits for you to act. You guide her hips towards you, while Minji points your cock at her entrance. As she sinks onto you, you feel her snatch taking in your dick. Minji's walls have a tight grip on you as she lowers herself further.

"If I knew you were so big, I would've taken my time with it."

She sighs as you run your hands along the smooth skin of her thighs.

"I wish I could've felt these around my head."

You tease her as you squeeze her thighs slightly.

Minji sighs heavily, already stuffed with half of your cock. She leans forward, pressing her clothed chest into your face. You feel her hard nipples graze your cheeks as Minji takes a fistful of your hair.

"I'm such a needy bunny, I know."

She pushes your head further into her chest, while she slowly starts to ride you. When she Minji sinks down on you fully, her face is on level with yours. When she moves upwards, she presses your head into her chest. You take every opportunity to kiss her skin as you feel her pussy around your cock. You can feel Minji relaxing and contracting her muscles with the rhythm of her movements. She really does try her best to make you cum as fast as possible.

You wonder, how long you can hold out, not wanting to see this end too soon. You reach behind her to take handfuls of her cheeks. Minji moans into your mouth.

"Just use me, until you cum."

Before you can answer, you are faced with her black top again. When Minji sinks back onto your cock, she throws her head back, letting her hair look like a waterfall behind her.

You start to take control of her bounces, making her go a little faster. Much to her enjoyment it seems as Minji releases moan after moan.

"Make me ride your cock, baby."

Her walls squeeze you tighter, her pussy desperate to milk you dry.

"Fuck, Minji I-"

"Yes! Yes! Cum in me!"

She feels your cock twitching inside of her. You squeeze her ass harder, trying to hold on a second longer as you practically pull her onto your cock, before pushing her off again.

"Breed me! Breed this little bunny!"

You feel pain on your scalp. The result of Minji trying to hold onto her own high, wanting to climax when you cum as well.  It makes your head roll back too as you try to ease the pain.

"Give it to me! Breed me!"

"Fuck."

You moan as you finally unload inside of Minji. You hold her down, her pussy sealed around your cock tightly. The young woman shakes slightly on top of you as she feels her orgasm washing over her, while your cum floods her insides.

You open your eyes, when you finally come down from your high. Minji's chin rests on your shoulder as she tries to catch her breath. This was quite short. And yet, really good. It's evident that she has some experience. You feel your cock still inside of her as Minji slowly rolls her hips.

"Do you think you can give me a another load? Just to make sure you are breeding me properly?"

You could have said no. Maybe you even should have, knowing that the other two girls are waiting for you. And yet, you can't help yourself.

You wrap your arms around her, trapping Minji against your body. The two of you stay connected as you stand up. Although Minji is small and light it's still hard not to trip. You carry her to the kitchen counter as you feel her lips on your neck.

"Drown my pussy in cum, baby."

She whispers into your ear as you sit her down on the counter. She unlocks her legs behind you, enabling you to take them into your hands.

Minji lies down, her back pressed against the cold surface. She can feel it underneath her jacket. She is still wearing her boots and fishnets as you put her ankles onto your shoulders. You have a great view of Minji's pussy as you let your hands glide along her legs. Your fingers dance over the dark butterflies on her skin, until they reach her waist.

You see the young woman nodding. Her gaze a mixture of excitement and need.

Slightly pressing down on her belly, you almost pull out completely.

Pushing back inside, you hear her pussy making wet sounds. You push your cum further into Minji as you start to rock her world on top of her own kitchen counter.

"Oh fuck! So much cum!"

She feels your warm cum inside of her as you fuck her hard.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Minji arches her back off the stone surface. You hold onto her thighs, feeling one of her ankles slowly slip off your shoulder. The young Korean seems to interpret your actions differently.

"Yes! Put me in a mating press! Breed me!"

She moans loudly, almost shouting. You pull her further towards you, making her ass leave the surface. Leaning over her, you push Minji's legs towards her body. You start to fold her in half. Her boots reach her head and she holds onto her own ankles. You place your hands on the back of her thighs, one directly on her tattoo.

Her pleading face makes you fuck her harder. Now you are slightly above her, hitting even deeper spots.

"Fuck yes! Push your cum further!"

Minji mewls as you keep pounding her. You feel your muscles slowy getting tired as you use all your strength to push into Minji. She looks so sexy like that. Lying on her back, her ankles in her hands, unable to do anything but take your pounding.

Your thumb grazes over her butterflies. You are not a fan of permanent tattoos on women, but fake ones like these are very sexy. This one is quite small, but seductive. You wonder how Ahin would look wih a tattoo. Maybe on her back? A big one?

You lose your thoughts as Minji's pussy brings you back to reality. It squeezes your cock tightly, trying to drain you again. You feel your orgasm approaching as you fuck Minji into the counter.

"Gonna cum!"

You are surprised she cums so early, you expected her to orgasm with you again. She reaches around her anke with her left hand, covering her mouth with her hand.

Minji's head rocks back and forth along with her body as you drive her towards her orgasm.

"Fuck!"

Her scream is muffled, yet audible. Her body shakes, a little harder than the first time, as Minji cums around your cock again. It makes her pussy tighter, bringing you closer towards the edge as well.

"Fuck, Minji. I'm gonna cum in you."

"Yes!"

Her hand has left her mouth as she nods her head vigorously.

"Fill me up again! Breed my little bunny pussy! Give me baby bunnies!"

Not the usual choice of words, when someone begs you to cum in them, but Minji makes it sound somewhat alluring.

You grip harder onto her thighs as you push her legs further towards her. She is one flexible woman, taking your pounding in this position with ease.

"Fuck!"

You hiss as you unload a second time in Minji's pussy.

"Yes! Fill my womb! Cum in me!"

Her hole holds onto you tightly as you shoot rope after rope of cum into her freshly fucked pussy.

"So warm."

Minji sighs as she feels your cum inside of her. You lean over her, pressing her legs against her torso.

"I hope you stay addicted to this. I would love to breed you again."

Minji chuckles, wrapping her hands around your neck, pulling you closer.

"Wait for me after your appointment. And don't waste too much cum on them. They don't know how to appreciate it."

[ahsokaismyqueen]

Disappointed Revelations

Pairing - Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader

Summary - After working on a school project together, you had actually started to believe that there was more to Steve Harrington than meets the eye. All of that changes after an interaction with Jonathan Byers.

Word Count - 1.7k

Warnings - Language, season 1 Steve, they come a long way from this friends.

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Sister Reader Masterlist

You could tell that something was wrong. Well, a lot of things were wrong at the moment, but this was even more so. Jonathan and you were not close. Acquaintances, not much more than that, but you knew how close he was with his brother. He had to be taking this hard. The frown on your lips deepened as you watched him get approached by Steve Harrington and his little lackeys. 

“Hey! Earth to Henderson!” You were snapped back to reality by Eddie who was waving his hand in your face. “You know, if I wasn’t so secure in our undying friendship, I might be offended by you ignoring me.” 

Shoving his hand away, you gave him a grin. “I apologize my dear dungeon master. My attention was captivated by the douchebag crew over there.” You said, gesturing towards them. 

Eddie turned to where you were looking, his eyes widening with interest as he leaned against the car next to you. “Well, that is intriguing isn’t it? What do you think it’s about?” 

There was no telling. All you could think about though was that the last thing you would want to deal with if Dustin was missing was them. Sure, Steve had been . . . Nice to you earlier when it had been just the two of you working on the project together, but he always got worse whenever he was around Tommy. “I don’t know.” You admitted, and watched as Jonathan tried to brush past them but Tommy grabbed his bag off his shoulder, “but I don’t like it. He’s got enough to deal with right now.” 

He picked up something in your tone, and you felt his gaze on the side of your face. “His brother was friends with yours wasn’t he?” 

“Is,” you corrected, without looking at him. 

Eddie cleared his throat awkwardly. “Right.” 

Letting out a sigh, you watched as they continued to antagonize Jonathan. “I taught him how to play DND, you know? With the rest of Dustin’s friends. Pretty good little player.” You bumped your shoulder into Eddie’s. “Might give you a run for your money some day.” 

He let out a scoff at your words. “You know, I’m taking back the undying friendship -”

“What the hell!” You leapt off the back of the car as you watched Steve drop Jonathan’s camera on the ground. 

“Henderson, what are you -”

You hadn’t even realized you had started moving. Eddie was calling out to you, followed by a couple murmurs of shit, shit, shit,  but you didn’t care. All you felt was anger. Jonathan didn't deserve that. You knew what his home life was like. He had probably had to work hard to save up enough for that camera, and it must have been like rubbing salt in the wound of Will’s disappearance to have another thing taken away from him, even as small as that. It reminded you of - 

“You’re such a fucking dick, Harrington!” The words left your mouth before you even thought about them, shoving his back and causing him to stumble forward. 

Steve turned around, looking even more startled when he realized it was you. “Henderson, what the hell was that for?!” 

But you didn’t stop, you kept coming for him with an anger that was buried deep inside of you, reaching out to shove him again. “His brother is fucking missing, and you can’t have sympathy for two minutes -”

Steve grabbed a hold of your arms, keeping them at your sides even as you tried to shove him off. “He was taking pictures of -”

“I don’t give a shit what he was taking pictures of.” You hissed in his face. “Not everyone can get their daddy to buy them new stuff when it breaks. Sometimes you can’t ever get things back.” Against your will, you felt tears of anger forming in your eyes. You could also feel Steve’s chest heaving against yours, the tension in the air thick, and for a moment, you thought you saw an ounce of regret in his eyes. 

“God, the freak has finally lost her mind.” Carol Perkins said with a laugh. 

“Stay out of this.” Steve snapped at her.

“Shut the hell up you pathetic bitch.” 

Steve and you spoke at the same time, and there was a moment of silence at your words. You heard footsteps step closer to the two of you, but you didn’t take your eyes off Steve, your face still flooded with simmering anger. 

“What did you call me?” You heard Carol say. 

You felt Steve’s hands tighten for the briefest moment on your wrists, almost like a warning, but you still didn’t care enough to even glance her way. “A. Pathetic. Bitch. All together it’s only five syllables. Didn’t realize that was above your comprehension level.” You said,  “But I’m not surprised.” 

“How dare you -”

“I told you to stay the hell out of it!” Steve yelled at her, breaking your gaze for a moment to glare at her, and you used his distraction to yank your arms out of his grip. 

You took a step back from him, not even realizing until that moment how close the two of you had been. “I can’t believe I thought for one second you might not be such a bad person.” You admitted. “But you really are a dick.” 

Steve looked hurt. It shocked you, but he looked upset by your words. Why? You didn’t know. It wasn’t like he gave a single shit what your opinion of him was anyway. 

“Henderson!” You finally tore your gaze away from Steve at the sound of Eddie’s voice. “Let’s get out of here.” You didn’t know when it had happened, but Eddie had joined the circle, glancing between Steve and you with an expression that was a cross between concern and confusion. 

Tommy stepped forward then, clapping Steve on the shoulder and looking at you with a smirk. “You know, she’s not wrong, Harrington. You are a dick.” 

“She’s got an eye for that. You know with all her experience with them.” Carol said, and you turned away from her, taking a few steps towards Eddie as he slung an arm around your shoulder. “Though normally it’s just freak dick.” 

Your hands tightened into fists for a brief moment, but you didn’t respond, knowing it wouldn’t be worth it. 

“Bet she wouldn’t know what to do with a real one.” You heard Tommy said, and a round of laughter at what that implied made you snap once more. 

“I hope you’re not implying that you have a real one! I’d need a damn telescope to find yours -!” You yelled, turning around to see Steve hold Tommy back. 

“Bitch!” 

“Asshole!” You yelled back. 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie said, sliding his arm down to grab a hold of your waist and literally tug you away from them. “What the hell has gotten into you?!” He pulled you to a stop beside Jonathan while Nancy went to answer Steve’s call for her. 

You ignored his question, frankly because you weren’t sure how to answer it, and bent down to look at the damaged camera. “Can it be fixed?” You asked him. 

He shook his head, carefully picking up the bigger pieces. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

You knew you didn’t, but something inside of you hadn’t let you stop. You gave Jonathan a sad smile. “If there’s anything Dustin and I can do to help find Will . . . We want to help.” You thought about how many times he must have heard that, because it was what you were expected to say, right? “I’m serious.” You added, wanting him to know you were. “He’s a good kid.” You told him, handing him one of the bigger pieces. 

Jonathan looked at you for a second, then nodded. “Thanks for not saying ‘was’.” He grabbed what he could of his things, and with another nod to the two of you, headed to his car. 

“Are you going to tell me what the hell all that was about?” Eddie said once it was only the two of you again. 

You ran a frustrated hand through your hair. “I don’t know. He just . . . he pissed me off.” 

“He’s done shit like that before. They all have. You didn't shove him then.” Eddie said. 

Eddie was right. You’d witnessed them all being terrible for years now, and it had never bothered you that much. You wanted to say that you didn’t know why, but the truth was, you did. After working on that project together, you actually had started to believe that maybe Steve wasn’t all bad. That maybe there was something more to him than a mindless, womanizing jock. 

You hated that he proved you wrong. 

But you couldn’t admit that to Eddie. He’d say he told you so, and you didn’t think you could stand to hear that right now. “I know.” You said. “I think I’m just worried about Will and Dustin and it’s making me a little crazy.” You told him. It wasn’t a complete lie. It wasn’t the whole truth either, but it was all you were willing to admit. 

Of course, Eddie was your best friend. He had been since middle school, and he probably knew you as well as Dustin did. He could sense you weren’t being honest with him. “You sure about that?” 

You didn’t want to answer. You let out a sigh, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “You were right. I need to get out of here. Maybe take a nap or something.” You said, holding out your hand for the keys to his van. 

Eddie dropped them into your palm without protest, going to hold the door open for you. “Whatever you say.” He said, but he didn’t sound convinced. The two of you sat in silence for a moment while you both got situated in your seats, and you started the car up before he spoke again. “I will say that was one of your more badass moments though.” 

You shook your head, sending him a small smile. He was right after all. It wasn’t often that you spoke up like that. The problem was, after a moment like that, you should feel proud of yourself right? 

Then why did you feel so disappointed?

[bloodiedrogue]

WEAVED TOGETHER (SAY IT'S FOREVER)

SUMMARY: After faking your death years ago, Astarion finally finds you in Waterdeep.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,128

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, fingering, orgasm denial, sex used as a manipulation tactic, biting, blood sucking, descriptions of past/current abuse, Ascendent Astarion (feel like I need to tag this just in case), a whole lot of angst.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic gave me so much grief. I really hope my labour translates into something good because man, if it doesn't I might fucking cry. :') Also, fic title is inspired this bop!

MASTERLIST

-

You’ve never been particularly keen on parties. Favouring quite possibly anything above the stuffy insides of a ballroom packed with people, it’s a miracle that you haven’t already left Gale’s side for some air. To take even the shortest of moments to allow yourself some alone time. 

Feeling the fabric of your dress uncomfortably stick to your skin, you can’t help but squirm at the thought of having to stay any later. Considering you’ve been here for a good few hours already, you’re tempted to ask Gale if maybe now’s the time to part ways.

At this point you’ve been well and truly shown off to the entire party, gawked at by countless of his old academic friends, so surely he wouldn’t mind if you up and left now, right?

Before you can think to ask, he’s already wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for a friendly kiss to the cheek. “I really do appreciate you coming,” he tells you, drunkenly swaying as he speaks, letting out a chuckle as you hold him steady. “I would’ve been terribly embarrassed to show up at such a renowned event without a date.” 

“So you’ve mentioned.” You shoot him a smug look, watching him roll his eyes and take a sip of wine, debating whether or not to take the glass from him, knowing just how much he’s had.

“I mean it, you’ve been nothing short of wonderful to me in my time of need, so thank you.”

Despite the urge to play down his thanks, to remind him of all the things he’s done for you as of late, you merely take it, offering him a quick you’re welcome in return, knowing just how persistent a drunken Gale can get. How the man hardly pauses to breathe in the midst of a conversation —his endless string of words seeming to lose you almost instantly every time. 

Even now, as he begins to go on some long-winded speech about the importance of your friendship, you’re already miles away, longing to drift towards the balcony that rests just across the room, taunting you with its open air and lack of people. 

“Anyways, would you care for another drink? I’m in need of one myself thanks to the hole at the bottom of my glass.” Pulling you back in, Gale lets out a joyous laugh, throwing his head back while you merely shake your head.

“I’m uh, no I’m fine Gale. You go ahead and get that drink. I think I’m going to head outside and get some air.” 

All he does is give you a tight hug before he leaves, stumbling across the marble floors, bumping into various bodies that suddenly get caught up in his inebriated storm, allowing you a moment to yourself. 

You let out a sigh of relief then, turning your attention to your desired spot, gathering up the skirt of your dress so that you can race to its opening, breathing in the scent of fresh air once you step past the threshold.  

Somehow once you’re out there, you notice that there isn’t a body in sight. No couples having late-night trysts in the corner or other lonesome individuals stood painfully reflecting on their night. It’s just you by yourself, walking slowly towards the railing, gripping it tight as you allow your mind to settle. To shut down for just a moment after being on for so long.

It feels like forever since you’ve felt this calm. After years of endless journeys —of fighting and running and, as of late, hiding away— you feel that old sense of ease wash over you. Like the waves of Waterdeep’s coast, they gently lap at your feet, rising and falling with each breath you take, watching from afar the bustling city streets below as they begin to die out for the night. 

It reminds you of home, a bit. Of the nights you used to spend wandering around Baldur’s Gate, your belly full of the cheapest ale and your mind empty of anything other than the prospect of fun. Back then, you were always full of reckless abandon, constantly getting into trouble only to talk your way out of it not long after and unfortunately, you can’t help but begin to miss it all. The life before the war. Before you were taken in the dead of night and forced into a life you never wanted to live. 

Things were simpler then. You didn’t have the scars of clashing swords or the kind of memories that often shook you awake each night, covered in sweat and gasping for air. Devoid of anything truly awful, all you had was the blissful ignorance of a fool. One hellbent on solitude in a world of constant interaction. 

Honestly, if it weren’t for the people you’d met along the way you’d be jealous of that life. The one where you were seemingly untouchable, your mind vacant of regret and resentment and—

Before you can continue, you shake those same feelings from your mind, forcing out a heavy breath as you try to maintain the calm. The ocean of waves of Waterdeep pooling between your toes, knowing it’s the only way you’ll move on. If you focus on the positives —if you refuse to look back even for the slightest of moments you’ll forget all about those other lives you lived. All the chapters you spent haphazardly scribbling down, trying desperately to get to this moment.

It seems impossible sometimes, remembering how much shit you had to go through to get here. Not only did you have to survive countless wars involving mind flayers and cultists, but you also had to die to get it. And not die in the metaphorical sense, either. No, you had to literally die —to off yourself in front of countless people and hope to god the Necromancer that you hired actually turned up. 

It was a whole process. One that you refuse to think about as you let out a scoff and raise your hands to your head, pressing two fingers to either temple to relieve yourself of the sudden ache that hits. 

“Remember what we said about thinking,” you remind yourself then, allowing your eyes to slowly roll back, savouring the alleviated pressure your fingers provide.

Repeating the mantra in your head, you rub your skin and hum aloud, standing for a few more minutes as you listen to the sounds of the bustling party behind you. How the music swells into a crescendo of excitement, various strings and woodwinds all playing in time with one another. 

Alongside it, a calming voice echoes over, rising and falling with each passing note that carries through the air to your ears. At first, it’s soft and silky —comforting in a way that wills you to drop your hands and take a few steps towards the entrance of the building, watching as a beautifully freckled bard strums her lute and smiles at the crowd. 

Suddenly intrigued, you move to your previous spot inside the ballroom, spotting a rather awestruck Gale who’s holding onto two glasses of red, staring with widened eyes.

“She’s rather pretty.” You grin wickedly and bump your hip against his, hearing him grunt as he blinks and glances at you. 

“I’m sorry?”

Taking the glass nearest to you, you then use that same hand to motion to the bard that’s begun to erupt in an upbeat chorus, her voice lowering to a wild growl as she kicks up her feet, dancing around the stage with some of the other musicians. “The bard. Fancy a taste?”

He narrows his eyes at you, a grin of his own peeling across his face as he shakes his head. “I think a conversation would suffice. Least, for starters.” 

Biting your bottom lip, you jokingly wrap your arm around his shoulders and shake, pressing your face against his cheek to make obnoxious kissing sounds that leave him laughing and shoving you off. 

“Unhand me, you harlot!” 

“What? Afraid she’ll see?” 

He opens his mouth, almost offended, staring for a moment as you wiggle your brows and take a sip of the wine. “Excuse you, that was my drink.”

“You got yourself two drinks?” You raise your brow.

He scrunches up his face in response before subtly craning his neck towards the other side of the ballroom. “No, it’s for Astarion.” 

Your stomach sinks at the mention of his name, filling you with the kind of dread you’ve only felt one other time in your life. All at once it sends you into a panic. Your chest aching and your throat tightening. Even your hands, once carefully wrapped around the vessel of liquid seemingly shifts to a close, resulting in shattering glass that pokes and prods your skin before it falls to the ground. 

Crying out in surprise, Gale’s previously mischievous expression quickly fades. Replacing it, an air of worry envelopes the both of you. As he reaches for your arm, allowing his hand to carefully slide down to view your newfound injury, you try to swallow and scan the room, picking apart face after face to no avail, wondering if somehow he’s already found you. If perhaps, instead of where Gale assumes he is he’s instead directly behind you, lingering like the creature of the night he is, waiting to strike. 

A shaky breath escapes you then. Peeling away from Gale’s cautious grasp, you take a minute to blink and look him up and down, noticing the growing fear in his eyes. How his lack of understanding only spurs your head to whip behind you, to find more curious eyes staring back. 

“Are you alright?” 

The question comes from a voice you’ve never heard before. So, instead of entertaining it you merely turn back to Gale, suddenly catching an unfortunate glimpse of pale skin and ivory hair quite a ways back. 

Immediately, it strengthens the dread inside, ripping the breath from your lungs as you press a nervous hand to your neck, realizing that somehow it’s already been years since you’ve last seen him. Months and days and hours all collectively bundled together, only to be completely ruined by this one moment.

As you stand there, staring —watching as he does nothing but the same, you feel your mind yelling for you to run. To discard whatever reservations you may have left to push violently through the crowd because, at this rate, it’s the only option left. Having already tried hiding beneath the freezing hands of Death himself, it’s obvious you’ve exhausted all other options. No matter what you do —what you say— nothing will be deemed feasible enough to grant you the escape you so foolishly desire. You’re too vulnerable now, standing there in your ballroom gown, bleeding from your injured hand, trying not to have a full-blown panic attack as he takes that first stride forward. 

Matching his step, you feel your body waver backwards, everything suddenly swirling across your vision as Gale reaches out to grab your arm, asking if you’re okay.

“I’m aware the breakup wasn’t amicable but maybe if you two just talk?” he suggests, his voice bouncing off your ears like a war drum, reminding you that Sufferance is coming. And that he’s dressed in his fanciest suit to mark the occasion, practically gliding through the room with knitted brows and frowning lips, pushing aside everybody who gets in his way. 

“Gale, we —I need to go.”

Suddenly your palm, still filled with glass pushes against his robes, staining the fabric as your blood begins to drip, reminding you of his hunger —of the way he used to feed. How he took and took, ignoring your starvation for something other than submission. Refusing to acknowledge the withering of your soul each day you spent wrapped around his pretty little fingers.  

As he shoves a woman to the ground, you can feel the emptiness within your stomach start to grow at the memory. The shuddering of your limbs driving Gale to look behind him, noticing the wild look in Astarion’s eyes as the crowd begins to part in fear, watching as he bares his teeth. 

It’s a look that makes you instantly flinch. Closing your eyes, your shoulders rise to touch your ears in anticipation. Waiting for the moment to strike, you all but freeze in place, holding your breath as the steps of his boots draw near, reverberating through the air until they suddenly stop.

In fact, everything stops. The sound of him —the sound of the party. All of it falls onto deaf ears, creating a new fear that has you so terrified you merely stand in place until you eventually hear the clapping sound of a hand on someone’s back, followed by the swirling of your head again, forcing your eyes to jolt open. 

“Oh, hello darling, didn’t see you there.”

Once again trying to breathe, you glance between the two men in confusion, watching as they share a lengthy embrace before Astarion’s pushing himself onto you. Gentler than expected, his arms slowly wrap around your shoulders as he does it, pulling you to his chest in a way that feels both frightening and familiar. A mix of home and hell encased around your nervous frame as he lowers his head to yours. 

In response, you reluctantly raise your hands and place them on his back, applying a bit of pressure at the centre as you mutter out a muddled hi, looking to see that the commotion he so violently caused before seems to have evaporated into thin air. 

“You’re awfully far from home, aren’t you?” His voice is barely above a whisper, ghosting against the shell of your ear as you force out a shaky breath.

“So are you.”

“I wonder why that is.”

You hum in response. Using the short moment of silence that’s granted to stare. To watch the way he looks you up and down, the edges of his lips pulling into a smirk of amusement. 

It’s obvious then that he’s thinking of playing tricks. Of taunting and teasing —using all the usual charming tactics before he decides it’s worth it to raise a little hell. 

Because of this, you merely swallow hard and spare Gale a glance, watching him magic away the bloodstain on his robes before looking back towards the stage. 

“How did you find me?”

Astarion reaches for your chin. Taking hold of it with his thumb and forefinger, he then waits patiently for you to share his gaze, looking your face up and down until he can finally see the fear in your eyes. “Does it really matter?” 

It does, but you know he won’t tell you so you move on to another question. “Why are you here then?” 

Immediately he scoffs, the smirk on his face falling for a split second. “Do you really have to ask?” he says, letting his thumb run across the length of your bottom lip. “Obviously, I’ve come to enjoy a spot of red with old friends.”

“Hm.”

“Among other things, of course.” 

“Like?” 

“Reclaiming my dead consort, for one.”

“And two?” 

He shrugs his shoulders as he taps your chin. “Not sure. Depends on how the night goes.” 

You’re not sure what to say then. Growing increasingly lost to the feeling of his hands and voice —remembering all the moments shared when it was just him and you and the power imbalance of ascension hadn’t yet existed— all you can do is pull him in a bit tighter. 

Knowing that Gale is probably growing more curious by the second, you suddenly feel a sense of protection. An urge to get rid of him so that he’s no longer at risk. 

Well aware of the power Astarion now holds within his grasp, you know it’s hardly worth it to try and get him involved anyway, especially considering how much alcohol he’s consumed. The poor man couldn’t be helpful even if he tried, so instead of asking you merely hold on. Tightening your grip as the other parts of you desperately try to rationalize just how much you’ve missed this. How even after years spent fleeing his hold —years of constant moving and hiding and watching your back for signs of his presence— his touch is still the only thing that makes you feel safe.

Which is a fact that makes you sick to your stomach, discovering that, regardless of being able to name a million reasons why you should be fleeing rather than falling, suddenly you’re able to name just as much for why you’d stay. Why you’d more than willingly follow his footsteps if he asked. 

And not because you fear him, no. Despite having just been found out —despite that growing uncertainty of how you’ll inevitably be taken back— it’s as if your mind resets on impact. As he holds you close, speaking in obvious threats to your safety if you don’t listen, you can feel the defiance in you quickly dwindle. Evaporating into thin air as he leans away to give Gale an overly friendly smack to the shoulder. 

“Gale, darling, you wouldn’t mind giving us a bit of privacy would you? Seems we have much to discuss.” 

The hold he has on you tightens as he speaks, reminding you that such a conversation is anything but optional as Gale almost immediately buggers off, drunkenly mumbling something about drinks and fun before Astarion’s whisking you away. 

Leading you through a crowd of bodies, you quickly find your hand gripping his shoulder absentmindedly. All splayed out, your fingers nervously caress the fabric of his doublet, feeling the texture shift beneath your skin, reminding you that he’s here. That’s he’s present and real and not just some illusion conjured up to scare you into coming back. 

“Your entrance back there was…” 

You’re not sure what to say anymore. Not with the underlying rage you can feel radiating off of him. Given the fact that it’s been so long, you’ve almost forgotten how to please him. To make his mind ease into those old spaces of pity where sometimes he’d grant you reprieve amongst the punishment. 

Knowing this, he looks at you with feigned innocence, taunting you with his still raised lip as though he’s having fun despite slowly inching towards the blowout. “Did you like it? I figured, it’s been so long since I’ve last toyed with that little mind of yours, best to give it a proper show.” 

He wipes his thumb across your forehead and watches you frown; your head suddenly darting back only to be ripped forward when that same hand tightens around your throat.

All at once the action leaves you gasping for air. As his thumb presses down on the centre of your neck, applying just enough pressure to pull from you a nervous wheeze as the two of you stop, he can’t help but lower his face to yours. 

“I’d consider yourself lucky that the temperament I showed back there was merely an illusion,” he tells you, pressing his forehead to yours.

Swallowing to no avail, you feel the lump in your throat become pressurized by the growing frustrations in his hand. Prompting you to panic, another airless sound emits from your lips as your eyes begin to dart around, looking at all the curious eyes that seemingly look away the second you make contact. 

You realize then that nobody cares. Whether it’s due to the intimidating presence he exudes or the potential word of mouth of his ascendance circulating the room, you don’t care, knowing it doesn’t really matter anyway. He’s untouchable regardless. A force so unmovable that all you can do is pray that he’s merciless. 

As he grips your throat amongst a sea of avoidant faces, unwavering in his efforts to patronize your past behaviours, you know then that this marks the end of your freedom. That from this moment on his control over you has been reenacted without discussion. 

“Now, are we going to obey and have a nice evening or are we going to do something we might regret?” 

Looking back at him, all you can do is nod, feeling that alleviation slowly come. Granting you the chance to breathe again, you cough quietly and reach for your throat, rubbing the pain away as you watch his previously aggressive demeanour fall into amusement, once again stringing you along. 

At which point you effectively zone out. Still feeling his hand flush against the small of your back, it’s as if suddenly your mind becomes null, avoiding all thoughts as he leads you through the main entry of the ballroom, turning down a seemingly endless stream of corridors until you find yourself face to face with an ornate door. 

Once there, he peels away from your frame and begins to pick the lock, wickedly grinning at you once that familiar click rings out, reminding you of the old him. Of how he was before the ritual, all doe-eyed and excited to experience the world and all its gifts. 

It makes your lip pull between your teeth nervously, seeing him unbend the length of his back to look at you. To smirk in a way that feels so real and him that you almost forget that he’s changed. That, instead of picking the lock to loot the room and make charming little jokes at your expense, he’s doing it so he can get you alone. So that he can do unspeakable things the old Astarion would never think to do.

“Shall we?” 

His voice rings out like a request even though you know deep down it’s a command, secretly telling you to hurry up. So, doing just that, you brush past him without so much as a glance, taking in the endless wall of books that greets you as you enter, opening your mouth in slight awe until the door closes behind you. 

Turning back, you’re then given all but a second before he’s on you. Grabbing you with such violent desperation, a hand snakes around your waist, claiming you like he used to do when you were still devoted to being his. When this idea of free will was nothing more than a passing thought that barely grazed the surface.

Back when he was still yours. 

Immediately, the familiarity of it wreaks havoc on your chest. Your heart, once filled with longing and fear now radiates nothing but need. Demanding that old sensation of flesh brushing against flesh as his other hand takes hold of the base of your neck.

The second you feel it, all thoughts are lost. Every previous reservation you once had melting into nothing against the hot feeling of your mouth pushing against his, prying open both lips to taste his tongue. To remind yourself of what it felt like to be wanted in the simplest sense. 

Deepening the kiss, he moans and somehow pulls you closer, forcing your chests together as he maneuvers you backwards, stumbling over a raised edge of a rug before practically tossing you onto the floor. 

“Years,” he groans then, pulling away to stare down at you with knitted brows and swollen lips, distracting you with that pretty face as he begins to rip the bodice of your dress. “I’ve spent years without this flesh —without this blood.” 

His fingers pry at the fabric, peeling back the only layer you have to hide behind until you’re left exposed from the waist up, anxiously breathing at the sight of his hunger. 

A sight that leaves you helpless beneath his grasp as he quickly leans forward, palming one breast while holding your face with the other. Beneath him, all you’re able to do is take each touch as it comes, savouring the uncharacteristic softness as his thumb brushes against your nipple, teasing it with gentle swipes as he goes in for another kiss.

Similar to his hands, there’s a strange feeling that comes along with it. As he nibbles your bottom lip, choosing to give you control, you know that something’s off. That instead of displaying the softest version of him you’ve felt in years, he should be punishing you with reckless brutality. Taking what’s rightfully his without so much as a thought.

Because of this, you reluctantly pull away, gasping for air as he hovers above you, still stroking your chest and face. 

“Why are you doing this?”

Normally, such a question would result in some sort of punishment. A night of solitary confinement. Perhaps the silent treatment for up to a week. 

Back before you realized just how fucked up everything had gotten he used to isolate you for things as simple as this. Forcing everyone around to ignore your every waking move, he found that loneliness was the key to your obedience. The only way to control whatever reckless thoughts entered your mind. 

So, it’s surprising when he answers —when he lowers his mouth to give your lips one final kiss before flashing that smirk. “What do you mean?” 

You raise your brow and move to sit up, leaning against your elbows as your face contorts in confusion. “Why are you acting like him?”

“You mean me?” 

You open your mouth to respond —to fight against his words, knowing now more than ever that you should. Considering the door’s already open for conversation, you might as well get all your thoughts out while you’re able. Because after this it’s apparent, you’ll be stuck all over again, wasting away at the foot of a God who’s anything but forgiving. 

“You aren’t punishing me.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Why?”

His hand explores your face, swiping across skin that hasn’t felt a single touch since your departure. “There’s always time for punishment —for penance,” he tells you, tracing your features with featherlight strokes that have you begging for more as you push yourself upward. “Now that I have you again, there’s far more important things I want before I subject you to what you deserve.” 

“Which is?” 

He pauses for a while, continuing his ministrations in a way that has you forgetting why you left in the first place. Why, instead of subjecting yourself to the torment of his hand to feel the grace that often coincides, you decided to give it all up. 

“I haven’t quite decided yet.” 

It’s a simple statement, yet it holds far too much weight against your ears. As he speaks, your heart flutters in your chest nervously, reminding you that this thing between you is nothing more than an imbalance. A tipping scale so unevenly distributed that you’ve lost all hope for rebalance. 

Because of this, you don’t fight him when he inevitably leans forward. Nor when he presses a slightly rougher kiss to your lips, biting down with a newfound vigour that splits your lip in half. Feeling the blood pool out, you hardly react when Astarion’s lips begin to suckle the wound, lapping up whatever spills through as he rips away the rest of your clothes, tossing it all aside.

Suddenly cold, you find your arms rising to hold him all over again. Wanting to feel the fabric of his clothes pressing against your bare skin, you grip him tight and groan, relishing in this moment. Enjoying the familiarity of it as something warm blooms across your aching core, fuelling the need for your hips to slightly buck up, making him laugh. 

Light and airy, the sound filters through your mouth like smoke, taking hold of your lungs in a way that leaves you addicted. Wanting to chase that past feeling, your hands swiftly lower to his waist, your fingers tucking themselves under his clothes to touch the texture of his scar —to feel the old him amongst all the new. 

Realizing this, his movements become suddenly erratic. Forcing himself up with a grin, he then begins to quickly trail down your body, pressing his mouth to every exposed bit within his sightline, making sure to glance up at your heavy eyes and parted lips along the way. 

“Mm, still as desperate as ever, my little consort,” he tuts. 

Between the kisses he places to your freshly bruised flesh, he releases another laugh that lingers in your mind, further reminding you of him. Of the man you fell in love with. Of the man who swiftly slips between your thighs with little notice, raising the backs to rest against his shoulders. 

A sound of shock escapes your lips at the new position, craning your neck to watch him latch onto your inner thigh, suckling the plush through such a guttural moan that it forces your jaw to drop.

“Fucking hell,” you mumble then, prompting his lips to curl into a grin before he’s biting your thigh, forcing his teeth through the tender flesh before you can even think to object.

It feels better than you remember. Almost like a hot flash of pleasure before that familiar coldness kicks in, numbing the space that he suckles with haste. As his lips hollow out to drink whatever he can get, you feel his hand slip against your entrance, knuckles grazing the outer folds of your sex just right. 

Bucking your hips again, you feel his movements become one. Each time his tongue licks up, his fingers raise to the top of your cunt, flowing back down in such delicious unison you’re already ready to submit. To surrender yourself to whatever pleasures might await through the pain of your punishment.

So much so that you’re already begging for it. Through gasps that barely hit his ears, your voice whines for more. For more pressure or movement or frankly, whatever the hell he’s willing to give despite how undeserving you are.

“Please, Astarion.”

The moment he hears that little please he’s pulling away, grinning at you with teeth and tongue all covered in your blood. 

“I’m sorry, you want me to please you?”

He gently pushes two fingers into your entrance, curling the ends ever so slightly while keeping them still, watching as you press your lips together, unable to speak.

“To pleasure you?”

Slowly, he angles his head to suck your thigh again, dragging a fresh wave of blood through his hungry lips before shifting towards your cunt and licking a tentative strip directly above his fingers. 

“To taste you, perhaps?”

His voice is low, droning on in that teasing way that has you looking down annoyed, taking in the way he goes back and forth, debating whether or not to relent. To give in to the indulgence, watching you squirm beneath him. Forcing you to stir in your own prolonged pleasure until he all but sits back up, digging his fingers into the holes in your thigh, telling you you’ll get what you deserve once you’ve come back home.

-

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi@rainonarden@oceanbluesixeyes@bodtyworship@maydayitsjay@greasyslimebucket@yeeteth-the-raven@fantasyfairysworld@allexthakatt@flowersaretheshit@morglyne@thespectacularspaceace@cephiss0@use-your-telescope@furblrwurblr@kloverfield@angelofthorr@writervaul-t@starved-kitten@minixluvr@crowley--aziraphale@sapphicwren@alionera-blog@jennithejester@dezedrol@thisisew@saladalpaca@applepiewithbacon@httpbiohazard@aurasyn@nerdoodles@kingpinthedevil@itzkawaiix@domainoflostsouls@silverskylan@uminootome@helpidkwhatimdoingwrong@deadlyinfernos@blackbirdswhispers@sarahskywalker-amadala@writingmysanity@f3v3rs@jayjones03@quietlyebbie@optimisticprime3@eyes-for-daze@sunnytalia3@megoshh@maddiedott@cappsikle@mostbeautifulnightmare@lynnlovesloki@simpytheshrimpy69@astarion-archive@smaranshakthi@autistic-deer@shadowfeart@freckled-petals@candied-lavender@hp-art-studio@ghouligan@satelliteapotheosis@waywardwitch-hel@pandimoostuff@mythoughtsofinsanity@ilovelovelylove@oneandonlyizabelle

TAGLIST NOW CLOSED!

[littlemissvincentvega]

Hii could u write a part 2 to the morning wood hopper fic? Maybe hopper accidentally bumps into the reader at a bar and he takes her home and Yk… 😏

MORNING WOOD pt. 2 / a perv!hopper one shot

PART 1

a/n: OMG i finally wrote something and it is the part 2!!! i'm going to do part 3 soon (might start writing it tonight) it will most likely be the finale of this little miniseries thing with hopper. but i had so much fun writing this and i hope y'all enjoy ♥ also also i'm in the process of setting up the tumblr tips thing bc i am Poor and somebody asked me about it aaaages ago :) thanks @nonsensecynical for the request and the inspiration for doing the part 2!!

18+ explicit content / perv! jim hopper x fem!reader

cw: alcohol, smoking, sexual themes, general perviness

Wisps of smoke left his nose like an angry bull. He tapped the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray in front of him, watching as the ash fell into it. It had started out clean and empty, but since Jim arrived a small pile of cigarette butts had accumulated there. He nursed his (sixth? seventh?) drink, focused on the melting ice cubes that swirled around the glass.

"Need a drinking partner?"

Hopper looked up from the bar, his eyes widening a little when he saw it was you. Of course it was. He'd jacked off to the thought of you that very morning, so why the hell wouldn't he have to deal with speaking to you as if he hadn't just mentally fucked you into next week? "What?"

You snickered slightly and shifted to sit beside him at the bar. Unbeknownst to Jim, you were already a couple of drinks in, which was why you were so calm about approaching him. You'd considered this a few times before after seeing him drink his problems away, but today was the day you grew a pair, for some reason. "Are you having another drink?"

"Probably," came his mumbled response. He looked at you, "Why?"

You pretended not to notice his gaze drop briefly to your breasts and gave him a coy smile. "I'll get your next one. You look like you need a drinking partner. You're always in here by yourself."

"(y/n), I couldn't ask you to do that," Jim said, sitting up to look at you properly. Why was a young, beautiful thing like you bothering to speak to him? He arched his brows. "By myself--? That's by choice, not because I don't have friends, you know."

"You didn't ask me, I offered. I'm buying the Chief of Police a drink. Least I can do for you doing your duty," you grinned, ignoring his further comments. He closed his eyes in annoyance, sighed through his nose and begrudgingly agreed.

-

"Let me give you a ride home," Hopper told you an hour or so later, sliding the empty glasses toward the barkeep. "Least I can do after you bought me a single drink."

You grinned upon seeing a smile twitch on his usually stoic face, then slid on your coat. "I didn't tell you to pay for my other drinks. I just... let you do it. It's fine, I'll drive myself home."

"No, no-- not happening." He was already ushering you out, a large hand hovering near your lower back. The bitterly cold air of the evening woke you up slightly, and you grimaced at the change in temperature. "I'll hafta arrest you for drink-driving. Wouldn't want that."

Being slightly merry, you bit your lip into a smile of mischief and eyed him. "Would that involve you putting me in handcuffs?"

That kinky little shit. I knew it. Hopper stared at you for a few moments, then continued to whisk you to his truck. "Yes."

Jim helped you into the passenger side of the truck, closed the door for you and then made his way to the driver's seat. He cleared his throat and glanced your way. You had slid your coat down your shoulders just a little to allow the cold air around your breasts. And yes, he could see your nipples trying to poke through the fabric of your shirt. Dark gaze lingered on them for a moment before he cleared his throat again and switched on the engine. "Thanks, uh, for keepin' me company tonight," he mumbled.

"Oh-- don't mention it. It's nice to not drink by myself for once."

"You there a lot?" he queried, taking a look behind before reversing out of the parking spot.

"Mm, sometimes," you hummed, popping the cap off of your lipstick and topping it up in the mirror. Hopper wished you wouldn't do that. It was making his mind go to places, places it had been that same morning. Making him think about how beautiful you'd look with those beautiful plump lips wrapped around his cock, pumping and sucking...

And then you broke his trance with a question. "Should you even be driving?"

"What?"

You returned the lid to your lipstick and put it in your handbag. "You're technically drink-driving, Chief."

God. Stop calling me that. He glanced your way, a gentle smirk tugging at his lips. "What'd you just call me?"

Brows arched, you stared at him and tried to ignore the pulsing between your thighs. After a short pause, you answered him, albeit a little quieter. "Chief."

"Exactly. I'm the Chief of Police, I can do what I want." And what I want is to fuck your brains out.

You simply rolled your eyes and chuckled a little, opting to look out of the window. Jim took that opportunity to steal a few glances at your body, the way your skirt perfectly hugged your hips, how the low-cut top showed off your delicious breasts. How he'd like to grab them, knead them, suckle on your perfect little nipples. He swallowed thickly, making an attempt to ignore his twitching cock. No, not twitching-- it was throbbing.

When you turned to look for any packs of cigarettes Jim had laying around his car, it wasn't difficult to see what he was trying to hide. It only made your core ache more for him, and from what you could see, he was big. You diverted your gaze from it quickly, locating the cigarettes, and sparked up. The first exhale definitely helped to calm you down, but it was barely a distraction from how sopping wet you felt.

The rest of the ride was quiet, almost awkward considering how you were both feeling (unbeknownst to each other), but Hopper broke the silence when he pulled into the trailer park. "Which number are you again?" he mumbled. He knew the number.

"Right there." You pointed at your trailer, which was painted light blue (a DIY job Eddie Munson had helped you with, much to Steve's dismay).

Hopper pulled up at the side of your home, hands resting in his lap to conceal what was going on down there. A small smile was given to you. "Home sweet home."

You noticed that he didn't turn off the engine, which was a slightly disheartening, but your horny little brain had other plans. One hand rested on the door handle and you looked across to him, eyebrows raised. "Aren't you gonna walk me to my door?"

Oh, God, why? He looked mildly annoyed, staring at you silently for a moment. "The free ride home not enough?"

"Nope." You flashed him a grin.

Rolling his eyes, Jim switched off the engine and exited the car. In his mind, he was hoping his erection had subsided a little, but he knew full well it wasn't going away until he took care of it. All he had to do was pray you didn't notice. "Alright," he helped you down from the truck, savouring every moment his hands touched your body, "five more steps and you're home safe."

"Huh, chivalry isn't dead, after all," you joked, walking with him to your porch. You fumbled to grab your keys and began to unlock the door.

"Sure," he cracked a small smile again. You were sweet-- he found you to have a decent sense of humour, too. "Uh, thanks again for keepin' me company."

You removed the key and opened the door, looking up at him. "You're welcome. Do you want to come inside for a bit?"

For a moment, Jim's eyes widened and he fell silent. He looked inside, then back to you. "No, I should get goin'. Got stuff to do."

"What stuff?" You held his gaze, subtly ran your tongue along your upper lip.

"Y'know-- laundry. Got some, uh, dirty dishes--"

But he was cut off. Your hand, much smaller than his, had found the outline of his erection, and you were gently rubbing it through his work-slacks. "What else?" you breathed, watching the poor man try to catch his breath.

He swallowed thickly, all too aware of how heavy he was breathing. Gaze dropped to watch your hand, then slowly rose to capture all of the beauty your body held. His eyes finally met yours again. "Gotta take a shower... maybe it can wait..." Without warning, he pushed you inside and slammed the door behind you both, shoving you against the nearest wall. It made the framed photos there shake, but Hopper didn't care. You squealed with surprise-- his cock rubbed against you as his lips met yours, all hunger and pent-up frustration and passion. He groaned against your lips, only pulling away after a few seconds to catch his breath and look at you. Yes, it was clear. You both wanted the same thing.

-

PART 3 COMING SOON!

[cultofdixon]

Don’t bite my head off, sunshine

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Being concussed isn’t fun. But ones gotta admit, the concussed thoughts are pretty chaotic • SFW/Smol ANGST • TW: Injuries / Concussion

Requested by: Anon

“You may have a concussion” Daryl frowns kneeling before his partner while he gently palpates parts of the back of her head to make sure of no prominent bumps or even a gash he hasn’t caught yet.

“I am a-okay baby” Y/N sung poorly making the archer grimace a bit but he knew she was going to be a bit out of it.

The fall was pretty nasty.

The two were on a hunting trip, something they’ve been doing more often once they arrived to Alexandria and even after the herd/Wolves incident. But Daryl is the better tracker and has more knowledge of their surrounding environment compared to Y/N who is getting better at tracking but isn’t familiar with the surrounding forest by their home.

Which lead to Y/N tracking down this deer but when the tracks stopped, she didn’t. She kept walking and eventually fell into a small ravine. It didn’t help that there was a creek running through because when Daryl came running and spotted Y/N at the bottom. She was on her stomach, not moving, and the stream picked up some blood.

He really thought he was going to go home explaining how Y/N died. But thank god when he came down carefully, she slowly sat up to show that the gash was her shoulder and not from her head. But tumbling down still had her hit her head a few times.

Leading us to now where Daryl carefully brushes away the hair blocking the forming bruise on the right side of her forehead. He gently touched it, watching her retract but he wanted to make sure it wasn’t too swollen in the area.

“You gotta take off your shirt so I can bandage that shoulder” Daryl states setting his pack down. He also carried her out of the ravine prior to checking her injuries.

“Not to see my boobs?” She teased as the head injury was starting to make her a bit more forward and stupid, later.

“This is some fucked way to see my girl’s boobs” He scoffs. “And no. I ain’t lookin’” he says as he got his first aid kit out hearing a sad ‘Aww’ from her in response. “Yea got a tank top on?”

“Mmmmm….maybe. Maybe not”

“Y/N, please”

“What if…I don’t?”

“Then I gotta give you my shirt.” Daryl says as he grabs the bandages he will need to patch her up and then realized where she was getting at. “Girl, I ain’t strippin’ for yea if yea lyin’”

“I is wearing…another shirt” Y/N mutters disappointed as Daryl sets everything he’ll need on top of his bag before helping her get out of the ruined shirt gently.

Y/N sat perfectly still, a bit too perfectly because Daryl did startle her when checking her pulse once. But she was still enough for him to patch up her shoulder and let the two relax a moment even if her brain was still a bit scrambled.

The moments of silence freaked out Daryl, but he knew startling her would only make her mad or wince. He doesn’t like either.

“How’s the pain?”

“Meh”

“Are you lying to me?”

“Meh means bad”

“Since when does ‘meh’ mean bad? It’s usually a blow off” Daryl questions watching her shrug a little before having another moment of awkward silence but this time she was looking up at the sky. Her small head tilt up made Daryl think about how much sunlight they might have left. He’d like to get her home before anything.

As Daryl packs up a bit, including her knife. He doesn’t want her to do something dumb in this loopy state. While she continued to look around at everything in the woods as she became hyper focused on this small bug inching closer to her shoe. A praying mantis.

“Y/N, what’s the pain level no—-“ Daryl turns to her seeing her carefully pick up the praying mantis off her shoe since it decided to climb on her. “You want me to kill it?”

“No! It prob has kids out there” Y/N scoffs holding the little dude in her hands looking down at it.

Then suddenly tossing it aside which shocked Daryl.

“You were so fucking gentle with it, whyd yea do that?!”

“It was lookin’ at my man funny”

“What does that even fucking mean?!” Daryl questioning watching her face turn into confusion for a moment. “What is happening??”

“That was a praying mantis right?”

Great. She’s got the short term memory loss with the concussion Daryl groans. “Yeah”

“Don’t have sex with it” What the fuck “it will eat you after”

“Yknow, good call” Daryl decided to play along while throwing his pack over his shoulder and getting up. “It was lookin’ at me all seductive-like”

Y/N nods agreeing with his words as he extends his hands toward her to help her on her feet. Once Daryl got his arm around her to support her, just in case, while starting the walk back home.

“That’s how they get yea” Y/N pats his back with her blank daze going on on her face. “What if humans were like that? Females finding their potential male mates…then fuckin’, but instead of the fuck and dip, the female just CHOMPS his head off.” Her emphasis on the word ‘chomps’ made Daryl cringe a bit. “The upstairs head too” now that made him have sympathy pain for the downstairs one.

“Yeah…don’t bite my head off, sunshine”

“No promises” She slurs a bit before looking at Daryl and taking every feature on his face to memory, but it looked more like staring which lead him to stop.

“What?”

“You’re too good lookin’ to bite your head off” Y/N smiles using the hand that wasn’t on his back to pat his cheek which made him roll his eyes but smile as well.

“‘M glad I’ve got yea, and we agree you ain’t gonna bite my head off” Daryl smiles starting to walk again listening to Y/N making biting sounds.

This is going to be a long walk.

[the-power-of-a-pen]

To Love, To Lose

Fandom: Insomniac Spider-Man

Summary: Harry shows up to May's house while you and MJ deliberate. He seems... different.

Word Count: 1068

Pairing: Harry Osborn x reader (romantic - established)

Trigger(s): Cursing, Light angst

A/n: I wrote this in 10 minutes and I wasn't going to post it b/c I didn't think it was up to my usual standard? But hey, the Harry Osborn fans have such little content, so why not. Might delete later, but feel free to request something!

MJ was pacing around in May’s house while talking to Peter on the phone when knocks came from the front door. 

“I’ll get it,” you told her. You were already jittery enough with the state of the city and you needed to move around.

Pete’s voice was barely audible from MJ’s phone, saying, “Just… try to stay away from Harry. He’s not himself anymore.”

You shuddered and toyed with a hair tie on your wrist. The last time you saw your boyfriend, he lashed out and yelled at you to leave his apartment. It was the first time you had ever been scared of him, and unfortunately, it wasn’t the last. 

You opened the door and yelped when you saw Harry leaning in the doorway with a distant, mischievous look in his eyes. You immediately went to slam the door shut, but he put his hand on the door and pushed it open with an unprecedented amount of force. 

MJ had had to deliver the news of what had happened to Harry in the Oscorp lab. About how ghostly he looked, and how angry he was, and how that thing swallowed him whole. How it made a mockery of one of the kindest souls you’d ever met by speaking as if they were one. 

But in front of you was Harry, your Harry, in the flesh. He looked more alive than ever before.

“Babe,” you started cautiously, hoping to appeal to whatever was left of your boyfriend. “I haven’t heard from you in while. I was worried.”

He took a slow step towards you and you fought the urge to move back. Some scuttling in the background told you MJ was searching for her gun behind the kitchen counter.

“I’ve been busy.” He took another step closer to you, and this time, you bumped into a stack of boxes behind you. His eyes traced your silhouette. “Do you know why I fell in love with you?”

You didn't even bother trying to find out where the fuck he pulled that question from. He's still there, you told yourself. Just respond how you normally would. "Because I'm hot?"

Harry put his hand on your cheek. “Charming, as always.” He let his hand fall. “It’s deceiving.”

“What do you mean?” Hurry up, MJ.

“This is me giving you a chance, love,” he drolled. “I fell in love with you because you’re always helping people. You’ve always been that way. With your work in FEAST, with Pete and his hero work, when Mom passed…” Harry’s eyes fluttered and you willed him to hold onto that bit of consciousness. “I’m better now. I have the power to make everything better. The question is, are you going to join me?”

“Harry,” you began, looking down. He grabbed your chin so that you met his gaze, with more force than need be. You squeezed your eyes shut.  You were trembling now, and his grasp did not loosen. “I want to help you,” you whispered, “But this isn’t the way.”

“Look at me.”

You obliged, and locked your jaw to gather some nerve. 

He took a step back and released you, seeming shocked at his own on-and-off behavior. “Are you scared of me?”

You reach out to him tentatively and brought the sides of his jacket closer to his neck. He was seeing through you, his eyes scrutinizing your every minor movement, so you said the only honest comment that felt safe to say. “I’m scared for you.”

His tendrils shot out abruptly and grabbed your arm, making you scream. “After everything we’ve been through together, you still won’t trust me. You’re so fucking blind!”

“Harry, this isn’t you.” You fought to get out of his tendrils’ grip, but they move to take hold of your neck. 

“Wrong,” he grinned, applying more pressure. “This is the real me.”

Harry spasmed suddenly and fell to the floor, dropping you in the process.

"Back window," MJ ordered, taser gun in hand as she ran to meet you on the other end.

You didn't hesitate. How could you? You always thought your loyalty would overpower your survival instinct, but a loved one binding with an alien and choking you seemed to be the breaking point of that value. The feeling of betrayal burned, and you couldn't decipher it.

You ran through the kitchen and into the backroom, then vaulted through the window -- but not before grabbing a box cutter on your way out. MJ helped you to your feet, but Harry had already recovered and was in pursuit.

MJ put her hands up in surrender, and you mirrored her actions. "We love you, Harry. Do you know how much it hurts to see you like this?"

"It hurts to see me healed?" Harry laughed darkly. "Some friend you are. Maybe that's why your writing never goes anywhere."

You turned to your last ditch effort. "You're right," you told him, stepping forward while MJ stood frozen behind you. "We haven't been listening to you. You look healthier now, because of... the suit." You took a few more steps forward. His tendrils swirled behind him - he was wary, but not enough to attack. "Who's to say what else it can do? I'm scared, Harry, I won't lie. But I'm tired of not being able to save the people I love."

Harry closed the distance and took your hand. "You're ready to take that leap of faith?"

You gulped and nodded. The symbiote travelled from his arm to your enclosing around it and spreading to your chest. "One more thing, though." You pulled him closer with your free arm and whispered in his ear, "I don't go down without a fight."

You plunged the box cutter into Harry's side.

Harry didn't react. Harry wasn't there at all. The symbiote, no longer attached to the both of you, consumed Harry entirely. It was a looming, hideous monster. "Naïve. We should have known better. But you should have, too."

His tendrils shot out towards MJ. You ran to free her, but got thrown into the wall of the house by another tendril. MJ screamed and clawed at the grass, but the symbiote overcame her in angry strands of red and yellow until a smaller, more terrifying version of Harry's monster took hold of her.

"Show them what they're missing," the larger symbiote called over its shoulder before launching into the distance.

[a66-1]

Whiskey. Neat, please.

Simon x Bartender!Afab!Reader

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 |

⚠️tw⚠️ cursing, weird guys. (warming up on this one ::)))

a/n: first time in a while writing something longer. (I, me, my, pronouns.) Bear with me please :) (d'ya get what the title hints at? No? okay.)

Fucking busy night. Christ, should've let Christy take this shift..

I wiped down the bar from whatever other nasty people have been putting their unwashed hands on it before more eventually ruin my efforts. It was barely 11pm and the bar was already fucking packed with men and women determined to forget the rest of their weekend in this dingey place. My boss made me take a shift for someone, and Christy politely offered to take it, and I stupidly declined.

I needed the money, for christs sake.

The speaker surrounding the top of the main drink bar in the middle of the bar started playing too sweet by hoizer, and I hummed softly in approval. I slung the towel over my shoulder, walking back behind the bar to start wiping down some glasses that have been way overdue.

My co-worker, Shelby, bumped my hip with hers. I glance over to her, a what the hell? look on my face. She giggled, and oogled her eyes over to a group of people presumably, but I didnt follow her gaze.

"I fuckin love that we get those.. Military men from time to time.. God, makes me take the night shifts just to feed my eyes," she gave another laugh, before going to pour a glass, noticing my uninterested response.

"Oh come on, girl, you're such a loner, you need to get yourself out there! Don't tell me that old dickwad is still trying to get in your pants again-"

I cut her off, scoffing, "Jesus, Shelby, shut up. I'm not interested in your weird taste in men." *I moved away from her, heading to another full sink. I slid the clean cups to the guys pouring drinks, huffing softly. Jesus, they need to actually staff this place..

I hear a seat slide back, and then shift forward. I tilted my head up, and I'm met with a weirdo, his chin resting on his palm, almost impatiently. I shift my stance taller, giving him a once over. I'm used to picking theses guys out from a crowed, incase he fucks with any girls here.

"Ya need a drink?" I offered, tapping the cup against the counter. He gave a slow, sideways smile under his mask.

"O' course. Made my mouth all dry with that bitter gaze you got on you." The guy snickered, before waving his hand once he noticed my unamused expression. "Kidding. Take a joke, darling."

I scoffed under my breath, and I learned my throat. "Whaddya want, sir?"

"I mean, honestly? You baby.. But drink wise... Maybe a whiskey, on the rocks." He gave me a weird smile. I poured the whiskey, and droped some ice in there, sliding it to him. He drank from it as I cleaned out more glasses, his eyes keen on me.

I tried to shift once more to another side of the bar, but the guy fuckin grabbed me. I pulled back, cursing at him..

And this big ass motherfucker comes out from God knows we're, and sits the guy down. He's got a Skull mask on, and clad with military gear.

"Sit." Was the only word that left his mouth. The guy huffed and pushed him off, cursing things at him. The skull masked guy turned to me, bowing his head slightly. I rolled my eyes hesitantly.

"Okay, Mr. Big ego who need to save poor women. I can handle myself-" The guy huffs to silence me.

"Was jus' helpin' lovie." He sat in the guys old seat, nodding his head towards me. "'M Ghost. Mind gettin' me a drink?"

I let my eyes examine this new guy, before nodding. "Uh.. I.. Yeah. I'll.. Grab you a.. Uh..?" I motioned for him to tell me. He smirked, and shrugged.

"Nothin' wild. I want y'to remember my order." He drummed his fingers for a moment before snapping, like he got some bright idea. "Whiskey. Neat, please."

(not proof read) thank you for reading! I'm working in the other parts, and this one might be longer maybe idk I'm tired.

-a661

[unhinged-summer-fun]

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 1

Pairing: Osha Aniseya/Qimir "The Stranger" Themes of note: Modern AU, coffee shop AU, boxing/fighting AU, slow burn romance, personal identity exploration, sports injury & recovery, angst yada yada. First few chapters are rated T, but bumps to M eventually. Summary: One cold winter night, Osha meets a stranger while she's working late at the cafe. Like the spark that lights a very long fuse, there's no way this doesn't end in fire and upheaval.

A/N: Mehmehmehmeh I ain't back on tumblr this is just another horn of mine to toot lol it's also on my AO3 is why. This is also written for da bestie and is held hostage by them (affectionate). Dividers by @firefly-graphics

masterlist

Somehow, the mysterious problems with the espresso machine returned.

Not that anyone asked her, but Osha didn’t believe it was pure coincidence that this was the fifth time she’d been called in to fix the machine immediately after Yord was on the schedule. It couldn’t wait for her next shift because most people who needed espresso needed it in the mornings, and Mae worked the morning shift.

Regardless, it wasn’t a coincidence. Osha just wanted to get quietly pissed at a fixable problem so that by the time it was fixed, she’d forget what she was pissed about. With just the lights on behind the bar and the small flashlight in her mouth, she tried not to think about how eerie the cafe looked at night. The snow swirling in the windowsill outside served as an unhelpful reminder that her car was still in the shop, and the walk back to the apartments would be very, very cold.

But the hot water tap had priority over that. This was the most temperamental part of the whole unit, a half dozen little fastenings keeping it pinned to the machine wall to prevent it from lashing out all over the place every time anyone pressed a button. Each gentle click of her spanner sounded like a clap of thunder in the deserted shop, and a sensation of deep, deep dread she hadn’t felt in years rose in her chest. “Shit,” she whispered, forgetting about the flashlight in her teeth and spitting it out onto the floor. “Damnit.”

When she stood, a man was standing behind the machine.

“Fuck!”

The man was lucky; Osha might not have had the left hook her sister did, but that didn’t mean she didn’t still have one hell of a swing. She almost threw the flashlight at him but held on, wielding it like a four-inch baseball bat.

The man’s face went from neutral and stony to overly expressive in a heartbeat. “Oh! I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you!” he said, laughing nervously and scratching the back of his head. Osha took him in, the baggy hoodie and jeans, the glasses, the toothy smile, the black bag slung over his shoulder. All in all, he didn’t look harmless, but he didn’t look like he meant her harm either.

“We’re closed.”

“The door was, uh, unlocked.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the door, giving her a shrug as if to say, what can you do?

“Even so, we’re still closed. You have to go.” For a moment, she considered grabbing the portafilter as a potential weapon. It’d certainly work better than the flashlight.

He put both his hands up. “Alright, alright. Can’t I just… step out of the cold for a minute or two? I’ll stay over here by the door.”

She shouldn’t. This man was undoubtedly a stranger, and a strange stranger, at that. But she knew the biting cold wasn’t pleasant, and her kind streak had never entirely been snuffed out.

“Fine. Sit there.” She pointed to a table where she could get a complete look at him while she continued working. He went willingly but faced her when he took his seat.

“Thank you,” he said, head tilting slightly to the side. “Not many people would be so kind.”

She didn’t look over at him, only answered him with a grunt as she tore into the hot water line with more ferocity than necessary. How in the hell did Yord mess this up? Nobody even touches this but me!

“I thought this place was open 24 hours,” the stranger said conversationally. When he realized Osha wouldn’t answer him, he continued. “Didn’t it used to be? It was always packed, classes at midnight and sunrise and sunset.”

That piqued her interest. Osha paused her crusade against the tap and frowned at him. “Are you a member at the gym?”

Even from here, she could see his jaw clench a little, one muscle feathering so quickly it might have been a trick of the light. “Oh, a long time ago. A lot must have changed if you’re the only one on staff right now.”

It sounded threatening. It should have been threatening. A strange man had come in, told her he had some measure of fight training, and pointed out she was alone. Yet, Osha couldn’t put her finger on why she saw it as bluster. The dread in her chest had entirely dissipated, and her heartbeat had returned to normal following the stranger’s sudden appearance.

“How long ago? I’ve been here a long time, too. Know everyone here.” She kept one eye on him as she worked, uncoupling the wall fastenings for the line to the group head. 

“It was a long, long time ago. But hey—there might be a few days of overlap if you’ll answer a question for me.”

She frowned and kept her focus on the machine. “Go ahead.”

“You’re Osha, right?”

Her hand slipped, and she dropped the spanner deep into the machine’s body. Biting back a curse, her attention warred between the stranger knowing her name and grabbing her tools.

“H-how do you know that?” C’mon, where is it?

In the seconds she’d been looking away, he had stood up to prop his hip against the table he’d been sitting at. “I remember two little girls coming in for one of the children’s sunrise classes I was in. Twins, and I swear they looked just like you and your sister.”

For an instant, she tried picturing this strange man as a child, but she hardly remembered anything from her first few weeks at the gym when their dad had taken them to train. Her imagination wouldn’t be of any help here.

“You know my sister?”

“Mae? Oh, I’ve met her a few times in passing. It’s a small city if you get out enough. I only knew your names as a child, though.” He gave a breathy, goofy laugh, pulling at something like interest in Osha’s belly.

She supposed he was near her age. He looked young, but some people’s genes aged more gracefully than others. “It—yeah. I’m Osha. What’s—what are you doing?”

Slowly, he walked toward the counter beside the machine. The conversation had thawed the ice of their meeting a little, which could have permitted a closer boundary, but it was still a little alarming. “My hearing isn’t the best. Get your bell rung enough times, and it never stops singing, does it?”

He tilted his head in the light to show her the slightly blue shell of his ear—it’d been likely drained from a hematoma to prevent cauliflower ear. You didn’t have ears like that without being in the ring for a while. She also saw a pair of charming little twists in his hair to keep it off his ears, which shouldn’t have been so… cute. This guy was a lot of things, but cute didn’t seem like one of them. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, leaning on the counter with his forearms. The hoodie covered his body shape well, but from where it dropped off at the shoulders, he must have been incredibly broad. “It’s incredible, actually.”

“What is?” She shook off her single-bed shoulder musings.

“You look… exactly like her.”

His voice had dropped, along with the convivial squint to his eyes. His voice sounded dark and rich as his near-black irises and every part of her perked up in response. “Um.” Osha racked her head for an intelligent comeback, settling on, “Well, that’s not uncommon for twins.”

The playful lilt to his voice returned. “Yeah,” he grinned. “But really, down to how you frown at me, you two look so alike. It’s impressive.”

Osha frowned at him, then tried not to and failed. The stranger only smiled, a flash of that darker look shining through. Now thoroughly flustered, Osha turned back to the machine. “How’d you know I wasn’t Mae when you walked in?”

“I just knew.” She saw him shrug again in her periphery and continued wrenching back the hot water tap. “What’s wrong with it?”

“What isn’t wrong with it, more like.” She grunted and released another fastening. Now that there was an open entrance for her to stick her hand in, she felt around for the spanner she’d dropped. “This thing has to be like 25,000 years old.”

“That may be truer than you think.”

She met the stranger’s eyes, charmed by his easy smile and laughter. She’d never been one to make fast friends; that was more Mae’s speed, but whatever this conversation was, she wanted more of it.

She found the spanner and made a slight noise of victory, carefully maneuvering her hand back through—

The tap line went taut quite suddenly, and without any fittings keeping it in place, the hot water line suddenly contracted, snagging a jagged edge into her wrist and pinning it to the inner wall of the machine. She could feel the water getting hotter around her wrist, and she tried letting go of the spanner to yank her hand out, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Shit!”

Suddenly, two huge hands were there, one wrapping around her forearm to still her and the other reaching into the machine without hesitation. The line loosened around her wrist, and she was pulled free immediately. After that, the stranger hit a sequence of buttons to shut down the machine but still didn’t let go of her forearm.

In the fading whine of the machine, Osha’s heartbeat sounded like a stampede in her ears. She could feel the body heat radiating off the man this close. The callouses on his palms spoke of hard work and discipline. His knuckles bore the permanent blush of a fighter’s hands. Carefully, he pulled back her sleeve and hissed softly, revealing the minor burn over the top of her wrist.

“Poor thing.”

Heat flared up Osha’s neck as if she’d swallowed the hot water line instead of basically wearing it. The stranger leads her to the sink and runs the cool tap before parking her wrist beneath the faucet.

Burns weren’t uncommon in the cafe, and little cuts and swollen bruises weren’t uncommon in the attached boxing gym. As such, the first aid kits for both were well-stocked for each common injury. The stranger moved with confident grace to the red box on the wall, leafing through the contents before finding what he wanted: an antiseptic wipe, burn cream, gauze, and medical tape.

“Let me see.”

He took her wrist back in his hands, gentle but firm, just as he’d held her before. On the spots where his skin touched hers, it burned differently.

He kept his head down as he dressed her wound, using his teeth to tear off pieces of tape. He had a serious aura; the goofy guy he’d been now shifted into an intensely focused man. When satisfied with his work, he didn’t let go, using the last few seconds of soft quietude to draw his thumb across the top of the bandage.

“How’s that?” he said, bouncing back to the playful person he wanted her to see.

But Osha had seen that other side, the rock-steady intensity that had come over him the moment she’d been in danger. That version of himself hadn’t left until he knew she was out of harm.

Osha had hardly been able to blink, let alone breathe, during his treatment of her. Something about his light touch made her wonder how he fought. No soft-handed, theatrical fighter would have been capable of aching gentleness like this.

“It’s—good.” She cleared her throat and fought to look him in the eye. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. It was the right thing to do. Anyway, it should be less dangerous when it’s off.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t do that,” she muttered, embarrassment taking over from flustered.

“It’s late, and we’re all prone to mistakes in the dark.”

Her eyes snapped to his at the statement. It sounded so familiar that she could have sworn she had heard it before, but the stranger was already moving, pushing his sleeve past his elbow. Time stood still for a fraction of a second, and Osha could see his forearm, all corded muscle, and scars. And then he reached into the espresso machine, carefully pulling out the spanner.

“There. That what you were looking for?”

Osha blinked owlishly before taking the tool from him. It was impossible to avoid brushing her fingers against his, and the spark of his touch ignited something deeper inside her than skin could reach.

“Thank you, uh…”

“Of course!” Dutifully, the stranger returned to his post, and the counter was put back between them as it should have been. But Osha couldn’t understand why she’d been so adamant about it before. Maybe he was right; it’s late, after all. 

The rest of the work was fast, ticking away minutes as she found the culprit: an overenthusiastic portafilter had shifted the group head an inch out of place, which made every piece of fussy machinery within the casing rebel. “Yord, I swear to god…” Osha grumbled, taking a second to write a warning on scrap paper once everything was packed up.

“Ah, a consistent problem, then?” The Stranger had stayed quiet the whole time Osha worked, and only when he spoke up again did she notice he hadn’t pushed his sleeve down. Her eyes snagged on the sight the way her wrist had snagged on the jagged metal inside the machine.

“You could say that. Hey, um, I have to run it a few times to make sure it’s operational. And… thank you for helping me out. Can I make you something?”

His head tilted in such a way that she could finally see the look on his face was a smile. It felt like looking into one of those dichroic prisms, finding a flash of blue here, a flash of red there, but only at one specific angle inside the glass. “Whatever you want to give me, I’d be happy with.”

Ignoring that, she fell into another set of muscle memory. Even tired and irritated from the burn on her wrist, her hands never faltered as she made up a shot on each group. When the machine shouted itself awake, she watched as two twin porcelain espresso cups filled with darkness, noting the flow, the steam output, and the lack of grit in the pour. “Perfect,” she murmured to herself, satisfied with her work.

Osha assembled a drink to-go for him, sliding it over the bar. Unfortunately, muscle memory took over again, and she shouted, “I have a two-shot Americano at the bar for—oh my god, I’m so sorry, that was so loud.”

He threw his head back and laughed almost as loud as her barista voice had been. That toothy grin was back, and his hair fell into his eyes when he sat back again. “Thank you, I’m oh my god I’m sorry that was so loud, yes.” Their hands brushed again when she realized she hadn’t let go of the cup yet.

“I know it’s pretty late for caffeine, but it’s the least I could do,” she said, a little bashful. His laugh was nice. His smile was nice. He was nice.

He didn’t hesitate to bring the drink to his lips and take a sip, eyes locked with hers. All at once, her mouth went dry, and her blood sang. The smile evolved into a smirk when he set the coffee down again. “Never too late for me. I hardly sleep.”

“I know what that’s like,” Osha sighed, cleaning and shutting the machine down for the night. “I hope that drink’s okay.”

“It’s my usual.”

“No wonder you can’t sleep if your usual is twice the amount of caffeine normal people have.”

“The power of two is a potent high.” He shrugged.

“That’s a slippery slope to tread, stranger. It took me a while to quit.”

“Are you saying I’m an addict?”

Osha almost blanched at his words until she saw the playful tilt of his head. “I’m saying indulgence is a dangerous path.”

He shrugged. “Semantics.”

With the machine shut down for the night, she started flicking off the lights. The stranger took the hint, edging toward the front door.

When the main lights were off, he stood silhouetted against the storefront, snow swirling darkly around him like a smoky aura. He’d pulled up his hood; it gave him a more menacing outline than she’d thought him capable of. Like this, she couldn’t see the goofy smile or the glasses, the glittering dark eyes. He’d shed all of the attributes that made him approachable and safe.

And still, she was not afraid.

She walked to him, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder by the time he turned. “Thank you, Osha,” he said. The soft light from outside cast his features in sharp planes of shadow, concealing most of his features save his nose, lips, and chin.

“Don’t mention it,” she said softly, feeling trapped in a bubbled moment she didn’t want to leave. She’d reflect on this later; she wouldn’t scorn herself for doing what felt right in the moment.

His lips quirked in a half-smile she couldn’t resist returning. “I’ll see you around.”

And then he left in a blast of swirling snow and cold.

CHAPTER 2

[sandinthemachine]

ahh omg if your requests are open then please 🙏 getting fucked by könig in his ghillie suit, he'd be sweet too, making sure your face is shielded from the ground while he fucks into you

Here she is. I know you asked for sweet but he took over my brain and became a cocky bastard, I hope that sweetness is still under there somewhere

I did actual sniper research for this for some reason and the more I know the more I am sure babygirl would have been a terrible sniper

anyways here goes, come get your sweaty sweaty smut

Words: uhh like 1900

-

“How long do these things take?” König groans beside you, shifting so his shoulder bumps yours for the fourth time in the past five minutes.

“Eh, a few days, give or take.”

“A few…no, you’re fucking with me.”

You huff. “I’m convinced you didn’t even slightly research what being a sniper meant before you applied for it.”

“If I had known it would be this boring I never would have wanted it in the first place.” He groans, elbowing you in the gut as he wriggles in the tiny space below the bush. Well, not that tiny. It just felt tiny with a giant man who couldn’t sit still to save his life trapped in there with you.

A bone-deep sigh escapes you as you try to let it go. It’s not his fault your normal partner is out on medical leave right now. And it’s you who should have known better than to volunteer him as replacement. It feels stupid now, but you remembered thinking he would like getting to be a sniper for once. That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it?

He twitches again, managing to perfectly kick the bone in your ankle.

Thank god this isn’t his normal job.

“Hey, König?”

“Hmm?”

“I can watch the scope on my own. It’s probably going to be awhile. Do you have anything to do with your hands?”

He groans. “I left my whittling knife at base.”

“Here, use mine. It’s on my belt, can you reach?”

He nods, the fabric of his ghillie suit shuffling over yours as he reaches across you, fingers running over your waist as he reaches under the fabric to withdraw the tool.

You gulp at the unexpected contact. Hoping he didn’t notice, you turn your attention back to the field below. You don’t catch the swift glance he gives you, nor the way he shifts to bring his hips off the ground.

-

It takes König less than twenty minutes to demolish the piece of wood he brought. He doesn’t even carve anything, he just shaves it to shreds, narrowly missing his fingers countless times as you try not to watch.

He tucks the blade away, brushing the shavings aside.

You stifle another sigh, counting down in your head. Wait for it.

He wriggles, trying to scoot into a comfier position and banging the bones of his hip right into your side. You growl, pushing your gun forward and twisting to face him.

“How the hell do you get anything done?”

He scoffs. “Because I know how to do things quickly.”

“Yeah, because I’m sure ramming into things solves every problem.”

He snorts.

“What is it now?”

König leans over, mask nearly pressing against yours. “It’s solved your problems plenty of times.”

“You’re full of yourself, you know that?”

He chuckles, the soft sounds nearly disguising the way you know he’s smirking under that hood. “Yeah?” His voice drops to a whispering snarl. “Tell me you don’t like it.”

“I…ugh, I’m trying to focus here.”

He snickers, the sound spreading up your spine as he hooks a leg over your hips, pressing against your side. “How long did you say these things usually take?”

Your eyes widen. “They’re giving us…72 hours this time.”

“Well, I’d say that gives us…” he shuffles, checking his watch. “71 hours. I think we might…juust barely have time.”

“Psht. You couldn’t last that long if you tried.”

“Careful, little one,” he croons. “I thought you were trying to focus here.”

You grab a fistful of the fabric around his chest, yanking him impossibly closer. “Are you just gonna talk this entire time?”

“Now who’s impatient?”

You huff, opening your mouth to retort, but a calloused index finger presses on your lips through the suit.

“Shh,” he commands breathily, mouth hovering next to your ear. “Watch the scopes. And tell me…” he lifts himself up, maneuvering so he can press his entire body against your back, the hard length of him rubbing into your tailbone. “Which do you want first? My fingers…or my tongue?”

“Both,” you retort smugly.

He snorts. “Greedy little thing. Guess I’ll have to choose then.”

His hand slides down your side, fingers feeling through the leaves of the suit to find the seam. He pulls up your shirt, his hand dancing across your bare hip, the combination of skin and fabric sending a shiver over you before his fingers hook under your pants and underwear, yanking them down to expose you for him.

You inhale, covering your mouth with a palm as the cool air brushes over your bare skin.

He squeezes your flesh, a muffled squeal escaping your mouth. Your skin heats up at his self-satisfied hum, his warm hand sliding in between your thighs as his thumb just barely brushes over your slit.

You buck into him, needy and impatient, but he humors you this time, sliding his hand up so the length of his thumb presses against you, the rough tip rubbing into your clit. You gulp, squirming at the sudden pressure, only for him to push his thumb against you harder just as he drops more of his weight onto you.

You gasp as your shoulders give out, his forearm sliding under your head as he pins your torso to the ground. You bury your face in the fabric, swallowing a moan as he slides a finger into you.

“Are you watching?”

You bite your tongue, shakily raising your head to bring an eye to your scope. He adds another finger, lazily pumping them in and out, and your vision blurs as you focus on holding back a whimper.

Your willpower, however, is crumbling faster than you care to admit as his fingers work into you. The crisp stalks of grass waving in the sights slide into each other, morphing into subtly flowing waves, perfectly mimicking the pattern of tremors you feel tracing the edges of your bones, lapping up your spine and pulling your muscles into their undertow.

“K-König, I’m-”

“I know.” His head tucks into your neck as your face falls to his arm again, teeth tangling in the rough fabric of your own mask. Gunpowder and smoke and metal-sharp tangs explode across your tongue as your own body halts and stutters, trapped beneath him.

A wave of magma flows up your back, caged by the suit and his body above you so that it continues to crash against your skin, sending another tremulous whimper past your lips.

Finally you lift your head again, struggling to reach once again for the scope as your neck shakes. His arm shifts, a palm pressing into your jaw and lifting upwards as long fingers grasp easily along either side of your face. You relax, eyes half-closing as you let him take the weight of your head.

You breathe his name again as his fingers leave you, his entire suit rustling as he lifts himself up.

Searing heat licks at every corner of your being and still you tremble, back arching into the weight of him as he finally frees himself. He sighs, pulling back just enough, and then his velvety head is catching at your entrance, the shadowy edges of your vision closing in as he thrusts himself into you, stretching you until you feel you might burst at the seams, that perhaps the suit wrapped around you is the only tape holding you together.

Scraps of fabric brush against your bare skin as he sinks in deeper, tickling as they slide up you. Your fingers tighten into his arm, and it’s his turn to quiver as his own soft skin meets yours, his chest pressing into your back once again.

He’s buried in your neck now, hand tight against the crook between your jaw and throat, and you wonder if he can even breathe there, you’re barely breathing yourself, but he answers you with a great heaving inhale, as if he can pull you into his lungs and hold you there.

And then he lifts his head again, hips rolling against you. Once. Twice. Again. And with each motion a moan filters through his mask.

You want to hear him. You want him to be louder, to scream for you, to tell you how good you feel. Yes, that’s exactly what you want.

But not here. No, you can’t do that here.

“König, you have to be quiet.”

“I know, I know,” he pants. “It’s just…” he presses his face into your shoulder, burying another whimper in the shaggy fabric. “Stop clenching, stop or I’m never…I’m never gonna last.”

“And I…I thought you said…we’d be going for days.”

He hisses, hand clamping over your mouth as his hips ruck against you harder, your pitiful whine absorbed by his palm. He chuckles, a subtle shaking of his body you feel directly in your core. “And here you are telling me to be quiet.”

You make an angry sound, biting at his palm until he pulls back.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

As soon as you open your mouth he drives into you again, dragging roughly along every sensitive spot inside you. All that comes out of you is a choked gasp, hands scrabbling on the ground in front of you.

“Yeah,” he breathes, a huff of amusement bursting from his lips. “That’s what I thought.”

Then his hand is on the column of your throat once more, still holding you up, nearly taunting the way your gaze still hovers over your scope, all tendrils of clarity gone.

You screw your eyes shut, watching the sparks throw themselves against your eyelids until even they are blurred and everything draws itself up tight within you, impossibly tense and white-hot.

His hand is over your mouth now, just in time to halt the scream that reverberates along the thick sludge of your mind as flares of new heat overtake you.

He drags his other arm under you, gluing you to him as he settles as deep as he can go, a mess of staggered syllables shaking his jaw and curling over your ears as his warmth spreads within your own, burning and soothing all at once.

He settles against you, the pleasant heaviness of his form grounding you through the last aftershocks, holding you up as your own muscles remember how to do it themselves.

-

Your vision is focused now, eyes once again glued to your scope even though König still drapes himself over you. He’s long gone soft inside of you, his entire body languid and motionless.

He’s finally still. Maybe he’s asleep.

You giggle at that, and a muffled groan rattles his throat.

“What was that?”

He raises his head, leaning his face into your temple. “Whadiddi miss?”

You giggle again, reaching back to hold his head, but catch movement in your sight. An outline familiar from a dozen mission reports ignites every instinct within you, and your hands are already tilting your gun, eyes watching the way the grass waves. Left. Just slightly. You move your scope slightly to the right, raising it up to account for the distance.

The man turns, exposing his torso.

“König.”

“Yeah?”

“Stop breathing.”

“What-?”

“Hold your breath. Now.”

He inhales as you do, your crosshairs stilling as you feel your heartbeats, timing the pauses between them.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Bang.

Red sprays onto the ground below. The target stumbles backwards, glancing down, and with devastating realization, falls.

And inside of you, König hardens again.

-

-

-

I have decided to try a taglist, and will be sorting that out later today. Deadly Nightshade will be getting its own masterlist and a separate taglist, so if you want to be on that one you can comment there (if you already have, you're good).

If you want to be on the general taglist, message me or comment on this post. I cannot always sort through all the reblogs, but comments and messages I can sort through more easily.

Have a lovely day/night :)

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

I miss Yves so much. I was reading the Best of Both Worlds lately (ngl when I first saw the title I was expecting a Hannah Montana Yandere 🤧), I love the part when his darling is sick and he just sensually rubs their back, hugs them, kisses them, strokes their arms and just whisper things in their ears. Even though they ended up cumming (understandable cause I would too).

I just finished an exam and it was so difficult, why isn’t Yves here to help me pass it change my grades. 😭😭 Just feeling so stressed rn, why is it this hard to get a degree. 😓

If you can could you please do an exam comfort with Yves, or another sensual time with him similar to the Best of Both Worlds (with the aim of making the darling cum). Or both 🤧

Sorry if this is too long, or if I’m asking for too much or the tmi, and the ranting. That exam got me fucked up. 😞

Anyway have a nice day! 😊 I really enjoy all that you write! (Especially you cussing out Cyprus is fun)

[Here another post about yves helping you before your exam]

You sat at your table, staring into nothing in particular as the hoard rushes out of the exam hall, not wanting to spend another second in a place so stuffy, so cold and so stressful.

The invigilators have collected all the sheets, they're recounting it at the very front as the students pour out of the two doors. You're not in a hurry to get back home, it's not like you could slide out unscathed anyways. Might as well wait until most of them had left so you could have a smooth exit without bumping shoulders.

The exam no doubt, sucked. It was hard, the worst thing you have ever taken. Perhaps you didn't have time to study, or perhaps you did. And that hurts even more to know your best wasn't enough. You also have to have luck by your side.

You were absolutely drained, you didn't feel like moving a muscle even though the hall is nearly empty. Save for the invigilators and a few others who found themselves staring into space at how horrible that paper was.

You sat there with your body slumping against the chair. It really is devastating to you.

Then, you feel a large, soft hand slowly and soothingly rub your shoulder. You didn't need to turn around to know who it was, who else would touch you so tenderly like that, other than Yves?

His touch left you as he moved closer to you and crouched down, wanting to have a good look at your downcast face. Even when he lowered himself, he is at eye level with you.

He softly called you by your name. But you're too upset to even look at him. So, Yves stroked under your chin to direct your attention to him, it was ticklish and flustering, temporarily distracting you from the hurt you feel.

"It's time for you to leave the hall, dear." His voice was barely above a whisper despite the area being devoid of ears. You're the only one left.

You stared at him without saying or doing anything. Yves's beautiful green eyes softened and he tilted his head to the side, silently expressing sympathy for you.

He brought both hands to your face and cupped your cheeks, lovingly caressing them with his thumbs and palm.

"You did well." He praised, giving you a comforting kiss on the forehead. "It was difficult, but it is over now."

Yves smiled, wiping a stray tear that fell from your eye. He sees how your lower lip trembles and your eyebrows knitting together.

"I am so proud of you."

That was the last straw, you burst into tears and began sobbing noisily. Dampening his hands with your tears and snot, yet he made no effort to pull away. Instead, he engulfed you into a warm hug, allowing you to bury your head in his chest. A hand went on to softly pet your hair, while the other rubbed your back up and down.

His signature fragrance filled your lungs, the silkiness of his hair brushed against your skin and your fingers are tightly gripping onto his turtleneck, giving it deep wrinkles. You know that it's going to be okay with Yves here, he makes everything alright. He just does.

Yves quietly hushes you as he pecks at the crown of your head numerous times.

Yves let's you cry as loud as you need, he didn't mind staying still and holding you in his arms for a while. Eventually though, you calmed down enough to remove your grip on him. Opting to use your hand on your teary face instead, trying your best to flick the sorrow away.

Yves slowly parted himself away from you, momentarily frowning at the chilliness biting at him. But, he immediately went to work, gathering all your stationery and neatly organizing them back into your pencil case. He zipped it up and kept it into his handbag, fishing out a packet of facial tissues at the same time.

"Shh... All is well. There is no need to cry, my love." He gently pried your hands away from your face and went on to wipe all the mess away with a piece of tissue.

He went on for a few more minutes, consoling you in the middle of an empty examination hall. Your sniffles and hiccups echoed through the vast space, making you self conscious. But Yves never once paid attention to anything other than you; anything else is secondary.

Only when you're mostly silent and you have expended all your energy, Yves slung your arms around his neck and tucked his under your legs and back.

You hid your face between his neck and hair out of embarrassment as Yves carried you out of your chair, but you knew that you wouldn't have enough energy to get out on your own anyways.

He began walking away from your desk, getting further and further from the place you dread. Closer and closer to the exit.

Before he could leave past the door, you told him you wanted to walk on your own. He paused for a few seconds before honoring your request, gently setting you down on your feet.

He fixed your clothes, adjusting them and smoothing any wrinkles out. Fixing your collar and brushing your hair with his manicured nails. You stood there and let him take care of you like that as he seemed to be enjoying it as much as you do.

He finished off with a sweet and chaste kiss on your lips. Yves chuckled as your cheeks heat up a bit, tickling you by tracing a finger along your jaw.

"Come." He offered his hand for you to hold. "It's time to go home."

You accepted it, letting him wrap his digits around your much smaller hand.

He had also collected your bag earlier, Yves wouldn't allow you to carry anything as the two of you walked to the parking lot.

Yves knew how to make everything better. He told you that he baked your favourite cake to celebrate the end of your exams and that there is a delicious feast waiting for you at home, served fresh and hot.

With him by your side, you knew that everything will be okay.

[cositapreciosa]

Redemption

Alejandro Gillick x gn!reader, (gun wound, blood, the usual for the movies) 1047 words

a/n : super duper self-indulgent Alejandro fic cause I'll write whatever gives me wings at this point. This gif might not be from Sicario but yhlqmdlg Benicio is hot anyway

Tagging the besties-that-might-like-this as usual @narcolini @drabbles-mc @anunhealthydoseofangst

‘’ Stay still, I don't want to hurt you. ‘’

Any more than he already has. Still, it hurts when Alejandro puts his hand on your stomach, hard and warm against your abdomen. The bullet grazed you, thankfully, but deep and bloody, straight in between the Kevlar, slicing through your shirt. You can’t help but jerk when he presses his fingers into your skin, teeth baring in a hiss. It is dusk now, the sun dipping below the horizon, painting the scene orange and red. How long has it been since he left you in this ditch? Why did he even bother to come back?

‘’ You fucking shot me. ‘’

It comes out of you in a cough, as if you can’t believe it yourself. You are probably in shock, you realize, cold and losing blood for what seems like hours at this point. Where is my gun? You taste the blood in your mouth as you speak again. Where am I?

‘’ You fucking shot me. ‘’

You struggle against his hold, opposite hand grabbing his wrist in an attempt to get free. Let me go, you want to tell him, let me be, but it feels like paste in your mouth, dried tongue, you can’t get the words out.

‘’ Stay still. ‘’ He pushes back, and you can do nothing but let him, ‘’ They would have shot you anyway, your cover is blown. ‘’

‘’ Yeah, no shit. ‘’

Every word feels like sandpaper in your throat, scratching on its way out, keeping you from saying more mean and distasteful things. You let yourself fall back against the sand, letting the dust settle again in your lungs. Matt had told you they had caught rumours of your CIA affiliation through the low ranks, but you still went anyway, believing you could work your way through it. Pinches narcos de mierda. Alejandro fetches gauze out of his backpack, pulling you closer to cut the strap of your bulletproof vest with his knife. You feel blood moving down your chin.

‘’ If you heard what they were telling me they would do to you before you got there maybe you wouldn’t be so feisty about this. ‘’

‘’ You threw me in a ditch. ‘’

‘’ And they think you’re dead, you’re welcome. ‘’

He gently wipes the blood off your chin with his glove before turning his attention back to your shirt. It tugs on your skin as it separates from the dried blood, raw, stiff, a new colour from what it was this morning. You let Alejandro turn you to your side, inspecting the wound he inflicted, tucking your face in his elbow as he presses the tissue on your wound.

‘’ You’ve lost a lot of blood, but it’s not that deep, you’ll be fine. ‘’

‘’ I’m surprised they don’t think you’re CIA now- ‘’

You hiss when he starts moving the tape around your torso, pulling it tighter every time he starts another round.

‘’ I guess shooting you was a good move, they don’t suspect a thing. ‘’

Idiots, you want to say, all of them. You remember them dragging your body in the back of a car, carelessly tossed across the seat next to Alejandro, you remember how easy it was to play dead, how cold you were, how the pain made your whole body numb, Alejandro’s hand on your vest to keep you from rolling over as they drove in circles for hours.

‘’ It’s a fucking miracle. ‘’

That he isn’t dead, that you aren’t, that no one caught your whimpers after every bump or Alejandro softly shushing you afterwards. A fucking miracle.

‘’ You tell me. ‘’

He issues no warning as he pulls you up, knees bending, one hand on your shoulder, the other creasing your shirt in a tight grip. His movements are tactical, precise, moving your body in a way that works for him when your whole being can’t seem to follow. Alejandro wraps his hand around your neck as it swings back. You can feel the blood rushes back to your head, feel it in your throat. Hey, he says, stay with me, but the words barely make it to you, everything is thick and foggy and-

Hey, don’t die on me now. The world comes back in a buzz, loud and crackling in between your ears. ‘’ Matt will have my head if you die like this, you hear me? ‘’

His fingers are warm around your scalp, pressing a little, to make sure you really are here, back with him. You notice his eyes for the first time, how brown they are, deep, honeyed, the slight wrinkles that shape between his eyebrows when he frowns.

‘’ Loud and clear. ‘’ You mumble as he steadies you once again.

‘’ Good. ‘’ Good. You can see the relief cross his face, the weight that leaves his shoulder. ‘’ Think you can walk? ‘’

‘’ I don’t know, you tell me. I didn’t shoot myself, did I? ‘’

He scoffs, dismissing your sarcasm, you could mistake it for a laugh, ‘’ I missed for a reason. Let’s get you home, yeah? ‘’

Alejandro doesn’t pick up on your answer, something along the lines of it being a waste of time, that you are cold already, weak. Cállate, he wants to tell you, Cállate, you can do this, let me. He wants to try, for you, for him. And he does, he drags you through the desert, hiding in the streets, makes sure you press ‘right there, hard’ whenever he changes your bandages. His hands slip and hurt, but he does, he has to.

Told you so, he wants to say when he finally sees the bright lights, but he doesn’t. The second he makes it to camp, he brings you to the infirmary first, before Matt, before the men at the gates can ask any questions or take into account the blood that stains both of you. Told you so, but he keeps his mouth shut and tries to forget the way his finger hesitated on the trigger this morning, even when he knew it had to be done, that he hates how relieved he felt when he realized you were still alive.

He hates it, but it is true, it seems pretty clear to him now why he even bothered to come back.

Told you so.

[supercorpkid]

Ace Reporter - part 4

Supergirl, Kara Danvers x Reader, Lena Luthor x Reader

Word Count: 2375.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Something brings you back from your trance. Probably the loud alarm saying that if you don't get out of this place in five minutes you're going to die. Five minutes is really not enough time to find the way out, so you run out of the bedroom and make your way to the other side to try and find the exit there.

You are met with a dead end, and on your way back you bump into Lena. She holds your arms to steady you. "Y/N! I'm glad I found you. Kara and I split up while looking for the exit."

"Dead end." You point to the hallway behind you.

Lena agrees with her head. Cleans the blood off your cheek before nodding to you, "I'm happy you're safe." She almost hugs you, but decides there are more pressing matters at the moment. "Let's find Kara and get out of here." 

Lena holds your hand, guiding you to the direction you just left. That's when Kara appears in clear panic and points to another place, not wanting you to find her secret in that creepy room, unbeknownst of your current knowledge.

You do feel kind of safer knowing Supergirl is around. She said it herself, she won't let you get hurt for a story. She certainly won't let you explode just not to compromise her secret identity. Right? Right.

On your way out the three of you find the room with all Lex's hardcopies of clear wrongdoings. You grab everything you can see and get out of there less than a minute before the whole place explodes.

You make it back to National City, digging through papers, unraveling conspiracy theories and mazes of wickedness. Kara Danvers is snoring on the chair in front of yours, tired from keeping secrets and burning bridges. And Lena is also examining the documents in silence. When you can't read another word, you turn to her,

"Tough day, huh."

"Running into the atrocities my brother is responsible for, is not exactly a walk in the park for me."

Great fucking quote. Not on record, though.

"Sorry we didn't find him. Though I have to admit, I'd be a bit scared if we did." 

"I don't blame you. I would have too." Lena smiles absently and a little bit too sincere. You can tell she immediately wishes to take it back. You're a journalist, after all.

"Well, you've dealt with all those Eve clones pretty well. I'm glad you and -" You stop yourself, looking at Kara. She is not sweet doofus Kara Danvers anymore. It's pretty much real to you that she literally is the strongest person on Earth and she could have ended all those clones in probably one blow.

Lena agrees with a nod, following your eyes. "She actually fights pretty decently, I didn't know that about Kara." 

You furrow your brows, confused. "You didn't?"

"Honestly, no. I wonder where she was hiding all those moves."

"Yeah. And I wonder why." You whisper to yourself, staring at Kara. Is she really asleep? No way to know, she is such a good liar. She might actually be the greatest actor of all time. How else would she have kept this secret from her best friend for so long?

 "Anyway, heard you need a quote from me to get back to Metropolis."

You take a deep breath, mostly annoyed with your editor for making you work so hard for a damn quote, but also kind of offended that all of your investigative skills and team work will be reduced to one scandalous quote from Lena Luthor. You literally uncovered a web of lies and terrible plans, but hey, that's not what he asked you for, so it probably won't even be used.

"I suppose it's what I came here for."

You grab your notebook next to you, waiting for her quote.

"Ready?" She asks and you nod your head, pen on the paper ready to write down whatever she says. "I think you're so much better than what the Daily Planet gives you credit for, and I believe CatCo is always in need of a fine reporter like you."

You stop writing, raising your head at her, confused. "What?"

"And I should know what CatCo needs, since I'm the owner."

"What?" How did you not know that, when it's precisely your job to know everything about the woman you came here to interview.

"And if offering you a job is not enough of a reason for you to consider staying in National City, I'd like to add that I, too, would like to have you closer." Lena's voice drops an octave and an eyebrow is raised. My God, she is sexy.

"With the risk of sounding like a broken record, what?"

Lena laughs, honest and carefree. Wrinkles under her eyes and it has to be one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen. "I'll let you consider it. If you decide not to stay, I'll give you the quote."

"Oh, ok." Your cheeks burn red. "Thanks, Lena."

When you finally make it to National City, Lena offers both of you a ride, but you and Kara decide to share an uber to your side of the town.

"We've uncovered some pretty sensible information on this trip to Kaznia." Kara says as soon as Lena gets inside her car. "And I know you must be dying to do an exposé-"

Does she know? Does Kara know what you saw in that weird bedroom? That you finally have put two and two together and noticed the obvious? Is she scared you're going to tell the world? 

"But we have to be careful on how we're going to play this. If we blow the whistle on Lex, he could just go back to hiding and-"

"What?"

"Oh sorry, sometimes I talk too fast. I meant Lex and whoever is helping him inside the government. Obviously he had help to break aliens out of the DEO facility and-"

She doesn't know. Haven't got the faintest idea. Kara Danvers is here blabbing about Lex Luthor while you have this huge information about her. And about Clark.

"Oh my God Danvers, shut up." It's out of your mouth before you can stop it. Her eyes widen and you point to the car that just arrived. "I don't wanna talk about Lex, ok? I got hurt because of him, because of this damn crusade the Daily Planet put me through." You signal for the driver then slide inside the car. Kara follows you promptly. And with no amenities the driver just goes.

"Look, I know it was tough out there. But you did so well. You-you found this!" Kara is holding the documents so tight, like they would just fly out of her hands if she didn't. 

"Yeah, and I also almost died for those stupid sheets of paper. I'm not Nancy Drew, ok?"

"You are!” You look at her in disbelief. “At least, you were out there!"

"Stop, ok? This means nothing to me! I'm not you, Danvers! I'm not ok with putting my life at risk for a fucking assignment. I really am not getting paid enough and I only have this one life."

"What are you talking about?" Kara asks and you raise your eyebrow at her as an answer, not wanting to share more. "What? You think I'm a cat with nine lives?"

You can't help a laugh that leaves your mouth. A very ironic one. Sour and hostile. It makes her wince at the sound.

"Damn, you really are the biggest dweeb I've ever seen."

She huffs, moving uncomfortably on the seat next to you. You ignore her, staring out the window. You don't even like National City that much, but you're honestly so glad to be here right now.

"I know you don't want to talk about it, but we're writing this together, aren't we? We have to decide on what can we expose and-"

"UGH." It's the only sound out of your mouth. You're so tired. You flew to Kaznia; the plane you were in almost crashed; you had to fight evil clones and you got beat up by one (which is rather embarrassing); you found out your work-colleague and your almost-nemesis' secret identities; and you also found out what the hell Lex is up to. You're exhausted. Right now, the only thing you want is to go back home, but stupid Kara Danvers won't shut up. "I wish Eve had punched your face instead of mine."

"WHAT?" Kara yells so loud, even the driver jumps in his seat. "Sorry, sorry." She apologizes to him, then turns back at you. "That's such a mean thing to say!"

"Why? It's not like you can feel anything." You roll your eyes, hand going to the cut on the side of your cheek that still burns.

"Of course I can feel things." 

She's barely finished with her sentence and you're adding, "Oh my God, you let me get punched for nothing."

"I'm so confused right now."

"I KNOW, OK?" It's your time to yell, making the driver almost lose control of the car, and you have to hold yourself on Kara not to knock your head on the window. When the car finally stabilizes again, you continue. "I know you helped land the plane. I know you could've taken down all Eves by yourself. And I know about you and- and Clark." You stare deep into her eyes. "I know who you are."

Kara swallows deep, so loud you could hear it perfectly, and you're sure the driver could too. "Stop the car."

"Ma'am, we're in the middle of nowhere."

"Stop. The. Car." She repeats strongly, commanding. Must be her Supergirl voice. And the driver is not going to argue twice, so he does. He stops the car in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Kara pulls you by the hand and there's no fighting. Not when the strongest woman on the planet wants you out of the car, anyway.

So you stand there, with nothing but trees around while your ride home leaves you behind. You cross your arms and stare at her. God, you wish you were home. You wish you were never sent to this assignment. You wish you were never entangled in this mess with Kara Danvers. You wish you could just hate her from a distance instead from up close.

"How did you figure it out?"

"Well, you fighting all those clones with your bare hands was a pretty big tell. But what confirmed my suspicions was that weird altar they had for you there."

"You saw that too?"

"Yeah, it was pretty bizarre. I mean, who would have so many pictures of doofus Kara Danvers?"

"HEY! I'm not-" She huffs, unable to defend herself. "Whatever."

Kara walks from side to side, hands on the side of her head, clearly freaking out because you know her secret and she can't trust you. How could she? You're a random reporter who just came from Metropolis to find a story. And you did, you found the biggest one you could ever look for, and now you know the secret identity of two of the most powerful superheroes on the planet. 

She finally breathes out all the weight off her shoulders, and comes closer, really close. So close she touches the cut on your cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let you get hurt." And you've known this woman for two weeks, but you know she means it. Can read it in her watery eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't realize how scared you were. I'm sorry I couldn't be Supergirl there."

"Because Lena doesn't know." 

"Well, you weren't supposed to know either." She shrugs. Hands on your chin, eyes staring right at your soul. You dare to look at her lips, so close, so so close. Right there.

"Hey," You look back at her eyes and notice how scared she is. You know her secret, her biggest secret. You know a part of her not everyone knows. Not even her best friend! So you hold her free hand. "I promise your secret is safe with me. I know you have no reason to believe me. I mean, I didn't even like you until two days ago, so I understand the distrust. But this is a big thing. Bigger than whatever is between me and Kara Danvers. I would never put people's life at risk."

"Thank you." Kara gives your hand a little squeeze. "But what do you mean you didn't like me? I thought, I thought we were…"

"What? Friends?" A little smirk.

"Flirting." She admits and you gulp, taking your hand away from hers. She understands the signal so she lets go of your face too, but doesn't stop talking.  "I thought it was all flirting banter."

It was. She is right. But you just can't admit this to her, or anyone.

So you let a sharp and deceitful laugh out. "Oh please. Even on a good day, we're barely amicable."

Kara furrows her brows, looking like a lost puppy and when she opens her mouth to argue, you cut her off, not ready for this conversation at all. 

"So, do we get another uber or is Supergirl flying me to my hotel room? I really need to lay down after all this."

"Yeah. Yeah." She won't raise her head or look you in the eyes, but still picks you up in bridal style. "Hold tight."

Kara starts flying and you can't help but to hold her with everything you have. You can't believe you just gave Kara Danvers the power to drop you from a very tall height. You venture a peek down and holy fucking shit you are way too high. If she drops you, you're dead for sure.

You hide your face in Kara's neck. Breathe her in, and oh God she smells so good even after almost exploding in Kaznia. Ugh. Your stomach is all in knots and you wish you could just rationalize this strangled feeling, but right now Kara Danvers/ Supergirl/ Whoever is carefully taking you home, might be the person you loathe the most. Or love. You can't decide.

[brisquad-unit-4402]

aged whisky

my comfydant friend after we saw the archivist debut: might as well also give in and just brainrot until my brain is fried cuz this ain't leaving my mind anytime soon

me: yeaaa brainrot. mmmmg. I JUST WISH I HAD FUCKING CONHERENT THOUGHTS OTHER THAN mmm what if i kissed him on the cheek very nicely

me:

me:

me 4 hours later at 5:44 am: so it wasn’t just the cheek

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, making out, suggestive, old people in love, reader and fulgur are implied to be middle aged or older, domestic

⚠️ drinking/alcohol (reader and fulgur both drink)

⚠️ suggestive content (sex jokes, it's spicy but not explicit ykwim?)

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

you’re not quite sure how it started, but maybe it’s the whisky clouding your head. it’s like your thoughts lazily swirl together like a potion, or those fancy cocktails fulgur likes to make on the weekends, all loose and giggly while the buzz rests in the back of your head.

he’s giggly too, toppled on top of you and the couch cushions. some concert from one of the popular bands when you were young is playing on the tv, but it’s all but forgotten as you laugh about nothing together. the drinks from tonight make it easy to space out, and so does the edge of fulgur’s beard. it tickles your face as he pecks you, which just makes you laugh more.

“you’re so messy,” you say in-between laughter. he’s leaving kisses all over and you don’t even know if he’s aiming straight or not. one of them lands at the edge of your mouth. you get a whiff of spice just as his beard prickles up along your lips. “you smell like booze.”

“i wonder why.” he leaves a wet one there as a final attack. now that he’s done you can admire him and how he blocks the dim overhead light. out of its usual ponytail, his hair almost reaches his palm flat along the couch and beside your shoulder. the obscured light makes the shadows around his face darker, and so are the lines of wrinkles along his features.

mindlessly you taste the mark he left behind. sure enough, fruits and spice drag along the tip of your tongue. there’s not much alcohol but you swallow the burning feeling. it goes right down into your belly, just as warm as your face and the telltale flush of drunkenness along it.

you nuzzle up to fulgur’s palm to quell the heat. steel mesh curls around your face as natural as could be.

and fulgur starts up again as you let your cheek go exposed, and his beard tickles, and the whisky burns just enough. his glasses bump up against your skin.

you grunt and pat the side of his head—you might’ve landed on the ear?—to get him to rise, then take the glasses off by the bridge. “you’re going to smudge them.”

“ah, i don’t care.”

“you should. they’ll get fingerprints.”

“they always have fingerprints no matter what i do.” now that the glasses are off you can see how his brows lower while his eyes light up into silver. looks like someone just got a bad idea. as if he wasn’t up to trouble already. “you just wanted to see me without them.”

“guilty as changed,” you admit as you set them aside out of his reach. “looks like you caught me, officer, i surrender.”

you were already snickering but fulgur dives down to the crook of your neck and presses down another kiss, still laced with whiskey. there’s more of that scent as he smiles harder than he puckers. “how dare.”

the tipsy giddiness surges as he pulls the collar of your shirt aside to go lower. god, you feel stupid happy like this, spending your night by curling a hand into his hair and pushing him down close to you. it’s getting thinner than it used to be but you can’t find it in yourself to care between the whisky and the smooches. “creepy old man.”

“ooh, but you like it.”

“where did my gentleman go? he was just pouring me drinks fifteen minutes ago!” you cry, a playful grin over your face. “aren’t you supposed to be good at holding your alcohol?”

he snickers. “i am, i just don’t want to.”

“so you’re being a pervert.”

“mm-hm. don’t complain, or else i’ll do this!”

“ah—that tickles!”

“heh.”

“horndog!”

“woof!”

your eyes snap open. like a bolt from the blue, dog is right next to you at eye-level, sitting pretty with a tongue lolled out. you jerk your head away as he pants—that is definitely not alcohol on his puppy breath.

mood effectively ruined, you pat dog’s head and give him a good ruffle behind the ear. “now look what you’ve done, you got his hopes up.”

“you’re the one that summoned him.”

“you started it.” dog plops his chin on your body, ready for his nighttime walk. “tell you what, take him outside and we’ll continue.”

“consider it done.”

you cover your eyes to reset, then rub them, and blink as the process ends. fulgur’s head is still propped between your neck and chest. he rests his cheek along your softness and hums. the scruff along his face brushes your skin with the quiet sound.

“in a minute,” he adds. “i don’t wanna move.”

how he can flip from sexy to adorable in a second, you still have no idea. you get the feeling you’d never get the answer no matter how much of your life you spend with him.

the giggles have passed but the lightness in your heart is all the same. your vision blurs but you take his chin in your hand, letting your aged fingertips roll along the lines that sweep out from his mouth and the hollows of his cheeks.

you’re the one that kisses first this time. you end up landing along his top lip and the stubbly hairs above. moving down is inelegant but you make it there, and he opens his mouth, and the whisky burn goes smoky along your tongue.

sweetness breaks through as you drag your lips up across his face until you get the will to part, just by his ear now as you hold him close to your chest. “fulgur,” you whisper. “he can just go out to the yard, can’t he?”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi