#I feel like this could turn into a ficlet

[minerpore]

so, finally deciding to share this with more people- (how long has this post waited in drafts? for a while fof sure-)

Monster4 be upon ye or smth nxhcjcjyd

yes, another AU-

basicaly, the idea is simple..

what if during IGBP the demonic keyboard not only posessed 4, but also corrupted his physical form?

(hchfgg gotta love how i basicaly kinda gave him the Rot, from Rain World-)

(i still haven't figured out how to draw leggies shaped like that, forgive me-)

have some hug art!

also i guess it (the art) partially inspired me to write a fic bit heh

(tags to give this ficlet? content warnings?: hurt/comfort, mentions of body horror? i'm not sure if it's a fitting tag [please let me now if it is or not], smg34, slightly suggestive if you squint i guess, brief thinking about eating someone)

***

How long it has been since the It's Gotta Be Perfect incident?

Weeks? Days? Months??

Four didn't bother to count.

All that time blurred into one thing anyways, a period of constant guilt and shame.

He couldn't even look at his reflection anymore.

He was a monster.

Literally.

That cursed keyboard not only took control over him back then, its powers managed to corrupt his physical form.

And it did not fade away, not even after the castle went down.

It hurt like a bitch when his legs deformed, thick tentacles sprouted from his back..

The claws were the least of his concern, unlike those strange cysts with "x"s on their surface.

They invaded most of the left half of his face, he also found out some have grown at the tip of his tail, and on his back..

Not to mention what happened to his-

No, he doesn't want to think about THAT.

The corrupted guardian had isolated himself from everyone, afraid of seeing them look at him in disgust (at least he imagined they would, and he wouldn't blame them..)

A loud growl snapped the youtuber from his thoughts.

He was so hungry.

He was ashamed to admit that his appetite could now rival Mario's(!)

Suddently his good ear registered the sound of approaching footsteps.

Four turned around to see his ex-enemy, partner.. Three.

Oh how nice and plump the guardian in purple looked, imagine just how delicious he'd taste-

WHAT THE-

Smg4 was terrified by himself, how could he have such a thought about his friend?! How disgusting of him..!

The guardian in blue quickly moved away, not wanting to risk him giving in to those thoughts.

His stomach hurt, and he began to feel nauseous.

Three stepped forward to get closer to the other man.

"What's going on dumbass? And don't pretend everything's fine, can't fool our cosmic link." the streamer said, avoiding eye contact. "Not like I care or anything! I just don't want the crew to constantly bother me over this!" a noticable blush formed on his cheeks in the typical Tsundere fashion.

Before Four could reply he got hit with another wave of nausea. Three either noticed or felt that, as it caused him to look back at his partner. "Dude, did you eat some weird mushrooms or something? You look like you're about to puke your guts out-"

The smg in blue chuckled weakly. "Nah, can't get sick from some bad food if you haven't eaten anything to begin with" he attempted to turn this whole situation into a joke. That's what he used to be good at, right? Making people laugh at dumb humor?

Smg3's eyes widen in shock, certainly not finding that amusing at all.

"Four, when was the last time you ate anything..?" He asked, fearing the answer.

The corrupted guardian gulped nervously. "Last time..? I think it was when I locked myself in my room.."

Three sighed in dissapointment, pinching the bridge of his nose, his tail swishing in annoyance.

"Of course... Alright scrub, wait here, I'm getting you some proper meal. And I won't take 'no' for an answer!"

Four only nodded lightly, he didn't plan on leaving anyways.

And so he waited, scrolling through his phone in the meantime.

After a solid while the guardian in purple returned, carrying big bags of food.

Smg4 watched as his partner took all the contents out, setting them down so Four would't have to dig through the bags.

The guardian in blue and white rushed towards the food, soon devouring it like a starving animal. However he did notice Three looking at him with a certain kind of hunger in his eyes.

But it was a brief moment, as Smg3 quickly turned away from him once he saw Four's gaze and picking up a burger for himself.

Once satiated the youtuber sighed in content, laying on his side (as he found it uncomfortable to lay on his back now, due to the tentacles).

Ohh it felt great to have a full stomach like that.

"Four, I.." Three started.

The streamer sat down not far away from his partner. "Look, I know how it feels like to have your body corrupted, mashed with whatever eldrich shit that keybo-" he was suddently cut of by the guardian in blue.

"BUT THIS IS DIFFRENT! YOU ACTUALLY GOT YOUR NORMAL BODY BACK! Meanwhile I'M stuck as this.. abomination!"

Three moved in front of his soulmate, then cupped his right cheek.

"Four, listen to me. I don't find you disgusting in this form, alright?? You're actually kinda hot- WHO SAID THAT-" The guardian in purple quickly covered his mouth to avoid saying more (TOTALLY UNTRUE) things (he DID NOT!) think about 4!

The corrupted guardian looked at him wide-eyed.

"What I MEANT to say is-! It could have been worse! Like, you didn't become a twig or something-" Smg3 attempted to "correct" himself.

Smg4's body tensed up as he felt arms wrap around him, pulling him into a hug.

The feeling of Smg3's warm body touching his brought him a sense of comfort.

"Four, I... Remember what I said? We're friends.. So what if you look diffrent now? It's not like we never got redesigned! So what if you have those kinda goopy.." Three swallowed hard before continuing "Thick tentacles..? So what if you're.. the way you are now.."

The corrupted guardian felt tears form in his eye.

"I'm not leaving your side, whether you like it or not.." Smg3 said with a fond smile on his face. "And that's a threat!~"

[walkingstackofbooks]

Once again, an imagined 3-paragraph-whatsit has grown into a little longer ficlet 😅😅...

Occasionally, Julian asks Palis what's going to happen to them when he graduates and leaves with Starfleet for the stars. Usually, she just laughs, asking "Why worry about the future, when what we have now is so good?", or jokes about how she'll have to make sure she ties him up securely enough to stop that happening.

So he tries not to think about it too much, and accepts that their relationship is one of those that's not going to last forever - which is fine, what they have is good, and he was lucky that Palis had ever chosen him in the first place. Their futures being different from each other doesn't lessen the love that they have for each other now.

And then, six months away from graduating, Paris proposes. And Julian accepts, because what else do you do when your beautiful, amazing girlfriend proposes, even if it is completely unexpected?

He does wonder what made her change her mind though - she's never shown any interest in leaving France before, or in a long-distance relationship - but he's learnt not to ask her these things directly over the years, and so for a few days he tiptoes round the subject, dropping hints and subtle questions which she dances around as gracefully as ever.

The following Friday, she invites their parents round for a celebratory meal. She doesn't like it when he's critical of his parents - it's disrespectful - so he grins and bears it and doesn't tell her he'd much rather just cuddle up with her and a film and a takeaway for the evening.

"Have you told him the news?" her father asks as they sit down for the meal. Her face lights up, and she turns to beam at Julian, reaching out for to grasp his hand.

"No, I left it for you," she replies.

And suddenly, Julian's being offered a job here in Paris. He could be Chief of Surgery in five years, apparently. Or, as Monsieur Delon -Henri - assures him, if he wanted to get deeper into research, then Saint-Antoine has very close links with univerisities all across Europe.

"I-I thought... You're not coming with me?" he asks Palis in a daze. She smiles at him brightly.

"Of course not! What would I do in space?" she laughs. "Jules, this is perfect - I know you'll be an incredible doctor, and now you don't have to leave me. I've been hoping it would work out, but I didn't want to tell you until dad had got it all sorted - isn't he the best?"

"What a wonderful opportunity!" Amsha gushes. "And here in Paris! You'll be grateful to have stayed so close to London, when you need us to help with our grandchildren."

It is a very good opportunity, and Julian should want it, shouldn't he - to have this life with Palis, to have family looking out for him, for Palis not to give up the job she loves...

His heart is racing. He feels sick.

"I'm sorry," he says faintly, standing up and bringing a hand to his stomach. "I, uh - cramps, you know? Excuse me."

He leaves the room quickly, hearing the scraping of a chair behind him - presumably Palis coming to find out what's really wrong.

She follows him through to their bedroom, glaring at him from the door as he sits down on the edge of their bed.

"That was rude," she snaps, "and don't tell me it was cramps. You had your period last week."

"I was trying not to be rude!" Julian tries to explain. "I know your father must have put in a lot of work to make this happen, I don't want to sound ungrateful or say the wrong thing—"

"Then just say yes!" Palis interrupts. "What is wrong with you? It's perfect, and here you are having a fucking panic attack about it!"

"I'm not— I..." There's a buzzing in his ears, and he trails off, reaching for something neutral. "I don't— I don't like surpises," he reminds her quietly.

To his relief, she softens, despite how pathetic he's being. Settling beside him, she starts rubbing firm circles into his back, grounding him, letting him bask in her touch.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry," she says. "Is that what all this is about? It being a surprise? Oh, Julian, if I'd known you didn't like them, I wouldn't have done it like this at all. You should have told me."

He leans into her, taking deep breaths and comfort in her familiar smell.

"I've just been so excited about this," Palis explains. "I hoped you would be too. And I know you don't want kids right now, but your mum's right, neither of us have had surgery yet, so one day..."

"'Course I'm excited," he tells her, not quite sure if he's lying. "It's just, it's all—"

"A lot, I know," she finishes for him. "I'm nervous too. It's a big decision."

He nods slowly. "Can I have some—"

"Water?" she asks. "I'll go get some for you."

He had been going to say 'time to think', but Palis is already off, and now he thinks about it, she was right - his throat is rather dry.

She returns, and he sips the water gratefully, tapping his fingers against the glass until Palis tells him to stop.

"Are you ready to go back in?" she asks. "Our parents will be getting hungry."

Julian thinks about telling her he isn't, but quickly dismisses it. That would be rude.

"Okay. Yeah. Let's go, fiancée." That word, at least, is still exciting in its newness, and his mouth stumbles upon a smile before its even out of his mouth.

"I like that," she says, pulling him up form the bed and then into her. "You're mine now," she whispers in his ear, in a way that makes him really wish that their parents were not still waiting for them in the kitchen.

But they are, and although they seem to have already started on the food (Julian would bet anything that was Richard's idea), Julian and Palis can't hide in their bedroom forever. And there's still the small matter of accepting Henri's offer.

"Um, sorry about that," he says, sliding back into his seat. His mother's eyes are on him, and he looks away, knowing she's going to want to 'talk' to him later - she didn't buy his cramps excuse, either.

He turns to Palis' father, fixing his eyes on him for an excruciating few seconds. "I really appreciate what you're doing for me and Palis," he says. "It means a lot. I'd love to work with you, thank you."

His mouth has gone dry again, but Henri is standing up and holding out his hand, which means he wants Julian to shake it. In an effort he's quite proud of, Julian manages not to break eye contact until they've both sat down again. The chatter resumes, and as he reaches for his glass, he frowns at his hand, wondering why it's shaking.

Headcanon that Julian had a bunch of “relationships” as a teen with older people just to piss his parents off/to get away from them (because his gfs and bfs in their 20s would have their own place he could stay at...) and that he never really had a chance to learn what a healthy partnership looked like.

And then that Palis was emotionally abusive towards Julian, in a way that he never quite put his finger on...

And that his attraction towards Garak was in part due to the way that Garak felt dangerous to be around. Not because that was new or exciting or thrilling, but because it was familiar.

[blitheringbongus]

Can't believe Scar saw a rapidly approaching, dishevled mumbo and went "he's so cute." I need to run unorthodox experiments on them.

IKR SAME OMG

They’re literally perfect for each other <- delusional

But seriously they have so much lore together in my silly brain and the few interactions they do have (WHICH HAS BEEN INCREASING A LOT LATELY MAY I ADD) has been FUELING the fire rapidly and gods gods GODS do I have many thoughts about them

[witchywithwhiskey]

bucky + “cut it out” - “what do you mean? i’m not doing anything”

getting what you want on a rainy spring afternoon

pairing: best friend!bucky barnes x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, dry humping/dry sex, fingering (f receiving), consent issues (but not really? idk), dirty talk, light degradation, kissing, teasing, banter, friends to lovers

word count: 2,500ish

a/n: thank you so much for sending in this prompt!! i had far too much fun writing these two, which is why it ended up being so long 😅 (compared to my other springtime fun ficlets anyway)!! hope y'all enjoy!! ♡♡

“Stop it.” The words were barely discernible with the way they were growled, the annoyed rumbling coming from your best friend, Bucky Barnes. Your best friend who had come over on that rainy spring afternoon to hang out and had promptly fallen asleep instead.

Though you would’ve expected yourself to be a little sleepy, given the long week you’d had, you found yourself feeling more restless than anything else. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to settle down and cuddle up against Bucky’s arm like you’d done so many times before. 

So you were left to your own devices with your best friend, who’d fallen asleep sitting up, his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted back against your couch. He looked completely at ease on your couch while you were bored. You wanted Bucky’s attention and, for some reason you couldn’t fathom, you’d decided the best way to get it was to annoy him until he woke up. 

You’d been trailing your fingers over his bare arms and face, tickling him until his expression twisted and he grumbled in his sleep. It was immature, but you were having too much fun to stop, suppressing your giggles every time he made an unhappy sound.

Finally, you got some actual words out of him and you had to cover your mouth to stifle your laughter. Bucky sounded so cute when he was tired and grumpy. Maybe it should’ve made you stop, but instead you waited for him to fall back asleep, his soft snores joining the gentle rhythm of the rain and the hum of the movie still playing on your TV. 

Reaching up, you trailed your fingertips ever so lightly down the bridge of Bucky’s nose, skipping them off the edge before they fell to his mouth. You were surprised by how soft Bucky’s lips felt beneath your fingers, so different to the scruffy roughness of his cheeks and jaw, which seemed to be permanently covered in stubble.

Bucky’s lips parted as you were tracing them, and you yanked your hand away, turning to face the TV so you could pretend you’d only been watching the movie if he woke up. But you watched Bucky out of the corner of your eye, and he seemed to be sleeping still. Then his tongue darted out to wet his lips and your face heated inexplicably. 

Suddenly, your thoughts were filled with ideas about what it would feel like to have Bucky’s mouth pressed to yours, his stubble dragging against your skin. You couldn’t stop yourself from picturing your best friend kissing along your jaw and down your neck—his lips exploring even more intimate parts of your body…

Squirming in your seat and trying to ignore the heat curling through your belly, you turned fully to Bucky, watching him closely to make sure he was asleep. When you were certain hew as, you reached out, tracing his lips again with your fingertips, feeling their softness and the dampness left behind by his tongue. 

Your body warmed, and you pressed your thighs together against a pulsing ache building in your core. You didn’t want to think about your body’s reaction to touching your best friend, but you also didn’t want to stop or pull your hand away. You wanted to stay in the moment as long as possible.

So enraptured by the sight of Bucky’s mouth, you didn’t notice when his lips parted further, his raspy grumble surprising you so much you had to bite back a gasp.

“Cut it out.”

“What do you mean? I’m not doing anything.” Your reply was quick, as you pulled your hand away and leaned against his side like you were simply cuddling into him. It was normal for you to cuddle with your best friend, though you weren’t normally thinking about kissing him, or about doing other things with him, when you did.  

Unfortunately—or fortunately—your new position of leaning against his arm put your face close to Bucky’s. His mouth was right there, looking oh so enticing, and an impulsive thought popped into your mind. What if you just…brushed your lips against his? Not even fully against his mouth, just the edge of it. Could it really count as a kiss if you just brushed your lips to the corner of his mouth? 

You decided it didn’t. 

Leaning forward, your eyes fluttered closed as your lips ghosted over the stubble next to Bucky’s mouth, then connected with the softness of his lips. Your breath caught in your throat. It felt so good—his warm breath caressing your cheek and his velvety lips against the edge of yours. You could even taste the coffee he had that morning, the flavor rich and mixing with something that was entirely Bucky.

It occurred to you far too late that you were dangerously close to kissing your best friend, and you shouldn’t be doing anything of the sort—especially while he was sleeping on your couch. You knew you should pull away and go back to watching the movie, pretend nothing ever happened. But what you really wanted was to press closer, to sink into Bucky’s chest and slip your tongue past his lips. 

Instead, you just hung suspended in the moment, too wrapped up in your thoughts about kissing your best friend to notice the way his breathing shifted, his body tensing like a predator’s would right before it pounced. 

Then, all at once, Bucky moved, flipping you down onto your back on the soft couch cushions and covered your body with his own, his narrow waist fitting perfectly between your thighs. His hard bulge pressed to your core, making you gasp as pleasure surged through your body, your legs wrapping around him instinctively to keep him close.

“Not doing anything, huh, doll?” Bucky rasped in a teasing voice, a wide grin on his face. “Certainly not kissing your best friend while he’s asleep, right?” Bucky’s blue eyes sparkled in the dim daylight of your living room. You squirmed guiltily beneath him, but that only succeeded in grinding your heated core against his dick, making it twitch in his sweatpants.

“Bucky,” you whined, gripping his t-shirt in your fists and shaking them, neither pushing him away nor pulling him closer. Now that he was awake, you were painfully aware that your friendship was hanging by a precarious thread, but the heat flooding your body urged you to throw all caution to the wind. Still, you knew you needed to apologize for what you’d done, and you whispered, “I’m sorry,” in a small, pitiful voice.

But Bucky only grinned, ducking down and pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek. “Don’t apologize, doll,” he said in a warm, happy tone. “I’ve been awake since you started touching my face,” he pressed a kiss to your other cheek, trailing his lips down and blowing a raspberry against your jaw, which made you shriek with laughter. 

You tried to squirm away from his teasing mouth, but Bucky grabbed your hands, pulling them from his shirt and pinning them above your head. His face hovered above yours, his eyes taking you in like he was seeing you for the first time.

“I was wondering how far you’d go,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. Then, a sly smirk curved his lips and his eyes darkened, your body lighting up at the expression. “Didn’t think you’d kiss me though.” His eyes dropped to your mouth and his voice went a little distant as he murmured, “Didn’t think our first kiss would be when you thought I was asleep.”

Your lips parted and it was on the tip of your tongue to apologize when his words sank in. Had Bucky just implied that he’d thought your first kiss together was inevitable? And did his words mean he’d thought about kissing you before? How long had he been thinking about kissing you?

You didn’t have time to fully form a question in response to Bucky’s words because your best friend slanted his lips to yours, capturing them in a kiss. Immediately, the entire world fell away and your mind went blissfully blank—your guilt and trepidation melting into simple pleasure as you reveled in your first proper kiss with Bucky. 

Kissing your best friend felt like coming home and sinking into the safety and comfort and bliss of knowing where you belonged. The way your lips slid against Bucky’s, you knew you belonged with him—in his arms—always. It was overwhelming and delicious at the same time, and you never wanted to stop.  

“Taste so good, doll,” he rumbled, pulling away for only a second before he was diving back into your mouth, his tongue slipping between your lips and twining with yours. 

You moaned into him, your hips working against the bulge in his sweatpants as you writhed beneath him. Bucky groaned, trailing his hands down your arms to your sides, freeing your hands to dive into his soft brown hair. You yanked on it lightly while his hands groped your breasts in your shirt, then smoothed down your waist to grip your hips and grind himself into you.

“Bucky!” you cried, wrenching your lips from his as you clung to your best friend and writhed with him. You could feel his hard cock perfectly through the soft cotton of his sweatpants and the thin fabric of your lounge shorts. He was grinding against your clit, his lips kissing and sucking on your neck and all you felt was bliss. “Don’t stop, Bucky, please don’t stop,” you begged in a breathy voice. 

Bucky chuckled into the crook of your neck, suckling on your pulse point and groaning when you humped harder against him. “As if I could ever deprive you, doll,” he murmured, his voice warm and sweet and filling your mind with all the dirty things you could beg Bucky to do to you.

Dragging his face back to yours, you made out with Bucky, your kisses turning messy as you both got closer to the edge of your releases. Your bodies writhed together on your couch, your legs hitching around the backs of Bucky’s thighs to keep your clothed core grinding against his thick bulge. 

“Oh god, Bucky, I’m gonna—” Your words cut off on a sharp cry as Bucky rolled his hips, fucking you into couch like he was pounding into your cunt. The friction against your needy clit was perfect, and you felt the pleasure in your body surge, coiling tighter and tighter. 

“Come on, doll,” Bucky growled, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. “Come all over your best friend’s bulge like the needy little thing you are.” He rocked his hips into yours, grinding his cock against your clit through your clothes, hitting the aching nub in just the way you needed.

The pleasure in your core snapped suddenly, and you let out a shrill cry as you came, your body going tight and taut as you clung to your best friend. Your legs held him close, your hands fisted in his hair while you moaned in his ear, your body shuddering beneath his bigger form while you rode out your release by grinding languorously against his bulge.

Then you heard Bucky groan into your neck, his hips stuttering in their rhythm as he kept humping against you. You felt a warmth between your thighs and shivered, knowing what it was and it only turning you on more that you’d made Bucky come without either of you taking off your clothes. 

A smile curled your mouth as you humped against your best friend’s twitching cock while as he came in his pants. He was groaning into your neck and you were clinging to him, feeling every trembling shudder that wracked his broad body.

“Fuck, fuck,” he muttered, riding out his pleasure by rubbing against your soaked core and milking every drop of come from his cock. “Fuck,” he groaned, drawing out the word and finally settling to lay on top of you as he collapsed. You lay entwined together for a long moment, simply enjoying each other. 

Then, Bucky pushed up on his hands and glanced down your bodies, where he’d made a mess of both his sweatpants and your shorts.

You couldn’t help but giggle, only laughing harder when Bucky shot you an accusatory look. “This is entirely your fault, y’know?” he grumbled, beginning to move off you carefully so he didn’t make an even bigger mess. “If you hadn’t felt so good coming under me…” 

You’d been about to make some flippant comment about how it’d feel much better if was inside you, but then Bucky shoved his sweatpants down and stepped out of them, walking bare-assed over to the laundry in the hallway. He turned to you expectantly, but your eyes were too busy taking in the sight of your best friend’s cock, still half-hard and swinging between his thick thighs. 

“Are you going to help me clean up, or are you gonna make me strip you out of those filthy clothes?” Bucky asked gruffly, playfulness in his tone. 

That snapped you out of your thoughts and you pushed yourself up off the couch, sauntering over to Bucky, enjoying the way his eyes drifted down to watch the sway of your hips. Once you were standing right in front of him, you tugged your shirt off over your head and pulled your shorts off, leaving you naked in front of your best friend.

Bucky’s jaw went slack, his eyes darkening as they took you in. “Christ, doll,” he muttered distractedly, his gaze taking in every inch of your bare skin with a greedy glint in his eyes. “You’re constantly surprising me.” 

“Well someone’s gotta keep you on your toes,” you teased, pushing up onto your tiptoes and pressing a kiss to Bucky’s lips before you darted around him and ran into the bathroom. You shut the door behind you and turned on the hot water, intent on taking a shower to clean up.

Before you could step beneath the warming spray, Bucky’s arms wrapped around your waist and he hauled you against his body. His thickening cock wedged between your ass cheeks and his breath ghosting over your cheek as he murmured into your ear.

“You’re gonna pay for that,” Bucky rumbled, his hand slipping between your thighs, two fingers dipping into your soaking wet slit. “You’re mine now—and I’m going to have so much fun making my girlfriend come all over my cock.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, thrusting his fingers into your needy cunt, making your knees shake as you struggled to stay upright. 

All you could do was whimper and moan, clinging to Bucky’s arms and melting back against his chest. A smile played on your lips, though, as you realized you’d gotten exactly what you wanted—your best friend’s attention. And you knew you were going to enjoy every minute of that rainy spring afternoon with your boyfriend because Bucky, and his attention, was finally all yours.

[milla-frenchy]

Sunday lunch

889 words | Joel Miller x fem reader Summary: You have lunch with guests at Joel’s house. Neither you nor Joel are able to behave

Warnings: 18+ mdni. age gap (reader in her early 20s, Joel in his late 40s), infidelity, twisted relationship, daddy kink, possessiveness, spanking, oral and cum eating (m), piv, creampie

a/n: same “couple”: Owned collection. Can be read alone, but I recommend to read the “Owned” ficlet first Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 💕 and @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

masterlist | ao3

You were sitting between your boyfriend and Joel, squeezed, so that you could all fit around a small table. Brushing Joel’s leg with yours regularly, until you couldn't help but slide your hand down to his crotch. Just to be sure he was already hard. Thinking about how good he always fucked you. You thought he might be embarrassed to feel your hand on him, especially with another couple- Joel’s neighbors, facing the three of you. But he grabbed your hand firmly, holding you against his hard cock. No one noticed, and the forbiddenness of this situation soaked your panties a little more. 

Determined to test his limits, you went to the bathroom and removed your panties, keeping them tight in your fist when you came back to the table. His hand grabbed your thigh under the table as soon as you sat down, as if these few minutes away from him and his sight had already been too much. You slipped your wet garment into his hand, forcing him to take a long, slow breath.

When you got up to bring the plates in the kitchen and get the cake, your boyfriend and the neighbors stayed at the table, while Joel stood up. As you opened the fridge, you felt Joel's chest press against your back, making you moan.

“You like teasing me in front of him, huh?” he asked in a low voice, desire mixed with abruptness, his hand grabbing your mound from behind while the other was keeping you pressed against him.

“Is that why your pussy’s so wet? You like being naughty?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered.

“You know how much I wanna fuck you, right now? Right here? Just to remember who you belong to? Who owns you?”

His hard cock was pressed against your ass, his hand now on your waist, and you couldn’t help but moan, watching the door out of the corner of your eye, even though you could still hear the conversation between the neighbors and your boyfriend.

“Come here,” he growled, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards the pantry, closing the door behind you both.

He unzipped his jeans, taking out his hard cock, glistening with precum.

“Turn around,” he growled, and without waiting for you to do so, he spun you around, face against the wall. He lifted your skirt and thrust into your cunt in one go, grunting against your ear.

“Joel!” you whined, your walls spread wide abruptly by his thick cock.

“My baby girl is such a tease. Grabbing my cock during lunch, giving me those panties, when my son’s sitting right next to you? Fuckin’ naughty girl.”

He fucked you hard, his forearm pressed against your upper back, chasing his orgasm without seeming to care about yours.

“Did he fuck you this morning?” he asked in the hollow of your ear.

“No… no, he fucked me during the night.”

You didn't know how to interpret the heavy growl that came from his chest. Hornyness? Jealousy? You hoped it was both, and felt a new flow drip from your pussy, soaking his cock.

“Damn, baby girl… You like to make me jealous, huh? Drippin’ like a fucking faucet. You get so wet for him?”

“Just when I think about you, daddy.”

“Christ…”

He spanked your ass twice, making you clench on his shaft.

“That's fuckin’ twisted, baby,” he replied, still thrusting into you, spreading your walls that couldn’t get used to his fat cock, no matter how many times he had fucked you already.

“You think about me when he fucks you? Do you need to think about me to come?”

“Yes, daddy,” you whimpered.

His hot cum spurted out, coating your walls. He was breathing loudly, catching his breath, and pulled away suddenly, spreading your ass cheeks and knelt to lap at your wet hole. Drinking your slick and his own desire, his tongue buried in your pussy and his nose pressed against your tight ring.

“Come on, baby. Come for me.”

You brushed your clit with your finger, twirling it under your skin, and only a few seconds were enough before you came on his tongue. Dizzy with desire. 

He stood up and turned you around, grabbing the back of your neck with his large hand, pressing his tongue against yours. When he pulled away slightly, his dark stare locked with yours. Filled with possessiveness.

“I wanna know, each time he fucks you in my house. I wanna know, cause I wanna fuck you right after, and fill you with my cum. Ya hear me?”

You nodded, your eyes moving from his, to his nose, to his lips still shiny with your arousal.

“Now you're gonna be a good girl, and go sit back at the table. I'm gonna keep these panties. And when I’ll jerk off tonight, your smell in my nose, I’ll think of how I fucked you, here, with him in the next room.”

“Yes, daddy.”

He stepped closer to you, his body pressing against  yours, your back flush with the pantry wall, and slid his hand against your puffy cunt. You flinched when he brushed your clit, before bringing his finger to your mouth. You sucked on it, not taking your eyes off him.

“Good girl,” he said, brushing your cheek. “No cake could ever taste as good as this pussy.”

Same "couple": Owned collection

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[xazse]

new to your account but I've been reading you works ALL DAY. Can I req a wanderer/scaramouche x fem reader fic, reader was being attacked by hillicurls in the rain, scaramouche helps reader and let's you into the tent hes staying in.. because rain lol. Anyways he's h0rny and expecting repayment for saving you. He's very rough w reader lol. Sorry if this sounds stupid, I've never made a req before.

LOST?

Synopsis: When you’re saved by a man in inazuma attire you can’t help but be interested in his offer.

Notes: THANK YOU FOR BINGEING MY WORKS IT MEANS A LOT!! Also it’s not stupid at all you explained it perfectly! I HOPE YOU ENJOY<33 plus I decided to turn this into a little ficlet it’s such a good prompt thank ya.

Pairings: Scaramouche x Fem!reader

Warnings: Scummy!Scaramouche + bargains + smut + armlocking + female reader

Slimy, that’s exactly how you feel right now, these damn hillicurls have been following you for god knows how long. You’d thought the rain would’ve rid them of your scent but they’re extremely president, especially the Mitachurl.

You could easily take them down but not when they’re in a group like that, something’s making them group together in larger packs than before.

All you can do is run as fast as you can through this thick mud while they gain on you., you’re such an idiot for taking this request from the guild, they even warned you but you just had to be cock. You’re so deep in thought that you don’t see it: a hole in the ground, you’re tripping and falling stomach down onto the ground. The monsters run with this opportunity and you’re being pulled by your ankle into the air.

Quickly taking out your pole-arm from it’s confines, you strike the arm that grabbed you, the monster wretches in pain and drops you flat on your ass but that makes space for the others to start tearing at you it’s not before you see a bloom of air that the monsters suddenly aren’t in front of you anymore?

Looking to where it came from you see a man looking in your direction with the utmost disappointment and disgust on his face.

“You couldn’t handle a couple of lackeys? Why were you bestowed a vision then?”

“It’s kinda hard when it’s a group of them.” You deadpan

“Am I sensing attitude? From your savior at that.” He continues “I didn’t have to come to your screams, I could’ve let you die.”

“Screams? Whom?” You glance down at your body, you’re extremely dirty and the rain is only getting heavier.

“Thank you though, I appreciate the help.”

You stand carefully as much as the slippery ground will allow you.

He watches as you make your way to wherever, you only get five steps away before slipping on your ass. You’re being picked up by your armpits: such a small man has the strength to lift you like you weigh nothing?

“You can come to my little hideout, it’s dry and I can provide you with other clothing” he doesn’t allow you to answer, he’s already slinging your arm around his shoulder and taking you. You can only whisper another thank you.

As he takes you, you’re quick to see how pretty he is, there’s no imperfections in his face, it’s as smooth and pale as the day he was born most likely.

He looks at you, caught staring at him you quickly snap forward. He scoffs.

His tent is pretty spacious definitely fits holding up to three people, it feels much better to be in a warmer place than the cold hard rain. You realize after a few minutes inside that your clothes are sticking to you, you want out so badly.

“Could I have those clothes you mentioned?”

He raises his brow, dick.

“Please.”

“Of course you can.” There’s a smug smile on his face whilst he says that, he rummages around in a chest before throwing a large shirt your way and some equally big pants, you won’t ask why he has clothing that doesn’t look like it fits him.

You’re about to lift up your shirt before you realize that this is a man, a man you don’t know no less, he’s staring at you with a bored expression.

He meets your eye and gets the memo to turn around.

At least he’s respectful.

You lift the soggy shirt over your head, it hits the ground with a splat. Your bra is soaked as well, as much as you’d like to keep it on it has to come off, you reach around and to unclip it at least you try to, finding that it doesn’t budge. A few more frustrating attempts you cave and ask the man.

“Hey, uhm-“

“Scaramouche.”

“Scaramouche- could you help me for a moment?” You give him your permission to look and he makes his way over to a kneeling you. He seems confused but you guide him to unlock the tricky thing and with that it comes off, you catch your boobs and cover yourself.

Scaramouche thinks you have a nice back, and he liked helping you with that little bit. He doesn’t engage in conversation with women expect for the lumine woman, this is rare.

He also feels weird, weirdly uncomfortable, glancing down he can see he’s actually fully hard. Curse these male bodies and their weird maley functions. Why is something as small as this making his pants tighter and his cock throb. He thinks a little more, why does he feel uncomfortable in fact he feels owed?

You do someone a favor aren’t they supposed to do one for you as well? That’s how human customs are as far as he’s concerned. He’s now sometimes glancing at you: you’re working to get your pants off.

“I can feel your stare, what?” You question while looking at him in your panties at least they didn’t get wet.

“mm, nothing important, seeing as how you were in that type of weather you were doing some kind of mission? Request? So I’m gonna put two and two together and say you don’t have any mora on you.”

He continues

“There’s no possible way for you to pay me money wise-“

You interrupt him: “you didn’t save me out of the kindness of your own heart?”

“What- no? Of course not” he chuckles at that inquiry.

“Okayyy… what is it that you want?”

He doesn’t even have to say it, his eyes are already roaming your body.

“I’ve always been curious about you women and how you work.” he removes his hat and relaxes his body a little on the futon.

You women? He talks funny but besides that is he expecting you to give him your body? Having sex with a stranger isn’t on your bingo card.

But you also like being dealt wild cards, he isn’t ugly by any means. Your eyes slide to where he’s relaxed and see he isn’t afraid to hide how hard he is, heat rises within in your body: he’s hard because of you.

When the words “yes” had came out of your mouth he was fast to pin you down, using his rough grip to have you face down and ass up.

His hands are clumsy but that’s because he’s so eager to see all of you on display, when he’s face to face with your cunt he loses all body function, he’s quiet as he pokes and prods at your wetfolds, he’s so amazed that every time he licks his fingers clean that dipping right back in your wet hole produces even more slick.

He loves this, he takes his cock out of its tight confines. It’s leaking and a cute pink color. He doesn’t let you admire it for long, he needs to be buried in you immediately and that he does.

He lines his weeping tip up with your hole, the stretch of him is uncomfortable but definitely not unwarranted.

A screamish moan slips from your lips, he slammed his entire cock right to the hilt and holds himself there.

“Feels- oh..” he locks your arms behind your back, then you feel his cock leaving your sensitive walls just to feel him slam down inside you all over again. He fucking dies for the view, your pretty ass is bouncing right off his abdomen like it’s stuck in a loop.

“Ah..fuck- please slow-“ it’s so hard to talk coherently, it’s also getting hard for you to think.

As fast as he’s going your nipples are following, you know they’re gonna be incredibly sensitive to the touch, but it feels so good in the moment, that paired with his cock moving alongside your gummy walls is a killer combo. You’re being used like a mere sex toy.

You don’t comprehend that you’re convulsing and squeezing his cock, it’s not until he moans and laughs at how fast he’s made you cum that you realize.

For his first time too? He’s swooning and already praising himself.

You grip the tent floor in an effort to get away from the overstimulation but he’s pulling you right back on his thick cock.

Scaramouche is infatuated, his balls are heavy and dripping with your slick, you’ve got the audacity to run from him? He’s loving your pussy and you want to deny him of it? He just can’t have that!

He’s gonna milk you dry and after he’s done with that he’s gonna make sure to take care of himself.

[luveline]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

the tension between you and miguel rises to an all-time high —a ficlet featuring a grumpy miguel and a flirty, distracted spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. fem!reader, 1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel has asked you multiple times to leave him alone while he's working. The strike force can't run itself (or so he claims —Margo and Lyla seem plenty capable, in your eyes) and he needs time and solitude to organise the protection of canon events, and—

"Blah, blah, blah," you say, dropping your voice to a soft, teasing melody as you skirt around his frankly audaciously jacked chest. 

"Don't blah, blah, blah me," Miguel says. You'd be intimidated if you weren't so happy to mess with him. "I'm not kidding around." 

Okay, maybe you are intimidated. That just makes messing with him more fun. 

The room he operates from, as you've so fondly monikered The Office, is in organised chaos, and much too dark. You drag a lone chair toward his control panel and set yourself down in front of all his screens and computers. 

"Ooh," you hum, reaching for an unlabelled switch with a purposeful slowness. 

Predictably, Miguel slams his hand over yours, yanking your chair back with an annoyed, "No." 

"Come on, Miguel. What harm could I possibly do?"

"You could–" 

"Topple the multiverse?" you suggest. "I've heard." 

"You could turn off every member of the Society's DMW. That's what that does. Potentially endangering each of their lives by stranding them in unfamiliar dimensions, and preventing them from correcting canon events." 

You feel bad for teasing him when you see the look on his face, anger and exhaustion and the slimmest allowance of defeat. It must be tough to lead the Spider-Society. Tougher to micromanage more than half of its members. 

Pulling your hand from under his, you cross your arms over your stomach and give him an apologetic frown. "Sorry, Miguel."

Evidence of his sweet spot for you lines his expression, softening his sharp jaw and the stoic set of his brow. It's gone as quick as it came, and his mask falls back into place. He turns away from you as though pretending you aren't there and scans one of his holographic screens, his face glowing with a yellow-orange haze. 

Miguel has to tolerate you, because you're a Spider-Girl. Though you've never called yourself that aloud, and you're not sure anyone else has, either, it's an undeniable truth. You were bitten by a radioactive spider that gave you super mutant abilities, though yours aren't as potent as others. You're not especially strong, you probably couldn't stop a bus with your bare hands, but you're smart. You haven't saved the world or anything, but you lost your Uncle Ben. You paid the toll. 

Every spider person has lost someone. Miguel seems to have lost more than that. 

"You know," you mumble, kicking the ground lightly to make your chair spin on its axle, "I've been thinking…" 

"That's never good." 

"Why do we wear our suits here?" you ask, spinning for a second time, the room moving past your eyes in flashes. "It seems performative." 

"Ah, I can answer that. Some of us work when we're here." 

You wrinkle your nose at his deadpan and kick the floor again, spinning so fast it makes you laugh. "What did you say? I can't hear you from your high horse– woah!" 

Miguel grabs the back of your chair, bringing you to a sudden and firm stop. You blink hoping it'll assuage the dizziness between your eyes, and when it doesn't work you keel forward, muttering, "Woah, I'm gonna die." 

"You won't die." 

"How do you know?" you ask. 

"You're under my watch, aren't you?" 

"I knew you liked me," you say. "Oh, I don't feel well." 

"You brought it on yourself." 

You catch your breath. When you feel okay enough to stand you almost trip, and Miguel doesn't bother pretending that he had any intention of stopping you from landing flat on your face. The you before the spider bite would've wiped out. This you giggles and holds Miguel's elbow for a second while you plant your feet. 

"Okay, boss-man," you ask, looking up at the unnaturally high screen he's investigating. "What are we doing today?" 

"I'm supervising a task force operation on Earth-31913. You're going home." 

"Miguel," you say, not sure if you want to flirt with him or piss him off. He looks incredibly pissed off already, so you choose flirtation. "Have I told you how handsome you look this evening?" 

He doesn't react. His hands don't so much as shift where they're akimbo on his hips. 

"You really have the most handsome eyes," you continue, weaving around his arm to stand in front of him. You have to crane your neck to see them. "Sulky. Do I really have to go home? I'd rather stay here with you." 

He looks down his nose at you. "Yeah?" he asks quietly, his voice rough as hewn stone.

"Yeah," you say, taking a small step back. 

"And do what?" 

You mirror his stance, hands on your hips. Your suit isn't form fitting like his, doesn't showcase nearly so much lean muscle, but you like it. You'd chosen a simple black ensemble to match the spider who bit you with a pinky purple heart over your stomach. Miguel had asked about it once, just once, when you'd first met and he had no idea how much of a problem for him you were going to become. 

Why there? 

Why do you think? you'd asked, giving him a sticky-sweet smile. 

Forget I asked. 

He lifts a hand to your chin, pinching it between two deft fingers. You're lucky he isn't wearing his gloves; his claws would pierce your jaw. 

"What do you want to do?" he asks, again so quietly. "If you stay?" 

"I could help with the task force." 

"That's what you want to do?" 

You flush with heat but refuse to let him know how you're feeling. Your heart bumps against your ribs, breath caught in your throat as he tilts your head up, as he leans down. 

"No," he says near your lips, "that's not it." 

"I could help you?" you offer. 

Something flashes in his eyes. You hesitate to call it lust. It reminds you of a cat with a mouse in it’s clutches, only his pupils are blown, black and inky and wide as dimes. 

"You want to help me?" he asks, his lips an inch, half of that from yours. 

You nod minutely. "Yes," you say under your breath. 

His hand moves to your cheek. He leans in closer and closer, until there's a hair's width of air between his mouth and yours, the tips of your noses bent together. His breath fans over your bottom lip and it's hot. You swear you can feel his heart as his chest presses to yours. He lingers there for an endless handful of seconds, silently egging you on.

You call his bluff and refuse to close the distance. 

Miguel pushes you away from him, far from cruel but certainly not sweet. "I have a tower of paperwork you can file," he says. 

"Here I thought you were finally going to bite my head off," you hum. "You're a sore loser, Miguel." 

"And you're my pest," he says, holding your gaze for a half-second too long. He turns away. "Lyla? Arrange the recounts from the last canon event for Spider-Girl's perusal, please." 

"So you've remembered I'm here?" Lyla asks wryly.

You don't mind the paperwork. You sign each one with a winky face and a pink gel pen heart, knowing Miguel will go over them all again, and knowing he'll grow angrier and angrier with each heart.

He'll kiss you and mean it one day. You just have to play the waiting game.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

[singswan-springswan]

ficlet under the cut

The crate tipped with a sudden lurch and broke open on the ground. Zuko spilled unceremoniously with the motion. Inelegant. Graceless. Normally his movements held much more regality, but he'd been kidnapped and stuffed in a scratchy box and out of the water for some indeterminable length of days, so cutting himself some slack here felt appropriate.

It wasn't much brighter outside the stupid box. His scales were dry, his head was killing him, and the floor held a pleasant cool against his mounting fever. He really needed water soon. Every part of his body felt... scratchy. Discomfort would escalate into pain, and then asphyxiation. He would suffocate if he dried out. Idly, he wondered how long it would take. The humans seemed to know. They hadn't acted worried yet.

"Our latest bounty." The voice looming over Zuko was muffled in weird places. "I thought it might spark an interest. You collect fire fish, isn't that right?"

Zuko bit down a hazy groan and fumbled to prop himself up. The loss of the tile's cool against his cheek was one he mourned, but there would be time for relaxing when he found a way out of this mess. He could barely think straight. The humans—the pirates who'd ransomed him from the girl in blue—were standing guard around him now. He could see their boots. They were facing all the same direction, same way the voice was talking towards, and Zuko turned to observe.

The surrounding space was large, a room, and very dimly lit. This wouldn't normally be an issue, being that he was a mer, but his headache made his eyes lazy and bad at adjusting to the dark. If he squinted, he could see the ripple of light along the walls. Blue. Weird. In the direction of the pirates' attention, something like the outline of a table was visible—as large and imposing as the room itself. A single shadowy figure occupied a seat on the far side. He looked weird with the backlight. Zuko's vision was getting spotty.

He didn't get much chance to scan the rest of the surrounding space, because the pirate captain decided to be a jerk and grab his hair. It'd long since escaped its neat topknot, now bunching and sliding strangely in dry heat. The pain and the change in angle made Zuko rapidly lose sight of the shadow man.

"This one's quite a specimen." The pirate tilted Zuko's head back, baring his throat—maybe as a joke; it was always hard to tell if humans knew the significance of such a display—and lifted him enough to catch the light. So their potential buyer could get a better view.

Zuko would like to rip the pirate's skin off and feed it to him, but he was weak with dehydration, and his previous struggles against the man's crew had left him exhausted. All he managed was a low hiss. If humans could understand mer speech, he’d be cursing them as soundly as possible. Someone was standing on his tail. Not that it made much difference. He doubted he could have swung it if it wasn't pinned.

"I've seen a lot of the fire mer in my day, but this one's real pretty. Don't feel bad turning the offer down. We'll keep 'im if you won't." His crew laughed. Bastards. Zuko could hear the leer in the pirate's voice. It made him dizzy with anger.

Then a low grind echoed softly, and the humans cut their chatter short. Zuko distantly registered the shadow at the table moving. What made that noise? Was it his chair? He stood, rounded the massive table, and drew closer. All Zuko could see was a dark, unfocused blob. Vaguely humanoid.

"Yeah, don't be shy! Come get a closer look!"

The fist in his hair tightened. His scalp burned. The fins all down his back shuttered, and a stinging ache began to form in his gills. He needed water. He needed to get out of here. He shouldn't have wandered so close to the shore, even if that pretty girl in blue seemed so friendly at first glance. She did sell him out to these pirate scum. He should have known way better.

Even standing an arm's length away, the lighting continued to cast shadow on the pirate's potential client. It could be reasoned, then, that Zuko and the humans around him were washed in the room's best luminance. Certainly his scar could be seen clear as day. Maybe his tail was pretty, but there were parts of him imperfect. Maybe the stranger wouldn't want to buy him for that. Maybe Zuko would be stuck with these idiot pirates forever.

A smooth voice came from the stranger. "Release him."

"Sure, sure."

The pressure on Zuko's scalp vanished. He collapsed to the cool tile with no more grace than before, even further disoriented, and with a worse headache. He grit his teeth in frustration. That bastard was still on his tail.

Cool fingers tilted his chin up before he could lift his head on his own again; he hadn't seen the shadow man crouch down. Startled, Zuko yanked back and hissed a second time. He made sure to reveal far more fang and fan far wider with his fins; he just wanted these stupid humans to stop poking and grabbing him however often they pleased. Was that too much to ask? He wasn't an ornament. And he sure as heck had no intention of being a pet.

The stranger's face was close, and shadowy, and out of focus. Zuko's head was killing him. The room spun.

"The shape of the fins—” The stranger’s voice began.

“Really something, isn’t it? Never seen a mer so fancy before.”

There was a beat of silence, then the cool fingers returned to Zuko’s jaw and held him firmly in place. He growled. It didn’t make a difference. He was exhausted and hot and vulnerable, and everyone could tell. There was no way to stop them from doing as they pleased. 

“There’s a scar.”

“Wasn’t us, mate. Looks like the beast’s had it for a while. I think it adds to the aesthetic, don’t you agree?”

Zuko glared. It was the sort of one-sided remark he’d only accept from Uncle Iroh, though Azula had made attempts to express similar sentiments in that weird way of hers. He’d always hated the scar. At least the monster who put it there was dead now.

The stranger gave no comment. He reached another hand out and pushed Zuko’s hair aside, away from his eyes. Zuko did his best to meet the unfamiliar gaze as steadily as possible, despite the awkward backlight. He was being stared at. He refused to show how unnerved it made him. His trembling and fever didn’t help much in that regard.

Finally, after a dreadful length of scrutiny, the shadow man spoke. “How much do you want for him?”

Zuko could hear teeth in the pirate’s smile. “How much are you willing to pay?”

“Ten-thousand.”

Zuko didn’t know how humans calculated their currency. He’d assumed mer in general to be expensive, but they called him a stupid something fire fish, and it sounded like exotic. Even so, the pirate captain seemed shocked. He let out a high chuckle.

“Well! Show me the gold and you’ve got yourself a deal!”

The stranger waved an uninterested hand over his shoulder, and another grinding sound reverberated through the floor. Zuko couldn’t see the source of the sound with multiple different shadows clouding his vision. Judging by the pirates’ hushed tithering, their payment had been offered.

“Excellent! Pleasure doing business with you, as always.”

“Zaheera will see you out.”

The group broke formation around Zuko and floated away, whispering excitedly. Though they’d been awful to him, he couldn’t help a flicker of fear at their absence. At least with the pirates, he knew they’d avoid causing permanent damage. He knew they’d want to sell him for the highest price possible. Now, he had no idea what to expect. This stranger could have any number of sinister plans in mind; Zuko had certainly heard the horror stories. All young mer were warned about the brutality of humans, and now he was at the mercy of someone who really wanted him. This was bad.

The stranger let him go, and the world tilted as Zuko crumpled. He was very dizzy. And angry. And he really wanted to sink his fangs into human flesh.

But when he turned (against his better judgment) to snap at his new captor, a firm hand was already pushing down the back of his neck. The same way one might handle an unruly pup. Zuko was too tired to be insulted by the gesture. He wasn’t a pup anymore, but a move like that with the human’s advantage was enough to subdue even a full-grown mer.

“Watch out with that one!” The pirate’s faint voice called back. “Quite a monster at full strength. He killed two of my men when we—”

“Get out.”

The heavy thud of the door confirmed their absence, though the human didn’t seem to pay any attention to it. He ducked another snap of Zuko’s teeth, and ignored his crackly snarl, and slid his arms beneath scratchy scales. The world tilted again. Zuko would consider puking if he wasn’t so close to blacking out. The human was carrying him. Impressive. Zuko was heavy outside the water. His fins trailed the floor as they moved, but he was very much in the air, solidly in the man’s grip. Almost cradled, even if he was too big for the pup-hold to have effect a second time. The use of such familiar techniques should have rung a bell in his mind. Zuko’s headache and exhaustion wouldn’t let him dwell on it.

After a dizzying stretch, something wonderful happened. Zuko heard water. The noise was still muffled, and it faltered clarity with every stray tilt of his head, but Zuko knew what water sounded like. He’d been fantasizing about it for the past few days.

There was a splash, and with distant elation, he felt his fins trail. He wasn’t lucid enough to hold back the happy trill.

“I know.” The man huffed, and it rumbled through his chest. “I know—those bastards.”

The water rushed up around him, deliciously cool, salty, clean. It took Zuko up to his gills to realize he’d been lowered into a pool of some kind. It was shallow, but not cramped. He drew a deep breath. That felt very nice. The hands were gone. 

He didn’t bother confirming he was alone before passing out soundly.

<~><><~>

Zuko was alone when he came to, and his headache had finally retreated to the realm of faint discomfort. Incredible what a good long sleep in water could do for one’s health. The pirates hadn’t put him in a tank. They were mad about what a fuss he caused the first time they brought him aboard, and they’d rightly concluded he’d be easier to handle if he was dehydrated and exhausted and dizzy. They’d doused him with lukewarm buckets every few hours, just to keep him from dying. Zuko was relieved to be back in water now. Even if trepidation about the uncertainty of his new circumstances wouldn’t let him relax.

The pool he’d been placed in was shallow; he couldn’t move without some part of his tail skimming the surface. It was still comfortable in spite of that. The edges spanned a decent length, so he could turn with ease, and the basin interior was cut from smooth, white stone. His fins shone stark against it. The pool itself seemed to be laid into the ground, flush.

Zuko scanned his surroundings while he waited for something to happen. He still seemed to be indoors. The walls here weren’t as high as the one from before—from the sale pitch—and most of them were made of a clear material. It shone with sunlight from outside. The rest of the space was occupied by greenery. The taller ones reaching the ceiling had been planted in beds in the ground, surrounded at the base with bushy, leafy shrubs, and brilliant flowers, and crawling vines. The faint sound of water also trickled through the maze, but Zuko couldn’t see the source of it from where he was. It was peaceful. Uncle would love this place.

But Zuko hadn’t forgotten how he ended up here, and he had no illusions about being treated fairly, even if he’d been left undisturbed in such a pleasant area. He had to keep his guard up. He was being held against his will. He was trapped on land with no way to escape or get home. He didn’t have much experience with humans, but so far they’d only beaten him, used him, or treated him like a pretty ornamental object, and he had no reason to believe this behavior would change soon. He had to be prepared for the worst.

In truth, he really wanted to murder someone. The urge had become so intense during his captivity with the pirates, and he hadn’t had a real outlet, being close to dying of dehydration. Now that he was rested, his jaw nearly ached to bite through bone.

He spent the time waiting for an opportunity by pacing around the pool. The space didn’t allow for much more than tight circles. Still, it was better than sitting around stewing in all his problems. 

Mother was probably worried by now. Him being an adult with a life of his own didn’t stop her from worrying that he wasn’t home every day. Azula didn’t feel the same. Azula would kill for him though; she’d done it before.

Eventually, after what seemed like an hour of thinking to himself and going crazy for it, the faintest vibrations thrummed through the water, and Zuko froze. Footsteps. Someone was approaching. 

He lifted his head above the surface. The sound drew closer, brushing through the plants with a practiced gait. Zuko coiled his body. There was deliberation in the person’s movement. They knew he was here. They were coming to see him. The likelihood that he’d be attacking an innocent servant or something alike was low, and that brought him a hint of reassurance.

When the human came into view, bathed in green filtered sunlight, stepping out to the pool’s edge, Zuko took an entire second to appraise the figure. Tall. Male. Dark hair, luxurious silk robes in green and pale yellow. When he spoke, it was the same smooth voice from the shadowy stranger that paid for him.

“Hello.”

Zuko didn’t wait any longer. He launched himself at the human with a vicious snarl. His vision was red. His heart was pounding. How dare they treat him with such contempt? He wasn’t some prized bounty. He wasn’t an ornament for some rich knave’s garden. He wouldn’t take this insult and abuse lying down, and if these humans continued to assume so, they were in for a shock.

To some degree of satisfaction, the man did seem shocked to be bowled over. The air left his lungs in a massive wheeze, and his eyes went very wide. He was also—however—quick. He reflexively shoved Zuko’s head away when Zuko tried to bite, and he managed to lurch free enough to dodge an elbow to the face. 

“Wait!” The man yelped.

But Zuko had a size advantage, and the man was on his back, and Zuko really wanted him dead. He slammed his shoulders into the grass, pinned his legs with his tail, made another attempt to remove the throat with his teeth. This time, the man brought his arm up in a hasty block. Zuko was too busy biting down to be upset he’d missed his target. Blood and the creak of bone filled his mouth.

There was a shout of pain. “Wait wait—Zuko, stop!”

The words pierced his hazy red anger like ice through fresh snow. Zuko froze. Even being slightly feral at the taste of blood and festered indignation, he rapidly came to his senses and dropped the arm. His mind spun. 

How did this man know his name? The pirates didn’t know. The pretty girl in blue didn’t know. And he wouldn’t be able to tell them if he wanted to (which he very much had not). It wasn’t a lucky guess. No one shared his name that he’d ever met. So why—how could a random human—

“Get off!” The human fumbled to shove Zuko’s face away. His sleeve was ruined, and rapidly turning red.

Zuko slowly obliged. The man didn’t seem angry. He only seemed annoyed, even as he bled profusely from an arm that might be broken. There was something unnervingly familiar about the twist of his scowl. He shuffled sideways and sat up.

“Spirits, kid, you’ve got a strong jaw.”

“I’m not—” Zuko cut himself off before he could complete the retort. The human wouldn’t understand him. The human knew he wasn’t a kid. Zuko was very obviously a full grown mer. 

“You could have let me explain myself before trying to kill me.” Why did his scowl look so familiar? The man untied a sash of his fancy outfit and wrapped his arm with clinical efficiency. Then he looked up to meet Zuko’s eye, and his scowl faltered. “Are you okay?”

What.

Zuko stared. Was he seriously… asking if Zuko was okay? There was blood in the grass and in his robes and he might have a concussion and his ribs might be bruised and Zuko would at worst have a sore jaw. He shifted back warily. In his experience, crazy men often did cruel things. 

When he made no move to respond, the man sighed roughly and looked away. “Guess I should have waited on that tea. Zaheera will be by with some shortly.”

“What?”

What on earth was he talking about? Tea? Of all things? How did he know Zuko’s name and why was he so relaxed about the bite on his arm and why did the slope of his nose look so familiar and why was he talking about tea in the blood and the grass?

“You were always more civil with it around.”

Okay, now Zuko was thoroughly weirded out. He wished he had an exit. An escape route. He was stuck on land in an unfamiliar house and the closest thing he had to sanctuary was a fake pool of water barely deep enough to sleep in. This was freaking him out just the slightest.

“You’re nuts.” He said. Just to say it. The man wouldn’t understand the words or the insult in them, but Zuko was sick of just sitting around not saying anything, waiting for stupid humans to come to the right conclusions.

For his effort, he was rewarded with the faintest thaw of the man’s grumpy expression. It looked amused somehow. “And why is that?” He asked.

What.

A trace of alarm made Zuko flinch. “...Because you’re… talking to me.” He probed. Just to see. Humans weren’t supposed to understand.

“Why would that make me crazy? You’re real, aren’t you?” He glanced at his sleeve, now mostly red. “I’m pretty sure you are.”

Zuko blanched. He considered backing away, back into the pool. The safety it offered was purely psychological, but it would be something at least. It’d be better than lying vulnerable on the ground next to a crazy person. His fins twitched.

“What—but—you understand me?”

“Of course.”

“But humans aren’t supposed to understand.” From what he’d heard, humans interpreted mer speech as primitive and animalistic: nothing more than a series of harsh vocalizations strung together. Zuko had demanded an explanation for the phenomenon when he was younger. After all, mer understood human speech just fine. No one was able to give him a satisfactory answer.

“Well, I’m not human.” The human said. “Technically.”

“Then what are you?” Possibly a witch? Zuko had heard of their strange abilities. Or maybe he was a spirit. In which case Zuko was screwed. He probably couldn’t get away with attempted murder on a spirit; he’d totally be cursed or something. It could also be a shapeshifter of sorts, from the myths.

But the man quickly dispelled any outlandish theories. For the first time that Zuko had seen, a flicker of hurt crossed his features. It made him look older than he likely was. Haunted.

“Wow Zuzu, you don’t remember your favorite cousin?”

No.

No, he definitely didn’t mean that. Zuko didn’t have any cousins. Not for eleven years. And there’d only been—one. Just one. Now there weren’t any.

But looking closer, Zuko could see why the scowl looked so familiar. He saw the same face in the mirror. And this man wasn’t human, clearly, even if he had legs in place of a red streaming tail. In place of the gold ribbon fins their family shared—that he must have recognized when he first saw Zuko. 

He knew Zuko’s name. Zuzu. Azula tried to call him that—maybe out of nostalgia—but it belonged to them both, and Zuko hated to hear her say it because there was only one person who tried to bring them together like that, and hearing her say it reminded him of… of… a dead man.

Except he couldn’t be dead. He was right here. His blood tasted very real.

“Lu Ten?”

He looked so much like his father when he smiled. “Yeah.”

Zuko gaped. That felt like the only appropriate thing to do. Maybe the dehydration actually got to him, and this whole series of events was an elaborate hallucination. Maybe Azula spiked his tea with a psychedelic for her weird sense of humor, and he was hallucinating. It was too strange. This didn’t make any sense. Zuko’s cousin was dead, and if he wasn’t, wouldn’t Uncle know? Would Uncle have cried so hard so many private times if this was real? It felt so real.

“How did you get that scar?”

“How are you not dead?” Zuko’s head was spinning, though thankfully not from dehydration. He wasn’t sure if this was worse, actually. “Uncle thinks you’re dead.”

The comment earned him a flinch. “There’s actually a good explanation for that.”

“Which is?”

“I’m cursed.” Lu Ten squinted into the middle distance, looking uncomfortably close to being emotional. “To live as a human. And I can’t… go near the sea. I tried. It almost turned me into sea foam.”

Zuko dropped his head into his hands and groaned.

[moonselune]

I loved your one for the girlies! What do you think each of the guy’s favourite kisses to give and receive are generally? Ty!!

Okay I ended up making these ficlets because they ended up being too cute ! Thank you for your support !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The quiet of the library was broken only by the soft rustle of pages and the occasional muttering of incantations. Gale, deeply engrossed in an abstract spell, was lost in his work. His face illuminated by the flickering light of the candles scattered across the table, casting shadows that danced across his features. His brow was furrowed in concentration as he manipulated the weave, his fingers moving with practiced precision.

You, on the other hand, had been watching him from a nearby chair, your gaze fixed on his focused expression. You couldn’t help but smile at how absorbed he was in his spellcasting.

Quietly, you slipped off your chair and approached him, your footsteps light and nearly silent. As you neared, you leaned in close, just enough for your breath to brush against his ear. Without a word, you pressed a quick, teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth, your lips barely grazing his skin before you pulled away.

The effect was immediate and unmistakable. Gale’s spell faltered, his hand momentarily freezing mid-motion. His eyes widened as he turned his head, his focus shifting from the intricacies of magic to the unexpected interruption. His lips parted in surprise, and he looked at you with a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

“Really?” he said, his voice a mix of exasperation and amusement. “You know how much I hate it when you do that.”

You couldn’t suppress the grin that spread across your face. “What can I say? I like seeing you get flustered.”

Gale set aside his spell components with a dramatic flourish, the frustration evident in his movements. His expression shifted from irritation to determination, and he pushed away from the table with a sense of urgency. He straightened his tunic, his gaze locked on you as if you were the most important thing in the room.

“You know,” he said, his voice taking on a teasing tone as he began to walk towards you, “I believe you owe me a proper kiss for that little stunt.”

You started to back away playfully, your laughter a soft, musical sound that echoed through the room. “Oh, do I now?”

Gale’s steps quickened as he pursued you, his usual grace turned into a purposeful stride. His eyes, normally so focused on the arcane, were now filled with a playful intensity. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your arm as he closed the distance between you.

Finally, he caught up to you, his hands gently cupping your face. The teasing glint in his eyes was replaced by a genuine, tender affection.

“You’ve made me wait long enough,” he said, his voice softening. “Now, how about that kiss you owe me?”

Before you could respond, Gale leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both passionate and impatient. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you in that moment. His fingers threaded through your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, his earlier frustration melting into a deep, consuming affection.

When he finally pulled away, his breath mingling with yours, he looked at you with a satisfied smile. “See? That’s much better,” he murmured.

You chuckled, feeling a warm glow spread through you. “I’m glad you think so.”

Gale’s expression softened as he gazed at you, the playful edge replaced by a tender smile. “You always manage to get the best of me,” he said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

You rested your forehead against his, savoring the closeness. “And you always manage to make me feel special.”

Gale’s smile widened, and he pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a comforting warmth. “That’s because you are special to me. More than you know.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

As night fell, the soft glow of lanterns cast gentle shadows across the room you and Astarion shared. The air was filled with a quiet intimacy, the kind that settled over you both after a long day. The bed was invitingly rumpled, the sheets disheveled from the evening’s earlier activities. You had just finished preparing for bed, and Astarion, ever the nocturnal creature, was lounging with a book, his pale fingers tracing the edges of the pages.

“Astarion,” you said softly, your voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room. “I’m heading to bed, but I see you’re still enjoying your book.”

Astarion looked up from his reading, his crimson eyes meeting yours with an almost theatrical nonchalance.

“Yes, well, some of us have a penchant for late-night reading,” he replied, his tone both playful and dismissive. “Sleep is highly overrated, don’t you think?”

You chuckled softly, reaching out to touch his cheek. “Suit yourself,” you said, your fingers brushing against his cool skin. “But I just wanted to give you a goodnight kiss before I go to sleep.”

Astarion’s expression flickered with something unreadable, but you knew better than to be deceived by his mask of indifference. You leaned in, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin at the top of his ear. The kiss was light, barely more than a whisper of touch, but it had a profound effect on him.

The moment your lips made contact with his ear, Astarion’s breath hitched ever so slightly. His body tensed, and for a brief moment, he closed his eyes as if savoring the sensation. His usual composed demeanor wavered, and he struggled to maintain his dramatic bravado. He set the book aside with an almost exaggerated flourish, his fingers gripping the edge of the cover as though it were a lifeline.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, attempting to regain his usual poise. “How very… touching of you.”

You could see through his attempt at nonchalance, the way his cheeks flushed a soft pink, a rarity for him. He tried to mask his reaction with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, but the slight quiver of his lips and the way he tried to suppress a grin betrayed him.

“It’s a favorite of mine,” you teased gently, your hand lingering on his shoulder. “I think it’s your favorite too.”

Astarion’s eyes flickered with a mix of amusement and vulnerability. He tried to look away, but the soft glow of the lanterns highlighted the way his usually sharp features had softened.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” he said, though his voice lacked its usual edge. “But, I suppose I do appreciate the gesture.”

You leaned closer, resting your forehead against his for a moment. “Goodnight, Astarion,” you whispered, your voice warm and affectionate.

He hesitated for a second before reaching up to gently cup your face in his hands, his touch tender despite his attempt to appear aloof. “Goodnight, my dear,” he said softly, his voice betraying a hint of genuine affection.

As you left the room to head to bed, you glanced back to see Astarion still sitting there, his eyes following you with a look of wistful admiration. The book lay forgotten on his lap, his attention clearly diverted. It was a small victory, but one that brought a smile to your lips.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

The bustling market was alive with vibrant colors and sounds. Stalls were lined with exotic goods, and the air was thick with the mingling aromas of street food. The lively chatter of vendors and shoppers created a lively symphony that filled the open space. You and Wyll wandered through the market together, enjoying the array of wares and the lively atmosphere.

Wyll was particularly animated as he perused the various stalls, his gaze darting between the different items on display. His enthusiasm was evident in the way he examined trinkets and listened to the vendors' pitches. You found yourself smiling at his genuine excitement, his joy a comforting and familiar sight.

As you strolled through the market, you couldn’t help but notice how Wyll's focus was fully absorbed in his surroundings. His attention was so directed that he barely noticed the playful glint in your eyes. You decided it was the perfect moment to indulge in a little mischief.

You gently took his hand in yours, guiding him to a quieter corner of the market where the noise and bustle were slightly muted. Wyll glanced at you, a curious look on his face. Before he could say anything, you leaned in close, your lips brushing lightly against the corner of his jaw. The kiss was tender and teasing, lingering just enough to stir something in him but leaving him wanting more.

The effect was immediate and noticeable. Wyll’s breath hitched slightly, and he shifted his weight, a subtle flush creeping up his neck. His eyes, which had been so focused on the market, now softened as he looked at you with a mix of surprise and longing. He tried to maintain his composure, but there was a distinct shift in his demeanor—a mixture of frustration and desire that was palpable.

“You… you’re quite the tease,” he said, his voice coming out a bit more breathless than usual. His hand, still clasped around yours, tightened slightly, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your palm. You smiled innocently, enjoying the reaction you elicited.

“Just giving you a little something to look forward to,” you said, your voice soft and playful.

Wyll’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, and he tried to keep his gaze steady, but his eyes betrayed his thoughts. He took a deep breath, attempting to regain his composure.

“You know, you’re making it rather difficult to focus,” he said with a wry smile. His voice was a mix of amusement and frustration, his eyes following your every movement with a renewed intensity.

You could see the way his shoulders tensed and his jaw tightened slightly, his internal struggle evident. He was clearly trying to maintain his gentlemanly demeanor, but the kiss had left him visibly pent up and yearning. The way he looked at you with those smoldering eyes spoke volumes about his suppressed desire.

You gave him a reassuring squeeze of his hand, savoring the way he responded to your touch.

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to get too comfortable,” you teased, leaning in to press another quick, teasing kiss to his cheek before pulling away.

Wyll let out a soft, almost frustrated sigh, the sound barely audible over the market noise. He looked at you with a playful yet yearning expression.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” he said, though his voice carried a hint of affection.

You laughed softly, enjoying the effect you had on him. “And you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

He smiled, a mixture of admiration and impatience in his eyes. “I suppose not.”

As you continued to wander through the market, Wyll’s demeanor remained a bit more reserved, his mind clearly preoccupied with thoughts of you. The playful kiss had left him in a state of eager anticipation, and despite his best efforts to focus on the market, you could tell he was counting down the moments until you could be alone together.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

The camp was alive with the gentle hum of evening activity. Lanterns cast a soft glow over the scene as the day's tasks wound down. The scent of roasting meat mingled with the crisp evening air, and the crackling of the fire provided a steady rhythm to the background noise.

Halsin was deep in conversation with a few other members of the group, discussing the next day's plans. His tall form stood out among the others, his presence both commanding and calming. You were busy organizing supplies, focusing on ensuring everything was in order for the night. The two of you had been moving about, caught up in your respective duties, but you hadn’t lost sight of each other.

As you passed by Halsin, who was still deeply engaged in his discussion, you seized the opportunity to indulge in one of his favorite little moments. With a playful smile, you reached out and pressed a light kiss to the side of his shoulder, just above the sleeve of his tunic. It was a tender, fleeting gesture, one you knew he particularly enjoyed.

The effect was immediate. Halsin's conversation faltered for a split second as the touch registered. His gaze softened, and he excused himself, his arm instinctively reaching out to you. Before you could fully process his reaction, you felt his strong arm wrap around your waist, pulling you back against him with a gentle but firm embrace.

You barely had time to react before Halsin’s lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, his breath warm and tickling against your skin. His hold was both comforting and possessive.

"Always distracting me, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble filled with affection. His lips brushed against your neck, his breath creating a shiver that ran down your spine. You let out a soft laugh, feeling the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

"Just keeping you on your toes," you replied, your voice playful but tender.

Halsin’s lips traveled to your collarbone, leaving gentle kisses that made you feel cherished. He nuzzled into your neck, his touch both soothing and electrifying. His arm tightened around you slightly, pulling you closer, as if he wanted to ensure you were entirely within his grasp.

“You have a way of making it impossible to concentrate,” he said, though there was no real frustration in his tone—just a deep, contented sigh. He leaned back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a soft, adoring gaze. “It’s one of the many things I love about you.”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I’m glad you don’t mind.”

Halsin’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “Mind? How could I?” he said, his voice warm and full of sincerity. “You have a way of making everything better, even when you’re just walking by.”

You chuckled softly, leaning into his touch. “I suppose I’ll have to keep up the distraction, then.”

Halsin grinned, his gaze lingering on you with an unmistakable affection. “Please do. It’s the highlight of my day.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Rolan:

In the dimly lit study, Rolan was deeply engrossed in his research. The soft glow of the lantern cast shadows on the walls, flickering as he turned the pages of an ancient tome. His focus was so intense that he barely noticed you approaching, a warm smile on your face as you prepared to head out to the market.

You walked over to him, the rustling of your clothes barely registering in his concentration. Gently, you placed a kiss on his forehead, your lips lingering for a brief moment as you wrapped your hands around his horns, holding them gently. The affectionate gesture was something Rolan cherished, and he always felt a wave of calm wash over him when you did it. It was as if, in those moments, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you.

As you pulled back, intending to leave, you heard a subtle rustling from below. Looking down, you saw Rolan’s tail curling around your ankle, its grip firm yet playful. His head remained bent over his book, but a mischievous glint in his eyes suggested he wasn’t as absorbed as he appeared.

“Please don’t go just yet,” Rolan murmured, his voice tinged with a mix of reluctance and affection. The tail tugged you gently, as if trying to anchor you in place.

You chuckled softly, kneeling beside him. “Why not come with me to the market?” you suggested, giving his tail a gentle nudge. “It’ll be more fun with you there.”

Rolan looked up from his book, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

“Well, I could magic up some food for us, save us the trip,” he said, a hint of playful defiance in his tone. You raised an eyebrow, remembering the last time he tried to do just that.

“Please don’t,” you pleaded, a note of exasperation in your voice. “Last time you did that, we ended up with a bunch of mud mephits in the kitchen for a week. It was chaos.”

Rolan’s eyes widened with genuine amusement at the recollection. He sighed dramatically, closing his book with a soft thud.

“Fair point,” he admitted, his tail loosening its grip. “Those mephits were quite the nuisance.”

With a resigned smile, he leaned back in his chair, his gaze softening as he watched you.

“Alright, go enjoy your market trip. But don’t be gone too long,” he said, his voice gentle and tinged with longing. “I’ll be waiting here, all on my lonesome.”

You stood up, giving his horns one last affectionate caress before turning to leave. As you walked towards the door, you glanced back to see Rolan’s gaze following you, a mix of longing and warmth in his eyes.Before you fully exited, you turned with a playful grin.

“If you’re good, I might bring you a treat,” you said, giving him a wink. Rolan’s tail gave a contented flick as he watched you leave.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he called after you, his voice carrying a note of affectionate amusement.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Raphael:

The House of Hope was bathed in a golden twilight, the soft light filtering through the ornate windows and casting intricate patterns on the floor. The air was filled with the lingering warmth of the day, a gentle contrast to the briskness of the evening breeze outside. You had just finished a conversation with Raphael, and as you glanced at the clock, you realized you were running late to meet someone important.

With a quick, affectionate gesture, you moved towards Raphael, leaning in to press a swift, tender peck to his lips. The kiss was meant to be fleeting, a simple goodbye as you hurried out. You had barely pulled away when Raphael’s eyes flashed with a mischievous glint.

In one smooth motion, he reached out and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you back towards him with a sudden, unexpected force. His lips found yours again, this time with a deeper, more intense pressure. You gasped softly at the sudden shift, your initial surprise quickly replaced by a mixture of frustration and delight.

Raphael’s lips moved against yours with a slow, deliberate passion, savoring the taste of your kiss as if he were drinking in the very essence of you. His hands roamed gently over your back, guiding you closer and deepening the kiss. You could feel his warm breath mingling with yours, and the sound of your soft, reluctant protests only seemed to spur him on further.

“Trying to leave so soon?” Raphael murmured between kisses, his voice a velvety whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “You wouldn’t want to upset me, would you?”

You tried to protest, though your words were muffled by the intensity of his kiss.

“Raphael, I… I really need to—” Your sentence trailed off into a breathless moan as he pressed closer, his lips brushing against yours with a teasing insistence.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your lips. “But I enjoy these moments with you far too much. Surely you can spare a little more time.”

Despite your rush, the way he kissed you—full of hunger and playful dominance—made it hard to pull away. His lips moved with a practiced grace, the kiss growing deeper and more consuming as you found yourself caught in the pleasure of the moment. You pouted against his mouth, your cheeks flushing as his hands settled on your face, holding you gently yet firmly.

You tried to remind yourself of your pressing appointment, but Raphael’s kisses were so captivating that it was nearly impossible to focus on anything but him. His hands continued their gentle exploration, making sure you felt every caress, every touch.

When he finally pulled away, it was only slightly, enough to rest his forehead against yours and gaze into your eyes with a mix of satisfaction and affection.

“There, now,” he said softly, his breath warm against your skin. “Wasn’t that worth the delay?”

You looked up at him, your own breath coming in soft, uneven puffs. Despite the frustration you felt, there was no denying the warmth spreading through you from his touch and the way he made you feel cherished and adored.

“You’re impossible,” you said, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Raphael’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with a mix of triumph and affection. “And you’re mine. Now, go on—take care of your business. I’ll be waiting here, counting the moments until I see you again.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Some fluff to soothe our souls, I know that I've been doing a lot of Dark!BG3 recently so thought I would do something lighter, hope you enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[clockwayswrites]

Ficleting Together Start:

cw: internalized abelism as issues with therapy and mental help, injury

Jason had an imaginary friend. He hadn't always. He wasn't like most children who had one when they were just learning to understand the world around them. He hadn't even had one on the streets when he was so desperately lonely for anyone to offer him kindness. No, Jason hadn't had one until he had become Robin— until he had become magic.

He didn't actually think his friend was so imaginary.

Bruce and Dick did, though. It was actually the first conversation that they had that didn’t end in shouting in months. Jason had listened to the whole thing through a vent on the other side of Bruce’s study. There were concerns of him regressing. Apparently it was something that could happen to traumatized— and fuck he hated that word, traumatized— children when they finally got somewhere safe.

Dick thought Jason would benefit from therapy. Worse, Bruce agreed. It turned out that went Jason took part in the shouting match it could be so much worse.

“I’m not crazy! I don’t need to see a fucking therapist!” Jason screamed.

He wasn’t helping his case, he knew that. But he wasn’t crazy! They couldn’t lock him up. He wasn’t crazy. It already felt like he was locked up. The study felt suddenly small. The lights too bright. The furniture too big. Bruce and Dick were too big.

“Jay-lad, that’s not what we’re saying,” Bruce tried.

“I’m not talking any pills!”

“No one is talking pills, Jay,” Dick said. He stepped forward, reaching a hand out.

It would be comforting. Jason knew that. Dick’s touch was always comforting.

He gave great hugs.

He wasn’t like—

Jason ran.

Jason bolted out of the room and past Alfred and out the door and into the woods that surrounded Wayne Manor. He ran past trees and shrubs and rocks that all looked the same. He ran until his legs were burning and he couldn’t catch his breath and—

The dirt, damp from the fall rainstorms gave under Jason’s feet. For a moment he was standing on nothing. It felt just like when Bruce had said that he had arranged a therapist for Jason. It felt like his world had fallen out from under him. And then Jason was falling, tumbling down the rock face that up the small hillside that Jason had been running along.

He screamed as something in his leg snapped, the noise was cut short as his head bounced against the rock and snapped his jaw closed. Even when he stopped rolling, the world swam around him. Jason closed his eyes and tried to stop himself from hurling. It was close. Jason lost time counting his breaths through the pain.

And then they were there.

Jason knew it, he always knew it.

It’s why he didn’t think they were imaginary.

He couldn’t help the sob that ripped from his throat as he felt their presence settle against his side. “I’m not crazy. You’re real. I know you are.”

Jason didn’t hear their response. It wasn’t like they spoke. But Jason could feel their response: a rumble of reassurance, a bubble of wry humor that Jason didn’t understand, and an undercurrent of worry.

“I’ll be okay,” Jason said. It had started to get dark. When had it started to get dark? “I’ll be okay.”

A cold sensation pressed against his brow.

He could close his eyes for a little longer.

He’d be okay.

“Jason! Oh god, Jason. Bruce! It’s over here! Please be alive.”

Jason whined as hand touched his neck.

Murmured Romani filled Jason’s ears as his world went black.

---

The voted prompts were Danny/Jason, soulmates/bond, Eldritch. This isn't going where I thought it would, but that's the fun of it! I might just tack all the parts onto this thread an not do an update thread since this shouldn't be too long (famous last words) but we'll see. I have at least two scenes that I know I want to do.

[writingjourney]

warmth // cregan stark x f!reader // 500 words, biting, filth, MDNI

The icy winds howl relentlessly as they meet the thick castle walls of Winterfell which stands proudly, as it has stood for thousands of years, against the perils of the North. Inside, a large fire is fighting off the cold, its deep orange glow and the flickering shadows battling for dominance over the chamber.

Winter nights are long this far North and comfort is best found in sharing the silent hours in the arms of a lover. You find that your lord husband is taking this sentiment quite seriously, this task of keeping you warm and content.

Muttered curses drown out the crackling of the fire, his cock burried deep inside of you as he ruts in a desperate rhythm. Your breathy moans are stifled by the meat of his shoulder, the imprint of your teeth never quite fading. Cregan runs hotter than the natural springs underneath the stronghold, a thin sheen of sweat coating his back as you claw at it to relieve the tension inside of you.

With broken words you whisper your affection for him, how good he makes you feel, how he fills you so perfectly, and his voice is thick, deeper, when he drawls your name. One hand is secured firmly around your thigh to spread your legs apart as far they would go, the other arm propped to support his weight and not crush you. There lies a certain thrill in the fact that he could rip you apart with his bare hands, the Wolf of the North, a man with the strength of a beast, yet so gentle after night falls and his lips find yours, stern lord turned to ardent lover, grim wolf to playful pup.

It is his intimate embrace that makes you forget the unforgiving nature of the North, you, a post-war transplant from beyond the Neck, and perhaps it is the sole reason why you find yourself missing your old home less and less despite the harsh reality of your new life in the perpetual cold of an endless Winter.

Cregan angles your hips upwards and you crest almost instantly, forgetting yourself as heat pools into every crevice of your body. He swallows the sounds of your pleasure, ever hungry, lips and hands indulging in the sweet reactions he manages to draw from you. It never takes long until he follows, though he likes to linger, push the evidence of his release deeper into your cunt.

Wolf he may be but when he pulls you to his chest he purrs like a cat, content and happy to be basking in the warmth of not just the fire but the potent afterglow of your shared love. You rake your fingers through his coarse chest hair, dark as the rest of him, and his eyes fall closed, the weariness catching up. A gentle touch never fails to lure him into a slumber, the kiss of your lips to his cheek scarcely noted. You smile as you listen to his steady breath, mingling with the whispered howls outside – wind or wolf, the answer lost to fragmented dreams.

─── ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ───

thank you for reading!! this is meant to be part of a bigger story that i hope to be writing at some point but i adapted it into a short ficlet ♡

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

There's apparantly a ratty little blanket that Astarion brings with him into whatever tents and caverns he goes to that has been dubbed his "safety blanket"-- and now I'm obsessed with seeing a ficlet about that. *puppy eyes* <3

Hiiiii sorry for the long wait. Been busy since school started and also really tired. Hope you enjoy!

You let out a quiet sigh, staring up at the roof of the tent as you have been for the past…you've lost count how long it's been since you first laid down in your shared bedroll with Astarion. Tomorrow is the day you take the fight back to Ketheric Thorm and despite knowing that his immortality has been removed, you can't help but feel nervous about the fight that lies ahead.

Turning over to your side, you realise Astarion is just as restless as you are, and is fiddling with the worn blanket you've caught only glimpses of previously. He hugs it closely to his chest, playing with a corner of the fabric and you lean in closer.

"Can't sleep either?"

Astarion scowls in response, quickly stashing his worn blanket away and turns over to face you, leaning forward to plant a chaste kiss to your lips. You smile when his gaze softens, even if it's just for that split second and laugh when he huffs in response.

"I was about to trance when you disturbed me."

"Sure you were," you hum, tucking a white curl behind his ear. You feel him shift, pressing closer against you and feel his arms wrap themselves around your waist. Each breath you let out ruffles his hair and you feel his cool skin beneath your fingertips. His ratty blanket peeks out from where he hastily tucked it beneath the corner of his pillow and you gently pry it out, the rough fabric scratching against your skin.

"I'm surprised you keep something like this. I pegged you for someone who prefers luxury and comfort."

You feel Astarion tense, his clawed fingertips pricking your skin and you shift, wondering if you should give him some space. Your worried gaze meets his crimson eyes and you sense a hint of sorrow in those eyes. He shakily inhales, then exhales and crumples into your embrace.

"That…" His voice trails off. "That's one of the few things I ever owned. Before you, before all of this."

"I'm sorry," you murmur. "I shouldn't have."

He shakes his head, "you were bound to find out about this some day."

He blindly reaches for the blanket, hugging it to his chest when you hand it to him. He looks so small, so vulnerable when he curls around the blanket, it makes your heart ache for him. His scars shine pale underneath the moonlight, yet another reminder of the life he once led, of the shackles he has yet to fully throw off. In that moment you vow silently once more to help him strike his chains off, to watch as he tastes true freedom.

When Astarion speaks again, his voice is soft, the complete opposite of his usual tone.

"All the spawn always fought over the beds in our room, all the beds except one, tucked away in the corner. That bed was always reserved for me, everyone knew I always came back covered in fluids and no one wanted to go anywhere near the bed that was possibly contaminated with those fluids. No one wanted to touch the blanket on it either, but I was fine with that. It meant the bed was mine, the blanket was mine, and I was happy about it. Cazador stole everything from me — my life, my body, my everything. To have something to call my own, it made me happier than anything ever could. It felt like a small defiance in Cazador's face, to still retain something when he tried to strip me of everything. When I fled the castle, the only thing I could bring along was this blanket and the clothes on my back."

He plays with a loose thread dangling from the edge of the blanket, letting you gently rub circles on his back. He presses against you, leaning into your warm touch. You press a kiss to the top of his head, relishing in the comfort your beloved vampire brings simply by being right next to you.

"I'm surprised it's still in one piece," you trace a finger over the fabric, feeling the little bumps where it has been stitched over. "Did you patch the holes up yourself?"

"Of course I did. As if I'd let anyone else touch something so precious."

Still, he makes no motion to pull his precious blanket away from you. Your hands brush against each other, sending tingles up your spine, a quiet chuckle slipping from your lips.

"Will you teach me how to sew?" His eyes widen at your suggestion, and then the smirk you're all too familiar with forms on his face.

"Under my tutelage? You'll learn well, but you won't ever be as good as me."

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "That's all I need."

He smiles a genuine smile that lets his fangs peek through, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Underneath the moonlight he looks ethereal, the moon's glow outlining his figure. He then closes the distance between the both of you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss that you wish will never end, but your lungs beg for oxygen and you are forced to break the kiss.

"You have more than just the blanket now. I am yours, every fibre of my being, forevermore." You press your forehead against his, closing your eyes as you breathe in his familiar scent. He cradles you in return, soaking in the warmth you exude.

When you open your eyes once again, there's a glimmer in his eyes that wasn't there before. He nuzzles into your shoulder, smiling contentedly and drifts off into a trance, his worn blanket left forgotten. You hold him in your arms, feeling sleep finally take over, all stress forgotten.

There are words left unsaid, but they will be spoken in due time, that you're sure of. After all, a life waits for you at the end of this journey, wherever it may bring you. Somehow deep down, you know this to be true. The words can wait until the time is right, but until then, you're contented to know that you are his and nothing can ever change that.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Jamil Viper: A Web, Tangled

Aaand here we go with the Relaxing in Room line of birthday cards :v d ehebkwjw It’s so funny that they chuck pillows to attack??? (By the way, congrats to this Jamil card overloading and crashing the JP server 😂)

For this series of birthday ficlets, I’ll focus on writing each birthday boy preparing to walk to school with the reader (since the duo partner barely appears in the vignettes). Can be read platonically or romantically, whatever you prefer~

Rise and Shine!

You lingered by the doorway, your eyes glued on Jamil.

He was preoccupied with glimpsing himself in a mirror set on a table. Before him were various accessories from a jeweled box. (Judging from the gaudiness of the massive rubies on it, it must have been a gift from Kalim.)

Loose tresses the color of dark chocolate tumbled down his back. When Jamil ran a brush through them, the sun caught and his hair tempered, turning lustrous.

You’d seen him massage his scalp with oil-slicked hands before—and again, he diid it, followed by some sort of a cream. The routine left his head moisturized smelling faintly of jasmine. Jamil never compromised when it came to hair care.

You often had to remind yourself that he was not a princess, entrancing as he was. The sway of his hair, the snap of his steps. Each movement, close to a part in a mysterious dance.

Jamil produced his magical pen. The magestone laid in it was as clear as a cloudless day, and the color of blood that had been left out for a little too long.

Now came the spectacle, the very highlight of your entire morning.

Jamil raised the pen as if he was a conductor waving his baton. A hush fell over an imaginary audience, a collective of breaths held in anticipation. This is it, this is it.

He flicked his wrist, and the magic flowed.

A trail of scarlet light emanated whenever Jamil drew his wand. The accessories laid out on his desk floated up, compelled, in a neat line. A band with a feather dangling from it, narrow golden bangles, flat beads that clinked like coins.

His dark locks lifted, dividing themselves into even sections, then into even smaller ones. They carefully twisted over and under each other, weaving into tight braids. Accessories slid on, effortlessly fitting themselves at his direction.

His intricate hairstyle assembled quickly, as if arranging the pieces of a familiar puzzle.

The red sparkles faded into a fine shimmer and then into nothing at all. As the last traces of magic settled, you bursted into applause.

“Bravo, bravo! Great show as always,” you said appreciatively.

“… That wasn’t a performance,” Jamil corrected as he set his magical pen down.

“It might as well be! It takes some serious skill to pull that off every morning.” You gestured to him. “And so fast!“

“Anyone could accomplish it with enough time and practice.” His words choice was humble, but there was a hint of a smirk in his tone.

A rare moment of triumph for him.

“Not just anyone. I think you’ve got a natural talent for this kind of thing,” you grinned broadly, “like a spider!”

Jamil’s neutral expression splintered, leaving jagged edges exposed. His left eyes twitched, pupils pinpricks.

“Excuse me? In what way do I remind you of a vile bug?”

“Hey, don’t knock spiders! You guys have similar skills. The braids, the webs. You make’m well, all nice and strong. No strands out of place.”

“That doesn’t reassure me,” he groused, a hand on his hip. “I’d prefer if you didn’t compare me to them. It feels wrong.”

Jamil shivered. Not from the cold, but with repulsion.

You gave a laugh—soft against the rising morning sun. “Really? But you’re so alike in other ways too.”

His eyes narrowed into suspicious slivers. Mildly offended, perhaps.

“Elaborate,” he commanded.

“They’re hard working and important but under-appreciated,” you pointed out. “Without spiders, there would actually be a lot more bugs around. We should be more grateful to have spiders’ webs.”

There was a pause, deliberate. Then a gentle prompt.

“… Remind you of anyone?”

Jamil scoffed. It was as loud as a thunderclap in his suddenly cavernous bedroom.

“Maybe.”

Two syllables, clipped. An acknowledgment.

“Jamil-senpai…?”

He hurriedly looked away, staring at the wall for likely longer than what was deemed appropriate. Any more, whether in length or in intensity, and he might have burned a hole in it. His face, hotter than the Scalding Sands.

Your brows shot up. “… Ah. Could it be that you’re feeling embarrassed?”

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous. Something like this couldn’t possibly ruffle me.”

You craned your body, attempting to meet his gaze. But he wrenched away, denying that to you. “Then why aren’t you looking at me when you say that?”

“I need to get ready for class,” he replied dismissively. “So close the door and wait outside while I change out of my pajamas.”

“Now you’re just changing the subject!”

“Well, we’ll both be running late if we continue to dawdle,” Jamil warned—a tactful evasive maneuver.

His hands found their way onto your arms, steering you into the hallway. You turned back, mouth opening to protest, but Jamil had already sealed himself off.

Banging and calling out to him was no good. Kicking resulted in you gripping onto your poor foot and whimpering. You were left in a sorry state, back to the door as you rested on the floor.

On the other side, Jamil was surely having a little laugh. Cheeks still burning from the praise showered upon him, basking in the afterglow of it.

You sighed.

A spider makes its web to deceive flies into getting stuck in it. Jamil-senpai can be just as tricky.

[giuliettagaltieri]

One of Them

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Lovesick!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: Rafe, middle name: SIMP, Cameron, at your service

Warning: None

Word Count: 1196

Ficlet from Lovesick Little Thing

As young men of Outer Banks are to inherit the family names of their fathers, to become the sole proprietor of their multi-million businesses, possibly run for office, to someday become the leaders and catalyst of change, they made sure to become acquainted with each other and to never fail to attend the meeting they hold in a random house they elect every first Friday night of the month.  And there was only one single rule that none of them can ever break.  No girls allowed.

It started with their fear of cooties, and then their fear of hormonal mood swings of budding women, and none of them got over it as they grew older.  It was the leader of the pack, Rafe Cameron, who came up with the stupid idea.  He was so strict with it that he threatened to kick out anyone who tries to bring a chick to these meetings. 

They were to wear formal clothing, completed with ties, polished shoes, and crisp suits like the fine gentlemen that they are.  Anybody who fails to come in the expected outfit shall be refused a seat at the table.

Imagine the look of surprise when they arrive in Tanneyhill with you sleeping snugly, cuddling with Rafe, who is dressed in linen pants and opened button down shirt, with his bare feet visible for everybody to see!

They all halted their steps.  Eyes wide and questioning as they look at you and then at Rafe and is that a plushie tucked under his arm?

All of them stood by the doorway, some struggling to stick their heads in to see what’s holding everybody up. 

“Is the monthly meeting canceled?”  Somebody asks and Rafe rolls his eyes.

“You guys coming in or what?”  Rafe snaps, making you stir in your sleep but Rafe puts a hand behind your head to let you rest against his arm again.  You hook a leg over his and as soon as you’re knocked out, Rafe turns to the huddled men over the doorway.  If it isn’t for Topper, nobody would have dared to cross the threshold.

It was uncomfortable for them.  There was music playing but they didn’t have the usual Vivaldi and Paganini that boomed around the room.  It was some stupid lullaby that Kelce played, because Rafe would have their heads rolling if they dared to disturb your sleep.

They weren’t used to the usual hushed way of talking but Rafe glared daggers at anyone who wasn’t whispering.  Nobody played billiards or cards in fear that they might get too excited and wake you up.

But like a good host, Rafe let them drink Tanneyhill’s stash of alcohol. 

Problem was he made Topper and Kelce the fucking baristas.  No more than two crystal glasses of the vintage liquor.

When you finally stirred awake, they were relieved, finally they could get the party started.

Or so they thought.

You were suddenly craving fries and sundae.

Rafe had to go. 

Of course, you felt bad, and even insisted that you go alone.  His guests nodded at Rafe, hoping he’ll listen.  As much of an asshole Rafe is, they didn’t feel like partying without him.

But everything you say goes over his head as he gathers his keys and wallet.

You were still talking when he put a hand on the small of your back, you were looking at his guests apologetically and the jackass didn’t even spare them a glance.

“What an asshole.”  Somebody in the crowd murmurs sadly and all of them nod in agreement, the dampened mood worsening.  “I even brought his favorite cigar.”

Kelce glances at Topper and they sigh in unison.  They’ll have to excuse Rafe.  He has been without your attention for a while, he just had to hog you for himself.

“Rafe, that wasn’t so nice.  You are hosting the party, you should stay behind.”  You refuse to get inside his car and he looks at you blankly while he keeps the door open for you.  “I can go to the diner by myself.”

Rafe rolls his eyes and before you can say anything else, he is lifting you up on the passenger seat.  You talk his ear off, lecturing him as he works on fastening your seatbelt for you.

“You will leave a bad impression.”  You fume, cheeks slightly bubbled, and he sighs, bowing his head before glancing at you, his corded arms are gripping the sides of your seat, trapping you in.  The atmosphere suddenly grew thick, making your voice die in your throat.

Gulping, you shut your mouth and averted his gaze.

“You done?”  He spoke lowly.

Not able to find your voice, you just nodded at him, eyes busy studying the gems on your watch.  Rafe nods back and heads over to the driver’s seat.  He looks at you one last time before revving up the car, roaring the engine just the way you hated before speeding off.

You weren’t talking to him and Rafe decides to leave you for now.  But he does place a warm hand over your knee to let you know he’s willing to talk as soon as you are.

The trees are getting pretty boring, so are the enormous mansions in your neighborhood.

“Should we get them burgers?”  You spoke softly, nimble hands playing with the seatbelt.  You eye his pretty hands and reach for it but he had to move the gear shift.  A pout formed on your lips but Rafe places his hand on your bare thigh now.  His grip makes your heart beat uncontrollably.

“If you want, baby.”  He says while he rides his hands upwards. 

His hands were getting dangerously close to your heat that you had to clear your throat.  Rafe grins and lowers his hand back to your midthigh.  He doesn’t make a comment when he hears you breathe out a sigh of relief.

The downturned faces of Rafe’s guests brighten up at the sight of you and the bags and bags and bags of burgers you insisted on carrying just for them. 

Rafe saunters behind you, face passive as he twirls his keys on his finger.  Rafe’s eyes are trailed on the back of your thighs as you pass around the burgers to the now grinning men.

They didn’t like your intrusion at first but you got Rafe wrapped around your finger and they can for sure use that to their advantage.

“Oh man, I’d love to have something sweet after this.”  Somebody sighs as he looks at his burger.  You perk up at that.

“Should I get Rafe to order dessert for all of us?”  You wonder out loud, a chorus of cheers echoes around the room and Kelce taps Rafe’s shoulders in sympathy as the latter groans but fishes his phone out of his pocket anyway.

Topper swings an arm over Rafe’s shoulder.  “Yeah, you definitely should, Y/N.  Tell him to get us those overpriced cookies they sell on the other side of the island.”

Rafe accidentally jabs an elbow on Topper’s rib but as soon as you heard, your eyes lit up and Rafe knew he just had to do it.

“Anything for my girl.”

Lovesick Little Thing • Coming Soon

[kinq-sleazee]

ok ok , so i don’t want to write a full blown structured ficlet with all the bells and whistles so can we maybe just chat a bit about poly krbk tings?

E. Kirishima X K. Bakugo X Reader

TW! MDNI - Poly , Aged Up, poor writing, seggs

Imagine being best friends with KRBK and just inserting yourself into their lives as a sort of “platonic” third until it’s not really platonic anymore.

Like these two men love you and respect your friendship but the irrepressible attraction between the three of you is just getting too hard to ignore. Especially after a night out at the bar leads you back to their shared apartment.

And maybe the alcohol makes you a little bold and you make some silly little joke like , “let’s just fuck it out of our systems” but you soon quickly realize that you’re the only one laughing.

Between the two of them you never really stood a chance.

Katsuki holds your chin—thumb slowly pressing into your mouth while peering down at you with those fiery eyes. He looks bored almost. Only quirking a brow when you swallow around the digit and moan at the taste. Sweet. From his quirk , no doubt. He talks down to you. As if admonishing a pet. Calls you names. Whore. Slut. Claims that you’ve been planning this all along—secretly waiting for the day to choke on his cock. “That’s all you are. A hole”. At this point he’s pushed three fingers in your mouth. Slowly fucking into your throat while saliva runs down his arm. “I wish you could see yourself, cupcake. S’fucking pathetic how desperate you look”. You want him so bad right now. It’s embarrassing, so you can’t help the tear that falls. “Fuck— you cryin’ , cupcake? So damn cute. Want ya to cry sum more. Fuck that little kitty so hard… turn ya into a poundcake.

Eijiro is nicer than his lover, at least it seems that way at first. He holds you against his front, you can feel his erection pressing into your back. Kissing from the nape of your neck to your shoulder. Bite marks and bruises littering your skin. However, your focus is on the deft fingers skimming up your thighs , rising the fabric of your dress above your hips and running the pad of his finger over your clothed clit. You can feel him smile against your skin. He calls you beautiful. His angel. Perfection. All while fucking the fabric of your panties into your needy hole. “Think you were made for me, darling. Gonna feel so good wrapped around me. That’s what you want , yeah ? Wanna squeeze on daddy’s dick, baby girl ?”

It’s not nearly enough stimulation and you’re literally begging them for something. Anything. You need it at this point.

They oblige. Swiftly undressing you and positioning you in your hands and knees.

Eijiro rubs his meaty cockhead against your quivering hole. It’s big. Painfully so. You whine and attempt to move earning a sharp slap to your thigh. “Didn’t you ask for this, darling ? Why are you running ? Tryna disappoint me ?” And you’re overwhelmed. Chest heaving , eyes blurry and babbling apologies. The redhead hums in acknowledgment and pushes in fully with one powerful thrust.

Bakugo doesn’t really care to hear your cries so he shuts you up with his cock. With a hand buried in your hair he pistons in and out of your mouth, setting a brutal pace. He stops ever so often to let you breathe or spit in your mouth but then it’s right back to choking on his cock.

They use you for their pleasure this first time. Rutting into you carelessly, sloppily chasing their orgasms. Of course they make you cum— Eijiro rubbing your clit and Katsuki pinching your nipples — but it lacks finesse.

When the post-nut clarity settles their able to really tend to your needs. Katsuki settles between your legs, whispering sweet praises to your “pretty little pussy” then running the flat of his tongue through your cum coated folds. Eijiro joins him, drinking up his own spend while sucking on your pleasure point and massaging Bakugo’s tongue with his own.

You’re dead tired and sensitive when you cum again but much to your despair and pleasure these two are just getting started.

[milla-frenchy]

Sexting

600 words | Joel Miller x fem reader Summary: you’re sexting at night with Joel

Warnings: 18+ mdni. age gap (reader in her early 20s, Joel in his late 40s), infidelity, daddy kink, masturbation (f/m), possessiveness, mention of anal play/anal

a/n: same “couple”: Owned collection. Can be read alone, but I recommend to read the “Owned” ficlet first Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 💕 and @saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏

Masterlist | ao3

Are you awake, baby girl?

Yes daddy. Miss u

I miss you too, baby

Was watching the video of my cock buried in your ass

Mmm... you fucked my ass so good yesterday

You like my ass daddy?

You love how my little hole tightens around your fat cock?

Christ

Your sweet cunt and you little ass are just made for me

They are, daddy

And what about my mouth? 😏

Oh I love your mouth. Love when it’s full of my cock

Love to fuck your throat

And I love when you come in my mouth, daddy

Fuck

Yeah, me too baby, damn

You'd like to be in my bed right now?

Rather than in his?

Yes 🫠🥵🥵🥵🥵

Were you thinking about my cock baby before I texted you?

Thinking how I would spread that little cunt?

I was, miss your cock so much

Oh baby

I already filled you this afternoon, but you can’t get enough uh? 

I can’t

You’re always fucking me so good

Such a good girl for me

Is he sleeping, baby? Next to you?

Yes, daddy

I want you to think about my cock, and I want you to touch your pretty cunt for me 

Now, daddy? In his bed?

Yes, baby girl

Ok, I’m rubbing my clit, daddy

What position are you in?

On my stomach. Phone in my left hand, at the edge of the bed

Right hand in my panties

That’s perfect baby

Be careful not to wake him

I want you to be quiet

Won’t wake him up don’t worry

I often cum at night thinking about u, u know

Next to him, when he’s asleep

I bury one finger in my pussy and rub my clit

Think about you and your cock until I clench on my finger

Oh baby… I’m fucking hard reading this

Keep touching her. Think how my shaft would rub against your pussy, baby

Tell me how wet you’d be

I’d be dripping daddy. Want your 🍆 so bad

Tell me how you’d want me to fuck you, baby girl

Rough. Always rough

Want u to ruin me

Fuck

I’m jacking off baby. 

Wish you could hear me fisting my cock, thinking about your cunt

I wish I could daddy

That’s so hot

I’m so wet

Fuck

Want her so bad. You know she’s mine, right?

Yours daddy, always

Wanna fill your pretty, soft little hole with my cock

Want to fuck your ass with my thumb

And maybe fuck it with my cock too

Your head in my pillow, like yesterday

Yes daddy, please

You know how much I love it

How are you rubbing your clit now, baby?

Fast

I’m so sensitive rn

Gonna come soon

Are you dripping, baby girl? 

Are you soaking his sheets for me

Yes. Fuck

You’re always squeezing me so good, baby

Always dripping on my cock and on my balls

[You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning and waking his son up]

I came daddy

My fingers are so wet

Fuck. I came too. Fist’s full of my cum

Wish I could eat your cunt rn. Lick all your wetness

Bury my tongue in you

Feel your little pussy pulsating on it

Having my throat full of you

Me too daddy 😍😍

Now, are you gonna be a good girl for me?

Yes, daddy. Always.

I want you to wake him up, and to fuck him

Knowing that you’re wet because of me

That you'll only think of my cock, when he’s buried in you.

Are you gonna listen to us, daddy?

I always do

Same "couple": Owned collection

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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