#Idk what the green things are but shiny

[peachcrafts]

Simple and Sweet necklace. Will probably wear this with some Deco lolita at some point.

It was a simple enough necklace to make, but I took a few pictures so you could get a good look at it. I didn't get pinched at all while making this one so that was a step up from last time. It's big enough that I can take it on and off without need to unhook the lobster clasp so that's a win in my opinion.

[kaysungshine]

݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .☽ fae trap ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖

{ Pairing } - Elf!Felix x Witch.afab!Reader

{ Genre } - Smut, Dark, Fantasy

{ Synopsis } - It is said, that if you ever find yourself inside of a fairy ring. The fae will punish you, by making you dance until you are passing out from exhaustion. But when you find yourself doing a different kind of 'dance' on the ground, in the middle of one, with the most beautiful creature you've ever seen you might add, you wonder; is this truly a punishment?

{ WC } - 7.7k

{ Warnings & Tags } - 18+ MDNI, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, dubcon, aphrodisiac effects, oral (f&m receiving), unprotected sex (piv; do as I say, not as I write & pee after sex!), rough/hard sex, overstimulation, big dick felix, dacryphilia, talk of breeding & mating, talking of mating rituals, please don't touch fly agaric mushrooms, srsly they're toxic and deadly, possible incorrect french usage.

{ Disclaimer } - This work is in no way associated or depicting the actual life of the members of SKZ. It is a fictional piece of work, and I do not own Stray Kids. All works of fiction are loosely inspired by SKZ, and in no way am I saying it is true to their character.

{ A/N } - For the love of all things skz. DO NOT EVER TOUCH FLY AGARIC/AMANITA MUSCARIA MUSHROOMS. THEY ARE TOXIC. DEADLY. This is also probably the darkest thing I've written on this account so far. But it doesn't feel inherently evil to me personally??? But it is enough to warrant a TW! This started off as a birthday oneshot for Felix. I'm starting to think I'm no good at oneshots. This could be left alone, but it could also be a series... I have so many world building thoughts, but idk if I wanna do that. What do you think?

Dusk was approaching as you made your way home from your walk. 

You were blessed to own a cute little home, right on the edge of a beautiful and mysterious forest. Every day you were able to take nature walks, wandering through the treeline, exploring the vegetation. Collecting materials, making sure never to take too much of what the woodland had to offer. And caring for as much as you could, though you knew you were not essential to the survival of wilderness itself. 

That didn't stop you from befriending the little critters who made their home there, or from essentially finding your own second home there. 

You never brought anything with you to permanently invade nature. Instead you wrapped your daily essentials in a little bindle. It usually contained a hearty snack, a book or two, endless vials and jars, your cell, and a small emergency kit. Homemade salves, balms, and tonics included. 

You always had some new shiny objects for your crow friends, making sure to exchange the gifts they left for you at your designated spot. And you always made sure to leave some nuts and seeds for the various rodents who liked to stuff their cheeks. Again, you didn't need to, but they really liked sweet black walnuts and salty peanuts in the shells. Who were you to deny them that treat! 

Some days you brought select crystals with you, cleaning and recharging them in the streams of spring water. Other days you'd use that same water, sealing it in jars and leaving it nearby to make moon water overnight. Those were about the only two things you ever left in the forest, always making sure to come back the next day and retrieve them. 

You always carry a little basket with you too. The forest was abundant in ingredients for many different things. Your favorite is mushrooms and fungi. 

There were many times you'd find a log of an oak tree, fallen over and resting on the ground. A bunch of chicken of the woods growing on it. You'd collect them, taking them home to cook for dinner or other meals.

Other days you'd find lion's mane, and make sure to gather some for your favorite tincture to make and take. It did wonders for your anxiety. 

You were a green witch through and through, and you were raised this way. You drew your energy and essence from nature, always taking little bits of it home. 

Today was no different. Forgoing mushrooms, you instead had bundles of mugwort and a jar full of mulberries in your wicker basket. Wrapped in a little cloth were a bunch of spicebush berries.

You were nearing the last clearing within the woods, your house was about a ten minute walk away at this point. 

The soft moss against your bare feet was grounding, and you were listening to the buzz and crackle of nightlife within the forest. Your white skirt ended at your knees, flaring out. The chiffon is blowing in the cool breeze. It was still tshirt weather, and that's exactly what you wore on top. A fitted one, pale and muted ivy green. You gave up on bras long ago, you were a solitary creature anyways. The friends who did visit never cared about your attire.

You were in your own world, playing a balancing game on a stump and humming to yourself, when flashes of red caught your eye. 

In the clearing, scattered in a broken circle, was fly agaric. 

Your heart fluttered at this rare find. You walk past this clearing daily, and never noticed any of the red mushrooms with white speckles there before. 

Eagerly, you approach. In the back of your mind, warning bells are going off. Thinking back to childhood, of the stories your mom once told you of the fae folk. You'd encountered fairy rings before, but never of this type of mushroom, and never broken ones. Certainly never one so big. You never breached the little white rings in the past, not wanting to mess with entities so possibly mischievous. 

But it would be fine right? This might not even be considered a fairy ring. It was sort of... circle-ish? But not really. There were so many gaps in between them, it wasn't a perfect circle like you'd seen in the past. And these mushrooms were so rare and so powerful, in so many ways. You could feel their energy radiating around you.

You glanced around, searching for any signs of immortal creatures lurking near. You saw and heard nothing, but that would be typical. They never willingly reveal themselves, in fact... You've never seen one. You've never seen any kind of fae folk. It's not that you didn't believe in them, you were sure some form of them existed. Afterall, you practice a form of magick. Your own form, and that exists. 

You were convinced all mythical creatures either exist or had existed, the idea of them couldn't come from nothing. Not when they were in so many stories across all different cultures. 

You paused for a few more moments, really trying to feel any negative energy. There was none, there was never any in your little forest. 

So, tentatively, you took a few steps forward. Then you paused again, waiting for something to pop out. 

Nothing.

You giggled to yourself happily, and then bent down to pluck the mushrooms from the marshy earth. 

They all varied in size, some were large with bulbous caps. Some were shorter, and had flatter caps. Each mushroom, you made sure to pick with a cloth barrier between them and your fingers. These could be deadly if used the wrong way or taken in excess. You had no idea what would happen if you came into direct contact with it, on your bare skin. 

You really should start carrying gloves with you.

You made your way around the broken circle, humming in between giggles, and unconsciously dancing. You were nearly prancing each bare step to the next. 

If you had paid more attention to your mothers tales, you'd realize the consequences of stepping inside a fairy ring were already taking effect.

You were collecting more than you needed now, your basket was overflowing. But still, you didn't want to stop. You felt strangely overcome with merriment. You never felt more at home in these woods than this moment. 

You mindlessly set your basket down, your humming growing in volume. You looked to the sky, as you allowed your body to sway back and forth. Arms stretched out towards the waning moon, coming to life in the dark sky surrounding you. 

Your eyes closed, soaking in the moonlight. And you brought your arms back down, letting them float at your sides as you twirled, and twirled. Your skirt flutters up to reveal your thighs even more, hair whipping in your face. You revelled in the feeling of the squishy dirt beneath your feet. You felt grounded, but as if you were flying all at the same time.

You don't know when your solitude was breached, or if you were ever truly alone in the first place, but you finally noticed his presence when his hands intertwined with yours. 

He was twirling with you, spinning you in circles. 

He was nearly glowing, strawberry colored lips revealing the sweetest smile you'd ever seen. His long, straight white hair framed his face stunningly, tendrils of it outlining his strong jaw line. And his face... so, perfect. He had hundreds of freckles splashed across his cheeks, nose and eyes. Even some scattering up to his hairline, and down to his chin. You'd imagine you could create many constellations with them, like the stars that twinkle in the night sky. He adorned various jewelry, all silver. In his ears, and a cuff across the bridge of his nose. He even wore a gorgeous crown that laid across his forehead as a head piece. It was thin, and wiry, made up of gorgeous silver filigree that shone in the moonlight. You knew that the rings you felt in between your fingers would be silver too. 

He wore all white. You couldn't be sure exactly what his outfit was, but his shirt was a flowing lace up top. Revealing delicate collar bones and toned chest. It was mostly a blur in the midst of his movements. 

Your gasp was delayed, only coming out when he pulled you closer to him. Your hand remains in his, while his arm is wrapped around your waist. You were nearly flush with him, feeling the rest of his chiseled torso against your plush body. But he kept your face at some distance to maintain eye contact. The smile never slipped from his lips. 

He has you captivated, and the two of you don't falter in your melodic movements once. His eyes bore into you, dark and sharp. Yet he exuded a certain softness, and you found yourself lost in the moment. It didn't seem real. 

But it was. 

You were seeing him. In all his glory, ever mysterious and breathtaking. The most handsome man you've ever laid eyes on. 

You were hearing him. He was humming the same tune you were, an old lullaby your mom used to sing to you. His voice was deep, and even, harmonizing with your breathy high pitched voice beautifully. 

You were feeling him. He was touching you, his hand interlocked with yours. His grip around your waist is gentle but possessive. He held you like he didn't want to break you, but knew if he was too loose, you'd go running. 

Though you weren't so sure you would run. 

Your mind was racing. There's no way you could stumble across a perfect stranger, who was immediately dancing with you, so close to the edge of the forest. So close to your house. Maybe this was some sort of hallucination. A side effect of being surrounded by so many toxic mushrooms. 

The mushrooms. 

That was it, it all clicked. Too late did the rest of your mother's words ring in your ears. 

His aura, his energy, his perfect pixie-like features. You noticed the point of his ears now, the glittery sheen to his skin. His smile is full of white pointed teeth, dull now, but you could tell they were once sharper in the past. His slight cat-like eyes, giving them that sharp look even though everything else about him screamed delicate.

Your humming stopped, but his didn't. Your mother's voice is filling your head, and you were repeating the words she once told you so long ago. 

'and if you're caught, the fae folk will punish you. You'll be dancing within the ring until you faint from exhaustion.' you whispered quietly. 

His smile only grew, a glint lighting up his eyes. 

He finally spoke, his chest vibrating against yours, "Wise words, from a magnificent young lady."

He had an accent, you couldn't quite place it. Something between old english and australian. It made you want to melt. 

He started laughing, and you were sure that if he didn't have a grip on you, you would've slid to the ground. 

You've both stopped twirling, but he's still moving you, moving with you. Swaying back and forth. 

"Who are you?" You ask curiously. 

"Who?" He chuckles, "Usually it's 'what are you', that people ask me. Though it's been almost a century since I have revealed myself to a mortal."

A century? Your mouth dries, and you feel something akin to fear course through your veins. But you aren't scared of him for some reason. Wary, suspicious, but not scared. 

"You're different though, you seem to have at least a diminutive amount of knowledge of my realm." 

You want to get angry at that comment. You'd like to consider yourself well informed and educated on all supernatural and magickal subjects. There'd always be more to learn though, and the human brain simply could not grasp it in its entirety. So he wasn't wrong. 

You're still saying nothing, dazed from his presence. So he continues. 

"You were right when you said fae folk." He assures. 

"You're a fairy?" You whisper, wonder dazzling in your voice.

At that he laughs again, and you swear you hear small chimes behind it.

"An elf. I believe that is the universal name humans gave us. Not all fae are fairies, there are others too." 

As he speaks, he lets go of your hand, bringing his fingers up to brush strands of hair from your face. His touch is warm, for some reason that shocks you. 

"Elf." You repeat, not a question, but a statement.

He hums, in agreement and starts to twirl you around again. His hand resting on your cheek, thumb brushing featherlight touches against it. 

You're trying very hard to wrap your head around the entire scenario. You shouldn't be surprised. You've dealt with other worldly things in the past. Spiritual realms are completely different from anything having to do with the fae world though. 

Worry floods through you again once you realize what's happening. 

"Am I being punished?" You lip quivers as you speak, "I-I was just trying to collec-"

He's bringing his head down, his forehead meeting yours. You feel the cold bite of the silver headpiece touching your skin. It's enough to shut you up.

"Shhh, darling. Don't view it as a punishment." 

"I don't want to dance until I pass out." You slowly say, even though your body feels otherwise.

Underneath the initial shock and caution, you still felt that overwhelming happiness. It was borderline euphoric... and strangely arousing. 

Everything happening inside your mind and body right now was so confusing. You were feeling lost, and found yourself clinging to the man--the elf, before you. 

"You pretty creature, don't worry. Danser dans le ronds de sorcières... that's for children." 

French? This being was a riddle. 

"I don't understand." You force out. 

He leans back a bit, so he can look into your eyes and your thighs clench, "We tell the kids, fae and human, that if a mortal is caught within our rings. They dance to exhaustion. The humans carried this myth with them into adulthood, while our kind later learned the truth of these special rings." 

He's still dancing with you, moving your body elegantly to a now imaginary song. Leading you in something reminiscent of a waltz, but you can barely focus on that when his touches are electric against your skin. 

"The truth?" You ask. 

He's dipping you down now, bending with your body as he once again is peering into your eyes. At first you think it's part of the dance. Until your back meets the land that was underneath your feet. The mixture of smells was potent. The scent of damp moss, and semi-sweet foliage filling your nose. 

He hums again, "It was never an entire lie, it always started off with dancing." 

The timbre of his voice was pooling wetness in your panties. You felt beads of sweat forming on your brow, and you were bewildered at how your body was reacting right now. It didn't make sense. 

His body is hovering over you now, his face coming close to yours. His nose is brushing along yours before he speaks again. 

"What better way to set the mood than a passionate dance, and in this case, under the moonlight?"

You whimpered, feeling disoriented and needing his touch. 

"I don't even know your name.", was the only thing you managed to mumble. 

He chuckled, and you felt his breath puff against your lips, "It's unimportant darling, but since you're so... alluring. You can call me Felix... I'd love to hear it rolling off your tongue when I make you cum."

You were mewling at the thought of fucking this mystical being, when you felt his lips against yours.

He was almost lazy in the way he kissed you. Seemingly in no rush at all. And it's not that you were complaining, but you wanted more. So you wrapped your arms around his neck, forcing his body flush with yours. 

He was smiling against your lips now, and you took the opportunity to swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, begging for access. 

"So eager. Patience little dove. You'll get what you desire and more." 

You knew it was absurd to lust after a man--an elf, gods how could you keep forgetting that, that you just met. But your body was burning and it felt like he was your only rescue. 

His hands wandered your body, groping and massaging every inch. 

He had your leg wrapped around him, his hand trailing down the back of your thigh and his lips attached to your neck. He was marking you with what you imagined to be the most beautiful bruises. You were panting at this point, and it felt ridiculous to be this turned on by so little. By a stranger. But it didn't make you want to stop.

His fingers reached the edge of your panties, and you gasped. You felt his smile again, he was enjoying every bit of this. You felt powerless to his strokes against you. Your hips were bucking up, chasing for friction.

His hand gripped your hip tightly, fingers squeezing into your flesh, pinning you further into the dirt. 

You hissed before whining, begging "Please."

"I said be patient." His voice was stern as he spoke against your ear.

It still didn't stop you from squirming beneath him, your mind wasn't registering anything beyond wanting to feel him filling you up. 

He brought his face back to yours, eyes gleaming and the most naughty expression written across it. 

"Fine. As you wish, little dove. But don't forget, I was trying to ease you into this." 

He tore your panties off of you, and his fingers were rubbing against you harshly, sending jolts of pleasure through you. 

"A-aaah!" You were moaning loudly, his movements jarring.

"This is what you wanted darling, isn't it?" He's muttering against your lips now, slipping his fingers into you. 

Your body feels more alive than ever, waves of pleasure washing over you. His fingers skillfully curl inside you, while his thumb works your sensitive bud. Swipe after swipe, eliciting more and more of your arousal onto his hand. 

His kiss is searing, and feels like the only thing currently keeping you anchored to your body. You felt your orgasm building quickly, the band growing tighter and tighter in your stomach. It felt like you'd float away when it snapped. 

You can't contain the lewd noises you're making. Between the moans he's swallowing from your lips, and the loud squelching from between your thighs, it was deafening. Or maybe it was just that your ears were ringing. 

It felt like only seconds later when he brought you over the edge, his movements slowing but never stopping. You're whining, and your legs are trembling but you don't want him to stop. You're nearing over sensitivity and when you close your eyes, you see nothing but stars.

All you can think of are the freckled constellations on his cheek. 

You feel drunk on this moment, and you don't want it to end. It's as if he knows exactly where your mind is when he speaks again.

"You're not done little dove, don't you worry your pretty little head." 

When you open your eyes, and tilt your head up, his shirt and pants are discarded. Revealing a dizzying body. He was lithe yet chiseled. His body is almost dainty, but each muscle is carved in the most irresistible way. His abs were glorious, your eyes trail lower, following the v cut. You notice the faint spattering of a happy trail, and your eyes follow it. 

And fuck.

You've never been one to view someones cock as pretty but... his was. The tip was so swollen and pink, and leaking generous amounts of precum. Faint blue veins prominent along the shaft, and he stood tall and proud. His girth made you wonder if you could handle the stretch. It had been a while since you'd last been intimate. 

He brought his hand, covered in your slick, to his member. Spreading it all over in a mixture with his precum, making it glisten. Your mouth started to water, and your legs spread wider for him. You pulled your skirt completely up, presenting yourself to him. 

His jaw was slack, mouth hung open as he watched you, fist pumping himself slowly. 

"Such a good girl for me darling, aren't you?" He said with that charming smile. 

There was something about the way he looked at you, while doing such a perverse act that had your juices dripping down you. 

Then he was on top of you again, cock sliding into you. Your entire body tensed at the intrusion and you wailed, a mix of pain and pleasure. But it was so satisfying, you couldn't get enough. Your arms wrapped around his neck again, and he was thrusting into you at a brutal pace. 

Your back was digging into the ground, and you started to feel bits of grass and dirt against your skin. You pulled against him, trying to adjust yourself so you could lose yourself in the dance you two were now performing. 

He pulled out of you, and sat back on his knees, that's when you noticed his clothes underneath him. You had no idea he was wearing a cape earlier. It was sprawled out, creating a barrier between him and the ground. 

He picked you up, and positioned you to straddle his lap, facing him. Then he slid back into you, your eyes rolled back, and you let out a filthy moan. 

This position felt more intimate but still desperate, he was reaching deeper into you. The head of his cock pistoning against your g-spot. It felt so good you could cry. 

You were crying, you realized. 

"Shhh, little dove, you're taking it so well. It feels so good, doesn't it?" 

"Yes!" You sob. 

He's wiping the tears from your eyes with his fingers, and smiling at you like you're the most precious thing on this planet. 

"That's right, pretty. So pretty when you cry." He groans out, and his pace grows faster, rougher.

His hand dips down between you, and he's toying with your clit now. In any other circumstance, you'd be embarrassed by the way your body uncontrollably trembles. Your muscles are spasming at his touch. You just couldn't bring yourself to care, he was making you feel too good. 

"Darling," He purred, as he slowed his thrusts and pinched your clit between two fingers, rolling it, "I want you to look me in the eyes when you cum for me, can you do that?" 

You were mewling as you nodded your head frantically, feeling your peak rush towards you. 

At that he started fucking into you harshly, almost painfully, and you were coming undone with a loud cry on top of him. Your body tensed, nails digging into his shoulders, struggling not to throw your head back. His hand that was playing with you, gripped your jaw, smearing your own arousal on your face.

He was making sure you kept your word, maintaining your gaze on his while you clenched around him. Your eyes were fluttering as you tried to keep them open. He was biting his lip, eyebrows scrunched together as he fucked you through your orgasm. Watching your face contorted in pleasure. 

"So tight." He grunted.

You were scratching at him now, nails dragging down his shoulders. And your mouth was hung open in a silent scream, your voice having given up on you. 

It was becoming overwhelming. 

You still didn't want it to stop.

"I know you can take it darling, take it." He growled, gripping both your hips now to steady you.

So you did, until you were limp in his arms, and he was releasing into you with a groan. 

Your head was resting on his shoulder. Sweaty skin sticking to each other, and he was soothing you. Humming and stroking your hair gently. You were breathing heavily, trying to come down from this mind blowing experience. But you weren't descending, not mentally. You were still riding that high, stuck in a lust filled haze. 

He started to roll his hips tantalizingly slow, and you hissed at it, feeling slight pain. Mostly you were shocked he was still hard. 

His chest vibrated while he quietly laughed, "Did you forget the 'more' part, darling. I keep telling you, we're not done yet." 

You whined at the sensation of his gentle movements. 

"Shhh, there there." He's teasing you, "Are we a little sore?"

"Yes." You breathed.

"I can fix that." 

You gasped when he slid out of you, hating the fact that you felt so empty. 

He was positioning you to lay down on his clothes, taking care that no part of you touched the ground. You just let him handle you, molding your pliant body however he wanted it.

His hands were rubbing down your arms, and he was smiling down at you. When you met his eyes, you couldn't explain the exact emotions you were feeling. You'd let this man take your soul if he asked right now. 

He was licking his lips as his hand trailed back to your core. You gasped again, then whined when he dragged his fingers through your swollen folds. His touch was almost massaging, yet sensual. He was touching everywhere, teasingly avoiding your sensitive bud. 

The more he touched you, the more you writhed. And sensing another comment about how you can't be still or patient, you yanked him down to you so you could kiss him. 

You were tired of just laying there, you wanted to start giving. To start touching.

You didn't know where all this stamina came from, but you were determined to use it. You jerked your hips up, leaning more into his touch. 

It wasn't until you reached down to wrap your fingers around his length that he paused his movements. 

He was still slick with your cum. And you used that to give him slow strokes.

He let out a hoarse moan against your lips, before pressing his fingers directly on your clit, rubbing in small circles. He was matching your tempo directly. You whined into the kiss, your hand picking up pace. Pumping him faster now, and he followed your lead. 

Or so you thought, just as you felt your climax starting to build, his fingers were being pulled away. 

He took your hand off him, and then crawled down your body, coming face to face with your core. 

"So pretty, even here darling." 

You were blushing at his words, but you couldn't take your eyes off of his, as he stared at you from between your thighs. 

"Still sore? Let me make it feel better, little dove." 

And you felt his tongue lave through your folds. It was gentle and it felt hot, and it drove you crazy. The flicks of his tongue against your clit were maddening, and you wanted more. 

Your hips started slowly moving against his face, and this time he let you. He lets you roll your hips, and grind against his face. His tongue flattened against you, and you slid your hand into his blindingly white locks. You started grinding against him harshly, losing all sense and control of your body and just focusing on climaxing. 

He let himself be used by you, and as your grip in his hair tightened, so did that feeling in your stomach. You felt another orgasm come over you, and he let you ride it out, quite literally.  

You expected to start feeling spent by now, but you didn't. So before he could climb back up your body to kiss you, you were sitting up and pushing him onto his back.

He landed on it with a thud, puffing out air and looking at you incredulously. 

You let the primal urges take over as you lowered yourself onto your stomach, and took his member in your hand. You licked up the underside of his cock, your eyes never leaving his. He groaned as you watched his eyes roll into the back of his head. 

You placed a soft kiss on the tip, and licked the strings of precum off your lips. 

"Fuck..." He whispered.

"Let me return the favor." You mumbled before you took his tip between your lips.

You let your tongue swirl over it a few times, savoring his taste. He brought his hand down to your face, and pushed your hair back for you. 

You let your tongue run down the underside of his cock, and you sunk your mouth onto him. You had completely engulfed him, and were struggling not to gag. Still, you never intended to stop. 

He was grunting as your head bobbed up and down on him, saliva collecting at the corners of your mouth and dripping down to pool at his pelvis. 

"Making--ah fuck--such a mess for me, darling." He groaned. 

He lets you keep at your own pace for a while longer before he starts thrusting into you. He kept your head in place, and you gagged and tears started running down your cheeks. Each stroke became more and more erratic, until ropes of his hot cum were shooting down your throat. 

He pulled you off of him and you gulped down breaths of air. He was caressing your cheek, swiping a mix of tears, spit and cum from your lips before kissing you. 

That's how you both continued throughout the night. Pleasuring each other, nearly non-stop, under the moonlight. Your mind was fractured, nothing else but him existed inside of it. He'd touched, fondled, massaged, and embraced you, until you could only respond with breathy whispers of his name. 

"Felix..." You sighed, when he was bringing feeling back to your numb legs by massaging them.

"Felix..." You moaned, as he slowly took you as you both laid on your sides.

"Felix..." You screamed as you came undone on top of him, riding him roughly.

He took you in many different positions, and you indulge yourself in each one. When he wasn't fucking you, you were whining in complaint and going down on him. If he wasn't going down on you, he was edging you with his fingers. Your hands never left each other's bodies, always needing connection. You were sure he was just as familiar with your body as you were by this point. 

The exhaustion finally hit when he had you on your back in a mating press. The last thing you remember, is staring up into the twilight sky. Dawn was approaching, the stars were disappearing before your eyes, as the golden glow of the sun started to peek through. 

Your eyes were fluttering as you fought unconsciousness, determined to finish fucking this completely ethereal creature. Felix was barely putting in an effort to fuck you, but he still slid in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace, as if he wanted to keep your orgasm at bay. You both wanted to extend this moment in time, but your body wouldn't have that.

When you finally let go, cumming on his cock for what felt like the hundredth time. That's when your eyes shut and you gave into the exhaustion. 

The familiar scent of nag champa incense filled your nostrils as you started to come to. 

Your bedroom, permanently infused with your favorite scent to burn, that's where you were. The familiar feel of your sheets beneath you, and your heavy comforter confirmed that.  

Your mind still felt a little cloudy as you started to recall how you got to your bed from the forest. 

That's when you feel a body next to you and your eyes shot open.

"Felix?" You croaked, your voice dry and hoarse.

He was laying next to you on his side, in your bed, in your house. 

He had the blankets pulled up to his waist, and was resting his head on his hand. Elbow propped up, so he could see you better. He was shirtless and he wore that same smile on his face, like he was so fond of you.

"Is that still the only thing you can say, little dove?" He whispered teasingly. 

"How- I mean, why-?" You stutter as you attempt to sit up in bed, but your entire body aches. 

You hiss at the burning sensation you felt between your legs. And your legs, gods, you don't think that they've ever felt so sore. 

"Easy darling, you need to rest." He said as he helped you sit up. 

He reached over to his side of the bed and handed you a glass of water, motioning for you to drink. 

You eyed him curiously as you sipped your water, finishing it rather quickly when you realized how thirsty you were. 

"I ran you a bath and kept it hot, when you're ready we should wash you up more." 

"More?" You questioned him.

"I did clean you up last night, I'm not a monster. The bath will help ease your muscles." He chuckled.

"How did you even know where I live?" 

"It's not hard to figure out, we weren't that far from it. Your house is the only one for miles." 

You still felt guarded around him, even after the night you shared. If the stories your mother told you turned out to be partially true, you could only imagine what other lore could turn out to be true. 

Now this mischievous creature knew where you lived, he was in your home.

"I know this is your sacred space little dove, I don't intend to intrude. However, I couldn't exactly leave you in the state you were in. How are you feeling? Is your head a little clearer?" He spoke softly as he brushed his fingers through your hair. 

It is. Almost all of that dazed feeling was gone, you felt more lucid. In that clarity though, a rush of embarrassment hit you. You felt your skin heat up at the more clear memories of last night. 

You were never the type for hookups or one night stands, yet the things you did with this perfect stranger... This perfect magickal stranger... they felt unspeakable. You'd never lost yourself so completely in someone else's presence, much less with your own... sessions. 

You hide your face in your hands and rub at your temples, trying to make sense of this entire situation. Of your own feelings. You didn't exactly regret it or hate it. Something still felt off. Not only was the entire act abnormal in general, and downright questionable. But it was so out of character for you. Did he use... compulsions? Did he have that type of magick?

"Thinking too hard will just exhaust you more." He said.

"Look..." You sigh, as you turn to face him, "I'm a little lost here, I don't know what to make of this all." 

Next thing you know, he's off the bed. He's picking you up in his arms, and you notice you're both still nude. Your face flushes again at that, and you struggle a bit in his arms.

"Be calm darling, I'm just taking you to the tub. We can talk about it all." 

You let him place you in the tub, and then he's sliding in behind you. Slotting you between his legs. He's pulling you back towards him, so you lay against his chest. You both sit like that for a few moments, absorbing the heat from the bath and getting used to each other in a new type of intimate way.

You should be kicking him out of your house. You should be cussing him out. Defending yourself, but why didn't you feel the need to defend yourself against him? Why were you drawn to him? 

When you think about the facts, some would say you were attacked last night. I mean there's a reason the Fae call it a punishment You didn't feel attacked though. You enjoyed yourself, as crazy as that is to say. 

You always knew you were an adventurous soul, but you never thought to this extent. 

How do you come to terms with actually feeling okay with this whole thing, when you knew you shouldn't be?

"You're a witch, right?" He suddenly asks you, breaking your train of thought. 

"I am... though I'm beginning to question the validity of that title, seeing as I have an actual magical creature behind me." You mumble. 

You knew the magick you practiced was real. You could feel it. It's not like you could create fire though, or move things, or transfigure things in front of you. You weren't even sure Felix could do any of that as an elf. You weren't sure of anything anymore. 

You felt like you were entering an existential crisis. Panic was starting to settle within you when you felt his chest vibrate with laughter, it was an oddly soothing sensation that you know you've felt before.

"No, you are. I can sense it, it's in your blood. It took me a while to piece it together, but you are a witch through and through. Sometimes humans don't know of their tie to the magickal world, but I figured... from your altar, among other objects and ingredients I've noticed here, that you knew." 

You hummed, your mother always told you that you were a part of a long line of witches. She raised you heavily within her practice. You never doubted her, but somehow this new revelation made it so much more real. You realize this was opening a whole new aspect in your own practice. A hidden world, seemingly waiting for your return.

"Is that why you came to me? Because you sensed a witch was near?" You questioned him, your hands playing with the water. 

"No, you stepped inside my fairy ring. I have to say I was shocked. I placed it in, what I thought was, an inconspicuous area. I hadn't realized your home was nearby."

"Okay, I'm going to need you to explain." You sighed. 

"Well... you already know what I told you yesterday. The stories you were told, were passed down by your ancestors and other mortals in general. You don't really just dance in fairy rings, that's a small fib we tell the children. As more human children found the rings, when we'd find them dancing. We'd send them off, warning them if they came in again that we would have them dancing until they faint. When our own children wandered into them curiously, we'd tell them the same thing until it became time for them to learn. It's just something stupid the ancestors came up with, I don't know... It does always start out with a courting dance though, but the main reason for them is, inside a fairy ring... you mate. They're essentially a part of an ancient mating ritual."

At that you nearly jumped up to smack him, but he was a step ahead of you. His arms tightened around your body, pinning your arms to your chest. 

"MATING?!" You screamed at him, trying to turn your head and make eye contact, "I don't fucking wan-" 

"Please, calm down little dove. It's not possible for me to actually breed you. That requires an entirely different ritual, one that hasn't been performed in centuries. I'm not even sure anyone would know how to perform it these days..." He trails off. 

"So then why even lay these stupid Fae traps for humans anyways?!" You screech. 

"They're not traps, and they're not meant for humans." He says defensively, and you can hear the pouting in his tone, "Think of it like this. You know how some penguins build big and pretty nests to attract a mate? It's kind of like that. It's a lot to explain in detail, and I had to create one. Now that I'm of age, it's expected of me to find a partner. Even if I don't find the need to." 

"And why do they exist in this realm if they're not meant for us?"

"Well, a long time ago, back when there was only this realm, and there were more Fae than humans, they came across one. That fairy was so angry at the human for intruding on something so intimate of his, and he threatened the human with a punishment. Before any of the other Fae could stop him, he entered the ring. When they both were inside of it, they were overcome with the magic of the ring. The courting dance had started, and no one else was able to enter. The desire for each other grew. In his anger he must've forgotten what the ring's intention was, and was only focused on punishing the human. But he never got that far. They ended up... mating. They never separated from that night, spending their lives together. It was millenia ago. It created an uproar though. Our kinds had never joined before that way."

You sat and listened, calming down a bit as he told you this story.

"There were battles, not an outright war but there might as well have been. They grew to love each other, and they led the winnings of those battles to stay together. They opened the door for Fae and humans to be together, but it has always been frowned upon from both sides."

There was an entire history of this world that you had never known. One that you could never even imagine to be true. But it is. Before your mind let you delve into it though, you thought back to something he said.

"Overcome with magic? These rings hold compulsions over beings?" You questioned hastily, needing to confirm your suspicions. 

"No. It's not like that..." He sighed, "Didn't you feel different last night?" He continues, "The mushrooms release something like a pheromone. An aphrodisiac, to enhance your sexual stamina. Among other mood boosting and energy boosting properties. It starts by uplifting your mood, making you feel the happiest you've ever been. Then you start dancing, your energy building up in preparation for what's to come. It's not until your partner enters that the aphrodisiacs start releasing. But it doesn't just take away your consent like that. Both parties have to be willing... it needs to be mutual. Though that's not to say that's not how every instance turns out. Evil exists in all realms." 

You shivered at his words, trying to process everything. You could clearly remember the primal urges taking over, the need to constantly be filled. It explained that off feeling, why you were acting so out of character. But you couldn't deny that you had wanted it. 

Craved it. 

You never tried to stop it, never wanted to stop it... In fact you initiated it to an extent. 

He started talking again, "That's why I couldn't just leave you there. Especially not in that forest, where other creatures lurk and might find you. I never felt anything dark there, but that doesn't mean it won't come along. I brought you home. I cleaned you up, I made you drink because you were getting dehydrated. I cared for you."

He was loosening his grip around you to rub your shoulders. It made you think back to the skilled massages he gave you last night, in between all of the sex. He made sure to take care of you the whole night it seemed.

"But none of this answers my question from earlier, why not place the rings in your own realm now? Why would any of the Fae place them here?" You asked.

"There are many different reasons..." He mumbled, "Some of them do it because they want to experience sex with a willing human. Some of them do use them as traps for humans, and those Fae are disgraceful, downright evil. Most of those types have been banished from the realm I come from. But some are like me. We try to hide them, from everyone. Because even though we're required to have them, we don't want to use them."

Then you thought back to his previous words, "Wait... 'find your partner' you said? Are we- do we have some sort of bond now?"

The silence was thick in the air. You waited for him to speak, but he didn't, so you turned around in the tub to face him. Your legs spread out on top of his, as you half straddled his lap. 

His eyes stared into yours, expressionless. It was much colder than his usual warm aura, so you grabbed his hand to hold it, and asked again in a softer tone, "Do we?" 

"We don't have to. It's not permanent. Most Fae who get humans within their rings leave them there once they've passed out anyways. Humans don't have the same stamina as we do, even with their boosted energy from the ring. The first woman passed out, that's where the ancestors got their silly tale from." He spoke tightly, like he was debating even revealing this bond at all. 

"I see." You replied, even though you had many more questions and didn't have a full grasp on it all. 

Not much made sense. In a span of hours you found out the true existence of a hidden realm, and these magickal creatures. You met one, you slept with him, then you actually slept with him, and now you bathe with him. You talk with him, as if all of this is a normal day.

It should all unsettle you more than it actually does. You should be freaking out, 100% meltdown level. This is the story of fairy tales, and maybe not a good one. This could be the big bad wolf and you could be little red riding hood. But somehow, you were comfortable in his presence. Comfortable enough to want to spend more time with him. To learn more, about him, his world, and this new bond. 

So you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, giving his lips a small peck. 

"Maybe we could... figure it out together? See what happens next, if you explain more to me, that is." 

His eyes lit up with hope, and his charming smile returned to his face. The thought that you could wake up every day to that smile entered your head quicker than you could blink.

You'd figure something out. You had to. He couldn't leave your life now. Not when it seemed like it was just getting started thanks to him.

Taglist:

@eczlipse @sailor--sun @maisyyyyyy @jupire @prettiichocolateprincess

@meowmeowminnie @joyofbebbanburg @adieu-lisette @sleeping-beau-tay @staytinyluv

@lookitsjess @majorlymismanaged @kpopsstuffs @helloimacalumgirl @bbokarimenu

@bubblepop-stay @mauvemelon @ohhlittlegirl @ang4lheart @spnwinchestersd

@adieu-lisette @loud-minhoe @juwire @anylady-fics @antisocialties

@nebugalaxy @wowitsafemale @irrevocable-exposure

As always, please let me know if you'd like to join the taglist. And if you do, pretty please interact with my fics besides liking (ie; replying/commenting/reblogging). Although I will always appreciate liking as well! Feedback is always cherished! ♡

But again, please be gentle in your criticism! I am but a sensitive soul.

[maika-aika]

MY SAVIOR

Imma be real chat, idk how to write Sol so I'm just turning off my brain

☆: In which reader beats up bullies like an absolute baddie, making Sol fall in love with them even harder

★: Sol x gn!Reader

☆: Contains; Fluff, mentions of bullying, creepy men eugh, sexual harassment, reader beats them up dw !!, smitten Sol (per usual). I changed some of the main story plot for this fic so it won't be as boring to read lol

"Boo. This sucks"

You muttered below your breath, more than annoyed at the current events laid upon you. You thought that perhaps a small trip to the library would be fine, but as it turns out, your favorite seat by the window is taken by some random stranger.

Perhaps you should've went with Crowe after all.

Oh well, there's really no turning back now since you didn't quite ask where he and his group are heading off too, by the time you get out of the library they could be anywhere in the campus, making you waste even more time.

It would be nice to reclaim your seat, but talking to strangers was never your forte. I mean, sure, you can do it if it's necessary, but for small problems such as these didn't seem that important for you to step up, even though your main purpose was to stay and work in your favorite spot, such a small problem doesn't really require you to speak up and waste your breath.

A small sigh escaped your throat, opting to check out some books instead to pass the time, 30 minutes to be exact.

Dragging the tips of your fingers on every book's spine and reading their labels, taking them out of their shelves before dismissively putting them back again, looping around the library. Nothing seemed to catch your interest no matter what you do.

"Watch it, creep!"

A gruff sounding voice was heard behind the bookshelf you were facing, finally finding something that catches your attention, you took one of the books from the shelf to make a small peephole, making you able to check out what's going on.

Two guys, red and blue unkept hair with piercings on their ears and lips are found harassing another guy with green streaks of hair. It was obvious they were just causing unnecessary conflict out of sheer boredom and degeneracy, but the green haired guy didn't seem to put up much of a fight.

"Playing silent isn't very smart of you, guess I better make you cough out some spunk—!" A heavy blow was dealt to the victim's abdomen as he tumbled on impact with a groan, his misfortune amusing the two bullies as they inch closer and beat him up.

Bullies like them are the usual in this school. You can't really avoid them, like wasps and hornets. Sure, you felt pity, but two bullies mean nothing when they just keep coming back in different forms. Nothing you do to help matters. They're everywhere, and that's that.

But as you were about to walk away, you saw something shiny glint on the fluorescent lights of the library.

"...Is that a knife?!"

How they even managed to slip a knife on school grounds was beyond you. "Not yet talking, ah? Maybe this will make you spit out something, " the red-haired bully chortled, inching the knife closer to the victim's neck. "Something...bloody."

That's it, that's borderline bullying, that's just attempted murder.

You made your way to their area. Your knuckles knocked against the wooden bookshelves catching their attention as their furrowed glares dart towards your figure like predators. "Bullying? Aren't you too old for Hollywood clichés?" You snide in mock boredom.

"Pretty little thing, no wonder this fuckface has the hots for you" the red haired bully remarked with a grin, tossing the knife to his partner and staggard towards you, circling you like a snake, breathing down your neck. "Pretty face with an ugly mouth, why don't you scram and leave our business out of your cute little ass, ah?"

"Leave them alone!"

Eyes snap back towards the green haired guy, he bared a fearful expression, desperate. "It's me you're after, right?! Just don't hurt them!"

"Is he taking the blame for me?" you mused to yourself. Glancing to meet his red-orange eyes, he flinched at your gaze, not really expecting you to look at him. Yet you didn't see how his pupils dilate at the sight of you.

"So now you're talking? Perhaps you could be of use after all, doll" suddenly, you let out a groan as you felt his hand grab the roots of your hair and snapped your face upwards, forcing you to look at the ceiling. "Before we fuck you up, you're gonna watch us destroy your cute little girlfriend"

You flinched, feeling a wet sensation on your neck, was that his tongue?!

The green haired guy tried to run towards you, but a knife was held up against his neck, forcing him to watch you. He was shaking, he was pissed. How dare they lay their filthy fucking hands on your pure, innocent body?!

"That's it, look how helpless you are, can't even lift a finger to help your poor— Argh!" He buckled on impact, your shoe stomped on his own. Taking your chance, you turned around and swiftly grabbed his hair and banged his head towards the concrete. Then, you kicked his body towards the blue haired bully with the knife.

"Gh—?! What the fuck was tha— Hrrk!" The red haired bully hacked up a cough, stumbling to get up. "You bitch!" The blue haired lacky dashed towards you with the knife, but you deflected it by pushing his arm away from your face and hit his knees making him loose his balance and fall onto the floor, dropping the knife.

In a flash, you picked up the knife and grabbed the other bullies hair, tossing him on top of the other red haired bully. A dangerous glint in your eye was seen as you took one of the books from the shelves and raised it high.

"When you see me again, I suggest you run."

The book made contact to their skulls, it was heavy enough to knock them unconscious, sprawled all over the ground, one could almost mistaken them for corpses. Oh how you wished.

After all that's done, you sighed to yourself to clear off the adrenaline during your little rendezvous. Picking up the book from the floor and placing it back on the shelf, and pocketing the knife to report it to the student council later.

Finally, you turned around to help out the guy, but what you didn't expect is his gaze on you, not of fear or disbelief, but admiration.

His heart was racing, his cheeks are flushed, his fingers are twitching, it's almost as if he just saw an angel come to save him. He knew you were amazing, but to see it for his own eyes, to be the one you're protecting, to feel and expericen it first hand instead of his imagination sends shivers down his spine.

"Hey...you still there?"

He blinked out of his trance, vision still a daze. You snapped your fingers near his face to wake him, as he blinked and refused to look at you, a hue dusting his cheeks. "S-sorry" he muttered.

You raised a brow at his random apology "Dont say sorry when you did nothing wrong" you squatted down to his level, he was sitting on the floor with a pretty bruised up face, not to mention, he also has a ton of piercings too. You wonder why those guys would pick on him when he looks just like them, but with a different heart.

"...Are you just gonna stare at me?" Now it was his turn to snap you out of your head, his gaze still at you, but unlike before, he seemed more at ease, softer. "Ah, guess we both have a problem of getting stuck in our heads, huh?" You made light of the situation, smiling at him to ease the once tense atmosphere.

"Come on, it sucks staying on the floor all day" you stood up first and lent out your palm for him to take, hesitance flickered in his demeanor, as if he's contemplating if he's even worthy enough to touch you. A second passes and he's taken your hand.

Once he stood, you've come to realize how tall he actually is up close. "Are you okay? Nothing broken in you?" He shook his head to the side "Not really, just this nasty bruise, I guess" he sighed in annoyance "What about you? They didn't...hurt you in anyways either, right?"

His once soft gaze turns dark and dangerous, an ominous aura surrounds him making you laugh nervously at his sudden change of demeanor "Don't worry! Yea I was kind of harassed, but it didn't go too far!" You replied, flexing one of your arms "And not to brag 'n all, but I did beat them up anyways soo"

You huffed with a proud smirk on your face, giving yourself a playful pat on the back. A chuckle was heard from the male, as once again, that dark expression washes away at the sight of you.

"So cute..."

"What was that?" You leaned in closer to hear his voice better, making him flinch and instinctively look away from you again "...Nothing, you're hearing things" he covered his mouth with his palm, still refusing to look at you.

You stared at him longer before shrugging your shoulders and leaned away, now focusing on the bodies laying on top of each other. "You know...if taken out if context, they look like their cuddling each other" You muttered, placing a hand under your chin to think of a way on how to deal with this mess.

"Pretty good blackmail material if you think about it." His quip lights up a light bulb on your head, snapping your fingers in he process which startled the guy a bit with your random snappy movements "You're a genius! I know just what to do know!"

You gave him a pat on the back and quickly started to shift the bullies into a position where it looks like they're cuddling and took out your phone to post it online, tagging everyone you know in the school, while also giggling like a child pranking their friends.

"Look at this! Those guys look pretty straight and the type to hate gay shit, so once people see this, it's gonna be nothing but public humiliation!" You exclaimed excitedly, jumping on your toes with your eyes shining and turning towards him "I have to pay you back for this amazing idea!"

He stared at you with wide eyes, still processing what happened before a smile graced his lips and a laugh reached his face. His cheeks are pink and his heart racing just by seeing your cute attitude over something so vile like blackmail and online revenge. "Jeez, never knew I'd meet someone so excited over online gossip" he teased.

"Oh hush, gossip is like a virus, it spread suuper~ quickly in a matter of seconds, kind of fitting for them don't you think?" You playfully nudge his chest which gives you an amused look on his face. You two were having so much fun you completely forgot about literal attempted murder.

"Nee, why don't I pay you back with some coffee? For giving me such good blackmail material" you smiled brightly at him, as if you did absolutely nothing wrong and totally didn't beat up two men into unconsciousness. That riled him up so bad.

Of course you're adorable, and by god was that so sexy of you to deal with bullies the randomly switching personalities like it's the most normal thing ever. He wanted to be with you longer. He needed to be with you longer.

"Sure, if that means I also have to pay you back with dessert for saving me" he quips, knowing your love for sweets, watching in adoration as your eyes lit up at free dessert and hastily agreeing to his deal.

"Oh! Let's get you fixed up first at the nurse's office, I can walk you there if you want!" You're too kind, too caring, too much for his heart to handle. He loves this, he loves you.

Oh how he wishes these moments of you would happen over and over again, but for now, he'll relish in your presence, admiring every single being of you. Worshiping his savior.

Eugh I feel like he's so OOC on this one HELP

[gallusrostromegalus]

Who wants to help me ID some rocks?

So one of the cool things that got left at the new house is the former owner's rock and fossil collection, which they meticulously catalogued by which I mean they left them out under some junipers in the back yard. The power is out, so I'm spraying some of the dirt and leaves off with the hose, but if anyone has guesses I'd love to hear them.

1. The Big Fucker:

(10 in screwdriver for scale)

First clue that there was a secret collection, this was the only one really visible. Pale translucent blue-green cubic crystals and skinny, more opaque/white ones on top of a heavy dull white rock. Pretty, whatever she is.

2. Salt n Peppa

Pretty sure the black stuff is smoky quartz, but what are the white cubes and the red rock it's on?

3. Sparkly Bois:

Two of these- I think the little cubes are pyrite, but what's the dark, shiny/metallic stuff? Very heavy for their size.

4. Assorted Dead Things!

Fossil clams and a coral I think, but if anyone knows anything more specific I'd love to hear it. Pretty sure most of these things are from the Rockies/front range area but genuinely, I don't know where they got them.

5. IDK what she is, but her name is Helen:

Like a bunch of criss-crossing wafers. Not very heavy for her size.

6. Green Stuff:

What are the green crystals coming out of this rock? They're cool, whatever they are.

7. Miscellaneous Shinies:

Assorted small rocks I found while digging. Small dead clam, I think some of that is mica, and I'm really curious about the shiny stuff on the granite (?).

Part 1/2, gonna hose some more rocks while y'all speculate.

[onskepa]

hello again! Could you make the sully family including Mo"at and tonowari family react to how to train your dragon and both of them to be in the same universe.

hello sweetie! Okie, so its been so loooooooooooooooong since I watched the movies, so I took my sweet ass time to re-watch the first movie [idk if ya wanna ask for more in the future]. So I only placed the important events. So sit back, relax and enjoy~!!

---------------------

Myth or Ancient?

“Here, and be careful not to touch the shiny part with your fingers, it can ruin the colors. So it's super delicate” Norm carefully instructs tsireya and rotxo who nod enthusiastically. “You can trust us Norman sir” rotxo promises with a wide happy grin. Saying their bye’s, tisreya and rotxo run to the village as they start to talk about what sort of ‘snacks’ to eat for when they watch the disk called ‘movie’. 

“Demon technology is very interesting when it is not scary. How can this round thing show colors or people?” tsireya wonders as she stares down at the flat box that is protecting the disk. Rotxo shrugs, “even if lo’ak or kiri explains to us, I get the feeling we will still be confused” he says. They make their way slowly as they look at the cover of the thin box. 

Tsireya squints her eyes and reads the letters but if anything, the bold red kinda annoys her eye site. “That is a lot of red…” she muttered. She usually sees human language in green or white. Rotxo leans in, “do you think the colors have different meanings?” he wonders. This time tsireya shrugged. 

Lo’ak and neteyam were showing ao’nung how a camera works while their parents chat in a not so far distance. Everyone had their noon meal, stomachs full and in a mood for tea as the other villagers enjoy their relaxing day. 

“Wait so I just stare at this circle thing and-” 

*SNAP!* 

“Ow! My eyes! Did it just blind me!?” Ao'nung screeches dramatically as he rubs his eyes, adjusting from the sudden flash of light. Lo’ak was cackling like a madman as neteyam chuckles at the reef prince’s antics. “Oh I have to see the result!” lo’ak says as he snatches the camera from ao’nung. 

As the boys looked at the result, mo’at, jake and neytiri were talking with tonowari and ronal. “There are many ways the people have enjoyed themselves, even with demon technology that causes no harm. We do keep it very limited to usage and the purpose of it” neytiri explains to tonowari and ronal. And as if on que, running towards them was tsireya and rotxo. 

“Mother, father, look what sir Norman granted us to see” tsireya says happily as she shows the thin box to the adults. Tonowari leaned in to see. “There are tiny letters that I cannot read so well,” he says. Tsireya hands it over to Jake to see if he can read which, Jake grins happily. “Babe, it's your favorite movie,” he grins. Neytiri's ears perk up and tail swaying happily, “how to train your dragon?”. Jake nods in confirmation. 

“What is it?” Tonowari asks, “something I believe you might all like. Come, let's prepare for what we call a movie night” Neytiri smiles wide as she answers his question.

Food was cooked and shared, many mats, cushions, and other forms of sitting was set as Jake and norm prepared the projector. Tonowari and his family got the best seats, right at the center where they can see the view perfectly. 

“How will we see this…movie?” Ronal asks as she cradles her young baby. Spider brought little treats for her baby kindly answers. “In simple terms, the movie will be seen like physical people telling their story, like 3D”. Ronal just stared at him, lost at the explanation. He chuckles nervously, “you know what? Best to see the magic yourself”. 

After 30 minutes of everyone huddling together, sharing their portions and for the Eclipse to take full effect of the night, norm began to press play. 

And for the metkayina family, they gasped in awe. Massive colors of mountains, the sea, the clouds! They looked so solid and floating in mid air! 

“Majic of holograms-” 

“Ok shut up lo’ak”

 “This is Berk…” 

The main character began to speak, narrating about his home and life. Show how it is at night, from the animals to the form of the berk village. The whole style captured the reef na’vi attention very well. 

“Incredible….” Tisreya mutters as she leans against lo’aks shoulder. 

“The only problems are the pest” 

The scene zooms in on the poker face sheeps, enjoying their nightly dinner with all of a sudden claws grabbing it. Ao’nung and rotxo gasped, just what was it? 

“Most people have mice, or mosquitos, but we have….” 

A door opens to see the sheep running away, and a monster flying dangerously close looked at the open door and breathed out fire. 

“Dragons!” 

“Dragons? What are those?” Tonowari asks, neytiri not far from his family simply smiles, “proud and fearless creatures, like the ikrans' '. Neytiri pops a popcorn in her mouth as she snuggles with Jake, enjoying her all time favorite movie. 

“Dragons…” Ronal repeats but with wonder. Oh they definitely have the family’s attention now. 

“What is he doing out here ag-what are you doing out here?! Get inside!” 

“That is stoick the Vast, chief of the tribe. They say when he was a baby, he popped a dragon's head clean off from its shoulders. Do I believe it? Yes I do” 

Hiccup narrates of the large man who was able to easily pick him like nothing. 

Tonowari looks at the leader being show, “why is his face mostly hair?” he asks. “Thats how the vikings were back then. Said to attract and scare off anything” Jake replies easily. Tonowari hums at that, slowly liking this stoick guy. 

The movie continues to show the insanity of the dragons attacks. Their fiery breaths destroy so many homes, taking animals left and right. And the people fend them off in many ways. Utter chaos all around, but shows how it is their normal everyday life. 

For lo’ak and spider, hiccup has become their favorite character. Despite the awkwardness and having to be kept inside from dangers, they can understand him on a deep level. Which is why they understand hiccup’s need to kill a dragon, his way of “making his mark”. 

“One day bro…one day” lo’ak whispers to spider. But the human boy nudges him away, “dude you became brothers with a tulkun. I think you already made your mark on that” spider says in a deadpan way.

Spider can understand hiccup from how their own bodies are. Yes spider isn't shaped to stand the planet's environments but he makes it through. Just like how hiccups is small and lanky, he makes his way through his crazy viking life.

“So many different types of dragons….and many are so ugly” Ronal says as hiccup lists different dragon species. Tonowari can't help but chuckle, his guess, dragons are not meant to be a pretty sight if they are considered dangerous creatures of the skies. 

“There are prettier dragons you know” Neytiri comments. 

Ronal turns to her, “how so?” 

“Later you shall see. I rather not spoil the fun”

As the scene goes on, the one, the only, night fury dragon has entered the battlefield. Everyone cheers for that dragon, a common favorite in the clan. “Amazing! I want to see the full view of the nightly beast-what is hiccup doing?” it was rotxo who said that. He enjoyed the building hype until the next part focuses on hiccup setting up what looks like a trapping weapon. 

“He is going to get himself killed!” ao’nung whispers/shouts. 

“Yeah, that is going to happen a lot in this” neteyam calmly answers as he offers popcorn to ao’nung to whom happily accepts. 

“Yes! Did anybody see that?!” hiccup shouts excitedly. 

“He did” tsireya points happily as the monstrous nightmare dragons crawls up from the cliff. 

“Well he is toast” 

Neytiri cringed a bit at Jake's joke, but held in her laugh.

But as the next scenes go, things didn't go as smooth as stoick would have liked. Having more things being burned at the dragon chases hiccup, only for later to be given a lecture in front of the massive crowd. 

“I feel you hiccup” lo’aks voice cracks as a single tea falls from his face.

“The forest looks so pretty” tsireya comments as she admires the pretty view of the berk forest. Similar to the omatikaya forest, yet it is still different. Human environment truly never bores her. But as she admires the scenery, they reach the part as hiccup searches high and low for the night fury dragon he has shot down while ranting and venting his anger. 

“He found it!” rotxo points out the obvious thing but doesn't care. The suspense grows, hiccup takes out his blade which makes the sully’s give out a chuckle. “Tuk’s blade is bigger and sharper than that” neteyam says as he calms himself. Tisreya looks over at him. “Now that you mentioned is, where are your sisters? I figured they would enjoy this too” she wonders. Neteyam shakes his head, “no, they have something better”. 

Not sure what he meant by that, but tsireya accepts his answer. 

“Oh he is a beauty…” ronal admires the slow scene of the night fury. Capturing every detail and its mesmerizing green eyes. The look of a dangerous, unpredictable hunter. Something about it gives chills down her spine. 

“Indeed, he is my second favorite dragon,” Neytiri adds. Ronal wonders if another like the night fury will appear later on in the movie. 

Hiccup takes deep breaths, hesitating, heart racing. 

“He isn't….he isnt going to kill the dragon is he???” ao’nung asks, already feeling sad for the poor beast. Nobody answers. The tension is rising. The music is rising to its peak. Will he do it? Will he cut out the heart? 

Will the night devil accept his fate? 

No because hiccup decided to cut the ropes and only faint a minute later after releasing the dragon. 

“That was crazy of him, but also with the night fury” tsireya looks at the scene. Feeling worried about hiccup. There was a lot of stress happening in those few short minutes. “Makes you think if he still wants to follow the ‘viking’ style like his people” ao’nung comments, making air quotes like how the sully kids do.

“Can you stop that?!” gobber shouts at fishlegs who for some odd reason is doing quick math as gobber lists the dragons that are behind the tight metal gates. 

“Interesting kids…” Tonowari obersves how each teenager is like. From the annoying twins to the tough girl act, Astrid. While at the same time, Jake was able to enjoy how Astrid was like. Reminded him so much of a certain tough girl. 

“Today is about survival. If you get blasted, you’re dead!” Gobber informs. Tisreya claps her hands as ao’nung listens to what gobber is saying. 

“It is just like an iknimaya. Learning at first hand, "Tonowari says in awe. He enjoys the scene as the kids in screen run for their lives and make a fool of themselves. The reef kids all smile as they remember their early stages and future stages of their iknimaya. 

“Is it similar to what you had to go through?” Ao’nung asks neteyam, the young boy nods “similar yes. Remind me of how we tamed out ikrans”. 

“And remember, dragons always go for the kill” Gobber stares at hiccup after his massive mistake. Ao’nung and rotxo tilt their heads on that one. 

“If that is true, why didn't the night fury attack him then?”

Hiccup began to slowly gain the trust of the nightfury, keeping his distance while feeding it fish. 

“I guess for humans its harder since neither the dragon or hiccup have a way to connect” it fascinates tisreya. Using a queue makes a bond easier. However for humans, it takes a lot of work and a lot of patience. And it shows the results. 

The nightfury, who was given the name toothless, has come to enjoy hiccups presence. 

“Their bond grows stronger” Tonowari looks in awe. Reminds him of how the animals bond and grow alongside the na’vi. As the movie continues, seeing how dragons live, and learning through hiccup, it was literally learning a whole new world, or in this case, the old world. 

Ronal however, seems to wonder about future possibilities. Balancing a secret and becoming ‘popular’ is multitasking. “It is only a matter before the truth comes to light…”

Ronal was correct. 

Hiccup’s secret was found out, without meaning to. He has a final test, to defeat a dragon in the trial dome. Everyone was cheering him on, but his life was in danger. Hearing his shouts, toothless heard and ran for his aid. Exposing to the whole village that the infamous nightfury was there all along. 

And to make matters worse, stoick used toothless as a naivator to find the queen of the dragons nest. 

“He is going to get everyone killed!!” tsireya shouts/whispers. Hugging her knees tight, feeling sad for hiccup and toothless. 

Clearly a war with the dragons seems very dangerous, even with the prepared weapons to take all of the dragons down, the queen is not a dragon that can be taken down so easily. And when she came to full view, was she terrifying. 

“So horrid…” 

“Yet to captivating” 

Neytiri and Jake enjoy seeing the metkayina’s reactions. The reveal of the queen never fails. “The queen will surely give me nightmares tonight” Ao’nung says, not liking how many sharp teeths the giant dragon has. Neteyam chuckles at that, “don't worry my friend, a true dragon queen is never ugly. Beautiful in reality”. 

Ao’nung looks over at neteyam with some doubt, “you make it sound as if you met a real dragon” 

Neteyam didnt say anything further and just enjoy the movie.

“NO!” 

Rotxo hid his face with the empty popcorn bucket, not wanting to see the impact of hiccup’s ultimate demise. Tsireya hides her eyes also, ready to cry if the poor boy is dead. “Please tell me he is not dead…I can't look '', lo’ak chuckles at that. “Come on, look, you will miss it” he encourages. Gently lifting tsireya’s chin to face the film, worry clearly seen in her eyes. 

In sigh of happiness and relief, they all see toothless covering passed out hiccup. Stoick goes to see his son, safe and in one piece. Well, almost in one piece. 

“Oh no…” Ronal covers her mouth as it is revealed hiccup lost his leg. Tonowari leans in, whispering to himself, encouraging hiccup he can do it, he can walk with his new leg. “It's not going to stop him, for sure” ao’nung says, his eyes so glued in to the final parts of the movie. 

“If the queen couldn't, nothing will” lo’ak says. 

“It was hardly a queen” netyiri gently scoffing at the dead horrid dragon. 

The door opens to show the village waiting for hiccup, welcoming back. And with a newfound perspective, thanks to him. Now the village embraces the dragons as their new companions. And of course, a new saddle to ride on, hiccup takes his flight in the new era of humans and dragons. 

“This is berk, its snows 9 months of the year and hails the other three. Any food that grows here tough and tasteless, the people that grow here even more sore. The only upsides are the pets. While in some places have ponies, or parrots, we have dragons” 

The credits began to role, thus the movie ended. 

Tsireya and rotxo clapped enthusiastically, as ao’nung nodded in appreciation. Ronal and Tonowari nodded to neytiri and jake, their way of saying thanks for the delightful entertainment. 

“That movie was incredible! But, were dragons indeed real? Have they gone extinct?” Tsireya could help but ask. She learned that the vikings were indeed real, but what else was real? As she asks aways, Ronal couldn't help but just notice something. 

“Neytiri, where are your daughters? I haven't seen them since we got here” she asks. Neytiri chuckles a bit as she prepares some late night meals for everyone, “they will all be here soon” 

“No sooner enough” was the voice of mo’at as she entered their home. The sully family welcomes her in, the metkayina greeting the tsahik. Mo’at sits beside her grandsons and accepts the meal from jake. “Where is kiri and tuk if I may ask? They missed such an amazing film!” Tsireya asks mo’at. 

“That movie of the dragons? I have seen it endless amounts of times I can recite the whole thing. My granddaughters would agree on that” mo’at answers. 

“But where are they?” 

“Enjoying the real dragon experience” 

This confused the reef na’vi a bit. But before anyone else can say anything, there was a loud shreek. It was an unfamiliar sound, at least to tonowari and his family. But this sound brought smiles to the sully family. “Right on time” jake said, everyone running out to see what it was. 

Opening the flaps wide, ronal peeked out and gasped loudly. 

“Is that…” 

“Oh my Eywa they are real!!” 

A dragon! A mighty one at that! It gently flapped its wings, landing down safely on a very thick branch. Climbing down was kiri and tuk, whose hairs were literally everywhere. “We are home!” tuk announces happily, running towards jake who catched her in mid jump. “Mom, you should have joined us, it was simply wonderful,” kiri says as she smiles. 

Tonowari and his family were left stunned and speechless, a dragon, in front of them! 

“Come on, dont just stand there, you want to meet her?” Lo’ak says as he and neteyam go to the dragon. 

“Her…?” tonowari repeats. Neytiri happily goes over to the dragon and gives her many kisses, the dragon releases what sound like pleasing purrs. 

“Yes, this is…..” 

The ending is up to you to interpret. But I hope you guys enjoyed it! Until next time! See ya!

[i80010]

Talking’s Overrated

featuring : Eren Yeager x fem!reader

content : MDNI, smut, Eren is whipped, he’s also a little shit, mean dom!eren if you squint, car sex, fingering, mutual masturbation, squirting, multiple orgasms, anal play, creampie, hair pulling, full nelson, friends with benefits to lovers sorta, reader is sort of a brat idk, Eren loves hair pulling, ddlg vibes if you use a magnifying glass, a little dumbification, reader has her ears pierced, Eren spits in reader’s mouth, slight degradation, DEFTONES MENTION!!!

word count : 5.7k

synopsis : After Eren ends your little fling, he asks to talk it out with you one late night. You find out he believes talking is overrated.

notes : hi guys!!! i’m angel, and this is my first ever fic and it took me weeks to work on, so notes, reblogs and constructive criticism are all welcomed! hope you enjoy my loves<3

- Come outside

Your stomach flips as you read the notification on your screen, hesitantly swiping it away. It’s late on a Thursday night, it’s quiet. Your room is shrouded in darkness, only illuminated by the blaring brightness of your phone screen. You continue to scroll through Instagram, giggling at Hitch’s close friends, when another message comes through.

- Let’s talk

Talking. You chew your cheek. When was the last time you two had spoken?

“Friend, huh? Is that what I am to you?” His hands caged your head against the bathroom wall. He leaned closer, dropping his head to meet your gaze, his breath minty and warm. “Is fucking each other what friends do?”

“It was a-“

“A mistake? Is that what you think of us?” Eren was dangerously close to you now, his lips ghosting across yours.

“I never said it was a mistake,” You chewed your lip nervously as you drew in a shaky breath, “Just a one time thing.”

“There’s no fucking difference, you either want this or you don’t. You know how I feel about this,” his breath fanned over your face, your eyes flutter closed, “About you,” he pauses.

“Don’t deny me, please, let me know I’m not alone in this,” he was almost pleading now, his voice soft and strangled.

You let your head fall back, gently knocking against the wall. “Eren, I-“, you looked at him, how the sharp contours of his jaw had been softened into slopes by the low, luminescent lighting. Your eyes trailed over him slowly, like he was a wonder of the world.

Striking, green eyes, framed by long, dark lashes. A pointed Roman nose, above his plump, rosy lips and the set of shiny white teeth behind them. His smooth, olive skin, akin to sculpted sandstone. He was everything you could have asked for, everything you needed, and that was entirely too much to ask of him.

You shook your head at him, dropping his gaze ashamedly. The air in the room staled.

Eren scoffed, and his hands fell from their place on the wall. “Fine, you want to fuck Jean, go for it,” he runs a hand down his face frustratedly, “thanks for letting me know where I stand, and that this meant absolutely nothing to you.”

“Eren, that’s not-“

“Shut the fuck up, okay? You don’t get to have a say in this, you don’t get to fuck with my feelings and then tell me it’s fine. You don’t get to-“, he blows out a short breath, recollecting his thoughts. He starts again, slower, calmer, quieter, “You don’t get to break my heart and tell me that’s not what you meant, okay?”

He waits for a response, and you wait for him to shout again. You have a moment of silence, despite the muffled Deftones bleeding through the walls. Eren turns to leave, but his hand hesitates over the doorknob. Opening his mouth to speak, he casts you one more angry - no, pained - glance, and swallows.

“Do you regret this?”

You don’t respond.

The door slams behind Eren. You don’t follow him.

The door slams behind you as you step into the midnight chill, dressed in only a hoodie and shorts. The night air bites at your legs and you flex your hands at your sides routinely. The world outside is serene - illuminated only by the spindly street lamps stationed on the sidewalk. Your heart sputters at the sight of Eren’s car, parked crookedly in your driveway - you can’t even see through his tinted windows. The low hum of his engine rattles his car gently, like a small, mobile refrigerator.

When you get to the passenger side, you swing the door open, slide into the plush leather seat, and close the door, all without sparing Eren a second glance. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, legs spread wide apart, in a black hoodie and grey sweats. He shifts his hips upwards as he readjusts his sitting position, his eyes never leaving your shivering figure.

He rakes over your oversized hoodie, your bare legs, your pretty, pretty face. He lingers on your face for a second too long, then he grins when he sees you press your thighs together.

“You cold?”

“Yeah, a little,” Eren hums in response as he drums his fingers against the steering wheel. His rings glint in the muted glare of the moonlight.

“Want me to turn on the heating?”

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” You watch as he cranks the dial up to max, and the warm air almost instantaneously rushes out of the AC vents. You slump back into your seat, revelling in the warmth. A thin film of condensation falls onto the windows, mottling the midnight scenery outside.

“So,” Eren begins cooly, “how have you been?”

His voice was oddly impartial, and you knew better than to trust Eren’s nonchalance. You look at him side-long, attempting to uncover any unkind inflections. You’re met with a lazy smile and a glint in his eyes that stokes the warmth between your legs, warmer than any heater can make you.

“I’ve been good.” A small, charged beat passes. “You?”

“I’ve been good too,” he hums. He licks his lips cockily when he asks, “Have you missed me?”

You’re a delicate instrument, and Eren wants to know if he can still remember how to play you, how to tune you to his liking.

You surrender to his disarming smile.

You breathe in. “Yeah, I did.”

Eren huffs out a quiet laugh and lets his head fall against the window. “I’ve missed you too.”

You breathe out. “Really?”

He grins. “Of course, I have.”

He slowly leans across the console, “What,” he murmurs softly, “You don’t believe me?”

You squirm in your seat, flustered by his unwavering gaze. His eyes are low, and swimming with mirth. He cradles your face in his hand and your eyes flutter shut when he drags his nose along your jaw.

Your breaths are shallower now. You’re supposed to be talking, talking about you, talking about your relationship, talking about anything but how much you yearned for each other the past weeks.

You tilt your head sideways, facing him, and tentatively press your forehead to his. He’s rendered you breathless within minutes. You are drowning in him - his sight, his scent, his touch - you can’t talk, let alone breathe, not when he’s taking up all the space in the car.

All notions of reconciliation are abandoned when he presses a fleeting kiss to the shell of your ear, and then whispers, “Do I have to prove it?”

You draw in a shuddering breath.

“Please.”

His lips press into yours, hot and wet, as you lace your hands into his hair. He tastes of peppermint and marijuana. His hand trails from your cheek to your throat, squeezing gently, coaxing a small moan from you. Skimming his thumb over your pulse, his tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it gently. Your hands tug at the hair interlocked between your fingers, and Eren releases a loud groan into your mouth.

“C’mere,” he mumbles against you. His hands slip under your thighs, and he gently manoeuvres you over the center console and into his lap. You shudder when you feel him beneath you, large and thick and impossibly hard. You roll your hips against the tent in his pants experimentally, and it pulls a moan from both of you.

He pulls away - his lips slick and swollen, still connected to yours by limp strings of saliva - to rasp, “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, you know that?”

There is nothing other than reverence in his eyes as he surveys you. Your chest is already heaving, you’re flushed from your neck to your ears, and your lips are a dark, kiss-bitten red. An angel.

My angel, Eren thinks.

You hum in response and dip your head to capture his lips again. His cock is already dribbling precum, staining his sweats a dark grey. You run your tongue along his bottom lip, before sinking your teeth into it. His dick twitches.

Eren pulls away, again, to mutter huskily, “You’re so mean, baby, what am I gonna do with you?” before sliding his lips along your jaw. His lips leave a blazing trail behind them, and his hands are just as hot.

His fingers slip under the hem of your hoodie, pressing small circles into your skin that make you writhe in his lap. His lips stretch into a smirk as he descends down the column of your throat, pausing every now and again to suck bruises into your skin. His hands tug at your hoodie, with a muttered, “Off.”

You scramble to take off your oversized sweater in the confines of Eren’s car, and in your flurry of movements, you elbow the horn behind you. You jolt at the sudden squawk, but Eren’s grip on your waist keeps you grounded. He chuckles lightheartedly.

“Easy, we don’t want your neighbours knowing we’re out here, right?” he teases you. Pouting, you discard your hoodie into the passenger seat and watch Eren’s jaw go slack at the sight of your bare chest.

“No bra?” Eren immediately takes your left nipple into his hot, wet mouth and your back arches, “You’re so good to me, baby.”

You keen as he rolls the other nipple in his fingers, content with how they pebbled due to the chill of the night. He releases your nipple from his mouth with a wet pop and places sloppy, open-mouthed kisses in the valley between your breasts. His large, calloused hands fondle your breasts languidly, his cock twitching in his briefs. Moaning softly, you roll your hips against him, desperate for friction, and whimper out a needy, “Eren, please.”

He lazily grins up at you. He is so insufferable - “What do you need, baby?”

You attempt to roll your hips again, but Eren’s hands keep you stationary, “I need you.”

“Yeah? You want me to take these off for you?” He tugs at your skimpy shorts, and he chuckles when you nod enthusiastically, “Hips up, baby.” He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your thong, and he sweeps off your underwear and shorts, so you’re sitting bare in his lap. He wolf-whistles at the sight of you, pressing a few kisses to your collarbone.

Your tits, full, warm and round, your waist, melded to Eren’s touch, your thighs, plush and soft, either side of Eren’s lap, your pussy, glistening in the light, dripping onto his sweats - you’re so undeniably sexy, even more so in the moonlight painting you silver.

He runs his hands up and down your waist, enjoying the way you squirm under his touch. His lips are still swollen from your kisses, and his eyes are glazed with adoration. If you squint, you can see the hearts dancing in his eyes. Your heart flutters.

You’re Eren’s, his to hold, his to fuck, his to love. He doesn’t deserve you - he knows that much - but he is willing to ruin your friendship if it meant being able to see you like this again.

His eyes widen when he sees you palm your breasts, spilling out of the gaps between your fingers. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and warmth courses between your legs.

“Stop it.”

Eren is snapped out of his reverie by your voice. He clears his throat briefly. “Stop what?”

You wiggle on his lap, juggling your tits, smiling coyly, “Staring.”

He grins at you, brazen, “Never.”

His breath fans against your chest, hot, and his tongue slides across your sternum, hotter. He pulls you in for another kiss, a slower, softer one this time, and lets his hands roam around you freely. One hand rests on the small of your back, the other sliding down the plane of your stomach to where you need him most.

Your hips buck to meet him halfway. “Please, Eren-“

His fingers finally come into contact with your core, and you let out a strained whimper at his fleeting touch. He ghosts over your clit, chuckling at your displeasure. Just as you are about to whine again, he starts applying pressure to your swollen nub - just enough to make your head spin - as he clicks his tongue.

“Patience, baby. No more whining, you know I’ll give it to you good.“ He dips a finger between your folds, running it along your slit, before plunging it into you.

You gasp quietly as he begins thrusting it in and out of you. His fingers are long and thick, adorned with thick silver rings, nestled against that gummy spot that makes your knees weak. The stretch is delicious, something your fingers could never achieve. You can hear the squelch squelch squelch echo around the car before he even adds another finger. You’re mildly aware that you’re dripping down his wrist, but your mind is too foggy with pleasure to feel an inkling of shame. You’ve never been this wet for anyone before, and your heart hammers wildly in your chest.

“You hear that baby?” Eren teases you, “You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?” You whimper and bury your head into the crook of his neck. He slides in another finger, stretching you open, open, open. His rings graze your clit and you hum eagerly. You resort to bouncing on his hand, your gut beginning to tighten. Eren’s fingers still as he watches you. His voice is lowered to a husky drawl - “Go on, I want to see your cum on my fingers. Use me, baby.”

You begin to rock your hips faster, encouraged by his coos, the flames in your gut beginning to spread. Your gyrations become erratic and uneven. You pant into his ear wantonly, your breasts bouncing with your every move.

Gritting his teeth, Eren throws his head back. Moan by moan, you’re sending him closer to the edge. The hold you have on him is debilitating, and he’ll finish soon - untouched - if you don’t stop whining into his ear like a bitch in heat.

“Look at me,” Eren commands suddenly, tugging your hair. “I want to see you cum for me.”

Placing your hands on his shoulders, holding his gaze, you grind your clit against the heel of his palm. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your legs lock around his waist at this newfound degree of pleasure. Moans are tumbling out of you unrestrained now, your voice high, whiny and loud. You are on the brink of orgasm, painstakingly close, and as Eren tugs your hair again, you lose it.

Your vision blurs and your legs shake as the world stutters on its axis. You spasm and clench around Eren’s hand, dripping onto the seat below you. Pleasure washes over you in waves, each one less intense than the last. You fall into Eren’s chest, breathing heavily as you come down from your high.

Eren looks at the mess you’ve made, chews his lip - letting out a low fuuuuck - before asking if, “You’re okay?”

You hum in response, barely registering Eren’s question. He flips you swiftly, and your back is now flush with his chest. His hoodie is warm and scratchy against your skin. Eren tugs your hair again, lighter this time, and you look at up him, eyes wide and glazed over.

Eren sucks in a breath as he stares at you, basking in your post-orgasm glow. Your skin shimmers in the dim light filtered through his windscreen, casting your face half in shadow. Your eyes are low and your chest heaves with your sharp and fast inhales. He brings his hand up to your cheek, swiping his thumb under your eye, the other cupping your sex.

“I could cum just looking at you,” he murmurs.

You lean into his embrace, whispering, “I can cum just thinking about you.”

A hoarse groan spills from his throat, and a hard slap is landed to your clit. Your whole body lurches as you mewl loudly.

“Is that right?” he chuckled breathlessly, “Do you think about me when you touch this dirty little pussy of yours at night?” You nod avidly, and he rewards you with a few harsh circles to your clit.

“Show me,” he said, leaning forward to watch his fingers play with your pussy, “Show me how hard you cum when you think about me.” He hoists you up so he can shove his sweats halfway down his thighs - no underwear? God, he’s such a slut - and your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, bobbing between your legs.

It was long, and girthy, the head flushed to an angry red. Precum dribbled steadily from the tip, trickling down his shaft in translucent streams. A bulging vein runs down the underside of his cock, straight to where his balls sit, heavy and warm. Gripping his cock at the base, he smacks the bulbous head again your clit twice. Your legs spasm either side of him and he smirks before spitting, a fat glob of saliva landing onto your puffy clit.

He taps your clit again, gentler, encouraging, as he urges you, “Touch yourself, baby. I won’t ask again.” The shift in his tone is evident as his eyes darken, forest green now a deep viridian. You bite your bottoms lip as you slide a hand down your body, the other idly kneading your left breast.

Your fingers draw lazy circles around your entrance before dipping a finger between your folds. You sigh breathily, allowing your head to fall against his shoulder, and Eren begins pumping himself slowly. You slip a finger into yourself, before bringing it back up to your lips. Eren watches keenly as you suck your essence off your fingers, then dip them back between your legs. You purr as you thrust two fingers into yourself, massaging that gummy spot that makes you dizzy. You begin to go faster, synchronous to the pumps of Eren’s hands.

His grunts are low and heavy in your ears, goading you to, “Go faster, I want to see you cum all over your fingers like the slut you are.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy, your fingers now hammering into your little hole, coaxing little spurts of arousal out of you with every pump. Eren uses your cum as a lubricant, slicking his shaft as he fists his cock aggressively. His dick nearly glitters in the moonlight, lathered in a milky sheen of your arousal. He snakes his vacant hand up your body, briefly squeezing your throat, your pulse hammering beneath his fingertips.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, and he takes the opportunity to shove his fingers into your mouth. He watches saliva pool in your mouth, before spitting in it. You hum delightedly, your face so vacant with pleasure it makes Eren curse. As Eren pulls his fingers out of your mouth, spit dribbles down your chin and into the concaves of your collarbone.

“Such a messy girl, aren’t you?” he coos. You blink slowly, and then nod blankly. “Bet you don’t even know what I said, huh? So cockdrunk already,” he tuts at you lovingly as he brings his free hand to your second entrance.

When he circles your puckered hole, you gasp quietly. He shushes you tenderly, and he feels you give way beneath his finger tips.

“Good girl, gonna let me have all of you, right?” you agree mindlessly, dazed in the pursuit of your orgasm. He chuckles at you, how dumb you are for him, before slipping a finger into you, knuckle deep. Your body contorts and you let out a sharp cry. Eren grips the base of his cock to prevent the orgasm threatening to crest at the sound of your cries.

Even with one finger down there, you feel so full, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You slam your free hand on the steamy window, plastering a hand-shaped spyhole onto it. Your fingers speed up and you begin to pant when you sense your core begin to twist.

“Eren- I’m so close, fuck,” Eren slides a second finger into your ass and you let out a loud, debauched, filthy moan. You lick your lips longingly, watching beads of precum drip over Eren’s hands as he smears it over his shaft.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Eren grunts against your neck, “Gonna make me cum.”

Knowing Eren was here, with you, being driven to the edge by your wanton cries and unabashed pleasure, sends you toppling headfirst into your second orgasm of the night.

Your back arches wildly and you wail out Eren’s name as you shake and convulse. You twitch violently around Eren’s fingers, simultaneously gushing onto yours. Your wrist is dripping with your arousal, as is Eren’s entire cock. As you thrash on his lap, he slowly retracts his fingers from your ass.

He slides his lips along your jaw, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat beaded along your face, before tilting your head with a large hand and kissing you. You suck on his bottom lip before sinking your teeth into it softly, just how he likes it.

With a throaty moan, Eren follows you and hot, thick ropes of cum shoot out from his cock. They drape over your thighs, the steering wheel and your stomach like silvery garlands of pearls. He lets out a small grunt as the last spurts fall limply onto his hand.

You whine breathily as he rubs his cock through your folds. He gently rolls his hips upwards, and his balls hit your round ass with a small plap. He pulls away from your heated kiss, and you chase his lips desperately - you’re pathetic.

The head of his massive cock aligns with your belly button and Eren, gripping his shaft by the base, taps his tip against your navel, admiring the thin strings of precum that linger.

His voice drips with sadistic enthusiasm when he drawls, “I’m gonna be in your stomach, baby. Can you take it?”

“Eren, please, I need you.” You roll your hips against the hard length of his member.

He chuckles at your wanton desperation. “You want it, baby?” You nod fervently. “How bad?”

“So, so, so bad, please fuck me, Eren.” Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, and your eyes lock onto his with blind adoration. He presses a quick kiss to your hairline, and then your forehead.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He presses his cock against your entrance, slowly, slowly, slowly pushing past that tight ring of muscle. You sigh dreamily as Eren nibbles on your earlobe, occasionally tugging at your piercings.

He pauses briefly when he bottoms out. You squirm in his arms before he scolds you, slapping your inner thigh harshly. The eerie silence of the world around you fades into your ears ringing when he slowly - agonisingly - begins thrusting. His cock drags along your walls perfectly with every precise roll of his hips. His groans echo around the car. The joint sounds of your ecstasy nearly drown out the lewd squelches between your legs.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when Eren hammers your g-spot. You squeeze your eyes shut as you feel your release begin to crest. Eren’s breath is hot against your neck and his muttered praises cloud your brain.

One of your hands travels up to entangle itself in Eren’s hair. He turns and plants a wet kiss on your palm. His thrusts become more rapid and shallow as you clench around him. You feel the car rock in time with his thrusts and you sigh happily.

You want your neighbours to know you’re getting fucked senseless. You want the world to know how good you’re getting it right now. Though now, your world has you spread on his lap like a fuckdoll and is pounding you like an animal.

You hiccup as Eren sinks his teeth into your palm. “You okay, pretty girl? Been quiet for a while.” When you nod, he presses his wet lips to your cheek, plastering his smile on you. He slides a hand down to your clit and begins rubbing it in small, quick circles. “No worries, I’ll have you screamin’ my name in no time. Gonna turn you into my little rag-doll.”

Your back arches as his thrusts also pick up speed. Every thrust has your legs trembling and voice cracking.

“Eren- fuck, it’s so good,” you babble in your gut-wrenching pleasure.

“Yeah?” His smirk is hot against your neck. He whispers, “How good?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrusts impossibly faster. Your hands dig into his biceps and when you feel blood bead at the skin, he hisses in pleasure.

“So good, no one does it like you, Eren.”

He throws his head back with a hearty groan. God, you don’t know what you do to him. Every time he thinks you’ve lured him in deep enough, he finds himself diving into you again, until he’s drowning in your wet, warm depths.

Your eyes meet his again. Your lashes flutter and Eren presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead after brushing away the hair plastered to it.

“Oh, yeah? It’s that good?” You nod lazily, your body jolting with the force of his thrusts. He takes one of your tits in his palm and squeezes hard. He lowers his mouth to yours, and you wet your lips in anticipation. “You gotta cum all over me then.”

You do. Ecstasy dances down your spine as you cry out his name. You squeeze your eyes shut as your clamp down on Eren’s cock. White flashes behind your eyelids like fireworks. You moan his name again and again and again and he tells you he knows, he knows, he knows. Your arousal drips down his shaft, leaving a glistening trail past his balls and onto the padded leather beneath you both.

“Good girl,” he coos. He brings the fingers circling your clit up to your lips, and you dart your tongue out to taste yourself.

His pace never relents, not even when you’re sobbing wildly. The aftershocks of your previous orgasm fade, and you’re already teetering on the edge of another. You wring your hands in the sweat-sodden material of his hoodie. You sob, “I’m gonna cum again.”

“Already?” he tuts and laughs, his voice husky and low. He hums in approval before pinching your nipple tightly. The pain elicits a sweet, little cry from you. His voice is strangled when he asks, “Tell me what you need.”

“More, I need more, I need it harder,” you whine into his neck. You nuzzle into his collarbone, deeply inhaling his warm, vanilla cologne.

“You want harder? I’ll give you harder, you little slut,” he grunts as he hooks his arms under your knees, pinning them to your chest. The change in position angles his cock so deep into you, you can feel him in your throat. When you feel the head of his cock ram into your cervix, you shriek - half pain, half pleasure - and Eren swallows your cries with a wet and sloppy kiss, much like the mess between your legs.

Incoherent moans tumble from your mouth, your eyes find sanctuary in the back of your head and your wetness floods the seat below you. The sharp pain makes you gasp, makes your toes curl. The pads of Eren’s fingers are warm against your knees and his breath is searing against your neck. He continues to split you open on his cock, intent on ruining you on his lap.

He lifts his head to observe you, to admire your undoing. Your skin is sweaty and flushed, your lashes beaded with tears, your lips swollen and bitten. You’re a sight for sore eyes, a glimpse of heaven in his arms. Your eyes snap to his and you whimper in shame, mustering up the scraps of dignity you had remaining, shying away from the ferocity in his eyes.

Eren chuckles dryly at you. He calls your name. Once. Twice. You shake your head and bury it into your chest.

“Oh, no, no, no.” His hands come to rest on the back of your head, arms still hooked under your knees, and he roughly yanks your head back to look at him.

You gasp, “Eren-“

“Look at me.” Your eyes lock onto his. “Look at this.” He tilts your head down, maintaining his ruthless pace, “Look at you, baby, getting so wet for me.”

You laugh and sob, surveying the mess you’ve created. Your arousal is spread between your lap - thick, slimy strings connecting your thighs to Eren’s. Your lips are stretched around his width, suctioning him into you with lewd squelches. It’s so wet and sloppy and messy and it’s so, so perfect.

“Feels so- so, so good, baby, fuck,” you babble this out to Eren and he belts out his handsome, disarming laugh.

“Yeah? Bet it does.” You melt even further into his touch when he places a kiss to the crown of your head.

Watching yourself get split open by Eren sends you hurtling towards your release, so you breathe out a quiet, “Cumming.”

Eren chuckles, drops his lips to your ear, and murmurs, “Are you asking or telling me?”

You shake your head weakly. “Don’t make me beg.”

He chuckles quietly, deciding to take mercy on you. Eren sinks his teeth into your earlobe before he gives you a deep, hard thrust, and then commands you to, “Cum.”

Your legs go limp as the world stutters on its axis. The pleasure is mind-numbingly intense and white-hot bursts of relief wrack your body rhythmically. Your mouth gapes in a silent scream as Eren slams himself into your cervix again and again. Hot tears roll down your cheeks, and your head kills back onto his shoulder, too weak to watch yourself cum around him.

Your arousal, clear and copious, sprays everywhere in his car : his seat, the steering wheel, the windscreen, even your body. Eren moans at the sight of you squirting all over his car, you marking your territory. You shudder helplessly in his grasp, succumbing to the heat dousing your limbs. If not for Eren’s tight grip on you, you would have collapsed.

He keeps going, keeps thrusting, desperate to join you in the pleasure of orgasm. His thrusts become sloppier, but no less deep. You mewl with every pump of his hips against yours, overly sensitive and stimulated.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he pants, strained and shaky, in your ear.

You moan at the thought of his hot, thick cum filling you up. “Inside, Eren, please, please, please-“

He cuts you off with a pained groan, “Fuck, you know I can’t do that.”

“Please, Eren, please,” you plead with him, your eyes wide and glassy, “Don’t I deserve it?”

His eyes snap shut and he lets out a shaky, ragged breath. “Shit, you’re making this really hard for me.” His hips pummel you faster, shallower, irregular, as if he’s losing his restraint.

Fuck it, he’s come this far, and he can’t say no to you. “You want it, baby? You want me to fill you up?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I need it Eren, please give it to me,” you whimper desperately.

“Fuck,” he whines as he thrusts into you a final time, unloading himself into you. Sighing happily, you press a kiss to his cheek as you feel the warm spurts of cum paint your insides. He only pulls out when he stops pulsing inside you, wincing slightly.

Eren slumps against your shoulder, his chest rattling with every breath. Your hands tangle into his thick, chestnut hair. He grunts in approval. Quick, fleeting kisses are pressed to your shoulders and you shudder. Your movement reminds you of the mess between your legs, and you suddenly feel filthy.

“Eren,” your voice is nothing more than a whisper.

Eren’s response is muffled by your neck. “Yes, baby?”

You sniffle. “I’m messy,” Eren jerks up, seemingly rejuvenated after remembering the importance of aftercare.

“Shit, sorry, I’ll clean you up now,” he reaches for your hoodie and starts wiping at your inner thighs. He grins up at you over your shoulder - “You really made a mess huh?”

You shuffle awkwardly in his lap. You had squirted on his sunroof, a mess was an understatement.

The corners of his lips pull upwards into a smirk, “Don’t worry about it, ‘m getting my car detailed anyway.” Humming when he’s deemed you clean, he rotates you so you’re eye to eye. His eyes twinkle with undulating lust as he wipes away your tears. “You good?”

You nod meekly, nuzzling his calloused palm.

He pinches your thigh. “Don’t get all shy on me now, you were being real loud earlier.” He tosses the hoodie into the backseat before placing kisses to both of your breasts. His brows pinch at the slightly pensive expression plastered on your face.

He tugs your hair lightly. “Do you want me to get you a Plan B? We can-“

“We were supposed to be talking, Eren,” you wrong your hands in his shirt.

A cocky grin spread across Eren’s face. “Oh, she was definitely talking to me,” he moves to cup your sex, but you swat his hand away. His smile drops at the deflated look in your face.

Sighing, you ask, “Are we ever going to talk about this?”

He frowns, brushing your hair out of your face. “I thought we were gonna forget about it? One time thing, you know?”

You sigh softly and slip your hands under the hem of his shirt. As you run your hands along the ridges of Eren’s abdomen, his cock bobs.

“We can’t keep using that as an excuse to-“

“Do you regret it?”

“Huh?” Your head snaps up to meet his gaze and his eyes are glinting mischievously.

Squeezing your face between his fingers, Eren pulls your face towards his. His tongue slides along your bottom lip before he reclines. “Do you regret this? Us?”

You swallow.

You don’t respond.

But this time, Eren knows better.

He captures you in a slow, sloppy kiss. His lips meld to yours as he murmurs, “I don’t think we have to talk about anything then.” He sucks your bottom lip slowly, letting it swell in his mouth, before smirking impishly as he rasps, “Talking’s overrated.”

[epione-xx]

BABY, PLEASE

WARNING. THIS. IS. A. SMUT!!!! And a fever dream. Idk what was happening when I wrote this but…eh.

CONTAINS: breeding kink, master/pet play, situationship, lingerie + nudes, unsafe sex (plz never do this in real life)

There also could be a pt2 if you guys want 👀

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

‘Lmao no, I’m with a guy’

Damian gripped his phone tightly in his hand and frowned, reading and re-reasing the text again before texting back himself, only using one word.

‘Who?’

And when she didnt reply, he scoffed an threw his phone into his backseat. The crinkle of a bag signalling it had been caught and he hand taking it further than intended.

And then he tapped the wheel impatiently, thinning and thinking and…then finally turning around to grab his phone again to see if she had texted back, and seeing she hadn’t yet, he groaned and leaned back before grabbing the bag of his newly bought ‘essentials’.

Now these essentials weren’t really…well what you think. Instead it was a pack of condoms and other various things that ranged from a box of chocolates to a newly bought phone charger since he had forgotten his own.

He always forgot his charger when going to her house, being fair…most of the times he went there when he was frustrated with his father and then she would…help him through it…

And it started off like that. He had a fight with his father, stormed out and drove off in his car before remembering that he had forgotten any type of protection, which then lead into a trip to the store, which lead to him buying everything he thought was needed before texting his hook up to se did she wanted anything…

And that’s why the dreaded text came. The one that said she was with a guy.

Damian pursed his lips and decided to indulge himself in one of the chocolates he had gotten, unwrapping the shiny blue foil of it before popping it into his mouth and opting to scroll thought instagram for a bit.

His instagram wasn’t interesting per say. A bunch of art and a few posts from various friends here and there…it was all boring until he saw the little green dot under her photo.

Now was his chance.

‘What happened to the guy?’ He texts ‘wouldn’t be active on instagram if you ever evening fucked. We all know your not competent enough to do two things at once’

—

Rolling over her bed and pulling her pillow to her chest, Y/n snorted at Damian’s text and rolled her eyes, that mother fucker was just jealous.

‘Didn’t work out. He was way to kinky’

she was hoping for a rise out of him, something- anything, brining her lip she watched as the little dotted bubble pop up before going back down again.

Letting out a sigh she rolled over again and carefully looks to her wardrobe, maybe she had a good idea…

And so getting up, she carefully walked over. Careful to not make any sudden noise in hope she wouldn’t wake anyone up.

She dressed herself in a elegant green set of lace- a new one that she had gotten for Damian…using Damian’s card, being fair- he asked he too.

Soon y/n set up the camera and placed it close to her thighs, you couldn’t see her face- but that was the point. She knew Damian hates not being able to see her face…

And so she snapped a shot, sending it straight to him with the caption. ‘I feel so empty without you’

—

Damian stared wide eyed, his pants were getting tight and he could physically feel himself grow to be in more pain as he stared at the photo- how dare she do this to him!

And so he set the phone down and took a deep breath, trying to remain calm…before his phone dinged again.

And before he could eve consider what the text could be, he picked it up and hurriedly searched for her name.

Bingo, it was another photo.

This time it was in the same set but the camera was more focused on her chest, showing her boobs off proudly with the caption ‘id like to be fuller, please daddy.’

And Damian stared, and searched for words before texting one thing back.

‘What if I fill you with my cum? My heirs? You wouldn’t feel so lonely and empty then would you? You would be filled with your lord all the time…’

His pants tightened. He never realised that he could have a thing for her in that way…he never realised he had a breeding kink.

And so he set off to her place

—

The woman at the other end of the line flushed deeply at Damian’s words and squeezed her legs together, that had to be int of the most sexy things he had ever said to her…and imagining herself pregnant, full with his child…and even better, being claimed by him in that way…it excited her.

There were so many things she was thinking of now. Things she had never even dreamed off…it was like she was in a haze.

But knowing Damian, he was teasing her. He would never make any of that a reality…so she set off for the shower, trying to wash away the arousal.

…or so she thought, the bathroom door opened, Samoa standing there both flushed and hard as he looked at her.

“Damian!” She shrieked as she stared at him “what the hell! How did you get in?”

“Spare key” he stalked closer, a primal instinct in his eyes as he stared at her and slowly Pepe’s the glass door.

Her face flushed aa she stared at him, watching as he underdress himself. “What are you doing?” She asks, almost sounding meek.

“You think I was kidding?” He asks her, looking her body up and down before licking his lips. His cock growing even harder. “You think I was joking beloved?”

She felt herself grow wetter and she slowly nods “I mean, I guess I was?” She says. “I never pictured you as the da-“

She didn’t get to finish, Damian had turned off the taps and had picked her up. Throwing her over his shoulder before he set off too her bedroom. Placing her on the bed….right in front of her floor to ceiling mirror.

“Look at yourself” he set her upon his lap, fingers dancing across her stomach and chest “look at how pretty you’d be holding my heir, how beautiful you would look…” he sucked hickies into her neck.

“You would be so swollen, so needy..and I’d fuck you every single day.” He purred

Her head rolled back into his neck and she arched her back as Damian’s fingers went to her nipples and he pinched them lightly, rolling the buds between his finger tips before he grinds into her.

“Your beautiful tits…they would hold so much milk” he smirked “it would leak out of you as I fucked you, you wouldn’t be able to control it and if drink from you every day”

She shuddered and closed her eyes as she felt this hand move from her chest to her stomach, rubbing lightly before he dived the down and pulled her thighs apart.

“Would you enjoy having my baby?” He purred “like a good little slut?”

She gasps and nods in a hurry “I would, I would so much my lord. As long as you were next to me I would enjoy anything~” she clenched around thin air and moans.

He smirked and slowly began to rub her clit, making sure to tease her. “You would be so sexy” he hummed “so beautiful, I’d fuck you all throughout your labour”

She flushed even more “Damian!” She whines loudly “please~ please fuck me now. Put your baby in me-“

She gasps as she was picked up and throw onto the bed mercilessly, thought being opened by his rough and calloused hands before he looked at her “are you ready for my child? Or do you need me to put a condom on?”

She stared at him and felt herself grow hotter “I need your baby. I need to be pregnant with your baby…to be your queen”

He smirked and nods before he slowly thrusted into her, letting out a satisfied moan at how she clenched around him.

She gasps in pleasure and clawed at his back “just give me a moment”

In a sweet moment, he nods na splayed a soft kiss on her lips before trailing it down to her chest “why don’t I show you how good it’ll feel?”

She nods and moaned as his lips began to suck on her nipple, soon enough she was grinding on him- begging for more.

And that’s when he began to thrust. Lifting his head up and staring at her deep in the eyes as the bed creaked beneath them.

“Good girl” he groaned “such a good girl for me. You’ll be rewarded pet~” he moans as he kissed her.

She gasps and moans as she dig her nails into his back, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Damian!” It was a sharp gasp, her toes curled as she came around his cock, which then sent him over the edge to cum inside her, burying himself as far into her as he could before he felt himself explode and paint her walls white.

She took deep breaths, heart beating out of her chest as she looked up at him “thank you master” she whispers

He also took deep breaths and pressed soft kisses to her hairline “thank you beloved” he says “please. Be my one and only…be my wife”

She smiles and nods “always”

Even if they had skipped a couple of steps…they were both happy in the end…and who knew what the future held.

[luveline]

hi jade! i’m obsessed with ur writing. i also love angst so much idk i was thinking maybe for zombie steve, the stress of post college life and everything gets too much for them and it all kinda blows up into a fight and the reader is thinking like his life would be so much easier if we weren’t dating and then it’s them kind of making up??? totally understandable if u don’t wanna make these poor babies suffer any more but just wanted to throw it out there! haha

thank you for your request lovely <3 steve zombie au —a trivial fight snowballs, and you get some much needed reassurances. fem!reader, 3.5k

"I think you're tired," Steve says. 

You pull your backpack higher up your shoulders by the straps. "I'm not tired, Steve." 

"You haven't slept well in weeks," he says. 

"It's not the point. You're not listening to what I'm saying, you're just looking for the problem." 

"Because," he says gingerly, "I know that you wouldn't be saying this if you'd been sleeping. That's all I'm saying." 

"You're not listening," you insist. 

"I am, I am listening," he says, and he doesn't sound mad, but the ice is thinning. "I get that you think we shouldn't be moving along. I understand what you're saying to me, but I really think you're– it's fatigue. You're sick of moving around, I am too, but you know the risk if we stay somewhere." 

"You're not listening to me, though, you're discounting my concern because I'm tired, but if I wasn't tired I'd be saying the same stuff. We can't keep moving around, your knee is still hurting even though you refuse to tell me, and you think I don't know but I do know–" 

"So the problem is that I'm not telling you my knee hurts?"

"The problem is that you have no sense of self preservation and also that you're really not listening–" 

"I'm listening!" Steve says, his voice peaking. 

Robin turns to look from where she's walking just ahead with Sarah and the others. She meets Steve's eyes first and then yours, and she smiles at you tentatively, as if to say, Everything okay?

You shake your head at her. Don't worry about it.

"I'm obviously fucking listening," he mutters, looking to the sun as he combs his hair out of his eyes. 

"You don't have to be a jerk about it." 

"You're jabbing at me."

"I'm jabbing at you?" 

"It's black and white with you today. I say black and you say white, and it's giving me a headache." 

You huff a breath out. Arguing with Steve is easy, you did it enough when you first met, but it's different now. It hurts your feelings when he digs in.

"That's not true, I don't need to be contrary to disagree with you," you say. 

"But you are! You're just disagreeing with me because you're in a bad mood! You know we need to leave, you know it's the right thing, and I just don't want to listen to it anymore." 

"Why? Why is it so hard for you to listen to me? You love me," you say. It sounds odd, nearly questioning, and you both flinch. 

"Of course I love you. But I'm tired. I don't want to fight." 

"It wasn't a fight until you made it one," you say. 

Fight or flight doubles and you rush forward and away from him before you can get anymore heated. He says your name but you ignore him, falling in to step with Robin and Sarah. 

She frowns at you apologetically. "Sorry, can I…" 

"Yeah," you say quickly. "Of course you can." 

Robin smiles and drops back to walk with Steve. They don't speak, and you don't look back, but you're glad she's with him even if you're mad at him; you've argued, but you certainly don't want him on his own at the back of the camp's procession. 

Sarah smiles at you. She has big green eyes and pretty red hair, straight as a sheet and shiny as silk despite the circumstances. It's greasy at the top, so at least she's not perfect. 

"Hey," she says sympathetically, "are you okay?" 

Her asking has a heat brewing behind your eyes, but you find it to be annoyance rather than upset. 

You have to force the words out, "I'm fine." 

She nods, rolling the cord of her tent around her hand. It drags on the floor. It's the mode of transport the majority of your campmates have chosen for their tents and bags, a hundred pack of bungee cords wrapped around tarps and sacks to take some of the strain off of everyone's shoulders. It looks strange, all those camping bags dragging over dirt and grass. 

"Love is very difficult," she says. "I don't envy the fighting. But you and Steve don't fight much. I envy that, how happy you are." 

You breathe out slowly. She's nice, and Robin likes her, and you'd rather not take your anger out on her. 

"It's not difficult," you say eventually. You roll your neck and whine as it clicks. "It's easy. Just hard lately 'cos things are different." 

"I guess it's exhausting having to care about someone else. I can hardly find the energy to care about myself." Sarah laughs gently. "Not that people aren't worth loving, but the energy to look after someone, it must be tiring. What I'm trying to say is, I can see why it would be harder lately 'cos we're not at Oaks anymore, you feel like you're always on high alert trying to stop something bad happening." 

You hear what she's saying, but you focus in on the wrong part. It's hard, so hard, having to look after someone. And that's all Steve does. 

You look over your shoulder. Steve and Robin are walking side by side, Robin's hand curled around his elbow, her cheek dipped momentarily to his arm. "It'll blow over," you think she says. 

Steve nudges her. She nudges back. 

"Maybe it would be easier if he didn't have to look after me," you say. 

You say it because you want reassurance. Sarah races to give it to you, your shoulders relaxing in tandem as she says, "No way! He wouldn't want that, and you don't either. Try not to worry, Y/N. You just need a breather." 

—

You are being so, so quiet. Steve knows you struggle talking to him when you're mad. You're not cruel enough for the silent treatment but there's nothing wrong with needing space. He hates how crabby he got with you, but he also genuinely still thinks that he was right. 

Who knows. Steve sighs and scratches his stubbly chin. He has a zit coming, he can feel it, and it's driving him crazy. 

You'd offer to squeeze it if you weren't fighting. He knows that's a stupid fucking thing to miss, and want, but he likes you taking care of him. He loves that you don't care about the gross stuff, you'll do whatever if it makes him more comfortable. So he sits by the struggling campfire wishing you'd squeeze his stupid zit and say more than, "Hungry?" as you pass him a can of pasta. 

You eat in silence. Steve suffers it until he can't anymore.

"Do you want the rest?" he asks, offering you his half-eaten can of low-carb linguini. "It's boring," he warns. 

"Swap?" you ask, offering your bowl. You have a mixture of sliced water chestnuts, artichoke hearts, and half of a frankenfurter. 

You'd obviously taken the worse option. You could've given him the hodge podge, but you gave him the pasta. He feels bad for complaining and trades dinner with you.

"Do you…" 

Steve waits for you to finish. When you don't, he swallows around a chalky water chestnut and asks, "What?" 

"Never mind. Forget it." 

Steve raises his eyebrows but looks back at his meal. He was hoping you'd say sorry, because he's still feeling too proud but he wants to make up. He thinks maybe he doesn't deserve to make up if he can't bring himself to apologise —you were right that he should listen, even if he's tired. He should have more patience, just patience has never been his strong suit, and he's fucking exhausted and he knows you are too. He's sick of worrying if he did the right thing, and he's still mad at you, but he's starting to wonder if it matters anyways. It was a stupid fight that got too big. If you hadn't walked away, you might've been able to smooth it over. If he wasn't too stubborn to take the five big steps to your side, he could've done the same.

"I'm still annoyed," he says finally, "but I'm sorry for being a dick. Can we… gloss it over for now?" 

You usually give in pretty easily. You aren't eager to hold a grudge, a sucker for one of his tight hugs, but you seem pretty reluctant as you nod. He's not as forgiven as he'd like to be. It's fair. His apology wasn't the best. 

"Sorry," you mutter. 

"Am I a dick if I ask to talk about it when we've both had some sleep?" 

You shake your head, shooting him a nice, albeit small, smile. "I think that's a good idea." 

Robin appears as you're pitching your tent. 

"Okay, don't make this a big deal, but I'm sharing with Sarah tonight." 

You smile. Steve frowns. 

"Uh?" he asks. 

"We were talking about how you guys had your, uh, disagreement, and I mentioned that you're cranky because you never get to hook up because I'm always there, and she invited me. So that's what I'm doing. Maybe you guys will feel better after some time alone." 

"You think we're cranky because we aren't hooking up?" Steve asks, genuinely baffled. 

"Not really, but Sarah laughed. I," —Robin tucks her hair behind her ear, looking bashful in her huge hoodie— "really do think you could benefit from, like, privacy. Just have some time together. Don't argue again." 

"Thanks, Rob," you say. 

Robin presses her lips together in a funny smile and shoots you a double finger guns. "I'm a philanthropist." 

"Maybe you'll be less cranky when we see you in the morning," Steve says. 

"Please, Steven." 

Robin says goodnight. You and Steve pitch the tent slowly. He thinks you might be scared of being alone with him while things are still awkward, reluctant to meet his eyes, and you haven't smiled since the little one you offered at the fire. 

He sits at the entrance of the tent beside you and sighs. "I'm sorry." 

"You already said sorry." 

"I know. But I figured it couldn't hurt." 

You pull tufts of grass up in your hands, slouched forward into your own lap. He puts his hand on your back and rubs at your poor posture. Sometimes he worries that months ago, when you fell through damp flooring in a dilapidated building hundreds of miles away from here, you'd permanently fucked your discs. Your recovery was rough, and he barely noticed how much grief your back was giving you because he'd been so scared of the lump on the back of your head. He wonders if it still hurts. 

He gives it an extra soft rub to be safe. 

"Do you think things would be really different if we never met?" you ask. 

"Things would be awful–" He starts immediately. You cut him off. 

"Would they?" you ask, propping your face in your hand, elbow digging into your knee.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he asks. He's trying to be one hundred percent joking, but it's a solid 80/20, the 20 a startling hurt. "Would things be awful if we never met? Let me think about that one. Yes. Things would be awful." 

You smile weirdly.

He takes his hand back. "What, you think things would be better if we never met?" 

"For you." 

Steve gets this feeling like he's had hot water chucked over him, and his eyes start to hurt. They ache. He could cry for you, he really could. How can you even think that, for a moment, for long enough to ask him, and begin asking him an hour ago? You sat there for an hour thinking about it and this is still the conclusion you came to: you think things would be better for him without you. 

Steve takes your face into his hands. He needs you to be looking at him, straight at him and into his eyes as he tells you. 

"I would not be here without you." 

"But if you were–" 

"But I wouldn't be. And not because you saved me from geeks at the start," he says, frowning, furious, "or any time after that. I could be the best survivalist in the world and I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you." 

"Robin–" 

"Is my best friend. I'd die for her." His hands slide further back on your face. "But I wouldn't be here without you." 

"I make things so hard for you," you say. Steve watches helplessly as your eyes fill with tears.

"You don't, and if you do, I make things hard for you too." 

"I'm sorry for being miserable," you say, staring at his chin. 

He ducks his head to force you to meet his eyes. "It's okay, it's okay," —he wipes under your eyes with his thumb to catch a tear that hasn't fallen yet— "it's okay. It doesn't matter. You don't have to be happy, you don't have to be nice to me every second of every day, you just have to know what you mean to me and get a handle on it."

"No, 'cos I know I make it hard, I know I've been hardwork right from the start and I don't get easier. I'm always getting hurt–" 

"It breaks my fucking heart, but if you think that matters to me–" 

"–I'm not strong, I complain and I– I make bad choices, I cry all the time–" 

"Why do you think that?" 

"I'm messed up," you say, pulling his hands from your face. 

"There's nothing wrong with you." Steve squeezes your hands, shuffling closer to you on knees, desperate to set you straight. "Come on, Y/N. You need to be strong to get through this. You think you'd have gotten this far if you weren't strong?" 

"I got here because of you–" 

"I'm here because of you," he says firmly. Loud, angry, abrasive in the face of your heartsick tears. "Why can't you see that? Did I do something, to make you think you can't do this?" 

"You didn't do anything, Stevie," you sniffle, wiping your cheek with the back or your wrist, "and it's not the point." 

"What's the point?" he asks, much softer than before. 

You shrug. You wipe your cheeks again, stemming the rapid flow of tears spilling at the corners of your eyes. Your lashes are darkened triangles against your skin. "I don't know. I just wish you had someone looking after you who could actually look after you, rather than make you miserable all the time." 

"I'm not miserable." Steve takes in a big breath, hand tangling in the worn fabric of your shirt as he leans in too close. "Would you tell me why you're crying?" he asks quietly, tilting his head to one side. "Please. Just tell me what's wrong." 

"I don't want to fight anymore," you say, and you sob. 

"We're not fighting, baby," he says, hand slipping under your t-shirt. His palm roves the soft pouch of your stomach to your side, where he grasps at you, pulling you in toward him for a hug. His chin bumps into your shoulder, your wet cheek to his stubbly one. "This isn't a fight, this is me trying to make you feel better, honey. I don't want you to feel like this." 

"I'm worried you'd be better off without me," you mumble, lowering your head and pressing your eyes to his shoulder, the wet of your tears leaching into his shirt. "I'm doing it right now, I'm being fucking useless." 

"Why are you so afraid of being upset?" he asks, frowning.

"Because you never are," you say. You move into his touch, like you're trying to climb into his lap. Steve yanks you forward. 

"That's not true, you've seen me at my worst. You've seen me angry, and mean. Crying my eyes out." 

"You cry when things are bad. I cry all the time," you say, sounding very, very small. 

"Honey, I cry more than you think. I cried two nights ago. I cried when you were sick." He doesn't enjoy admitting it, because he wants to be strong for you, but he thinks his confession is a different kind of strength, and one you're in dire need of. "I'm sorry I don't always let you know. It's not fair. I expect you to tell me everything and I keep shit from you."

"Why did you cry two nights ago?" you ask, peeling away enough to look up into his face. 

He has to tell you, even if he doesn't want to. He should've told you when it happened. "I felt sick." 

"Yeah? Like nauseous? Do you feel sick now?" 

"Not really. I don't like seeing you cry, but I'm alright." Steve's hand slides down your side to the hem of your jeans, his thumb pushing into the waistband. "See?" he asks imploringly. "I felt like shit so I cried, and it doesn't mean you'd be better off without me. It just means I felt sick. You don't have to give meaning to everything, you really don't. I hate to say this, but you have to keep your head up. For me." 

You nod, sniffling and wiping your snotty nose with your sleeves. He bats your hand away and does it bare handed. There are much worse things in the world than this. In fact, he's happy to do it. 

"I'm sorry, for fighting with you and for crying all over you." You laugh, and Steve's heart soars.

"I love you, you idiot," he says. "I love you. Hold still a second." 

Steve climbs up on knees to press kisses from temple to temple, from temple to chin, and from chin to your lips. Your skin is hot and damp under his lips but he traverses unperturbed, trying to plaster each inch of your frankly gorgeous face in love. 

"I want you with me forever," he says, hoping you understand exactly the severity of what he means.

"I want you," you say. "As long as you'll have me. Forever and ever." You give a few quick nods, and the sadness drains from your expression, replaced with a relieved and ecstatic affection instead. "I really think I might be tired." 

"You think?" he asks. You laugh together, and he grabs your hand, giving it a sharp squeeze as he tacks on, "But I really need to listen to you, even if I'm irritable."

"We take stuff out on each other sometimes," you say. 

He squeezes your pinky finger. "We do. It's gonna happen. And I'm glad it's me and you, you know? I don't wanna fight, but I want it to be with you." 

"I want it to be with you, too," you say.

He can finally relax for the night. You make your way into your tent and lie on your backs, ankles hooked, a shitty paperback resting on your chest. The camp quietens as people head to their own tents for the night, though a gaggle of people stay awake at the fire, telling stories and laughing. Despite everything, there are moments when all of this feels fun. When Steve can pretend he's two years ago on a loser-group camping trip. And maybe he didn't know you then, but he would've seen you across the way and asked you out. Or he would've bumped into you at the communal showers and told you how to work the ice machine. Maybe you would've met at the lake. Maybe you would've hated one another. However you met in this distant what-if, Steve knows it would've somehow ended like this; your hand lifted to his hair and stroking wayward patterns, your breath sharp with spearmint. You'd brushed your teeth together over an empty can. Steve misses sharing a bathroom mirror with you hip to hip, but he'll take the small stuff whatever way it's packaged. 

"For the record? That was your stupidest question to date." Steve turns his head to you, tarp wrinkling under his ear. "Like, you're the queen of stupid questions, and that one still managed to surprise me. And you once asked me if I thought petroleum jelly had nutritional value." 

You flick his eyebrow gently. "I know it was stupid," you say, voice rough from a good cry. "I just couldn't stop thinking about it." 

He tugs you in for a forehead kiss, lavishing in the feeling of your skin under his lips. "You believe me, right?" 

He pulls away. 

"I believe you. I love you. I'm gonna keep my head up, Stevie, s'long as you start telling me when you need me." 

He thinks that's a deal he can make. "Deal. Easy." 

You grin at him. "Can I squeeze your pimple now?" 

"Yes!" He whips into a sitting position. "I've wanted to ask you all day." 

"It looks like an ingrown hair." 

"I'll have to stop shaving. Maybe I'll grow a beard." 

You don't bother sitting up, only beckon him toward you with a raised hand. "That won't be necessary, H. Just let me work my magic…" Your fingernail digs into his chin. "Ew, it's kinda gross."

"Please don't ridicule me."

[duckofmassmurder]

one piece men and makeup

warnings: makeup, idk how that’d be a warning though but, cursing

Pairings: Luffy, zoro, sanji, shanks, ace, x reader

modern au

LUFFY

-bro you didn’t even have to ask, he just came to you and said ‘Put some of that stuff you put on your face in mine’ -he ended up with a full face of foundation, concealer, highlighter, blush, sharp winged liner, bright red lips, and red sparkly eyeshadow - this becomes a normal thing, seeing luffy looking like a fucking drag version of himself and it’s amazing

ZORO

-you came to him and he said nu-uh -do the only reasonable thing to do was put a bunch out Make-up on him while he was napping -you came to him and hee said nu-uh -do the only reasonable thing to do was put a bunch out Make-up on him while he was napping -when he woke up he was just horrified -‘babe what the fuck did you do to my face’ - 'I made it better' - My mans got upset about it - but didn't take it off - the funny thing is he didn't hate it -The Look: Green, SHINY eyeshadow, a black wing, dark red blush, highlighter, base makeup, dark green lipstick, and some green gems on his face near the eyeliner

SANJI

-Lets be honest, he would love literally anything you do - You came to him and he said yes without even listening - all he knew is you had to ask him something and he was gonna do it - it wasn't until he said yes that he realized that he was going to be doing - he still did it though -he kept moving his head to look at you though while you were doing it because he wanted to see your BEAUTIFUL face, which resulted in you having to forcefully hold his head still -He honestly loved it in the end when you were finished with it -The Look: Yellow eyeshadow, black eyeliner with a pink heart around it, blush, base makeup, highlighter, some shimmery white eyeshadow on the under eye, and pink lipstick

SHANKS

-He agreed because he's just good like that -He honestly did it because it sounded fun and he wanted to mess around with the crew -Made you do certain colors for stuff, making the makeup look kind of weird -Bro loved how it looked in the end though -The Look: Shiny red eyeshadow, dark red winged liner, RED blush, red lipstick, highlighter, base makeup, and some red gems on the eyeliner

ACE

-You came to him and he just said HELL YEA immediately and ran to where you do your makeup full speed -You were just left standing there like 'the fuck just happened' -You went into the room to see him sitting there, in your makeup chair (or on the floor, that's where i do my makeup-), all the makeup out already, just fucking looking at you like 'put that shit on meh face', kind of the same look you got from luffy -once you finished doing the makeup, he looked in the mirror, and started running around the ship showing all of the crew his glorious makeover -The Look: Fire themed eyeshadow, black liner, blush that accentuated his freckles, base makeup, highlighter, and a red, an orange, and a yellow gem under the eyeliner on each eye

I hope you enjoyed reading this, i love love you, and remember, you don't need makeup, you can wear it if you like, and it makes you feel good, but your PERFECT as you are, okay? ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[spookwyrdie]

I love love love the subby Seungmin fic🤤, like you're literally too good at making your writing so compelling?🥰 Like idk the correct for for it but it's like crack to me😖🥴 Can i please bring to your attention Minnie's pouty lips? Like literally every time he speaks his lips just pucker up in the cutest way and I lowkey am curious to see how mean Dom reader would tease him about how slutty he's being, acting as if he wants everyone to kiss his pretty pretty lips and just kissing and biting them until they are red and swollen and marked as readers'. And Seungmin loving the feeling of being owned and just melting at the degradation repeating drunkenly over and over about how he doesn't want anyone to kiss him but you cuz he's your little slut. And later reader reassuring him that they didn't mean it and that they love Minnie's lips and cute mannerisms just as it is. 🥰

Hey Anonnie🥰 I love the sub Seungmin requests, they're always so fun to write.

Because You're My...?

genre: smut, fluff if you squint // word count: 1.1k // warnings: adult dialogue, sexual themes, noona kink, subby idol!seungmin, biting, degradation, a dash of puppy play //a/n: This isn't explicit in the sense that they're just kissing, but there's Stuff. Things. Enjoy!

Seungmin is really hamming it up on this variety show. When he talks, his lips pucker up naturally, the tint of his lips pink and shiny. When he smiles, his whole face lights up, his teeth straight and white, even when he tends to cover it. When he speaks though, even when he tries to keep his face neutral, he’s pushing his lips out.

Sometimes when he’s annoyed, he even runs his tongue over his bottom lip, just showing off how wet and plump it is. Is he really simpering for the audience right now, playing innocent? Standing off stage, watching behind the camera with the rest of the team, you feel your blood boil. Who’s he showing off for? Those lips are for you and you alone.

Once they call for a break, he jogs over to the team, making a beeline to you with a big grin on his face. He cocks his head to the side, giving you confused puppy eyes when he notices your irritated expression. You grab onto his wrist and drag him behind you, making excuses about fixing something on his jacket.  Instead, you find an empty green room. Pushing him inside, closing the door with your foot. 

“Y/n, wh-”

“Shh, I don’t want to hear any excuses,” you snap, squeezing his cheeks with your hand so his lips purse.

“Excutheth for wha-” he tries to say with his face in your hand.

“Excuses for being such a pouty little whore on camera.”

He wiggles out of your grasp, rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t pouting on camera.”

“Yes, you were,” you poke him in the chest, walking him backwards until his back finds the wall. “Who are you trying to get to kiss you?”

“No one!” he starts to blush as you press your body up against his. 

“That’s not what it looked like,” you sneer. “You’re just acting like a slut.”

“I’m not a sl-” he starts to whine, but you clap a hand over his mouth. 

“Shh! You have to keep your voice down,” you whisper. “The door is unlocked, do you want someone to find us?”

He shakes his head and you release him, trailing your fingers down his cheek. He’s already panting when he whispers, “Noona, I only want you to kiss me.”

You lean in, “The way you were licking your lips, puckering up while you were talking? I think you want anyone to use this pretty little mouth.” 

“I don’t do it on purpose! I used to have braces, it’s just -”

“Excuses are slut behavior. You’ll let anyone have a little taste?”

“N-no,” he whimpers. “Only you.”

With your thumb, you smear the lip tint he has on. “Only me?”

“Yes, Noona, only you.”

You surge into him, your mouth finding his as he groans into your sudden, harsh kiss. His mouth opens to whine, giving you the opportunity and permission to deepen the kiss, lashing your tongue against his. He melts into your touch, his hands grasping at your back, fingers digging into your skin. He scratches his short nails into you as he moans, losing his mind as he presses further into you. You slip your hand into his hair and pull, tilting his head back suddenly.

His mouth disconnects from yours briefly, trying to catch his breath. But that’s not what you have in mind for him, pulling him back down to meet your lips again, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and nipping hard. He squeaks at the sudden deluge of pain and pleasure as you soothe the sharp pain with your tongue. You capture his lip again between your teeth lightly as you pull back, his eyes fluttering as you tug his lip towards you. 

“I don’t know,” you say as you release his lip. Seungmin has a hazed out look in his eyes as he follows trails after you, chasing your lips. “I think only little sluts kiss like that.”

“No!” he cries, wild emotions erupting in his chest. Calling him names like this makes him feel bad…but also good? You’re giving him so much attention, lavishing him with contact, controlling him. He feels his knees weaken when you call him a whore. He starts to grow hard in his jeans, a fizzing sensation pulsing through him as you lay your claim to his mouth. He wants to be so good for you, but he can’t deny the adrenaline rushing through his body at your insults.

“Who do these lips belong to?” you whisper, pressing feather light kisses along his jaw. 

“YOU!” he cries, rutting his hips into you. The way you control his every move, teasing him with your mouth alone, drives him mad. “Please!”

“Please what, puppy?” you say as you pull back to look at him. His eyes widen at the use of the pet name, unlocking a new kind of desire. He’s your puppy, he wants you to own him. 

“Please…” he starts, nervous about what he’s about to say. “Let me be yours.”

The feeling in your chest is overwhelming, like your heart could burst. A smile blooms on your face, a faint flush darkens your cheeks. 

“You want to be mine?” you say, tracing the shape of his top lip with your finger, mesmerized by how red and swollen they look. 

Seungmin nods, eyes not leaving your face. You snake your hand down to his jaw, holding it in place, adoration on your face. His whole mouth is covered in the lip tint he had on for the cameras. It’ll look terrible when he returns, but you want the world to know that you own this mouth. 

“And you’re not going to be a dumb little whore anymore in front of other people?”

“No, never. Only for you, Noona,” he pants, leaning into your touch.

“Because…?”

He looks at you, confusion in his eyes as he tries to break through some of the arousal pumping through his veins to understand your question.

“Because?” he repeats.

“Is my dumb little slut already gone, just from a few kisses?” you chuckle at him. “Because you’re my…”

“Because I’m… your… puppy?”

You grin as you lean down to kiss him, capturing his lips gently this time. He hisses at the soreness of his lip, but it turns to a moan as you use your tongue to dull the pain. The languid pace has him melting in your grasp for other reasons, his heart beating erratically in his chest.

“Then you better learn how to stop pouting when you talk,” you murmur against his lips. “These lips are for me.”

~

[klm-zoflorr]

Watchkeeper/Elias in full costume!

What can I say about him? He's, uh, green as hell. He has lot of metal chains and shiny parts on his costume, so probably not that great at sneaking around. Uhh. Yeah he's got a half-skirt thing because I think those are cool. Impressive billowing cape. He has a watch (lol). Pants with stripes that look somewhat like a style of suit business pants I guess? As a wink to the whole, my usual Elias designs. Shoulder pads/pauldrons, made out of silver metal that shines green (radioactive? Knowing that fucker he'd create radium that shines green but isn't harmful just to look cool)

I failed because I am not good at fullbodies but he's supposed to be badass and hot and not just a sillygoofy guy. Idk. This doesn't read as an epic pose to me. Someone please do it better. Sorry. Hope you like the background at least?

[floswife]

𝗛𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗪𝗔𝗬 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗦-𝗛𝗝𝗣 𝗫 𝗙𝗲𝗺!𝗢𝗖

Warnings: Fluff, Gaslighting, James possessing Harry

Pairing: Harry James Potter X Ravenclaw!OC

Author’s Note: Idk I just wrote this for me so it’s not really plot heavy, it’s set in fifth year but there’s not any mention of the DA or Umbitch

Summary: Juliette Rosewood, a Muggleborn Ravenclaw witch. She had never thought she’d me destined for much trouble, that was until a certain raven haired Gryffinfor decided to take a liking to her.

It was another day at Hogwarts and Juliette was late to Potions. Again.

But was it really her fault that the damned stairs moved randomly? She braced herself for a scolding, it was fifth year and her O.W.L.S were just around the corner, that and the fact that she wasn’t a Slytherin would surely lead to Snape ripping into her. A sure equation to a sizeable amount of points to be docked from her house.

She entered the classroom with her long dark curls flowing behind her in a frenzy, she frantically looked around the class for a free seat and saw that there was only one left next to Hogwarts’ resident celebrity/troublemaker, Harry Potter.

As Snape’s back was turned she crept to the seat, Harry giving her an amused look.

Snape turned around and his eyes immediately zeroed in on her, “Miss Rosewood, did you arrive just now?”

Juliette shrugged, “I was here this whole time sir. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Harry stifled a laugh behind his palm.

Snaps narrowed his eyes, “You were late.”

Juliette feigned a look of offence, “That is a vile accusation sir.”

Snape visibly angered, “Alright, what is it that I was just talking about right now?”

“Draught of living death.” Harry murmured to her in a voice so low it was only audible to her from behind his palm.

“Draught of living death, sir.” She said with a sickly sweet smile before giving Harry a thankful look.

The rest of the class watched in amusement as Snape visibly questioned his sanity.

He turned to Harry who gave his best innocent look that almost made Juliette burst out in laughter, “Potter, tell me, was Miss Rosewood here this whole time?”

Harry nodded, “Yes she was sir, you should get Madam Pomfrey to check your memory.”

The whole class stifled a laugh as Snape turned red, “That won’t be needed. Everyone turn to page 177, I want a bottle of the draught of living death made by you and your seat partner on my desk by the end of this lesson or else detentions will be given.”

The whole class groaned and got the ingredients needed for the potion.

Juliette turned to Harry, “Thank you for that, by the way, you didn’t need to do that.”

Harry shrugged, “Anything to pull one over Snape, right?”

Juliette laughed in agreement, “seriously, I owe you one.” Harry smiled at her and the two spent the rest of the lesson laughing and teasing each other, talking about meaningless things and just enjoying each other’s company, surprisingly they even managed to get a decent draught of living death on Snape’s desk and didn’t get detention.

Oh how she’d regret those words.

Juliette was proud to have been named prefect of her house, both her parents were muggles and many didn’t expect much of her. However, when she received the letter and the shiny blue pin, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of fulfilment.

Now, as she did her nighttime patrols, she no longer felt that fulfilment but only an overwhelming sense of tiredness and boredom. Seriously, shouldn’t this be considered as child labour? Dumbledore ought to hire some more damned teachers.

The dulled haze she fell into as she trudged along the hallway, her wand alight making the portraits shout some rather rude things at her, fell once she heard hurried footsteps along the corridor she was in.

She laughed to herself at the poor soul running down this corridor, knowing it was a dead end.

She then saw a familiar head of raven hair and bright green eyes and round glasses and she forced herself to suppress a groan of frustration.

Does this boy ever have a normal day at Hogwarts?

Harry looked relieved to see her and stopped by her as she looked at him with wide eye, his cheeks were slightly flushed from the running as she looked up at him with an incredulous look on her face.

“Do you ever just… follow the rules?” She hissed at him, not even wanting to ask who he was running away from.

Harry feigned a look of deep though before nonchalantly shrugging, “No, I don’t think i do.”

She just rolled her eyes and she grew even more annoyed when she heard distance footsteps clattering after him and a distant, “Potter!”

Harry’s eyes widened and she gave him a deadpan stare, her eyes sleepy, “who was that and what did you do?”

He took in a sharp breath, “That would be some Slytherin prefect looking for an excuse to put me in detention, and as for what I did…” he trailed off before flashing a charming grin that affected her more than she would care to admit, “that’s on a need to know basis.”

Juliette pinched the bridge of her nose, evidently too tired to be dealing with this.

As the footsteps drew closer he visibly grew more panicked before turning to her, “you said you owe me right?”

Her brows knit together in confusion and before she could even open her mouth to speak, his arms had wrapped around her waist and pulled her flush against his body, his lips pressing against hers.

She gasped in surprise and kissed him back nonetheless, one hand cupped his jaw while the other loved to run through his messy raven locks.

The footsteps drew closer and then drew to a halt right before them, a gasp could be heard and then a rushed, “sorry.” Was muttered before the person ran off again.

It was then that Juliette pulled away from Harry, though still stayed in his arms, not quite ready to leave his warmth yet.

She knew that her face was probably bright red at that moment, feeling the hot blood pound in her ears. Harry had a dazed look on his face and a goofy grin spread across it.

Juliette smiled softly at him before realising that he had only kissed her to avoid detention, so she stepped out of his grasp.

Harry frowned slightly, his arms feeling empty without her.

“So, this makes us even now?” She gave him a small polite smile.

He blinked a few times, mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out, “Um yes of course! Brilliant.”

She hummed before giving him a pointed look, “now go straight back to your dorm before you kiss some other unsuspecting prefect.”

He blushed, giving her a bashful look, “I would never dream of it, only you get the privilege.”

Her heart sped up slightly at the words, “Goodnight then, you flirt.”

He chuckled, “Goodnight darling.”

[velvet-games]

I finally finished the piece for @prince-liest's OC, Tzafael! this really reminded me of how fun character design is (and also that I've completely forgotten how to make digital art, but that's besides the point...) <3

credit to @hogbogglerspirits for the umbrella design! I kind of butchered it so please look at the original and throw lots of love at them

LOTS of notes, draft sketches, brainstorming, etc. below the cut. enjoy!

(note: a lot of what I'm talking about is based on posts prince made under their #tzafael tag, so take a look at those if you haven't yet!)

thanks for joining me below the cut! here's the sketch without the colors as a treat (in case you want to color it yourself or something, idk).

notes about making the digital drawing:

holy shit this took me forever -- I was not kidding about forgetting how to make digital art lmao. I forgot how much less forgiving digital lines are and genuinely lost the spoons to even attempt lineart, hence just a sketch below the colors.

some of you might've seen the original sketch I sent to prince, which the digital version diverges from just a little. it's mostly the halo which I'll explain later, and I finally caved and drew the sixth eye (you can tell I drew and erased it multiple times in the sketch lmao -- still don't know if I prefer it with or without)

here's the original color ref by the lovely @gendermeh! my color scheme ended up looking really different, so some notes about that:

I was looking at references for magpies like this

and I wanted to basically follow that color scheme while also being somewhat similar to the original -- dark head/shoulders --> dark top of the jacket, bright blue wings --> bright blue bottom of the jacket, greenish tailfeathers --> green pants, hints of purple --> purplish sleeve and pant ends

I also tried (and mostly failed, let's be real) to capture the iridescence of the feathers -- they look like oil spilled on the pavement or iridescent hematite to me! I think the key ended up being adding bright greens/purples and roughly blending them into the blues or vice versa but I didn't really figure that out until I got to the pants lol.

I'm gonna be honest; I don't remember why I went with this shape for the tailcoat. I just remember being unhappy with the sketch and then trying a bunch of different shapes that mostly looked worse lol -- I think I landed on this because a split tail kind of looks like wings?

KEPT the shoes -- absolutely magnifique. I wish I knew how to color gold better.

added lots of jewelry! they like shiny things :)

ALSO PLEASE LOOK AND APPLAUD ME. I FINALLY REMEMBERED TO LABEL MY LAYERS!! NO I DON'T REMEMBER WHY THE HALO HAS ITS OWN LAYER.

alright, time for some more design notes/explanations + draft sketches!

but first, a couple disclaimers:

I want to make it very clear that I LOVE everything about the original design. I made a lot of changes based on personal preference/the way I interpreted the character. I was actually planning on making a digital piece that was more faithful to the original design too, but I was just out of spoons for it cause of life stuff.

you probably shouldn't try to read the notes I made in the sketches I'm about to show you unless I say otherwise. most of it is incoherent brain vomit in illegible artist handwriting and I'll transcribe/explain the stuff I think is important :) (the stuff in quotes are direct transcriptions of my notes)

I know my sketches are very messy lol. I only draw for fun, so I usually don't force myself to make stuff any neater than necessary unless it's supposed to be a formal piece. try to bear with me.

1:

my first few sketches of them! (I think?) this was before I sent prince a laundry list of questions so I was still trying to get a vibe

"magpie -- beak lips?" -- you'll see this in a few sketches; I considered giving them the lipstick design that velvette has since it looks like a beak. I still kind of think it's cute, but 1) I'm pretty sure velvette is the only character that has them, so I didn't want to make it seem like they were related somehow and 2) I thought it might be distracting with how much other crazy stuff I ended up including in their head/face

also, sidenote since it's relevant to what I said about vel: something I realized was important is how one character's design relates to the designs of the rest of the cast. I wasn't sure how much I should've gone for what looked good in a vacuum, how much should be based on what other characters looked like canonically, or what other characters would look like if I also designed them. it ended up being mostly the second option, but it was honestly still a struggle. should I take away some of the tumblr-sexyman-ness (no shade to tumblr sexymen; I love them) because there are other characters that already have it? should I relate their design to sera's and emily's in the show or should I think about how I would've designed sera and emily? should I follow some of the design philosophy of the original show and just throw stuff on there because it looks cool (the answer is yes btw)? decisions, decisions ...

I don't think this showed up really well in most of the drawings, but they actually have a black line down their nose! let's take a look at sera:

since they're siblings, I wanted to include some similar facial markings. the nose line ended up being the only thing I kept though -- I was going to include freckles, but I have a compulsive need to give every character giant bottom lashes so there ended up being no room T.T I like that the magpie's hints of purple kind of match hers tho!

the wingification of the hair begins! I was still unsure of it at this point, but it was an idea I had since I was kind of struggling with how straight the feathers were in the original.

"maybe the ones on their head count as wings (so only one main pair)" -- I originally just had the 2 pairs of wings on their head, so I was thinking of just giving them 1 pair on their back so there would be still be 6 total. also this middle drawing of them is meant to be their exorcist outfit (I wanted it to be a cross between what the other exorcists wear and sera's outfit)

at this stage, I was thinking of giving them more magpie-like characteristics, so I looked at some references and tried to emulate them in a more human design. this ended up being really awkward so I scrapped it, but I still like the idea that their exorcist mask looks like a bird (kind of like a plague doctor's)

2:

peekaboo! I love the idea of them using the wing hair to cover their eyes lol. (ended up using that idea for my own seraph OC since that's their biblically accurate purpose: to cover their eyes/faces in reverence/humility -- doesn't really fit with tzafael tho lol, so they show their face most of the time)

an eyeball in the bowtie -- pretty self-explanatory. the eyeball motif is important.

the one in the middle is just me practicing drawing the original design, and the one on the right is another exorcist outfit I think. I wanted to include the diamond motif/points that sera has on her dress (the diamonds on the bottom turn into eyeballs, which is why the final design also has eyeballs on tzafael's sleeves/pants)

3:

lots of notes on the side based on what prince said in response to my ask

"localized omniscience (power of sight) -- cool + ironic that their sight was supposed to serve God but made them see Heaven for what it really is instead"

another exorcist outfit, this time including the feathers

I was also experimenting with the halo; I was trying to make it look sort of like sera's crown, but that didn't feel right ...

some practice with eyes -- my style is pretty flexible with eye shapes, so I try to make them suit the character. I drew lute's eye and also an actual magpie's as references -- lute's because of the exorcist background and also because they looked appropriately sharp, magpie's for obvious reasons. once again, my compulsive need for giant bottom lashes strikes

there was honestly a lot to balance with the eyes -- I wanted them to look condescending/bored (lowered top lid) but also amused (raised bottom lid) and like a magpie (round) but also harsh/mischievous (sharp, maybe slit pupils like a snake) and similar to sera's (but not too decorated -- also does it make sense for them to look like sera's if emily's don't even look like sera's?)

considered having wings on the shoulders -- the magpie pattern is super cool, so it would've been nice to have that somewhere more explicitly in the design. I still think that might fit in an outfit they would wear in heaven (maybe for formal occasions)

the introduction of the sweatervest! honestly I kind of love this for the way it captures more of the preppy, spoiled old-money upper-class vibe some heaven residents have, but it was scrapped since I couldn't imagine them wearing that while trying to scare the denizens of hell. maybe something they wear casually though.

"yes nictating membrane (on every eye!)" -- AHH I'm so sad I didn't end up putting this to use. I just feel like the whole effect is based on actually seeing them blink, and I don't animate lol.

4:

ugh, the nefarious laughter one ... don't worry I tried harder on a sketch later on lol.

"like the diamonds on Sera + Em" + "diamonds turn into eyes?" -- I draw the diamonds on the sweatervest turning into eyes later.

tried an actual bow instead of a bowtie -- very cute but didn't fit the vibe.

a skirt! I think they would wear a skirt sometimes.

5:

"FUCK ASS BOB" -- asghdk the wingification of the hair continues. unfortunately, I'm realizing at this point that the silhouette of the hair is starting to look a lot like alastor's. I gave a very half-hearted attempt at mitigating this, but it goes back to the thing of how much I am obligated to the original show's designs and what looks cool to me -- I think the wing hair fits them and I didn't want to change it because of alastor, plus my alastor design actually has completely different hair anyway. I did add a third pair to the back to look like a ponytail though.

introduction of the scarf! I was actually going to include this in the final design but uh,,, I forgor. are you starting to see a pattern.

the reason for the scarf is that the "tzafael going to places they know they'll draw attention/can incite chaos" reminded me of that scene in avengers where loki walks into a fancy building looking pretentious af and just casually stabs a guy's eye out. not really the same thing but I felt like the vibe matched. hence, loki's funny little scarf fit.

6:

uaoughdfjh it was SO FUN to draw the wing hair, and it was at this point that I realized they had to stay even though I wasn't sure if it was too different from the original.

gossiping with rosie cause that's the first person I thought of -- tzafael also summoned a pearl necklace to clutch because of the sheer drama of it all (your ex-husband did what??)

also started drawing the rings on their hands. magpie like shiny.

7:

lots of notes cause I was trying to compile the things I still needed to think about/incorporate into the final (I thought this was gonna be the last draft ... haha)

trying to include more bird/eye motifs

"fish ... purse?" -- ha! I forgot I was gonna give them a fish purse. I think I drew that in a later sketch, but not them wearing it.

"picked up Hellish traits bc of extended stay -- existential crisis?" -- I asked prince about the sharp teeth, and their answer implied that they became sharp as they stayed in hell longer, which got me thinking ... I feel like that's actually a great body horror concept. lucifer falling and looking like a normal angel at first, eventually waking up to more and more devilish features and feeling more and more like he's lost his home and his past self ... spooky.

another exorcist outfit -- I actually really like the eyes on the ribs! I never made a final draft for the exorcist uniform, but it would probably look close to what I drew here.

the one on the bottom was meant to be similar to the feathered shoulder pad idea, but this time with the whole magpie (with giant eyes). tried putting the "freckles" (really just dots in this case) over their brows, but that ended up looking kinda weird.

the eye is pretty close to the final design

the one on the right was supposed to be the full final design, but I was totally off lol -- the long trench coat really doesn't give off the right vibe at all

8:

playing around more with the loki vibes of the scarf, also added an eyeball to the chest

I never got happy with the design of the back of the coat -- I think it should probably just be blank at this point. but the sketch here is meant to look like wings/tailfeathers.

yet another exorcist outfit, this time with more magpie motifs. I actually like this one a lot, but I probably should've added the eyes on the ribs from the last sketch. I think I also considered giving them actual tailfeathers at this point.

9:

thanks for sticking with me! I promise we're almost done. have a trans dinosaur I saw while I was travelling as a treat <3

10:

this is after I finished the sketch for the final piece and realized I didn't like the halo design. I drew lute's, sera's, em's, and adam's as refs. (honestly I love the show's idea that each person/people of each rank have a different kind of halo -- I wonder if they can switch them out?)

my main inspiration ended up being the exorcist halo, but I made it look more like an eyeball -- since it always points toward heaven, we can say it's always "looking" at heaven.

(also sera's feather lashes! they're so cute)

11:

EVEN MORE EXORCIST DOODLES

12:

tzafael shooing away my fox demon OC

13:

these are actually sketches for my own seraph OC (raguel), but I wanted to include it since it has even more wing/feather hair variations. I also think the idea of the eyelashes being feather-like could've been cool for tzafael.

14:

some more OG design doodles

tzafael and raguel together because self-indulgence is the name of the game babey (also wanted to draw tzafael freaked out with their wings flared)

(raguel's blind btw, hence asking for eyes -- tzafael has so many!)

you can probably read the dialogue here so give it a shot. I believe in you.

15:

you know what? the fish purse deserves some doodles

16:

putting them in Situations! I was reading over prince's posts again and I realized there were some funny things I could draw them doing/saying

again you can probably read the words here

angel dust also loves fish (but is apparently bad at taking care of them, hence the suffocating blobfish), so tzafael shows him their aquarium (complete with live fish and flora ofc)

I thought alastor was 8 ft but apparently he's 7.3 ft? so tzafael is enjoying the .2 ft they have on him

trying and failing again to come up with a design for the back of the jacket lol

THE crowley quote

apparently the halo still sends signals from the exorcists -- thought their reaction to the battle at the hotel would be funny

the nefarious laughter (take 2) that I promised -- based on a doodle of alastor viv did that I found

them being sad and curling up in a pile of shiny things like a dragon

OKAY I'M DONE. huge, huge thank you to prince for sharing their OC! this was a lot of fun and clearly inspired me a lot haha. please check out their writing; it's literally so good that I can't read anything else these days. I am chewing on their thoughts constantly.

this was an absolute monster of a post, so if you're still reading, I am both impressed and bewildered at your patience. I hope you enjoyed! (I certainly did!)

[alaskan-wallflower]

okay so fantasy au 😭 i needed to ramble

Mrs Curtis was a nymph. Shes kinda like the nymphs in percy jackson, her skin is leaf green (maybe changes colors in the autumn?) and her hair is this sunstricken golden color and she ofc has leaves in it almost always. I also like lowkey wanna say that she has a tail with leaves at the end too-she loved to make flower crowns and maybe she even photosynthesizes? Who knows! I need to draw this concept out

Mr Curtis was a gargoyle. He’s REALLY terrifying looking but once you actually get to know him he’s a huge goofball. He used to pull faces and stuff to make his sons laugh. He had huge bat like wings and a long spiked tail-he had talons too and his eyes would glow bright yellow when he was mad-like ONLY yellow. The pupils and irises were GONE. He taught Darry how to fly!

Onto Darry-he’s a gryphon/human mix? Kinda? Like a centaur but the lower half is a fire gryphon. He was born normal size but VERY quickly grew and ended up being gryphon sized (Like…50+ft in size, gryphons are BIG) and dude couldn’t fit in the house anymore by the time he was like thirteen :( But he’s a fire gryphon so cold doesn’t bother him much. But his wings are kinda flame colored? He has a mane of harness fire around his neck too and the tip of his lion tail is a flame ofc-when he’s mad though the fire flares up and can become harmful. He still roofs houses but he has to be awful careful with his size, though he also gets paid to clear out areas because he’s so big so he can easily sweep stuff. He’s harmless tho, just a big birb/lion boi

Soda is a centaur-his lower half is a palomino colt and his upper half is human obviously. He REALLY likes having his mane and tail played with and sometimes will just flick his brothers with his tail until they give him attention lmao-he is NOT quiet either like you can hear this boy galloping from a mile away. He’s also a big fan of having his tail braided and sometimes will braid it before. work to make sure oil doesn’t get on it. He’s very prideful of his coat though and likes when people give him attention for how shiny his coat is-He hates cleaning his hooves though because it’s hard to do :( Sometimes he’ll nestle into Darry’s wings after a hard day too :(

Pony is a cervitaur ofc-his lower half is a fallow deer (maybe an axis deer…) but this boy is SO prideful of his antler nubs and styles his hair purposefully to make sure there showing at all times. When his antlers actually start growing though he’s really happy except for when leaves and flowers get stuck in ‘em-but this boy is FAST-like 50mph fast. He could outrun Soda any day (I know horses are faster shhh) but he’s so fun. His coat is also super fluffy…his hair is too thanks to being half deer. He definitely sneaks into orchards to steal their food tho and Darry gives him an earful. Something I’m considering is having one of each curtis brother be in control of some element considering their mom was a nymph…Darry’s fire but I have to decide on the others…maybe Soda’s water and Pony’s earth? Idk)

I’m still deciding what I wanna do for Johnny…I’m thinking kraken or something of that nature? But like he can live on land? Idk what I wanna do for him, I wanna have him be opposite to Dally but I dunno how a kraken would fit into Tulsa…Just a big ol water creature…I’ll probably create my own creature thing for him LMAO

Dally’s a dragon. No doubt. He has a dragon form and a semi human “disguise” of sorts…like he has dragon ears, dragon wings and a dragon tail and he has some splotches of scales along his body but his full dragon form is a sight to behold. He’s about Darry’s size in full dragon form and him and Darry have definitely gotten into some •Godzilla vs Kong” esque fights because Dally kept trying to burn down the jail and Darry had to stop him…Johnny was watching (he’s about the same size as Darry too) and he’s just frantically trying to put all the fires out while yelling at adam LMAO-but this boy is so unruly sometimes…also horns. His horns are sharp as a blade (play it cool little brother…sorry-) and he’s not afraid to use them

Two Bit is definitely an imp to me. He likes to try and pull pranks on the Socs a lot-he’s kinda like an evil looking satyr…like he has little goat hooves and he even has a pitchfork but he’s really not and. He’s just a funny guy who wants to scare people sometimes. He’s a bit smaller than average (like…5’6’’) but he’s still trying to be scary. He has bat wings too and flares then when he’s all angry and tries to make himself look bigger but he just cannot-

Steve’s a werewolf. I don’t have much on him whether :(

I’m debating on keeping the Socs human or making them mythical beings too…I have ideas for Marcia and Cherry and even some of the musical Socs so we’ll see

(also if someone wants to listen to me yap about gryphon darry i mean…👀

[keets-writing-corner]

I just noticed that Charlie and Lucifer both have the same rainbow decoration thing. In the Sir Pentious episode, when Angel is showing that Sir Pentious put a camera in the book shelf, the decoration is on a side table. And then you can see one in Lucifer's workshop in the wall before he says "Take that depression!" Not a big thing, but kinda neat.

oh yeah! the rings of hell lamp

at least I... think it's a lamp? I hope it's a lamp, it'd be a pretty cool lamp

Ye! makes sense to me that the king and princess of hell would have a "map" (so to speak) of hell. I assume rulers of countries have a map of their country somewhere, so logically rulers of hell would have their equivalent of it

I believe the color represents the color of the sky from each ring. Pride ring is red, wrath is orange, gluttony is yellow, greed is green, Lust is blue, envy is purple and sloth is pink

Given that Charlie canonically has multiple overlords on her phone's contacts, it wouldn't surprise me if Lucifer has them too in addition to their little map of hell

Since you sent me this ask and I blew up on tumblr mainly cuz of my lucifer post let's make this cute and head canon that Lucifer gave Charlie his before getting a new one for himself. Maybe even in a moment of she showed slight interest in seeing it, and he just "Oh you like this?? Here you can have it! :D"

while we're here, while I was fishing for screenshots, I also saw this in Charlie's shelf

I want to go out on a limb and guess map of heaven?

I couldn't find a map of heaven in Lucifer's study tho, so (building from our shiny new head canon) either he gave the only one he had to Charlie and never bothered to get another one or he never had one to begin with and Charlie got it herself

you know what I did find in lucifer's office tho?

sticky notes everywhere, idk if they're reminders or what but clearly dude's a mess GO TO THERAPY MY GUY

[whatsnewalycat]

Designated Person | Chapter 6

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Chapter 6: Present

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Series Summary: When posting bail for Frankie Morales, your former employer and former lover, you unwittingly designate yourself as his third party custodian during his pre-trial release. Your often tumultuous relationship with him is given a new set of rules and put to the test. Can the two of you co-exist peacefully, or will you crash and burn?

Word Count: 9.2k+

Content / Warnings: Frankie POV, infidelity, past romantic & sexual relationship and related flashbacks, angst, food, AA meeting, alcoholism, abuse mention, lying, confrontation, crying, mutual masturbation, panty snatchin' (sorry idk what else to call it)

Notes: Hello hello hello! If you want the taglist, spotify playlist, or AO3 link, head on down to the masterlist. I appreciate your patience in waiting for this, thank you so much for reading. Ok love u have fun!

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ][ Next Chapter ]

Tonight, the AA meeting is being held in the conference room of a value hotel. 

The three-story venue is ripe with families on vacation and traveling professionals who likely booked their rooms as a cost-saving measure. They certainly didn’t choose to stay here because of its charming features, such as the floating island of dead bugs in the outdoor swimming pool, or the dingy low-pile carpet darkened in high-traffic areas, or the generic, faded landscape portraits in shiny golden frames. 

Its conference room is windowless, the only source of light buzzing from long fluorescents overhead, dousing everything in a twitchy, vague sort of green that grips Frankie’s stomach. 

Or, maybe it’s just the story he’s listening to that’s making him feel ill. 

Maybe a little bit of both, it’s hard to tell. 

“She had her heart set on leaving, ‘n’ I told her, nobody fuckin’ wants you here anyway, Mary Beth, go on home!” 

The haggard old man, who introduced himself as Fred, says this in a jovial, rehearsed way that tells Frankie this story has been told many times. Probably over drinks, to coworkers, or friends, or anyone who happened to be within earshot at his regular barstool. 

Fred glances around over his puffy, purpled nose, like he half expects his spectators’ laughter, but the only noise is the squeak of people’s uncomfortable shifting in seats. Either because the story is too relatable, or because these folding chairs are hell on the tailbone. 

“She told me if I didn’t get my ass outta that barstool, she’d be gone when I got home,” he looks at the floor and his cheeky grin falls, “I didn’t go home ‘til barclose. ‘N’ she was still there. Knew she would be. She always was.”

The room is silent as he gathers his thoughts. 

“She passed away, few years back,” he looks around, putting his calloused hands up defensively, “‘N’ I miss her everyday, don’t get me wrong, but—”

The well-weathered skin of his face sags into solemnity, “I kinda wish she woulda kicked me to the curb, y’know? Was always waitin’ for it, for her to get fed up ‘n’ leave, but she never did. ‘N’ I think, sometimes, maybe… she woulda lived a better life if she did. ‘Steada waiting around for some drunk, she coulda really made somethin’ out of herself. And I feel…” he frowns at the floor, trying to pinpoint the correct emotion, a skill undoubtedly atrophied by decades of avoidance.

“Regret, I think? Wasting so much of her life. It’s one thing wastin’ my life, but her’s… I dunno. It don’t sit right,” Fred clears his throat and swallows, then sighs, “Guess that’s it. Our anniversary’s coming up next week, she’s been on my mind ‘n’ I wanted to get that out.” 

The ringleader for tonight is David, as is usually the case at the Monday night meetings Frankie attends. He thanks Fred for sharing, then asks for another volunteer. 

Frankie leans back in his seat and presses his fingers to his lips as another participant clears their throat and begins to talk. He’s stuck on the old man’s story, though. His knee starts bouncing as he turns it over in his mind. 

I’m not that bad, right? I wasn’t that absent. I didn’t go to the bar every night. On the weekends, sure. And on weeknights, I’d drink myself fuzzy and numb, but at least I was at home.

Was he really present, though? 

Before you, when Angie was home with Sarah on maternity leave, he’d come home from work and visit with them for a while. Knock a few beers or drinks back. After dinner, he would continue to drink in the garage, or in the basement. Somewhere Angie couldn’t raise her eyebrows every time he finished a beverage and retrieved a replacement. 

Even after you, this ritual continued. You distracted him enough to slow the drinking those few hours after he got home. But once the table was cleared after dinner, he would tuck himself away somewhere in the house to drink alone. 

It wasn’t always that way. 

He drank, sure, but it wasn’t every day. It wasn’t to the point his mind went blank. 

No, that didn’t start until he returned from South America. 

Every time his eyelids closed, it played on repeat. The mansion. The crash. The village. Redfly’s vacant eyes. Over and over. His culpability hung around his neck like a noose. 

The guys didn’t want to talk about it. A silent agreement not to mention their sins. Angie didn’t want to talk about it. Too pissed at him for going in the first place to feel bad for him. 

It just stayed inside him, replaying again and again on loop. He needed something to wipe the slate clean, and booze worked. 

Not like he was sober before then. Drinking himself blind on the weekends. Fuck, Angie was the same way. Before she got pregnant, anyway. That’s how they ended up meeting, that summer night back in 2018. 

He and Benny went to one of their frequent Saturday spots. The bar was crowded and loud, heavy throngs of people attracted by a popular local DJ. Summer heat crept into the air despite the industrial air conditioner running at full blast, Florida’s relentless humidity hung thick in the air, leaving a dewy residue on every surface. 

The only thing Frankie could smell was that primal, earthy scent of sweat. He pinched his shirt and pulled it away from his chest with a few quick tugs, trying to get some kind of a breeze going. When he looked around the bar, swathes of exposed skin all surrounded him, people wiping their foreheads and fanning themselves. 

He spotted two women sitting at a high-top table, leaning over their drinks and talking to each other. One of them was a pretty, unassuming brunette. The other had glossy black hair that shone in the neon lights, cascading in waves down the open back of her dress. She looked put together and fucking luminous, the way her copper skin seemed to glow. He couldn’t look away. 

Benny was in the middle of a sentence when Frankie cut him off, “Holy shit, look at her.” 

“What—who?” Benny followed Frankie’s line of sight and guffawed, “Her? She would eat you for fucking breakfast, man.”

“I fucking wish,” Frankie gave Benny this dopey smile, nodding towards them, “You getting a feel on the friend?”

Benny glanced her over and shrugged, a smirk turning up the corner of his mouth, “Pretty brunette?” 

“Right up your alley, huh?” Frankie grinned, then nudged his friend, “So?”

“Fuck it, why not?” Benny chuckled. 

“Atta boy,” Frankie smacked his shoulder a few times, then started off towards the table. 

“Hey, how’re you two doing tonight?” he asked as he leaned against the table, looking between the two women, who sized him up scrupulously, “Yeah, uh, my name is Frankie, this is my buddy, Benny. Mind if we join you?” 

“Why?” the subject of his desire asked, her big, round eyes searching Frankie’s face. 

“Why?” he raised his eyebrows and chuckled, “Well, because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life. I’d sell my goddamn soul for an opportunity to talk to you—”

“Oh yeah?” she smirked and tilted her head, bringing the tip of her tongue to her top teeth before shrugging, “Prove it.” 

“You—you want it? My soul?” he grinned and leaned closer, “It’s yours, beautiful, for the low, low price of this barstool next to you. And maybe, if you’re feeling generous, a dance later?”

“That’s a hell of a deal,” she raised her eyebrows and joked, “For you, I mean.”

“Oh yeah?” he laughed, “What if I throw in a sweetener? I’ll buy your drinks, too, how’s that sound?” 

She scrunched her face up in contemplation, then smiled, “Deal.”

“Yeah?” Frankie beamed, extending his hand to her, and as she took it, he grazed his thumb against her soft skin, “What’s your name?”

“Angie,” she answered, eyebrow quirking as she told him, “This doesn’t mean you’re taking me home tonight, though.”

“Noted,” he smirked, dropping his eyes to her lips, before meeting her gaze, “So what’re you drinking?”

He woke up the next morning in his bed, head spinning, stomach clenching. 

Before opening his eyes, he tried to recount the night, following the path of breadcrumbs his memory allowed him. Meeting Angie, taking shots, flirting with her relentlessly, more drinks, dancing with her. Kissing her on the dance floor. The sidewalk slabs uneven beneath his feet on the walk back to his apartment. A woman’s razor sharp giggle as he fumbled to unlock the door. 

The mattress shifted beside him and he cracked one eyelid open tentatively, releasing a sigh of relief when he recognized Angie as the person tangled up in his sheets. Traces of the previous night’s makeup still held in tact on her face, oily pools gathering in the soft wrinkles of her forehead and eyes, black mascara clinging to her lashes in clumps and flaking onto her cheeks, a faint red outline where her lipstick was before he kissed it off of her. He rolled on his side towards her and brushed some of the sweat-dampened hair from her forehead. 

She hummed and frowned, then took a deep, wakeful breath as her eyes blinked open. They were stunning in the light. Golden streaks like sunbeams stretching from the middle of her iris into a deep, rich brown. 

“Oh, fuck,” she murmured, “We fucked, didn’t we?”

“That’s what it’s looking like,” he smirked, “How’re you feeling?”

She groaned and pinched the bridge of her button nose, “Still drunk.”

“Regret this yet?” he chuckled, half-joking, half-wondering. 

“Having sex with a stranger? Yeah, I’m having some regrets,” she scoffed, shaking her head, then threw her hand down at her side. She sighed and studied his face, “You’re cute, though. Kind of wish I could remember it.”

“Ditto,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with a shrug, “You know, we could have a do-over. Since we’re already here and regretting it. You could… let me have another chance to, ya know, make a lasting impression.” 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” her dark eyebrow arched. A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. She brought her long, red fingernails to his hairline and combed them through his bed head. 

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded, dropping his gaze to her lips, “Plus, that way, when this hangover inevitably kills me, I’ll die a happy man.” 

“Is that right?” she giggled. The sound made his heart sing in harmony. 

“That’s right,” he reached out to her under the covers, smoothing his hands along her soft skin, coaxing her closer as he murmured, “What do you think, princesa, hmm?”

“I think,” she wriggled on top of him, the sticky heat of her naked body clinging to his, “I could give you a fighting chance.“

She hovered over him, meeting his eyes for an intoxicating moment before he pulled her lips to his. From there, it was full throttle. Kissing, biting, gasping, moaning. Torrid, frenzied movements that burned bright and hot. 

Their relationship took off at break-neck speed. 

From that day onward, they were doing nightly sleepovers at each others’ apartments. Every free moment spent with the other, most often spent drinking or fucking. Six days into their relationship, Frankie got a text from some girl he was casually seeing. Angie read it when he was out of the room, then confronted him, resulting in their first drunk screaming match, and, subsequently, their first instance of drunk make-up sex. 

She worked at a global manufacturing plant’s central office with hundreds of other carpet-walkers and pencil-pushers as a financial analyst. Her hours often ran long and wound her up tight. 

When she would show up at Frankie’s apartment after work, she’d be ready to burst. He’d fix her a drink and listen to her bitch about coworkers and projects and idiots who used reply all instead of reply, waiting for her to ask him anything about his day. She never seemed all that curious about him, though, which irked him. 

They did have fun together, when they had sex and went out to bars, but by the end of the second month, he found her presence to be draining. That bug of discontentment wriggled beneath his skin. He realized they had little in common aside from their coping mechanisms and combustibility. 

He started to think about breaking things off with Angie, but, by then, it was too late. 

“Who would like to go next?” David asks, glancing around the circle of metal folding chairs and their scattered occupants. 

Frankie meets his eyes and points his index finger at the ceiling. 

“Floor’s yours, Frankie.” 

“Thanks,” Frankie nodded and crossed his arms, sitting back in the squeaky chair, “Growing up, my dad wasn’t around much,” his mouth opens, but a thought occurs to him and he chuckles, shaking his head, “There’s one for the AA Meeting Bingo Card, huh?” 

This actually earns a few amused grins and a snort of laughter from his peers. 

He leans forward, pressing his elbows into his knees with a shrug, “Anyway. Even when he was living with us, whenever I did see him, he had a beer in his hand. And I thought it was normal, like everyone’s dad went to the bar every night, so I didn’t think much of it. I’m not sure when that changed. When I started to notice, I mean, that it wasn’t normal.

“When I’d go to my friend’s house, I thought they were… I dunno, fucking weird? Because they sat around the dinner table and talked to each other while they ate. And—and they didn’t seem afraid of their dad. Like, they didn’t have to walk on eggshells when he was around, which made me… uncomfortable, I guess,” he grimaces and shakes his head, “Jesus Christ, that’s fucked up. But, anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that, to me, my dad’s behavior was normal. 

“There would be times when he would come home and be three sheets to the goddamn wind, and he’d yell and throw shit, and my ma, she would lock me in my bedroom and tell me not to come out. Said my dad wasn’t feeling well,” he crinkles his nose and shrugs, “They split when I was twelve. And I don’t blame her for leaving him, I really don’t, but… I didn’t see him again until I got out of basic.”

He stops and leans back, taps his fingers on his kneecaps, then crosses his arms. A knot tightens in his throat when he remembers that day. Knocking on the door of his dad’s shitty apartment in Orlando. When it swung open, Frankie barely recognized him. 

Seven years left to his own devices aged him decades. Deep wrinkles carved into his droopy forehead. His nose and cheeks were darkened and bumpy, like he had a pubescent case of acne. He looked Frankie over with glossy, barely-there eyes and slurred, “There’s my boy! Hey, come in, Francisco, come in!”

Frankie’s stomach soured when the words hit his face, thick and swollen with whiskey. A warning signal that laid dormant in his veins for years reawakened, gushing hot and electric beneath his staticky skin. 

His father turned and started waddling into the apartment, so Frankie followed him, closing the door left wide open behind him. The apartment was threadbare. A dingy beige couch sat on one side of the living room, facing a small antennaed tv propped up on a milk crate. Some blonde news anchor chattered on the tv, but the gurgling buzz of the air conditioning unit effectively muted her. In lieu of a proper dining room setup, his father had a folding chair tucked into a card table, which was cluttered by piles of unopened envelopes and empty beer cans.

While the stranger pulled two beer cans out of his fridge, Frankie managed to stitch some words together, “So, how’ve you been, Dad?”

He didn’t seem to hear his question, just held one aluminum can across the countertop to his son, “You’re a real man now, huh? Have a beer with me, Francisco.” 

Frankie took a few steps forward and went to lean onto the counter, but decided against it when he realized how sticky the surface was. He accepted the beer and opened it. 

“It’s been too long, my boy, too long. What has it been, four years?”

“Seven,” Frankie corrected, averting his gaze to a tower of dirty dishes emerging from cloudy, gray water in the sink. The wet, bacterial, rotting stench made his nose crinkle. 

“Ah, well. I’m, well…” he trailed off and swallowed three big gulps of beer, then grinned, “So, Special Forces, huh?”  

“Yeah, I—”

“I’m proud of you, Francisco.” 

Frankie’s head jerked backwards and he met his dad’s dark eyes, “Wh-what?” 

“Takes discipline,” he responded, nodding, “I’m proud of you. Your mom, she did a good job with you.”

And he wanted to say a million different things. He wanted to say thank you and I love you and I forgive you and I hate you and fuck you. He wanted to yell: No thanks to you, you drunk old bastard. You woman-beating fucking coward. A different part of him wanted to cry: Why did you abandon me? Why wasn’t I good enough? Am I good enough now?

But when he licked his lips and opened his mouth to respond, his dad shuffled off into the sad living room, changing the subject. 

Frankie shakes his head and sighs, then looks around the room, “When Angie got pregnant, I vowed I’d never be like him. I—I wanted to be there for my kid, to be better than he was to me, and give my child a better life than I had. 

“Ang and I don’t always, um… see eye-to-eye. We have our problems. I’m trying to make it work, but I’m just so,” the word catches in his throat and burns behind his eyes. He takes a deep breath, swallows, and admits, “I’m so scared it’s not going to work. And Ang will take her. And I’ll end up just like him.”

He clears his throat, then takes another wide, cleansing breath before starting again.

“The only things I’ve ever been any good at are being a soldier and being a dad,” he says, staring at the floor, “It’s hard enough only seeing her a few times a week right now. I fucking hate it. I hate not being there when she wakes up in the middle of the night with a nightmare, and not watching Happy Feet with her twice a day, and not cuddling on the couch with her in the morning,” his stomach clenches and he feels a swell of tears starting behind his eyes, but continues, “The only thing getting me through this right now is knowing that it’s temporary. But if it doesn’t work with Angie, and I lose Sarah, I lose fucking everything. And I—I fucking can’t do that. I won’t.”

Frankie buries his face in his hands and feels a sob bubble up his throat. The echo of his crying returns to his ears and he becomes acutely aware of the other people in the room. That hardened part of his brain scolds him, growling at him to fucking get it together. He pushes the chair out behind him and keeps his head down as he walks out of the room, muttering, “I need a minute.”

When your shitty old car pulls into the hotel parking lot, Frankie is still outside pacing, trying to gather the courage to go back inside and face the group. 

He breathes a sigh of relief and starts towards it. You furrow your brow at him through your cracked windshield. When he opens the car door and sits down, you ask, “Why aren’t you in there?”

“It’s fine,” he frowns and pulls his seatbelt over his chest, locking it in place, “Got out early.”

You narrow your eyes at him, then scoff, “Bullshit. What happened?”

“Nothing—”

“Oh my god, Frankie, come on,” you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, searching his face, “You’re all flustered right now—”

“I am not,” he protests.

“You’re such a liar, you are flus-tered,” you blink at him with authority, raising one eyebrow, “All jittery, and your eyes look red—did you cry? Is that it?”

It’s irritating how well you know him. 

He rolls his eyes and looks out the window, muttering against his fingers, “Can we just go?”

“It’s ok, you know, to cry,” you say quietly. 

His leg starts bouncing and his jaw gnashes from one side to the other.

Like you’re one to talk. 

Like you don’t go out of your way to hide from him every time tears pool in your eyes. 

“Hey,” you coo and tug on his hand. He lets you take it, interlacing his fingers with yours. The contact makes his heart skip a beat. When he looks over at you, your brows are threaded together, earnest eyes searching his face, “You’re not the first person to cry in AA, I promise. They’re there to support you. Give them a chance to help.” 

He glances up at the hotel’s exit and sees a few people from the meeting filing out, and shrugs, “It’s over now, anyways.”’

“Did you get your paper signed?” 

“No.”

“C’mon, at least get credit for your work,” you smirk, squeezing his hand, “I’m sure they’ll understand why you left.” 

He groans and scrubs a hand over his face, “Fine.” 

“Atta boy,” you grin, “Do you want me to come with or do you got this?”

“I got this,” he flashes a weak smile, and has to hold himself back from bringing the back of your hand to his lips. 

He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the vehicle, nodding at a few familiar faces as he makes his way back into the building to the conference room. 

In the room, a few people are putting away chairs or talking in small, quiet groups. David stands by the snack table, signing off on someone’s attendance form. Frankie lines up behind them and avoids David’s gaze when it’s his turn to hand over the attendance sheet. 

“That was really vulnerable, what you shared with us today,” David tells Frankie as he unfolds the form. 

His nostrils flare and he scoffs, “I thought I was supposed to share things.”

David frowns as he signs off on the paper, shaking his head, “It’s a compliment. Being vulnerable is good, and I appreciate your vulnerability.” 

“Oh,” Frankie shifts his weight to one leg and frowns, “Thanks.” 

“Yeah, of course,” David hands the form back, and when Frankie takes it, he can tell David is gearing up to say more. His face grows more solemn. He pushes the wire frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose and says, “I know how conflicting it is being an alcoholic father with an alcoholic father. It’s hard to know if you’re doing the right thing. Being apart from them is hell, even if it’s when you’re doing something to make yourself better. I just wanted to let you know that I get it.” 

Frankie nods, searching the man’s face, “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” David flashes a polite smile, then turns to the snack table and starts picking things up. 

When the two of you get home, Frankie goes into your bedroom to haul the TV back to its normal spot in the living room. 

He finds himself lingering at the foot of the bed, staring at the side he slept in last night. At the covers, still drawn back from when he woke for work this morning. At the stuffed panda bear you set in his place at some point today. 

My place. 

He needs to stop thinking like that. It’s not his place. It can’t be his place. 

Not permanently, anyway. 

Part of him feels guilty for not leaving once you fell asleep. Staying was pure self-indulgence, no matter how many times he tries to convince himself it was for your benefit. 

It can’t become a habit. 

But all weekend he wanted to hold you. To feel your beating heart and shallow, wheezy breath against his body. Proof that you were still here, after seeing you gasping for air, lips tinged blue, eyes wide with fear. 

In his life, he’s faced a lot of scary and uncertain situations. Situations that threatened his own life and that of people he cares about. But this… this was different. At least in combat scenarios, he had training and experience to guide him. 

This weekend he felt powerless. 

If he had to quantify the terror, he was at maximum capacity. Never been so fucking afraid in his life. He felt so helpless, he folded his hands and bowed his head at your hospital bedside, reaching out to something or someone in hushed whispers, pleading for your recovery. 

So, no, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone in your bed last night. Not when you fell asleep in his arms, your head on his chest, curled up at his side. 

The answer to his prayers. 

When he was sure you were sleeping, he pressed his lips to your forehead and told you what he’s only barely been able to admit to himself. 

In a million different ways, I’ve always loved you.

It was indulgent. Undisciplined. 

But mostly, it was a relief. 

Even if his words fell on your sleeping ears. 

Even if he can probably never tell you again. 

With a heavy sigh, he follows the TV’s power cord to the wall and unplugs it. He freezes when he spots something on the floor next to your dresser. You cough at the other end of the house, and he glances over his shoulder just to make sure you’re not around before he picks it up. 

A pile of soft teal lace. Your underwear. 

He brings them to his nose and inhales, the familiar scent inspiring a deep, heated churn at the base of his spine. Without another thought, he shoves them in the front pocket of his jeans, then unplugs the TV. 

Frankie settles on the couch with a groan, then glances over to where you’re curled up into a little ball and asks, “Were you able to get some rest today?”

You nod and your mouth stretches into a yawn, then you murmur, “Still kind of feel like shit, though. Hopefully it’s better by Wednesday.”

“Oh yeah, how’re your kids doing?” 

“Marla said they’re doing better, getting back to their normal selves. Em’s going back to school tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” he leans back and spreads out in his corner of the couch, “You like it, working for them?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “They’re sweet kids. Whole different vibe than Sarah, though,” you glance at him and chuckle, “Don’t tell anybody, but she was my favorite.” 

A grin stretches across Frankie’s face. He presses his fingertips to his lips and looks over at you, “She is pretty great, huh?” 

“The best,” you agree, a wistful smile playing on your lips, “I hope that when I, um,“ you falter here, smile dropping. You clear your throat and shake your head, “Sorry, I lost my train of thought. Are you guys doing anything fun tomorrow?”

“Not sure yet. Angie, um… yeah, I don’t know,” he frowns at his knee as it starts to bounce, “She’s pissed at me. So probably, you know, dealing with that.”

“Because you skipped out on Saturday?”

He nods, and when you don’t say anything, he glances over at you, “It’s fine, though, she’ll get over it.”

“Sure,” you smirk, raising an eyebrow, “Have things been going ok outside of that?”

“Aside from the alcoholism, my pending felony, and the fact that I’m living with another woman?” he snorts, “Things are going great.” 

“Don’t forget the affair,” you tease. 

“Mmm, you mean the isolated incident?” he corrects, rolling his head on his shoulders to look at you. 

You scoff and shake your head, “Wow. Yeah, isolated. Sure. Just a mistake, right?” 

He searches your face, watching your eyes go dim and your jaw clench, and furrows his brow, “N-no, that’s not—“

You clamp your lips closed with your teeth, like you’re holding yourself back, then open your mouth anyway, “That’s what you tell her, though, right?” you blink, “It was a mistake, it meant nothing to you, it’ll never happen again, blah blah blah?”

His jaw hangs slack and throat croaks as he tries to yield some kind of truth that will both spare your feelings and help him evade scrutiny, “I’m—sorry.”

It’s all he can come up with. 

You roll your eyes and sigh, then mutter, “Whatever,” before turning your attention back to the TV. 

The silence that settles is tense. It writhes beneath his skin and trickles into his stomach, twisting it into knots. 

You start to wriggle in your seat, like it’s bothering you, too. He can feel a jagged energy rolling off your body, and, predictably, you break. 

“If you ever want things to actually work with her, you’re going to have to come clean,” you huff, then glare at him, “You know that right? That you can’t just lie to her forever? There’s no way she fucking believes you.”

Frankie sighs, picking his hat off his head to run a hand through his hair, “Can we not?”

“Sure, we can just not,” you snip and sit up straight, crossing your arms across your chest, “We can just pretend things are cool and groovy and you can get your life back and I can fuck off into oblivion.” 

“Jesus Christ—”

“Well, fuck, that’s what you want, right, Frankie?” you stare at him, “You’ll be nice to me while you’re here, and cuddle with me, and hold my hand, and what the fuck ever, but when this arrangement is over, then what?”

“I don’t fucking know, ok?!” he snaps, then stands and starts pacing the living room, shaking his head, “I don’t know if—if I’m going to fucking prison, or if I’m going to lose my job, or if my wife will fucking divorce me and take my daughter away—”

Frankie stops and turns away from you, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. A few quiet seconds go by as he gathers himself and wrangles the burgeoning tears back into his skull. When he turns back around, he throws his hands out at his side, then lets them fall loose, “I don’t know what anything will look like after this,” he meets your glossy eyes, all wide and pained, and tells you in a hoarse, shaky voice, “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a fucking asshole to you for so long. I lied to you. I pushed you away. I fucking—I fucking hurt you and I understand that.”

He takes a few steps forward. Your eyes, pooling with tears, stay glued his, following seamlessly when he crouches down in front of you and pleads, “I’m trying to be better, I swear to god I’m fucking trying. I—I care about you a lot. And I’m sorry I can’t give you a better answer for what you and me will look like after this ‘situation’ is over with, because I have no fucking clue what anything will look like.” 

You swallow hard and nod, then drop your gaze as your face crumbles. A sob bubbles up your throat and quickly devolves into a coughing fit. 

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters, glancing around. He spots your inhaler on the coffee table and hands it to you, “Need this?”

You take it and inhale a few puffs of albuterol. When your breathing evens out, blink the tears from your eyes and croak out, “Sorry.” 

He reaches up and smudges a fat, swollen tear on your cheek with his thumb, “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

A pained expression crosses your face. You lean away from his touch, so he sits down beside you as you exhale a thick sigh and look around the room.

“I understand why you wouldn’t tell Angie everything. I just—” one of your cheeks pulls in like you’re gnawing at the inside. You release it and tell him, “I just hate the idea of you saying we were a mistake. I don’t know. Is that dumb?” 

Your eyes flick to his and they’re so sincere, his stomach flips upside down. He shakes his head, “No, that’s not dumb.” 

“Ok,” you sniffle, nodding as you look at the TV, “Ok.”

A minute goes by, each second amplifying the buzz beneath his skin. He looks over and realizes you’re squished against the armrest of the couch, curled up in a tense knot of limbs, brow furrowed, biting at your lip. 

“Hey,” he coos, beckoning you closer, “Come here.”

You give him this kind of pathetic, kind of cute pout, but accept the invitation. As he wraps an arm around your shoulders, you drape your legs across his lap, rest your head in the crook of his neck. He lays his cheek on the crown of your head and tucks you into an embrace. 

Maybe it’s one-sided, but Frankie feels heat humming between your bodies. 

The floral, minty scent of your hair, mixing with the musk of your soft skin, all dewy from humidity. Your breath rolling hot across the column of his throat. 

You wriggle closer, and the weight of your body settles between his legs. Presses firm down on his half-hard cock. 

His insides twist with a nagging, all-consuming want. The kind that usually fogs his brain when he thinks about booze. It claws at him like an animal caged within his ribs. Teeth bared, ferocious, growing: I need her I need her I need her

In the same cadence it always howls: I need a drink I need a drink I need a drink

The tips of his fingers scrape against your shoulder. A little whimper sneaks out your throat and drips down his spine. Your muscles shift and he can feel your lips hovering over his thudding pulse. 

This is dangerous. This is a line. A tightrope teetering beneath the soles of his feet. 

You breathe his name and it grazes his neck. His body surges with desire, cock throbbing, and he’s unable to stop the whine that croaks out his lips. 

He looks down at you, meeting your darkened, heavy-lidded gaze. You study each other, but neither of you move, despite the palpable current of electricity between you. 

“I—I should go to bed,” you whisper with little conviction, eyes darting to his mouth.

“It’s still light out,” he says, brushing the back of his hand against your cheek. 

You shiver and your lips part, panting, “I need to clear my head—I’m… not thinking right.”

Frankie imagines you clearing your head in your bedroom with the door closed. Your fingers working between your legs, eyes pinched closed while you flip through the mental catalogue of all the times he’s fucked you. 

“Can I come with you?” he asks, voice ragged, “I won’t—I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

You search his face, brows pushing together, and nod. 

This is stupid. 

You both know it. 

But he follows you to your room and closes the door behind him. 

Sinks into your bed as you lay out on the other side. 

You start slow, hands roaming the curves of your body. Over your tight tank top, no bra underneath, just the clear outline of your nipples. Along the middle of those little cotton sleep shorts he likes so much. 

He keeps his distance, blood pounding thick in his skull, as you ruck your shirt up your chest and roll a hardened bud between your fingers. You whimper and bite down on your bottom lip, eyes locking to his as your other hand slips beneath the waistband of your shorts. 

In his periphery, he can see the outline of your wrist flicking under the fabric, but he can’t part his eyes from yours. It’s entrancing. Your mouth opens in a moan, lips pouting out into a whimper as you start to gain traction. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans, pushing his palm against his swollen length trapped within the confines of his jeans, begging for attention. He unbuckles his belt and tugs his pants off. At the same time, you pull your shorts down. Some sort of silent trade agreement.

Frankie wraps his hand around his cock and drags his grip down, pulling the sensitive, aching skin taught. His palm is dry and rough as he starts to rut up and down, but the friction gives his touch an edge that makes him shiver. 

You’re watching him do this while you trail your fingertips along the shiny ridges of your sex. Saliva pools in his mouth when he remembers what you taste like. Imagines his tongue tracing the soft folds of you.

Your hips buck and you whimper when you touch your clit. You roll the pads of your fingers against the engorged bundle of nerves, eyelids fluttering as you work yourself. 

You both find a steady rhythm, panting and whining, glancing between each other's legs, hands, eyes. The increasingly frantic movements make your bed squeak. 

The two of you are so lost in the haze of pleasure, Frankie knows either of you could suggest physical contact between your bodies and the other would immediately say yes, but this fucked up little loophole has you both blissfully dangling on the precipice. 

He’s trying to keep his commentary to a minimum, but you’re driving him fucking crazy. 

Your blown-out pupils watching him fuck his hand. The sheen of sweat lacing your skin. A thick, gleaming layer of arousal coating your pussy and fingers. He wants to lick it off of you, taste you, drive his cock inside you and feel that divine squeeze. 

As his heartbeat starts to gallop and the fire in his belly laps its way up his spine, he pants, “You’re so fucking hot, holy shit—do you like this? Like me watching you get off?”

“Yes,” you gasp, meeting his gaze, working yourself faster, “I do, Frankie, I like it.”

His name on your lips is like an electric jolt to his insides. He groans, “Say my name again.”

“Frankie,” you whimper. 

A wave of heat washes over him, “Fuck yes, that’s so fucking good, baby—say it again—”

“Frankie,” you moan, sinking two fingers into your cunt, a sick wet sound squelching out as you start to fuck yourself. 

“Such a good girl, holy fuck, that’s it,” he grunts, pumping himself faster, lightning churning in his belly, “Gonna make yourself cum, sweet girl?”

You nod feverishly, face pinched up with pleasure, hips arching into your touch, “Frankie—fuck fuck fuck—”

“There we go, baby, you can do it,” he rasps, and watches as your movements come to a fever pitch, then your body starts to shudder and you belt out this strangled moan that pushes him over the edge. 

Pleasure ripples through him and he grinds his fist down a few more times, pulsing his load all over his hand, across the bedding, a few splatters reaching your hip. He groans and slows.

His muscles start to melt. He throws his head back into the pillow, then rolls his head on his shoulders to look at you. 

Your chest is heaving and you’re all blissed out, a hazy smile on your lips. 

“You’re not gonna freak out, now, are you?” he pants, searching your face. He reaches over and gives you a playful poke to show he’s only half-joking. 

You meet his eyes smirking for a beat before you chuckle, “I don’t think so, but—could you get my, umm—inhaler?”

“Yeah,” he nods and rolls off the bed. 

When Frankie returns, you’re pulling your shirt down over your tits and propping yourself up on some pillows. 

“Thanks,” you murmur, then take it from him and inhale a few puffs. 

“You ok?” he asks as he rolls onto the bed next to you, wrestling a pillow under his chest. 

A coy smile plays on your lips when you glance over at him, shaking your head, “This was really dumb.”

He chuckles and shrugs, “Probably.” 

“Fuck,” you giggle, burying your face in your hands, “Frankie, why did we do that?”

“Because we’re big dumb idiots?” he laughs. 

“Speak for yourself,” you snort, curling up on your side to face him. 

“Sure, yeah, of course. You’re super smart,” he teases, pointing between him and you, “This is definitely something that smart people do.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you push his shoulder weakly. After a few moments of comfortable silence, you say, “We’re never going to speak of this again, are we?” 

He opens his mouth to make a joke and attempt to sweep it all under the rug, but stops when he realizes it probably warrants a conversation. 

“Do—is that what you wanna do?” he asks instead, stammering, “Because we can, you know, talk about it if you want to.“

“I don’t know what I want,” you sigh, your face folding into a thoughtful expression. A few moments pass, then your eyebrows shoot up and you look at him, “Ok, this is a weird time to ask this, but, I meant to ask you earlier and forgot.”

He nods, “Shoot.”

“My sister is getting married over Labor Day weekend, and because I’m her bridesmaid and family and blah blah blah, she wants me to go stay out there for the week, and umm, I don’t know how that works with your parole and stuff—”

“Do you want me to ask Ralph tomorrow?” 

“Well, yeah,” you meet his eyes, “But—but also, can you come with me?”

It takes a moment for Frankie to register the question, and when he understands, his mind starts whirring with uncertainty. Angie. Court. Ralph. Sarah. Prison. 

“Not, like, as my date or whatever,” you add, waving your hand around nervously as you explain, “I just–I haven’t been home in years because my family is the worst and I—” you sigh, face pinching up as you admit, “I could use a friend.” 

That makes up his mind. 

“Yeah,” he answers, “Yeah, as long as I’m not in fucking jail by then, I’ll make it work. Let me… let me talk to work and Ralph, see what I can do.” 

You give him a restrained smile and say, “Thank you.” 

After the two of you decide to get dressed and watch a movie, he goes into his bedroom to change into a pair of basketball shorts, while you supervise a packet of popcorn in the microwave. Giving his closed door a quick glance, he pulls the bundle of soft teal lace out of his pocket and opens a dresser drawer to tuck them away, but pauses when his thumb grazes something damp. 

His brows furrow, then shoot up as he unfolds the underwear and recognizes the slick substance coating them. He brings the fabric to his nose and inhales, confirming his suspicion. 

You must have noticed them when he was getting your inhaler. And rather than taking the panties back, or saying anything to him, you cleaned your arousal off and replaced them. 

He grins at the present, because that’s what it is, really, then shoves the lace into his dresser drawer. 

“Daddy, look, that’s Mumble,” Sarah tells Frankie, pointing one chubby, blueberry-stained finger at a plastic baby emperor penguin. 

Her collection of penguins is lined up on the edge of the dining room table, in order of smallest to biggest. She wriggles around on his lap, looking up at him with those big brown eyes, waiting for acknowledgement. 

“That one does look like Mumble,” he agrees emphatically, “What kind of penguin is he?” 

“A empreror penguin!” she beams, throwing her hands in the air. 

“That’s right,” he chuckles, “An emperor penguin! How many penguins do you have?”

Sarah’s eyes light up at the exciting new challenge, and she turns her attention to the plastic figurine lineup, counting each one out loud. 

Frankie glances across the table at Angie. She‘s glaring out the window, her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Ang,” he rumbles, but she doesn’t respond. A hot wave of frustration weaves through his muscles and pulls them taught. His nostrils flare and he shakes his head, muttering, “Whatever.”

The dining room chair scrapes against the floor as she pushes it out and stomps out of the room, down the stairs like a petulant child. 

Sarah stops counting and tells him, “Mommy’s mad.”

He chuckles softly at this and nods, “Yeah, I think so. I’m gonna go talk to her, ok, sweetie?”

Sarah resumes her counting when Frankie stands and sets her in the chair. He finds Angie in the laundry room, folding clothes with sharp, agitated movements. 

“Can we talk about this?” he asks. She doesn’t acknowledge him, so he continues, “Angelica. Come on. You haven’t said a word to me since I texted you on Saturday. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

“The fact that you don’t know what’s wrong is exactly what’s fucking wrong, Francisco,” she growls.

He sighs and steps closer, leaning one hip against the washer, “As much as I would love to be able to, I can’t read your mind. So if you could help me out, maybe give me a clue—”

“Do you need me to spell it out for you?” she snaps, tossing the small pink t-shirt in her hands into a laundry basket.

His head jerks back and he scoffs, “Sure.”

“You passed up time with your wife and daughter to be with your fucking mistress,” she blinks, then throws her hands up in the air, “Is it really so fucking inconceivable that I’m mad about that?” 

“First of all, she’s not my mistress,” Frankie asserts, crossing his arms, “Second, she almost fucking died, Ang, I couldn’t just leave her alone in the hospital.” 

“So, what, she didn’t have anyone else that could come sit with her in the hospital?” Angie snorts, raising an eyebrow, “I was about to say she’s a grown woman, she can take care of herself, but,” she sucks on her teeth and flashes him a faux sympathetic smile, “That’s barely true, isn’t it?”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, then stares at her, “You know that’s not true, and—and no, ok? She didn’t have anyone else to sit at the hospital with her. None of her family made it out, she doesn’t have any friends. Her boyfriend didn’t even come to visit, so,” he pushes off the washing machine and pinches the bridge of his nose, then drops his hand and lies, “I felt fucking bad for her, that’s all. She couldn’t breathe and was all sick and shit, and nobody cared enough to visit her. It was, I don’t know, it was sad and I felt shitty about leaving.”

She seems to consider this, then gives a little shrug, “That is kind of sad.”

He nods, searching her face, dark eyebrows all scrunched together in contemplation. 

“She has a boyfriend?”

He nods, “Yeah. They’ve been together for a while.”

Not exactly a lie, but he can tell a little truth stretching will bring this conversation to a more comfortable place. 

“I missed you,” he says in a pleading tone, meeting her eyes, hoping she buys it. 

She sighs, “I missed you too.”

The glint in her eyes tells him it’s safe to approach, so he does. He presses his lips against her forehead, closing his eyes as he murmurs, “I love you.”

When Frankie gets home, you and Rory are sitting on the couch watching a movie together. His arm is draped over your shoulders and you’re huddled in his lap, head on his chest. 

It reminds him of how the two of you are when no one else is around. 

His blood pressure spikes and heats his veins. You perk up as you notice him, putting space between your body and Rory’s. A nervous smile spreads across your face. He doesn’t return the smile, just nods in greeting as he closes the door behind him, “Hey.”

Rory looks him up and down, then turns back to the TV. 

“Hey, how’s it going?” you ask. 

Frankie frowns and shrugs, “Fine. What’re you guys watching?”

Your phone starts ringing before you can answer. You sit up and grab it off the coffee table, muttering, “It’s my sister, I’ll be right back,” then tiptoe through the house to your bedroom, leaving him and Rory alone. 

Frankie steps on the heel of his boot and starts to wriggle his foot free. 

“Hey, man, I wanted to tell you—thanks for looking after her last weekend.”

Frankie glances up at Rory as he kicks one boot off, then the other, “Sure, yeah,” then starts off towards his room. Rory keeps talking, though, so he pauses. 

“When she didn’t respond to me for a day I figured, ya know…” he shrugs, staring at him. 

Frankie frowns and shakes his head, “Figured what?”

“Figured she ran off with you, man,” he chuckles, but his eyes aren’t smiling. They’re studying. 

Frankie snorts and brings his hands to his hips, “What, really?”

Rory stands and saunters over, looking the way you left to make sure you’re still occupied, then tucks his hands in the front of his jean pockets and shrugs again, “Seems like y’all are pretty close. She doesn’t really like to talk about you. Kinda weird for someone who’s supposedly a friend.”

What kind of macho man bullshit is this? Is he… flexing? 

“Yeah, she’s pretty private,” Frankie searches the other man’s face. 

“Y’all ever fuck around?” he asks. 

Frankie jerks his head back and frowns, “Uhh, sorry, what?”

Rory doesn’t say anything, just lets the air between them grow more hostile, flicking his eyes around Frankie’s face like a challenge. One that he’s not fucking interested in taking. Christ, what a fucking mess that would be. 

Frankie scoffs and shakes his head, “No, we don’t fuck around. We’re friends. Ok?” He holds his hands up and tries to soften his face, “So, take it easy, she’s all yours.” 

Rory seems to relax a little, then says, “Alright.”

“Alright,” Frankie chuckles with amusement, “We good?” 

“Yeah,” Rory grins, offering a clenched fist to Frankie, “Sorry, man.” 

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” he bumps knuckles with the meathead and tells him, “You two have a good time, alright?”

Frankie retreats to his room and locks the door behind him. 

Every muscle in his body starts to deflate. 

His thoughts are fuzzy and loud. 

He starts for his bed, but pauses, and turns instead to the dresser, thinking of that teal lace. 

Today is one of those rare July days where it’s not just tolerable to be outside, it’s actually enjoyable. 

A slight breeze rustles the palm fronds above. The sun kisses Frankie’s skin. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of a neighbor’s charcoal grill. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

He cracks an eye open to find you standing over where he’s laying in the hammock and grins innocently, “What?”

“WhAt?” you mock him and snort, but pull up a chair and drop your little wicker basket in its seat, warning, “Ok, well, you’re sharing the hammock, at least.” 

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” he tucks a hand behind his head and watches you roll into the hammock facing him.

You wriggle around for an entire minute, and when he starts to giggle at your restlessness, you whine, “Oh my god, scoot over.”

“Here,” he murmurs, shifting his weight so you lay roughly hip to hip, hooking one arm under your legs, “Better?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. Your body calms. 

Then it’s quiet. 

And the silence isn’t anything but peaceful, really. 

“This is good,” you say eventually. 

He’s not sure what this you’re referring to, but he agrees, “Yeah.”

You point to the sky, “That cloud looks like a gator.”

Frankie squints upward, examining the fluffy cotton balls hanging in the electric blue atmosphere, “That one looks like a cloud.”

A snort erupts from your face and you lay a playful smack on his thigh, “Oh, come on, use your imagination!”

“Ok, let’s see,” he clears his throat and tilts the bill of his hat back to take in more of the view. Then one catches his eye. He points to it, “Butterfly.”

You follow his direction and murmur, “Oh yeah, look at that. Neat.” 

He studies it for a while, watching the two wings tumble and morph as it moves across the sky, until it’s just another nondescript cumulus cloud. Then he turns his attention to the basket you brought outside. 

The hammock wobbles in protest when he sits up and lays it across the middle ground of your bodies. Frankie surveys the contents of the shallow wicker basket: a baguette; a dish of soft, white cheese with a little spatula-like knife sticking out the center; a bowl of red grapes and sliced strawberries; a couple of mandarin oranges. 

He rips off a piece of bread and spreads some cheese across the soft inside, then sits back and takes a bite. You do the same, topping the cheese with some strawberries. As the two of you eat in a content silence, looking up at the sky, Frankie starts to ruminate on the confrontation that is surely lingering on the tip of your tongue. 

Neither of you have dared to mention how you got off together in your bed. Surprisingly, it hasn’t changed the energy between him and you. But he’s found himself wondering if he’s just oblivious and unable to sense your disquiet, like he has in the past. 

And now, since it’s Family Dinner, State of the Union, or whatever Ralph calls it, he braces himself for impact.

“Alright, let me have it,” he says after he finishes his second chunk of bread, nerves getting the best of him, “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

The hammock shifts unsteadily as you sit up and put the basket back on the chair, then you lay back and stretch out, releasing a heavy sigh, “Honestly… I kind of don’t know what to say about it. I—I don’t know. I don’t feel different or have any kind of strong feelings about what happened.”

Frankie hums and looks over at you, watching your serene, skyward face. 

“What about you? How do you feel?” you ask, leveling your gaze with his. 

“I feel… the same,” he answers, frowning, “Like I should have a strong feeling, but I—I just don’t?” 

“Yeah,” you chuckle, shrugging, “Well, I don’t know, should we just… leave it?” 

Relief washes over him and he nods, “I’m ok with that if you are.”

“Ok,” you grin, then look back up at the sky, “Anything else you need to get off your chest?” 

Frankie rifles through his brain, pausing to think about Rory and the odd confrontation that happened the other day. It left a bad taste in his mouth. But, he shakes his head, “No. You?” 

“I can’t think of anything.” 

“Alright,” he inhales the blissful breeze that tickles his sun-warmed skin, then exhales, repeating your earlier sentiment, “This is good.”

[ Next Chapter ]