#When he says “I didn't even draw my knife but it will be said of this day that I slew twenty Sardaukar by my own hand”

[autismmydearwatson]

THAT WAS DUNE???? THAT WAS JUST A QUIRKED UP WHITE BOY DOING SO MANY DRUGS HE BECOMES JESUS

[doestalker]

stab! | choso kamo

summary: there's a serial killer on the loose, you're invited to a halloween party, what could go wrong? spoiler: everything

ghostface!choso, smut, p in v, dub-con, little to no foreplay (sorry), dacryphilia, blood play, knife play, big dick choso, unprotected sex, a lilttle daddy kink, dirty talk, degradation,, choso puts the hot in psychotic basically.

word count: 2.7k

note: english's not my first language, sorry if there are any mistakes :) ౨ৎ this is a collab with my dear friend @nudijsmos

also on ao3

it was a really, really bad decision - going out to a halloween party when there's a serial killer out there, waiting for his new unsuspecting victim? it was a no brainer.

yet, saying no to your friends was worse than that. and that's why you agreed on attending this party in the first place.

your eyes skimmed over the news playing on your tv. a new victim of the ghostface.

ghostface.

his name was all over the news, the papers, the internet, a ghostly white screaming mask, a black cloak and the thirst for blood.

he had already killed 5 people this month, the police says that he stalks them before he goes after them, just for the thrill of the hunt.

fucking psycopath.

you turned off the tv to finish your make up in peace, only the gentle hum of a lana del rey song playing through your speaker was keeping you company inside your dorm.

you were dressed as an angel. what a cliché.

it was the easiest costume you could think of only using your clothes, a white corset, white fishnets and the tiniest white shorts that didn't even cover up half of your ass cheeks. you just had to buy the halo and the wings to match.

-

the alcohol had already started affecting you. you felt like your brain was spinning inside of your skull as you made your way into the upstairs bathroom of the fraternity hosting the party. the first thing you did upon entering was splash your face with cold water from the faucet, then you looked at your reflection.

your make up had barely smudged - thank you, waterproof make up - and your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol. what a mess, you thought.

the party wasn't so bad, but as you expected from the beginning, your friends ditched you the moment you stepped inside the house. so, there you were, alone, dressed in skimpy clothes, in a place full of drunk college students pretending not to fear the figure in black that could attack them any second. you rolled your eyes at the thought.

however, your critical thoughts about your peers were interrupted when someone entered the same bathroom where you were.

"hey, it's occupied," you said, words slurring, your tongue felt heavy on your mouth.

you looked at the intruder through the mirror's reflection. he was dressed as ghostface. you swallowed hard when you saw that white mask staring at you with his head tilted. it was clear that this was someone with a very twisted sense of humour who had dressed up as the killed from the news, even covered himself in fake blood. still, you couldn't help but feel intimidated by that ghostly figure.

"didn't you hear me? it's occupied," you said again. you were about to turn around when the figure grabbed your hair and forced you back into your original position.

you didn't know what to do, you were shocked at the audacity.

the figure shook his head.

"what? you wanna play psycho killer?" you asked with a crooked smile. maybe it was the remaining alcohol in your system, but you weren't against this roleplay.

the figure nodded.

"can i be the helpless victim?" you joked, your voice innocent and airy, looking at with your best doe eyes.

ghostface nodded again.

his hand, still holding your hair, exerted force until you were bent over the counter, your arched back lifting your half-naked ass higher, the smooth white fabric barely covering it making the masked man loose his composure.

the cold air in the room clashing with your bare skin as he got rid of the minimal clothing covering you, drawing a series of gasps from your trembling throat that sounded like music to the mysterious entity controlling you at its whim. lust filled the air, and both of your breaths were connected by the uncontrollable desire within you about what could happen next. how rough would it be, what would the next move be? despite the fear building up inside your stomach, the wet heat running down your thighs encouraged you to continue.

the tearing sound of your fishnets made you shudder, and the cold touch of his blade sent shivers down your spine. the bastard sliced your underwear. now the only thing protecting your bare pussy from his growing bulge was the fabric of his robe and his jeans. his bulge rubbed slowly against you, so slow it was torturous. the friction sending flashes of pleasure to your lower belly. you didn't want him to stop; his rhythm was lascivious enough to make the black fabric even darker with your juices.

the masked man only let out ragged breaths, although his gaze wasn't noticeable in the mirror that was reflecting the vulgar expressions on your face, inside that hood, he was savouring the obscene angle he had you on, your ass shaped like a heart from his point of view.

his gloved fingers forced their way into your mouth without warning, seeking the lubrication your saliva could provide. the combination of the black leather taste and your frothy saliva tingled your taste buds. there was a certain synchronization with the fake thrusts he made into your mouth and the friction against your cunt.

his left hand grabbed your hair and pulled hard so you could see yourself better when he caressed your pussy lips with his lubed fingers, playing with your folds, feeling how they got wetter with those sweet juices you were leaking. your mouth gaped when you felt his fingers entering your cunt so slowly it was almost cruel, making you lose the little sanity left in you. it didn't take much time until he was drilling his digits inside your gummy walls.

your whimpers were getting louder, but you were sure that the music blasting outside the bathroom was muffling the lewd sounds escaping from your mouth, so you let yourself loosen up, you were getting fingered by a stranger after all, and one dressed up as a serial killer.

the voice modifier inside his mask wasn't picking up his deep sighs, but now it was, morphing his grunts into a robotic voice. he tilted his head again, staring at your face enjoying his fingers abusing your cervix, if only you could see how his eyes darkened.

the thrusts of his fingers stopped after a few minutes, then without warning, he found his way inside you again, this time with his length. you felt your insides burn, not able to take the ridiculous size of his cock, falling apart in front of him.

"look at you, doll. who would've thought that you'd get so turned on being like this," he grunted out of breath, taking your cries as encouragement as he began the abrupt sway of his hips against your ass cheeks.

"i'm gonna show you how you're made for me, how this pussy's only made for my big fucking cock and only for my cock. you filthy little slut."

you weren't used to his moves; any trace of vanilla had disappeared the moment he exercised that cruel power over your figure. your voice was so worn out that you couldn't form a straight answer, limiting yourself to just whine and moan just like he described, like a filthy slut. he was a vulgar and obscene entity that just released your deepest and darkest desires with just the sound of his modified voice and the thrusts of his hips.

your eyelids were starting to feel heavy; you couldn't help but close your eye por a second, which earned you a hard slap on your ass-cheek that would most likely leave a mark. "don't close your eyes. look at yourself. look how much of a whore you're being to a complete stranger. what would your boyfriend say? would he like to know that a killer is filling up his girl?"

you shook your head. "no boyfriend," was the only thing you could manage to reply, your brain beginning to shut down from so much brutality and overstimulation.

"really now? then, nothing could stop me from doing this," he said, and the next thing you felt apart from his big dick inside of you, was the sharp blade on his hand piercing its way into your soft skin. the pain of his weapon cutting on the flesh of your ass mixed with the pleasure of his thrusts, melting your brain away until there was nothing left but your incoherent babbling from those emotions blending together.

his hand caressed the fresh wound before traveling to your chest, pulling down the top of your corset and staining both the fabric and your tits crimson red. the hunting knife went up to your neck and rested on your jugular, his thrusts began to speed up and you thought you could die from the way his tip was bullying your sweet spot.

a subtle bulge started to form on your lower belly, you could see through the mirror how his length reaching places no other dick had explored before.

"fuck, just look at you, you're such a mess," his groans, still robotic and modified, sounded animalistic. "i'm gonna ruin you. gonna make you cum so hard, no one other than me will fuck you this good. there's no dick out there that could abuse you like this."

your head was spinning. you were all over the place. the overstimulation and his dirty talk that sounded like a threat were bubbling up the white heat on your lower abdomen that you were oh so desperate for.

"gonna make you mine, gonna fill you up."

your body was hitting against the cold bathroom counter and your gaze showed both pleasure and fear, despite currently getting the fuck of your life, you were still uncertain of making it out alive.

you watched as his hand grabbed his mask and took off the plastic material that was keeping you from knowing who was fucking you. it wasn't enough to say he was the most attractive man you'd ever seen in your life.

straight, shoulder-length hair, tired eyes surrounded by violet shadows that revealed sleepless nights, and a striking tattoo running across his cheeks and nose bridge. his porcelain-like skin couldn't hide the rosy flush that softened his otherwise sharp and intimidating features.

his lips curled into a crooked smirk when your whines stopped upon seeing his face. "like what you see, angel?"

the deepness of his voice shook you to your core and made you weak in the knees. he didn't give you time to reply the obvious yes! your brain wanted to scream, he just grabbed your hair and pulled you into a filthy kiss, all spit and teeth and fighting tongues. you let out a tiny mewl when his teeth bit hard on your lower lip, so hard it left you with a metalic taste after he broke away from the kiss, only a thin thread of pink-ish saliva connecting your mouths.

"couldn't help myself, just want to devour those lips."

you felt like your insides were being abused by his length like you were just a toy, your belly already feeling full of him even though he was giving you lazy half-thrusts, the few moments when he decided to punish you and thrust in full made you dizzy. through the mirror, you could notice his gaze fixated on the way his cock disappeared into your warm pussy.

his hands hovered over the end of your waist, drawing invisible lines along the curves of your hips, while the most vulgar and purely depraved words were leaving those rosy, plump lips of his. you watched as his eyes rolled back into his skull whenever your pussy clenched and tightened around his cock when something he said was a little too dirty, and the way he trusted back with mouth-watering force made your eyes roll too.

you were 100% sure that the people outside the bathroom were hearing your moans now, but you couldn't help it, you were approaching your long-awaited orgasm, and you felt the white heat on your lower abdomen start to bubble up and send electricity through your nervous system. your walls were hugging his cock so tight, as if your pussy didn't want to let him go now that you were about to cum.

"fuck, look at you, you're practically swallowing me," groaned the stranger.

"'m gonna cum," you whined, furrowing your brows, focusing on getting over the edge of your climax.

he leaned over you, pressing his clothed chest to your back, he was looking into your eyes through the mirror, a wicked smirk on his face.

"yeah? gonna cum on my cock?" he mumbled into your ear, hot breath caressing your ear. when his only answer was a strangled moan, his hand grabbed you by the crown of your hair, the new angle was pushing you even more to the edge. "answer, slut, you gonna come on daddy's cock? you gonna be m'lil whore and let daddy cum inside you?"

you nodded your head, the best you could with his hard grip on your hair. "yeah, daddy, want you t'cum in me, please fill my pussy, daddy," you whimpered, almost sobbed, begging for your release.

"then cum f'me, angel."

that moment didn't take long, a couple more thrusts into you and that was it, his seed was filling you up, and at the same time, yours was coating his length, both fluids mixing inside of you, spilling out and running down your thighs. the proof of your affair staining your shorts and dripping on the floor.

then, the stranger pulled out and, without saying anything, started to zip his jeans and put on the mask again. you stopped him, not even bothering to pull up your shorts.

"what's your name?" you asked.

you didn't want to lose the opportunity of seeing him again, mind-blowing fuck or not, he was beautiful and your still-foggy mind thought he looked familiar. besides, he must go to the same college as you, given it was a frat party.

he just shook his head, a smirk still intact on his handsome face. he put on his mask and softly grabbed your face by the chin.

"ghostface."

you rolled your eyes at his joke. "well, mr. ghostface, will i ever see you again?"

his hand left your chin to travel to the loose strand of hair over your forehead, tucking it back behind your ear. "soon, angel."

and then he left, the silence after the door shut was deafening, your ears ringing and your mind spinning.

you looked at your reflection again, smudged makeup, sweaty and your hair was a mess. you turned and looked at your back through the mirror, your clothes were stained red by the fake blood he had on his cloak. your eyes traveled down to your ass, where he had cut you moments before, your cheeks were red and stained with your blood, but it looked like a superficial cut, nothing too serious.

you couldn't help but notice that he carved a 'c' on your left cheek.

-

when you finally pull yourself together and decide to leave the bathroom, the first thing you encounter is straight out of a horror movie.

a body lies on the floor, a guy slumped against the wall opposite the bathroom door, blood staining his clothes and the wall behind him. you clap a hand over your mouth, fighting the urge to vomit, unable to scream from the sheer shock.

you dash down the stairs to find your friends and alert the frat guys to call the police, but the scene in the living room is even worse.

three bodies are there. one guy and two girls. the girls are seated on the couch, almost as if the killer posed them, their blood turning the cream-colored fabric a deep crimson. the guy lies face down on the floor, his blood pooling around him.

the music continues to play, its upbeat and trendy lyrics mocking the gruesome scene.

you feel sick to your stomach, wanting to puke, cry, and scream, but you can’t. you're frozen on the last step of the stairs.

as you hear a siren in the distance and the house slowly bathes in the blue and red of police lights, your eyes lock onto a sticky note on the front door. you slowly walk over and read it.

'soon.' it said.

[captainmera]

Was evelyn ever ALMOST caught by witch hunters?

I WROTE IT, BECAUSE DRAWING IT TAKES TOO LONG.

For some reason, I forgot I could just...... Write these little shorts with little illustrations alongside it, instead of drawing out the whole thing and it takes forever. So... here ya go! Two more little drawings beneath the cut with some text!

Roger growled through the gap amongst his ivory. He could not wrap his head around why his rival was standing there with bow and arrow, willing to.. What? Shoot him? For this woman. Barely a Christian woman, even. "What are you going to do?" Roger gestured at Caleb's homemade weaponry. "You're going to shoot me if I don't leave?" "Maybe." Caleb said, still not tensing the bow. "My brother's a real clever guy, he knows a lot about the body. Did you know that arterial bleeding is the most fatal?" "Uh-" "Looks the most accidental, too." Roger furrowed his brows. Caleb's brown eyes were void of warmth. "What are you saying?" "I'm saying I'm holding a bow. I'm saying I'm pretty good at using it. I'm saying I'm a woodsman, you're not. I'm saying that if I wanted to accidentally shoot you and hide your body, I could. And if you were discovered, it's an arrow in you, not an English pistol wound, or a knife. And nobody knows you were ever here." "...You're not serious." "You can always find out." "You're bluffing, I've never seen you use a bow and-" "Leave my property." Caleb repeated. "And if you are going to accuse my friend of witchcraft, you better have more than suggestive or spectral evidence." Roger glowered back, held his hands up in peace, and backed away. "Fine, I will." And left the way he came through the woods. Caleb waited until he couldn't see him any more, before locking the door and pulling the curtains. Roger had never liked Caleb, but before his rival took a break from witch hunting, Roger had at least had a competitors respect for the man. But respect turned to suspicion. Caleb had been acting strange for awhile... Glum and a lot more quiet. Then that woman showed up. And now the cove were against spectral evidences? Caleb had been the most frequent and outspoken about how witches found a lawful loophole by using supernatural means to get away with their crimes. As it was difficult to prove that a witch had tormented someone in their dreams, for example. And Roger agreed! Sure, Caleb was annoying, but they had both been amongst the best and the worst of hunters, being the same age only meant the two lads butted head to stay in their spot as head of a patrol. Being a witch hunter was a competitive sport, almost, it was hard to explain unless you participated. They were not friends, but Roger was sure if the roles had been reversed, Caleb would've been suspicious too and, honestly? Caleb would've tried to save Roger. It was just good sportsmanship. And this whole thing smelled wicked. Caleb turned to Evelyn. "Are you alright?" "I don't know.." She said and looked at her hands. Artemis had crawled out onto her shoulder to give her a comforting little spider hug. "My magic.. It didn't work." "What?" Caleb abandoned his bow by its place next to the backdoor. "It's not working?" "I don't- I was trying to make it work, he saw me. I'm sorry." Caleb lift her chin up. "Hey no, it's alright. Maybe.. You've just been here too long?" "No that's not it. I know it isn't." "Maybe you're ill?" She smiled up at the crease of worry on his forehead. He was trying to sound calm and proper, and she knew that tone of his. That rougher, almost demanding, serious tone. That tone he used with Philip and his friends when they were turning to him for leadership and give them orders - even if he was just as anxious as them.

His eyes flickered away, noticing that she had caught him spiralling with worries. He shook his head to get out of it and straightened his back. "Are you ill?" He repeated with a softer tone "No, I dont think so." "Not witch-ill, human-ill?" "No... I don't have any symptoms." "Hm.." Caleb thought back at when she had visited him at his job. "Oh, was it the sprig of dill tea?" Evelyn's eyes lit up. "Oh! Oh right that did taste awful!" Caleb couldn't help but break out into a soft scoff. "Well, good to know that folktale is true." "Huh?" "It's said sprig of dill keeps witches and evil away. That's why we drink it at the morrow' meeting." Evelyn's lips pressed into a line, feeling a little silly that she had so readily accepted tea from a bunch of woodsmen-slash-witch hunters. Of course they would be drinking things like that out of superstition.

"Right." She brushed her vest. Caleb snorted. "Stop it! I was afraid!" "Sorry, sorry. I'm sure it's only temporary." Evelyn looked at her hands. "You think so?" "Yeah. But.. Why don't you stay here, just in case, until it comes back. Yeah?" "Appreciated." "Of course." Evelyn swayed her skirt bashfully. "Caleb?" "Mh?" "Thank you." She pulled him in so she could plant a kiss on his cheek. "You've been my hero today." Caleb's limbs were full of pink and red butterflies. He laughed nervously and swatted his hand around in the air. "Oh! PFSH! O-Of course! I can't just- You're a maiden in distress! It's only the right thing-! Anytime, milady." And theatrically rolled his hand before bowing to her. And that got him in the right height for both of her hands to cup his face. "I think you deserve one more then." And kissed him on the side of his nose, his forehead, and when his smile spread his lips wide across his face, she kissed the dimple by his side. And that was enough. Caleb crumbled, and turned away from her with an incoherent sputtering of words. She smiled. Caleb put his face in his hands to cool, stroked them through his hair and coughed. "TEA?" He offered, gesturing at the stove. "Er- not, that tea, better tea." "Sure." And took a seat nearby him.

[messenger-of-babel]

Partners to Be

Summary: After being out of the field so long, you've been assigned to help Leon rescue the presidents daughter, but who really helps who? (Leon S. Kennedy x reader)

Word Count: 3.4K

Notes: WHERE ARE THE LEON GIRLIES AT? So writing this one I just kept going and going and got a little carried away but it's my first Leon appearance for this month! (he has other fics stored away in drafts). I hope that everyone's enjoyed our first two weeks! halfway there already. It's crazy that it took me this long to put Leon out on the list, so sorry for holding out on y'all. If anyone needs warnings: Swearing, mentions of veins/ blood. I think this is the longest fic I've put up so far so that's pretty wild (as I said, I got carried away but in my defence I was convinced I was cooking).

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Leon Kennedy was a strong man; dare you say the strongest man you'd ever known.

So strong in fact that they had sent him alone to scout for the president’s daughter, being dispatched to a remote area in Spain. As soon as he sent back the sign that she was there, you were flown in almost immediately to assist with getting her back safely.

Your hands had jittered gearing up to meet him, double checking your shoulder holsters to make sure they didn't slip and lead you to an embarrassing death. You hadn't ever worked with agent Kennedy before, but you had seen him around the halls of the DSO, imposing as the legends made him out to be.

The most you had even spoken to him was a casual greeting or a small 'you're welcome' when he thanked you for holding a door open. You were part of a different division, leading to you hardly seeing him around. Not to mention the fact that the man avoided the headquarters like the plague, eyes tired and mouth drawn into a thin line any time he was required to go in.

Now you were strapping up, armed to the teeth to help out the Golden agent on your first field mission in a year. When you finally arrived, you met him a little past the windmill that Hunnigan guided you to, and it had been so much worse than you thought.

Arriving, you had encountered a town square filled with dead bodies, faces warped and bubbled. If the fresh blood hadn't been there, you would have been convinced that they'd died a long time ago. You followed the carnage to the windmill, spotting your partner-to-be hidden off the path and hurrying over to him. "Agent Kennedy," you greet politely, slightly out of breath. "What's happened here? What's wrong with the villagers?"

Your blood freezes in your veins as he looks at you with those icy blue eyes, mouth pressed into a thin line. He draws his gun faster than you can blink, the barrel coming close than you'd like to your face before releasing a loud BANG. you flinch from the loud sound, and for a second you thought he had tried to kill you. Whirling around you see a villager writing on the road, axe in hand. Wordlessly he pushes past you, kneeling over the body and driving his knife into the side of the villager’s neck. The gurgles and scream die down with the writing, until the villager goes still.

You feel a light tremor in your hands at the efficient way he just disposed of someone, his face turning to meet your gaze. "They're not villagers, not anymore." he says, cleaning the blood from his knife in the crook of his elbow. "You're cleared to shoot to kill. They'll attack you the moment they see you."

You just nod, double checking that safety was off on your own handgun. He regards you for a silent moment, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. "You're from division four, aren't you?" he asks curiously. "On Jacobs's team."

You wince at the name of your old field captain. "Yeah, I was. I got reassigned as a solo agent last year." you say bitterly, something not unnoticed by him.

"Shouldn't they have kept you on that team? I saw that Jacobs wasn't there anymore, but just because he got re-assigned it doesn't make sense to just discard an entire recon squad."

You follow after him as he begins walking further down the path, tilting his head to gesture for you to follow.

"Yeah, I mean, Jacobs is dead, so…" you say awkwardly, fiddling with your holster. He turns at that, eyes widening slightly.

"Jacobs is dead?" he parrots back to you, incredulous. "Shit…I'm sorry, I didn't realise. I just knew I hadn't heard of him recently. I didn't realise that Jacobs of all people was really gone."

You nod along, kicking rocks with your boot. "Yeah, surprised everyone." you say softly, thinking of your hard ass captain who managed to weasel his way out of death more times than a cockroach.

"What about the rest of your team? Did they also turn to being a solo agent?" He looks down at you with a curious expression. Your face scrunches up, and he catches the flicker of pain that skirts the edges of your lips.

"They're dead." you say, breaking away from his gaze and quickening your pace.

"I'm sorry." he says gruffly, albeit a little awkwardly. "It happens a lot in this line of work, still doesn't make it any better."

You nod along, heart heavy despite his rough attempt at soothing the sting. You walk a little more, feeling the unsaid question hanging in the air. you know he wants to ask, but the glimmer in his eyes when you catch his gaze tells you that he doesn't want to pry.

"It was my fault, you know." you say softly, sighing out.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I know we all have-" he starts, but you cut him off by raising your hand.

"It's fine. It's been a year, I'm over it now." you mumble. "Besides, it'll be good to clear the air." you exhale, and your shoulders drop, his eyes holding a curiosity you know he feels guilty for even having. "We received intel about a terrorist attack, tracked them down to their hideout. I was tasked with disarming the bomb remotely while they took down the rest of the organisation so none of them could make a runner." you say, memory vivid in your mind. "They…they managed to re-trace my signal, someone on their side, I mean. Completely shut me off and cut my communication access. I couldn't disarm the bomb, and I couldn't tell my team." you breathe out, and the action is shakier than you'd like. "I watched it happen. I couldn't do anything, and it's all because I accidentally raised an alarm on their side."

He doesn't say much, face blank and devoid of emotion for a full moment. "It wasn't your fault." he says finally, giving you a once over. "Like I said before, we lose people all the time in this job, it’s a part of the job description. A real shitty part if you ask me." he laughs out bitterly, checking his handgun as he comes to a stop at a rickety bridge in front of you. "I'm sorry for your loss, but you need to get back into the field. Not that you have much choice, you're here now. Don't forget them but leave them at the door." He says, a rough hand coming up to grip your shoulder.

His words are like a cold shock of water, slapping you in the face. Everyone else had been coddling you since their deaths, giving you easier assignments and pitying amounts of paperwork. In contrast, Leon was showing you a tough love that everyone else had been hesitant to deliver. He tilts his head to the bridge. "When you cross that bridge, leave them on this side." he says firmly. "Distractions will get us killed, and your team wouldn't want you to die for it, not like that. Besides," he shrugs, offering you a small smile. "I need a partner to get this done, not a space cadet."

The small joke makes a smile creep onto your lips. "Thanks, Agent Kennedy." you say genuinely, lifting your chin just a fraction higher. He shakes his head, soft blonde hair falling in front of his eyes. "No need. and call me Leon." he says, stepping onto the flimsy bridge and beginning to cross. 'Leon' you say under your breath, feeling how his name sounds on your tongue. You take a deep breath, steeling your nerves and saying a quiet prayer for your teammates before your boot makes contact with the flimsy wood.

He was right. You were back in the field, and you weren't going to let any partner or team of yours get hurt like that again. That was your personal mission.

You learnt while going to rescue Ashley that he was a lot different from what the other agents made him out to be. He was considered a knight in shining armour, a golden agent who was unbeatable in everything he did while adding charismatic flair on the top. You soon realised that he was begrudging at best for a knight, and the charisma came out of dry sarcasm and witty quips. he wasn't an agent who did it for crown and country, he was an agent who did it because he had no other choice, and doing the job meant he could get home quicker. You couldn't deny that he was unstoppable though.

No matter what monstrosity you came up against, your new partner didn't so much as flinch, taking each enemy out with lethal precision. His attitude began wearing off on you and slowly you remembered what it was like to be in the field, instincts sharpening and panicked breathing slowing to a steady intake.

"You're not a bad shot," he said to you after you handed back the stingray he let you borrow, taking off some guards on the castle battlements before you had to pass through the area. You felt yourself flush slightly, not from the words, but the genuine tone he used. Despite only just formally meeting, you found conversation flowing easily between you two, natural and unhindered. You had to attribute some of that to your surroundings, seeing as neither of you really had any other choice of company. Not any company that wanted you alive anyways.

Everything had gone well, going a lot smoother than any of your other missions before. You think it started going sideways as soon as you lost Ashley in the ballroom, being forced to scurry in the underground of the castle. The little pet of Ramone had chased you both through the tunnels, the Right Hand of Salazar managing to get a good hit on your side before Leon froze it, albeit temporarily. Hauling your arm over his shoulder he pulled you to the elevator and started it up, leaving the beast behind. He investigated the wound that was now burning and turning black at the edges.

"We need to see if it's infected-"

Both of your wince and reach for your head at the same time, a ringing filling your ears and a throbbing starting in your skull. Then the image of the man, the thing that started all of this, filled your mind’s eye. Saddler preached to both you and Leon, but unfortunately it was like radio static, your connection not strong enough to be controlled fully. When it releases you both let out a gasp, your eyes meeting his blue ones.

"I think it's infected." you say dryly, and he rolls his eyes. However, his lips tick up slightly.

Maybe he really was rubbing off on you.

Then you lost Luis.

Leon patted your shoulder when Luis passed, seeing the crinkle of your nose as you closed his eyes and placed his hands peacefully in his lap. Leon didn't need to ask to see that you were reliving the way you lost your team. So much for not losing anyone this mission,' you scold yourself bitterly, you and Leon moving on and leaving your friend behind to his eternal rest. You didn’t need to ask if he was upset either. you saw it in the way he fought Krauser, muscles tensed and jaw clenched as he took down his old mentor. You placed the hand on the shoulder for him then, and he covered it with his own gloved one before squeezing lightly. He dropped it a moment after, and you both continued.

There was a mission after all.

Now this was the final nail in the coffin. You had retrieved Ashley, keeping her between the both of you to protect her from all sides. Your chest burnt, ugly scar sitting in the middle if your chest from having to burn out the plagas. It had developed quickly, the sliver that wormed it way into your skin during your fight with the Verdigo spawning into an ugly juvenile parasite. Luis had saved the both of you even after death, and you could see the light at the end of the tunnel for this hellscape of a mission. That is of course, until you saw him.

He had been pulling up the rear, but Ashley tugging on your arm made you stop and turn. Leon had slowed, hand to his head and cringing badly. Your heart fills with fear, and you race to him, pulse thudding in your ears. "Hey, you with me, Kennedy?" you ask, shaking him lightly to try to snap him out of it. He only groans in pain, knees buckling as he falls. Crouching immediately, you lift his face up to meet his eyes, and you freeze. Black veins are mapped across the expanse of his face, tendrils trying to strangle the blue of his irises. They continue a path down his neck in thick black streaks, wrapping around his arms like strings. His forearms struggled with the effort to keep himself upright.

"Is he going to be okay?"

You turn, hearing Ashley's worried voice. you give her a tight-lipped smile and a curt nod. "He's going to be." your murmur.

"Come on, Leon." you urge. "we're almost there, we're almost home."

He lets out a shaky breath, coughing violently and hands curling into fists as he doubles over. One of his closed fists grab your hands, bringing it down with him. The cement is cold but his fingers are warm, and when he squeezes your hand tight in a few rhythmic pulses, you know what he's saying.

It makes your heart stop.

"Ashley, go just ahead, around that corner." you instruct, gesturing with your head for her to continue to the end of the hall you were all heading towards.

"What about-"

"Just go." you snap, and the waver in your voice is evident. She nods fearfully, casting one last glance at you both before turning and hurrying off.

"Talk to me, Kennedy." you say, squeezing his hand back. "Do we need to get you back in the chair? Is it still in there?" you ask, trying to keep your voice level but get the information you need out of him. He shakes his head.

"No time." he breathes out, body relaxing as he struggles to sit up and lean back on his legs. With your help you manage to get him upright again, his skin hot and veins writhing under his skin. You support him to standing, but he brushes you off with a stumble.

"He…He's in my head." he grits out. "There's lots…there's noises…sounds. This isn't me." he gasps out, struggling to keep his breathing even.

"What can I do?" you ask, voice tinged with desperateness, hands beginning to shake. "Leon, we got to get you home. We're gonna go home." you stress to him, voice beginning to choke up. He stands tall, straightening himself out. "We don't have much time." he grits through his teeth. "I need you to do something for me."

"Anything." is your automatic response, taking a step forward to catch him if he falls agian. He gives you a sad smile before reaching for something on his belt, eyes never leaving yours as he offers it out to you.

"No." you say firmly, trying hard to control your racing mind and brimming tears. "No. I'm not doing that." you choke out.

"You've gotta." he says, voice quiet. "Take it." he shakes it in front of you and the tears finally drip forth as you look down properly at the smooth handle of the gun. "The mission is to get Ashley out, that's your first priority." he says.

'Not my mission,' you want to say, but your throat closes up. "You mean our first priority." you force out." No. I won't do that. I can't do that. Not again." your voice cracks and you clamp a hand over your mouth to try and keep the sound in. His eyes soften and he reaches out to gently grip your wrist and pull you forward. you can see how badly he's fighting it, the shake in his hands and the tension in his muscles while a war rages in his mind.

"If not for Ashley and the mission, then for me." he forces out. "Please. I don't want to be one of them, and if I turn, I will hurt you. Saddler will make me, and you know that." he says firmly, shaking your wrist. A tear rolls down the tip of your nose as you reach out with your free hand to grip the handle of the gun, grip smooth under your palms.

"I'm not like your team," he says, staring directly into your eyes. You can see the kaleidoscope in his own, morphing from fear to guilt to panic and finally determination. "I want this. I'm asking you to do this for me." He murmurs, tone softer. He sighs out, a ragged sound and his eyes flutter shut as the veins in his neck flare.

"Please," he grits out. "If anyone is going to do it, I want it to be you. Only you." he breathes out, a small smile pulling at his lips. "You're my partner, after all."

You try to give a grin in return, heart leaping and tearing itself apart at being called his partner. You take a step back, hands trembling as you cock the gun. "What a day at the DSO that will be," you say, voice shaky and tears spilling over the apple of your cheeks. "Golden boy Kennedy actually accepting a partner request."

Your smile shakes violently as he lowers himself to his knees, blue eyes looking up at you. The eyes that always seemed so tired, now shimmering with the yearning to go to sleep. To go to peace.  "There's a first time for everything." he quips back softly. "You can do the paperwork though."

You try to make the sound to laugh, but the thickness in your chest and throat strangles the sound before it could leave. You raise the gun to his forehead, barrel smooth against his skin, cool metal brushing some of the icy gold strands to the side.

"Goodnight, Leon." you say, voice wispy. Despite the ache that had settled in your chest and stung your bones, you put as much warmth, love and kindness you could into your last words to your coworker. Hoping he can sense the longing and hope for all the missions you could have gone on together, the quiet nights at the bar. You manage a shaky smile for the man in front of you, mourning the memory of your future.

The partner you never got to have.

"See you in the morning." he replies quietly, a small smile flitting over his face as he closes his eyes and lets go. The veins and plagas in his body wriggles in glee for a full moment when he stops resisting, before being silenced by a single, crisp, gunshot.

Bang.

When you open your eyes, you bring your arm to your mouth so you don't throw up in horror, ears still echoing the sound of the shot over and over. Your hand grows limp but still steady on the gun, part of you still in disbelief you had the courage to pull the trigger. You look at the gun in your trembling hand, thumb running over the 'L.S.K' engraved on the grip. You don't cast your eyes down, you can't. You know that if you do, you'll never unsee it as long as you live. Marching on your heel before you make a mistake, you suck in a gasp of air to try and control your sobs.

You grab Ashley's arm roughly as you pass her in the hall, her eyes fearful and panicked. "Hey!" she protests. "What about Leon-"

"Leon's dead." you hiss out, wiping your eyes with your sleeve as she wrenches from your grip. You look down, lips pursed and a hot despair coursing through your veins. With shaky hands you reload the gun, gripping it so tight your knuckles press uncomfortably against the skin.

Leon was dead, and if you had a say in anything, that Saddler fucker was about to be too.

[radishaur]

Second Chance (Un-Ascended Astarion x Reader)

Warnings: minor spoilers for BG3 (takes place post-game)

Genre: fluff, slight angst, suggestive

Part: 1/1

Summary: A lot has changed since the fight to save Baldur's Gate, Astarion included.

Author’s Note: This fic has minor spoilers for BG3 but I tried to keep it vague enough that you could read it without majorly spoiling it. The "reader" in this situation is Tav from the game, but Tav is practically a self-insert so you get the jist. Not a Durge fic (yet). Also, this is with un-ascended Astarion. I apologize if this is OOC, I have such a hard time pinning down his mannerisms. This has been rotting in my drafts for way too long, so I just decided to hell with it, it needs to get posted. Lastly, I took some liberties with his backstory since it's slightly vague. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Happy reading!

The only thing lighting up the barren city roads as you made your way back to your room was the dying flicker of the sparsely placed lamp posts. Not even the moon itself was making an appearance, cloaked behind grey clouds so thick that not even a ray of her light could reach the street below. It was nothing you weren't used to as an adventurer. The job kept you out late by nature since most of the types you were after did their business well after the sun had set.

The dark of night wasn't what sent a shiver down your spine. No, rather it was the unmistakable feeling that someone was watching you. Your time adventuring had taught you to recognize that feeling quite well and there was no mistake: someone was following you. You ducked into the nearest side street to draw them out and readied yourself to attack if necessary.

The feeling of a hand on your shoulder was all you needed to react.

You shifted your weight forward and used the other person's clear surprise to throw them off balance and over your shoulder. They hit the ground with a thud and a groan and you crouched down and brought a knife to their throat before you even had time to register the set of all too familiar red eyes that were looking up at you.

When you finally looked down at who was beneath you, you felt sick. You would recognize that face anywhere, even upside down and in the dark. Hell, you think you would recognize him blind despite all the time that had passed since you'd seen him. He smirked, his fangs peeking out as he tsked.

"That's no way to greet an old friend, my sweet," he teased, still as confident as he ever was, even with a blade to his throat.

"Astarion," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't sound so shocked, darling. I told you I would come find you, didn't I?"

You didn't say anything, your thoughts racing a mile a minute. You thought about him quite often, but actually seeing him in person again was enough to send your mind spiraling down memory lane. From when you met, to your victory over the Absolute, to your bittersweet goodbye...

You were snapped back to reality by Astarion's voice once more, slightly softer as he spoke this time as if he saw the thoughts racing behind your eyes.

"Why don't you let me up," he said, despite the fact the grip on your knife had long since loosened, leaving him enough room to push his way up on his own should he have wished.

You swallowed thickly and stood up, stowing your knife back in its place before reaching a hand out for him to help himself up. He was already in the process by the time your hand was offered, but he took it anyway, using it to pull himself up to full height in front of you.

For all the time that had passed, he looked exactly the same. His skin was still milky white, his hair still curled around his pointed ears just so, and his eyes still found a way to look straight through you and into your soul. The faint light of the street lamps made him look ethereal, otherworldly even, as he stood in front of you.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, an air of disbelief in your voice as you regarded him.

"Don't tell me you forgot about our conversation," he said, a slight tease in his voice masking the very obvious concern.

And oh, what a stupid question that was, because how could you ever forget it?

"Hello darling. I was just thinking about freedom. How I'm free of the parasite - free of Cazador. How I'll never be in someone's power again And all it cost was my life in the sun. Now I belong to the shadows," he had said, gesturing his arms out to reference the dark of night around the both of you.

"What are you going to do? What's next?" you had asked.

He paused, thinking for a moment.

"I...I don't know," he admitted, taking a moment of silence to think before saying, "I've never been able to decide for myself."

"Now is as good a time as any to start," you had joked, hoping it would lighten the mood a bit before saying, "Let's celebrate our victory tonight properly. You can tell me what adventure we'll set out on then."

The night carried on, with all of your companions around the fire, telling stories and drinking together, happier than ever and without a care in the world. Later on in the night, the two of you snuck off together, just like you had in the early days of your traveling together. It had filled you with nostalgia and you told him as much as you laid next to him, staring up at the stars.

"We have come quite far together, haven't we," he said, although his voice had sounded miles away.

"What's wrong?" you had asked, shifting so your head was propped up and you were on your side to face him.

He didn't say anything for a long time, simply looking up at the stars with a frown. All you wanted to do was kiss away the wrinkles that furrowed his brows until he would smile once more, but you resisted, letting him have a moment to collect his thoughts.

"When I was Cazador's beloved spawn," he started, spitting out Cazador's name venomously like he always had, "I had no control over myself. I spent 200 years doing whatever he told me and paying the price the few times I didn't."

You nodded. This was obviously nothing new to you, but you also knew he wouldn't be saying it again if it didn't matter, so you stayed silent, encouraging him to continue.

"And then when I was finally free of him and had some level of control, I just reverted back to my instinct. I manipulated you for my own gain. Nothing had changed." he said, frustration evident in his voice as he said, "I don't even remember anything before Cazador. Not a damned thing. Only his stories of what happened."

"That must be difficult," you replied softly.

He didn't say anything to that, but he did finally turn to face you and even without the tadpole's connection you could still feel his emotions so clearly. The inner turmoil was written so plainly on him that you wondered how he had ever seemed like a mystery to you instead of an open book.

"My point is that I have no idea who I really am. I've always been following someone else's orders, someone else's plans. Even here, with all of you," he said, sighing before adding, "I don't know what kind of person I really am, without following the moral compass of everyone around me. I've only ever known orders."

You stayed silent for a few moments before deciding to ask, "Have you decided what you want to do after this? That might be a place to start."

"I want to go to the Underdark first. I can't just let my brothers and sisters wander aimlessly. Then maybe I'll come back here. Try and find clues of what my life looked like before... everything," he answered.

"Then we'll leave tomorrow. After it gets dark," you said with a smile before yawning, the adventures of the day finally catching up on you.

You missed the way his expression broke just slightly as your eyes scrunched up during your yawn. Whatever he had meant to tell you had died on his tongue and he simply kissed you, a little deeper than he ever had before, and let you fall asleep in his arms.

When you had woken up, you were in your tent instead of out in the grass. You had smiled at the image of Astarion carrying you there in the dead of night to tuck you in and made your way to his tent to thank him, only to find it missing. In its place was a small box and a sealed letter with your name scrawled out in a posh-looking cursive.

He had left in the middle of the night. Packed up his tent and left nothing behind except his last parting gift to you. You didn't open the box, still hadn't all these years later. You simply unsealed the letter with shaking hands and read the whole thing 3 times over. He apologized for leaving without saying anything to you but said he needed to learn how to be his own person before he was truly with another. He thanked you for everything you had done for him over your time together before promising to return and find you when he had figured everything out. He said that when he came back, he would be yours in every way you would take him, should you still want him.

He signed the letter with Your love, Astarion and that was the last you heard from him.

Your face soured as it all came rushing back to you in full force. You scowled at him, all your previous excitement that he had returned disappearing much like he had. Old wounds ached as if they were brand new.

"I would hardly call a letter left in the dead of night a conversation," you retorted, snatching the hand that you had forgotten was still holding his back to you.

His lips pulled into a small smile, lifting up at the corner, but his eyes saddened in contrast. You clenched your fists and looked away from him, needing a moment to collect your thoughts.

"No, I suppose you're right," he said, shuffling on his feet slightly before adding, "You have every right to be upset."

Your eyes whipped to him and the dam holding back your anger broke.

"Upset?" you asked, the venom in your voice causing him to startle slightly, "Upset doesn't even begin to cover it, Astarion."

You took a deep breath to steel yourself, to keep yourself from shouting at him in the middle of the dark alleyway.

"You left me in the middle of the night after everything we went through together. You took me to your grave and told me you didn't want to lose what we had and then you left," you said, your throat getting tighter and tighter with each word, "You let me believe I was coming with you and let me make a complete fool of myself. All I had left of you was some letter and a stupid box."

You shifted on your feet slightly as you thought about that exact box, tucked away in your dresser underneath all your clothes. It sat, unopened, atop the letter that had ripped your whole world apart. You looked back up at him, trying to gauge any kind of reaction from him as you said, your voice cracking despite it being no louder than a whisper, "It's been 3 years."

He kept quiet while you composed yourself for what was the third time that night and then took a tentative step forward. When you didn't move back, he took another and then another until he was right in front of you. His left hand went to yours and his right hand cupped your face gently, his expression suspiciously calm but his eyes were a swirling mix of different emotions.

You felt your heart rate accelerate at the proximity and you cursed yourself for still loving him after leaving so long ago without a word. With all your anger released you were left only with the profound longing to be with him, to touch him, kiss him, hold him close. Every detail you had memorized about his face was even more striking in person than you remember and hearing his voice again after so long...

"I know. There's no amount of apologies I could make that would undo that mistake, although I am deeply sorry. I was afraid to be honest with you and it made me a coward," he said, taking a deep breath as he pulled away slightly, letting his hand drop from your face, "You asked me why I'm here and I didn't answer you fully."

You didn't move even a single inch, worried that any movement would scare him away.

"I'm here....," he took another deep breath to steady his nerves before he continued, "I'm here because I love you. I thought about you every day these past 3 years and there's nothing more I want than to be with you. I want to apologize to you for how I handled things and if you do still feel the same way, I want to spend the rest of my immortal life proving that to you."

His eyes were open, bearing everything he was feeling for you to read. You saw his sincerity and his feelings plain as day. Your heart constricted as you thought about your next words.

"I...Astarion...," you stumbled over your words, trying to get your heart and your head to align as they both asked for different things.

"Give me a chance to explain and properly apologize. After that, if you never wish to see me again, then," he paused, trailing off before finishing, "I'll disappear into the night once more for good this time."

You hesitated, taking a moment to let your feelings settle. The swirling mix of anger, despair, and intense longing slowed the longer you looked at him, and left behind was only the feeling of anxious uncertainty.

You saw his eyes searching your face for a sign as the silence continued to drag out, but he didn't say anything. Didn't even make a move, once again letting you decide as he simply waited. You swallowed, thick as it stuck in your throat. This was the same man you knew from so long ago and yet he was so different. His time alone had no doubt changed him, but was that enough?

Before either of you had a chance to say anything more, footsteps echoed out in the street and you heard someone shout, "Hey! Who's there?"

Your eyes snapped from the direction of the voice back to Astarion and you knew that both of you would need to leave immediately if you didn't want to be caught. Regardless of your feelings towards him, you knew that a vampire being caught out at night would lead to nothing good and you didn't want anything bad to happen to him. He seemed to understand that as well as his face morphed into the more guarded expression you were used to seeing.

"If you decide to give me a chance, meet me at the town's overlook tomorrow night at 10 pm," he said, his voice low before he kissed your left hand and then disappeared into the shadows of the alleyway.

You weren't far behind, slipping into the shadows and making your way back to your room. You tossed and turned all night, the anxiety of tomorrow night and your impending decision looming over your conscience until you could finally get some sleep.

Despite having faced some of the worst horrors that Faerun had to offer, Astarion was pretty sure he had never been so nervous.

He exhaled to try and release some of his anxiety before stepping back to look at the setup he had laid out. He had placed a few thick, woven blankets on the ground to cushion against the hard dirt floor with a fuzzy, fur blanket on top. Off to the side, he put a magic phonograph programmed with the music he had curated for the evening, and right in the middle of the blanket was a tray filled with more fruits and cheeses than one could possibly eat.

He looked out over the cliff and down to the city, illuminated in the soft yellow light of the street lamps now that it was finally nighttime. The moon was peeking out through the clouds and a slight breeze was blowing the hair around his face and the leaves in the trees. For all intents and purposes, he had picked a perfect night.

There was still a good amount of time before you were supposed to arrive, so he simply leaned against the tree that was shading the blanket setup and waited anxiously.

He found himself watching the town below and reminiscing about his time with you. There was no guarantee that you would show up tonight, but there had never been any guarantees in your time together. With everything happening, there was never the promise of even the next day, yet you always came back. Chose him over any others and went out of your way to support him.

He spent more time than he liked to admit wondering if he had made the right decision in leaving. He knew that learning more about himself was something he needed to do, but he missed you more than he had anticipated. He knew that he loved you, but he had underestimated how that would affect him now that he wasn't around you all the time. You followed him like a ghost. He saw you in every face, heard you in every laugh, and taunted him in every kind action he witnessed.

After a while, he could admit that his fear drove him away in a harmful way. Afraid of his love for you and of what potentially dark secrets awaited him in his past, he ran. The more time he spent apart from you, the more he wondered if you had really loved him. The small part of his brain that whispered cruel nothings to him told him that you could never love him, not like he loved you at least. There was a chance that your connection to him was born purely from circumstance. Now, with no parasite connecting you and no shared goal to live, you might not feel the same.

He almost hadn't returned, but his guilt over how he left you and the regret he knew he would feel if he never tried to ask for forgiveness convinced him. Your reaction to seeing him had quelled some of his doubts. Maybe you weren't connected by the tadpole anymore, but your eyes betrayed your feelings just like they always had. There was a swirl of emotions there, battling for dominance, but he knew that somewhere in there amongst that conflict were the remnants of what he had broken. That bond built on love and sacrifice that brought him back from the dark path he was walking on before he met you.

He was brought back from his thoughts by a particularly cold gust of wind. He bit his lip slightly as he tried once more to calm his nerves. There was nothing for him to do but hope that you still loved him enough to try one last time.

The walk to the lookout was quiet. Fall had finally come after months of intense heat and the light cool breeze rustling your hair and nipping at your face was nice. Other than the sound of rustling leaves and your footsteps on the cobbled path, it was just you and your thoughts.

It would be easy to lie to yourself and insist that you had thought long and hard about whether to meet Astarion, but deep down you already had your answer from the moment he asked. So many years apart and he still had a hold on you.

Eventually, the cobble path turned to dirt and you found yourself hiking up the hill, your heart pumping from more than just the exercise. You were anxious to hear what he had to say but more than that you were worried about the next step. You loved him still, that much was undeniable, but you didn't trust him. That was something that would take a long time to build back up if it was even possible, and you wondered if things could really go back to how they were before.

Finally, you reached the top of the hill and the path flattened out. After walking further down the path, it began to open up and you found yourself breathless at the sight in front of you. Your eyes roamed over the blankets, food, and atmosphere that was laid out underneath the tree, each item placed with care. The breeze was rustling the tree leaves, causing a few leaves to fall here and there down on the blanket. Then, your eyes caught on Astarion. He wasn't facing you, his back towards you as he looked out over the town and you found that even from here he looked beautiful.

His clothes were similar to what he used to wear around camp, but they were made of much finer materials. His shirt was still frilly and the neckline still plunged down, but it seemed to be made of silk and the threads shimmered slightly in the moonlight, and his pants seemed to be a lot thicker material even though they were still black. If you didn't know better you would say that nothing about him had changed, but you knew that wasn't true. His hair which you knew from experience was always tamed was ruffling slightly in the wind.

If you were a painter, the scene in front of you would have been your masterpiece.

After a few moment, he must have felt someone staring because he turned his head slightly to face you. His lips pulled slightly at the corner into a smirk as he spoke.

"Enjoying the view?"

"Perhaps."

Your throat went dry as you looked at him more. His eyes looked you over and you were suddenly reminded that you were severely underdressed compared to him. You hadn't known what to expect, but fancy had not been on the list, so you'd simply worn some of your casual clothes and headed out. Despite that, his gaze still lingered and his smirk melted into a smile. When his eyes met yours, there was a fondness there that made your heartache.

He pushed himself off the tree and walked over to you where your feet were cemented on the dirt. When he was finally standing in front of you, you were relieved to see that he seemed just as nervous as you were. His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly and reached for your hand. You let him take it, your mind racing too fast to object even if you had wanted to.

"I'm glad you came," he said, pulling your hand up to place a small kiss onto your hand. "I... wasn't sure you would. You'd have every right not to."

"I needed to come. No matter what happens, I... we deserve the closure," you said, your voice quiet but firm.

He nodded, the gesture slightly stiff as the reminder of what tonight could possibly bring hung between the two of you. Still holding your hand, he stepped to the side and gestured with his free hand to the blankets. "Let's catch up and then we can talk."

You gave him your own nod and followed him to the blankets. The closer you got, the more you saw of the view and oh it was lovely. The flickering light of the candles Astarion had laid out around the blanket mixed with the lantern light of the city below, casting everything in a warm glow. It was high enough that you could talk uninterrupted but close enough that the faint noise of the bars and late-nighters could be heard.

Suddenly, you heard music and turned to see that Astarion had started the music machine which was playing some light romantic music. He turned it down so that it didn't overpower your soon-to-be-had conversation and motioned for you to join him on the blankets.

"So," he said as you sat down beside him, "What have you been up to since I've been gone."

Despite how you were still upset with him, your conversation flowed freely. You told him of your job as an adventurer, how you met occasionally with Shadowheart, Halsin, and some of the other members of your group who were still in Bauldur's Gate or nearby, and other stories to fill in the gaps since you had last seen him. In turn, he shared his story with you.

He'd spent the first few months away getting the spawn under control and settled in the Underdark, which had been a task in and of itself. While he was there, he began to adjust once again to life in the shadows. After a while, he set out to do what he originally wanted to do: learn about his past. He knew vaguely about his life before Cazador, just bits and pieces that Cazador had thrown his way when he was "behaving", but now he had a much larger picture.

He had hoped to find his parents alive and well, but unfortunately for him, that was not the case. Cut down not unlike him, his parents were long dead. Whether it was connected to his decision as a magistrate that got him killed was unclear, but it stung all the same. He searched record after record and finally found something that led him to a vacation house not far out of Bauldur's Gate. It was beaten and not well taken care of, but it held more than he could have imagined about his life before Cazador. Pictures, journals, notes, and records stuffed the house and he had combed through them all meticulously. That, combined with the legal records he had been able to get his hands on, painted a clearer picture of who he used to be.

He shared it all with you, promising to take you there and show you some of the pictures himself, should you let him. You talked for hours and barely noticed the hum of the city die down as the night progressed. In all honesty, it was easy to forget why you were here in the first place. The pain and betrayal faded into the background as you talked and you found yourself relaxing more and more. Eventually, he had finished sharing everything and the silence that followed was peaceful.

After hearing him talk, it was clear that he had changed a lot on his journey. The Astarion that once hid between a mask of seduction and good looks was gone, replaced by a man who was much more confident and sure of himself. He was still a flirty, cocky bastard, but he was more genuine. He wasn't afraid anymore. He had gone out into the world and figured out exactly who he used to be and was standing on the other end of it more sure of who he wanted to be in the future. As much as his departure still hurt, you couldn't help but be happy that he seemed so much happier.

The song changing broke you out of your thoughts and you saw Astarion watching you from the corner of your vision. When you turned to meet his gaze, you felt some of the air around you thicken with tension. Astarion must have noticed the shift as well because he stood up and held a hand out for you to take.

"Dance with me," he said, his voice hopeful as he added in a slightly more teasing tone, "I can show off those dance lessons my dear parents paid for."

The reference to his previous story of his upbringing made you laugh and you took his hand as he pulled you up to your feet. "Let's hope they stuck."

He led you to the side of the blankets, close enough to the outlook that you could still see the city and the ocean, but not so close that either of you would fall. He carefully positioned your hands and then his own before moving slowly into a dance. The two of you swayed to the sound of the music, making it easy for you to follow him. Aside from a few fancy moves spinning you around, he mostly just held you close to him. His grip was firm but soft, as if you were something precious to him.

"This reminds me of our first night together," you said, referring to the first night you had spent alone with him.

His mouth quirked up at the comment, clearly amused by the comparison. "I suppose it does."

"It's...," you trailed off, struggling to find the right words to explain it. You met his eyes and settled on, "It's beautiful. Who knew you were such a romantic."

"Only for you, darling."

He held your gaze, his tone devoid of any teasing and it made your heart skip a beat. His thumb rubbed a soothing pattern into your hip as you continued to sway, your eyes never leaving his. He was silent for a long time, neither one of you wanting to break the moment, but eventually, he spoke.

"As much as I'd like to just stay here and enjoy the evening, that wouldn't be fair to you. I owe you a true explanation and an apology."

You stilled slightly, his words reminding you once again why you were here tonight. You nodded at him to indicate that you were ready and continued to dance with him.

"That night, when you were asking me about the future, I began to panic. I told you that night in the graveyard that I wanted something real with you and I meant it, but... I got scared. I kept thinking about how much I never knew about my past and how little I knew about myself now that I was free and it ate away at me. It dawned on me that there was a very real possibility that you would learn the truth about what I was like before Cazador or that being free of the tadpole would change how you saw me and that you would leave. I was terrified of losing you and I let myself slip back into old habits as a result. Hurt them before they can hurt you, and all that."

As he spoke, his eyes clouded over and his grip on you tightened slightly, his stress shining clear as day on his face. You shifted your hand out of his, resting your arms around his neck. He let his other hand grab your waist to match the other and you let yourself play with the hair brushing against the nape of his neck as he continued.

"I'm glad that I left on my own because I needed to learn how to live now that I was free. I have no memories of almost anything before Cazador, so my whole life felt like it was lived being controlled, first by Cazador and then by the Absolute. I loved you and I... I still love you," he said, voice wavering slightly at the admission of his feelings, "But, I needed to learn how to just be. Being in a relationship with you, wasn't like being controlled, but I needed to learn how to be myself. It was something I needed and I'm glad that I can say I know who I am now, but I shouldn't have left the way I did. I should have come to you about it, but I let myself fall back to how I used to act instead."

He stopped dancing then, pulling you closer with one arm and letting the other come up to brush against your throat before cupping your face. The gentleness of his touch made you shiver slightly and his grip on your waist tightened once more.

"I'm sorry, for leaving you in the middle of the night without a word. It will be one of my life's biggest regrets. I thought about you every day that I was gone and I still feel the same about you as the day I left. If you let me, I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I'm yours in every way that you'll take me, should you still want me."

His last line quoting the letter broke the last of your resolve as you leaned into his touch, your eyes watering as you finally spoke.

"You're an asshole. I'm glad that you're happy, but I hate that you told me you loved me and then left in the middle of the night. I hate that you made me wait here for so long without another word from you. I hate that you sauntered so easily back into my life with that stupid, smug smirk. But mostly, I hate that despite all of that I still love you," you said, your voice wavering as tears finally spilled down your face, "I love you just as much as I did before and nothing can change that. Not even you."

You hadn't realized as you were talking just how close to him you had gotten, your hands fisted into his shirt and his hair, but now it was clear as day, even with your eyes clouded by tears. You didn't have time to react before you felt him lean down and slot his lips against yours. His kiss was firm and filled with so much passion and you met him with a fierce determination of your own. Your lips fell into a familiar rhythm, almost as if it hadn't been years since the two of you had done this.

He pulled away slightly, murmuring I love you's against your skin as he kissed his way from your lips to your cheeks, the gentle press of his lips kissing the tears away. It was too much and yet not enough all at once. You clung to him like a lifeline as he met your lips once more, his kiss like a breath of fresh air as you were drowning at sea. You didn't know when he had picked you up and moved you onto the blanket, but suddenly you were on his lap underneath the tree once more.

His touch was like fire, burning everything it touched and you wanted more. You wanted it all and he was more than happy to oblige. The world around the two of you faded into nothing as he gave you everything, skin to skin, heart to burning heart.

Later, as the two of you lay under the stars and blankets pressed up against each other, he pulled a box out from its hiding spot amongst the blankets. You shifted slightly, pulling the blankets with you as he sat up with the box now in hand. It only took a few moments for you to recognize what it was.

"How did you get that?" you asked, confusion evident. "That's been tucked into my dresser for years."

"You wound me, darling. A man of my talents can steal anything with enough time and resources."

You felt a lump grow in your throat as you looked at the box. You would recognize that box anywhere, its image haunting you in your nightmares about that day. You never had the courage to open it after reading the letter Astarion had left and that same trepidation came back in full as it stared back at you now.

"Admittedly, I was hopeful about how tonight would go. I knew there was a chance you hadn't opened it, so I grabbed it from your room before you came back for the day," he explained, the hand next to yours on the ground brushing against it in reassurance.

He repositioned slightly and opened the box. The inside of it was a plush red velvet and nestled right in the middle, a ring. Not a wedding ring or even anything incredibly fancy, but a ring nonetheless. It was polished steel with three small gems embedded in the middle. Their colors danced in the light and you found yourself reaching out to touch it.

"What...," you said, your voice failing you for the millionth time that night.

"Consider it a promise," he supplied, his voice quiet as he plucked the ring out of the box and guided it onto one of your fingers. "I want something real with you. I'm yours for as long as you'll have me."

You had both changed significantly in your time apart. Astarion had broken your trust and it would be a long time before it would fully come back. You knew things could never go back to how they were before, but maybe that was ok. Maybe you both weren't the same people you used to be, but you were both learning, both trying to be better, trying to navigate life after the Absolute, trying to live. Maybe that trust was broken, but that broken bond could come back stronger. There was no doubt in your mind as you kissed him once again, murmuring against his lips.

"Here's to forever, then."

ღ radishaur — i do not own any of these characters. do not plagiarize. please enjoy and remember to be respectful! 

[haveihitanerve]

I have an idea:

Tim is Damian's fave brother. He shows it by stabbing him, because in his world aka the loa, if someone is a threat it's a great compliment, and they are treated as such.

The batfam is freaking out bc Damian is trying to kill Tim but he's really just trying to show that he thinks Tim's a really competent person and totally worthy of being his brother.

ooooh this tis so crucnhy gimme a sec-

Timothy was being cruel to himself again. It wasn't uncommon, really, that the third youngest was overly critical of himself, especially concerning work related things, but every time set Damian's teeth on edge.

"Its such a stupid mistake! What am I?? Five!!?!?!" Tim ranted, waving the misprinted sheet around in the air. "Someone could've gotten hurt because of this!"

"Tim, it's not that big of a deal." Dick tried placatingly. "Not a big deal?" Tim shouted back. "What do you mean its not a big deal??? If Jason hadn't caught my dumb mistake one of you could've gotten hurt!" He shook his head in disgust at himself, dropping into a chair.

"Honestly Bruce should've fired me all those years ago. I am a horrible partner."

"Hey!" Dick protested, but Damian knew his eldest brothers arguing wouldn't get anywhere. Tim didn't believe any of the support Dick tried to give him, and was doubtful of even Bruce's praise, which was hard for any of them to brush off.

Damian tuned out his brothers angry argument, weighing the small dagger in his hand. Tim had gifted it to him, on a patrol they had run together oh so long ago.

"A gift." Tim had said. "From one Robin to the next." He hand winked then, grappling away. "Try not to stick it in my back, yeah?" He'd hollered into the wind, and Damian had smiled, in spite of himself.

And he had kept the promise. While Jason and even Dick had gotten plenty of blades lodged in certain places over the years, Damian had never truly attempted to harm Tim. Not in that way. Not anymore. But now...

Tim would never believe he was good enough if Damian didn't see him as worthy competition. He lifted the small dagger up and down a bit, testing how it moved. It was fine craftsmanship, he had to admit, and, though he hated to say it, if he wasn't so attached to it he might even use it more in battle. But, that was no matter. Timothy was distracted anyway.

Damian walked over casually, fighting the urge to creep, to sneak up, because that would only draw attention. Tim even leaned towards him, arm lifting to hug him, even as he continued arguing, eyes not even looking his way. The easy show of trust had Damian hesitate for a second, but he didn't dwell on it long.

Tim looked surprised when he spotted the knife sticking out of his side. "What's wrong?" Dick asked, puzzled as to why he had suddenly stopped speaking. Tim looked at the blade, then lifted his eyes to Damian's in confusion.

"I find you a worthy opponent Drake." Damian said softly. Tim's eyes widened in surprise a moment before Dick was on them, dragging Tim to the med bay while angrily shouting at Damian. But Tim's eyes never strayed from his little brothers face, gratitude shining in his eyes.

[briefalpacashark]

~Hangover~

Synopsis: Titles pretty self explanatory.

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The next morning you were happily cooking away, watching the minutes pass by on the clock. Usually the boys would have been up half an hour ago. You would have to wake them up soon, though. You all had a mission briefing soon. Now you are a good person. But last night they did have you running across town and dealing with police because of their antics. So you set up a speaker in the hall, turned it on full blast and played an obnoxiously loud ‘Can Can Dance’ song. Hearing the cacophony of groans, you smile, returning to the kitchen. You watched as Gaz, Jonny and Price all dragged themselves into the wreck room heads bowed and pinched nose bridges.

“Well good morning sunshine’s and daisies!” you made sure to hit your voice with a slightly higher and louder pitch, making most of them flinch and groan.

“Shhhhhh,” Price hushed in your general direction. Hearing the speaker suddenly die out, you peeked around the corner to see Ghost standing there with his eyes barely open and a now impaled speaker on the end of his knife.

“Good morning,” you smirked. He looked at your smile, giving a grunt before walking to the table, throwing his defeated opponent upon the table, the bang making them all wince.

“Well well well. What happened to you guys' last night?” you asked, placing two large plates on the table. Full of food they might or might not want to eat. 

“We, uh, we had a few drinks,” Price said.

“Of, a few?” you asked, piling up your plate and beginning to eat.

“Yeah, I think,” he murmured, grabbing a plate for himself.

“How's your chest Jonny?” you asked. Jonny looked up at you with an accusing look, wondering just how you knew about the bald patch on his chest.

“Don't know what you mean, doc,” he grumbled.

“Aha sure. How's the head Simon?” you asked.

“Fine,” he muttered. Everyone looked at his head and to the slight bulge on his temple that the mask failed to hide.

“Got to say didn't pin you as a booty shorts type of man Gaz,” you added turning to Gaz. His face paled as he recalled the pink bedazzled pants he had quickly thrown into the bin. Your smirk widened impossibly wider. You were having way too much fun.

“And sir,” everyone went silent as you turned to Price. He looked up at you with a slight warning.

“I'm sorry about the hat,” you said. Everyone was silent for a few moments as they took in your smug grin.

"I'm to fucken old for this shit," he grumbled reaching for his tea.

“Alright you know what happened last night don't you?” Jonny asked.

“Who me? How could I know? I wasn't there remember,” you said. They pondered. That's the thing. They couldn't remember a damn single thing other than starting a drinking competition with the airforce boys.

“Did. I um d anything embarrassing?” Gaz asked bashfully. You pretended to think.

“What do you define as embarrassing?” you asked. He groaned, and Jonny chuckled.

“What are you laughing about Jonny?” you asked, taking a bite of food. His smile fell as he quickly shut up.

“You came to get us?” Price asked. You nodded.

“So, what happened?” Gaz asked.

“You know I don't think you would believe me even if I did tell you,” you hummed.

“Try us,” Ghost said.

“Right, ok,” you cleared your throat pushing your plate away. 

“So I get a call at 2 am in the morning. You rang me from a random phone, at a phone booth, that you didn't use and you have my contacts up on Gaz phone that you also didn't use. You were all just sitting on the curb eating a shit ton of Macca’s. It was an event to get you all in the car. Then when I did get you all in we went to a bar to pay of your tab. A bar that takes away your left shoe to make sure you don't run out on a tab. Which you guys did. Oh, wait sorry. I forgot the part where you all took a dip in a fountain to save ducks from drawing. Well Simon saved the ducks, Jonny tried to help but somehow started to drown in knee high water. Gaz tried to save him but couldn't and then Price apparently saved you both. Anyway so across from this bar is a police station. And you brilliant genius’s tried to pick a fight with a whole police force. Because apparently one of them tried to arrest Gaz. And the only reason why was because Gaz stole a stun gun. Then when I threatened you with lazwell finding out you all legged it down the street. Ghost almost took out a low hanging beam and Jonny and Gaz took out each other. I then had to track you all down again. You all put up a fight thinking I was working with the police. I had to tie you three up and put you in the back. Captain you were in a fucking tree. Honestly don't know how you got up so high. And Simon was in the trunk the whole time. So half way back to base you somehow managed to convince yourselves that you were kidnaped and jumped out of said car. I looked for you again and you called me to inform me you all had been arrested. Lucky for you I'm a sweet talker and got you guys off with a warning. Then I got you back and had to lug all your asses back to your beds,” you finished of the story with a smile. The boys all stared at you, first processing your words and then flat out denying them.

“Bull shit,” Jonny said in denial.

“Well, have a look at this and say that again,” you pulled out your phone and showed them the photo. Their faces fell as they took it in.

“Delete it,” Ghost ordered.

“What? Fuck no. Do you know the shit I had to go through last night? I earned this,” you stated.

“Sargent, I order you to delete that photo,” Price commanded.

“Captain, can i just say you have the cutest sweetest little giggle I've ever heard in my life,” you cooed. Price's face snapped into a glare.

“Giggled?” Jonny smirked.

“Captain's a giggling drunk,” you nodded. 

“Delete it,” Ghost ordered again.

“Make me,” you challenged. A scream left your lips as they all pounced on you, successfully pulling the phone from your grip and deleting the photo. 

“You all assholes,” you grumbled, taking your phone back.

“Not a word about last night to anyone,” Price ordered, pointing at you.

“Yes sir,” You gave a mock salute, grinning ear to ear.

“What's that?” he asked, pointing to the smile.

“What's what sir?” you asked innocently.

“That smile. What have you done?” he asked.

“Nothing sir,” you smiled, batting your eyelashes before walking away. 

Across the base, Laswell had just entered her office, tea in hand. Sitting down at her computer, she opened her emails going through the more important once before finding one from you. Reading the topic of blackmail, she moved closer, taking a sip of her tea.

As she opened it her eyes went wide at the picture she saw spitting the tea out in a mist.

Later that day you found Ghost sitting on the couch rubbing his temple. 

“Here,” you said, holding out some tablets to him with a drink of water.

“What's this?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” you asked with a smirk. He shrugged, hiking his mask up to his nose and taking the tablets. You were slightly taken aback seeing the half of his face. And from the half you could see he was handsome. What you loved more was the stumble he wore. Yep he was definitely blond. 

“Huh,” you hummed.

“What?” he asked, pulling his mask back down.

“Knew you had a stubble. Jonny owes me a tenner,” you smiled. Again, the Dajuvu washed over you. Ghost thought back to the time you were in the hospital. To the time you held his face so tenderly and looked at him so softly. He wished you would do it again. 

“Hey, wanna hear something worth its weight in gold?” you asked, your cheeky grin taking over. He nodded, and you slotted yourself next to him, your arms pressed against each other. You opened up your phone going into your recorder. Shuffling impossibly closer you held the phone up between your ears. 

“What?”

“Shhhhh,” you hushed him, your hand unknowingly dropping to his biceps to pull him closer. He leaned down, his head gently knocking on the top of yours. It was comedic really. His whole upper body was bent over while you were just sitting there. 

Softly a giggle sounded from your phone.

“What the hell is that?” Ghost asked as he continued to listen.

“That is our dear captain giggling,” you chuckled. Simon couldn't help the laugh that burst from his mouth. And not one of his half chuckles. No it was a real laugh. I mean, who wouldn't be amused by it. Your smirk turned into a warm smile as you looked up at him. 

“Fuck, That’s hilarious. That's really Price?” he asked. You loved it, the way his smile reached his eyes.

“Yeah, but not as amusing as you tighty whities,” You grinned, patting his leg and getting up. He froze. Sure, he wore tighty whities when he was in civics. They were comfortable. 

“So you took advantage of me when I was drunk and unconscious?” he asked teasingly.

“Oh yeah definitely,” you grinned back with a wink. You went to leave but paused, stepping back to face him. “I didn't see your face if that's what you mean. I kept my eyes closed when I took your mask off,” you added. 

“I know,” he muttered. You frowned and were about to ask about it when Price called the two of you for the briefing. 

“Come on,” he said, walking up to you and putting you in a headlock. Which wasn't hard. He practically dragged you out.

“Don't go telling anyone about my tighty whities. Copy?” he asked.

“Sure thing, Sir,” you grinned tapping out. He smiled, releasing you. You walked side by side. Something you hoped one day you would always do.

“You owe me a speaker by the way,”

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=COD Master List Here=

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[lowtaperfeyd]

Hi 🥰 can i request scenario where reader is paul’s sister and feyd’s wife who is all about honor and one day after feyd’s fight she tells him that he’s not all that because he doesn’t fight fare and is coward 😏

Rats Vs. Mice

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!reader

author's note: Feyd is so fine. That's all.

warnings: death, blood, house harkonnen, knives.

wc: 940

(Y/N) Atreides’ father, the Duke Leto Atreides, had a saying, “Respect for truth is the basis for all morality. Something cannot emerge from nothing.” This has always been something both him and his daughter lived by. Because there is no honor in a man who isn’t truthful. Most of the time she didn’t think of this saying often, since she had been surrounded by truthful men. But when she married Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen she realized just how much the Harkonnens lie. She realized the truth did also die with her father. 

“Does he always fight this way?’ She interrogated her uncle-in-law as they were watching Feyd fight in the black and white light of the Harkonnen homeworld’s sun. 

“Yes of course he does!” He quickly responded, feeling a little offended because of the criticism of his heir from his own wife, “What other way is he supposed to?!”  

“I didn't mean to offend, my Baron,” she replied, realizing it was a bad idea to bad mouth Feyd in front of his uncle, “I’m sorry.”  

“Silly girl,” the only thing that came out of the baron’s mouth after that was, “That boy killed his own mother.” (Y/N) continued to watch Feyd fight. 

The way his arm moved through the air in a teasing motion. Like a cat drawing out the death of a mouse. It was complete cowardice disguised by an overconfident nature from many fights against drugged opponents. Drugged opponents who may just stand a chance against Feyd-Rautha. Of course, she did not think he was a bad fighter, just that he was a big baby. 

The fight, of course, ended with all of Feyd’s opponents on the ground lying still and Feyd’s knife rising to the air to show the blood of his kills. Pathetic from a man who won’t even fight a sober man, (Y/N) thought.

As Feyd went back through the tunnel he came out of, (Y/N) turned toward the baron and asked him,

“Would Feyd ever fight against a man who wasn’t drugged?” 

“Why do you ask this?” The baron asked suspiciously. 

“I mean, isn't his birthday coming up? A good present for him would be fighting someone of equal machinery in a sense. You also need to test whether or not he would be good for Arrakis. I know you aren’t happy with Rabban.” 

The baron just mumbled incoherently. 

“Anyway, I must leave,” She said as she got up, “I have to see my husband.” 

(Y/N) began walking through the tall halls of the fortress. Passing grotesque portraits and seeing the black and white fireworks coming from outside of the castle. The fireworks in celebration of Feyd’s victory. Even though it was dark inside the castle the fireworks did light it just enough to where you did not need a glow globe to transverse through the corridors. The air got more frigid as she continued to walk deeper and deeper to her husband’s room. Like walking into the belly of the beast. She got to her husband’s bedroom door and saw two guards outside of it. 

“You can leave” (Y/N) said to the guards. 

The guards just looked at her and nodded. Afraid of what she would or her husband would do if they didn’t listen. 

(Y/N) opened the huge door to see her husband sitting hunched over on his bed. His feet firmly planted on the ground. His knife, still bloody, in his hands. 

“I watched you fight today.” She said cooly to him. 

“I know,” He said equally, “I saw you from the ground” 

“Well congratulations-” She tried to get out before being interrupted by Feyd, 

“What were you talking about with my uncle?” He bit out in a mix of anger and annoyance.

“I don’t know what youre talking about.” (Y/N) deflected. 

“Don’t play coy!” He shouted and moved to stand menacingly in front of his wife, “I saw you two talking and then looking back at me. What was it!”   

“You would be right, Feyd,” She responded, standing her ground, “We were talking about you.” 

(Y/N) declared, “How much of a coward you are,” After saying this she could see the anger lighting up in the cold, black eyes of Feyd-Rautha, “How his youngest nephew only fought people who weren’t able to beat him. And how pathetic it is.” She spat at him.  

“And would you know something, he actually agreed with me.” (Y/N) lied through her teeth, hoping that Feyd would not go and ask his uncle about it later, 

“He agreed that it would be more entertaining if you actually fought people who stab you as easily as you stab them. Have a form of equal bloodshed.” 

Even though his wife was still berating him, Feyd continued to look at his wife, the woman who was not afraid to question him or go against when it came down to speaking, and thought about how pretty she would be with her head on a spike. Red lipstick smeared on her lips and hair all messed up from the blade going across her throat. 

“And do you want to know the worst thing about you Feyd,” (Y/N) continued to push his buttons, “any honor you have earned is false. The only animal one could compare you to is a lazy, house cat; who can only find entertainment in tiny mice, and can’t defeat the rats which actually pose a threat.” 

“You lost all your honor the day you killed your mother.”

"What makes you think you know anything about honor? " Feyd retorted, "Your family is dead and mine is thriving."

[cosmerelists]

How Cosmere Characters Would React to Having Roommates Who Leave Dirty Dishes in the Communal Sink

As requested by @angelofmusings :)

Per angelofmusings' request, Cosmere characters are in a dorm-type situation with a shared kitchen....and SOMEBODY keeps leaving dirty dishes in the sink! How will they respond?

1. Shallan

Let's just say you do NOT want to get into an "ignoring things" competition with college-age Shallan.

Shallan: [humming to herself as she sits at the kitchen table, drawing] Roommate: Uh, Shallan...? Is that....a good place to be drawing? Shallan: [Looks up. Behind her is a tower of dirty dishes higher than a human person, teetering ominously and casting a shadow across the table where she works] Shallan: Hmm? What do you mean?

2. Sarene

Uses weaponized incompetence until her roommates get their act together.

Roommate: Why are all of my bowls chipped? Sarene: I did your dishes for you since you don't have time! <3 Roommate: Y-You did a bad job! Sarene: Did I? Huh! I tried really hard to help since you seem to be way too busy to do any housework! Sarene: Anyway, I'll get back to doing your laundry! [prepares to dump an entire cup of bleach into the washing machine] Roommate: NOOOOO

3. Vin

Vin only has one solution. And that solution is MURDER. D-Dish murder, I mean.

Roommate: Um, why are all of my dishes in a garbage bag? Vin: Well, you left them in the sink for a week so I threw them away. Roommate: You can't throw away my dishes! Vin: It's either that or throw YOU away in a trash bag. Vin: But my boyfriend said murder wasn't the answer. Vin: Yet. Roommate: ... Roommate: I-I'll do the fucking dishes!

4. Elend

Elend convinces all of the roommates to vote on who does which chores.

Elend: ... Elend: ... Elend: I can't believe they voted for me to do ALL of the chores.

5. Renarin

Rather than confront the situation verbally, Renarin opts to leave anonymous notes when nobody is looking.

Roommate (reading): This one says, "The dishes have been in the sink for 2 days." Roommate: This one says, "The dishes have been in the sink for 3 days." Roommate: This one just says, "4 days." Roommate: This one just says "5." Roommate: ... Roommate: Why is this so ominous???

6. Steris

Ha ha! As if Steris didn't set up an extensive roommate contract and force everyone to sign!

Steris: The arbitrator will be here tomorrow at 4. Roommate: Arbitrator...? Why? Steris: To discuss the dishes issue, per Section 9c of the contract we all signed. Roommate: I ONLY LEFT THEM OVERNIGHT. Steris: 4:00pm. Be there!

7. Dalinar

Let's just say that the roommates of college-age Dalinar "Blackthorn" Kholin are not going to risk pissing him off.

Roommate 1: Dude! Don't just leave that in the sink! Roommate 2: My coffee mug? Why? Roommate: 1: Dalinar gets out of class soon! Roommate 2: So? Dalinar doesn't care about dishes. I've never seen him using any other than that one steak knife he carries around. Roommate 1: Yeah, the knife he used to STAB a guy in the LEG after which he KEPT EATING HIS BURGER Roommate 2: Whoa he did that??? Roommate 1: I'm just saying he seems like the type. Wash! Your! Dishes!

8. Marsh

Marsh just does all the dishes himself because he's the RESPONSIBLE one.

Marsh: (grumbling to himself while carefully washing the dishes) Stupid roommates out having fun with girlfriends, getting into trouble, doing stuff. Marsh: While I'm here doing what needs to actually be done... Marsh: ... Marsh: Makes me want to stab myself in the eyes sometimes.

9. Tress

Tress just does all the dishes herself because she is too nice to do otherwise.

Roommate: I can't TAKE it anymore! Tress: ??? Roommate: You're always making us dinner, you always do the dishes, you fixed the air conditioner last week even though that's not even your job! Roommate: Your power of friendship is TOO STRONG and I think I'm going to have to become a better person now! Tress: I'm happy for you! Roommate: YOU WOULD BE

10.Kaladin

At first, Kaladin performatively washes the biggest, heaviest dish he can find while everyone watches, hoping to inspire their better natures. But when that doesn't work...

Roommate: [Woken up suddenly as Kaladin drags them bodily out of bed at 5:00am] Roommate: What! What's going on??? Kaladin: [dragging him toward the kitchen] You are the biggest, meanest roommate I have and I'm going to MAKE you wash your dishes as an example to the others! Roommate: D-Does this make sense in a roommate situation?? Kaladin: I don't know what you mean. Kaladin [glowering at full power] Get. Washing.

[unsoundedcomic]

Whumptober 2024 - 10&11 - "Blow to the Head" & "Double Vision"

Durlyne let the Tanners have the slums and, in exchange, the Tanners did not often venture into the city's ghers nor its moneyed streets. This rule wasn't written down anywhere nor ever even said aloud; it seemed instead branded on local hearts. Durlynians learned it in the way that children learned knives were sharp and stoves were hot.

The Tanners had been Lemuel's boogeyman the first ten years of his life. Afterwards, he met the world's scarier monsters, but tales of the Tannery rogues had primed him for them: throatcutters, twin takers, back flayers. Hides from the Tannery were the finest in the land, for they did not skin the swine nor stag; Tanners skinned the man.

If you stayed out of the slums though, a lad was safe. A careful lad was safe.

So why, today, was the Sheriff of White Hill constabulary laying murdered in his fine home? His whole family, in fact, was murdered. A wife, two little boys, an infant girl, and even the family kedises slashed to death in their drawing room. Lemuel didn't understand it, but it was hard to question: one of the assassins had been caught trying to put the manor to the torch afterwards. A Midmolil boy for sure. An oily little throat-cutter called Corley Full Tang. By dawn, the inquisitors would twist him into shapes that did not yet have names.

But right now, his two accomplices were flying through the labyrinthine slums beyond Blue Boy Bridge. And Lemuel Adelier wanted them badly. He was only a week returned home from the army, freshly recruited to the Lions of Mercy. He was a Lion! They could never send him away again.

As long as he was a GOOD Lion.

"Take some care there!" Duane called after his brother, egging his mount on until it ran apace with Lemuel's panting bull , "You don't chase the viper into its den; you don't put yourself alone in the dark with it!"

Lemuel barked a laugh. "Home to the wife then if you're afraid, old man! Did you not see the blood in the Sheriff's home? From corner to corner it pooled! Over tin soldiers and a Tainish primer it pooled!"

Lemuel didn't have to turn to see the words had struck. There was a six month old baby girl in his brother's home now. Never again would he be fighting fully armoured. "Of course I saw it," Duane snarled, "And my prudence is not fear, ye strutting cock! Do as I say and wait for reinforcements. Do not ride off unbuttoned in your shortclothes and embarrass me, the one that brought you here. This isn't Chinoll!"

"Embarrass you!" Lemuel echoed, "Embarrass you!"

"Do you not covet the snakes? Know your place or the closest you will ever be allowed to a vliegeng are their dung heaps!"

"I don't need your permission! I'll find them!"

The Adeliers had been born and raised in the Godkiller's city, and though Lemuel had always respected his grandfather's advice to never venture beyond Blue Boys Bridge, he knew the Tannery's mark as well as any other local with a sense of self-preservation. As his hound snuffed after the villain's scent now, he noticed that mark mysteriously absent from the walls. Should the killers not be running back to their den, or at least towards the assurance of their own territory?

Lemuel was about to make this observation aloud when a door blew open, and eyes flashed in the night. "There!"

A throwing knife shot wasp-like from Lemuel's hand. The figure in the doorway yelped (Lemuel distantly hoped he had not just murdered a washwoman) and bolted from the building towards a break in the opposite wall. Clattering to the pavement, the knife didn't stick, but Lemuel's dog was already pounding past it, leaping, landing hard on the rogue's back. Lemuel dismounted like a diving raptor, sailing over the hound's head and to his prey's side.

"Some viper!" Lemuel grabbed his collar, hauled him to his feet. "More a worm slinking on his belly through the dirt! You slaughtered that entire family, and not a drop of blood on you! Look at the professional, Duane! Look at the coward!"

The elder Adelier pulled his hound up sharp, oozing disgust. "Excrement in a suit," he hissed, "Child-killing trash that would make a liar of Sonum Ssael when He taught every man has in him the way to His side. WHY! Who hired that hit, demon?"

Lemuel punched fingers into the knife slash in the assassin's coat, then ribs. The move would have felt more satisfying with a clawed gauntlet, perhaps, but it still produced a warbling, ricocheting scream. Blood oozed, and stuck the contents of the rogue's opened pocket to the LIon's punishing hand.

"Stop it!" Duane demanded. Lemuel did it again. Oh, Duane professed to loathe this sport, but he'd deliver this bastard to the inquisitors without a qualm in his heart. Ha!

"Sing for us!" Lemuel snarled, "Sing! Or I let you live to see the pit! And by God, if you do, you'll wish I'd taken your liver-"

The world offset suddenly, violent as a rutting vliegeng. Lemuel's vision exploded silver, and it was his turn to be on the ground. It was happy to catch him, but then he couldn't lift his newly wet head nor remember what he'd done with his legs. Fearfully Duane snapped his name but it was only his shadow that approached. Then in a mighty leap it cleared him, and Lemuel saw his brother bolt to the far end of the alley, palms flashing green spellfire. There was an exchange of pymary there, too fast for Lemuel's concussed brain to follow. Duane would win of course. It was hardly worth watching. Perhaps he'd give that show a miss entirely…

When next he opened his eyes, Lemuel was in his bed at the Temple barracks. Pink sunlight filtered through the high slits in the walls. He felt warm and sleepy and doped with something that he thought he'd like a second helping of.

"Oh, no, no," admonished Leysa, pushing him back down. Drugged or sober, Lemuel was powerless to resist. He lay obediently paralysed by the same tone of voice his new sister-in-law used when telling Duane he WOULD be playing cards and smoking with her father and his friends tonight.

"Where… is…?"

She smiled, grim, and fixed the cold rag back on his forehead. "Duane is choosing the 'most cross and callous tyrant in the Temple' for the task of interrogating the man he caught last night. Those terrible criminals nearly had the undoing of you, sweet boy, and you know your brother is one to take that personally."

Lemuel shut his eyes, giddiness and nausea battling for control of his stomach. "He… will wring his hands over insulting a hackney… until one he holds dear is threatened. Then, he would challenge God."

"I confess it to be a quality I adore," laughed Leysa. Lemuel thought she had the most musical laugh. He felt singularly accomplished when he could produce it. "Please do not mistake his nature for hypocrisy. Recognise that it is love."

"I fear… I embarrassed him last night."

"You are his brother. It is why brothers are. I did not see embarrassment when he laid you here in your cot however, nor after he had sent for his own sleeping wife to tend you. I only saw-"

"Love. It's how he gets away with everything."

Leysa laughed her songbird laugh, carefully petting his head. She liked him, and Lemuel still couldn't figure out why. He rubbed his eyes, cross, then felt a stinging spot suddenly at his side. His blood-sticky fingers found bandages there, and produced great agony when he pressed them into his abdomen. Leysa captured his hand, shushing him.

"Now, I told you they nearly had the undoing of you. After his friend struck you with that spell, the man you were on top of put a knife into your side. He's still out there, somewhere, but no concern of yours. You need to rest. I will have the cleric bring more medicine."

Hard breaths through his nose. Lemuel bade the pain subside as his mind raced. None of this made sense… but he would NOT be Duane's embarrassment. "Please," he agreed with Leysa, "More."

===

Double Vision

A few hours later, his hound was happy to see him, though Lemuel wondered why the kennel lads were keeping the animals two apiece in their stalls today. As he neared, careful not to seem in a hurry to the attendants, the pair of dogs resolved into one.

Oh.

He wanted to shake his head to clear it, but was certain that would result in a swoon. God's Beard, could he ride at all with his eyes half-crossed by the Temple's finest unguents?

They'd killed the pain at least. Lemuel was able to swing onto his saddle with the barest grunt, and only the slightest tickle of oozing blood from his stitched side.

"We don't have a lot of time before Leysa returns," he murmured. The dog whumped and beat its tail twice. Leysa'd gone home to feed the new baby, but she'd threatened him with strangulation if he moved from the cot. That's why Duane had sent for her. It had nothing to do with her laugh nor her kind eyes nor any particular skill she had at pressing cold rags to hot foreheads. Duane simply thought he'd mind her more than anyone else. Well! The great Duane Adelier was not so wise, was he!

He'd said papa would be coming to visit soon too, after the shop closed. That would not control him either! No, no. That only motivated him to put himself elsewhere. He did not need to see the old man's pity; that look in his eyes with which he had always regarded his youngest son. That look. That inscrutable LOOK.

I'm sorry you're not your brother.

To hell with it. Lemuel had investigative work to do, and some degree of personal honour to restore.

He made it over the Bridge in an hour, sticking to the low streets and away from the busy market corridor. Passing over the river, it was grey and berg-bloated, bottles and trash choking the banks. In the wan afternoon light, Lemuel looked down at his gory right hand. He squinted, willing his vision to align and read to him the torn scrap of paper stuck to his palm.

"Gherson Oa"

It had been in his would-be murderer's pocket. Was it a street? None that he knew. Perhaps a business name somewhere in the slums?

Once he'd reached the mouth of the alley, Lemuel left his hound and proceeded on foot. The wine-coloured stain half-way down the filthy corridor left him even sicker in his middle. He saw Duane's prints in it, a wild frenzy of boot soles and bloody knees. Slashes where his coatskirts had dragged through the seeping red.

"Love," Lemuel whispered. Of course Duane loved him. And he loved Duane. But there was not one Goddamned thing in the world that love could mend. Ssael spoke of honour, of duty, of responsibility towards family, faith, and country. If the Godkiller had thought more of love, He'd have said so. Let love be for mothers, fathers, and children. Let it be for people who knew how to laugh.

Quietly, carefully, Lemuel eased open the door from the night before, the one from which his attacker had bolted. It was unmarked. The lock was broken. Freshly broken. The knights and constables must have already been through here?

Aye, the small room inside was a mess. Turned over tables, papers scattered, a wooden trunk opened with pymary and all its contents emptied into a heap. Lem crossed the room and descended a hobbled set of wooden stairs leading out the back. They led to a basement converted into an equally disastrous kitchen. Its upholstered chairs had been slashed open. Sawdust hung in the air. Lemuel had to squeeze his nostrils shut for if he sneezed he was sure he would split open.

That's when he saw it. Sitting on the dark counter admidst overturned mustard jars, half a loaf of stale bread, and a few broken jars of pickle, he spied a canister with its label torn.

"tmeal," it read.

Sweating through his uniform, Lemuel affixed to it his own bloody scrap of paper.

"Gherson Oatmeal."

He breathed a chuckle, expression a rictus of triumph, and unscrewed the top.

There was only a dead mouse inside.

"Bleeeeeeding heeeeell," he moaned. Duane would laugh at the soldier brat thinking he'd figured out something clever. The Temple's finest men had swept through here. If there was anything to be found, they would have found it!

But there WAS something to find! Something about the entire assassination was wrong. The Tanners would not have ventured to the Sheriff's very home to kill him. They would not have killed the entire family, enraging the rest of the city. They would not have been caught in the act! And a Tannery assassin would not have stabbed a knife into an unconscious Lion and failed to have it kill him!

Amateurs! These were amateurs!

But wait, wait, wait.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Duane had spoken in the past of pymarics with material triggers. Doorways that only opened if certain keys or materials swept into their questing field.

"Is there a dead mouse door?" he asked the room.

Well, not in the north wall. He held the oatmeal canister in front of him like the world's least successful alms cup, rattling the limp rodent inside, running it past a framed calendar, a faded old poster for the General Foundry's playhouse (destroyed in a fire years ago), a shelf of tin tea canisters and detergent boxes. Nothing. Nor did the east wall budge, nor were there any likely apertures to the west, which was covered over with dusty shelves, a grimy wash basin full of dishes, and a stove missing its grills.

"An embarrassment!" he despaired, holding his head. He felt weak and sick. Blood dribbled down his hip and made a wet, cold streak in his trouser leg. They would never give him a vliegeng. Newly arrived and already put in his cot by some son of a bitch wright; by some cowardly murderer with an oatmeal label in his bloody coat. Probably the lunatic only kept it to roll a weed fag! Piqued, furious at himself, Lemuel threw the canister and its forlorn dead occupant to the floor-

Which dissolved beneath his feet. Into perfect powdery blackness, Lemuel fell.

Concluded here.

[quecksilvereyes]

oh, sister, I am sorry. your eyes are sunken and your skin is bruised. your lips are chapped, your nailbeds bitten raw. your husband's hand on your waist is a ghost's touch held by the band on your left ring finger and I-

I am dead.

I got on the train, Su. Nevermind your tears, nevermind the plea you could not shape with words, nevermind your fingers on the pulse point of my wrist. "stay", you'd said, as you have always done, dictionary in hand and baby teeth yet lodged in your jaw. "don't go where i cannot."

I step through a wardrobe and you follow, damned be reason. I slay a wolf and you follow, I cling to the little ones and you follow, I am crowned and you follow, I am-

I go past a lamp post, and you follow, damned be dread. I go to a train station and you follow, trembling hands and tender heart. I go, and I go, and I go, and you follow. Sun of my skies. Light of my life.

I go. you stop.

are we too old for stories, now? ten-and-four and ten-and-three, budding bodies and steel bones, we are cast from our home. i hold the little ones until i drown in them. you grip your skirts until no iron can press the shape of your palms from them. and you have ever been, cruelly reasonable and logically callous.

say you, glass shard eyes and rouge-red lips: we are english. we are children. she thinks she has found a magical land in the upstairs wardrobe.

say I, trembling hands and coiling guts: we are narnian. we are monarchs. if she's not mad and she's not lying, then logically she must be telling the truth.

my sister Susan, beautiful as folk tales are and twice as sharp, did you intend every invitation you took for me to twist the knife a godly animal once thrust into my guts? perhaps it was the way your eyes turned blue, or the sound of your laughter losing its bells. perhaps it was just my trembling fingers at the back of your legs, drawing stocking lines where no stockings had ever lain.

the line came out shaking, and you rubbed it off until your skin cried red. the hem of your dress still dripped wet when you left that day, turning on heels too narrow for you to walk in.

do you remember? it took you days to come home, and mother wailed for all of them. you crawled into my bed that night, as you did when we were parents to our little ones, those terrible months. your head on my shoulder, your breath in my ear, I held you until morning.

your mouth in my throat, eyes heavy with sleep, tongue heavy with champagne: we are here now. we must make the best of it. he cannot have all our lives, and all our joys. i wish you would laugh again.

doesn't little lucy, shrieking mouth and tumbling legs, laugh enough for us all?

lucy's manic. if she didn't laugh she'd cry.

i think sometimes, in the parts of my guts that are still a schoolboy, and are mean and cruel to match, that the alcohol makes you softer than the daylight ever could. i do not tell you.

i press my lips to your forehead. i wrap my arms around you. the year between us rings heavy, and when I get up in the morning, you do not follow.

I tried, Su. I did. I applied for university, I saw that girl with that smile. with those eyes. I let you take sections from the paper before I ever touched it, I held the little ones in my arms, and I made coffee in the morning. I sat all my exams.

I smiled when the little ones came back smelling of home.

Aslan's wounds, did I try. but-

I have ever been a thing made for stories. brave the way knights are, bloody knuckles and buckling pride. a horse between my calves, a sword in my hands.

I think, sometimes, that I was born for my sword, for the hollow ringing of my heart when I first held it. a part of me, even then, ten-and-three and soaked to the bone.

such bravery is not made for real world boys and real world taunts. there is a map, I think, from the summits of my knuckles to the jaws of every boy who ever looked at me and bared his teeth.

I am sovereign. I am the skies for your sun to burn in.

I am made wrong, for this england, and I cannot take this life you want. I belong, I think, into myths and legend, the star-studded shards of our home.

so I went on the train, Susan. so I died, and I named what you have chosen. so I banned you from their scorning mouths. so you grip your husband's hand, realest of us all, and you cry. you do not follow.

Forgive me.

[joannasteez]

to the victors, go the spoils

pairing: cody rhodes x black reader x jey uso

summary/warning/authors note: after the win at fastlane, cody finds himself along with jey at your house, in your bed, enjoying the benefits of being champions. | you know what time it is, im givin smut but its always gon come with some description. explicit at that so minors dni! my first time writing them both so go easy on me ;) slowly becoming a cody girl >>>>

word count: 4.7k

text message | outgoing: nice match. great win. 

text message | cody rhodes: can the victor have his spoils?

text message | outgoing: if he plays nice, yes. 

text message | cody rhodes: i have a friend taggin' along, hows that for nice? 

text message | outgoing: sounds like fun

a small creeping shudder to your skin, this taunting twist of excitement and anticipation. you could feel, see even, from the dimly lit living room where you sat, that slow spreading smile of satisfaction he wore often. or rather, as often as you saw him. both ring side and bed side, cody rhodes, the one they called the american nightmare, had this subtly to him. this dapperness that caught your eye and the draw of your breath. he donned himself in suits and dressed his words in a similar likeness, but was never shy to dirty himself for the fun of it. 

it wasn't often that you saw him, but when he rolled through indiana for a match, he made his way, without fail, to your place. to see you. to talk, to touch, to kiss. to have his fill of fun before begrudgingly leaving. the smallest of pouts tainting his lips before leaving your door, and it's what you craved the most. the idea that you were too good to stay away from, too good to leave. he was a man of business, and you'd slowly, with time, made yourself apart of his business. something he'd need to tend to in an effort to keep close. 

he was patient and clever. at times devious. soft and sweet. always thinking of the next thing to leave you wondering. kind of something like now, as shea butter smooths over fine from hand to thrilled skin. who could his friend be? 

but jey uso feels the same way that you do, left to roam in a clueless sort of excitement. he's sobered enough to control his thoughts, his words less slurry than the way they were at the press conference. but his blood still rushes, and his head swims, this dull light rocking. like the pull in of morning waves. he wonders what you look like, how sweet your voice could be, and there it goes, a tingling in his fingers. his pants, the place right where his dick sits, half hard and almost ready. sounds like fun, your message had read, brief and not leaving much to the imagination. but he figured, if cody had driven so far away from the arena, then you were worth it. 

and "fuck me", the smallest mumble from jey's lips when you open the door to let them in. a champagne silk robe and even silkier looking skin. warm and brown under soft dim light. and that voice? a sly "hey", coyness there but still easy going. a damn angel. it was worth it. 

the tension in the silence is palpable. worthy of a knife. eyes cutting to and from. who'd say what and make the first move when. you pull the door wider, allowing them in, ignoring the heat of cody's blue eyes, deciding to take jey in instead. 

"when cody said a friend, i didn't think he'd be the main event".

jey's head tilts, turning to let his eyes fall everywhere it could. your face, the peak of cleavage, the painted baby pink of your toes. the sultry atmosphere of the house. you were prepared it seemed. his ego having no choice but to bloom. threatening to burst. "you a fan?" 

you shrug, a feigning of disinterest, but the warmth pooling your belly says different. because jey isn't all that shy about checking you out, curious eyes taking this slow trailing over the smaller details, looking, you assumed for the things he liked. and the space is thin between the two of you, taking his jacket, cologne heady. a gravitating thing. and to him you smell sweet, expensive. 

"i watch casually". 

and cody smiles at his genius, easing further into your house. reveling with comfortable steps at the short fused tension building between you and his new tag team partner. you're all but on your knees for jey and he's just only made it through the door."casual my ass. she knows every bit of my entrance music. word for damn word.

your eyes roll playful. hesitating to leave jey briefly before following cody to take his suit jacket."fuck you rhodes".

he mumbles a"you will", before needy hands pull you in, and the seam of his lips push into yours for a more than subtle kiss. tongue following after, smooth and controlling. you'd found in your times with him that a drink or two made him less patient. less willing to follow through with subtlety. he bit gentle and caressed with tough fingers that spurred on a sure to harshen pound that found its way to the crux of your thighs. he was buzzed maybe, but not nearly as drunk as he was at that conference. cheeks not as red and eyes not as glazed. you liked him like this, present enough to follow well through with his teasing. 

and as his lips break from yours, taking on the skin at your neck, your nails run through blonde hair. eyes looking for jey whose already moving closer. 

cody at your ear. "i missed you", suckling gentle just below your ear. "missed you so much i bought a friend for you to play with". 

"you're so good to me", a moan of sarcasm, pulling from him to grab jey. your steps setting off for the living room. 

cody disappears into a hallway, small bag in hand. his voice carrying on. "be nice. i'll be back".

the blunt you'd been pulling from before they came finds its way from an ash tray back between your fingers. but jey grabs easy at the lighter in time to hold it up for you. the spark just at the tip of it warm. you pull, a soft hallow of your cheeks that makes him wonder about other things, before the full inhale. you offer him the blunt and he takes it. touch faint enough that it urges the skin for more. 

"what's your poison jey?" he keeps the blunt between his fingers, feeding you the end to pull again. the smoke making for more heady air. "i've been told i mix drinks good". 

"nah i'm good right now". his eyes fixed on the fullness of your lips. "not tryna fuck around and over do it". 

you point over to the couch, watching his legs set wide and inviting as he sits. ending the burn of the blunt, you walk about the living room. loving the way his arms fall over the tops of the fine leather. he's settled in. that's good, you think.

"how you know cody?" 

"i'm a chef", you started. twisting the switch of another lamp not too far away to see more of his pretty face. "met him a while back at one of my restaurants". 

"oh yeah? one of?" a palm smoothening over the thick hair at his beard. eyeing your legs as you draw closer. "you got it like that?" 

"of course". 

just in front of him you pull the knot of your robe to reveal baby pink lace, and he stops with everything not to hiss with want. but waits instead, your body slotting over him to straddle his thighs. humming with a deep sigh as the nails of your fingers run down the broad width of his chest, before lifting to take purchase at the nape of his neck where the blue of his mullet sits. the hair curling and silky to the touch. cody a slight after thought as you push your lips in to ghost over jey's. this slow faint ride as you speak. 

"i like your eyes. they speak for you". 

"what they sayin?"

and it's what you expect the kiss to be, despite the tension, the heady way need pulses about skin and short lasting clever touch. until now of course, his hands more sure, spread wide and warm at your thighs. gentlemanly enough to kiss with patience, to test the taste of your lips before the slow roll in of tongue, and fuck, its a soft thickness. a deviously low groaning from his chest bleeding into where you hold at his cheeks, as he rushes in for more. 

jey builds as the seconds pour one into the other, his kiss a good sort of sloppy that makes your hips rut and your brain numb, but his hands, as big and damaging as they can be, don't grip too tight. caution like a weight, stifling the more vicious sort of pulling and prying you ache for. 

a whimper sounds from your throat , your hips grinding into his, needy for friction. "touch me how you want. i won't break". breathy but assured. 

and it's all he needs before his fingers grow hard and sharp into supple skin. something like the screwing in of nails. at your thighs, your ass, nearly ripping the stitch of the lace, till he's holding tight at your breast. lips dragging kisses over the ways of your neck, tongue peaking to taste as he goes, till they slip over wet, firm, your nipples tight as he swirls. another one of his moans stretching slow through your skin till it hits nerve. 

your hips work desperate more than anything, the texture of his jeans against the crotchless opening pushing at your slit. as he sucks, licks sloppy enough that his spit drips, you feel yourself growing messy. pussy wet and seeping on the less than soft fabric, on him.

and jey notices, of-fucking-course he notices. smirking devious at the way you fall apart on him already. another swat to already hot skin that makes you throb and hiss. "makin' a fuckin mess on me already". 

"just means i like you", smirking with him even in your haze. your fingers a comb through his hair as you bring him back to suck at you. missing the feeling already. 

and the way you get lost in him is easy. as he grabs and pulls and pinches. licks and kisses. 

footsteps a steady padding behind you, till they stop, and then your head is pulling back unhurried by a hand at your throat. the touch not jey's but demanding all the same. your eyes dim in their pleasure but open enough still to make out cody's face. his sharp features rounding out some at the edges of his jaw as he smiles. 

"open for me sweetheart".

and your lips part, tongue stretching out till you feel his spit drip at it. a satisfied hum strumming  your ears as he bends to peck your mouth. fingers squeezing at your throat to accompany the sensation of jey teasing his teeth at your nipples. sharp pullings that force out moans more broken than whole. 

"i think she's ready for more", cody announces. blue eyes glazing over with this fine layer of lust as he trails slow over you. 

and that giddy way your nerves had split and reformed, splitting to come together again, over and over, after reading cody's text messages, has turned now into something new as your body dips soft into the bed, awaiting more of whatever they have for you. this steady rushing in your blood, frenzied and never ending. and they stare you down in this connected way, hunters after prey, toothy grins and lusty eyes as they guide your body. thighs snugging in jey's head and your knees nailed into the cushion of the bed, his tongue dipping into the soaked mess of your pussy as you attempt to settle into sitting on his face. 

and cody, all lean muscle and fire in the icy blue of his eyes, licking rough into your mouth to take advantage of the sloppy moving your lips take to return his kisses. your own head swimming, high off of the ache twisting at your core from the way jey sucks at your needy clit. his tongue moving, no where near desperate, but eager, determined to drive you to madness. and you like the toughness of them both, the harsher touches and grips to the skin, so when he swats hard at your ass again and feels you drip in his mouth, he groans satisfied. excited. 

his palm comes down, again and again, breaking pleasure into thick skin till you whimper and shiver, lips suckling sweet all the same.

you hiss at the stinging, waiting for that inevitable sinking in of heat as jey caresses where he strikes. something like a gentle storm every time he meets your flesh. harsh and soothing all the same, with these slip ins of pleasure, tongue flat and licking broad at your slit. 

a laugh bristles your skin, just at your forehead, hands trembling and useless as they attempt to pull away cody's pants. you whine, pleading, and he takes a minute from his amusement to do away with the rest of his clothes, springing up hard and warm against your skin. 

another spank rips into raw skin, and you feel the ripple of it at your clit. coaxes your eyes to roll. 

cody thinks he's never seen you so taken by pleasure. ardor sweet off your skin. your touch warm and firm as you fix yourself to stroking the deep pink of his tip. a grunt toppling from him as you let spit string out wet and lazy from between kiss swollen lips. "so damn pretty", he huffs. savoring the slow pull in you take of his cock. 

and your tongue is all silk and gentle touch. a warmth he's missed since his last visit to indiana. but he's patient about getting what he wants, pulls up a foot to sit on the bed for better steadying and lets you work him at a leisure pass. one of his hands unrelenting as it swats at your thigh. "you like a little pain, don't you angel?", voice rasped and a bit dazed. 

"yes", feathered and faint. 

heat overflowing in your cheeks, hips rutting at the flat lay of jey's tongue. a thick finger finding its way to slip into you as you grind wild at him. chasing the release that comes after the vicious knotting in your core. and the sound of the room is lewd, silence burdened by the soft squelch of tongues and the urgent push in of warm taut fingers. jey lavishes you like the taste is heaven sent. something once in a lifetime. like one moment away from the soaked mess of you will do him in to an endless suffering. and for as much as it's worth, your palm grips as the other digs into the sheets, to press in a squeeze against the weight of cody's balls. mouth a sweet suck at the harsh reddened tip of him. 

your words reach out as nothing more than a breath. a quick "oh fuck", that badly sums up the building of tension. hips nearly smothering jey as cody takes your mouth to kiss, a hand at your neck again, swallowing moans and that faithful ability to breathe. the throb in your spine grows ruthless and the spasm of your clit nearly splits your ears. vision blurred as you fight for composure amongst the rage of release. 

the room taking this lax spin, their eagerness driving them to lay you down easy. your legs spreading despite the ache. moaning soft and satisfied, blissed as fingers slip gentle through your slit with a slight shake. simply to savor and prolong even the rush in your blood. a delicate fondling to spread your lower lips, peeling back to reveal, like the prettiest flowers in bloom. the grin pulling along your lips a gentle teasing seduction. and of course the mere way you play with yourself  doesn't compare to jey, that slow thick push in, his strokes measured but yours sloppy, ministrations drunk off the heat of hungry gazes. 

but it's not hard, getting lost in you. your taste, skin supple and balmy. so easy to hold, to melt into. it's no wonder cody travels so far when he's here. jey would to, wants to after this, but even the thought of leaving is a disappointing one. he just wants to stay here, watch you work your way into delirium. wants to help you get there even, losing the rest of his clothes and bringing himself back to you till his knees sink into the bed.

you meet him, your eyes to his. moaning excited, the heaviness of him taking a steady slip over your slit. "pictures last longer"

he doesn't rush. leans his palm into the back of your thigh to spread you more. "Mhmm", leaning down to kiss you, tongue sweeping through for good measure. "Keep talkin' that shit". 

you comb through the blue of his mullet, savoring his mouth, before letting him go. "it's ok to be a fan y'know?" cody brings himself just at your side, thumbs taking to caressing the taut sensitive twist of your nipples. mouth taking purchase at that place just below you ear that seems to be home for him. you cradle him close, senses on the verge of being driven to overstimulation. "cody has me used to the attention". 

"m' sure he does", and jey gets why, every inch of you leaving his blood to rush fast and loose, tipsy off just the idea of digging into you. the fat tip of his dick pushing patient at you, a steady press of his hips, almost reverential in the way he lets you pull him in. inch by sweet inch. "you feel too good not to pay attention to". fire in his fingers, imprinting into the memory of your muscles an ache that only comes otherwise in the most lucid of dreams. you feel, as your lip suffers from the bite of your teeth, that this is once in a lifetime. the stretch, the look of him, your skin being this endless playground for kisses, for men to roam and adore, and fuck, you're sure he's nearly split you to fit. wet still but warm and hugging. but it drives him just as crazy, hips rutting with a mind of their own, seeking pleasure fast, despite his wants to draw out the pleasure. "you holdin' me tight like you been needin' me huh?" 

you whine. "jey". stunned. overwhelmed. pleading "please", but for what you don't know. you just need it.

he can't help but laugh. and it's deep and full of ego. cody joining, warm breath fighting its way under damp skin.  

jey moves only slightly, lifting your leg and shifting to sink deeper.  your back curling with a throb, forcing your breast to push further into cody's mouth. the cruelest, sweetest, chain reaction. 

he huffs, pulls his hips away just enough to tease his tip at the tight ring of your entrance, and the stretch feels new once again, and then again still, good and splitting as nerve breaks and cleaves open. raw and tender to the touch. 

"i get in this pussy and you go speechless".

"shit", whiny. 

"c'mon mama, talk that shit", finding a rhythm, a tempo. something steady enough that it feels too good. so much so that your nails fall at where he meets you to push him away. a miserable try and fail at quelling pleasure. "stay with me baby", voice satin smooth. "m' right here. stay with me". not wanting you to escape him. not without what he'd come all this way for, not without what you needed. 

with a lazy pop of his lips, teeth driving sharp but faint at a taut sensitive nipple, cody traces deft. intention clever as he covers the course of your body, down pass your navel till your clits held swollen and throbbing in between his fingers. he pinches firm, till he gets the moan that he's looking for. the one that drags and whines, stresses out in pleasure so much that it dresses itself as pained. but he knows you well, enough to know that you can take a little plain, a little bite with your bliss. because it only makes your wetter, more pliant. 

and the swell of release is easier to coax out now, a mere snap at your core that hitches breath and spasm's your bones. it'd been something a little more put together before, these sweet drops of arousal at his tongue as you rutted and worked yourself to finish. but now it was something messy. uninhibited and wild. a lusty flood that coats him in a soft creamy white. jey lurches, his hips taking to uncontrolled thrust, moving mindless and raw. deeper to bed himself in the tight vice of you. 

it's addicting, words slurring, running away from him. "goddamn girl, you feel so fucking- fuck!... so good". 

and he thinks he doesn't want to leave, watching you melt into the fine thread of bed sheets. blissed out and breathing heavy. splayed and vulnerable, like some delicate, fierce painting. cody continuing a steady onslaught at your clit. you whine and shiver, high off thrill as your fingertips dig behind the meat of your thighs to keep your legs opened for him. needy still for the fill of him. arousal a mess that leeks its way to the bedsheets. and jey thinks, that when he's good and through, he'll dip his tongue back in you, have you come undone again off his touch till the sun breaks against the horizon. you'll do then as you do now, unraveling untamed as you come, moaning and writhing till you're nothing but a thing to chant his name. 

you'll praise him, tell him how good he is, how good you want to be for him. it'll resound, faithful and messy. slurred by pleasure as you go dumb from the deep pound of his dick. you'll be like what you are now, the perfect spoil for a champion. 

jey feels his core knot up, a twisted burn that scorches out to every inch that he can feel, till he's twitching violent and coming hard. the mess he's made leaking slow, a warm pooling out that he strokes back in. just enough to feel you throb for him one more time.

jey moves then, after he catches his breath, commits the daze of your eyes to memory and settles for watching the break of cody's trim demeanor. this meticulous sort of care for his disposition done away with, once he's had you in his arms. and though cody has abandoned his suits and ties on plenty of occasions to scrap and rumble with men twice his size, only you in recent times, have seen the softness under the shell of him. 

jey takes to laying lazy at the head of the bed, your mouth just inches away from the messy slick you'd made of his dick, as cody pushes a deep arch into your spine. every inch he touches is every inch that throbs with a pulse and with heat. an ache that threatens a breaking, but really its just that beautiful burn of muscle. the blooming of a flame that eats at tension and the hesitancy that comes with distance, because cody had longed for you for some time. to slip his skin against yours, till you'd grown mute from satiation. 

he throbs at the thought even, to feel you tremble about him the way you'd done so messily for jey already, his eyes a cold blue but still scorched with need the way he bares down on you. a stare that fights into your skin, makes you clit flutter with anticipation. 

cody groans, stroking himself. "spread for me angel", and you do just that. face dug into the sheets just inches away from the inner part of jey's thigh, nails pulling at your ass till your lower lips spread. you clench and unclench, again and again, anticipating, and then you moan needy, mindless, cody tapping his tip at the fat of your clit. "there you go", raspy and praising, before he slips easy into the mess of you. grin forming small through his perfect teeth, satisfied. feeling at home. 

and he takes his time, takes the place of your hands as he holds to keep you spread, mesmerized by the wet strokes he gives against the soft pull of your pussy. fucked already, but needing to be fucked still. and he loved these things about you, the width of your wants and that insatiable streak of fulfilling them.

your lips reach for jey, wet kisses at his thigh till you reach to dip your tongue at his slick tip. tasting the mess you'd made together. a fine back and forth between a sweet suckling and these little delicate kitten licks. and he lets you do as you please, enjoying the gentle attention. caressing your jaw even as you move about him. eyes dim and delirious. 

"he made of mess of you, huh sweetheart?", his hips moving deft. ears pricked hot and twitching at the sound of his every stroke. a salacious soaked smacking that drives him further, deeper, till he's buried to the hilt. 

cody throbs warm in you as he takes you. mouth trembly as you give him a not so simple "yeah", your hips pushing to fuck on him. 

and it's not so simple because your nerves continue to split and grow more raw by the second. overstimulated but somehow wanting more. begging filthy and impatient. 

but he meets the demand, guiding you by the nape of your neck till you're upright, knees wider and burying further into the sheets. his hands form harsh against your breast, pinching and pulling to his content, breath erratic at your ear as he fucks you seemingly deeper than before. pussy a dewy mess, his dick nudging and persistent to feel you drool and spasm for him.

and he kisses at your exposed shoulder, hips a ways away from brutal but his lips bloom at your damp skin in gentle ways that leave you feeling drunk. his tongue and teeth licking and nipping, moaning at the tight cling of you. cody revels in the ways that plains of your skin mold into his. a balmy, tender, pressing in that forces his heart to flutter and his mind to numb. grow delirious with thoughts and ideas not so amorous, that lend themselves to a seriousness that comes with sobered talks and resolute feelings. 

you lay forward again, face nudging into the sheets. jey's eyes a sharp focus at your face, at your mouth as it opens, jaw dropped some in a silent euphoria. his hand pulling at his dick with simple lazy strokes. feeling a slow to form stir as he watches cody fuck you. 

"fuck i-", you attempt to speak, the knot in your gut threatening to burst at the seams. "right there, please". 

and cody obliges, steady's his rhythm to something that builds the both of you to bliss, the knock of his hips coaxing you to drip more. your slit dewy and slick as a finger rolls over the twitch of your clit. 

"such nice, pretty manners when you wanna come", he groans, chuckling wry in a dazed sort of amusement. because he knows you, knows the patterns of your pleasure and your needs. the things you say and how you say them, when you tease and when you beg. how your precision grows weak at the feel of an assured touch. his hand swatting quick, the flesh at your ass rippling, the grip of your heat growing tighter, letting him know you're just near release. on the brink of it actually. 

"give it to me, come in me". rushed and whiny. breath short. 

"oh...shit!"

cody's waist snaps. pounds out as you come undone and spasm hard. a feverish shake in your legs as you pull all strength in you to roll your hips into him till he falls into a wild take of bliss. the hard thrumming in his blood spreading till his chest pounds and his fingers twitch. his spend dripping warm as it seeps out. and in his daze, he rubs his thumb through it to soothe over your clit, prolonging the throb there.

"fuck thats so good. thank you", a soft whimper into the tear stains of the sheets. fluttering still but sated. your sayings slurred and brain dizzy in the thrill of release. 

[la-petite-lapin]

Double the Love | Part Five

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.5k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, injury description, eventual explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is bad at feelings, miscommunication, Ghostie is home

The apartment walls are thin

Last night, I dreamt about sleeping with them.

It's not even the first time I've dreamt about sex with Johnny and Ghost. Of seeing Ghost's face unimpeded by masks or shadows. Of hearing up-close the throaty groans that Ghost draws out of Johnny nightly. And, if anything, it's only worsened by the moans that drift from their room down the hall in the night-time hours.

"Well that's not very good," Winnie clarifies, stating the obvious as usual, voice filling the room. Usually, I'd call her with my airpods in, but Ghost is in Russia, and Johnny is at a check-up for his stitches. Which means that I can rant to my best friend and seek advice on this incredibly fucked up situation. "Jesus, Tali."

I roll my eyes even though she can't see me. "Yeah, no shit."

"Hey, don't take your frustration out on me. I don't want to fuck them; that's all you." There's a beat of silence before, "Right, I have questions."

"Don't we all," I say exasperated, my head falling back onto my pillow with a muted thud.

Winnie clears her throat. "Well... are they gay? Or are they bi?"

"I don't know. Haven't asked."

"Okay. Have they been flirting with you or anything?"

"I don't know."

Winnie exhales a heavy sigh. "Explain."

It's hard to explain. The possibility is in the subtle things; the casual brushes against me as they walk past, the unnecessarily prolonged eye contact, the inside jokes. But it's never overt. Everything is just a little on the far side of friendly, but not so far as to be awkward or out of line.

"Johnny's started napping on the sofa with his head in my lap. And sometimes he rubs my shoulders while we watch TV." I think back to what happened three nights ago, just before Ghost left for Russia with John and Gaz. "And then the other night I was doing the dishes. Johnny started drying them like he normally does, but... Ghost came in too."

There's an almost comically long pause on Winnie's end of the line. "Then what happened?"

"He started talking but I didn't know he was there. I dropped the knife I was holding and when I tried to grab it, I sliced my hand open. Ghost patched me up."

I think back to it. Ghost was attentive and diligent as he sterilised the wound with some alcohol wipes from their first aid kit, pulling the raw edges of my skin closed with butterfly stitches. The entire time, his touches were gentle and caring, his free hand running soft, gentle lines along the back of my injured palm with his index finger.

It reminded me of the thing he does to soothe Johnny sometimes. The casual intimacy of it.

"Tali," Winnie says, her tone an admonishing one, "what have I told you about those bloody knives? You need to be careful with them." She sucks in a breath. "But I am surprised. If anything, I'd have thought that would Johnny patching you up."

"Exactly." A spark of something flares deep within my chest. "Ghost isn't a tactile person at all. Johnny tried to help but Ghost wouldn't let him near me. Said he wanted to do it himself. And he called me love."

Winnie makes a noise akin to a purr. "Oh dear. I mean, if it helps, I'm picking up on some vibes here too. Is it worth just asking them where you stand?"

Before I can open my mouth to answer, the front door opens and a cheerful "honey, I'm home!" rings out through the apartment. Hurriedly, I take the phone off speaker and press it against my ear. "Johnny's back."

"I figured," she giggles.

"Can I call you back later?"

We say our goodbyes, with Winnie agreeing to call me in the evening once she's had her dinner. With the call ended, I hop off of my bed and pad out into the hallway.

Johnny is standing in the living room with shopping bags hanging from both hands. There's a beaming grin on his face, his eyes shining. "I hope ye did'nae mind. I did some shopping for us."

I rush over to take the bags from him and place them down on the counter. "Thanks, Johnny. How was the appointment?"

"It went well." He follows me into the kitchen, taking up a large amount of space with his muscular build. "I'm even better for seeing ye though, bonnie."

Heat rises to my face as he takes my injured hand in his, folding his fingers around my wrist loosely and guiding my palm into his line of sight. With a feather-light touch, he runs a single fingertip along my butterfly stitches, checking on Ghost's handiwork. Then - as if satisfied that they're holding up - he drops my hand and moves past me, his front pressing against my back for a brief breath-stealing moment, as he starts to put the groceries away.

Bonnie. That's a new one.

"Want me to cook tea tonight?" Johnny asks, moving around the space with a certainty that is so unbelievably attractive to me. He's only been living here for a week now, but he's already settled in. He knows where everything is and just how I like the kitchen arranged. It's like he's always been here.

"You don't have to." I hop up to perch on the countertop, resigning myself to the fact that he's unpacking and putting the shopping away. A few days ago, I might have tried to argue with him or step in and take over. Now, I just sit back and watch, keeping him company. "Heard anything from Ghost yet?"

Johnny nods his head, slotting the milk into the fridge. "They're coming back from Russia tonight. Probably won't be home for a couple more days though; they've got someone to interrogate at the base."

I'm so distracted by the fact that he just referred to the apartment as home that I almost miss the mention of an interrogation. I wilfully choose to ignore it; to not let my mind linger on the darker side of Ghost that he will undoubtedly be unleashing.

I'm still distracted when Johnny starts to walk towards me again, a bag of pasta in his hand. If he follows my system, it should go in the cabinet above my head. As he inches closer to me, I can see the cogs turning behind his opalescent blue eyes. I know I should move out of the way; to the side or off of the counter altogether to move myself out of his path. But I don't. And he doesn't say anything either, slotting himself firmly between my spread thighs as he opens the cabinet.

I can feel the sheer heat radiating off of his huge, muscular body. Can smell the heady, woody, and floral scent of his aftershave. The strong column of his throat is just inches away from my lips, and - up close - I can see the generous dusting of dark hair that decorates his chest and abs underneath the thin white fabric of his vest.

Instinctively, my hand rises up to rest against his abdomen, making sure to fall on his uninjured side.

"Tali," the word is mumbled, verging on breathless.

My eyes dart up to find him staring down at me. Even seated on the counter, he's taller than me, and I can't help but find the size difference unfairly hot. It makes me think about Ghost; the fact that he's even bigger. A shiver runs through me at the thought of both of them standing here, crowding me in...

Johnny's gaze is heated - something intense shining under the surface of those sweet baby blues - as he hooks a single index finger under my chin. "What's gotten into you, lassie?"

My breath catches in my throat. For a second, I question if I'm doing the right thing.

The finger leaves my chin and I'm rewarded with a gentle squeeze just above my knee. "I asked ye a question."

"I... I-" I stumble over my words like an idiot. "You've been flirting with me." The way my tone pitches up at the end makes it sound more like a question than a statement.

Johnny chuckles, eyes sparkling with humour. "Ye don't sound so sure, lovey."

I wince. My muscles tense as I pull back slightly, leaning back on my hands. "You're in a relationship with Ghost."

"Very observant of ye." He closes the cabinet with his free hand, then runs his thumb along the curve of my cheekbone, the other hand shifting slightly higher on my thigh. "I am. But I've seen the way you look at us, Tali. And I've heard ye at night." His hand brushes the very top of my thigh and my breath catches once again. His eyes darken. "The walls in this apartment are pretty thin."

All moisture leaves my mouth. Oh brilliant. Johnny, and possibly Ghost, have heard me touching myself at night. I don't know whether to feel embarrassed or turned on. And then there's the way Johnny says it; so casually - so easily - like it doesn't bother him in the slightest. Like it would be unusual if I wasn't masturbating with them just down the hall.

"Does... does Ghost know?" is the only thing I can think to ask.

Johnny grins. "Aye, he does." We're both leaning closer and closer to each other again, until I can practically feel the warmth of his mint-scented breath against my skin. "He thinks it's cute."

Cute. Like a puppy or a kitten. Something adorable.

Not sexy or hot. Adorable.

Embarrassment hits me, jagged and icy, flooding through my veins. And suddenly I feel so. Fucking. Stupid.

I'm not some kind of femme fatale - not the kind of woman who can pursue one man, let alone two.

What did I expect? For Johnny to confess that they, too, have been thinking about me in less than appropriate ways and then what? There's no happy ending for me lusting after Johnny and Ghost in their committed, serious relationship - I knew that from the first night I dreamt about them. And I was mad for even thinking that maybe - just maybe - they could have been looking at me like that too.

No; they go out into parts of the world that people like me rarely ever see, putting their lives on the line to save the world. They don't want to fuck an interior designer with commitment issues, and deep-rooted family trauma.

"Okay, cool," I mumble under my breath, eyes focused on a spot on the tiled floor. I move my hand away from his side, gently pushing him away as I do so.

With a frown, he takes a step back. He looks almost hurt.

I hop down from the countertop and fold my arms across my chest, stepping back in the direction of the hallway. "I'll, um... I'll try to keep the noise down. I- I'm sorry for being a nuisance."

Johnny's face falls. "No, lassie- that..."

I'm already out of the kitchen before I can hear the rest, spinning on my heel and taking off in a brisk walk until I get to my room. With the door firmly closed, I pull my phone out of my pocket and fire off a quick text to Winnie.

TALIA KELLER: They don't feel the same.

She's online in half a heartbeat.

WINSLOW SLOANE: Wait WINSLOW SLOANE: What happened? TALIA KELLER: Was helping Johnny put the food shopping away. He told me that him and Ghost can hear me in my room at night and that Ghost thinks it's "cute". TALIA KELLER: It was so fucking mortifying. WINSLOW SLOANE: Oh Tali :( WINSLOW SLOANE: Context is key, baby. Maybe cute is a good thing. Does Ghost strike you as a man who thinks that many things are cute?

I tip my head back. No matter the positive spin that Winnie wants to try and put on this, I'm still not seeing it.

So, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling icky and embarrassed. And wondering how Winnie would feel about sound-proofing the entire apartment.

I'm out for a walk when Ghost comes home.

When I get in, his massive combat boots are tucked in neatly next to the door. I don't immediately see him, or Johnny for that matter, and it's something that sends an unexpected spike of disappointment through me. Which makes me frown because this isn't me. I don't get like this with people - not even Winnie. I avoid commitment and co-dependency at all costs because I know that one day it will come back to bite me.

I think about how I used to wait for Alex to come home, practically counting down the minutes, waiting by the door for his return. I think about how I watch Marcella do the same, and now Johnny. And it's the antithesis of the life I've resolved myself to: complete independence.

I follow the sound of their voices into the kitchen, watching the domestic scene playing out before me. Johnny is pouring sparkling water into two glasses for them while Ghost stands back, his face hidden behind a black balaclava with a white skull painted across the front. Common sense dictates that it's something that should probably scare me. It doesn't.

He dips his head in acknowledgement, and I meet it with my own awkward nod.

"Tali," Ghost's voice is as gruff as ever. The mask shifts and, in the shadows cast by the overhead lights, I can make out a hint of a smile playing on his face underneath the masks. "How've you been?"

"I've been okay. How was Russia?"

"How's your hand?" He completely bypasses my question, as if I never even spoke.

For a moment, I just stare at them, waiting for Ghost to answer me first. When it becomes clear that isn't going to happen, I say, "It's okay. Hasn't fallen off yet, anyway."

Johnny lets out a snort of laughter. "Someone's in a sarcastic mood. Good thing Ghostie is home, aye?"

A beat of silence passes, his words hanging in the air between us.

"So, how was Russia?" I repeat, cocking my head to one side.

Ghost lets out a weary sigh, bracing his hands on the counter, shoulder's width apart. Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I can see Johnny's body tensing up. "It was interesting. We didn't find what we thought we'd find. That's all I can say. Rest is classified." It's a lot more than I was expecting anyway, and probably the most forthcoming he's been with me since the day they moved in. "But I will say that I missed you lot. Both of you."

"You don't have to include me out of pity," I snap impulsively. It's so obvious to me that Johnny's told him what happened that night in the kitchen. For reasons I can't fully articulate, it makes me angry.

Ghost's eyes darken at that, and suddenly I can see what those men in Russia must have seen; a huge, pissed-off man, clad in a skull mask and all black clothes. A man you probably shouldn't be riling up knowingly.

It sends a thrill down my spine and my palms start to sweat.

"Don't start, love," he growls, "I'm not in the mood tonight."

I stutter and stumble over a comeback, but it dies in my throat when Ghost crosses the apartment, leaving an amused-looking Johnny standing halfway between the kitchen and the living room.

"Yeah, Johnny's told me all about the shit you've been giving him while I've been gone. Avoiding him and not answering when he tries to check on you." He comes to a complete stop in front of me, towering over my much smaller frame and levelling me with a serious look. It doesn't escape my attention that he must be over six-and-a-half feet tall and verging on two-hundred pounds of pure, solid muscle. "Misbehaving for him." A single, large paw of a hand comes up to brush over my shoulder, skimming up to rest lightly on my throat. There's no grip there though; it's a hold so gentle that I could break it just by stepping back. "That ends now, princess."

I will myself to come to my senses, but I can't. Instead, I stand there, doe-eyed with parted lips, gazing up at the huge, strong soldier disciplining me. My body is trembling like a leaf in the wind and I'm wet - unignorably so.

I wonder if he knows.

His answering smirk tells me that he probably does, and there's a new lustful darkness in his tone as he adds, "Because I think we all need to sit down and have a talk, yeah?"

a/n: hey guys! sorry that this one took so long hope you enjoy this part. things are starting to heat up ;) - take care y'all, lapetitelapin

[lateatnewyork]

Can you do prompt #2 of the angst list? With Azriel. Maybe reader (his mate) is tired of everything cause she see him with Elaine.

Opposite

Part 1 | Part 2

Azriel x Reader, Cassian x Best friend!reader, Eris x sister!reader

Warnings: Angst, swearing, cheating, elain slander

Summary: Azriel has started to hang out more with a certain Archeron sister.

Prompts: "Just let me go. Please, I want to leave.”

a/n: the first draft got deleted 😭go stream opposite by sabrina carpenter 😝

My mate, my husband, my love doesn't love me anymore. It's so painfully obvious that Elain is in love with him the way she clings to him like a leech. At first I thought it was one sided. But as the days go on, it's as if Azriel returns her feelings.

I wanted him to help her, it would help get his mind of other things but how I regret that.

Why does he love her? Why am I not enough?

Elain is beautiful, a kind of beautiful I could never be. Her pale skin a contrast to my tanned skin, she was slender while I was toned. Bright blue eyes to my muddy brown eyes. Soft fingers to my calloused hands.

I compared myself to her every single day, I tried becoming like her but what was the point, he doesn't even notice me anymore.

Their interactions cut through me like a knife. The way he smiles around her. I made him smile like that first. Why does he look so happy with her?

I tried everything, making his favourite food, waiting for him. But of course he didn't care, I still had hope though. Because he still kissed me goodnight, even though he smelt like her. He still told me I love you even though he stayed at hers the whole day. I miss my Azriel.

I had gotten closer to Nesta and Feyre, both of them unknowingly distracting me. I looked forward to the days I painted with Feyre or when I read a book with Nesta.

Finally reaching me and Azriel's shared apartment, I face palmed myself when I realised that I had forgotten the book Nesta recommended at River House. Hurrying I went back to the house. I opened the door and sighed in relief when I saw the book sitting on the table. Grabbing it, I'm about to leave when I hear giggles.

It couldn't be.

I walked to the garden. Yes it could. I gasped when I saw him kissing her. The pain it felt like a thousand daggers being stabbed in me. My heart ached at the sight in front of me.

"You look beautiful my love," Azriel said as he kissed my hand. I giggled.

Was it all a lie? When he said I'm beautiful was he lying to me?

"That's a really pretty picture, Azriel," Elain says. Jealousy hits me like a truck when I see he's drawing her.

He always drew me not Elain.

Azriel smiled to Elain while he placed a flower in her hair.

She looks nothing like me so why does he look so happy?

My thoughts run wild as I race out of the River House and to Madja's office. Knocking on the door, I open it and gasp as the pain becomes too much to bear, my heart feels as if it's being ripped out of my chest and my knees crumple under me. "He cheated on me,". With that black dots fill my vision and I collapse on the floor. I can hear frantic voices faintly in the back of my head.

There's a dull ache in my heart, I can feel pressure on my hand and a soft hum of chatter around me. My eyes flutter open, and I wince as the bright light floods my vision. I gaze around the room my eyes narrowing when I land on Elain and Azriel, "Get out," I whisper.

They both gape at me in shock. "I said 'Get out'" I say louder, my voice sore from crying.

"What, why?" Azriel stares at me dumbfounded. "Don't play dumb with me Azriel, I saw you kissing," I say sharply.

"My love it was a-" I cut off his stupid excuse, "Shut up Azriel, we're over get out," I close my eyes, in case I start crying again.

"Elain, do you need a special fucking invitation?" Cassian bites out. I hear a pair of footsteps scurry out of the room.

"I think I need some time," I breathe out. The pressure on my hand leaves and I open my eyes. "Cass can you stay? please" I say my lip wobbling. I see Nesta give a small nod to Cassian and her and Feyre hug me.

I reprimand myself when tears slip out but only freely escape when the door shuts.

"I went back for my book and saw them," I explain, Cassian pulls me into his chest and lets me cry.

I don't know how long I cry in that hospital bed with Cassian by my side. But after a while I finally have the courage to say "I'm gonna go visit my brothers for a while,". He only nods in understanding.

After a restless sleep I'm discharged by Madja, and I head to me and Azriel's apartment. Seeing him asleep on the couch, I tiptoe to our bedroom grab my stuff and just as I'm about to leave the house, Azriel is behind me and he says "So you're leaving just like that?" he grabs my wrist so I can't open the door.

"Just let me go. Please let me leave," I breathe out, my heart breaking.

a/n: lemme know if u want the part two, cos i dont like angst without happy ending 😭

[readychilledwine]

Halloween Costume Headcanons

Warnings - Some sexual references, ships.

A/n - Ship and let ship on this one, my loves. I had an idea too cute to ignore. Remind me to pay some of our artist friends for commissions next year 💕

Ps- Added by Liz after this was queued, I'm playing spicy sadness catch up. I'm going to get all of the 2024 Monster mash posted by Halloween, though. Setting goals. Setting goals..

🕸2024 Monster Mash Masterlist🕸2023 Halloween Masterlist🕸

Nessian -

Cassian and Nesta wanted to go off the beaten path this year.

Nesta was reading one night and the idea came to her, a book and a librarian. It was niche. It was perfect. What was Cassian going to do? Say no?

She knew the stereotype was sexy costumes, especially around Velaris, but she decided instead to honor the females she loved and admired.

Nesta purchased her own light blue robes, presenting the idea to Cassian with a glare.

She wasn't asking. She demanded.

They had to hand built Cassian's book costume. A t-shirt with a title wasn't enough.

She made the cover, the spine, and the pages from a crafting material, turning him into an actual book.

Feyre helped and painted the cover, ensuring it looked as realistic as possible.

The book of choice? The first Sellyn Drake novella her and the other valkyries read

Feysand and Nyx -

Rhysand wanted to do family costumes this year.

Nyx wanted to do animals.

Cats, Feyre decided. They were going as cats.

Feyre decided to be an orange cat, Nyx a black one, and Rhysand, Rhysand she forced into all white.

Feyre just shape shifted her fluffy tail and ears, Rhysand and Nyx both got to wear little headbands and fake tails.

Once Nyx went to bed, Feyre's costume became significantly more provocative. A tight corset with a short dress.

They did not stay long at the party.

There was a certain little kitty Rhysand was very interested in petting.

Listen… before we get up in arms… I'm giving you all of them..

Eriel -

Azriel told Elain to pick whatever she wanted to be and he was all smiles when she pulled out Rhysand and Feyre clothing.

Elain does know how to pull a great joke and the humor of winning Rita's couples costume contest dressed as the High Lord and Lady was not lost on anyone in the Inner Circle.

Elain was bold, so very bold, and Azriel could not have been more proud and she stepped out of their bathroom in the first outfit Feyre had worn to Hewn City.

Azriel helped her make it slightly more modest, finding one of his favorite lace bodysuits Elain had to layer under it.

“I just didn't want to wear black,” her sweet voice said as he helped her get into her heels.

“I know, my flower.”

Rhysand hated every moment of it and that only made Azriel happier.

Tell him to leave his girl alone, he'll steal your clothes. At least, that's the joke that went around the Inner Circle

Gwynriel-

Assassins.

The sexiest assassin couple you've ever seen.

Gwyn saw this as a chance to hide her face in a mask as she pulled on the skin tight black catsuit.

Azriel didn't even have to buy a costume, which made him happy.

Her thoroughly enjoyed helping Gwyneth strap weapons to herself, a quiet lesson with each throwing knife on why he preferred that location over another.

Azriel then let her attach his, seeing if she could remember the complexity of his custom Illyrian leathers.

They lingered in his shadows all night, another joy Azriel had. His female all to himself in the dark corners of the Halloween party.

They also did not linger long.

Elucien-

I was told this was required.

Cinderella and Prince Charming.

Lucien spared no expense on Elain's dress. A beautiful blue ballgown that glittered like water.

He purchased himself the tailored white jacket, the tight pants. All to fit Elain's vision as she had Feyre draw out exactly what she was picturing.

Rhysand had been kind and took his favorite sister in law down to the archives where his family jewels and crowns were stored.

Much like Feyre, Elain was smitten with the glow worms and it almost gave Rhysand a flashback when she asked if she could pick a glow worm instead of a crown.

Tamlin and Briar -

I wanted to include these two. I don't know if this is a confirmed ship, but I want it.

Tamlin and Briar are going as a bee and a rose. So innocent to the naked eye, so very not.

Briar’s dress was made to look like soft petals. Her hair was pinned with small teacup roses weaved throughout the long dark waves.

Tamlin looked ridiculous, a little headband with bee antennas. Black pants with yellow fuzz all over them.

“If we leave now, I can make sure your flower is properly pollinated, my love.”

Cue Briar blushing profusely as those jokes increase as the fae wine does.

She's all giggles as Tamlin laces his fingers in hers, pulling her upstairs for the evening.

Bonus:

Cassian and the Valkyries -

Nesta could not leave Emerie and Gwyn out this year. Tradition had the 3 of them always dressing together and her marriage to Cassian would not change that.

They had just finished the legend of Dracula and his 3 brides. The thick old book provided the most beautiful descriptions of the brides and their flowing clothing, outfits made to show the female form like the art work it was.

Cassian did not mind being dressed in his normal all black and the fake vampire teeth. Not when his wife looked so beautiful, abs and breasts exposed.

He also loved the way Mor couldn't stop staring at Emerie. And Azriel Gwyn.

His favorite girls were getting all of the love and attention in their group costumes, and he was more than happy to give the 3 of them their spotlight.

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Down To Clown - M.YG

💦Who; Min Yoongi (BTS) x reader 💦What; Smut, producer/idol au/verse, friends to fuckers 💦Wordcount; 14kish 💦Warnings; they are both bi/pan, profanity, dirty talk, switch yoongi, switch reader, anal fingering(m), crying with pleasure, coming untouched, sex toys, lingerie, oral (m&f), marks, pegging, anal sex, multiple orgasms, oral fixation, biting, fingering, mentions of being infertile through choice, sex without a condom, penetrative sex, piv sex, cockwarming, somnophilia, choking, squirting, minor blood, mentions of knife play(it is not explored in this story)

Summary; You ask to finger one of your closest friends, he says yes and things get real fun after that.

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging/commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio. -2024 Masterlist- Ao3 link

A/N- this was actually started 3 years ago with an OC so that i could get out my fantasy of topping yoongles, which means this was extremely self-indulgent. I just want to make Yoongi cry okay I've edited to the best of my abilities to change it from an OC to reader but if I've missed any pieces, pretend otherwise, thanks <3 @wonuvs enjoy, sweetheart 💖

Edited 25/10/24 - just grammar, formatting etc

The dark-haired rapper looks over exasperatedly at the third call of his name. "What?" He huffs when you don't say anything from where you're sitting cross-legged on the couch and instead choose to hold his gaze with wide, round eyes that he would call innocent if he didn't know you better than that by now.

"You've been with guys, right?" You question slowly.

"Yeah?"

"And you've bottomed?"

"You already know this. Get to the point."

"I'm working on it," you pout, absently tracing your fingers over the strings of the guitar laid across your lap. "So, you've had fingers in your ass?"

"Jesus, what the fuck?" He sputters in genuine shock at your out-of-the-blue question.

"You said get to the point!"

"I didn't think it would be about my ass,"

"It's not, really, just...asses in general. The male ass. With fingers. Guys getting fingered."

"Were you watching porn while hanging out with me?" He deadpans unimpressed.

"No." He gives you a disbelieving look. "Well not intentionally. I was on Twitter minding my own business and suddenly, bam! There was a gif of a guy getting fingered."

"So, you decided to watch it?"

"Yes."

"Despite the fact that you claim to not watch porn?"

"I don't. Never been interested." You shrug, and as much as Yoongi wants to argue and point out that people who aren't interested in porn don't watch porn gifs, he can't because he can see that you are being entirely honest.

"Right, okay." He lets out a breath, it sounds suspiciously like an exasperated sigh. "So, you watched this gif and decided to bring up my sex life?"

"Well, I've always been curious about fingering a guy like, what it feels like and the prostate sounds interesting like can you actually feel it? It's wild, man."

"You want to finger a guy?" He gawps, surprised by the revelation. You just nod.  "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Originally, I just wanted to peg a guy, I wanna know if I'd be any good with a dick and something about fucking a guy is really hot."

"I don't even know what to say," he murmurs truthfully. You shrug and run your hands over the guitar again, which draws his attention. "Well...your nails are short at least," he comments quietly.

"Easier for playing guitar and with myself."

"Holy fuck, you can't just..." He exhales and rubs his hands over his face.

"Sorry. I'm frustrated and my filter always vanishes when I'm like this."

"Frustrated about wanting to finger a guy?" He questions, dropping his hands onto his thighs carelessly to look at you again.

"Well, yeah, I guess but I meant sexually frustrated, like horny."

"Fuck me," Yoongi murmurs softly, but due to the lack of activity going on in the room you hear it loud and clear.

"I don't have a strap-on," you reply with a frown that looks oddly genuine.

"A strap-on...wait, I wasn't like, asking," he rushes out, cheeks flushed as he understands what you mean.

"Oh," your frown turns further downwards. "I'd probably be bad anyway."

"I've seen you dance, you can move your hips," he admits gruffly.

"Oh...in that case, your loss. I'd make you cum really good."

"Shut up," Yoongi grunts and shuffles in his seat while diverting his gaze elsewhere.

"Sorry." You remove the guitar from your lap to prop it back on its stand beside the couch without even getting up. Then, you stretch out and slouch slightly so that you can rest your head on the back of the couch with your bare feet planted firmly on the floor, legs spread in a way that your mother always scolded you for as it is 'unlady like'. "It's for the best anyway, I don't want to get sexually involved with someone who would just be thinking of someone else the whole time, you know?"

"What? Why are you assuming I'd be doing that?" He squares his eyes almost accusingly at you while crossing his arms over his chest.

"Because you're not attracted to me like that," your response is simple, easy, as if it is common knowledge; a fact of the world you had learned a long time ago.

"Who says?" You raise a challenging eyebrow. "I'm not blind, you're hot as fuck."

"Doesn't mean you're down to clown though."

"Not if you keep talking like that," he huffs, sitting back further in his chair.

You straighten a little with hope beginning to sparkle in your eyes. "That sounds like you'd at least consider it if I used other phrasing."

Yoongi says nothing and keeps his lips pressed together. The smirk that lifts your lips tells him that he's about to meet a version of you that he has only seen in the dreams he will never admit to waking up hard from- sometimes even shaking and coming down from an orgasm.

You sit up until you're fully upright, though your legs remain spread and Yoongi hates how it does something for him, how much it does for him. He has never before experienced a cocky female who isn't afraid to hold herself in a stereotypical male way, and honestly, it's the best of both worlds for him.

"Yoongi, Yoonie, babyboy," you coo, and he scoffs at the final term if only to hide and deny the blush winding up his neck. "Will you let me fuck you? Can I put my fingers in that pretty, perky ass of yours until you cum? Fuck, I bet you'd look so good being edged, so overwhelmed that you can't help but cry and babble absolute fucking nonsense while begging to cum," you murmur out, dark eyes growing heavier by the second.

"Fuck," Yoongi whispers, dick twitching in his boxers.

You don't respond and simply lean your right elbow on the backrest to lean your head against your fist. You just watch him, waiting; so patient for a response.

Almost as if you're playing with him, taunting, teasing, offering him the best seat in the house if only he is brave enough to admit to wanting it, and taking the first step.

Part of him is certain that you aren't doing that at all, that you are genuinely just waiting for him to think it over. That you're not willing to rush him or put any pressure on him to answer in a particular way. But a brand new part of him doesn't have a fucking clue what you're capable of in the bedroom.

After a tense handful of moments where you simply hold each other's gaze while Yoongi's mind runs wild hidden safely behind his eyes, he turns back to his desk.

Even though you're disappointed, you had honestly expected as much, so you don't stop to sulk or pout and instead reach back towards the guitar. You barely have your hand around the neck when you hear a drawer close a little too forcefully, especially as it's by Yoongi's hand, so you look back up and find that his computer programs are closed and only a music app is open. You release your grasp on the instrument and settle back to watch curiously.

Yoongi finds a playlist that you two often listen to; something full of smooth beats and low voices.

As the first song starts, he gets up and turns. He has something in his hands but it's hidden, at least until he has crossed the small distance between you to toss it onto the couch seat on your right. You can't help but look down and find a little bottle of lube on the cushion.

"If you're serious about wanting to try, I'm down to clown," he speaks, drawing your attention back. He's nervous and embarrassed, it's obvious to you even if he's trying his best to hide it.

"Most definitely." You nod and straighten up even further before patting your lap firmly. "C'mere."

"You want me on you?"

"You have no idea," you almost snort with your amusement, but hold it back. You pat your thigh again with your left hand while your right picks up the bottle.

"Oh right, uh, okay. Uhm, lemme just..." He quickly unzips his jeans to shuffle out of them and kick them aside, before moving forward to press his left knee on the outside of your right thigh. "I'm heavier than I look," he warns while gingerly placing his right knee on the other side of your thighs, one hand pushed against the backrest beside your shoulder for stability.

You roll your eyes and grab his hips to pull his body onto your lap. Yoongi hiccups on an inhale in surprise at the sudden action which leaves him perched on your stable thighs with wide eyes. "I can handle it, don't worry."

"You should know," he rushes out quickly, causing your hands to halt where they have started to run over his thighs; curious to explore the skin you have never seen exposed on him before. "I already cleaned up, I do every shower-"

"I know."

"H-how?"

"You told me when drunk once that you like to always be prepared to get dicked down. I figured out the rest due to the length of your showers, babe."

"Oh...right..." He chews on his bottom lip, which almost matches the tint on his cheeks. "Oh well, I was going to say that you should always make sure your guy is cleaned first because you know...asshole."

"Yeah, I got it," you grin and squeeze his thigh supportively, which only makes him jolt. "Are you sure you want to do this, Yoongi? I really won't be offended if you don't. I don't want you to be uncomfortable or anything."

"No, no, I do. S'just...we've been friends for a while now and I never thought anything like this would happen between us. And I haven't been touched by anyone but myself in so long it kind of feels like the first time."

"I'll go slow."

"I know. I trust you. Wouldn't be doing this otherwise," he huffs out a small laugh.

"I'm glad. I trust you too." You smile at each other for a moment; allowing the moment to get used to what you're planning to do, even only a little. "So, Mr Min, you're in charge here, I've no fucking clue what I'm doing so you kind of need to lead me."

"Oh, right, yeah." He inhales, then pushes up a little to shimmy his boxers down under the crease where his ass meets his thighs, it allows him to keep his crotch hidden by the material just in case his t-shirt doesn't. He isn't quite prepared for one of his closest friends to see his flaccid dick, no matter what you're about to get up to.

When he settles back down, he's unable to look in your eyes but you don't make him knowing how shy he must feel right now.

"So uhm...you can start dry if you want, if you want to feel and get used to touching, just don't try and push in."

"You're okay with that?" He nods and takes the lube to fiddle with the bottle and free your right hand. You wait a second, just in case, before moving your hand around his body to curiously trail your fingers over his smooth ass, humming in approval at the lack of hair at all. "Smooth."

"Yeah I uhm, I shave," he admits.

"Must be awkward."

"A little." He sucks on his lip when your fingertip finds his rim and traces over it gently in an almost featherlight touch. "S'weird, right? Girls find it weird usually. For guys to be shaved."

"I don't like body hair on anyone regardless of gender. Wouldn't bother me much if you did have it, just that being hair-free is my preference."

"Does that mean you shave too?" He pointedly glances at your crotch.

"Wax, lasts longer."

"Oh." He swallows when your left hand leaves his thigh to pluck the bottle from his hands, giving him nothing to fiddle with. "I-I thought about trying but uh...seems hard to do alone."

"Yeah, kind of is," you admit, laughing softly and focusing on Yoongi's reactions to the sound of a cap opening and lube squirting out.

He lifts his right hand absently to chew on the skin beside his thumb; an anxiety fuelled habit he's working hard to quit.

"Hey." You lean forward to nudge the top of his head with your nose. He lifts it just enough to peer at you. "We can stop, seriously," you offer, tone genuine and soft.

He shakes his head and quickly lowers his hand to grasp your shirt as if he has only just realised what he's doing to his poor fingers. "I want to. Just nervous."

"What usually helps you relax with a partner?"

"Kissing."

"Do you want to kiss?" He blinks a few times before finding his eyes on your lips almost like he has never seen them before. "I'm more than happy to kiss you if it helps, baby."

"O-okay," He nods.

"No, not okay. Don't just agree with me, this won't work if you're not 100%, Yoongi."

"I am." He nods, firmer and more confidently. "I want to. Wanna kiss you."

"Alright," you agree with a short nod of your own. The syllables almost get sucked back into your throat when Yoongi suddenly surges forward to connect your mouths.

You wait for a few minutes until Yoongi is entirely absorbed in kissing before you press slick fingers against his rim. He jolts, and his mouth falters for a second before moving again; slower than before as if he's too busy focusing on what's about to happen compared to what he's doing. You don't blame him.

At first, you just circle his hole curiously until he squirms a little impatiently, and only then do you edge the tip of your index finger inside. Yoongi inhales sharply but doesn't jump or pull away. You wriggle your finger a little before pushing in further.

"You gotta let me know if I hurt you," you warn once your finger is in as far as possible. Yoongi nods in agreement and reconnects your lips by grabbing your face and pulling it back to his. You chuckle with amusement against his lips, though are more than happy to follow his wishes.

You start a gentle, curious rhythm of softly prodding around inside, punctuated with sliding your finger out then back in.

"M-more," he breathes out in no time at all, so you comply, pulling your finger out to return with another beside it. Yoongi lets out a soft moan at the barely there stretch, just a little more pressure at your knuckles that makes him sigh happily.

"It's okay?" You wonder.

"Y-yeah, can go a little faster if you want."

"Okay, baby," you agree, doing as asked knowing it's more of a request than a suggestion. He's too shy to ask for what he wants so you're going to have to read between the lines and you've already mentally prepared yourself for that.

You watch his reactions to your ministrations, his closed eyes and parted lips, as his hips take barely noticeable movements; which you follow to do the best you can for him.

Up until this point, you have entirely avoided his prostate. Yoongi assumes it's because you don't know where it is, that you are getting used to everything else first before trying to search for it. But you know where it is and haven't wanted to touch it yet. You want Yoongi to genuinely get used to your touch and enjoy it without his prostate being brought in.

When you pull your hand out and away entirely, his eyes open and he frowns at you with a little whine of complaint. "Why'd you stop? Are you finished?"

"No," you laugh and shuffle you both a little so that you can slide your arm in the gap between your spread thighs to reach underneath him and slide your fingers back inside. "This angle is better." You smirk and crook your fingers forward to press directly on his prostate. Yoongi's eyes roll back and he moans loudly. "Right?"

"F-fuck, I-I thought you didn't know..."

"What, where the prostate is?" You laugh as he wriggles on your hands at the attack of your fingertips relentlessly rubbing the sensitive patch. "I know exactly where it is, I've just never put it to use before."

"You su-sure?" His fingers knot in your hair when you wrap your free arm tight around his waist to hold him still, preventing his movements. "Shit, fuck."

"You like being held still?"

"Fuck off."

"Oh, really?" Suddenly, you stop your attack and pull out to lean back against the backrest with your elbows resting on the back. You lean your head on your left palm, the clean one, as the lube-slicked hand hangs limply.

"Wh-what?" Yoongi's eyes are wide with betrayal and desperation. "N-no, no, don't stop. Put your fingers back in my ass, come on," he whines, tugging at your arm, but you hold it firmly in place making him whine and bounce a little with frustration. "Please?"

"Good boy." Your right hand hovers between your bodies. "More lube."

He nods and obediently squirts out a fair amount of lube onto your waiting fingers. "Three now?"

"You want three?" You hum questioningly, sliding your arm back underneath to rub three fingers against his rim. He nods enthusiastically and tries to tilt his hips in a way to make them slide inside, yet you always move away with a grin.

"You're so mean."

"I am." He pouts cutely, making you giggle. "Okay, baby, I'll play nice." And you do; you slide two fingers back inside to stretch him out a bit more, then add the third. "That okay?" You ask, moving carefully to allow him time to get used to it.

"Y-yeah, s'good."

"Yeah?" He nods and circles his hips down against your hand. "Can you cum untouched?"

Yoongi falls still and opens his eyes to look at you; he honestly hadn't even realised that his eyes closed in the first place. "I've never tried," he admits.

"Can we try? I think it'd be really hot."

"Oh uh, okay," he agrees, cheeks flushing a little darker than the pleasure and slight exertion already has them.

"You can change your mind at any time, okay?"

"I know," he agrees, giving you a shy smile before leaning forward to return his lips to yours, so you straighten up and move your left arm from the back of the couch to wrap back around him.

You let him get used to the rhythm of your slow, deep kiss, which you've matched the movements of your fingers and he his hips to, before without warning, you push in harder and faster. Yoongi hiccups on a breath, which he doesn't have time to regulate before you pull out and repeat the action causing your hand to slap against his ass a little.

What follows is a string of whines and groans and swears from Yoongi's open mouth, head tipped back and hips bouncing. "So good, you're so good," he pants out, on the verge of mindlessness.

"I can be better," you promise. Yoongi's hole clenches at the thought, making you groan a little. "You're so fucking hot, Yoongi."

Yoongi gasps and bounces harder feeling his climax nearing. Your fingers curl and rub against his prostate with every thrust and his movements grow more desperate. Your left arm returns around his waist to hold him still and force him to just take it, which causes an almost sob to break from his throat.

"G-gonna cum," he announces, instinctively moving his hand between your bodies, but you remove your arm from around his waist to slap his hand away from where he almost has his cock in hand.

"Don't touch."

"Can't help it. Need it," he all but sobs while looking at you with wet, hooded eyes.

"No, you don't."

"But-" He reaches out again, and you huff in frustration before pulling your fingers out of his ass. "No! No! No! M'sorry! I'll be good!" He begs. "Don't stop, please."

"I won't, baby, it's okay, I'm going to make you cum," you assure soothingly and press a kiss to his lips while wiping the tears trickling down his ruddy cheeks. "But you're unable to not touch yourself so we need to move."

"M-move?" He sniffles.

"On your back." He nods and scrambles off of your lap to lay on his back on the couch. He kicks off his boxers and spreads his legs ready for you. You admire him for a moment, and only move when he wriggles self-consciously. "Sorry. You're so beautiful, you know that?"

"M'not," he huffs, looking away as you turn to settle between his thighs on your knees and lay his thighs over your own.

"You are, don't argue with me."

He pouts but doesn't argue further, which you find very interesting. He has essentially submitted to you and all it took was having his prostate touched.

For a moment, you stop to wonder if he's always that quick to submit or if it's because he trusts you and hasn't been touched by a hand except his own in so long.

After roaming your eyes over his pliant body under you, you decide that it's a thought for later though and wriggle a pillow behind his head to prop him up just a little into a more comfortable position against the armrest.

"Hands above your head, baby." He listens and lifts both arms to lay the backs of his hands against the armrest. When you lean over and cover his wrists with your left hand to pin them down, his eyes blow wide and a shiver runs through his body. "Oh, that is a very interesting reaction, sweetheart, we'll have to talk about it later but now." You slide your fingers back into him, loving the way his eyes immediately roll back and his back arches slightly as your fingertips drag over his prostate.

In this position, you can't stop Yoongi's hips jerking and doing their best to fuck himself back on your fingers that force consistent full moans from his open mouth that sound like they come from the bottom of his chest.

It's clear when Yoongi's teetering on the edge of his climax as his tone grows higher and his movements more desperate while his arms fight to be freed so that he can touch himself.

"Come on, baby, you can do it. Let me see how messy you can get without your cock being touched, huh? Gonna let me see what good boys can do, hm?" You encourage with your eyes darting all over him; stuck between watching his face, and the outline of his cock hidden underneath his t-shirt due to the fact neither of you had thought to move it. You really wish you had pushed it up because the thought of seeing Yoongi cum all over himself probably does a little too much for you to be able to admit.

"M'a good boy," he parrots mindlessly.

"Prove it. Cum for me."

He whines and his legs pull up towards his torso as his body curls in a little before a loud, long moan tears from his throat while his legs push out and his back arches, pushing his chest towards you with the force of his orgasm surging through his body. You remove the pressure on his prostate and slow your movements down enough to not overstimulate or hurt, yet still ride him through the pleasure with the slow drag.

When he slumps against the seat, chest shuddering with his heavy breaths, you gently remove your fingers making him shudder a little and whimper.

"It's okay, baby, you did so good for me. Such a good boy, thank you." You release his wrists, yet he makes no attempt to move, too tired from the most intense orgasm he has ever experienced. "I'm going to get some tissues from your desk, okay? I'll be right back." Yoongi frowns and pouts at the thought of being left, yet does nothing else, doesn't even open his eyes until you're back and gently wiping the lube from his ass. "Hey." You smile up at him when you notice he's more with it again, or at least enough to open his eyes. He pouts further. "What?"

"Kisses."

"Oh." You giggle and obligingly lean over him to press your lips to his.

The kiss is much slower and looser than any before; a clear reflection of how sated and lazy Yoongi feels, yet he still wants to kiss and softly lick into your mouth.

When you feel his movements get even slower, almost as if he's falling asleep while making out, you pull back. Yoongi whines and tries to chase your lips but he's back to not even bothering to open his eyes.

"Let me clean you up and then if you're still awake, we can kiss more, okay?" You reason.

"Hm, fine," He slurs sulkily, though stays almost motionless on the seat with hands still above his head as his face turns towards the back of the couch.

"Are you okay with me lifting your t-shirt?" He hums and nods a little, and you know that's the most you'll get from him, so you gently lift the t-shirt out of the drying mess to hold up and away. You don't even take a second to take in the mess on his skin or his flaccid dick, just quickly and carefully wipe him up as best as you can before tossing out the tissues and returning the bottle of lube to what you hope is the correct desk drawer.

You return to the couch with Yoongi's hoodie and are about to ask him to sit up to change out of the dirty top yet find him snoring softly already. Instead, you shuffle his boxers back up onto his body and settle them snugly against his hips before gently and painstakingly removing the soiled t-shirt.

You just about manage to get the hoody on his uncooperative body as he whines and tries to curl back against the cushions every time you almost accidentally rouse him out of his sleep.

Once you're done with your task, you admire his relaxed, sleeping features for a moment too long, and then settle up to his desk to watch some videos while he sleeps.

During a break in between episodes, you hear shuffling, so you remove the headphones and turn to find Yoongi shuffling to sit up while rubbing at his eyes. "Sleep well?" You ask softly.

He nods, and yawns for good measure, before stretching and then finally looking at you. "How long was I sleeping?"

"Couple hours."

"What?!" He baulks. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Didn't have the heart to, you were pretty fucking exhausted,"

"Oh, uhm…" He looks down at himself as the actions previous to his nap return to his mind. "So that happened...did you change me?" He tugs on his hoodie confused.

"Hm yeah, didn't think you'd appreciate waking up with a cum covered t-shirt."

"No yeah, right...thanks." He turns to sit properly and places his feet on the floor. "So uhm, are you sure you've never done that before?"

"Positive."

"But that was better than tops I've been with."

"Oh, really?" You beam proudly and he hums in confirmation with a nod. "Ah, well maybe it's because their intention isn't to make you feel good but to just get you ready so that they can stick their dicks in you," you suggest.

"Maybe." He shrugs and gets to his feet with a slight wince. "If this is how I feel with just your fingers, you'd destroy me with a dick," he comments while grabbing his jeans from the floor to wobble into.

You get up to help steady him so that he doesn't fall on his ass. "Would you let me?"

"What?"

"Fuck you, if I bought a strap-on?"

"Oh." He nods shyly.

"Words, baby, come on, you know the rules."

"Shut up." He huffs and bats you away while you snigger. You close down what you had been doing on the computer and return to the couch to flop down in a slouch. "Do you know where to buy one? A strap?" Yoongi glances at you as he buttons his jeans.

"Yep, the place I get my usual stuff from sells some interesting ones."

"I'm honestly concerned about what you mean by interesting."

"Look yourself." You get back up to sit at the desk and open up the adult toy store's website. "Sit." You pat your thighs invitingly. Yoongi only hesitates a moment before sitting on your lap so that you can look at the screen together.

"There is no way you're fucking me with that," he deadpans when you point out an honestly obnoxiously huge dildo with ridges.

"Oh, so I can fuck you then?"

"With a normal one, yes," he agrees, and moves your hand from the mouse to scroll himself. "Here look, normal." He points to a very basic-looking realistic dildo.

"Boo, boring. At least try a tentacle." He glares at you, making you laugh. "Joking. How big do you like?"

"Uhm just average is good."

"Bullshit, you scream size queen to me." Yoongi sputters but doesn't argue. "Find one that looks the best to you."

"This is embarrassing," he whines.

"No, it's not. Be a good boy and pick a cock to be fucked with, Yoongi," you hum against his neck, earning a shiver. Yoongi doesn't hesitate to begin intently looking at all the options. "Hm, good boy." You press an approving kiss against his skin and wrap your arms around his waist to squeeze a little. He jolts in surprise, but then shuffles a little to settle in your hold.

After a little while of careful consideration, Yoongi shyly points out the one he likes the best and wants to try with you.

"Okay, add it to the basket." So, he does. "And now find a smaller one."

"What?" He looks over his shoulder at you with a confused frown. "Why?"

"Because I've never done this before so I don't want to go in with that one first and hurt you. Start small and build up to it."

"Oh, okay, that's smart." He agrees and returns his attention to the computer. He doesn't take as long to find a smaller dildo and add it to the basket. "Need a harness now," he murmurs, clicking through to find the right section. "What kind do you want? There's underwear style ones with a connection on the front or ones that are essentially harnesses."

"I don't know. Maybe get one of each style to try?"

"Okay. What size?"

"I don't know, depends on their size guide. I haven't bought lingerie from this site so I don't know what their sizing is like."

"Lingerie?" Yoongi looks at you with interest. "You have lingerie?"

"Yeah."

"Oh...will you wear some for me?"

"You want me to?" He nods. "Okay. We can look on here too and see if there's anything in particular you'd like to see."

"Why didn't we do this earlier?" Yoongi groans, then leans over to kiss you for a moment. "You're the best."

"I know," you giggle and pat his thighs. "Find the size guide."

A few days later, Yoongi finds himself seated at the head of your bed with his back against the headrest watching you unpack the box in front of him.

The order had arrived that morning. You had excitedly texted Yoongi the moment it did, and he had immediately cleared his evening plans.

As soon as his work day ended, Yoongi rushed home to drop off his stuff and shower thoroughly ready, then quickly made his way to your apartment.

So here he is, both nerves and excitement running through his body knowing that soon, you will be fucking him.

As each item is placed on the bed, Yoongi fidgets more and more. Just seeing the picture of the dildo on the side of the box has his dick plumping up.

He doesn't know it, he’s too busy staring down at all the new items, but you notice his fidgeting and reactions; the pink of his cheeks and the increased frequency of his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Even though you've only had one session of sexual activity together, you're pretty confident that you've correctly read his body language as rapidly growing arousal.

For a few moments longer, you continue to unpack the large box but pay no attention to it and only watch Yoongi's intent, wide gaze on the items. His obvious arousal is making your own heat up under your skin.

Suddenly, you quickly repack almost everything making Yoongi jerk with concern and make a questioning noise.

"We can look at it after I've fucked you," you declare when Yoongi's confused eyes find your own darkening ones.

Yoongi swallows thickly and nods dumbly in agreement.

"Do you want me to put anything on?" You ask, motioning to the lingerie that you have left out. Yoongi looks at it, mouth open and genuinely considers it, whether he wants to see the lingerie or get fucked more. "If it helps, I'm wearing a set I already had under this." You point to your outfit of a zipped-up hoodie and basketball shorts. Yoongi swallows again and nods slowly. "What?"

"I wanna see that."

"Okay." You giggle and toss the lingerie from the mattress into the box before picking the whole thing up and moving it to the floor out of the way. "I want to try the harness one today, it matches what I'm wearing." You grin excitedly while picking up the box containing the wet-look-style strappy harness.

"Matches?" Yoongi mutters. You hum in confirmation. "Fuck."

You peer up at him through your eyelashes and giggle, before pressing one knee onto the mattress and leaning closer to him.

"You're going to ruin me, aren't you?" He realises in a mumble.

"I'm certainly going to try," you reply, a little breathless at the thought. You place your empty hand on his thigh to squeeze a little making his breath hitch and legs jolt, before you lift your hand only to slap his inner thigh gently and dart forward to place a disproportionately sweet peck on his lips. "I want you as naked as you're comfortable with by the time I get back from the bathroom."

"O-Okay," he agrees easily. You grin, then lower for a more thorough kiss; one that lingers even when you're out of the room, taking the harness and smaller dildo with you to clean thoroughly. "Fuck," Yoongi exhales and takes a second to gather his wits before getting up to quickly remove all of his clothing except for his boxers; a brand new set of tiny black shorts that do nothing to hide that his dick is hard and trying to escape from the waistband.

Yoongi feels very vulnerable and exposed as he sits there on the bed in nervous wait. He crosses and uncrosses his arms over his chest self-consciously a few times before reaching out to pick up the rather large bottle of anal lube left on the bed.

It's while he's reading the bottle to give himself something to do after removing the packaging so that it can actually be used, that you return sans shorts and with the unpackaged dildo in your hand.

You pause at the doorway and stare at him causing him to put the bottle down so that he can fold his arms over his bare chest again. "Shit, sorry, sorry, fuck, I didn't mean to make you feel self-conscious," you apologise while rushing over. You carefully place the dildo upright on the side table beside the lube bottle before climbing up onto the bed and gently laying your hands over his arms. "You're just so beautiful, Yoongi, my brain short-circuited seeing you waiting for me on my bed like this. Like holy fucking shit, what kind of saint did I save in a past life to get Min fucking Yoongi waiting on my bed?"

"You don't need to be so dramatic," he huffs, though his cheeks are hot with his blush and he allows you to tug his arms to his sides.

"I'm not." He gives you a disbelieving expression. "I'm not! I swear! I'd never tell you empty words, Yoongi, you mean too much to me for me to ever even consider betraying your trust like that."

Your words are so genuine that Yoongi can't help but believe them and accept the truth, making his body warm further understanding that you genuinely think of him in such a way.

"Good," he decides with a shy little nod. "Did you get the harness on okay?"

You hum and nod, leaning up onto your knees in front of him and lifting your hands to the zipper of your jumper. "Wanna see?"

"Of course, I wanna-" He cuts off with a choke when you abruptly open the zipper revealing a glimpse of a crisscross of straps across the revealed skin of your torso. He doesn't even have it in him to curse under his breath when you remove the jumper to toss aside carelessly.

If all of his blood hadn't rushed south and left no brain power behind, Yoongi would see that you definitely aren't as confident as you have been acting; your hands twitch at your sides and your teeth gently clamp on your bottom lip.

But Yoongi is too hypnotised by your body wrapped in intricate lengths of black, wet-look material that make you look like the present of his wet dreams.

"So?" You ask what feels to you like at least ten minutes later when Yoongi still hasn't done anything but stare jaw dropped at you.

To your relief, your sudden voice snaps Yoongi back to reality and makes him drag his lust-darkened eyes up to yours.

Without a word, he gets up until he's on his knees mirroring you, before taking your face into his hands to kiss heavily. The little noise you can't prevent from escaping your mouth makes Yoongi groan deeply and lower one hand so that he can wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer while he moves too until you're pressed together.

Feeling the smooth latex under his hand has Yoongi's dick twitching back to life where it's pressed between your bodies. It makes you giggle upon feeling it, before pressing your body forward just enough to make Yoongi groan at the pressure.

"I assume that's a good reaction?" You hum breathlessly when the kiss breaks, and you motion to yourself to show that you mean his reaction to how you look.

"You have no idea how sexy you are to me," Yoongi replies a little dumbly, making you giggle through your blush. "I'm really fucking glad you got this harness and ignored my hesitation on the wet look. I never knew I was into it until now."

"I have a wet-look dress," you inform. "And I'm going to wear it when we next all go out, just to wind you up."

"Please don't make me get hard in public, I'm an idol," he whines. "I can't be caught with a boner."

"Guess you better learn to control your dick then." You grin and nudge him back. "Lay down, I really wanna get my hands on your ass as soon as possible; I've been thinking about this non-stop for four days."

"You have?" Yoongi replies while doing as told and moving backwards until he's laid down in the centre of the bed with his head on the pillows. You hum in confirmation while taking the chance to rake your eyes over his body hungrily.

It makes Yoongi's body warm to see how much you like his body, even though he doesn't think it is anything special at all. "M-me too," He admits, causing you to look up at his face and smile softly at him. He smiles back shyly, before bravely reaching down to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers.

Your eyes at once snap down to watch as he slowly pushes his underwear down until he has to lift his hips up to slide them over his ass and to his thighs, where you take over and carefully remove the cloth entirely from his body to drop to the floor beside the bed.

And then you look at him to take him in in his fully nude state. Your cheeks visibly warm and your mouth drops open just enough for your tongue to poke out and prod your bottom lip. "Can I suck your dick?" You ask bluntly, licking your lips again.

"Really?" You nod and shuffle closer until Yoongi has to spread his legs to allow you to kneel between them with your hands on his smooth thighs. "Y-yeah," he agrees, nodding quickly even if you're entirely enraptured by his erection so don't see his action.

Without hesitation, you lower down onto your left elbow and wrap one hand loosely around his erection just to hold it up and allow you to slide it into your mouth enthusiastically. Yoongi's hips instinctively kick up at the sudden, wet warmth and he curses, reaching out to slide his fingers into your hair. You make a happy sound around his length and wiggle your hips as you work him in your mouth, which draws Yoongi's attention to your ass where it's stuck up in the air and showing off your curves in the straps.

"Jesus, fuck," he grunts. "Fucking-fuck-look at you," he breathes out, eyes dragging over your body and down to where your lips are wrapped around his dick, eyes up on him. He swears again. "You need to stop or I'm going to cum," he warns.

You heed his warning and pull off with a soft laugh. "I was there for like ten seconds," you point out amusedly.

He shrugs and looks away embarrassed, only to look back with a gasp when you attach your mouth to his inner thigh to suck a bruise into. "Shit," he chokes, legs shaking a little.

Suddenly overcome with desperation, he reaches out to grab the lube and shove it against your shoulder.

"Hm, okay, baby," you agree while sitting up on your knees again so that you can take the bottle and pump some of the contents onto your fingers. "Do you want it like this or a different position?" You ask, putting the bottle aside on the mattress for when you need it again.

"This," he answers, grabbing a spare pillow to wiggle under his hips. "Wanna see you."

"Okay." Your smile is happy and you lean down over him to press your lips to his.

Yoongi lifts both hands to gently hold your face as you kiss slowly and deeply.

His breath hitches as your wet fingers touch his rim, though he doesn't stop kissing you. A little whimper leaves his throat as one finger slowly edges in. You make a curious sound at the much less resistance compared to the last time you had your fingers inside of Yoongi yet say nothing and add a second.

"Did you already finger yourself?" You ask, unable to stop yourself when you can already add a third.

"Y-yeah," he confirms. "Is that okay? Are you upset?"

"I mean, usually I would definitely like to prep you myself; your ass is the eighth wonder of the world-" He rolls his eyes, making you laugh. "But I honestly think it's best to not get me that turned on today so that I can have at least some self-control when fucking you for the first time."

"Fingering me turns you on?" You nod. "Oh, I didn't realise, you seemed normal last time."

"I wanted to focus on you too much to pay attention to it. But after, jeez, I had to watch a very dry show to calm myself back down," you snigger with amusement at the memory.

"M'sorry."

You frown confusedly down at him and remove your fingers from his ass. He's about to complain but notices you're reaching for the dildo so instead presses his lips together.

"For what?" You wonder.

"What?"

"You apologised. Why?"

"I fell asleep."

"Yeah?" Your head tilts down as you look at the harness so that you can attach the dildo properly.

"I didn't get you off." You laugh a little. "What?" He frowns. "Why's that funny?"

"All I wanted was to finger you, I didn't want you to do anything but cum yourself and you definitely did that so I was more than happy with your involvement, Yoon, there was nothing else I wanted from that experience."

"So, you didn't want to cum?" He looks at you disbelievingly until you lift your head having successfully attached the toy after a little fiddling.

"It wasn't the plan, no."

"But did you want to?"

"I mean, I haven't been that turned on in a long time, well until now. But if I wanted to cum, I could've gone and taken care of it while you were asleep. Just because I made you cum, it doesn't mean you owe me one, that's not how this works, Yoon."

"I know," he mumbles, running his hands down your body to finger the harness until he locates the dildo and can wrap his hand around it and tug, forcing you to get closer between his spread-wide thighs. "But I want to. Wanna make you feel good."

"You do, trust me, you do," you assure, before pressing a sweet, short kiss to his lips. "Can I fuck you now?"

"Definitely." He nods, eyes wide with anticipation.

With excitement in your eyes, you reach down to knock Yoongi's hand from the dildo so that you can apply more than enough lube. Yoongi is staring at you questioningly when you look back up at him.

"What? I like it messy," you giggle shyly, and look back down so that you can watch as you guide the toy to Yoongi's awaiting hole.

"You do?" You nod. "Me too." You grin brightly up at him, happy at the shared interest, before slowly pushing your hips forward. Yoongi's eyes widen a little and his lips part as he's breached by the toy.

"Okay?" You worry.

"Yeah, keep going," he confirms, looping his fingers into the straps over your hips to pull you towards him at a speed quicker than you would've moved yourself, but if anyone knows Yoongi's limits, it's Yoongi himself, so you let him.

In no time at all, your hips are pressed flush to him and he's breathing a little heavier at being full.

"Fuck me, come on, fuck me," he breathes out encouragingly, removing his fingers from the straps to give you control back and instead press his palms to your waist.

"Okay, baby," you hum and press a kiss to his chest, before leaning up onto your haunches and use your hands to press Yoongi's thighs open further.

Yoongi swallows thickly and knows he will never come back from this the same and you haven't even moved yet. And then you do, slowly dragging back before shoving forward and knocking a moan from Yoongi that he wasn't aware he could produce. You smirk at him before tightening your hold and repeating the action.

"F-fuck," he stammers, gripping the bedding beneath him in an attempt to ground himself. You've only thrust twice and he's already leaking on his stomach.

"Okay?" He nods madly. "Hm, let's get that better." The look on your face is a little dark and very determined, and Yoongi keens before you've even pulled back out.

This time, you adjust your position a little to get yourself better leverage to essentially pull back, and then pound into Yoongi while simultaneously rolling your hips and causing Yoongi's back to arch and his eyes to roll back. He's not going to last at all.

It's not even a minute of the unbelievably good fucking later that Yoongi wraps a shaking hand around his cock to tug at it desperately for only a few seconds before his body pulls tight and he comes all over his torso.

You watch the whole ordeal with hooded eyes and an open mouth as you pant from exertion and arousal. Not knowing if Yoongi gets overstimulated quickly and not wanting to hurt him, you quickly slow your movements and stop when his hand falls from his cock.

While Yoongi lays there breathing heavily with his chest heaving and eyes closed, you pull out and remove the dripping toy from the harness.

Without a word, you get up and move to the bathroom to rinse off the toy and leave it on the counter to wash properly later, and then you grab a washcloth to dampen it and return to Yoongi. He blinks his eyes open when you clamber back onto the bed and start to clean him up.

By the time you've finished cleaning his chest and ass up, Yoongi's breathing is back to normal and he's watching you, looking more satisfied than you've ever seen him.

"Hey." You smile as you settle beside him, washcloth on the side table behind you. He purses his lips at you, so you lean forward to kiss him slowly. When you pull back, you remain on your side propped up with your head on your left hand. "How you feeling? I didn't go too hard, did I?"

"I'm pretty sure how quick I came answers that," he huffs, pouting at the ceiling. "Swear I'm not usually that quick."

"It was hot, I don't mind the time frame," you reply honestly, and lean down to kiss his shoulder. "I knew you'd look good coming on yourself," you hum against his skin. "Wish I had photographic memory so I never forget a moment of that sight."

"Shut up."

"I'm being serious!" You lift up and pout at him. "I'm sad that I won't forever remember it that well."

"Well...it's not like that's the only chance you'll get to see it." He shrugs, turning onto his right side to face you, so you lower to lay down too. "I can't get over how good you are at these sexual things you've never done before."

"I'm naturally gifted."

Yoongi chuckles and nods. "Yeah, you are. I'm both scared and excited to see how much better you'll get with practice. You're going to own my ass in no time, I won't be able to fuck anyone else because they won't be as good as you. Fucking Pavlov me."

"Don't think that's the right term but I'll take it." He doesn't respond and instead shuffles closer to kiss you.

Yoongi's left hand travels down to hold onto one of the strips of material over your ribs. "How hard is this to get off?"

"A lot." He groans. "Why?"

"Wanna eat you out." Your eyes blow wide in shock. "I can't tell what that look means."

"No one's said that to me before," you admit softly.

"What?" Yoongi's frown is beyond offended. "How could no one say that to you?" He huffs and leans up while nudging you onto your back. You go willingly with a shrug. "Well, I really want to. Can I?" You nod and reach down to unclasp the buckles of the harness. Yoongi shuffles down the bed so that he can pull it off your legs once you've opened it. "How do we-" he cuts off when he looks up and realises that the straps of the lingerie have been designed to leave your crotch entirely bare. "Fuck."

Immediately, Yoongi lowers down onto his stomach between your thighs and presses them wider to stare at where you're glistening with arousal.

"How is all of you so fucking perfect?" Even though it's a question, he's really talking to himself, his voice low and thick with arousal.

Yet even if he is talking to you and expects a response, you wouldn't be able to form one, your voice is stuck in your throat with nerves.

"Tell me if I do something you don't like, okay?" He speaks, leaning up enough to make eye contact with you. You just nod, cheeks flushed pink and your bottom lip sucked nervously between your teeth. Yoongi shoots you a gentle smile, then lowers to press a soft kiss to your hip.

You watch intently as Yoongi trails soft kisses across your skin and over the shiny fabric digging slightly into your thigh due to your legs being spread by Yoongi's hands. He stops at your inner thigh in between two straps, seemingly entranced by the little bulge caused by the material.

As if he doesn't have any control, Yoongi opens his mouth a little wider and clamps down making you gasp. The noise brings him back to reality and he almost pulls off but as he's releasing his jaw, your gasp fully registers and he realises that it wasn't a bad gasp at all.

Instead of continuing to open his jaw, he closes it further and fights down his own groan feeling his teeth press into the giving flesh before he sucks a little harsher than he normally starts off, yet you whimper and your left hand flutters atop his head in a way that feels as if you want to grasp but aren't brave enough. So, Yoongi sucks harder, borderline painfully, and is rewarded with fingers in his hair and grasping securely, encouragingly.

Yoongi suckles the spot for a moment longer before pulling off with a pop.

You both eye the bright red mark and admire the indents left by his teeth before Yoongi suddenly darts down again.

You had expected him to attach to the mirrored spot on your other thigh but he shocks you by suctioning to the soft, smooth flesh over your pubic bone, so close to your clit that it makes it tingle.

You're so caught off guard that the moan of pleasure escapes your mouth before you can stop it. You loosen your right hand from the sheets with every intention of lifting it to cover your mouth in embarrassment; it was too loud of a noise for such a small act in your mind.

It seems that Yoongi knows you too well though, despite never having done anything like this together before, as his left hand quickly darts up and grabs your wrist causing you to fall still.

You blink down at him and find his dark eyes on you warningly. Your arm twitches upwards and his grip tightens even as his mouth neither moves to detach or do anything more.

Yoongi's eyes square a little; a silent command, and although you don't really listen to anyone usually regardless of circumstance, you nod obediently and relax your arm. Yoongi's gaze relaxes and he directs your hand to your own thigh just so that he can link your fingers together while also allowing him to still keep pressure on your thighs to have them remain open for him.

Really, Yoongi would've loved to take advantage of the fact that you're the first person to seem to like the rougher biting his gums always ache for, but he was determined to give you the best head you'll ever have before his oral fixation kicked in, and now he's reminded of that upon seeing the way you actually submitted to him, even a little.

He decides that you definitely deserve a reward for that alone.

Only a little reluctantly, Yoongi slowly releases his suction and pulls back just enough to allow the sight of the forming bruise to shoot a lick of arousal into his stomach, before he lowers even further to softly trail his tongue up your folds, carefully avoiding your hole and clit not wanting to jump in too fast for you on your first time receiving oral.

A fact that honestly makes him kind of angry; how could no one have offered to go down on you? It's vile and selfish in his mind, and he wants to give you the best experience he possibly can.

You don't make any noise in response, so he doesn't know if you like it, but at the very least, you don't try to remove either of you from the situation, so you're willing to let him continue.

For a few minutes, Yoongi keeps his actions relatively soft everywhere he touches, yet he still doesn't gain much of a response from you. You're breathing a little heavier and he can see that your eyes are closed; you do look like you're enjoying yourself but you're quiet.

If he hadn't heard a moan moments before, he would assume that you're just quiet in general during sex, but he had and he wants more. You sounded so good that he honestly wants to record you to replay back when he's alone with a hand in his pants. Maybe you're just not that into oral.

Not wanting to be a letdown, Yoongi carefully tugs his hand free from your grasp and presses your own palm to your thigh. When he sees your fingers curve a little to hold your thigh, he smiles to himself and presses a finger to your hole lightly; a warning of what's to come. You don't pull away, so he slowly presses in, watching entranced as you swallow him up with no issue.

Feeling you ready to take another, he pulls out and adds another finger alongside the first and watches all the same as soft, wet heat envelops them both happily. Although there isn't much resistance per se due to how wet you are, there's definitely more pressure on his fingers, especially around his second knuckle. He looks up to watch your reaction as he pushes in, in case any sign of discomfort appears.

Your eyebrows furrow the tiniest amount, and your mouth drops open a little wider as a stuttered breath leaves. Your hips push down slightly, shyly almost, and all worry leaves Yoongi. You like it and want more.

So, he gives it to you, pushing his fingers in completely, only slightly faster than his original pace but you immediately react and suck in a breath.

Suddenly, it hits Yoongi that you had reacted so strongly enough to moan when he was being harsh and rough. You like the borderline pain and firmer actions, not the soft gentle touches he has been trying thinking it will be the best move for your first time.

With this revelation, Yoongi attaches his mouth directly to your clit and sucks while pulling his fingers out just to the second knuckle where they're widest and using that girth to stimulate your opening. Immediately, you gasp and moan breathily, tightening your fingers in his hair enough to make him moan around your clit.

The pace Yoongi takes up fucking his fingers into you is fast and just a level below hard considering he isn't left-handed and the angle isn't the easiest to navigate while he's toying endlessly with your clit with his mouth; teeth included making his own body sing with arousal.

He's definitely hard and leaking between the mattress and his stomach.

Yoongi can't believe how worked up he's getting so quickly. Sure, he always loves giving oral, especially if it means he also had his fingers in a wet, warm hole, but he never gets hard from it after already being fucked so well. But you react so well to his rough actions, and you seem to love the intensity of his oral fixation allowing him to really suction and bite as much as he wants.

Honestly, if he couldn't feel you tightening around his fingers and your hips shaking with the effort of keeping still, Yoongi would be certain that he's much more into the activity than you are. But your approaching orgasm is clear, especially with your frequent little moans growing closer together and higher in pitch. Though he does kind of wish you wouldn't control yourself like that, he kind of really most definitely wants you to fuck his face.

Maybe he'll have to ask you to sit on his face one day, and preferably very soon.

"Yoon," you warn with a gasp, eyes flying open to stare down at him, but his eyes are closed and focused, though he does squeeze your thigh a little to show that he heard and understands. You let your eyes close again and your head tips back as the pleasure teeters right on the edge.

One more run of Yoongi's teeth over your swollen clit sends you tumbling over, cursing as the orgasm shoots through your body quickly.

Usually, it'd be over as quick as that, but Yoongi hasn't stopped his movements; if anything, he seems more eager to lap around his fingers and fuck into you. He even curls his fingers up into that spot he's found but not yet focused on, to now zero in on it and apply an almost torturous amount of pleasure that's borderline painful with the orgasm barely even over.

"Oh, fuck," you whine, curling your fingers tight enough into your thigh that your short, blunt nails dig in sharply.

A second orgasm hits out of nowhere, and you gasp deeply, curving your back at the intensity and lose all control of your hips. Yoongi moans deeply as he's forced face-first into your pussy where he happily attaches his mouth to suck yet another bruise harshly.

As soon as you've mostly come down from the second orgasm to the point that you're mentally back on Earth, you tighten your grip in Yoongi's hair to tug him up while he makes a noise of complaint at being pulled away from eating you out, so that you can kiss him heavily, careless of your taste on his tongue and lower face that's glistening with your own arousal.

That at least stops his complaints and he quickly settles into the kiss, lowering down his top half, yet keeping his hips up so that his naked erection doesn't touch you. You realise what he's doing and hook your legs over his hips to tug him down, making him groan deeply as his erection slips against your slick skin.

"Can't believe you got me hard already," he grunts, lowering his head to kiss down your neck. You turn your head to give him better access. and when he starts to suck, you grind your hips up against him. "Fuck," he pants.

"Want you to fuck me," you admit a little breathlessly.

"Seriously?" You nod and whine a little while grinding harder and feeling his hard length rub firmly over your clit. "Shit, okay, condom?" You shake your head making him sigh. "Then-"

"I'm clean and got my tubes tied," you inform, turning your head to him when he pulls back to look down at you.

"Me too; clean and vasectomy," he mumbles in disbelief. Your eyes light up with excitement that reflects in his. "So, we're both free of transmittable diseases and infertile," he summarises.

"Which means you can fill me up and make a mess."

"Fuck."

With no reason to hesitate, or the will to, Yoongi reaches down to grip his erection and line up with your entrance. Your legs drop to the mattress to spread wide and Yoongi pushes in.

"Ah, fuck," you whimper as he pushes in, your eyes fluttering closed and hands gripping his sides.

"You okay?" You nod rapidly. "Doesn't hurt?"

"Feels good."

"Y-yeah," he agrees, lowering his gaze to watch as his cock fills your pussy and leaves his vision, buried snugly in your warmth. "Fuck, feel so good, baby." Your eyes blink open at the petname to look at him in surprise. "What?"

"Baby?"

He's genuinely puzzled for a second, before he recalls that he just called you that without thought and his cheeks warm with embarrassment. "Sorry, didn't realise."

"I'm not opposed, like at all, fucking love petnames," you admit easily, and lift your arms to wrap around his neck loosely while a mischievous glint appears in your eyes.

Before Yoongi can question what exactly that means, you rock your hips, making him suck in a sudden inhale and shudder at the unexpected friction on his cock.

You burst into laughter at his reaction and flop down onto the mattress. "Did you get possessed?"

"Shut up," he huffs while his cheeks burn with embarrassment. "You surprise attacked me."

"Surprise attacked," you cackle, your hands cupping your own cheeks and fingers pressing into where your cheeks bunch the highest.

Yoongi pouts at you, which only makes you giggle; a different kind of laugh, one more adoring for his cute expression, but it still isn't what he wants and he's feeling petty.

Without warning he pulls back his hips, then slams forward, punching a strangled gasp of pleasure from your mouth as your hands fly up to brace against the wooden poles of the ornate headboard. Yoongi smirks at your wide-eyed and open-mouthed expression, then reaches up to brace himself with one hand against the flat of the headboard while his other slides under your lower back until he can wrap his arm around you enough to hold your body still. And then, he wastes no more time and starts almost brutally fucking you.

It's intense and pleasurable in a way you're not used to; of course, you have been fucked hard before, but it was never like this. Not because people haven't tried but they simply can't pull the pleasure from your very soul like Yoongi seems to be doing.

Even if you want to, you wouldn't be able to stop the stream of pleasured sounds from leaving your open mouth, but you don't even want to; don't feel like hiding as you aren't the only one who seems unable to clamp their own vocals. Yoongi is just as loud as you are and it honestly only turns you on even more.

Usually, both you and Yoongi like to talk to your partners; check in and praise them, talk dirty and tease, yet neither of you has it in you to do it. You couldn't even talk if you try, not past the occasional swear or utter of the other's name or a petname.

Yoongi quickly takes up calling you princess and you have to admit, you really fucking like how it sounds from his lips. Others have tried to use the petname with you before but you could never take it seriously and tended to laugh or to fuck off, depending on the situation. Yet with Yoongi, it sends warmth to your chest that trickles into your stomach and lower to add to the quickly-growing impending orgasm.

Yoongi has no idea how he's keeping up the pace; his chest is heaving and his thighs are burning, and he's certain he's so close to getting a cramp in his left ass cheek somehow, but he can't give any mind to it; it's all on you and how fucking good you feel wrapped around his cock.

You keep sporadically squeezing him and he doesn't know if it's a sign of a nearing orgasm or just how you feel pleasure but either way, it feels beyond fucking words and he both never wants it to end and is chasing his orgasm desperately. He wants to fill you up and then watch his cum spill out from your pussy afterwards.

Fuck, maybe you'll even let him fuck it out of you, perhaps in the shower once he has his strength back after a much-needed nap.

When you remove one hand from the headboard and shove it down between your bodies to play with your clit roughly, Yoongi makes certain to keep his movement the same to not ruin your pleasure.

Watching you touch yourself all but shoves him headfirst over the edge and his hips jerk unintentionally as his orgasm hits, spilling cum into you with a few breathless moans of your name. Your breath hitches in response, before you're squeezing him tight, earning more pleasured curses to fall from his mouth as he feels your orgasm in the rhythmic tightening of your walls pulsating around his cock.

Slowly, you both fall still with closed eyes and heavy breathing as you ride out the aftershocks and last dregs of pleasure.

"Jesus fuck," Yoongi's the first to speak some minutes later when he finally has his head screwed on relatively straight and is only panting a little. You laugh at his comment, but it's definitely an agreeing sound.

Jesus fuck indeed.

"I'm not sure who is gonna Pavlov who here," you muse, reaching out to cup his face in both hands. "C'mere."

Yoongi goes willingly, lowering down and wincing a little as he feels his soft dick slipping out, but neither of you comment on it, you’re both too interested in kissing; happy and sated, and kind of lazy, but it's good.

When the kiss breaks, Yoongi clambers off of you and drops down at your side, sinking on his right side comfortably against the pillow and letting his body relax. "I need a nap," he mutters, earning an amused giggle while you turn onto your left side to face him. "Actually no, fuck a nap, need a coma."

"You're ridiculous."

"If you tell me you still have the energy to fuck, you're insane."

"I mean...give me like ten minutes to get a drink and yeah, I probably could."

"Fucking hell, you're going to kill me," he groans, turning his head into the pillow, but the noise isn't exactly one of argument.

"Good way to go though, right?" You grin, and he looks back at you with a chuckle.

"Definitely." He reaches out with a heavy arm to tug on the straps over your stomach. "C'mere, wanna spoon my princess."

"Are you trying to get fucked?" You comment, making him snort out a tired laugh. Instead of going to him, you roll out of bed making him whine and pout in complaint. "I'll be right back, I really do need a drink."

"Hurry," he mumbles, letting his eyes flutter close.

You hobble to the kitchen as quickly as you can so that you can gulp down as much cool water as possible without making yourself sick and then you refill your glass.

You're about to fill a glass for Yoongi too but considering how tired he is, you know he won't sit up even to drink if his mouth is dry. So, you find a bottle with a straw that you hope won't spill if on its side and fill that with cold water instead.

You return to your bedroom and place your glass down before tucking the bottle by Yoongi and guiding the straw into his open mouth. He's pretty much asleep but the touch wakes him, and although he doesn't know what's going on in his sleep-addled mind, when you tell him to drink and tap the straw on his lip, he wraps his lips around it to do as told and gropes around until he finds the bottle to hold steady without opening his eyes.

You take the chance to struggle your way out of the lingerie on your body and toss it aside to deal with later.

By the time you clamber back onto the bed, Yoongi's fallen asleep again, bottle still held and straw to his lips. You giggle amusedly and remove the item, making him snuffle awake again. Once the bottle is beside your glass, you shuffle down with your back to him and pull his arm over your waist.

Yoongi hums happily and shuffles closer until you're pressed together and his face is in your neck. He inhales deeply and tightens his arm around your waist, tucking his hand up by your chest, and that's when he suddenly realises that he can feel nothing but skin against his own. He jolts up a little onto his right elbow and peers blearily down at you. You watch his expression from over your shoulder; you see the fatigue slip away and his tongue wet his lips as he notices that for the first time, you're completely naked.

"You're naked," he mumbles, tracing his left hand over your waist and hip, watching the trail his touch takes. You just hum in confirmation and allow him to touch all the new skin he can see. "Beautiful," he sighs out, and then lowers back down to curl around your back.

You can feel his dick against your ass and it has definitely plumped up a little in the past moments, and, of course, you just have to tilt your hips back to brush your ass against it.

He nips your shoulder in retaliation, earning a giggle from you. "I'm too fucking tired right now, baby."

"I like cock warming." You pout, grinding back against him. "Don't you wanna be all snug as you sleep?"

"You're fucking ridiculous," he huffs, amusement in his tone, before pressing his hips forward against you. "Go on then, you get me hard, you can warm me as much as you want while we sleep."

"What if I can't sleep?" He makes a curious sound. "I usually can sleep no problem with a cock in me but something about you brings out the deviant in me so...what's your stance on somnophilia?"

"The fuck's that?"

"Sleep sex."

"You want to have sex while we sleep?"

"I'd be awake if I can't sleep, dumbass."

"Shut up, m'tired." He bites your shoulder a little harder this time, but that just makes you curve into him and press your ass harder against his gradually hardening dick. "Fuckin-" He inhales and purposely moves his mouth away from your skin so that he won't give in to temptation again; he's pretty sure if he does bite you again, you'll definitely wind up going for another intense round and he's certain he cannot physically handle that until he wakes up again. He's never been so exhausted from sex alone.

"So?" You prompt when he stays quiet behind you. "I'm personally into it either way."

"Mm, I dunno, just go to sleep for now, baby."

"Okay, Yoonie," you agree and pull your hips away from him, giving his dick space to breathe and soften without your touch. Yoongi hums appreciatively and curls his arm back around your waist, though makes sure to keep his hand away from your chest; he knows that if he feels your breasts he will not be able to get to sleep until he has sufficiently played with them.

When you're almost asleep, Yoongi speaks up in a low rough tone, close to sleep himself. "If you wake up and I'm hard, do what you want."

"Yeah?"

"Mm, just try not to wake me."

"Okay.” You smile to yourself and snuggle in close, smiling a little more at the kiss that gets pressed to your head.

To your absolute joy, when you wake a little under an hour later, you and Yoongi are pressed so close together that his dick has hardened in his sleep.

You grin to yourself, and although you're barely awake, you know what you want. So, you painstakingly move into a better position so that when you reach behind yourself and carefully hold Yoongi's erection, you can guide it into yourself, making you sigh in happiness. You really do like being full.

You peer over your shoulder to make sure you haven't woken Yoongi, then shuffle again, sliding further onto his length until you're pressed tight up against him. You watch Yoongi's face contort and little huffs of breath escape his lips from the pleasure, but he doesn't wake, so you settle back down and are soon back asleep.

You aren't surprised to have a sex dream, though you are surprised by just how vivid it is. You've had similar kinds of dreams before where you're actively seeking pleasure in a lucid-dreaming kind of way, but you usually wake up before achieving your orgasm goal. But this time, you wake up with the force of the dream orgasm that turns out to be real.

"Fuck," Yoongi curses roughly behind you, one hand on your hip as he rocks into you.

"Yoonie?" You mumble sleepily while looking over at him, cheeks warm with the pleasure but eyes barely open.

"Hi princess," he greets with a smile tilting towards a smirk. You whine and push back against him. "You want more?" He asks, his own cheeks slightly pinkened from fucking you as you slept without moving your position to not wake you.

You nod and reach down to move his left hand from your hip and place it on your sternum instead.

"Alright, whatever my princess wants," he agrees, leaning forward to press a kiss to your jaw while moving his hand to cup your left breast. "Didn't know your tits are so big," he comments lowly as he returns to rocking into you slow and deep. "Hide 'em so well."

"H-have to, get looks oth-" Yoongi hits a real good spot with that thrust, making you cut off with a whine as your eyes roll back. "Yoon," you plead.

"Alright, fuck." He shuffles closer and lays his palm flat on the top of your chest to hold you back against him before rabbiting into you while barely pulling out, meaning he keeps hitting that same spot rapidly making you whine and writhe and gasp out his name. "Good girl."

The tingle in his teeth returns as he stares at the mostly faded teeth marks on your shoulder from before sleep. He knows those marks will be soon gone with no evidence, no bruise left behind and that doesn't sit well with him.

Yoongi leans down to attach his mouth harshly over the same spot. You jerk in response, and automatically his hand lifts to restrain you and wrap around your throat. You instantly fall still as your walls squeeze him tight.

Yoongi gasps against your shoulder and removes his hand, but you whine in serious complaint, locking your grasp on his arm. "Are you sure?" He asks as you lead his hand back to your throat. You nod madly. "Words, please, baby, I need verbal confirmation to do this. It's dangerous and-"

"Yes, yes, I want it, choke me, Yoongi, please," you plead, turning your head just enough that your wet gaze meets his and he can see the truth and desperation in your eyes. "Please?"

"Fuck, okay, kick me if it's too much or you need a break or change your mind or-"

"I won't." You sound so certain that Yoongi can only nod and curl his fingers to show that he's more than willing. There's practically no pressure to his touch yet you still gasp and slump against the pillow as your eyes flutter shut.

Yoongi licks his lips and takes a second to compose himself, before he applies a little pressure. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp but otherwise, you're practically boneless on the mattress, entirely trusting your vulnerability to him; submitting to him in a way nobody ever has before.

Yoongi growls a little and doesn't even have it in him to question himself there, before he returns to fucking you; rougher than before with longer strokes, yet still successfully pulling moans from your parted lips.

He waits a little before squeezing harder, hard enough to make breathing hard for you, but you fucking love it, clamping down tight on his cock and making no attempt to free yourself.

Yoongi's cock throbs and as much as he wants to keep going he knows he can't and removes the pressure to allow you to suck in some ragged breaths.

He takes the chance to readjust his position so that he can once again mouth at your skin and work on another mark, slowing his hips enough that he doesn't jostle your body as much. But that makes you whine in complaint.

If you can whine, you have enough breath is Yoongi's thought, and then he's constricting your airflow again and angling his hips to try and find that spot inside you again. When he finds it, you choke so he releases his pressure and focuses on once again battering that spot with short quick thrusts that make you moan endlessly through heaving for breath.

With his hand resting on your throat, your walls dripping and tight as hell around his cock, and his mouth suctioned to the crook of your neck, Yoongi is so fucking close to an orgasm. You're so fucking tight around him, tight like pre-orgasm tight, but he has no idea if you can orgasm without clitoral stimulation. He's vaguely concerned that he will cum while you suffer without your clit being touched, but he himself physically can't and you're too far gone to seem to register that it's something you can actually do.

Too close and desperate to stop, Yoongi decides he can make you cum once he has himself and once again tightens his hold on your throat. To his surprise, your back immediately curves and your pussy spasms around him as wetness suddenly increases, and he's hit with the possible fact that you just squirted with your orgasm.

Yoongi's orgasm hits him like a truck. He doesn't mean to bite down harder and doesn't even register the metallic taste on his tongue until the post-orgasm fuzz leaves his brain. He gasps in shocked horror and leans back, glad that he had moved his hand from your throat and not also choked you out in a non-sexy way in his mindlessness.

The bite mark is pretty vicious looking; bruised deeply from his sucking and ringed by tooth-shaped indents, all of which are bleeding a little. Luckily, none are particularly deep but still, he's horrified; partly by what he's done, and partly at the fact the sight sends arousal flitting teasingly through his body.

"Yoonie?" Your soft voice snaps him back to reality to find you blinking concernedly at him over your shoulder. "It's okay," you assure, reaching your left hand back to lay on his thigh and rub soothingly. "Really, don't look so scared, I'm not mad."

"I fucking bit you!" He squeaks. "You're bleeding!"

"Yes, I see," you muse, gaze dropping to his lips pointedly. He quickly rubs his hand over his mouth roughly to remove the blood. "I'm not new to bleeding during sex."

He opens his mouth to respond, once again planning to berate himself, but then he registers your words and blinks dumbly at you. "What?"

"I have experimented a lot, Yoon and not always with the best people to try potentially dangerous things with."

He sighs your name out worriedly. "Please don't tell me you've let someone hold a knife to your skin during sex. I know you joked about it before but I seriously thought it was just a joke."

"I haven't," you assure before grinning a little awkwardly. "Yet."

"I'm not letting you do knife play with some asshole, don't be ridiculous."

"You're not an asshole."

He blinks at you a few times. "Me?" You hum in confirmation. "You want me to put a knife to your skin?"

"I want to try it and you're the only person I trust like that." You shrug and turn your head back away, both because the angle is hurting your neck, and because you suddenly feel honestly kind of like a freak for even suggesting it. Knife play is no joke and something most people don't even know exists, and even fewer actually think is a good idea. "I'll forget about it, you seem scared enough just biting me hard enough to draw blood, it was stupid to suggest."

"Wait, wait, wait," he huffs, and shuffles backwards to create the space to turn you onto your back so that you can look at one another. "I don't want you to feel bad, that's not a look I see on you, stop it."

"It was stupid to suggest though." You frown. "I'm sorry-"

"No, stop, it-" He takes a breath, and then drops down onto his back beside you as he only then realises how much his right shoulder hurts. He reaches up to rub it, only for you to roll over and bat his hand away so that you can massage it yourself.

Yoongi watches your concentration for a few minutes with a fond smile, before he reaches out to tilt your face to him and leans up to gently kiss you. You hum, surprised but very pleased and kiss him back, leaning forward so that he can lower back onto the pillow and not hurt his neck.

When you pull apart, he keeps his hand on your cheek and strokes his thumb over your skin softly. "I was scared that I hurt you; I didn't mean to and it scared me how easily I could accidentally do serious damage if I'm not careful." You make a noise of understanding. "But I was also scared that I liked it." Your eyebrows lift in genuine surprise. "I saw what I had done and I fucking- I liked it, like it turned me on a little."

"Really?" He nods. Despite the conversation, the way your eyes light up with joy and excitement makes him chuckle fondly. "So would you consider knife play?"

"I... I think I can consider it, yeah," he confirms, earning a bright smile, followed by a very thorough kiss.

You can't say for sure what your future relationship with Yoongi holds, but you're real fucking excited to find out.