#also he almost killed himself yesterday

[nyxypoo]

two yrs since i started putting up with this bs

[ganondoodle]

so with echoes of wisdom .. i havent watched any of the trailers beyond the very first one and the thumbnails/screenshots and what others have said about it-

but with the world inside the rift being called "Welt des Nichts" aka "world of nothing/void" in german ('still' in english, for some reason) and demises title in french being "avatar of nothing" ... yeah my anxiety is shooting through the roof again

(hopefully you can be a little more forgiving for me being anxious/weird about it bc demise is my blorbo)

i had similar worries with totk, that werent proven true thankfully, but the darn book is making it all worse again with all those weird lore things the game doesnt even so much as hint at AND potential retcons- im in for a really rough time huh, not just stress in real life (more in tags.. its alot) but now about my specific hyperfixation from two things even (AND artblock still..)

weird as it may sound, i dont want demise to get more lore, partly bc i dont believe theyd do anything with him that i would like (given their track record) but much more importantly- the fact that he has this little lore about him is precisely one of the reasons why i fell in love with him, i tend to like characters that are neglected by the narrative, and his story being both so flat and already done meant i can be very creative with what i come up with for him without necessarily contradicting anything in canon (which is ... or was a big point of how i wrote destiny's story and lore, working with canon in a way that reframes it all without straight up ignoring it ... but i suppose i urgently need to let go of that and accept i spend alot of time working things that will go to waste :( ) AND not having to worry that there will be more stuff with him that would massively change not only what im writing but also potentially how i feel about him since the game he was briefly in was the oldest chronologically and ended with his death- i didnt expect them to mess with anything that far back and thought theyd just go forward and leave the timeline behind and wouldnt mess with it again, given how botw seemed to be a sort of 'fresh start' that seemingly regarded the past as the past that needs to rest and that the timeline was finally no longer a discussion if everythings unified through botw and one thing going forward

but i suppose i was very wrong with that .__.

right now the only thing that motivates me still is the left over determination and spite to work on my zelda comic, since i have never gotten this far and really want to get something done for once, but i cant lie that im feeling like i should pause all work on it too to wait and see waht the book and the new game will do .. either to determine if i still have the will to keep working on it after those things are out (my love for tloz has been taking alot of hits lately ..) or if i have to change stuff (mostly bc of my lore problem trying to not ignore it ..)

[empresskylo]

of fucking course simon riley has your location on. he needs to make sure you're safe. likes to keeps tabs on you. he says he’s completely normal about it, but that is a lie--he obsessively checks it.

and he knows all your common locations: your apartment, your friend’s place, the grocery store, the target you like to go to. so when he sees you at a random address one evening, your little marker on the map not moving,--meaning you’re not just driving past--he raises a brow. he immediately texts you. and when you don’t respond, he’s calling you.

and when you don’t answer… he’s in his truck faster than he thought he could move, beelining it straight for your mysterious location.

and when he pulls up in front of someone’s house, watching as you walk out the front door, laughing at something the man trailing you says, he’s furious. he was worried you might have been hurt. in a sticky situation. but cheating on him didn’t even cross his mind.

he storms out of the truck and you look at him with a gasp. “simon? what’re you doing—?”

“who the fuck is that?” he demands, gesturing to the guy behind you.

“simon…” you say exasperated. “i told you yesterday I was meeting up with friends to plan her bachelorette party.”

his eyes soften slightly, but he’s still reaching for you, hands wrapping around your arms. “doesn’t answer my question.”

“this is her childhood friend.” he glares over your shoulder at him, like he doesn’t believe you. like he wants to kill him. “her gay childhood friend.” you add, hands on your hips, a little annoyed he’d embarrass you like this.

when he hauls you into his truck, he takes a few beats before he apologizes. “m’sorry, love. you weren’t answering your phone and when i saw you at some random—“ he stops mid-sentence as he glances over at you in the passenger seat, expecting you to be glaring at him, ready to tear him a new one. but much to his surprise, you’re taking your shirt off.

“what’re you doing?” he asks, his hands tightening on the wheel to stop from reaching over and touching you.

“that was the hottest thing you’ve ever done,” you whisper, a little embarrassed to admit it. but protective simon? the simon who was ready to beat a guy up just for making you laugh? yeah, that turned you on even if it shouldn’t.

he’s thankful it’s nighttime so no one driving past can see you topless in his truck. he’s also thankful the roads are rather empty this late on a weekday.

“wait till we get home, yeah?” he asks, his voice strained.

you shake your head. “simon, please,” you whine. “i can’t wait.”

he groans in his throat, knowing your place is only 5 more minutes away. he’s already hardening in his pants, and he’s tempted to pull over and drag you into the back seat. but he doesn’t. instead, he reaches his large hand and slides it over your thigh, his eyes on the road as he pushes your skirt up. and you bite your lip, holding back a moan as he rubs you over your underwear. “so fuckin’ wet,” he says astonished.

you buck your hips up and he almost laughs. you weren’t kidding, you really couldn’t wait. he slips his fingers past your panties and dips them into your heat and you grab the door of the car for support, shutting your eyes. he starts a steady pace, his fingers making obscene sounds as they fuck you. you groan and mewl and simon worries he might not make it home either.

it takes you just about a minute to climax, your heat pulsing rapidly around his two fingers, earning a growl from simon. “fuckin’ hell, love,” he breathes, amazed at how fast and hard you came. loving that it was all because of him.

he pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex and he’s storming around to your side, trying to get you to put your shirt back on, desperate to get you inside. he hauls you over his shoulder, his hand resting on your skirt so no one accidentally gets a free show. “naughtily little thing,” he hums to himself. “can't wait to properly punish you.”

cod masterlist

[ifwdominicfike]

chicken tenders

“the best part of my day is when i get to see you naked.”

summary - chris has been stressing this entire week, meetings have piled up while also trying to maintain filming and keep up with his brand. all he wants right now is to see you.

switch!chris x switch!reader

you were on chris’ mind the second he woke up, he hadn’t seen you in about a week due to his busy schedule. he was growing frustrated, mentally and sexually, he would call you here and there to ask how your day was but he wasn’t really listening.

he was too lost in the sound of your tired voice from your long day as you told him what was going on, letting out small hums to let you know he was “listening”.

(flashback to yesterday..)

“and so thats when i tell her that- chris are you okay?” you had heard a soft whine from the other line “y-yeah m’fine, k-keep going ma. m’listening don’t worry..” his face turning red from almost getting caught, hand still wrapped around his cock waiting for you to continue your story “oh ok.. well anyways-“

“o-oh fuck!” he groaned, forgetting you could still hear him. “chris are you-?” you giggle “please ma, n-need you so bad baby.. haven’t been able to see you in so- fuck! so long” he lets out a shaky breath as his hand never stops its movement.

“yeah? need me that bad you’re willing to jerk off to my voice thinking i wouldn’t notice? you’re pathetic chris”

thats what got him, the degrading words pushing him over the edge. all that can be heard from his end is small cries and whimpers with your name thrown in between “fuck. y-you’re killing me baby, can’t wait to see you..”

(present day)

chris was excited for today, some of his meetings got pushed back a couple of days ahead which gave him some time to see you. not right now though, he still had to go to the warehouse to sign cards that were gonna be put in merch drops and still had a meeting or two to attend.

on the way there though he was fairly quiet, usually being his energetic self he would be blasting music throughout the whole car or picking on either matt or nick just because he was bored. “kid you there? hellooo!!” matt said waving his hand in front of chris’ face as they stopped at the red light. “what- matt get your fucking hand away from me dickhead” he pushes his hand away and scoffs “i was trying to ask you something, fucking idiot” matt said, clearly irritated.

“well what? im listening now.” chris grumbled “chris whats your problem? you’ve been acting like a moron this whole week” nick chimes in “probably cause he hasn’t seen his girl all week, s’that it chris?” matt says chuckling while the car starts moving once more.

“kid shut the fuck up already.” chris’ voice is now stern and serious “ooh that must be it” nick says laughing “can you both seriously stop talking, you’re fucking annoying.” he snaps at both of them.

“okay whatever kid just fix whatever the fuck you got going on there, m’not tryna have you moping around with us all day.” matt stated before pulling in to park.

chris was never known to be patient, always eager to have have what he wanted immediately. so when in the middle of a meeting he got a text from you he obviously opened it, not knowing that it was a photo of you in a white lingerie set with a following text saying “need you so bad baby :(“ he excused himself to the restroom and instantly called you.

you pick up immediately with a cheesy smile across your face “hey love!” your voice filled with innocence like you didn’t just get him hard in front of everyone. “y/n cut it out, im serious, right now isn’t a good time sweetheart” he said trying to keep his composure.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about baby, m’not doing anything..” you giggle “ma, please. just give me another hour and im all yours. please.” the desperation in his voice makes your thighs clench in need.

“well what if i want you now, you know i don’t like waiting” you let out a soft sigh, your hand begins to trail down to where you’re aching most. “y/n i swear if you’re doing what i think you are right now.” “don’t act like you don’t like it chris, bet you’re so hard right now, hm?”

“i’ll be there in a hour and if you keep up with this attitude you’re not coming at all tonight.” your thighs clench even more at his daring words. “ugh you’re no fun baby” you groan as he hangs up the phone.

he made his way back as matt and nick look at him annoyed, the meeting was already over and they were just sitting there waiting for chris. “do i have something on me? whats up?” he says checking his clothes and fixing his hair “you had us sitting here for forever, stupid fuck” nick says getting up “yeah whatever kid, are we leaving or not?” he makes his way out not waiting for the two behind him “kid walked out like he’s the one driving” matt said, making nick giggle.

the three were on the way home from a long day, matt was yawning every chance he got and nick was already asleep in the back, chris on the other hand though had a huge grin formed on his face.

“matt can you drop me off at y/n’s?” chris said looking over at his brother “yeah sure” he said with laugh following after “what are you laughing at?” chris said confused “nothing, just knew that was why you were acting like a baby today” “yeah whatever dickhead, just turn right here”

you hear a knock at the door, then suddenly your phone goes off, a text from chris. “im here ma” you smile and go to open the door, the second its slightly open chris barges in pinning you against the wall kissing you like he’ll never get to see you again.

he kicks the door closed and locks its before wrapping his arms around your waist, you can feel him through the rough material of his baggy jeans. fuck.

before you could even tell him something he has you over his shoulder in a tight grip before making his way to your room “someones eager” you say with a giggle.

“can’t believe you, sending me that picture in the middle of my meeting, such a fucking tease baby.” he pins you down to the bed, settled right between your legs before trailing his hands up your shirt (his shirt)..

finally shuffling you out of your clothes so you’re in nothing but that pretty lace from earlier, the tension between you two is making your stomach tighten and between your thighs wet.

him being fully clothed while you’re basically bare under him makes your head spin, wanting to see more of him you begin to play with the bottom of his shirt. “please chris, wanna see you..” you whine “yeah sweetheart? go ahead then, take it off” he smirks as you start to slip his shirt off, running your nails down his chest you feel him shiver. “watch it ma.” he warns as your hands go down further to his prominent bulge poking through his jeans.

“i need you so bad baby..”

“poor girl, so fucking desperate for m’cock.” the sound of his belt buckle clinking and his jeans ruffling off is the only thing consuming the silence between you two, he finally removes the only thing keeping you from seeing all of him and you can’t help but gawk at him. “got nothing to say now, huh? you know starin’ is rude mama.”

you roll your eyes and wrap your hand around him, stroking him at a teasingly slow pace. “just admiring you baby, y’so big..” you bite your lip and look at him through your lashes. “you’re so good fuck-“ he groans while fucking back into your hand, small whimpers leaving his lips encourage you to speed up.

“yeah? look at you.. fucking into my hand, y’that desperate?” your thumb smears the pre-cum around him, your lips make their way to his tip giving him small kisses.

“please-please mama” his hips begin to slowly move, trying to force more of himself in your mouth. quiet whines can be heard as you feel his heavy hands settle on the back of your head, you smirk and sit up before he can take things further.

“n-no baby please! i.. i wont touch you o-or anything-“ next thing he knows you’re on top of him and his back is against the headboard. “you need me that bad? look at you about to cry, all because you need to cum. fucking pathetic.” your voice harsh as you settle down on his lap, your hand caressing his rose tinted cheeks while he continues to squirm underneath you.

you lift your hips and begin to sink down onto him, a quiet hiss leaves your lips from the stretch — you grip onto his shoulders to stabilize yourself.

“shit-” chris’ grip on your hips tightens as he guides you further down onto him, your whines now being muffled as you dig your face into his neck.

“chris.. f-fuck”

“what’s wrong now pretty girl, what happened to that attitude you had a couple of minutes ago huh..?” his condescending tone making you squirm as you rock your hips trying to get some relief. your lips travel down his neck leaving open mouth kisses and bites the further down you go, drunk on the way his hands grip your waist and the way he feels inside you.

“j-just fuck me chris! ple-please” those words alone gives him all he needs to start thrusting up inside you, his tight hold on you lifting you up slightly. “c’mon pretty girl, cant let me do all the work yeah..” he teases you as his other hand comes up to grip onto your jaw, making you look directly at him.

you start to bounce up and down, your moans growing louder by the second each time you slam down onto him. chris wasn’t so quiet either — loud grunts and groans can be heard from him as mumbles of your name and praises leaves his mouth.

“good fucking girl ma, doin’ such a good job f’me sweetheart- fuck!”

your pace starts to slow down, the burning in your thighs starts to get too much for you. you make your way up to his neck once more, leaving your mark in various places that he will for sure see in the morning. the thought of the red and purple splotches traced around his neck and collarbones makes you clench around him.

your movements are barely doing anything by now, leaving chris to do all the work as you get closer and closer to coming. “always makin’ me do all the fucking work huh? greedy brat. always getting whatever she wants isn’t that right?” he taunts as he flips you two around, your legs on his shoulders as he starts fucking into you faster and harder.

“o-oh shit! fuc-fuck me chris please, m’so close baby please!” your babbles becoming incoherent as he hits that spot deep inside you that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. “go ahead mama, come for me. take this dick ma, s’all yours.”

legs shaking as he continues to fuck into you, your hands grip his curls and bring him down to a sloppy kiss. needing to feel him in any kind of way what so ever, you pull back to let out a loud moan as you clamp down on him and release all over his cock. “theree ya’ go mama, goodd girl. my beautiful girl look at youu” he praises.

his groans getting louder tells you he’s close, trying his best not to come before you. he always made sure you came before him, in his words “gotta make my girl feel good.”

“where you want it ma?” “i-inside baby please!” he groans one last time as he feels you clench around him and that was his breaking point, he cums inside you with a proud smile slapped across his face.

his thrusts slow down as you both come down from the high, he starts to pull out before he hears you wince. “you good ma? did i hurt you-“ “no no baby m’fine just- a little sensitive” you give him a tired smile as you lay your head back feeling like you could fall asleep any second now “i fucked you that good then huh?” his smirk making you roll your eyes and throw the nearest pillow at him.

“chris if were not in that shower in the next 2 seconds you’re sleeping on the couch i swear to-” you say joking (half joking) “ok ok damn no need to get all bossy w’me ma, c’mon lets get you up” he’s now off the bed as he picks you up holding you like a baby. “you’re washing my hair i hope you know that” you tell him with a smile.

“yes i know that, when have i not?” he says confused as he smiles at you half asleep in his arms “my sweet girl, i love you so much” are his last words before walking into the bathroom.

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

i finallyyy finished this fic omg. i hope you guys like it!! i love bringing dominic fike into any conversation i can. i feel like i could’ve wrote more but i had no real fics for chris.. anyways byee i love youu ᥫ᭡ !!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @submattenthusiast @chrissv4mp @ellaapsworld @jetaimevous @mattsbrowser @55sturn

[rbrownillustration]

I don’t know how to give a spoiler alert on this website but if I can warn you here it is. This is vague enough though it’s not too much??? Maybe????

Anyways, I saw Transformers: One yesterday and have been thinking about it nonstop ever since. It’s beautiful. Almost perfect. Sensational. 10/10 would recommend please go see it if you have any Transformers love in your bones and even if you don’t. It’s just a good story.

As for the spoilery part, don’t read ahead as I talk about this piece if you don’t want some spoilers.

What kills me about this movie is, yes, Orion and D-16’s friendship, but also Bee and Elita coming together as a team as the four of them. Bee particularly, as it would be assumed he is the youngest and the least experienced in their little group and needs them potentially the most.

I would say there’s a direct parallel you could make between Bee and D-16 throughout the movie. As both of them move from blind loyalty in the status quo to having to accept that the system they live in is set up against them and the power that they trusted is false and vile.

D-16 is a fascinating case of losing trust in anyone and anything because of that betrayal. The movie does a fantastic job of justifying (not excusing) the rise of Megatron and truly emphasizes how tragic of a character he really is, beyond just the violent rebel we’ve gotten used to.

Bee on the other hand shifts quickly to lean on the support and trust of his friends (maybe he is more inclined to as they are literally his only option), and to still hold his faith in Primus and the true Primes, ultimately following Optimus.

Anyways, this illustration I whipped up this evening is in the climax of the film when Sentinel Prime has captured much of the High Guard, as well as D-16 and Bee. D pulls the ballsy move of refusing to kneel to the false Prime. They discuss Megatronus Prime for a bit, Sentinel drawing attention to D’s Megatronus decal. Then Sentinel decides that D-16 should always have a reminder of that dead Prime, and brands a crude likeness of Megatronus on his chest with a laser gun.

Above all else I think that this is potentially the final turning point for D-16. This isn’t the point of no return (see end of film when Sentinel gets his due) but I see it as D-16 losing faith completely in both the true Primes of the past (Megatronus), and the false Prime of the present (Sentinel), leading him straight to the point later where he won’t trust his future to anyone but himself. Not even Orion. I wanted to explore this moment visually so while I was at work the composition for this piece slowly started forming in my head and I knew I wanted to bring both D-16 and Bee into the focal point.

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Hi this is my first time doing this, I love your Christmas series, I thought of this idea yesterday- pre poly Task force 141 × reader where Ghost, Price and Gaz come to base late at night from a mission while reader and Soap are asleep, they come to base and see reader walking to Soaps room groggy with a pillow, and when asked, they say that Soap snores too loud so they will hit him with the pillow to shut him up.( maybe add a little reaction to them seeing reader wearing shorts and a tank top)

Thank you for sending in this ask. It's such a cute idea!! I hope you like what I wrote.

(Oh btw my blog can be quite dark with my other series, it would be much appreciated if you had 18+ or age in your bio so I know not to block you accidentally)

Sleepy

Pre poly 141 x GN Reader

Warnings: MDNI, fluff, slight ideation to murder soap in his sleep, jealous Gaz, 141 ogling reader in sleep wear nothing too explicit though, sorry if I missed any.

AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.

Poly Masterlist

Words: 1.5k

The rumble of the engine finally came to a stop. Price, Ghost and Gaz just arrived back on base after an excruciating intel mission. At least it was successful and with minimal injuries. They just needed to shower and decompress for a while in order to recover. Obviously no one was looking forward to the debrief the next morning, it meant they couldn't sleep in. They all file out of the humvee groaning out their grievances to the chilly night air, their breaths condensing into clouds due to the cold.

Price's muscles were killing him after that nasty fall from the second story. But he had wiped their servers of all the information they needed. Which he was happy about. He stretches and groans, hearing his joints pop from sitting in one position too long. He rolls his arms trying to get the knot out of his shoulders, while the other two do the same. They walk the hallways in silence hoping to get to their respective beds as soon as possible. It looked like no one was in the mood to share tonight for obvious reasons.

“It's so unfair that Soap got to spend the last three days with them while we were busting our asses off”, Gaz groaned. He was the most annoyed by the mission arrangement. Especially since he was only just getting closer to you after your near-death experience. He was becoming more and more infatuated with you by the day. So much so that petty arguments were breaking out when one of the other boys spent too much time near you for Gaz's liking. He didn't complain as long as he was paired with you for almost everything.

“You know it's not like that, they were also working whilst we were away. He's probably driving them mad anyway. You know they have a special place for you in their heart”, Price countered. Soap and you were left on base since you two were gathering intel for an upcoming mission. It required a lot of attention so it was decided that you and Soap would stay behind to work on it.

“Obviously I'm their favourite…why wouldn't I be?…I treat them the best..”, Gaz continues to grumble quietly to himself. The other two men can't help but chuckle to themselves. He needed to learn how to share better. Eventually they turn the corner to their private barracks only to find you standing in front of Soaps door in the darkly lit hallway. It was jarring at first since they weren't expecting anyone awake at this time. You almost gave them a heart attack just standing there menacingly. You resemble the ghost with the way your hair was messed up and your clothes were rumpled. Were you sleep walking?

You hadn't noticed them yet, too occupied with staring daggers into Soap’s door while clutching a pillow to your chest. You looked groggy and had your lips situated in an angry pout. Everyone stood not knowing what to do. Price read somewhere you weren't supposed to wake someone who sleepwalks, that it was better to gently get them back into bed. But you looked like you wanted to murder someone. Just as Price is about to move to gently get to you a horrible sound rings out throughout the hallway. A sound akin to jammed chainsaw. A sound that was unmistakably Soaps loud snoring.

“I'm going murder him!”, you shout out, stomping your feet. The men flinch slightly at your outburst but it was a funny sight. Definitely welcomed after their exhausting mission, they try hard to keep their laughter contained.

“Who are ya plannin on murderin?”, you yelp and turn towards Ghosts deep manchester accent, hastily hiding your would be murder weapon behind your back. In doing so your chest gets pushed out slightly highlighting your tight tank top with your equally tight short shorts. The fabric clinged to your figure giving the men quite a nice eyeful as you fumble with your words.

“Y-your back, so soon? W-we were expecting you tomorrow morning. Me? I-I wasn't doing anything. I was just going to have a friendly?..yeah friendly chat with Soap. I-I wasn't going to suffocate him promise!…though I could..I definitely could…b-but I wasn't going to do it..promise..m-maybe just smack him a little that's all. I haven't been able to sleep since you guys left…”

They watch you with amusement as you stutter, getting all your excuses out while the men try to hold their laughter in. Obviously they knew you wouldn't harm him seriously, you probably just wanted to hit him with the pillow to get him to shut up so you could sleep. Such an adorable thing you were with your pillow now clutched to your chest as you mumbles your frustration into it. It was a shame the pillow hid all the things they wanted to see but that was ok, they knew this wasn't going to be the only time they saw you in your sleepwear. Especially since they were growing closer to you. But that didn't change the fact everyone needed sleep right now including you. You looked ready to topple over.

Gaz is the first to move as he laughs openly at your antics. He envelops you in a bear hug while trying to get you out of your sour mood. “Come sleep in my bed. I'll put some white noise on so you can't hear him, I'll even make you some tea so you can settle down”, you whine in his hold telling him you've already tried that. Ghost walks by petting your head suggesting wearing ear plugs but you just shake your head into the pillow as you hear him enter his room bidding everyone goodnight. Another earth shaking snore rings out from Soaps room making you groan out in frustration. None of the other men minded Soaps snoring since they were so used to it. They also had their own methods of dealing with the noise. Ghost wore ear plugs but didn't mind the noise most days. Gaz used white noise and the captain was fortunate enough to have his room further away beside his office for easy access.

“Come sleep in my bed tonight sweetheart, you won't be able to hear him there”, Gaz lets you go to pout angrily at his Captain and lover. Price just smirks at him, it was fair game when it came to you. No rules or boundaries were established yet. He'll have to make it up to him later.

“Really? Is that ok captain…?”, you look at him hopefully with your droopy eyes.

“Of course..I need my soldiers in tip top shape. Run along now make yourself comfortable while I chat with Gaz”, you do exactly that after saying goodnight, probably extremely relieved you wouldn't lose another night of sleep. Gaz continues pouting as Price kisses him goodnight.

“Better luck next time love”, Price chuckles to himself as he hears Gaz groan and mutter to himself as he enters his room.

Walking in Price finds you fast asleep, curled up comfortably in the far end of the bed. You must have been really tired. He smiles to himself as he strips quietly to go shower off all the dirt and grime from the mission. Once he's finally scrubbed clean and smelling like his favourite body wash he gently climbs into bed making sure not to wake you. The soft bed is forgiving towards his sore muscles and even better yet that it has a soft body to keep him warm throughout the night. For a second he watches your gentle breathing before getting comfortable and pulling the duvet over the both of you.

Price is a gentleman..most days.. so he stays by his side but it seems your sleep deprived mind has other ideas because you curl against him the second he's beside you. You were basically treating him like a warm body pillow, not that Price minded. He just needed to not focus on what you were wearing or else he wasn't getting any sleep tonight. You're probably too deep in sleep to realise what you were doing anyway. Such a feisty kitten you were when you were all tired and grumpy. He watches you move and get comfortable by placing your cheek on his chest as he settles into bed properly and wrapping his arms around you.

You'd do nicely as another addition to their relationship. He knew the boys were growing to love you more and more as the days went by. To the point that jealousy was being felt if anyone apart from them tried gaining your attention. The only question was how to approach the topic? You weren't the brightest when it came to things of this nature and they didn't want to scare or pressure you into anything. But that was a problem for another day. For tonight he was going to enjoy your warmth to the fullest.

“Our grumpy little sunshine, we'll make you ours just wait a little longer”, with that whispered into the darkness Price places a gentle kiss on your forehead before falling asleep as well.

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.

[clownsuu]

Just a lil doodles smhhhh

cw: mentions of violence and distress. Also weapons-

This is probably a good time to mention everyone’s jobs since I keep forgetting to mention it JDHDGDH

Wally: Da Boss (yeah no shid) he isn’t that merciful of a boss- can be very brutal with how relentless he can be and is a bit of a (non sus) sadistic a s s sometimes. Usually is playfully humorous initially, but can quickly go sour if he feels ever so slightly ticked. Preferred weapon: his eyes and his arms.

Barnaby: Body guard, boss’s left hand man, usually the one who talks for the boss. Sometimes he’s even seen as the “unofficial” boss of the whole group (which he likes to humor sometimes) but in the end he is possibly the most loyal out of everyone to Wally (man’s best friend after all). Preferred weapon is “da biggest gun we got!!!”

Howdy: Butler, bartender, boss’s right hand man. Will do basically everything anyone says (who’s part of the family) without question, however he will always take the Boss’s requests as main priority over the others. This will often keep him awake and exhausted, and a few new stitches to add to his collection. He has the lowest ability to think freely. Preferred weapon: Ice pick

Julie: Hitman A, interrogator, mad scientist really. Killing isn’t really too much of her thing, she prefers methodical planning and slow suffering with the use of chemicals and even random substances she can get her lil paws on. She’s not afraid to use anyone as a test subject, even if it’s her own members. preferred weapon: tranquilizers

Sally: Hitman B, intimidator, c h a o s. Almost the complete opposite to Julie. Absolutely chaotic and adores violent bloodshed to a point it’s theatrical. Usually is called if they don’t really need a clean kill. Can often be seen dancing and listening to music while on the job, often says it helps her focus (nobody really argues with it). Preferred weapon: anything blunt and/or violently loud (tasers, rocket launchers, fireworks) (sally is banned from using rocket launchers)

Poppy: Medic, crime scene cleanup, voice of reason, sometimes chef. She does ok when it comes to clean ups and stuff, however she has panic attacks and gets terrified when ever she hears screams of pain/torture, and freezes. Typically Howdy is there to help her snap out of it and help her complete her work, if not do her work for her. Everyone, even including the boss, is there to support her when she’s distressed (everyone would hug her except Wally. He does not like being touched unless it’s Howdy or Barnaby). Preferred weapon: n/a

Eddie: Messenger, delivery pick up/drop off, handler of the goods. He usually goes by himself, however after an incident where he lost his arm from a deal gone wrong, he is now required to leave with at least one of the hitmen (typically Sally). Very often does he get hurt in these trips and is usually always saved by Sally. Absolutely adores Frank for always trying to find the safest routes for him and wishes they had time together alone. Preferred weapon: a simple revolver

Frank: In charge of ordering goods, making contacts, being a voice of reason, basically just a manager. The most stressed member of the group. Rarely is he seen outside of the headquarters unless it’s to talk to well known individuals. He doesn’t usually talk to anyone besides Howdy (ranting at the bar about people), Eddie (telling him what he needs to get next), and Julie (normal convos and her asking him to order new chemicals for her next project). Every time Frank thinks he has an intimate moment together alone with Eddie, out of the blue Eddie would just randomly talk about how much he loves the family and how Wally is so amazing. The next day Frank asks him about it, it seems Eddie doesn’t remember what happened yesterday. Frank has the highest ability to think freely. Preferred weapon: a simple glock.

Home: Voice of reason. Preferred weapon: Wally

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 5

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

TW: Descriptions of Violence, Mentions of Cannibalism

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Original Characters, Canon What Canon

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not proofread!! Holy moly. Here it is, folks. The scene that inspired this whole fic. I had fun writing this so I really hope you enjoy it. Once again, I appreciate everyone who likes, comments, and/or leaves kudos so much. I really started this fic for myself but good golly, that dopamine rush whenever I get a notif might be more addicting than spice. I'm glad to be part of the bald man brigade.

Also, I can't believe I'm only now questioning why I decided to write this in the second person? I guess maybe I thought this fic would be a lot shorter and not that deep, lol. At this point 'y/n' probably has enough personality to just be a straight-up OC. It's funnier because I don't even find second-person or y/n fics any more engaging either. I always detach myself by giving 'y/n' her own name and only seeing her as a character in the fic.

ANYWAY, sorry to ramble. Stay safe and have a good one, ya weirdos.

You step out into the dark cul-de-sac of the guest hall, illuminated only by the large suspensor lamp in the middle. Feyd-Rautha looks you up and down, seemingly entranced by how the dim light casts his shadow on your modest dress. Atreides green, he recognized.

"Trying to sneak into my rooms again?" you say arms crossed, leaning on your door. "I didn't appreciate the last time, by the way."

"It's my house," he says cooly, "and I did knock this time."

You stare at him indifferently.

"Quite the display from you yesterday morning, using The Voice on me." His voice low and raspy, "I should have you drawn and quartered."

You scoff in his face. "You almost choked me to death. Are you trying to start a war?"

He takes a step closer and his face is inches from yours, you can feel his breath on your cheek, "I didn't think I'd like you this much, little hawk."

"What do you want, Feyd-Rautha?" you had no patience for him right now.

"Ah," he steps back, a dark smile on his face, "I've been waiting to hear my name from your tongue." His hand reaches for your lips. "I've grown quite tired of 'na-Baron'."

You grab his wrist before he can touch you. "If you're only here to toy with me, I would rather be left alone to prepare for bed." You release his hand and turn to open your door.

Feyd-Rautha props an arm against the doorway to block you. "We're to be married in three days," he says, "and I just can't seem to bring myself to let go of my 'harpies', as you called them." He meets your gaze. "You said you'd kill them. Did you mean that?"

You look up at him with steely eyes. He towered over you but your heart felt no fear, "Yes."

His coy smile returns. "Good. Come to my training hall tomorrow," he says, walking away.

"What?" you call after him.

"Dress to fight," he says over his shoulder. "I want to see what you can do, Atreides."

You needed no help from Zora in putting on a loose shirt and long pants. The plain beige outfit certainly wasn't as elegant as the dresses you had been wearing so far. But it was comfortable and you could fight in it, which was all that mattered. Still, you look yourself in the mirror. The soft, airy fabrics draped over your figure well but perhaps you were not in the best shape as you once were. Your muscle mass is much less than your brother's and he wasn't particularly built himself. You admit you did wane off your training sessions with Gurney and Paul leading up to your departure from Caladan. Nevertheless, you were still a skilled warrior. Another secret you've been keeping from the Harkonnens.

You were 14 when you started learning the blade. Watching Paul, 2 years your senior, practice with the Atreides Warmaster lit a fire in you. You didn't hesitate to pester your father to let you train with them and of course, there was nothing he could deny his darling daughter. You were a fierce and determined student. Gurney Halleck was a man you genuinely believed to be one of the best fighters in the Imperium, along with Duncan Idaho. Gurney would train you and Paul on even days. On odd days, your mother would teach you the Weirding Way. These lessons, much like the rest of your mother's teachings, your father wanted to know nothing about. After becoming decently adept at Prana-Bindu and gaining almost complete physical control of your body, Lady Jessica insisted that you also be skilled in the Bene Gesserit style of combat.

You were far from mastery in either but the combination of both trainings made you a formidable fighter. Despite this, you could never seem to beat your brother in a sparring match. A fact that frustrated you to no end, though you appreciated that Paul never went easy on you. You'd always blame it on him having trained for longer than you have. But in truth, you knew there had just always been something special about him.

"Are you ready, my lady?" Zora's soft voice wakes you from your thoughts.

"Hm? Right. Yes, let's go." You quickly tie your hair out of the way and grab your father's dagger from atop your dresser.

There was no fanfare when you entered the hall. On one end, the na-Baron's concubines sat chained on the steps of the shallow recessed pit in their leathers, their glares piercing through you. Your eyes linger on them as Feyd-Rautha and his Warmaster greet you.

"I was starting to think my lady bride was bluffing," Feyd-Rautha says as you approach him. The older man beside him offers you a polite bow.

"Perhaps she wasn't so keen on your brutish games," you bite back. "Your lord uncle won't be joining us?"

"No," Feyd-Rautha crosses his arms, "but he'll be hearing about your victory. Or your demise."

"Right. Well, I assume you'll be releasing them from those chains," you nod towards his pets "Not sure why they're necessary."

"Oh, trust me, little hawk. They're necessary." Feyd-Rautha motions to a servant.

"Your blade and shield, my lady," they bow, presenting you with a knife and a small device you recognize as a Holtzman shield.

"I've brought my own," you unsheath your father's dagger. You contemplate taking the shield but remembering that the na-Baron forwent it during his gladiator fight, you decide to do so as well. "They've no weapons anyway, the shield seems pointless."

Feyd-Rautha shrugs, "If you insist."

You take a deep breath, "Let's get this over with."

You lightly stretch as you walk down the steps of the shallow pit to stand opposite the na-Baron's concubines. You had come into this on the pretense of righteousness. For Iassa, you told yourself. But you've known her a mere two days. A part of you wanted to show off. You were good and you knew it. You could probably kill anyone in this room, even Feyd-Rautha. You craved the respect of the people here: the Harkonnens, the people of Geidi Prime. You figured this was one way to get it.

Feyd-Rautha walks around the pit to one of his concubines and kneels to whisper something in her ear. You assume a fighting stance when he moves to release her from the chains. When you meet her eyes, they are filled with feral bloodlust.

Suddenly, you weren't so bold. The veil of courage you have maintained since you arrived, even when Feyd-Rautha had your neck in his grip, is torn apart when you face this woman. You could tell no part of her would hesitate to rip your throat out with her bare teeth. You were almost relieved they were unarmed, but you weren't sure if that would make them any less lethal.

Fear grew in your chest and you had less than a moment to recite the Litany in your head before the concubine lunged at you.

You crouch down in time and slash at her abdomen as she approaches you. You turn to face her on the other side of the pit and she wastes no time in attacking you again. She attempts to grab your armed hand but you take hold of her wrist first and move to pin it behind her back. Quickly, your blade drags across her throat and she falls to your feet.

The kill has not yet registered in your mind but your heart is racing. You can almost hear your blood coursing through your veins. You held your arms outstretched, your eyes focused ahead, ready for the next one.

Across the pit, Feyd-Rautha licks his lips, smiling as he releases his second concubine. This time, you walk toward her while she moves to attack you. You clock her head with the pommel of your dagger and knock her a few steps back. She reaches a hand to wipe the blood beginning to drip out of her nose. After examining it, she snarls and bares her sharp teeth at you. Your mind is blank now. She dodges your first slash then manages to land a blow to your jaw. You seethe from the pain. You spit out the mixture of blood and saliva filling your mouth. The anger at the hit drives you to rush at her. Seeing an opening, you duck down to her waist and stab her twice. As she falls to her knees, the look of determination doesn't leave her eyes until the very last moment.

When you turn around, Feyd-Rautha has already released the last concubine. The ruthless scream she lets out disorients you. She pounces and knocks you over. She straddles you and pins your arms to the ground, your blade sliding inches away. She screams again in your face at the death of her sisters. You wedge your right knee between you and her abdomen, the only thing keeping her teeth from reaching your throat. You grunt as you struggle to free your hands. In your periphery, you see Feyd-Rautha, wielding his own blade, take a step into the pit.

"GET BACK," you roar, and he is powerless to refuse.

You turn back to your opponent still on top of you and you butt her head with your own. She loosens her grip and you kick her off to hastily crawl to your weapon. When she reorients herself and attempts to grab you again, you hook a knee under her arm and flip the both of you over. With your weight on her chest and both your knees pinning her arms down, she thrashes underneath you, claws digging into your right ankle. You take your blade in both hands and her screaming is silenced when you sink your knife deep into her heart.

When you rise, the room is quiet. Your chest heaves. The stark white ceiling lights don't help the lightheadedness that begins to wash over you in the post-adrenaline rush. Feyd-Rautha says something from behind you but his speech is garbled as you reel from the thrill of what just transpired. You were electrified. You almost... wanted more.

Then, the realization of the revolting scene you are in settles upon you and you are knocked off your high. You look at the leather-clad bodies scattered around you, the grotesque way they lay on the floor, the red blood pooling around them made brighter by the sterile grayness of the room. You did this.

A hand on your shoulder snaps you out of it. In reflex, you turn and raise your blade at the offender.

Feyd-Rautha holds his hands up, "Whoa, easy, Atreides. Trying to kill me? Don't want to start a war, do you?"

You yield your weapon. Your eyes dodge his as you look to your feet and try to steady your breathing.

"Enjoy your first taste of blood?" Feyd-Rautha says, the look in his eyes indecipherable to you. He raises a hand and swipes his thumb on your cheek. It comes away covered in crimson.

You gasp and reach for your face with your own hand. You don't even know if it's your blood or theirs, or when it got on you. Your heart pounded, unable to decide whether you were repulsed or proud.

"Look at you," he says licking the red off his finger. You could not help but stare at him through the strands of your hair that had come undone in the fighting. "You're beautiful like this," his hand reaches for your face again.

"No," you say low and quiet when you swat his hand away, "you're sick." You didn't know if you meant him or yourself. You calmly turn to leave. No one stops you when you make your way up the shallow steps of the pit. As you pass Iassa—no, Zora—by the doorway, you tell her flatly, "Prepare a bath."

You had never taken a life before. Today, you took three. You were glad you didn't know their names. You decided you'd never find out.

After Zora pours a final pitcher of hot water into the bath, you tell her, "You may go. I'll dress myself later, thank you."

She bows and makes her way out of your rooms.

In your solitude, you bring your knees to your chest. You had been quick to wipe the blood off your cheek before you even reached your quarters. Now, you cup the water into your hands and rub it into your face, the slight sting of the heat comforting you.

He was a cruel man, your betrothed. This is what you've decided. Having you kill the concubines he claimed to want to keep so much. But wasn't it you who threatened to kill them? He started it, you argue with yourself, when he had Iassa killed. You felt like a child.

When you used to hear of Feyd-Rautha's exploits, you had to mask your disgust. And yet now, you had killed so easily in that pit as he had in the arena. What was this place doing to you?

When you left Caladan, Paul had never killed anyone either. You wonder if he ever does, would he feel the same exhilaration you did when you slit that first concubine's throat. No. Your brother was fierce but, like your father, he had a good heart. You beat him by three. You hoped it would stay that way.

You think about your future here, marrying Feyd-Rautha. Producing heir after heir under the Baron's watchful eye. You were a broodmare. Despite all your fancy training and education. Despite your little demonstration earlier. It was the bitter truth.

You missed home. You missed walking along the beach at night with your father. You missed your mother's gentle hands brushing your hair. You missed the banter and teasing with your brother. You missed Gurney, and Duncan, and the cold breeze on your balcony, and getting to roam free and going anywhere you pleased. When the tears come, you sink deep into the bath so they might fade away in the water.

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Taglist: @torchbearerkyle @austinswhitewolf @dreamlandcreations @emeraldsgirl @strawberryfieldsforevermore @bornslippys @vexis-world @aoi-targaryen @alexandrainlove @mamawiggers1980 @sstardussty @aboutthenabaron

[scary-grace]

#61 for man door hand hook car door

Hi Scarlett! Thank you so much for the prompt from this list (I'm still taking these!). This one took me a bit but I hope you like it! No quirks AU, fluff, sickfic, totally not inspired by anything happening in real life. 2.3k words.

61) “I’ll pick it up after work.”

Your phone rings while you’re on your lunch break, and you pick it up without looking. “Hey, this is –”

“Kill me.”

It’s your boyfriend. Your boyfriend never calls – only texts, because he needs to edit himself before he sends anything. “Hey, Tomura. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Tomura’s usually raspy voice sounds distinctly nasal. “I was mouth-breathing on you all night. How did you not smother me?”

“Would you have smothered me?”

“No,” Tomura groans. “It wouldn’t be any different than your snoring.”

“I don’t snore!”

“Yes, you do. I like it. It’s cheaper than buying a white-noise machine.” Tomura coughs. It sounds like he’s making an effort not to cough into the phone, but it’s not much of one. “This sucks.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “I’m really sorry. You wouldn’t have gotten it if I hadn’t made us go to that party.”

“Yeah, maybe not.” Tomura coughs again. “But we agreed. Rules are rules.”

You knew when you and Tomura started dating that he wasn’t much for parties, but he was also able to admit that the occasional party is necessary, and you used one of the three parties you’re allowed to drag him to per year on bringing him to your friend’s engagement party. Said engagement party got a little messy. A little rowdy. A little drink-sharey, which you’re pretty sure is what got Tomura – during some horrible round of mystery cocktail hot potato, he somehow got stuck finishing almost every drink. You helped him out with most of them, but your immune system is bombproof. If one of you was going to get sick, it was always going to be him.

He went to work yesterday, but stayed home today. He was worse this morning than he was last night. “Rules are rules, but I still feel bad,” you say. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Come home and kill me.”

“Other than that,” you say, and Tomura grumbles. “Seriously. Is there something?”

It’s quiet for a second. “Yeah,” Tomura admits. “If you’re not going to kill me –”

“I’m not.”

“Can you grab my stupid prescription? I went to the urgent care and they sent it to the wrong pharmacy.” Tomura’s coughing gets louder, then softer, while you try to avoid saying something dumb out of sheer shock that he’d go to the doctor at all. “It’s far away and I’m tired. Can you grab it?”

“Which pharmacy?” You put your phone on speaker and look up the address. “That’s on the other side of the city. How did they mess it up that bad?”

“Maybe I said it wrong. I forgot my address for a second when I was checking in,” Tomura mumbles. “It sucked in there. It took forever to get seen because there were a bunch of kids ahead of me with marbles stuck up their noses.”

“With – what?”

“Marbles. Up their noses. At a sleepover. It was a dare,” Tomura says. You can hear just how pissed he is about it – or how pissed he would be, if he wasn’t too fatigued to be pissed. “I don’t know why they got to be seen first. My breathing was more obstructed than theirs.”

You try to imagine this – your sick, crabby boyfriend sharing a waiting room with a birthday party’s worth of kids with marbles jammed up their nostrils. It’s hard to picture. “Did you have to wait a while?”

“It felt like a while,” Tomura says. “Wish you’d been there. It would have sucked less.”

If he’d told you he was going, you’d probably have taken off work to go with him. “I wish I’d been there, too,” you say. You lean back against the wall. “I’ll pick it up after work. Is there anything else you need?”

“A cyanide capsule.”

“I don’t think they sell those at the convenience store,” you say. Tomura grumbles again, and you pause for a moment. “Promise me something. Before you kill yourself, at least let me go on a quest to far distant lands to retrieve the cure.”

“I asked you to get the antibiotics, didn’t I?” Tomura’s voice is muffled. “Problem solved.”

“Not just this time. Any time, Tomura,” you say. You and he have had this conversation before, and you’ve gotten better at talking about it. You know his jokes about killing himself are jokes, but you also know they’re a habit, and it’s not a good habit to be in. “Always give me a shot at the quest first.”

“Yeah.” Tomura’s voice is quieter. “You’re busy, right? Go do something or they’ll make you stay later.”

You don’t want to get off the phone, but you do need to eat. And then you need to race through the rest of your work for the day – or do you? Either way, you need to get off the phone. You check the address for the pharmacy one more time. “Okay. I have to go. Just try to rest.”

“I should have gotten you sick, too.” Tomura sounds incredibly mopey, which is what you’d be, if you had the symptoms he’s having. “Then you’d have to stay home with me.”

“Okay, but if I was sick, who would take care of you?”

“Me.”

“You’re also sick.”

“Shit.” Tomura’s hitting his head against the pillow. You can tell by the rustling. “I’m hanging up before I say anything else stupid. Love you.”

“I love you, too,” you say. You hang up the phone. Then you go back inside to talk to your boss.

_________________________________________________________

Tomura shouldn’t have gone to the stupid urgent care. He got the prescription, sure, but it came at the cost of an hour in a packed waiting room, three separate lectures about getting a primary care provider, a cotton swab down the back of his throat to check for strep even though he doesn’t have a sore throat, and a bunch of questions that weren’t even sort of relevant to why he was there. It sapped all his energy and probably exposed him to twenty more diseases than he already has, and he didn’t even get the antibiotics. He had to ask you to get them, and that means it’ll be even longer before you get home.

Tomura’s not an idiot. He knows you don’t have some kind of magical healing powers that can make his headache and cough and congestion go away just by touching him, but he feels better when you’re here, no matter what you’re doing, no matter what’s wrong with him. Tomura’s not an idiot, but he’s also not naïve. He knows he was shooting for the moon when he slid into your DMs. He never expected it to work.

And part of him is still convinced it hasn’t worked, even though you’ve been together for two years and living together for one. It’s not his low self-esteem telling him you’re too good for him – it’s observable fact. You’re smart and hardworking but sneaky about it, so you never have to do more work than you have to, and you’re pretty and cute but you’re also hot, which are things that should go together but don’t go together in real life, and Tomura knows that whenever people look at the two of you together they’re asking themselves the same question. What are you doing? What are you doing with him?

Tomura asks himself that same question every week or so. He still hasn’t worked it out. But he has a feeling it has to do with the fact that he’s able to pull his weight, which he hasn’t been doing since Sunday morning, when he woke up the morning after your stupid friend’s engagement party with an itch in the back of his throat. And then he piled on by making you pick up his prescription. You must be pissed. So what if you didn’t sound pissed on the phone? You must be. Tomura would – no, Tomura wouldn’t. He likes when he can do stuff for you, because it makes you happy, and he wants you to be happy, because he loves you. What is he thinking?

Nothing that makes any sense, so he should probably stop. Tomura brushes the piles of wadded-up tissues into the wastebasket by the bed, then curls up under the blankets on your side. He should get some sleep. It’s just past noon. You’re not going to be home until six. Maybe he’ll feel a little better on the other side of a six-hour nap.

Tomura falls asleep facing your digital alarm clock, so when he hears the apartment door unlock itself and opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is the time. It’s not six. It’s two. Why are you home so early? He can tell that you’re trying to be quiet as you take off your shoes. Maybe you’re trying not to wake him, but he’s already awake. He should let you know

“You –” Tomura starts, then coughs. His voice still sounds like shit, so he coughs again, which turns into a coughing fit, and by then you’re in the doorway. He peers at you through eyes that feel blurrier than they should. “You came back early.”

“I really shouldn’t have gone in at all today,” you say. “When I told my boss your symptoms, she sent me home. Apparently I could be contagious.”

You’re smirking a little bit. Tomura has a feeling you did more than just tell your boss his symptoms, but he doesn’t give a shit. You’re home. “I got your prescription,” you continue, shaking a paper bag, “and I got frozen yogurt instead of a probiotic so you don’t have to take an extra pill. I also got fancy tissues – and ingredients for real ramen if you want that and instant ramen if you don’t – and –”

All of that was one bag. Tomura recognizes the other one instantly – it’s from his favorite game store. “What did you do?”

“New headset,” you say. “You keep saying the one you have hurts your head. If it hurts your head on a regular basis, it probably hurts it even more now – and I know the one you want, so I figured I’d get it. In case you felt like gaming at all.”

Tomura should probably say something. Thank you would probably be a good start, but all he can do is stare at you and cough a little bit. You don’t seem worried about it. You duck out of the bedroom, then come back with a glass of water, a cup of frozen yogurt, and a spoon. You set the antibiotics down next to it and head over to the closet to change out of your work clothes.

Tomura tries to pay attention to the frozen yogurt – using a spoon feels like it requires all of his concentration right now – but he can’t stop glancing over at you. You look good in your work clothes, but Tomura likes it best when you’re comfortable, because you always look good to him and when you’re comfortable you don’t waste time worrying about it. It doesn’t hurt that most of your comfortable clothes were Tomura’s clothes at some point. The pajamas you settle on are half-yours, half-his. Your shorts, which Tomura likes because the elastic waistband is easier to get through than a drawstring is, and his shirt, which he likes because you stole it from him within the first month the two of you were dating and never gave it back.

It takes a spoonful of yogurt nearly sliding off the spoon and into his lap for Tomura to remember what he’s supposed to be doing. He shovels in a few more bites of yogurt, then downs the pill and flops back on the bed, just as you get into bed on what’s usually his side. “You stole my spot,” you say. “What’s that about?”

“Your side is better.”

“That’s not what you said when we moved in,” you point out. “You talked a lot of shit about my side being the worst one.”

“It is. Usually.” Tomura doesn’t want to admit this. He feels like a dumbass. “It smells like you.”

You look surprised. “You can smell stuff right now?”

“Only on one side,” Tomura says, and you laugh. You come closer, too, settling down in bed next to him, and wrapping your arms carefully around him. “You sure you want to do this? What if you get sick?”

“You’ll be done being sick by the time I get it, if I get it,” you say. You kiss Tomura’s cheek, then test his forehead with the back of your hand before brushing his hair out of his face. “I don’t think I will. But if I do get it, then you can take care of me.”

Tomura thinks he could do that. He wouldn’t be as good at it as you are, but you’re giving him a really good tutorial right now. He’s paying attention. Sort of. “I’d say I’m looking forward to it, but you’d have to get sick, so I’m not. Because I don’t want you to be sick. But I would take care of you. I want to, but I don’t want to have to, if that makes sense. It doesn’t make sense. I just – fuck.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You’re smiling at him. “Just get some rest. I could use a nap, too.”

“Yeah.” Tomura wants to talk to you more, wants to hear how your day was going before he ruined it, but now that you’re here, all he wants is to sleep. He sleeps better when you’re here. “Okay.”

The coughing’s not as bad when he isn’t trying to talk. Tomura closes his eyes and slumps against you. “Love you,” he mumbles, and he stays awake just long enough to hear you say it back.

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> mention of abandonment issues, stealing, mention of abuse, mental health words -> 2.5k

abstract -> never worry someone who could blackmail you as punishment...

mingi’s perspective

How was I this unlucky?

I should’ve listened to Yunho… I shouldn’t have robbed her. She always had one of her hybrids around and of course, she had one yesterday… Why wouldn’t she?

“Hey, buddy. You’re done with the evaluation today. You're code green!” One of the workers said and I nodded.

He kept writing things on that clipboard of his… in front of the kennels…

“I wanna see Yunho,” I muttered and he sighed. “His owner took him. I doubt you’ll be able to see them unless they come here.” He said as he led me inside the facility again. I missed him.

“What do you want? Money? Name your price!!” I heard as we went to the reception area. “Mingi!” I heard as I saw Yunho. I came up to him and hugged him but I saw he winced a little bit.

“I’m sorry” I apologized and he chuckled. “It’s okay. We’ll be together soon” he said and I doubt that’ll ever happen. Empty promises… he often liked to give me false hope. 

“Miss, we can't give you her phone number because you asked. That’s a violation of privacy and security—“ ”I don’t care! That bitch got my husband fired!” She yelled hysterically. “The girl is apparently a CEO's daughter and now he’s fired because of how she treated her yesterday,” Yunho said and I laughed. It was deserved. 

“I’ll pay you… a thousand dollars” she offered and I sighed. She’ll never change… but I guess that's just who she is… “Come on, Mingi '' I heard one of the workers wanting to lead me away. “Huh? Please can I stay for a little?” I begged and he sighed but nodded. He was unleashing me when the receptionist came up.

“Chenle, can’t I just give her y/n’s phone number and get a thousand dollars?” the boy asked and I almost laughed. It was easy money and for a lot.

“Is it really worth it?” the other boy… Chenle asked. “Huh?! Of course, it is! I’m sorry you’re so rich you can afford anything like y/n” he pouted… He was also rich? Must be nice… being human and no worries. 

“If you give her y/n’s phone number she’ll kill you” Chenle warned and the receptionist pouted.  “She’ll understand,” he said and Chenle scoffed. “You’re playing with fire,” Chenle said and the receptionist shrugged. 

“I’m sorry but I have a business to attend to,” the doctor said as he left my previous owner…

“What are you doing here?” She asked while looking at me. “What if I call y/n to come here? That wouldn’t be a violation of privacy?” The receptionist offered and she smirked.

“Then do it,” she said but he put his hand out. She rolled her eyes and gave him a check of what I assumed to be a thousand.

“She’s gonna kill him, '' Chenle muttered to himself and it seemed to get Yunho's attention. “Is she scary?” Yunho asked and the worker sighed “y/n? Kinds of… I mean she only gets angry and she already humiliated and insulted one of her hybrids so yeah she’ll be mad to be tricked by Haechan'' he explained and I realized she protected her hybrids.

She really did care a lot for them. 

“y/n!!” The receptionist said. “Idiot” Chenle muttered. “Kun wants to do a last-minute check on San. Hmm? No, it’s nothing serious but he wants to go over some lab results he missed from his last check-up” the receptionist said. 

“Ok, thank you. See you see y/n” he said and told the devil herself to sit down.

“Easy!” He said to Chenle and the boy only scoffed. “Even if I was in debt like you, I wouldn’t mess with y/n. She got her husband fired, she can get you fired. You know how much Kun respects her” Chenle said and the boy chuckled. 

“But a thousand dollars!” He said and he rolled his eyes. “Haechan, you’re dead. Take care of Mingi, I actually have work to do unlike you” he said as he left me with Haechan.

“I heard you were code green. Congratulations!” He said and I smiled while looking at Yunho. “Is y/n a bad person?” Yunho asked and Haechan shook her head. 

“One of the best people. She’s just scary when mad, she is a CEO’s daughter” he chuckled and I sighed. Eventually, I was just sitting in silence by Yunho… I missed him a lot. We were never separated for this long… I was alone.

It didn’t even take long until I saw the familiar girl but with her panther hybrid… a hybrid that Yunho seemed to be scared of in the rare chance he accompanied her. Haechan approached her and I heard him apologize in advance.

“y/n right?” the devil said and the girl glared at the receptionist who was admiring his check. 

“Look, I want you to take back whatever kid bratty behavior this is. You’re messing with people's lives honey and—“  “I don’t really care what you have to say. If you’re so worried about your lives you would've been nicer to others” she said and the devil scoffed.

“Oh come on! Just tell daddy that what you said was some joke and that—""Why don’t you tell your husband for a divorce since I feel bad his career was ruined because of your mouth” she said and I felt my eyes widen. I looked at Yunho who had the same expression. The devil was gonna slap her but the hybrid seemed to react faster when he grabbed her hips and pushed her back. 

He growled at her for attempting to hit her. 

“What’s going on here?!” I heard as I saw the doctor. “Look, miss, you need to leave before I call the police.” The doctor said, “You should call the police, she's crazy,'' y/n said and the devil incarnate grabbed Yunho's collar and took him with her. 

“Why’d you come?” The doctor asked and I was now alone. Yunho is gone again… I had no one… again.  

“I don’t know. Haechan, why was I here again?” She asked annoyedly and the boy smiled awkwardly.

“I’m gonna take my fifteen minute break”

“Sorry y/n and San” Kun said and I shook my head. “It's not your fault and I can't blame Haechan too much, he is a student in debt.'' I said and he smiled softly while bowing.

“Can I ask how the situation is going?” I asked and he sighed. 

“Yunho and Mingi were both adopted at a young age from breeders. Yunho is a golden retriever hybrid, whilst Mingi is a wolf hybrid. However, he was the runt of the litter whilst Yunho was the only hybrid born from his mother. Their owner originally wanted to adopt only one hybrid but adopted the two” he explained.

“But why would she change her mind?” San asked and I could tell Kun was a bit stressed with how he started organizing his paperwork.

“They're a bonded pair. Almost like mates, but being separated is affecting Mingi's health. So it wasn't recommended to separate them when they were so young and it still isn’t” he explained and I felt bad for the wolf. “It’s almost as if San or Wooyoung would be separated from you. Even though your tigers and dog hybrid care about you, those two are unhealthily attached to you…” he said and I knew what he meant. How they reacted when they thought I was dead was… an example. 

“What’s the difference between the two then? She seems to prefer the dog?” San asked and Kun agreed. “She explained that she didn’t expect the hybrids to be so tall yet so big in size. She has kids and she even claimed that he attacked her kids, but he isn't remotely violent at all. The golden retriever would do more damage before the wolf would” he explained and I was assuming she lied about it to get rid of him easily. 

“I want him to apologize to you,” San said to me and I looked at him a little shocked. “San, he was doing it to survive-” “He still stole from you…” he said and I turned to Kun who looked at me a little mischievously… “Why are you looking at me that way?” I asked and he chuckled softly.

“Here,” he said as he handed me a pamphlet for… fostering hybrids. 

“No–” me and San said but were both interrupted. “For now, so he can forget about Yunho, he’s going through depression and all of the green code hybrids have been transferred or can’t be with other hybrids. He is going through a dependent disorder, which I think can be broken by being with other hybrids” he said and I really felt bad and a little guilty… even though I shouldn’t.

“Just for a week” he begged and I sighed. Before I could deny he reminded me why I hate men. “You owe me for letting you adopt the two tiger hybrids and stressing me out,” he said and I scoffed. 

“Fine,” I said knowing I couldn’t do anything with that card he pulled. “But he isn’t staying with us permanently right?” San asked and I shook my head.

Kun soon called in Jisung who was leading us to Mingi… “Another hybrid? Are you–” I interrupted him by showing him the pamphlet and he laughed. “You’re getting blackmailed by Kun?!” he let out and I rolled my eyes.

“Mingi, come on we want you to meet someone,” he said as he looked up at his sitting position to widen his eyes in shock and I could tell he was a little scared.

“I-I’m sorry! R-really I… I don't–” “Calm down, buddy. Deep breaths she isn't gonna do anything to you. She’s here to help, think of it as your treatment” he explained and the wolf nodded slowly not knowing what was happening. 

“Ok so the foster hybrid process is–”

mingi’s perspective

My treatment was under a foster hybrid program with y/n. The woman I stole from… the woman who I shouldn't have stolen or else I would’ve been with Yunho… a woman with five hybrids who will hate me.

I expect her to get back on me… maybe starve me? Or hit me? Any form of punishment 

I don’t know yet… Her hybrids seem pretty happy and healthy? I couldn’t assume though, she might be an awful person and abuse them… but Yunho said he didn’t think so.

“We’re here, you’ll be sharing with my tiger hybrid, Hongjoong,” she said and I think she meant the tiger that was with her the day we were caught… the one who almost attacked us? 

“y/n! You're back! Yeosang is being mean… ” I saw a fox hybrid happily approach her only to stop at the sight of me. “You started… it?” I soon saw a dog hybrid glare at me… both were confused at seeing an unknown hybrid in their home. 

“This is Mingi… Kun asked me a favor and we’ll be fostering him for a week” she explained and the fox scoffed. “Fostering?” the dog said, confused. “It's a program where you can trial run a hybrid to see if they are a good fit for you” the fox explained and the dog glared. 

“No! The tigers are enough and now him! You didn’t even ask us!” he said angrily. “The doctor technically blackmailed her to take him. He won’t stay here for long… only a week” the panther glared at me.

I already didn’t feel wanted. 

The fox and dog glared at me. “Come on… don’t be mean,” she said softly while approaching the fox hugging him. He hugged her back tight… She also smiled sweetly at the dog who caressed her head.

“Fine… but there's no room for him in my room with Seonghwa, he’s already enough to deal with,” the dog said and she smiled softly. ‘He’ll be with Hongjoong” she said and he laughed. 

“Tell him that, he literally locks himself in there,” he said and I think my roommate won’t like me already.

“Is y/n back?” I heard as I saw the two tigers who stopped at the sight of me. “YOU!” the orange tiger yelled and I panicked. “Why is he here?!” he yelled and I wanted to leave… bury myself in a hole. 

“You know him?” the panther asked and he scoffed. 

“He’s the wolf hybrid who robbed y/n!” he said and they all looked at me hatefully… this wasn’t a good idea. “Come on… he did it to survive. Hongjoong don’t act like you never wanted to escape. All of you did besides Wooyoung” she scolded and they all looked away from her but the fox. 

“His friend was taken away from him. So be nice, he doesn’t have a home and he’s not as lucky as you guys” she said and they nodded. “Sorry y/n,” they said. 

“Hongjoong, he’ll be sharing rooms with you– “ he looked shocked and was about to argue “Only temporary! Please?” she asked and he sighed but didn’t have any other choice but to nod even though I could tell he didn’t want to.

“Mingi, are you hungry?” she asked me and I was but I didn’t know if this was a trap… she didn’t seem bad. They all seemed like happy hybrids. I shook my head despite not eating today.

“Hongjoong show him your new room okay?” 

“I’m sorry for what she said to you by the way,” I said to the tiger who I saw froze for a second before shaking his head. “It’s not your fault… you should be apologizing to y/n for stealing from her. And for tricking her like the two of you did, she felt betrayed” he explained and I nodded. 

“Yunho really liked her…” I muttered and he didn't say anything. 

“I really like your hair,” I said and he smiled softly. “Thanks… y/n said I could get it done. I was overdue for a haircut,” he said and I smiled softly. 

“I’ve been to your show before,” I said… and he sighed. “I’m sorry you went through that…” I added and he nodded. “Just don’t mention it around me or Seonghwa… he's the other tiger hybrid,” he said and I nodded. 

“Anything else I should avoid?” I asked and he nodded. “Don’t get too close to San… he’ll attack you. He isn’t too good with new people especially hybrids” he explained and I was curious as to why…

“Also don’t show, Wooyoung, you're annoyed with him. He’ll be upset. While staying away from Yeosang he’s very possessive of y/n '' he explained and I was overwhelmed. 

“What?” I asked and he chuckled. 

“You’re an intruder. y/n is our mate, while you're an unmated male in our territory. San will attack you if you're too close, Yeosang will talk badly about you to y/n, Seonghwa will likely avoid you, and I’m also cautious of you… Wooyoung is the best bet. If you befriend him the others will like you also. 

I needed to befriend Wooyoung… who was he again?

“I don’t know how much progress you’ll make in a week though” 

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

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[jeanbie]

SWEET UNWIND ★ masterlist.

pairing: levi x reader

warnings: sexual content, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampies, foodplay, grumpy & sunshine, fem!reader, piv sex, silent sex (little dialogue) | wc: 6.1k

note: proudly inspired by the insatiable thoughts i had while watching charles bake his cake and kill people in "the brothers sun". also i got cheated on and felt horny, so turned to my favourite cartoon man for relief

⏤ When Levi's not working, he likes to take things slow, and as of late, he's found that baking desserts is an excellent way to unwind. Yesterday, he made a beautifully sweet strawberry drizzled cake with cream. On today's menu, his personal favourite: cream pie.

Gangnam, Seoul; five to midnight, the city turning in for the night as bold and bright lights flicker to life, the streets lined with neon glows that on the waterfront look like blurry fireworks. While constant lines of traffic come and go, honking and revving at the lights as they hurry to wherever they need to be next, Levi switches off the egg-timer that blares to life loudly and sets it down on the kitchen island.

Behind him, baking in the oven with a warm and golden glow, is the sponge for his lemon drizzle cake. He glances up at the TV screen across the room and watches as one of the contestants drizzles extra veins of lemon curd across a wide canvas of white meringue cream, then looks back at his own display of ingredients. 

First, he heads to the oven and using the oven glove, he pulls down the door and extracts his top sponge layer. Immediately, Levi sets it aside to cool — too hot and the dollop of cream that will spread into his smooth centre will melt and dribble off like water. 

When Levi’s not working, he likes to take things slow, and as of late, he’s found that making desserts is an excellent way to unwind. It’s a simple step-by-step process where the final product produces something he can feel proud of, and something he can enjoy with a cup of tea or even something stronger.

He’s found over the last three years or so of baking that a hard liquor blends well with cheesecake, one with crumbled biscuits as a garnishing layer. Bailey’s accents any type of chocolate dessert almost too perfectly, and even does well inside of one. Last Christmas, for example, Levi enjoyed a whole chocolate truffle infused with the alcohol all to himself.

Baking takes a level of concentration that actually requires very little of him, and being able to see something he’s made all on his own at the end of it all can often be more rewarding than the stakes in the real world, outside of his entirely too fancy penthouse apartment. His job is often too demanding, too vicious, but coming home with a bag of ingredients that will eventually transform into something beautifully delicious feels like he’s turning a switch and stepping out of one life into another. 

Outside, out there in the harsh city, Levi Ackerman is a force to be reckoned with, a danger to those outside of his inner circle. But here, inside his home, his fortress, he doesn’t have to be anybody but himself — Levi Ackerman, the man, the neighbour, the dessert enthusiast.

Now that the sponge has cooled and the decorations have been sliced and prepared, Levi takes to assembling his own version of the British Bake Off lemon drizzle cake. Instead of it being baked as a tray bake, Levi’s followed the same style as Mary Berry herself; circular, smooth and comfortably petite.

He takes the cream he prepared before and slaps it with a wet plop on the bottom layer of sponge, smoothing it out with the flat-knife until he’s satisfied with the coverage. Then, he uses a spiral technique to create a lemony blend to bite into.

He spares a single glance at the swirling iron staircase leading up to the upper floor of his apartment when he hears movement, a simple and quiet rustle of sheets and an equally low-volume groan — a stretch of some kind. Then, he looks back at his cake and sets the top sponge over the finalised inner workings of his cake and gets to work on the pipework and decorations.

It is so easy for him to get lost in the craft. One minute rolls into five and rolls into ten as he perfects the lemon slice arrangement on top of the cake. He even prepared some lemon gratings beforehand and uses them as a powdery layer on top of the smoothed out blanket of cream. Once everything is in place, Levi looks back up at the TV and watches the contestants present their final results to the judges. 

Back and forth — his eyes move from their cakes to his. He thinks his cake would have earned him Star Baker that week, that’s for certain.

Even though Levi chooses to bake after work to dispel the tension building up in his bones, he still doesn’t feel completely satisfied with his work today. The cake is as good as he can get, especially when it’s his first real attempt at a lemon drizzle. But an ache lingers in his shoulders, a buzzing feeling of discomfort in every joint and muscle. 

Today has just been extra hard. One dessert won’t suffice.

After a long haul of tracking down one of the leaders of a local crime organisation known as the Hannam Tigers, and successfully putting a few of his henchmen in early graves, Levi knows that one small cake won’t be enough to satiate his irritation for the night. In his line of work, things went wrong sometimes, even when they were annoyances he could do without. 

The Hannam Tigers operate in a network of highly trained men with highly decorated backgrounds, and even with Levi’s colourful skillset, it can be a challenge to rid them from the world. 

Levi rinses his hands under the tap and uses a cloth to dry them, catching the final portion of the competition on TV before tossing the cloth to the side and dumping his utensils into the sink. For now, he focuses his attention on the assortment of ingredients he’s set to the side to make his all time favourite dessert.

But first, he’ll need to head upstairs.

With what he needs in his hands, Levi escapes the kitchen before it swallows him into creating more and more desserts and then climbs the staircase curling up into the upper floor. Up here, there is a study that he barely uses — not because of his incompetence to utilise it, but instead for a general lack of need, considering he prefers a much more physical and hands-on approach to what he sensitively calls his ‘career’ — a small bathroom and his bedroom, which he heads for and catches a glimpse of the glistening city from the window inside, the door ajar.

Inside, he takes a few steps forward and sets his things down, looking up to make out your shape in the swamp of black bedsheets. He can barely see you in the dark, but you groan and make your presence known, sitting up on your elbows to peer at his silhouette cast by the light from the hallway.

“You finished your cake?” you ask, your voice tired but nonetheless sweet, caring, genuinely curious.

Levi makes out your face in the dim light and waits until his vision settles. Once he sees you more clearly and sees the smile on your face, he nods simply and looks back down at his messy pile of ingredients.

You arch up a little higher to see what he’s looking at.

“Bring any for me?”

Levi doesn’t look up. “No.”

“Rude,” you reply, amused and unable to make out what he’s arranging neatly on the ottoman at the bottom of the bed. “I happen to like lemon drizzle.”

He knows. That’s why he picked that episode to watch, those ingredients at the store. 

“I don’t,” he replies. Levi’s not a fan of lemon anything, really. 

The door behind him creaks ever so slightly, the light widening across the room. You sit up straighter, watching him as he falls into a carefully analysed breakdown of his mystery items.

“Can I have some later?” you ask, filling the silence with conversation. If you strain, you might make out the next episode of Bake Off beginning to play, but you search for Levi’s signature noises instead; his silent yet attentive laughs from his nose, the grunts under his breath, unbothered hums of his attention and or interest. 

Levi looks up then, and rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. His blazer is downstairs hanging off one of the bar stools under the kitchen island, his shoes by the door. Now, he’s just dressed in whatever he came home wearing — there hadn’t been time to change, what with you slumbering like a princess in his bedroom. 

It’s a good thing he likes you, otherwise the lights would have been on and his work clothes off. Instead, he left you to it, heading for the kitchen when he came home and switching on his complimentary British Bake Off episode to accompany him in his regular routine of baking.

“I only made it for you,” he tells you. 

You arch an eyebrow — not that he can see, anyway. “Oh, really?”

He gives you a hum, thoughtless. You rearrange yourself under the sheets.

“I thought the whole point was to eat the dessert yourself after making it,” you say, filling the quiet moment with something as he skims his gaze over the ottoman again. 

He doesn’t look up when he says, “Well, I haven’t finished baking yet.”

“Oh?” you reply. “Something else cooking?”

“Yes,” he says. Then, he rounds the bed slightly from the right and whilst looking at you, he climbs up onto the bed with his knees. 

“What’re you making?” you question, a grin widening over your face as he looms near. You feel his hand just miss your leg under the sheets as he lays his hands flat on the bed, lifting his weight closer to you all whilst maintaining an unnaturally cool composure.

If you didn’t know him any better, you’d think he was bored by the entire exchange. His face is covered in shadows, and yet you can still see the slipping shift of something in his eyes as they catch in the light from the windows. 

Levi’s face reanimates in the city lights, now not far from your own. He curls his fingers around the bedsheet and tugs it down, exposing your legs to the cool shift of temperature in the bedroom. You shudder, leaning your head back until it softly hits the wooden headboard. 

“Pie,” Levi says.

“Mmm. I love pie,” you comment. 

He grunts, another one of your favourite Levi-sounds.

His hand shifts from the bed to your leg. In the dark, everything feels more pronounced; his ever-so-slightly rough palm smooths across your thigh and down your leg, past the knee and down towards your ankle. Once caught in his grasp, he manages to pull you from your sloped position against the headboard and back down into the pillows. He knows you're wearing nothing else from the waist down — all the more reason to tug you down and snatch a glimpse of what he knows is his.

“What kinda pie?”

Levi finds your eyes again in the dark, and you’re not sure if he planned it, but now you can see his face in a spectrum of light. His expression is flat, toneless, yet intrigue dances across his eyes as they wander across your face, down past your neck, and down to the exposed skin of your chest from underneath one of Levi’s shirts you stole from his drawers.

He says nothing for a moment. Using both hands and releasing your ankle, Levi presses his hands against your abdomen, running them up underneath the shirt until he reaches your sternum, the sloping sphere of your breasts against his fingertips. His eyes flick up to yours as he pushes the shirt all the way up over your breasts, and uses his body to part your legs until your knees are on either side of his hips.

The weight of his gaze makes you squirm slightly. 

He blinks. Licks his bottom lip so quickly you almost miss it and says very simply, “Cream.”

Your grin widens.

Levi lowers his face to your stomach, his lips pressing against the skin above your belly button. Immediately, as if practised, your hands jump up to his head of hair, your fingers threading through it as he works his mouth down from your stomach to the damp space between your legs.

A home within a home; a place he loves to push his face into when he’s had a particularly long day.

Levi doesn’t even have to put in any effort anymore. You quite contently lift your calves up over his shoulders, widening them enough to feel his lips circle around your clit, two fingers widening your folds so he can stuff his face with your cunt.

Coating your clit with a layer of wetness, he replaces his lips with his right thumb and moves his fingers, using his tongue to part you down the middle, and making you writhe against the bed with a satisfied moan. 

He’ll admit it to nobody but himself — he’s missed you. You’ve missed him, too, and the way it feels when he rubs his thumb against your nub in careful circles and plunges two fingers up your cunt. Levi could fool himself all he liked with the fantasy that baking a cake was enough to relieve his pent up stress from work, but nothing quite works to ease the burden like a face full of his favourite girls’ pussy.

Levi’s left hand drifts from your stomach to your thigh, smoothing over the top before curving down and round to the inner of your legs, his forearm wrapped around you comfortably and effectively locking you in place. He likes to watch the wetness pool between your legs as he gorges himself on your taste, but today he closes his eyes and closes his lips around you, tasting every inch of you like you’re his own slice of dessert, his favourite kind. Topped and served with a string of elated moans, just the way he likes it best.

“Mmf—!” There’s not a lot for you to say, nothing you can conjure up from the air gasping in your throat as Levi’s tongue licks laps around your clit, his thumb just shy to the side as he leaves a wet present for him to massage into your skin, his mouth very quickly preoccupied by the space neglected beneath. 

As his fingers curl up inside of you, then widen apart, your calves drop as if you’re trying to pull Levi closer to your body, and in turn he pushes his left arm down on your thigh and drags you with a smooth motion down the bedsheets and closer to his mouth. Your head arches back with the angled slope of your back, reaching up off the mattress in a coordinated performance of pleasure, and Levi finds the time to open his eyes and look up over your stomach and breasts to find your face; mouth agape and lids closed, gasping silently into the dark. 

Yeah. Out of all the desserts he could possibly create in his kitchen, he’d probably have to confess that his favourite one was one that could be made in the bedroom. 

Your hands take fistfuls of his hair and feeling the hot flatness of his tongue in the space between your clenching hole and your clit, you find your hips grinding up into his mouth, the slight nudge of his teeth making you squirm even harder beneath him. Levi’s no longer phased by the aching tightness of your fingers woven in a knot on his head. Whenever your fingers twitch and the clutch on his hair tightens, Levi knows he’s doing something right.

Every lick and nip against your cunt is matched by a groan, and as you ride the dampness between your legs against his lips, your voice thins out into a raspy nothingness. Your mouth is dry with the air of the bedroom, your eyes forcing themselves to close when they try and open to peer down at the man snug between your thighs. 

Levi feels a mixture of wet substances around his mouth and on his chin, but before he can grant you the pleasure of cumming down his throat, he pulls back.

The emptiness of the space between your legs is jarring, and almost immediately you sit up. Your hands drop from his hair and fall onto the bed, which you use to lift up your shaking body to watch as Levi leans back on his knees and retreats to the forgotten ottoman. It is only when he rises to his feet to observe the array of secret items displayed for his eyes only that you realise Levi is still wearing every article of clothing he was before. 

“What’re you doing?” you ask him, finally finding your voice as he arches over and fiddles with something that sounds plastic.

You catch the shine of your own arousal on his chin as he scans the catalogue of items.

“Preparing dessert,” he replies.

Your brows quirk, but when Levi stands upright and begins to shake something with his left hand, you feel your heart and its fast beating plunge straight to your stomach. A knot wells and tightens, and you bite a moan back and feel your thighs coming together like a magnet in anticipation.

Levi is shaking a bottle of whipped cream.

It shouldn’t surprise you nor excite you the way that it does. Levi has always had reservations about whipped cream — it should be from a bottle or made in a bowl; exclusively used as a side for a tart or cake slice, as a topping on a pancake, as the twist of sweetness on top of a hot chocolate. Levi doesn’t use whipped cream on his desserts in the same way he does as an accessory to the bake, but today — tonight, it seems as though he has found another valuable use for his generally unused bottle of whipped cream.

“This is new,” you say, feeling your ass lift off the bed as you struggle to contain your writhing excitement. Levi tests the nozzle; a burst of white cream spits out onto his finger, and without looking away he puts his finger in his mouth with all the nonchalance of a chef tasting his dish as he makes it. “I thought you didn’t like bottled cream on your desserts.”

“I like it on some things,” he replies. “First rule of baking is that you never feel afraid of trying something new.”

You hum thoughtfully as he retakes his position on the bed. It should make you laugh with the way he looks down at you while slowly twisting the bottle from left to right, but it doesn’t; it only makes you breathe heavier, your pulse quickening and legs opening as if on automatic and letting him take the space he’s claimed between them.

“They do say that it goes well with pies,” you say finally, watching as he angles the nozzle down on your stomach. The placement, if nothing else, has surprised you, and you suppress a moan of eagerness when he presses down and watches with a newfound intensity as the spiral of white cream pools out onto your skin. He’s cautious with the amount; just a small bud of cream, enough to swallow in just a mouthful.

Levi leans himself forward and pauses just before he can lick the dollop up off your tummy. 

“Clue’s in the name,” Levi replies, and with his eyes boring into your own, he presses his lips around the blob of cream and mouths it up off your body. It is entirely too fast, your jaw slacken as he pulls away, as if gauging your reaction. The yearning expression on your face has the nerve to almost look endearing to him.

He swallows. “Sweet.”

He receives from you something sounding like a whimper. Then, his finger is back on the nozzle and using the cream, he creates a trail from where he last was all the way down to your clit. 

You feel yourself clench when the cool texture of the cream sits in a melting bundle on your bud, and your teeth bury themselves into the flesh of your lower lip, biting down with extra force when Levi’s mouth shifts down to your clit and in one teasingly slow strip, he licks the trail of sweet cream up from your cunt to the wet spot on your stomach.

With his tongue, your back arches up off the bed, your knees by his shoulders. Levi is uncomfortably aware of the pooling arousal between your legs, his own forming tightness in his trousers. Watching you writhe with a glistening shine getting more and more pronounced so close to his face has proven to be exactly what he needed to unwind today, but he’s still not quite satisfied.

He’s not ignorant to the way your hips meet with the empty space he leaves when he moves away again, as if fucking an imaginary cock or grinding against an invisible set of hips. He uses his right hand to press you back flat against the bed and savours every second of your aroused moaning when he slathers your cunt with the cream, leaving no wet patch untouched. 

He watches with only minimal irritation when the cream slips down your folds into a white pool on the sheets — his sheets — but he takes its sliding as a sign to move back in. 

Levi licks the cream up as if it isn’t even there; it’s as if he’s taking gulps of you like it’s nothing, licking every inch of the cream and enjoying the wonders of your pleasure as you cry out above him. His nose brushes against the hidden bump of your clit, the feeling of his hot tongue making your toes curl behind his back, your fingers clenching around the sheets.

Ordinarily, you may have laughed at the sight of his lips coated in a white sheen, the cream on the tip of his nose, but today you can find nothing to laugh about. Every unit of energy is devoted to the tightening clench of your cunt, the tingling warmth growing inside of you as Levi wipes his nose and rises off the bed and onto his feet, right where the ottoman stands as a barrier between you.

He lets you play out your imaginary fantasy, rolling your hips into the empty vacuum of space where he was just situated and uses his hands to undo the belt around his waist. His trousers fall with an effortlessness when he undoes the front button, and he compels himself to watch you stare at him with a lustful gaze as he pulls his trousers down to his ankles. He decides he’ll keep his shirt on — it’s only fair, since you’re still wearing his, albeit the fabric is bunched up under your neck in the way he likes it.

He mounts the bed once again and meets you when you moan expectantly, and relishes in the sharp intake of your breath when he takes your right leg and folds it to the side. You look at Levi over your shoulder, your neck to the side as he presses you down with his left hand and uses the right to hold his cock.

You are once again reminded of how truly lucky you are to have a man like Levi; a man who needs nothing but your cunt in his face to get his cock standing rigid against his lower stomach.

You swallow a moan when Levi pokes the tip of his cock against your fluttering entrance, and when his eyes catch yours, the sharpened edge of his grey eyes staring straight into your own, you can’t catch the cry of pleasure that escapes when he pushes himself into you, feeling you wrap around the tip of him like your cunt is a mouth on its own.

Levi watches you gasp as if pained and he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up. You’re wet enough,” he says in a low tone.

“Hmf—!” And then the length of his cock is buried inside of you, only proving his point.

There’s nothing to explain the way it feels when he’s stuffing your hole: it’s as if he was made for you, a perfect fit to make you whole. Even with virtually nothing to ease the slip into your pussy, there’s no agonising stretch, no painful play — just a wholeness that feels as natural as anything else in the world.

Levi’s fucked you so many times that he might as well claim he lives up here, and each time he makes himself at home, he’s welcomed with open arms and a swallowing gulp. He pushes his hips all the way against you, until the underneath of your thigh is squished against his stomach and you feel the slight slap of his balls against your ass.

He’s never quite fucked you from this angle before, but it’s not unwelcome in the slightest. He wraps his wrist around your thigh and holds the front of it with his hand, his left coming to hold the sinking curve of your waist, which he uses to push you further into the mattress. 

Every time his dick sinks further inside of you, you let out a moan — he moves in and out so fast it’s as if he’s trying to keep your noise at a constant speed, never wanting to be left in a silence.

Levi looks down at you as he fucks, no longer interested in the way his dick disappears into the dripping darkness of your cunt and instead entirely devoted to mapping out the pleasure on your face. Nothing he hasn’t seen before, but everything he loves to see.

His hips rock against you, his shoulders tensing as you clench furiously around his length. Surely you don’t mean to be coaxing him into an early finish — surely you wouldn’t be rushing him along when he’s trying to enjoy his dessert.

The tip of Levi’s dick kisses your insides, but from this angle and the burning heat pooling in your abdomen, you don’t know if he’s hitting your cervix or deeper into your literal stomach. Levi’s fucked you from all different angles in every corner of his house, but he feels extra large today. The darkened edge of his eyes might be deceiving you, the sticky residue of cream still on your skin. 

You’re almost vibrating with pleasure as he fucks you, and all you can do is stay pinned to the bed like a doll and gasp out your praises.

Like most fucks with Levi, he says nothing besides, “Fuck,” in a dragged out, strangled type of way. He likes to make you suffer by dragging it out for as long as humanly possible, just to see you writhe and cry underneath him, your pussy pink and pulsing, begging for him to stop. 

Today, however, luck looks to be on your side. 

Unlike normal, Levi has little desire to unravel you into a sobbing mess. All he wants today is to fuck the brains out of his girlfriend and watch as her cunt fills with his cum.

Levi’s fingers clench into your skin, and for a second he closes his eyes in an effort to ride it out just a little bit longer before filling you up. When he feels your hand wrap around his wrist like a vice, his eyes fly open to look at you; you’re curled up, sunken in the bed, contorted into his favourite shape. 

Levi spares a glance at his cock swallowed up in your hole and watches with pride as he thrusts in and out of the wetness, and after a stuttering sequence of your hips jerking and mouth falling open with the release of some of his all time favourite sounds, Levi devours the sight of white squeezing from around his dick. 

He feels his throat catch. He’ll let you have that one.

Around the quivering clenches of his cock, Levi shudders and lets you squeal until you’ve run dry. He runs his fingers across the width of your connection and smooths the cum between his fingers. Then, without giving you the satisfaction of catching your breath, Levi continues his thrusting which gives him the continued pleasure of hearing you squeal and cry, your free hand reaching to the slip of sloping skin above your pussy as if you were trying to suppress the feeling rippling through you.

Long forgotten are the fingertips pressing bruises into your skin, but each thrust of his dick hitting the same spot inside you is met with an exhausted groan. Finally, when you’ve gathered the energy and courage to look up and around your body at his face, Levi lets slip what you think might be a satisfied smile, and he falters.

Ropes of warmth fill your cunt, and you hear Levi moan, loudly, and he unwraps his wrist from your leg and holds the base of his dick with his right hand. Carefully, he pulls himself out, save for the tip which remains snug in your hole, leaving no space untouched by his seed. He watches with wonder at the way your hole gapes around his cock like a mouth, swallowing his cum up until it billows out. Finally, he slips out of you, staring down at the oozing, swollen hole that is pulsing with cum. 

For a while, he stares at it, breathing loudly as he waits for all of his cum to squirt out of you; it’s like squeezing a cream doughnut and watching the sickeningly sweet contents slide out. 

Levi glances back up at you, amazed that you’ve been bold enough to watch him until the end, and he pats your waist appreciatively before rolling you back so that you’re flat on the sheets, legs apart, cunt wide.

Time to taste.

You watch as his head disappears between your legs, but he leaves no element of mystery. Your body almost jumps up off the mattress when his tongue pushes into your gaping entrance, lapping at the mixture of your cum and his and whatever else he can catch a taste of while he’s savagely licking down there.

Barely having the energy to pretend to stage a protest, you elect for moaning your approval and tiredly rake your hand through his hair again, pushing it from his forehead as you stare half-lidded at the crown of his head.

You lose count of how long Levi remains nestled down there. The only way you notice he’s no longer there is by the way he sweeps his hands down your legs and lays them flat, making note of every twitch and quiver your body makes.

Staring up at Levi and reluctantly forcing your body back up on your elbows, you grin up at him as he licks his top lip and appears thoughtful.

“Yeah,” sighs Levi, sniffing once in the way he does when he’s trying to fall back into his characteristic charade of coolness. “Homemade cream tastes better.”

Unable to argue, you heave out a laugh and meet his gaze.

“You’re fucking greedy,” you say, but that he actually does smile at. 

“So what,” he replies, reaching for another one of the items on the ottoman; a cloth from downstairs that he uses to wipe the mess between your thighs, “we both know I like cream pies. I even shared.”

You flinch when he dabs the cloth against your still-sensitive pussy. You take it from him to finish the honour, meanwhile Levi gathers the bottle of cream and whatever else he brought and never used before opting to watch you shift the cloth between your legs, throwing it back at him in a forced huff. He catches it effortlessly.

“Whatever,” you say, very slowly moving across the bed to the floor. The wooden slabs are cold beneath your feet. “I’m sure your lemon drizzle is miles better.”

Levi shakes his head affectionately and moves to meet you face-to-face when you stand on your feet. He hums when he gets there and strokes his finger down your arm, charming his way into your arms and once he’s close enough to your face, he allows a smile to warm over his features.

He dips his head to greet your lips with a kiss, the first of the day since he left you in the morning.

“Trust me when I say,” Levi says when he pulls away, his expression amused as he croons his finger under your chin and quickly leaves another kiss on your mouth, “I very much doubt that.”

[poetryvampire]

The Song of Rolan

Dingdong! Horny Rolan posting hours again. I started writing head canons for how vocal our lovely wizard can get. It got a bit long so I turned it in a little fic. Also sorry for the name im a lit nerd

Words: 2,705

Rating: Explicit

Rolan x AFAB! Reader

Prompt: Rolan's voice drives you crazy. But he has a terrible habit of stifling all his pretty little noises in bed. You help him fix that.

Tags: teasing, pointy ear play, a touch of edging, dry humping, sloppy oral, p and v sex, bit of overstimulation, creampie, riding that tiefling straight to hell and back

It was an understatement to say you were proud of Rolan. He was an accomplished wizard, loving brother and - in your opinion-the perfect partner. One that you could see yourself spending the rest of your days with. That's not to say he didn't get on your nerves. Not only with his grumpy tendencies but more so with his habit of over working.  You adored his passion and drive to further his studies but it had led to more and more long lonely nights. Either from him traveling with colleagues or the tiefling locking himself in his study to work on a multitude of projects until morning light. 

He had returned home only yesterday having spent almost two full weeks away and yet he still seems dead set to spend all evening pouring over his notes. The Wizard's focus was getting worse by the day. Not that he hadn't been overjoyed to see you. He had practically knocked you off your feet with the intensity of his hug when he came striding through the door. You had spent hours locked in each other's arms in your large shared bed. Steadily he moved between tales of his journey and peppering your skin with feverish kisses.

Rolan had taken you greedily. Frantic, practically tripping over himself trying to touch all of you at once. He couldn't quite find a voice for his needs but you swayed to him happily, matching his clumsy passion. There was plenty of the time to truly savor each other. But still your patience was running thin.

Somehow you had once again found yourself in an empty bedroom starving for your partner. Last night had been a sweet reunion but it did little to quell the fire Rolan lad lit in you while he was away. He had only been gone a few days when a letter arrived that left you breathless. Deciding to skip over the details of his journey he focused instead on his longing for you.

'What little beauty there is to be had here is dwarfed a thousand times by the thought of you. I dream of you always. Of being wrapped in your divine cunt. Of feeling it pulse against my tongue. Gods, I am your slave. Use me only for your pleasure. Let me worship you, my heart.'

His words rang in your head even now, pooling that familiar heat down below. How you wanted him. Wanted to hear such words from his own lips. From the moment you met you’d been in love with the deep rumble of his voice. Nothing gave you such satisfaction as pulling music from Rolan’s lips as you made love. It wasn't easy. Even still he had trouble fully letting himself go. Often he would stifle his words and moans to your great dismay. You recall gazing up at him as you ran your tongue over his length to find his hand clamped tightly over his mouth muffling his cries. A senseless action as you two had been the only people home at the time.  

Swiftly you move to your wardrobe every drop of patience spent. You need him; to wring every moan, grunt and whimper out of that man or it would kill you. He deserves to relish in and express his pleasure freely. Perhaps he just needs a little push.

Much to your relief the tower was empty by this hour. You moved lightly through the halls wearing nothing but a sheer purple dressing gown.

You tap your knuckles against the hard oak door as you enter his study. He was exactly as you had pictured him, four open books across his desk and him writing furiously.

"Beloved!" He half glances at you as he takes a quick slip from his wine glass. "Now don't worry," he continues flipping pages. "I hadn't forgotten about you. This was intended to be a short little report but I just keep finding revisions that seem a shame not to add."

Going above and beyond as always. You can't help but smile as you watch him, those tantalizing eyes darting from paper to paper. Just the sight of him makes the warmth of excitement flare in you. You feel your nipples hardening against the thin fabric you wore. He's dressed down; the lacing on his ruffled white shirt undone to his mid chest and sleeves pushed up past the elbow. Such a small glimpse of extra skin makes your heart race. Hopefully you can rise the same reaction.

"You have such a way with words it would be rude not to." You purr, moving to his side.

"I'll be done soon, truly." He can hear the need in your voice. "Then I'm all yours."

You hum amused as you lift his glass to take a deep drink.

"You sound like you don't believe me." Rolan's hand passes through the space once hosting his glass. "Have I ever let you down in the-"

His eyes finally snap to you and his words catch sharply in his throat, blood rushing to his face. You laugh, finishing the glass.

" What's the matter, my love? You're usually so generous with your words."

"I- I-you," He stammers.

"I seem to remember such generosity in a letter you wrote."

You undo the gown. His eyes fix on you as you let it fall to the floor. As many times as he's seen it the sight of you in your full glory drives him wild. 

"Do you remember that letter?"

"Oh, of course." His voice is barely a whisper, his body tense as if ready to pounce on you.

To his surprise you straddle him and his hands fly to your hips drawing you closer. Both of you groan into a deep kiss as you grind yourself down against the quickly growing tent in his trousers.

"Do you want to please me?" You growl half into his mouth.

"More than anything." He gasps between kisses. 

You pull away, placing a finger over his lips. His beaming cheeks and  pleading eyes stoke your maddening hunger for him.

"Then let me please you. I need to feel it and hear it. Let me drown in you, Rolan."

"Gods above," He groans.

You can see he's already holding back. But you would have to help him along by targeting his weak points. You start with his neck, ghosting your lips over him, letting the tension build. Your hot breath sends a shiver down his spine as he grasps your thighs trying to push you on.

At last you press your lips to his skin earning a soft hiss. You try to go slow but make your need apparent with the ferocity of your mouth. A deep sigh escapes him as you attack his jawline, sucking and teasing as you go. Rolan bucks his hips suddenly, huffing. He's too shy to ask but he's dying for you to touch his ears.

A quick bite to the lobe earns another sharp gasp. You laugh knitting your fingers through his hair- Gods his sounds make your heart flutter.

"Oh? Did you like that, my love?" You coo into his neck. There's words on his lips but they melt away as your tongue slowly traces the shell of his ear right to the tip. "Hhm? What was that? Are you unsure? But you're usually so strong in your convictions."  You repeat the action making him squirm underneath you. You grind down on his bulge creating a delicious friction. "However can I know you're enjoying yourself if you don't tell me?"

"It's good." He chokes out at last, meeting the movements of your eager hips.

"What is? We can't all be scholars you know." You draw away from him slightly. "What do you want?"

He laughs as a devilish grin spreads across his parted lips.

"Everything. You're so, you're so- " his words falter. He still feels your breath on him but the lack of contact makes it clear you're waiting. It's only in times like this when Rolan has difficulty summoning words.

"I've never heard of a wizard so speechless." You goad him and start to move away. "Must want to get back to his dusty old books rather than-"

"No!" He cries, locking his arms around you keeping you in place. "Your mouth- your tongue feels so fucking good I can't stand it."

You lick a strip down his neck while bringing your hands to the sides of his head, making sure to brush your fingers across the points of his ears, pulling a low shudder from him.

"There's the man that wrote me such an inspiring letter. That made me plunge my fingers in myself and dream of his cock."

He swears through his teeth, his eyes sparkling with desire.

"And where do you want my mouth?" You continue practically able to feel the heat flash across his face. Your tongue slides across his clavicle  and then moves lower to lap at the ridges on his chest. "Here, then?"

'No,' he breathes.

You swear you can feel him twitch in his pants. Moving your mouth lower you open his shirt completely and do away with it. You stop at the sharp ridge above his stomach.

"Oh, here?"

He shakes his head, face now blazing hot.  Pained whines fall from him as your mouth climbs back up the path of his chest. It isn't until you graze his Adam's apple that he breaks.

"My cock! Fuck I need your mouth on my cock. I need it now, please." He pleads like his life is at stake.

Instantly you're on the floor in front of him pushing his legs apart. You let out a moan yourself once you've sprung him free. You admire just how heavy he is in your hands and run your fingers over the ridges you wish were currently pounding into you.

With a throaty gasp a few drops of precum spill from his head just as you flick your tongue over it. You don't make him wait long before you take him into your mouth.

His moans ring through the room; the music you've been dying to hear. You waste no time taking him apart. Your mouth runs up and down his full length as you hollow your cheeks.  With a loud pop you release him, a string of saliva still connecting you.

Rolan stairs transfixed, his exquisitely carved chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Like this?"

"Yes! Love, it's perfect. Keep sucking, just like that."

Before the words are past his lips you've swallowed him down again, your eyes never leaving his. Now comes your turn to rid the fears that hold you back. As you bob your head you make no mind of the symphony of wet, lewd noises filling the air.

The obscene display tears a guttural groan from him. Unable to hold off any longer move you press a hand to your wetness as you relish taking him like this. The feel, the sound, the smell. It was quite literally making your mouth water. You switch to running your tongue from base to tip stopping only to tease him with a few quick flicks at his head. Drunk on lust at the sounds of his grunts and murmurs you dip your fingers into your dripping hole. 

"Nine hells." He shakes out, breathing hard. "Tell me, what have I done to deserve such adoration?”

Rolan’s eye then focuses on your hands. One pleasuring yourself and the other roaming your own body. You throw your head back with a soft sigh, his unyielding gaze intensifying your pleasure.

"What a wanton little thing you are." Rolan licks his lips in awe.

You protest for a moment as he snatches your hand away from your sex but hum in approval as he licks them clean.

"You sweet thing.”He coos after slowly releasing your digits. “Let me take care of that."

The swift flourish of magic swirls pass and you scream as you find yourself tumbling back on the plush blankets of your bed. Somehow it still catches you off guard.

Rolan has your legs pushed apart in seconds, taking a moment to breathe you in before going to work. Gently pulling your folds open his expert fingers, his tongue ravished you with the same pace you had set. In moments he had your hips shaking involuntarily. Each painfully sweet lash on your clit making you chant his name.

Yet you still weren't sated in your need to watch your lover twist in ecstasy. Taking him by the horns you pull his mouth to yours, lapping at his lips to savor the taste of your sex.

"How can I be of service?" Rolan purrs, a wicked smile forming.

"Lay back.”

He complies and you straddle his hips once more. You drag your core against his agonizingly hard cock. Now you were free to delight in the bumps and ridges you so adored. Your slick coats you both allowing you to slide over him with ease.

Rolan tries to caress you but you pull his hands away and pin them to the bed making him shudder.

"No, love. Leave them here." You roll your hips slowly bearing down, pushing a sharp whimper from his throat. "You just focus on this." Another roll, another whine. As you move your hands away he digs his claws into the sheets to obey. His eyes rake over you, especially as your speed increases. The sight of your breasts bouncing never failed to make him feral with lust. 

Quickly the last of his composure is slipping away as you grind over him. His hair framing his face wildly, his body trembling with effort not to take control and plunge into you. He howls when his tip catches on your entrance.

"Oh is this what you want now? What a greedy thing you are."  You tease.

"Please, mercy." he rasps out as you lower yourself ever so slightly only to pull away. “Give it to me, please! Love, I need you.” 

“How do you need me?” you wiggle your hips, toying with him. 

“I need to be inside.” He breathes, his frustration palpable as his tail snaps against the mattress. 

With unsteady thighs you sink enough to just take in his tip before slowly drawing back.

“Fuck, I need you.” Rolan cries, his voice breaking “I need to stretch that perfect tight little cunt. To feel it cum all over my cock. Gods, please fuck me!” 

Unable to hold back any longer your body obeys and you take all of him at once. The sudden action rips a howl from you both. The slight pain and overwhelming pleasure of being so full does little to slow you down and you continue your animalistic pace. 

The song spilling from Rolan’s lips has you intoxicated utterly. It’s a lurid rumble of repeating ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ‘fuck me’ and words in his own native tongue. You ride his cock with all you have drinking in the sight of him. His claws deep in the mattress now, he’s writhing and wailing below you. 

Finally you pull his hands to your hips and his body jumps to match your rhythm. He’s practically sobbing now, eyes swimming with rapture and concentration as he drives himself into you. A spike of heat pulls at your core and with another desperate thrust you come undone, clenching uncontrollably around him. Another wave of unbearable pleasure hits you as your lover pulses and spills his hot load inside of you. He rides it out, ending his flurry of moans with a few deep ragged breaths. 

Rolan catches you in his arms before you even realize you’ve started to fall forward and presses you to his chest. You languish there enjoying the rhythm of his heartbeat. 

“I don’t deserve you.” he says, tangling his fingers in your hair. 

“You’re so dramatic” you sigh “I’ve just missed you. A lot.”   

“Well, with a greeting like that I have half a mind to leave you more often.” he smirks. 

“Don’t you dare,” you warn. 

“Of course not. I wouldn’t dream of it.” Rolan kisses the top of your head, holding you tightly to him until you both fall into slumber. 

Thanks for reading! 

Much love <3

[overnighttosunflowers]

I made a post about Laudna and Orym’s interaction in ep102 yesterday as it relates to Orym’s broader arc, but I wanted to follow it up with one more purely about Orym and Laudna’s relationship.

I think that on a fundamental level, Orym simply doesn’t understand Laudna. I don’t know if he’s aware of this. I do think he loves her. But I think that he also can’t stop seeing her as a symbol.

Orym has spent his whole life hearing about history by proxy. He’s one of the only party members with a history proficiency. He knows Keyleth, and he knows about the Sun Tree bodies. So when he learns about Laudna’s “worst thing that ever happened to her,” he sees her double: as his friend who suffered tremendously, and as the effigy of Vex that Delilah constructed.

And that weighs on him. We know it still does. When he spoke at Laudna’s res ritual in episode 38, he told her that she deserved to be more than a footnote in Delilah’s story. This was then echoed almost 60 full episodes later in episode 96 after swordgate, when he told her that she deserved her place in history as much or more. He continues to position her in relation to Delilah in a way that shows some part of his mind is always remembering that she was meant to be an NPC in someone else’s story: the way she died, the tool she was.

And that’s the other thing: that Orym has been the person most visibly uncomfortable with Laudna’s undead nature. It freaked him out long before he knew about the Sun Tree, and though he’s gotten used to it, he’s still hyperaware—we see this in his interaction with his sister in episode 66.

He defends Laudna sincerely, but he also seems self-conscious in a way that the transcript doesn’t fully capture. He knows Laudna is weird and he loves her despite it, not because of it. He still looks at her and sees a dead lady who happens to be Laudna, not Laudna who happens to be a dead lady.

There are other complicated elements to their relationship as well, of course. Swordgate, for instance, is indicative mostly of Orym’s (very human) tendency to act from his own trauma first before thinking about how it affects his friends, rather than anything specific to Laudna. But it did affect Laudna most of all. When he realized just how badly his taking up Otohan’s sword hurt Laudna, he vehemently threw it away—but not before he’d spent quite a while defending his right to bear it. Things had to really go south for him to stop and consider her experience. He loves Laudna, but he does not intuitively get her, and—even in better circumstances—he’s not always very good at stepping outside himself to try.

I thought it was interesting that Laudna wanted Orym specifically to be the one to kill her should the need arise. Obviously, this is most directly attributable to his status as the party member who “always does what’s right,” and on a secondary level it represents a meaningful shift in her relationship with Imogen: in episode 77, she’d asked Imogen to be the one to “make the right choice” if need be, but I think she now understands how impossible and torturous a request that is. Orym, though—Orym would be able to do it.

And he would. Not because he’s the infallible pillar of morality that the party thinks he is (which after all implies that killing Laudna to kill Delilah is the definitive “right” choice—something far more debatable than Laudna believes). Not just because he’s a soldier who follows orders even if they tear him apart inside. But because he’s able to see her as something other than herself. She’s his friend, but on some level, she’s still also the worst thing that ever happened to her. We even see this in the Delaudna battle itself—when he entreats Laudna to hear him and resurface, it’s by telling her that she’s suffered enough.

And for Laudna, being the worst thing that’s ever happened to her doesn’t mean being a symbol of someone else’s collateral damage. It means dying, and it means waking up with Delilah in her head. She thinks of herself as a person carrying around a monster, or on her worst days as inextricable from that monster or even as a monster herself. So if she senses that Orym can see her as something other than herself, surely he’s capable of seeing that, right?

Whether or not that’s true is debatable, and probably the subject of its own post. What’s important here is that Laudna knows Orym loves her but stands at a distance from her. That he’s able to see her as something other than a person in a way that Imogen never could. And whether that thing is a monster or a symbol of pain, that he sees her as something that has suffered enough to, if not kill out of righteousness, at least mercy kill.

So she lands on this. Surely he’ll do the right thing. He won’t want to. It might keep him up at night. But he will.

[stevesbipanic]

@steddiemas Day 22: Santa Shenanigans

Steve was going to kill Robin.

Well, not really because he doesn't think he'd survive more than a couple days without her. But he'd certainly be giving her the stink eye next shift for suggesting a secret Santa between the older ones of the party.

"We just rog it so that I get Vickie and she'll fall madly in love with me, it's a perfect plan Steve!"

To her credit it was an ok plan.

"Last week you spent an hour bemoaning the fact that she smiled at a boy."

"But yesterday she spent two hours studying with me in the library!"

Steve rolled his eyes at her shenanigans but agreed nonetheless. They drew names the next time they had all gone out for burgers at the diner. Steve tried not to make it obvious when he saw who his name was. Eddie.

Steve wasn't disappointed, no, far from it, he'd been hiding a crush on the older boy for a few months now, let's just say Eddie spent a lot of time by Steve's pool last summer. But now he felt the pressure to get him the perfect gift. The plan hadn't even worked for Robin.

"I got Argyle! Now how will I win her heart."

"Could always plant some mistletoe."

"You're a genius! Who'd you get."

"It's Secret Santa, Rob's, it's meant to be secret."

"Boo you're no fun, bet it's me."

It took Steve weeks to finish his gift for Eddie and Steve found himself hastily wrapping it the morning of their little Christmas party, grateful that Robin had thought of the plan well in advance otherwise he'd have never finished.

Steve greeted everyone and watched as they placed their secret Santa gifts under the tree. They ate, laughed and picked a Christmas movie to watch after presents. One by one they opened their gifts.

Nancy got Vickie some water colour paints.

Argyle got Jonathan rolls of fresh film.

Jonathan got Nancy some new notepads with larger covers.

Robin got Argyle a big bright tie dye shirt with Groovy printed on the front, he quickly put it over the sweater he was already wearing.

Vickie turned to Robin and Steve quickly saw her cheeks start to redden. She passed her the gift and Robin unwrapped a bag full of pins and badges.

"I've been collecting them for a few weeks for you from around town and around where I went to visit my grandma, thought your work vest needed some more fun ones."

Robin grinned widely at Vickie, the effort making a big impact on her. Steve knew he'd be hearing about it for weeks but he hoped the mistletoe in the kitchen sped things along.

Steve was about to give Eddie his gift when he realised that this meant Eddie also got him for Secret Santa. He turned to the metalhead to find him already shyly holding out a gift.

"It's not much but I hope you like it, Stevie."

Steve unwrapped the small package to find a collection of mixtapes inside, Eddie's handwriting clearly scribbled on the side.

"I started making a mixtape of songs that made me think of you but U ran out of room on the first one and might've gotten carried away," he said shyly scratching his neck.

Steve glanced over the names of the songs and it was clear that the majority of them certainly wouldn't remind someone of their dear platonic friend. Steve smiled softly at him and passed him his gift.

"I think I know what you mean."

Eddie slightly confused at the statement unwrapped the gift, his mouth forming a small o looking inside. He took out the book, a worn copy of The Hobbit that Steve had thrifted as soon as he knew Eddie was his secret Santa.

"Stevie, you know I've got this one, it's my favourite," he said slightly awkwardly.

"Look inside."

Eddie slowly opened the book to see small dribbles of ink between the words. The handwriting clearly Steve's. As he flicked through he saw Steve's thoughts spilling into almost every page.

"It's your favourite and you're always wanting me to read it so I did, I thought it'd be fun if you saw exactly what I thought of it."

Eddie's eyes caught on one of the words near the end, a small red shape next to them, yeah, he thinks he and Steve are on the same page, but he'd wait until the end, no spoilers early after all.

"I love it, Stevie, thank you."

As Steve sat curled up next to Eddie on the couch watching the film he too had the same thought, definitely on the same page.

Ao3

[safination]

For Your Heart

The End

|Masterlist|

|Part 1: The Beginning| |Part 2: The Middle | |Part 4: The New Beginning[Coming Soon!]|

Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Tags/ Warning: SFW. fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, Human! Alastor, Human! Reader, tooth-rooting fluff, Husband! Alastor, Angst Harana – a traditional form of courtship done during the night where men will go to someone’s window with an instrument, usually a guitar, along with some of his friends to sing. TLDR: Sometimes all you need is a guitar and a song to catch hearts…and well, Alastor has a guitar and a voice perfect for singing. The beginning, the middle, the end, and the new beginning with a guitar and a song (feat. Ben&Ben)

I did not forget about this, no matter what anyone says. Part 3 of our delulu Harana series. Also, this happens to be a song that's in English. So non-Filipinos can enjoy and understand the lyrics. And you guys should go try it because Ben&Ben is so goated. This can be read as a stand-alone.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

Monster.

Devil.

Murderer.

“This is a bit too cruel—Isn’t it love?”

Paint drips, and it drips, and it drips, and it drips. Each word embedded with the grief of the people. Each word embedded with the grief of a mother, a father, a daughter, a son, a friend. It trickles down and down and down the smooth, stone slab, and straight into the grief of a widow.

“Someone must really hate you to buy paint,” you say to a love that can no longer respond. “One can cost more than it should! It seems you’ve really managed to anger quite a number of people.”

There’s a bucket and a brush, and that’s all the kindness the world is willing to give. It’s something, at least.

There’s no one to question your reason, yet with the guitar raised above your head, you still respond, “I’ve come for your heart.”

It starts with a simple and soft strum of the guitar. Imprints of the string mark your reddening fingers as you awkwardly play the correct cords. The humming starts with a shy tune, until you find the courage to fulfill your promise to sing just for Alastor.

Only for Alastor.

“Why do comets come my way if they were only meant to pass?” It wasn’t easy to learn this song, especially when the strings dig into your untrained and wounded fingers, and chafes the skin right off your hands. Still, you continue. “Why did your love fill my days if it was never meant to last? . . . Was it never meant to last?”

Each chord hurts . . . but . . . but Alastor’s once warm fingers almost wrap around yours. You need to keep going. You need to keep chasing. You need to keep playing. Even if the bandages around your fingers start to rip.

Are you smiling?

It seems you are.  Alastor would be proud to see such a thing.

“You were my brightest comet.” You sing into the air, even if your only listener lays several feet down the grass. Stopping is not an option.  “Will this be just another memory? An old page, with letters faded out.”

Yesterday’s bouquet . . .

Footprints stain the petals, leaving the colors dull and wilted. Leaves were ripped and torn from its stem, and it scattered all over the dying and wilted grass. A gust of wind, and the ruined flowers blow around you and into the flush grass of other people. There’s a metaphor there somewhere. Alastor could find it.

“Set me free from momentary shooting stars. When they leave, they leave you in the dark.”

How dare he get caught, honestly. How dare he get himself killed. How dare he steal your heart.

Sweet words . . . sweet songs. These are all things Alastor promises you, and these are the very promises he’s breaking. Still, it doesn’t stop you from strumming your fingers across the strings. Each pluck of your fingers opens the unhealed wounds even further.

And finally, the warmth of Alastor returns. The memories of how Alastor wraps his fingers around your own, correcting the positions on the string until you’re playing the correct cords.

He’s smiling at you again. It’s so wide and happy that the edges of his lips reach all the way up his eyes.

You smile back at the embers of what’s no longer there.

The tips of his fingers will play with your own, and his rough and calloused hands from years of practice will swipe across until he finally intertwines your hands. Suddenly, learning the guitar isn’t so important anymore, not when he holds you oh, so, softly.

“They come . . .” Your voice breaks, and the song stops with a halt.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The wrappings around your fingers stain red. You watch as patches of blood spread all around your raw fingers.

Once more, you place your hands back across the strings. Stopping is not an option. Not when he’s finally holding you with the softest of touches. The smallest of smiles. It’s nothing compared to the ones Alastor hangs on your face . . . still, it’s something.

You take a deep breath and continue. “…Then end.”

Alastor places a hand on your face, swiping his thumb up and down. It forces you to lean into the embers of his touch.

“What should I say, dear, for you to remain here?”

The strumming of your fingers keeps going, never once stopping its feverish pace. The music captures you in a frenzy, and you sing, filled to the brim with the ruins of your love.

“And though these nights are turning gray. Still, I am thankful for what's passed. I know there may come a day when I will finally understand . . . that it was never meant to last” You lean your head across the headstone. “Was it never meant to last?”

It’s love.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

And all that love gathers into the corner of your fingers, and it drips, and it drips, and it drips.

♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ

[ieiwi]

Still working on my drawings for yesterday and today but man drawing Tara and thinking about the comments Gale makes about her not liking Gale "riding on Mystras coattails" like

It makes me think about what Tara and Morena's opinions were when Mystra came into Gale's life. I am almost positive Tara *had* to be around when Gale first met Mystra in person, given how young he implies he was when he first summoned her. So regardless of how old you figure Gale was when he first met Mystra (I figure between 17-20, because tbh I dont trust that Larian didnt think about the whole "Mystra's only been back for 13 years thing) they had to have thoughts. They had to be excited at first, I mean Tara is a Wizard herself and Waterdeep is such a magically inclined city I wouldn't be surprised if Morena had some level of magical ability. Hell, I think Mystra has a fairly large presence in Waterdeep based on the lore I have read here and there about it. Morena very well could have worshiped Mystra in her own right. Either way, having a goddess notice your son would have to be an exciting moment. Until its not. I wonder if they noticed things about the way Gale talked about her. Maybe they saw the writing on the wall before the relationship happened. If you do subscribe to the idea that Gale was younger when he met Mystra then *god* the fear. The dread of seeing this relationship develop with no way of stopping it because, well, she's a *goddess*. The idea of watching that train wreck in slow motion, because that transition from teacher to muse to lover likely didnt happen overnight, until finally the inevitable happens. And it (almost literally) blows up in his face. Based on the banter with Karlach that "What (Gale's Mother) doesn't know wont kill her...at least from this distance" definitely makes me think she doesn't know exactly what happened with the orb - she probably only knows what the general population like Lorroikan knows, that he was a chosen and her lover and was rejected and stripped of his status.

So I imagine to her the perspective is just heartbroken and shuts himself away, magically warding his tower against all people, likely (probably especially) her included; not knowing its for her safety, just watching her son be eaten alive by what she probably only knows as grief and a broken heart, which yeah there is, but also so much more. God Gale's family though.