#he is like down below on the list on such muses

[eliteseven]

BG3 Drabble Request: Drunk Tav

Pairing: Shadowheart x (named)F!Tav

Summary: After drinking with (and defeating) Thisobald Thorm, an inebriated Tav returns to camp and shares a few intimate moments with Shadowheart as she cares for her.

Tags: Romance, fluff, humor, angst

Words: 4.7k

Original request below:

For NLS, I've always been impressed with Tav being able to hold her alcohol when drinking with Thisobald (If you pass the checks) but what If she got him but got absolutely smashed in the process then started to have a fun and honest conversation with Shadowheart or your take on a very drunk Tav around Last Light Inn; just something that occurs to me every time I go through this part of the game. Thanks ?

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“Easy, soldier.” Karlach gently lets Tav down from where she’s supporting her shoulder, allowing her to walk on her own fully. 

They’ve just made it back to camp after a run in with none other than Thisobald Thorm, in the depths of the Waning Moon brewery. 

In fairness, Serena held her own. 

Really.

She’s no stranger to drinking, and while imbibing is certainly part of any seasoned soldier’s skillset, that foul liquid has finally taken effect, with considerable delay. 

Drinking an undead entity to death is certainly a new victory that she can add to her ever growing list of oddities masked as accomplishments. 

It kicked in about two thirds of the walk to camp, to be exact, when Serena began to sway with each and every step forward.

Karlach, bless her, noticed immediately- it was hard not to, when Serena nearly walked right into her chest while trying to keep their line single file. 

“M’fine.” Serena hums happily as she claps her hands together rather slowly, and then pats Karlach on the back several times, for her efforts. “Thankyou, Karlach.” She slurs slightly, and covers her mouth before she hiccups. 

Karlach grins. “Any time. Looks like it’s just getting to the good part.” She advises. “Any grand plans for the evening, Tav?” 

Serena looks deep in thought for a moment, and Karlach smirks, wondering just what her response will be. 

After a passing minute, Karlach realizes that there won’t be a response- Serena’s already dazed out, in the direction of a purple and black tent, with gold embroidery. 

Karlach’s smirk only deepens. “....I have a feeling I already know.”

“Yes, let Shadowheart deal with her nonsense.” Astarion sniffs from behind them as he does away with his armor.

“Heart.” Serena smiles at the name, murmuring it to herself as she sets off mindlessly towards the tent, forgetting entirely about Karlach, Astarion, Thisobald Thorm, foul liquor, and most anything else. 

“Should we stop her?” Wyll muses from somewhere behind Serena, slowly taking off his armor piece by piece, as well. 

“...nah.” Karlach shrugs. “What’s the worst that could happen?” 

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Serena falls into Shadowheart’s tent. 

She doesn’t intend to- it’s really more of a stumble, anyway, but she ends up going right through the flaps and very luckily- into Shadowheart’s lap. 

“What in the nine hells do you think you’re- Tav?” Shadowheart blinks as she freezes, prayers interrupted, knelt in the middle of her tent, and now supporting the weight of her…person.

(She and Serena haven’t exactly solidified their relationship, Lady Shar wouldn’t approve, but it’s no secret the two are entirely enamored with each other). 

“Hello, Heart.” Serena mumbles the words rather gracelessly, but incredibly fondly, and she gathers herself with less elegance than she normally would as she takes her weight off her.  

“And just where have you been?” Shadowheart lifts a manicured brow to accent the inquiry. “You…what’s that smell?” 

“Beer…arguably. And innards...” Serena informs her, tilting her head in a curious fashion, similar to the way Scratch does. The slow flutter of her lashes as she takes in Shadowheart’s face in the candlelight says it all: Serena is inebriated. 

And not with any old beer, by the looks of it. 

“...Should I even ask how? Or why, for that matter?” Shadowheart pinches the bridge of her nose as Serena studies her lips intently, her question nearly forgotten. 

“Thiso-”, hiccup, “-bald Thorm. Then he perished.” Serena adds with a frown. “...All over me.” She pouts, as if it’s simply a minor inconvenience, and she isn’t wearing his remains.

Shadowheart just blinks. 

After all, why would she expect anything even resembling normalcy, with this group? 

“...Naturally.” Shadowheart mumbles finally, taking in Serena’s state. “You need to bathe, Tav.” 

“...Naturally.” Serena mocks, slowly turning the word over a clumsy tongue, and Shadowheart doesn’t know why, but it’s curious, seeing her so…helpless. Everything seems to amuse her, and she bears none of the usual anxiety she normally does in such close proximity to Shadowheart. 

“Do the others know you’re…” Shadowheart waves her hand, narrowing her eyes. Someone had to have brought her back to camp; she hardly looks capable of navigating in her state. 

“Yes! …Karlach carried me.” Serena grins. “So warm.” her head lolls backwards as she stares at the dark peak of the tent, mind clearly drifting elsewhere. 

“I can imagine.” Shadowheart snorts. “I’ve feigned an injury or two for a ride on those shoulders.” 

“And I pretend to have injuries so you’ll touch me.” Serena admits with a snort of laughter; she finds this endlessly amusing once more, and she giggles softly. 

“Oh.”

Shadowheart freezes; she’s unsure which to address first- Serena’s egregious statement about feigning injury for more of her touch (egregious only because she and Shadowheart have been sharing a bedroll more often than not), or the fact that Serena’s giggle is so sweet and innocent, and she’s never heard it before. 

Serena is clearly a happy drunk, and Shadowheart finds the corner of her lip twitching upwards anyway, despite the state she finds her lover in. 

Serena looks younger, somehow, smiling to herself in the darkness. The furrow lines on her brow are not present, nor the lines that set in when she scowls from the near constant stress of shouldering the group’s various strifes. 

She looks positively unbothered by her own admission, though Shadowheart just knows she’ll be mortified if she remembers any of this tomorrow. 

“And you came to me?” Shadowheart murmurs, this time, there is less edge to her tone. 

“Well…you didn’t accompany us today.” Serena frowns. “You haven’t, lately. It’s awful. Gale doesn’t look nearly as pretty in armor.” It sounds like a cute quip, but Serena’s gaze belies the fact that she’s being deadly serious.

Shadowheart snorts out a laugh, caught off-guard. Her cheeks burn with a blush that Tav cannot see, and she’s all the happier for it. “Is that all you get from my company?” Her tone is airy, teasing and light. 

Serena frowns at the statement. She opens her mouth to protest vehemently, but hiccups again, sighing deeply. 

“...Charming.” Shadowheart deadpans. 

“You never come anymore.” Serena sighs, rubbing her temples as if she’s dealing with a matter of life and death. 

“My lady demands that I focus my efforts on-” 

“-Ah, yes, your lady…” Serena drawls, and it’s abundantly clear she’s mocking Shadowheart. 

Shadowheart scowls at the obvious show of heresy and disrespect. Serena usually has more tact, when referring to Lady Shar in any capacity in front of Shadowheart. 

“Watch yourself.” Shadowheart grits. “Just because we’ve built a rapport, it doesn’t mean I’ll take lightly to your transgressions.” 

Serena blinks, and Shadowheart realizes she’s not at all present. Shadowheart sighs; it isn’t worth the fight- not when Serena hasn’t an inkling of what she’s saying. She should know better than to argue with someone so clearly intoxicated. 

“I’ve missed you, that's all.” Serena mumbles, more in the way of a dejected child than a lover scorned, and Shadowheart’s lip trembles slightly at the honest admission. 

She’s missed Tav, too.

She can’t succumb to her feelings- she can’t let Serena crumble walls she’s put up for the better part of her training. 

So Shadowheart does what she does best, and deflects Serena’s attention away from any hope of having a truly intimate conversation. 

“And here I thought soldiers could drink with the best of us.” Shadowheart remarks dryly instead, despite how her heart still pounds at Serena’s admission. 

Serena shrugs helplessly. “I think…” She drawls, licking her lips. “I think…I drank poison.” She tastes the words on her tongue, shaking her head. “It glowed.” she smiles at the word, remembering the way the residue would shine off the side of the tankard. 

“...just what we needed.” Shadowheart mutters, and she swears, she’ll have words with whoever allowed Serena to undergo such an idiotic series of events. They need her at her best, not slurring over every word and laughing at nothing at all. “Now, go and bathe.” She demands, thrusting a spare cloth and towel into Serena’s hands from her storage trunk. 

“...It’s cold.” Serena whimpers, and Shadowheart is inclined to agree; it’s freezing, and the state of the Shadow-Cursed Lands does little to help the fact, devoid of light and wrapped in a never-ending blanket of night as it is. 

“You’ve Thorm-innards on you.” Shadowheart points out, lip curling in disgust. 

Serena laughs, a pretty, melodic sound that has Shadowheart reeling for a few seconds afterwards. 

Shadowheart’s eyes narrow and she rests a hand on her hip. “You find this funny?”

Serena only laughs harder, dabbing at a tear forming in the corner of her eye, swaying slightly in her laughter. “Yes!” She heaves. “I even wore my best oils for you, this morning.” She throws her hands up at the hilarity of it all- but in truth, she chooses everything based on Shadowheart’s reactions. “And now…” She looks at the mess upon her armor and sighs, letting out a few errant laughs, still. “Blood. As usual. It’s always blood.”

Shadowheart has often secretly admired Serena’s meticulous attention to her appearance. 

Her clothing (what she can scrummage from their travels, at any rate), her hair, down to which scented oil she uses after bathing- (Shadowheart prefers the jasmine scented vial, she’s noticed). 

She tries, despite the mess they find themselves in the middle of, to impress Shadowheart. 

Shadowheart doesn’t know whether it’s sweet or foolish, but she finds her heart tripping over itself at the gesture alone. 

She wonders if she was ever the object of someone’s affections like this- let alone someone so sweet. If she was, she certainly can’t remember them now. 

“...Perhaps I can help you clean up.” Shadowheart murmurs gently. She glances at Serena’s elated gaze, and shakes her head. “-after all, I wouldn’t want you to drown.” 

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They find themselves in a secluded corner of camp, where the sandy banks meet the surrounding lake, and its placid sheet of darkness. There are no stars in the evening sky- the moon does not grace them with its glassy reflection above the still water. 

Shadowheart wonders why the darkness does not calm her as it should- Shar gives her a painful lashing for the thought, and she quickly drops it. 

She should be at home here in the constant night, comfortable in the depths of the murky black water. 

Shadowheart seats herself atop a rock, a safe distance away from the water. She much prefers bathing beneath the waterfall, on solid land. The shore steeply declines after several steps, and her fear of swimming prevents her from taking that risk. 

Serena, however, doesn’t seem to mind as she strips away the last of her tainted clothes, shivering in the relative darkness. 

About mid-way through removing her tunic, she pauses, glancing at Shadowheart bashfully, as if suddenly remembering her presence. 

“...Go on, then.” Shadowheart nudges her with a few soft words. 

Still, her breath catches in her throat when her eyes fall upon Serena’s bare and muscled back, bearing several scars from her time in Cormyr’s military. Shadowheart’s eyes drop to a shapely rear as Serena nearly trips over herself trying to take off her trousers and remaining undergarments. 

Shadowheart has to give her credit; she hadn’t realized how poised Serena typically is. She carries herself with all the regality one might come to expect from a former Patriar, but with none of the entitlement, stripped away from her time at war. 

Drunk Serena carries none of these qualities; Shadowheart doesn’t know why, but she finds it strangely endearing. 

“You’re staring.” Serena slurs slightly. 

Shadowheart lifts a brow. So she still has some of her wits about her. 

“You’re shivering.” Shadowheart counters.

"...do you like what you-"

“Yes." Shadowheart pinches the bridge of her nose, hoping it will finally spur her into action. "Now, please, get in the water before you fall ill and I have to tend to that, as well."  

Serena obliges, stepping into the water and gasping as she lowers her body beneath the surface. 

Shadowheart watches with a keen eye; if Serena disappears beneath the surface, they both might meet the end of their journey prematurely. 

She realizes now that she might not have been the wisest option to watch over Serena in this state, in a body of water no less. 

But Serena trusts her implicitly; she came directly to her, despite being at odds with Shadowheart about her faith. Serena, who has carried her from the heat of battle with a goblin’s arrow protruding from her back. Serena, who brings her night orchids in the cover of darkness because Shadowheart refuses to entertain her affections in front of the others, despite how obvious it’s become to everyone near. 

Serena is alone, just as Shadowheart is alone; her closest kin is her mother, way off in the kingdom of Cormyr. Shadowheart has the cloister to return to, eventually. Serena will find herself alone still in Baldur’s Gate, should they ever make it to their final destination. 

Shadowheart tries to swallow the feeling down; Serena is temporary. 

Lady Shar is permanent. 

“Here.” Shadowheart beckons her forth, tilting her head curiously at the way Serena covers her chest with her folded arms, shivering still. “I’ve already seen you, Tav.” She snorts in amusement. 

Yes, she and Serena have never had sex, but their shared intimacy is nothing to scoff at. They’ve bathed together, healed and tended to each other, and have pressed gentle kisses to bare skin. They’ve slept together- in the truest sense of the word, waking in each other’s arms. 

“Oh.” Serena seems to remember these moments, and a wicked blush sets in on her cheeks. “Right.” She drops her hands awkwardly to her sides, and Shadowheart’s breath catches in her throat at the sight of her bare chest, stiff from the icy water. 

Just because she’s seen the soldier and felt her every now and again, it doesn’t mean she can ever grow accustomed to how breathtaking she is. 

“Uh-uh.” Shadowheart slaps her hand away as she reaches for the soap. “You want this done quickly? Allow me.” 

Serena drops her hands almost at an almost comical speed, and Shadowheart cannot hold back her soft laughter. 

Serena’s eyes go wide at the sound, and she smiles, rather stupidly, but Shadowheart’s chest flutters violently all the same. She comes to stand in between Shadowheart’s dangling legs as Shadowheart’s fingers run through her hair, scratching softly at her scalp. 

Serena’s eyes close, and when a sound akin to a purr is drawn from her lips, Shadowheart is relieved that she cannot see her smile, wide as it is. Serena’s fingertips slowly come up to rest on Shadowheart’s thighs, and before Shadowheart can berate her for her wet touch, she realizes Serena is attempting to steady her. 

It’s all the more endearing when Shadowheart realizes that she is the one swaying, but she reaches for Shadowheart, hoping to calm her by the water’s edge, so aware of her fear of swimming. 

A grin finds its way to Shadowheart’s lips, and she shakes her head at the sorry sight before her. 

“This…” Serena slurs, never opening her eyes. “...is nice.” She whispers gently, and Shadowheart sighs, wondering for just a moment what a shared domestic life might look like, between them. 

Shared baths, shared bedrolls- no, a bed- making meals together, reading awful novels aloud together, taking long walks in lands that are not cursed by the shadows. 

She hisses as burning hot pain shoots along her arm, and she recoils sharply. 

Serena’s eyes open, and even in her slow and addled state, a frown begins to bloom on full lips as her eyes find Shadowheart’s wound, flaring with purple light. 

Shadowheart glances away, fumbling instead for a cloth to busy her aching hand. 

Serena manages to finish bathing without sinking to the depths of the lake. 

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“-and you let her?” Shadowheart folds her arms as she eyes Astarion, waiting outside her own tent as Serena uses it to change into her camp clothing, now bathed and still disoriented. 

“Well, it was either drinking or stabbing.” Astarion shrugs. “Seemed simple enough, really.” 

“-Stabbing.” Lae’zel chimes in from across camp, where she sharpens her sword and smirks proudly at her noise pollution. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Lae’zel is right.” Shadowheart snaps. “That would have been the correct decision.” 

“According to whom?” Astarion snorts, affronted. “We managed to kill the…ah…fellow…all by his own concoction.” Astarion sniffs. “...Which smelled foul, by the way.” 

“I’m aware.” Shadowheart retorts.

“And she volunteered-” 

“She always does!” Shadowheart’s eyes narrow. “It’s Tav, she has no sense of self preservation-” 

“-Well then perhaps you ought to ask your dear Lady for permission to come, next time.” Astarion quips. “Might be more useful than all those prayers.” 

“You know nothing of faith, Astarion-” 

“Shhhh.” Serena emerges slowly from Shadowheart’s tent- hair wet, not a speck of dust or dirt on her, in her fresh camp clothing. “My head….” She groans. 

“How are you faring, Tav?” Wyll asks from his tent, staying clear of Shadowheart’s blazing path of destruction.

Serena’s eyes narrow, and she thinks for a moment, blinking slowly. “If…the inn is right there…” Serena points to the silhouette of the Last Light Inn in the distant fog. “Why…do we sleep…here?” She waves around.

Wyll opens his mouth to respond, but Karlach barks out a laugh that draws their attention. “…she’s not wrong.” Karlach points out mildly. “Might’ve taken her a tenday to get the sentence out, though. Whatever you drank, soldier, it did something to you.”

Serena’s stomach grumbles loudly and she stares at it in clear offense.

“We’ll finish this later.” Shadowheart snaps in Astarion’s general direction, though he’s already retired into his tent for the evening. 

“I await your return with bated breath.” Astarion retorts lazily. 

“You.” Shadowheart turns to Serena, hands on her hips. “You need to eat.” 

“I do?” Serena looks bewildered, and Shadowheart sighs, taking her hand and tugging her along towards the campfire, where Gale is hard at work preparing supper. 

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“...Won’t you eat?” 

“Tav, I told you, I’ve already eaten.” Shadowheart lets out a puff of laughter in quiet exasperation. It’s the third time she’s offered since sitting atop the log they occupy, a stone’s throw from the others and far enough away that Shadowheart cannot chew them out for allowing Serena to end up in such a state. 

“Oh.” Serena glances at the bowl of stew as if it offends her. “ s’not very good.” She finally mumbles. 

Shadowheart notes how candid Serena is when she’s drunk; she had no idea how often Serena bites her tongue.

“Accustomed to grand feasts in your grand dining hall?” Shadowheart teases gently.

“…yes.” Serena shrugs casually, completely missing the dig.

“I’ll be sure to extend your sincere thanks to Gale.” Shadowheart deadpans. “How are you feeling?” 

“Nervous.” 

“Whatever for?” Shadowheart scoffs. “…truly, it can’t be anything worse than what you’ve endured today.” 

“For...whatever comes next.” Serena admits with a simple shrug, sighing deeply as she slides off the log and slumps against it instead, head resting by Shadowheart’s knees. 

It’s a simple statement- and almost doesn’t seem at all profound, until Shadowheart realizes the anxiety brewing in Serena’s chest is real. It is the same anxiety that finds her in her hours of sobriety, without a drop of liquor in her, Thorm-brewed or otherwise. 

It is the same pervasive anxiety that threatens to taint and darken all of Shadowheart’s thoughts- what will become of them? 

How much more can they endure, suspended in uncertainty as they are? 

Serena does not often give voice to her concerns- she buries them deep within herself. She knows the group looks to her to be the voice of reason and logic- for reasons unknown to her entirely. 

Shadowheart knows this burden of isolation; at least she has her goddess. 

Serena has sworn herself to no deity; she faces her thoughts alone.

“Why don’t we discuss something else?” Shadowheart murmurs instead, resting a gentle hand on Serena’s shoulder. 

“Hmm…” Serena rests her head backwards against the log as she sighs, and Shadowheart eyes the scar on her lip intently. Perhaps, had she known her then, when this wound was first inflicted, she could have prevented such scarring with a healing touch…

…Though she’s not at all opposed to the slightly rugged look it gives her. 

“...Are you excited? To be going home?”  Serena muses aloud. 

“The cloister, you mean?” Shadowheart asks with a furrowed brow. 

It’s strange to think of the cloister as home. Shadowheart can hardly remember most of her time there, save for her training.

“Mmm.” Serena’s confirmation is more of a hum, than anything else. 

“I am…eager to serve my Lady.” Shadowheart answers quietly. “In any way she requires of me.” 

“...don’t wish to hear of your Lady.” Serena snorts. 

Shadowheart scowls. “Well then you should-” 

“-you, Heart.” Serena prods, and her voice is so tired, so innocent, that Shadowheart’s ire melts away at the sound. “...I want…to hear more about you.”

Shadowheart sighs, and Serena’s request aches deep within her very soul. “I’ve told you all I can remember.” she reiterates. 

This is hardly the first time Serena has taken a vested interest in learning more about her; she takes in every detail with an amount of care that’s difficult to fathom. 

Shadowheart knows the wisdom of Lady Shar, now- one long gaze into those amber eyes, and she would tell Serena everything, if she could. 

Her Lady protects her, even now. 

“...Fine.” Serena shrugs and drawls. “...what about…something you don’t remember, then?”

Shadowheart rolls her eyes at her logic, but smiles slightly all the same. She’s particularly fond of this idiot, for some reason.

“I…don’t know anything else about myself.” Shadowheart answers softly. “It is Lady Shar’s will that I keep the cloister’s secrets safe, this way.” 

“I can tell you everything about yourself.” Serena assures her, drawing the words out lazily. It’s funny to hear her usually posh patriar accent stretched thin across her own words. She seems assured, confident in her knowledge of all things Shadowheart. It’s more endearing than it is haughty, and Shadowheart takes the bait.

“Oh, can you?” Shadowheart lifts a brow in curiosity. 

This, she has to hear. 

“Your favorite color is green-” 

“It’s black.” Shadowheart scoffs. “Like the night. If you’re going to be a bold drunk, be an accurate one.” 

“...if you insist.” Serena slurs and laughs at her, the nerve of her. She doesn’t believe a word out of Shadowheart’s mouth. 

“Is that it, then?” 

“You love…plants.” 

“Riveting.” 

“-And you’re upset because Karlach broke your watering vases.” 

“This only proves that you have eyes.” Shadowheart points out dryly. “And thank you for reminding me.” 

“You enjoy reading…romantic lit..” another hiccup, “...literature.” 

Shadowheart’s cheeks burn. “As does Wyll. It’s called having taste.”

“...You like animals…” 

“I tolerate them.” Shadowheart rolls her eyes. 

“With kisses.” Serena grins to herself. Like you to-” hiccup “-lerate me.” 

Shadowheart isn’t certain whether to feel insulted or endeared. She settles on the former, though the latter seems to bleed through her tone, anyway. “...Yes, exactly like that.” she scoffs. 

“and…and...you’resokind…” Serena smiles as she slurs the words together. “...even though you pretend to be cross. Often. ” 

“I’m not pretending.” Shadowheart scowls once more, though Serena’s words seem to twinkle in her conscience like a bright, guiding star, illuminating the surrounding darkness. 

“That scowl.” Serena whispers, glancing up at her in awe, favorably smiling at the lines forming between the crease in her brow.  

Gods, the way she looks at Shadowheart, even now.

“These aren’t…are you quite finished?” Shadowheart puts a stop to her before Serena’s words can unravel her any more than they already have. 

Serena is disarming; it’s so easy to think of her as a friend…as more than a friend…

Lady Shar reminds Shadowheart that she hasn’t the vacancy in her heart for such trifles, with a blunt shock to the hand, causing Shadowheart to seize up in pain. 

This time, Serena sits on her knees, frowning as she reaches for Shadowheart’s hand. Shadowheart does not recoil this time; she can hardly find the strength. 

Whatever set Lady Shar off, it has her livid, apparently. 

“...You’re always in pain.” Serena remarks softly at first, and before Shadowheart can retort, she realizes it’s just another one of the facts about herself that Serena is reciting to her. 

“Pain makes us stronger.” Shadowheart recites on pure instinct, through gritted teeth. 

“...Then...What does love do?” Serena asks, eyes wide, head tilted curiously like damn Scratch and Shadowheart feels her chest heave violently at the sight. 

You tell me.

“It’ll pass.” Shadowheart waves her off- her skin is hot where Serena holds her hand, absently rubbing a thumb over her wound, soothing away shocks of pain with a gentle touch. 

Shadowheart isn’t even certain Serena knows what she’s doing, herself- it is her instinct to hold Shadowheart, to comfort her. 

It always works, even now. 

The pain in Shadowheart’s arm slowly recedes to just her hand, and eventually, nothing at all. Serena utters not a single word during this process, and Shadowheart realizes, with a sinking feeling in her chest, that Serena would take her pain and endure it herself, had she the opportunity. 

Love.

The word rattles around Shadowheart’s mind, and terrifies her further- her lungs constrict, her heart thumps against her ribcage, all in vain as it attempts to leap out of her chest and embrace Serena. 

Serena remains with her, close, on her knees holding Shadowheart’s hand, wordlessly. 

If, eventually, she grows tired and comes to rest her head atop Shadowheart’s lap, Shadowheart does not protest at all.  

Shadowheart cards her fingers absently through her lover’s loose waves, increasingly guilty with each touch and yet- unable to pull away. 

Serena’s eyes close, and Shadowheart never ceases her soothing touch, gazing upon Serena’s tired form, entirely at her mercy. 

Her mercy. 

Serena came to camp and fell at her feet, knowing even in the sorry state she was in, that Shadowheart would be there to put her back together. 

Their bond is undeniable; Serena is her closest confidant, her friend, her lover. 

It cannot be, not when she’s come so close to fulfilling her Lady’s vision for her. 

But Shadowheart cannot deny her heart any longer; the aches and pains of pretending she is fine, when in truth, she is terrified, have caught up with her. 

Shadowheart allows herself a moment of weakness, as she watches Serena slowly nod off, ever warm and safe with her head in Shadowheart’s lap. 

If she hears her now, at the very least, she certainly won’t remember, come tomorrow. 

And so Shadowheart indulges. 

Just this once. 

“...I know one fact about myself.” Shadowheart murmurs, drawing her fingers through long, dark strands of hair that smell delightfully of jasmine oil and soap. “I…think I’ve fallen in love.” Shadowheart whispers, and the tears that form in the corner of her eyes slowly slip down one by one, leaving a wet trail upon her cheek. “And it’s going to hurt terribly when I have to leave you behind.” she admits, her very being uneasy at such an admission. 

Serena does not stir; she smiles peacefully in her slumber atop Shadowheart’s lap. 

Shadowheart tries not to memorize the sight that makes her heart quiver with such affection; it will be easier to forget her, this way. 

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The following morning brings a sense of tranquility to camp. 

Morning is perhaps too generous a word for the time; there is no daylight to denote such a change, anyway. 

Shadowheart half expects to find Serena still mostly unconscious in her tent; to her surprise, she hears Serena’s voice along with the others before she can even step out of her tent. 

Serena sounds well enough; her voice has returned to its normal cadence, and she laughs aloud at something Wyll has told her, echoing across camp. 

Warmth blossoms in Shadowheart’s chest at the sound; the warmth is rapidly replaced by an icy feeling instead, when she remembers her plight. 

She’d led Serena to her tent, left her with a kiss pressed to her forehead- carefully out of sight of the others, of course, and settled back into her own tent to repent. 

Her night was a litany of prayers in the name of Lady Shar- asking her forgiveness, her acceptance, swearing to write Tav off the very moment she is able. 

She is to be a Dark Justiciar.

Serena is temporary; Serena is an obstacle.

Shadowheart exits her tent with renewed vigor; she will not so much as glance in her direction. She will finally find the courage to properly honor Lady Shar. With last night’s confession, perhaps she can finally begin to correct her course. 

In some way, telling Serena without telling her has done more for Shadowheart than she’d thought possible. Perhaps that was all it was- merely an urge to say something so taboo, so unfathomable, to clear it from her system once and for all. 

Shadowheart does not give Serena, nor anyone else, anything beyond a curt smile and nod as she stretches in front of her tent, facing the day for the first time.

It’s a fairly normal morning; Wyll and Serena keep Gale’s company as he prepares breakfast, Karlach and Lae’zel gather more wood for the fire. 

Serena glances longingly at Shadowheart, as she tends to do, and Shadowheart quickly looks away after a brief nod, hoping she doesn’t look as harrowed as she feels. 

She has to start distancing herself now.

It will be easier to forget her this way.

As Shadowheart averts her gaze, she finds a new vase, filled with water, resting by one of the potted plants beside her tent. 

Her heart catches in her throat. 

[glimpsesofeuterpe]

oh no i remembered about it and now i feel petty x))

[pearlzier]

────⠀ soldier boy has a glasses kink WHO said that

warnings / SMUT ! MDNI. soldier boy. bro hes a warning just, as himself. glasses kink ???. oral(m!recieving). uhhh kinda filthy i gotta say. he cums on reader's glasses + face. dirty talker. degradation? he says whore once. first time writing ben uhhh let me know if u guys like it <3 and if u wanna be on the tag list for uhhh the boys or jensen stuff idek

thank u @theosaurous for gracing our earth with this beautiful hc all creds 4 this thing to them <3 (its been almost a month HELP)

it's humiliating. completely degrading and demeaning and you're lapping it all up even then. the way he holds you so gently but lets the meanest things fall from his lips, his words gruff and gravelly, it makes your head spin. your skin feels hot, your knees digging into the shitty motel rug beneath you as he keeps you on your knees below him. your chest rising and falling in heavy breaths, eyes darting up to him frantically from where you're kneeling. "look at you," he grunts.

the entire reasoning for your position beneath him and status of being gagged by his cock? those glasses of yours. usually you wore contacts, since they were easier for your line of work and simpler to handle everyday. ben had never seen you without contacts before, wearing glasses. he'd be a damn liar if he tried to say that it didn't turn him on so bad to see you with those lenses over your eyes and nose bridge adorned.

"teasing me with those fucking glasses, huh? shoulda' worn 'em earlier, maybe wouldn't have ended up on your knees like a whore for me, huh?" he pats the head of his cock against your lips, grasping the back of your head tightly to push himself between your lips once more. a guttural groan escapes him and he swallows thickly, a low chuckle escaping him too.

"that's it, take that fucking dick. that's it, fuck." the look of your glasses slipping down your nose, too low to actually help you see however perfect for ben to get off on.

you're practically drooling on him, lips stretched around him with every inch he pushes further down your throat. the whimper you let out by the time he's near bottoming out makes him groan, and his grip on the back of your head tightens instinctively. "ben—"

"shh, sh, don't wanna hear a word out of your mouth," his tone is practically a snarl but still soft enough to coax you into listening to him. "just wanna look at you, those glasses, shit," he didn't know he was into glasses, to be honest with you. ben was into everything about you, but this? this new development? yeah, he'd take advantage of it for a long ass time.

"look so good takin' my cock," he muses, thumb stroking over your cheek. it brushes over your lips, soon smearing your saliva over them with another low chuckle. he likes leaving you a mess, not just likes, he loves leaving you a mess like this. "that pretty mouth's great for fillin', ain't it? always chattin' shit, just gotta stuff it full of me." ben knows he can get away with it since your mouth's a little preoccupied with sucking him off.

all you can do, really, is look up at him with wide, watery eyes. your jaw lax with the intrusion of him between your lips, hands grasping loosely at his legs as best as you can to make sure you don't end up falling over.

"a little deeper," growling, he grasps at the back of your head once more and tugs you further along his dick. the gagging sound has him groaning, hips rutting up against your face instinctively afterwards. "suckin' the fuckin' life outta' me," despite how rough he is in practically fucking your face, he's soft, in a way.

this is ben, he isn't exactly all sunshine and rainbows, but he's always in awe of how well you do for him—every single time. and he makes you feel perfect afterwards, he'd rather die than leave you unfulfilled.

"doing so good," he tells you, voice breathy, low with his arousal and how worked up he's getting right now. he swallows thickly, glancing down at you, "feel so fucking good, that mouth, shit.."

"mmh?" you mumble around him, eyes lifting back up to his again as your breathing picks up a little. every little bit of encouragement from him meant a lot, because you knew he meant it. he really does.

"yeah, yeah.." ben's head falls back with a groan, his hips picking up pace and thrusting into your mouth a little more rhythmically now. you can feel he's getting closer now, from how his grip on your head tightens and his sounds become more and more frequent. "you're gonna make me—fuck, fuck, come off for me, there we go, fuckin' warm mouth, nice and warm for me. made for me, huh? say it, wanna hear you fuckin' say it."

ben's hand quickly wraps around his cock, his grip tight as he starts pumping it quickly, thumb brushing against his slit occasionally—only tensing his thighs even more. "made for you," you mumble instinctively, batting your eyelashes as you adjust to the loss of him in your mouth.

"what's made for me? huh? c'mon," ben pats your cheek with his free hand, his other still moving up and down himself in quickening paces. his brows raise, gaze turning expectant as he looks down at you.

"my mouth," you tell him, tone a little whiny. he's smirking, that stupidly attractive smirk, as he hears that. "my mouth was made for you," and he really believes it too, 'cause you take him so damn well every single time.

"that's it, you learn so well, hm?" ben coos, condescension in his tone as he speaks. it's all loving, really, but he's not exactly thinking much with his heart here as much as he's thinking with his dick. especially right now, as the pressure tightens in his abdomen, the movements of his hand growing less controlled and more jerky. "you ready for me, baby? for me to come all over that face? those glasses? god, those glasses. c'mon, tongue out. there we go, that's it.. there's that mouth i love, huh?"

he's practically babbling right now, his eyes squeezing shut. your tongue stuck out for him, waiting and ready, has him pumping his hand faster till his thighs start trembling, thick white ropes of cum spurting from his throbbing, aching tip landing in globs on your glasses, cheeks, tongue. you look so good like that, and he tells you, "that's a pretty picture, ain't it? might take a photo of that, mmh?" his head tilts to the side a little bit. the whine you let out in response makes him laugh, the corners of his lips tugging upwards at the corners.

"open your eyes," ben coaxes, thumb brushing against your cheek and pushing a little bit so your eyes open. he hums, "there you are," he lets out a gruff laugh, "can't see, can you?" you shake your head in response, swallowing thickly. your gaze is all blurry, without the glasses, not able to see properly. "glasses all messy? let's take 'em off," he eases your glasses off your face, inspecting them all messy with his cum before he looks back at you.

"that's alright," he tells you, placing the glasses down onto the bedside cupboard, before he gets your attention again. "only thing you gotta see is me. just me."

[theemporium]

love your work congrats on 10k!!! from the ❤️ list could i request 6 w/ max?

i took the max x teammate!reader concept that had been driving me and @scuderiahoney crazy over the last few days and used it for this prompt so🤠thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

6. “I’m going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty, little head."

.

The race was close. 

In fact, the whole fucking season had been close, like a game of cat and mouse where the two of you had been chasing after each other race after race. With a car that was dominating the rest of the grid, it made sense that the only real competition the two of you faced were each other. 

But that didn’t make it any easier. 

Team orders didn’t mean shit when it came to you and Max. You both had the urge to fight, to push, to test the limits. And it didn’t matter what the team said or did, the second you put those helmets on and got in those cars, it didn’t matter that you two were a team fighting for the Constructors’ championship too. 

It was always you and Max at each other’s throats, on each other’s rear wings, ready for a fight. 

And the race had been Max’s. He was the one who had been fastest all weekend. He was the one who had put his car on pole. He was the one who had led the first half of the race. And then you were there and you two were switching positions for the remaining laps and it was a risky move on your part that let you take the lead and steal the win from him.

He was seething. He didn’t make it hidden to anyone who looked at him. Not in the cool down room, not on the podium and certainly not in the team debrief after the race. He was angry and he was pissed off and the little smirks you kept flashing him were starting to make his skin prickle. 

“Not so cocky now, huh?” 

The whine you let out was pathetic, muffled and garbled with your face pressed into the pillow. Tears were streaming down your face from pleasure, cum leaking down thighs onto the sheets below you and bruises the shape of his hands beginning to form on your hips.

 But Max wasn’t done.

“What would the world say if they could see you now?” He grunted, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through his hotel room. Your clothes were laying somewhere on the floor next to his, ripped and ruined. You would probably have to sneak out in his clothes again, like you had done a few weeks earlier in Spain. 

He fucked you harder at the thought.

“You’re—” A gasp cut you off, your eyes fighting to stay open as he smacked the side of your thigh. “Such a sore loser, Verstappen.” 

“And you’re a fucking brat,” he hissed, crowding over you and leaning down until his chest was pressed against your back. His dick slid in deeper, hitting spots inside you that left you reeling and shaking and whining underneath him. “A fucking slut for me, aren’t you, princess?” 

“Asshole,” you muttered out, but it was breathless and whiny and not as convincing when your hands were clawing at the sheets beneath you. 

“I’m going to fuck every last thought out of this pretty, little head,” Max muttered, his lips brushing against your temple as he slowly pulled out before thrusting back in, deep and hard. “And then we will see how that ego of yours is doing, yeah? See if my little slut can even remember her own fucking name.”

“Max,” you breathed out, your lips parting and giving him the perfect opportunity to slide two fingers inside and lightly press down against your tongue. 

“That’s right, princess,” he mused, something almost patronising in the smile he gave you. “Gonna have you chanting my name like you’re one of my fans.”

.

[cr4yolaas]

every year, with you — kageyama tobio

content: timeskip tobio, established relationship, self indulgent, fem reader, angst if you squint but mostly fluff, not proofread

note: happy bday to me !! i’m not celebrating irl, so this is my way of appreciating the day :) (p.s. mezzo forte will be updated eventually — i unfortunately don’t have the energy for anything more than this rn 😓)

tobio doesn’t usually celebrate his birthday.

he isn’t attracted to the notion of a sweet sixteen, nor does he find the idea of bar hopping at twenty one appealing. he’s content with whatever is below the bare minimum — quick greetings, maybe one small gift, and a normal day. that’s all he needs.

as such, he doesn’t find it necessary to do much for his friends’ birthdays. he’ll usually purchase something small, like a plushy or a gift card. it’s simple. it’s easy.

but with you, his routine shifts. he marks down your birth date on his phone as soon as he catches wind of it, and in the weeks leading up to the day, it fails to slip his mind. he wants to do something more than simple, something more than easy.

after all, he thinks you deserve more than that.

if you were to peer into his notes app and figure out the password for a locked note with an ambiguous title, you’d find a list of everything you’ve ever mentioned — the show you watched religiously for two months straight, a clothing collaboration you were particularly excited for, the animated character whose merchandise is littered throughout your bedroom — all neatly listed for him to remember. the contents vary; some items are specific, like the shade of the lip tint you searched up a week ago, and others are vague, like ‘silly white mouse with big round eyes.’

tobio finds that, when it comes to you, he wants to give you the world. he wants to cradle you gently in his arms, as if you’re the most important figure in the world (to him, you are). he wants to make your special day just that — special.

the summer heat pierces through your air conditioning, even in the middle of night. your boyfriend has yet to return home, presumably preoccupied with volleyball practice, and you decide that tomorrow you’ll greet him with extra kisses as a reward for working so hard.

but as soon as your hand flicks the lights off, the front door squeaks open. you’re silent. soft footsteps thump against the floor, and if you listen hard enough, you can hear tobio’s heavy breathing in the kitchen. your rationality overpowers whatever yearning has festered within your heart throughout the day during his absence. a soft wave of quietude washes over you as you lay down, opting to wait for him to come to you when he’s ready.

it comes sooner than later, however. tobio slowly opens the door to your shared bedroom, assuming you’re fast asleep given the time. he’s a little startled to find you awake.

“i got you something,” he whispers against your forehead. he doesn’t realize you just laid down — he’s quiet, as if there’s sleep riddled in your system. but there isn’t. he doesn’t know that. and yet, he’s still careful in his movements. his hands reach to brush away hair from your eyes, and his lips ghost against your skin as he stamps his affections onto your flesh.

he slips away for a moment to carry something up onto the bed. it weighs heavy in his hands, although you can’t quite make out what it is in the dark of the room. “well, it’s a lot of somethings,” he muses while he reaches around for the bedside lamp. when the warm light floods the bed, you see it — a gift basket, overfilled with everything you could possibly like. you look at tobio and find his ears dusted with pink and his eyes cast aside. “i wasn’t sure specifically what to get you. so… i got a lot of different things, in hopes that you’d like at least one of them.”

it’s hard not to laugh at him (endearingly, of course). “tobio, you put all of my favorite things in here. i’m not sure why i wouldn’t like it.”

his lips, albeit chapped from his troubles of the day, curl up into a smitten smile. “there’s more, by the way. it just didn’t fit into the basket. and i’m way too tired to bring everything here right now,” he speaks as he curls up on his side of the bed. his athletic wear clings to his muscles from the coalescence of sweat on his skin, but nonetheless, he finds himself clinging to you. the gift basket sits on the table beside you, and in the morning when you arise, you’ll thank him for it, again, but with a little more energy.

“happy birthday,” tobio mutters into your shoulder. he looks like a sleepy baby. “i love you.”

[honeyhotteoks]

After that absolutely delicious ateez dom/switch/sub analysis, we need the separate Yunho dom analysis, please ♡ (no pressure)

no pressure as if i wasn’t kicking my feet excited to answer this the minute i saw your ask lol

okay once again, below the cut, lots of yunho dom analysis specifically around his kink list too though because there are reasons i added all of those and i figured it would also be fun to get into.

see this post here for the full ateez dom/switch/sub analysis and disclaimers that apply here too!

okay! so hopefully this all makes sense, but truly yunho is my ult and i’ve spent an insane amount of time headcanoning him for all the writing i’ve done, so please forgive how in depth this may get. i promise i’m not weird delulu i’m just a writer with a muse in this man.

general thoughts / evidence on yunho as a man with big dom potential:

natural leadership - yunho is a natural leader, and that’s been pointed out several times throughout the years in various pieces of content, though most recently in the fortune teller video. this is a role that i think he naturally gravitates towards, and leads me to believe that he is the type who will step up if there’s not a leader in the room, or will guide if someone needs guidance. i think he likes to feel appreciated and needed, but doesn’t necessarily need a bunch of fanfare or attention for doing so, which to me is such a quality in a good dominant. someone who wants to guide and lead his submissive, but doesn’t need everyone to know it.

his gaze - something you’ll notice if you watch yunho carefully is that when he needs the members to quiet down or when he’s trying to communicate something without words, all he needs to do is look in just the right way to get what he wants. most often you can see this with mingi and wooyoung when he levels them with a look and they either stop ‘misbehaving’ or fall apart into giggles. this is one of those things where i think you can see he’s kind of exuding masculine dominance without ever having to say anything or cause a fuss.

his propensity to tease - okay so he’s a joker, and a classic older brother, but that isn’t the thing that makes me think big dom potential. what does though is the ways he needles on a specific thing that riles someone up and just keeps applying pressure. mingi is a great example, if you watch the way he talks to him and calls him princess, particularly during his birthday live… that is the epitome of a dom. you can see other examples with other members, but you can also see it with atiny. in the live when he said he liked to hear atiny call him “yunho-yah” in a whining tone was pretty revealing. also since he’s become aware of the hotteok hand kink, he keeps playing up hand content. that is certainly something the company is doing to drive engagement, but to hear him tease about it on lives? the tone tells me knows he’s getting a flustered reaction and he enjoys it.

jealousy - this is a brief one, but he’s quietly jealous as fuck in a possessive way. just reference the live where he talks about his brother or the one good looking manager, you can see it underneath the teasing that he’s like okay no focus up. that’s someone who in a relationship would have to handle feelings of jealousy and could potentially channel that into a d/s relationship.

caretaking / gift giving / silent support - yunho naturally takes care of his members and staff, there’s a lot of stories about him getting up early to get coffee for people, being an ear during tough times, being thoughtful during holidays and birthdays, etc. and i just think in general that’s a quality that means he enjoys caring for his loved ones. in a d/s relationship, that’s such a key point of a good dom as they are trying to support and guide their submissive and ensure their needs are met.

pain tolerance - there’s a lot of clips where you can see yunho taking pain or discomfort and just eating it, and while i don’t think that implies he enjoys it, i do think that implies a certain level of control. that is a key quality in a good dom, especially in much harder scenes when they are supposed to be providing the guardrails, punishments, and safety nets.

emotional intelligence - i truly don’t think you can be a good dominant if you’re lacking in emotional intelligence and yunho has that in spades. i’m not saying that means he is a dom, but i am saying it ensures me he would do well at it or have the proper level of emotional intelligence for the role.

the kink list breakdown

rigging / shibari - he’s incredibly tactile and good with his hands, and after all those clips of him with the wire from imot and ropes from outlaw….. my thought is that yeah that’s promotion, but watch him move the ropes and cords. i think it comes naturally to him, but what’s more is that this is an ultimate form of control and dominance over a partner. i think he would excel at the slow preparation, the methodical nature of binding, the photography he could take of his sub tied up with different knots and colored ropes, and then the ability to control their pleasure or pain from there is something the rigging would allow.

edging / orgasm denial - another form of control. if he’s guiding his submissive through the experience of orgasm, then confirming their compliance by only letting them orgasm when he says is full control. i also think it plays into the idea of teasing, something that would leave his sub whining and begging.

pleasure / overstimulation - it’s the exact inverse of the above but the principles are the same. control, but also pushing his submissive’s limits.

praise - there is no way this man isn’t telling you how good you’re doing while you do it. yunho is ultimately a soft boy, a boyfriend boy, a husband boy, so no matter what hard kinks he has the potential to play with, i think praise and kindness is a huge hinge back to the relationship and the very real emotions underneath it all.

degradation - i personally think this would be done with a softer, teasing vibe. not meanly calling his submissive a slut, but more so from a corruption angle… something like …. “my fingers in your mouth get you this wet? listen to you whine, my good little slut” etc.

breeding and pregnancy - this one is a little self indulgent but that being said…….. my read on him as quite traditional hits this for me. yunho as a natural caregiver translates pretty heavily for me into yunho wanting to provide for his future partner, and he’s extremely close to his family and family oriented. if yunho wants children, i could see him loving the idea of intimacy that getting his partner pregnant would provide. and i think in general that could manifest in the idea appealing to him in general. i think also there’s possessiveness in this kink that could appeal to him - the idea that he claimed her body, that the changes visible in her body are something he did, etc.

impact play - his hands were made for spanking, next question… no but actually this one is something i want to call out. spanking hits control, punishment, aftercare but it also is something they some submissives need and helps ground them. pain in general can be like this, but as i think yunho would not be full blown into sadism, spanking would fulfill that need for them both.

restraints - again, another opportunity for control. we’ve touched on ropes, but i also think he would enjoy pinning a partner down, someone he can fantasize about being on the more submissive / innocent / corruptible side

free use - i mentioned in the original post this being an extension of the traditional idea. i just want to emphasize again, this is not in any way from a misogynistic angle whatsoever. what i’m talking about here is specifically an extension of his control, within this idea of possession and consumption. i could see yunho being the type of guy who would love to come home and just push his partner’s skirt up before dinner, or hop into the shower and just take his partner against the wall. i don’t think he would be into free use in the super extremes of this kink where his partner is like completely passive / truly available at EVERY moment, but some version of this i can see.

fingering - look at his hands, he’s going to make his partner squirt and he’s going to make his partner suck on his fingers and beg for it, next question.

oral - this man has an oral fixation. watch the way he touches his lips, the way he bites, the way his tongue is constantly present, how often he puts things IN his mouth? he’s absolutely going to be the type to just hold his partner down and eat her out for as long as she can take it.

omorashi - this one is a little off the wall but walk with me here. omo isn’t piss kink in the way that a lot of people might assume, it’s specifically about bladder control. this is one of those kinks that fall right in line with aspects of his dominance and personality so i’m saying if this hit for him, i’d believe it. the idea that he would control his partner’s ability to use the rest room to facilitate a scene, and then use that discomfort against them while he pleasures or edges them, verbally degrading and pushing his submissive to begging and pleading? yep. now some people with omo stop there and it’s all about the control, but if he took it a step further to actual bladder release i think you could imagine the way he’d comfort and praise his submissive through it. and once again, ultimate control.

corruption - listen…….. this catholic boy??? i will die on this hill. i think while yunho’s a good guy and wouldn’t actually care about things like body count or experience, especially with his person, i do think that he would lose his god damn marbles at the idea that his partner has only ever been with him or has only ever experienced certain acts with him. as a guiding presence, a caretaker, and a man with a jealous streak? this just makes sense. the idea that he’s the reason why you’re a begging crying mess for his cock? iconic. the idea that no one in the world knows what your body looks like but him? he’d quite literally cum and die.

breath play - hands. but also control, you get it.

somno - ultimate control but also it’s his submissive placing the ultimate level of trust in him and i think he would take it exceptionally seriously. it’s a responsibility more than anything to ensure that his partner is cared for and feels safe through that experience. also think this plays a bit into the corruption kink and when i mentioned in the previous post that he would enjoy being called daddy…… you put those dots together. (though to be perfectly clear i do NOT mean age play whatsoever)

cockwarming - i think this is something that’s actually quite comforting for some submissives so i see it as less of a kink and more of a sex act that he would engage in with his sub to be caring and tender and help ground them. similar to what spanking does, it helps ground some submissives and this is something he would want to provide. just picture his sub resting against his inner thigh, cock in mouth just resting on the tongue, yunho petting their hair and soothing them.

size kink / size training - i dont mean he wants a “small” or “thin” partner, i mean this from the corruption angle. he would enjoy slowly working his sub up to being able to take his cock comfortably in….. many….. different holes.

throat fucking - see above lmao

and good god could i talk about dom yunho and aftercare but that’s a whole other post lmk if anyone cares haha

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Random Simon 'Ghost' Riley headcanons

sfw and nsfw

pairing: l.t. Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader (cod mw)

tags/tw: domestic stuff, afab!reader, size!kink, dirty talk

a/n: and of course a few HC's for Ghostie as well🤭

Simon 'Ghost' Riley MASTERLIST

sfw

-you know those mascots in full-body costumes? Yeah, Ghost hates those, gets on edge each time he sees one. He just gets this uncomfortable feeling in his body bc why go around masked like that?

-yes, he's aware of the irony

-your first kiss, technically, happened with his mask on,

-he wanted to kiss you but wasn't ready to commit fully, showing you his face meant a lot and he wasn't there, yet, so he just kinda directed your face from the TV to him by your chin and pressed his lips to yours despite the clothing concealing them

-you don't scare easily, even if he would disagree, but when having a shadow the size of him creeping up on you silently, which should be physically impossible for someone his size, it always makes you jump

-Ghost enjoys it for some reason, always repressing a smile when you gasp and clutch your chest with a hissed 'Simon!' despising that you never got used to it

-what you don't know is that he actively makes it harder for you, always staying in your blind spot when coming up behind you, silencing his step just like he does on stealth missions

-standard case of you falling first but he fell harder, it was a slow endeavour getting to know him, even slower when you started dating and he demanded that things wouldn't be rushed, but once he opened up he was practically already in love with you considering he rarely did open up to people

-he doesn't like gifts

-contrary to what people think, it's not because he doesn't know how to react, closer to the truth is that he's picky and doesn't like random things coming in surprises

-that's why Ghost always keeps a list of things he wants or is in interested in buying, one that you have unaltered access to just to keep track if you ever feel like gifting him something for a special occasion or if other people come to you when he just won't answer what he wishes for read Soap

-the ONLY casual gift he doesn't mind is when you get him a book, within reason of course bc yeah, he likes to read

nsfw below the cut

-on the topic of books, he doesn't read romantic stuff, if it isn't a book you push into his hands, then he knows what's between the pages: raunchy ass stuff you more often than now want him to act out, leaving you nervously giggling and then panting when he fully went into the role of fucking you silly

-another thing about Ghost that people think, but is wrong, is that he always so reserved

-this man can run his fucking mouth when he wants to

-perhaps others just don't notice, because he doesn't do it with them, but when you're by his side his face is for the most part ducked in level with your ear, making it his mission to rile you up enough so you're the one who grits out 'we're leaving '

-and the cocky bastard knows he will manage too, your resolve wearing down quick when he whispers stuff like 'pretty necklace, lovie, would rather it was my hand wrapped around your throat' and if he manages to catch you off-guard with that, mouth agape kinda surprised, he'll muse 'pretty little mouth like that’ll send a man wild'

-in the Riley household, there's one particular rule: if you buy any piece of clothing, either online or in-store, you're going to model it for Ghost

-doesn't matter what it is, he's gonna sit down in the living room waiting for you to come out for him to drink in your pretty self

-he always twirls a finger in a sign for you to spin around, not because he has any sense of fashion more than the normal man, he just likes to see all how your clothes flatter your figure

-and if it just so happens you only bought a pair of pretty panties or a flattering bra, his rule applies to those too, with the addition you'll come out in only those

-and so help you, but if your tits are on display or that pretty cunt of yours bared, he will not only make you spin but curl his finger, beckoning you towards him

-usually ends with you in his lap as he either plays and sucks at your nipples or you grind against his growing bulge before riding him

-guilty pleasure of his? your obsession with his arms and tattoos

-when you first started seeing each other, he always noticed how your eyes strayed to the ink peeking forth from his long-sleeved clothing, when you both got more comfortable and you saw him without a hoodie constantly, the way you drooled at his bulging biceps made it difficult adhering to his own rule of things going slow

-in fact, the first time you slept together was a consequence of your intrusive thoughts winning during a cuddling session

-you'd been positioned in-between his legs, running your hand over his arm curled around your waist, gaze following those delicious lines running along his forearm and then you just... dragged your tongue over his bicep, licking a long wet stripe on the muscle that tensed upon feeling your tongue

-there was a rumble against your back and a 'what the fuck was that?' making you glance up at Ghost with a sheepish smile with some explanation he didn't fucking buy for a second

-it ended with the both of you kneeling on Ghost's bed as he fucked you from behind, his arms circled around your neck, your nails digging into his forearm, a moaning mess as if you didn't know he killed men just like this but in a tighter chokehold

-so that's why he always wraps his tattooed arm around your front when you cuddle with him behind you, most time also seating himself on your right side, offering you the opportunity to trace the intricate lines decorating his skin

[ganxiously]

So, it turns out what I needed to get out of my writer's block was soul-wrenching grief and heart-crushing disappointment. And while I am happy about that (to an extent), I also wish my muse wasn't angst because I think I am hurting myself writing this fic and I need to now make it everyone else's problem.

Sitting there in the dark, on Eddie’s sofa, curled in on himself like it’s supposed to do anything to hold him together, one thought pops into his head, bright, neon red and in bold among the constant litany of boorish, black ‘This is all my fault’ — All of this is because I didn’t know what a Kinsey six is. The thought is unexpected enough that Buck unfurls a little, wondering where it came from and then he remembers their anniversary date. The memory leaves him breathless but he is curious enough to push past the newly burgeoning hurt and take out his phone. A quick Google reveals it to be the rating for ‘exclusively homosexual’ on the Kinsey scale so he looks that up next and as he’s debating whether to start from Wikipedia first or dive right into the Kinsey Institute website, his eyes land on the conspicuous ‘test online’ button right below the search bar. A part of him doesn’t want to find out, doesn’t want anyone else telling him what he is but the taunt is too much. If you had known, if you had just taken a moment to figure yourself out, maybe you could have said something. Maybe you could have stopped him before he walked away. He clicks on the first test that pops up, looks at the first question, goes to select option 1 and then stops and stares. ‘To whom are you attracted?’ should be an easy question to answer but the confidence to not think much has left him. He could easily choose ‘Both men and women’ but would that even be correct? He’s been so sure that he has felt attraction towards men a few times in the past but what if that was a mild interest at best? After all, no one had really pinged his radar the way Tommy had. He looks at the next question and that’s when the panic really starts to set in because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if he prefers men over women or if he just prefers Tommy over women, over everyone else. What if Tommy is the outlier and he prefers women over men after all? The pressure in his chest becomes more and more painful the longer he stares at it so he closes the test and opens the next one on the list. That one starts off mild. The way the first question is framed makes it easy to answer that yes, while he mostly notices women, the occasional man does turn his eyes. The next one asks what he would be comfortable in calling himself and he thinks he could get away with calling himself bisexual but then there’s an option saying ‘could be bisexual but not sure if that’s correct‘. And again the thought hits, What if it’s just Tommy? He debates it briefly and then gives in and chooses the latter option. He breezes through the next couple of questions because he is at least sure that he would find it desirable to kiss people from both genders but then they hit him with the sexual preference question again. He backs out so fast his phone nearly slips out of his hand and with a sigh of frustration, he clicks on the next test. That turns out worse because the very first question stalls him and so it continues again and again and again until tears start prickling at the corner of his eyes and his breath starts coming in sharp, short bursts pulling his throat tight but not taking any air to his lungs. He keeps at it until there’s one more nameless person behind one more useless test clamouring at him, Tell us, tell us, tell us. Tell us you know what you want. He hurls the phone across the room, thankful when instead of landing on the floor, it silently hits the backrest of Eddie’s armchair and slides down into the crease with a swoosh. He should get up and retrieve it, he should go home really but what he does instead is let his head fall forward onto his raised knees and give in to the caricatured voice of his mind telling him, Of course, he thought you would break his heart. Look at yourself, you idiot.

This is basically just the set-up for the fic but rest assured I am dragging Buck down to the trenches before I let him swim up to Tommy again.

[flawseer]

Ok, these time rate me the Jade WInglets

I've been sitting on this work-in-progress picture for so many months now. Maybe if I post it here, I'll finally sit down and finish it.

Very long post incoming.

Discussing the Jade Winglet

Okay. So, you want me to rate the Jade Winglet group. That’s going to be very easy: I love all of them.

It’s also going to be extraordinarily hard because... well... I love all of them. How am I supposed to put them into an ordered list? It can’t be done. So I guess what I’m going to do is: First I will put them into a tier list, and then I’m going to just talk about each of them individually for a bit.

But on account of aforementioned adoration I have for all of these guys, said tier list is going to be very lopsided. The tiers are going to be “I adore them with the intensity of seven suns”, “I really like them”, and “I very much like them, but...”. You’re going to have to imagine that there are five or so more unused tiers below that.

Let’s unceremoniously get that ranking out of the way first. From top to bottom, the tiers are:

I adore Turtle, Qibli, and Winter.

I really like Moonwatcher, Kinkajou, and Peril.

I very much like Umber and Carnelian.

As for more in-depth commentary, here is a disclaimer: When I think about these guys I mostly consider books 6 (Moon Rising) to 9 (Talons of Power) and the first half of 10 (Darkness of Dragons). The second half of 10... if I’m being honest, I didn’t really enjoy it. I don’t want to go into it too much here, if you really want me to talk about my misgivings with the second arc finale, put a message about it in my inbox (it’s not just the obvious thing; it actually mostly pertains to Winter and the absolute nightmare ending he got saddled with, and some very unfortunate character implications).

Some of my musings are also going to be a bit critical. I just want it to be clear that I make these observations as a fan of the series. It’s a good practice to think critically even about media that you like. It helps you better understand why you like it in the first place. Also, I make no demands to be agreed with. This is just how I see it.

Anyway, enough stalling, let’s get into it. Not in order:

Turtle

CW: Parental abuse

Turtle is the most wonderful thing to ever happen in the history of the universe. I wake up every morning and the first thought in my head is “Ugh, another day in this backwards reality where Turtle is not real! No thanks!!” Then I go right back to sleep disappointed until the next day. Okay, maybe that’s a bit hyperbolic. But I do think that everyone’s lives would be greatly improved if Turtle was real.

Turtle is a very vibrant and insightful character who, much like Winter, is unfortunately cursed with a pair of malicious and incompetent "parents". Some of his scenes really hurt to get through if you’re a parent yourself or have ever had parental feelings. The first scene he is in, when Moon observes him arriving at the academy, his mother makes a passing comment about how Turtle has no value because he cannot inherit the throne. Turtle is within earshot when she does this. And he has no overt reaction to it, which to me hints that Coral asserts this about her male children so frequently that he has accepted her line of thinking and internalized it. He just accepts it as the truth. That is heartbreaking.

And then there is his father, mild-mannered and ostensibly gentle Gill, who killed Turtle’s budding interest in writing as well as the entirety of his self-confidence back when he was a kid, by assigning a little boy a task that was well beyond him (and only to him, even though there were more people present who could have helped), and then made him believe he killed his unborn sister when Turtle inevitably couldn’t do what he was asked. The narrative really tries to make Gill sympathetic in that moment by insisting he’s speaking in anger and doesn’t really mean it, but um, no. I don’t buy it, dude. You just gave a little kid a lifelong guilt complex because you couldn’t think of asking more people for help. Or taking the egg with you while you left the hatchery. Or telling Turtle to take a message to the palace guard so someone who didn’t still have their milk teeth could mount a proper, organized search while interim guards were posted in the hatchery. Or literally any of the thousands of other options that didn’t require traumatizing your own son.

As a result, Turtle became emotionally reclusive. He registers to others as dull, placid, unpassionate, and boring, like he cares about nothing and is content to never strive for or achieve anything in his life. He himself explains that writing used to be something he was into at some point, but then lost interest in. But I don’t think he has. He still loves literature and thinking about stories, he's still doing it in his internal monologue. He just denies it because he subconsciously feels the need to punish himself. I imagine he still gets that drive sometimes, to sit down and start writing again. But every time he thinks about it, or catches himself wanting anything, his father’s voice resurfaces in his mind, telling him that he killed his sister and doesn’t deserve it. And then he self-punishes by depriving himself of everything he loves doing and every positive emotion associated with it. Because he is convinced he is guilty for failing his father, when in actuality, the opposite is true.

The tragedy is that, if Gill had known how much damage he caused and wasn’t in a situation where he needed a flowchart to keep his 30+ sons apart, he probably would have apologized. He doesn’t strike me as malicious, just horribly, horribly incompetent as a parent. But as things played out, Gill is no longer able to fix his mistake. The only person who can now grant Turtle the forgiveness he needs is himself. I hope he will be able to do it.

Turtle truly is an endearing character and a wonderful son undeserved by his parents. If I could adopt him right now I would. In fact, I’m gonna do it. Hold on while I get the papers. Wait, I have to finish? Uh... okay.

Moonwatcher

In a sense, Moonwatcher may be the most interesting character in the entire cast. She certainly had the potential to be my favorite character period. But there are a few points holding her back.

The thing about Moonwatcher is that, more than any other character, she requires meticulous care and attention to detail to be written well. The reason for this is that, when you’re writing for Moon, you also technically write for every character she interacts with. She is written brilliantly in her own book, since the narrative is allowed to focus on her; Moon Rising may thus actually be my favorite book of the second arc. It’s very enrapturing, seeing her navigate the academy’s social dynamics after growing up as, essentially, a feral jungle child, and battling with her own feelings of loneliness and inadequacy.

The thing is though... Wings of Fire has a bit of an odd quirk. Something I’ve noticed with regards to its writing is that, whenever a character is not particularly in focus during a scene, they often get reduced to their most basic traits and will rigidly act according to them regardless of prior context or external factors. I call this phenomenon “Auto-pilot”. If you’ve read my Mail Call #3, this is what I think happened to Tsunami during the second arc—Tsunami’s basic traits are that she is bossy, emotional, and blunt, so she spends the entirety of her page time as a deep-sea-themed wrecking ball who yells at everyone and dismisses everything as “ugh, nightwing powers” and “Peril was bad in book 1 once, I hate her forever”, despite having other, more pressing matters to prioritize.

Whenever Moonwatcher gets set to auto-pilot, it is very depressing. She needs careful, attentive writing to shine, and whenever she doesn’t get it she turns from the most interesting character into a dull brick that recites exposition and occasionally exists to be fawned after by boys. Tragically, the auto-pilot hits her bad after Winter’s book is done, and she never manages to escape it afterwards, save for maybe one or two scenes. There is a particularly egregious example in book 10 that, in my opinion, does permanent, irreversible damage to her character. It’s all a bit soul-crushing if dwelt on.

So yeah, I like Moonwatcher. I really do. I just wish the strong way she was written could have carried through the entire arc.

Winter

CW: Parental abuse

I initially didn’t really know what to make of Winter when I read Moon’s book. He seemed kind of like a buttface who was needlessly hostile and unapproachable. But he really comes into his own in his book, and looking back at his earlier scenes with that new context makes it all make sense. He became one of my stand-out favorites after that.

Winter really has a lot in common with Turtle, so much so that I wish those two actually had some deeper interactions with each other. Like, at one point Turtle saves his life, you’d think they would want to talk about that some time. Where Turtle’s parents are one half malicious, one half incompetent, Winter’s are pure malice AND incompetence. Blessed with three children, they managed to completely ruin one of them, almost ruin the other, and then the third one is kind of out of focus so I don’t know how he is faring, but I doubt there is a lot of love there either.

In a way, you can draw a lot of parallels between Winter and Icicle, and Zuko and Azula from Avatar: The Last Airbender—The unfavorite who tries to do right but constantly fails to live up to his father’s/parents' warped standards, and the prodigy who seemingly has her father’s/parents' approval but secretly suffers from the abusive parenting just as much, but in different ways. Hailstorm then tries to take on the role of Iroh, an older figure that acts as a source of positivity and genuine love, and offers a reprieve from the abuse. But where Iroh is an adult drawing from a lifetime of wisdom, Hailstorm is just the slightly older sibling who comes from the same abusive household battling the same demons, so his effectiveness in countering the toxicity is limited.

Where Zuko pursues honor, Winter strives to be strong. Both his parents and his sister perceive him as weak and label him irrelevant. While this hurts him deeply, I don’t think Winter fully surrendered to his inferiority complex until he heard his brother mirror the same sentiment at him. Winter is repressed and struggles with processing his emotions—Thus he heard the words Hailstorm only said to save his life and took them at face value. Even the person he loves the most, the only source of affection and affirmation in his life, thinks he is weak. This is what drives Winter to feverishly desire strength and thus adopt a persona of the strongest thing he knows: a stoic Icewing warrior.

This is why he acts the way he does in book 6: aloof, threatening, unapproachable, invincible. But all of these traits are diametrically opposed to his actual personality, which is warm, compassionate, and just wanting to be loved for who he is. So whenever Moon reads his mind, he comes across as a confused mess of conflicting emotions. Because he is pretending to be something he isn’t.

The interesting thing here is that Winter actually is genuinely strong. He is just unable to recognize his own worth, due to the toxic way royal Icewings are raised, warping his perception of what strength means. When he meets Foeslayer, who is said to be an ancient enemy of his people, his mind cuts through the veneer of tradition and old bullshit justifications and sees her imprisonment for the cruel injustice that it is. He then undoes that injustice and frees her. It takes an incomprehensible amount of personal integrity and willpower to just casually defy the will of your entire country like that. This is equivalent to treason; by aiding her, Winter risks becoming an enemy of his people on par with Foeslayer herself. And he does it anyway, because it is the right thing to do.

This dissonance in his perception of strength with regards to his Icewing upbringing, and the actual strength he embodies and has embodied all this time, is something I would have liked to see explored more in the finale or something. As it stands now, he got pressured into putting his life on the line in the battle for Jade Mountain, has sworn loyalty to a people that mistreated him and tried to ruin him from a young age, and then got saddled with an existential nightmare of an ending that leaves me baffled to this day.

In terms of personal misfortune, he certainly is the Starflight of his group.

Qibli

CW: Parental abuse

Qibli is a very charming and versatile character. It is easy to imagine him in a variety of different situations and the scenes almost write themselves, especially when there’s another person with him whom he can bounce off of (figuratively, though I wouldn’t put it past him to try to literally bounce off of someone too). The 10th book posits him as some kind of parallel to Darkstalker; the latter even overtly states this and tries to recruit him as a manner of apprentice. It’s interesting because I think they are actually pretty different.

Qibli excels in situations where his options are limited. He is great at thinking on his feet and coming up with solutions to problems within a restricted framework. He'd be great in an escape room. This ability of his is shown throughout the arc, but it is especially visible in Moon Rising, where his presence in a scene often makes Moon stronger, or more adept at solving problems, because his mind is breaking down the situation for her in a way she would be unable to see on her own.

The twist then comes in when you take Qibli out of that limited framework, by giving him power. His pronounced intellect is very peculiar; it needs limitation to be brilliant. When he has unhindered access to all-powerful magic (i.e. doesn’t have to clear his ideas with another person), he turns into a colossal idiot who buries cities in sand and almost blows up inhabited mountains.

It only follows that, if you were to give Qibli what he wants and make him an animus, it would absolutely ruin him. The great intellect he cultivated would wither and, unshackled from the limitations that forced him to think critically and be his most excellent self, he would end up destroying himself, and likely others too.

Another interesting facet of Qibli is how he works as a parallel to Winter and Turtle (and Peril to an extent). All of these characters come from broken homes and have suffered under abusive parental figures. Qibli’s case in particular is interesting because it showcases how your circumstances can make a difference in how well you handle that issue. Qibli suffered under a tyrannical mother and a pair of cruel siblings, but in contrast to his peers, someone from the outside noticed his suffering was able to intervene—Thorn saved him from his hell and became his rescue parent, restoring his confidence and sense of self-worth.

Because of this, when his turn comes to confront his demons, while it is still difficult and painful (because trauma always is), he is able to navigate the confrontation with comparatively more grace and control than the others. The contrast really shows how difficult it is to escape a toxic relationship if you are still mired deeply within it, and how you need to put some distance between yourself and it before you can see where you are and what needs to be done with improved clarity. That is the path to healing.

I could probably keep talking about Qibli for 15 more paragraphs, but I’ll spare you.

Kinkajou

Every protagonist (and a good deal of side characters) in Wings of Fire is broken, usually has some kind of gut-wrenching past (often due to terrible parents), and struggles to find their place in the world. Luckily here is a pink-and-yellow Rainwing who is just happy and everything is fantastic and wholesome, right?

CW: Forced starvation

Nah, Kinkajou had it pretty rough too. The story plays it like it’s a humorous quip when she finds out Moonwatcher is her roommate and bemoans that nobody is taking her “trauma” seriously, but... yeah, it actually is legitimate trauma. She was captured, bound, and trapped on a hell island without sunlight for several weeks. While there, she was not fed, and she helplessly watched people whom she knew from early childhood starve and die. Death by starvation is not pretty, she likely had to witness her friends slowly being driven mad by hunger until they withered away, and couldn’t do anything about it. Then she was rescued and returned to a home that didn’t believe her pain was real, that claimed she made it up for attention, and that some people who she thought of as friends didn’t even notice she was gone. The only one who believed her was a stranger whom she had met maybe a few hours ago.

Personally, if that happened to me and I came home to that, I’d likely have pulled a Chameleon and said “Screw the Rainwings, I’m moving to the desert.”

That Kinkajou is still able to be positive and full of energy after that is a testament to her immense mental fortitude. She might actually be one of the most stable and resilient characters in the story. Some things shake her up for a bit, but nothing can crush her.

Still, I imagine there are some times, after a really bad day maybe, where she wakes up in the middle of the night. And there, for just a moment, she is scared to open her eyes... because she might be back on the Nightwing island and has to watch someone else die.

Peril

Peril is a bit of an odd case in arc 2. She gets grouped with the protagonists of that arc and the ending implies she is integrated into the Jade Winglet as their new Skywing. I have no real problem with that, in fact it’s good on her that she’s made a little less isolated. But to me, Peril always felt like an awkward appendix to that group. Her only real friend in there is Turtle; for the rest of them they feel more like vague acquaintances, like she's tolerated for being Turtle's friend.

To be fair though, that friendship with Turtle is really strong; it’s an exciting and deep character dynamic. But if I was forced to tie Peril to a group of protagonists, my first instinct would be to associate her with the first arc protagonists instead.

This poor girl has been through it. Everyone seems to hate her and wants her to leave, sometimes for understandable reasons and sometimes it just seems bizarre. I already went into Tsunami’s disdain for her in an earlier post, but I also vaguely remember a point in Escaping Peril where she meets Qibli and he gives her a withering glare for some reason. That confused me, to be honest. I thought “What’s YOUR problem with her? Have you ever even met??” Like, I guess the Outclaws were in direct conflict with Burn since they lived in the same country, and Peril was an infamous elite combatant under the command of one of Burn’s allies, so maybe Peril killed people he knew? But then he gets over his disdain really quickly and with no comment, so whatever happened can’t have been a big deal after all.

My favorite part in her book is when everyone--after having learned about Turtle’s powers--chews him out for not having helped his country during the war, and Peril cuts through the tripe by saying something along the lines of “So if he uses the power he was born with to serve his Queen it is honorable, but when I do the same for my Queen I’m a murderer and deserve to have things thrown at me?” I love all of these guys, but they really deserved to be called out for their double standard and feel stupid for a bit.

But yeah, I really enjoy her friendship with Turtle in the end. And since he accidentally made himself virtually indestructible, it means Peril can now get all the friendly hugs she craves.

Umber

Umber is cool. He has a potentially interesting relationship with Turtle, which is implied in the latter’s book when it is mentioned that they sleep with their backs touching to comfort each other about their respective siblings not being there.

Unfortunately he gets written out of the story arc very quickly. I wish I knew more about him.

Carnelian

I like Carnelian. I feel like she had a lot of potential that gets wasted by her death, for not much gain. It is used to give Queen Ruby a reason to come to Jade Mountain and kickstart the events of Peril’s book, but the same could have been accomplished by having her learn that the Academy is housing Peril and going there to demand the extradition of a (in her eyes) dangerous and murderous fugitive.

Same as with Umber, really, I wish I knew more about her. I already said this during my Smaugust drawing session, but I like to pretend that she and Bigtail didn’t die, and instead had a mini arc about recovering from their injuries. It also has the side effect of averting some very unfortunate implications that come with Bigtail’s death.

~~~

I think that’s all of them. Good lord I talk too much. Please don’t throw crocodiles at my face for it. Tumblr is my queen, and--much like the Queen's former champion--I was made to do it.

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter Three: Chrysanthemums - Joy

Summary: You and Andrew meet outside of your workplace for the first time for a completely platonic coffee on him.

Word count: 2385

Author's note: i am so sorry that this took so long 😭 last week of school combined with finals combined with life i guess hindered me from writing. but i'm back on track!!! hopefully you all enjoy and if i don't update again soon happy holidays <3

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes @padfootblackswh0r3 (if you want to be added just let me know!)

fic below the cut <3

This is not a date.

That was your affirmation all of Friday morning, repeating it to yourself.

You muttered it under your breath as you fixed your hair. It was mumbled as you laid out your outfit, specifically chosen to be fashionable but casual: your favorite sweater and a nice pair of jeans. You whispered it before spraying your perfume, a scent you had to dig through your closet for five minutes to find. Ironically, the scent was nothing close to floral. You said it to each of your houseplants as you watered them. They remained unconvinced.

Slipped on your shoes. Locked up your flat. Walked down the stairs. You repeated your mantra every time, because maybe if you said it enough times, it would become true.

By the time you made it to your car, you had said it so many times it felt like breathing. Your hands gripped the wheel. You locked eyes with your reflection in the rearview mirror and whispered your phrase of the morning one more time for good luck.

This. Is. Not. A. Date.

Stepping down on the gas pedal, you began to drive.

On the drive there, you prepared yourself for all possible scenarios. This kind of thinking came naturally — it always did, especially in situations like these. You ran through what your reaction would be if he showed up, what it would be if he didn't. What you would do if he had an insanely complex coffee order, or if he ordered a drink with six shots of espresso. What if he tried to order for you, or if he made some backhanded comment about another woman at the cafe? You doubted he would do any of these things, but you believed it's better to be safe than sorry. This thinking only paused when you parked in front the coffee shop and caught a glimpse of Andrew waiting inside. All of your previous repetition and fretting had made you ten minutes late, a fact you weren't fond of and hoped Andrew wouldn't chastise you for.

The moment you stepped into the coffee shop, all of your previous affirmations were thrown out the window. It wasn't a date. But after seeing Andrew you wished that it was.

It wasn't any particular factor. It wasn't the black denim jacket he was wearing, or the way he'd tied half his hair up, leaving the other half down. It wasn't even the smile on his face, reserved like he wasn't sure how to react properly when he saw you. It was a combination of everything; his presence alone was enough to make you flustered. So flustered that you were very close to forgetting to say anything when you walked up to him. Thankfully, at the last moment, you actually spoke.

“Hey! Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long,” you greeted him with a small smile.

“Oh, no. I just got here, too. You're alright.”

You walked inside together, and you looked around at your new surroundings. It was a small business, quaint and cozy, with framed photos of artworks by local artists; it was exactly what you would imagine a coffee shop that Andrew picked to be.

Because all of your overthinking (or what you preferred to call planning) on the way there, you ordered your coffee with ease. Andrew recited his order, a black americano, a surprise to you. You watched as he paid and gave his name for the order, the barista already recognizing him. He turned his head towards you and offered an explanation:“I’m a regular. I always come here whenever I need a pick-me-up.”

“I’ll have to come here more often, then,” you replied.

You found a small table in the corner and sat down to claim it for the both of you while Andrew stood by the counter, waiting for your coffee. What a gentleman.

You had yet to notice any flaws in him, only making your self-imposed rule of this not being romantic harder to follow. There had to be something about him that was off. There was no way he was so caring and endearing and funny all at the same time; he had to have an imperfection eventually. You didn't find it in the few minutes you watched him stand around, occasionally fiddling with his hands or putting them in his pockets. Your efforts grew even more futile as he walked over with the coffees in hand, setting them down on the table.

He shedded his jacket and carefully placed it on the back of the chair before sitting down in the chair opposite you. This simple action caused the fact that you barely knew Andrew to pop up in your head. Despite how connected to him you felt already, you had only met him twice before. On both occasions he wore long sleeves, so seeing him without a jacket for the first time gave you a much appreciated surprise.

His right arm had an entire sleeve of tattoos.

He had turned his arm into a mural for myths and legends. A portrait of a falling Icarus, wings disintegrating beneath a red sun. A tortured Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his back. Dante and Virgil arm in arm wandering through a circle of hell. Writing in script filled the empty space, seemingly verses from poems. It was all centered around two words placed across his bicep: Noli Timere. You’d be lying if you said it didn't make you even more attracted to him than you already were.

You could've spent hours just looking, analyzing every line of ink. It felt as though you did, though it's much more likely it was only for a few seconds. You were brought back to Earth by the sound of his voice.

“It's rude to stare, y’know?”

There was no real annoyance in his voice, but it caused you to attention like you had been caught. An explanation mumbled its way out of your mouth.

“I’m so sorry, I just- I like your arm. Tattoos. Your arm tattoos. They're…”

Beautiful? Enticing? Very attractive?

“…cool.”

You took a sip of your coffee, finding it the perfect time to cover up your embarrassment, as well as the flushed face that came along with it. Luckily, Andrew didn't notice (or if he did, he didn't mind) and continued the conversation, accepting your compliment with a crooked smile.

“Thanks. I try to put a lot of thought into them, give them some meaning, so they're all based on these stories that are important to me.”

“Makes sense. I’d hate to get a tattoo just to regret it a few years later. Even worse, a few months later.”

“Too many of my clients have had that exact issue. Come in a year after and ask for a coverup. Makes me question my work sometimes.”

“Clients?” You asked with a tilt of your head.

“Oh, right. I never mentioned it.” He paused to take a drink from his cup before continuing. “I’m a tattoo artist. The parlor I work at’s only a few blocks away from your shop, believe it or not.”

“Wow. Small world, I suppose. Maybe I could stop by someday and say hi.”

The boldness of your statement didn't fully process in your brain, and you quickly backtracked.

“If you’d be okay with that, of course.”

“Yes. Absolutely. You can come by whenever I don't have a client.”

“Call me over if anyone gets a tattoo of a flower and I’ll be there to explain everything it means. There is always the very dangerous possibility of someone getting a flower that means jealousy or a rejection.”

He didn’t reply, just flashed a smile, and the silence between you seemed… awkward. Combined with the way he was fidgeting with his hands, it almost made you think he was nervous.

“I’m actually thinking about buying a bouquet to put on the front desk,” he admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah. A lot of people, they get nervous before their appointment, whether it's their first tattoo or their tenth. Having flowers right when you walk in might ease some of the tension.”

“That's a great idea. I know I’m biased, but flowers do tend to brighten my day."

“Do you have any ideas?”

You bit at your bottom lip as you thought, finally speaking again once you racked your brain for what could work.

“Chrysanthemums are a favorite with customers. Those mean joy and optimism. I could start with those and build from there.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“That's all I’ve got right now, but I’ll see what else I can come up with later. After coffee, I’m much more… insightful.”

As if to prove your point, you took another sip of your coffee, a longer one that left only a quarter of the cup left.

“So… this is official? You're placing an order?”

He nodded.

“If that's how this works, then yes. I’d like to place an order of one chrysanthemum bouquet for the purpose of making my customers happy. Please,” he replied genuinely.

“Your order will be marked down as soon as I get to the shop.”

“Feel free to take your time, by the way. I don't mean to pressure you. It's not like I have a deadline, and I know you probably have a million other things you have to do.”

You considered reaching for him, your fingertips flexing in his direction, but you restrained yourself, choosing words instead.

“You're not pressuring me at all. You made your order. Now you're asking me to do my job. My job that I love, by the way. If anything, I’m thrilled that you're so interested.”

The real question is whether you're more interested in my job or me.

You weren't bold enough to say what you were thinking, but you never had been. You had gotten so used to biting your tongue it was a miracle it was still in your mouth. You spoke again, but selected a much safer option of what to say.

“It's gonna take a few days since there's some orders before yours, but I have your number on file so I’ll call you when I finish it up.”

“I’ll be there. With my wallet, this time around.”

You thought about your proposition before realizing there would be a much more effective, though maybe you just wanted to visit Andrew’s job for a change.

“I mean, you said your place is only a few minutes away, right? I could always deliver it. Gives me an opportunity to get some fresh air during my day. Besides, you're probably much busier than I am, so it might be harder to find the time. Meanwhile, I can deliver it as soon as it's done, and everything works out.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“I know. I want to, though.”

He sighed and shook his head, a reaction you originally feared was out of annoyance, but you felt a small amount of relief when you noticed the smile that accompanied it.

“You need to stop doing nice things for me. Otherwise I’ll go bankrupt from buying you so much coffee to compensate.”

“I also accept gratitude payment in compliments, thank-you-cards, and checks.”

“What about credit cards?”

“Ooo, sorry. Compliments, thank-you-cards, and checks are your options.”

He chuckled, a deeper and richer laugh than before.

“Fine. You want a compliment? You're incredibly kind for doing all of this for me, and I sincerely appreciate it. Thank you.”

Another sip from your cup to hide the flush of your cheeks, though no amount of caffeine could calm the butterflies in your stomach.

“That covers your gratitude payment for now. I still need real money, of course,” you muttered. “And you're not getting your way out of it this time.”

“I would never. You can't pull the same con on the same person twice.”

“Oh, so it was a con? Did those flowers even go to your mother?”

“Nope. Underground flower smuggling ring.”

“Ah, I should've guessed. Tell your flower-loving crime boss that I’m thankful for all that you've done for me, but I unfortunately need to get going, because it's 9:30 and the shop opens at 10.”

Andrew complied. You two wrapped it up, and he put his jacket back on, covering up his tattoos much to your dismay. Your coffee cup, now empty, was discarded by the door.

“Thank you so much. For the coffee, for the company. Everything. Especially for the coffee, though, considering you barely even drank yours,” you commented, pointing at the half-full cup still in his hand.

“You’re welcome. And trust me, I was going to drink it, but I found myself much more engrossed in the conversation.”

Andrew grabbed the door and held it open for you, and you walked past him and thanked him. Both of you stood on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, unsure of how (or if you even wanted) to say goodbye.

“This is where we must part ways,” he said with a sigh.

“You say that like we're never going to see each other again.”

“A lot can happen in a few days, Y/N. You have no idea what the universe has up her sleeve.”

“Do you have some kind of knowledge about an apocalypse that I don't? Because when it comes to that kind of stuff, sharing is caring.”

“Just… prepping for the future, I suppose. If there is no apocalypse, I’ll see you when my bouquet’s finished.”

“I’ll see you then. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

You walked to your car, only a few footsteps away, the smile slowly fading from your face as he walked in the opposite direction. You sneaked a glance over your shoulder at him before opening the car door.

Sitting down in the driver's seat, you took a deep breath to bring yourself back to reality. Your mantra had been proven right: that was not a date. It just felt like one. A very successful one at that. He was a gentleman, listened to what you had to say, gave you a compliment, and you even set up an incentive to meet again. This not-a-date went better than most of your actual dates, and it was with a guy who, to your knowledge, had no romantic interest in you.

You were totally and utterly screwed.

[queenendless]

♡•° PURE °•♡

A/n: Spontaneous unplanned White Day fic.

SFW, fluff and romance with the ONLY ONE I wanna spend this day with. I miss him so much! 🥺😭🤧❤️‍🔥💘💖

“If there's one person in all of New Eridu you want to be with today, then it's gotta be — !” Belle didn't have time to finish as you cut in, your ramen bowls shaking as you slammed your just now finished one against the counter.

“I can't help it. There's no one like him. An honorable fighter, a romantic, with cheesy puns galore. Sure his flashy persona as the Champ goes hand in hand with his real self being awkwardly cute and —!” You dramatically sighed as you collapsed on the counter with your blushing goofy face cupped in your hands. “Who wouldn't want a giant adonis littered with scars on top of all that? He's so … perfect.”

Belle’s smothered giggling and General Chop's piqued interest expression got you curious. The rough coughing right behind you got you stiff as a board. The brush of warm leather against your arm and the matching familiar glove immediately seeking your hand already got you melting. The rosy tint from his cheeks to the tips of his ears you spotted got you smiling all silly.

“Thanks, I think. I'm used to getting praised on the job. Your praises though …” Lighter pulled at his scarf, clearing his thick throat. “Still getting used to it.”

“I'll go ahead and leave you be. Wise and I got our own dates to look forward to. Have fun~”

After giving you both a group hug, you both watched her upbeat self waving at the finely dressed wolf Thiren stepping out of the driver's seat of a fancy loaned parked car in the middle of the road, kissing her hand like the suave partner he is, opening up the passenger door for her. You spotted Astra and Wise sitting in the back, her gushing to him about anything that had him look so invested.

“Double date with Lycaon and Astra Yhao … oh our Proxies are moving on up in the world~” You mused as the car drove away when a heavy thump in front of you got you jumping in your seat.

A plastic wrapped gift basket with a bow on top. Spotting some cans, cards, tapes along with a Red Moccus doll.

“Lucy got the plush custom made, Burnice wants your opinion on her new blend, Piper and Pulchra only chipped in some gift cards, and Caesar picked out the movies.” Lighter listed off, kinda embarrassed but still grateful his faction helped him put this together.

“They wanted to repay you for giving them chocolate last month. Plus they thought just gifting you lollipops wasn't nearly enough. So,” A heart shaped box with a painted symbol matching the one on his scarf he hid behind his back then presented it to you with that tender smile of his.

“Your adorable goofy self deserves all the love there is and so much more. For being there for me at my best and worst. For accepting my literal flaws and sharing the burdens I bear. For giving me your unbridled … well everything. I'm grateful to you, Y/n. I truly am.”

His breathless laugh met your cheek as you hugged his waist, nuzzling your face against his own burning cheek. “You won me over the moment we met. No one else can compare to you in my eyes.”

He hummed deeply. “Took the words right outta my mouth. So, you up for a ride? Maybe hit up my place after? Movie marathon and all that?”

Gently tugging on his red scarf, you have his head dip down and meet yours below in a searing kiss.

“Lighter Lorenz, I love you. All of you.” Your beaming e/c eyes might as well have shown hearts to further strike him at his own at how open you are with your feelings.

His nose brushed yours, his forehead resting against yours, his blazing green eyes trembling with tears, and his elated smile capturing your very soul. “I love you too, angel. More than anything.” His whispered vow got you both holding your heart shaped box together as you were left with leaving kisses all over his lovestruck grinning face.

General Chop wept happily in the corner of his shop at witnessing such pure universal love.

[1800bitchcraft]

Why do I feel like Ford would be down bad if he found out his s/o was a vampire and if they bit or fed off of him, especially when they are fooling around that he would be reduced to a whimpering mess

A/N: Oh my GOD you are SO right, anon!!! Obviously we all know Ford's a monsterfucker, I mean come on. So I really love the idea of his partner being non-human and vampires were my first love, of course, and I LOVE sub!Ford so this is extra yummy to me.

This is also an open invitation for more monsterfucker!Ford thots or just sub!Ford in general

CW: biting, blood, dry humping, cumming untouched, sub Ford, blood drinking, typical vampire shenanigans

!!! MDNI OR YOU GET THE BROOM !!!

Smut under the cut

Ford had made a lot of poor choices in his life. Trusting Bill had been the main one, of course, but then there was a laundry list of others:

Enlisting Fidds to help him with the portal, shutting out Stanley, dating a siren. Really, the list went on and on. And, as he stared up at you perched on his lap, hovering over him and looking down with a wicked, predatory gleam in your eyes, your fangs glinting in the lowlight, one might've assumed that this would make that list. But one would be wrong.

"Relax, sweetheart," you murmured, voice low and soothing. "I'm not just gonna pounce on ya, though I think you'd kinda like that." He shivered beneath you, breath catching in his throat as you rested your hands on his chest. It was a small touch, hardly anything to write home about, but it still had his cock twitching in interest.

"Hard to believe when you're looking at me like that." He muttered. He tried to sound put off by your teasing but that was hard to do when he was so flushed just looking at you and you could practically taste his heartbeat. You hummed softly, sliding your hands over his torso. Touching him in slow, languid caresses that caused the edges of his thoughts to blur.

"What? Can't I just appreciate the gift you're giving me?" You said, and the affection lacing your voice did something to his insides. "You've no idea the feast you are, Stanford, but I intend to savor every bit of you." He let out a shaky, stuttering breath then. Your hands slid down the worn fabric of his t-shirt, trailing a path down to the waist band of the pajama bottoms he wore. He dressed comfortably, something you insisted on, and with the way you were touching him now, he was starting to wonder if maybe it was for more than just his comfort.

"Didn't- didn't anyone ever tell you not to play with your food?" He tried to sound snarky, but the stutter and shake to his voice negated it. You splayed your hands out on his lower belly, fingertips just barely gripping at his hips and thumbs dipping below his waistband to stroke at the sensitive, overheated skin there. "Fuck..." the word was soft, nearly silent, but you heard it nevertheless as his head fell back, body leaning into your touch almost mindlessly. You smirked.

"Perhaps," you mused. Your thumbs rubbed soft circles just above his groin, sliding over to the V of his hips and putting more pressure into the dips there. A low, ragged gasp was your reward as the action had pleasure sparking along his nerves. "But I think you like it when I play with you." You finished, flashing your fangs when you grinned down at him.

"Besides," you said after a beat. You moved one hand up to his chest, applying enough pressure to have him laying back against the pillows. "I'm doing this to relax you, sweetheart. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, so just enjoy it. You've never complained about me touching you before." Ford scoffed, gently gripping your hips in his hands. He tugged at you, pulling you down to sit fully in his lap. Gratified by the soft moan you let out when this brought your aching core to rest over the rapidly hardening bulge in his pants.

"And I'm not complaining now, I'm just-"

"Impatient?" You offered, voice now somewhat breathless as the anticipation started to get to you, too.

"Eager," he corrected you, narrowing his eyes slightly. You hummed in acknowledgement, sliding your hands back up his chest, now under his shirt. Your bare skin on his had Ford releasing a shaky breath, eyes fluttering at your gentle, teasing touches. Your fingers found his nipples, perked and sensitive from all your teasing, and your thumbs drew light circles over them.

"Ngh- a-aaah~" he couldn't contain the moan that left him. Your hands were just cold enough to add another layer of sensation, and his hands squeezed your hips. You bit your lip softly, watching the expressions flitting across his face as you teased him.

"Mmm~ please," he muttered, voice soft and whiny. His eyes fluttered open and a pulse of desire ran through you at the heat in them. He tugged lightly, insistently, at your hips. "Fuck, c'mere, please." You couldn't deny him, not when he begged you so sweetly.

You leaned in, chest pressed to his, and kissed him. At first, just firm, brief presses of your lips to his, pulling away when you felt him start to reciprocate. Then, his hands slid into your hair, holding you. Pulling you closer. And you were lost. You opened your mouth at the first flicker of his tongue across your lower lip, moaning as he deepened the kiss immediately. His tongue slid gently over your fangs, and the taste of iron bloomed across your palate when he nicked himself. The kiss turned sloppy, desperate, and when you pulled away there was a smear of red at the corner of your mouth. Ford swallowed thickly, his cock throbbing where you had it trapped beneath the press of your hips.

"Fuck," he groaned when your fingers tangled in his curls, tugging his head back so you could lean in, licking at the long line of his throat. "You shouldn't look so hot like that," he whined. "S'unfair." You chuckled against his throat, nipping gently and feeling him shiver beneath you.

"Do I really look hot with your blood on my lips or are you just a degenerate?" You murmured, tone teasing. His hands moved to your back, stroking along your spine idly as you kissed and nipped along his throat, careful not to draw blood just yet. You liked the way he squirmed beneath you, soft, whining moans and gasps pouring from his lips like he couldn't help it.

"Darling," he groaned, hushed and needy when you rocked your hips down against his erection. Feeling him where he pressed against you, hot and hard. "Darling, please." You hummed, letting your fangs graze the sensitive skin near the base of his neck.

"Please what?" You purred. You tugged lightly on his hair and his hips jerked beneath you, body arching into yours, chasing the coolness of your skin.

"Bite me," he gasped, finally, voice breathless. "Please, darling I- I want it." You muffled your moan in his skin, the desperate edge to his voice making your toes curl. Deciding not to tease either of you anymore, you trailed the pointed tips of your fangs across his skin gently, relishing in the flutter of his heartbeat. The way he shivered underneath you. It scratched at some dark, primal instinct in you that you could feel just barely beginning to bubble to the surface.

Unable to keep yourself in check any longer, edges of your self control beginning to fray, you leaned in. Pressing yourself fully against Ford, your fingers holding tight to his hair, you sank your fangs in. A low, rough moan clawed it's way from your throat and you crowded in closer. Greedily lapping at the blood that spilled from the wounds, shuddering against him as it filled your body with a slow, pooling warmth.

Ford was a wreck beneath you. Your chest rumbled against his; soft, subvocal purrs vibrating your body and keeping him relaxed and pliant beneath you. The venom from your fangs swam through his veins, filling him with heat and making his eyes roll back. His hands, which had slipped under your shirt, clawed at your back. Short, blunt nails leaving faint scratches behind. He was moaning openly, now. The noises interspersed with desperate whines. He planted his hands flat against your lower back, hips jerking and rocking up into yours, messy and uncoordinated as his cock leaked in his pants. He could feel the puddle of precum forming on his lower belly, wet and sticky, but couldn't find it in himself to care. Not when it felt so good.

You pulled your fangs free, tongue sliding over the wounds, greedily lapping whatever came freely until they closed and the blood flow stopped. You pulled away fully then, your smirk cruel and wicked at the whimper Ford let out beneath you. You stared down at him, tracking his every movement and twitch with predatory precision. You clocked the flush on his cheeks. The glassy, distant look in his warm brown eyes, glossed over with tears. You felt the way his skin heated where it pressed against yours, the desperate grinding of his hips.

To Ford, you were a vision. Carnal lust incarnate. There was a light flush over your cheeks, color slowly leeching into your normally pale complexion and Ford could feel the warmth returning to your skin. You were a messy eater, blood smeared over your lips and coating your fangs. And Ford might've been ashamed of the way it made his cock throb if your didn't look just as wrecked as he did. Your eyes were glowing, vibrant and feverish as they drank in his desperate appearance.

"Fuck- don't... don't stop, please," he moaned, breathy and desperate. You swallowed, tip of your tongue darting out to lick the blood from your lips, savoring it as it coated the muscle.

"Yeah?" You breathed. "Y'want more? Oh, of course you do, just look at you." You slid your hand that wasn't in his hair down his chest, wishing you had taken it off him so you could admire the flush painting his skin. "So desperate and I've hardly even done anything," you rolled your hips against him, riding and smoothing out his messy bucks and grinds against you, making Ford tremble and whimper beneath you. "Think you could cum like this? From just rubbing your messy cock against me like a bitch in heat while I drink you down?" Your words were filthy, obscene, and Ford loved it. He was nodding furiously before you'd even finished, hands pushing and pulling at you. Head craning back and baring his throat to you again.

"Yes, yes, yes please," he begged. His voice roughened and gravelly with need. "It's- God, it feels so good I didn't- didn't expect-" his thoughts were jumbled, messy. It was a struggle getting them out amidst the pure want scorching through him. You slid your hand back up his chest, resting it at the base of his throat, thumb stroking over the patch of skin you'd just bitten. Ford keened, hips bucking up into yours.

"Thaaats it, so good for me," you purred, letting his hands grip your hips, holding you to him as he grinded against you. "Make yourself feel good, such a good boy." You leaned back down and one of Ford's hands slid up to your back again, holding you there as if he was afraid you'd pull away. You chuckled softly, sinking your fangs into that same spot again.

Ford moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head as he felt another spurt of pre coat the inside of his boxers. He was dimly aware of the words leaving his mouth amidst the moan, barely audible whimpers of 'yes, fuck yes' and 'oh god, so good, so so good' leaving his lips. He wasn't even coherent enough to register the pressure in his belly, his orgasm creeping up fast, but you could. You could taste it in his blood, the way it seemed to sweeten in your mouth. Your chest rumbled, a feral growl vibrating your skin.

Ford came just like this. Your teeth in his throat, the prick of your claws against his scalp as he squeezed the fat of your hips in his hands. Hips jerking, mouth slack, and eyes rolling back. Soft, aborted little whimpers left his lips as he came, soaking the front of his pants with hot ribbons of cum. His whole body trembling, oversensitive yet still leaning into your touch as you laved your tongue over the wound, waiting until it closed to pull away fully.

"Fuck," he groaned, hot and rough. You sat up, keeping your hips lifted so as not to overstimulate him. At least, not now.

"Good?" You asked, smirking because you knew the answer already. Ford gazed up at you, a blush heating his cheeks. You looked thoroughly satisfied. A flush on your cheeks and eyes bright. He sat up suddenly and you yelped, falling back as he crowded you against the sheets.

"You have no idea," he groaned, swooping in to kiss you deeply. Moaning softly at the taste of his own blood that still lingered on your tongue.

[sandwitchstories]

Stoned and Boned

It's been a while since I posted any new smut hasn't it? I also owed you all a True Form Sukuna x Reader fic to celebrate 250+ followers…Well, here you go, my fellow heathens! Come get your dinner!

If you prefer to read this story on AO3 click here !

Author's Note: This story would not exist without @osunism and ou equally stoned and horny minds! Muse, you were my muse!!🤣 (Side note: You guys should check out their works! They are incredibly talented)

Additional: Kiseru pipes were used to smoke tobacco, not weed, but pot usage was common in the Heian era. In this fic Sukuna smoked it out of a kiseru because I said so

Summary: A completely self indulgent smut fic of reader getting stoned with Sukuna while they fuck.

WC: 2400+

CW: MDNI, Marijuana usage, recreational pot usage, getting stoned during sex, shotgunning pot smoke, Fem reader, afab terms used to describe readers body parts, cunnilingus, blow jobs, Sukuna has 2 dicks, fingering, anal, double penetration, p in v sex, Sukuna's belly mouth - for a full list of warnings please check out the AO3 link!

Divider by me -DO NOT USE

“Go on,” Sukuna’s deep voice slid over your skin like you longed for his fingers to be doing. 

You did as he instructed, untying your robe and letting it fall to the floor, leaving you standing bare before him. With a devious little smirk on your lips you got on the bed, crawling towards him in a slow teasing way. His gaze openly devoured the sight of you.

You settled down on your knees between strong, thick, tattooed thighs, taking in the sight of the King of Curses sprawled out naked before you with his head leaned back on the pile of pillows behind him. You ran your fingers lightly, teasingly, up his thick thighs. Gods, was he gorgeous. 

Sukuna had a lazy grin on his face as he watched you through hooded eyes. He had a hand behind his head and two more lying lazily by his side. But it was the fourth hand that had your full attention. 

You licked your lips as you watched his large hand fisting and stroking both of his hard cocks as he took in your every move. You met his gaze, the look in his eyes making your pussy clench. “Let me.”

Sukuna grinned, letting go of his cocks and gesturing with his open palm towards his cocks. “By all means.”

You leaned forward, you moved one hand to brace near his side, the other took over stroking his cocks. Even though your hand was too small to wrap around them both fully, you had mastered the art of jacking your husband off long ago. You leaned forward and began to slowly kiss up his body. You smiled up at him when you stopped to press a kiss to his belly mouth, making both of his mouths smirk. 

You continued up his body, stopping to playfully flick at his nipples a few times, eliciting a soft grunt from the man below you. You scooted him a little and leaned more over him to further your reach, You took your time mouthing and nipping at his skin, leaving little love marks in your wake, marking him as yours. He moved a hand to gently cup the back of your head, his thumb rubbing circles where it laid.

As you got to the crook of his neck you nuzzled into him, taking in a deep inhale of his scent. Gods, how you loved the intoxicating scent that was uniquely your husband mixed with the alluring scent of kyara. His hands roamed over your body as you kissed up his neck to his ear, placing a gentle kiss to his ear.

You moved to give him a kiss. Your lips met and parted several times before his tongue slid into your mouth. He moved his tongue against yours in slow but commanding movements as his large hand cupped the back of your head. 

You pulled back from the kiss and gave his bottom lip a little nip. You gave his cocks a gentle squeeze. “Your kiseru is loaded for you with your favorite taima, my love. All you need to do is just lay back and let me take care of you.”

“Go on then. You know what to do.” 

You kissed a trail back down his body as you scooted back on the bed to be able to get to your destination. You kept stroking his cocks as you kissed each of his thighs on their markings. You leaned your mouth forward, your tongue swiping over one of his balls before taking it into your mouth. 

The smell of the taima being lit caused your gaze to flick up to Sukuna, watching him take a long drag of the relaxing herb. He reached down a free hand, gripping your hair and pulling you up from his sac. He pressed your mouth to his bottom cock, moaning softly when your tongue instantly shot out of your mouth and swiped up the sensitive flesh of the underside of his cock. 

You kept your mouth open with your tongue out, flat and accessible. Your hands moved to brace on his thighs. Tingles of arousal spread through your veins as he lazily dragged you up and down his cock, his head back relaxed and enjoying very second.

Sukuna pulled at your hair, guiding you upwards until he had your pretty little mouth hovering over the swollen tips of his large, thick cocks. With one of his other hands he dragged his cocks against you, spreading the pre on your lips and chin. You opened your mouth and let him press you down on his top cock. 

“Be a good girl and take it.”

You began to bob your head up and down in a torturously slow manner, like you had all the time in the world. As you sucked his cock, you left more spit behind with each pass, allowing you to take him deeper until your nose was pressed against him. His cock settled into your throat and he held you in place, almost whimpering when you swallowed around him. It felt incredible to have your mouth and throat wrapped around his cock. 

“You look beautiful like that. Exquisite,” he said, still smoking his pipe. “Your pretty, filthy little mouth knows just what to do.”

You grinned around his cock at the praise and began to move up and down the hard, hot velvet lengths of his flesh. You worked at alternating cocks and switching between stroking his lengths, taking him into your mouth, occasionally giving your jaw a break and using your tongue to trace over the striped patterns of his curse markings that decorated both of his cocks. You glanced up at him to see him taking a long drag of his pipe. 

“Come here,” he said, his hand again in your hair pulling you up his body until your face hovered over his. “Open.”

You opened your mouth, eyes closing when his lips fixed to yours and he blew the earthy flavored smoke into your mouth. You inhaled deeply, enjoying both the experience and the flavor as it filled your lungs. You tilted your head back to breathe out slowly, the action allowing Sukuna access to mouth at your neck.

Your hands shot to the back of his head and held him close as his teeth sank into the sensitive junction of your neck and shoulder. “Oh, shit, Suk…”

He grinned and chuckled against your skin, pressing a kiss to the bite he had just left. He moved his head and took another deep drag from the kiseru and motioned you forward, repeating the previous process. There was just something so sexy to him about you getting high off of the smoke he blew into your mouth. It was another pleasure he alone got to give you. He alone got to watch you lose all inhibitions and give in to anything that popped into your mind. That knowledge made his cocks twitch. 

He gave you a slow, deep kiss before pulling you back with a firm grip in your hair and giving you a smirk. He nipped your bottom lip before releasing his hold on your hair. “As you were.”

With a slight daze you moved back down his body, returning your lips to his cocks. He couldn’t help but admire how pretty you looked as your mouth stretched around each of his cocks in turn. 

Soon he was once again directing your movements, having you now take his top cock slow and deep. You wrapped your hand around his bottom cock, stroking it in time.. 

“That’s it, precious one. Just like that… Just a little more…” He babbled as he used your mouth to get himself off. “Shit, keep doing that…You can do it…You want me to cum in your mouth?”

“Mmmhmm,” you enthusiastically replied around his cock. 

He groaned and began working his hips against your mouth, fucking his hard cock into your mouth while your other hand milked his bottom cock. “Fuck, beautiful. Here it comes… Be a good girl and don’t let a drop go to waste.”

You loved to watch him cum. You loved the way his eyes rolled back and clenched shut, the way his stomach muscles tightened. The feeling of his cock twitching and unloading in your throat sent a throbbing desire to your empty cunt. 

His bottom cock erupted at the same time, painting your chest in generous splatters of warm, white. You smiled as you pulled off his cock with a pop. He opened one eye and glanced down at you. You opened your mouth to show him your empty tongue.

“Good girl.”

You grabbed a towel you had thrown on the bed earlier, wiping his cum off of your tits. You gasped  when his large, calloused hands grabbed onto your hips and moved you right to where he wanted you. A shiver ran through you as you realized just where he had positioned you.

The feeling of his belly tongue lolling out and leisurely stroking through your slick folds was incredible. It was so wide, and thick, so warm and flexible. The things that tongue could do inside your cunt were absolutely sinful.

Sukuna’s fingers gripped your hips harder and pressed you down.  He licked stripes up and down your slit before using the tip to tease the very edges of your leaking hole and giving you just an occasional little dip of the tip. 

He chuckled at the frustrated whimper you let out. “What’s the matter, precious one?”

You shivered as the tip of his belly tongue gave your clit a hard flick. “You are teasing me, ya big meanie.”

He chuckled into the crook of your neck. “You want me to give you more?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

He was only too happy to oblige. “Then be a good girl and ride it.”

You sat up straighter, bracing your hands on his chest. The shift in positions gave him the perfect angle he needed. He began to work the thick appendage into your eager cunt.

You moaned and closed your eyes as he worked his tongue in and out of your hot, creamy tunnel. Your nails dug into his chest and you pressed yourself down against him, grinding your pussy against him as the tongue inside your cunt rolled and unrolled, slowly thrusting into your gummy walls.

“Eyes open. You know the rules.” Your eyes shot open and your gaze locked with all 4 of his. You began to move your hips, rocking against him, keeping your movements slow and intentional, grinding your so sensitive clit against him. “Feels so good, Suk.”

Sukuna set to work using his four arms to his advantage. One of his thumbs found its way between your folds, taking over stroking your clit as his belly tongue worked your cunt even more open for him. Another hand took up residency on your chest. The devious man you married conjured a mouth on his large palm, sucking in your nipple harshly and giving it a nip and tug. A third hand cupped the back of your head while his fourth brought the kiseru to his lips.

As he had done before he pulled your mouth to his, shotgunning the gratifying mist into your mouth, watching your eyes get a little more dilated and glossy. He set the pipe down, your movements relaxed enough to tell him you were right where he wanted you. He let you sit up, the hand on the back of your head now joining the other on your currently vacant breast.

Sukuna swiped a finger on his free hand through the saliva and arousal soaking your thighs and carefully slid his hand over the swell of your as before sliding between the twin globes to begin teasing open the tight muscle hidden there. He grinned as you shuddered, staying still momentarily with your jaw hanging just the slightest bit low as you took in the pleasure he was giving you. 

“Keep movin’,” Sukuna said as he carefully worked a second finger into your ass with the aid of the juices spreading on his abdomen.

You did as he said, your movements getting faster and sloppier as you neared your orgasm. “Suk… gon…gon… gonna cum…”

“You have been a good girl, haven’t you?” He smirked as you made an affirmative noise, nodding your head quickly, a pleading look in your glazed eyes. “Go ahead. Cum.”

Your orgasm rocked through your body, setting nerves ablaze and making your pretty little cunt clamp down on his belly tongue, still inside you, lapping up every drop of your honey he possibly could. You slumped forward against his warm, solid body as you panted, twitching and coming down from a powerful orgasm. 

Sukuna’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close. He kissed the top of your head, giving you a few moments to rest in his arms. He captured your lips before turning you both so you were on your side facing him. 

He hiked one of your legs over his hip. He rubbed his cocks up and down your weeping, sensitive slit, gathering a slick coating on the sensitive heads of his weeping cocks. 

He easily slid the head of his top cock into your waiting pussy. His other hand reached over your thigh to line his cock up with your impossibly tight ass and he began slow rocks of his hips, feeding you inch by inch until he was fully sheathed inside both of your holes. The stretch was delicious and you were so fucking full.

You locked fingers with him on the arm above resting above your heads while the other buried in his hair to pull him closer for a heated kiss. You began to move your hips, meeting him thrust for thrust as his cocks bullied your holes and the hand he had cupping your ass guided your speed.

“That’s it, precious one,” he praised, sucking on your bottom lip. 

“Feels so good…” you moaned, pussy and ass clenching on his cocks and making the large man in your arms damn near whimper.

“Keep taking it just like that… Keep going, precious one,” Sukuna said, pulling you flush against him and nuzzling into your shoulder, inhaling deeply as his hips continued to roll at that maddeningly slow but somehow comforting lazy pace. He kissed the skin of your neck, scraping it with his teeth. He was absolutely gone - pussy drunk and high as fuck. He licked up the column of your neck and nipped your ear lobe. He kissed the shell of your ear and said in a soft, husky voice, “Don’t stop.”

As if you had any plans to that. Pfft!

[killuasskateboard]

HIHI AI !! can i pls req a oneshot abt killua and reader having an enemies to lover trope while during the heavens arena arc. LIKE CAN U IMAGINE THEM COMPETING OVER WHO CAN HAVE MORE DEFEATED COMPETITORS and who is better at nen !!! AND THEN THEY SUDDENLY BOND MORE DURING THE TIME THEY GET TAUGHT UNDER WING EHHE.. JUST A THOUGHT 😁😁

A/n: Hi iceee (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠), thank you sososo much for requesting !! I hope the story is up to your expectations 🫶🫶

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

More than rivals

The 200th floor of Heavens Arena was your battlefield, and Killua Zoldyck was your biggest obstacle.  

From the moment you met him, it had been a competition.  

Who had the most wins, who defeated opponents faster, who was better at dodging attacks—the list went on. And, of course, who could piss the other off more.

“You’re keeping track, right?” Killua asked the second you stepped out of the arena, another victory under your belt.  

You wiped some sweat from your brow. “Obviously. 24 wins now.”  

He smirked. "Still one behind me."  

Your eye twitched. 

But when you both reached the 200th floor, things changed.  

The fighters here were different—stronger, more calculated. There was something in the air, something unseen.

Then came Hisoka.  

“You two are interesting,” he had mused, his eerie smile never fading. “But unfortunately… unrefined.”  

And then came Wing.

# Learning about Nen

"You both have talent," Wing said, arms crossed. "But raw talent alone won’t take you further. If you want to survive here, you need to learn Nen."  

Killua leaned forward, intrigued. "Nen?"  

You frowned. "What's that?"  

Wing only smiled. "Something far beyond your current abilities."  

You hated how Killua’s eyes lit up like this was a game.  

And you hated even more that you felt the exact same way.  

But Nen training? It was brutal.

Controlling aura, maintaining Ren, focusing energy—everything felt unnatural. And the worst part?  

Training with Killua.

Whenever you struggled, he was there.

"Wow, you suck at this," he teased when your aura flickered out.  

Your glare could've burned through a wall. "I don’t see you doing any better!"  

Killua smirked and immediately stabilized his Ren.  

…Smug little—  

"You’re just jealous I’m a natural."  

"Jealous?! Oh, you’re dead."  

And that was the moment Gon had to physically get between you.  

"Guys, calm down!" he laughed nervously, holding up his hands. "We’re supposed to be learning!"  

You and Killua exchanged heated glares but begrudgingly backed off.  

"Fine," you muttered.  

Killua rolled his eyes. "Tch. Whatever."  

But despite the constant arguing, something shifted.

Training together made you better.  

Killua’s raw instincts and speed pushed you forward.  

Your strategy and endurance forced him to slow down and think.  

Somewhere between the competition, the bickering, and Gon constantly playing peacemaker, the rivalry started to feel… different.  

And then, one night—after a particularly exhausting session—you both found yourselves on the rooftop of Heavens Arena, the city lights flickering below.  

The usual bickering had faded into silence.  

For once, Killua wasn’t making some snarky comment. Instead, he glanced at you, looking almost hesitant.

"You, uh…" He scratched his cheek, looking away. "You're not bad."  

You blinked. "What?"  

His expression immediately soured. "Tch. Forget it."  

Oh.  

Oh, this was gold.  

"You were gonna say something nice, weren’t you?" You grinned, leaning closer.  

Killua turned away so fast you thought his neck might snap. "No, I wasn’t!"  

"You sooooo were!"  

"Shut up!" His voice cracked slightly, and you swore you saw a tiny blush dust his cheeks.  

It was silent for a moment.  

Then, he muttered—so quietly you almost missed it—  "You're… actually kinda strong."  

Your heart did a weird flip.  

You smirked. "What was that?"  

Killua groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I said—you’re not weak, okay?!"  

He refused to look at you, but you caught the way his fingers fidgeted.  

And then—  

"I knew it!" Gon suddenly appeared from behind, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Killua does think you're strong!"  

Killua choked on air. "Wha—?! Gon, shut up!"  

You laughed, while Killua looked about two seconds from throwing himself off the roof.  

Maybe he was still annoying. Maybe he still got on your nerves. 

But somewhere between enemies and rivals…

Maybe you had become something more.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Thank you for reading !

I'm sorry if there are some grammar mistakes or any mistakes in the story.

Have a nice day/night !! Feel free to request ^^

(⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

[dewracle]

Idk how kink friendly you are but if someone doesn't write Vessel with a spit kink I might die. Please prevent my death unless it makes you uncomfortable in which case, I forgive you, rip me lol

Rain Down On Me

PAIRING - Sleep Token Vessel X Reader

WARNING - NSFW! Spit Kink, Power Play, Slight Degrade, Heavy Drool, Switch Vessel

AUTHOR'S NOTE - Sorry It's short y'all! I hope y'all still enjoy it though! Slowly put surely working through request to possibly open them up again

WORD COUNT - 844

Master List - Ao3

The thick glob of spit from his mouth, his smirk as it hit your tongue, everything about this was turning you on. It wasn’t fair to you because no matter how much you tried to deny it, you had a spit kink and so did Vessel. 

Whether it be you spitting in his mouth or using your spit to jerk him off, or Vessel spitting in your mouth after an especially filthy make-out session. Spit seemed to always be involved in your sexual activities with the singer. 

“Good pet…” He mumbles softly as he watches you swallow down the liquid.

Your eyes flutter shut at his praise; it was impossible not to be turned on by the idea of swallowing something he gave you.

Once you open your eyes, you hum softly with a pleased smile on your face. “Give me more..”

Vessel couldn’t help but chuckle at your comment; of course, you’d be greedy for him. He reaches for your face, cupping it and smiling at you with pride. 

“You want me to spit on you like I did III that time?” He muses as he pulls you closer.

You open your mouth expecting for his spit to land on your tongue. Except, you were pleasantly surprised when the warmth landed just below your eye. You close your mouth, a soft whine escaping your throat as you look at Vessel with a pout. 

“You said like I did him…” Vessel chuckled before grabbing your jaw and smearing the spit across your face. He only chuckled more as your eyes widened with shock and arousal. “Filthy bitch!”

Vessel’s spit dried under his hand, but it didn’t seem to bother him. “God, you’re hot… Pet loves that, don't they?” 

You tried to nod but the tight grip on your jaw forced you to just let out a pathetic whine. From your position, you grabbed at his cloak, fists tightening on it as you tried to pull him closer.

Seeing your struggle, Vessel let go of your face, dropping his hand to the back of your neck to hold you in place. His lips twitched into a pleased smile, the desperate look on your face only serving to make his cock twitch roughly. “Yeah, that’s it…”

“Fuck- Vess, you can’t just-“ You tried but Vessel cut you off. He allowed drool to well in his mouth, leaning forward to lick a thick wet stripe from your jaw to just below your eye. 

You yelped softly, body trembling with arousal as the heat pooled lower. Yet Vessel wasn’t done with you, no. He pulled back and spat every bit of drool he had collected onto your face. 

It dripped down your face, onto your chest and you could do nothing but stare at Vessel. The shock slowly wears off, leaving you to moan out in pleasure. Arousal surged through you, driving you to want more.

Finally, after gathering your strength, you pull the singer into a messy kiss. At first, it surprises him, forcing a soft grunt out of his mouth. But he kisses back, the hand on the back of your neck tightening as he devours your mouth. 

The kiss is a mess, drool dripping down both of your chins. You couldn’t help but moan, dipping your tongue in his mouth for the source of the sweet taste. 

Though Vessel tried to pull back, to breathe and question if you were okay, you did not allow it. Going as far as wrapping your hand around his throat, smearing the combination of spit.

The singer had to fist your hair, pulling you away from the kiss as you desperately whined for more. Your eyes were cloudy, soft yet ready to pounce once more; chin and bruised lips covered in spit. 

“Heel bitch, fucking calm down or I won’t give you what you want.” Vessel growled softly, yanking your hair to emphasize his words. 

A smile stretches across your face, your hand on Vessel’s throat tightens. “But Vee, don’t you want me to suck you down? Drool on your cock?”

Your words made Vessel inhale deeply as he pictured it; pictured how wet your mouth would feel and how beautiful it would be to see your own drool dripping down your chest. 

“You’ll get what you earn.”

The softness in your eyes disappears as you eye Vessel up and down, weighing your options. Would you be good? Earn your way to sucking his cock? Or would you rather act out and take what you want? 

He yanks your hair again, edging you to give him an answer. But instead, you pull him forward by the throat, and spit on his mask. It lands perfectly on the white part, staying for a moment before dripping down his nose. 

“I'll earn your submission Vessel, take control over you.” You hummed and Vessel’s mouth opened slightly, his body shuddering.  “You fucking-“ Vessel began, only to be cut off as your spit drips on the nose of his mask and downwards. “Then earn it, pet, but I will put up a fight.”

[onepieceisreeeeaaalll]

If one piece had Disney in their universe then what would be the strawhats favorite disney songs?

(I bet luffy would enjoy the song "hakuna matata" or zoro with love the song, "I'll make a man out of you" he would probably listen to that song during his workouts? I can imagine Sanji singing be our guest? 😅)

STRAW HATS FAVORITE DISNEY SONGS

OMG THANK YOU FOR THIS IT’S SO CUTE

SO, CLEAN LIST:

LUFFY - I Just Can’t Wait to be King OR Go The Distance OR How Far I’ll Go

ZORO - I’ll Make a Man Out of You OR Zero to Hero

NAMI - Almost There

ROBIN - Reflection OR Let it Go OR Surface Pressure

USOPP - Friend Like Me

FRANKY - You’re Welcome

BROOK - When Will My Life Begin OR Grim Grinning Ghosts OR any narration song (see below)

JIMBEI - Into the Unknown OR You’ve Got a Friend in Me

BONUS:

ASL BROTHERS - Hakuna Matata OR I Always Wanted a Brother

ACE - Go The Distance

See rambling/explanations below cut!

Now I’m tempted to do a broadway/musical movie list. I’ll have you all know that I’m unfortunately a multifaceted nerd, meaning I was also a huge theatre kid.

AAAH Okay this one is fun! So, I’ve been trying to think about this. Going off of yours, I’d say Zoro’s is for sure I’ll Make A Man Out of You. It’s just perfect for him. I think he’d also appreciate the vibes of Zero to Hero. For training purposes. Obviously.

I feel like the ASL brother’s anthem is Hakuna Matata or the unfortunate bop that is “I Always Wanted A Brother”, but Luffy’s is either “I Just Can’t Wait to be King” or “Go the Distance” (though I can see Go The Distance for Ace, too.) Honestly, Luffy would also probably just like all of the ballads that include the main character going on a journey. “How Far I’ll Go” would definitely be another contender.

Sanji is GREAT for Be Our Guest, just imagine him humming it while he cooks awjkenfawklejnfawkejfn. But I think baby Sanji stuck with Judge would have a “Waiting on a Miracle” moment. Which would make me cry actual tears.

Nami could have an “Almost There” moment with how she almost had enough money to pay back Arlong, which of course didn’t end up mattering, same for Tiana. She understands that plight.

Robin is a fun one that I can’t quite pinpoint. “Reflection” feels a little too sad, I want something more badass for her. “Let It Go” maybe? I haven’t quite decided, but I crave a power ballad for her. “Surface Pressure” might also appeal to her. She’s had to have this tough persona her whole life to protect herself, but really she’s as vulnerable and scared as anyone else. Been through a lotta trauma. Might be a good song to cry to.

Usopp would be “Friend Like Me” ALL THE WAY. Every single claim would be a boldface lie, but that’s why we love him. He’d also just rock it I’m sorry I need an artist on this IMMEDIATELY. He’d LOVE TO SING THIS SONG AND BRAG.

Franky is “You’re Welcome” ALL THE WAY. Usopp and Franky are the two I’m most confident on. I can see Franky flexing his super cyborg muscles during the rap, and “DON’T MESS WITH FRANKY WHEN HE’S ON A BREAK AWAY” i’m sorry I’m actually frothing at the idea.

Brook is difficult. I would love to disney princess him into “When Will My Life Begin” because of his time in isolation, it’s very Rapunzel. But I also want to give him something funky because - ya know. Soul King, baby. “Down In New Orleans” would just be fun to hear him sing, but obviously that wouldn’t match him unless we all agree he can be an omniscient narrator. In that case, just give him all the gospel truth songs too (with Usopp and Franky helping as other muses, of course.) OH AND OF COURSE GRIM GRINNING GHOSTS OKAY. HE’D JUST LIKE THE JAZZY STUFF.

Jimbei is TOUGH. Okay, because obviously I want to give him something mentor-y. The man mentored Luffy straight out of depression. Ugh, it’s such low hanging fruit to give him “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” if I’m allowed to include pixar. Umm..maybe he’d also like “Into the Unknown.” When you think about it, he’s had to take a lot of big leaps of faith in his life, leaving behind the world he’s known not once, not twice, but at least three times. He’d probably appreciate the themes behind the song.