#here is a (not very) tantalizing taste nonetheless!

[quatregats]

wip words... perhaps sword, swill, and swear?

Ohh that's a delightful set of words!

Oddly enough though they are all very rare in my fics, but two did show up in Hornblower Time Loop so here they are (this is still in rough draft phase so the passages themselves might end up looking wildly different if I ever get around to finishing it):

SWORD:

There was no trick. They took her just the way he remembered the day before, and the day before that as well. The guard boat coming out to intercept them; boarding her; the sound of swords clashing through the smoke of gunshots; and then on to the Flame, where the mutineers awaited them.

SWEAR:

“We ain’t looking to hang, sir--not for the last bad business, nor for this one.” This was an older seaman with a long pigtail who Hornblower had spoken to earlier. He was a sensible man, Hornblower had thought--knew the ways of the Navy, and where to draw the line.  “I swear I will not let you,” he said.

No matches for "swill" alas, but now that it's at the front of my brain who knows what might happen :0

Thank you for the ask!

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Mercury's magnetic landscape mapped in 30 minutes

As BepiColombo sped past Mercury during its June 2023 flyby, it encountered a variety of features in the tiny planet's magnetic field. These measurements provide a tantalizing taste of the mysteries that the mission is set to investigate when it arrives in orbit around the solar system's innermost planet.

Like Earth, Mercury has a magnetic field, albeit 100 times weaker at the surface of the planet. Nonetheless, this magnetic field carves out a bubble in space, called a magnetosphere, which acts as a buffer to the continuous flow of particles blown out by the sun as the solar wind.

Because Mercury orbits so close to the sun, the interaction of the solar wind with the magnetosphere and even the surface of the planet is a lot more intense than at Earth. Exploring the dynamics of this bubble and the properties of the particles contained within it is one of the main aims of BepiColombo's mission.

BepiColombo is set to arrive at Mercury in 2026 using flybys of Earth, Venus and Mercury itself to adjust its speed and trajectory to allow it to be captured into orbit around the planet. The currently "stacked" spacecraft will separate and deploy two science orbiters—the ESA-led Mercury Planetary Orbiter (MPO) and the JAXA-led Mercury Magnetospheric Orbiter (MMO, or Mio)—into complementary orbits to enable the essential dual-spacecraft measurements needed to paint a complete picture of Mercury's dynamic environment.

As the spacecraft speeds past Mercury during the flybys, many of its science instruments are able to sneak a preview of the exciting science to come. Moreover, the flybys provide unique insights from regions around the planet that won't be directly accessible from orbit.

Lina Hadid, a former ESA Research Fellow now at the Laboratoire de Physique des Plasmas at Paris Observatory, used the Mercury Plasma Particle Experiment (MPPE) suite of instruments active on Mio during the 19 June 2023 flyby, BepiColombo's third of six Mercury gravity assists, to build up an impressive picture of the planet's magnetic landscape in a very short period of time.

Hadid is the lead co-investigator of MPPE and lead of one of its instruments, the Mass Spectrum Analyser. She worked on the paper published in Communications Physics that presented the results with former instrument lead Dominique Delcourt.

"These flybys are fast; we crossed Mercury's magnetosphere in about 30 minutes, moving from dusk to dawn and at a closest approach of just 235 km above the planet's surface," she says. "We sampled the type of particles, how hot they are, and how they move, enabling us to clearly plot the magnetic landscape during this brief period."

Combining BepiColombo's measurements with computer modeling to determine the origin of the detected particles based on their motion enabled Hadid and her colleagues to sketch out the various features encountered in the magnetosphere.

"We saw expected structures like the 'shock' boundary between the free-flowing solar wind and the magnetosphere, and we also passed through the 'horns' flanking the plasma sheet, a region of hotter, denser electrically charged gas that streams out like a tail in the direction away from the sun. But we also had some surprises."

Delcourt states, "We detected a so-called low-latitude boundary layer defined by a region of turbulent plasma at the edge of the magnetosphere, and here we observed particles with a much wider range of energies than we've ever seen before at Mercury, in large thanks to the sensitivity of the Mass Spectrum Analyser designed especially for Mercury's complex environment."

"BepiColombo will be able to determine the ion composition of Mercury's magnetosphere in greater detail than ever."

"We also observed energetic hot ions near the equatorial plane and at low latitude trapped in the magnetosphere, and we think the only way to explain that is by a ring current, either a partial or complete ring, but this is an area that is much debated," adds Hadid.

A ring current is an electric current carried by charged particles trapped in the magnetosphere. Earth has a well-understood ring current located tens of thousands of kilometers from its surface. At Mercury it is less clear how the particles can stay trapped within a few hundred kilometers of the planet, especially as the magnetosphere is squashed against the planet's surface. This debate will likely be settled once MPO and Mio are collecting data full-time.

Hadid and her colleagues also observed the direct interaction of the spacecraft with the surrounding space plasma. When the spacecraft is heated by the sun it cannot detect the colder, heavy ions because the spacecraft itself gets electrically charged and repels them.

But as the spacecraft moves through the planet's nightside shadow, the charging is different, and suddenly a sea of cold plasma ions becomes visible. For example, the spacecraft detected ions of oxygen, sodium and potassium, which were likely sent flying from the planet's surface by micro-meteorite strikes or through interactions with the solar wind.

"It's like we're suddenly seeing the surface composition 'exploded' in 3D through the planet's very thin atmosphere, known as its exosphere," remarks Delcourt. "It's really exciting to start seeing the link between the planet's surface and the plasma environment."

"In this rare dusk-to-dawn sweep through the large-scale structure of Mercury's magnetosphere we've tasted the promise of future discoveries," says Go Murakami, JAXA's BepiColombo project scientist.

"The observations emphasize the need for the two orbiters and their complementary instruments to tell us the full story and build up a complete picture of how the magnetic and plasma environment changes over time and in space," adds Geraint Jones, ESA BepiColombo project scientist.

"We can't wait to see how BepiColombo will impact our broader understanding of planetary magnetospheres."

Meanwhile, scientists are already digging into the data snatched during last month's fourth close Mercury flyby, while flight controllers are readying for the final two back-to-back flybys slated for 1 December 2024 and 8 January 2025, respectively.

TOP IMAGE: Mercury’s magnetosphere during BepiColombo’s third flyby. Credit: European Space Agency

LOWER IMAGE: Simulation of Mercury’s magnetic environment. Credit: European Space Agency

[beneathashadytree]

Hi ! I would like to ask of you can write about Ace or Luffy meeting a person who is blind but have a sharp sense and super hearing ability (although I wouldn't think it's as powerful as haki) so they pretty much being travelling alone for fun. They could pretty much live on their own up until now but not without struggles. How would Luffy or/and Ace would react if they have meet up with the person? ( Can be platonic or romantically. Thank you so much for the opportunity!)

TACT - MONKEY D. LUFFY, PORTGAS D. ACE X READER

Warnings : none, they’re both a little idiotic and clueless sometimes but they redeem themselves, starts out platonic and then romantic ending is optional, reader is blind, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluff! I love them sm istg

Word count : 1.3K words

Additional notes : Thank you so much for requesting, and I hope this meets your expectations! I’ve never written for them before, and I’m still very early on in the anime so my characterization is probably kinda off, but I loved writing this nonetheless! They’re so precious to me 💗💗

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

Luffy was a lot of things, but tactful wasn’t one of them

That’s just the way he was, and it probably made him all the more loveable at times—though it didn’t endear him to some

And his first encounter with them was… rather interesting

They’d been traveling on land for quite a long time after they’d made it to the newest island, searching for a decent inn to accommodate the entire crew at the lowest cost (per Nami’s orders)

Luffy had long gotten bored of the bickering back and forth between Zoro and Sanji, driven away by his hunger and desperation for another not-so-quick meal—and quick, before he started whining to himself and alarming everyone that passed him by

Halfway through complaining of how stupid this was, not having any food stalls nearby, a hand tapped on his shoulder

A friendly smile on their face, the person invited him to follow after them, with a promise of the most delicious street food he’ll ever have the pleasure of tasting

The captain blinked twice, picking up the pace to walk beside them, but not before loudly and quite rudely asking, “Hey, why are you looking past me?”

They’d detected no malice in his question, and explained that their eyes were in fact unseeing, to which Luffy only nodded

Then he frowned, “Then how did you know I was there?”

At that they chuckled, “Well, all my other senses have been sharpened, though I’m pretty sure everyone within a five mile radius could hear your whining.”

“That can’t be easy. I can’t do anything in the dark.”

“It isn’t always the easiest, yes, especially when you’re traveling completely on your own, I guess,” they hummed in agreement, guiding him carefully and weaving through the crowds, “But I’d rather not be treated any differently. With consideration of course, but never like glass.”

As they pushed back a curtain that lead them into a shop whose tantalizing smells had Luffy’s mouth gaping and watering within seconds, they laughed as they heard him sharply inhale in anticipation

“You know what, I think I really like you!”

Now, if after several meetings and spending enough time together they’ve decided to further their relationship from platonic to romantic, I see Luffy as probably the best partner out there for them

He’s the least smothering guy ever, and fully believes in letting a person take control of their life without squashing their hopes and dreams or trying to limit them by putting them into standard boxes

He doesn’t baby them or use that overly sympathetic tone that most people tend to patronize them with, and that’s probably what made the relationship come so naturally in the first place; how laidback and casual, yet absolutely wonderful things were with him

Their heightened senses were an excuse to have them join the crew, but eventually the odd feeling of unique affection that swirled in his gut proved to be the real reason behind his decision

And considering just how much of a breath of fresh air he was, they’d found themselves reciprocating his growing feelings, and were unable to reject his offer to walk alongside him on the path to becoming the pirate king

Occasionally, he’d make a mindless remark or ask a rather stupid question about their blindness that sounded a little worse than he’d actually meant, but they knew him too well to take his words to heart, instead calmly replying and correcting his misconceptions

If they have taken offense though, he’d be a little confused but try his best to avoid any slip ups—and he mostly succeeds honestly

After all, what they have is definitely a once in a lifetime thing for him, and he cherishes his relationships more than one would ever know; it’s part of who he is

The difference between the two is still jarring to everyone who meets the brothers, and it shows even more after they hear about a certain someone’s first meeting with Ace

He’d probably been out to eat too, scouting the area with a keen eye for a new diner to check out—and, if we’re being brutally frank here, he probably intended to dine and dash once again

And once he’d hit the jackpot with a place that looked like it was had just restocked on fresh produce and grains (good, so they won’t be using the “we ran out” excuse on him!), he found himself indulging in heavenly good food that filled every single craving of his

Hearing a chortle to his left, he found them leaning on the countertop, a lazy smile on their face

“Sorry, ‘s there something on my face? Tends to get messy.”

“No, you just sounded real pleased while you were enjoying that.”

“Er,” he paused for a moment, not quite knowing what to make of their comment, before a look of understanding came on his face

Their eyes were vacant, and he chose to forgo his initial reply and instead approach them with tact

“Haven’t had a proper meal in days.”

“Could’ve sworn you’d been muttering about having just had a third lunch with that seasoned platter of roast beef,” they arched their eyebrow, and his eyes grew wide at that

Their senses of hearing and smell had to have been far superior than any he’d seen, seeing as the crowdedness of the diner meant that it was near damn impossible to hear anyone amidst the noise or discern particular smells among the various aromas

“Incredible,” he mused, before grinning, “And here I though I was being subtle about that.”

“Sorry to tell you, but as a fellow traveler, you probably stick out like a sore thumb. Nothing about you is subtle.”

As they inched their chair closer to him, he could converse more easily now, “You said you’re a traveler. On your own then, I’m guessing?”

Nodding, they added, “I like to travel light. Less to worry about,” and before he could open his mouth to speak, they added, “And don’t worry about me. It’s pretty therapeutic to be on my own, even if it does prove to be troublesome sometimes.”

And Ace, though with slightly different circumstances, did understand them quite well; having fared well on his own more times than he could count on one hand

He wasn’t even aware of it, but as he leaned in to talk more animatedly, that first moment of bonding was the start of a cherished friendship

As a romantic partner, I’ll have to admit that Ace is more of a worrywart than he appears, and would probably accidentally end up annoying them on a few occasions

It’s not like he means to seem like he’s walking on eggshells around them; he just worries about his manners and actions more than he’ll ever admit

That and the fact that he’s naturally the type of person to expend himself for the sake of his loved ones, so he can’t help the way he worriedly checks on them several times to make sure that everything’s alright

He probably forgets during these times that they’d been perfectly fine on their own before they’d met, but that’s fine

All they have to do is insist that they don’t need any help, and assure him that if they did they’d remember to rely on him more

Nudging him into quieting down is probably the best solution to this problem; once he’s aware of his actions he feels rather ashamed of himself afterwards, but he’ll learn to do better

Ace is sweet in his own impulsive, cheeky, and caring way, and that’s just another one of his quirks that they’ve come to notice about him

There’s so much of him to love, and being patient with him as he tries his best to make them comfortable is something they don’t mind doing in the least

Once he’s got a good rhythm going on in their relationship and he loosens up, he’ll realize that accepting their help with their incredible abilities isn’t at all taking advantage of them

Their aid is much appreciated, and he’d tell them every day how grateful he is—not just for whatever their sharpened senses have just helped him out in, but for their mere existence in his life, and for filling his heart with love until it was brimming with affection

Taglist: @stories-that-shaped-me @finch-ya @wifeofkyojuro @livwritesfics

[joannasteez]

Hey!! So, I have an idea. Could you write a fic about EZ and the reader’s wedding night? With smut of course 😏. I feel like he’d be so sweet and he’d be giving so much praise. You’re a wizard at combining fluff and smut, so I know you’d do amazing with this! Sending you lots of love 😁🥰

Short Summary: You and EZ turn in earlier than planned from your wedding reception.

Gif Credits @losaslut

Taglist: @my-rosegold-soul @appropriate-writers-name @est1887 @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @brownsugarcoffy @elektriknachosss @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @superhoeva @witching-hour @noz4a2 @withmyteeth @rae-gar-targaryen @cruzwalters @rose-bliss @youlovetkay

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒

It was a quake in his belly, ravenous, spreading wild and untamed, free, like fire, just a hairs breadth away from desperation. Starvation. It was hunger, jolting tingles prickling, crackling the tips of his fingers, an electric feeling of desire, need. He knew then, knows now, in his soul he’s got to have it, reach out to it, grab at it. Hunger, it’s a shift in his breath, his whole life stuck on the upturn of an inhale but now, finally, feeling free enough to fall, to breathe. And then without wait, breathe again. The body, his body, aches for it --always has-- needs it, this little thing called love. Craves it, so much so that it trembles, forlorn in the way that it lays, stands, sits, exist, till it has it. Till he has it. Has love. Till he can touch it, hear it, smell it, feel it, taste it, hold it gentle in the palm of his hand because... 

“Remember Ezekiel, love is a vulnerable thing, don’t waste it”. Felipe’s voice always so mellow and coarse. Reminiscent. “Don’t waste it son, don’t waste it”. 

“Can you go three weeks without me Reyes?” You were such a damn tease, even if he could hate you he wouldn’t. 

He felt like a madman for saying yes. Just a heel - toe away from insanity. 

Three weeks of sweet faint kisses, the taste of your lips ghosting, melting no where else but the very tip of his tongue, and barely felt touches, like a breeze born at dawn too busy moving, flowing, to cascade along the leaves that live for its graceful feel, all because you wanted him needy for you. Hungry. 

He couldn’t say “I do” fast enough. “Lets get out of here”. His whisper breathy and warm at your ear. Feet shifting with his, fingers in each others embrace, dancing beneath a chandelier sky. 

You’d said “I do” so perfectly. The phrase rich off your lips, dripping like honey, so bright, warm and embracing, a promise. Like some sweet summer melody. It was heavenly. 

“You still with me?” The question just above a whisper, your fingers ruffling aimlessly through the hair at his chin. 

“Of course”. 

“What were you thinking about?” His lip becoming the object of your thumbs affection. The rosy pink flesh so demanding to the eyes, tantalizing. 

“How much I need you”. 

But it’s a painful longing Ezekiel has, burdening him more than he’d ever be able to tell, one that aches well and deep at the heart of him, melting away bone and wearing the strength of his nerve, leaving him open to the air of you, raw and helpless, but it’s good all the same. He’s weak in love. It’s exhilarating nonetheless, the type of yearning he works tirelessly to sate but begs also never to leave him for fear that he would never feel so wholly, so deeply for another this way again. Finding such pleasure in this love stricken pain, he realizes as he stares into your eyes, only you could do something like this, possess him to feel such an adoration for the way you weaken him. And the silk dress helps him none, the soft white fabric draped along your body drawing him in, persuading his fingers to ruffle beneath, the dig of them measured as they stretch over your thighs, inching towards the sweetest place he knows. 

His gaze never leaves you, the straps of your dress slim and dainty as you slip them away over your shoulders. 

The shake of his head is a mixture of wonder and disbelief. How were you so beautiful, and he so lucky? “Goddam”, he whispers, the white lace accessorizing your skin calling him, pleading for his strong, gentle touch. 

You slip easy into his lap, the end of the plush bed dipping. 

Your lips feather over his, breath as soft as your caressing hold along the sharp edge of his jaw. So close you could taste him. “I know how much you love me in lace”. 

He groans, placing a hand at your back before he turns to lay you at the heart of the bed. Present himself properly your beauty. “You’re incredible. So perfect”.

Drowning, after three weeks of nothing you’re neck deep in a passion far too great just to be your own, the faint taste of champagne running fresh, swirling on your tongue from his. Three weeks, and finally, he gives you a breathless kiss. Deep, demanding, and addictively unbearable in a way that makes you want to fall into it, wander into the heart of it till you’re lost forever. But what does it all mean?, to be so unearthed in this moment, to fall and fly at the same time? Delve face first into heaven and earth, what else does it mean if not becoming weak in love too.

“I missed you”, his lips lazy at the lace dressing your breast, tongue drawing slow till they’re twisted hard and aching, but he doesn’t stop. Of course he doesn’t, because when has Ezekiel ever given up the opportunity to tease you? Cause your body such an alluring grief. “I missed this”. Wet kisses swirling and melting into your skin till he’s suckling hard at your lace covered slit, wetness pooling in an instant. “She missed me too”, he chuckles, before it slips into a moan at the roll of your hips. Rosy lips traveling, mapping the underside of your thighs. His eyes blown, glazed over with want as they peer into yours. “You’re so pretty baby”, a small kiss to the peak of your right knee. “So beautiful”. Another just above your navel. “All mine”. 

“You can stare and admire me later. I need you now”, you fight the whine threatening to wrap smooth over your words. Fingers reaching for him, wanting him close. 

He’s at your ear in seconds, the weight of him pressed well into you, hand strong as he takes one of your legs to wrap secure around him. “How do you want me hermosa?. Tell me”. 

“Slow. Make love to me”

He’s moving like the earth has stopped so generously for this moment, calloused fingers relieving you of all the beautiful lace like you’re some precious gift, and then his bottoms are gone, clothes forgotten like everything else that isn’t you. If nothing else in the moment, it’s his sudden affinity for patience that’s most agonizing, but deep down you know you deserve it, leaving him touch starved for three weeks was a bit low. But even patience, with the right touch, wears thin quick, the heel of your left foot settling at the base of his back, both legs now warm at his waist. It’s the creeping roll up his spine that gets him, like a call to action, a firm hand that makes him fall to you with a fluidity, such grace in motion you haven’t seen in weeks. ‘Again... three weeks... why’d you make him wait?’, the small pieces of you wonder, till he’s sinking in hard, hot and thick inside you. 

“That’s it”, he encourages. Reveling in your tight fit, utterly dazed in the way it satiates the heat reddening his skin. “Let me in baby”. Another groan escaping all drawn out into the hot skin of your neck when he bottoms out. 

“Oh fuck”. Your moan slurred in that delirious way. Eyes daring to roll, your jaw clenched, hiss smooth sailing out and into the air. 

He’s moving slow like you asked him, but his hips are digging deep, really giving you the type of passion that glazes your eyes, ears heating, whimpers broken as your fingers press into him. He’s as close as can be but you need him closer, but you’re not really sure what you’re looking for with your fingers, what you’re digging for. Maybe some grounding? Yeah, that’s what it feels like. That’s what shuddered breaths and parted lips tell you anyways. ‘You need grounding’, because he’s determined to imprint himself inside you, mold you to him, make your tight heat recommit him to memory till it’s unrecognizable where you end and he begins. 

He’s heavy, within and without, a strong, uncompromising force rocking into you so perfect every time. Your wetness pooling with every filling push of his hips, sounding sweet. “You make me feel so full baby”. 

He’s fluid still, the delicious grind he works into you at a steady pace. Thats it, that’s it, that’s it, a mumbling chant parting off his lips, close to yours. They meet and fall off your own, tongues slipping lazy, coming together with every push of his length, walls slick and warm as they hug him in, pulling and sucking so fucking good before his waist rears back, lips breaking for just a moment, before he’s home again. Your foreheads are a resting place for the other, right hand of yours meeting his chest, the other nailing gentle at the nape of his neck. “You’re always so good to me”. He’s at your ear again, whispers soft, but still ringing so loud, your thigh gripped in his left hand, his body anchored on the weight of his arm at the right, the digging turned into a brute snap. “So good for me”. His hearts pounding hard, matching the beat of yours, you feel it, like thunder under your touch. “Fuck”, the slim ring of golden brown in his eye meeting yours. “I’m never letting you go”. 

A tear slips slim off to the side of your cheek, pressure in your belly building strong. “I love you EZ”. 

He thinks it’s enough, hearing it the one time. It rises, saturates his skin, breaks him down, builds him back up, makes him whole, and then it dissipates. He needs it again. “Say it again. Tell me you love me”. 

You hold him close, lips brushing. It’s sweeter this way, always has been, always will be. “I love you baby, I love you so much”. 

A tear and a whimper, but it isn’t yours. Another kiss brushing your lips, thigh tight in his hold. “I love you so fucking much”, trembling between the gentle intensity of another whimper and the soft sincerity of a whisper. Either way, it’s truth all the same. 

His hips rear back again, hitting once, twice, and then a third final time. The coils winding in your bellies unraveling sharp. Bodies burning in white hot bliss. 

Falling and flying face first into heaven and earth. It’s amazing. 

[yostresswritinggirl]

Do you do poly ships? :0 if not feel free to do these two characters separately lol May I get some hcs of Zhongli and Venti on a picnic date with the reader? Just a quiet day in the sun where the Archons can relax for a moment and watch the world go by :D (if you wanna insert some angst maybe they suddenly realize this moment is fleeting bc reader is mortal and won't be with them forever?? Up to you lol 👀) thank you in advance!!!

I actually don't :D kidding ahahah

What I meant to say was that I haven't wrote anything related to poly relationship before so this a cool, first experience for me! And like the dumbass that I am, I took on this request and butchered the heck outta it. Welcome to "A Day In The Life Loving Two Broke Gods"-

Rendezvous with the Gods

Picnic Scenario with Poly!Venti, Zhongli, and You

Background!

It's pretty WACK how you got two of the seven archons to be interested in you in a romantic level.

But I can imagine that the thing that attracted them the most to you is your sense of humanity. As ex-archons, what they needed now is a sense of normalcy and a grasp on reality, and with your knowledge and presence they've come to realize the ways of the mortals fairly easily.

But like, you got the two oldest archons in existence. Even the Traveler is in disbelief at this turn of events.

I think you somehow ended up in this situation when the two of them had a reunion after their retirement, and the conversation went like this: "Have you heard of the fair maiden, (Y/N)? Their existence greatly reminds me of Celestia!" "I had the honor of meeting them yes, how tantalizing they are, even the slightest sight of them invigorates me through the whole day."

They'd shower you with praises among one another, and you're forced to sneeze for an hour straight somewhere in Teyvat.

Preparation!

*wheeze*

First thing I thought was "How probable is it that Venti drinks Dandelion Wine at 4 in the afternoon?"

The answer is yes.

You three have planned this picnic days ahead, maybe even a week. As all of you have your own work and errands to deal with, probably not Venti tho, a gathering of this magnitude that requires you three to be present for hours are not as common as you'd think.

First order of business: location! The most obvious answer would have been Starsnatch Cliff, Windrise or even Dihua Marsh.

While thinking, Venti and Zhongli ended up sharing a look, and suddenly the location was settled.

No, you don't know where it is, and they tell you that they'll handle it.

You don't have to worry.

You are very worried.

Next, the food! Being in a relationship with two broke Gods made you the alpha in terms of Mora, and on this occasion, you're once again forced to put your foot down and provide.

With that in mind, both of them could only offer a guilty smile and a nervous laugh.

The outcome of your meal depends on your cooking skills really: if you're good or decent, what a heart-warming picnic that would be.

They must have tasted your cooking before so they would ask for requests on your delicious home cooking —

something light that goes with tea, said Zhongli.

something meaty and heavy to pair with wine, said Venti.

It's a wonder how you deal with these two together.

If you're absolutely terrible at cooking, like Suspicious Dish™ rating, you're gonna have to rely on your Mora to get takeout for this date.

Everything else you've pretty much wrapped up quickly, all you have to do now is wait.

Picnic Time!

Venti was the one to pick you up from your housing to guide you to the location, greeting you with a chaste kiss on the cheek before aiming for the picnic basket hanging by your elbow.

You don't let him; he might eat it on the way there honestly

Cute boy is practically shaking with excitement as he hauls you up over a cliff face and carefully nyoom! over the sea

Where is he taking you?

You didn't dwell much longer when you saw a small island in the distance, a rock formation by the edge and most notably, you're tall lover standing next to an elegant patterned brown and gold blanket placed over the sea of flora.

Welcome to Heart Island!

Very cheesy

The Geo archon greets you with a kiss on the hand before being tackled to the ground by a buzzing Venti.

How that was physically possible was beyond you-

You set up and laid down all the food you got for today's picnic: Fresh apples, 'Breakfast' Sandwich, Chicken and Mushroom Skewers!

You've also noticed a picnic basket to the side that wasn't yours. Noticing your stare, Zhongli pulled out his contributions: Mora Meat, a pitcher of Iced Tea, and a bowl of Mushroom Stew.

Out of nowhere, Venti manifests his own offerings to the table: Apples, Dandelion Wine and Mondstadt Hash Browns.

You have no idea how these two managed to prepare or afford such meals but you appreciate it nonetheless.

They had the whole week to save up Mora just for this picnic, how cute aww

The first to take a bite is Venti, defo. You and Zhongli would be prepping the utensils while the Anemo boy sneaks some food into his mouth, even if you smack his hand multiple times, he's not gonna relent.

A lot of catching up happens in this picnic: your wild commissions, Venti's recent performances, Zhongli's uh consultant stuff.

These are the rare moments where Zhongli isn't the one filling up the conversation more, satisfied with hearing the voices of his lovers and listening to their joys or woes.

The whole picnic is accompanied by Venti's lyre, strumming softly, unrelenting, to make sure all of you are enjoying the serenity of the island.

You and Zhongli take turns spoon feeding him cuz he just won't stop PLAYING

Zhongli made the Iced Tea

Zhongli made the Iced Tea

Very refreshing, right amount of sweet, would honestly be a good alternative for Venti's alcoholism

Speaking of, he's tipsy now

He's on a full-blown performance now, serenading and urging you two into a dance after eating "to digest the food faster"

Not really believable but you danced anyways.

Zhongli would decline first as he starts cleaning up

But give him a little more nudge, pull on his hand, he'll crave eventually

Rex Lapis is actually a pretty decent dancer

HAVE YOU SEEN HOW GRACEFUL HE DROP KICKS HIS SPEAR

Such a relaxing day off the three of you deserve

By the time the sun already dipped the horizon and you guys still had time to spare, you and Venti would be dozing off on the blanket while leaving the few remaining clean up to Zhongli. It was a tiring yet enjoyable day that's deserving of a nice and dreamy nap.

"Morax..." He'd hear an uncharacteristically somber voice as he makes his way over to where you both lay. Your back resting on the Anemo archon's chest as he spoons you. His teal eyes stare unmoving at your open palm of which the Geo archon takes into his as he sits down.

Little cuts litter your rough hands, from your adventures, some fresh from today to prepare your dishes. How frail and sensitive mortal hands are.

"I'll miss them, so so much." Venti confessed as his grip around you tightens, free-flowing tears erupt from his eyes that are unfocused, as if he was years away with that thousand yards stare that the other God had familiarized himself with.

For the second time in his whole lifetime, Rex Lapis found himself at a loss for words.

------

"Ohhh, a luxurious chest! What's it doing so far out here?" The Traveler lets the floating companion ramble as they pull the chest open, excited for the new artifacts they'll come by.

A teal goblet with gold accents worn out through the years from disuse as parts of its paint are chipped off as gray splotches, laid perfectly in the middle of a brown wool blanket with intricate gold and silver geometric patterns. On each side lays an Anemoculus and Geoculus, softly glowing yet dimming in pulses.

They pick it up with utmost care for safe-keeping, to ask for their archon friends in the future. Who knows, it might be the closure they needed.

This took some time and a lot of pondering wow! This is even more chaotic than the Albedo one ahahah I've made myself sad just thinking about this— anyways thank you so much for requesting and your lovely support! Please let our archon bbs be happy ywy

[loveislattes]

Everything Comes at a Price (Demon!Dark/Fem!Reader) Chapter 2

You can find Chapter 1 here!

Commission prompt: Reader is really depressed, and Dark decides to roughly Fuck the depression out of them.

Important: Reader has female pronouns and is a vagina owner!

Warnings (For this chapter specifically): Depression, talks of death, smut, dom/sub, rough sex, Demon!Dark, demon-like anatomy, shadow tentacles, oral (male receiving), very minor breath play, teasing, pet names, dirty talk, minor degradation, praise kink, unprotected sex, primal/power play, and multiple orgasms!

A/N: Other than the kink warnings, this one is safe to read! No gore/death. No beta- there may be a few errors.

As always, if you would like to support me, I have a Ko-Fi (here) for donations and I usually have a few slots open for commissions (unless life gets in the way)!

Tags: (If you want to be tagged in my writing, just let me know!)

@when-the-sun-goes-dark

@underthedark13

@fruitypieq

@another-thirsty-blog

@hcrystal02

@just-a-little-bat

“You’re sure? The doctor is sure?” you questioned earnestly.

“Yes! Yes! They say it’s like some kind of miracle. They expect her to make a full recovery after some physical therapy. Isn’t it great, Y/N?!”

You could feel your lips twist up into a bittersweet smile as tears poured from your clenched eyes. The taste of salt was bitter on your lips as you nodded asininely into the phone.

“Yeah, that’s- that’s amazing,” you whispered, “Listen, auntie, I’ve got to get ready for work but please keep me updated if anything changes.”

The phone fell into the fluffy blankets across your lap and you let out the choked sob that you’d been holding back. Wish number four had been a success. You’d done some actual good with your imminent death.

Despite the good news, the oppressive cloud around you didn’t dissipate; Unsurprising but disappointing nonetheless.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you hissed, smacking your cheeks a couple of times.

Suddenly, a terribly wonderfully awful idea popped up and there was a modicum of relief in your chest. You snagged up the coin from its perch on the bedside table and clutched it to your chest close.

“Dark, I think I know my last wish. Is it possible to wish for death?”

There was no immediate answer, nor did you die immediately. A tremor in the atmosphere of the room was the only sign that something had changed and you brought your head up in surprise. The sight of the debonair demon standing amongst your depression room instantly filled you with shame. Great. Just what you needed to be added to your already heaping pile of negative emotions.

“Hello, darling.”

You managed a weak little hello in reply as he began to stroll your way. You weren’t sure whether you should stand up to greet him or just allow him to come to you, but he quickly made that decision for you as he came to a stop at your side.

“I regret to inform you that you’ve managed to find one of the three types of wishes I’m unable to grant. Is there something els-”

“Please, Dark!”

He leveled you with narrowed eyes and stated factually, “I can’t kill you. Killing you negates the contract. That includes putting you in any imminently dangerous situations, so don’t try it.”

Finally, you found the power to stand and glared up at him through tears.

“Can’t you break the rules, just this once?! I give you permission to keep my soul after I die if you do it! I just- I can’t take this anymore! Maybe you don’t understand it because you all Mr. Powerful Demon but I’m so fucking tired. I’m tired of being alone! I’m tired of hurting when there’s literally nothing wrong! I’m tired of not being able to do a damn thing to make it better or change anything or- or-”

You fell into a messy pile of limbs and blankets on the bed, wrapping yourself up as best as possible, sobbing into your hands to keep a modicum of your dignity intact. Much to your surprise, you felt fingers brush against your hair as sharp nails began to massage through your strands.

“I must say, you’re definitely one of my more interesting clients,” he hummed lowly, “Even so, I’m unable to bend the rules, even for you. There’s a lot at play here that you’ll never understand but the short of it is that even I do not play with Death’s dealings, darling.”

As he spoke, you could feel the first peek of daylight glimmering through the shadows of your mind. Whether it was from his odd praise or the sensations his fingers were provoking, you weren’t sure, but it was nice. Ever so slowly, you found yourself leaning into his touch, chasing the dopamine rush he provided.

He let out a humored chuckle as you nearly fell off the bed in the pursuit and you could only manage a subdued apology in reply.

“Don’t apologize for being adorable, pet,” he teased.

Cheeks warming harshly under the sudden pet name, you buried your face in your hands and groaned slightly.

“Now that that’s sorted, I will leave you be. When you’re ready to make your last wish, you know how to reach me.”

There was a strange catch in his voice that you couldn’t quite place but it was enough to put you into action.

“Wait!” you called out when he turned away.

Carefully wiping the tears from your face, you stood up and took a steadying breath before reaching out to him. It was such a simple request but you could see the curiosity and confusion plain on his face. Nonetheless, he took your hand and allowed you to pull him in close. It had been so long since you’d even held someone else’s hand. More of the demons in the back of your mind were backing down, the sudden influx of serotonin of skin-to-skin contact turning them away.

“Okay, I get it, you can’t kill me,” you murmured, licking your lips nervously, “But you said you find me… interesting, right? Erm, do you think you would be able to do something else for me instead?”

It was like you had flipped a switch, the way his eyes clouded over with the devious smirk that curled up his lips and how his head tipped to the side in obvious inquiry.

“I’ll need you to be more clear on what you’re asking for, pretty little pet,” he cajoled, “It would be quite remiss of me to act without being completely sure what you want from me.”

Oh, the asshole! He was going to make you say it out loud! It was obvious in his gaze that he knew he had all the power here, in every sense of the word, and he was using it to his advantage… and you couldn’t deny that you loved it.

Face hot with mortification, you chewed on your lower lip before whispering, “I- I can’t. I can’t ask.”

Fangs peeked out in a grin as he leaned down, tipping your head up until you were nose to nose with him.

“Do you want me to kiss you? Touch you? Fuck you?”

Gods, he made it sound so dirty, so sensual. Shivers rolled through your bones as he teased the apex of your jaw and throat with his sharp claws.

“I need to know.”

You gathered every last drop of confidence and finally stammered out, “Fu-Fuck me, please?”

“With pleasure, darling,” he hummed softly, “But first…”

Fingers tangled in your locks once more, jerking your head back and his mouth slammed against yours. A choked sob passed from your mouth to his as he guided you back onto the bed, following with the grace and ease only an inhuman being could manage.

“If it gets too intense, just tell me to stop,” he breathed out as his lips fell to your jaw, “It’s been some time since I’ve allowed myself to indulge with a human and you are just so damn breakable.”

A sick thrill shot through your body at the warning. Why did a part of you want that? It was terrifying, thinking of a demon losing themselves and going feral on you, and yet it sounded so deliciously taboo.

“Okay,” you finally replied when you realized he was waiting for an answer, “I will.”

“Good girl.”

Oh. OH. It felt like all the air left your lungs and you couldn’t stop the tiny little noise that escaped your lips in embarrassment and desire.

His lips curved up against your throat as they slowly moved. Nibbles and kisses blazed a path up the sensitive column of your neck until teeth toyed with your ear lobe and he let out a little chuckle.

“You are going to be so much fun, pet.”

Your hands found his hair and held on for dear life as his fangs dug into your neck; not deep enough to draw blood but rough enough to tear a pained scream from your lips. Throbbing agony blossomed through your skin and still, you found your body arching into his, silently eager for more of what he could give you. Oh and the endorphin rush! The moment he released your abused flesh, it was like your body was on fire.

Moving without thought, you guided him by the hair into a frantic kiss, hoping to convey your need without words. Thankfully he didn’t seem offended by your little takeover of power and allowed you to soak in all you needed until he finally put a stop to it with a nibble on your lower lip.

“Enough, it’s time to prove that you really want this, darling,” Dark purred as his fingers dug into your cheeks symbolically.

You nodded the best you could and followed his lead as he pulled you to your feet. With a snap of his fingers, suddenly his clothes were gone and you were left staring at him in awe. While he looked incredible in the suit, it did a complete disservice to the glorious form hidden beneath. Black tattooed tendrils encircled his arms and legs, tapering out somewhere on his back, creating the most tantalizing contrast of shades against his toned limbs as he flexed them teasingly.

As your eyes traced the designs down his solid form, he suddenly gripped your shoulders and pushed you down onto your knees, tossing one of your pillows down after.

“If you’re going to worship me in such a way, you might as well do it from in your rightful place on your knees,” he purred.

Lips parting in surprise, you felt your insides curl up with embarrassment as you slipped the pillow under your knees and nearly apologized, but then he was stepping closer and you lost all thought.

Fuck, was he ever right; It was akin to staring up at a god! Not only were you given the best view of his body, but the way he stared down at you with desire and complete superiority had you trembling with need.

“Now, show me what that pretty mouth can do, pet.”

Oh, that, that you could do. Scooting in closer, you reached out to grab his cock but your hand was smacked away instantly. It stung more than hurt but it was surprising nonetheless.

“What-”

“Hands behind your back,” he demanded.

Cautiously, you did as he asked and were rewarded with a much softer smile.

“Good girl.”

Those words again. It was like they had a direct line to your cunt. Clenching needily around nothing, you let out a soft whine and let him pull you back in. As his cock neared your lips, you were finally given the chance to look it over closely. Despite being only half-hard, he appeared average length and a bit thicker than most you’d encountered. It was also darker than the rest of his skin but what set it apart the most was the ridges encircling it. Every inch or so down his cock were these ridges, smooth but creating quite an obvious size difference.

As you pondered over the way it would feel inside you, you let your tongue tentatively trace the tip and moaned at the familiar taste. He let out an encouraging sigh and tightened his hold, subtly pulling you closer until you threw away hesitation and took him in your mouth as far as possible.

“Mmmm, that’s it pet,” he praised huskily, “Get me ready to fuck you.”

Clenching your thighs in hopes of relief, you shifted higher onto your knees and followed the pace he set. Another difference you began to notice was the massive vein on the underside of his cock, the way it throbbed against your tongue with every swipe quickly became an addicting sensation. It was like his body was praising your efforts in its own way.

“Take a breath,” he warned.

You barely got a lungful in before he arched into your face, hastily fighting back the urge to gag as he slid into your throat. Tears welled up in your eyes as saliva pooled in your mouth. You were mortified as both spilled out the instant he began to fuck your mouth. Embarrassing noises escaped your throat, far beyond your control with each thrust of his cock, but it didn’t seem to bother him one bit.

“Look at you,” he rumbled out huskily, “What a good little pet you are, swallowing my cock like you were made for it.”

As suddenly as he had started he stopped, releasing his hold on you so fast you nearly toppled over as you coughed for breath.

“Impressive, now get up here.”

Once you felt you were stable enough, you climbed to your feet with his assistance and were immediately thrown back on the bed. As your skin rubbed against the cool sheets, you were suddenly made aware of your lack of clothes.

He apparently sensed the shock in your expression and offered you a sly grin.

“What can I say, pet? There are some things I am impatient over.”

Dark kneeled on the bed and gripped your ankles, spreading your legs so he could easily fit between them. Rather than climb over you as you had expected, he instead traced gentle lines up and down your legs, slowly bit by bit growing closer and closer to your cunt but never actually touching. It was maddening. You could feel yourself quaking and twitching uncontrollably under every pass of his claws; your silent pleas coming out louder and louder each time until you were nearly sobbing with need. Teeth soon joined in the effort, searing bite marks into the meaty parts of your thighs while his tongue lavished the wounds fondly after.

“I haven’t even touched you and you’re dripping wet for me,” he groaned quietly as he traced the crease between your sex and thigh, “Imagine what a mess you’ll be once I’m finally inside you.”

Desperation tore from your chest in the form of a whimper at the mental images burning in your mind. Your heart nearly flipped on itself in pleasure as he finally moved up the bed.

“You look like you’re struggling, darling,” he teased, “Is there something you need?”

You nodded frantically and whimpered out, “Please!”

Tantalizing shocks ran through your core as his fingers oh-so-tenderly ran over your lips, ghosting just where you needed him the most. Frustration began to well up like the sweat beading your forehead and you couldn’t help the huff that escaped.

“Tell me that you need to be used,” he breathed, ghosting sharp canines along your throat, “And I’ll give you what you want.”

“I- I need to be used,” you gasped out.

His responding moan was pure ecstasy as his fingers finally found your clit; the way his cock twitched again your leg an overwhelming aphrodisiac. The scrape of his facial hair prickled against your chest as his head ducked down and his lips pressed chaste kisses along your breasts. Swallowing hard, you bit back the overwhelming urge to demand him for more and were rewarded with the gratifying sensation of his tongue across your nipple. Pain and pleasure coalesced into one as he mercilessly sucked and bit into your flesh, drawing louder and faster moans from your chest by the second. When he finally pulled off with a pop, your entire body felt the bombardment of endorphins.

“And who do you want to use you?”

Pride shone through his playful teasing as you attempted and failed to whimper his name multiple times, ruined over and over again with each pass over your clit.

“Hmm? I can’t seem to understand you. Who do you want to ruin you?”

Thighs shaking and heart pounding, you fought through the onslaught of pleasure coiling in your belly to gasp out, “You, Dark! Please, fuck- fuck me!”

It was too much, not enough: The ache in your throat, the rawness of your lips, the imprints of his teeth burned in your flesh, the throb of your cunt under his fingers.

When he finally slipped his fingers in your core, you cried out. Relief! It didn’t take more than a few seconds for his stretching and thrusting to put you right on the edge of no return. Unfortunately, he jerked away before you could fall and, before you could even complain, you were tossed over onto your stomach with a sharp slap to your right cheek.

“Perk that pretty ass up for me, pet,” he demanded, gently guiding your hips up.

As you came to rest on your knees, you let your face rest on the pillow and arched your back until you could feel his cock brush against your cunt. Instinctively you pushed back against him with a little moan and were immediately rewarded with fingers to your clit.

But… his hands were on your hips…

“How-?”

When you stilled in thought, he let out a husky chuckle behind you.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he crooned lowly, “Sometimes they just have a mind of their own.”

Lifting up just enough to peek under your body, you were both startled and aroused to find black shadow-like tentacles where you expected fingers to be, and in turn, his legs were now free of those pretty tattoos. Realization hit hard and a pathetic moan fled your lips as you buried your face in the pillow.

“Glad to see you approve, darling.”

In the next breath, he slammed forward and yanked you back simultaneously. You were immensely grateful that he had taken the time to prep you as he sunk in, inch by inch, stretching you open like none ever had before. A wicked thrill sent a tremor through your body as you realized you could feel each and every ridge as it pushed into you.

When his hips finally came to a stop against yours, the noise he let out had your hair standing on end. Animalistic, inhuman, primal. You wanted to hear it time and time again.

He finally started rocking his hips, taking his time with deliciously languid strokes, until you begged him for more. It was with a cruel laugh that he gave into your desires.

“Oh fuck!” you whined, fingers snarling in the blankets for balance.

There was no more hesitation in his movements, gentleness abandoned in exchange for all-out fucking you in a way that made your toes curl and tears fill your eyes.

“You are so fucking wet,” he snarled out between breaths, “Taking me so well.”

A noise of agreement escaped your lips as you arched back to meet his thrusts. You couldn’t form words even if you wanted to, too focused on the raging storm brewing in your core.

Pain blossomed through your hip as one of his hands squeezed tighter, his growls and panting growing in volume to rival your cries, while the other found your hair and yanked your head back. Your body reacted instinctively, clenching down hard around him and startling a moan from you both.

“You feel so good! You going to come for me, pet?”

Reaching back, your hand found his and your nails found purchase, returning a sliver of the savage pain he bestowed upon you. All the while you bounced back harder on his cock, chasing the edge that was just out of reach. The tendrils between your thighs suddenly came back to life once more, their cool touch contrasting so perfectly with the heat of your bodies as they swirled around your clit in time with his thrusts.

“A-Ah! Dark, yes, pleeaaasse! Fuck- Fuck!”

“That’s it. That’s my good girl. Come for me and let me claim you, pet.

As if mimicking the hold on your hip, another tendril slithered up your back and encircled your throat. The unexpected pressure elicited a tantalizing response, your body suddenly feeling both free and trapped in the best of ways as he bound you to him

“Mine. All mine. My filthy little slutty human whore.”

Something in your psyche broke at those words and ecstasy rushed forward like a tidal wave. Every inch of your body trembled with pleasure as you screamed his name, voice cracking under the duress of it all. You could feel the proof of your indulgence dripping down your inner thighs, the sounds of your debauched pleasure growing louder with every slap of his hips against yours.

“Fucking hell!” Dark bit out harshly, “Good girl. Good fucking slut. Who do you belong to?! Say it!”

“You! Only you, Dark! O-Ooh, f-ffu-fuck!”

With inhuman speed, he slammed into you, over and over until the smack of your bodies was almost continuous. His choked roar filtered through your senses but it was was easily washed away with your second climax teetering on the edge. There was a sudden torrential shift of energy, pulsing eerie screeches filling the room as his voice echoed off the walls when he finally buried himself as far as possible inside of you. Any pain was quickly washed away by the thunderous roll of pleasure brought on by the touch of his tendrils mixed with the throb of his cock releasing deep in your cunt. Claws trailed down your spine as he practically purred your name, leaving behind five raw lines that stung under the combined sweat of your bodies, and somehow you found yourself okay with it; loved it, in fact, knowing that his marks would be on you for quite some time.

Quaking with bliss and exhaustion, you collapsed to the bed the instant he slipped out of your core and let out a little delighted whimper. You reached out blindly for him and were appeased when he laid down beside you, pulling you against him so your face was resting on his chest.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed that,” you murmured, fingers tracing up and down the little scar in his abdomen, “It goes without saying but that was fucking phenomenal, so thank you.”

Your head bobbed up and down with his laughter and you couldn’t help the grin that turned up your lips in return.

“I have to say I’m in agreement, pet,” he hummed back, “It’s been far too long since I’ve been able to let go in such a way.”

With a hand on your bicep and the arm under your head, he pulled you up and shifted you over his hips until you were perched on quaking knees. You almost questioned him but were silenced when he leaned up and captured your lips in a stinging kiss. It started out rough and slowly devolved into a passionate tangle of tongues.

It wasn’t until he pulled back for a breath that the reality of what was to happen started to sink in; the serotonin in your veins being replaced with anxiety.

“So, does this mean I die now? You have to take my soul, right?” you asked softly, “Since I made my last wish?”

“Hmm? I never heard you make a wish, pet,” he replied as he stretched back languidly.

Eyebrows furrowing, you let your confused expression convey your thoughts as one of his hands began to travel down your curves.

“But I asked-”

Your words were cut off by your own gasp when you felt his cock rising between your thighs. Wide-eyed and warm-faced, you gaped at him in shock. Apparently, a very short cool down period was also a demon perk?!

He smirked at your awe as a thumb traced your lower lip seductively.

“You asked and I gave freely,” he explained, fingers dipping to trace sharp claws along your throat, “You still have one wish remaining. Although, I’d suggest you save it for later. I feel like we have much more important things to attend at the moment, darling.”

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Covenant: Presents and Kisses

Reid Garwin x Reader

Word Count: 1,858

Summary: It’s reader’s birthday and Reid has some surprises up his sleeve. Dedicated to the lovely @saviorsong​. Happy Birthday! 

The café was a small, single room operation so sound from both the dining area and the kitchen traveled throughout. And everyone heard when your boyfriend came out of the bathroom, throwing the door open with such force that a bang rang out from where it hit the wall.

The poor barista almost dropped a drink they were making out of surprise.

“Babe, that was the biggest shit I’ve taken this month,” Reid practically shouted as he made his way back to the table.

You didn’t bother to acknowledge that particular comment and kept your attention on Tyler who had also tagged along with you guys. It was better to not entertain poop talk seeing as how you were in public.

“Babe! Did you hear what I said?”

“I think everyone did,” you replied pointedly. He dropped into his chair, hands clutching at his stomach.

You continued chatting with Tyler about a class you were taking and Reid still kept fidgeting and groaning. He was normally dramatic but he was really hamming it up.

You turned to him with a raised brow. That was all it took for him to increase his complaining.

“I think it was the food. It’s gotta be food poisoning, I feel so sick.”

“But we ate from the same plate.”

A glance at the table showed a shared plate that had long been eaten with not a drop of sauce left on the it after you both had all but cleaned the dish. If he actually had food poisoning, shouldn’t you be feeling it too? Your stomach felt perfectly fine, if not satisfied.

“Everyone reacts differently to these things, you know.”

Tyler nodded seriously, corroborating Reid’s claim. Those two were thicker than thieves, always ready to back each other up.

“No telling how bad this could get. I’m gonna head home but you should stay, Ty can hang out with you,” he said.

“Really?” Your tone was colored with incredulously. “Today of all days?”

He completely ignored that and bent down for a kiss. You were extremely tempted to turn away but ended up giving in. Reid may be an idiot, but he was your idiot. Keeping up with the sick-as-a-dog routine, he gingerly hobbled out of the café.

And since he was your idiot, you knew something was definitely up. You didn’t claim to be the smartest person around but Reid wasn’t exactly subtle.

Immediately, your attention turned towards Tyler. If one was plotting, then the other would know.

The brunette raised his hands as if to keep things peaceful. “Okay, okay. Don’t be upset.”

“It’s my birthday and my man just ran out under suspicious circumstances. I have every right to be annoyed.”

“Exactly! You’re the reason why he left!” He paused for an awkward second. “Wow. That came out totally wrong. What I mean is that he’s setting up something nice for you.”

“He is?” you asked suddenly touched.

Reid was a romantic sort. Maybe not always so smooth about it, but a romantic nonetheless. And he did do things for you often, even if a good number of things were in an attempt to apologize for something stupid he did, but he had never done a birthday surprise.

Well, not one where he had kept it a surprise for this long. Normally he couldn’t keep quiet about his plans so you were a bit impressed that you hadn’t noticed until his terrible acting just then.

Tyler nodded again, this time in excitement. “Yep. He needs a few hours to get it ready though…we can either stay here or walk around. Your birthday, your choice.”

His methods may be, well, unconventional, but your heart beat a little faster knowing he was planning something. Your mind wandered, thinking up various possibilities. Two hours couldn’t go by fast enough.

***

It ended up being close to six o’clock before you returned home.

You closed the door gently and toed your shoes off. The quietness seemed that much thicker with anticipation weighing heavily.

A trail of rose petals wound around the living room and trailed down the hallway, presumably to the bedroom, but you got distracted by a tantalizing aroma. 

You followed that into the kitchen instead and found a skillet filled with something delicious. Other bowls with other fantastic side dishes were arranged randomly around it on the countertops.  

And then you noticed the cake. Unlike the others, the cake was displayed on the table, a package of candles lying next to it. You walked closer to get a better view and couldn’t the grin hat spread across your face.

Clearly, he had made the cake himself. Not that that was off-putting to you in any way. It was really quite cute.

He had made a small two-layer cake which in of itself didn’t look too bad. The sides were not traditionally frosted so, the parts that were visible, you could see that the shape and the softness looked about right. Kind of. 

In lieu of normal frosting, he had attempted to coat them with a crumb frosting of some sort. Despite his best effort, the crumbs didn’t hadn’t spread evenly with some parts having barely any and others having too much.

It looked like he also had issues with the frosting on top. You guessed that he had tried to apply it while the cake was still warm because it was thinner than it should have been, almost glaze-like. Some had even started to leak over the sides before it was cool enough to harden up again.

Even with flaws, it was still the sweetest, frumpiest birthday cake you could ever remember someone making for you.

You stuck out a finger trying to taste the crumb coat when you felt a sharp smack to your ass.

“Oww!” Rubbing it, you saw Reid standing behind you with a towel in his hand. “Did you really just spank me with a towel?”

“It’s not time for cake yet,” he said. He was shirtless, tattoos on display, baggy cargo pants riding low on his hips. There was a hint of tiredness in his eyes but it was mostly irritation. “This part was for last. You were supposed to follow the roses first.”

Ah. He was irritated that you messed up the plan. But you were so excited to see what else he had in store that you didn’t answer back with a sharp quip of your own. “Then lead the way.”

With a sigh, he put his hands on your shoulders and walked you out of the kitchen. His grip was gentle though so you knew he wasn’t seriously frustrated with you.

The path of rose petals came back into view and you realized they were from a real flower and not plastic. A warm feeling spread through you and it only grew the closer the closer the path drew you to the bedroom. Reid stayed just behind you the whole way, your gentle guide.

“The flowers are beautiful, Reid.”

“I know. And a normal person would’ve followed them from the start.”

“Sorry,” you giggled. “The food all looked really good though. Three Michelin stars across the board.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just open the door, would ya?”

You pushed the door with your fingers, thoughts racing. What were you going to find? That fancy stationary set you’d been eyeing online? A fluffy, tail-wagging puppy? A chest of kinky toys?

With Reid it could any one of the three. Maybe even all three.

Tons of balloons were inflated and rolling around the floor, so much so that you had to kick a few out of the way to be able to step in. Even a birthday banner hung over the bed when he had thumbtacked it into the wall.

But the gift was unmistakable.

The large woven basket was sitting on the dresser, fibers dyed your favorite color was hard to miss.

Then came the stuff that was practically overflowing from said basket. You rummaged through it like a old woman at a yard sale, pulling out something new with every handful.

Jewelry. A soft blanket. Cans of your favorite type of drink. Hand painted ceramics. Some hard cover additions you’d been meaning to add to your personal library. New head phones. Dozens of origami creatures. A tee from your favorite team. Coffee mugs and several blends of beans. Hand-held tools  to replace your old ones with. And not only a stationary set but a wax letter stamp seal as well.

And everything from the basket to the last gift followed the same theme: it was all in your favorite color.

You jumped into his arms and he caught you. “I’m—this is…this is…”

“What?” he said, his breath tickling your ear and fingers gripping your thighs tightly. “Impressive? Inspiring? The best goddamn gift you’ve ever seen?”

“Touching,” you whispered.

You couldn’t see it, but you could sense the soft expression on his face.

“How did you even manage to find some of this stuff in this color?”

“It wasn’t easy, let me tell you…”

He went on explaining how he started with the just the stationary (you were right and he had noticed you looking at it) in your favorite color.

Then he added the headphones, also in your favorite color.

Then he’d painted the ceramic pieces himself.  

Eventually thinking up even more potential presents to get, he’d come up with the idea to do everything in that color. The tools were the hardest but he was very proud that he’d been able to pull it off with the help of a custom order from a local business.

“This is super touching. Thanks for putting in this much thought and effort,” you said finally lifting your head up to give him a kiss.

It was meant to be a quick peck but Reid’s lips followed yours when you tried to pull back, turning it into something more passionate. He even managed to lick his way into your mouth before you finally parted, panting for air.

“Mmm,” he breathed, lips back on yours. “You’re eager to get to the next event.”

You made a confused sound in your throat which he swallowed. One of his hands traveled up your leg and over your hip to come to a rest on your lower back. He turned you and that’s when you noticed the bed.

The comforter was already pulled slightly down and more rose petals were scattered all around. He laid you down on the mattress and prowled up your body. The petals were even more fragrant now that you were closer to them.

“What’s the next event?” you asked coyly although it wasn’t hard to guess.

“One kiss for every year you’ve been alive,” he said with a cocked smile. “It was either that many kisses or that many orgasms—I figured all those orgasms might be too much for you though.”

You bit his bottom lip and snuck your fingers under the waistband of his cargo pants suggestively. “How about both?”

He watched in rapture as you removed your shirt, eyes glued to your chest.  

“Anything for you, babe. Happy Birthday.”

_______________

Yay! Thanks for reading. I hope this was alright. 

In my mind, Reid is the type of romantic to make you things, hence the food, origami, and ceramics. But sensual time will also be included just because. 

Honestly, he probably heard what Caleb did for his s/o and, in typical competitive fashion, decided he could do better. He roped in Tyler to keep reader distracted and spent a few hours cooking, decorating, and assembling the massive personalized gift basket. 

They likely did reach fulfill the birthday kiss count but how many orgasms they managed to achieve is up to your imagination. 

[simplive]

you will become a memory.

manhunt au! dream team, badboyhalo. general hunter mini headcanons

caution. death, insane sapnap per usual, maybe hints of yandere

DREAM.

─ “to hunt or be hunted.”

to be the hunter when he is usually the hunted is uncommon, but it is welcomed all the same ─ dream will revel in your fear from start, to finish as long as he possibly can. confident enough in his abilities to let you roam about in the world for a lengthy period of time because the direction of this compass will always point to where you resided. he’s not even worried when you reach the nether. whatever pace you decide to go about, will he respectively follow a suit, choosing to be calm and calculating. you don’t hear him ever speak from the ear piece, only the sounds of his shoes crushing the leaves below him as he gains closer, and closer towards your way. letting the impending dread crawl in.

he’ll let you have that sense of security, before tearing it all away.

to strike fear in others... it is what he does best.

sometimes you can get him to have conversation, just not for long. no larger than five minutes because he always returns to the same withdrawn, quiet self everyone knows him by. maybe smart, funny comments here and there to fill in the initial silence, but they are all disregarded by the fact that dream is coming to kill you regardless. there’s nothing he wants to change about that, you both signed yourself for this situation... he’s simply going to honor what it takes to be a professional, merciless hunter. an unofficial title he silently wears like an emblem. so you were doomed from the very start the moment it’s been heard who’d be tracking you down exactly.

out of everyone, they send out him, making you wonder as if the whole world wanted you to perish.

death is to be expected. you can still be good friends and still die at his hands. you’ll let him, won’t you? it’s destiny, your destiny, and everyone knows nobody can escape it once their future has been set, written in stone. what is there to have hope for? a painless death, maybe, depends on how dream feels that exact moment ─ their pain is what makes up a part of the amusement in the chase. although, it’s not like he’s going to drag it out unlike a close friend of his. do not fret, you’ll go down in history as the first prey he’s bothered to open up to... isn’t that good enough?

so why does his heart still pang at the thought?

no no, these are just mindless feelings, barely skin-deep. they’ll go away within seconds if he pays them no attention, just getting his objectives over with and moving onto the next victim. he’s doing this all for survival, and who knows... you’d do the exact same if you too wanted to live. this is a dog-eat-dog world, you either kill someone, or get killed. in fact, because you’re inflicting these unknown emotions on him gives dream more motivation to follow through with these objectives.

he’ll have you until your last breath.

GEORGE.

─ “love me until you die.”

george wants you to be comfortable and scared at the same time, he doesn’t want you to think of him as only a monster like the others. see? there’s still a bit of mercy in him to let you slide at times, shaking it off as a ‘silly little mistake’ of his, but it’s all planned. always has been. he doesn’t like to say this much, but, he pities your situation. the game cannot end until one completes the objectives... and by the looks of it, you’re nowhere as close to the finish line. be free to ask for tips or pointers whenever, he’s generous to share what he thinks will benefit you. it’s up to you whether you trust him or not, there is no offense to be taken, he’d have a hard time believing in your situation.

you can try to talk him out of this for a chance, but a job is a job, someone has to get this done.

and who knows what’ll happen to him if he doesn’t follow through.

your moments together were only meant to be full on bittersweet. you hate that he still tries to be nice against all, as if your life wasn’t placed in his hands to begin with. it would’ve been so much easier to despise george if he’d been vile, heartless, cruel even... but he isn’t. he’s kind, too kind, and you’re starting to think that maybe this was just your unescapable fate. something that transpired during your blurred life was apparently unacceptable for you to live on, it’s starting to finally make sense. no one can elude destiny as much as they pray. of course, when given a chance to slip from death, you’d take it without hesitation... but if all doesn’t go well, then that’s alright too.

everything should be okay if george is here, with you.

will you tell him these sentimental views, especially when you’re lying carelessly on the verge of death? absolutely not. he’d start to feel bad, and that’s the last thing you’d want from him. he’s only doing his job like anyone else, this is somewhat normal despite a few circumstances. you’ll keep reminding yourself anytime despair tries to reach out to you, pulling away from its tantalizing vicinity. don’t go back on this choice, don’t let the sadness take you.

don’t let him regret.

with your head perched comfortably onto his lap, blood spilling at your lips as you try to confess multiple things all at once, then failing miserably. they come out as a garbled mess of sounds unsurprisingly, rather faint to the ears, but there’s enough affection to get through him. you’ll squeeze his hand weakly in hopes of delivering a message, certainly woozy and content nonetheless. he smiles, smiles sadly at the result of his success, but this is what george had desired the whole time.

a chance to spill out his true feelings for you.

SAPNAP.

─ “look at me in the eyes.”

perhaps the most happiest one of the bunch to end someone’s life for the fun of it, quickly that is. he doesn’t want to waste time chasing after you endlessly all over the world, takes too much energy and patience... sapnap prefers to have you right in front of him so he can get right into action. there’s no point in running, everyone knows this. you do too, but such fact could never stop you from trying anyways ─ why not take advantage of that ten percent chance survival rate than do nothing at all? even he somewhat agrees with this new knowledge. there’s no fun in having a compliant little mouse. despite the obvious frustration of tracking you down, he knows it’ll be worth it in the finale when seeing you beg.

always, always looking forward to new targets. everyone is unique: their reactions, their struggles, every part of them. it’s good to have a taste of something refreshing and new. for being the type of person he was, having the same type of people to play with is completely boring, hunting would’ve became a tedious chore at that point. sapnap is ecstatic to hear about you. not much information was disclosed about you, there must be something intriguing then for the lack of story.

he hopes you won’t disappoint him.

sometimes he’ll let his ‘guard down’, sometimes. it’s only to get you motivated again because hopelessness will begin to bore him exceedingly. “don’t give up completely, little [name],” sapnap coos sickeningly, “maybe you’ll have a chance if you actually try for once. should i be nice like george, and give you another head start?” his encouragement, if you could even call it that are down right patronizing, doesn’t try to hide any malicious undertones because he’s confident his words will affect you just the way he wanted.

the fun can’t go on forever. he wants you to suffer for everything you’d put him through. sapnap did not waste three full days trying to corner you, shedding sweat, effort, and time in doing so for you to try and come up with some other excuse for him not to kill you. no, you’re misunderstanding, that’s not what he’s here for. money? no. fame? absolutely not. if it wasn’t any obvious,

he’s here to feed on your fear.

BAD.

─ “forgive me.”

like george, does manhunts because he has to, and it is quite absurd. bad has a huge problem with others having a foul mouth, but happens to not have any qualms raising a blade at someone’s throat. what kind of morals were those? he too questions these actions like any sane person would, however, does not do anything to change his ways because... it’s not in his power. what good would it do to suddenly just switch mindsets all of a sudden, superiors will start to question him and everyone he’d grown to love would suspect. to quit then would be breaking the code, and that’ll be like breaking someone’s trust. bad shouldn’t do it, he’s always reminding himself.

he shouldn’t...

and still, he’s probably the only one who has the hearts to let you go.

for first impressions, bad certainly doesn’t strike you as a hunter. he takes the time to introduce him properly, salutations and a heartfelt apology. you ask, why apologize so suddenly, we just met. he can’t do anything other than sigh, letting the silence answer your question. well, you’re currently the first one on his list, the first to die at that. he’s just here for warnings, letting you gain a huge head start...

calls you muffin as another form of affection. strikes to be strange at first, but you slowly get used to the nickname as you do him, able to enjoy the situation because it’s starting to feel like a nice game of a fusion of hide and seek, and good ol’ tag. he hasn’t been able to physically hurt you once, or at least is trying to make it seem like a mistake ─ missing opportunities, or forgetting to. whatever the case may be, you’re not complaining one bit. in fact, you too haven’t tried to raise a blade at him either.

why would you even?

your kindness is limitless, and it proves when bad cannot fathom hurting you under any circumstances. most of his victims were very aggressive, always cussing at him no matter the context, maybe that’s why guilt hasn’t officially hit him until now. the you who still manages to laugh despite everything, thank you for letting him see the horrors of his actions. “will... i’ll be able to see you again?” you murmur, unsure if you should turn your back on him and leave.

“... maybe some day! for now, you should go. be careful though, some might recognize your face as well.”

he never tells you that his life would be of no more, and he lets you go, the oblivious one, with a bittersweet smile.

[dzamie-oc]

Cynder's Spyro Picnic

AO3 Link: Cynder's Spyro Picnic Furaffinity: Cynder's Spyro Picnic Fandom: Spyro the Dragon (Video Games), Legend of Spyro Rating: Explicit Relationships: Cynder/Spyro the Dragon Characters: Spyro the Dragon, Cynder (Spyro) Summary: Cynder and Spyro planned a picnic. Spyro ends up being the food.

cw: NSFW (or nsft for filters), vore, dubcon, femdom. If you are a minor, or any of these are upsetting to you, DO NOT READ THIS FIC.

Once again, MINORS DNI

Spyro woke up to the feeling of a comforting presence moving away from him, then the unmistakable sound of his girlfriend getting up. Though hesitant to wake up, himself, the purple dragon cracked open his eyes to get a look at Cynder’s stunning, sleek form. The dragoness grunted as she stretched like a cat, arching her back as though to show off her flexibility and curves. Her wings, too, extended as far as they could, then flapped a couple of times, blowing some air in Spyro’s face. He smiled, and as a yawn from Cynder set off one of his own, he pictured the view from behind the dark dragon.

And then, in spite of the rest of his body, one part in particular stood tall, ready for action. Cynder turned to look at him, smiling. “Well?” she asked, “you ready to join the waking world with me?”

Spyro grunted. “Can’t the serial savior of the Dragonlands sleep in on occasion? The temple won’t get much dirtier with just another hour...”

“He could,” Cynder conceded, “orrrr, he could remember that he has no chores today, leaving him and his mate ample time to have that picnic they planned.”

“No chores? That’s great!” the purple dragon said, grinning, “that means even more time to sleep! See you in a couple hours, Cyn!” With that, he closed his eyes and laid his head down, then made exaggerated snoring noises that almost covered up the sound of Cynder’s claws clicking against the floor with her approach.

Suddenly, a quick, sharp pain in his tail sent a jolt through his system. Spyro immediately shot to his feet, nearly tripping over himself and his wings in his panic. He swung his head around to look at his tail, where he spotted a smug-looking Cynder holding the tip in her mouth. “Looks like Malefor’s influence hasn’t entirely left, after all these years,” he said, tugging his tail free.

His mate dropped the tail and stepped up against him, ducking under his orange wing. Her body was always a bit cooler than his, which he attributed to his firebreath and her lack of it. Subconsciously, Spyro extended his wing over her, hugging her black scales against his purple. “Then maybe some cute, purple dragon should show me what’s so nice about being on the side of good!” She winked and slipped from his light grip, using the shadow of his own wing to keep it open. A deft swish of her tail hooked their empty picnic basket.

And then started their game. Cynder was easily first to the door, and flicked her tail to the side, wiggling her hips to give Spyro a tantalizing view of the pink slit hidden below. Spyro rose to the challenge, and as he stepped through the door, he affectionately nipped at her horns. A light jolt of electric breath sent a shock down her spine. Cynder gasped and let out a small “eep!” as she stiffened; that was just the reaction the purple dragon needed to know he’d struck home. He dashed through the door before she could get her revenge that easily, and a glance behind him showed his mate hot on his tail. Nonetheless, Spyro was first to the next door. With a smug smirk, he spun around and sat while he tugged the door open, hind legs splayed slightly to show off his member like she’d teased him. Cynder slowed to a trot as she approached, then gave him a quick peck on the muzzle. Wind magic flowed from her jaws, swirling around the male dragon and sending pleasant tingles all over... just enough to make him miss her taking off to the next set of doors.

Back and forth, the dragons raced through the halls, stopping only to flirt with each other; the other occupants, Spyro reasoned, must have either been away or knew to avoid the duo while they were in this mood. Eventually, Cynder burst onto a grassy area, with Spyro soon barreling after her. And although the black dragoness soon slowed, her mate was not so lucky. Spyro shouted a warning, and Cynder turned just in time for him to plow into her side, sending them tumbling through the field.

“Ugh…” Spyro groaned, shaking his head, “did someone get the number of that train?”

“You WERE the train,” Cynder replied, her voice muffled from her position partially under his body.

With some effort, Spyro got up and shook himself, then offered a paw to help Cynder up. “Because I’m an unstoppable powerhouse, right?”

For his help, Cynder gave him a quick lick on his snout. “Oh, I dunno, I think I can freeze you in your tracks easily enough,” she teased, twining her tail around his. Spyro felt himself blush hot as his mate sidled up next to him, her flank against his and her tail twisting further around his. To make matters worse, the dragoness draped her wing over his back and purred low in his ear, “my, it seems I forgot to put food in the basket. It’s just us here, all alone, with no food.”

Spyro wasn’t about to be outdone, however. He nuzzled her neck and gently lapped under her chin and cooed back, “we’re clever dragons. I’m sure we’ll find something to do to occupy ourselves.” With their tails still entwined, he raised his and took hers with it. By the sound of Cynder’s breath coming slower and heavier, and the familiar scent of her arousal reaching his nostrils, Spyro’s play had worked.

“A-and what do you suggest we do, my love?” Cynder tucked her chin down, pinning Spyro’s head between it and her neck; surrounded by her scales, the male dragon smiled and sighed.

“Good question.” He unwound his tail from hers, strutted ahead of her, and laid down on his side. With a confident smile, he shifted his hind legs to show off the pink shaft poking out from his scales. “Maybe take a look around and see if anything catches your interest?”

Cynder’s dark scales tinted ever so slightly red, and her tail whipped behind her. Spyro’s smile became a grin when he saw it stay slightly raised as she approached him. The dragoness set one paw against his chest... and then shoved him. The world spun as Spyro rolled once and landed flat on his back under the shade of a nearby tree. Cynder stalked closer, licking her muzzle; when he tried to get back up, her forepaw was there again to hold him down. A slight weight crept up on his legs and wings, with a gentle coolness to identify it as Cynder’s shadow magic. From experience, Spyro knew he could only break free with his own powers, but he also knew he wouldn’t want to.

“Ah… I love this view,” Cynder said, grinning down at him. Spyro’s heart raced in his chest, the purple dragon unable to stop a hot blush and a broad smile from creeping onto his face. “The purple dragon of prophecy, pinned under me. Forelegs bound nice and snug-” she gently batted at his paws; Spyro tried to take her paw in his, but all he could do was strain against the shadows. “...and, more importantly,” the dragoness continued, turning around, “his hindlegs open. Everything on view, to browse at MY leisure.” The male dragon shuddered as she spoke, eager for her to “browse.”

Still, Spyro managed to push his libido aside to crack a grin. “So this is the plan of the dark Cynder! You won’t get away with this; even if it looks like I’m pinned down, my friends will hear me call for them!” He licked his broad muzzle, and when Cynder ducked her head down to look at him, they shared the same, sly smile.

The black dragoness didn’t respond for a few seconds, and Spyro followed her gaze to stare at her shapely, scaly rear. Her thighs and tail swayed back and forth above his head, dark scales framing the ruby ones between them, themselves drawing his gaze to the wet sliver of pink flesh visible in a slit in her scales. A drop of Cynder’s arousal fell onto his muzzle, and with an idle flick of his tongue, he lapped it up. Too small to taste, but he knew that wouldn’t be a problem for long.

“And how will you call for them, Spyro, when you cannot speak?” This was all the warning he got from his mate before that alluring sight drew swiftly closer, filling his vision with her ruby-red belly scales, and he felt her scales against his lips. The soft, smooth sensation soon gave way to a squishy heat as Cynder shifted her weight and ground her pussy against him while her tail slid against his - recently dulled - horns. Spyro once more poked his tongue out, only this time, it was not a drop of her juices, but enough to coat his tongue and more. It was a familiar, mildly sour taste, at once both sticky and slimy in his mouth, and one which he had grown to love for what it meant.

As his tongue probed deeper, filling his ears with wet smacks and squishes, Cynder added a new sound to the mix, a shaking exhale, audible even though her tail and thighs surrounded Spyro’s head. And when he tilted his head down to get at her clit, swiftly finding the sensitive nub of flesh with his tongue, his mate’s very un-villainous squeak was music to his ears. He swirled around a few times while Cynder kept grinding on his nose, then went back to probing the depths of her pussy, while her warm, slimy juices trickled down his muzzle.

As Spyro continued to explore Cynder’s soft snatch with his probing tongue, he became vaguely aware of her pressing against his belly-scales. A moment later, he was suddenly made MUCH more aware of his mate when a soft, wet sensation wrapped around his hard shaft. The dragoness suckled on his draconic pride, making him moan into her slit; out of habit, Spyro tried to reach up and grab her ass to get even deeper into her. Naturally, however, her shadows held him fast, reducing his efforts to a mere wiggle.

With an audible, wet pop, the heat around his cock vanished, followed by a playful giggle from his mate, one which only grew when the needy male tried to buck his hips up to meet her, only to once again find his body bound by shadowy restraints. “Oh? You want more?” Cynder purred. Spyro grunted in affirmation and nodded his head, rubbing his snout against her drooling slit.

To either side of his head, Spyro saw her powerful, black thighs shift positions, just before the dragoness dropped her hips down hard on his face. He closed his eyes as that soft, hot embrace slid against - no, around - his snout. The heat of her netherlips stopped just before his eyes before retreating. Rather than pulling off of his muzzle, Cynder instead grinded her drooling snatch against him; Spyro could hear her moan even over the wet "slck... slck..." of her inner walls clenching around his snout.

Breathing through the corners of his mouth, Spyro got back to work, exploring his mate’s insides and twisting his head back and forth. Cynder gasped, and this time, she muffled her moan with Spyro’s cock, turning into a low, guttural groan. Her own tongue, warm and slick and oh-so-talented, swirled around the male dragon’s member. With his vision surrounded by scales of ruby and obsidian, his snout held in place by the tight grip of Cynder’s netherlips to dominate his smell and taste, and his ears filled with the repeated squishes of her well-lubricated pussy walls and her needy, desirous moans, Spyro could barely take the sensation of his lover’s maw and tongue wrapped possessively, hungrily, around his rock-hard member. Each time he felt himself tense for his orgasm, however, Cynder drew away, leaving him straining helplessly against her shadows, and his cock twitching, close but not quite to his limit.

After what felt like an eternity of carefully-controlled bliss, the weight against his face increased as Cynder sat back with a cry of ecstasy; Spyro leaned into her, shutting his eyes once again and feeling her soaking-wet pussy walls slip over his face. Her hot, soft snatch took the base of his horns before everything went tight. His lover clenched around him as though she would never let go, forever claiming him for her perpetual pleasure toy. A brief moment - a split second - was all the relief he got before the quick, repeated spasms of Cynder’s orgasm tugged, squeezed, and kneaded at his snout, and although he would’ve loved nothing more than to taste her at that moment, trying would have had him bite his tongue off when the dragoness forced his muzzle tightly shut.

Finally, the weight around his head and snout vanished, and Cynder’s heavy breaths became the loudest sound around him. Still covered in her juices, Spyro didn’t dare try to open his eyes, but could hear her footsteps in the grass nearby... and just like that, he remembered where the two of them were. Well hopefully, he thought, nobody else in the dragon temple had seen them. He tested his limbs again, hoping to wipe her arousal from his face and “repay” her for the intense facefucking; to no avail, however, the cool and light-but-strong grasp of solid shadows still held him fast.

“Oh! I made an absolute mess. Here, let me help with that...” Something soft, warm, and wet pressed against his face - doubtless Cynder’s tongue - but only managed to replace her pussy juices with her saliva. “How’s that, Spyro?”

Unable to tell if she was asking seriously, Spyro decided to answer seriously. “Probably better, but it’s hard to wipe off my eyes with my paws bound.” A moment later, he felt warmth creep into his scales. Or, rather, the slight chill of Cynder’s shadows left him. Immediately, Spyro wiped his eyes clear and blinked them open to stare up at the gorgeous visage of the most lovely dragoness he knew. He grinned at her. “Some picnic, huh? You got a nice mouthful of cock, and I ate my fill of pussy.”

Cynder dipped her muzzle, and the warm touch of her tongue glided up the side of his muzzle a couple of times. “Mm-hm. We should have these picnics more often. I rather like the available meat!” Then, she changed sides, her forked tongue lapping gently at his scaly lips.

Spyro laughed. “Oh, by all means, feel free to have as much of the available meat as you want! Especially with a tongue like that.”

“Believe me, Spyro, I thoroughly intend to.”

Cynder licked just under his chin, then a bit lower, and lower still, working her way, tiny lick by tiny lick, down his lower jaw and neck. Spyro’s heart beat faster in anticipation of the dragoness reaching her destination between his legs, still standing proud and waiting for the much-needed attention. So he raised his head, brow furrowed, when she suddenly stopped mid-chest. However, when she started going back up, inching her way back to the tip of his snout, he set his head back, groaned, and smiled, his paw covering his face.

“Oh, you tease. One of these days, you’re gonna skip this charade and just blow or fuck me, and I’m gonna be too surprised to cum.”

The dragoness’s tongue glided achingly slowly up the underside of his neck and chin, warm drool quickly cooling in the air as she left it. Spyro felt her paw against his chest, where he knew she could feel his heart race from her affections. “Well, you’re in luck, my love,” Cynder said in a low, husky voice, “because I really, REALLY want you inside me. Right now.”

As he stared down his muzzle at her, she playfully nipped at his snout and gently held it closed between her jaws. Spyro’s smile at the cute display soon faded and fell as she continued to watch him with an increasingly smug look on her face.

“Oh no,” was all the purple dragon could make out before Cynder opened her jaws again, wider this time, and treated Spyro to a clear view of the pink inside of her maw, before her head darted forward and swallowed his snout in one go.

He groped blindly at her head and neck, but her paws swept his forelegs back along his body, and another swallow introduced his whole head to the grip of her throat. It wasn’t as tight as her pussy was when she came, but almost as hot, and the pressure didn’t let up. A number of firm points pressed into his neck scales; Spyro’s hide was tough enough to resist her teeth unless she really wanted to hurt him, and, as she tugged his head up and forward to bring him into a sitting position, it was clear that she didn’t.

Nonetheless, the dragon struggled. Twisting left and right to free his forelegs, unfurling his wings, anything to brace against her hot, gentle jaws and stop - heck, even slow - her feast. To his relief, she released his limbs, but before Spyro could push her head back and away, the dragoness wrapped him in a tight hug. Chest to chest, the purple dragon felt her heartbeat and breath against his own, and her warm breath ran down his neck and back, punctuated by a soft, tender grunt. The intimate display relaxed Spyro slightly, just enough for Cynder to stretch her jaws wider still and fit them over his wing-wrists and chest. Inside her snug throat, Spyro’s own neck was similarly made to bend along with it; as the dragoness’s drooling jaws slid down over a purple-and-gold torso, Spyro’s muzzle dipped past her collar, the magical metal expanding to let her prey in.

“Nnf, Cynder, please, I was gonna hang out with Sparx and stuff!” Spyro protested. The constant squeezing made it difficult to open his mouth, let alone speak, but Spyro managed. His mate-turned-predator once again freed him from her scaly grip, but that was little comfort, with his scaly chest now only a large bulge in her usually-slender neck. Again, he tried to move his trapped limbs, but all he got for his troubles was another swallow. His snout squeezed through a tight ring of muscle and into a more open, and somehow hotter, chamber.

Just then, a familiar soft, wet feeling slithered down his underbelly, ahead of Cynder’s jaws. As his head slipped fully into her gut, his other “head” sent spikes of pleasure up his spine when the black dragoness’s tongue curled around his tip. Spyro let his legs and tail go limp as she tenderly swirled the warm, wet muscle around his shaft, and Cynder eagerly took the opportunity to lift him up and tip her head and body back, sticking Spyro’s scaly purple ass towards the sky.

Her tongue ran up and down his needy cock even as the hard length slid into her jaws proper, carefully protected from her teeth. Distracted by this strange variation on a blowjob, Spyro hardly noticed as, bit by bit, he slid deeper, his cock slipping from her tongue to her throat while he helpfully curled his neck and body around to conform to the shape of her gut. Each swallow squeezed his cock between his drool-slicked, scaly underbelly, and Cynder’s soft, wet, squishy throat. Some part of his mind registered the heat of her insides creeping over his legs and tail, or the sensation of her tongue wrapping leisurely around the yellow, cone-shaped tip of the last appendage before it, with the rest of his tail, was finally slurped inside, but Spyro was far more focused on trying to thrust against the throat above his curled-up form.

Finally, his pink tip slipped into Cynder’s stomach, granted a reprieve from the constant stimulation. Spyro pants, catching his breath as his hindlegs and tail tumble in with the rest of him. It’s a tight fit, but Cynder seemed to have no difficulty taking all of him. With some careful wiggling and creative limb placements, the male dragon manages to right himself as well as he can while curled tightly into a ball of scales. “Alright, very nice,” he grumbled, “now let me out. I had plans for later today!”

Her stomach squeezed a bit more firmly against his body. As the pressure moved around, Spyro realized Cynder was rubbing her swollen belly. “Mm, once I’m ready. You feel good in there. But... I’ll give you some kind of release, if you know what I mean.”

“Cynder, c’mon! I know we took awhile here, I’m sure Sparx is gonna be waiting for me!” Cynder’s paws rove over more parts of her gut, and after a few seconds, Spyro splays his hind legs apart as best he can, giving in. “...lower and to the right.”

Aided by her paws, Spyro found her hot, slimy stomach walls pressing against his dick, shifting slightly as she tried to stroke him off through her gut. He braced himself against her stomach, awkwardly squirming against their soft embrace. The two dragons soon worked themselves into a rhythm, Spyro panting in the already hot, humid air in Cynder’s gut as he grinded his twitching, sensitive cock against her insides, and Cynder kneading between his legs, through the layers of muscle, scale, and fat. Deep in her body’s embrace, surrounded by slimy flesh grinding back against him, tension built in Spyro’s body, driving him closer and closer to climax.

With a lustful groan, Spyro gave himself over to pleasure, thick, white cum spurting from his cock, only to immediately land on Cynder’s stomach walls, rubbing against the purple dragon’s scales - not that he could tell, with the dragoness’s heat and slick stomach juices all around him. Spyro breathed hard, recovering from the release, and affectionately rubbed his partner’s belly from within. “Thanks, Cyn...” A few seconds later, he pushed out again, firmer, and reiterated, “but seriously, I was gonna spend time with Sparx today. How long are you keeping me?”

“Oh, I’ll let you out for dinner. And if you really want to spend time with your dragonfly friend, I can always go get him for you.”

Spyro was silent for a few seconds as her words sunk in, then he groaned. “Please don’t. I like your stomach better as the sole occupant.” Cynder’s gut shook with laughter, before starting to slowly sway back and forth as she walked away to spend some alone time with her tasty partner.

[goodomensblog]

Afterward - Part 15

A Good Omens Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Here’s how it works:

I’ll write a scene.

At the end of each scene, you’ll be presented with 2-3 options for what the characters will choose to do next.

Comment or reblog to vote for your choice. I’ll count all votes after the first 24 hours after each update is posted.

Read: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14

(#3 wins because y’all love chaos, don’t you? Totally understandable. I love it too.)

Afterward - - - Part 15

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

Beelzebub, lord of flies, master of tyrants, patron of demon worship, and prince of Hell, is having, by their own estimation, a pretty shit day.

“I think I’d honestly rather die,” Beelzebub groans, as Crowley hauls them impudently up onto his skinny back. 

“I’m saving you, you ungrateful lump of flies, whether you like it or not.”

And Beelzebub, who is having the unfortunate realization that they are too weak to so much as wriggle their way out of this humiliating position, settles for flopping over the demon Crowley’s shoulder in such a way that the black, clotted blood dribbling out of their mouth splats grotesquely down the front of Crowley’s shirt.

“Thank you. Thanks for that,” Crowley says, grabbing underneath Beelzebub's legs to hike the demon a little higher on his back.

“Welcome,” Beelzebub replies, and more blood dribbles out.

Snatching the jar of Hellfire from the table, Crowley clutches it to his chest. With his other hand scooped behind Beelzebub’s leg to keep them in place, he kicks the door open and prowls, piggy-backing Beelzebub, prince of Hell, into the halls of Heaven.

Beelzebub, bouncing with Crowley’s every loping step, has closed their eyes. Head lolling forward, they’ve half given into the encroaching darkness, when Crowley’s annoying, incessant mutterings drag them back into full consciousness. 

“-now for this to work, I’ll just have to-”

The jar lid pops open. Hellfire leaps up, red flames lapping at the edges of the jar and the nearby grasping fingers. Beelzebub can feel it - the rich, tantalizing heat, and slumps forward, breathing in the fire’s acrid scent.

Crowley carelessly drops the jar, and it clatters across the floor as eager flames wrap around the demon’s wrists; they twist, winding up and around his forearms. It’s at that point that Crowley resumes walking. He does nearly trip over the dropped jar, but manages to stay on his feet with a skip and a hop. 

With each step, Crowley mutters sibilant syllables beneath his breath. They are rich as velvet, coaxing the fire with ancient, saccharine promises.

Beelzebub is generally repulsed by Crowley, but not enough to resist perching their chin on Crowley’s shoulder when the first flickers of flames slide over Beelzebub’s dangling arms. They sigh, going limp with relief as revitalizing flames sink into their skin.

Crowley continues walking and chanting and only stumbling occasionally. And Beelzebub hates Crowley, they really do, but they have to admit - he’s not bad at coaxing Hellfire. Beelzebub can feel the healing warmth of the flames sinking into the marrow of their very being. 

“You awake, Lord Buzziest?” Crowley asks, hiking up Beelzebub from their slowly sliding descent down his back.

When Beelzebub opens their eyes to a completely unfamiliar hall, they have the abrupt and horrifying realization that they had indeed drifted briefly to sleep. While being piggy-backed, no less. Would the humiliations never cease?

“Of course I’m awake,” Beelzebub grouses, digging a bony knee into Crowley’s side. “And no nicknames.”

“Alright, alright,” Crowley says, hands up. “I’ve given you all the Hellfire, by the way. Is it working?”

Beelzebub straightens up, pressing a hand against their chest. Eyes closed, they draw a long breath in. Breathing out, they tip their head from side to side, cracking their neck.

“Yeah,” Beelzebub answers, fingers splayed across dry, cracking blood. “Starting to.” 

They hadn’t expected the Hellfire to make them good as new, but it has at least kick-started the process. Beelzebub can feel the infernal energy within themself stirring, slowly mending what had very nearly been irreparably broken.

“I’m looking for Aziraphale, or Gabriel - or I guess, really anyone,” Crowley says, the tension in his voice embarrassingly undisguised. “They’re not where I expected them to be. At least based on the earlier racket.”

Beelzebub’s lip curls in disgust at the emotional display, but nonetheless closes their eyes, spreading their awareness wide. 

Heaven is... not exactly what Beelzebub remembers. Not that they remember much. But somehow, in those blotchy, indistinct recollections, it is brighter, louder, warmer. Safe. 

And there definitely wasn’t a malignant, pulsing thing in the central courtyard. 

“The thing is in the innermost courtyard,” Beelzebub says, opening their eyes. “Don’t know if your stupid angel’s with it.”

“Alright then,” Crowley replies, and promptly sets off in that direction.

He’s halfway down the corridor before Beelzebub fully processes the significance of Crowley’s unilateral decision.

“Hey! Hey! Hold up!” Beelzebub says, weakly digging their heels underneath Crowley’s ribs. “I don’t want to go near that thing. Put me down!”

Crowley doesn’t slow. “Can you walk on your own yet?” he asks, yellow eyes rolling up behind his dumb glasses.

The tingling ache in Beelzebub’s extremities suggests they probably cannot. It’s infuriating and humiliating and Beelzebub wants to die.

Crowley takes their silence as an answer. “Guess you’re tagging along, then,” he says with a grim smile.

“I hate you. With the entirety of my being.”

Whistling, Crowley walks faster.

As they approach the courtyard, the air begins to feel heavy, and it tastes - tart, cloying, rotten. Beelzebub’s lips curl back, and they warily suck the air between sharpening teeth.

“Demon Crowley,” Beelzebub orders, fingers curling over his shoulders as their sharp gaze scans from left to right. “Go slowly.”

Crowley, for once in his miserable existence, listens. Rolling through his steps, he prowls cautiously into the courtyard.

It’s exquisite - if you’re into uninspired pale flagstone and modern, geometric looking decorative fountains. The bodies on the ground don’t at all fit with the aesthetic.

The Archangel Gabriel is slumped over the edge of the fountain, golden blood sliding down his arm, dripping into cloudy water. The second figure is crumpled closer to the center of the courtyard - as though they’d put themselves between the archangel and whatever had been attacking him. The second one, though further away and also face down, is obviously Crowley’s angel - Aziraphale.

Crowley makes a pitiable, strangled sound, and Beelzebub just knows he’s going to charge out into the courtyard. Nails shifting to claws, Beelzebub digs them into Crowley’s shoulder.

“He lives, Crowley, I can feel the flicker of life from all the way over here,” Beelzebub hisses at his ear. 

Beelzebub can feel Gabriel’s life as well, a bright flare of energy at the fountain’s edge.

“Do not rush in,” Beelzebub continues, clenching at cloth and skin, “Something watches from the shadows.”

Crowley stiffens at that. Head tilted, he slowly, carefully, pulls down his glasses. 

“Who’s there?” he calls out.

Beelzebub shivers, the hairs on the back of their neck rising, one by one. Not daring to breathe, not daring to move, Beelzebub watches the space they know a creature waits.

At the courtyard’s edge, a figure unfolds itself from the shadows.

It is...an angel. The short, balding one. Sandalphon, if Beelzebub recalls correctly. 

Beelzebub and Crowley watch as the angel Sandalphon strolls out of darkness. His pale, pudgy hands are folded in front of his stomach, and he narrows his eyes, chin tilting inquisitively up as he inspects them.

Crowley looks from that angel to his angel, and Beelzebub digs their nails deeper into his flesh. Do not move. Do not move, Beelzebub thinks, squeezing.

Sandalphon tilts his head and speaks. “The angels fought me. And then they ran from me. At least, they tried to.” 

The voice that emerges from his throat is layered and ringing and it leaves Beelzebub with more than a passing inclination to shove their claws deep into their own ears, if only to make it stop.

“I thought I’d conquered all of Hell,” Sandalphon continues, lips quirking in puzzlement, “and yet here, in Heaven of all places, I find two unconquered demons wandering about.”

“Conquered?” Beelzebub growls, mind racing. 

They’d fled Hell after Satan had gone mad and started attacking his Princes. At the time, everything had been a giant fucking mess, and Beelzebub had made a tactical retreat to recover. Hell had been chaotic, sure - but conquered? 

Crowley cuts in before Beelzebub can say another word. “You’re not Sandalphon, are you?”

The thing smiles wide, revealing the angel’s ostentatious gold capped teeth. “I’m wearing Sandalphon. Just like I’m wearing Satan. And the demons and angels who weren’t quite quick enough.”

“Satan-” Beelzebub breathes, trembling. They’d thought he’d been bespelled. or some level of possessed, but this was - unforgivable.

“And God?” Crowley cuts in, voice sharp.

The thing tilts its head in a jagged, unnatural jerk. “She disappeared before I could get my hands on her, I’m afraid. Awfully cruel of her, I say, abandoning all of you like that. Though I suppose you two are rather used to it.”

“What the fuck are you?” Beelzebub snaps.

“Oh!” And the thing wearing Sandalphon like a second skin gives a start, “I didn’t introduce myself, did I?”

Sandalphon’s head dips forward. From the back of his neck, pale, twisting limbs unfold. Like spider’s legs, bent and folded back over themselves, they jerkily unfurl. There must be at least eight, and at the end of each limb, bony, clawed hands splay - reaching. The pale, sickly limbs spread out, lifting a creature which emerges from the back of Sandalphon with a frankly horrifying squelch. The thing is limpid and waifish, and watches them with black, eternity old eyes.

“Dear creatures of this poor, dying universe, you may call me Entropy.”

“Entropy?” Beelzebub hisses.

As Crowley says, “This universe?”

The thing smiles, and it’s mouth is a void. “Everything ends, honey. I hop from place to place, returning universes to the nothing from which they came.”

“Why?” Crowley asks.

“Why not?” the thing answers, void smile spreading across the lower half of it’s narrow face.

And then Crowley is unhooking Beelzebub’s arms. When he lowers them down, Beelzebub hates how their legs, still embarrassingly weak, give out beneath them. Teeth gritted, Beelzebub kneels on cold flagstone.

Crowley steps away, turning toward the abomination of limbs and hands.

“Demon Crowley?” Beelzebub calls when he takes a careful step forward.

“Gonna get Aziraphale,” Crowley says, soft.

The thing - Entropy - looks down. Round eyes unblinkingly survey the courtyard. 

“Aziraphale,” it says, singing the name in that horrifying voice. “Is he the soft looking one? He did put up a formidable fight.”

“I’m taking him with me,” Crowley says, low and dangerous.

The thing laughs and it’s so awful Beelzebub has to physically refrain from flinching back. “No. No you’re not,” it says, and laughs again. “He’s strong. And I need the strong ones. I like wearing them best. And if I’m not careful, even the strong ones-”

The clawed hands encircling Sandalphon squeeze. Within moments, black cracks are crawling ominously over the angel’s form. The air begins to whine. Then, with a pop the angel’s form folds in. He shatters into a cloud of black and gold dust that falls silently to the floor.

“Oops,” the thing exclaims.

Beelzebub and Crowley stare, mouths open and the pile of angel at the creature’s feet.

That kind of power is...Beelzebub can’t conceive of it. Not that they have time to try. Before the last Sandalphon dust speck has fallen, Crowley launches into motion.

“Shit,” Beelzebub breathes, because this is not a fight any angel or demon can win.

Crowley gets to Aziraphale before the creature does, but he only just has time to drag Aziraphale aside before a clawed hand spears down, piercing clear through the stone tile. Crowley, scrambling, drags Aziraphale back, avoiding a second stabbing hand.

“Move faster you idiot,” Beelzebub shouts.

“Trying to,” Crowley yelps, yanking his angel another several feet back, barely avoiding the third strike.

He’s not going to make it, Beelzebub realizes with a sinking certainty. Crowley has always been a slippery one, but this thing - this Entropy - is like nothing Beelzebub has ever encountered. It has the strength to casually turn an angel to dust, and Crowley was half-exhausted when they entered the courtyard. 

Beelzebub should get the hell out of here - while the Entropy creature is preoccupied with Crowley. 

Bracing their hands on cold stone, Beelzebub, rises on shaking legs. Their legs burn - and not in the good way. Clenching their jaw, Beelzebub sways, remaining determinedly upright. They take an unsteady step back, away from the chaos in the courtyard.

Behind them, Crowley screams.

Beelzebub, shaking with effort, looks back.

Crowley is on the ground, one leg speared by the creature’s clawed fingers. He’s pushed Aziraphale behind him as the creature, balanced on pale, spindly legs, rises above them both. It’s speaking, void-black mouth stretched in that wide, unsettling grin.

“Poor, poor demon,” it croons, and presses the claw deeper. “Abandoned by God. Left to rot in Hell. And then you didn’t even fit in there did you? What kind of outcast doesn’t even fit in with the outcasts?”

The claw twists and Crowley gasps.

Beelzebub closes their eyes, clenching aching muscles in an effort to remain upright. If they are going to escape, it’s now or never.

“I do want the angel,” the creature says, it’s porcelain face looming over Crowley, “but don’t you worry demon - I’ll mercifully end your miserable existence.”

Beelzebub moves.

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

A creature calling itself Entropy is revealed! It seems to have plans to end this universe, and has already single handedly conquered both Heaven and Hell (yikes). Entropy intends to use Aziraphale and to kill Crowley, and Beelzebub is left with a choice. Beelzebub will…

Fight. Mustering their remaining strength, Beelzebub will show this Entropy abomination the hell a real demon is capable of raising. It’s not that they care about Crowley (or his stupidly nice angel)….they just don’t want to feel like they owe him.

Flee. Beelzebub is a survivor. They are injured and weak and they are not about to enter into a fight they have little hope of surviving. Sorry Crowley….it’s nothing personal. (Note: this will result in an immediate POV shift)

Please comment or reblog to vote! :) 

(also, I absolutely love all of you who have been taking the time to explain the reasoning behind your votes. It’s always interesting to see where you all are coming from!)

Part 16

[timeforelfnonsense]

Between Heaven & Hell

Astarion x Dafni

Rating: M (no spice but its mentioned) 

Ao3

Inaleth Sweet is a D&D oc belonging to one of my dear friends @ladyofthelatke from one of our old games. We were talking about Dafni liking romance novels and realized she'd be a fan of Inaleth. A fun little easter egg! The name of Dafni's book was also brainstormed by our D&D party! I don't know that I love the ending but meh!

Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series 

Downtime for Dafni had become rare and fleeting in the past few days. Not that she mined being busy! She’d never been much good at sitting still. Her mind moved from thought to thought as quick as a hummingbird’s wing. A life of adventure rather agreed with her breezy disposition, that was a silver lining among the mess at least. But she found herself road-weary and overextended. Perhaps it was the tadpole or the fact she’d been in more battles in two days than she had in the last year. She couldn’t be sure. Either way, a little idle time would be good for her.

She was lounging on her belly in a grassy patch on the river bank, idly flipping through the dog-eared pages of a novel bound in soft pink leather, Between Heaven and Hell scrawled across the cover in faded gold lettering. It was a rather risqué account of an amours elf torn between the affection of her aasimar and a tiefling suiters. The first in a series penned by one Inaleth Sweet of Waterdeep -  A fellow eladrin and personal favorite author of Dafni’s. She’d read it dozens of times but it never failed to enchant and intrigue her. 

She’d always enjoyed reading. It was the only time she could bring herself to be (mostly) still. She could lose herself in the colorful whimsy of her imagination. She’d always been a romantic. Her headful of silly daydreams of love and adventure from a tender age. She had spent days on end in her village imagining what the world might be like beyond the shelter of Peleira and the familiar forests and shores of Faerie-Gwynneth. Books provided her wanderlust an outlet in the years before she crossed into the Material.

A pale hand snatched the book from her hands pulling her back to reality. Astarion glanced down at her with a mischievous grin, raising a singular angled brow. She clumsily fumbled to her knees attempting to reclaim it from him but Astarion simply raised the novel out of her reach. 

He looked almost ethereal, shrouded in the soft, peachy glow of sunset as he flipped through his stolen prize. His loose undershirt was unbuttoned almost to his navel showing off his lanky feline-esque physique. It was completely unfair for him to be that gorgeous! Somehow he managed to mix boyish charm with noble dignity. She imagined Astarion was very much the kind of man humans pictured when they talked about the peerless beauty and grace of the elves. 

“My, my, Daffodil, I never pegged you as a consumer of salacious novels. Aren’t you just full of surprises?” He said through a chuckle as he began to thumb through the pages, “You fold the corners of your books? And I thought I was despicable!” 

He might have been from the Material Plane but he had that spark of mirth common to those hailing from her homeland. It was a welcome change of pace. She’d found he could be quite charming (when he wasn’t being surly or aloof). He’d taken to treating her with teasing endearment as of late.  He would refer to her by little diminutives such as darling or dear. That was when he wasn’t calling her by that twee pet name, Daffodil. She knew that the majority of his doting was little more than suave twaddle but she couldn’t help but be won over by him.

 There were things about himself he’d clearly chosen not to disclose. She was never one for secrets but she could hardly begrudge others for having them. Astarion’s omissions were likely connected to whatever had made him so prickly in the first place. She was curious of course but she wasn’t going to press him for anything he was unwilling to give.  Dafni understood relationships much the same way she did gardens. Both required patience and dedication in order for something beautiful to flourish. She earnestly hoped a genuine friendship could blossom between them but that meant allowing him to open up to her in his own time no matter how badly she wanted to bombard him with a-million-and-one questions. 

 “What have I done to deserve this roguery?” 

“Roguery?” Astarion snickered.

“Roguery.” She repeated. “Now find your own way to pass the time and give me mine back!”

Her brows stitched, her lower lip forming that perfect little pout of hers. She was trying very hard to appear cross but her eyes gave her away. They were sparkling with impish delight as she made another valiant effort at retrieving the silly thing. Despite her tilt towards clemency, Dafni was a bit of a puck. 

“This is my way of passing the time. I can only wander among the trees so many times before the novelty wears off. Besides, making you blush is far more entertaining.” 

Dafni snorted a blite smile forming at the corners of her plump lips, “You are incorrigible, you know that right?”

“So I’ve been told.” 

“Well, I suppose if you are that bord I could read to you?” She yanked the book from his hands, clutching it to her chest smug and victorious. Reaching out with her free hand to tap a finger on the tip of his nose. “But, I’m skipping all the dirty bits!” 

“Spoilsport.” 

“It’s that or walking around the woods for the hundredth time.” 

“You do raise an excellent point.” He sighed carefully arranging himself on the grass beside her, “Very well, I’ll agree to your stipulations.” 

“Just be glad I’m not going to make you read for one of the characters! And because I’m just so sweet I’ll even start from the beginning for you.” 

He listened intently as Dafni delivered the tale as if she were performing a one-woman play. Her face was adorably expressive as she changed her voice with each new character. Messy curls bouncing with every animated gesture. Occasionally she’d trail off feigning horror at the ‘dirty bits’ as she called them.

 What would lewd words have sounded like in her lilt voice? Part of him wanted to find out right then. That wasn’t the first time such musings had crossed his mind. Dafni had made a few appearances in his private thoughts since their meeting. She had a coy, maidenly allure that conjured up all kinds of tempting images. These were nothing more than flights of fancy but fun nonetheless. Just another benefit of keeping her around.

He found himself lingering around her almost on instinct. The joy that followed her was tangible and warm as the sun on his skin. When she was near his mind felt quieted and the fear that gnawed at him would soften just a tad. He had grown to genuinely enjoy her company. He’d expected her to be dull and overly pious. Instead, he found she was rather amusing, coquettish even. She was witty and observant, always having a playful quip at the ready. The sort of whimsical woman whose effortless charm drew people in. She would have made an excellent vampire if not for her ridiculous soft heart.

Her compulsive need to care for every living thing  with a sob story was somewhat vexing but he could hold his nose and deal with it most days. He’d make a comment here and there but really that was for her own good. She was painfully naïve, always seeing the best in people. It was clear to him Dafni’s life had been gentle. Free of hardships that might have taught her to approach others with such little skepticism. 

A part of him was grateful for her lack of suspension.  He knew gaining the trust of at least one of the members of the party would be crucial if he intended to enjoy the benefits of traveling with a group long term. Her friendship and propensity for peace making provided him with no small measure of safety. Still, that safety was at risk if she continued to offer herself up on a silver platter to every soul with even the smallest tale of woe she came across.

He glanced over at her, a found (begrudging, but found nonetheless), smile on his lips. The last rays of the setting sun casting its light on her lovely cherubic profile. While his motivations for befriending her had been far from altruistic having her near made his life provable better. When they’d first met he’d assumed her kindness would come at a price but she had surprised him, wanting nothing but his company in exchange. Without thinking he reached out cupping her cheek in his hand. The freckles, sage skin was unbearably soft  and warm against his cool palm. Her heartbeat quickened bringing his attention to the tantalizing, wildflower sent of her blood.  She leaned in close her eyes fluttering closed- 

“We should head back to the others, it’s getting dark.” Astarion muttered, pulling back from her.

“I- Ha, of course. It’s late…” Her lower lip was caught in her teeth, her eyes darting ever so quickly from his mouth back to his eyes. 

As tempting as she might be he was already in too deep with her. If he kissed her, he’d only want more. Any change to the current dynamic could disrupt the fragile safety he’d acquired. He couldn’t put himself at risk for the temporary happiness she might have brought. Perhaps when things were more settled. When he knew he could afford the risk, he would know the taste of her lips. For now though, he would have to resist. 

[pikapeppa]

Fenris/f!Hawke smut: Sloppy

For Day 13 of @scharoux​‘s wonderful @14daysofdalovers​ Valentine’s Day prompts! Featuring my FAVOURITE gif, beautifully crafted by @schoute​​! 

The prompt: Love Marks. The pairing: Fenris & Rynne Hawke. The premise: Fenris’s first time having drunk sex – that he can remember, at least. (NSFW.)

Read here on AO3. ~2400 words. 

Hawke looked particularly beautiful tonight. 

She was humming to herself as she wafted around the bedroom taking off her clothes. Her shirt came off in one graceful motion and was tossed onto the desk chair, and the way she shimmied off her trousers was like a jaunty little dance.

She started to unlace her bustier, and Fenris smiled lazily as he watched her. Her bosom was nowhere near as generous as Isabela’s, but in Fenris’s eyes, there was no valley of flesh more appealing than the shadows that dipped between Hawke’s perfectly petite breasts. 

She stopped with her bustier half-undone. When her nimble fingers didn’t move for a couple of seconds, he lifted his quizzical gaze to her face. 

She was grinning at him. “You’re drunk,” she said.

He cocked his head. “Why do you say that?”

“You’re staring at me like an absolute rogue,” she teased. Then, to his satisfaction, her fingers resumed their blessed tugging at the laces of her bustier.

His eyes returned to her chest. “What do you mean by that? I stare at you often,” he said. “Particularly when you’re removing your clothes.”

She laughed. “That’s how I know you’re drunk. You just admitted that you stare.” She tossed her bustier onto the chair along with her shirt. 

She was bare aside from her smallclothes now. Fenris pushed away from the wall and ignored the spinning feeling in his head as he padded toward her. “You are a beautiful woman, Hawke. You know I am fond of admiring you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Or are you fishing for compliments yet again?”

She giggled. “Oh, I’ll never turn down your compliments about my stunningly attractive appearance. That doesn’t change the fact that you’re drunk.”

He pursed his lips, then shrugged. “Fine. I may be a bit more inebriated than usual.” He frowned at her as he sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you not more drunk than I?” 

“You had punch tonight, that’s how,” she said cheerfully. “You usually stick to wine. And wine is considerably weaker than my fantastic punch.”

He grunted a rueful acknowledgement. Fenris had indeed decided to have some of Hawke’s famous – or infamous – punch tonight in solidarity with Sebastian, who had accidentally had a rather large cup at tonight’s get-together. According to a very smug Isabela, Sebastian had known exactly what he was doing, but Fenris had nonetheless decided to take pity on his friend and have some punch along with him. 

It was a pitying move that he might regret tomorrow if his spinning head became an aching one by the morning, but that was neither here nor there. What was here was Hawke’s gloriously naked body, her smallclothes having been discarded a moment ago.

And she was walking away from him toward the adjoining bathroom. 

He hastily grabbed her wrist. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“To take a bath, of course,” she said. “Where else would I be going stark naked? Unless they’ve opened a nude public bath in the town square that I don’t know about.”

Her tone was a cheeky tease, and Fenris smirked as he pulled her close. “Don’t bathe. Not yet,” he said. Without preamble, he palmed one of her breasts and stroked her nipple until it was a puckered bud against his thumb. 

She arched into his hand. “Ooh, bossy,” she said huskily. “You know you can use that bossy voice on me anytime.”

“Good,” he replied. “I am in the mood to use it now.” He ran his fingers over her nipple and admired the contrast between the dusky peak and the golden shade of her skin. 

“Hmm,” she murmured. “Well, I’ll give you a few minutes to think of how exactly you want to use it while I take a bath.” To his immense surprise, she stepped away from him and sauntered into the bathroom. 

He stared stupidly at the roundness of her bottom as she walked away, then pushed himself up from the bed and followed her. She was leaning over the tub with one hand in the water, and her palm was glowing faintly where the heat of her magic was warming the water. 

He watched her with some confusion, feeling increasingly muddled by the booze in his blood. “Are you not in the mood?” he asked. “Because if not, I will leave you alone–”

She cut him off. “I didn’t say that. I said I want to take a bath first.” She glanced at him over her tattooed shoulder. 

He narrowed his slightly bleary eyes at her. She might be heating the bathwater, but her posture did not look like she was readying herself for a bath. Her spine was a catlike arch as she bent over the tub, and her coppery eyes were as heated as the glow of her palm in the bath… 

She shifted her weight from one hip to the other. His shameless eyes fell to her hips, then to the juncture of her thighs, and a sudden rush of want surged through his chest to steal his breath. 

She was wet. There was a shine of moisture between her legs and dampening her dark curls, and his sluggish brain suddenly understood what she was doing. 

He raised his eyes to her face. “Vixen,” he accused. 

She blinked innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She bent over even further and leaned her elbows on the edge of the tub, and his cock jerked in excitement at her suggestive pose. 

He joined her in the bathroom and ran his palm along the length of her back, and she arched her back even further. Encouraged by the enticing curve of her spine, he stroked his fingers between her legs. 

She gasped, and Fenris exhaled roughly. Venhedis, she was completely slick and ready, and he was visited by the sudden mad urge to drop his leggings right this second and slide inside of her. 

She rolled her hips sinuously to meet his stroking fingers, and he dragged in a breath. “Hawke–”

She straightened suddenly and stepped away from the bath, then moved toward the small dresser in the corner that contained spare towels and soap. “I’m just going to grab my bubble bath,” she said. “You know, for this bath I’m going to take right now.”

Her innocent words and her husky tone of voice, the sway of her hips and the thrumming swirl of her punch moving through his veins… It was too much, far too much temptation and not enough restraint to balance it out, and Fenris abruptly gave in to the greedy want that was clamouring between his legs. He stalked toward her and crowded her against the wall, then pressed his swollen crotch against her bottom.

He banded one arm around her waist and roughly dragged his tongue along her tattooed left shoulder blade, and she bucked her hips back to meet him. “Fuck!” she gasped.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, and he licked her skin again. She tasted like salt and sunshine and sandalwood: a delectable combination by any measure.

He nipped her shoulder with his teeth, and she moaned. “Maker’s fucking balls. I should tease you more often when you’re drunk if this is what I get,” she gasped.

He growled, then nipped her shoulder again. Her skin really was delightfully smooth and pliant against his teeth. He pressed his lips frantically along the line of her shoulder until he met her neck, then lightly bit her neck. 

“Yes!” she gasped. 

Riled by her cry, he thrust against her naked bottom with growing impatience. Her skin was so soft beneath his lips, and the sound of her ecstatic voice when he bit that tendon in her neck was so clear and pure, and – and… fasta vass, he wanted more. More of her sounds and her taste and her skin and her lips and everything, everything that she’d been baiting him with since she’d shed her clothes a mere few minutes ago. 

He slid his hand over her belly and down between her legs. He stroked her swollen nub, and when she arched her neck and mewled, he closed his eyes with bliss. Venhedis, that sound, that precious sound and this precious exposed line of her neck, right here beside his lips… 

He grazed her skin with his teeth once more. She mewled again and craned her neck further to the side, and Fenris bit her again. 

“Maker, yes,” she gasped. “That’s – Fenris, I – bite me, please!” 

He complied happily with her request. It was what he wanted, anyway: the taste and the smoothness of her skin beneath his tongue, and the way she moaned when he sucked her skin between his eager teeth. 

She squeezed his wrist, and he snapped his attention back to his hand between her legs, which had gone still in his distraction. “My apologies,” he panted distractedly, and he resumed the gentle rubbing of her clit while sucking more zealously on her shoulder and her neck. 

Hawke’s grip on his wrist was firm, guiding him to stroke her folds and spread the slickness back up to her clit, and her moaning was guttural and unrestrained as he feasted on the tender skin of her neck. He caressed the slickness between her legs while devouring her delectable skin, and in the space of a mere two minutes, she was shuddering and crying out her ecstasy against the wall. 

Once she’d settled from her climax, Fenris began tugging at the laces of his leggings. He breathed hard as the laces came loose, then freed his pulsing cock and guided it along the slick length of her cleft. 

He hissed with pleasure. She was so wet and warm, and it felt so good to have even a hint of her perfect heat on his cock. It was going to feel even better still when he finally sank into the depths of her pussy, and he could feel himself growing even harder at the mere tantalizing thought. 

 “Fenris,” she gasped. “Please!” 

“Please what?” he grunted.

“Please fuck me!” she cried.

He exhaled hard and slid his cock through her slick folds. “I thought you wanted a bath,” he panted.

She burst out a breathless laugh. “Now who’s the vixen?”

“Still you,” he replied promptly. “Vixens are females. Males are simply called foxes.” 

She laughed more loudly still and arched her spine. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Insults, now?” he said archly. “That is hardly the way to get what you want.” He stroked his length through her slick heat once more. 

“All right, fine!” she moaned. “You have the finest cock in all of Thedas, and if you don’t use it right now to fuck me within an inch of my life, I might very well die.”

He gaped at her for a moment, then laughed. “That was unnecessarily dramatic.”

She twisted her hips. “Fenris, please!” she begged. “I need you, I need you, I don’t know how else to say it…”

“Say you love me,” he blurted, to his own mild surprise.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, and his heart did a little flip. She was beaming at him, and the warmth dancing in her coppery eyes was more than simple lust. 

“I love you, Fenris,” she said firmly. “I love you so much that it makes me giddy. Why else do you think I want you to fuck me this badly?”

He stared adoringly at her for a moment, then adjusted himself and thrust swiftly inside of her.

She jolted and cried out sharply, and Fenris groaned into her shoulder blade as he filled her all the way to the hilt. “I love you,” he moaned, and he nipped her skin again. 

“Yes,” she cried, and she bucked back to meet him. He groaned and rocked his hips toward her, one hand grasping her perfect breast and the other on her hip while she braced her palms on the wall, and the faster he fucked her, the faster his pleasure rocketed forth, rising through his belly and his chest and his throat as he sank his teeth into her skin–

He gasped and jolted. His climax was pulsing through him, bursting through his limbs and escaping his lips in a cry of pleasure against her golden tattooed skin, and he clutched her tightly as the heady rush rendered his limbs to trembling. 

A long, enraptured moment later, he released her and stumbled back, then cursed himself as his seed trickled down her leg and onto the floor. “Venhedis,” he muttered. “Hawke, I apologize, I – the mess…”

She shot him a grin and leaned tiredly against the wall. “Don’t worry about the mess.”

He studied her with some consternation. Her neck and shoulder were reddened from his teeth, and to his dismay, he could see the beginning of some bruises that were already purpling where he’d sucked so shamelessly on her skin. 

“Is something the matter?” she asked. 

He awkwardly gestured at her. “Your neck. You will have bruises in the morning.” 

She laughed breathily. “Not bruises: love bites. Completely different, as Isabela will be sure to point out.”

He grimaced as he pulled up his half-doffed leggings. “Kaffas. I’m… I am usually more composed than this.”

She laughed again and turned around to face him. “Oh Fenris, of course you are. But you’re drunk. You’re allowed to be sloppy when you’re drunk.” She stretched her arms languidly overhead. “Well, you can leave the bathroom now. I’m going to have the bath that I really wanted before a very handsome and very rude elf came bursting in here to disturb my plans and boss me around…”

Her face was lit with the most mischievous shit-eating grin. Fenris scoffed, then pinned her against the wall and clasped her face in his hands. 

“Festis bei umo canavarum,” he scolded. 

She laughed loudly, an uninhibited ring of mirth that set his heart alight, and he smiled at her before kissing her cheeky grinning lips. He might rue his wanton behaviour in the morning, particularly when Isabela caught sight of Hawke’s marred skin and began making salacious comments. But for now, with Hawke’s precious lips pressed to his own and her sated body flush to his, he had nothing but appreciation for the results of his own sloppiness.

[teenytinystorage]

One Strawberry Shortcake

Summary: A prinxiety bakery AU inspired by a Bakery AU prompt!

Word count: 3,801

Warnings: Multiple detailed food descriptions, one “dying from adorableness” mention

Genre: Fluff, romance, and tons of flirty banter

Pairings: Prinxiety

Enjoy! :)

-

Imagine the smell of fresh pastries. All of the pastries you can imagine.

Chocolate cakes, raspberry cupcakes, chocolate chip cookies, strawberry eclairs, confectioners sugar, vanilla cakes fresh from the oven.

Imagine the taste of the sweetest, most fruity desserts you can imagine, still warm from the oven, that melt in your mouth.

Or, imagine the feeling of frosting splattered all over your hands. Licking it off to taste the tantalizing flavors of blueberry and strawberry folded together into one fluffy confection. Or even flour caked all over your clothes. Messy indeed, but delightful in an unexplainably nostalgic way. Or the sound of oven dings. Or delectable treats trapped in glass display cases surrounding you in all directions like a tasty little army.

Now imagine all of these sensations every day from 8 to 4 for five days a week. Amazing, right?

Roman Dante would certainly agree.

He worked as a humble cake decorator, sometimes as a server when he was the last resort, at Sanders Bake Shop, a small local bakery with a few locations scattered around Gainesville, Florida.

It had everything you think it would: baby blue striped wallpaper, tiled floor, a delightfully large selection of treats, a modest kitchen, and smiles and kind greetings from the workers upon every customer that entered into the door.

And Roman’s location was managed by a tall, strict fellow by the name of Logan Mortensen. He was the no-nonsense, follow-the-recipe-like-your-life-depends-on-it type. Aka, not a paragon of fun, or anything really that a bakery would call for.

But, he kept the finances in check and he would scarcely run the kitchen, both of which Roman was thankful for. And Logan did admire Roman’s ability to cull the most immaculate designs for desserts from his ever-working mind, which Roman was humbly flattered by. So, overall, certainly not the worst manager he could have.

And all of his other coworkers? They were all just as sweet as the desserts they served. Especially the modest lead baker, Patton Stockton. Gosh, just talking to him gave Roman a brain cavity. A lovely lad with a heart of the purest gold. He was on a three-day vacation right now, but Roman was still overjoyed at the prospect of being able to talk to him again soon.

The oven dinged. Roman slipped two maroon oven mitts onto his hands, and he lifted open the oven door, his face being hit with the fresh scent of chocolate cake and the oven’s radiating warmth. He lifted up the cake pan and set it onto a patch of floral-decorated cloth, surrounded by many other cloth patches across a wide marble counter in the middle of the kitchen.

Roman pranced over to the pastry fridge, his steps following the invigoratingly poppy rhythm of “Don’t Stop Me Now” from Queen that flowed through his left earbud, while his right earbud waited patiently in his red apron pocket.

(The song was on his “Decoration Dancing” playlist, aka a playlist just for decorating cakes and also to jam out to on slow work days. Logan didn’t really approve of listening to music while baking, but it kept Roman productive, albeit in a very extraneous way, but productive nonetheless, so he let Roman listen to music.)

Roman opened the long glass fridge door before he quickly strode back to the cake, raised it up in his arms gently like a newborn, and after sliding back to the pastry fridge, placed it inside and shut the door behind it.

He adored his job and everything about it. He treasured every day that he stepped in the front glass doors and heard the tiny metallic pink bell above him welcome him with an adorable little ding.

But what he most admired were all the patrons of the bakeshop. The shop wasn’t swamped with people very often, so it was facile for Roman to listen to and observe all the different customers from his workspace.

There were the usual groups of small families or pairs looking for a few cookies or cupcakes to snack on, the occasional frazzled man or woman before a wedding frantically trying to pick out an extravagant cake, and, of course, tons of birthday party planners.

A parent or two would come inside with tiny, adorable children and pick out whichever design the child wanted, more than likely a Disney character or a superhero or a Barbie doll dress cake, and Roman’s heart would melt every time he saw their admiring smiles of Roman’s work.

Roman mostly stayed in the back with Patton, though, seeing as the other employees would go serve, and also because he wasn’t too good at keeping track of orders, nor was he very interested in serving anyway.

However, he still enjoyed leaning past the kitchen doorway opening with Patton and seeing all the adorable children pressing their faces against the glass in awe. Both of them cherished the patrons and watched to see what treats they’d have to whip up together.

But, enough with all of that. Roman could go on and on forever about how much he adored his job.

And besides, the bell above the door rang, signaling Roman to turn his head towards Logan, who was on the other side of the counter reading a recipe book and mixing a bowl of cupcake dough together. (Logan had to take the role of baker today, seeing as Patton eventually succumbed to Logan’s rantings about Patton needing to take a break once and awhile from constant working. Roman felt bad for anyone who had to have the drab delicacies baked up by the subpar chef.)

“Hey, Lo,” Roman whispered.

Logan looked up from the recipe, adjusting his charcoal glasses.

Roman quickly tilted his head towards the door. “I gotta answer that?”

Logan nodded. “All the servers are on break.”

“Curses,” Roman grumbled under his breath.

He pressed pause on his bop and stuffed his earbuds into his apron pocket. He took in a deep breath and put on his best Hi-how-can-I-help-you smile as he headed toward the front counter.

And even before getting past the doorway, a wave of ineffable tension struck him over the head like a falling cake tray. The tension cake was frosted with stress and topped off with eloquent piped roses of intimidation.

This dreary dude looked nothing like any of the patrons Roman’s ever observed before. Heck, he’d be more fitting on a metal album cover than at a pastel-hued bakery like this.

The patron was pretty well-sculpted physically, as if constructed out of the finest of fondants. He wore a slim, satiny leather jacket fit with zippers along the sleeve cuffs. He had a distressed purple shirt under the jacket and two chain necklaces strung along his neck, one with a blank black-rimmed dog-tag.

Ripped black jeans and knee-length spiked combat boots with skulls on them both covered his lower half. Black eyeliner and opaque black eyeshadow made the gothic guest’s green eyes even more striking. Dark circular earrings clung onto his ears. A messy tuft of black hair flowed down to his jawline.

Now, all of that raised the intimidation factor up to the extreme (and the gayness factor too, in Roman’s case. What? This grim guy looked fine). All this humdrum human needed now was a shiny black motorbike, and you’d never want to encounter him on a bad day.

But, all the fear factor of this guy with gruesome guise had a few caveats.

The somber shopper was barely 5’1”, and both his hunched-over posture and his leaning against the wall in the far left corner of the store didn’t make him look any taller.

Also, the menacing man appeared uneasy, glancing around the store constantly as if he thought a cake would leap out and attack him. So, the desolate dude’s anxiety himself settled Roman’s nerves a little bit.

But that didn’t stop his heart from pounding in his chest.

He shook his head and headed out the kitchen door, trying to gather all the courage inside him to go greet the customer. He stood behind the display counter and collected his words.

“Hello, welcome to Sanders Bake Shop!” Roman trilled clearly, despite his quick breaths.

The paranoid patron peered up at Roman, his eyes widening in a snap. He seemed more terrified of Roman than Roman was of him (which, c’mon. Roman was only a few inches taller than him, certainly not as physically fit as him, Roman’s name on his nametag was written in scribbly calligraphy with a star next to it, and Ro wore a bright white sweater under his bright red apron for Pete’s sake. He had nothing to be afraid of with Roman.) Nevertheless, the bleak boy appeared petrified. He frantically set his leaning leg down onto the ground and shamefully waved his hand.

“H… Hi,” the customer responded with a low, gravelly voice. It sounded like the crunching of tires over a rough patch in the road. It made Roman’s heart rate rise quicker.

“How-- how may I help you today?” Roman stumbled over his greeting, which he hoped with all his heart that Logan didn’t hear.

“Uh, yeah,” the cast-down customer shuffled over to the display, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets. “Still lookin’, thanks.”

Despite that answer, the morbid man still appeared to be stalking for something specific in the glass display. But Roman was just happy he could get a break, even if only for a minute.

“Alright, take your time,” Roman lopsidedly smiled, twirling his hidden earbud wire around his fingers.

A moment coated with apprehension like chocolate mousse over a fresh cake passed, where the spooked searcher uneasily peered through the display case, scanning through it with his finger, and where Roman tried his best to keep the overly cheery smile on his face. The creepy client’s curious expression made him look… strangely adorable.

“Do..” the ill-at-ease individual peered up at Roman innocently through his eyelashes and bushy hair, only raising Roman’s gay panic more, “do you guys have off-menu items here?”

“Huh? Oh,” Roman leapt out of his trance of admiring the fretting fellow. “Well, we have some more treats that aren’t in the display case, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Hm. Why’s that?” The worried wight asked, seemingly to get the conversation off-track on purpose.

Roman shrugged. “That stuff doesn’t sell well normally. People don’t buy it, we don’t display it.”

“Huh,” the stressed soul mused.

“Is there anything, in particular, you were looking for?” Roman tilted his head.

“Uhm..” the perturbed patron looked down. “do you have..” his voice trailed off.

“What was that?”

“strawb..”

Roman leaned over toward him. “Still can’t hear you.”

“S-Strawberry shortcake?” The dude asked, his voice dripping with shame.

And, just like that, all the tension in the room left. This figure of fear and intimidation. Ordering. A strawberry shortcake. The, unarguably, cutest dessert. That the bakery. Could possibly. Offer. A dessert more fit for a small child than for this foreboding fella.

It was precious.

“Strawberry shortcake?” Roman responded, making sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Making sure he wasn’t imagining the charming client being even more adorable. His face sparked with a smile, and he tried his best to keep himself from squealing like the toddlers that saw Roman’s cake creations.

The lovable lad nodded, holding the back of his neck with his hand.

“Yeah, we’ve got that,” Roman responded, still trying to keep himself from awwing loud enough to shake the earth.

And at that response, the fetching fella’s face irradiated with the most effervescent excitement Roman had ever seen. He nodded his head rapidly, a smile coating his pointed lips like a layer of buttercream frosting between two deliciously stacked red velvet cakes.

Roman, trying to stop himself from dying of adorableness right then and there, turned his head toward the doorway of the kitchen. “One strawberry shortcake!” he shouted at Logan, who peered up from his recipe book and gave a quick nod of his head and raised up two fingers.

(The amount of non-verbal communication Logan and Roman had together was incredible. These two could have a whole two hours of conversation without once moving their mouths. Who am I kidding, they probably already have.)

“Alright. We’ve got two in the back.”

The patron’s smile grew massively before he disgracefully let it fade from his lips. He sprawled a scowl back on the sharp lineaments of his cheeks and lowered his head toward the ground. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as his pupils glanced up at Roman through his eyelashes. “Uh, yeah.” He shrugged. “I’ll take one, I guess.”

“Okay shortcake~” Roman playfully teased.

“Ugh.” the dear covered his face with his hands, cowering away from the flirty remark. This dude really is adorable, Roman silently squealed.

“Bring one out!” Roman yelled to Logan.

Logan peered through the doorway and rolled his eyes, headed toward the back freezer.

“So..” Roman leaned on the chilly marble countertop.

“So,” the slender specter raised an eyebrow, his head raising back up.

“Got any plans later this week?” Roman asked, his heart thumping against his ribs, just barely letting his lungs get enough air to attempt to court this devilishly handsome dude.

“Not really,” he shrugged. “Why’d you ask?”

“Oh, no reason,” Roman smirked.

The lovely lad narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. “Oookay.” His eyes then opened back to normal, tapping his fingers on his thighs. “Say, y’know, if I come here again,” he swayed back and forth on his heels and toes, “what’d you recommend for me to get?”

“Oh! Great question,” Roman smiled. “I’d say the mini s’mores pies myself. Not the most stunning, to be quite honest, but they certainly make up for it in chewiness and sweetness!” Roman passionately raised a finger into the air, earning a chuckle from his one and only listener. “We only sell them in pairs or more though, but I’m sure you could find someone else to share them with,” Roman winked.

“Oh my gosh,” the menacing man put his hand over his face once more. (Roman would have to rethink his flirting if the guy got this flustered every time he made a cute remark. It was fun to tease him though, Roman would admit.) “Yeah, I’m sure I could,” he considered as he lowered his hand, “maybe he’d like to share ‘em with me after his shift?” he smirked.

“Maybe he would,” Roman leaned with his elbows on the countertop, staring dreamily at the pleasing patron.

Roman then felt a sharp jab in his ribs, and he looked over to see that Logan was looming over him like an ominous spirit and had elbowed him to get his attention. “One eight-inch strawberry shortcake,” he calmly stated, holding a cardboard cake box in his other hand with the Sanders Bake Shop logo printed across the lid.

“Ah, right,” Roman stood back up, scratching the back of his neck with his hand and grabbing the box. “Uh, thank you.”

“Remember, flirting comes after work,” Logan flatly reminded Roman, leading to Roman audibly fake-cough to cover up his flustered expression with his hand. The customer chuckled.

Logan wandered back into the kitchen, arms crossed.

“So, uh, your total’s gonna be thirty-two ninety-five,” Roman displayed the total on the register. “Cash or credit?”

“Credit. I’ll save my cash for something else,” the patron gave Roman an equivocal smile.

“Alright, just swipe on the side,” Roman added. “And hey, what’s this ‘something else’ you’re talking about? I thought you said you were free this week.” Roman arched his back upward, sassily holding his hands on his hips.

“Oh, it just kinda came up now,” he furrowed his brows, “Might be going somewhere with a dude I don’t really know. And wow,” he emphasized the interjection immensely, “I think his name’s Roman too.”

“Man, what I’d give to be this guy.”

The charming client chuckled, swiping his card. “Yep.”

“Just sign here and you’ll be good to go, shortstack.”

“Hey, glass houses, you’re not that tall either,” the pretty patron noted as he grabbed the attached pen and signed his name on the screen.

Roman gasped noisily, holding a hand over his heart.

The sweetie, who Roman now saw his signature on the computer and decoded from the sharp lettering that his name was Virgil Heath, blew a quick chuckle out his nose.

“Hey wait, you’re Virgil?” Roman glanced up from the screen, his expression becoming curious.

“Yep. Always have been.”

“My last name’s Dante, like that Dante guy from The Inferno,” Roman looked at Virgil and smiled longingly.

“Hm. And Virgil was a Roman poet too. Cool,” Virgil shrugged.

“Fate must’ve brought us together,” Roman cooed.

“Gosh, you really are like a Disney prince,” he shook his head. “All ya need is a flock of woodland creatures to brush your hair for you every morning.”

“Bold of you to assume that I don’t already have birds sing me awake and deer prepare a bubble bath for me every morning at sunrise,” Roman teased.

The sweetheart burst out with laughter, making Roman’s heart flutter. “Well, then. Nice to meet ya, mister Dante.”

“Pleasure to meet you too, mister Heath,” Roman nodded with a grin spread across his lips, sliding the cardboard cake box over to Virgil and tearing a receipt from the printer.

“Just Virge is fine, I’m not that professional,” Virgil mentioned.

“Then honey-buns is just fine for me,” Roman playfully winked and let the tip of his tongue slide out of his mouth, causing Virgil to shield his eyes once more.

Roman quickly uncapped a marker and scribbled a message onto the receipt. “Okay, you are good to… go,” Roman smiled, placing the receipt face-up onto the box.

Virgil uncovered his eyes. “Alrighty,” he grabbed onto the box, lifted it from the table, and started to tread out toward the door.

“Bye-bye dear Virgil!” Roman cheerfully cried out.

“Seeya,” Virgil turned his head. “And Ro?”

Roman kept his eyes glued onto him.

“Thanks for the cake,” he smiled.

“You’re welcome,” Roman nodded, sweetly smiling at Virgil.

Virgil switched the box to one hand, the receipt still balanced on the top of the box, and opened the door. The bell dinged once more, and once Virgil left, it chimed its own sweet farewell.

Roman watched Virgil intently with his heart racing as Virgil headed back toward his car, the receipt still on the box, thankfully not flying or blowing off.

Once the dude got away from the windows, Roman let out a massive sigh and leaned against the wall. That was a lot.

But as Roman’s heart sank below the crashing tides of adoration, he hoped Virgil would see what he wrote on the receipt before tossing it.. and that Virge would hopefully have some way to respond to it.

-

A few minutes later, Roman was in the kitchen, piping extravagant curls and swirls onto a cake while the contagiously catchy “Hello” by The Cat Empire rippled through his earbuds, when the bakery’s bright red mounted phone rang through the room.

“Logan? Can you get that please?” Roman tilted his head toward the supply closet, where Logan strolled through the door and toward the phone.

“It’s ‘could I get that,’ and yes, I shall.”

Roman let out an irritated exhale. Who was Logan if he wasn’t always annoyingly correcting your grammar like an English teacher?

“Besides, I wouldn’t want you to get frosting all over the phone,” Logan declared. He strolled to the phone and lifted it from its holder and up to his ear. “Sanders Bake Shop. I’m Logan, how may I help you?”

Roman watched Logan’s face become mildly surprised upon hearing the caller. “Oh, you want to talk to Roman? Sure. I’ll put him on.”

Logan looked at Roman and tilted his head toward the phone.

Roman picked up a towel and wiped off his frosting-covered hands while he wandered over. He threw the towel onto the counter as he answered the phone and paused his music. “Hello?”

“Oh, hey, you answered,” a familiar gravelly voice responded. It was Virgil. (Huh.. using the bakery’s phone number to talk to Roman.. smart.)

Roman’s lips curled into a smirk as his fingers started twirling the phone wire. “My my my, why, isn't this the Virgil who I just met today?”

“Sure is. And I saw your note.”

Roman’s heart fluttered in his chest. He had signed the back of the receipt with a calligraphy message:

Meet me @ Prince park 4:30 this Friday? <3

Yes, he did just ask this random dude on a date, and yes, that does make him even more of a Disney prince.

“It sounds great. Frozen yogurt after?”

Roman nodded excitedly, his face igniting with a smile not unlike that of an excited child’s, which received a perplexed observing Logan in response. “Yes! Yes, perfect.”

“Nice. I’m sure it’ll be a real slice.” Roman could hear Virgil smirking over the phone.

Roman smiled at the Hercules reference. “Absolutely! I’ll see you then.”

“Bye.”

Roman hung the phone back onto the wall.

“Let me guess. Virgil?”

“How do you know his name?” Roman pursed his lips.

“You’re not exactly quiet when you’re head-over-heels obsessed with someone,” Logan noted.

“Uh, rude! This is not an,” Roman mocked with air-quotes, “‘obsession,’ this is the start of a lifelong romance!” Roman offendedly corrected him.

“Sure it is,” Logan monotonically responded as he averted his gaze up to the ceiling. He then looked back at Roman. “Anyway, I thought I’d inform you that your shift’s over now.”

“Wait, really?” Roman glanced at the clock, seeing that it was indeed 4 PM, the end of his shift. “Oh! It is!”

“Yes,” Logan adjusted his glasses. “Glad you got that door then, huh?”

“I sure am.” Roman chuckled. “Huh.. Logan, the sealer of fate, and the ultimate wingman.”

Logan raised his eyebrows. “Apparently.”

“Well, I guess I’ll get going now,” Roman untied his apron and pulled it off his neck, strolling over to the apron hangers. He pulled his phone and car keys out of his apron pocket and hung his apron on the rack. He stuffed his phone into his denim jeans pocket.

“Goodbye Logan!”

“Farewell,” Logan waved.

“Thanks for getting me a date,” Roman smiled.

“Don’t mention it,” Logan lowered his hand. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yep!” Roman called out, parading backwards out of the kitchen doorway and turning around to cheerfully promenade out of the store, turning on “Livin’ On A Prayer” from his drive home playlist and letting the contagiously poppy beats fill his ears.

Wow. He just got a date from a day at work, and yet he’s still just listening to his tunes and making his usual commute home.

Yep, that’s Roman Dante for you.

-

[radiosguts]

Well well well now! Let's try this again, shall we? We were so rudely interrupted last time...

I've decided that I should make an introductory post, just as Celine did, as I seem to be the most... Convoluted... of the alters. So! To all of you that have accused me or suspected I may be Alastor in some way shape or form...

That's right, oho!~ It's been me the whole time!

While you've all been questioning and confused and even scared, I've known from the start! Who I am, what I'm about, what I'm going to do about it - as has the rest of this system, sorry to say. It's been a little game I've played for these past 6 months, our precious little secret! And you may be asking, "oh why, Alastor! Why would you do it?!" And to that I say

Haha! But this isn't the full extent of it - a story is never so simple after all...

You see, it is so much more than that. It was much more a response to the reactions around me. After all, walking into the Mindspace felt a lot like this!

But with many more weapons, haha!

I had taken two steps within our mind and chaos ensued! And, while I most often enjoy said chaos, this was a bit different.

While Elliot had his fits, and Erek struggled with jealousy, and Mark took the side of his poor brothers, there was another, bittersweet sort of upset that existed. It tingled in the back of my taste buds, along the far corners of my mouth. A sugary sensation that numbed as it went down.

He was a darling little thing... 4'9, with the face of a cherub and glistening pink eyes. His hair was a pale blonde mess of fluff, and there was something about the way he looked at me... Awe. Admiration. Fear. It was beautiful! And he looked so torn! His sweet porcelain skin dotted with darling freckles tinted a sweet rosy hue, though from admiration or anxiety I'm still unsure. He spoke to me delicately, an oddly hindered sort of excitement in his melodic voice.

His reaction was captivating. He asked me questions, treated me with such kindness. He wasn't afraid of me, as I was or what power I had. In fact it was much the opposite - he was obsessed with it! Praised it, even! His captivation seemed endless, and he showed this through the sweetest of delicacies. He is, for all intents and purposes, a sugary sweet delight; one you can't help but crave. A strange sensation, one far foreign to me, but not one completely unwelcome, either. It was a quick decision, I admit. It doesn't take one long to find they enjoy someone, after all.

My presence brought forth many dilemmas, and he was the one that needed to weigh the reactions of his alters. To analyze my power and consider the possible consequences of what I may or may not do because of who I was and what I was once capable of. Most of all, however, he worried. He worried about another he knew; someone he knew would be horribly wounded if they knew of my existence. This, in the end, was his biggest hurdle.

His first decision was to simply not mention me anywhere. We've worded it before as "throwing a blanket over [me] and hoping for the best," aha! But, unfortunately, he quickly grew tired of being unable to share our interactions - especially when Elliot began tampering with things. We went through a good amount of hardships that, without anyone knowing I existed, were unable to be helped with! Likewise, there were also many good times; fun or silly interactions that he cherished and wanted to share with the people he associated with. Like anyone would want to do with a friend, I'd say - if I may be so bold.

So he thought up a little game for us to play... And as for why I agreed to play it, well... Everyone likes games... And to further such a reason,

Ahh, yes, a tragic tale, but a true one nonetheless... Perhaps it's simply because his heart is so big... Perhaps it was his willing eagerness to give me his soul, mind, heart, and body if I should want it, in return for nothing more than the assurance that I would keep him safe. Keep his friend safe. To promise I would do as I pleased, so long as he could be out of harms way.

And I took the offer... Who wouldn't, hm? After all, we had become very close at this point, and his unwavering kindness and sunshiny disposition gave me a lot to want to protect! So much so, in fact, that it became my role! Likewise, the premise was amusing. A game to play, stretching your abilities and laying low undercover. A game of trying to be anything but yourself can be quite fun! All while I otherwise got what I wanted. While his other partners were certainly a herdle of my own, we seemed to move past that rather quickly. We settled our differences much quicker with our resident angel now fully on my side. While there were some flare ups at times, they were diminished quickly by Celine and our sugary-sweet delight, who coated over everything with a sweet frosting to pretty up any wounds left behind.

This just left the physical realm around me. I had now made peace within, and was offered the opportunity to do similarly outside of the confines of our mind. I was allowed a presence more my own than before - moving on from a simple face claim to a whole new design and aesthetic!

To the outside world, I was a mysterious and powerful demon, respected by our most respected alter. I kept things surface level and shied away from anything that may be too much my old brand. They knew little about me, but unfortunately I still managed to be quite obvious, haha! Who would have thought it would be so hard to act like someone other than yourself? It seemed that no matter what I did, I was compared to... Myself! One friend of Angel's called it an energy thing, others simply said I had "his (Alastor's) vibe." Whatever it was, it made this little game very difficult.

Mm, and so, six months in. Here we are. I wouldn't say I've given up, but rather that such a game has been milked rather dry of its usefulness, as well as entertainment value. While I'm still fond of this Aries persona we've created, I do believe he will be set upon the shelf for now.

So! What does that leave? We have the why, the tragic tale of my suppression, a tantalizing taste of a love story... The big reveal, the explanation! So that's all, yes? Yes, I think so. This is just the bare bones of the story, but it gets its point across; though I must admit I'd be thrilled to share a more in depth presentation. Angel says its because I have chronic "can't shut up disease," though he worked very hard to word it in such a way that it was gentle, haha~

Well then! I do believe I've said my piece! Off to the void with this now!

For all of you that stayed to listen: how delightful~ I can only thank you for tuning in, haha! Ahh, classic, certainly~

With that, I bid adieu!

[rudderless-in-an-ocean-of-stars]

innocence died screaming (honey, ask me, i should know) | batwoman fanfiction

I felt a bit bad about making that anon wait so long for a fic when we’ve already had to wait a few weeks for the new episode, so here is a very short little Alice-centric ficlet involving her thoughts on other!Beth. I doubt the show will take this path, but it was a thought that got stuck in my head nonetheless so here we are. Title taken from Hozier’s From Eden, which is a glorious work of art. :)

Posted on my Ao3 as well.

//

It’s not long after the headaches start that the dreams begin- bright, perfect, torturous flashes of a life that Alice had only ever been able to dream of in the confines of her cell, a life that never got to be hers.

Joining the debate team and model U.N. in high school while Kate breezed through tryouts for a spot on the varsity lacrosse team. Being shoved out of bed too early on Saturday mornings so Kate could have a running buddy on her morning jog. Getting waffles at the park whenever she places first in competitions and whenever Kate’s team wins a match. Blissful trips to the lake with their shared circle of friends during the blistering heat of summer.

Picking out the same places to apply at as volunteers to complete the hours mandatory community service that their school requires to have in order to graduate. Continuing to take the time to volunteer at the animal shelter and the veterans’ home even after they’ve met the required number of volunteer hours because they’ve both fallen in love with the work that they do in order to help others.

Lying in bed beside her other half as Kate quietly confesses that she wants to enroll at West Point, that she wants to serve her country. Seeing the mixture of guilt and worry pooling in her sister’s eyes and soothing it away with a smile and a whispered “I’m proud of you.” Making her own decision to study abroad and explore the world on her own, hundreds of thousands of miles further away from Kate than she ever thought she’d willingly choose to be and happily discovering that no amount of distance can do anything to diminish their bond.

After Mouse explains what had happened in the junkyard with Kate, tells her of the woman who’d had everything of Alice’s except for her memory, it doesn’t take much effort to put two and two together and figure out that something most normal people would consider to be impossible has happened. But then again, Alice hasn’t known normal since the day she’d found herself waking up to live in a nightmare; impossible things are her stock-in-trade.

When another one of her new headaches sends Alice to her knees with gritted teeth, she feels herself slipping right out of her own mind and into a painful in-between for several agonizing minutes. It’s worth it, though, because she clings onto consciousness long enough to catch glimpses of college classes she’d never taken, lectures involving astrophysics and quantum theory, just before the sheer pain of it all overwhelms her and a familiar darkness rises to drag her into the deep. Alice wakes up with most of the blanks in her knowledge on the situation filled in and fresh tendrils of a deadly envy creeping around her heart and starting to squeeze.

This other woman, this sweet and happy and normal Beth, with no traces of despair or resentment or Alice in her, is definitely probably a dream come true for Kate.

A second chance. The perfect do-over. No broken bridges and burning cars and dead bodies and missing years of forced separation between them.

Same as it never was.

She wonders what the other woman sees during the migraines and dreams they must both be experiencing now. If Alice is getting tantalizing glimpses of what would have been heaven for the desperate little girl who’d died in the cold basement of a house full of horrors, is Beth being introduced to the hell she’d clearly never had to live through? The bitter taste of blood fills her mouth as Alice bites down on her own tongue to keep herself from screaming out her newfound rage.

Beth doesn’t have the right to go poking around in Alice’s head, digging up all the things that should stay buried and gone. (Beth doesn’t have the right to show Alice all the things that could have been.)

//

Okay, so this was pretty sad, but, uh... Y’all knew I was an angst queen from the start. :)

[ladywinchester1967]

Perfect

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/ Female Character

Warnings: SMUUUUT, all of the smut. All porn, no plot in sight. 

A/N: I’m VERY SLOWLY getting back into the groove of writing and the picture below was a particular inspiration to me. Said picture (and all the others I’ve used) aren’t mine, I found them on Pinterest (side note: if anyone knows the original artist, please let me know!!)

It was a sweltering August day as she trudged through the compound, sweating like a whore in church after her work out with Natasha.

“You’re getting really good at kickboxing,” Natasha commented “I think once you get the basic technique down, you’ll kick ass with no problems.”

“Thanks Nat,” She said and then walked to her quarters that she shared with Bucky “I’m going to take a shower and meet up with you later okay?”

Natasha nodded and walked off, her red ponytail swinging in her wake. When the door was opened to the suite she shared with Bucky, she was blasted with cold air, which was a nice change from the brutal August heat. Wondering if she’ll accidentally left the AC on too cold, she made her way further in and found a rather intriguing sight waiting for her. Bucky was laying on the couch, sleeping in nothing but his underwear. His flesh arm dangling over the side of the couch, his metal arm propped up on the backrest and his feet dangling over the arm. With his head propped up on a pillow, his mouth hung slightly open as he lightly snored.

At least now she knew why the room was so cold, Bucky hated being hot, he must have returned while she was training with Natasha and passed out while waiting for her. She quickly hopped in the shower and quickly scrubbed down, not waiting to keep Bucky waiting for very long.

Once she was clean, she exited the bathroom and found Bucky exactly where she’d left him. She grinned and then gently pressed her hand against his chest.

“Hm?” Bucky asked sleepily without opening his eyes.

“Bucky, babe, welcome home.” She said as she crouched by his face.

She watched as his eyes fluttered open and he turned his head to her, his flesh hand buried in her wet hair. He grinned, obviously tired, but nonetheless excited to see her.

“Hey doll,” he greeted her and yawned as he opened his arms up to her “c’mere.”

She obliged and climbed on the couch with him. He rolled over so that he was on his side, his back to the door, while she lay with her back against the backrest. They tangled their arms and legs together as he kissed her forehead, grinning.

“When did you get in?” She asked as she let her hands roam up and down his bare back and shoulders.

“An hour ago,” he told her “FRIDAY said you were working out with Nat and I didn’t want to interrupt your session.”

“You can interrupt any time you want,” She told him as she peppered his neck with kisses “especially when I haven’t seen you in a week.”

He let out a low growl and then tilted her face up to his. He pressed his lips to hers as she moaned against his mouth. He tugged on her towel, ridding her of it and throwing it behind the couch, his metal hand deliciously roaming over all of her curves as he deepened the kiss. She hooked her leg over his hips and rolled on top of him, her hips rolling into his.

“Fuck doll,” he muttered as she repeated the action “you miss me or something?”

“Or something.” She teased as her nipples pebbled up from the friction and the cold air in the room. She leaned over him and heatedly kissed him as his hands slid up her sides and back. His thumbs flicked over her nipples, making her moan and sigh against his lips as the hardened buds stood at attention. Bucky sat up and took her left nipple in his mouth, his lips sealing around the flesh. She squirmed as his tongue lazily stroked over the pink bud.

“Bucky, oh Bucky.” She breathed as his metal hand curled around her hip and then slid between them, finding her sensitive bundle of nerves, the pad of his thumb flicking over it as he pushed his pointer and middle finger inside of her, making her gasp.

“Oh fuck!” She cried.

She felt him grin against her skin as his fingers matched the pace of his tongue, slow and tantalizing. She sighed, burying her hands in his hair and arching into him as he switched to her other nipple and continued the slow pace of pumping his fingers in and out of her.

“Bucky,” she whined “oh fuck, Bucky please. Faster.”

He looked up and tutted at her.

“I’m gone one week and you suddenly forget who’s in charge here.” He said with a glint in his eye “What happens to bratty girls?”

“Bratty girls don’t get to come.” She answered automatically, immediately backing down. Being edged by a super soldier who had enough patience that would make a saint jealous was no fun. He smirked up at her and continued his lazy pace.

“Be a good girl,” he told her “and I’ll give you what you want.”

“Yes sir.” She answered as his fingers curled into her g-spot, making her gasp and throw her head back. “Oh god, fuck!”

“That’s it,” he growled and planted open mouth kisses all over her chest “just like that doll.”

She moaned as he made the “come here” motion with his fingers and she whined loudly.

“Oh Bucky, Bucky!” She cried as she squeezed the metal digits tightly inside her.

His thumb found her swollen bundle of nerves and flicked over it, making her squirm even harder. She dug her nails into his shoulders as her hips thrust into his hand. She moaned and cried out swears and murmurs on his name as the tip of his tongue traced the dip in her throat.

“Fuck baby,” he moaned “you’re so close. You wanna come for me?”

“Please!” She begged, her thrusts becoming erratic, the knot in her lower belly threatening to snap at any second.

“Come,” He growled “soak my hand.”

A cold chill ran up her spine and spread through the rest of her body as she cried out, letting go hard, her nails sinking deeper into her shoulders. He pulled his fingers out of her and held them up, her arousal coating his metallic digits.

“Suck.” He commanded.

She nodded, took his wrist in her hands, opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around his fingers and gave them a hard suck. He licked his lips as her tongue swirled around his fingers, tasting her own tanginess. She opened her eyes and made eye contact with him as she made a show of sucking the last bits of herself off of his fingers. He pulled his hand away from her mouth, grabbed the back of her head and heatedly kissed her. She hummed in appreciation as he rolled her onto her back below him. She held his face in her hands and used her feet to push his underwear down, his painfully hard cock springing free. He took them off the rest of the way and immediately pushed inside her. She cried out with the sudden breach, her fingers tangling in his dark locks. His hips slowly began to move as she arched her back and moaned into his mouth.

“Bucky, oh god, Bucky!” She murmured as he started to kiss her neck and nibble on her flesh.

He hooked his arms behind her knees and opened her up wide as his pace picked up. She squirmed and cried out under him, her breasts bouncing with each slap of his flesh hitting hers.

“Fuck,” he moaned “you’re a fucking sight baby.”

“Bucky, Bucky!” She screamed as she clawed at the pillow and couch cushions. Without warning, he flipped her over onto her stomach, yanked her up by her shoulder so that she was on her knees, her back to his chest. He pushed back inside her before taking her chin in his hand and making her look at him. He kissed her as he restarted his languid pace, his tongue tracing over hers. He pulled back and then made her look in the mirror that was just adjacent to the couch. In the reflection was the two of them, her flesh on full display as he placed his hands on her hips. He had at least a head’s worth of height on her and his broad shoulders showed in the mirror as she bit her lip.

“Look at you,” he moaned in her ear “fucking perfect.”

He let his hands glide all over her body as he kissed and bit the juncture between her neck and shoulder. She placed her hands over his and followed his pattern. They made eye contact in the mirror and he gave her the mischievous smirk that she loved.

“All mine.” He said as he lightly wrapped one hand around her throat, but didn’t squeeze.

“Mh, Bucky!” She moaned “Yes, all yours.”

He turned her face to his once again and kissed her. He then bent her over the arm of the sofa and picked up the pace, slamming his hips into her backside as she held on, crying out loudly.

“Fuck!” He yelled as he tightly held her hips and felt her squeeze him hard. “Oh you’re ready aren’t you baby?” He asked “You ready to come for me?”

“Please!” She begged “Please may I come?!”

“Good girl,” he said “yes-FUCK-you can come.”

The wave of pleasure came crashing down over her as she let go, her eyes lifting up just in time to see Bucky throw his head back and cry out loudly as he emptied deep into her.

They both collapsed on the couch, laying on their sides as he held her against his chest, feeling her heart pound against his hand.

»»————-　♔　————-««

“Baby?” He asked and her eyes fluttered open.

“Hm?” She asked with a sweet smile on her face.

“You okay?” He asked “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

She shook her head, no, and pushed his sex tangled hair behind his ear.

“No babe, it was perfect.” She told him in a serene tone before gently kissing him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hope you guys enjoyed that!! Your kind feedback is always deeply loved and appreciated, don’t forget to like and share with your friends and followers. Maybe hit that “follow” button if you feel so inclined?

Bucky Barnes:

 @loudherobanditgarden  @hellrose45 @hyunjoonieeuniverse  @booboo-icu@mogaruke @mogarukes @lets-love-little-me @clo-heda@marvelousbarnesss @marvelousbarnes @roonyxx @algud @your-average-wallflower @emoryhemsworth @gabcats5