#i don’t wanna loose my limbs

[robbie-vespertine]

I am absolutely terrified

TW: Discussing open wounds + surgery 

————————————————————

I was admitted to the hospital yesterday afternoon, my right knee has a severe open wound and is infected with staphylococcus pseudomonas. I spoke to the doctor and they told me I was too skinny for a muscle flap surgery.

I’m gonna lose my fucking leg. I’m scared, I don’t know what the actual fuck I’m supposed to do anymore… I just wanna curl up, scream and cry. Why did the doctors let my wounds get this bad??! It was left to eat itself away over the last year and now I’m just slowly rotting away…

Fuck my life

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♰ ₥ØĐɆⱤ₦ ĐɆ₥Ø₦₴ ♰

♰ Pairing: slasher!yunho x chubby!fem!slasher fucker!reader

♰ Genre: smut/dark romance/horror

♰ Summary: With a ruthless, brutal killer on the loose the safe thing to do would be to stay as far away from dangerous men as possible. But you've never been the kind of girl to play it safe and when danger comes in the form of a man like Yunho, how's a girl to stay away?

♰ Word Count: 3.4k-ish

♰ Warnings: Yunho's a literal serial killer, neither of you die but someone does, sorta vivid description of a limb being chopped off, voyeruism in a way, slasher fetish, sadism, masochism, dom daddy Yunho, choking, restriction of movement, a lil nipple play, penetrative sex, sex covered in blood, dirty talk, scratching, hickeys, other forms of marking, creampie, manhandling, pet names (baby, princess, good girl), you're both kinda psychos...obviously.

♰ A/N: I'd like to say, "Oh, I wrote this because Halloween is coming up!" but, no, I didn't. I'm just a slasher fucker, okay? A part of this was inspired by one of my favorite horror movies and if you can guess it then let's get married. Love you forever.

On a side note, thank you @dawn-iscozy for suggesting Yunho for this. I didn't regret that decision for a solitary minute.

There’s a killer on the loose. A brutal, wicked man who stalks the night preying upon unsuspecting victims. Some say he only goes after those he perceives as having done something wrong. His own perverse way of balancing the scales, righting the wrongs that the cops don’t have the balls to fix.

Others say it doesn’t matter who you are or what you do. Your chances of being butchered are all the same, sinner or saint. One thing’s for sure, once he has his sights set on you not even god himself can save you from the fate that awaits. You’re gone in the blink of an eye, never to be seen again. At least not in one piece. 

You’ve heard the warnings a thousand times over but none of them struck fear into your heart. On the contrary, you have quite the erotic fascination with his art as he calls it in the letters he leaves behind. There’s something about what he does that taps into a fetish for danger that you dare not tell another living soul about. You want to play with fire, scorch the tips of your fingers in his flames. That’s how you ended up here, straddling the lap of a man who claims to be the killer your sick little heart yearns for. 

You met at a club. The kind where people go to indulge their wildest fantasies, no matter how depraved. You were wandering around alone in a tight latex mini dress that fit the richness of your curves like a glove. You had your hair pinned up the way you do now, waterfalls of curls spilling down to frame your face. Expertly applied black lipstick adorned your kissable lips, drawing men in enough that they’d lose their minds thinking of all the things that pretty mouth could do. The man beneath you was among them. 

He spotted you from across the room, your figure bathed in red neon light as you sat at the bar plotting your next move. You let him buy you a few drinks, loosening you both up enough that secrets began to spill as freely as the vodka in your glass. “I wanna know if I tell you a secret, will you keep it?” the dark haired man whispered in your ear, a hand hovering dangerously close to your inner thigh. You swore that you would, hand over your heart. And that’s when he confessed. Your clear fascination with the man known as the Seoul Slasher had prompted him to reveal himself to you. 

You couldn’t believe it. A real live serial killer, an absolute monster, so hypnotized by you he was nearly drooling down your cleavage. Going against every self preservation tactic they taught you in school, you invited him back to your place for a bit of fun. An offer he excitedly accepted. For a man whose entire modus operandi is control, he was more than happy to relinquish it to you. In no time you had him spread out on your bed, arms and legs handcuffed to the bed frame. 

The entire room’s dark save for the flickering wicks of a few candles sprinkled about the room. You run a hand down his bare chest, sharp nails nicking at his tattooed flesh. He hisses at the sting, grinding his hips up against your core to add some pleasure to the pain.

You let out a giggle, fingers teasing the waist of his pants, “Tell me how you did it.” You flash your doe eyes, tightening your plush thighs around his hips. 

“How’d I do what?” he asks, far too preoccupied with your body to hone in on your words. 

“Those last two guys you killed. I wanna know every gory detail. You can tell me while I ride your cock.”

Your words certainly aren’t falling on deaf ears. He heard you loud and clear. He takes a calculated pause before providing you with a less than satisfying answer. “I used a butcher knife. Chopped them up real easy. Some of my best work I’d say.”

“Oh” you pout, shoulders dropping. You fold your arms across your chest, your disappointment hanging heavy in the air. “You really shouldn’t lie, you know? It’s a nasty habit.”

“Lie?” he scoffs, a nervous smile creeping across his face. His deception has failed and he doesn’t have enough brain cells to save this sinking ship. “I’m not lying, babe. I’m telling you. I used a butcher knife.”

You point an accusatory finger at him, applying pressure right between his eyes. “Dirty, dirty, liar” you sing, “You aren’t the Seoul Slasher.”

“And how would you know?” he asks, unjustly offended at the fact that you aren’t stupid enough to buy his bullshit. 

You lean in close, the warm flames of the candles reflecting in your eyes like hellfire. “Because I’m already fucking him and he’s not too happy about you going around pretending to be him. It’s just bad manners.” 

His smile grows more strained, his nervous laughter tickling the tip of your nose. He can’t tell if you’re serious or not but this is getting a little weird. Even for him. You watch him for a moment before erupting in soft, sweet laughter that mocks him. Reaching underneath your pillow you pull out a gag and shove it right into his mouth, shutting him up for the first time tonight. 

“Baby, I’m done playing now!” you call out like a housewife announcing that dinner’s ready. 

You sit back up, climbing off of him, and skip your way over to the dresser on the other side of the room. You hop up, feet giddily swinging back and forth to the tune of heavy footsteps descending the hallway. The man’s eyes dart over to the closed bedroom door, his heart thumping out of his chest. You can make out a few muffled protests but you dare not take it out. There’s nothing he can say that interests you now. Not that it ever did. 

When your best friend first told you that a guy at the club was going around claiming to be the Slasher, you couldn’t believe your ears. Especially not when the real one was sleeping peacefully beside you. Further investigation proved that your best friend had been telling the truth so he had to be dealt with. Then another popped up and another. This one will make for the 4th and you must admit, as annoying as identity theft is for your boyfriend, you get a kick out of luring them here. 

They always start out so cocky but once the gag’s in and those footsteps come, getting closer and closer at an agonizing pace, they’re not so confident anymore. At first they freeze up just like the corpse they’re soon to be. The shock does need a few seconds to set in. And then they panic, screaming through the gag and tugging at their bindings, their bodies writhing like a fish out of water. This one’s no different than the others. You can guess his next move like a film you’ve watched a dozen times and all of it’s in vain. 

Sweat slicks his brow as the door creaks open and your face lights up like the Fourth of July. You breathe a sigh of relief. There he is. You’ve only been apart for hours but it feels like an eternity. A tall figure steps out of the shadows into the candlelight, revealing a handsome man in tailored black pants and a black button up you pressed yourself. His sleeves are rolled up, tucked just below the elbow where a pair of long black latex gloves begin. He spares the unfortunate soul strapped to the bed a passing glance before approaching you. He leans forward, palms flat on the dresser, caging you in. 

“Did I do okay?” you question innocently, always hungry for the praise he never fails to feed you. 

Yunho nods, gloved fingers stroking your soft cheek, “Oh, my good girl. You did more than okay. What would I do without you?”

Taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, he tilts your head up, capturing your lips in a kiss that would soak your panties if you were wearing any. He takes a deep breath as he pulls away, not wanting to but knowing that time is of the essence.

“Did he touch you?” Yunho’s jaw tenses, gloved hands flexing to warm up for the night’s events. 

You peek around him to check in on the dark haired man. His face is wet with tears and he’s sobbing all over your new gag. You pray he hasn’t pissed himself. You’re not in the mood to have to buy a new mattress again.

You look back to your boyfriend and nod. “In the car he put his hand on my thigh.” 

“Thank you for telling me, baby,” Yunho says, kissing you on the forehead. He turns around, eyes darkening as he approaches the foot of the bed. “I’ll start with his hands.” 

Kneeling down, he slides a large case from underneath the bed and pops it open to reveal his tools. The spread is a pristine assortment of autopsy tools, not a lowly butcher knife in sight. He delicately runs his fingers over them, settling on the fine toothed bone saw. Your gaze never leaves him as he rounds the bed, aligning the sharp teeth of the saw with what you’ve come to know as the ulna. The bone right on his inner forearm. 

Yunho grinds the saw against it and the man’s arm tears open, tattered pieces of flesh splintering off to the side as he carves his way through tough tendons. Blood gushes from the man’s arm, drenching the brand new sheets in a river of crimson. Yunho’s movements are precise and purposeful. The saw taps bone as the body below him convulses violently, the pain beyond anything you can imagine or ever care to. 

Your boyfriend pauses, glancing over at you, and you know it’s about that time. You open one of the drawers beside you, fishing out your phone and a pair of over ear headphones. You sync them up, hitting play on your favorite song, and smile lovingly back at him.

He can’t be as brutal when he knows you’re listening. It’s one of few things about his profession he’s never quite been able to bring himself to expose you to. Even with the man’s cries muffled, being dismantled brings sounds out of someone that could give the most vile person nightmares. You can watch all you want but you won’t hear them.

It’d be easy to say that you weren’t like this before you met him. You were a sweet, delicate flower and this charming psychopath came along, corrupting your young soul. But a girl doesn’t get wet watching her boyfriend dismember people because she had her purity corrupted.

You were never innocent, you’d simply presented yourself as such. Yunho just freed you from the prison of feeling guilty about what got you off. Power. Not being at the mercy of anyone. Yunho treats you like a princess. You’re never left wanting for anything. Your every desire is satisfied. So what if your Prince Charming comes with a body count? Nobody’s perfect. 

Yunho makes quick work of the body. After the slice to his second arm the man’s already at death’s door and the severing of his knees puts the final nail in the coffin. Yunho tosses the body parts to the ground like the limbs of an old doll. Breathless and blood soaked as he licks splatters of scarlet from his lip, he goes in for another cut.

You’re the only other thing he looks at like he does his work. The excitement of the kill is borderline orgasmic, dopamine coursing through his veins with every gruesome cut. Once he starts he has to keep going, chasing his high until it’s finished and the body’s nothing more than scattered pieces of an impossible puzzle. 

Shoving the torso to the floor, he steps back to catch his breath, waving to get your attention. You slip your headphones off, setting them down to navigate the landmine of limbs and entrails to reach your love. 

“You need some water, Yunie?” you ask, throwing your arms around him. The blood weighing down his clothes sticks to your arms, cool against your skin. It used to feel a bit strange but after a few times you’ve come to find it refreshing like a cool shower on a hot day. 

Yunho shakes his head, a dazed look in his eyes. Usually the adrenaline begins to die down after that final cut but it’s only getting more intense. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he salivates over you like a man on the brink of starvation. “No, I need you. Right now.” 

His lips crash into yours at a thousand miles per hour and you don’t even attempt to stop him. Why would you? Bloody gloves cling to your dress, stripping you of the material. You rip his shirt open, sending buttons raining down onto the slippery hardwood floor. Yunho’s hands ravenously explore your body as you rid him of his pants, painting your plush figure in blood like a canvas. 

Attempting to feast upon your body through gloves is as close to torture as he’s ever come so he tears them off, groaning in delight as his bare hands sink into your pillowy ass. He picks you up, tossing you back on the bed, your breasts bouncing marvelously as you land.

You grin watching your boyfriend stare down at you like an absolute animal. His body’s everything dreams are made of, his flawless, rigid cock already leaking in anticipation. You spread your thighs, teasing him with the arousal dripping from your entrance. Bringing two fingers between your legs, you stroke them between your lips, spreading yourself open for him.

“You want it?” you moan, back arching as you pinch your sensitive clit. 

Yunho positions himself between your legs, palming his cock above a pussy that’s clenching wildly at the ghost of what could be. He places a hand on your thigh, admiring the view. You in a sea of blood toying with yourself for his pleasure. What a sight to behold.

“You aren’t teasing me are you?” he asks, gripping your thigh tighter. His voice is low and rough, feral in every way. 

You bring your slick fingers up to the head of his cock, coating it on your juices. “And what if I am?”

You motion to get up, your brain set on tasting his cock on your tongue, but Yunho’s quicker than you, grabbing your wrists and pinning your arms over your head. His free hand wraps around your neck, the veins of his arms pulsing as he applies the right amount of pressure to leave you breathless but not in pain. 

“Do you want it?” He bumps his cock against your slit, missing on purpose to drag it between your folds. Your body shudders as much as it can with his full weight on you. 

“Mmhmm” you hum, knowing he won’t hurt you but loving that you’re completely at his mercy. 

“You know that’s not enough, baby” he smiles, squeezing your throat tighter, “I need to hear it, princess. Tell me you want it. Beg for daddy’s cock.”

He presses his throbbing tip to your entrance but this time he arches into you, giving you the head and nothing more. The stretch of that alone is disorienting, a wave of heat rushing through you. Releasing his hold on  your throat, he brings his lips to yours, parting them to taste the desperate pleas that spill out. 

“I want you to fuck me, Yunie. I’m so needy for your cock. I have been all night” you whine and his tongue traces your lips. You taste delicious. He inches into you, feeding you a little more then stopping. A little more then stopping. And your body jumps with every motion, pitiful sounds pouring from your lips onto his. 

“Fuck me” you beg, an undeniable brokeness in your tone, “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck…” Your voice trails off, eyes rolling back as he bottoms out. He lifts off of you, still holding your arms in place above your head, and thrusts into you ever so gently. You clamp down around him tightly enough that it’s hard to move, your pussy's too needy to let go. 

Yunho grins, cupping one of your breasts, “I didn’t know watching me kill got you so hot. You’re sick, you know that?” He pinches your nipple harshly and you squeal, twisting in his hold. 

“I know” you moan, blowing him a kiss, “But so are you.”

“Fuck, I love you” he growls, pulling you under with another dizzying kiss.

His thrusts grow harsher, your warm, spongy walls drawing him in impossibly deeper. His fingers knead the tender flesh of your breast as he brings his tongue down to soak your bud in equal parts blood and spit. Taking the bud between his teeth, he wraps his lip around it, suckling at it without losing his rhythm between your legs. 

“Yunie. So good. So, mmph, aah…” you’re moaning but he gives one particularly hard thrust to your cunt, knocking the words right out of your mouth. 

You want to touch him so badly. To dig your nails into his back while he fucks into you. To run your fingers through his hair, tugging at the deep brown strands as his tongue swirls around your bud.

“Touch” you pout, wiggling your hands. 

Yunho pops your bud free of his lips, licking his way up your breasts, across your heated skin, along your neck, until you’re eye to eye. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna touch you. Please, daddy” you plead. You’re so helpless. So beautiful.

Yunho watches you squirm, feigning indecision. After an agonizingly long contemplation, he turns your arms loose, the redness on your wrists marking where he held you. Your hands are drawn to him like magnets, scouring every inch of him they can reach just to feel him.

Your nails find his back, digging into the flesh. Yunho buries his face in your neck, moaning at the sensation. “Harder” he whispers, fingers knotting in the sheets beneath you. You dig your nails in deeper, breaking skin, and he’s on the edge of a whimper, the sensation nearly too much for him. 

Slipping an arm around your back, he keeps you flush against him, sinking into you over and over. Your mouth falls open, eyes squeezed closed. You’re saying something but nothing’s coming out. Only whines and moans, the occasional fractured piece of his name.

There’s no bracing yourself for a cock this long and thick. You just have to take it, let it destroy every bit of you until there’s nothing left. A sense of euphoria surges through you and your legs instinctively lock around his waist. 

“That’s it” he coos, fawning over the string of hickeys he’s left on your neck, “Be a good girl and cum for me.” Yunho grabs for your wrists one last time, locking them above your head. He pounds into you so hard the bed creaks, maybe even moves a few inches. “I wanna feel you gushing around this cock.”

Suddenly your breath hitches and your body feels weightless. It’s as if you’re floating above yourself. Watching this gorgeous man fuck you into the mattress like his own personal whore. And you are. You’re more than happy to be. Your senses come back to you in a rush of ecstasy and you’re trembling, crying out as you do exactly as he said. Creaming, gushing, dripping down his length. 

Yunho pulls back, kneeling between your legs to drag his cock out and glide it back in. He goes all starry eyed at the sight of his cock glistening in your cum and soon he’s spilling inside of you. Your needy walls milking his cock of the warm, white liquid that overflows from your delicious pussy.

His hand comes down on your plush belly, enjoying its softness as he feeds you those last few strokes. You’re still moaning weakly when he finishes, laying back on the bed and pulling you on top of him. 

Curled up safe and warm in his arms, you bask in the afterglow, thoughts of the man your boyfriend dismantled little more than a distant thought now. But ultimately it’s difficult to ignore. Especially when your eyes drift up and you notice something dangling in the corner of your eye. 

“Yunie” you say, lightly petting his shoulder. 

Yunho strokes your hair, looking down at you lovingly, “Yes, baby?”

“I think his hand’s still attached to the handcuff.”

[campingwiththecharmings]

Another

AN: I feel like I should apologize for my Miguel O'Hara thirst but...I don't wanna.

(Un-beta’d)

PWP in which Miguel makes you come over and over and—

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 749 Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader Warnings: PWP, p in v, kissing, cockwarming, mild biting, soft!Miguel, overstimulation, praise kink, mild blood, established relationship, multiple orgasms, creampie AO3

——————

“Again, mi vida, give me another.” 

You whine, limbs shaking, as each push of his hips sends another jolt of pleasure through your body. He’s been at this for what seems like hours, slowly bringing you to the edge and flinging you over it, only to pull you right back up again and again. He feels so good, his thick cock dragging against every sweet spot inside you, splitting you open, hands gripping your hips, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave bruises— 

Your back bows when he changes the angle slightly, the tip of his cock bumping against your cervix. The pleasure rolls through you in waves, seemingly never ending, as he slowly pushes and pulls himself in and out of you. He still hasn’t come, is still rock hard inside you; he’s holding himself back, you know, waiting for you to reach a certain level of pleasure before he allows himself to experience it himself. If you weren’t so cock drunk right now, you’d probably say something, tell him that you want him to feel good too, that you want to see him lose the control he fights so hard to keep over himself.  

The stirrings of your…fifth (or is it the sixth?) orgasm begin in your belly, the tendrils coiling, about to snap. You moan weakly as your cunt flutters, breath backing up in your lungs. Miguel grunts, jaw clenching as he maintains the same slow pace, his hand sliding from your hip to your sex. His thumb barely circles your clit when the tension inside you breaks, soft waves of bliss rippling from your core, alighting every nerve in your body as you gasp, mouth falling open in a silent moan. Your eyes roll back in your head and your body trembles, fingers twisting loosely in the sheets beneath you. 

Miguel’s groan is broken as you convulse around him, his body moving forward to cover yours, to cage you in as he continues to rut into you, prolonging your pleasure. He presses his face into your neck, murmuring his praises into your skin (“Such a good girl for me, squeezing me so tight.”). His groans increase as your orgasm recedes, his steady pace faltering slightly as he (finally) chases his own pleasure. You moan softly in his ear, your arms heavy as you sluggishly wrap them around his waist, hands resting on his lower back. He mouths at your skin, tongue laving sloppily at the little nicks his fangs leave behind.  

When he comes, he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, almost growling as he fills you to the brim with his seed. You gasp in surprise, the sharp pain immediately melting into pleasure. His cock is soft and spent, but you whimper nonetheless when he continues to lazily fuck into you, his cum spilling out with every press of his hips. Despite how tired you feel, you don’t want him to stop, instead slipping your hands low enough to grasp his backside. He pulls his mouth off of your shoulder with a hum, nose dragging up the column of your neck until he meets your lips in a slow, languid kiss. The taste of your own blood on your tongue sends a shiver through you, arousal once more pooling in your gut.  

He must sense it, because he keeps going, keeps pumping his softened cock into you, his mouth swallowing every sweet little noise that escapes from between your lips. When you come this time, it’s less intense, the euphoria cresting softly as you bask in the pleasure. He groans brokenly as you squeeze him again, his forehead pressed against yours, half-lidded eyes glued to your face. His hips finally still as you both come down, and he kisses you again, soft and slow, his hand smoothing gently down the side of your face.

“Okay?” he asks, pulling back a little to study your face. 

You hum, smiling drowsily at him, your hands running up and down his back. 

He smiles back at you, a suspicious glint in his eyes as he churns his hips a little. “Can you give me another one?” 

You whine, shaking your head, your nails digging into his back. “Miguel, no, please. I can’t—” 

“I know, baby,” he chuckles, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “I’m just teasing.” 

You fall asleep like that—his body draped over yours, his cock still inside you—his solid warmth lulling you into a pleasant sleep.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

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[solxamber]

Alien Reader x TWST Canon

An alien crash lands in Twisted Wonderland looking for love! The alien (reader) is.. kind of cute. In a weird way.

Characters: Azul, Malleus, and Idia.

Azul, Malleus, Idia with Alien! Reader

hi! i hope you like it <3 sorry for the wait!

Azul Ashengrotto:

It was a peaceful day in Twisted Wonderland. Azul Ashengrotto was meticulously planning out his next business venture (which may or may not involve the emotional manipulation of some unsuspecting freshmen) when suddenly—CRASH.

A blinding flash of light, a rumble, and the unmistakable sound of something exploding.

Azul sighed. “Great,” he muttered, flipping his fountain pen between his fingers. “Another day, another disaster.” He could already hear Floyd and Jade rushing toward the source of the chaos.

Then, the door of the Mostro Lounge flew open.

And there you were—an alien, crashing into Twisted Wonderland.

"Greetings, Earthlings!" you chirped with a wave. Your three fingers wiggled in what you thought was a charming way. "I have come in peace... and possibly to find a life partner. Anyone looking for a mate?"

Azul froze, his brain short-circuiting. This was new. He had seen a lot of strange things in his life, but this? This was a whole new level of strange.

Jade’s eyebrow lifted ever so slightly. “Fascinating,” he whispered, glancing over to Floyd, who was already doubled over in laughter.

Floyd, still wheezing, pointed at you. “Yo, boss! We got ourselves an intergalactic lover on the loose! Wanna make a contract?”

Azul shot him a sharp glare, but his business instincts kicked in almost immediately. An alien? From another world? Looking for love? There had to be a profit in this. There’s always a profit somewhere…

Azul adjusted his glasses, putting on his best business smile. “Welcome to Twisted Wonderland,” he purred, his voice as smooth as ever. “Might I interest you in a… contract, perhaps? You’re clearly looking for something, and I happen to be someone who can find things.”

You squinted at him, tilting your head to the side like a confused puppy—if puppies were green and slightly sparkly. “A contract? Is that like space marriage?”

Azul blinked. “No, not quite—”

“Sounds perfect!” you interrupted, your smile growing even wider, revealing a row of… what could only be described as tentacles? “Let’s get married! I’m very good at intergalactic housekeeping, and I can cook anything that resembles goo! Do you enjoy goo?”

Floyd was howling at this point. Jade’s lips twitched in a rare show of amusement.

Azul’s perfectly crafted business persona cracked for a moment, his eye twitching ever so slightly. “Excuse me, marriage wasn’t exactly what I had in mind. I was referring to a… business arrangement, one where I help you find what you’re looking for, and in return—”

“Right!” you chirped, completely ignoring him. “I’m looking for love! It’s mating season on my planet, and I’ve decided to broaden my horizons! Do you have eight legs? That’s a non-negotiable on my planet.”

Azul blinked. “Well… I don’t have eight legs, but I do have—”

“Oh, thank the stars!” you interrupted again, fluttering your hands (tentacles? limbs? appendages?) excitedly. “It’s been so hard to find someone who understands the true beauty of multiple limbs! You and I are going to be the power couple of the galaxy.”

Azul, still processing the fact that he was apparently engaged to an alien, swallowed hard. “I… see. But—”

Before he could even finish his sentence, you lunged forward with surprising speed, your alien arms wrapping around him in what could only be described as a weird, somewhat slimy embrace. “I knew it,” you whispered dramatically, “the moment I crash-landed, I felt a cosmic connection! You… you’re my octo-prince!”

“Octo-prince?” Azul repeated, eyes wide with horror.

Jade, unable to contain himself, cleared his throat. “You have to admit, Azul, this does seem rather fitting.”

Floyd was still laughing, practically in tears now. “Haha! Boss, you got yourself an alien spouse! This is the best day ever.”

Azul’s face flushed pink, and he began desperately trying to pry your surprisingly strong alien arms off of him. “Jade… Floyd… a little help, please?”

But his most loyal (and evil) henchmen were no help at all. They stood back, thoroughly entertained by the spectacle.

In the midst of the chaos, you pulled back just enough to gaze up at Azul with your enormous, glowing eyes. “I can tell we’re going to be very happy together,” you said, your voice soft and—dare Azul say it—creepy. “Shall we begin planning our union?”

Azul’s soul left his body. He felt himself spiraling into existential dread. His carefully constructed life as a scheming businessman was unraveling before his very eyes, all because some alien had decided he was their octo-prince.

“I—this isn’t—you can’t just—” he stammered, for the first time in his life at a complete loss for words.

You leaned in closer, your breath smelling faintly of something otherworldly. “Don’t worry, darling,” you cooed. “We’ll be together forever. In space.”

And that’s when Azul blacked out.

Idia Shroud

Idia was in the middle of his nightly gaming session, headphones on, hunched over his desk like a cryptid as he shouted insults into the mic at his teammates. It was a normal, uneventful evening—until a loud crash shook the entire Ignihyde dorm.

Idia didn’t flinch. In fact, he didn’t even pause his game.

“That’s probably just some monster… or a random explosion. Meh.”

But then… his door slid open, and there you stood. An alien. Your shimmering, blob-like figure oozed through the doorway, glowing faintly in the dim light. Your eyes—if those were eyes—stared at him with an intensity that made Idia want to crawl under his bed and never come out.

But the worst part? You were smiling.

“Hello, human!” you declared in a voice that sounded like a mix between static and something from a 1980s sci-fi film. “I have crash-landed here in search of a mate. Do you… come in peace?”

Idia froze. His hair turned from blue to white in an instant. “W-w-what the hell?!?”

You blinked at him with your many, MANY eyes. “You look like a prime candidate for my affection,” you said, completely unaware of the fact that Idia looked two seconds away from fainting. “I sensed your energy from across the galaxy.”

Idia’s brain was doing cartwheels. He was already socially anxious when it came to humans, but an alien looking for love? This was some next-level nightmare fuel.

“I—uh—I think you’ve got the wrong guy,” Idia squeaked, scooting his chair back slowly, his fingers trembling over his keyboard. “I’m not… um… I don’t do affection. Or eye contact. Or… this.”

You floated closer, your gelatinous form undulating with excitement. “Oh, but you have such a unique aura! I can feel your power. You are… the one I’ve been searching for.”

Idia gulped. “Power? I—I’m just a guy who likes video games and anime. I’m not even popular! I mean, you should probably go find someone else who’s, like, charismatic or whatever.”

You paused, your many eyes narrowing. “Is this… a rejection?”

Idia’s panic spiked to a level previously thought impossible. “N-no! I mean, I just—wait. Are you saying you want to… date me?”

Your eyes twinkled—literally, they twinkled—and your blob-like form shimmered with delight. “Date? Yes, that’s the Earth term! I wish to date you, human! I’ve studied your customs thoroughly. Would you like to engage in what you call ‘cosplay?’ I have constructed an outfit based on your planetary ‘anime’ culture.”

Idia’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as you suddenly produced what looked like an alien approximation of a magical girl outfit, complete with glowing tentacles and glittering stars.

“W-wait, what the hell is that?” Idia squeaked, backing up until his back hit the wall.

You proudly held the costume out. “I thought you would appreciate this. I have prepared this outfit in hopes of wooing you. Shall we engage in ‘cosplay’ together and deepen our bond?”

Idia’s brain was short-circuiting. Cosplay? Magical girl outfits? This was so far out of his comfort zone that Idia couldn’t even see his comfort zone anymore. It was a tiny speck in the distance, waving goodbye as he plummeted into a pit of alien-themed existential dread.

“I—I’m not really a magical girl kinda guy…” Idia stammered, trying to inch toward his bed where he could hide under the covers forever. His legs felt like jelly, and his hair was practically on fire with panic.

You didn’t seem deterred. In fact, you floated even closer, your glittery tentacles wriggling with excitement. “That’s okay! I can adapt!” you said brightly. “Do you prefer… space cowboys? Or perhaps a mecha pilot uniform? I’ve observed that humans enjoy when their partners dress up to match their interests.”

“I—uh—no, that’s not the point!” Idia squeaked, heart racing. “You can’t just—look, I’m not dating material, okay? I’m the guy who stays in his room and talks to people through a screen! I’m like… the human equivalent of a cave-dwelling monster in an RPG.”

Your many eyes blinked again, as if processing this information. “Hmm. That’s okay! I can also live in a cave if necessary. We’ll make it work.”

Idia gaped at you, utterly flabbergasted. “That’s… not what I meant.”

But before he could come up with a more coherent response, you were already examining his gaming setup with curiosity. You poked at his PC, your strange alien fingers leaving faint glows on the surface. “Ah, I see. You enjoy interacting with simulated realities. Perhaps I could join you in these… ‘video games’ of yours?”

“Join me?” Idia repeated, his voice an octave higher than usual. “In video games? You… you play?”

You nodded eagerly, still poking around his gaming desk. “Oh, I’ve mastered many simulations in my travels! Galaxian, Space Invaders, even Asteroids! We could play together and strengthen our bond through virtual combat.”

“Wait, those are all, like, retro games…” Idia muttered, his brain struggling to process the situation. “You mean, you don’t play anything… newer?”

You paused, considering. “Ah, you mean the more recent simulations? No, I haven’t encountered those yet. But I’m adaptable! Teach me, and we can conquer the virtual realms together.”

Something shifted in Idia’s mind. Amidst the sheer panic, a tiny part of him—a very, very small part—felt… intrigued? He was terrified, sure. But also, there was something oddly charming about the fact that you, an intergalactic blob alien, were so enthusiastic about his world.

It was like the universe had taken one look at his love life and decided, “Well, you’re clearly a lost cause. Here, have an alien.”

“Well…” Idia swallowed nervously. “I mean, if you’re that into video games, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to… you know, show you a few. Maybe.” His voice trailed off, but he realized he wasn’t outright rejecting you anymore.

You brightened (literally; your entire form glowed with an unsettling neon hue). “Wonderful! We’ll play, and we’ll bond. Just you and me—partners across the cosmos!”

“Yeah, uh, sure…” Idia mumbled, feeling like he had just agreed to something that would either be the weirdest—or the best—decision of his life. “But just to be clear—no magical girl outfits, okay?”

You blinked at him with your many, MANY eyes. “Understood. I shall reserve that outfit for later… perhaps when we reach the final stage of courtship.”

Idia’s face turned redder than his flame-tipped hair. “W-what final stage of courtship?!”

But you didn’t answer. Instead, you settled in beside him, reaching out a glowing tendril toward his keyboard. “Now, show me how to play this… Overwatch.”

Idia stared at you for a long moment. He wasn’t sure if this was the start of a nightmare or the weirdest love story ever, but either way, it was happening. And apparently, his new alien… companion was ready to learn.

Malleus Draconia

It was a dark and stormy night—exactly the kind of night Malleus Draconia preferred. The skies rumbled with ominous thunder, and the gargoyles of Diasomnia loomed even more menacingly than usual. Malleus stood by his favorite window, brooding in the shadows like a goth kid waiting for the next My Chemical Romance reunion tour.

Everything was calm. Serene. Perfect.

And then, from the depths of the night, a bright glow appeared—something falling from the heavens, crashing right into the forest just outside the dorm. The ground shook, trees cracked, and Malleus raised an eyebrow. Was this… some new form of mischief? Or had Lilia invited another chaotic guest from beyond the veil?

With a sigh that bordered on dramatic, Malleus stepped out into the night to investigate.

And there you were. The source of the crash. You stood in the middle of a smoking crater, your jelly-like form pulsing with an eerie glow. Your eyes—or what appeared to be eyes—locked onto Malleus, and you gave him the most unsettlingly cheerful wave.

“Ah! A local lifeform! Hello! I come in peace!”

Malleus’s eyebrow lifted. “You have… quite an entrance.”

You blinked, your entire body jiggling like intergalactic jello. “Oh, yes! I crash-landed. Happens all the time. I’m actually here on an important mission.” You paused dramatically. “I’m looking for a mate.”

Malleus, the ever-patient prince of the dark, was unphased. “I see. And you’ve decided to seek a mate… here?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Correct! My sensors detected powerful auras in this area, and yours is off the charts! So much darkness. So much brooding. It’s very attractive.”

Malleus blinked, caught slightly off-guard. It wasn’t every day someone commented on his brooding in a… positive way. “You find darkness attractive?”

“Oh, absolutely!” you said, bouncing in place with excitement. “Where I’m from, we thrive in the shadows. Plus, you’ve got those horns! Very regal. Very commanding.”

Malleus straightened slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t often he met someone who appreciated his aesthetic. “You have good taste.”

“And you’re a dragon, right?” you continued, eyes twinkling with awe. “I’ve always wanted to meet one! Although, full disclosure, I’m a little nervous around large reptiles. It’s not a dealbreaker, though!”

Malleus chuckled, amused by your strange, unhinged honesty. “I assure you, I am quite gentle unless provoked.”

“Good to know!” you said, floating closer. “So, do you have any interest in interspecies relationships? Or maybe… cosmic travel? I’ve got a spaceship parked just a few star systems away. We could go on a date to the asteroid belt!”

Malleus, still not entirely sure if this was some kind of elaborate joke, raised an eyebrow. “You’re… serious about this?”

You blinked, your entire gelatinous form shimmering under the moonlight. “Absolutely! Look, I know I’m a little different by Earth standards, but you can’t deny we’d make a power couple. You with your dragon powers, me with my alien abilities—we’d be unstoppable!”

Malleus tilted his head, considering you. Despite your strange appearance—and even stranger proposition—there was something oddly charming about your enthusiasm. Perhaps it was the way you didn’t shy away from his aura of darkness, or the fact that you seemed completely unbothered by his draconic nature.

“I must admit,” Malleus said slowly, “I’ve never been approached in quite this manner before.”

You grinned (or at least, your face morphed into what Malleus assumed was a grin). “Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?”

Malleus chuckled softly, his emerald eyes glowing faintly in the night. “Indeed. Very well, intergalactic traveler. I shall consider your offer.”

Your eyes lit up with excitement, and you bounced in place again. “Really? Oh, this is fantastic! I’ve never dated a dragon prince before. This is going to be legendary!”

Malleus smiled faintly, more amused than anything. “We shall see.”

And so, under the dark and stormy skies of Twisted Wonderland, the future king of fae found himself possibly—just possibly—entertaining the wildest, most unhinged courtship of his life.

Masterlist

[justporo]

Hi! Could I please get some headcanons or a drabble of Astarion x anemic!Tav and how things may differ when it comes to him feeding on them, how he'd take care of them if they needed it, etc? Would love to see what you come up with. Thank you for your time! 💜

Hello and thank you very much, Anon! Since I'm actually hit with the Bloodless debuff today myself... What else could I have written?

This is a very sweet idea to write something - which I took and then made it sarcastic... I hope you like it.

Also - idk why, but for this I pictured Tav as velnna's Staeve - you probably know who I'm talking about and if you don't you should very quickly go over there and find out, because I love Steven and you should really give this incredible incredible artist who has contributed so much to this fandom a lot of love. All the love. (I didn't wanna tag them because I didn't know if it was okay and didn't want to annoy them but go check out their blog!!)

Pairing: Astarion / Tav (You) Wordcount: 1,6k

Bloodless

The sun was burning in the sky. You felt sweat almost drip from your skin. Every step seemed to be harder than the last one. Your heart was fluttering although your pulse seemed flat. Damn this Mountain Pass.

You and the rest of the party had been hiking through the mountains for days. It was exhausting for everyone, but especially for you it seemed. Surely, the fact that you had offered Astarion your blood almost every other night (and that he was always very keen and graciously grateful to take it) had quite obviously to do with how much your stamina had dwindled.

But you knew offering up your blood was very much helpful. Not only to the vampire, but the party as a whole: Astarion had basically become a menace on the battlefield since he’d been able to feed properly. Also, you were stubborn – a bit of missing blood wouldn’t knock you out. Or would it?

You tripped on a loose stone and almost face-planted on the ground. Only in the last moment were you able to catch yourself and dampen the fall with your arms. You quickly got up again and hoped no one had noticed since you’d dropped to being the last in the group today.

But trying to raise yourself so quickly had been a mistake and you suddenly felt overly woozy, your vision blurring and you were immediately back on one knee.

And of course, it hadn’t gone unnoticed: Astarion had been in front of you and had seemingly been alarmed by the noise of your fall – twice.

“What is it, Tav, got too distracted looking at my back, hm?”, he taunted and came over to where you were doubled over – leaning on your arms too now because you felt so dizzy all of a sudden that you felt you had need of all of your four limbs on the ground to support you.

When the vampire realised you weren’t getting up and also didn’t respond to his quip in your usual witty manner, he quickly gave the others a shout to let them know not to go too far ahead. Then he came over to you. You were desperately trying to not pass out when you saw the hands of the pale elf through your blurred vision reaching for you.

“You do hear me, yes?”, Astarion whispered to you. You could only nod curtly. His hands hesitantly touched your shoulders.

“Alright, can you get up? There’s a big stone over there where you could sit down.” You shook your head which made you even dizzier.

“Oh hm”, Astarion seemed a little helpless on how to proceed with you. You felt him turn away.

“Don’t tell the others!”, you exclaimed breathlessly. The vampire whipped around: “But… why?” “Just don’t please”, you whispered and carefully looked up at his face. Was that… actual worry?

“Please just… Help me sit on this rock, let me have some water… and rest and we’ll keep going in a few minutes”, you pleaded with him. Astarion didn’t look completely convinced but sighed in defeat after a few of your racing heartbeats.

“Alright – could you please not die for a moment while I go and talk to the others?”, he said in a sassy tone that couldn’t completely gloss over the worry in his voice.

You let your head fall down again and simply nodded. Astarion went off towards the rest of your companions.

Ever so slowly you felt a little bit better. Cautiously you knelt back onto your feet – at least not on all fours anymore! Shortly after you tried to carefully get up and move over to the rock Astarion had mentioned.

That was when the vampire returned. “Oh no no, you stay right where you are, you poor helpless creature that would have perished already had it not been for me.” He ran the last few feet over and grabbed one of your arms to slowly put it around his neck and help you get up and walk over to sit on the boulder. You wanted to say something witty at his taunt, but your mind was too blank.

“Also, we are actually taking a break – all of us, so don’t even try to keep on walking”, he scolded you as he placed you down.

“What did you tell the others?”, you asked simply as you placed your forearms on your thighs and just sat leaning forward like that for a little. “Tss, does it matter now? Something like I broke a nail of mine and needed a moment to mourn it or whatever”, Astarion replied annoyedly.

“Can’t believe they actually stopped for that”, you said slowly and chuckled with your head between your knees and threw up a look at your vampiric companion. “Yeah well, seems they care a lot about my wellbeing. And I take it they would about yours, too”, he gave back – again very sassily. You just chuckled but didn’t reply. You saw that he relaxed a little.

“Ah here. You should probably drink and eat a little”, the vampire said after a while of the two of you just sitting there. He offered you a water bottle and some berries from a pouch – both of which weren’t his for obvious reasons.

You narrowed your eyes at him: “Where did you get those?” “By the Gods, you are so reluctant to help, I should’ve left you in the dirt.” Astarion rolled his eyes at you. “The druid gave it to me – you’re not as inconspicuous as you might believe, oh mighty leader of our adventure troupe.” You had a desire to punch this cheeky elf but you knew you were in no condition to act on something like this, so you sighed and first took the water and then started to munch on some berries from the offered pouch.

Silence spread once more between the two of you. Before Astarion broke it again: “Listen, Tav, darling, I know this must be because you’re letting me drink your blood so often.” You immediately wanted to start protesting but the vampire hushed you, brows furrowed.

“No, for once, you’ll let me do the talking. Don’t think I’m blind – your form has been declining for quite some time now. We can’t go on like this. I mean, Halsin has also noticed already.” You stayed silent and kept popping berries in your mouth and silently thanked the druid for his kind gesture – even if you didn’t want the others to know of this weakness. You slowly started to feel better.

“As much as I enjoy our little late night… sessions. We should probably take a break – at least concerning these particular ones. And maybe later, keep longer breaks in between if you insist to keep throwing yourself at me to drink your blood”, Astarion continued and sighed theatrically.

He tried so hard to be sarcastic about the whole thing, but you noticed that he was actually worried, judging by the guilty glint in his red eyes. And maybe it was that the blood loss was affecting your brain too much but you stared at him and just dryly said: “You know, you could just admit that you care about me, Astarion.”

The vampire huffed in surprise, then he sneered with a click of his tongue: “Bah, of course I do, you seem to be the only one to get this group of clowns to work together after all. It’s not like I care for you much as a person. As a blood bag maybe, but other than that…”

You pursed your lips and let him ramble, digging his own verbal grave by trying to talk himself out of it.

You didn’t even reply afterwards, just let him steep in the own awkwardness he created.

You kept looking at him – even offered him a berry, he scrunched his nose at – then shrugged and ate it yourself.

You slowly opened your water bottle…

“Okay, maybe a little. Tiny bit. Because you’re the only one in the group who seems to have a real sense of humour – at least when you’re not lying in the dirt being a dried out husk”, Astarion exclaimed.

You grinned at him wolfishly and shook the last of the berries from the small bag into your mouth ignoring his insult. “Now, wasn’t even that hard, was it? I really like you to, Astarion”, you said and then slowly stood up – careful not to immediately make a fool of yourself again.

“I liked you better when you were staring at the dirt up close”, the vampire replied and jumped up while crossing his arms over his chest, then sauntered away.

“Sure, if that’s what you need to tell yourself”, you kept teasing and slowly went after the brooding vampire.

You met up with the rest of the camp then went on your way for the rest of the day. The others were already so used to the two of you missing from the camp at the same time (mostly during nighttime, of course) that they didn’t even look up when the two of you came back.

Later when you all had settled down for the night you saw that Astarion went over to Halsin and talked to him softly. They both threw you looks in between which made you uncomfortable because you certainly could imagine what the topic was. Before Astarion had also made sure you’d gotten the first serving of tonight’s dinner (and also seconds).

Even later when the others were already at rest the vampire confessed, he’d been asking the druid about how he could go about drinking your blood without putting too much of a strain on you. Again, you noticed that he seemed not only concerned about his blood rations when he explained that to you.

The next days you also noticed that Astarion had started carrying some water and the bag from Halsin containing the berries.

And you thought to yourself that – for a blood bag – Astarion seemed to put an awful lot of thought and action into making sure you were okay.

[sweeterthanthis]

imagine, bucky's fucked you so much that you can't bear to take him inside you again, so you start jerking him off, but the moment he's about to cum you sit down on him so you can take all of him inside you

Oh, I’m imagining. A little too hard.

Warnings: Mentions of consensual somnophilia, overstimulation and multiple creampies + mild breeding kink.

18+.

“Bucky, I can’t.” Your breathing is ragged, his chest heaving against your back as you rise up on wobbly knees and let him slip free of your fucked-out body. “Too much. S’too much.” 

Your bruised walls ache, limbs heavy as you reach down to jerk him in your fist. Even that seems too much effort, lazy flicks of your wrist making him groan in your ear. “You can’t take another load for me? C’mon, baby. Know you can. Know you wanna.” 

Your inner thighs are stained with his come, slick and sore, the friction of his body gliding against yours for the past two hours taking it’s toll. With your body sagged back against his, you let your head rest on his shoulder, mouth breathing against his cheek while he pumps his cock up into your loose fist. 

“Don’t beg me like that. Know I can’t say no when you ask so nice.”

“Can’t say no even when I don’t ask.” And he’s right. You didn’t have a damn thing to say about it earlier that evening when you woke with his length buried deep inside you, already on the cusp of release. “Sit on my dick, baby. One more time. One more load and I’ll let you rest, hm? Unless you want me to keep going once you close those pretty eyes. Know you like it when I do that.”

You groan - half frustration, half arousal - your body giving in to his desires before your brain can catch up. Your eyes flutter back in your head when he sinks back inside you for what feels like the hundredth time that night, the stretch barely noticeable at this point but the uncomfortable pleasure still setting your insides ablaze. 

“Good girl. That’s my good girl. Just lay back and take it. I’ll do all the work.” His metal fingers reach around to grip your throat, holding you upright against him. “Don’t have to move a muscle, just keep those legs open and let me breed that perfect cunt.” 

(Yeah, please 🥴)

[caramilena]

ignore the request that was sent in before this I’m pretty sure I messed up;

Logan coming home late only to find f!reader asleep on the couch, cold dinner on the table, and melted candles

hii, thanks for the ask. Here it is!

Warnings: none, established relationship 

Divider: fanguro

He knows he’s later than he said he would be, but work had kept him so busy that by the time he realized how late it was getting, he finished up swiftly to come home. He worries that you must’ve waited for him. He quietly unlocked the door to your home and let himself in. The living room and kitchen lights were on. He shucked off his leather jacket and shoes and went in search of you. 

He paused at the kitchen, noting the food had gone cold and the candles on the center of the table had melted down to just a stub. His lips twitched in a small smile when he saw that you had cooked his favorite dish. You took such good care of him, and yet he stood you up and made you wait. His fists clenched, he was gonna find you and show you how much he’d missed you in a minute.

However, you weren’t in your bedroom. So he went to the living room and found you asleep on your side on the couch. He knelt on the floor next to the couch and leaned over your sleeping form, watching you intently for a moment. You looked so peaceful and cozy, he didn’t wanna wake you up. Instead, he pushed some stray hairs away from your eyes and cheek. 

You were wearing one of his shirts. It was quite loose and oversized on you but you didn’t care. He snorted softly and stroked your cheek with the pad of his thumb. He liked coming home to find you wearing his clothes, irrefutably smelling like him. His only regret was making you wait.

He tucked his hands under your side and knees and gently hauled you up into his arms. Standing up easily with you in his arms, Logan began walking over to your bedroom. You stirred and rested your head on the crook of his neck. He kissed the top of your head fondly.

Once you guys reached the edge of your bed, he set you down ever so carefully, adjusted your limbs to be comfortable, and pulled the covers over you. Before he could change out of his clothes and join you, you blinked up at him groggily.

“Logan?” You mumbled in a daze, between sleep and wakefulness.

 He hummed. “Sorry, bub. Had to look into some things with Charles.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb as he apologized. 

You mumbled incoherently. He exhaled in amusement, he couldn’t tell if it was a protest or acknowledgment of his words. “Gimme a minute, I’ll join you.”

“Don’t go…” you sighed and reached for him. 

He took your hand and squeezed it, “not going anywhere, baby. Just gonna take my jeans off. You hate outside clothes on the bed, remember? When you got mad at me for it?” He laughed as you screwed up your face in thought.

You yawned but nodded. Watching blearily as he pulled off his jeans and flannel shirt. Clad in only his boxers and tank top, he crawled into bed with you. His chest to your back, he pulled you snugly against him. Finally, you could rest knowing that he was home, in your arms. 

He placed a kiss on your nape and hummed deeply, his chest vibrated behind you with the sound. “Missed you.” He muttered before you drifted off to sleep together.

Feel free to send me more asks, I might be late but I’ll def try to whip up something

[dira333]

Of Worries and Dejavu’s - Sugawara x Reader

for @iiwaijime (not a drabble, but I don't think you'll be mad)

“What are you worried about?” You ask in the awful lighting of a 7-eleven after midnight.

“Hm?” Koushi asks, slurping up noodles, spraying himself and the table with Chili oil.

He looks nice, from this angle. Your face pressed against the table - disinfected beforehand - squinting up. You’re too tired for this, yet forever unable to say no.

“You don’t take me all the way to a 7-Eleven because you’re sleeping like a baby,” you defend your question.

“A lot of the underclassmen are taller than me,” he offers, offering you a bite of his Mapo Tofu. 

You open your mouth despite knowing it’s going to be too spicy for you. It’s too spicy for him, you know, he’ll complain about his numb mouth for days.

“Too spicy?” He asks just seconds later, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“You’re the worst,” you sniffle, pushing yourself up to take a sip from his drink.

Sometimes you wonder how often you’ve indirectly kissed him. How many of those indirect kisses do you have to trade for a direct one anyway?

“You love it.”

“I love you,” you joke, but his face falls, visible even in this terrible light.

“What?”

“My mouth’s numb.”

And it feels like a dejavu. Like something you’ve lived through before. Because you have, every month since you’ve turned fifteen.

Graduation is just around the corner though. Who knows what’s going to happen after that. Maybe he’ll finally confess to someone he likes.

Maybe that won’t be you.

Your hand curls into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him forward even as your brain screams in panic, a frantic, capital-lettered “NO!” right behind your eyes.

Koushi tastes like Mapo Tofu and sugar-free ice tea, like exhaustion and the thrumming fear of growing up.

“Still numb?” You ask when you pull back, his eyes wide open, brimming with emotion.

“Think so,” he mutters, his lips red from the Chili Oil. “Can we try again?”

-

Summer break means loose limbs, napping in the sun as the boys train behind you.

Sometimes it feels as if you’ve always spent your breaks to the sound of Daichi cursing, Asahi panting and Koushi egging both of them on.

“Hey,” today his face appears above you, blocking the sun.

“Hey,” you blink back lazily. “Done already.”

“No, I got bored.”

“Dork,” you complain, his head on your chest.

“Hey, get back here!” Daichi calls from somewhere but Koushi just leans down to kiss you, the angle so weird that your nose hits his Adam's apple and he coughs, falling into you.

“Hmm,” he snuggles into you, pretending not to notice Daichi stomping over to get him. “You love it.”

-

“When did you fall in love with me?” Koushi asks, legs dangling out his window. You’ve chosen the relative safety of his bed, huddled into one of his sweaters despite the warm weather. 

“Don’t know,” you admit. “One day I found you annoying, the next you were irresistible.”

“Irresistible?” You can hear the grin in his voice and the worry he tries to hide with it.

“Wanna go for a ride?” You ask before he can make a joke. “I’ll pay. I’m kinda craving Super Spicy Mapo-Tofu from 7-Eleven.”

He’s quiet for a while, swinging his legs in only after a full five minutes. “Sure.”

His hand finds your thigh while driving, curled around it as if it’s the lifeboat keeping him afloat. You draw a heart onto the back of his hand, feel the tension bleed out. It returns and you draw again, repeat the cycle until you park the car.

“We kinda have to get out if we want to eat,” you remind him, drawing a heart and an arrow going through and his name and yours, not once letting go of the hand curled around your thigh.

Koushi’s staring through the windshield, motionless.

You hold your breath, checking to see if you can hear his, the slow intake and the slower exhale, the almost not-there rise and fall of his chest.

He blinks and the tension shatters around him, though his smile does little cover his unease.

-

You don’t know when you met Koushi for the first time. To you, it feels as if he’s always been part of your life, like a tree that has dug its roots into your body, has grown so close you no longer know where one part ends and the other begins.

Still, there are shadows to him you have yet to see, secrets he has not yet uncovered.

But you’re not scared. Never of him.

“Hey,” you breathe against the soft skin of his cheek, “did you know I can read your mind?”

“Yeah? What am I thinking about?”

And if you’d have to guess, you’d come up empty, because yesterday he told you about mermaids and the day before he was dreaming about curry buns the size of Volleyballs. 

But you keep talking, a fear spilling out you didn’t know you had, hid it so well you forget it existed.

“Do you think we’ll be together forever?”

And in the way he blinks, the lights of the 7-Eleven no longer mirrored in his eyes, you can tell he’d been thinking the same.

“I hope so,” he admits. “But I don’t know.”

“Wishes do count, right?” You tell yourself more than him. Because there’s College for you and training for him, an unknown nothingness stretching out in what others call future. “Because I wish to be with you.”

“I wish to be with you too.”

“Good,” you swallow thickly, picking his hand from your thigh and kissing the back of it. “What more do we need?”

- - -

And isn’t this Dejavu?

Finding yourself under the unflattering lights of a 7-Eleven, sharing Super Spicy Mapo Tofu and Sugar-free Ice Tea?

“Don’t spill on my dress,” you tell him as haughtily as you can manage at three in the morning, half drunk on champagne and cake, the ring on your hand glittering. 

“Wouldn’t dare,” he bites back, grinning from one ear to the other like he’s drunk. Maybe he is, he had more Champagne than you.

But you doubt it, because you feel it too, the happiness bubbling in your throat despite the late hour, despite the spice you still can’t tolerate, and the bright lights blinding you.

“Miss Sugawara,” Koushi says at that moment, pushing himself up and toward you even as you eye the food in between and its dangerous red pigment. “Care to give me a kiss?”

“Your mouth is numb?”

“Never too numb for a kiss from you.”

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

To the victor the spoils

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 19

Prompt: Enemies to lovers

Rated: T

CW: light blood and violence; steamy kissing; very light dubcon if you squint (they're actually both super into it, I promise)

Tags: Fantasy AU; Magic AU; Guard!Steve; Thief!Eddie; Sexual tension; Flirting; Fighting; First kiss

Notes: Thought that kiss was hot in writing? Wait until you see it! @house-of-the-moving-image did an entire mini comic!

In the end, it’s just the two of them again. 

Steve jumps over another groaning pile of half-conscious guards and bursts out onto the roof, cold night air slapping him in the face and making the cape of his uniform whip. 

“Munson!” he barks. 

He is standing by the edge of the roof, a black cut-out against the starlit sky. As Steve stalks closer, he can see the smile curling at his lips, the amusement glinting in those dark eyes. 

“Stevie,” he greets, like they’re two acquaintances who’ve just met on the market square - not the new Captain of the Guard and the city’s most wanted criminal. “My, don’cha look strapping in the new get-up. Congrats, I bet daddy’s mighty proud.” 

“Shut it,” Steve growls, ignoring the way Eddie’s eyes linger on his golden breastplate, the way it makes a treacherous heat prickle at his neck. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Now give it back!” 

He jerks his head at the necklace clutched in one black-gloved hand. Eddie pouts. 

“Don’t wanna. It’s shiny.” 

Steve groans. It’s like talking to a five-year-old. A five-year old clad in black armor who’s versed in combat magic. 

“It is a priceless magic artifact that’s been in Lord Carver's family for generations-” 

“Yeah, and what a load of good they’ve done with it,” Eddie sneers. “High time it got into the hands of someone who actually knows what they’re doing.” 

“Oh, and that someone would be you?” 

“Look at you,” Eddie winks. “Pretty and clever. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta-” 

“You’re not going anywhere!” Steve snaps. His sword slides out with a high, metallic sound. 

Eddie raises his hands. “Woah, big boy. Careful now, you don’t wanna-” 

Steve roars and lunges. 

Eddie skips out of reach, but not quite fast enough. A lock of curly hair floats to the ground. 

“Oh sweetheart, you're gonna regret this,” Eddie purrs. 

And all hell breaks loose. 

The air crackles with the taste of ozone, a blinding light erupts from the artifact, and Steve just barely manages to parry. Something whirrs through the air, glides off his blade and a sharp, hot pain explodes all over the side of his face. Something warm trickles down his cheek. 

“Hell yeah,” Eddie whoops and comes flying at him, giant shards of solid magic whirling around him, eyes eerily alight with their glow. “That's what I'm talking about!” 

The world blurs into a frenzy of movement and adrenaline. Attack and parry, dive for cover behind the towers and turrets and battlements of the roof, attack again. It’s almost comforting in its familiarity, this dance of theirs. Steve knows all of Eddie’s little quirks, the subtle twitches of his face that indicate his attacks before they actually come. They’ve done this so often, he can read him like an open book. 

The problem is, Eddie knows him just as intimately. Steve screams with rage, forces his aching limbs to go faster, harder, but it’s no use. Every blow that he tries to land, Eddie blocks, every twist and turn he makes, Eddie’s already there, always with that infuriating, dimpled grin, that amused little quirk of his brow. 

Until Steve’s foot lands on a wet patch of moss and he slips. 

It all goes so fast he has no time to be terrified - just feels the horrible sense of vertigo as the world tilts and the cobbled street jumps at him. Then, before he can so much as scream, there's arms wrapping around him and he's being hauled backwards, back pressed flush against another body. His blade goes clattering into the shadows.

“Whoops,” Eddie chuckles into his ear. Steve can feel his chest rising and falling with exertion, can feel his hot breath clouding against the shell of his ear. “Thought I told you not to fall for me.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, tries to struggle free, but Eddie has one arm around his chest, the other flush against the hollow of his throat, and he can't go anywhere. “Don’t give yourself too much credit.” 

“Oh, do I?" Eddie’s lips twitch into a smirk against the nape of his neck. “Then why were you holding back?” 

“Fuck you!” he grits out, but all it earns him is a low tut. “Now release me.”

“What, without a reward?” Eddie’s voice tingles down his spine, sweet and potent like poisoned mead. “You know how I am about pretty things. And you wouldn't wanna deny the victor his spoils, would you?” 

“Asshole!” Humiliation coils hot and heavy in Steve’s abdomen. “Stop joking and-” 

Eddie snarls against his ear. “I've told you a million times, honey. I'm not joking.” 

Steve’s world spins again, breath punched clean from his lungs as he is flipped around and slammed against the nearest wall. Eddie doesn’t leave him any time to recover, just surges in with a hungry growl and crashes their lips together. When Steve tries to struggle, he bites down on his bottom lip, uses the pained gasp it earns him to lick into his mouth. 

Someone moans, but it takes Eddie running his tongue over the roof of his mouth and pushing a leg between his thighs before the sound tumbles out again and Steve recognizes his own voice. They only break apart when they run out of air, both flushed and struggling for breath. 

And that is when the door to the roof slams open and Lord Carver and his men push through. 

“He went this way! Seize him!”

Eddie lets out an annoyed huff and leans in for one last peck against Steve’s lips. 

“Sorry, darling. Gotta go, y'know how it is. See you next time.” 

He steps out of his space and the night air hits Steve like a bucket of ice water. Eddie winks at him and steps over the edge of the roof. 

By the time Carver and his guards arrive, the night has long swallowed him.

Part 2

All my holiday drabbles

[alchemistc]

an: I was cleaning out my drafts and ran into this nearly-finished piece of two disasters having their first kiss. Enjoy.

the way you feel when you kiss him for the first time like fire within your bones like your soul has returned to the water like every part of you that came from a dead star is alive again

Here’s the thing. So. Like.

He’s kissing Eddie Munson, tongue and everything, hands digging into his crazy fucking hair, face twisted sideways because they’d been sitting there next to each other, close enough that their hips were touching, and Eddie was gesturing with both hands thrown wide, so that every once in a while his hand smacked Steve’s chest on accident and he murmured a quick apology before going back to his story, and Steve fucking loved listening to him rant and rave about whatever he had a bug up his ass about on any given day, he loved it so much and it seemed like the thing to do when you loved something about someone so much it made your chest tight and your head a little fuzzy.

Steve twists his head and slots his tongue over Eddie’s lips and Eddie makes a noise that Steve feels down to his fucking toes and he nips, just a bit, swallows up Eddie’s gasp and curls his fingers around his neck and licks into his mouth.

First kisses are usually either tentative or chaotic, and this one is sloppy as all get out but it’s not – it’s good. It’s so fucking good Steve thinks he could happily fucking die right this second and he wouldn’t even be mad about it. Eddie’s teeth slide along Steve’s lower lip when he sucks said lower lip into his mouth and Steve hums and blows a breath out through his nose and fleetingly imagines their entire lives expanding out before them – tables that for another day when he’s done more than make out with Eddie in the woods behind his house.

Eddie pulls back, and Steve chases, a bit, blinks his eyes back open with a pout. “You. What. You?”

It’s – Steve’s done this whole song and dance with half the girls in his age group in Hawkins, rarely ever felt this buzzing under his skin. The desperate urge to claw his way into Eddie’s chest is burning him. That’s…not the usual reaction he gets when he kisses someone.

“What the hell, Harrington? What the fuck?”

And like… okay. So. He’s had crushes before. He’s been in fucking love before and he fucking knows what it feels like and he knows what it means when someone looks at you that way that Eddie looks at him and.

“Fuck, uh… Shit, sorry man. Yeah. Should have, uh…whoops?”

“Whoops?”

Eddie’s on his feet then, his limbs akimbo as he throws his arms out, gesturing vaguely in Steve’s direction, looking at Steve like he’s grown like, three extra heads. Which. Okay so maybe he could have done better at like, explaining what the fuck he was doing but Eddie was so fucking hot when he got really in the zone with some rant or other and Steve’s been like, waiting for him.

“You can’t just go around kissing people, man!”

“I thought you were gay!” Steve says, like that explains a damn fucking thing, and Eddie whirls on him, wild eyed, like Steve’s just shouted some tightly kept secret to the world and… yeah. Alright. Fair.

“I thought you were the straightest fucking dude in America, Steve, what the fuck?”

“Oh,” Steve says, because that, yeah. That tracks. Okay. So. Yeah, he can work with this. 

He runs a jittery hand through his air, glances up at Eddie through a few strands that cut loose from the hairspray. “Yeah uh, so I guess like, no? Chicks are like, great but then here you are being so fucking adorable I wanna like, put you in my fucking pocket to keep you safe and like, take you out on a date and, I don’t know, suck your cock or something. Which is.” 

He’s rambling now, doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 

“Okay so like I guess I didn’t really think about the ramifications of this before I fucking went for it but I have been thinking about your lips on my lips for way longer than I have been acknowledging to myself and you weren’t fucking doing anything about it and I just thought I could. Do something about it. So um…no. Not. Not straight.” 

Steve imagines, for a moment, Hawkins High jocks fading out of the shadows to beat the shit out of him, bible thumping mothers intent on letting him know his sins will destroy the country and land him straight in hell, his own father telling him he won’t have a fag for a son. Feels really fucking shitty about it for about thirty seconds and then remembers he’s saved the world at least four times and internally tells them all to go fuck themselves. 

“Hey, is there a word for that? Liking both? Do you – fuck, is there like, a handbook? Do you even know? Did – but then you’re – I mean I definitely for sure got the feeling you and Robin have more in common than just being really great at saving the world, also you for sure kissed me back and – holy shit Robin’s gonna be pissed you found out before she did.”

Eddie stares at him in abject horror for about thirty seconds, but it’s not – it’s not judgy, at least, it’s more like Steve looks at Robin when she word vomits. “Jesus H Christ did you just speed run gay panic?” Which – Robin has explained that before and if Eddie knows about it then he probably also is not…not gay.

“I don’t think I’m strictly gay!” Steve says, his voice a little higher than he’d like but Eddie is pacing now, which. Not conducive to more kissing, and it’s literally all Steve wants to be doing right now. “It might not even be dudes in general, I haven’t gotten any further than you!”

“What the fuck, Harrington?” And pacing be damned, Steve hops up and cages Eddie in again, leans forward for a kiss because he’s not, like, saying no, he’s just confused because he didn’t think Steve was into it and kissing will definitely help him figure it out. Only he rolls his head back, away from Steve’s, shoulders and neck rolling back. The rest of him stays, though, and Steve slots his hands on Eddie’s narrow waist and stares at him. 

“I’m like, super into you, Eddie, and unless I’m suddenly really fucking bad at reading signals you’re also into me.”

Eddie leans forward, rolls his forehead against Steve’s. It’s nice. Not as nice as the kissing had been but…yeah, he’s cool with this. Eddie huffs out a breath of laughter, a self-deprecating little chortle that Steve recognizes and wants to dash away. “I’ve been trying really hard not to throw those signals. Just. Just so you know.”

“You’re really bad at it,” Steve tells him, fingers digging a bit into his side now, his left hand sliding towards Eddie’s back, and he doesn’t really think about it when he exerts a bit of force to drag Eddie a little closer. “To be like, fully clear here. I’m not… I haven’t been misreading, correct?”

“Fuck,” Eddie says, those wide dark eyes holding Steve’s. “This is insane. People don’t just wake up one day and go ‘hey I’m actually totally attracted to my own gender and I have literally zero bad feelings about that’ – people kill themselves about it.”

“Nearly died enough times to know I don’t care for it,” Steve tells him, and he really, really wants to fucking kiss him again but probably Eddie needs a second. “Listen, do you like me or not, because if not I am seriously overstepping right now and I don’t actually want to make this weird.”

“This is so fucking weird, man,” Eddie says but then he’s curling his fingers into the end of Steve’s shirt and fisting it there before Steve has a chance to draw back and respect his boundaries, like he’s holding himself back from more but not quite ready to let go. Steve follows his lead. “Did Robin say something?”

“Robin has been literally zero help,” Steve admits, because she really has been fucking useless and cagey and completely unwilling to give him any idea if this whole thing is reciprocated or just a fully fucking unrequited crush. “I am actually pretty emotionally intelligent, so I figured…” God he’s giving Steve that look. Again. “Vibes were there.”

“Vibes.” Eddie says, like he wants to bash his brains in. “You… you just threw all caution to the wind on fucking vibes.”

“Vibes are a thing!”

Eddie curls the hand not already fisting in Steve’s shirt around his waist, his long fingers catching at the stripe of skin exposed by the pull of his shirt. Every thought in Steve’s head feels like it’s centered right there, where he can feel Eddie’s rings warm against his skin.

Steve is like, 97.3 percent certain at this point that he hasn’t just ruined a decently important friendship, and he really, really does want to return to that zenith of his tongue in Eddie’s mouth, so he rolls his head again, nosing at Eddie’s cheek, reaching for his jaw.

Eddie shoves him back – slowly, regretfully almost. 

“Give me a fucking second, Harrington.”

“Sure. Yeah.” 

Even as Eddie goes back to pacing Steve feels good about this. Eddie Munson is probably a lot more accepting of things than most of the assholes in Hawkins but he has yet to tell Steve to go fuck himself and he seems more…overwhelmed than anything else. Surprised. He had just admitted he thought Steve didn’t go for that thing. Had he thought about it, beyond a passing ‘Steve the Hair Harrington digs the ladies’?

Jesus. He’s so fucking embarrassing. Even in his own goddamn brain.

Eddie whirls on him, opens his mouth. Shuts it and takes a few pointed steps further away from Steve. Steve very much hates that, but – time. Space. He can manage that. He takes the opportunity to enjoy the pull of Eddie’s jeans over his ass. 

Holy shit, Steve thinks to himself as he ogles the other man, holy shit he’s so very much not straight and it’s taking every ounce of willpower to give Eddie his fucking second. 

“You’re a fucking psycho,” Eddie says, and it’s probably aimed at Steve even though he still hasn’t actually turned back to look at him again. “You fully understand that what you just did screams absolute lunatic, right?”

“The – which part, exactly?”

“Steve, what if I wasn’t gay?”

It’s – kind of a sad question, if he’s being honest, because he’s suspected he likes dudes for maybe two weeks, even if it’s been nagging at him for literal months now, but he’s been that shitty kid who called people queer like it was the dirtiest word in the book, and he’s well aware at this point how fucking scary it is for anyone who is the least bit not ‘normal’ by societies standards. Especially if it’s actually true.

“I mean, I assume you’d probably give me a lot of shit and I would spend a good month too mortified to look at you before you let me off the hook?” But that question gets a little closer to the heart of it, the one thing Steve’s still a little worried about. “But…you are?”

“How the fuck did you even know?”

“The vibes!” He wiggles his fingers at that, widens his eyes like that will help Eddie understand. “And, you know. The general feeling every time you look at me like you’re half a second from eating me alive.”

“I do not!” Eddie says, a little scandalized, a little like he’s been caught out. 

“You totally do. You have…very expressive eyes.” This is new. Just balls to the wall flaying honesty, right off the bat, no hiding behind a slick smile and a clever little wink. What even is flirting, Steve thinks. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I fully thought you were gonna bend me over a table at Gary’s party last weekend.”

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie says, only he’s still not denying it, and he’s turning those same round shining eyes on Steve and – yeah. That is not a platonic fucking look. “I’m gonna take, like, three steps towards you right now. Can you. Not fucking attack me when I get there?”

“Yeah. Sure. Totally.” Robin and Nancy once ganged up on him to tell him he was basically a golden retriever in human form, and he feels every inch one as Eddie takes long, measured steps towards him. If he had a tail he’d be wagging it so fucking hard his ass would be wiggling. 

“Full disclosure,” Eddie tells him at a step and a half in. “I was actually thinking about getting on my knees and sucking you off until your soul left your body, at Gary’s party, last weekend.” Steve bites his lip, doesn’t say a word, ignores the heat thrumming in his veins. “Don’t you dare kiss me right now, Harrington,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice that is very fucking interesting and Steve would like to explore more.

“Yep. Hands and lips to myself. Gotcha.”

“I also had a massive panic attack about it like five minutes later because you’re the best person I know and I will be fully, absolutely destroyed if I lose you, so. Before I set myself adrift here, are you sure you have a single fucking clue what you’re getting yourself into?”

“See, that’s the thing!” Steve points, just as Eddie takes another step, so his finger ends up right in Eddie’s face and he’s eyeing it like he might just pop it into his mouth. In for a penny… “You got really mad at me when you thought I was avoiding you, and I very much, totally was because I have like, two age appropriate friends and figuring out one of them might be the love of my life threw me for a fucking loop.” Too soon, way too fucking soon, he was supposed to like, at least get Eddie in his bed before he admitted that. “So. I’ve already had that crisis and I know I lied and told you it was nothing but that’s. What that was.”

The look shifts. Eddie’s eyes were already wide, so his expression doesn’t change all that much, but his eyes get a little glassy and the dimple in his cheek twitches. 

“Whoops,” Steve repeats and Eddie gathers up the hand Steve still has between them, guiding the arm down towards Steve’s side, lacing their fingers up together as he gets close enough Steve can feel his breath on his cheek.

“You’re an actual lunatic,” Eddie tells him, but he’s leaning in close, now, curling a hand around Steve’s neck. “Whoops, he says,” and Eddie shakes his head fondly, close enough that the tip of his nose swipes across Steve’s with the movement. “How long?”

“We’re still not kissing, right?” Steve asks, just to clarify, and Eddie smiles, shakes his head. “Yep. Still good with that. Sure. How long what?”

“Don’t play dumb, princess.”

“I mean – are you asking about me? Are you asking about me knowing about you? Are you asking about attraction, or feelings, or…”

“Sure,” Eddie says, and Steve supposes he walked himself into that. He’s still – Steve could count individual lashes dashed across Eddie’s eyelids, he’s so close. 

“Yeah. Alright. Me? Been trying to sort it out for a while, I think, since Vecna. For sure? Two weeks ago, when you made me come watch your campaign finale, or whatever.” Eddie’s eyes gleam with interest, and Steve can see him searching for a specific moment, but it hadn’t been a specific moment, it had been an amalgamation of the last seven months of his life, and watching Eddie in his element, threading together a sweeping close to a tale he’s been working on for a full year, seeing the kids delighted faces, thinking about all the shit they’d been through and all the terrible things they’ve seen, it had all clicked into place. “You? I didn’t know, know. Just. Robin’s always saying there are signs, if you look for them. I hoped. I was looking for them.” 

Had to talk himself into and out of reading into signs multiple times, honestly. 

“I had some very confusing boners before I understood them, so I can’t really pinpoint that one, but a while,” and Eddie’s lips curl up, which is nice. It’s one of his favorite things to do, making Eddie smile like that. “The… I liked you from the start, is the thing, so there isn’t just a single moment but… you remember that night we got up on the roof of the van and got way too fucking high?”

“You couldn’t find the Big Dipper,” Eddie recalls fondly. 

“Yeah, well, you were right there next to me, being all freakishly smart about constellations and looking at me and when you told me about your mom I wanted to just – tear the whole fucking world apart for you. So.”

“So,” Eddie says, and his voice has gone whisper soft and his breath is fanning across Steve’s face and his eyes are big and brown and soft at the edges.

“We’re still doing the no kissing part, right?”

Eddie hums. Tilts his head to the side just a bit, and his nose stripes across Steve’s cheek. “I could probably be persuaded otherwise.”

It’s – he’s –

“If I admit the panic might be coming on now, will you change your mind?”

“Absolutely.”

“Cool. I’m very chill about this.”

“Steve,” he says, and his voice is so fucking soft, and his fingers are skittering up the side of Steve’s arm. 

“Freaking out a little bit. Don’t – you can stay here, though.”

“I’ll stay here as long as you need.”

“While we’re here, you could – I mean I know I said I clocked you pretty easily but if you wanted, I would definitely be okay hearing about – how. How that happened.”

Eddie’s eyes flit up, hold Steve’s. “You lying about anxiety to get me to tell you my dirty secrets?”

“I’m not that smart,” Steve tells him, and Eddie’s smile tilts up at the corners.

[meli-writes]

Mechismo - No. 04 /// Hit List

(First) / (Previous)

The broken war-machine falls to its knees, embroidered with a hot-white trim in the three perfect holes of its precious, now-former, systems; spilled out, as black smoke, except for its heart.

That falls out after.

“Hey. Princess,” you say to her, brass hard-but-hollow, the used shells her imperial-blonde hair rushes into, as she breathes into the dirt pushed underneath painted nails, as boots tread on them before she can reach for her pistol.

“You,” she snarls, twisting on bent limbs. “Fucking asshole I’ll— Hey!”

You hoist her up at an elbow, till her few, furious trembles collapse into a copacetic dangle and watch a local, mouse-analogous species squeeze itself under some muddy shrapnel.

“Princess”, you mutter, “you wanna live. So you’re gonna yield to me, okay?” And that’s rhetorical, because ‘deathwish’ isn’t in her—

“Not a chance in His hells,” she shrieks, kneeing herself free, and reaches — not for her holster, which is still full — but for your face. Crack! You catch it after, bring it behind her back to lock in re-used, disposable cuffs. “I can… I can take care of myself,” she protests.

“I know. That’s the problem — I won’t let you hurt my people.” You yank her back, till she trips and is left leaning on you, “Now yield.”

“No,” she squeals, “why would I ever trust you again?”

You trusted me?

Fuck, Princess. You’re dense as tungsten-tips.

You baulk at her, unseen from behind, and reswallow the budding softness before she feels it, “Cos these guys will bleed you out for fun. And I’ll let them, if I have to.”

There’s a wet shuffle-over-fallen-log, the familiar pitter-patter of light, temperate rain on plastic poncho. Another hunter who’ll see her in a moment. So you rock her around, without mind to the furious look painted like camo on her face, and take her at the small of her back — and pull her into a kiss.

“Fuck— it really is,” the hunter starts to mutter, before the words catch in his throat.

You know him; too new not to take it by-the-book, not too dumb not to listen to you when it counts. “Sir, what’s happening?” he asks.

You have to make this count.

“What? She’s a pretty thing, ain’t she?” you muse, as if you’ve pinned her to the wall for nabbing extra rations, and not—

He’s got his rifle over his shoulder; tall-as-him, rounds as big as her cock; is too drilled to not be gentle with it. He’d seize up if you drew on him, and it’d take him too long to respond in kind. “I had a thing with her back in the royal college.”

“Uh huh — before you betrayed me,” she cuts in, and you will her to shut-up and wonder if she still loves fingers squib-loaded down her throat.

“Before they realised I was a saboteur, Princess,” you remind her, though her eyes look the same as the first time she realised it. “We were never on the same side.”

“Never on mine,” she hisses, her own heart fallen out too. “Trying to fake your own death and blaming it on me…”

You would fill into the silence, And it would’ve kept you away, and, Still you found me, if you weren’t aware of the audience, so stuff yourself with unload pride, “Offered to take you with me, didn’t I?”

She looks like she’s gonna cook-off, “You don’t know what I was—”

“Sir,” he reminds, and you look at him; realise he is gentle, because his rifle is kick-stood on the ground and you didn’t hear that. His hand rests on his holster, “She’s on the hit list.”

Pilots to be put down. Machines to scorch, so no one else can use them.

Pilots like assassins, in their bonded semi-mechs; merchant third-sons with an insecurity to smother in bodies and merc hires; and ex-noble fuck-ups with nothing left but what they can prove.

Pilots like her, who’ve seen the gun and are nuzzling into your shoulder so deep you can hear the little killer’s loose heart pressed between your chest and hers.

“Look— Fuck— I— I yield,” she whimpers.

You run a hand up her back, to rake through her hair and tip her back.

“Then scrap the mech,” you say past her, looking in her eyes and slipping to her that same fear, before swelling viciously upon her desperate sweetness, “I’m not done with this one.”

---

(Masterpost)

[ninzied]

swear to be overdramatic and true

based on the word prompts study, puppy and soft for @rwrdrabbleprompts. there's a drabble for each and in that order if one's inclined to count :)

The signs are there. Later-than-usual nights up. Missed mealtimes. Alex’s half of the bed gone cold because he’s taken the couch yet again. Alex’s hair in disarray, and not at all because of Henry.

He never thought he’d be jealous of books.

Alex has fallen asleep with one this time. He stirs when Henry nudges onto the couch, letting the textbook drop so his arms can go around Henry instead, bringing Henry’s hand to his hair.

Henry sleeps, everything in its rightful place now.

He wakes to the sunrise that is Alex’s smile, warm, and slow, and teasing, and his.

“Baby,” says Alex, voice still hoarse in the loveliest way. “Where are the rest of my books?”

“Haven’t the faintest.”

“Gonna get them back eventually, H.”

“Yes, you do that.” Henry gasps as Alex mouths at his collarbone, Christ he knows how sensitive Henry gets there when Alex hasn’t shaved for days. “Oh, but do that first.”

Alex does find them later that night, stacked on the nightstand, between the pillows, even wedged beneath the covers.

“Would you believe me if I said it was David?” yawns Henry. From the foot of their bed comes a low whine of protest.

Alex turns a page with one hand, taking Henry’s with the other. “I don’t sleep well without you either.”

“Haven’t a clue what you mean.”

Alex gives him a look over his glasses, which won’t help Henry sleep anytime soon, and Alex knows it.

Some hazy amount of time later, loose-limbed and all-the-right-kinds-of-sore, Henry says, somewhat guilty, “I kept you up.”

“Goes both ways, sweetheart.” Alex kisses his nape. “You wanna… stay… up?”

“I can be persuaded,” says Henry, and if Alex’s abandoned books wind up on the floor amidst all that persuading, Henry can’t be blamed for it, really.

[trans-luis-serra-navarro]

HI ERIC HELLO PLEASE HEAR ME OUT

i literally can't stop thinking about something

i loveee re6 AUs with luis, but

death island!luis !!!!

specifically, a scenario where he saves leon instead of/with rebecca. like imagine him working with rebecca on the vaccine and delivering it to the island to save leon and the rest 😭😭

and i actually see two scenarios here

either luis is obviously alive and all, and leon knows it, and it's just, hey! my husband's here to save the day!!

OR it's a big reveal lol. rebecca shows up there like, 'a friend helped me', and it's LUIS there with her. like, i know rebecca is super capable and she made the vaccine all alone in the movie , but just imagine if it was actually a bit more complicated, so she would have to reach out for help, and who would be better than luis

i NEED to see luis and rebecca team up, they'd work so well together 😭😭

and older serennedy!!!!! omg

i just need to see older luis 😭😭 and the parallel with him delivering the suppressant in re4, and now the vaccine

i don't know what i wanted to say with this and i really didn't think it through that well, and it's rushed, but i really need to share these thoughts 😭

@silverhexrt HI SO UM. THIS ASK WAS SENT IN JUST OVER A WEEK AGO and it gave me SUCH AGGRESSIVE brain worms that I was like Oh this would make for SUCH a cute little Drabble!!!!! But then I just. Kept going. So I accidentally made a whole entire fic for you!! I really truly hope you don’t mind!!!!!!!!! ;^^/

I know this blog is more of a character analysis blog so if you or anyone else still wants to talk to me about the LOGISTICS of what Luis in Death Island would look like I’d be MORE THAN HAPPY TO RAMBLE cuz I am SO FASCINATED by how that would work character and legalities wise,,, but uh for now!! I hope you don’t mind this little thingymadgig I made!!!

Fatigue was the overwhelming sensation dragging Leon’s body down. His breathing was labored and his skin burned against the Velcro of his protective gear- far from unfamiliar territory in terms of the worst symptoms he’d survived. But this somehow felt so, so much worse.

Leon felt like he was dying. Like actually dying. Which was downright terrifying.

He hated that he even knew what dying felt like. Leon could easily pick up on the little ways his body began to shut down; it felt like he couldn’t breath in far enough to fill his lungs, his limbs felt weighed down by an invisible force, his vision was blurry… except, this time, it was his own body killing him from the inside-out.

He was much more used to- even comfortable with- the close brush of death being from the hands of a Bioweapon or loose debris crushing his body. Leon at least had some level of control in those scenarios. He could kick and wriggle and spit and cuss out whatever was holding him down until a miracle freed him and he could load bullets into the face of whatever was hunting him.

But Leon couldn’t run from his own body, no. And oh, how badly did he wanna run until his legs burnt beneath him.

Leon had only ever felt that inherent, gut-wrenching urge one other time. One other time when he was on the brink of death and freedom alike; warm tan hands and cold needles in an isolated village so far from home. Leon could’ve taken the medicine and ran. He could’ve watched the world burn from behind his lovers back as they chased windmills without a care in the world.

He could’ve faced death in the eye. He could’ve taken the blade of the knife for him. He could’ve been just a fraction of a second too late for Ashley. Oh, the possibilities.

What a weird time to be thinking about Valdelobos. Maybe it was just his oxygen-deprived brain desperately trying to connect the dots for one last dream. Like falling asleep with the TV on and having a dream about the movie you’d just watched. Arias had his own ‘inspirations’ from Los Illuminados, after all. Maybe he was just trying to think of one last happy memory to drift off to.

Leon hoped dying would be a little bit like falling asleep. He was never religious, never superstitious- but deep down he hoped that he’d be reunited with the loved ones he’d lost. Finally, finally getting the chance to feel those warm palms against his cheek that he missed oh-so dearly.

Leon sighed and let the concrete below his hands wobble a little. He could just barely make out Chris and Claire’s labored breathing from behind him- the only other thing keeping him grounded.

But god was it getting hard. He couldn’t tell if it was just the pure exhaustion or the virus or what, but Leon’s head felt so heavy. Heavy enough that it almost felt as though somebody was holding it up for him. He let himself pretend, just for a moment, that it wasn’t just his imagination. That the warmth on his cheek wasn’t his flushed skin and were instead the hands of a lover, keeping him upright and rested against a beating heart that Leon was sure was just the blood roaring in his ears.

He let himself pretend that the stroke he felt against his cheek was his lovers thumb. A lover so considerate that they’d wipe the blood off of his skin and tuck the loose hair behind his ears. He pretended that the murmuring of his ears giving in was somebody talking to him, whispering comfort in his final moments.

Leon almost let himself give in completely to the imaginary man holding him- the distant scent of leather and cigarettes felt so real, after all- but a cold prick against his neck and the immedie, cold relief of fluids beneath his skin snapped him back to reality.

His breathing came back to him in time with his heartbeat, his fingertips pulsed with the sudden pumping of blood, and…

The feeling of somebody holding him hadn’t gone away.

His cheek was still warm with another man’s hand. His nose still stung with the smell of leather.

His heart was still beating in time with somebody else’s.

Leon hesitated. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He knew he was just dreaming- that he’d look up and the vision of the man he yearned for every night would disappear like a mirage. He wanted to keep them closed and pretend for as long as possible. Until-

“Leon? ¿Corazón? Mierda, Rebecca, he’s not responding-“

Leon’s eyes opened just slightly.

He was staring down at the concrete, somebody must’ve moved him to get access to his neck easier. But he wasn’t dreaming. He wasn’t dreaming of the arms clad in white wrapped around his shoulders and the ringlets of curls that fell around his vision, shielding him from the fluorescent Alcatraz prison lights.

Warm hands went back to stroking his cheek.

Leon wasn’t dreaming.

“Leon? Oh, please wake up,”

His voice sounded so broken, so quiet. Leon had never heard of it like that. It broke his heart.

“I can’t- I can’t leave you here, not like this, not again, please…”

Leon couldn’t take it anymore. He was terrified to roll over and face the man he’d chased in his dreams for so long but he had no other option. He’d rather he disappear and it all be his imagination than hear him this sad ever again.

Leon turned his head and blinked up at Luis like a newborn deer. His big, brown eyes were wet with tears but that stupidly charming smile was unmistakable.

“Hey there, Leon…”

Luis managed to croak out, the hand against his cheek trembling from the tears. Leon reached his own shaky hand up to brush Luis’ long, grayed locks out of his face just as he had done moments before for him.

“I must be dreaming,” Leon huffed out, and Luis chuckled, shaking his head and the tears from his reddened cheeks at the same time.

“If you’re dreaming, then so am I, I’m afraid”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Luis chuckled and Leon wasn’t far to follow suit. Even with the end of the world on his shoulders- even with Dylan fighting tooth-and-nail to break down his, Jill’s and everyone else’s spirits- Leon still found time to laugh with Luis like it was autumn of 2004 all over again.

“Just like old times, eh, Sancho?” Luis gave a little sniffle, and while Leon had more than too many questions to ask- how he was even alive was obviously the most pressing- he just couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Yeah,”

He let himself rest his head against Luis’ chest. Heart beating strong, almost as if to mock Leon for ever doubting his lover's strength.

“Just like old times, Don Quixote…”

[mystwrites]

I'M BACK HELLO :D the lee tanizaki thing you wrote was so cute, i have to request another fic 🖤

this time hmm- could you maybe do lee geto and ler gojo with 💃 and 🥥: "oh come on, loosen up a little!" please?

again, no worries at all if this doesn't speak to you or you don't wanna write it for whatever reason, i hope you're having the loveliest day 🖤🖤

My 200 Followers Event will close in 7 days!

“Oh sweet!! I love this song!!” Gojo cried, jumping out of his seat and starting to dance. “C’mon Suguru! I need a dance partner!”

“No thanks. I like watching you dance.” Geto replied, amazed at the moves Gojo had. “Damn dude! Since when could you move like that?”

“What do you mean? I always had these killer moves!” Gojo shot back, wiggling his arms.

Geto snickered as he watched his best friend do the most ridiculous dance moves. Maybe blasting music in the dorm at this hour was a bad idea but he didn’t care. As long as Gojo was being silly, he’d willingly suffer the whack to the head Yaga would give them.

“Suguru! C’mon!” Gojo urged, doing the moonwalk over to him. “Dancing is so much fun! I need a partner!”

Geto laughed, watching as Gojo tried to go up onto his toes and do the Michael Jackson classic pose. “Sorry man, I don’t have the same…slick moves as you.” he replied, laughing harder as Gojo fell over holding his feet. “And you know you’re no ballerina, Satoru.”

Gojo frowned and stood up, continuing to dance as he approached Geto. Now slightly nervous, Geto scooted back until he felt his back press up against the wall. That specific look Gojo got when he intended to stir up some trouble was present.

“Suguru.~” Gojo purred, yanking Geto up and spinning him.

“Hey! Dude, cut it out! I don’t wanna dance!” Geto squeaked, finding himself dipped and Gojo’s hand supporting his lower back. “Okay, you’re on thin ice, Satoru. Let me go!”

“Oh come on! Loosen up a little!” the white haired teen chuckled, pulling him back up only to poke his sides. “Plus, it’s just the two of us. Shoko and the others can’t tease us.~”

“S-still!” Geto argued, a wide grin on his face. “The music is too loud! Turn it down! We might get in trouble! I’m not even supposed to be in your dorm after the last incide-AAAHA! Oh my gohohosh, dude! Knohohock it off!!”

Knowing this would get a reaction from the dark haired teen, Gojo continued to poke his sides. A slight blush formed on Geto’s cheeks and when Gojo lobster pinched his sides, Geto jerked away. The funniest part was that he jerked away at the exact moment the beat dropped, Gojo dancing as he sauntered over to give him another jab to the tummy.

Gojo only followed his every move, poking, prodding and squeezing the ticklish spots he had memorized. He knew that Geto would break down and submit. It was just a matter of consistently poking Geto’s weak spots.

“There we go!” Gojo exclaimed, continuing to tickle his best friend and watch him dance around to avoid him. “But now actually move to the beat of the song, you silly goose! Let loose! Hey that rhymes!”

Geto jumped around the room, trying his best to avoid Gojo’s tickling fingers. “Ihihit was a shitty rhyme! HEY! No!!”

It became a little tango, Geto laughing and trying to stay away while Gojo tried to get as close as possible to him. After a few more minutes of forcing Geto to move to the beat of the song, Gojo decided that was enough and tackled him to the floor, the two a pile of flailing limbs.

“Hey! Dahahammit Satoru!!” Geto growled, raising his hand in an attempt to bonk his friend on the head playfully. “You’re reheheally getting on my last ne-AAAAHAHAHA!! QUIT IT YOU AHAHAHASS!! SHOKOOOOOO!! HEHEHELP!!!”

“Wow! Calling me names now, Suguru?~” Gojo teased, pressing his cheek against Geto’s. “I’m hurt! I thought you loved me more than you loved Shoko!”

“IHIHI TAHAHAKE IT BAHACK!! MY LOVE FOHOHOR YOU HAHAHAS BEEHEHEHEEN REVOKED!! AHAHAHAA!!” Geto spat, slapping at Gojo’s wandering fingers.

“Oh hell no! That won’t happen! I’m gonna tickle you until you take it back and say that you love me!”

“YOU AHAHARE A PAIN IN THE AHAHASS, SATORUUUHUHUHU!!” Geto cried, finally submitting to the tickles.

Gojo snickered as he drilled his thumbs into the dips of Geto’s hips. Screw dancing, getting Geto to dance was a lost cause from the start. Maybe all Gojo wanted was to hear his best friend’s incredible laugh.

And maybe, just maybe, Geto enjoyed the silliness as well.

A/N: Thanks for another great request Rey! I hope you enjoyed some Gojo and Geto silliness😆

[starshideurfics]

Thirsty Thursday - Pussycat

steddie, omegaverse, mdni🔞

Eddie loves Halloween. He loves scary movies and pulling together a costume at the thrift store and the preponderance of fun size candy bars everywhere he goes all morning.

Steve loves Halloween too. For sluttier reasons.

All through high school, Steve loved the excuse Halloween gave him to show a little skin while wearing a cat ear headband and get felt up at a shitty party while drunk on shitty beer.

Now he and Eddie are together, he loves getting his alpha into a lather before going home from a party and finally turning him loose in the bedroom.

They were out with their friends, and Steve was a bit more covered up, but before leaving the apartment, Steve lifted his skirt to show Eddie a flash of his underwear. A promise for when they come home and Eddie can touch.

Steve only has a couple drinks, attached to Robin who insisted on dressing as a scratching post so their costumes went together properly. She did a great job, most people understanding her costume right away, but having Steve in his slutty back cat costume next to her sells it.

Eddie’s been good, sticking to the rules and keeping his hands to himself so they don’t have a repeat of New Years, getting stuck in Nancy’s bathroom because they couldn’t wait and Eddie’s knot took almost half an hour to release.

But as soon as they leave, his hand is on the strip of skin between Steve’s shirt and waistband. “Please, baby,” he whispers, “Need to feel you.” He stops them outside the van, gripping Steve’s hips and trapping him against the driver’s side door. Eddie presses in just enough for Steve to feel the hardness in Eddie’s jeans.

Steve grins, looping his arms around his alpha’s neck, and leaning in for a biting kiss. “I said you could play with the kitty cat when we get home, but I’ll give you another look. In the van.”

Eddie nods enthusiastically, gently removes his hands and takes a step back.

He’s all too much motion and gangly limbs as he hurries to the other side of the van to open Steve’s door for him. Steve just smiles as Eddie offers him a hand to help him up, laughing to himself as he races back to the driver’s side and climbs in next to him.

Seated, doors closed, Steve flips up his skirt again, showing off his black cat g-string, petting at the cat’s forehead with a pair of fingers. “Start the engine, puppy. Don’t you wanna get home so Puss can come out to play?” He winks and flips his skirt back into place.

Eddie struggles to get the keys in the ignition, but once he’s driving Steve takes pity on him and holds his hand where Eddie is white-knuckling the clutch.

“That’s my good puppy,” Steve soothes when they finally arrive home, and Eddie scrambles to get Steve inside and to their bedroom as quickly as possible. Steve tells him to strip and sit on the bed, and Eddie obeys, staring at Steve the whole time.

Slowly, Steve pulls off his top, then shimmies out of his skirt, leaving only his tiny panties in place. He knows the barely-there gusset is wet through and he struts over to the bed. Eddie looks up at him, eyes wide, pupils blown.

“You can touch now, puppy.”

Permission granted, Eddie nuzzles against the thin mesh over Steve’s pubic bone, breathing deep as his fingers knead at Steve’s plush ass.

Soon, he’s got his mouth on Steve, gusset pushed aside as he licks and sucks. He spends the next hour playing with Steve’s pussy, before he finally helps him out of his panties and guides him onto his lap.

[uruncletobi]

jealous Astarion and clever Ilmrae not much more to it ೃ⁀➷ enjoy

“This place makes me run cold, and that’s really saying something.” Karlach shook an invisible chill off of her body as the party sauntered into Reithwin Town. The Shadow-Cursed Land had a sinister air about it but something about this desolate town was particularly grim. The signs of former life decorated the area like a grotesque reminder of all that were taken by the curse. There was no turning a frightful eye, no way of escaping the plight at hand. Even with the large glowing moon lantern, Ilmrae shivered at the thought of dark corners, and necrotic imbued monsters. Both of which the party had plenty of experience with. It had been a couple days since their first arrival at the Last Light Inn and they were beyond tired. Even Ilmrae, leader and under-dark dweller themselves, was ready to see the sun.

“From stinking swap to this nightmarish hell realm-you really do spoil me, darling.” Astarion quipped, batting sarcastic eyes at Ilmrae. They rolled their eyes at his comment.

The Moonrise Towers would not be far off according to Jaheira’s instruction. When they arrived, Ilmrae was not sure what to expect. So, all things considered, Reithwin Town would at least be detour enough to give their fearless leader time to think.

“The Waning Moon?” Karlach read out loud, the dingy sign hanging in front of the building. “What’s say we pop in there?”

“Certainly can’t fair much worse in there, than we already have being out here.” Gale responded

“And maybe there’s booze!” The tiefling beamed, elbowing the wizard a bit harder than she realized.

Ilmrae turned her gaze to Astarion and then back at the tavern, nodding their head towards it like an invitation.

“Great gods-you want to go in there? To do what? Toast to our parasitic infection?” The vampire huffed. “Well, not when you put it that way, no.” Karlach sighed.

“C’mon you undead grouch, lets live a little! Beside’s standing out here is giving the creeps. I wanna go in.” She whined.

Astarion looked at Ilmrae as if to ask for help, to back him up but they were already heading towards the entrance of the bar. “I really am the only one with any sort of eloquence around here.” He exhaled, dragging his feet towards the entrance.

Pushing the main door open, the party was met with an all too familiar odor. Death. Ilmrae quickly took note of several zombie stumbling about the bar. They braced themselves, a green cloud of eldritch energy swirling from their hands.

“Wait.” Karlach said stepping forward. “I don’t think these guys are out to get us. Just let me try something.”

“Karlach-don’t!” Ilmrae hissed. “OI! STINKY!” Karlach bleated, waving her axe around teasingly.

One of the undead patrons lifted it’s head in response. It’s eyes were cloudy with infection, and it’s limbs hung loosely by it’s sides, but it did not approach. It simply cocked it’s head to one side confused and then ambled forward, clearly disinterested in picking a fight with the group.

“Gods Karlach, what was that for?” Ilmrae groused. “Dealt with a zombie or two in my day. Just wanted to make sure they weren’t some super shadow powered freaks.”

“Right because we haven’t run into enough of those, have we?” The vampire mocked. Ilmrae ran a hand through their hair before speaking again but was cut off by the sudden introduction of another voice.

“YOU THERE! COME SIT. DRINK!”

The party peered around the banisters to get a better look at the one charging the thundering orders. Towering behind the bar stood an impressively large undead elf. He wore a haphazardly sewn leather mask that only showed his right eye, and on his back; a massive barrel of mysterious liquid that gurgled with his every move. Apart from his stature the elf was also outstanding in his mass. Each limb appeared waterlogged, swelling beyond its capacity and his stomach bigger still. A deep cavernous suture ran down the length of his gut, either side of it puckered and bruised. With every step he took Ilmrae found themselves bracing for it to break open like a damn, releasing a most foul river of entrails and fermented alcohol.

“SIT. DRINK. TELL TALES!”

Ilmrae eyed the group before cautiously approaching the bar, signaling for the rest of them to stay back. The elf swung his arm backward, elbowing one of the valves on the barrel and it spurted a stream of steaming liquid. A substance Ilmrae was unfamiliar, and quite frankly, uneasy about. “GO ON THEN! DRINK. LET IT BE DRUNK.”

Astarion narrowed his gazed. He didn’t trust the hunk of flesh bartender and feared for a moment that Ilmrae might be so naive as to drink the strange beverage. Ilmrae liked a good time more than the next drow but they weren’t stupid. Drinking that concoction most likely meant turning into one of those cloudy-eyed, undead barflies and they knew better than to accept plain offers from strangers.

The drow grabbed the gauntlet and appeared to throw the drink back with such gusto, it made the entire party’s breath hitch. It was all an act of course. Ilmrae pretended to wince at the strong flavor, before flashing the party a sly grin. Karlach visibly relaxed, prepared to scold them but she was cut off.

“NOW, TELL TALES! GUTS AND GLORY! STEEL AND SEDUCTION.” The undead barkeep tossed back his own serving of the mysterious liquid, stumbling a bit as he spoke. The barrel on his back glugging horribly with it. Ilmrae studied his position, deciding on if they could be a convincing liar in this situation, and if it was a good idea at all.

“C’MON! STORIES, I WANT A GOOD STORY!” The elf slammed his fist on the bar, rattling the entire thing. Ilmrae understood his urgency and began spinning a tale about an unjust ruler. One that ended with him being gutted by his own people. The elf listened silently until the very end. When the drow was finished, he cocked an eyebrow at them. Not completely convinced by the story but entertained nonetheless. “MORE! DRINK. AMUSE ME!”

“Darling! I love your stories as much as the next bloated oaf but don’t you think playtime with the bartender is over?” Astarion gestured at Ilmrae to wrap up the charade. His prominent nose pointed to the sky in annoyance. Someone was getting bored. Ilmrae held the vampires gaze until he was forced to look away, completely vexed. He huffed something about ‘a waste of time’ to Karlach before turning around completely.

In response Ilmrae simulated a long chug of the mystery drink, and started up on their next tale. One that featured themselves as the main character. A quiet night, the moon hanging overhead peering down on the scene below. One where Ilmrae and Karlach find themselves tangled up together in her tent and they didn’t miss a beat. From first kiss to climax, the details were so fleshed out you would have thought it were all true.

“I hear you loud and clear, soldier! You come see me next time you need something to warm you up!” Karlach nudged the vampire playfully, who was clenching his jaw to keep from interjecting as Ilmrae’s story came to an end.

“SPLENDID! MORE. MORE!” The elf chortled dreadfully, while rapping his cup on the table.

“I think we’ve all heard quite enough.” The vampire spat out the last two words, his carmine iris’ whet with jealousy. Ilmrae stood up from the bar, meeting Astarion’s gaze. “Very creative, I didn’t know you had such an impressive imagination.” He sneered as he turned to join them on their way out.

“NO! DON’T LEAVE! DRINK. STAY.”

The group quickened their pace as they left the tavern, the sound of heavy footsteps, and thick glugging following behind.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

When the group finally arrived back at camp, they were still laughing over Ilmrae’s storytelling escapade; Karlach throwing around half serious seductions, and Gale recounting the tale with shakespearian eloquence. Ilmrae had tried to downplay their teasing, seeing how Astarion had spent the entire trip home, silent. By the time they arrived he hadn’t even bid any of them good night, not even his companion. In fact he moved with such swiftness, the drow had not noticed until the others turned in shortly after.

“My dove,” Ilmrae cooed, peeling the front of the tent back. “Not poking around Karlach’s tent tonight, I see. What changed your mind? Enlighten me.” He said sharply. Each syllables curled around his lips like they were refusing to leave him. He was cold and appeared completely disinterested despite his words.

“Astarion,” They paused, getting on their knees to meet his far off gaze. “I have only, and always wanted you.” Ilmrae reached their hand to cradle the vampires chin, but was met with a larger gap between them as he leaned away their touch. “No,” He sighed, his eyes narrow beneath his brow. Ilmrae’s stomach dropped, and for a moment, could sworn they were falling. “Prove it.” “What?” They whispered.

“I said, prove it.” The vampire leaned in, nipping softly at their neck. Ilmrae’s concern slid of their face, revealing a new expression. “As you wish.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“You wound me, Astarion.” Karlach gripped her chest, feigning a gruesome death. “I really thought I had a chance for a moment there.” Astarion stood confidently, chest puffed and hands gesturing about. Ilmrae smiled as they emerged from his tent to join the two. “Gods! There you are! I gotta tell you soldier, I haven’t heard sounds like that since I was in Avernus.”

A thick blush covered Ilmrae’s face, but they didn’t turn away. The drow beamed at their lover. “What can I say, he’s a really really great storyteller.”

Astarion grinned, clearly feeling fully satiated by the whole scenario. There was nothing he loved more than a clean victory, the idea that everyone in camp was more assured than ever, that Ilmrae was his, and he was theirs.