#it's also why his gloves are so fucked up. my mans will NOT stop biting them

[thisblogisblank]

Boo Punch Out OC jumpscare.

Meet Sonny Wylde!! A Wylde (haha) child from Sydney, Australia. Sonny himself is a very gentle, kind, and quiet man, preferring to just keep to himself and stay out of trouble. However, this is mostly because when he gets too much adreniline in his system, it triggers something in his brain, and turns him into his alter ego - Scrappy Wylde! He's like a Walmart Jekyll and Hyde. Scrappy is completely and utterly feral, and doesn't care about the rules or the preservation of him or his opponent, all he cares about is knocking you onto the mat with as much damage done as possible.

Also he kisses Joe on the side but that's neither here nor there

@colourfullightz the son boy :]

[teddiesworldd]

after the world ends.

ghost finds you out in the woods during a zombie outbreak and falls in love with you. (2.6K words) read part 2 here!!!

a/n: this idea has been on my mind for a while and it was so sweet i just had to write it down and share it with you <3 also, if you'd like to be added to a taglist, let me know!

pairing: simon ghost riley x female reader

tags/warnings: nsfw, mdni!!, apocalypse au, mentions of weapons, killing (zombies), survival situation, unprotected p in v sex, cute fluffy stuff in the middle of a zombie apocalypse because why not?!, soap makes an appearance

day 17 of the apocalypse, 3 weeks after the first outbreak.

you had lasted this long purely by camping out in the back of your car, driving somewhere more remote to avoid the infected and rationing whatever you'd managed to bring in from your kitchen at the beginning of it all. but as supplies got low and you were down to your last water bottle, you were forced to venture out into the nearby woodland, gathering whatever you could forage from the streams and bushes. you knew absolutely nothing about surviving out here. you couldn’t hunt and could barely light a fire. the first day of winter was in less than a month and you had no real shelter to keep you warm. you had no idea which berries were safe to eat or how to filter water. all you had was your kitchen silverware for protection and your best winter jacket for the weather.

you’d last about 2 weeks out here at best, and that’s without the fucking zombies. 

you'd been walking for about an hour since leaving your car, and to be honest, you didn’t think you could find your way back now. everything looked the same. you had found only a pocketful of what you could only guess was edible, and a protein bar from the pocket of a dead guy’s jeans. every single noise scared the hell out of you. and the bite marks on his neck raised your adrenaline tenfold. 

thud. thud. snap.

footsteps. sticks breaking underfoot. 

“who’s there?” you called out. “i’m- i’m serious, come any closer and… and… i’ll kill you!”, shouting now, cold hand gripping your rusted kitchen knife tightly.

you saw a huge figure behind the trunk of a nearby tree, and he chuckled lowly at your brave attempt to scare him away. “you don’t scare me, sweetheart”, the voice said, deep and rough, walking out from behind the tree, “thought y'were a rabbit or something - cute lil' thing, rustling in those bushes. and if i was infected, you’d be dead by now, with a mouth on you like that.”

he was an absolute giant of a man, 6 and a half foot at least and built like a brick shithouse. he was in full military gear, skull mask over his face, armed with a rifle in hand and knives strapped to his chest and belt. he approached you slowly, palms facing you like he was trying not to spook a stray cat. part of you wondered if you were hallucinating - you'd not been sleeping well from the nightmares of the infected night after night.

“no use shouting, anyway - they’ll find you straight away making all that noise.” he continued, leaves crunching under his black boots, walking closer, “what’s a girl like you doing out 'ere, all alone?”

you were frozen in place, like a deer in headlights. he was already intimidating as fuck without the massive armoury hanging round his waist, but now he was so close you could feel his breath on your face. a thought crossed your mind that if he tried to kill you now, there would be absolutely nothing you could do to stop him. it made a shiver run down your back.

his gloved hand reached out to hold your chin. you looked up at him, eyes welling up from the pure fear that ran through you.

“lost?” he said quietly, tilting his head to get a proper look at you. 

you nodded slowly.

“well, you won’t get far with that old thing, love” he smirked through the mask, eyeing the blade in your hand. “here, i’ll take you back to camp with me, make you a proper meal, yeah? when did you eat last?”

you engaged in some light small talk on the way, finding out he was called “ghost” and he used to serve in a special operations unit for a private military company. i guess it made sense that the best survivors would be the soldiers. you mentioned how you’d been living in your car for the past two weeks, which seemed to amuse him. he probably thought you were just some dumb girl who’d somehow managed to scrape through until now.

he wasn’t wrong, really.

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

his camp was much nicer than the back of your car. 

it wasn't far from where he'd found you. they had lots of weapons and food and beds. and people. there must of been about 10 men in total. the infected weren’t really an issue with their impressive arsenal. there was a large fence surrounding the camp and the men took it in turns to kill anything that tried getting inside. it was pretty clear that ghost was closest to one of the other ex-military guys called "soap". they sat together when they ate and stayed up late at night talking together around the fire - matching dog tags glinting in the dim light. you often watched them through your tent door - enjoying their company but not wanting to interrupt their conversation. you listened as they talked deeply, recounting their time serving together, telling stories of bravery and bloodshed. it became your routine to fall asleep listening to them.

after about 3 or 4 weeks, following the first snowfall, you’d adjusted to life in the camp. soap had taught you a few things and often spent the mornings taking you hunting or showing you how to use the guns - a hand on your waist as he lined you up for the kill shot. he had a sweet nature and silly charm to him, telling you ridiculous jokes that only made you laugh because they were so stupid. you would never tell him that though - he thought you found him hilarious.

however, it was ghost you’d grown closest to, giving you anything and everything you needed. he was mysterious and that drew you to him. one time, he took you down to the river to wash the cookware and yourselves, and you'd caught a glimpse of him pulling off his clothes and mask, blonde hair and muscles seeing the light of day. you couldn't deny it - he was gorgeous.

he often checked on you in the evenings, making sure you’d settled in okay. he sat next to your bed, running a gloved hand over your hair, rubbing small circles into your scalp.

“you like the boys?” he’d ask, “they treating you okay?”

and you’d nod, just like you’d do every night.

“not scared, are you, doll?”

you shook your head.

“good. just making sure.”

and with that, he’d leave, heading to his own tent to rest, or out to guard the fence.

but one night, before he got up to get some sleep, you grabbed his hand. he looked back at you, dark eyes watching yours.

“stay?” you whispered.

and he did, without a word. stripping off his heavy gear and perching next to you in bed, rough camo trousers scratching against your bare shoulder. 

and he stayed, just like you asked. watching over you like a dog and keeping you safe.

sometime in the night, you’d turned to face him where he sat, resting an arm over his thigh. but he didn’t push you off. he just let you rest - your warm breath causing a dampness throughout the tent. 

it was only when the winter sunlight streamed through the tent that you realised he really did stay - all night. you opened your eyes to see he’d settled in next to you, his sleeping body alongside yours in the small camp bed, your arm still around him. 

and when you tried to pull yourself away out of embarrassment, he pulled it back, keeping it over his chest. 

“for warmth, yeah?” he said quietly, voice all deep and sleepy.

and how could you argue with that? these were trying times, after all. 

after a moment's silence, he said “you’re a pretty thing, love. always thought so, even when i first met you and you were all scared and dirty.” he continued, heavy eyes looking down at your vulnerable form. “soap thinks so too, but you’re mine, yeah? i found you - you’re mine.”

there was something about the possessive glint in his eye that showed you he really meant it - his gaze trailing down from your face to your uncovered hips that had shuffled out the sheets in your sleep.

"cm'ere" he said, taking your arm in his grasp and pulling you towards him. "i mean it, love. do you wan' to be mine?" eyes watching your face to see how you'd react to his question. your faces were close now, closer than they'd ever been. he'd looked after you so nicely, giving you everything you needed, protecting you from harm all this time. you couldn't help but agree with him. how could anyone not fall for this attractive man who cared for you so much? and the feeling of his chest under your hand made you fall for him even harder.

"yeah," you whispered against his masked face "...yours."

your small hand reached up to reveal his lips under his mask. he pulled you in, kissing you softly. it was short but there was so much behind it. you could tell he wanted more but he was holding back. he didn't want to accidentally push you away by moving too fast. he pulled back to look at you, hands cupping your soft face, which was still clouded with sleep.

"you're so beautiful, you know that?" he spoke so softly now. it was like the walls he'd put up had fell instantly. he just wanted a moment to be yours. no one else's. not the camp's cook or the guard or the hunter. just yours and nothing else.

you pulled yourself back to his face, kissing him again but soon moving your lips down to kiss his chin, and then his neck. but you didn't get far before he stopped you.

"no, no, love. let me take care of you - you deserve it." he said, turning you around so you were on your back, head resting on your plush pillow as his touch relaxed you.

it was almost as if for just a moment, you weren't in the middle of a fucking nightmare. you were at home, in your own bed. maybe you'd met him at work or out on a date - anywhere that wasn't in a forest full of zombies. and he'd taken you out for dinner a few times and you'd decided he was sweet enough to be kissing down your body, rolling his tongue over your nipples.

but here you were, in a camp full of strangers, being transported by this man who you barely knew, covered only by the walls of a thin tent. but it just felt so right to let him take you like this. you trusted him with your life. and in return he worked your body like magic. his touch was so gentle - yet his skin was so rough compared to your own.

"you want me inside you, baby?" he spoke to you so softly, having kissed down to the top of your underwear now. his eyes watched you, waiting for your permission to carry on.

"please," you replied, "i want you."

that was all he needed to hear. he pulled off his shirt and your underwear, tossing them both to the side. he admired your body shamelessly, eyes tracing the outline of your waist and your body. you couldn't help but do the same, entranced by the way his muscles practically glowed in the light that came through the tent. he was built like a rugby player, pure muscle but with a good layer of fat on top to smooth everything out. you watched as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock.

he was huge. you knew he was a big guy but you weren't expecting it to apply to all of him. it was definitely bigger than anyone you'd ever been with. his tip was an angry shade of red from how hard he was, precum running down his shaft. noticing the expression on your face, he reassured you.

"don't worry, i'll be gentle with you."

he lined himself up with your entrance, your wetness being enough to allow himself to push slowly inside. it stretched you more than you ever had been, causing you to hiss as it dipped inside you. he bent forward down to kiss you sweetly, silencing your pained noises, shushing you each time his lips left yours. he continued to move in until he bottomed out inside of you.

"you okay?" he grunted, "tell me when to move, love."

you paused for a moment, adjusting to his size before nodding to let him know he could start moving.

he didn't fuck like you expected him to. you thought a guy like him would be railing you like an animal, but no. he made love to you, his slow but deep thrusts hitting all the perfect spots in your gummy walls. it was pure bliss, and he thought so too, struggling to keep back his grunts each time he thrust into you.

"fucckkkk baby," he'd say, dog tag hanging down as he fucked you, "your pussy is so tight, gripping me so good". he hooked your legs behind his back and moved his big hands onto your hips to hold you in place. " is it good for you too, doll? you look so pretty with that fucked-out look on your face." he went on, smirking at you like he was proud of his work.

you couldn't even form words, let alone piece together a decent response. he felt amazing, pulling all the way out so only his tip was inside of you and then pushing all the way back in again, until you were an absolute drooling mess, jaw slack and whining on his cock. and just when you thought it couldn't get any better, he moved his hand between your legs and rubbed lazy circles on your clit with his thumb. almost instantly your pussy started pulsing around him - with you blubbering out incoherent swears and moans - having sent you completely over the edge in a matter of minutes. he wasn't far away either - your clenching making his hips stutter back and forth as he helped you ride through your orgasm. you could of swore you were seeing stars by the time he pulled out of you and came over your stomach with a moan, pressing his forehead to yours.

it took you both a few minutes to come back down again, giggling and kissing his lips once more. your arms found their way around his neck, holding him close to you. you were both a panting mess, clothes discarded across the tent floor and the scent of sex heavy in the air.

"my girl- you're gorgeous," he managed to huff out, catching his breath. " 'm never getting over you."

when news broke that a zombie apocalypse was spreading, you had no idea it would lead to this hunk of a man in bed with you - spoiling you and loving you like this. you weren't complaining, though. not at all. at least something good came from it.

he cleaned you up so carefully, being sure not to press too hard on your sensitive body. and when he'd made sure you were okay, he brought you something to eat and led down with you, stroking up and down on your back, drawing shapes and letters on your skin. part of you couldn't believe this was the same guy who you watched shoot a zombie in the face through the fence the other day. his hands were so gentle, always cautious not to hurt you under his touch.

and as your eyes grew heavy again, revelling in his embrace, you heard him say something into your skin.

"simon," he said quietly, face buried in your neck. "my real name's simon."

˚✧. thank you for reading!

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˚✧. dividers by @ saradika-graphics and @ si-eunnis

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[moonlight-prose]

this is pure thot, sending one about Gabriel Van Helsing fucking you in his jacket (because he thinks you look so goddamn good in it - only it, and nothing else) 🦇💕

note: i need you know i screamed and fell over and actually made a fool of myself writing this. because where is this man and why isn't he married me??? i want to be his hot witch wife who helps him fight monsters. also i love the amount of asks people sent in about him. clearly we need more van helsing in our lives.

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY!!, rough sex, p in v sex, possessive gabriel, outdoor nasty time, hints of wolfism, he's feral.

It's a full moon when he finds you bundled in his leather trench coat, waiting out the chill in the air as he finishes yet another job well done. The autumnal solstice has come and gone, bringing darkness to the world around. Giving leeway to the monsters who clung to the shadows, biding their time for the moon's glow to lead the way.

You've opted for thin clothes. A horrible choice given the change in seasons, but Gabriel vowed this would be simple. The inn refused to open its doors for someone like him - claiming he was a monster in his own right. And perhaps that was true.

Whether he liked to admit it, the wolf inside of him never truly passed. The antidote may have changed him back, but the instincts remained. His thread of anger grew thinner the fuller the moon got, his thirst for blood thickened like sweet honey as his changed DNA craved something fresher. Something made up of veins and nerves and a beating heart he could stop.

"Finished?" You shudder at the sight of his shirt torn open in the center, his chest on full display for you to ogle at blatantly.

"The bastard tried to play with me."

A smile curled onto your lips, sly and smooth and dripping with lust at the biting rage behind his words. The moon was affecting him. Far more than he would have liked.

"I'm sure you taught him a lesson," you reasoned, moving swiftly to reach for his warm hands. "You always do."

"That my coat?"

His eyes trailed down to the way it gaped across your own chest, your dress slipping down lower than you intended. But Gabriel was only a man and the adrenaline ran through his body like a fire he couldn't put out. The moon's glow fueled his thoughts, his urges, and before you could explain that you were cold he was walking you back into the trunk of the nearest tree.

"Last I checked I gave that to you to hold," he said. Although his eyes said something else - the ache crawling its way through his body, settling at the base of his spine.

Your chin tipped in defiance. "Last I checked I didn't need your permission to wear your clothes."

"Is that right?"

"It is."

The smile on his face screamed contentment, but the fire in his gaze explained to you the turmoil he fought on the inside. The war that waged in his body at the very thought of touching you. Of getting his hands on what rightfully belonged to him.

"I'm rather cold," he replied, dipping his gloved hand beneath the leather fabric. Brazenly groping your breast as his tongue dragged across his bottom lip. "Might need this back."

"Then take it," you gasped. "It's yours."

A blur of movement left you winded when he hauled you up against the tree, his strength increased by the moon's piercing glow. Teeth latched onto your neck like an animal aching to mark his territory. The quickness of his hands digging to raise your dress stole whatever sense you had left in your head.

Out in the open you were nothing but prey for this man to take. A feast for him to dine on with a wet mouth and throbbing cock. You couldn't deny the harsh wave of lust that swept through you even if you wanted to.

"It is mine," he gruffly stated, swiping his cock through your dripping folds. "The leather and the pretty thing inside it."

Your eyes rolled back when he entered you faster than you could take. The burning stretch caused you to sag against the tree, his fingers harsh against the meat of your thighs. There was no warning. Just a kiss pressed sloppily to your lips, a growl muffled into the heat of your mouth, before he slammed into you again.

"Should have known better." His bit at your bottom lip until copper flooded his mouth - a streak of red smearing between your mouths.

The smile on your face was tainted in crimson. His cock jolted within you at the sight. Bloody and fucked out and perfectly his in every way he could have you.

"W-Who says I didn't?"

"Minx," he bit out, a hand slamming to the trunk behind you, fingers ripping at the bark. "I want you to finish."

"Gabriel-"

He gripped your throat, eyes flashing dangerously in the darkness as the beast within began to rear its ugly head. There would never be another full moon where he turned. Never another night spent locked inside a monster's body. But he would forever be stuck with it as his companion.

"Finish. And then I will fuck you properly in our home," he snarled, grinding into you hard enough to hurt.

The coarse hair at the base of his cock dragged along your aching clit. And with a muffled shout against his cheek you gushed. The numbing pleasure drowned you, dragged you through the fires of hell before seating you atop the throne of heaven.

His cry of your name barely registered, but you felt the swell of his cock when he broke. The drip of his spend slipping down between your bodies. His blood still ran hot - desperation skirting the edges of his patience - but for a moment he relaxed into your touch.

Kissing along your throat until his lips found yours once more.

[sunnyswide]

Simon & Konig x Female Mafia reader

The room was almost pitch black with flickering ceiling lights that seemed to always have that cliche fly swarm. You sat uncomfortably in a metal chair, wrist tied behind the seat.

“Where.. am I”

You could barely hear yourself, with your whole body throbbing in pain. The room looked as if it was spinning slowly, endlessly in dreadful misery.

Your breaths were labored as you tried to hold your head up, in front of you, a pair of slick black military boots cross your blurred vision.

The sound of metal scrapping the ground to your right.

“Someone awake”

You look up to see a man in a skull mask, leaning against the wall of neatly hanging tools and weapons. He was large. 6 foot and a little more. Simon Ghost Riley they called him. Ghost. A monster in human flesh when it came to torture.

The metal screeching stops as a much larger man fills your vision.

He flips the metal chair around, folding his arms on the top rail, propping himself lower just to meet eye to eye with you. Konig. 6’10 giant. Took out 30 so men just by himself. At least that’s what you heard

Your heart races at the sight.. at some point you realize why you’re in this situation…

Fuck..

You look at Ghost.. watching him stare emotionlessly at your state. Which you couldn’t blame him for being so rude..

“Don’t look at him. He’s not going to help. Look at me.”

…

“I know”

You glare at him intently, there was no way you’d let him intimidate you.

“Don’t get to cocky. Look where you are nobody’s gonna find you. Not your damn soldiers.. nor those shadows”

You gulp, feigning fear but you couldn’t help but feel like breaking. Telling the truth wouldn’t be so bad?

“Where are the chemicals.”

You stare at him blankly, mouth sealed.

“Not talking?”

He looked back at Ghost, standing up from his seat.

“Last chance. Or he’s taking over”

You already knew his ways. Fuck. Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He began unhooking the knvies.. saws.. drills, anything that would make you regret staying silent.

“Alright luv, ready for the show?”

Ghost flipped the knives in his hands, placing the sharp edge dangerously close to your skin.

“Start screamin-”

He stopped, looking at your face. Your eyes squeezed shut. You were already tearing up, holding back little squeaks of pain even though he barely moved the knife. Your cheeks plush and slightly puffed with air as you “prepare” for the pain.

“What are you..”

Konig walks over to you, pushing your hair out of your face to get a better view. Fucking hell. You were on the verge of sobbing.

You opened your eyes slightly, sniffling at what’s to come. The small whimpers that comes from your rosy lips fill the rooms silentness, making the two men stop in their tracks.

You looked.. in their heads

“Fucking adorable”

“Is it in yet” you mutter inconsolably. Little diamond tears slowly dripping down your cheeks

You asked them as if they were administrating a flu shot. Jeez. Look at you.

"I.."

His knife retreats from your throat. Well fuck you just mess everything up don't you Luv?

Konig holds your face, rubbing the tears away with his gloved hands, making a bloody mess all over your face.

"stop! you're just making my face sticky" you whine, needing two hands just to hold his.

"Liebling.." Konig mutters as he marvels at how cute look look.

SImon sighs, using his rough fingers to clean your wet puffy cheeks. Its hard to hurt someone so adorable. weren't you suppose to be okay with pain?

He bites his lip, looking at your flustered face, filled with fear but also inexperience. Maybe they'll just take you back home, far away from the crime life which you clearly don't belong in.

[verai-marcel]

Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 1 of 27)

Summary: Not every adventurer wields a weapon. You, a hearth witch living near the banks of River Chionthar, are witness to a craft falling from the sky, and wondering if anyone needed assistance, ran down to find survivors. That was your first mistake. Going along with the survivors on their crazy adventure? That was your second mistake. Will you survive your next mistake of letting a hungry vampire bite you?

Author’s Notes: Full disclosure: at this point, I’ve only played through act 2 without romancing Astarion. So why the fuck am I writing some wholesome Astarion x F!Reader? Because I’m dumb and got spoiled on Youtube, and now I can’t stop thinking about the poor guy. Also this is heavily influenced by a couple of wholesome manga (“Life in Another World as a Housekeeping Mage” and “The Forsaken Saintess and her Foodie Roadtrip in Another World”), but I won’t be writing an isekai. You (reader) are from Faerun like everyone else. I’m just here to have some wholesome feels and hurt/comfort. Let’s go go go.

Tags: wholesome, cozy camp time, Astarion x F!Reader, slow burn, good alignment, BG3 Spoilers

Chapter Word Count: 1,843

Ao3 Link here, Darling.

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

Act I, Chapter 1 - The Beginning

You are a hearth witch, living on the banks of the River Chionthar, making potions and herbal remedies for the small villages nearby. For the past three years, you’d been happier than you’d ever been in your life. You loved helping people, but you made sure not to reveal your real name, nor why you always wore long sleeves and gloves, even in the middle of summer.

But the nearby villages had been emptying as of late. News of the goblin camp that recently appeared nearby had first scared off the traveling merchants, and then the locals. You realized that you too should leave, otherwise you’d either have no more customers or goblins on your doorstep. You only had a dagger and a few spells that did little in ways of actual damage, so defending yourself against a horde of enemies was out of the question. So you began to pack up, figuring out what you could bring with you, and what needed to be repurchased once you reached your new home, wherever that might be. 

On a warm sunny day, you decided that this would be your last day here. Your pack was filled, your cottage cleaned out. Tomorrow morning, you would take off to the east, following the river to the next closest town. For now, you decided to grab a few more ingredients for the road, and so, you were out by the river bank, gathering fresh herbs and mushrooms. 

A booming sound followed a strong gust of wind that whipped around you, twigs and grass flying everywhere. Then you saw a ship crash nearby, the land and water being torn asunder, debris flung in all directions. After the chaos died down a bit, you went to go check for survivors. You couldn’t, in good conscience, walk away if someone might need help.

That was a poor decision on your part.

The first survivor you found was a young, dark-haired woman, passed out on the shore. She seemed standoffish, but after helping her up and giving her a drink from your waterskin, you convinced her that the best thing to do was to get out of the area and rest at your cottage while she regained her bearings. 

A little while later, the two of you came upon the strange sight of a single arm, sticking out of a glowing purple rune. You and the young woman, Shadowheart, pulled the poor man out. He introduced himself as Gale, and also joined your party.

As the three of you continued back to your cottage, you came across another stranger. Skin as pale as marble and hair to match. Had some scars on his neck. Perhaps he got them on the ship? He seemed harmless enough. Another escapee of the craft that fell from the sky.

That is, until he tricked you into looking for something in the bushes.

If only he hadn’t touched your exposed neck with his bare hand. Then you wouldn’t have felt the fear, underlined by a desperation you knew all too well. 

The leash is cut.

It made you empathize. And that was one rule that had been burned into your mind at a young age. 

Do not empathize with the enemy.

Fortunately, Gale and Shadowheart talked him down from stabbing you. The man even apologized to you, though it seemed more for show than for sincerity. 

Astarion was his name. He introduced himself with aplomb and decorum, and your hackles raised at the sight. A noble.

After a bit more conversation, they agreed that their shared affliction was enough of a reason to travel together and find a cure.

Swallowing down your general prejudice against nobles, you ignored him and made small talk with the others as you led them back to your cottage. 

***

Your cottage had only one room, enough space for your bed, some storage for herbs and tools, and a work table for your alchemy. Most of your things were packed, but you pulled out enough to take care of your guests. 

The yard to the side of the building was set up as a small campground for travelers to rest. You had figured out a couple years ago that for a small fee, traveling merchants would gladly rest on your land where it was safe, while you made them fresh, nourishing meals and cast spells on their bedrolls to make them feel warm and comfortable. You even managed to get a small tub built in the back to provide a warm bath for an extra fee.

It had been a lucrative idea, one that made you enough money to be quite comfortable out here in the sticks.

You may only know a few cantrips, but you had manipulated them beyond what most people did. Your mending cantrip could fix whole swaths of cloth, your prestidigitation cantrip could keep bedrolls warm all night, or baths hot for hours. It was why you had several repeat customers, traveling merchants who would alter their routes to come to your place to rest. 

You told them of the surrounding area and cooked a meal for them, a simple stew with seasonal vegetables and herbs.

The noble said he wasn’t hungry. You supposed your poor peasant food wasn’t to his taste.

He can suit himself.

While the others were eating, you set up the campground. While you were quietly casting the comfort cantrip on each bedroll, you sensed someone watching you.

“Yes?” you asked, biting the inside of your mouth to keep from being snippy.

Astarion stepped closer to you. He remained standing, looking down on your kneeling form. “What an interesting way to use prestidigitation.”

You shrugged. You had nothing to say to a noble. You finished your spell and started to shuffle over to the next bedroll, but he remained standing in your way.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all, darling.” He didn’t budge.

You let out a short huff and crawled around him. One bedroll left. Ignoring the man, you began the cantrip.

By the time you finished, you looked up to see all three of them watching you.

“What?” you asked, a little disturbed by the attention.

“I hadn’t thought to use that cantrip like this before,” Gale said as he knelt down to touch the bedroll. “How long does it last?”

“All night,” you responded, feeling a little proud of yourself.

Shadowheart was already crawling into the bedroll. “This feels amazing.” She buried herself into the cloth. “It feels like I’m sleeping on a warm cloud.”

Gale shrugged and followed suit. “Gods, you’re right.” He sat up and looked at you. “I don’t know how you manipulated that spell, but it’s absolutely brilliant.”

You felt a zing of joy. Your little custom cantrip impressed a wizard!

The noble watched you for a few more moments before he too, crawled into a bedroll. His eyes widened slightly. “Oh. My, this is rather comfortable.”

You jutted out your chin, but refrained from being too catty about it. Instead, you switched to being polite. 

“Sweet dreams,” you said to everyone, and went about cleaning up around camp. By the time you were done, the three of them were fast asleep.

***

The motley crew thanked you and took off in the morning to explore the area, seemingly never to return.

You looked around at your unpacked things, and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to start off tomorrow morning instead.

Your plans were sidetracked once more, however, when the group returned that evening with a fourth member, grouchy and prickly as a threatened porcupine. After a couple of bowls of your herbal soup, she became a little bit less prickly. Lae'zel was her name, and she punctuated her Common speech with her Githyanki tongue. You found it a bit endearing, the way one finds a stray animal that always hisses at you endearing. 

You cast a warming spell on their bed rolls once more, burned incense to keep the insects away, and made sure they were all comfortable in your little camp area outside of your cottage before going to bed.

The next morning, you got up early to make breakfast for them before they left to explore the ruins that they had found the day before. As you checked your rabbit traps, you noticed one of them was tripped, but the rabbit within was a mere husk, as if it had been dehydrated. 

Curious. 

You reset your trap and returned to camp.

“What’s that?” Shadowheart asked when she saw the husk of a corpse in your hand.

“A dried up rabbit.”

“That doesn’t sound appetizing,” Lae’zel remarked. 

You shrugged. “I can at least sell the pelt later. Sorry, you’ll have to make do with another vegetable stew tonight.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “That is, if you’re coming back here.”

The four adventurers looked at each other.

“I think we’ve taken advantage of your hospitality long enough,” Gale said. We’ll start heading west from here.”

*** 

The group had finally left, and you had finished packing. You had been delayed by their arrival, but no longer. They truly seemed gone now, with the sun setting and no sign of their return. Tomorrow for sure. Tomorrow, early in the morning, you would set off—

You heard your name being called. Off in the distance, you could see Gale, waving sheepishly at you, followed by the others. 

You sighed. Biting back your annoyance, you smiled and waved back. A customer was a customer. At least this group was entertaining, and quite generous with their gold. And this time, they brought you back some boar meat.

There was one new face, a man with a stone eye. He introduced himself as the Blade of the Frontiers, Wyll. He seemed nice, charismatic even. Someone who had the manners of a noble but the heart of a commoner.

They set up camp once more in your yard, and you unpacked just enough of your supplies to make them a meal. 

"You look like you're ready to go on a journey," Gale commented as you all sat around the campfire, eating a boar roast with herbed potatoes.

"I'm moving. Many people have moved away because of the increase in goblins in the area, and a lot of my business has dried up. And having goblins this close doesn't make me feel all too safe."

“Any plans on where?”

You shrugged. “Not really. I was just going to travel until I found a place to settle.”

"Well, why don't you come with us?" 

Everyone looked at Gale in shock, but then they all looked at you. 

"You do make camp much more comfortable," Shadowheart finally said. 

“And one of us would be standing guard at camp as well, so you would be safe,” Wyll added.

You saw no reason to decline. You liked most of them, save for one snotty noble. A constant flow of income would be nice, for once. You negotiated a decent wage and agreed to head out with them at first light.

That, dear hearth witch, was your second poor decision.

--------

Chapter End Notes:

Yeah, I basically made up a “hearth witch” class as a combo of druid, wizard, and cleric, but hey, welcome to Dungeons & Dragons, where homebrew classes happen all the time. Hope you enjoyed the fic! I'm actively working on the next chapter!

Update 4/4/24: All chapters are here!

Act I - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Act II - Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | 

Act III - Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 (18+) | Part 28 (END)

[twisted-gremlin]

Second years and semicolon

First years and explanation

Riddle: since tattoos didn't exist in the day of the queen of hearts, or anythibg of the like in the area, there is no law for or against them. Riddle believes that the queen would have a rule that all must have atleast one as a show of strength and fortitude or loyalty or somethjng. He just would make sure that you took care of the tattoo during the healing process. His mother probably disapproved of Riddle himself ever getting one because they could lead to an infection. So, Riddle would defonately talk to you about it, and what your means to you. I think, when the time comes. He might get a heart and rose semicolon tattoo for himself when he is old enough. He takes so much pride in it and absolutely adores it

Ruggie: he might see tattoos as a waste of money. Growing up poor, he has seen some people tossing away their money for a new tattoo. So he might antagonize you a lil more. I think Jack would actually be the one to snap at Ruggie, saying that your tattoo means alot to you and shows a big milestone. Jack dosent open up about more, so Ruggie asks you. You may either tell him to fuck off, so he does and just kinda keeps his distance. The other option is that you tell him, and he grows a bit more of an understanding for that. He is a lil more respectful and may steal some stuff for ya because you are currently broke as shit (thanks Crowley for helping)

Floyd: he fuckin thinks tattoos are the coolest thing. I think, if he ever got a tattoo, he would get a sleeve of random ass things, going to 50 differnt artists while it's being done. He bites your tattoo because look, a homing beacon of bitting. He would respect ya is you do share your story with him, and he even helps you, in his own way. He will steal you away if you get stressed, or share your guilty foods(he does this with Azul, you can't change my mind), he likes seeing his shrimp friend happy admit all the chaos they are in

Jade: he probably isn't one to get a tattoo, he might get a mushroom one as a memory of his time on the surface. But I think he would put together what your tattoo means, and so, he helps by pushing you a bit further if you don't already push yourself. If you do, then he will present himself as an obstacle so you can take a break every once in awhile. He does this with Azul and it works well with him, so why not with another friend/patron who is struggling. He will listen to your story if you wish to share it and will be there for you, and even offer to take you on hikes with his club.

Azul: I think he would not care much for tattoos, he is a business man, a tattoo would take away from the business. But when he saw yours and put together the meaning behind it, after his overblot, he accepts that, something is also wrong with him, so he asks you to his office for drinks and to talk. So he brings up your tattoo, he identifies in some way with your story, the struggling around others, the fear, the insecurity. He apologizes for his behavior recently as it put you and your livelihood in danger. He makes an offer of buying ramshake, giveing you a place on Octanavile, and a job at the Monstro Lounge. He would get a small smiple semi Colin that could be hidden in his gloves. It's a promise, to you and himself that he would never do such a thing again, he hurt his friends, scared people, and nearly killed himself. So he wants to be better than he was, being better also seems to help with his businesses aswell so why stop?

Jamil: I think he would have a bit of a stigma against tattoos, white would be for the wealthy, while black would be for criminals. Even tough it's not entirely true, he has it a bit ingrained in him that if you have ink on you, he hates you. So before his overblot, he would be cold and distant to you. After the overblot, he decides to ask about what your tattoo means to you/your culture. When you share, he apologizes for his stigma and thank you about shareing your story. I think he would ask for permission from his family and the Al-Aslims for a white and black semicolon tattoo. He helped Kalim take care of his so he knows how to do it, but Kalim this time helps him.

Kalim: bean boi already has one! So the two fo you bond over them. Tattoos are probably a mix of cultural and a sign of wealth, specifically white ones. So when you share your and the meaning to you, this man does what he can to support you, inviting you over or comeong over for meals, checking in on you every once in awhile, just trying his best to be aware of the feelings of others.

Silver: I think silver would be fascinated by it. He was allways fascinated by oddities in whatever differnt kind of fae he talked to, multiple sets of teeth, wings, horns, pointy teeth, whatever would make himself differ from the fae. He would be very respectful about it and be sure to research each Species or ask his father about it before asking the fae themself, as to not appear as to be rude. He asked Jamil about Kalims tattoos because he knows that if there was a gaurd or a retainer nearby, it's best to adress them about some things that may be rude culturally. So he knows what a tattoo is, and ends up asking you about yours. He apologizes that you have had to go trough such hardships and is glad that you are healing and are there for Malleus whenever he needs someone to be with that isn't one of them. He honestly respects you alot for it since Jamil told him that it's a bit of a painful process. He may ask some more about your world aswell because he is genuinely curious about the differences between the worlds and helps you as a fellow human who is very much lost in this new world

[moonrisecoeur]

i have been. debating sending this bc i know i am cringe. op i am so sorry feel free to ignore and delete bc this is just actual pure filth lmfaooo

op i literally think about pegging leon 24/7 its a full time JOB inside my brain i need to peg that man so fucking Bad its not even funny. i know hes so fucking Noisy. i wanna make him beg for my strap, i wanna fucking edge him until hes begging and crying to be fucking ruined. i wanna pretty him up, put eyeliner on him so i can make it run down his face from fucking him so hard. i wanna mark up his neck and pull his hair while i pulverize him. i wanna tell him hes taking it so well and how hes such a good boy, how pretty he looks bent over for me while i fuck his cute ass. i want him to hug me while i praise him bc hes so overwhelmed. tell him how hot it is hearing him moan and whine, encourage him to make as much noise as he wants, itd be cute to watch him try to not pillow bite because hes trying sooo hard to do what you want like a good boy. i want him to be borderline Incomprehensible, voice shaking and cracking as he tells me how much he loves me, how much he loves the way i make him feel. i wanna make him cum untouched. i wanna overstimulate him. i wanna grope his fat tits and milk his dick. i wanna make him watch himself getting fucked. put him in a collar, lingerie, fuck anything-hed be gorgeous no matter what he wears. shower him in kisses and affection and make him feel the most loved he has in his entire LIFE while short circuiting his brain n marking him with bites and bruises for everyone to see.

re2 leon is my fave man he has my heart and god id love to just take care of him. after a long shift i wanna slam him against the door and fuck him while hes still in uniform. make him feel so good. such a whiny cutie. cuff him up and bite his freckles while i fuck him late into the night, clean him up and cuddle him after, make him breakfast in the morning n give him kisses.

re4/re6/older leon is a subby bitch too. just as god damn fine and id do oh so horrific things to him. hed love it so much, not having to think, make decisions, take charge. just let me whatever i want to him. hed get off so hard being under you and told how fucking good, pretty, perfect he is. he needs your approval so fucking bad-its all that poor man wants, god he needs it so BAD. he needs to feel safe and loved and wanted, like this is Critical. id make SURE i fuck him so good he cant even think about his insecurities or problems. and dear fucking lord do not get me started on that slutty waist and button down of his in re6. he's keeping the gloves on while i press his hands into the mattress and bite his arms.

its so fucking funny bc i hc leon as a switch BUT GODDDDD SUBBY LEON MAKES ME FUCKING FOAM AT THE MOUTH LIKE A RABID, FERAL ANIMAL

its not a want it is a NEED

I NEED THIS MAN UNDER ME I NEED TO REARRANGE HIS GUTS !!!!!!!!!!!!

guhhh last anon again but now i really cant stop thinkin about sub leon. legit i have so much more to say i just love him so much. theres so much. More. i wanna say but lord. im trying so hard to be normal man 😭😭

first off. hi. hope u had a yummy thanksgiving if u celebrate it and if not i also hope ur having a good day !!

ALSO WTF WHY WOULD I DELETE THIS i literally woke up this morning and checked my tumblr notifs as one does and i literally see this behemoth of an ask and im reading through and im literally screaming bc why is this my internal monologue. like. did u get inside my head or something??? did u steal this from my brain bc i literally think about this approximately 1000 times a day.

i’ll literally be at work and my thoughts be like ughhh i wanna hurt him and make him cry but also want to love him and take care of him but also want to fuck him so so slow and deep i can feel it moving around if i put on hand on his abdomen and then i just spiral and then i remember im making a fuckin caramel macchiato or something >.<

so!! in spirit of our delusion i’m planning to write smthin for u based off of this vibe!! just give me a lil bit 👉👈

BUT TELL ME EVERYTHING TELL ME ALL UR THOUGHTS I WANT TO HEAR THEM ALL I WANT TO KNOWWWW ‘i have so much more to say’ okay prove it. tell me everything

[arak-the-other-kara]

"Wait, Woomeme, What're we—"

(Woomeme already dipped)

"Ohhh they left us again."

"Darn it... This is the sixth time..."

"My weapon...? Ma FISTS!!!"

*Jacklyn showed worn pink leather gloves, modified with spikes. Actual spikes. Actually metal spikes. Freshly sharpened.*

*"She has the highest LOVE out of all of us at LV 17."*

"Wait, what's yours?"

"LV 15."

"Makes sense."

"Anyways, although I have an... Unorthodox physical weapon, I managed to utilize something different."

*Liliana summons her SOUL, a relatively darker shade of magenta than it should be for a Perseverance SOUL. It then turns into a halberd.*

"...Woah..."

"Girl, the fuck you hiding this from us for?"

"I managed to get a hang of this in the afterlife. Was reluctant to use it before."

*Several dark purple ropes sprout from a bit above Liliana's arm stump. They then construct into a functional replica of the bottom half of her arm.*

"Tadaaa."

"Okay, back to our weapons. I have a... Pan?"

"Had this toy knife that was a gift from my mom... *Sigh* Replaced it with this cool dagger tho."

"Do you like my gun gun"

"... shoe."

*Lyric does a développé, showing off their pointe shoe*

.

.

.

"What do you taste like?"

*Jacklyn... Tries to bite his arm. Be warned that if he lets her, her canines are unusually sharp.*

"Jackie NO—"

(Clover) "*The attack does 14 hp* Not bad! If you're wondering why it does less to me, my player programmed me with a bit of a buff to make the game easier."

(Player) "No! I did it to enhance your expi..."

(Clover) "Stop with the excuses. Also, that did feel almost as good as shooting myself so good job! This leads to another problem: they just go up and leave, huh? I guess this has a silver lining. I can tell you why I hate religion. Settle down kids I've got a story to tell! There was once a kid from Texas. That kid was very into Westerns. So much so, that he made it his whole personality. The parents didn't care too much until they saw the kid being attracted to the most beautiful, kind, and dashing cowboy. Now, being Christian and loving another man was a huge no-no! They started trying to convert me in all types of ways. By berating me day in and day out to just grabbing their belt and whipping my butt whenever they thought he was attracted to a man. If that wasn't enough, they sent the little boy to a gay conversion camp. Heh, you know they aren't as bad as y'all think. They're lightyears worse. They electrocuted him, abused him, beat him, and even tried to exercise the gay out of him! (Writers note, I actually looked it up all of this can happen in a gay conversion camp. WTF.) After a while, the boy goes crazy and runs off to try to find a way out. It was difficult but after a while of practicing, he finally made it out of that hell hole. He found a mountain called MT. Ebott and the rest is history. *Laughed* You know, it's kind of funny how terrible my life is. *Pointed his gun at the kid who bit him* So don't ever have anyone mention Christianity around me or else *Shot in the air*"

[dontfeeltoohot]

Have a little 2k thing I wrote for my YTAU. Steve and Eddie are both sick, set in March 2023, 7 months into their relationship.

XXX

Eddie presses his face to his shoulder, rubbing his nose into his black Helloween tee. He’s over halfway done with his second client; some girl in her twenties who wanted flowers on her collarbones- how original. Sniffling, he wipes down the tattoo with his green soap solution and then goes back to shading the side of a leaf. His throat’s worse than earlier back at home, when he’d been curled up with Steve, both of the men sick and tired. 

Sometimes the tattoo artists wishes work didn’t exist, as he scrunches his nose up when a tickle winds its way through his sinuses. Picking up the gun and turning as far away as he possibly can, craning his neck, Eddie brings his arm up to his face. 

“iiHGkSH’ew! hihKTchuhEW! hh’GKtSCH’uhew!” Sniffling soupily, the long haired man grabs a paper towel from his station and blows his nose, wincing at the noise. “Let’s take a five minute break sweetheart, I need to wash up, and it’ll give you a rest from the pain,” he smiles.

“Yeah, sounds good. Bless you, by the way.” 

The way she looks him up and down has him giving her an awkward nod, knowing now that she’s flirting with him. Clearing his throat and wincing as it scrapes, he stands and throws the paper towel and his black nitrile gloves away in the wastebasket, then heads to the back where the bathrooms are. Yanking his phone out, Eddie clicks quickly to his and Steve’s text thread, then hits the voice message button, nostrils twitching. 

“hiKTsch’ew! snf! huhIhGKschEW! eh’IGkTCHew! SNDF!” He sneezes into his shirt so the sound isn’t as muffled, then clicks the stop button on his phone. 

Hope you enjoy, princess. Couldn’t catch a couple a few minutes ago, but hope these make up for them. 

Pressing send, it’s then he notices there’s an audio from Steve, too. Biting his lip, he makes sure his sound is down almost all the way, then puts the speaker up to his ear. 

“huhRESHHH’uh! EISHHuh!” There’s barely a pause between the loud, harsh sneezes, and Eddie squirms, imagining his boyfriend snapping at the waist, completely at the mercy of his worsening cold. 

“Fuck, Steve,” he grumbles, sniffling and scrubbing his nose with his wrist before looking back at the screen and typing. 

Also, bless you. Those sounded like you needed them. Can’t wait till we’re home and I can coax more out of you 😏😏

Peeing and washing his hands, Eddie sighs at the throbbing in his sinuses and the sluggish mess that’s making its way closer to the edge of his nostrils. This cold is by far the worst he’s endured in the string of Steve-born illnesses in the past seven months. 

The walk back to his station includes Peter stopping him and asking him if he’s free tomorrow; his day off, to be an extra set of hands for walk ins. 

“Oh, uh…” Eddie scrubs at his face. “Lemme get back to you? Think I’m comin’ down with something man, don’t wanna spread it around.” 

“Steve really is a germ magnet isn’t he?” Bryson pipes up from his station a few feet down, working on a man’s back. 

“Yeah, it’d be endearing if I could side step getting it too,” the artist jokes, even though realistically he doesn’t mind. 

“Oh well, maybe it’ll end up building up your immunity in the long run.” 

“My immune system was perfect before him,” Eddie chuckles. “But it’s ok. Just means spending time with my boyfriend curled up on the couch. He’s not a terrible patient like Alyssa is,” he gives Bryson a look, referring to the man’s girlfriend. 

“God she’s the worst. Like just rest for twenty damn minutes!” 

Eddie heads back to his area, pulling more gloves on. “You ready to finish up? We should be done soon.” 

“Yeah! But it’s really not that bad. I don’t know why people claim it hurts so much, it feels good to me.” She shimmies her shirt off again, revealing just a bandeau top, easy access to her clavicle. 

“Mm, probably just have a higher pain tolerance,” he explains, not wanting to play into her games. He starts his tattoo gun back up, dips the needles into the ink again, and goes to work. 

An hour and a half later, the musician is saying goodbye to Anna, smiling at the $80 tip she’s just handed him. At least that’s a plus. Shoving it into his pocket, he switches the money for his insulin pump, checking it quickly. When his numbers seem good, Eddie blows his nose again and coughs, shivering. A noise from his phone grabs his attention and he unlocks the screen. 

Audio message- 4 seconds

Audio message- 11 seconds 

Audio message - 7 seconds 

Audio message- 22 seconds

Jesus Christ. 

You trying to kill me at work? I can’t even listen right now. 

Just thought you’d wanna hear how my cold is 😇

Harrington, you little shit, you’re going to be the death of me. 🍆👅🤤

Nose running, Eddie sighs and rips yet another paper towel from the roll, pressing it right to his pink, oversensitive nostrils, blowing thickly. He can feel the paper get wet and grimaces- he finds mess from other people hot, but himself? Not so much. He drops down into his chair and lets his forehead thunk against his table, curls falling everywhere around his face. 

“Maybe you should head home early,” Liz, their only female in the shop, observes. 

“Nah, s’just a cold, don’t need to leave for it,” Eddie picks his head up slowly, feeling congestion shift as he does. “F-Fuck hold ohhhn-“ the tattooist turns away and pulls the neck of his shirt up over his face, aiming downward towards his chest. 

“hihGhKschew! sndf! Ugh, s-sorry that wahhs hehIHGKshhuhew! iiEIshuhew! Fuck! snfSNDF! That was gross.” 

“Yep,” Liz grimaces. “But like, also who cares? You’re sick, what’re you meant to do? Those tiny little kitten sneezes? Gotta at least get that shit out,” she shrugs.

Eddie’s acutely aware of how weird this conversation is. Either the woman is just that vanilla, or she’s fucking with him and into it. Because no regular person is going to just…say those words. Right? He rubs at his nose with the inside of his sleeve cuff, nose too sore to want to bother with another paper towel. 

“Stop germing your shirt up,” the bright pink haired girl rolls her eyes fondly. 

“Quit being a mom, I get that enough from St-sndf! Steve.” 

“Then quit being a bad sick person.” 

“Fuck you, I’m an Angel. I’m the best sick person.” 

“Says the guy who just rubbed snot all over his shirt.” 

Point 1- Liz. 

XXX

Steve’s been holed up in the back office of Not Just Coffee all morning with his tissues and cough drops, trying to reorganize some of their recipe files they’ve been keeping. As he squints at the computer screen, his nose scrunches up involuntarily and he scrubs at it with his knuckles. This fucking cold is going to make him lose his mind. It’s constantly teasing him, buzzing in his sinuses and head in a way that’s keeping him on edge. Slowly he inhales through his stuffy nose, triggering yet another itch to ignite. He taps the record button on his phone that’s been open to his messages all morning. 

“eHISHHooh! hhrIHDSTCHuh!” He rubs his nose harshly with the back of his hand, jiggling the tip and his septum, desperate for even slight relief. Steve’s sure Eddie will hear him rubbing at it. He stops it after a sickly sounding sniffle that makes him cough. 

Robin comes in looking worried a minute later, carrying a large mug full of something steaming. 

“I know you hate tea, but you should drink some. Will even made it special for you,” she says pointedly. “Stop being an idiot and try to not wallow in icky germs.” 

Steve raises an eyebrow, laughing a little. “Icky germs?” His voice is raspy and congested and Robin screws her face up, setting the mug down and backing up dramatically. 

“Just…drink the tea, and try not to infect every inch of the office,” Robin walks out quickly. 

“Great best friend you are!” He calls after her, but starts coughing by the last word. 

Glancing at the tea when his throat throbs, the barista sighs and brings it close, sipping on it. His face still screws up at the bitter taste, but even he can admit it feels good on his swollen throat, the warmth of the cup even feels good on his hands. Throughout the day, he manages to catch several more sneezes, even a few that turn into full blown fits, and the texts he gets back from his boyfriend make him blush. 

The brunette is half asleep in the desk chair when Robin comes in again, holding the till in her hands hours later. 

“Dingus, wake up enough to count the till. I’m not touching the keyboard,” she says resolutely, prodding Steve’s shoulder with her finger. 

“Nngh, fi’de…” Steve sits up and starts going through the task of counting the till, making change, sealing the money bag and putting everything in the safe. 

“You know you’re not coming in tomorrow right?” 

“Honestly? Wasn’t even gonna ask,” he admits, snuffling into a couple of tissues in his hand, blowing his nose and wincing as his ears pop. “Ugh, let’s get out of here.” 

By the time Steve’s walking into Eddie’s apartment; Robin’s up with Chrissy, he’s ready to collapse. Shutting the door behind him, Steve coughs and throws his bag by the couch, debating if he wants to shower or lay down. His boyfriend's big couch and cozy blankets win out, and soon the barista is burrowing under them, sweatpants and sweatshirt now replacing his work clothes. Not ten minutes into Hunger Games, he’s asleep. 

XXX

They need more medicine, Eddie realizes as he backs out of his parking spot behind the tattoo shop. Medicine, tissues, tea, soup. This morning they were sick but sure as hell not this sick. He makes the three mile drive to Target, slipping his sweatshirt on before he heads inside, knowing he probably looks awful. Oh fucking well, he can cough on anyone who might look at him wrong. 

He grabs both DayQuil and NyQuil, Tylenol, sugar free cherry cough drops, tissues, some earl grey tea, and then the musician stands in front of the ridiculous number of soups, staring blankly at it. Steve likes tomato soup and grilled cheese, so they can do that tomorrow. Eddie doesn’t really want anything tonight, let alone soup, but he grabs two cans of chicken noodle and a can of vegetable, head aching too much to try and focus more. 

By the time the artist is heading to the register, a few people around him have given him looks as he’s sniffled and coughed. His nose is running and he can feel the same coldish tickle that’s been bothering him all day start to grow. There’s a couple people in front of him for the self checkout line, so he pulls the neck of his dark grey sweatshirt up and his eyes flutter shut. 

“ihIKtSCHuhew! hh’Igkshuhew! ih’IHgKSHuh!!” The last one is louder than he means it to be, and the sniffle he gives after makes him cringe at how wet it is. 

Twenty minutes and six sneezes later, he’s walking inside his apartment, happy that Steve’s there. All he wants is to cuddle, which, yeah alright, maybe that’s a little sappy but he’s so damn tired and he feels gross and cuddling Steve always helps. When he sees a lump on the couch, he sets the bags down on the table and moves straight for the other man. 

“Stevie…baby I’m home,” he murmurs to the business owner, sitting on the very edge of the couch. “Steve, sweetheart. Come on…there we go, I’m sorry I woke you,” he smiles at Steve’s pouty huff, head barely peeking out of the blanket nest. 

“Y’home?” 

“Yeah baby, m’hone,” Eddie nods, bending closer so he can rub his face into Steve’s shoulder. 

“Mm, come join me. Think this cold is kicking my ass.” 

“Doin’ the same to me. I’ll change and be right with you okay? Don’t fall back asleep till I’m with you.” 

By the time Eddie’s back in the living room, Steve’s asleep, drooling on his pillow. Eddie chuckles and snaps a photo, setting it at his Lock Screen before crawling in next to him. 

[crystallizedkingdoms]

Crescendo

day 4 of @johann-appreciation-week! today is a Little Fang fic. to those who may not know, Little Fang is a goth rock band au. the band, Little Fang, consists of Lup as lead singer, Kravitz as main guitar, Johann as bassist, Sloane as the keyboardist, and Ren as the drums. Avi is a gaming streamer who moves into the Fangs' house unknowing of their popularity.

you can also read this on ao3 <3

“I can’t go on there, Sloane.”

The cracks in the concrete steps outside the venue could swallow Johann up if they wanted to. Staring right into the mysterious, dark depths, he hopes that they do. 

“You don’t have to. I’ll cover for you,” Sloane says. She is sitting right next to Johann, long legs bent awkwardly on those concrete steps. She knows she sounds stupid when she says something like that, but it doesn’t stop her from saying it. 

Johann hangs his head down and runs his fingers through his scalp. He wants to pull out his curls and disappear right there. “I’m almost desperate enough to believe you can do something like that.”

“Wow, you didn’t even call me an asshole this time. You must be really stressed.”

“I am!! I am and I hate it,” Johann stomps the heel of his boot against a small pebble on one of the concrete steps. He realizes immediately how ugly and childish it must look to see a grown man stomping against the ground like that. He crosses his arms over his chest and growls to himself. “I feel like, fuck, I feel the same way I did on our first show. That’s fucked up, isn’t it?”

The sharp features of Sloane’s face soften under the warm, incessantly buzzing light bulb from above the venue’s doorway. Johann thinks he might just claw her face off for daring to give him that look. Which is dumb, of course, Sloane’s his friend. That fact is so apparent when she hands him a braided, leather necklace cord. It’s a ritual the two of them started, way back in their beginning years. When Johann had these fits more openly. 

Sloane fiddles with the buttons of her fingerless gloves, saying, “Johann, if you’re feeling that bad, we can delay the show. No one’s going to shoot you for it.”

“No, no, we can’t,” Johann shakes his head and bites on the cord, shaking and biting it real hard in hopes that it’ll get all the anxious energy out of him, “I can’t delay the show because I’m… acting up, or whatever.”

“What’s bothering you this time, then?”

Explaining it would feel like needles being jabbed through his tongue. The light above them beats down on Johann’s skin and exposes him to the dark, lively night waiting to tear him apart. Still, he has to say something. Has to explain himself and be vulnerable again. Isn't that just the best part of having bandmates?

“It’s… everything,” Johann hisses out. “It’s the buzzing of electricity, the smell of alcohol and weed mixed with sweaty leather, bright lights and the taste of my own mouth and the sound of my own bass and it’s— it's him. I know, it’s stupid, I haven’t had these issues with our venues in, like, forever, but— something about the stress and everything about it is killing me and making me even more sensitive—”

“Wait a minute,” Sloane says. Her voice is stern and curt. “Who’s ‘him’?”

Oh, great. Johann stares at the cracks in the concrete steps even more intensely than before. “It’s nothing. I don’t know why I said that. Let’s go on stage.”

“No, now you have to tell me. Who the hell can make you act like this?”

“It’s not just him! I’m not that pathetic. It really is the whole sensory thing, but it’s— it’s also, ugh, the idea that this is the first time he’s going to what we are and what I’m singing about and he’s gonna act so different around me I can tell he will and I don’t want Avi to do that— wait, fuck.”

“Oh. This is about Avi, huh?”

There it is. 

Johann throws himself up onto his feet, almost falling off the stairs. He can almost imagine the scene: Little Fangs’ Rockport show cancelled after the bassist eats absolute shit on concrete and completely smashes his teeth to bits while freaking out over his roommate who wears cat-ear headphones finding out they actually were, in fact, a popular band and not some garage project anymore. Yeah, that would make headlines.

Thankfully, Johann catches himself, and swiftly tosses that thought away to head towards the door. “Forget I said anything. I’m not thinking straight. Let’s just go out there and pretend nothing happened, okay?”

Sloane doesn’t get up. She just sits there and cranes her neck to the side to stare at him with furrowed brows and a knowing look in her eye. “If you want that, that’s fine by me, but that just means you’re gonna have to confront this fear of yours head on without any good advice,” she says.

Johann could say something terribly mean about the quality of Sloane’s advice. He almost does. Like a cornered cat, ready to scratch and bite at the one offering safety. He does manage to keep his mouth shut and forces himself to stay put and listen to Sloane.

“Finally. Look, I don’t entirely get what your relationship is with Avi right now. I think it’s obvious, though, that our last few rehearsals have had a new song with lyrics that are so infuriatingly clear it’s about him that it’s been driving me insane that no one else in the band has mentioned it! The fact that it’s taken him this long to recognize it means he might not even realize it now.” Sloane stresses her words very carefully, saying her assurances in a way that don’t necessarily mock anyone, but clearly voices her frustration. Johann’s a little envious of her ability to do that.

“But if he does manage to get the meaning through his skull in this performance, well, what’s the problem? He gets it and he asks you about it after the show. You two talk it out, make out, whatever,” Sloane says, smirking at that last part. “What’s the big deal?”

“Well, um… Avi’s just been a little afraid of what would happen if this whole thing got out, y’know? If that’s gonna change how people interact with us. If it’ll change our relationship.” Johann’s hands are trembling and he runs the toe of his black boots against the cracks of the stairs, but a weight is lifted off his shoulders when he says this. “He barely listens to our rehearsals, you know that. He’s gonna listen when we’re up there, though. That’s always how it’s been with him.”

Sloane sighs and kicks herself up onto her feet. Her long hair sways gently in spring’s night breeze. “If this is such an issue for you guys, then why did you write that song? Why did you pitch it to the band? Why did you go through all of this if this is freaking both of you out?” she asks.

“I didn’t know this was an issue for him when I did it. He brought it up when I had already written it all. He assumed I felt the same, when it’s barely an issue for me! I’ve already had my share of dating drama with Kravitz and Brian—” Johann stops himself to raise his hands to his head and take a few deep breaths. “And… and I can’t just give up that song. I can’t give up the things I write anymore. I’m done with doing that. Isn’t that what you guys begged for me to start doing last year?”

“Not if you think it’ll stress your boyfriend out so badly,” Sloane groans and rubs the bridge of her nose. Johann has to try and stifle the immediate, instinctual refusal he’s had towards the word ‘boyfriend’ for quite some time, because really, what else could they possibly be at this point? “But I guess you got a point. It’s not even a guarantee anyone other than people who are in our circle will figure it out. I shouldn’t beat you up over that.”

Johann doesn’t smoke much anymore, but suddenly he finds himself craving one. “I think it’s less the idea of random crowds figuring out our relationship and more just the whole idea of me… making this whole thing real. By immortalizing my feelings in song. Sending it out into the world. I can’t take that back, you know?” he says. His voice grows a little louder as he throws his head back for some more air, “Our relationship is here now and I’m shoving it out there! Nothing can fall through the cracks once I get on that damn stage.” 

As he says that, both Johann and Sloane’s phones buzz in their pockets. Few minutes left ‘til the show starts. Lup’s probably freaking out. Johann thinks he might collapse then and there. “It’s too late to be quiet now, huh?” Johann mutters to himself. “Just gotta suck it up and get up there.”

Sloane bites the inside of her cheek, nice and hard. The two stand next to each other in silence, only the drone of the light bulb above them, and their ragged breaths. Eventually, she says, “You’re right, dude, it might be too late to be quiet now. You might’ve backed yourself into a corner this time.” 

“Haha, very comforting.”

Sloane ignores the sarcasm and places her hand on Johann’s shoulder. It’s light enough on his body that it doesn’t make all his senses go haywire, like they usually do when someone touches him in this state. “That just means you gotta get it together and play louder. Get onstage and really put your heart out for him. Show him that you’re not afraid to put the truth of you two out there. Someone’s got to be brave. Be brave for him.”

Johann doesn’t feel brave. Not when the world feels like it’s attacking him, not when there’s a restless energy filling him to the brim and waiting to burst out in some ugly fashion. Not when he’s so scared of Avi’s reaction.

But… oh, how powerful Johann feels when he’s onstage. Where the noises and voices of the plenty drown under his own loud music. Johann can be brave there, if nowhere else.

“Or, um, whatever. I don’t know. I’m not built for this kind of talk,” Sloane says, playing with the ends of her hair. 

“No, you’re right,” Johann says with a shaky breath. His heart is pounding in his ears, the light bulb is audibly flickering, and the cracks on the ground seem so much larger. “You’re right, Sloane. So, let's tear that stage up.”

Everything is so loud, but Johann can get louder. 

[skykkid]

Bad decisions

Mozenrath and you have a little Enemies with benefits situation going on, but is it really all there is between you two..?

Warning : NSFW

So I wrote this in the span of a few hours, maybe two hours or so, I hope you'll like it. It is not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes, also english isn't my first language. I love this man and i believe he deserves more attention. So here, I'm feeding the Mozenrath simps, enjoy :D !

This fic is also available on Ao3 @Littlespicyburrito

CHAPTER 1 : GROWING AFFECTION

Part 2

“- Wait ! Slow down..!” he urges in a breathy voice ending in a broken moan. I smirk down at him. “Why should I ?” I mock him. He bites his lower lip and inhales sharply, holding back a whimper as I sink back down on his cock in one go. This is way too entertaining. Seeing the dark sorcerer of the Land of the Black Sands reduced to a shaking and whimpering mess under me is too gratifying. “- Wait !” he groans. So I lift my hips at an excruciatingly slow pace, not taking him out of me just yet and I stay there, just hovering over him with the menace of my pussy milking him dry if I decide to sink back down. He glares at me with a mixture of disdain and arousal, like he could burn me with his eyes if he focuses hard enough. “What’s wrong Mozenrath ? Not as resistant as you thought you were ?” I chuckle. His cheeks flush red of anger and embarrassment and my cunt clenches in response to his reaction. I try to burn the image of him in my brain. He looks so pretty like this with his curls sticking to his damp face, his brows drawn together in anger and pleasure and his chest heaving rapidly.

I sink back down slowly on his cock and sigh in pleasure when he hits deep inside me. “Fuck..!” I curse under my breath, and I see his expression change from anger to smugness. “- You’re one to talk..you’re squeezing me so tight I would say you’re not very far either…” he mumbles. His words make my pussy clench and he hisses with a smirk looking into my eyes. “See..” he whispers bringing his hands up to squeeze my hips. The cold of his right leather glove is a big contrast with the warmth that emanates from his left hand. Even during sex the sorcerer doesn’t take off his precious weapon. Somehow the thought irritates me a little. It is proof that he doesn’t trust me completely. And he’s right. Who in their right mind would let their guard down around their number one enemy’s buddy ? It shows how smart he is. Another thing that irritates me and excites me at the same time. Mozenrath is so smart. Unlike me, who’s fucking the number one public enemy of Agrabah and the seven deserts. Jasmine had warned me about him. About his temperament, his thirst for power, his cruelty. We all witnessed it first hand at Dagger rock, and many other occasions. And still, here I am, sinking up and down on his cock again and again, not being able to think about anything else than him, and how pretty, how sexy he looks. How good he makes me feel. His grip on my hips hardens, pulling me out of my train of thoughts and to look into his dark irises. He suddenly straightens up, the shift in position making him hit a new spot deep inside of me and a high pitched whimper leaves my lips. He grabs my throat with his gloved hand and bring our faces closer together. “- Stop spacing out and focus !” he says in an angry tone, his voice still breathy. “ I am focused..!” I protest with a broken whimper. “ -Then look at me !” he orders me in that authoritative tone of his. My cunt clenches in response and he takes my right nipple between his lips to suck on it. His left hand moves from my hip to my waist and his hips rock faster into me. “- You should only think about me and nothing else..! I’m going to rule over the seven deserts..! Therefore you should already be doing as I say..Ahh..Look at me when I’m fucking you..!” he orders me in between moans. And I do. 

Usually when we encounter one another in a fight we bicker and berate each other. Here, in one of the bedrooms of his dark citadel, all my self control and inner fighting spirit dies. It’s so easy to fall for his commands, to submit to him. We lock eyes and for a split second I think I see something other than disdain and the need to control me in his eyes. My head falls forward and rests on his shoulder for support. He smells so good. Warm like the desert sand, and herbal and spicy. Probably from composants of spells that I don’t know anything about. This is bad. I shouldn’t think those thoughts about him. He’s my enemy. It’s fine. He doesn’t know. I bury my face in his neck and suck on the soft skin that’s usually covered in bandages there, leaving a purple bruise. He groans in response and I feel myself teetering over the edge of orgasm. I don’t want to come yet. Not before him. 

“-Ah I’m close..!” he warns me, which surprises me. His gloved hand harshly grabs a chunk of my hair and he makes me look at him. “-You’re going to come with me..! And say my name..!” He orders me again. A moan involuntarily escapes me. I am so close to come but I need a little something more. “I need you to rub my clit..!” I urge him and he clicks his tongue in annoyance. “- Such an annoying woman..” he grumbles but does it. His left hand leave my waist and sink in the space where out bodies connect. He rubs my clit in a circular motion, just like he did with his tongue a few moments earlier and the extra motion makes the pleasure spike in my guts. “Moze..! I’m gonna..!” I warn him. “-Yeah..? Do it… Come for me !” he whispers, and a few more strokes of his cock make the tension inside me snap. I feel him pulse inside me and my cunt clenches repeatedly around him. I press my lips to his and kiss him hard. His eyes widen in surprise for a few seconds but he doesn’t push me away. A series of moans leave our lips as he fucks me through my orgasm and his. When the high of our orgasm subsides I rest my head against his shoulder as we catch out breaths. “- That’s a good street rat… you know how to follow an order…” he mumbles, smugness in his voice. I straighten up in annoyance, about to berate him when my breath catches in my throat again. He looks beautiful. The tension usually present in his body from overworking himself and being angry has been washed away and the look of smugness in his eyes is relaxed. The insults I had in mind for him disappear and I stay silent. “- What ?” he asks with a frown and his usual disdainful tone, the relaxation I saw a few seconds ago  gone from his face. “Nothing…” I mumble as I lift myself off his cock. “I have to hurry and go..” I say avoiding eye contact with him. I put my clothes back on quickly, aware of his gaze on me. I have no idea about what he’s thinking right now but I hope he doesn’t pick up on the discomfort I feel. It’s always like this after we’re done fucking. I get up and leave as fast as I can so he doesn’t pick up on the growing affection I have for him. It would be terrible if he knew. “- Did you like it..?” he suddenly asks and I turn towards him surprised by his question. I bite back a chuckle at the thought of Mozenrath being worried about his performance in bed. “Um…Yes..It was…” I pause trying to search for a word that’s flattering for him without making me sound like the lovesick puppy that I am. “It was great..!” I say with a small earnest smile. He nods and looks away, seemingly satisfied by my response. I pause in my movements of putting my clothes back on. “Did you..? Like it I mean..?” I ask sounding more nervous than I would like. He looks at me for a few seconds, his gaze searching something on my features and nods. “It was good…” he says, looking like he wants to add something more, but decides against it. “Hurry up and leave my citadel..” he orders me and I nod silently as I put the last piece of clothes I wore tonight. It was a black two piece set with a skirt and a crop top, similar to what Jasmine usually wore casually around the palace. She had let me borrow them for my “date night”, unaware that I was going to see Mozenrath. She had looked happy about me going on a date with a mysterious guy. The clothes had initially helped me feel confident, now as I was putting them back on they felt like an attire of shame. I silently wondered if it was really worth it, putting all this effort into myself for a man that had truly only eyes for power and nothing else. “See ya…” I tell him as I approach the mirror serving as a portal between my room in Agrabah’s Palace and here. “- Wait.” he says with a stern voice. I turn around to look at him but he stays silent. “What is it..?” I ask curiously. “-…Come back in three days…” he says to me with a strange look in his eyes. “-I can’t, I’m busy, Aladdin and Jasmine want to—”

“- I don’t care… I’m going to need you in three days…” he says in his authoritative tone of voice. I’m about to insult him when something catches my attention. He used the word “need”. Not fuck, not summon, need. 

“- You what..?” I ask unsure if maybe I imagined it. 

“- Are you deaf ? I said I’m going to need you in three days. Be there.” he looks at me with a frown. 

I turn away from him trying to hide the small smile hitching its way on my features. 

“Oh…okay…I’ll be here…” I say and I hear him huff in approval before I step through the mirror that leads me to my bedroom in Agrabah.

[someplace-darker]

Kinktober Day 3: Glove Kink | Din Djarin

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader (no y/n)

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: 18+, PWP, public sex, fingering, glove kink, is finger sucking a warning? it is now, reader is afab but no pronouns are used

Summary: Maybe you should be a little bit more subtle about how much you want Din.

A/N: hi this is the late day 3! I thought i was gonna do 3 and 4 tonight but stuff came up so 4 and 5 should be out tomorrow! Also i think this is the first Din thing i've ever written.

Din knows that your eyes linger on him when he works, whether it’s catching bounties or cleaning his blasters, your gaze tracks him with blatant yearning. He was glad that even if his helmet restricted many things in life, at least his emotions were concealed beneath the impenetrable beskar and cold vocoder. It’s not any different this time. You’re sitting in the back of some outer-rim cantina sitting across from Din as he surveys the room, eyes glued to the way the yellow lights reflect and bounce on every surface of his armor. 

Of course Din doesn’t tell you that he can see you, that his head may be turned but he’s noting each clench of your thighs, each pass of your tongue over your lips. It’s amusing to say the least, he finds it almost pathetic how you can’t seem to keep ahold of yourself in his presence. Although you’ve run out of things around you to look at and busy yourself with. You’re skilled in combat and handy with a weapon when needed, but Din does the rest, such as waiting in shadows and silence for the right moment to pounce on a target. 

Which is exactly why you’re in the rundown cantina in the first place. A tip had come in from a reliable source that the man whose puck you currently carried in your pocket frequented this place in particular. Obviously not that reliable, seeing as the two of you have been sitting here for hours without a sign of him. The light from the dual suns is dwindling, the orange glow from outside the windows turning to purples and blues. The room is starting to empty itself, everyone collectively deciding to turn in for the night and laying down their credits for the bartender before seeing themselves out.

Except for you and the Mandalorian.

“Are we leaving yet?” you question, acutely aware of how you sound like a petulant child. In reality, you’re just massively turned on and need the (semi)privacy of the razor crest. 

“No. This place doesn’t close for another hour, he could still show up,” Din replies, voice hoarse and dipped in molten heat. The same heat that occupies your body as you listen to him speak. You’re not exactly sure when it became this bad, turned into biting your hand as you fucked yourself in his bunk, watching a little closer at how his back twitches under your touch while you stitch a blade wound. 

Focusing on how his hands toss assailants around like it’s nothing.

“Okay, can I at least head back to the ship? We’ll meet there,” you try to negotiate as he tilts his head in your direction, something like a sigh leaving him. His fingers tap on the table between you, gloves flexing around his hand as it moves. 

He doesn’t answer immediately this time, his fingers stopping the rhythmic movement to instead clench into a fist, your stare still locked on his hands. Hands that you’ve thought about so many times before. Din clearing his throat snaps you out of your trance, looking up to see him leaning back against the booth, legs spread wide. 

“Tell me mesh’la,” you’re not exactly sure how, but his voice is lower now “how often do you think about my fingers wrapping around your throat?” 

Shock riddles your brain following his bluntly delivered question, the rest of your body shivering at his tone and how it drips with hunger. You glance out of the darkened corner booth you're seated in, the only people remaining are the bartender and passed out straggler on the other side. Slowly, you turn back to him. His visor reveals nothing and you wonder for a second if you imagined him saying it. Still, you lick your lips and murmur a soft “what?”

Din regards you as you squirm in your seat, turning to jerk his head to the left and pat the spot next to him. It feels as if you’re moving through the thickest water in the galaxy when you start to shift and push yourself around to his side, not looking away from him even when your knee bumps into his as you settle. The cool leather of his glove brushes against your cheek, curving down to cradle the line of your jaw. “I want you to tell me how much you think about me when you’re two fingers deep into your own cunt,” he speaks again, this time slower. 

He watches the realization dawn over your pretty face, gloved thumb pressing gently against the plush cushions of your lips. “You can hear me?” you whisper, clenching your thighs once more, except this time he’s close enough to feel it. “Usually you think I’m sleeping,” he confirms, watching your spit coat the tip of his thumb when your mouth parts just the slightest.

How long has he known?

Lifting his arm, Din moves it to rest on the back of the booth, turning his body to keep his other hand on your face. Your tongue darts out to brush against the tip of his glove, moaning quietly when he allows you to lower your head and suck on the digit. “Do you want me to make you feel good, honey?” Din sounds like he’s teetering on the edge of restraint, voice more strained than before. 

You shouldn’t, you know there’s still people in the building, but all your brain can focus on is the ragged rise and fall of the mandalorian’s chest. 

And fuck, you really are tired of not knowing what it’s like. 

Pulling your head back and off his finger, you nod frantically “yes, Din, please.” Almost instantly he’s pushing his index and middle fingers past your lips once more, grunting when you circle them with your tongue. Once they’re covered in your spit he pulls them out with a soft pop, dragging them down your cloth covered torso before pushing past the waistband of your trousers and curling them into you. The back of your head blooms with a sharp pain when you throw it back against his beskar covered arm, pleasure quickly covering the pain when he pumps them once, then twice. 

Fuck, he didn’t even bother taking the gloves off, yet somehow it makes it better. The mere acknowledgment that he’s finger fucking you with his gloves still on is enough to make your cunt flutter around him. “Come on, I know you’re close. You practically rode the booth for the last few hours,” his voice is strained, a lilting tease playing at the tip of his tongue and it makes you laugh breathily. The laugh quickly morphs into a whine, brows furrowing as you turn your face against his arm, condensation forming on the cold metal. 

He curls his fingers inside you repeatedly, adjusting his wrist so his thumb can find your clit and press circles into it. “Feels so good, wanted you for so long, fuck Din,” he hushes you gently, still aware of your location and missing bartender. Hips pressing down into his hand you start a rhythm, rocking into his hand like you’ve been hit with the strongest aphrodisiac in the galaxy. 

Din’s silent now, entirely honed in on you now, watching as your back arches and you come with a shuddering cry. He presses the head of his helmet to your temple, slowing the movement of his fingers until you stop shaking. “Good, cyare,” he pulls his hand from your bottoms and taps your cheek, cock throbbing in his pants when your jaw relaxes and allows his fingers in. You pull back and grin, eyes hooded and pupils blown.

“That was much better than anything I thought of,” you say, voice wavering.

Din is about to answer but stops when the hiss of a door sounds out. “What’s wrong?” you whisper, head clearing enough to reach down for your blaster.

“I think we have company.”

[alycosworld]

Tainted

Scaramouche X Reader

WARNING: mentions of (nearly) sexual assault

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A/N: I seem to have more angst/comfort ideas for genshin but I'm not sure why...also, I'm on holiday in a foreign country! I have no work and I'll probably spend all my nights on Tumblr after exploring the city in the day, so please please please send in some requests! I'm bored and although they might take some time, they might help me get back into writing more regularly. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but if I made a mistake, feel free to tell me. This has NOT been checked for any errors (I'll get around to it at some point).

I'm not sure if Scaramouche is ooc, since he doesn't say anything that nice in the game or in any official works, but I definitely think he has the capacity for it. And I like soft Scar <3.

If at any point you feel uncomfortable, PLEASE DO NOT READ ON. I felt a little icky after writing the assault bit so do not force yourself to read any further or read at all. I do not want to make anyone reading this unhappy. Any victims of sexual assault or harassment, I hope you heal

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Keep walking. Just keep walking. Get home as fast as possible.

Avoid dark spots, avoid all people, avoid secluded areas. Just get home now.

That's what you told yourself after it happened. Archons, you didn't even know how you should feel. Ashamed? Angry? Disgusted? Upset? Confused? Afraid? The amalgamation of these emotions just made everything worse. You felt sick to your stomach. You wanted to cry and scream and vomit and disappear all at the same time.

You felt like you were covered in grime and you don't even know how you managed to get away. You should've done something, anything! But in the moment, you couldn't.

Your day had started normally. You went to the Adventurer's Guild in Inazuma, doing your commissions and taking up a few extra quests to help people out. Even though you were walking home later than normal, you didn't think much of it. Until somehow, you lost your way. In the dark, things became a little more vague and confusing, so you ended up taking a left and ending up in a dark alleyway between two dimly lit buildings.

You walked through, lost in your own thoughts, until you heard some chuckling and some incoherent remarks made by someone exiting one of the buildings out a back door and into the alleyway.

Glancing up, you saw that the person was a man - quite tall and well built with flushed cheeks: he was clearly not sober. You paid him no mind, staring at the ground as you continue to walk, determined to get home to see your boyfriend, Scaramouche. Though he wasn't one to worry, knowing that you could handle yourself, you did want to see him as soon as possible.

"Well, what do we have here?" The man asked, and you looked up at him again, tilting your head in confusion but staying silent.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" He asked, a suspicious smirk on his face.

"I'm going home." You said firmly, not wanting to give him any ideas.

"Oh? A handsome young thing like you, going home all by themselves? Let me walk you, I promise I don't bite." He continued, clearly not getting the hint.

"I'm alright, but thank you for the off--"

"Stop being such a fucking tease! Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it." He pinned you against the wall despite your attempt to politely refuse any moves he tried to make. He caught your arms above your head and harshly shoved one of his legs between yours.

"Don't like to me, hon, you know you want this." He whispered huskily. You had fought countless hilichurls, abyss mages and monsters far more intimidating and dangerous than that man that day, but you couldn't seem to move. All you could manage was a fearful 'please, don't do this'. Struggling was futile, for some reason you couldn't escape his grasp. You had fought beasts ten times this man's size but violating you like this? It made you break.

He gripped you harshly and even managed to kiss your neck a couple times, making the tears stream down your face uncontrollably, until he heard some voices. You recognised them immediately: members of the Adventurer's Guild. He must be known it too because he stopped as soon as he heard, offering you a sickening grin and scuttling away before you could react.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

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You didn't get any help from the Adventurer's Guild members who you heard, instead opting to rush home as soon as possible, trying to figure out what to do next.

The only solution in your mind was to crawl into your lover's arms and tell him what had happened. You didn't want anyone else to know - you know you could trust Scaramouche and you knew he would help you.

But he didn't.

You got home and wiped your tears before entering the house, hoping to look somewhat presentable despite having experienced such an impactful event. You dropped your belongings carelessly, not flinging at the loud sound they made as they hit the floor. You immediately made your way to the guest room Scaramouche had turned into an office of sorts, for him to work on Fatui business. The bedroom door was open and empty and he was nowhere to be found on the first floor, so that was the only other place he could've been. You were relieved to see him sitting at the desk, deep in thought with some maps and other sheets of paper laid out in front of him.

"Scar, I--"

"Not now, (Y/N), I'm busy." He said hot even bothering to look up at your frazzled and shattered state.

"I know but, please, Scar. While I was--"

"If you know that I'm busy, why enter in the first place? I'm working. Leave me alone." He said harshly. You didn't say anything, instead opting to nod silently and close the door. Since this was the first time you had experienced this pain and discomfort from being touched and defiled in such a way, you decided that maybe you should put it aside. After all, maybe it was something so jarring. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe Scaramouche's nonchalance was justified. In a twisted way, you blamed yourself for overreacting and decided to just forget about the incident. If it didn't mean enough for Scaramouche to even look at you, it clearly wasn't something worth fretting over. You were just exaggerating, right?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You tried you absolute hardest not to let the incident bother you, but you unknowingly started changing your habits to prevent what had occurred from happening to you again.

"Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it..."

You started wearing less revealing clothing, going as far as wearing gloves at some point and covering your neck with collars and scarves through the hot weather.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

Initially, you just avoided dark or secluded places, even when you were with other people, but eventually, you were too scared to leave home at all. You didn't leave the confines of your small garden and if someone passed by, you would quickly hide yourself away. When Scaramouche had unknown guests and colleagues over, you would hide in your bedroom and make him promise not to mention you or acknowledge your existence in the slightest.

You even started taking longer showers and refused to bathe with Scaramouche, confusing him since you used to enjoy it so much. But you wouldn't let him see you in such a vulnerable state now that you were contaminated. You didn't want him to know that you had been tarnished in such a vulgar way, and you spent long moments scrubbing at the parts the stranger had touched. You were worried that Scaramouche would blame you for being assaulted - because in a sick way you thought it was your fault, despite having been nothing wrong. You had twisted the story in your mind to make it seem like you were responsible for the crime committed against you.

Eventually, Childe had to visit for business purposes, but you had become good friends with the eleventh Fatui Harbinger since he was friends with-- well, he and Scaramouche had a relationship, to say the least.

"So where's (Y/N)? Normally they're all over you and making you as embarrassed at possible." Childs grinned, and Scaramouche just frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"They're in our room. They don't really want to see anyone right now." Scaramouche said. Even though you told him not to mention you anymore, since you were so hellbent on avoiding all human interaction, he thought it would be okay to tell Childe. He was your friend too, after all.

"Is something wrong? What happened?" Childe asked, concern in his eyes.

"I don't know. They've been avoiding everyone, including me. They barely talk to me and insist on sleeping downstairs." Scaramouche confessed.

"Let me talk to them."

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈❀┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Childe exited your room after hearing what to had to say, and he was disturbed and sympathetic, at the very least. Scaramouche saw his wide-eyed, grim expression when he exited the room and immediately had questions.

"What?" Scaramouche asked.

"I'll come back tomorrow to continue our work." Childs said, referring to the business he originally came for.

"But we have to--"

"Scar?" Scaramouche stopped all his trains of thought and turned to the sound of your voice. It was hoarse but still as beautiful as ever. He knew you had been crying from your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"I think you have other matters to take care of." Childe winked, before giving Scaramouche an informal two-fingered salute and showing himself out.

As soon as the door closed, Scaramouche turned his attention to you, not coming too close in case you didn't want to be near him.

"Yes, Love?" He asked, more concerned than you had ever seen him.

"Can I talk to you? If you're busy, that's okay, it's not that impor--"

"I'm not busy." He shook his head, and you offered him a sad and grateful smile before sitting on the edge of the bed while he took a seat on a nearby chair.

"So, uhm, a couple of days ago I was walking home and I kind of got lost...so I tried taking this alleyway and--" You stopped yourself, meeting Scaramouche's attentive gaze before continuing.

"There was a guy. And he-- he t-touched me. I-- I didn't know what to do. I could've easily fought back but I just got scared and froze up because that's never happened to me before and he kept saying that I wanted him-- but I didn't! I swear, I didn't. I know it sounds bad since I didn't stop him but I really tried, I just couldn't. And he started k-kissing me...here," You gestured to the spots on your neck that you could still feel being violated.

"And I felt so horrible and he didn't go any further because some people were coming, so I ran home. I-I...I didn't know what to do but I felt like I should tell you because I thought you would help me, but you said you were busy so I just-- It-tried to brush it off but I just couldn't get it out of my head! And before I got away, he told me that he'd come back and finish me off and so I didn't want to go outside anymore in case I ran into him. And I started to cover up since he said I was asking for it because of what I was wearing and then I just got scared and I felt dirty. I tried so hard to forget and clean myself but it kept coming back-- I can still feel him on me! I hated it, I still hated it! You have to believe me, I wasn't trying to get him to notice me, I just..." You broke down after finishing what you had to say. You had already been crying since you told Childe, but now you were choking out sobs and your face was drenched. Scaramouche stood up from his chair and sat next to you on the bed, a safe distance away just in case you still weren't comfortable with being touched.

"I believe you. I know you're not like that." Scarsmocuhe started calmly. In all honesty, he wanted to interrupt you as soon as you said that this man approached you. His blood was boiling and he was ready to murder this man for you but kept himself in check because you didn't need senseless violence or revenge right now, you needed comfort. What hurt him the most was that you were blaming yourself because he didn't bother listening to what you had to say on what was probably the worst day of your life.

"It's not your fault you were touched like that. You are not to blame, at all. I-- I should've listened to you when you came to me - as soon as I turned you say I thought something was wrong but I didn't bother asking about it. That's entirely my fault." He admitted, which surprised you. It took Scaramouche a lot to admit his mistakes, but for you? He didn't care. You constantly put up with his sour attitude, he can definitely listen to you and admit he was wrong.

"You sure? Because I still--"

"I'm sure." He said simply.

"But why did you start avoiding me?" He asked, wanting to understand the situation entirely.

"Well, because..." You started, unsure if he would get angry if you told him. While you were contemplating, he offered you an encouraging expression. It wasn't a smile, but it was more than enough to put you at ease.

"I didn't want you to think I was tainted. Of course, you wouldn't want to be near me after that had happened." You sighed, wiping up the last of your tears.

"You really are an idiot, you know?" He said, but after seeing the clueless and almost hurt look on your face, he immediately wanted to take it back. He didn't mean to be insensitive, he just...well, he often explained positive emotions with his very wide negative vocabulary.

"No, I didn't-- uhm..." He mentally cursed himself for not knowing what to say, but you didn't interrupt him and made a small gesture for him to keep going.

"What I mean to say was, I don't think that you're tainted or anything like that. And I still...want to be...near you-- eugh!" He pretended to be grossed out at his own words in true Scaramouche fashion, but he knew you knew he didn't really mean it and was beyond delighted when he saw you giggle at his facial expression.

He sighed and acted angry as he opened his arms ever so slightly. You noticed the movement and quirked an eyebrow when he hesitated.

"Is it okay if I come closer?" Scaramouche asked, unsure if you wanted to be touched after the incident.

Your heart swelled at his care and then you slowly watched as he stiffly wrapped his arms around you comfortingly. Although you had hugged and cuddled on countless occasions, he still wouldn't stop being so robotic unless you did something. It made you laugh and he pulled away slightly to glare at you, so you decided to just pull him back in and hug back.

And when you relished in the touch of another human being, the touch of the person you love, you began to cry. The last time anyone willingly touched you was in that alleyway, and so to have someone be so gentle with you and have no bad intentions, you were overwhelmed with emotion.

Scaramouche must've felt your tears staining his clothing and skin, and quickly pulled away with poorly hidden concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, but you just continued to sob and nod.

"I love you!" You choked out. He sighed and gently patted your back.

"I...love you too." He said, before making another expression of mock disgust. He slowly moved to hold both your wrists in his hand and kiss down to your neck, pulling you into his lap with your legs straddling one of his.

You soon realised that he was covering up the placed the stranger had touched you with his own ministrations, effectively replacing the grime you felt you gained after the incident. After you came to that conclusion and Scaramouche was done, he didn't meet your eye, blushing profusely. It was justified since he didn't usually initiate any kind of affection acts, but you just cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, smiiling at him with purity and a newfound confidence in the both of you.

"Thank you, Scar."

[rcksmith]

Dream a little of me — Kaz Brekker

Resume: One bed and two hearts.

Requests :”Hello, darling! Could I request sleeping with kaz? Imagine or general headcanons, as you like. No nsfw (no need of touching tho, do what you like with it!), just sleeping in the same bed - maybe for the first time. Also bonus points if one of them will have a nightmare👀Have a good night/day, hun!🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️✨✨✨💗💗💗”

“My heart asks for all the angst of touch starved reader falling for Kaz Brekker... 😭😭😭 - 🐕‍🦺”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Grisha Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of post-traumatic stress, angst, fluff.

Word count: 3k.

A/N: Thank you💖 I hope you guys like.

Normal Rules.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake. Requests are open. Love you❤️

— — — — —

The rain was pouring down in torrents, in a fierce storm that roared into the shadowy forest like a hideous, unearthly animal. Platinum lightning’s streaked the midnight sky and thunder rumbled like as giants footsteps crashing into the ground and shaking the earth. Everything had been orchestrated to work. But nothing could have gone more wrong.

Unfortunately, not even Kaz Brekker's millions of tricks and plans could defeat the force of nature. And even you, an Infernal Entherealki, hadn't mastered the art of controlling fire or keeping warm while under a torrent of icy, biting cold water.

Your teeth started chattering, your lips turned purple, and you wondered if you could run another inch. Your muscles felt like stones and for someone who had lived with the heat of the flames his whole life, being under freezing water was extremely painful. But Kaz wouldn't let you stop. And you, as excruciating as the pain was, didn't want to stop either. The pain was strong but the desire not to let him down was more.

The two of you part of the plan that night was to go through the forest with the diamonds in pockets and find the rest of the Crows on the other side. You two would have to spend the night in that place. But all of Brekker's machinations were washed away by the treacherous and atrocious rain.

The only alternative was to run. Run to the direction where there was a small civilization and pray to find an inn or not die of hypothermia.

The angry drops of icy water were enough to steal Kaz's breath. Not because the cold was unbearable, but because his own demons, his past, were ghosts that gripped his ankles like monsters from horror stories. He didn't feel the rain, didn't feel the biting wind, Kaz just felt the sensation of the freezing, oppressive ocean drowning him. And for a second, when he looked at the small strip of fur on he wrist that wasn't hidden by his glove and coat, he swore he saw Jordie's dead skin in place of his.

He had to get out of there. But when the storm started, and Kaz run his eyes at you, your face wet from the rain, your skin constantly whipped by the cold droplets, and your cheeks extremely red from the cold, it made him gasp in a very different way. Blood pooled in your cheeks. Pulsing. Alive. He had to get you out of there.

Finding hiding places was one of his specialties, and he focused his mind entirely on it. When an inn came into view, a small relief rumbled in both of you. And Kaz looked in your direction to make sure you were okay. Alive.

As the receptionist gave the key from the last spare room to the two of you, Kaz couldn't help but feel that there was no longer any heat pulsing in your body. That made him feel miserable.

The night was cold. Unusually cool for the time of year.

"I don't think it's a good idea to carry out a robbery like that in these climatic temperatures." Inej said, walking down the stairs after Kaz "One of the Dregs caught a serious cold too while you were away."

Kaz had to be away for two days to sort out some matters of his own. Check some ship ports and finding out the weaknesses of some new merchants. And as much as he ordered his thoughts to focus solely on that purpose, he found himself daydreaming at certain times about…

"It got very serious after a few hours." Inej completed.

Kaz felt a trickle of worry trace his veins, tighten his throat But it wasn't for some bruteman of his Dregs. His source of concern was more serious, deeper, and for someone he didn't want to think about too much. Even though he told himself to keep every nerve in his body under control, in the end he was Kaz Brekker, he couldn't help but notice he picked up his pace to get faster to the live room that was strictly reserved for the Crows.

And when he walked in, following by Inej, the tree branches hit the windows, blown by the wind, tinkling. The cold was oppressive and biting, but not enough to stop Jesper from playing cards with Wylan, nor enough for Nina not to eat her candy and listen to Matthias tell of his people's legends. But the eyes of Kaz, that treacherous and treacherous organ, ran to you first. Magnetically, inevitably.

And he felt like he could breathe again.

The sight of you sitting on the black velvet sofa, with a book in your hands and your legs stretched out on the padded stool in front of you, calmed Kaz's heartbeat as nothing had ever done.

As much as he denies, in those two days his mind has swarmed over you more often than he thought wise. Brekker liked to justify that action with the fact that you were part of the gang. As close and important as Jesper or Inej. It was normal for him to be worried about the Dregs.

But why did he only see you? Why did the questions about your well-being and comfort stood out so much from any other concerns with others?

It was you. Always late at night, when Brekker was a sigh away from sleep. You were what someone he was thinking.

"Who is alive always appears." Nina announced he arrival and Kaz was pulled out of his reverie.

"Did you kill anyone these two days?" Jesper placed a letter on the table and Inej sat beside Nina.

Kaz left his hat on one of the dark marble tables. “Does it matter?"

There were other seats available in the room. A leather armchair next to the burning fireplace - Brekker were sure that you was controlling the temperature - an extra chair around the table where Jesper and Wylan were play, and a small divan beside Matthias. But Kaz sat beside you on the couch.

You marked the page with your finger, lowering the book gently. He didn't need to see the cover to know what it was. It was a romance clichéd eighteenth-century. He had given it to you before he left.

"Everything worked?" You smiled and Kaz had the feeling that he wanted to memorize that smile in a painting to always appreciate it.

"And doesn't always do?"

Even with the biting cold that wasn't stopped by the fireplace, Brekker could feel the heat from your body emanating, like a delicious temptation. You were always so hot. Bathed in the sun's rays. He didn't know if infernal grisha like you gave off so much heat too, because it was impossible for that to be human. Were so intense...delicious. Even with multiple layers of clothing, if Kaz approached you he could feel the warmth of a tropical pirate island.

Was that why he always unconsciously sat beside you? Why did you radiate so much causticity that it made Kaz forget about the ocean's cold? Why were you like a piece of life and Kaz felt dead for a long time?

Or was it because, heat or not, you were the only thing worth being around?

All the questions were too disturbing. And Kaz Brekker didn't want to know the answer.

Now, even climbing the stairs to the room beside you, Kaz couldn't feel anything radiating from you body. Just the cold. And he hated it with every force of his being.

You're not made to take the rain, felling deadly cold, or turn your lips a bluish hue.You were not made to be cold as a corpse, with muscles stiff and sore like a dead. You were not made to look like Jordie. You were meant to be alive. To look alive. Exhale the heat of the most ardent fire and heat a room just with your presence. You were meant to scare off Kaz's winter with your summer.

For a second, Kaz wanted to hug you to give you the warmth of his own body.

You felt exhausted. The remnants of what you once day were. Every inch of your body protested, aching and tearing at muscles. The cold, sharp water did you no good. You didn't know if it was were something of your species or a trait unique to you. But it didn't do any good to you. You hated looking so miserable in that appearance, especially in front of the one man you always wanted to look beautiful to. But at that moment you were in too much pain to worry so much about it.

As soon as Kaz had put the key in the doorknob, his gloved fingers stiff from the cold, what you expected to find was a cozy room, promising a heat shower and a good, well-deserved night's sleep. But that wasn't it. You stared at the wide double bed with white sheets, perplexed. Shock competed with your pain and put your brain to work, and all your breath lurked in throat as your realized the situation.

Oh my fucking God.

You didn't have to look at Kaz to feel his entire body be rigid, in a way far more potent than the effects the rain had caused. As if the prospect of sleeping next to you was more whorse than dying of hypothermia.

You closed your expression. Half because your mood was already bad and half because the rejection was brutal. You didn't expect your passionate feelings for Kaz to be returned, nor did you expect him to feel the same longing to be close to you as you felt for him. But no woman wanted to see that a man would rather die of hypothermia than share a bed with her. Even more if he was a man she was in love with.

You entered in room first, the pain in your body clouding your thoughts.

"Do you mind if I shower first?"

Your voice was weak, and you didn't have the heart to look at Kaz. He hissed a “no” that hung in the air, and that was the last thing you heard before closing yourself in the bathroom.

His heart was beating eerily fast in his chest. As loud as the thunder outside and as unsettling as the chill of rain. His breath began to burn heavily in his throat, and suddenly his entire body was fully aware of the situation.

One bed.

Even when he took the diamonds out of his pocket and placed them on a small table, even when you came out of the bathroom and he walked in, even as he basked in the hot water, his heart still pounded wildly. Like a generator.

Kaz Brekker liked puzzles, challenges. Of things he could unravel and understand. Piece by piece. He played to win and to cheat, and the world knelt at his feet before the insight of his mind. Still, he didn't know what to do. You were like a fascinating and maddening riddle. The one thing that, no matter how hard Kaz tried, could never unravel yours mysteries. Or maybe, just, what he would never be able to do was unravel what he felling whenever he was by your side.

His heartbeat grew stronger.

Brekker remembered every deck of cards, every card played. He could keep up with the distribution of up to five decks, unlock any lock, and devise the most insane plans. But he couldn't stop the way his soul trembled whenever he laid eyes on you.

In those moments, when you looked at Kaz like he was someone much better than he actually was, Kaz wanted to be good. He wanted to be born again to become a damn decent man. For you. He wished he didn't have his demons and erase his past. Because that way, when the sun's rays hit your face and you were close enough for your scent of happiness to flood his senses, Kaz wouldn't back down. He would lean down and seal his lips in yours with the promise of a glorious future.

His heart beat faster.

Why did he feel that his whole life was always suspended whenever he were away from you? And why did he have the feeling his life could change forever if he walked out that door?

Kaz turned off the shower. The heart running like a horse. He fished out the towel and wrapped it around his waist, finding a small hamper that held neat, folded pajamas for guests. He was surprised he didn't notice you in those pajamas. You made him lose focus.

As soon as he dressed and walked out of the bathroom, his eyes immediately went to your figure. Sitting on the bed, your legs under the covers, your hands clasped together in a cupped shape with a small, flare of fire burning in the center.

You looked up at Kaz. “I managed to do something to warm you up.”

The phrase was: No for warm me up. No for warm us up. For warm you up.

Kaz lost his breath and his soul trembled. The air felt different since he stepped out of the shower, not just from the recent gust of heat. But there was something else, something lyrical, pink and lush. Something...beautiful. He did not say anything. First because he didn't trust his own words and second because he didn't know what to say. He sat beside you, a considerable distance away, but this time his fear was that you would hear the loud, racing beat of his heart.

You turned gently towards him, reaching out your hands towards him, not noticing how his hands trembled as they stretched under the hot flame. Kaz swallowed hard.

He knew how weak and drained you were, but he also knew you were aware that he loathed cold. Hated icy water. You didn't know the depth of his traumas, but the fact that you cared to the point that you were willing to use your last shred of strength to end his torment was something that reverberated in his soul.

You two didn't say anything else after that. After Kaz removed his hands from the flame, you understood that as the end of your two interactions. You two shared a mutual answer that neither would sleep on the floor. You two were adults and in no condition to be lashed by any colder.

The night moon bathed the dark room with lights in distilled silver, almost flickering through the windswept tree branches. You were back-to-back, blankets pulled up to your shoulders, breathing gently quickened. As exhausted as you two were, neither of you could sleep.

Suddenly, the whole atmosphere in room seemed to change. Like a private, enchanted piece of the world. The wind howled softly, on a calm note. The rain was still falling in torrents, but now it seemed to be adopted in a passionate tone. As if it had fulfilled its purpose and now hovered in the world with a romantic veil of water. Stars shining bright above the bedroom window, glittering like hundreds of tiny diamonds, accompanied by moonlight. Although the light was dim, it seemed to capture the lyrical essence, seem to whisper “Dream a little dream of me.”

Everything felt different, like the two of you had entered a rift in the world. A part inhabited romance, pure magic, love.

Your soul shivered, and as much as you could never prove it, you felt that Kaz's soul shivered too. Your breath hitched, burning in lungs, your body seized by a caustic tingle that snaked through every inch.

You didn't know why, but your body shifted gently on the bed, turning slightly towards the ceiling. The racing pulse in your veins. A second felt like an eternity. Kaz's body moved too, and you knew, just knew, that he was looking at the ceiling too.

Two hearts beating in the same time. Synchronized. And, by some magic or deity, you two knew that your heartbeat would never again beat another way. Always connected.

Your body moved a little more, now on belly up. And Kaz's seemed to do the same move, even without seeing you or your movements. His chest rising and falling with intensity. The rain calmed outside, turning the symphony of droplets hitting the roof into mysterious, passionate music. As if the world were plotting a whispering favor for you two.

Kaz could feel your body heat radiating once more, grazing his skin with rays of sunlight. Everything in that bedroom became poignant and intense and lyrical, inflicting sensations on him that Kaz never thought existed before. Later, it would be a shock for him to see that he was at the mercy of his own passions. Overcome by sensations that robbed him of control of his body. Later he would think about it. Later.

His soul tingled, sending gusts of heat from the inside out. The feeling was that, after 28 years of deep sleep, he had awakened. Awake. Alive.

His body moved once more, now completely on belly up. Kaz didn't have to look at you to know that you too had placed yourself in the same position. It was as if he felt the movements of your soul. His pulse was racing now, hot and boiling in his blood. And Kaz wondered if all the money in the world would bring half the sensations he was feeling right now.

What was he so afraid all this time? That question echoed through all the corridors of his soul. And Brekker feared for the answer. What kept him from having everything he craved?

Money? Pekka? Jordie's ghost and the cold ocean? Kaz feared never touching you any more than he feared his demons? Was that why he always walked away from you? Why was wanting to slide his fingers into your hot skin and not being able to fell you, be worse than any sensation he'd ever felt? Because, maybe, admitting it can change everything?

His breath hitched.

Would it be worse to be alone for the rest of his life? Doomed and cursing to a fate of revenge, death and red hate? Or, even worse for his heart, finding a girl with lovely eyes, sunny smiles and the smell of happiness? A girl that made him laugh, come out of his hiding. You. What do he will do with that? What if you open up the door that he can't close it? And If when you hold he and his heart is set in motion?

Would that be so bad? No.

His body became very aware of the approximation it was on to your. Your heat radiating into his. For some reason, Kaz was sure you was in the same condition as he was. Sharing the same feelings. The same passion hidden for so long.

Kaz should have thought of his brother, of revenge against Pekka Rollins, of the cold of the ocean. He should have weighed of his own traumas. Instead, he thought: What if I get a little closer?

The result of this was his fingertips brushing yours. And he knew the exact moment your heart sped up even more. Because his followed the same beat. Maybe following yours for the rest of his life.

You brought your eyes to him, calmly, as if that moment might disintegrate. and the world seemed suspended in that moment. Kaz slid his eyes to you as well, sharing sensations and emotions that didn't need to be put into words. It was all there, in the gaze.

His fingers crept higher, going to your hand, and plunging his touch - and his soul - into that contact. All your heat was too strong. Too intense. Doing Kaz wouldn't be able to think or feel, for the first few minutes, about anything but light, heat, summer and…happiness.

That's when you gave him a shaky, emotional smile. I would do anything for you. That's what that smile said. And Kaz answered, his hand tight with yours before letting go. Me too.

- -

As the sun's rays, shy and buttery, flooded the bedroom in soft color, Kaz's eyelids fluttered. The sound of birds reached his ears, and the scent of flowers and happiness invaded his nose.

It was nothing like waking up in Ketterdam.

That thought back him to reality. A reality in which he had stolen many diamonds, taken the rain and had to share the calm. A reality where Kaz Brekker touched you.

You.

Kaz opened his eyes immediately, his heart racing again. He looked frantically around the room, past the simple furniture, the closed bathroom door, the window where the light came in, and then looked to his side on the bed. That's when he realized what position he was in.

His soul heated up.

You had your back to him, your hair spread out on the white pillow, your back showing by your pajama top, your shoulder rising and falling softly with your resonant breathing. You were close. Very close. And Kaz finds, perplexed, that he is facing you. One arm rests around your waist, over the thick blankets, in an intimate and…romantic gesture.

He lost his breath. His warm, hope-shining soul whispered to him: what if it was like this every day? What if he woke up with you by his side forever? What if in time he learned to be a decent man? Trying to be normal?

Would Kaz do this for you?

You shifted in bed, turning onto his side, front for him, snuggling deeper under his touch and moving closer, as if Kaz were your oasis in the desert. No skin was actually touching, your breath hit his warm chest, and if Kaz lowered his lips even further, he could feel your lips on his.

Yes. He would.

[storiesforallfandoms]

his domination ~ the joker;dceu

word count: 1660

request?: yes!

“Can you write a Joker/Reader fic where the reader is the only person allowed to dominate the Joker? Very smutty please.”

description: in which gotham’s most feared villain prefers to be dominated by his beautiful girlfriend

pairing: joker x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut, mentions of violence

masterlist (one, two)

it wasn’t specified which joker was wanted for the imagine so i wrote the one i knew best...but like...the good version of it

There was something about watching Joker being so dominant with others that turned you on, especially knowing that the roles would be reversed when you two finally got some privacy.

There was some sad sack down on his knees, begging Joker for forgiveness. For what reason, you couldn’t remember. There were too many people who were afraid of him to keep track of all the reasons why. Whatever the case, Joker was merely laughing in this face of this man, who was now weeping at Joker’s feet.

“Oh, how I love to hear them beg,” Joker said to you over his shoulder.

You smirked at him in response as he raised his gun and shot the man right between the eyes. He watched as the man’s body fell before turning back to you and wrapping an arm around your waist. He began kissing you deeply, ignoring the two of his men that were standing nearby, waiting for an order. If there was one thing that turned Joker on, it was exercising the power he had over the people of Gotham.

When he finally pulled away from you, he regarded his men with a simple wave of his hand towards the lifeless body in front of them. His men began to approach the body while Joker took you in his arms and began to lead you towards his car. He didn’t even wait to take you somewhere more private as he opened the backdoor to his car and shoved you back onto the seat. His men were quick to dispose of the body so they could leave the scene, knowing to give Joker as space when he wanted alone time with you.

The cramped space of the backseat gave Joker more opportunity to be close to you, to touch your body all over and to attack your neck in kisses and bites. Your eyes were rolling back in your head with pleasure as you arched your back against his body.

You peaked out through the front windshield to see that Joker’s henchmen had cleared away the body and drove off in record time, leaving the two of you alone. In one swift movement, you wrapped your legs around Joker and flipped the two of you over so you were on top. You started to mimic his earlier actions by kissing down his neck, your hands roughly pulling at his clothes so you could continue to kiss down his naked body.

Joker’s big secret that stayed strictly between the two of you was that he only allowed one person to be dominant over him, and that person was you. It had shocked you at first when Joker let you be the dominant one in the bedroom. You thought it was just a one time thing, or maybe he was feeling generous. But then he was asking for it the next time you had sex, then he started using dominant pet names for you and would beg you to let him be inside of you.

It made you feel powerful to be the one that left Gotham’s most feared villain a begging mess beneath you.

You pulled his shirt off and began unbuttoning his pants, palming his growing erection in your hand as you kissed him through his boxers. His hand weaved its way through your hair as you began to kiss him through his boxers, just lightly enough that he could feel it and tease him even more.

“Up,” you told him as your hands found their way to the waistline of his boxers. He moved his hips so you could slip his underwear down and discarded them to the front seat somewhere.

Joker whimpered as you began to kitten lick the tip of his hard dick. It was taking everything in his power not to push your head down, as he knew you would stop if he tried, but he wanted you so bad. He was so painfully erect he felt like he could burst at any moment, even from your limited touch.

You could feel his restraint as his hand tightened in your hair. You couldn’t help but smirk to yourself as you looked up at him from your position. “What do you want, baby?”

“I want to feel your mouth around me,” he breathed, his hips inadvertently bucking as you licked him again.

“Ask me nicely then, baby.”

“Please can you put my dick in your mouth?”

You rested his tip against your lips, kissing it to tease him even more. “You’re missing something there.”

“Pretty please, my queen?”

You smiled and took him deep into your throat. He let out a moan as his head lulled back. You began to bob your head at a steady pace, placing your tongue under his length as you did so so that he could feel it on every inch that it could reach. Every now and then you’d stop to swirl your tongue around the head, which earned you more moans and whimpers.

Although the pleasure was starting to build up inside of him, Joker knew better than to finish in your mouth. He knew how much you loved to feel him inside of you, to feel him coating your walls with his seed as he twitched and convulsed inside of you. But your mouth felt so good around him that it was getting hard to hold back.

“Fuck my queen, please slow down,” he begged. “I’m going to cum at this rate.”

You pulled his dick from your mouth, a line of spit trailing from the tip to your mouth as you did so. He wiped it with his thumb before you began to crawl up his body, leaving wet kisses and red marks that would become hickies within a few hours up his body. You kissed him passionately, letting him taste himself on your tongue.

“Do you want me to ride you, baby?” you asked against his lips. “You wanna feel me wrapped around that hard dick as I ride you?”

He nodded, trying to find the words to ask but feeling them caught in his throat. You smirked as you took hold of his face, squeezing it just a little.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, my queen. I want you to ride me.”

“Ask me nicely then.”

“Fuck, can you pretty pretty please ride me, my queen?. Use me to get whatever pleasure you want, I promise I’ll wait till you’re finished if I have to.”

You smirked at his question. His dick was still glistening with your spit, leaving it perfectly lubed for you as you lined his tip up with your entrance and lowered yourself on to him. His face twisted with pleasure as you took him in very slowly, allowing him to feel you around every inch of him. You moaned as well, feeling him easily hitting your G spot once he was fully in.

You started rocking your hips against his, pleasure building up in you almost immediately. Joker’s head was back against the headrest as his fingers dug into your hips. You leaned forward to kiss him as your movements became quicker. Soon enough, you were bouncing on his lap, your skin making a loud slapping noise every time you came down on him. His car was shaking and the windows were fogged over so you could barley see anyone outside. Not that either of you really cared if you were caught. That was the thrill of fucking in public.

You wrapped a hand around Joker’s throat, choking him just enough to make him feel lightheaded. You almost giggled at the sight of his eyes being crossed and rolling back into his head at the action. You could feel him twitching inside of you, an indication that he was nearing his climax.

“Are you close?” you asked him, letting go of his neck long enough to allow him to breathe to respond.

“I’m so close,” he said. “Fuck, can I cum my queen?”

“Hold it for a few more seconds,” you told him. “I’m close, too. When you feel me cumming around you, you can let go then.”

You managed to stay true to your word, and a few seconds later you threw your head back and cried out in pleasure. Near moments after that, you felt Joker’s warmth filling you as he also groaned at the release.

You both sat there, sweating and panting. Joker wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close so he could rest his head on your breasts. You ran your fingers through his dyed green hair, noticing that his brown roots were starting to grow out. You made a mental note to point that out to him when you finally detached from one another.

You rolled down the window slightly to let some cool air in just as Joker’s phone rang. He groaned in annoyance as he raised the phone to his ear.

“What the fuck do you want?”

You giggled as you finally got up from his lap. It always amazed you how quickly he could switch from being a submissive mess to the dominant criminal that everyone knew him as.

“Thanks for the heads up. I’ll call you when we arrive to our next location,” he said, then hung up. “Apparently someone heard the gunshot and called the cops. They’re on their way here now. Figure we got maybe five minutes before we’re surrounded, less than that until the Bat appears.”

You passed him his discarded clothes and fixed your own disheveled appearance. “Neither one is a real concern. The cops are incompetent and Bats would never throw you in jail again. He needs someone to play with so he seems like a hero to these people.”

Joker smiled at you and kissed you hard again. “Regardless, wanna go for a joyride, baby?”

You smirked at him and leaned into the front seat to pull your gun from the glove compartment. “Always, my love.”

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Mission Shenanigans

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings | smut, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

Word count | 2385

Summary | while on a mission undercover, you and Bucky are forced to share a bed. Very dirty things ensue

Masterlist

"If we're just pretending to be a couple, why do we have to actually sleep in the same bed? Do you really think they're going to break in and catch on of us sleeping on the sofa?" You scoffed, hands perched on your hips and as shook your head at the super soldier in front of you.

"Maybe." Bucky smirked, his answer short but almost full of a lingering promise of more. You rolled your eyes at him, itching to slap that cocky smirk off his face and also maybe accidentally let his cock slip into your mouth whilst doing so. Oops.

You couldn't help it, really. I mean, Bucky is gorgeous. He truly is a specimen, all muscles and cocky smirks and metal arms. Oh and the metal arm? You were dying to know how the metal felt against your skin, against your lips - your lower lips-

"You there doll?" You were grabbed from your little train of thoughts (sinful thoughts at that) by the man in front of you snapping his fingers in your face.

"S-sorry. Lost in thought. What were you saying?" You stuttered, cheeks flushing pink as you averted your gaze to a vase on the table that suddenly became awfully captivating.

"I said that we should go out and get some wood for the fire before it gets dark." Bucky drawled, rolling his eyes now when you hummed in agreement whilst nodding absent-mindedly.

You were on a mission to get some info on a potential lead on a rising HYDRA group in southern France. You were in a cabin like area near some forest that almost seemed out of place, posing as a young couple that was newly wed and wanted a honey moon abroad. So far you pulled off the part perfectly, playing the most stereotypically-American tourists in Europe you could be. You got overly excited at the smallest things, told everyone you spoke to that you adored their accent, insisted on eating at French restaurants only, and local ones of course.

It was the perfect ploy - the only downfall being Bucky's metal arm causing him to stick out like a sore-thumb. So the super soldier has been miserable in public, roasting in the summer sun whilst clad in leather gloves and long-sleeve shirts.

What you had failed to mention to him that the sight of droplets of sweat collecting along his brow and sliding slowly down his neck got you all hot and bothered. So hot and bothered, in fact, that you found yourself desperate to stick your hand between your legs to quell the growing ache blossoming there.

But you couldn't because Bucky was insisting that you both share a bed. Originally, you had just planned on taking the sofa in the other room and get yourself off but that plans obviously gone out the window.

"Right, well. We should go now." Bucky said, cutting through the awkward silence that had settled comfortably between you two. He grabbed your arm, tugging you out the small cabin and towards the woods.

So, three hours later, you found yourself full of food, groaning with the amount to had consumed. Chewing your last bite, you set your cutlery down on you plate, which was almost immediately swiped by Bucky.

"With cooking like that, you've just become my most dangerous friend, Barnes." You chided, a smile finding your face when he chuckled softly, the edges of his eyes crinkling adorably. He set your plate with his in the sink, turning on the water and drizzling some dish soap into the basin. He sipped his hands quickly on a towel before discarding it on the work surface and turning to face you.

"Well, I'm glad you liked it, doll." He smiled, arms crossing over his chest. With the hot summer heat, he'd changed into a tank top almost the second you entered the cabin, so his bulging bicep was on display as well as that metal arm that you adored. His hair was thrown into a bun at the back of his head, a few framing pieces fallen out around his face and it made him look beautiful.

"I'm gonna go shower whilst you clean up." You suddenly announced, pushing up from your chair and bursting from the room. You walked swiftly down the hall, into the bedroom to grab a towel before you were entering the adjoining bathroom.

You moaned as the warm water soothed your aching muscles, the steam clouding up the bathroom as you hummed the song that'd been stuck in your head for god knows how long. Taking a deep sigh, you massaged the shampoo into your hair, the feeling of your nails scraping against your scalp a welcome one.

After washing the suds from your hair and wiping down your body with a sponge and some lemon scented soap, you shut the water off and pulled back the curtain of the shower. Careful not to trip as you stepped out of the tub, you grabbed the fluffy white towel sat waiting for you on the counter and patted your hair until it was only damp, before drying off your body. You wrapped the cloth around you, holding it up just above your breast, clutching it there so I didn't fall down as you tiptoed back into the bedroom.

The door whined is I opened, the handle banging against the wall as you crept into the room.

"Hey, doll." Bucky smirked, lounging on the bed and resting in his palms. Your eyes bugged out of your skull, you jumped slightly, the shock of seeing him there shirtless and with sweatpants handing loose over his hips caused your grip on the towel to stop long enough for it to fall. Bucky smoothed his tongue of his lip, biting down on it as his eyes roamed your body.

You were still in shock, not moving from where you stood, towel bundled at your feet and arms awkwardly by your sides. Bucky whistled, slowly standing and taking a few strides so he was stood in front of you.

"You look even better than I thought you would." He mumbled, licking his lips again before his hands found purchase on your hips. His eyes were searching you, blue edges fading as black lust petered out from his pupils. Your breathing was heavy, mind foggy but all you could comprehend was the half-naked super soldier stood in front of your naked form, hands - one comfortingly warm one chillingly cold - resting on the bare skin of your hips.

And I just made you needy and slick with want. And that had to be the cause of the words that found themselves upon your lips. Your eyes flickered between his and his lips - his soft, plump pink lips - that were just begging you to kiss them.

"If you don't kiss me in the next three second I'm going to scream." You murmured and he breathed a laugh through his nose before his lips crashed to yours in a lustful, earth-shattering kiss. Bucky's hands travelled over your sides, squeezing your waist before going higher until one wrapped around your neck possessively, using the grip he had to walk you back until your back came into contact with the door you had entered from, his metal hand bracing against the wood for support.

Your moan let him know it was exactly what you wanted and Bucky tightened his grip slightly on your neck, a gentle squeeze to test the waters that had you groaning against his lips. He tilted his head to the side, feeling the kiss even further. It was a dirty, messy, sloppy thing - all teeth and tongue and unadulterated desire. When his lips finally left yours, they trailed down your neck, leaving open-mouthed, wet kisses over your throat and your collar bone. A hand found it's way between your quaking legs, finding nothing by slick and slippery skin as the tips brushed through the collecting wetness at the apex of your thighs. He groaned at the feeling, letting his digits dance through the liquid before one was slipping into your quivering hole.

"Bucky!" You gasped, hands reaching up, grabbing and clawing at his shoulders for purchase as his thumb connected with your little bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked violently into his hand, a low and rumbling chuckle falling from those perfect, pink lips. Another finger entered you, both of them curling - curling just right, hitting that spot deep within you.

You came with a  cry and shaky legs, your body falling limply into Bucky's as he retracted his fingers, revelling in the wanton look in your eyes as he licked them clean.

"Delicious." He hummed, pulling off his fingers with a pop. Before you could protest, the brunet had scooped you into his arms, hoisting up up with his hands under your ass - groping and squeezing as he pinned you to the wall with his hips. Your arms were wrapped around his neck by now, fingers tangling into his long, brown hair as his lips never left your skin.

"Fuck, Bucky, please." You begged, but you weren't really sure what you were asking for.

"You want me to fuck you?" He whispered in your ear, a moan slipping past your lips. "You want me to fuck you in the middle of a mission like a whore?" He husked and you moaned even louder - knowing the word should offend you but it did anything but, the combined sensation of his hot breath fanning over your cheeks, his prominent bulge pressed to your folds and his hands resting on your bare sides overwhelming your senses. His hands moved down, fumbling with the drawstring on his sweats before he was pulling away slightly, pushing them and his boxers down his legs eagerly. You brought a hand down too, letting your fingers trail over his abs before you were marvelling at his cock - hard and leaking, red tip curved up against his stomach - which was now smeared with Previn that you were desperate to lick off. But he wouldn't let you from his grasp.

Instead, you both let out a moan when your small hand wrapped around Bucky's cock, Bucky shivering slightly at the coldness of you palm. He kissed you again hard, tongue smoothing over your lips before it was pushing its way into your mouth, tangling with yours and stroking over the muscle in languid strokes. You fisted his hair, relishing in the groan he let out as you tugged. You smiled into the kiss at his reaction, but pulled away to squeal his thumb flitted over your clit again.

Bucky moaned when his tip ran through your wetness, hand wrapping around his length as he lined himself up with your core. Bucky leant in, pecking your lips.

"Ready?" He mumbled and you moaned his name, letting out a loud moan when he sheathed himself inside of you in one sharp thrust.

"Fuck, Bucky!" You moaned and he let his thumb rest on your clit, teasing circles rubbed over it making the knot in your stomach forms already, blue eyes now turned black as he looked into yours.

"I want you to come around my cock, pretty girl" He murmured, forehead resting against your as he begun to thrust. Your hands clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin only spurring Bucky on as his pace became slow but strong, knocking the air out of your lungs with every thrust. His breath was hot on your cheeks, eyes keeping yours prisoner and a small layer of sweat coated your faces.

The whole scene was erotic, so it only pushed your further to the edge when he began moaning and groaning, your own sounds vibrating around the room. Your fingers traced over the scars littering his shoulder, before clinging to the cool metal and moaning out at the contrast against your flushed and hot skin.

"Good girl." He moaned, the praise sending a new wave of wetness tumbling down to your core, his cock pushing in and out of you effortlessly now with how much lubrication you were supplying. Bucky's hand moved from the door, fingers wrapping a round your throat again and pushing your head back against the wood.

"This pussy's gonna make me cum so hard, sweetheart, so fuckin' hard." He mumbled into the skin of your neck, dropping his head to nip and suck at your jaw line. You knew there'd be marks there tomorrow, but you couldn't care less in that moment as your walls began to clamp down on his in a vice grip.

"C'mon, cum for me. I can feel how close you are." Bucky moaned and your mouth dropped open into a silent scream, eyes rolling back into your skull, his pace picking up as he tried to push you to your release.

When you came it was a mind-shattering orgasm, eyes rolling back and hips bucking, stomach tight and legs shaking around his waist.

"There we go, good girl." Bucky groaned, chasing his own release now as he used you for his own pleasure. "Shit, y/n." He moaned, stilling his hips as a final thrust sent him over the edge, cumming in you in hot spurts.

Your breaths mingled, the smell of sex invading your senses as you head dropped forward to lean against Bucky's shoulder.

"Fucking hell, Buck, that was-" you panted.

"Amazing? The best sex of your life?" He supplied, hand massaging your hip as you both calmed down.

"Something like that." You giggled. He chuckled too, and you gasped as he felt him thrust shallowly into you again. How was he already hard again? You figured that the serum must have affected everything. You groaned, and Bucky smirked down at you.

"Ready for round two?" He asked, walking with you in his grasp over to the bed.

"If anyone does break in tonight, they're in for one hell of a show." You smiled weakly, Bucky dropping you into the sheets and crawling over you.

"They sure are, Doll."