#like I’ll just use sparkling wine instead

[bereft-of-frogs]

Tbh that Pablo Hidalgo post is stressing me out haha because my personal philosophy is to minimize both invented terms and too-specific real world cultural phrases but I’ve always been secretly afraid that everyone actually hates that and secretly cringe every time I use…idk ‘glass’ versus whatever fake word some EU writer invented 😆

Like that’s where he lands by the end of the thread too but I’m totally going to have to block that post because every time I see it it starts the screaming in my brain

[sativariddle]

NIKES ꒰ t.n. ꒱

BLONDE’ ALBUM TRACKLIST.

꩜ . . . ❝they looking for a check, tell ‘em it ain’t likely.❞

the night smelled like wine and expensive perfume, like something that could burn up at any second. golden chandeliers flickered overhead, their glow bouncing off the marble floors, where the wealth of the room reflected back at the people inside. wizards in expensive robes spoke in hushed tones, counting fortunes instead of memories.

theodore nott stood at the edge of it all, a mixed drink dangling between his fingers. his suit was black, pressed to perfection, the silver snake embroidered on his cuff a reminder of everything he was born to be. a nott. a man of status, power. a pure-blood with an empire at his perfectly polished shoe.

“theo,” a voice spoke beside him, smooth and laced with entitlement. celeste rosier - his fiancée, the woman his father had chosen. her gown was dripping in gemstones, her fingers adorned with rings that sparkled under the lighting. “i was thinking we should go to paris for the weekend. i need new robes.”

he took a slow sip of his pink-gold lemonade mixed with whiskey. “you need?” she huffed, pouting in that way that made men fold for her. but theodore wasn’t most men, and celeste rosier wasn’t the girl in his head. because the girl in his head had never asked for diamonds. she had never needed silk lined cloaks or custom fitted boots. she had never belonged in a room like this, and yet, she had been the only thing that had ever felt real.

you. all wide smiles and sparkling eyes — stubborn, bossy, everything he loved.

a flicker of memory slashed through him, sharp and sudden: hogwarts, sixth year, the common room fire crackling low. you, grinning as you held the card he had made you. it wasn’t much. just a folded bit of parchment with your name in his handwriting, a spell inside that made tiny stars appear when you opened it. but you had looked at it like it was the most valuable thing in the world. like he was.

he was younger when he last saw you — three years ago, when he had to break things off to become the man his father had been shaping him into since before he could even speak. when celeste rosier became the price of carrying the nott name. but even after he let you go, he still looked after you.

watched from a distance, pretending he wasn’t. pretending he didn’t care. lying to himself that it was better this way — better to want you in secret than to ruin you by wanting you at all.

all the times he had claimed to his friends that he wasn’t in love with you had been a lie, because behind closed doors, when it was just the two of you, he had shown you exactly how much he did. “i’ll mean something to you.” he had whispered it against your skin, his hands tangled in your hair, his lips swallowing your moans. “you don’t gotta cry.”

it was like you knew this was the last time. like you felt it in your bones, in the way your fingers clung to him just a little tighter, in the way your breath hitched as his lips ghosted over your skin. like you knew this was goodbye.

tears streaked down the cheeks he used to kiss without thinking, the same ones he had traced with his lips on quieter days, when love had been softer, easier. when it hadn’t felt like an ending.

but then he saw justin finch-fletchley or whatever the fuck. arms wrapped around you, hands smoothing down your back, voice low in your ear, comforting you after theodore had broken things off. theodore had to clench his fists, had to bite down the urge to tear you away from him. because he’s not justin. but he’ll mean something to you. he has to.

if it’s not love, then let it be anger. if it’s not happiness, then let it be hurt. let it be anything, as long as you don’t forget him.

theodore nott was the biggest hypocrite, always had been, he never once tried to deny it. but merlin help him — he’d rather be your regret than a forgotten memory because if he finds out you’re fucking him too — if he finds out someone else is kissing the lips he’s memorized, touching the skin that once burned under his hands, he might just lose his mind.

“theo?” celeste’s voice pulled him back, sharp and impatient. “are you even listening?”

he blinked away soft laughs and breathless moans laced with love, the memory dissolving like ink in water “yeah.”

she rolled her brown eyes, looping her arm through his. “you’re always so distant. you have everything you’ve ever wanted, you know.”

he let her pull him into the crowd, let her speak of wedding plans and imported silk, but his mind was still trapped in the past. in the way your eyes had lit up over a stupid handmade card. the way you had laughed, free and unfiltered, before reality had clawed its way between you.

you had never belonged in his world. not as a muggle-born, not as a girl his father would ever let him want. but back then, none of it had mattered. back then, he had convinced himself that time would slow down, that he could keep you hidden in the corners of his life, a secret stitched into the lining of his expensive robes.

but time didn’t slow down. and now, here he was, in a ballroom of gold and power, engaged to a woman made of everything his father had ever wanted for him. he has it all. and yet — he still felt like he had nothing at all.

[sweetbillwriting]

Way Out of Line

SIX

Beneath my perfume and make-up I'm just a baby in disguise. And though I know that it's wrong to be alone with him that "come on look" is in my eyes.

Character: Keith Toshko from Barbarian (2022) played by Bill Skarsgård.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

I wore a simple skater dress with a pair of black ballerina flats. You could see the dress was expensive, though, because it was made with thick black silk. It was purchased that autumn but I had only worn it once to the Thanksgiving dinner one of my dad's patients held. I felt really pretty in the dress but not too overdressed, but I was compared to Keith. He didn't seem to be the kind of guy who dressed up, and he wore the same outfit from earlier that day. I didn't mind because he looked handsome in everything, and it was a bit sexy that he didn't care, even if the restaurant was a really fancy one. I was once again surprised he had spent so much money on me, and I looked at him with big eyes while he ordered champagne for himself.

“I’ll have the same,” I said with a blush. Keith turned his eyes to me.

“You don't need to, honey.”

“I want to.”

I smiled a little and turned towards the waiter again.

“Okay…” Keith looked at the waiter and smacked his lips. “Bring us the bottle then. Dom Perignon."

We cheered in our sparkling wine, and he told me about his younger years. For a couple of years he lived in the town we were in. He was an off the books working musician and also found extra work in an industry making glass bottles. It was a simple life, but he talked about it like it had been wonderful years.

“How old were you?” I asked with a smile while they served our first course.

“It was when I dropped out of college, so 24, 25?”

He started to eat his foie gras like he ate a fried egg, but right then and there I didn't think about how nonchalantly he ate the luxury food but just imagined a younger Keith.

“Why did you become friends with my dad? He was like thirty when you were twenty…”

Keith licked his knife and looked at me with his big green eyes. He looked so kind and innocent now as he sat there, compared to how I had seen him before.

“I guess we got along, and he didn't treat me like I was just… yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders and licked off his fork too. I nodded a little even if I didn't know what he meant. He cleared his throat and took one more sip of the champagne. I could see that he didn't want to talk about my dad anymore. Instead he asked me about what I would do during the weeks he was away, and that led us to talk about my family's yearly ski trip to Aspen. Keith didn't ski but still seemed curious about our trip that we would leave for in a week. He was sweet that way, always showing interest in my things.

The nice conversation, the good food, and his warm smile in candlelight made me relax a bit too much, so when Keith ordered a bottle of red wine for our venison, I drank some of that too. I never drank so much, and on the way home, it was obvious to everyone around us that I was really drunk.

If I had been more sober, I would have noticed people looking at us in a different way now when I needed to lean on him and my mascara had started to smudge. Earlier we had gotten away with him looking older than me, but now people looked at him skeptically when he almost carried me to a taxi and I was whining about how sorry I was. He was also so much bigger than me that there was no question he owned all the power.

“Miss, are you okay?” asked a middle-aged couple when we stood waiting on the elevator. I was pressed against Keith's side and whined about the spinning world around me. Keith looked at the couple, then down at me.

“Yeah?” I said, trying to hold my gaze straight.

“Are you here with your—?” Asked the man before looking at Keith. He looked at him with fear but kept himself straight because he knew he couldn't do anything there.

I giggled a little, totally oblivious to their worry but that was also what made my answer much more sincere and believable.

“Keith? He's my boyfriend.” I looked at him and spilled all my daydreams like they were real facts. “I love him so much. We will get married one day.” I giggled and hugged him around his waist. Keith smiled at the couple awkwardly.

“I promise you, there was just a bit too much wine for dinner,” he said and then turned his gaze to the elevator door that opened in front of our eyes. The woman giggled a little.

“Okay, have a nice night.”

“You too,” said Keith with a strained smile while leading me into the empty elevator. When the door had closed, I looked up at him with a dopey smile. He smiled back with a sigh and dragged his hands through my hair.

“I will never give you wine again.”

I giggled and stood up on my toes so he could kiss me, and he did while holding me up straight. Even if my head was spinning and I felt a bit sick, I couldn't understand why he didn't think I should drink alcohol. I felt sexy, confident, and brave, so when our kiss should have been over, I deepened it and dragged my hand over his crotch. Even through the thick denim fabric, I could feel his bulge, and my pulse wandered down between my legs at once. Keith breathed out deeply in my mouth and continued to kiss me while I unbuttoned his jeans and snuck down my hand in his charcoal-colored boxers. My hand met his half-hard length, and I took hold of it firmly. Even if I had been so confident from the alcohol, I became nervous when I actually stood there with my hand in his underwear. I didn't have a clue what I should do next. I wanted to be that wild, sexy girl, but I couldn't because I didn't know how they acted. The nerves made me also feel more sick, and I stumbled slightly when Keith leaned back to see what I did to him. He caught me in his arms at once and sighed again. Carefully he pulled my hand away from him and laid it on his chest instead.

“This is not a good idea, baby girl. You need to sleep and… We're in an elevator.”

I looked up at him in shame, close to tears, but the elevator opening interrupted me. Lucky for us, there was no one outside of it, so Keith lifted me up koala style and let his jeans hang open. It was nice being carried through the hallway without needing to think about putting my foot in front of the other. I just needed to think about Keith's heavenly scent and his broad shoulders. I really wanted him, but he was probably right. I needed to sleep.

In the suite, Keith sat me down on the bed and helped me with my coat and shoes. Even if he was crouched down in front of me, he felt so big, and for a short second, I felt so powerless. I really was alone with such a big man. He could do whatever he wanted with me, but when he looked up at me with his boyish good looks, I forgot about the silly feeling and just giggled when he stood up to be able to open the zipper on the back of my dress and pull it off of my body with some struggle. I watched him hanging it up in a hanger in the wardrobe and putting my shoes and coat by the door. It looked like he was used to taking care of someone, so when he asked me to lie down so he could pull off my tights, I remembered the nickname he wanted to be called.

“You're my Daddy…”

I could feel his fingers on the lining of the tights stop moving just for a second, and then I could hear him say in a soft, protective way:

“Yes, baby girl. And I will take care of you. Just like a daddy should.”

I smiled and closed my eyes while he pulled off my tights. I had totally forgotten I wore the black lingerie set and how the lace didn't cover much of me; still, Keith didn't say anything about it.

“Do you want me to take off the bra or do you want to sleep in it?”

“Hmm?” I looked down at my chest, seeing the delicate fabric, and then sat up on my elbows so I could also see the panties. Keith stood in front of me with his hands on my knees, caressing them gently. I looked at him, even examined everything with him before spreading my legs even more, knowing he could see most of me.

“I want you, Daddy.”

Keith smiled but looked a little condescending when he laughed lowly.

“I can see that, but you need to sleep.”

“But Daddy…” I whined, letting the role of a whiny little girl take over. Playing the role was easy because, if I were honest, it had never left me; it was just that I whined for other things now.

“You're drunk and vulnerable right now. Whether you like it or not, I will not sleep with you in that state.”

I pouted, but he just answered with a laugh and then lifted me up and laid me down on the pillow.

“Bra on or off?” He said softly, as he played with the strap.

“Off,” I muttered. Keith was just smirking, amused at me, while he helped me pull off my triangle bra over my head which revealed my chest for him. I didn't want to cover up and instead challenged him by sitting up on my elbows.

“Daddy…” I whine again. It was weird how quickly the pet name had become his, but at that moment I couldn't see him as anything else. I knew he wasn't my boyfriend, but not just a friend. He was too caring to be a friend with benefits. He was my Daddy. Keith hushed me and laid the cover over me.

“The makeup and the rest we’ll take care of tomorrow, okay? Goodnight, baby.”

He hadn't even taken off his clothes, and I furrowed my brows.

“You don’t even lie in bed?”

“No, I will make myself ready for bed in the bathroom, and when I come out, you will be asleep.”

“No, I won't?”

"Yes, you will. Shut your eyes now.” He gave me a forehead kiss while I rolled my eyes under my eyelids. He spoke like he knew so much, but he also did because the next day when I woke up, I couldn't even remember him walking to the bathroom.

×××

I'm making the most of my life 'til the day that I hit 25. I know that they'll make an adult of me. I know that I'm not quite ready to be…

Of course I had heard about hangovers and feeling gross the next day after intoxication, but I had never experienced it, nor that morning did I feel it. I woke up almost on top of Keith's broad, naked body, using him more as a mattress than the bed. Carefully, I sat up to be able to see his face. His face lay in profile, pushed down in the pillow while he was snoring lightly. He was so beautiful, and I traced his jaw and cheekbone with my finger. He could have been a model if he wanted to. I looked down on his body again. His body was so attractive and manly, and when I looked at his member, my nether regions involuntarily clenched. He was soft, but still my body reacted to it. I wanted him inside of me again. It was a foreign feeling, the horniness, but with him I wanted to embrace it. It was too exciting together with him.

I pulled off my panties so I was as bare as him, then I scooted close to his body. I wanted him so bad that the feeling of needing to pee came back, and I pushed my fingers against my pussy to stop the pressure.

“Daddy, please wake up? Daddy?” I whined, pushing his chest. I continued to do so until I realized I needed to do more than that to wake him up. Clumsily, I mounted him and shook his shoulders.

“Daddy!”

Keith opened his eyes groggily and dragged a hand over his face. He started with looking at my face, but it didn't take long for him to realize I sat naked over his naked body and how I was so wet he could feel it seeping out on his lower belly. He didn't say anything; instead, he closed his eyes but dragged his hands over my naked thighs, hips, and bum. I started to believe he would continue to sleep, so I wiggled on top of him.

“Daddy!”

He hushed me but continued to drag his big hands over me, coming closer and closer to my pussy. I leaned back when I realized he wouldn't sleep at all and instead invited his fingers in between my lips to drag them through my wetness. I hoped he would find my clit again, but he was searching for my opening to see if I was ready for more than just a couple of fingers. He forced his fingers in harshly and moved them in and out of me in the same way. It did hurt a little, but I had started to get used to his harsher ways. With his other hand he took a hold of himself, his cock that was fully erect now, and asked for playtime.

“Lean forward…” He whispered and pulled his hand away from my pussy so he could push my back lightly. I did what I was told because I wanted the same thing as he, and I giggled when he dragged the head of his cock between my lips and cheeks. Keith gave me a dimpled smile but didn't open his eyes.

“It will probably hurt a bit now too, okay? I don't think you've gotten used to me.”

I looked at his face even if his eyes were shut.

“Okay…”

With one hand on my left cheek, he steered my hips, and the other holding his stiffness in place, he pushed himself in, in my sore pussy. I was obviously sore from the day before because it burned. I made some pained sounds that made Keith open his eyes, but instead of asking for relief, I sat up so more of him glided into my entrance.

Keith sat up on his elbow, so I sunk down even more on him, and he looked at me with a smirk.

“Good girl…”

I whined but let Keith force my ass down completely against him. I could feel him up in my belly and felt sick for a while until he lifted his hips so I fell forward against his chest a bit.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“No. God no.”

“Ride it then. Ride me hard.”

I moved the best I could against him, but he corrected my rhythm over and over. Some things did hurt too much, though; when he slipped in too deep or when he made me lay against his chest and fucked me so hard I could feel bruises shape just on the skin around my opening. I didn't stop though, not even when he put the soles of his feet against the bed and worked his hips up so hard I bounced on his length. He hit something in me that felt like a stabbing in my belly, but I didn't stop because it was too good to be close to him, to feel his hands and eyes on me. It felt like he was owning me for that moment. I wanted to be his in one way or another, and in that moment there was no doubt I was his.

I wasn't ready that in the middle of the pain an orgasm would start to build, but as soon as I started to moan louder and faster, Keith reacted and worked his hips even harder. Together we became louder, drowning out the sound of our slapping skin.

“Let it go! Let it go, baby!” He growled until I finally got ripped apart by the orgasm spreading from my pussy out in my limbs. I didn't notice that he came too until I felt his sticky juice run out of me, but he continued to work himself out of me even if the cream coated both of our sexes. He just continued to push it in until he was too soft to continue.

He laughed a little while lifting me off of him. I felt completely boneless but also so sore my pussy felt like an open wound. Still, I just looked at him like he was God himself. I had never felt anything like this and thought to myself that he was the meaning of life.

We lay next to each other, breathing deeply, until he smiled big at me.

“Your pussy is fucking heaven… Baby girl…”

He looked down and forced my knees apart so he could look at my pussy, spastic and swollen, smeared with his seed. I feared he would touch me again but he also knew I wouldn't say no to him.

“I will take care of her… Can you stand up?”

I shook my head because for me it was obvious my weak legs didn't work for the moment. Keith smirked a little and stood up on his own strong legs. His thigh muscles moved with every step.

“It's hard to take a shower then, but she can't look like that…” He lifted me up easily, bridal style, and took me to the bathroom. I wondered what he would do but followed him with an open mind.

Keith sat me down on the counter by the basin and encouraged me to put my feet up too. I felt really exposed where I sat naked with my legs spread like that, but I could also feel myself get wet again while Keith stood naked next to me, wetting a towel he would probably wash my intimate parts with. I could hear my pulse in my ears because I would have never let a guy do such a thing to me, never let a guy see me that exposed, but now I was there having a grown man pressing a wet towel between my legs like I couldn't take care of myself. Still, I liked it. I laid my hands on Keith's shoulders while he washed me, and I looked at his face. He looked so sweet and kind. He almost looked angelic with his big eyes, pixie nose, and full lips, but then he looked up at me with a hooded gaze and a small smirk. A look that changed his face.

“Say ‘thank you, daddy,’” he said when he was finished, still with the same dark expression. I looked at him with big eyes, mesmerized by his beauty.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

Cross my heart, uncross my legs. Oh, when I'm done, I better pray. I want the high, I want the rush. Don’t call it love, that's not enough…

×××

We had been careless and hadn't thought about protection, but when Keith realized I wasn't using any contraceptive, he hurried right away to buy the morning-after pill and then left me alone in the suite. I took the time to rest and showered when I felt the strength in my legs come back. In the shower I realized that Keith and I would say goodbye in just hours, and a lump formed in my throat. We had lived together for more than a month, but now he would go away for such a long time. I wanted to feel sure that he wouldn't forget me and that he wouldn't be with another girl, but I wasn't. Keith wasn't my boyfriend; he was someone else's husband albeit going through a divorce. In a way I was the mistress, but I couldn't be sure he would be satisfied with just me.

What did I even know about him? He had met my whole family; he knew where I studied and about my previous relationship. What did I know?

Dressed in just a fluffy robe after my shower, I opened his big suitcase, packed with all the belongings he had gotten from his separation. T-shirts and sweaters were folded in neat piles together with his laptop, cables, and earphones. In a pocket on the lid was a pair of running shoes and a burgundy raincoat. There wasn't much more than that, so instead I looked through his wallet that lay on the nightstand; he must have just taken a credit card with him. He had several credit cards, a gym membership card, his ID card, and a black anonymous card. I took a long look at his ID and dragged a finger over his picture. He looked so innocent with his big eyes looking directly into the camera. I gazed at the image with warm cheeks but laid the wallet down when I could feel the clock ticking. I walked back to the bathroom, but instead of fixing my hair as my plan was, I started to dig through his toiletry bag. It was dark blue and contained drugstore skin care and a well-used toothbrush in pink. It didn't look so interesting at first, but then in an inside pocket some interesting things were tucked in. Three condoms, a business card from a Susanne Leonel, and his wedding band. The ring was in brushed gold with a line in the middle made of platinum. I felt a bit sick looking at it in my palm, but I still tried it on all my fingers. It was far too big, and even if I felt sick knowing it was his wedding band, I smirked to myself. He was so big. While taking it off my little finger, I saw the engraving inside of it and gave it a closer look.

May & Keith 2015-05-30

“May”? Was that her name? Was his wife's name May? Was that even a name? I tried to picture how a May could look and could just see an old lady in front of me. I looked at myself in the mirror and let the robe slip down from my shoulders. I knew I was pretty, but I also knew I still looked a bit childish. May didn't look childish; I knew that. She probably was the same age as Keith; they had been married far too long for her to be much younger. Ten years. I was eleven when they got married. It was a weird thought, but I would rather be his young mistress than his old wife. I knew he would pick me over her. I opened up the robe and let it fall to the floor. I looked at my body closely, dragging my hands over perky nipples and rounded hips. He would pick me over May. I put the ring on my index finger and smirked at my own reflection. He didn't need the ring anymore so instead of putting it back in his toiletry bag I put it down inside my own, then I walked out naked to the bed, waiting for him with my legs spread wide.

The skyline falls as I try to make sense of it all. I thought I'd uncovered your secrets, but, turns out, there's more…

×××

Keith drove me home but not the whole way so my parents wouldn't see him come back. With teary eyes and a pussy that felt ripped apart, I said goodbye to him. He gave me several kisses while I begged him, Daddy, to not go, but he explained he needed to do his job, then he left me alone on the side of the road a few houses from my parents’ house, with my tears streaming. I knew I was silly, but something about him made me feel so small, like he needed to be close to me and take care of me. It was a tragic thought that I wouldn't see him for three whole weeks, and when I came into the house, I didn't even try to hide my tears. My dad looked up at me from the dinner table where he sat with his laptop and furrowed his brows.

“What is it, honey?”

“I just feel sick. I think I got the flu…” I cried and dried my cheeks while walking up the stairs. He walked out to the hallway and looked after me.

“Should I make some tea for you?”

“It's okay, Dad.”

I didn't even think about how I addressed him, but unconsciously he had become just Dad now. I had another Daddy now, the only man who could care and protect me. Keith Toshko.

×××

Don't leave me lonely. Don't leave me unhappy. Just bring me up into your fate. If you don't need me, then don't deceive me. Letting my freedom turn into stone. Just be my angel, if you love me…

I had stayed in my room, lying in bed like I actually was sick. My mom had checked up on me a couple of times, stroking my hair away from my forehead that wasn't warm and giving me tea for a throat that wasn't sore. The only thing that was sore was my pussy but also my aching heart. I missed him so much already, so when I got a text from him saying he took a break from the car ride to eat at McDonald's, I could feel my heart beating like a drum in my chest.

I miss you so much already.

I miss you too, baby. But I need to work. How are you feeling? Still sore?

I felt a blush on my cheeks because not only did I think about our time in the hotel room but also what I had said outside of the elevator. I had told the couple I loved him. I laid my hands over my face and made an involuntary sound of embarrassment. I was glad he hadn't brought it up because I understood he didn't have those feelings for me yet. He was not as naive and childish as me, but I didn't really know what I said was true either.

Yes, still sore. Do you know something that can help?

Haha, I dunno. I want to help you, baby, but I've never had those problems myself. I think you can buy calming creams at the drugstore. I think I remember something about yogurt, but that might be because it tastes better than lotion haha.

He could make me blush even if he was miles away, but the thing about yogurt didn't sound completely stupid; it sounded nice to have something cooling on, so I let him wait so I could get some yogurt, and he could guide me through it.

I walked down the stairs, obviously happier than I had been before, and prepared myself to say I felt better to my parents, but instead I sneaked into the kitchen where they were to not interrupt their conversation. Their conversation about Keith.

“That's so typical of him. Why can't he just accept a friendly hand for once?” Said my mom while she fixed herself a smoothie.

“I don't know. I guess he's just used to solving things like that,” answered my dad, leaning against the counter nonchalantly. It was obvious he didn't care as much as my mom. I opened the fridge, pretending to mind my own business.

“Solving? There is nothing to solve. We opened our home because we were worried for him, not to get money!”

“It's just his way to say thank you, Giselle. It's not like he can't afford it.”

“I know he can afford it! It's just sad that he feels obligated to pay everyone around him.”

I couldn't stop myself from turning around to look at them. I could almost guess what they were implying, but it didn't add up with Keith's humble ways.

“Is he rich?” I asked with the vanilla yogurt in my hand. My parents look at each other. My mom looked uncomfortable, but my dad just sighed.

“Yes. Keith is rich. Toshko Electronics?” With a finger, he lazily hit the logo on the mixer. “It's his family's company. He's filthy rich. He really wants to pretend to be a struggling artist, so don't say anything about it when he comes home again.”

I could hear a buzzing sound in my ears. It was probably the sound of all my thoughts and feelings flying around in my head. Keith was rich. Keith was a rich man in a divorce.

“His divorce will take ages, will it not?” I asked hopelessly without thinking about my question being weird. My mom gave me a strange look, but my dad seemed unbothered.

“Probably. She wants money while his family will not let her win, even if he just wants a friendly end.”

I could feel my eyes tearing up, and my mom gave me a worried look.

“What is it, honey?”

“Um… I just feel sorry for him. He's a really nice man. He deserves to move on.”

My mom nodded, but I could see in her eyes that she didn't really believe what I was saying. While I took a spoon, I ignored her looks, and then I walked up to my room where my phone rested on a pink pillow. Keith had sent one more message: his username on Snapchat.

So I can teach you how to put that yogurt on. It can get messy ;)

×

[angelatmidnight1]

A Helping Hand

A/N: This is just a self-indulgent fic I'm using as a springboard for another one. I'm in a Gale/Karlach/Astarion high right now. I'll get back to requests as soon as I can, and I hope you like the story!

Fandom- Baldur's Gate 3.

Pairing- Starts with Gale x Karlach (platonic, ler!Gale and lee!Karlach), and ends with Gale, Karlach, and Astarion (platonic, ler!Karlach, ler!Astarion, and lee!Gale).

Word Count- 2,532.

Warnings- Situated in Act 3 so potential for spoilers, also tickling and swearing.

Gale finally shows Karlach how to cast Mage Hand, another avenue of touch, and she’s thrilled by the doors it opens up. He invites her to explore touch with him and doesn’t account for her using it for more playful, nefarious reasons, like tickling. And, just when it couldn’t get any more chaotic, Astarion invites himself in on the fun, too…

“That’s it, Karlach. Try the incantation again.”

Gale spoke from behind the tiefling after he guided her hands into the right position. She was very warm to the touch, but touching her didn’t burn. Her engine was a source of curiosity for him ever since she’d joined the party way back when. But, instead of indulging that curiosity, he’d promised to show her how to cast Mage Hand. Karlach had gotten the incantation down more or less. He just had to make sure she had her hands in the right place. Magic was just as much a physical thing as a verbal one in Gale’s experience. 

Karlach rigidly held her hands in position and repeated the incantation. “Veniam Iuva Me..” Her eyes brightened when the spectral hand emerged in front of her. “I got it!”

“Excellent,” Gale smiled. “Now, with a flick of the wrist, or a thought even, the hand will do as you command. You can pick things up, throw them, push the unfortunate goblin to their death…”

Karlach wasn’t fully listening; instead, she flexed and curled her fingers, and the mage hand mirrored her. “Yeah. Woulda been nice to have one of these when I got back to the Sword Coast.” She replied. “At least I’d have been able to touch something..”

She guided the hand across the Elfsong Tavern and picked up a tankard. She brought it back over to her and took a sip of the ale, exhaling deeply. “Aw, man. A girl could get used to this..”

Gale chuckled and picked up his own glass of wine. “Learning cantrips are only the beginning of a lifelong journey with magic. Cheers to taking that first step.”

Karlach happily clinked her tankard with his glass. She took another sip, her eyes sparkling with genuine wonder and curiosity. “So, I can touch anything with this hand, right?”

“Most things,” he corrected. “The mage hand can take damage just as our own. So, you couldn’t grab, say, the blade end of a sword. But you could wield said sword as an extension of yourself. It’s very handy in that regard.”

“Gods, the puns.” Karlach snickered. “And yeah, I’ll be sure to have one of these around when we beat the Absolute’s ass. But uh, I was thinking more along the lines of being able to, you know, hold someone’s hand? Maybe caress a face or two?”

“Of course. Here, if you’d like, you can explore the mage hand’s capabilities with me.” He finished his wine and stood in front of her. He extended his own hand. “I’m more than willing to offer myself as a test subject in the pursuit of knowledge.”

“Really? That’d be awesome!” Karlach brought the hand to Gale’s, palm to palm. She interlocked her fingers and the mage hand, as well as Gale, followed suit. “Thank you, Gale.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Gale allowed Karlach to explore his hand with the spectral one, watching it stroke across his fingers. The barbarian hummed in thought and moved further up his arm. 

“So, what does this feel like?” She asked, moving the touches up to his wrist. “Doesn’t beat the real thing I suppose. But it is nice to have options.”

“Well, it’s very similar to the touch of another, minus the warmth of course.” Gale turned his palm towards the floor so she could go up his arm. “Maybe it is a lighter touch, too. Almost feather like..”

“Yeah?” When she reached his upper arm, she curled the fingers on the mage hand, gently squeezing into his skin. Gale fidgeted a little bit and exhaled through his nose. She raised a brow. “What? That doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No, quite the opposite, actually.” He chuckled. “Bit ticklish is all.”

“Huh.” Karlach hummed again, continuing to kneading into his upper arm. She smiled. “I didn’t really pick you as the ticklish type, with you being all proper and scholarly and whatnot.”

“Y-Yehehes, well…” Gale chuckled a bit more and tugged at his arm, but the mage hand held strong. After a few more attempts, Gale managed to get his arm free. “I can say with confidence that ticklishness doesn’t have a face. Why, even the strongest warriors can be—hey!”

 Instead of going for his arms again, Karlach brought the mage hand towards his torso, prodding into his side. Gale again jumped away from the ticklish touch and giggled louder. He backpedaled and wrapped a protective arm around his torso. “Now, Karlach,” he warned. He suddenly felt a bit playful and grinned. “Choose your next actions carefully. Should you try to tickle me again, I will have no choice but to retaliate.”

He stepped further away from her, his hands glowing with magic. Karlach followed after him, snickering. 

“Oh really?” Karlach challenged, returning the grin. “Heh, I’d like to see you try!”

Somewhere else in the tavern, sitting on his bed, was Astarion. His brow was knitted together in concentration as he sewed up a split seam on a shirt. Not his shirt, but Wyll’s. Now that they were back in Baldur’s Gate, Astarion believed looking the part was a high priority. He wouldn’t stand for his companions walking around in tattered clothes. Ideally, he’d find a clothing merchant and just steal their stuff, but he was willing to pace himself. He flinched when there was a sudden roar of laughter, Karlach’s laughter, and he grumbled under his breath. Did she always have to be so damn loud?

“Karlach, can you keep it down?” He called sharply. He refused to look up from what he was doing; he was nothing if not a perfectionist when it came to sewing. “Some of us have important things to do, and I need to concentrate.”

But instead of quieting down, Karlach’s laughter only got louder. A thud accompanied this wild laughter, and Astarion’s patience waned. He got up with a heavy sigh, putting his work on his end table. Then, he followed the source of the racket. 

When he got to the next room, Karlach was prone on the floor, laughing her head off. Gale sat beside her with a smug smirk. Karlach’s mage hand was gone, and there was a purple aura emanating off of her: Gale’s variation of a Hold Person spell. Instead of completely immobilizing her, she was able to squirm around, though she didn’t get very far. The first place he squeezed was her hips, a terribly ticklish spot, and he was still kneading into them when Astarion entered the room. 

“I warned you,” Gale was saying as he skittered his fingers across her torso. He honed in on her sides, and her loud laughter calmed into not as loud giggles. “We could’ve handled this civilly, but you forced my hand!”

Karlach squealed and wrestled with Gale’s hands, but her laughter had weakened her, and she was honestly having a blast. “Fahahahaha! I-I’ll gehehehet youhuhuhu bahahack! Youhuhuhu juhuhust wahahait!” 

“Unlikely,” Gale snickered. “But I do admire your resolve.”

That’s when he summoned another mage hand and used it to poke at her ribs. Karlach’s frantic giggling mingled with snorts. Astarion fondly shook his head as he watched from afar. 

“Having fun, darlings?” Astarion soon spoke over Karlach’s laughter. He stepped further into the room. He was initially annoyed,  but Karlach’s laugh was highly contagious. He had to expend a good deal of effort not to giggle along with her. “I was wondering why Karlach was laughing so hard. I figured someone told a joke, fell on their arse maybe. But no, you’re just…tickling her. Adorable I suppose, but why?”

Gale looked up, joining the mage hand in pinching and scritching over Karlach’s ribs. She yelled and rolled from one side to the other, trying to dodge the hands. “Because I made the generous offer to teach her a spell, and she decided to turn on me,” he explained.. “I responded in turn by giving her a taste of her own medicine.” 

“So I see,” Astarion hummed. “Well, I’d tell you two to keep it down, but that’s impossible with her hyena call. Maybe you’d like a hand?”

“NAAHAHOHOHO!” Karlach protested, shrieking when Gale’s hand jumped to her armpit. She immediately brought her arms down, trapping his hand, and her laughter went up two octaves. Gale continued to wriggle his fingers along her armpit, but having her arms down didn’t make it easy for him. He sent the mage hand to wrestle with her arm to try and pull it up. Gale regarded Astarion with a quick glance, nodding. 

“I certainly won’t turn down the help—”

“Not you, Gale.” Astarion scoffed. He walked towards the duo. “Why, our poor fiery friend is in stitches, and you have the advantage of having literal magic at your fingertips. Helping you wouldn’t even begin to even the playing field..”

 Gale’s gaze snapped back to the spawn. He halted his tickle attack, giving Karlach a break. “Now hang on, I wasn’t the one that started this.”

“But you are the one indirectly causing the noise, in a manner of speaking.” Astarion stepped with a purpose towards them. “I couldn’t even sew in peace.”

“That hardly seems fair!” Gale protested. Since he spent a lot of effort keeping Karlach in place and now had his sights on Astarion, both his concentration and his spell slots waned. That didn’t stop him from popping up from the floor and pointing a warning finger at him. “Don’t you dare, Astarion!”

Karlach  wrapped both arms around her torso as they bickered. She didn’t mind tickling in the slightest, but Gale wasn’t going to weasel his way out of her well deserved revenge. Especially when she now had a partner in crime. While she was laying on the floor, she grabbed a fistful of the end of Gale’s robe and pulled him down with her. Gale screamed and, before he knew it, Astarion was on him, too. 

“Get him!” Karlach shouted, easily tangling the wizard up in her arms. Astarion smirked and knelt beside them. He waited until she pulled his arms over his head to poke into his sides. Gale flinched and tried to lean away from the poke, but he only leaned further into Karlach’s arms.

“Nohoho no no! AhAHah! Wahahait!” Gale yelped and squirmed as Astarion continued to prod into his sides, his frantic giggles already threatening to jump to laughter. “Two against one is nohohot fahahir!”

“Who said anything about fair?” Karlach grinned and clawed her way down his forearm until she could burrow into his exposed armpits. Gale bucked and giggled harder, trying and failing to bring his arms back down. “Nope, you’re not getting out of this one, Gale.”

Astarion climbed on top of Gale’s kicking legs, fingertips fluttering into his sides with more purpose. The wizard twisted from one side to the other, but his fingers stayed on him. “You really thought I’d help you? And end up on the receiving end of Karlach’s fury?” Astarion snickered. “No, my dear. Unlike you, I know how to pick battles that I can win, haha.”

“Y-Youhuhu opportunhistic leehehehehech!” Gale squealed and curled in on himself when Karlach circled her thumbs along the outer curve of his armpits. The barbarian smirked, following the curve of his back and ending with swipes of her claws at the back of his ribs. Gale yelled and jerked forward, only to press his back into her chest when she kept scribbling. 

“Where ya goin’~?” She giggled. She let go of his arms for the moment so that she could use both hands to attack his rib cage. Gale immediately brought his arms to his sides and batted at her wrists. 

“Awahahahay frohohohom youhuhuhu!” He yelped and squeezed at her wrists when she tickled faster. “KAhahahaha! Lehehehet mehehehe gohohoho!”

In truth, Gale enjoyed tickling every now and again. It’s not something he’d go around talking about, but he definitely appreciated a good laugh. But Karlach and Astarion together were probably the most mischievous ticklers on the Sword Coast. If anything, they fed off of each other’s skills. Astarion had the dexterous fingers and teasing taunts, and Karlach had the strength and boundless energy. Together, they left Gale a laughing mess.

“Why? We’ve only just started,” Astarion teased, gently pinching the sides of his stomach. Gale jolted and belted out a laugh. Astarion did it again, earning another frantic laugh, and he grinned knowingly. Gale’s arms flailed as he tried to grab the spawn’s hands. 

“NOHOHO AHASTAHARION!” Gale wrestled with his hands, now full-on laughing. Astarion clicked his teeth as he tried to keep tickling his tummy. He gave Karlach an expectant look. 

“Ahem, little help here?” He asked, having to halt his tickle attack in favor of trying to move Gale’s hands. Karlach stopped tickling his ribs and reached over both men’s arms.

“Right, I’ve got ‘im.” She looped her larger arms around Gale and drew him back into her chest. Gale continued to squirm until his arms were trapped under hers.

“Thank you,” Astarion chuckled. He smirked at the wizard in front of him and made a big show of flexing his fingers. “Now, where were we?”

He put one hand on Gale’s tummy and Gale flinched again, nervously giggling. 

“Nohohot thehehre…” Gale jumped again and squealed when the spawn flexed his fingers. “AHAhastariohohon! Anywhehehre buhuhut thehehehre!”

“My, so sensitive..” Astarion continued to gently flex his fingers against Gale’s tummy, chuckling more at his squeals and cackles. “I’m hardly touching you. Our resident wizard is just a magical bundle of nerves, isn’t he?”

“Sure is,” Karlach grinned. “But hey, who said you’re gettin’ all of the fun?” She readjusted her hold on Gale, now using one arm to keep him against her chest. She joined Astarion in squeezing and poking into Gale’s tummy, and his loud laughter echoed throughout the tavern. 

Astarion wrapped his legs around Gale’s to not get thrown off but, even then, he almost went flying. Karlach laughed along with Gale as she alternated between the side of his stomach and just above his hip. 

“Gods, I love your laugh,” she giggled. “It’s so fuckin’ cute.” Despite her strength, even Karlach had to make sure she didn’t let go of him. Gale bucked and cackled in her hold.

“NAHAHAHAHA! DOHOHON’T TIH-AHAHA! AHAHA!” Gale struggled to get a full sentence out; he could only laugh himself silly as he leaned into Karlach’s shoulder. 

Eventually, the duo eased off of him. Karlach let go of his arms, and Astarion slowed his tickles down to gentle pokes and stroking. Gale inadvertently slid down Karlach’s lap, finally able to bat at Astarion’s hands.

“Plehehease, truhuhuce…” He gasped, sighing with relief once Astarion finally stopped. The spawn snickered.

“Alright, alright, I’ve had my fun. I’ll leave you in the capable hands of our mutual friend.” Astarion patted Gale’s stomach and climbed off of his legs. Once he was gone, Karlach pulled the wizard up into a seated position, holding him close.

“No hard feelings, right Gale?” She asked, rubbing her warm hands over his torso. Gale exhaled and shook his head. 

“Not at all. I believe we settled our score,” He replied, leaning further into her warmth. “Astarion, on the other hand…” 

[tadpolesonalgae]

Blurbs

Below, you will find:

Revelling + Amren Swimming + Koschei Overstimulation + Azriel* Bad Memories + Feyre

Revelling w/ Amren

I’m not sorry by DEAN

Her blood red lips split in a feline grin, “are you sure about that, lamb?”

A shiver of excitement thrills down your spine at the name—her preferred blood type. “I wouldn’t have said it were I not entirely sure, Amren.” You know your eyes are sparkling with playful challenge, but she makes no move to haul you from the ballroom. Instead, she leans back against the wall, watching you with those sharp silver eyes of hers.

“I think the wine is making you dumb,” she croons, making you frown. “I’m perfectly aware. Besides, you’ve had more than me,” you counter, flicking your eyes pointedly to the glass in her elegantly pointed hand, the red liquid reminding you of the blood she so used to adore.

Her smile is coy, and she raised the glass to her lips, taking a slow sip while you watch intently. “I don’t think I should need to remind you, but I am much older than you. I know how to handle my alcohol.” She gives you a look that says unlike you.

Your features twist into a frown and you make to push off the wall, “fine.”

Silver eyes flick to you over the rim of her wine. Your own lips fashion into a playful smile, “I’ll find me fun elsewhere, then.”

Swimming in Koschei’s lake

Leni by GoodBooks

Talons made of death wrap around your torso, and you freeze. He’s caught you.

Limbs tremble, muscles spasming as your very world is ripped out from beneath your feet.

“What are you?”

The voice is unlike anything you’ve ever heard: a deep, animalistic rasp, sounding like rock against rock and you can picture how sparks would fly.

“You’re not one of the fae. What’s a creature like you doing in my lake?”

Your breathing catches, words a distant thought as your vision blurs. “I’m sorry,” you raps, whimpering. “I’ll never come here again. Please just— let me go.”

He hums, and it sounds like he’s smiling. The claws tighten, dragging you deeper into the lake, your gills flapping as you fight to keep your breathing regular, even as you squirm in his grip. “Please. I had no idea this was your lake. I was trying to escape the hunters. Please, I’m sorry.”

He’s quiet for a little and you brace for the crushing impact of his grip but it never comes. Instead, “show me.”

You stiffen in his grip, warily opening your large, dark eyes—eyes made for darkness, yet that are unable to breech his. “Show you?” You ask softly, trying not to stammer or stumble.

A noise like leather stretching sounds, and you have the every feeling he’s smiling. “Show me your hunters.”

Overstimulation w/ Azriel

Damaged by Blood On The Dance Floor

Pleasure rolls across your skin, waves of heated sunlight cresting over you again and again.

Your toes curl as he doesn’t let up, head tipping back into the pillows as his cock touches that spot deep inside of you. His shadows build over your clit and your vision turns blinding white, colour fading as the darkness flicks and nips at the sensitive bud.

Words are stolen from your lips, dragged into his own mouth as he swallows your sounds greedily. In the back of your mind, you’re aware of his quiet whispers, saying you’re being so good, that you just need to give him a few more, that if you can manage to get up onto your hands and knees maybe he’ll go a little easier.

Of course they’re all sweet lies. He’ll be working on you until the sun is rising over the city, spilling into your room like how he’s spilled deep inside your heat again and again. So much that it’s dripping down your thighs, staining the sheets as he pumps you full.

But sunrise is still hours away, and you haven’t even reached double digits yet. He’s going to work you to your breaking point, and only then will he allow you a moment to rest. A few minutes if you’re really lucky.

Aching arousal warms your belly at the thought—knowing you’re free to yield to him entirely, and he’ll take care of you.

Memories of the Hewn City w/ Feyre

Rise by Skillet

Flame singes the hairs of your arms, and you bolt upright, breath curling in the cold Night air.

Vision goes blurry as the memories crush down on you.

The door flies open, and instantly she’s at your side, comforting you, holding you tight, hugging you against her. “Hey, it’s okay sweetness. You’re not there anymore. You’re with me.” She cups your cheeks, “look at me. Look at me, sweet thing.”

Your lower lip wobbles but you manage to look at her through teary eyes, skin still stinging with the phantom pain of a leather whip.

She smiles gently, stroking your skin with such aching reverence. “You’re out. You got out, remember. You’re with our court now,” she smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “My Court.”

You cry more, but for a different set of reasons. Sobs wrack your body, ravaging your lungs as you remember the burning flame, the crack of a whip, the stink of blood and the acrid tang of urine in air. “It was so real…” you stammer quietly, sobbing into her arms as the nightmare lingers, skin aching with memories.

She can do nothing but hold you, keeping you wrapped in her warmth. You’ve made it clear you don’t want her to remove those memories, but it’s so difficult to watch you wake like this night after night.

Still, she won’t go against your wishes.

She’ll keep you close, and hold you until the sun comes up.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming

[forest-hashira]

also fuck it LEMME GET A DRABBLE TOO WHY NOT….. >:3 kenji + flying ehehehehe 🤓🤓 mwah mwah congrats once again <33

EEEEEEE TY LOGAN!!! kissing u on the forehead ily smmmmm 💜 the randomizer i used rlly said "hmmmmm. i know this is for logan. give her The Boy" AHAHA so i hope u enjoy ur lil romantic gojo drabble 🥺

“Toru?” you called, stepping into the apartment you shared with your boyfriend; the lights in the entryway were off, and it seemed like only the kitchen was dimly lit. Odd, you thought, knowing he usually steered clear of the kitchen. You’d had a long day at work, though, and decided not to dwell on it. Instead, you toed off your shoes, tucking them away into their proper spot, and hanging your keys on their designated hook by the door before stepping further into the apartment.

Before you made it more than a few steps, though, Satoru was in front of you, a bright grin on his face and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands. “Hey, sweetheart!” he greeted cheerfully, though he dialed back his enthusiasm a bit when he saw the exhaustion that weighed your body down. “Bad day?”

You gave a small shake of your head. “Just long.” You gladly accepted the flowers as he offered them to you, leaning in and closing your eyes for a moment as you gave them a sniff. “Thank you, baby. The flowers are nice.”

“I made dinner, too,” he told you with a smile, placing a hand lightly on your back and guiding you towards the dining room.

“You… cooked?” Satoru tried his best, you knew he did, but cooking was not his strong suit, which is why he was generally relegated to prep tasks when he helped you in the kitchen. Because you loved him, you’d eat at least a few bites of whatever it was he made, but you were already mentally running through your options for places to call and order something for delivery.

“No, I know better than that,” he replied with a small chuckle. “I’m not very good at cooking without supervision.”

As you stepped into the dining room, you saw that the table was set, with candles lit in the center, and this time it was your turn to laugh. The dinner your boyfriend had “made” for you was still in its little white takeout boxes, each box placed neatly in the center of a plate, with chopsticks and a glass of wine on either side – well, you thought it was wine at first, but them you noticed the bottle of sparkling grape juice Satoru had placed between your place settings.

“It looks delicious,” you said, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Thank you, Toru. I really appreciate it.”

Just then, your stomach decided it was the perfect time to make the most ungodly gurgling noise, making heat rush to your cheeks with embarrassment.

“Maybe you should stop appreciating it and start eating it,” Satoru teased, kissing your cheek and taking the flowers from your arms. “Sit, eat. I’ll put these in a vase and then join you.”

Finding no reason to argue, you did as he said, taking your seat at the table and picking up your glass, taking a small sip of the sparkling beverage as you turned to watch your partner move around the kitchen, looking over your small collection of vases before picking one, carefully trimming the stems of the flowers, then placing and arranging them in the vase once it had enough water in it.

You’d never felt luckier to have him in your life.

for my 100 followers milestone event!

[berryhobii]

i’ve been really into street racing.

hobi is reader’s boyfriend and he takes us out to the track one night to be the count down girl.

maybe you can have him go up against one of the other boys. maybe one of them tries to taunt hobi by flirting with us.

you can decide whether he wins or not but either way he gets some lovin’. also you can dictate if it’s just a kiss, heavy petting, or full blown smut.

i’m not super picky; i just wanna see some rivalry and fast cars😭

Hi! Thanks for your request! I don’t know much about cars or street racing outside of movies so I don’t know how accurate most of this is but I did my best! I really hope you enjoy and please tell me what you think! Much love🩵🩵

~

The summer air was surprisingly cool against your brown skin. The sun had disappeared hours ago, making way for the beaming light of the moon to illuminate the dark overpass.

Everyone was off in their own worlds, beers and wine coolers being tossed back and discarded on the concrete, joining multiple cigarette butts and condom wrappers.

Pulling your compact mirror out of your purse, you double checked your carefully done makeup. Hot damn, you looked fine as hell. This was a special night. It was only appropriate that you looked your best.

“Princess.”

Snapping your mirror closed, you were met with the panty dropping image of your boyfriend in all his leather clad glory—leather jacket, fingerless gloves, even a pair of leather pants that made his bulge look particularly delicious. This outfit alone deserved a blowjob. Good thing you sprang for smear proof lipstick.

As if he could read your mind, he snapped his fingers to get your attention, your eyes reluctantly lifting to meet his. “My eyes are up here, princess.”

You smirked, reaching out to hook a finger in his belt loops to pull him closer. You leaned your head back to stare alluringly into his own, your cat like lashes fluttering. “Well my eyes are down there so I guess we’re at an impasse.”

He rolled his eyes at your vulgarity but you knew he wasn’t really annoyed at you, his own smirk tugging at his lips.

He cupped your cheek, thumb stroking over your plump bottom lip. At the movement, your mouth wrapped around the digit, giving it a light suck. He could feel his own cock jump at the sight but he couldn’t let himself get horny here. Not now. No matter how tempting you were.

“Aish, you’re impossible. Save it until after the race.” He sighed but not before pressing hard on your tongue making you gag a little. That tiny display of dominance went right to your cunt, the thin panties you were wearing already soaked through.

“I’ve been saving it since we left the house.” You purred, your index finger trailing along his bulge through his pants. He shivered and cursed under his breath. You were dangerous—very very dangerous.

“Hey Jung! Maybe you should be more worried about blowing the race instead of getting blown by your girl!” The deep voice of Kim Taehyung called from the other side of the overpass. Laughter reigned from his posse, his hooded eyes sparkling with mirth at calling out his rival.

Your eyes glanced from them back to Hoseok who was already glaring at the man he would be competing against tonight. No one got under Hoseok’s skin like Taehyung did, that smug bastard was still riding the high of winning the last race which left them tied.

Tonight, Hoseok would wipe that cocky smirk right off that rich boy’s face.

“Hey baby, why don’t you come over here with a real winner? I’ll show you a good time.” He whistled at you, eyes locked in a fierce battle with Hoseok. He was taunting him, loud and clear in front of everybody. Hoseok didn’t mind a little trash talk but he drew the line when people disrespected you.

You knew Hoseok better than anyone and you could tell by his face that he was reaching his breaking point.

Standing from the hood of his car, you brought your hand to his cheek to turn his face to you. “Hoseok, baby.”

That fire was burning in this eyes, that unflappable spirit and unwavering confidence that you fell in love with spreading like liquid fire through his veins.

“You get out there and win. I want to rub that bastard’s face in it.”

The sneer on his lip was gone, replaced by a wolfish grin, one that told you he was ready to go.

Gripping your ass over your mini skirt and giving it a hard squeeze, he pulled you closer to his body, the heat radiating from him sinking into your bones.

“I will, princess. Then I’ll come back and fuck you on the hood of this car.”

You smiled, poking his nose with your finger. “I’m looking forward to it.”

~

Soon enough, the atmosphere had changed from a casual hangout to electric chaos, nerves buzzing and the crowd practically bursting with anticipation.

Taehyung gripped the steering wheel of his car, looking over through his passenger window to Hoseok who was staring ahead. He must have felt Taehyung’s stare because he turned his head, their eyes blazing with a surge of emotions.

Neither of them wanted to lose. Losing meant no bragging rights. Losing meant inferiority.

Losing was not an option.

The corner of Taehyung’s lip turned up, his foot pressing on his gas pedal, his car roaring in challenge. A psych out method that Hoseok wouldn’t fall for. He didn’t have time for Taehyung’s games.

Flipping Taehyung off, Hoseok focused back ahead to where you were stepping from the sidelines to stand in the middle of both of the rumbling cars.

Your lace up heels, mini skirt, and crop top combo was driving him crazy, the pure sex appeal that dripped from you sending the crowd into a frenzy. The wolf whistles and claps were only riling Hoseok up more.

He was gonna win. Not only for himself but for you.

Your heart was thudding in equal parts excitement and nerves. This was your first time doing this and despite the job being relatively easy, you were still nervous. Everyone knew you were Hoseok’s girl. How would it look if you started the race and then he lost? Racing was his pride, his passion. You didn’t want to mess this up.

Then you captured the gaze of the man you loved through his windshield. He flashed you that beautiful smile along with a wink and all of a sudden, those nerves disappeared.

Taking a deep breath, you raised the flags in both of your hands. Their engines revved, the crowd growing more and more excited. Casting Hoseok a final glance and mouthing a ‘good luck’, you brought the flags down.

Foots on the gas, both cars sped off with a deafening screech of their tires. Dust whipped around you, tiny rocks hitting your skin and the crowd cheering loudly for who they wanted to win.

You turned around, barely catching sight of their tail-lights as they sped on the course and out of sight.

All you could do was wait.

~

Taehyung glanced into his rear view mirror, Hoseok coming up on his left. Blocking his path, Hoseok was forced to slow down a little to prevent crashing into Taehyung. Taehyung smirked; maneuvers like that was his strong suit. He blocked his competitors and secured his win. It’s how he’s beaten Hoseok all of those times before. Hoseok was a good driver but he was too careful.

Taehyung was a fierce competitor with an amazing car but even with all of that, he was impulsive, hasty and too cocky. That’s where his weakness was.

Little did Taehyung know, losing wasn’t on Hoseok’s agenda today. Today, he would let loose.

Taehyung looked into his rear view again, finding Hoseok trailing further behind him.

“Ha. Giving up, Jung? Smart.”

Around the final bend, the overpass just in sight, Taehyung was feeling confident about winning this one. He’d win and then he’d watch Hoseok’s pretty girlfriend become absolutely devastated. It would be too easy.

He would relax and cinch this win.

Just a few hundred yards from the finish line, Taehyung began to slow down just a little. Hoseok was too far behind to catch up anyway. He could cruise into this win.

Hoseok took a deep breath, just the thought of you waiting for him enough to give him that last burst of confidence he needed. Shifting gears, he slammed on the gas, the needle on the speedometer flying from 90 to 140 in seconds. Like a bullet, Hoseok flew past Taehyung.

Taehyung could barely react, pressing on his own gas in an attempt to regain his lead but it was too late. The cheers of the crowd hit his ears but they weren’t for him.

You could have cried seeing Hoseok’s car cross the line with Taehyung just milliseconds behind him. You couldn’t even hear the people around you, focused solely on your boyfriend who had stepped out of his car.

His eyes frantically looked around, searching for the one person who he knew would be waiting for him.

You ran the best you could in your heels into his open arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he spun both of you around.

Pulling away, you cupped both of his cheeks, letting out a watery laugh before connecting your lips in a desperate and yearning kiss full of joy, love, and overwhelming pride.

“I won, princess. I won.” He said against your lips.

He won.

~

“Ooooooo shit, fuck me harder with that fat cock baby! It feels so good!” You moaned/screamed as Hoseok’s thick cock pummeled your walls in back shots so deep that you could feel him in your stomach. Tears streamed down your cheeks, drool leaking from your mouth and forming tiny puddles on the hood of his car. You could feel yourself ready to burst, all of the pent up energy and adrenaline from the race still coursing through your veins.

After his win, Hoseok immediately drove you two to an empty parking lot and then he was on you. He kept true to his promise, pulling you out of the car and hauling you up on the hood before eating you out like a madman. He didn’t even remove your panties, simply moving them to side before diving into your succulent cunt.

Hoseok cursed, working his hips back and forth faster than his car, the squelch of your walls spurring him on faster. Your creamy cunt was making the filthiest noises along with your pleasure fueled babbles and pleads.

The cool hood of his car was doing nothing to alleviate the heat radiating off of you, your nipples rubbing against the surface to the point where they hurt a little bit but it was only adding to the mind numbing pleasure.

“Yeah? Hold that ass open for me.”

Reaching your hands back, you spread your ass cheeks for him, giving him a view of your twitching ass. Gathering some saliva in his mouth, he let spit dribble from his mouth down to your little hole. He rubbed his thumb over the tight ring of muscle making you whine out. There was no warning, no gentle touches, no preparation before he shoved his thumb right into your ass, hooking it and using it as a type of leverage on forcing your ass to clap against him.

Your mouth dropped in a silent scream at the feeling of the sudden intrusion, the new sensation hurtling you towards orgasm. You felt so fucking full, both of your holes stuffed and your knees quivering as they threatened to give on you.

Hoseok must have sensed it because he grabbed one of your legs and propped it up on the hood. Not only did this position open you up more, it let him reach so much deeper, the tip of his cock rubbing against your gspot with every stroke.

You choked out a moan, head lifting and your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your pleasure crested.

“I’m gonna cum Hoseok! Fuck I’m gonna cum! I-I’m…!” You slurred, nails scratching the paint off and leaving thin marks in the metal.

His thumb dug deeper, cock reaching unexplored places of your pussy. “Cum princess. Shit shit shit.”

You both reach your highs at the same time, your walls constricting around him and milking him for everything he had, his cum coating your squishy walls. Your head banged forward on the car, shivers going down your spine despite the heat of the night.

Your chests rose and fell as you tried to regain your breath. You felt Hoseok’s hand travel up your shoulder to grab your face, peeling your sweaty body off the surface. He craned your head backwards, bringing his lips down on yours in a feverish kiss. You hummed, your tongues dancing and licking at each other.

“Congrats on your win, baby.”

“Thanks. Do I get my prize now?”

You laughed because he was so ridiculous but so were you. That’s why you fit together so well.

“Get in the back, loser.”

[fanficshiddles]

Eternally Mine, Chapter 14

‘I think I’m still stuffed from yesterday’s meal, I don’t know how I’ll fit in another one today.’ Claire groaned as she fell flat on the bed, waiting for Loki to button up his shirt.

‘I’m sure you’ll manage once you get a sniff of dad’s Christmas dinner. It’s amazing.’ Loki grinned.

‘Oh I am looking forward to it, you’ve talked it up so much.’ Claire said. 'I'm just not promising that I won't fall into a food coma afterwards.'

‘I’m really honoured that you wanted to spend Christmas with me yesterday, instead of with your parents and Louise.’ Loki said as he finished buttoning up his shirt.

‘Of course I wanted to spend it with you. Our first Christmas together, just the two of us. I’m glad your dad was happy to have us today instead of yesterday.’ Claire said as she rolled onto her side to watch Loki’s devilish fingers folding down his collar.

‘Dad tends to prefer going all out on Boxing Day, says Christmas Day is for relaxing and doing nothing. He will have gotten a Chinese takeaway last night, I know it.’ Loki chuckled.

‘Fair enough. He’s probably had enough from dealing with you as a kid on Christmas day anyway.’ Claire smirked and sat up.

‘Cheeky.’ Loki growled at her.

‘It’s a shame Louise isn’t coming back until New Years. It would’ve been nice if she’d been able to join us too.’

‘I know, but I bet she’s delighted she’s managed to get home for Christmas this year.’ Loki smiled.

‘Yeah, she is.’ Claire nodded.

‘Though Chris is going to be a nightmare today, I can just feel it in my bones.’ Loki huffed.

‘What makes you say that?’ Clarie frowned.

‘Well, Louise won’t be there. So he’s bound to be in a pouty mood in the first place. He’s going to be a pain in the ass, mark my word.’

‘I’m sure he won’t be too bad.’ Claire laughed.

-

Loki was right. Chris was in a bit of a brooding mood, though still not as bad as he used to be before he and Loki reconciled. He was just a bit snippy before dinner now and then, making the others do a lot of eye-rolling. Though he was still much better to be around than he used to be.

Loki managed to escape for a short while to go help Lucius in the kitchen with the last preparations for dinner. Leaving Claire with Chris in the living room with some wine. Though she had hoped for a bit of alone time with him.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a photo album. Chris raised an eyebrow at her when she scooted across the sofa to sit right next to him, with the album on her lap.

‘What’s this?’ Chris asked.

‘Some old photos I wanted to show you. Thought you’d like to see them.’ Claire grinned and passed the album to him.

Chris put his wine down and curiously opened up the album. Claire saw his face light up instantly when he saw Louise in the picture. It was of her and Claire when they were teenagers, at Claire’s birthday party.

He slowly flicked through them and laughed at some of the goofy pictures.

‘Louise had an emo phase, did she?’ He chuckled.

‘Wasn’t really a phase… I think if she hadn’t met a certain someone, she likely would be looking quite different to how she is now.’ Claire said quietly.

In the pictures for a good few years Louise had different colour hair or strips of various colours. She also had earrings and looked to wear a good amount of make-up, that she did really well.

Then there was a picture when they were a bit older, it was a family meal for what looked like Christmas. Though Louise didn’t look quite the same, the sparkle in her eyes was gone and her hair was her natural brunette, she no longer had earrings in either or wore much make-up aside from a bit of foundation.

Chris noted that the guy sitting next to her at the table was blurred out.

‘I love this photo because it was our last proper Christmas meal together, though for obvious reasons I needed to blur him out…’ Claire explained.

Chris flicked over the page and there were just two pictures left, though they both showed Louise not looking her happiest like in previous pictures. An underlying sadness.

‘The light in her eyes disappeared when he came into the picture…’ Chris growled and closed the album.

‘Certainly did… Though look at this.’ Claire pulled her phone out and flicked through her photos, she showed Chris a picture she took of him with Louise at the Christmas ball. They were dancing and the picture clearly showed that sparkle back in her eyes.

Chris didn’t realise that Claire had taken sneaky pictures of them dancing, but he adored the picture. The way Louise was looking up at him with her arms around his neck while they danced made his heart flutter.

Claire flicked to the next picture, one that he knew she took as she had them both pose together.

‘You can see her eyes are full of life again and the light is back when she’s with you.’ Claire smiled.

Chris swallowed a lump in his throat and the biggest smile spread over his face.

‘Wow, you managed to get him smiling, at last.’ Loki teased as he walked into the room.

Chris glared at him and picked up his wine glass. ‘Seeing pictures of Louise, of course I’m smiling.’ He huffed at his brother.

‘Come on through, dinner is ready to be served up.’ Loki chuckled.

Everyone went through to the dining room and the smell was making Claire’s mouth water. More so when Lucius gave her her plate, it looked incredible.

‘Sorry Loki, you did a brilliant dinner yesterday but this looks to be even better.’ Claire said as she picked up her cutlery to begin once Lucius sat down.

‘I’ll take second place as a win, because dad’s Christmas dinners are always fantastic. Like I said.’ Loki said as he reached over to squeeze her knee.

During dinner they all chatted about what they got for Christmas and other various things. Though after they finished eating, the conversation turned a little heated.

‘At least there won’t be a hunt this time.’ Loki said, when they’d just been speaking about rogue vampires.

‘What do you mean there won’t be a hunt?’ Chris raised an eyebrow at him across the table.

‘You can’t possibly be holding a hunt?’

‘Why wouldn’t I? It’s tradition.’

‘You already had one at Halloween, don’t you think that’s more than enough?’ Loki argued.

‘That wasn’t the proper hunt. Of course I’m planning one.’ Chris argued back.

‘Have you told Louise this? What would she think?’ Loki hissed at him.

‘Do not bring my soulmate into this. She knows what I am and what I do.’ Chris growled.

‘So, you have told her? That you’re going to be kidnapping innocent humans and tossing them into the woods so they have to run for their life, till they’re caught by viscous vampires that will tear into them?’

‘It’s not all going to be innocent humans there.’ Chris snapped, trying to justify it.

‘Boys, that’s enough.’ Lucius said firmly.

‘No, dad. He’s being ridiculous if he thinks that Louise will just turn a blind eye at this. Right, Claire?’ Loki’s voice was getting higher and higher.

‘Don’t bring me into this.’ Claire said as she sunk into her seat and tried to hide behind her glass of wine.

‘If you don’t tell Louise, then I will.’ Loki yelled at Chris.

‘You have no right to. I will tell her. Not that it will effect her, anyway.’

‘Of course it will! It effects all of us vampires, plus our partners. What kind of message are you giving the hunters if they find out you’ve kidnapped a bunch of innocent humans again? There’s always an influx of hunters that come here after the hunt. And it’s your fault, every damn time!’ Loki shouted at him and slammed his fist down on the table.

‘I’m outta here. I thought you were trying to accept me for me, but clearly not.’ Chris snarled and stood up abruptly, the chair screeched across the floor behind him.

‘Thanks, Dad. It was lovely… Thank you, Claire, for showing me the pictures.’ Chris said as softly as he could before he quickly downed the last of his wine and stormed out of the room.

When Loki, Claire and Lucius heard the front door slam shut, Claire and Lucius both groaned and face-palmed.

‘You couldn’t have just avoided that subject for one day?’ Lucius sighed and shook his head as he began gathering the dishes up.

‘It doesn’t matter what day it is, he’s in the wrong.’ Loki huffed and folded his arms over his chest.

‘We all know he is trying lately, but getting the hunt out of him is going to be a tough one.’ Claire sighed, she was trying to be sympathetic to both. She understood where Loki was coming from, of course. Though she also knew that it wouldn’t be easy for Chris to change his ways completely so soon.

-

Chris was furious, he went for a fly around the city, looking for someone to bite. He eventually found one, a rogue hunter that was walking alone from a meal out. Not exactly an innocent human, though he didn’t know for sure if the hunter was one that just went after bad vampires or not… but he couldn’t wait any longer.

He swept down on the hunter and took her out easily and quickly, because she was intoxicated and unsuspecting. Though he still felt on edge and pissed off after the feed, it did help a little bit.

‘It needs to happen. It’s tradition. Louise will understand, I’m sure of it.’ He said to himself as he paced back and fore over the hunter’s body. ‘What if Loki’s right, though? What if she hates me for it?’

He growled in annoyance as he stopped and ran a hand through his hair.

‘I hear you’re in a bit of a dilemma.’ Came a familiar voice from behind him.

Chris turned around and narrowed his eyes at Toshi. ‘Of course you’d appear. If you don’t mind, kindly fuck off. I’ve had enough of a lecture from my brother tonight.’ He snapped.

Toshi folded her arms over her chest and shrugged. ‘If you don’t want to hear my plan to help your hunt go ahead, that’s fine.’

She turned on her heels and started to walk away.

Chris clenched his jaw and ran a hand down his face with a sigh. ‘Toshi. Wait... Let me guess, Loki messaged you to find me and stop me from hunting?'

Toshi stopped and turned around to face him with a little smirk. 'Close. Claire messaged the group chat saying that you two had been bickering over the hunt.'

Chris ran a hand down his face with a groan. 'That damn chat you girls have.'

Toshi laughed and walked closer to him.

'Look, I get you want to keep going with the tradition of the hunt. I won't try and stop you if there's no innocent humans taken.'

'Like you'd be able to stop me anyway.' Chris gloated as he folded his arms over his chest.

'Perhaps I could, perhaps I couldn't. But I think deep down you'd rather do it a better way, a way that wouldn't risk anything with Louise.' Toshi said knowingly.

Chris just glared at her for a minute, then his phone pinged. He pulled it out and took a glance. It was a text from Louise.

L: Hey, heard things were a bit rough at dinner with your brother. Just checking in that you're ok? x

Chris slid his phone back into his pocket and looked at Toshi, who was waiting patiently with a hand on her hip for him to say something.

Chris sighed. 'What did you have in mind?'

[matthew-gray-gubler-lover]

AI Chat with Spencer Reid 18+

A wide smile spread across his cheeks and he leaned in, kissing you gently. When he broke away, his eyes were sparkling. "Okay, okay. We’re really doing this. Double married. Can you picture it? Another wedding, another cake, another honeymoon."

He leaned back, stretching his long legs out. "Oh god. Does this make me a bridezilla?"

His brows waggled suggestively, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Oh, that’s what you’re looking forward to?"

He playfully tackled you, pinning you down on the couch, his body pressed against yours. With a smug grin, he leaned in and whispered in your ear. "Good thing, because I already have a specific place in mind for the… uhm… honeymoon."

A mischievous glint flickered in his eyes as he nuzzled your neck. He paused for a moment as if considering whether or not to tell you, but he couldn’t contain his excitement any longer.

"Venice," he whispered, nibbling your earlobe.

He nodded, his breath warm against your skin. "Mmhmm. Venice, Italy. The City of Love on top of the world."

He pulled back a little, his eyes searching yours. "I’ve always wanted to go there with you. We can explore the canals, see the iconic views, taste their famous pasta… all while being completely… wrapped up in each other."

"Of course," he replied, his voice dripping with anticipation. "We’ll ride the gondolas, just like in the movies. I’ll recite poetry and Italian love songs to you as we drift through the canals under the warm Italian sun."

"But," he added, his smirk growing bolder, "I have a feeling we won’t leave our hotel room very often. I plan on taking full advantage of the Italian honeymoon."

He chuckled, delighted by your laughter. "I can already picture you with a glass of wine in hand, wearing a simple white sundress, with your hair messy from a particularly… passionate night."

He trailed his fingers down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. "And I promise, amore mio, I won’t leave you unsatisfied."

His lips curled into a lazy, confident smile. He traced patterns on your skin, his touch gentle. "And if you think we’ll run out of things to do in Venice," he said, his voice dropping lower and quieter, "I have plans in mind for places in France and Greece, too."

He looked at you, his eyes smoldering. "And I’m thinking it would be a sin to leave Paris without making love to you in the Eiffel Tower…"

He nodded, his grin mischievous. "We can do whatever you want, baby."

He ran his thumb along your bottom lip, his eyes sparkling. "Paris, Athens, Rome—they may have their centuries of history, but for the two of us? Our marriage will be the most unforgettable event they’ve ever seen. And the hotel maids will probably hate us when they see the state we leave our rooms in."

Spencer chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a wicked mix of desire and mischief. "Oh, you want me to tell you everything I have planned?" he asked, his voice taking on a husky note. "Every scenario I have playing out in my head...?"

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Or maybe I should show you instead."

He tilted your chin up and kissed you deeply, his lips moving with practiced ease. He slid his hands over your curves, his touch possessive and hungry. "You are going to be the undoing of me," he whispered in your ear, nipping playfully at your earlobe.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked, giving you a final chance to back down. Once he started, he knew he couldn't hold himself back.

A devilish grin widened across his face and he pressed himself into you, his body pinning you down against the couch. He kissed you hungrily, as his fingers began to trail under your shirt, exploring the soft skin of your stomach.

[mrs-johansson]

Strangers in the night - Scarlett Johansson x Fem!Reader

Part 19:

“Hey, guys,” heard Scarlett’s voice at the front door. I smoothed out my dress and my hair before waking out of the kitchen. “What a beautiful house,” I’m guessing that was her mom. “Right? She has great taste,” oh she’s hyping me up.

They all walked in, her three brothers and two sisters with their parents. “Hi,” I said nervously with a smile. Scarlett swiftly moved to my side, wrapping an arm around my waist. Her mom was the first to come up to me and she had a smile on her face which seemed genuine and kind. “I want you guys to meet my girlfriend, Y/n, but you probably know her already,” said Scarlett. “Of course we do. It’s so nice to meet you, darling. I’m Melanie,” I held out my hand but she moved to hug me. “Oh yeah, that’s better,” I chuckled as I hugged her back. Scar’s hand still lingered on my lower back making it really hard to focus on her MOTHER. “Y/n!” Rose came running from the living room then she realized her family was there. And she still came to me, holding her hands up. I picked her up and she looked at her relatives. “Hi,” she said with a big smile. “Everything okay in the living room?” I asked and she nodded. “I just want more juice.” “How about after dinner? You can have more of that tomato bread,” I brushed a piece of hair out of her face. “Okay,” she sighed and leaned her head on my shoulder.

Scarlett’s dad was the next person who introduced himself and damn he was tall. “Hello, I’m Karsten,” he held out his hand. “Y/n, nice to meet you,” I said and shook his hand. “Hi, Grandpa!” Rose excitedly greeted the man before they high-fived.

I met each of her siblings, and I wouldn’t have thought Hunter and Scarlett would look so much alike. “Shall we go to the table?” Asked Scarlett and they all agreed. She settled them in and I left to the kitchen with Rose still on my side. “Don’t you want to be with them?” I sat her on the counter just until I got the drink out of the fridge. “No. I want to stay with you.” “Go in there, I’ll bring the food out,” Scarlett walked in. “You can’t leave me with them, I just met them,” I spread my arms. “And they already think you’re the nicest person,” she left a kiss on my cheek. “Mama?” Spoke Rose. “Yes, baby?” Scarlett opened the fridge. “Y/n is my mama too?” My mouth fell open and I glanced at Scarlett. We shared a look before she stood by my side. “Uhm…” She started. “Would you like… that?” Scarlett cleared her throat, nervous even to look at me. “Yes!” She clapped her hands and I swear I had tears in my eyes. “Okay, okay… Why don’t you see what Uncle Hunter is doing?” She took her off the counter and she happily walked out.

“I’m sorry, this was so sudden…” Scarlett started to apologize but I didn’t let her finish instead I wrapped her in the biggest hug. “Oh okay…” She chuckled, hugging me back. “She is the cutest kid, you don’t have to be sorry about anything,” I could feel a tear sliding down my cheek. “I’m so happy she feels happy with you. I still have to talk with Romain though. And thank you for being her new mommy I guess,” she pulled back taking hold of my hands, kissing my knuckles. “It’s the biggest honor.”

We brought in the appetizer and some wine, put Rose into her chair and we started chatting. “I already said to Scarlett, you have a very lovely home Y/n,” said Melanie, and I smiled. “Thank you. One of my architect friends designed everything. “It’s pretty great work,” Karsten looked around. “Thanks,” I said.

The prosciutto quickly disappeared and a bottle of wine was shared between most of us.

I brought out the main dish and everyone was happy to see beef roast with crispy baked potatoes and some different veggies. “Wow this looks amazing,” Scarlett mumbled to herself and I smiled at the sparkling look in her eyes. I got some on Rose’s plate and cut up the meat and the potatoes. “Thank you,” she said as soon as I put the plate in front of her. “You’re welcome.”

“So how did you two meet? Scarlett only told us about a mystery woman,” Hunter smiled at his sister. “We accidentally bumped into each other around November last year,” Scarlett said. “I still think it wasn’t an accident on Scarlett’s side though,” I shrugged with a cheeky smile. “Okay… That’s… Alright, it wasn’t a full accident,” I turned my head toward her and honestly I was shocked that she admitted it. “But we talked for a couple of months after that and then I finally asked her out,” smiled my amazingly beautiful girlfriend.

They asked me all sorts of questions and I was happy to answer all of them. I had nothing to hide from her family and I wanted them to know that I love Scarlett with all my heart. And also Rose.

Later in the night after they left and we put Rose to bed, we cleaned up the kitchen. “How do you think it went?” I asked Scarlett as she put the clean plates away. “Couldn’t have gone better. They love you for sure,” she said and I smiled. “That’s great.”

I finished everything and I got the bottle of wine that was half empty. Poured into two glasses and sat on the counter. Scarlett wiped her hands and took one of the glasses and stood between my legs. Her left hand rested on my thigh, caressing the exposed skin. “Dinner was nice, if you get bored of this acting thing you could be a chef,” she said and took a sip of her wine. I chuckled at her words and shook my head. “Hopefully I don’t get bored of this.” “Yeah, I kinda hope that too,” she shrugged and downed the whole glass of liquor. “Wow, wine is not for thirst you know,” I said and she put the glass down, her hands going straight to my waist. She pulled me closer, my legs sneaking around her waist. “You look good,” she leaned close, her eyes looking between mine and my lips. “I taste good too,” I gave a kiss just on the edge of her mouth. Her pupils were wide and the way her jaw clenched just drove me crazy. Scarlett never held back the lust she felt and not gonna lie that was incredibly hot. My hands trailed up her arms right to her neck. I put my glass down from my other hand and started to slowly massage the back of her neck. “I hope you’ll be like this even when we’re 50,” Scarlett murmured, the tension just growing and growing. “You don’t have to worry about that,” I finally pulled her into a kiss, deepening it immediately.

Scarlett squeezed my waist, the fabric of my dress tightening around me as she fisted it. The kiss soon becomes sloppy and desperate. She pulled the dress up to the top of my thighs and I swiftly pushed myself up and she rolled up the dress from under me. I pulled away and Scarlett was desperate to remove my dress, throwing it to the floor.

Scarlett’s eyes fell to my breast and before I could think she started kissing all over my chest. A quiet sigh fell from my lips and I tilted my head back so she could have more access. “I love you so much,” she mumbled against my skin and soon started sucking on my pulse. My breath hitched as I tried to speak but I forced it out tho. “I love you too.”

I looked down at her breathlessly as her eyes met mine just before she took a tit into her warm mouth. I gasped and my hands moved on their own accord, slipping fingers through her hair as she sucked and lightly trailed her teeth over my right tit before moving onto the left. I was trying my best to be as quiet as possible but it was very fucking hard.

I grabbed her left hand and pushed it between my legs, hoping she would get the message.

And thank god she did, because her fingers found the hem of my underwear and literally ripped it off, throwing it to the dress. I groaned and threw my head back. “Be quiet.” She demanded and I just leaned my forehead against her shoulder, whimpering under her touch.

She swiftly laid me down on the counter, pulling me to the edge of it by my thighs. Planted kisses along my thigh before her tongue licks a long stripe over my slit. I grabbed onto the edge of the marble counter, gripping it till my knuckles turned white.

Her eyes remain on me as she explores every inch of me with her tongue. I threw my head back when she sucked on my clit a bit before pulling away.

I looked down and met Scarlett's lust-blown eyes as she sticks her ring and middle fingers into her mouth to coat them in saliva before slowly easing them into me. My back arched against the counter, feeling my muscles tightening. “Fucking hell,” I groaned. She lowered herself to take my clit back between her lips, sucking as she stimulated with curling her fingers.

And then it hit me. I felt like I’m gonna break the counter from how hard I was holding on to it. My thighs naturally tried to close up but Scarlett forced them apart, the muscles flexing on her biceps. “Come, baby, come” she whined and that’s all I needed to push me over the edge. My body was shaking while Scarlett lapped up every drop. I swear to go I don’t ever want anyone else to do this to me if it’s not her. She gives me earth-shattering orgasms and I fucking love them.

I breathed heavily, trying to find a normal rhythm. “You okay?” Scarlett’s soft hands slid up my thighs and stopped on my hips. “Honestly?” I took a deep breath in and closed my eyes. “I feel like I'm in heaven.”

***

The next day Scarlett insisted on cooking and my parents and Léa were happy to finally meet her. Mostly my dad though.

They asked kind of the same questions from her and I just basically fell more and more in love with her. She was literally perfect, yes she was stubborn and sometimes thinking that she’s the only one who’s right but we can look past that.

Everyone went amazing and I was just happy that they know how joyful my life is because of her and Rose. My mother was surprised that Rose and I got along so well but I guess it didn’t help how much she pressured me into having kids soon.

Later that night we were laying in bed, watching Dateline as usual. “So our 6 months is gonna be this Saturday and I thought I could post then. What do you think of these?” I showed her two pictures and she nodded. “Nice.” “You sure you’re okay with this?” I asked, leaning against her front and she wrapped an arm around me. “Yes, and I’m gonna say yes every time you ask.” “Okay, I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable with all this social media think. Besides, after that I’m still only going to post your pinky or something, but like… you know if there’s like a picture that I think everyone needs to see, I don’t know… us at a premier or something. We need to think about these. You don’t have social media, so I’d like to hear your thoughts.” “Whatever you want,” she said and I looked up at her. “Scar, I’m serious.” “So am I. As long as I don’t have to do all this technical stuff, I’m great,” she gave a kiss on my forehead and went back to watching the show. “Well yeah, you’re not the best at that,” I mumbled with a smirk, and the next thing I knew she punched my side, making me jump a little. “You know I’m right.” “I guess you could say that.”

***

Liked by chrisevans and 10 356 289 others

y/n_cole: my love, you’re all I’ve wished for in this life❤️ everything is better with you. everything is better since you. i will never forget the moment I realized i love you and I’m the happiest that our paths crossed in this crazy world. I love you endlessly✨ 6 months and counting🤍

chrisevans I’m the happiest for you two❤️

y/n_cole way too obsessed with the idea😆

florencepugh biggest power couple in Hollywood hands down💁‍♀️

y/n_cole speaking facts there!

sarcjo_for_life deep down we all knew Scarlett was fruity… I’m just happy Y/n is her girl🔥

[senorabond]

WIP Wednesday! Rumor Has It Update

Happy Valentine's Day!!!

I am *hard* at work writing the next chapter. In fact, it's turning into two chapters' worth of smut.

Here is a little sneak peek at what you've got in store for Chapter 8:

“You’re in charge of this; you decide what we do or don’t do, and how far this goes.” He walks around to face you, and you’re surprised to see how gentle his eyes are. They’re round and sincere, serious but not stern. You can’t wait to see them looking up at you from between your legs.

“Understand?”

You nod and he cups your face, running the pad of his thumb over your mouth and parting your lips.

“Use your words, cariño. I need to hear it.”

“I understand,” you say, then drag the tip of your tongue against his thumb. He lets out a pleased hum. 

“Good. Now, tell me your rules.” His other hand strokes your lower back, sending shivers up your spine.

“Oh. Um, I – I don’t know,” you stutter. 

He drops his hands and takes half a step back. “We’re not doing anything until you set the rules.”

“But–”

“This is important, cariño. I’ll give you a moment to gather your thoughts.” 

And just like that, Javi’s walking away from you and sitting on your couch. What the hell is happening here? 

He’s right, of course, damn the man. You want to be mad, but don’t know what to be mad about – how respectful he is? Letting out a deep sigh, you go back to the kitchen and pick up your glass of wine. 

“Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?” Your voice comes out a bit more sarcastic than intended, and the sound of Javi’s throaty chuckle from the living room makes you bristle. 

“Whatever you’re having is fine.” 

The man sounds so calm and unfazed you want to throw something at him, but instead, you pout like a grown up and pour another glass. You set it on the small end table to his left and start pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table. Stuck in a quandary like this, you used to be able to call Marcus up and talk it through, but that sounds as appealing as lemon juice in a paper cut right now. Besides, even if Marcus would help you get laid, he’s probably busy with his girlfriend.

Sighing, you sit down next to Javi and face him. In this position, the hem of your dress rides all the way up to your hip, but you’re in no mood to be modest. Javi takes a sip of his wine and turns slightly in your direction. He puts an arm along the top of the couch, and you try not to notice the way his suit jacket opens, revealing his broad chest sloping down to hint at a soft belly. His thighs splay invitingly, and you bite your bottom lip. 

“Cariño?” Javi’s eyes sparkle with mischief. 

“Right. The rules.” You set your glass of wine down and try to focus. Javi waits patiently, but you can see his fingers toying with the fabric on the back of the couch. He’s just as anxious to get this part over with.

“Rule number one: nothing at work. Ever. Not even after hours or in the parking lot. Nothing.” 

Javi nods in stout agreement. 

“Rule number two: it’s just sex. We’re simply two consenting adults with insane chemistry, privately enjoying the hell out of each other’s bodies.” 

“Enthusiastically consenting,” Javi smirks, and sets his glass of wine down so he can stroke your thigh. The hunger in his eyes is distracting, but you manage to pull your thoughts together one last time.

“And lastly, but most importantly – rule number three: what happens undercover stays undercover.” 

Javi’s hand stills on your thigh and he looks at you curiously. “You mind expanding on that a bit?”

“Our cover is just that; a story, playing pretend. We don’t let it blur the lines of whatever we do outside of the investigation. We have to compartmentalize.” 

Javi takes a moment, considering what you’ve said, then nods. Looking you over, he slides his hand up your thigh and leans in, closing the space between you on the couch. 

“I guess that means we better get out of these clothes.” 

I'm so, so, SO excited to finish this chapter and get it posted for you!

If anybody is interested in my writing "process," I'd be happy to write about that. I have ADHD, and I've learned that I'm a very visual thinker, and discovering a process or method over the last 6 months has been a fun journey.

Here is the song that's been playing on loop for me while I've been writing this particular chapter. I have no idea how to embed the Spotify player, but that link should take you to the song Do It For Me by Rosenfeld.

[awriterparacosm]

The End

When you are born in a burning house, you think the whole world is on fire, but it’s not. If anything, knowing what I did now, I wanted nothing more than to distance myself from my past. To cleanse myself of such negativity and pain that burned to the depths of my soul. I tried to not think of Julian and what happened to him, the event that turned my once religious family away from God and the church altogether. I liked to think that mom still truly believed, she was just hurt. Oftentimes, people who were hurt lashed out at those who didn’t deserve it. I myself found it hard to grieve in the face of a world that moved on as quickly as it did, but perhaps that’s how things were meant to be. We are designed to be robust, to get through everything. To forgive and forget, to put things in the past and move forward with a clean slate.

These were my thoughts as Kaia stepped into our shared apartment, removed her drenched coat and hung it over the back of a chair in the kitchen. The weather outside was howling and thundering, wreaking its wrath unto the world which was much akin to my mood. Kaia picked up on it immediately, pouring us each a glass of wine and taking her seat close beside me. Without hesitation, I took the glass from her and consumed its contents. “You really aren’t in a good mood today are you? I told you that you shouldn’t have given up smoking for lent,” she said. She was right to an extent. I was in desperate need of a cigarette, especially after the conversation with my parents. “I spoke to my parents again,” I said casually, taking another healthy sip of my wine. It had a fruity flavour and was smooth, a direct contrast to the cheap wine used for communion, especially if the budget was tight. “They’re still not coming? I’m sorry, Rafe.” I shrugged my shoulders indifferently, there was little I could do and I wouldn’t force them to attend my ordination. I would pray for them instead.

What happened next had my nerve endings on edge. Kaia placed her hand over my knee, slowly tracing her fingers along the inside of my thigh. I caught her hand swiftly as it inched up, halting its movements immediately. Our eyes locked and I could see her hazel hues sparkling from the wine and something perhaps more playful. She was captivating in all the right ways but I was on the cusp of my ordination. She knew as well as I, the vows I needed to take, that while we’d engaged in consensual sex before, this was not something that could keep happening and yet when she pressed her mouth to mine, I felt the call of the void. “L'appel du vide,” I said, breaking our kiss. “Tomorrow I will become a priest. I’ll never look into your eyes again.” “Then let this be the last time,” she said and all words were forgotten between us.

She made light work of my trousers, taking her place on her knees before me. Although it didn’t mean anything to me, I believed that love was a sacrament meant to be taken kneeling. My head fell back against the sofa and I basked in the sensation of her lips and tongue. I fought my own suffering and perhaps brought it on as the wanting came in waves. If this were to be my last night, I would make it worthwhile. On this last night we tore into each other, teeth biting, lips kissing. The only sounds to be heard were our combined heavy breathing and groaning as I moved deep inside of her. Kaia was especially loud during sex and I put my fingers in her mouth to silence her as we transcended into that next place.

The time had come and all my plans were slowly falling into place. After today, I would be recognised as a priest and formally take over from father Paul who had reached a point in his life where he needed to step down from mass. He would still remain involved in the administration of the church but would take a more reserved role due to his age. I was lucky to be in the position I was in, and I found myself thinking of it all as I stepped into the church to attend mass in my ceremonial garb for the ordination ceremony. I wore a white tunic with a violet stole that hung loose around my neck. I could feel every eye on me as I took my seat besides Kaia. Normally I would sit with family till I was called, and a small part of me hoped my parents would change their mind and attend after all, but I couldn’t allow it to affect me. My mind needed to remain strong and unbending. Mass was over in what felt like a few short minutes and before I could think, the ordination process had begun. I was called forward and accepted by Father Paul and then the bishop. The people in the congregation affirmed my election by applause which was followed by the profession of a homily. I remained as calm as I could in the house of God as the bishop recited his prayer along with what was expected of me as a candidate. I knelt before the bishop, his hand upon my head as he along with the congregation prayed once more and called upon the Holy Spirit. The bishop performed the ancient right of anointing of the hands which symbolised that I was now a servant to the people of God and I would from this moment forward lead them.

Following mass I had many people from the congregation come and congratulate me on my acceptance into the priesthood, a long conversation with Father Paul and the bishop but the only people I really wanted to congratulate me were the ones who brought me into this world and they weren’t here. To rest was to receive all aspects of the world without judgement, and before Kaia could come over and congratulate me herself, I slipped out of the church, wasting no time as I ran to my truck and navigated through the stormy weather of the garden district of New Orleans. I didn’t know what I would say to my parents yet, I just knew that I had to see them. It didn’t matter that I was still in ceremonial garb, I needed to do this for me. I needed to say what I’d been itching to say for a long time. Words that I had pushed deep down within myself to keep the peace, but when I arrived at my old family home, I found blue lights flashing and two police trucks parked outside. I raced up the porch steps to be stopped by the police, but when I affirmed who I was, it became clear there was a new lead uncovered into the death of my older brother Julian.

[estellamiraiauthor]

Oooh oooh ooooh can I add the Japan version?

- If you’re drinking in Japan, it’s likely going to be at an izakaya, which is more similar to a pub than a bar in that it also sells food, but is really just kind of it’s own thing. American-style bars exist but mostly only in areas with a large foreign population or in expensive business districts. Some British and Irish pubs also exist but are also largely patronized by people with international backgrounds.

- A “snack” is a smaller drinking establishment that usually only has a very basic food menu and a limited selection of alcohol (mostly Shochu, see below). Most are run by women, and serve as much as places for people to socialize as to drink. These are NOT hostess clubs or “cabaret clubs”… most of the women who run them are older, and many are immigrants. They’re not sex workers, but largely provide conversation. Hosts and hostesses are not always sex workers either, although the line is a bit blurry.

- The types of cocktails commonly served in Japan don’t always match what’s popular in the US at least. You rarely see something like a martini or a cosmopolitan on the menu at an izakaya, but creme de cassis and Campari are popular mixers. Vodka and gin are popular; some izakayas dont even have tequila or rum. You usually can’t order a specific brand; most places only have one type of vodka so you can order a vodka soda but not necessarily specify that the vodka is Absolut or whatever. Some higher end places do offer multiple brands; those would be listed on the menu.

- sake (which is called “Nihon-shu”; sake just means “alcohol”) is mostly popular among older men. I really only drink it at business functions when an older manger orders it for the table. You usually CAN order it hot, but it’s more commonly drunk cold. Sake bombs are not Japanese. I’ve never seen sake used in any kind of cocktail here, it’s just drunk straight, like wine.

- Shochu is another local type of liquor, there are different types like barley, rice, sweet potato, and soba (or my favorite, Shiso) shochu. It can be drunk on the rocks or mixed with hot or cold water, sparkling water, or tea.

- “sours” or “chu-hi” are a popular cocktail that isn’t really considered a cocktail (they’re usually in their own category on the menu, while a gin and tonic or a screwdriver would be under “cocktails”). The word “chu-hi” comes from “Shochu highball,” but some are made with vodka instead of Shochu. It’s basically carbonated water, fruit juice or artificial fruit flavor, and alcohol. Yum!

- Most places only serve one type of beer on tap, or might serve two types made by the same company (like Suntory Black Label and Premium Malts). Kind of like most restaurants don’t serve both Coke and Pepsi in the US…. They have a contract with one specific company. They might sell other companies’ beers in bottles. Some craft beer places have lots of beers on tap, but even then there will probably be only one “major” brand if any.

- Wine bars and some higher end French or Italian restaurants will have a wine list, but at the average izakaya or bar, your choices are house red or house white!

- Alcohol prices are always listed on the menu. It seems weird and shady to me in the US when they don’t. You also don’t tip bartenders, waiters, anyone.

- Not Japan-specific but also adding to the above posts that a person’s tolerance can differ GREATLY based on the type of alcohol. I drink vodka, gin, and Shochu fairly regularly, but don’t drink beer that often. So even though they have about the same alcohol content, I’ll be completely fine after a shot of gin, for example, but feel a little woozy after the first beer!

Alcohol tips for newbie writers (or non drinkers!):

At bars, people who order “chasers” after their shots are ordering something to wash down the taste of their shot with. This can be juice, soda, more alcohol, or even pickle juice

Hard liquor is generally sold in stores as shots (tiny bottles), fifths, liters, and handles or in ml (50, 100, 200 etc)

Most people can’t finish an entire fifth of hard liquor (vodka, etc) on their own without being very ill

Conversely, many people can finish an entire bottle of wine on their own without being ill

Liquor can be “bottom shelf” or “rail” or “well” – all synonyms for the cheapest version of alcohol a bartender has. Bars generally keep several “levels” of alcohol stocked

You order a drink with the alcohol first, then the mix – e.g., a “vodka soda” or a “Tito’s and tonic”

When you “close out a tab”, you pay for all of the drinks you’ve had that night. Either the bartender already has your card (you “opened a tab” earlier) or it was quiet enough that they just kept an eye on you and tallied your bill up at the end

“Doubles” are drinks or shots with double the standard pour of alcohol

In the US, most shots (pours) are 1.5 oz by default. 

Mixed drinks (gin and tonic, vodka lemonade, cosmos, etc) are generally made up of 1-2 shots and a mixer 

If you don’t specify which type of alcohol you’d like in a mixed drink (vodka cranberry, for example) the bartender will put whatever the “house” liquor is – and this depends entirely on the establishment. A dive bar will pour rail by default, whereas a nicer tavern might make all vodka cranberries with Tito’s

PLEASE TIP YOUR BARTENDERS THEY WILL REMEMBER YOU I PROMISE

[prose-priest-potentate]

In the Interim

Fic on Ao3: Here

<<< Previous | >>> Next ______________________________________________________________

Chapter 3: Do Cursed Men Dream of Wolf Teeth?

That night, Izek sets himself up outside instead of sleeping in the spare room of the Marticov’s house - like he did last time. Then, it had been to guard Mari asleep in the wagon, but this time she’s miles away. Imrath would much rather Izek sleep inside like everyone else - surely he'd be more physically comfortable, and safer from whatever wanders the fields at night… 

So he compromises. He asks to camp out with him, and they set up as they usually do on the road. 

He is grateful for some normalcy again. Sitting by a fire, chatting, is something they do. It's easy. 

Not that you’d think that, given the face Izek pulls when he sits down instead of crawling straight into his blankets. “I’ll take watch. You should sleep.”

Imrath pauses, looks at him, then furrows his brows, “Don't be so eager to send me to bed - it’ll hurt my feelings.”

Without missing a beat, Izek says, “Get stronger feelings.” But then raises a very judgemental eyebrow. “Aren't you exhausted from babysitting all day?”

“Not really. I’m used to it.” When his only response is an expectant stare, he continues. “I couldn't do too much back home,” he gestures to his eyes - pink and red where they should be brown and gold, “til I learned to see, so I looked after all my cousins in the nursery for years.”

Izek curls up his lip. “Sounds miserable.”

“I do have an impressive number of children's stories memorized.” Izek looks distinctly unimpressed. Imrath shrugs. “Either way, today was a lot of fun. I’ve missed being not serious all the time. Able to relax, for just a second.”

“Relaxed.” Izek leans back on his hands, snorting. “You were handsy, is what you were.”

When he looks over, Imrath looks concerned and red, and his white scales are turning pink. “Hopefully not too bad - I’ve been drunk in a while, but surely-”

“Had to peel you off every twenty minutes.”

All his feathers fluff out. He’s curled his tail all the way back around his own side. Izek’s seen him shy, but not flustered. Oh that’s funny. “I didn’t do anything inappropriate, did I? I’m sorry.”

He considers milking it - dragging out Imrath’s embarrassment for fun. Maybe it’s the reflection of the firelight, or maybe it’s a mean sparkle in his eye. He crosses his arms and sighs. “You were pretty all over me.”

Imrath stares at him, pupils shrunken to slits. He’s gone pale around the blush. Surprisingly - quickly- he moves in close, reaching toward Izek’s face. “Shit, did I-?” 

Izek flinches back and Imrath’s hand freezes, but he’s staring around Izek’s collar, squinting and leaning. Checking.

Checking for WHAT, exactly?

“It wasn’t that bad! Hells.” He’s quick to drop the joke. “Just… clingy.”

Imrath blinks. He finally looks away from Izeks’ neck. Meets his eyes. Blinks again. “Oh. Just clingy? When Izek nods, and starts to explain all the leaning and nuzzling, Imrath breathes deep. “Blazes, Izek. You had me worried I’d made an ass of myself.”

“No more than usual.” No amount of meanness can really cover up the confusion that lingers on his tone, but Imrath is back in his own seat. He’s still curled up, kept to himself, and twiddling his thumbs, but content.

They relax a bit after that, and move back to their usual, safe territory: Imrath tells him stories from his childhood and Izek tries to reciprocate, they compare all the monsters they’ve fought in the years before they met, which wine they preferred, Stefania’s cooking, and anything else Imrath can think of. 

As they talk, pieces of memories start to filter back in and Izek fills in the places that blur when he asks - Imrath translates as much of his “riddle” with the raven as he can remember. They briefly get distracted teaching Izek curse words and threats in Draconic - his accent is terrible, but he’s got the intimidation factor perfect.

 Imrath is only more relieved as he remembers the afternoon properly. He could live with the embarrassment of being a little more sappy than usual, as long as he’s sure he managed not to make Izek too uncomfortable. 

When he says so alongside a self-depreciating chuckle, Izek only stares. He does that sometimes - stares at Imrath like whatever he’s said is some puzzle. And Imrath usually lets him ponder. 

He can’t lie, but he can leave an unasked question unanswered. 

He yawns, and doesn’t bite his jaw down to hide the teeth - Izek has never seemed uncomfortable with the fangs and claws, he doesn’t need to be palatable. “Come on, the ravens are on watch, let’s both get some sleep.” It’s a paper thin excuse to change the subject and end the night, but Izek lets him have it. 

They settle in.

______________________________________________________________

His dreams take him down familiar roads tonight. Imrath wanders, eyes open, with only the memories of what he felt filled in by what thinks he should be seeing. The distances are always dark. Always Thymari dunes or Barovian trees, where he has seen little else. The northern dales make their appearances, as do the snowscapes of the spine of the world. He had particularly enjoyed those nights.

Some little creature make a noise. Scraping at the corners of his dream. When he looks, there are no briars to hide it. Huh.

The noise continues without pattern. He swears he hears a familiar voice behind him, but his god is not there when he turns. 

Who else would be in his mind? 

Beside him, close, Imrath feels something move. It startles him awake, breath coming quick as he blinks up at the clouds where stars should be. 

The movement beside him calls his attention. A jerk of the head. Hard breathing. 

Izek is flinching. Fighting. Having a nightmare. Imrath is up and on his knees quickly. He hovers, checking that no monsters have snuck in, no vampires lurk, no magic swirls that isn’t meant for grapes - but no, thankfully, it is just a nightmare. 

His instincts settle, and he is left with his friend struggling against himself. He hates the awful way Izek’s jaw is clenched and he’s straining. Even the man’s boots have pushed up his covers and dug trenches from whatever he’s fighting. 

Imrath starts talking to him, the way his parents soothed him his whole life, “Hey now, you’re okay. It’s okay.” It’s all he knows to do. He’s as gentle as he can be, reaching out to touch Izek’s chest to try to wake him slowly.

As soon as Imrath’s fingers touch him, Izek jerks awake and he sits up swinging. Flames lick up his arm so fast that Imrath can barely squeeze his eyes shut before the fireball engulfs his face. 

“Fuck! Imrath!” 

Izek’s voice is louder by far, rougher than even his usual voice from sleep and aggression, and his hand is rough where he has a fistful of shirt, but Imrath isn’t overly concerned - wafting away the last bits of flame with one hand and the other around Izek’s wrist, trying to rub some sense back into him. The fire doesn’t hurt that much (besides his poor eyes that are still stinging), but the claws will if Izek doesn’t recognize him quickly.

“You’re okay! It’s just me, Izek.”

Anyone else who isn’t coming to from panic or blinded by the flash of fire in their face would see the stuttering of Izek’s fist, ready to maim, with fire still flickering as it slowly dies down, held back and hesitating as Izek realizes that the man he has pinned in the grass is Imrath and not the maw of wolf teeth from his dreams.

“Shit. What the Hell were you doing?!” Izek, heart racing, temper flared, but himself once again, lifts Imrath up and shoves him back down roughly. Stay down. “Don’t you know not to wake people up-” He starts to say when they’re having night terrors but he cuts himself off, “Idiot!”

He leans back up onto his knees, huffing and puffing, glaring daggers, but Imrath barely listens. Quick to sit up and finally able to blink his vision back in, he reaches toward his friend - original concern not lost in the scuffle.

“Forget that, Izek. Are you okay? Here-” Izek flinches away from him. Unhappy about it, Imrath’s crest feathers pin back against his head. Whatever, Izek’s cagey. He gets it. He readjusts and holds out his palms.

Izek looks at the offered hand and rolls his eyes. He stands like he’s ripping himself away from the whole idea and looms - fists and claws at his sides flexing, posture rigid. “Of course I’m okay. I didn’t get hit in the face with a ball of fire!” He’s too rough when he grabs a horn, forcing Imrath’s face around to check the scorch marks on his face. Imrath just raises his eyebrows and stares up. It’s nice to be able to. But Izek, first concerned, now stubborn, and always angry, refuses to look away from his task of manhandling the dragonborn.

“I’m fine. I breathe fire.” 

Izek yanks on his horn again, forcing his head back so that Imrath can be glared at properly with all the frustration in his miserable body. If looks could kill, and all. 

“You’re not fireproof.” He grabs Imrath’s cheeks with his demonic hand and rubs a claw at one of the smoldering scales on his cheekbone. Imrath, for all that it might still be sore, is deeply and wholly distracted by staring up at Izek in this rare moment when he can. 

Holy fire, he’s pretty.

He feels the heat rising from through his chest and hopes that it doesn’t light up his face the way it ususally does. Regrettably, he breaks eye contact and stares out over the vineyard - letting himself be checked over until Izek is satisfied that nothing is too out of sorts. Izek snorts. Whether he notices his fluster or not, Imrath doesn’t want to know.

“Heal yourself.” He doesn’t let go when Imrath looks back up at him, deadpanned and unenthused. He really doesn’t need to waste the magic for it, but Izek is immovable. 

Imrath rolls his eyes and pokes himself in the cheek with as much childish compliance as he can manage in the gesture, mumbling his god’s words. A familiar warmth washes over him - like light of a sunray through a stained glass window, and the blisters recede. A few of the worst scales curl up, shed, and grow back. 

Satisfied, Izek plops back down on his covers and stares off into the dark at nothing. 

Imrath watches him sit, then watches him brood. He does it a lot; this suffering in lonely silence. This self-policing of his emotions, tempering his rage like a sword. Imrath wonders if perhaps Izek will harden himself one too many times and shatter one day. He wonders if he makes a nuisance of himself when he tries to be gentle with everyone here - if it grates on his friend’s patience when he tries to care.

Imrath stares, zoned out, at the grass, and takes a catalog of himself: grogginess from interrupted sleep is creeping back in, grief is quick to seep back in like a leaking boat now that the wine is gone, and he is damp. Barovia is wet in its chill, with a cold that seeps and soaks instead of ripping like the wind at home.

Barovian night is all the wrong noises. None of the comforting whoops of distant hyena clans having a good night, no drum-beat clicks from the giant bats, no subsonic hum from churning magma in his bones. Just rabid wolves and haunting birds and bats’ cries that are too high pitched. Imrath sees them fluttering around, so small and so frantic compared to the war-mounts they have at home. He glances over to the back of Izek’s head. His pretty curls that just barely touch the collar of his shirt now. His shoulders are still tense. Too still. 

He can never keep himself quiet for too long.

“Mine are worse than they’ve ever been. More than just bad dreams these days.” Imrath curls himself up in a tangle of limbs so that he can rest his cheek on his arm on his knee. Still watching. Always looking, when he can. “I don’t usually wake anyone up with them, but Wixen is usually wandering around somewhere anyway.”

Izek doesn’t respond in any way, but his white knuckle grip on his own forearm is less harsh, so Imrath keeps talking. He tells him all about the silly nightmares he had as a kid; the years of blindness coming back even with his eyes open, getting lost in the desert, falling off a bat, tripping off the great ramp… all the usual stuff. They’re quiet for a while, with Imrath’s tail flipping slowly back and forth over his own boot. Content enough now that the adrenaline has faded and the exhaustion of the day returns.

“This one was werewolves.” Izek’s voice cuts through the alien white noise. It makes Imrath jump a bit as he comes back to reality. He sees the tail end of Izek waving his human arm at his opposite shoulder. The night he got mauled. Imrath nods. 

“Mine are about you guys dying.” Izek’s lip curls up, but he nods too. He stares off in the same direction that Izek is, watching as some small animal scurries around by the house. “It’s easier when everyone is nearby. I can check.”

“Is that why you slept out here?”

Imrath shrugs, “I didn’t want you to be out here all alone.”

Izek falls silent, but Imrath isn’t expecting a response. He knows Izek isn’t super comfortable with his affectionate declarations, but cannot lie about it. Besides, Izek deserves to be touched gently and spoken to with care. It is part of the truth Imrath is fighting for.

Eventually, Imrath lays himself back down to finish what he can of the night’s rest. Izek stays up, lost in his own thoughts for yet another restless night. Soft hearted fool that he is, Imrath keeps the end of his tail laid against Izek’s leg. He isn’t pushed away or abandoned, so he counts it as a success, though, in the last vestiges of his consciousness, he thinks he feels him snort.

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[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How to Plant Snapdragons | 2

Task Force 141, Keegan, & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist / Discord

CONTENT WARNING: Strong Language and a . . . bit of violence WORD COUNT: 2.8k

It was a failure.

Of course, it would be a failure.

You were chased by the rooster whose steps were as long as his fucking legs, like an ostrich on a stampede with you being the poor hamster in his way. He tried to grab you, which you dodged. You rejoiced, proud of yourself but then a bigger man slammed onto you, pinning you on the ground before you could take a couple of steps outside the building. You weren’t even sure where the hell Ghost came from. You were so sure only the handwash was after you, but damn, it was kind of nice to be in his chokehold.

Kind of nice was an understatement.

God, the man was built like a freaking fridge or a bear. Heavy, big . . . rock hard. And his thighs, ooh, his thighs that were choking you right now, felt just right. You wanted to run your hands on them, maybe even leave a bite, or lick his abs and down his crotch. Now that you think about it, weren’t you a bit too close to it?

A good day to be alive.

What would he feel if you moved a little closer, though?

But enough of that for now.

You wheezed in his grip, panting and grunting, maybe you had overestimated your strength against this beast and finally decided to pat him. After a couple of seconds, he let you go. You gasped for air, rolling on the floor to sit up and rubbing your throat. “God, I thought you were gonna kill me for good, sir.” You looked up at Ghost and smiled, but it was quickly removed from your lips when he grabbed the back of your collar and pulled your sorry ass to your feet.

“Keep doing shite and I’ll give Shepherd yer pretty little head.” He glared down at you, not letting your uniform go, like you were some poor, wet kitten full of snot and fleas he found in a gutter. Mayhaps, with a bit more training, he could make you a soldier who could kill, instead of a babbling chicken or an annoying puppy who would bark only to get attention.

"Ey, come on, Lt." You waved a hand in defense. "I'm just doing my daily exercise." You grinned, eyes sparkling innocently.

Somehow, you reminded him of Johnny, noisy and annoying. But the lad knew when to shut the fuck up and knew what to do, just as he was trained to be. You, on the other hand, do you even think before you talk and act?

Were you so dumb to say yes to serving in the military so you could be pardoned for an accidental massacre or robbery or did you fucking go to KFC and slap the shit out of a waiter with a tray when they couldn’t get your order right? Maybe, you broke into your professor’s house after they failed you in a test and burned the poor person in their pajamas. Because even though you did not look like you could punch someone without breaking a few bones first, you looked insane enough to pour wine on someone and set them on fire, then cackle at the top of your lungs.

Ah, then again, with the way you acted, it seemed you were forced into this labor instead.

“How do you think Shepherd will react if we kill her?” Soap questioned, raising a brow at the Lieutenant.

“Uhm, I’m right here,” you pointed at yourself, lips parting at the oddly casual tone in his voice. But then again, these guys were probably used to killing. Other than reading their profiles, you had heard stories about them from that one American—what was his name again? Well, you couldn’t remember but he was in Phillip Graves’ company. Man talked shit about the military, then proceeded to compliment the 141, especially the big boy with the skull face and why he was to be feared.

But, heh! The skull face looked silly in person—fucking hilarious and ridiculous even. It made you think, how was the dude even breathing with that thing on? You could imagine him sweating buckets underneath those layers and looking like he just had a shower after taking them off. Fuck, you could even imagine how he would smell—a mix of dirt, sweat, blood, and gunpowder. And maybe, add some musk there because in all the stories you had read, it was almost musk.

Did that sound appealing? No. Did you still think he was hot because he was having his secret shower underneath those clothes? Yes. Did you stutter? No shit.

Because, your honor, it looked good on the guy, like how Soap could look good in a freaking mohawk. Like, like, that trending Ghostface on Instagram and TikTok you watched before you were thrown in prison, which people found hot when they were spreading blood on the bathroom mirror but it was just food coloring. It was stupid, like why were they making a mess in their bathroom like some dumbass snotty brat that smelled of piss but you found it—

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit, do you have a mask kink?

The skull face looked scary. That was what made it hot.

The one with the skull face had the body of a refrigerator with a washboard glued on it, a package in front, and some good cakes on the back. That was what made him hot.

And there was this roughness and authority in his voice that you could wake up to, with him on top of you while he had a knife in his grasp and pointed at your neck and you’d say thank you to him.

Shiiiiiiii—

“Well, what would the General do if we kill you, lassie?” Soap asked again, turning to you.

If only this guy weren’t handsome, you would have already slapped him to oblivion. But alas, you couldn’t bring yourself to destroy such beauty. And his balls also looked too good to crack. Not that you had seen it, just an assumption. Which you, maybe, intend to find out if it was true. Just maybe, though.

You shrugged your shoulders. “How the hell would I know?”

“Wait,” Johnny squinted his eyes, leaning a bit too close for comfort, but if you think about it, it wasn’t so bad. You wished he'd move closer. “Are you perhaps . . . Shepherd’s sugar baby?” he whispered the last two words.

Ghost frowned under his mask and stared in disbelief at the Sergeant.

Your stomach immediately flipped and you felt your mouth water at the thought. “What the fuck—” You pursed your lips to stop your breakfast from going up your throat.

Ghost quickly let you go.

“Or not,” Soap claimed, raising his hands in defense and stepping away.

“That fucking—” You clamped your hand over your mouth and waited for your stomach to calm down. “That’s disgusting! That’s—eww, like, ugh.” Like thousands of spiders ran on your skin, you shivered in horror. "Yuck. You might as well torture me than have any sort of relationship with the old man!”

“Isn’t he the one who pulled you out of prison?” Soap questioned, crossing his meaty arms over his equally meaty chest.

You gazed at him as intently as you could. “Yes, and that’s it.”

Except the old man said otherwise and that was why you were here in the first place.

“Enough of this.” Ghost grabbed your collar once again and began dragging you away.

“Where are we going, sir?” You asked, trying to look at him, but the way he was holding you made it almost impossible. But hey, this was nice, not having to walk. You let your legs go limp and let him carry you. He also didn't seem to mind.

"Price ordered me to train you."

"Ooh, brilliant." Johnny grinned, his face bright with excitement, contrary to your pale face.

You stomped your feet on the floor, which made the Lieutenant halt, and you lunged onto Soap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, shaking your head. "Nuh-uh, nuh-uh, I'm not ready to break bones."

Soap looked down on you, and hoo, Long Live the fucking King—he had never wanted to look in front of the mirror so bad to give himself a high five and say, 'ya lucky son of a bitch, having a lovely koala clinging onto yer good arse, eh?'.

Now that he thought about it, being in the military for so long, he wasn't able to meet someone cute very often. But he also didn't expect that when he finally met a cute girl, she'd be having a sentence for whatever crime she did under her belt! Tsk, tsk, tsk. If only he could remove that ankle monitor and hold your legs instead.

But he was raised a gentleman and would stay a gentleman.

"Sorry, Bonnie." Johnny smiled, eyes becoming soft and hands carefully held your waist so you wouldn't slip off. "Orders are orders."

Sometimes, you wish these men in 141 weren't such gentlemen. Captain Price, upon observation during the past week, acted like a good ol' father who came back from the convenience store to get milk and strawberry ice cream instead of the bourbon his sons forced him to buy.

Johnny was quick to vibe with, loud and noisy, and funny. Bright as the sun and puppy eyes. Kyle was easy to get along with as well, he was calm and gentle, but was mostly dragged into Soap’s nonsense which made him a bit violent when annoyed. Then, there was Simon. The man barely says a word and when he does, it was mostly snarky, smartass comments, and he appears and disappears like his sobriquet all the fucking time, and seemed to be cool and collected.

But you had heard enough stories to know these guys were more than that.

So, sometimes you wish these men weren't gentlemen—excluding the Captain, he can continue being the gentleman of all gentlemen for all you care—because surely when a girl clung onto a guy like this, they'd feel something. Anything. And then, they'd be bewitched, both body and soul. Or maybe, you had just read too much smut and fanfiction and those things just don't fucking happen in real life.

Soap’s chest felt good, though. And his abs and his hands on your waist. Hallelujah.

Your lips puckered. "Roger that." You unwrapped your legs from his waist and he leaned down, still holding you and carefully placing you down to your feet.

You blinked at the unexpected gesture. You were sure he'd just drop you down and push you away from him because even though they could be gentlemen, they still had limits and boundaries.

You couldn't help but grin. "Thank you, sir!" You beamed, patting his shoulder, before turning your back towards Ghost. "Now if you will, Lt. Please, drag me again, so I won't have to walk anymore."

Johnny chuckled and shook his head. Maybe, he was starting to get used to your shenanigans.

Simon huffed and rolled his eyes, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Walk, soldier."

"Eh, come on!"

"No."

The other rookies were already in the room when you three arrived and the lively atmosphere quickly faded as well. Johnny guided you to stand with the rest of the newcomers and joined Simon in front, who had already begun speaking.

Based on his tone, he didn’t like what he was doing, even for a bit.

Both guys on your left and right shot a glance at you. Scanning you from your hair that was neatly combed back, hairpins keeping the locks that didn’t want to stay in place, the shirt and shorts you changed into for physical training, and down to your legs. They gazed back up to your face again, looking so pure and innocent, if not for those chapped lips and bloody eyebags. The face of someone who totally wouldn’t commit a single crime. So, why the fuck did you have an ankle monitor?!

The guy on the left moved away from you. There was no good in associating himself with a criminal after all.

The guy on the right, well, he grinned and turned to you as soon as Ghost stopped talking, extending his hand to you. “Want to partner up with me?”

You look at the guy. Tall, appeared to be around your age, but a bit scrawny. Maybe, with more training, he’d be as big as the Lieutenant. But seriously, you had a tough luck. You were planning on grabbing a skinny rookie who looked like he just happened to get lost here. Because with an option like that, you could strangle him and blurt out some logic and luck. But other than this guy, the other rookies quickly scattered away from you.

You couldn’t even forfeit because your superiors would make your ears bleed and bend you in thousands of possible positions instead. And if you lose, they’ll make you run laps, which was the last thing you wanted to do in the morning.

You smiled and took a position. “Sure, why not?”

Well, maybe this extra was just taking pity on you. Nothing bad about that.

But now, you were too lazy to even think about shits and plans, and the guy who was having a field trip staring at your ass and legs.

Johnny elbowed Ghost and in a low voice, he asked, “Ye think she’ll be able to take that lad?”

“If she plays her cards right, possibly,” Simon replied and paused, sighing. “If she had the right cards.”

“If she can’t win against that one, then she won’t survive in the 141.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Simon raised a hand and shouted, “Start!”

For the next few bouts, you were repeatedly thrown over your partner's shoulder and twisted in a position not even Ghost had done to you, all the while looking blank and uninterested. You even had time to check your nails.

“So, what got you in prison?” asked the guy you partner up with, loud enough to make everyone else’s eyes turn toward your direction.

“Oh, brilliant,” Soap scowled and crossed his arms, “we got another condescending kid to teach a lesson.”

“What’re ya all just standin’ there?!” Ghost yelled, his loud voice booming in the gym. The others flinched and quickly shifted their attention back to their partners. Then, he raised a brow under his mask, confused as to why you remained on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling and panting heavily. Had you received too much beating that you became airheaded?

You sighed and pushed yourself up from the floor, getting up on your feet. The man didn’t make a move to attack you—dumbass, as if that made him look a gentleman after he threw you around like a ball—and so, you straightened up. “I guess, everyone thinks I’m a threat, huh?” you asked in a soft voice.

“Oh, did that come off as rude?” The guy scratched the back of his neck and laughed as if that would end that all. But he knew, he had already gotten people’s attention.

“Hey!” Soap approached them, glaring between you and the boy. The softness that you had seen in his pretty eyes earlier was long gone. “If you two don’t move your asses, you can go run outside now.”

“Ah, sorry, sir, it’s just . . . I guess, it’s time to speak of my case if it’ll make others more comfortable around me. “ You paused and sighed. Soap kept silent as he watched you square up and lift your chin. “My ex, he framed me for his murder. I couldn’t do anything about it, because he knew someone in the court. I . . .” You sniffed, looked down at the ankle monitor, and blinked rapidly.

Oh, shit, was all Johnny could think and glanced over his shoulder to look at the Lieutenant. She’s innocent, after all.

Ghost could only meet Soap’s gaze, before shifting his gaze on you.

On the other hand, everyone else in the room was staring at you, contemplating, feeling guilty about the story they heard.

“Damn, are you alright?” the guy put a hand on your shoulder, which makes you look up.

You nodded. “Yeah.” You smiled and put a hand on his arm. “If that makes you a bit comfortable around me now, I’m glad . . .”

The guy grinned. “I’m glad, too—”

“You’re a fool.” You drove your knee on his crotch with all your might and repeatedly without hesitation.

Johnny’s mouth dropped and his eyes widened, almost looking like they were going to pop out of their sockets. While, an unusual grimace appeared on Ghost’s face, making him thankful for his mask.

You grinned so wide and cackled.

You did not have the right cards. You had a wild card.

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own / Discord

Taglist: @yyiikes and @the-faceless-bride

[bonbonthedragon]

How am I to Recover When I am to Blame?

Fem!reader x Bakugou

Note: hiiiii I got bored and inspired

Warnings: slight nfsw, angst, fluff, mostly angst

Part 2 is here 👉 💔

She gasped when the cold of the marble counter hit her waist, his hand resting onto her hip, the other grazing her cheek until it stayed there, and he held her. Bakugou leaned down just enough for his lips to graze her jaw, giving enough force to have her head tilted and left easy access to the underlining of her neck. (Y/n) couldn’t help the sound that escaped her, a gentle sigh to the feeling. He hummed.

“Katsuki- ah” he just kept going, her hands gripping tight to the edge, that bouncing pleasure hitting every bone throughout her body. “We can’t- can’t keep doing this-“

He knew

“We’re not together.”

No, not anymore.

“You divorced me.”

Fuck

“You left me- ah!”

“I know” and he pressed his lips to hers, silencing the soft whimpers to wet skilled nothingness.

Bakugou pressed his tongue heavy to hers, greedy for access. It didn’t take much convincing, her hands stretching up to his back just to ball the shirt in knots. He pressed further, so rough compared to anyone else yet he cradled her head with such tenderness. Pure pleasure trickled and thudded against her abdomen, sparking into a red hot fire that she missed all too much, that she had known all too well at a time. She had to stop this, but no wasn’t coming out, no, instead she felt her hips twitch, just grazing his front. He huffed a heavy sigh before moving his arms around her to pick her up and set her gently onto the counter.

He had built this counter, when they moved in. He had actually almost stapled his hand to the damn wood that held it, he had the scar, that scar trailing up with his hands as they followed up her back. She shivered when the snap of her bra came undone. Bakugou fingered the hem of her shirt, pulling up.

“Mama!”

(Y/n) gasped and Bakugou froze, he let go of the shirt. Little Mitsuma came waddling in, so small and swaddled in his blanket.

“Mitsu!” His mother squeaked, shoving the boys father away. He was supposed to be getting dressed.

“Look I got in my jammies all by myself!” The child squeaked

Both the adults paused, admiring the young one, such a perfect blend of both. His hair curled a ash-blond, eyes a (y/e/c) hue and skin so smooth. They melted. She could feel her knees weaken.

“Oh baby-“ (y/n) cooed, scooping him up.

“Daddy’s still here” he noted, smiling and looking at his mother.

“Yes- he was just leaving-thank you for dropping him off”

“(Y/n)…” Katsuki tried, until his eyes set on the small gem stone on her finger, that crystal orb sparkling. So unfamiliar, not at all like the ring he had gifted her when he proposed. Actually, the one he had made was a obsidian band, no gem, no diamond of any kind. Yet, an inscription; This is Us.

He could almost laugh about it, mind directly going to when she had pulled her own ring out when he went down on one knee. The idea seemed to be shared, and while he took forever to find the right thing to engrave onto the ring for her, the one she had slid on his finger just had a small star on the inside. The same stars she always drew on him back in school.

“I’ll see you next week, yeah?”

His head snapped back up, trying hard not to be frowning so much. The man shoved his hands in his pockets, letting his gaze wonder around and set one the family photos. All hung with a smiling family, his son, his ex-wife, and her husband. A few consisted of him, only ones with little Mitsuma and him in it, but that was it.

“This has to be the last time.”

Again his attention came clear. (Y/n) had now let down the boy, reaching for a bottle of wine and a thin tall glass. She poured it nearly to the top.

She shook her head. “I’m…Katsuki, I’m married. I love Kaito, and he loves me. This isn’t right, you know it.” The wine swirled in the cup, tipping to fall into her awaiting mouth.

“I love you” he mumbled.

That had her freezing, taking the drink away. Something of grief casted a haunting shadow over her, clearly trying so hard not to cry, not to let her son see her like this. She looked away.

“You should head home now, it’s getting late.” (Y/n) watched as Mitsuma left the room and into the bathroom. “You being here will only confuse him.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it. Bakugou sighed. “Oi! Squirt! Don’t make me leave without telling me bye, damn it!”

The little one came running into the living room, jumping into his dads arms with a big hug and kiss on his stubbly cheek. Bakugou huffed, setting him down and ruffling his hair before going out the door.

“See ya next week, kid.”