#makes me wonder if that would ever come out at any point or if they’d ever tell each other… ooo 👀👀

[smolbeandrabbles]

Ahhhhhhh!!!!

I have no words but thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!! 🙏 Can’t believe you took all my random ramblings to you and managed to fit them all together into this fic!! 🙏

This was so much fun to read! Giggling, kicking my feet, laughing, screaming!

So, so good! Thank you! 😭🙏

Also I see what you did there with the gif 😉 I appreciate it! 😉💚

Promises (liveaction!Roronoa Zoro x female!reader)

Summary: Zoro and you are protective of each other 💚

Warnings: cursing, violence, mentions of blood, bullying

A/N: well, this started as a request but turned out to be more of a collab?lol @smolbeandrabbles sent me the idea and the inspiration song, and helped me through it so this came out hahaha i hope you like it! This is inspired by the song "New Fears" by Lights 🥰 also, there's a small time skip in the middle and the two scenes in italic are flashbacks!

'"Cause I have these new fears that carry me through

Every bullet I'm taking for you

So just hold on tight

I'll be coming, I'm coming for you, oh oh

And every night

I'll be burning, burning for you, oh oh

And I will back you up, I will show you love

I will give you all I got 'til I cannot

Hold on tight

I'm breathing, breathing for you, oh oh

It hadn't been long since you and Roronoa Zoro had started dating. That meant you were still trying to figure out this whole 'relationship' thing.

Not that it was hard, not at all. You both really liked each other, so you were willing to do anything for one another. It was just that... both being inexperienced, belonging to someone was a new adventure you were going to face together.

And it wasn't like a big effort either. Even before you were an official couple, both of you were already inseparable, ever since you joined the straw hats.

You got along like no one, you were always by each other's side and there was no one who could understand each other better. It was like you were long lost soulmates.

But... you just didn't say it?lol

Maybe you were both afraid the other one would see you only as friend? Or maybe you were just stubborn af lmao

It didn't stop you from stealing a little time with each other every now and then though 😏

You specially loved your late night talks. You had lost count of how many times you went to his room (or him to yours 👀) late at night just to chat.

Zoro liked asking you about your life before joining the straw hats. He loved hearing your sweet voice giggling while telling funny stories about that time.

You, on the other hand, loved when he talked about his childhood and the promise he made to his friend. The glint in his eye when he talked about that dream of his, it was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. That's when you knew Roronoa Zoro was the strongest and most determined man you had ever met and you couldn't help but admire that on him.

You also had a lot of fun teasing each other lol you usually joked about his fighting when you were training together ajskajskaj you knew he was the most skillful fighter you had ever met, but you also knew deep down he was a softie, so you loved seeing the shy smile he gave you whenever you teased him.

- you sure you need all those swords to beat me? - you asked teasing and emphasizing the 'all'. You held your dagger on your right hand, the only weapon you ever used and that fit you so well it felt almost like a part of your body.

That made him chuckle.

- of course i'm not using all of them, i gotta take it easy not to completely kick your ass - he said smiling.

- aww you're not getting soft on me, are you, Roronoa? - you said raising one eyebrow.

Was that a small blush on his cheeks?! Oh gosh, he couldn't get any more adorable. You had to look away or else you'd be falling even harder for that man.

- ha, you wish - he replied grabbing his sword and getting ready to start.

The whole crew (except poor baby Luffy 😅😂) had already noticed something was going on. And they would tease you like hell for that.

But still you wouldn't say anything.

I mean, not until that day.

The day Zoro fought Dracule Mihawk. That day could easily be top 3 of "worst days of your life".

Of course you believed in him and supported him no matter what, but you knew what he was doing was dangerous.

The way Mihawk showed no mercy, Zoro's painful grunts, the gash oh his chest... everything felt like a horror scenario and you just panicked because there was nothing you could do.

Fortunately your friends brought Zoro to the ship again, where he was taken care of.

Zeff said you all needed to stay with him and keep talking to keep him alive, but you were so shocked you couldn't even think of something to say.

After some time and with the support of your crew, you finally gathered your courage and decided to speak to him, from your heart. You couldn't let your best friend die like that.

You approached him and started talking softly, not really sure what to say, but hoping the words would come out eventually.

- hey, umm... i guess... um... we miss you..?

You took a deep breath.

- who am i kidding? I miss you, Zoro. I don't know why i never said this before and, oh my, do i regret it right now, but I... - were he even listening? You weren't sure, you just had to get it off your chest - I really like you. You're one of the best people i have ever met and i love spending time with you, and the thought of never being able to do that anymore is freaking me out. I know I could never stand in the way of your dream, because i believe in you, Zoro, i really do. But i also know I should have done more... more to protect you - you paused a bit before letting out the next words - joining the straw hats and sailing on the Merry, it made me feel so brave... and i thought i got rid of all my stupid fears. But now i realize i have a new one. And it's losing you, Zoro. Please, don't leave me...

Your voice broke at those last words and you started crying uncontrollably, hiding your face in your hands. The thought of losing him really made your heart ache.

Until...

- stop crying, i'm not going anywhere.

You lifted your head so fast it almost hurt. You couldn't believe it.

- Zoro?! Oh my gosh, Zoro, you're alive - your voice almost a whisper as you hugged him, careful not to hurt him even more.

He chuckled, eyes still closed and wincing a bit from the pain.

- oh my gosh, i was so scared i had lost y-

A realization immediatly hit you and your face went as white as a sheet. Was he listening? Did he... did he hear what you just said?!

Oh no.

- umm... how much... did you hear? - you asked slowly, a bit scared of his answer.

- enough to say i feel the same - he said with a small smile.

Yeah, so that happened. Was it cute? Totally. But it didn't stop you from shivering whenever you remembered that fight.

Confessions aside, the sight of Zoro lying on the ground with a pool of blood spreading around still haunted you and you couldn't seem to get it out of your mind.

That day you made a silent promise to always protect that man. Of course you knew he was the Roronoa Zoro, infamous pirate hunter and master of the three sword style, but you swore to yourself you would do anything on your reach to keep him safe.

--------*------------*-----------*----------

You were at a bar at Logue Town. It was the evening and Zoro invited you to go there for his usual booze (lol). Chilling with your boyfriend sounded really nice after spending a whole day cleaning the Going Merry, so, sure, you agreed.

You were drinking and talking at the bar counter and everything seemed okay until you heard two familiar (and very annoying) voices.

- wow, check out the loser we found here!

- no way he still has the guts to show up in public after that.

You turned around and confirmed your suspicions: yep, Shinjiro and Aki, the bounty hunter brothers that were a pain in Zoro's ass.

You (unfortunately) had already met them a few months ago at another small island. They both had pitch black hair, were very lean and tall and looked so ugly they could scare babies with just a smile.

At that time, you weren't even girlfriend and boyfriend yet, but Zoro already told you how much of jerks they were. He explained they had been competing and picking on him for years and, when they found out he had joined a pirate crew, it only got worse, so you knew what you were getting into.

On your first encounter with them, you were able to leave before things got heated, but it seemed like this time it wasn't going to be that easy.

You were already opening your mouth to throw all the bad names you knew at the brothers, but Zoro softly put his hand on yours and mouthed "they’re not worth it". You trusted him, so you immediatly went quiet and followed his strategy.

Sadly, Shinjiro and Aki weren't that smart.

They sat by the counter too, not facing the both of you, but speaking loud enough for you to hear it.

- hey, Aki, did you hear what happened with a certain 'pirate' with moss hair? He challenged fucking Dracule Mihawk to a duel! - Shinjiro said ironically.

"Don't say that name. Don't you dare say that name", you thought.

- no way! He could probably be the winner of the "biggest idiot in the whole East Blue" award - Aki replied with a nasty laugh.

Your blood was starting to boil. Zoro alone was twice the man both of them could ever be: braver, stronger and better in so many ways. Who did they think they were to talk about your man like that?

- yeah, either 'biggest idiot' or 'worst swordsman'. I heard Mihawk could take him down with only a small knife, right into his heart - Shinjiro gestured like he was puncturing his own chest.

'Right into his heart'.

Those words echoed in your head.

No.

They were bringing it all up again.

Mihawk's eyes. Zoro's painful voice. Your desperate crying. All flashes going back to your mind.

It was like you were reliving that horror again. Zoro even tried to talk to you and distract you from it, but it didn't seem to work.

- what a joke. And how did he not die? - Aki asked, acting clueless.

- he was so pathetic Mihawk had to leave before turning him into pieces. Not before slashing him right on the chest. Legend says if you go to the Baratie right now, you're probably still gonna find his blood on the ground - Shinjiro said and laughed loudly.

That was the last straw. You got out of your trance and decided to do something.

- okay, that's enough - you said sternly and got up of your seat.

You walked up to Shinjiro and looked him in the eye, your rage nearly melting him.

- oh, yeah? What you gonna do about it, little girl? - he said mocking you.

- here's what - you said and punched him right in the nose.

He was so taken aback by your sudden attack he couldn't even form a reaction. Guess he really underestimated that little girl's strength, right?

When he was still trying to understand what happened, you kicked him in the crotch. Yeah, such a nice move that serves right to a dick that was badmouthing your boyfriend.

As he bent down in pain, you quickly grabbed your dagger (you had learned with Zoro to never leave without a weapon 😅) and hit the back of his neck with the hilt, making him fall to the ground, unconscious.

Wow... did you really knock out the guy?! I mean, of course you were a very skillful fighter, but you were surprised by your willpower and quick thinking over there lol

You took a quick glance back at Zoro with a smug smile and he was there watching the whole thing just like that 'white guy blinking' meme. His girlfriend was kicking ass? For him?! Could she become any more amazing??

When you turned around, Aki was fuming.

- what did you do to him?! - he screamed/asked.

- oh, don't worry. He'll only stay like that for a few hours. You should actually thank me for not having to listen to his stupidity for a wh-

You hadn't even finished your snarky retort when you saw him coming to attack you.

You were usually fast in your fighting. You weren't the biggest or the strongest, but you were very fast, and you were proud of that because it always led you to winning.

But (you weren't sure if the attack caught you off guard of if the sight of Zoro looking at you so impressed had distracted you more than normal) apparently that time it wasn't enough.

When you realized it, Aki had pushed you to the ground and you fell with a loud thud. And as if it weren't enough, you noticed he had a knife in his left hand. You could only notice a long gash starting to bleed on your right arm.

You looked at Zoro as if asking for help and he was looking at you, but he didn't seem like himself. You had never seen that anger in his eyes, it was like he was possessed.

As quick as you fell, Zoro unsheathed his sword and knocked Aki out until he was laid on the ground, the point of the blade only a few milimeters away from his heart. Zoro knew how much you hated unnecessary killing, but this guy had crossed a line there (he had hurt his girlfriend?!) and needed to be taught a lesson.

- you lay a finger on her again - Zoro said through gritted teeth, his voice low and menacing - and i won't be this merciful. Was i clear?

Aki nodded frantically and you could see it in his eyes he was regretting everything and praying to get out alive.

Zoro sheated the sword again and stepped away, still murdering Aki with his eyes.

"That was freaking hot". No shame, but these were your exact thoughts as you watched the whole thing, still sitting on the ground and looking up at him. That was until you came back to reality from your little daydream about your extra hot boyfriend and noticed your wound was still bleeding.

Zoro hadn't forgotten about that either and immediatly kneeled down to check on you.

- (Y/N), are you okay? - he asked very worried about you and checking your arm. The way he looked at you and his soft touch gave you butterflies.

- yeah, i just need to... bandage this up - you replied weakly.

- come on, let's get back to the ship - he helped you get up and you walked back to the Going Merry, him checking on you every 10 seconds.

When you got back to the Merry, Zoro led you to the room you shared (yep, now you were on the 'sharing a room' basis *wink wink*) and helped you bandage your wound. You realized it wasn't that bad and hopefully it would heal in a couple weeks (which was a relief, cause if it was worse Zoro would probably go back to the bar and finish Aki right away 😅😂).

When you were done, you started rambling:

- hey, um... thank you for standing up for me back there. I know taking those guys was stupid, but they were badmouthing you and bringing all that back, i just couldn't stand it anym-

- hey, don't mention it. I couldn't let that jerk hurt my girl and get away with it - the way he said "my girl" made you all fuzzy inside - also, you did it for me first, so you could say we're even - he said with a small smile.

You chuckled. How could he put a smile on your face even in moments like these? That man was really a blessing in your life.

- yeah, i guess that's what makes us such a great duo - you replied winking.

He let out a small laugh and kissed your forehead. With that, you both started preparing your stuff to go to bed. I mean, after everything, both of you needed some good rest.

Soon you both laid down and went to sleep, holding tight to each other, like none of you wanted to let the other go (and you really didn't).

In Zoro's arms, you started thinking about everything that had just happened. Neither of you hesitated in protecting each other in face of danger. That was the moment you realized how far Zoro and you would go for each other.

You didn't lie, you were really a perfect duo.

That thought made you feel even more thankful for having found each other and for being in each other's life like that.

It also made you think back to that fateful Mihawk fight and what you told yourself that day. You had made a promise and you were going to keep it.

But what you didn't know is that Zoro had made one himself too.

Of course he had already promised to become the world's greatest swordsman and to find the One Piece with his captain. But he could fit one more, right? And perhaps the most important yet: to be by your side until the end of your lives.

"I'll take two times the misery

And half the glory

If it meant you'd be the champion

Of the story

And I'll take two times the agony

And half the wonder

If it meant you'd get twice

Twice the thunder"

[dear-ao3]

hey wait im also new to f1 but i saw the other ask and i was curious abt what you meant when you said no one will ever do it like nico rosberg?? also retiring after your first championship win is insane lmao what a power move

nico rosberg is just. he’s insane. he’s cunty. he’s wonderful. he possesses sass and audacity unlike any other. we unfortunately do not have time to get into his whole story (my lunch break is only so long) but here’s some highlights:

-technically he’s a nepo baby. his dad, keke rosberg, won the world championship in 1982 and they remain one of the Few father son duos to both win a world championship (don’t ask me who the others are idk but i know they exist)

-he and lewis hamilton met when they were kids in the late 90s sometime and were gokarting teammates at some point in i think the early 2000s? (not fact checking i don’t have the time rn) and they were Besties. they’ve talked about this before, mostly in older interviews, but the gist is that both of them were outcasts from the other karting kid in opposite ways (nico was the son of a champion and rich and lewis was from nothing and pretty much the only poc most of the time) and that drew them together and they were Menaces according to legend. everything was a competition and they trashed hotel rooms and ate pizza and ice cream and kellogg frosties and went to greece and dreamed of being in f1 together

-nico signed with williams in 2006. his teammate was mark webber. and nico had long flowing blonde hair (this is important). he crashed at one race and mark webber said “britney’s in the wall” cementing the nickname britney, like britney spears. jenson button (another driver) said later on that they called nico britney because he was “very pretty” (do with that what you will)

-he was just. insane. cunty. constantly looked like a european bond villain. wore god awful shoes. whole bit. once he stayed in his car when it got craned off the track cause he didn’t want his hair to get wet. which is insane cause he’s wearing a helmet it would have gotten equally as not wet had he gotten out.

-anyway, lewis made it to f1 in 2007 and they had their first podium together i think that year (?) and it’s cute and fun and oh boy you’re not ready for what these two have coming

-lewis won the championship in 2008 (but he almost won in 2007, his rookie year) at mclaren.

-nico went to mercedes when they recentered the grid in 2010. his teammate was michael schumacher, who was fresh out of retirement. (yes the michael schumacher, 7x world champion). michael fucked with nico endlessly according to legend, including making him piss in a bucket pre race because he would hog the bathroom until the last possible second. nico still out preformed him most of the time, and the car was mid as hell.

-michael retired part 2 at the end of 2012. and who replaced him but lewis hamilton

-so the two of them were teammates again. the cards were absolute Stacked against them. because yes they were besties yes they’d known eachother forever but the first person you’re judged against is your teammate. and you’re trying to beat your teammate. and lewis already had a championship. nico wanted a championship.

-2013 was relatively chill. the car was kinda mid. they did well but not fantastic and did some fuck ass pr (highly reccomend looking those videos up)

-2014 they had a car that could win. and they started fighting eachother for wins. they played all kinds of mind games against eachother and withheld stats and nico ran illegal engine modes (supposedly) and lewis said they were no longer friends after nico supposedly wrecked his monaco qualifying one year but they claimed they still supported eachother and were friends off track. lewis won in 2014 and in 2015. but nico was right behind him and he wanted to win a championship, he didn’t want to be a number 2 driver

-so in 2016 nico did some insane shit. he stopped sleeping with his wife so that he could get better sleep or something, he did weird things to cut weight, he basically did everything and then some to win. and then he did. he won the championship and then at the prize giving ceremony announced he was retiring. he didn’t tell lewis this.

more after i get off work :)

[chukys-mouthguard]

almost something

genre: angst, fluff ending

featuring: mat barzal x female reader

request: yes

note: longer fic adapted from this blurb

Pacing the floor, you couldn’t but wonder how much longer he’d leave you waiting. While you were used to waiting for most of the crowd to clear, that being part of the deal that you weren’t to show any PDA, this was getting excessive.

You and Mat weren’t dating, but you also weren’t just friends. It was fucking complicated and you hated it, to be blunt.

Watching all the girlfriends and wives adorned in their significant other’s jersey numbers, getting to kiss them after games no matter who was around, it hurt. That was all you ever wanted with Mat, but he unfortunately had his boundaries. Though you couldn’t be that mad because you did agree to them after all.

After 8 months you surely would’ve expected those boundaries to go away, yet here you were. Hiding in the corner, despite a handful of the guys knowing you and Mat were secretly a thing. And surely the WAGS would catch on to constantly seeing you around after games.

“Mat, wait!”

As soon as Mat appeared he was being called to the side by Bo Horvat’s wife. Rolling your eyes you resumed your spot against the wall and continued to wait.

“I wanted to introduce you to my friend Taylor.”

Mat smiled and said hello, the two chatting briefly before Mat excused himself, trying to not be rude but also not seem too interested.

As the crowd in the family area began to dissipate, Mat finally gave you the time of day.

“Hey you, ready to go?”

“Is it safe to talk to you? You sure no one is around?” Peeking left to right you joked, Mat not amused as he rolled his eyes.

“Oh hush. Don’t be so dramatic. You know I don’t want all the attention.”

Mat always had a different excuse. Sometimes it was wanting to be private with his relationships, others it was that he wasn’t ready to commit. You’d lost track of how many reasons he’d given for not being able to call you his girlfriend.

The things you’d wanted to experience with him all seeming like they’d never be yours to have. Wearing his jersey number proudly to games, flaunting your love for him on your social media, even just holding his hand as you left the arena. The littlest things seeming taboo to even bring up to him, knowing he’d tell you that we’ve had this conversation before.

But after this long, you had hoped that conversation would be different.

As you sat in the passenger seat of Mat’s car and headed home, you questioned how you’d ended up here. How did the first night you met, a chance encounter that almost seemed like fate, lead you to eight months of being an almost something secret to him?

As you swayed to the music, your third vodka soda giving you the liquid courage to let loose on your first night out in lord knows how long, you felt a hand lightly grab a hold of your waist.

Normally, you’d push away any creep that approached and tried to put a hand on you. But out of the corner of your eye you saw him, and you couldn’t help but blush.

“I was wondering if you were going to finally work up the courage to come over and say something.”

Sensing you were okay with his hand on your waist Mat moved in closer. The smell of his cologne flooding your system as you could feel the smirk on his lips as his face brushed against yours.

“Oh trust me, I wasn’t letting you get away without saying something. I told my friends that I had to make you mine.”

“Don’t say that if you don’t plan on backing it up.”

Though you’d met on a night out, Mat was serious about you, to a point. Not ghosting you the next day or letting you be a quick fling. And behind closed doors, he told you all the things you wanted to hear, did the things you’d expect of a boyfriend. But once in public, it was like none of that ever existed to him.

The entire car ride was silent, and he knew you were upset. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

As he parked the car you two headed inside, you not bothering to let him open your door for you. Just wanting to get inside and go to sleep, try and avoid another argument over the same old story.

“Can you just talk to me? Say something?”

Mat pleaded as he followed you up the stairs to his bedroom, where you had already starting getting changed for bed.

“What do you want me to say? Because it’s nothing you haven’t heard one hundred times already.”

He sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed, watching as you moved to the bathroom to take off your makeup. Knowing there wasn’t much he could say to try and make the situation better, because truly he didn’t have a good response.

“What do you want from me? I, I just don’t think it’s the right time to take things to the next level, with us.”

“Are you sure it’s just the timing that’s wrong Mat?”

He looked at you a bit taken aback as you’d raised your voice, not something typical of you. This wasn’t something you enjoyed discussing because it never got resolved, and with how long you’ve been going through this with Mat, the light at the end of the tunnel didn’t seem much closer. And you were growing tired.

“Do you remember what you told me the first night we met? That you told your friends I’m gonna make that girl mine. And it’s been eight months but you’re too fucking scared to commit and actually call me yours. You say it’s the timing that’s wrong, and this is best right now. Maybe it’s best for you, but it sure as hell hurts me.”

Mat watched as you tried to keep yourself calm, despite the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

“Seeing the wives and girlfriends get to wear jerseys, hug and kiss their significant others after games. Seeing them post their significant others on their social media. So many things I’d love to be able to do with you and I can’t, because I’m a big secret to you. So sure, you can say it’s the timing. But something tells me it’s way fucking more than that. And if that’s the case, that I’m not good enough to be more than just an almost something, then why the fuck am I here?”

Leaning against the bathroom counter you stared him down, waiting for him to say something, anything. His gaze fixated on the floor as sighed.

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth! Stop toying with my emotions and leading me on. I’ve been so fucking good to you for almost a year now, but I’m not good enough to be your girlfriend? Are you just taking advantage of having me around? I want to get to have you, every piece of you. After games, at team events, in fucking public. I don’t want to only get to have you in private.”

Your voice trailing off as you were exhausted of having this argument with Mat. Stopping yourself from getting worked up because what was the point? You’d have this fight, he’d do his best to convince you to stick around in the hopes of things getting better, but they would never change.

“Maybe I’m scared, okay?”

His voice barely above a whisper as he was unsure about his words. Though you were all ears, finally seeming like you would get some type of answer.

“Maybe I’m scared because I want those things, believe me I do. But I’m scared because I know what you deserve, and what if I can’t be that for you. This, no commitment, it’s easy for me. Because I’m not worrying about you constantly. I’m not wondering if I’m doing my job as a boyfriend. If I’m meeting your expectations. But if we take that next step, things are gonna change. And, I just, I don’t know if I’m ready for that. I like how things are, and I feel that’s how they should stay.”

Nodding your head as you took a deep breath, you weren’t even upset anymore. Just numb to the feeling of constantly not being good enough for Mat to fight for. Left feeling like there’s something wrong with you that’s making him scared to take the next step.

“You do realize, nothing would fucking change right? Just because I get to call you my boyfriend, that doesn’t come with a new list of rules or expectations.”

He sat in silence as you threw your clothes from earlier back on, not bothering to spend the night if he had made up his mind this wasn’t going anywhere. Needing to take some time and truly figure things out for yourself.

“I’m not interested in setting a standard, or forcing you to be any type of way, I just want to be able to look at you and know that you’re mine. To know that you tell people I’m your girl. I’m just sick and tired of being kept in the dark. So when you figure out whether or not you’re willing to lose me, over being too scared to take that next step, let me know.”

-

It had been a little over a week since you’d left Mat’s house following the argument. He’d reached out, but you weren’t quick to respond. Trying to give yourself time to decide if you were fine being strung along with no real possibility of commitment in sight. You wanted to move on, block his number and be done with him. But your heart couldn’t let you do that easily. The what ifs constantly in the back of your mind.

What if he finally gave you what you wanted? What if he finally did what he said he was going to do all those months ago? What if he stopped being so scared of shit that hasn’t happened yet?

Tonight the Islanders were back on home ice after a quick 2 game road trip, Mat sending you a ticket the morning of, per usual. And despite your anger over the situation between the two of you, you still decided to go, per usual.

He’d asked you to please come and see him after the game, regardless if deep down you were still mad and wanting to punch him in the face.

So there you were, claiming your familiar spot on the wall to watch all the wives and girlfriends greeting their significant others after the game. Soon enough Mat emerged from the locker room, Bo Horvat’s wife trying to connect him and her friend once again. This time Mat barely flashing a smile as he hurried over to you.

“You do realize there’s still tons of people down here right? They are obviously going to-“

Before you could finish Mat pressed his lips to yours, catching you off guard as your hands moved to cup his cheeks as you deepened the kiss. Heart racing as you were shocked by his actions, but not wanting it to stop. This being something you’d hoped for but never imagined happening.

As you pulled away, you noticed the looks on the faces of the wives and girlfriends. Slightly chuckling to yourself as you felt a blush coming over you.

“I’m not willing to lose you because I’m too scared to admit that I want this. I want you, and every piece of you. All the time, not just in private. And I want you to have every piece of me, regardless of who is watching.”

Brushing your thumb over his cheek you felt your heart ache at his words, completely unprepared to hear them despite wanting them for so long.

“I, I, I don’t even know what to say right now. I’m just, shocked!”

Mat laughed as he took your hand in his, leading you past the crowd and to his car.

“Well, for starters, you could say yes to being my girlfriend?”

[with-my-calamitous-love]

YOU SWORE THAT YOU LOVED ME, BUT WHERE WERE THE CLUES?

katsuki bakugou x reader

after your break up, katsuki talks shit to make his tortured heart feel better. inspired by my shitty ex boyfriend who still won’t let me rest.

inspired by so long, london

“i’ve never opened up to anyone like this.” you whisper, like fairy lights through the mist. his strong, chiseled arms hold you close, laying on his bed, wrapped up in his love.

“thats okay.” he whispers, uncharacteristically soft. “i’m here, babe.”

he pulls you in tighter as if you’re drifting away. he doesn’t stop trying to make you laugh, chasing the look of your smile lines and the the sound of your melodic laughter. he’s given you his youth, all his love and everything that he is. he loves these moments, late nights past the clock. he could stare into your eyes forever.

you loved this place.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

“they were too emotional.” he says, two beers deep in the bar you heard great things about. his friends, kirishima, denki, and sero, all have mixed reactions, but he doesn’t really care for them. “they’d talk about it too damn much. always go on about how important communication was.”

kirishima had the sensible nerve to point out that communication is, in fact, important, and emotional availability is a virtue. katsuki responds by taking another swig of the alcohol and coming to terms with the hangover he was bound to have the next morning.

how much sad did he have in him? oh, the tragedy. how he stooped down to this level, fucking up your name to make himself feel better about losing you.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

“i wanna try. for you.” he says, holding up flowers and standing next to a candlelit dinner. its completely spontaneous, something you stumbled upon while coming home from a long day. you remind him he doesn’t need to do this, and he tells you he wants to.

he looks gorgeous in this light, illuminated by nothing than that flickering warm glow. its moments like these you truly get to know katsuki, seeing his kindness he insists he’s too gruff for. truthfully, he’s soft.

“don’t act so surprised, dumbass.” he smirks, that shit eating grin giving you more than just butterflies. you take the flowers from him and return with a sweet kiss to his cheek, one that gets his heartbeat going. “i love you.”

“i love you too, kats.” you smile, already making plans to surprise him back.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

“they made me try so hard.” he complains over a family reunion dinner, annoyed by his moms pestering. his mom loved you, and wondered why katsuki and you would ever separate. he gives her the same story- that you were too emotional and too needy. “got damn exhausting.”

your spine was splitting from carrying this dead relationship up the hill. he only slightly flipped the script, however. both of you were exhausted. he insisted there weren’t any signs, while you knew for a fact that you gave many.

even as he held you at night, your bones were weary. sure, he held you and gave you warmth, but you still felt that chill of loneliness. its a feeling you can’t quite shake. at some point, his heart stopped beating for you. cpr was no use.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

“do you think about our future?” you ask, sitting in his embrace on the couch. though he pauses for a moment, his answer is definite.

“lets pick out your ring tomorrow.” he smiles, and your heart pounds. such small words that hit so huge. right now, he swears he loves you. he has you waiting at that altar for him, because he thinks he’ll meet you there.

and for a minute there, he means it. he does want to marry you. he does want to love you for all eternity, and to get you whatever pretty ring you want. there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that he would. he’d tell you everyday how he cant waits to finally be your husband.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

and there you were, left waiting at the altar.

“they didn’t wanna marry me.” he professes to his adoring fans and newscasters alike, giving into their incessant begging and nagging. he gives them an answer he knows will shut them up quick, and it does.

he frames as if you abandoned the ship. but the truth? you were going down with it. if your love died young, you’d challenge those waves, sink into the cold waters and make that vessel your resting place.

you held tight to his resentment, even though everyone around you said it wasn’t right. you shouldn’t be this scared to lose someone. towards the end, you weren’t sure if he wanted to be there. katsuki wasn’t sure either.

he drained the colour from your face as you watch the news clippings. you’re mad as hell. because you loved him.

[monster-fluffery]

Naga Cuddling Imagines (SFW!)

Okay… but have you ever thought of how nice it would be cuddle a Naga?

Hear me out!

GN! Naga x GN! Reader

Their Tails

As we know, nagas would have very long tails. While they may not be warm, they’re strong and snug. Not only that, but a naga would certainly be protective. They’d want to keep you safe and close to them no matter what. They’re very territorial… including over you! They’d wrap their tail around you to keep you safe while combing their clawed fingers through your hair and over your skin. They would very much enjoy the warmth your body gives off. This usually results in nuzzles against your neck, followed by a purr/hiss of contentment.

No matter what, they’re determined to keep you close, not that you mind. The texture of the scales is nice, an odd sensation against your fingertips. Despite being enveloped by another living being, the cool temperature keeps you comfortable. Your partner would know this very well too. While their tail was cold, their upper body is not as cold. The combination is enough to lull the both of you to sleep!

Their Claws

They’re natural hunters and protectors. It’s no wonder that they have razor sharp teeth and nails. You know they could rip you to shreds if your partner so pleased; However, there’s a comfort in knowing they would never lay a finger on you, let alone give anyone else the chance to. When it comes to cuddling, they’ll run their fingers along your flesh, relishing in the warmth and softness of it. The claws would leave goosebumps in their wake as they admired your resting form.

Your partner would worship you on their knees if they had any. So, they’ll let their fingers do the job. They have a fascination with the dips and curves of your body; whether it be the small of your back, the dip of your hips, or the curve of your neck. There isn’t a spot on your body that they don’t admire. Running their claws over these areas only further reminds them how much they adore and crave to protect you.

They love it even more when you reach to hold their hands while you’re cuddling. Their fingers interlock with yours and their thumb runs over the back of your hand. They’re much bigger than you and their hand practically engulfs yours. They’re a natural born predator, yet they decided you were it’s mate. You were what they were destined to protect. Destined to love and worship. Which leads into my next point.

Their Fangs

Did you really think their fangs would differ much from their claws? They’re very similar in the sense of danger, but they’re used in more intimate situations. Your partner loves to dip their head into the crook of your neck, ghosting their fangs over your soft skin. They can feel your blood rushing through your veins and how much heat radiates off your pulse. These trails leave your skin tingling and aching for affection. You would give your life to receive some kisses.

And of course, they would absolutely bless your skin with myriads of kisses and attention. They love you and want to show you that love with every action they make. They could spend hours kissing your body in all sorts of places if you had let them. Though, sometimes it can be more than just kissing. Sometimes, these kisses can turn into light nips. Though, if they break skin, they immediately apologize. They never wanted to hurt you. Though, if you enjoyed the feel, they wouldn’t mind indulging you.

Hell, even that forked tongue might slip past their lips. You’re no stranger to being flicked by that tongue. Though, it’s mostly used for teasing when it isn’t used for kissing. It almost feels like a cat’s tongue, being rough. You can’t help but laugh when your partner runs their tongue along your neck or collarbone. You insist it feels weird, but your partner can’t get enough of that smile on your face. They love your smile and love your laugh even more. So, if you’re ticklish, oh boy. Good luck, my friend.

Extras

Did you know that Naga’s hiss in their sleep? It’s almost like snoring. Pretty cute if you ask me.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

If you run your hand along the length of their tail, sometimes the end of it curls. Their scales may be tough, but specific touches can be pretty sensitive.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

Your partner is really heavy! Sometimes they like laying on top of you and act like a weighted blanket. Can be pretty soothing, especially if the pressure soothes any anxiety you may have.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

They always compliment you on how soft and warm your skin is.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

They really like to brush their fingers through your hair.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

They really enjoy laying their head against your neck, chest, or lap because of how warm it is.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

They have an odd fascination with your legs and wanting to understand them. Though, they can’t comprehend how slow moving you are compared to them.

-ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

I hope you enjoyed this! Feel free to leave any suggestions in my inbox!🐍💚

[chlorinecake]

i just got my nails done and i can’t stop thinking about how sungchan would react to them. him seeing them right after you went to the salon and immediately imagining how perfect they would look scratching his back or around his cock. i wonder if you could write a fic about this and if you could make it friend!sungchan? thank you in advance, i love your works

❛ NAILS DEEP ❜ — @ friend!jung sungchan x fem!reader 📌

contains: unprotected sex, handjob 🦩 word count: 406 👛

can imagine you randomly deciding to show up at his place one day after getting back from the salon, joining him on his couch before he caught sight of your freshly manicured nails …

“what do you think” you asked, letting him take your hands in his to examine them further, but as we all know by now, sungchan has a high sex drive, and it wouldn’t be long before his imagination ran wild.

thinking of how your nails would feel running up and down his back as he fucked into you nice and rough, or what they’d look like wrapped around his dick, pumping him til he cums all over your pretty fist.

poor sungchan… he felt himself growing in his pants just from thinking about it, and now that you were here, you couldn’t just leave him like this, all throbbing and needy…

because at the end of the day, good friends always help each other out once in a while… right?

you honestly didn’t even know that his sudden eagerness had anything to do with your new nails until he verbally said it.

“use your hands for me this time,” he groaned as you got between his legs, your usual blowjob routine becoming a one-hand show as the rings on your fingers provided just the right amount of extra stimulation he was craving, “oh fuck- just like that.”

it didn’t even take long for him to finish in your fist, not letting any of his slick go to waste as you went to straddle his lap, feeling him stretch you out as he bucked his hips up, your hands desperately clinging to his board shoulders which only drove him further over the edge.

sungchan couldn’t keep his hands to himself either, gripping at your waist to keep you in place while he continued to thrust, his mouth against yours as you gently clawed at his scalp, just to reel out more of his desperate moans.

thin red lines decorated the back of his pale skin by time you reached your climax, his mind feeling fuzzy from the way you clenched around him while riding out your highs.

at this point, the poor guy would have a whole ass scratching and hand kink for you, sending off cash every week just to make sure a fresh set stayed on your nails in case you ever decided to come over for a friendly repeat …

🏷️ taglist ( open ) @squoxle @nikisdubblchococake @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33

feel free to check out my masterlist for more works !!

[abyssruler]

like bread and pastries (you make me feel soft)

scaramouche x gn!reader

prince kunikuzushi can be described as mean at best, and a tyrant at worst. it comes as no surprise when years pass after his coming of age and he still hasn’t received any marriage proposals or even had a single lover. not that he would desire any of those small minded plebeians unworthy of his hand, but you, he decides, you might just be alright in his books. or — a prince and his baker.

fluff, soft scara (kinda), prince!scara, baker!reader, royalty au, bc i love the trope where the cruel and intimidating person is soft for one person and one person only

Prince Kunikuzushi’s love life—rather, his lack of one—has always been a topic of contention between the nobles of Inazuma. Some wonder if he will ever truly marry, what with his less-than-affable personality (which was, in high society terms, a sugarcoated way of saying he was an asshole). Others speculate that his mother might try to intervene and set him up with someone of reputable background.

What they don’t know—and if anyone ever found out, he would personally silence them to keep his secret safe—is that he is seeing someone. Just not someone they’d particularly find worthy or even interesting, but Kunikuzushi would beg to differ.

“Didn’t I tell you that you’re not allowed to eat the cookies until they’re at least cool enough?”

No one, not even his own mother or younger sister, would have the audacity to speak that way to him, let alone look him in the eye unflinchingly with a threatening spatula held in the air.

You’re covered in flour, from your hair to your clothes to the smear on your cheek that has his fingers itching to wipe it off. Your back is held straight, chin up and utterly unafraid to meet his stare head on as if he isn’t the heir to the shogunate and will one day rule the very country you reside in, as if his reputation for being all too happy to order someone’s tongue cut off for any insult, imagined or not, doesn’t even register in your head.

And if it’s you, well, then you have a perfectly good reason why.

Kunikuzushi drops the cookie he’d been in the middle of taking a bite out of into the tray, letting his displeasure known by crossing his arms and turning away from your chiding stare with a frown that could almost be called petulant.

“I pay you to make cookies for me, you know,” he grumbles, but you respond by huffing in amusement.

“Your mother pays her retainers, who then pay the right people, who then pay me to bake in the kitchens for the royal family and their guests.”

He raises his brow. “Practically the same thing.”

You pinch his arm for his sass, and any other person would have been met with a backhand across the face and an immediate order to be whipped fifty times in the public city square, would have had their hand cut off for even daring to touch, let alone harm, the Crown Prince of Inazuma, but you—

You make him so disgustingly soft. Like butter left to melt in the sun, and really, that’s what you are: a sun. Dazzling and blinding and so very unattainable.

“The point is, my prince, you can afford to have a little patience every now and then,” you tell him, lowering your spatula and placing it on the table.

“I’m a very patient person.” He smiles, the kind he knows unsettles you because, and he quotes, it gives you the heeby-jeebies to see something so fake and uncharacteristically sweet on his face.

“I doubt that,” you respond, poking the cookie with a finger to check if it’s cooled enough already. With a grin, you pick one up and bring it to his mouth. “Say aah.”

He looks at you blankly. “Not even a minute ago and you were scolding me for trying to eat one.”

“I’m a changed person.” You send him a cheeky smile, gesturing to the cookie still outstretched in front of his awaiting lips. “So?”

Kunikuzushi rolls his eyes. If anyone had dared to do something so childish, something so debasing and humiliating in front of him, coercing him to do something he would have never done in his life even under sword point, he would have had their heads cut off and fed to the monsters that lurk outside the city.

But since it’s you…

Fine.

He opens his mouth, face warm at the embarrassing display, and says, “Aah.”

You laugh in delight, bringing the cookie to his lips. The taste of dough and something that faintly reminds him of vanilla bursts in his tongue. It’s soft and chewy, like bread and melted chocolate. He isn’t one for overly cloying sweets, especially not the ones his mother so favors, but the ones you make are always somehow just right for him.

Leaning close, you eye him with anticipation. “How is it?”

He chews for a few moments, gathering his thoughts before he ultimately decides that he’s been far too lax in reminding you of who he is and his reputation. “It’s passable.”

…Is he really so far gone that that is the best insult he could think of on the spot?

He could name a few adjectives that he’s prone to use on the daily. Disgusting, revolting, terrible, abhorrent, nauseating, repugnant—to name a few. But, somehow, his mouth refused to form the words, so he was left to say passable instead.

“If it’s passable, then I guess it’s not enough for your refined palate,” you feign distress, turning to the tray of cookies and making a move to grab them. “I suppose I’ll have to throw these away…”

For the second time that day, he does something he considers beneath him and rolls his eyes. “Stop the dramatics. The cookie was…” the muscles on his mouth hurt with the effort to say something not unkind, “…good.”

You beam, all crinkled eyes and lovely upturned lips. It makes his heart palpitate, probably because of how adorable abhorrent he finds the sight. “Hehe, I knew you’d like it.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he tells you, lest you suddenly think he actually likes you, never mind the fact that he was the one who hounded your attention and made the first move to kiss you all those months ago.

“Whatever you say,” you sing-song, leaning on the counter beside him and getting flour on his immaculate robes when your arm brushes up against his. “But I was wondering why you came to visit me today. You told me yesterday that you had pressing matters to attend to.”

Ah, right. The reason for his sudden appearance in Tenshukaku’s kitchens. The conversation with his mother yesterday repeats in his head.

“My mother wants me to find someone to marry as soon as possible.” Kunikuzushi looks at you, eyes wide and expectant.

Your eyes suddenly dim, looking down at your feet in an uncharacteristic show of hesitance. “Oh. Then… I wish you and whoever you choose as your spouse the best of wishes.”

A muscle in his brows twitch. He can’t believe you didn’t get the hint. Are you truly going to make him say it?

Something distinctly uncomfortable tugs at his chest when he sees you fiddling with your fingers.

Tch. Fine.

“It’s you,” idiot, he wants to add, but his tongue seems to have a mind of its own. “I came here to tell you that you’re going to marry me.”

Your head snaps up, face a mixture of shock and hesitant hope. But then you grimace, “But you’re the prince, and I’m…”

He scoffs. “So? Once we’re married, any insult directed toward you is an insult to me as well. I’ll have them killed—if you want.” The last part is added only because he saw you go pale at the mention of killing people.

“Right, but…” you trail off, tilting your head to him and narrowing your eyes. There it is, that audacious spark that captured his attention from the beginning. “You’re supposed to ask me to marry you, not order me around.”

His face pinches.

“Well, my prince? Are you gonna ask me or not?” you tease.

The sheer nerve at your audacious request. If you were one of the mindless nobles that scurry about his mother’s court, he would have you whipped. Insolent, impertinent, brazen, and a mischievous smile that has him so utterly—

Whipped.

He clicks his tongue, crossing his arms and feeling his cheeks redden. His eyes meet yours unflinchingly despite the erratic beating of his heart.

“Will you marry me?”

One month and many arguments and severed tongues later, the Crown Prince Kunikuzushi is wed to you.

And if Yae Miko uses that opportunity to write a light novel fanfiction about the prince and his baker, well, she responds to Kunikuzushi’s angry letter with a signed copy of the book’s first edition and a note about how much the people loved it and how his reputation has skyrocketed because of it.

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Shrinking Violet - Part II (Rhysand x Reader)

Here's Part II of this (finally)! Took me a while but I got there. I really hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: SMUT ✨🌶️

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

There was a female in Rhysand’s lap.

A pretty female, with long, cascading blonde hair and eyes like a cerulean sky.

You didn’t care.

You’d seen her around the Hewn City before; males and females alike tended to turn her way when she passed. Tended to gape at the beauty in their midst.

You didn’t care.

And now she’d found her way into the High Lord’s arms.

You did not care.

Except that you obviously did.

You hadn’t seen Rhys since his last visit two months before. And that was fine — that was normal. The whole time you’d known him, he’d always dipped in and out, sometimes absent for months and months at a time. Sometimes visiting every few weeks. It had always been the case, and it had never bothered you before. 

But it was his words from the last time that had stuck with you. Like a damn thorn in your side.

Come back to Velaris with me.

No.

Come back to Velaris with me.

No.

Come back to Velaris with me.

No.

He’d never said anything like that before. And, of course, you’d saved face — had joked and jested to brush off the weight of those words.

But they’d left you in a strange headspace. Left you wondering, for two months, if he’d meant them. Why he’d suddenly said them after years of the two of you fooling around.

So you hadn’t had even nearly as much confidence tonight as the night you’d worn a dress to match the shade of his eyes. You’d found yourself unsure, nervous.

You didn’t like being unsure and nervous.

And then you’d spotted Rhysand on his throne. And the female — Nyrinn, her name was — on his lap. And your nerves twisted into…something else. 

The night wore on, your tolerance for being there dwindling by the second. Especially as Nyrinn’s giggles seemed to grow louder and more shrill as time rolled on, and no amount of wine could drown them out. 

After two hours, you decided you’d had enough.

You drained your glass and set it aside, gathering up the skirts of your gown. You only attended these things because your father was a high-standing member of the Hewn City council.

But you’d shown your face — there was no rule that said you had to linger.

So you’d hastily exited the throne room, ignoring the feeling of gazes burning into your back. You didn’t care who noticed as you began to make your way back to your residence. 

It was only when you were back within the walls of your opulent home that you realised how truly restless you were. You’d torn off your gloves and called to your maidservant that you didn’t wish to be disturbed, before skulking up to your bedroom with an ever-growing twist in your gut.

You didn’t want to read, or journal, or play an instrument, or think. You didn’t want to sleep or to be awake. You wanted…

You wanted to scream. 

Ridiculous, for Rhysand to have such a profound effect on you. You were not a person who got churned up over males. You were not a female who simpered and sulked in her bedroom after being ignored.

But it wasn’t just that he’d ignored you, no. It was the point he’d blatantly made, by seating that female on his lap. 

Come back to Velaris with me. Such pretty, useless words. 

It was in pure, unwanted frustration that you tore your dress off and strode into your bathroom. You ran your bath far too hot, simply wanting the burn to take your mind off the High Lord. Pouring a concoction of oils into the water, you lowered yourself in, hissing in satisfaction at both the heat and the scent. You were relaxing blissfully in the luxury of a sunken tub whilst Rhysand sat with a frilly, giggling female on his lap—

No. You would not think about him any longer.

You closed your eyes, resting your head back against the tub and savouring the feeling of the hot water blanketing your skin. You took slow, deep breaths, allowing your body to loosen up, your muscles to relax—

Come back to Velaris with me.

Block it out, block it out, block it out. 

My father used to tell me to stay far away from you.

Breathe. Breathe.

I think about you, you know.

Come back to Velaris with me.

You launched up in the bath, water spraying as you growled in frustration and grabbed the closest object — a soap bottle — and hurled it across the room. 

You hated this. Being mixed up and restless. Being unsure of where you stood. How dare Rhysand plant such thoughts in your head. How dare he make you feel like this.

It wasn’t part of your game. It was always supposed to have been a game.

Sick of your bath already, you climbed out of the tub and towelled yourself off. Your skin felt too tight on your bones, too restricting. You threw your hair up, grabbed your pretty little robe from where it hung on the back of the door, and tied it around yourself, wandering back through to your bedroom.

“Do you always spend your bath time launching things across the room?”

You started, a yelp leaving you as you whipped around—

And found Rhysand lounging on your bed like it was his. One leg crossed over the other. Arms propped behind his head. 

He surveyed you — the thin, silk robe that barely covered you — and his full lips twitched into a smirk. “Oh, that’s positively indecent.”

You clenched your jaw, pulling the robe tighter around yourself. “What are you doing?”

He tilted his head up to the ceiling. “I was trying to write a poem, but I don’t think I have a calling for it. I’m trying to rhyme with gyrating—”

“No, Rhysand. What are you doing in my room? Or my house?”

“As I said — trying my hand at poetry. Vibrating? High rating?”

“I did not invite you.” You marched over to the door. “Get out.”

Only then did he meet your gaze, and he finally sat up on your bed—but made no further move. He propped himself up casually. “I’m your High Lord. I invited myself.”

“Well uninvite yourself. Leave.”

You didn’t like the assessing gaze with which he looked at you. Like your tone and demeanour intrigued him, and he was trying to puzzle out its source. His eyes narrowed, head falling into a tilt, and he stated rather pointlessly, “You’re annoyed.”

Yes. “Why should I be annoyed?”

“You tell me. You couldn’t have left the throne room quick enough.”

“I didn’t realise that you’d noticed my presence.”

Rhysand’s eyes flashed at your response, the swimming violet shifting into a churning sea of something deeper — and you could have cursed yourself. You knew you’d shown your hand and exposed the bitter thoughts that were pawing at your mind. 

His lips kicked up into a smirk. “I’m sorry. Did I not pay you enough attention?”

You turned to your dressing table, taking a seat in front of the mirror. “I don’t care what you do, Rhysand, unless it involves you leaving.”

“I don’t think that’s strictly true, is it?”

You didn’t deign to respond. You stared at your flushed reflection, wishing you could wipe away your terse expression as easily as the makeup you’d painted on earlier that evening. You didn’t want to be this affected by him. You wanted the ease of your game. 

But your mind kept dredging up that image of Nyrinn on Rhys’s lap. And the rage that filled you was certainly not in keeping with the games that you played.

When it was clear to Rhys that you had nothing more to say to him, he finally rose from your bed. You waited to hear the click of the door, or feel the telltale sensation of him winnowing out of the room, but he instead traipsed around the bed until he was hovering behind you, close enough that the heat of his body seemed to permeate your thin robe. 

“I’ve never seen your home before.” He stated unexpectedly, his fingers beginning to toy with a pin in your hair.

You shrugged, the movement causing your robe to slip down your shoulder. “Why would you have done? You don’t need to see my home to fuck me. Empty corridors were enough. I wonder if Nyrinn would echo that sentiment.”

Rhys’s hand paused, hovering in your hair. “I’m starting to think you’re jealous.”

You wanted to scowl. Were you jealous? Yes. No. You didn’t know.

You knew you didn’t want to be. You knew that you didn’t like what that must mean. That Rhysand had power over you that went beyond that of a High Lord and his subject. Power over your heart. 

It was just…the words he had spoken the last time you’d seen him. They had been weighty and thrilling and terrifying. You’d turned them over in your mind every night since.

And Rhysand boldly sitting with another female on his lap was a message to you and you only. One that screamed, I didn’t mean what I said.

But that was fine, wasn’t it? You’d never promised each other anything beyond finding pleasure in each other’s bodies. Rhys owed you nothing. You owed him nothing.

You straightened yourself up in the mirror, schooling your expression into neutrality. “Of course I’m not jealous.”

Rhys studied you in the mirror for a moment. And then his fingers drifted from your hair, down to that shoulder that had been exposed by your robe. The pads of his fingers brushed your skin gently, and you gritted your teeth, trying not to enjoy the feeling.

“No?” Rhys hummed deeply. “I’m sensing some anger.”

“I’m not angry.”

His head dipped. His lips replaced his fingers, skating over your shoulder. “How about you show me how utterly not angry you are?”

Brat. He was such a fucking brat. Such a swaggering, entitled High Lord who had the world at his feet and damn well knew it. It only enraged you more.

And what you should have done with that rage was turf him out of your home and throw him on his ass, High Lord or no. You should have put your foot down and not allowed him to seduce his way out of this, whether he owed you nothing or not.

But this…the honeyed, suggestive remarks…this was territory you were familiar with. This was yours and Rhys’s thing. This was where you felt comfortable.

And so you would curse yourself for it later. But you turned your head to the side, your face now inches from Rhys’s.

He paused at the close proximity — the promise of your lips brushing. His breath hitched in his throat, and he applied the slightest bit of pressure, his mouth on yours—

You stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Get on the bed.” 

You felt his body still beneath your hand. And you heard his throat bob as he swallowed. And when he pulled away, you could have sworn you glimpsed his hands trembling.

You didn’t care to think too much about it. You rose from your dressing stool, toying with the tie on your robe. Rhys watched you, slowly walking backwards as he did. When his legs hit the back of the bed, he let himself fall. 

“Lie back.” You ordered.

He glanced at you once. And then scooted back, settling into the pillows. And despite the fact that he was High Lord…the most powerful High Lord, and the most important person within this mountain…he just looked like the same old Rhysand that you had always known. Beautiful. Dark. Resplendent amongst the pretty drapes of your huge bed.

And he looked strangely vulnerable as you climbed over him. Straddled him. His hands seem to inch towards your hips, but you shook your head once.

“Place them above your head.” You said.

Rhys blinked, a shudder of breath escaping him. The two of you had fucked in all sorts of places in the Hewn City, on all sorts of surfaces. You’d exchanged filthy words and pushed a little further with every round of your game you played.

But this was different. And judging by the heat that quickly filled Rhysand’s eyes…he was ravenous for it.

You were deliberately slow as you tugged the tie from your robe. Rhys tracked every tiny movement, and his throat bobbed as you grabbed both of his wrists in one hand, and used the tie to fasten them to the bed.

“I am not jealous or angry, Rhysand.” Such a gods-damned liar you were. “But my evening did not play out how I hoped it would. And I don’t like not being in control.”

His eyes watched you. Watched as you checked the knot you’d tied, before your hands slowly moved to rest on his chest. “And how did you wish for the evening to play out?”

“I would have liked another round of our game.” Your fingers toyed with the top button on his shirt. “But perhaps you’ve tired of me. Perhaps you’d rather play with Nyrinn.”

“I could never tire of you. You want control? Take it. It’s yours.”

There was a mild taunting in his tone that suggested he perhaps didn’t believe you to have the nerve. He was High Lord, after all, and you just the daughter of a reputable male in his court. You had an easy, luxurious life, void of risks, perhaps even of excitement.

But if he suspected you lacked nerve, well — he was seriously, gravely mistaken.

Without the tie, your robe had parted. You were done with it completely.

You whipped it off, tossing it behind you without a glance. Rhysand’s eyes fell to your now naked body, his pupils blown. He swallowed, and his wrists gave a jerk against the restraints you’d tied. They didn’t budge an inch.

He let out a frustrated huff. “I want to touch you—”

“Uh-uh.” You pressed a finger against his lips. “You said the control was all mine.”

“It is.” His teeth gritted. “It is.”

With a smile, you applied a small amount of pressure to his lips. Just enough for them to naturally part. Rhys’s eyes were firmly on yours as you slipped your finger into his mouth. He immediately sucked, his tongue flicking against your skin.

“Here’s how this is going to go, Rhysand.” You tugged your finger back, smiling at the whine he emitted. “Honesty will be rewarded. I’ll ask you questions, and I expect truthful answers. If you’re honest, you’ll get a prize.”

His throat bobbed. “What kind of prize?”

“The best kind.”

“And how will you know whether or not I’m being honest?”

“Well,” your lips twitched. You dragged your hand down your chest, skirting the turgid peaks of your breasts. “I have to trust that you’ll be smart enough to be honest. Because a single lie comes with a penalty you would not appreciate.”

Torturously slow, his heated violet gaze followed the direction of your hand, still descending the length of your body. His voice was rough, blunt, as he bit out, “What’s the penalty.”

“The penalty,” your fingers finally reached that sweet spot between your thighs, and you dragged a finger through your wetness, biting your lip, “is me leaving you tied up here, while I go and find another male to sate my needs. Perhaps one of your handsome friends. Cassian, or Azriel—”

He jerked against the restraints, a snarl rumbling deep in his chest. His eyes flashed a shade darker. 

“Easy, High Lord.” You smirked. Dragged that finger back up. “All you have to do is swear your honesty. Do you swear it?”

His gaze was fully clasped on your finger now coated in your juices. He jerked again. “Let me taste you.”

“Do. You. Swear—”

“Yes. Fuck, yes. You have my word. I will be completely, hideously honest, even if it’s humiliating for me—”

His words were cut short as you shoved your slicked finger between his lips. They immediately fastened around it, and he sucked your wetness greedily, a satisfied moan breaking from him.

“Such a good High Lord.” You hummed. Your lips twitched as his hips bucked, his arousal pressing against you. “Let’s start with an easy question, shall we?”

His only response was to meet your gaze head-on, and suck your finger harder. There couldn’t possibly be anything left for him to taste, and yet he suckled and licked like a male parched. 

“Question one.” Your fingers returned to the buttons on his shirt, poised to pop them open. “What is your favourite colour?”

Rhys seemed genuinely perturbed by having to part his lips. You quickly snatched your hand back, stroking a wet trail down his chin, his neck.

He answered without hesitation, “The colour of your eyes, of course.”

So he was going to play nice. Good. Your smile widening, you began to dutifully pop open those buttons on his shirt. Rhys’s chest seemed to heave with every touch.

He watched you closely as you reached the bottom, parting his shirt to expose his tan, muscled torso. He tugged at the restraints again, as though silently asking you to remove the shirt entirely. Your reprimanding glance had him promptly falling still.

You kept your gaze on his. “Question two. Another easy one. What were you thinking when you first glimpsed me in that violet dress?”

You could see the desire that crossed his face, his thoughts flitting back to that very night. That very dress. “I was thinking that the Mother had gifted me all my Winter Solstices at once, and that I am a very lucky male.”

So silver-tongued. But you rewarded him, all the same, by brushing your lips through that alley between his pectorals. And down the planes of his stomach. And down. Rhys grunted just as you pulled away.

“Next question.” You hummed, moving down his body still. Your own entirely naked body was on fire, begging to be touched, and you knew Rhys could scent how dripping you were between your legs.

But he couldn’t do anything about it. His nostrils flared, his throat bobbing.

“The last time you were here,” you said, “you told me that you think about me. Is that true?”

His eyes fluttered shut, yet he said nothing. You didn’t take your gaze away from his face as you skirted your fingertips over the hard bulge pressing through his breeches in a barely-there caress. Rhys immediately grunted.

“Is it true, Rhysand?”

“Yes.” He breathed. “It’s true.”

The words…they seemed to ignite something in your body; a scorching, desirous flame. You tried to shove it down, to snuff it out. To focus on the game.

Your hands reached the laces and buttons of his breeches. You tugged on one, two, and then stopped. “What is it you think about?”

“I think about your pretty little cunt.” He was like an animal with its prey as he watched you tug at another lace. “About the way it squeezes my cock right before you come.” Another. “I think—”

He cut himself off abruptly — as though he’d been about to blurt a thought he wasn’t quite ready to verbalise. It stroked at your curiosity, your ears pricking up.

“Honesty is rewarded, Rhysand.” You’d reached that final lace, pinching it between your fingers. Your other hand teased the sliver of skin exposed by the parting flap on his breeches.

A noise sounded deep in Rhys’s throat, and his head fell back. “I think about it being you who sits on my lap in that throne room. In front of everybody. Everybody knowing that I’m the one who gets to bury my cock in you. That nobody gets to touch what’s mine.”

A shiver coursed right through you. Save face, your self-preserving mind screamed at you, don’t let him see what his words do to you.

But gods above, they did a great many things to you. Your skin felt tight, hot. You wanted to drag your hands down your body, to touch yourself and abate the roaring need between your thighs. 

The laces undone, only three buttons were what was keeping Rhys’s breeches on his hips. You popped the first button open. 

“That seems awfully selfish.” You responded to his confession. “Did no one ever teach you how to share, High Lord?”

His teeth gritted. “I can share.” He hissed. “But I won’t share you. Never you.”

Heavy, weighty words.

The impact of them could have bowled you over. Could have sent you running from this room, from him—

But you didn’t want to share, either. And that was what this was about, wasn’t it? Beneath the need, the arousal, it was jealousy that drove you. Jealousy that encouraged your fingers to undo those final two buttons and part Rhysand’s breeches completely.

His cock was pressing hard against his underwear, and you inhaled his pleasant scent. Always citrusy. Always intoxicating.

Did you dare ask the next question on your tongue? Why won’t you share me? It was the most logical inquisition to follow, and yet—

And yet you weren’t sure you were ready for the answer.

So you focused on his body instead. Your fingers danced over that soft, cotton underwear, feeling out his hardened length.

Rhys’s head lolled back, his breath hitching. And he whined. “Please.”

Your lips flicked up at the corners. “Please?” You repeated. “Please what?”

“Touch me. With your hands, your mouth, just—touch me.”

“Answer another question,” you tugged his breeches down; he lifted his hips to assist you, “and I’ll touch you.”

He gritted his teeth. “What’s the question.”

One you had pored over in your mind again and again since your last encounter with Rhys. Even when you’d tried not to think about it, curiosity had been a bitch. You couldn’t help it. His silver tongue had left you wondering too many things.

“You told me that your father used to warn you to stay away from me.” Your fingers skirted the waistband on his underwear, dipping just beneath and stopping. “I want to know why.”

“Fuck,” Rhys swore quietly. “You’re going to destroy me, Y/N.”

“Perhaps.” You snapped the waistband. “But you’d probably enjoy it. You either answer the question and I slide my mouth over your cock, or I can untie you and we can leave things well alone.”

Both of you knew there was no competition between those two options. But Rhys still groaned quietly, his heart thumping in his chest.

You made to slide your hand away—

“He used to warn me to stay away from you,” he clenched his jaw, “because he knew that I couldn’t. Because he knew that you…that you’re different.”

Your entire body paused. These words weren’t the flirtatious, teasing ones you’d been expecting.

These words were real. They were powerful. Perhaps altering.

And you dealt with them in the same way you dealt with anything that made you feel too much.

You drove them away with desire.

You’d asked for honesty, and he’d offered it up on a silver platter. You couldn’t deny that. 

Your fingers gripped his underwear, and you pulled them down until they were joining his discarded breeches on the floor. And his cock was springing up — painfully hard and already leaking. You took in the sight, humming in appreciation.

“Please.” Rhys said again, his hips bucking. “Fuck—please.”

“For being an honest High Lord.” You met his violet stare. Wrapped your hand around his rigid length. “You did so well.”

Rhysand’s answering groan as you slowly began to pump him told you precisely how desperately he wanted this. His head fell back once more, eyes screwing shut and lips parting. The sight only had you growing wetter.

You started slow and languid, taking your time to appreciate every little twitch and jerk. Most of yours and Rhys’s fucks had been quick and heated, a case of shoving your clothes off and carrying each other to release. And you’d sucked his cock before, yes, but mostly in darkened corridors where you’d not had the luxury of light nor of time.

Now, you had both. Now, you could see it all.

Rhys lifted his hips, bucking up into your hands as a desperate moan left him. You knew what he wanted. You wanted it, too.

Using your free hand to cup his balls, your other still gripped his cock as you leaned in and swiped your tongue over the head, tasting the pleasant saltiness there.

“Shit.” Rhys immediately hissed, his eyes returning to you once more. They were so much darker than usual, the violet heated and sinful as he watched you take the head of his cock into your mouth, and he bit his lip. “Holy fucking gods.”

You chuckled around him. His enjoyment, his noises — they were as pleasurable as him outright fucking you. You slid your hand between your legs, dipping your fingers into your dripping cunt as you dragged your tongue down the length of Rhys’s cock. His eyes immediately shot to your fingers that you’d begun to pump in and out of yourself, and a snarl left him as he jerked at the restraints. 

“I want to touch you.” He begged. “Just a touch.”

“I’m in control, Rhysand.” You reminded him. Your hand was still pumping him, twisting around the head in a way you knew was torturous for him. You slid your lips over him and hollowed your cheeks as you sucked.

He was whining, groaning, hips bucking and stomach caving. But you pushed and pushed, sliding your mouth further onto him, sucking and licking and paying special attention to the underside — the vein that was pulsing there.

“Fuck—stop!” Rhys jerked. “I don’t want to come yet. Please.”

Gods, you loved the sound of him begging. A sound you would happily listen to forever. One that could sing you to sleep at night.

But you didn’t want him to come yet, either. And that was the only reason you appeased him and pulled him from your mouth with a resounding pop. 

You slid your fingers out of yourself, your juices glistening on your skin. And when you used them to slick Rhys’s cock even more, his eyes damn near rolled into the back of his head.

“You want to taste me?” You smiled, your fingers idly running up and down his cock.

“No.” Rhys gasped. “I need to taste you.”

And quite frankly, you needed him to taste you. Your fingers hadn’t been enough, hadn’t taken the edge off even slightly.

“For playing so nice, Rhysand,” you rose, moving up the bed, “you can taste me.”

He watched, a male utterly entranced as you stood before him. And when you planted your feet either side of him, inches from his face, his eyes drank in the sight of your cunt greedily.

“Taste.” You commanded, lowering your centre to his face.

Rhys growled, his tongue swiping out to lick an agonising, heated stripe right up you, from your entrance to your clit. He grazed his teeth there, and a moan tumbled from your lips, your fingers sinking into the strands of his hair as you ground yourself against his face.

He lapped and laved at you, taking everything you gave him. And you knew that had his hands been untied, he would have sunk his fingers into you, fucked you with him. 

But they weren’t untied.

So he used his tongue instead.

The moment his tongue slid inside you, your head was falling back. The feeling was too much — too good. You were gripping onto his hair and onto the headboard and trying desperately not to collapse from the way your body was already beginning to tremble.

Rhys made an affirming, encouraging noise. And you knew him well enough to know what he was asking of you. Ride my face. Fuck my tongue.

You did just that. 

You didn’t know how you managed to stay upright as you writhed against him, every inch of you trembling. And when you moved your fingers to your clit and began to circle there, his tongue moving in and out of you, you exploded.

You screamed as release spread through you, not caring one tiny bit about who heard. You hoped people heard. Hoped people knew you were coming on their High Lord’s tongue.

Rhys groaned, swallowing every last drop of you and enjoying every second. 

You didn’t know how you were able to steady yourself enough to pull back. But as you did, the mere sight of Rhysand almost sent you hurtling to release all over again.

He panted, stared at you, his face glistening with your come. His tongue swiped out, lapping up every last bit he could reach.

You needed him inside you. Now.

Your hands coasted his body as you moved down. Questions and games and teasing were far, far behind you. This was pure, carnal need. 

But as you straddled Rhys, gripping his cock to steady him, he was stopping you—

“Y/N.” Your name was soft on his lips. “Untie me. Please. Let me touch you.”

You paused. It wasn’t a needy, whining plea — but an earnest one. An emotional one. 

And it was that which made you comply.

You sank down onto his cock first. The two of you both sucked in a breath with every inch of him that slowly entered you. He filled you so perfectly, so exquisitely—

Only when he was fully seated inside you, your hips beginning a slow, steady rhythm of riding him, did you reach out and unfasten the restraints.

“Touch me.” You whispered, tossing the tie aside.

You expected Rhys to cup your breasts as he had done countless times before. Or perhaps to return to your clit, to use his fingers there while you rode him.

You hadn’t anticipated the way his hands instead gripped your face — gentle, tender. 

His palms cupped your cheeks, and he leaned in, slanting his lips over yours. 

You’d kissed countless times before. But those kisses had been needy, hungry, a ravenous build-up to your bodies meeting.

This kiss was slow and deep. Rhys’s tongue traced the seam of your lips, and as he slid it into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself on him, he stroked his thumb across your cheek.

You couldn’t bear it. 

It was too…gentle. Too meaningful.

You planted your hands on his shoulders, picking up the pace of your hips, rolling them and grinding them against him. You moaned breathlessly, savouring the feel of his cock thrusting into you. You knew he couldn’t last much longer.

“Slow.” He panted, pressing peppered kisses to your mouth. “Slowly.”

“No.” You moaned. You tore your lips from his, leaning down to nip at his neck. “I want you to come.”

“Fuck.” His hands fell down to grip at your ass, and he seemed unable to hold himself back any longer. He lifted you slightly, his cock slamming into you, the resounding slap of skin on skin filling the room.

You screamed, your fingers digging into Rhys’s shoulders as a second orgasm hit you, overpowering your entire body. You felt utterly boneless as you shook against him.

“Oh gods.” Rhys gasped. “Gods—Y/N.”

He slammed in to the hilt — and spilled into you with your name on his tongue, melting into an incoherent, desperate groan.

You felt every twitch and spurt of his cock inside you. It was all you could do to hold onto him, to keep yourself upright, as your sweat-slick bodies trembled against each other.

And then there was silence; aside of your heavy breathing, utter silence.

Your eyes were still screwed shut, and yet you could feel Rhysand looking at you as he held you. His forehead pressed against yours, and he stroked a hand down your back.

“Come back to Velaris with me.” He murmured.

Those words again. They chased you. Haunted you.

“No.” You whispered.

For a moment, there was no reaction. And then Rhys was pulling back. He tugged your chin up. “Look at me.”

You did — if only to avoid feeling like a coward. But staring into his eyes was a grave mistake.

Such strong emotion swam there. And he wore it openly.

“Come back with me.” He said again. “What do you have here?”

“I have my life—”

“Your life that you spend running from feeling things?”

Your face sobered. “Fuck you, Rhys.”

He grimaced — knew he’d said the wrong thing. His arms tightened around you. “Look, just…just talk to me. Tell me why you won’t come back with me.”

For a multitude of reasons. Because I’m not in control when I’m with you, and that scares me. Because I’m worried you’ll eventually grow bored of me and wish I’d never come. Because you’re capable of utterly shattering my heart—

“I’ve never left this mountain.” You said simply. “What would I do in Velaris?”

“I think you’d be amazed by the amount of things you could do.” He reached out, brushing his thumb over your cheek again. “You are wasted in this place, Y/N. You should be out in the world — with me.”

You swallowed, lowering your gaze. He sold it well; you couldn’t deny you were tempted. But you were scared.

“Why don’t you just…come for a week?” He then said. “No strings attached, no commitments. Come and spend a week in Velaris. See what it has to offer. See how you like it. Meet my friends properly — get to know them.”

You shrugged a shoulder half-heartedly. “What if they don’t like me?”

“Then they’d be fools. But I know they’ll like you as much as I do.”

You stared at him, and he stared back. As much as I do. He’d never been so…on the nose about it.

“…I don’t know…” 

“Just a week.” He stroked your cheek again. “You don’t even have to spend it with me, if you don’t want to.” 

It seemed ludicrous to even bring it into question, but…you knew he meant it. He would leave you alone if you asked.

But you’d never ask. It was quite clear to you how much you didn’t want him to leave you alone.

“One week?” You said. Even lingering on the cusp of agreeing sent a thrill through you. This was new. Exciting. Nerve-wracking.

Rhys leaned in, brushing his lips against yours. “One week.”

“Ask me again, then, Rhysand.”

He drew back. Met your gaze. “Come back to Velaris with me.”

And although every self-preserving instinct screamed at you to refuse yet again, you dipped your chin in acceptance. Even if the mere prospect was fraught with nervous anticipation.

“Okay.” You said. “You can have me for one week.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ rhysand tag list: @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @luna-1-3-5 @lucyysthings @blacksstarrynight @munchkinnicki @illyriansimp @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @basicbittywitty @brookeduggan @acourtofchaosandmess @eos-princess @aaronwarnerswifereal @mairthys @ginqver @multifandomdisorder @twsssmlmaa @mateobneun-rattattui @udpoota

general tag list:@angrymilfs @lunaralaraspace @maddithefangirl @brekkershadowsinger @wandas-dream @his-sweet-nightmare @kennedy-brooke @chocolatecakelargeshake @daily-dose-of-sass @missaddamsworld @reiincarnatiion @linduzmunna @leeknows-wife @nightcourtwritings @ann-writes-universes @cosmic-whispers @simplefan-638 @lucyysthings @judig92 @shannonsaid @azriels-mate123 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @iangelofmusic

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

Orange Peel Theory’s Got Nothing on Magnus Bane

“This whole thing sounds stupid,” Alec rolls his eyes at his siblings.

“That’s the point. It’s stupid but cute,” Izzy explains.

He thinks for a moment. “And Jace passed?”

“Jace passed,” Izzy nods.

“And so did you.”

“Yes,” Izzy smiles.

He’s not surprised, both his siblings are gone for their partners.

Alec doesn’t think a stupid orange peel theory is the true test of love but alas, mundane culture rarely ever makes sense to him.

“Alright. I’ll try it,” he sighs at their childish excitement, “but if Magnus doesn’t peel it and I have to get a divorce; I’m blaming you two forever.”

Izzy and Jace chuckle at him. “Okay, bro.”

Alec forgets about the stupid thing for the next few days. They’re busy and Magnus and he barely get any time together.

Then Izzy texts him one day, “Did you try it?”

Children.

Magnus comes out of the kitchen, with coffee for the two of them in his hands. Alec lets out a hand and takes one cup.

His husband sits on one end of the couch, his legs spread on the table in front of them. Alec sidles up next to him, closing any distance.

“Hi,” Magnus exhales against his mouth.

Alec smiles before kissing him. “Hi, baby.”

They spend the day lounging on the couch, trading slow kisses and touches. It’s been a while since they have got the time.

The kids are with Izzy and Simon today.

Then Alec remembers the stupid thing and decides to try it. He excuses himself and goes to the kitchen.

Do they even have oranges? He wonders.

He glances around the kitchen and finds a bowl of fruits with a few oranges in them.

Thank fuck.

He picks one up and walks back to the living room.

Magnus has a book in his hand now and his legs are stretched out on the sofa. He picks up the man's legs and makes space for himself, putting them above his.

He plays with the orange for a few minutes before he speaks, “Baby?”

“Yes, love?” Magnus looks up.

“I don’t feel like peeling this. Could you peel this up for me?” He asks, nonchalantly.

Magnus glances at the object in his hand and gives him an easy smile. “Sure.”

He hurrays himself internally and is about to pass the orange to Magnus before his husband snaps his fingers and voila—he has a plate in his hands with oranges peeled out and separated, displayed in quite a decorative manner on the dish.

Well, shit.

Alec huffs out a breath, picks up a slice and eats it, grumpily.

Magnus puts the book aside and shifts on the couch until he’s lying with his head on Alec’s stomach. He brings his hand to Magnus’s hair and runs them through it gently.

Another half an hour passes before Magnus comments. “You didn’t eat the oranges.”

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

“Well, he has magic, so I can’t blame him,” he points out to his siblings who laugh at the incident.

“Why don’t you try again?”

Alec rolls his eyes, “I have better things to do, you know? Like running the Clave?”

“Come on, just one more time,” Jace insists.

“Fine,” he relents because even he wants to see how it goes.

It’s a few days later when the chance arises. The boys ran them ragged this morning, shouting and complaining, not liking anything Alec made for breakfast.

It was one of those mornings when nothing either of them did was getting the boys to settle down. So, they’d accepted defeat and magicked them some ice cream.

Ice cream cures everything in their house.

They’re exhausted by the time they get to have their breakfast. At this point, Alec doesn’t feel like eating much, also he’s running late.

“Darling, what would you like for breakfast?” Magnus murmurs against his neck, his body a strong line against Alec’s.

He hums before picking up an orange, “I don’t know. Just peel this for me,” and hands it over to Magnus and continues, “I need to leave. I’m not very hungry, right now.”

“Alexander,” Magnus says in an affronted tone, “You know, how I feel about skipping breakfast. Not in this house.”

His husband drags him over to the coffee table and snaps his fingers. There’s a small set-up there now. A plate of pancakes with a side of berries. Bacon and sunny side up.

“Eat,” Magnus chides before he can say anything.

He smiles, shaking his head in affection before he starts eating. Then, Magnus speaks, “Oh, wait. I forgot,” before a magically peeled orange appears in front of it.

Alec groans.

“What?” Magnus asks innocently.

“Nothing. Thank you.”

Alec tries a few variations of the thing but the result is all the same.

He can’t test the stupid theory, not that he needs to, but because it’s fun and with each failure, his desire to get it done right increases tenfold.

His siblings can’t win this.

He’s competitive, fuck him.

There was a demon attack today and Magnus and Alec, as psychotic as it sounds, decide to make a date out of it.

They help each other get prepared.

Well, mostly it was Magnus helping Alec ensure that all his eight hundred blades were in place.

“Do you think demons feel anything?” He asks his husband as they portal to the location.

The warlock thinks for a moment, “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Why?”

A mischievous grin appears on his face, “Well, if they did; they wouldn’t be able to concentrate while you looked like that.”

Magnus chuckles softly. “Flirt.”

They both reach home two hours later, taking their time between bantering and flirting while the three shadowhunters along with them groan at their blatant flirtation.

Not entirely exhausted, but the right amount of tired, both of them crash on the couch as they enter the loft. They’re met with two very excited boys, who immediately sober up a little seeing their tired states.

“You okay, Daddy?” “Bapak, are you tired?”

They hug the boys close and kiss their temples, letting them know they are well.

“Hungry?” Magnus asks.

“Starving.”

Then like an idiot, he asks the boys to bring an orange.

He flutters his eyes and hands it to Magnus.

“Peel,” it’s an order this time because Raziel, Magnus will know shit is up now.

“You just said you are starved. What is an orange gonna do?” Magnus raises an eyebrow.

“Just do it,” he whines.

“And they think I’m weird,” Magnus grumbles.

“Don’t use magic. You’re exhausted,” he warns.

Before he can pass off the orange to Magnus, Max comes running to him, snatching the orange. He snaps his fingers and there’s a plate in Alec’s hand again.

“Here, Daddy. I peeled it,” Max yells excitedly.

Internally, he groans like the biggest tragedy just occurred but outside, he can’t help but chuckle in response as he kisses Max on the cheek. “Thank you, baby.”

Fucking warlocks in his house.

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

The six of them are at the Tang Hotpot on a Saturday evening.

They switched Sunday brunch with Saturday hotpot for the day. Clary mentioned something about hotpot and Jace mentioned never having one and Magnus decided then and there, that it’s time to introduce the white assholes he hangs out with these days to culture.

“So, we put whatever we want to eat it inside this thing and it’ll cook?” Jace acts surprised.

Magnus rolls his eyes, knowing Jace likes to act like he doesn’t know anything about the mundane culture.

It’s always a 50-50 chance between Jace really not knowing something and him just fucking with everyone else.

“That is how cooking works,” Alec says sarcastically. “You cook what you want to eat and voila—“

“Not all of us have partners who can take us to any part of the world and have us taste world cuisine,” Jace grins.

“Clary can literally create portals,” Izzy points out.

There’s a large pot in the middle of the table, divided into two sections. One is the traditional broth while another is a spicier version of the broth with added garlic and spices.

Magnus prefers the spicier one.

Bowls of broth are placed next to the pot to be added as required. Next to them, platters of raw ingredients are present. There’s thinly sliced meat including beef, pork, lamb and chicken. Next to it is a plate filled with seafood—shrimp, and fish balls. Accompanied with it are noodles and dumplings of a variety.

And then there’s all the leafy vegetables.

The best part about a hotpot is that it is the only preparation with which the boys usually are okay eating vegetables. Most of it has to do with the fascination the cooking element of it brings but regardless, if his kids are eating vegetables, for whatever reason, Alec counts it as a win.

Magnus sits next to him, a hand dragging a random pattern on his thigh as Alec murmurs something against his ear, pulling a small grin out of the man.

“We are out in public. Stop with the obscenity,” Izzy grins.

Alec sticks out his tongue at her.

Years ago, Alec never thought it would be like this one day. He could never comprehend something like this.

An average Saturday dinner with his family and friends, as he sits next to the love of his life, his husband, Alec’s husband—like that very thought wouldn’t have made Alec throw his fists into a punching bag until they bled.

They’re waiting for the last of the preparations to arrive so they still have a few minutes. Alec looks up at Magnus and plants an unhurried kiss on his lips. When he pulls back, Magnus has the sweetest look on his face.

The food arrives so they all straighten up to get started.

Magnus picks up a few pieces of pork and dumps it in the broth.

“This one has improved,” Magnus teases as Alec pours some spicy broth into his bowl. “His white ass couldn’t deal with the spicier broth the first time we tried it.”

“Jokes on you. You married me,” Alec grins back.

“Oh wow,” Jace explains. “This is too good,” he adds before he chokes realising that he dipped his chicken too much into the chilli paste.

“Weak,” Clary chuckles.

“You try it,” Jace challenges her. Clary dips her shrimp into the chilli paste and pops it inside her mouth, all the while keeping eye contact with Jace.

She doesn’t flinch or cough at all.

“I am so attracted to you right now,” Jace comments.

Simon murmurs something against Izzy’s ear and she laughs, heartily before smacking his shoulder lightly.

This is good, he thinks.

Magnus nudges him and without even looking, Alec turns and opens his mouth as Magnus feeds him a bite of fish ball.

“Too sweet?”

He thinks for a moment before replying. “You could add some sesame oil.”

Magnus hums at that.

There are a few pieces of mushrooms in his broth which he doesn’t like at all. He picks them up and puts them on Magnus’s plate who rolls his eyes at him.

“Why do you take mushrooms if you never eat them?”

“I’m picking them out for you. The best mushrooms in the world for you,” he says in mock seriousness.

Magnus shakes his head in fond amusement before he picks up the plate of seafood and a few shrimps. He puts down his chopsticks and starts peeling the shrimp one by one.

When he is done, he transfers the plate to Alec who smiles at him. “Thanks, baby.”

It’s a fun night as they all relax after an exhausting few weeks.

“Alec, do you not know how to peel a shrimp or what?” Izzy comments.

Alec raises his head and frowns. “What?”

“Do you not know how to peel a shrimp?”

“I do.”

“Then why is Magnus doing it for you?”

Alec tilts his head to find Magnus peeling a few more shrimps and placing them on his plate.

“Umm, I like doing it for him,” Magnus adds nonchalantly.

Alec thinks for a moment. As long as he can recall, Magnus has been peeling shrimp for him.

He thinks about Izzy’s question and scoffs—of course, he knows how to peel a shrimp.

Then why doesn’t he do it himself?

“Magnus?”

“Yeah?” The warlock replies as he takes another bite of a dumpling.

“When did you start peeling the shrimps?”

Magnus raises his head at him in a quizzical manner. “Like twenty minutes ago?”

Alec huffs. “No, I meant like at all. When did you start?”

His husband frowns. “I don’t know. Maybe the first time we went out for a hotpot. You seemed confused by everything so I helped.”

The first time was almost five years ago.

“Okay,” he mumbles before he adds. He doesn’t know why but he can’t help but ask. “But why are you doing it still?”

Magnus gives him a small smile. “Because you like shrimps.”

He says it like it’s the simplest of things. And maybe it is.

He huffs out a laugh. “And you couldn’t peel those dammed oranges?”

The small smile turns into a huge grin as Magnus replies, “Well darling, you didn’t really like those oranges, now, did you?”

Alec breaks into laughter. “You knew?”

“After the first two times, yes. I had my doubts,” Magnus laughs.

“So all this while you knew?” Clary laughs. “You were just fucking with Alec.”

Magnus glances around the five of them. “I believe that I was playing all five of you and not just dear Alexander.”

“You are so annoying,” Alec comments, even though he’s laughing.

“I’m annoying?” Magnus teases. “You are the one who was testing my love through an orange.”

“And you failed,” Alec announces, feigning hurt. “My poor heart.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Should I stop peeling the shrimps too?” Magnus asks in amusement, and it’s entirely too enticing with a shrimp between his chopsticks.

Alec steals the chopsticks from Magnus’s hands and pops the piece inside his mouth. “Nope.”

They’re both home two hours later. Alec falls into the bed with Magnus on top of him, “Baby?”

“Yes, love?” Magnus runs his hands gently through his hair.

“You know what I realised?”

“What?”

Alec kisses Magnus’s nose before he speaks. “Some stupid peel theory has got nothing on you.”

——————————————————————————

For Anh @carelessflower 🌻🌈

[ash5monster01]

i saw you wrote for randall pink floyd and i RAN to your inbox

could you please write a best friends to lovers confession with our dear boy randall? and i’m not sure if you do smut or anything like that but if it could be just slightly smutty that would be wonderful!!

Always You

Pairing: Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd x FemReader

Warnings: 18+, language, drug/alcohol use, jealousy, emotional struggle, foreplay, implied smut, fluff, no use of y/n

Summary: You’re in love with your best friend and on accident he finds out.

word count: 2.9k

Masterlist

You wait in the dark, eyes cast out the window, watching for your best friend who would appear any second. You both had done this every Friday night for the entire year, it was a system by now. Just in time you see headlights flash out, the sound of a rumbling engine cutting off, as his El Camino rolls to a stop in front of your house. You wait a beat to ensure your parents didn’t hear before you scurry out the front door and across the dark lawn to your best friend.

“That’s never gets old” he says as you jump inside. He’s shaking his head in amusement and you just roll your eyes at him as he starts up the engine and drives away before anyone can spot you.

“It’s getting pretty old for me, I’m lucky I haven’t been caught yet” you tell him as you pull some lip gloss from your bag and drop it to the ground. Pink’s eyes glance over at you as you pull the mirror down and apply the product. He tries to ignore the way his throat dries as he watches your plump lips pucker at your reflection.

“You won’t get caught, our system works pretty well” he tells you, hands flexing over the steering wheel as he drives to the Emporium since Pickford just had to get caught and cancel his party.

“C’mon Rand, I’m so over sneaking out. I wish we didn’t get too big for sleepovers” you pout, arms crossing over your chest, and lifting your breasts in the process. The series of actions and words has Pink shifting in his seat, trying to hide the way his pants have tightened. If only you realized what you had just suggested.

“Sorry sweetheart, but if you still aren’t gonna admit to your parents that you party then you’re stuck with our plan” he tells you and you finally eye him up and down, the nice purple shirt on his form and the tight cream bell bottoms.

“Who you all dolled up for? Simone?” you ask as you wiggle your eyebrows, your teasing and suggestive tone making him roll his eyes at you. You ignore the jealousy that burns in your stomach, the desire to be the one he actually dresses up for. Little did you know, it was you.

“No not Simone, we’re just talking” he says and it sounds unsure, like that might even be the wrong choice of words for the little blonde girl he had somehow obtained. In fact he had quite forgotten about her until now, not even remembering he said they’d meet up at some point tonight.

“Either way you look handsome Pinky, I’d swoon” you tease him, digging in your bag for the joint you had stashed away earlier. Your words are true but he doesn’t know that.

“Please don’t call me Pinky. I prefer Rand or Randall even over that” he begs, you being the only one to still call him by his given name. Comes with the territory of being best friends though. You knew him long before he was ever Pink.

“Oh little Pinky is grumpy” you tease in a sing song baby voice, poking his shoulder and scooting closer along the front seat. He chuckles, knowing you’re only messing.

“You gonna light that joint or what?” he finally asks and you giggle, hands retrieving your lighter before flicking the ignite. Pink watches as you wrap your glossed lips around the end and light it in the dark of the car. The flame illuminates your face bright enough to remind him how gorgeous you truly are.

“Whoo, that’s a strong one” you say, voice thick with the smoke and Pink smiles as you pass it to him and he puts his lips where yours just were. He’s certain this is the closest he’ll ever get to kissing you.

You pass the joint back and forth the whole ride to the Emporium, each pass getting you closer and closer to him on the seat. By the time there’s only a roach to share between you, your thigh is pressed tightly against his own. His whole body buzzes with the sensation of you against him and the weed. He’s actually disappointed to see the Emporium come into view while he pulls into a parking spot.

“You want a beer?” you ask, head turning to face him and the closeness doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you. Pink takes a moment to study the deep color of your eyes before nodding.

“Sure, let me give you some cash” he says, digging in his pocket and you finally spot the remnants of your sparkly lip gloss stuck to the corner of his lip from your shared joint. As he frees some bills you giggle and use your thumb to brush it away, causing him to freeze.

“I guess I should’ve waited to apply my lipgloss after we shared a joint, wouldn’t want our friends thinking we were hiding something” you say, chest tightening and wishing he would admit his feelings for you. Tell you he didn’t care what his friends thought and kiss you for real. You wished you never dared to cross the best friend line.

“Maybe I just decided to start wearing makeup” Pink finally says when he realizes it’s taken him too long to answer. Why could he be confident around every girl but you?

“I’ll go grab some drinks, don’t start a game of pool without me” you tell him and in a flash you’ve slid out the car, waving and smiling at your friends who cheer and greet you. Pink waits till you’re inside the liquor store before taking a few moments to collect himself.

“Hey man” Wooderson is the first to greet him as he steps out the car. Pink smiles, greeting him with a handshake before leaning up against the wall beside him.

“Man that girl of yours has gotten real cute” he grins, eyes still cast in the direction of the liquor store where you had just disappeared into.

“Not my girl” Pink mutters despite everything in him going against it and the older guy snorts, foot wedging up to press against the wall behind him.

“Still cute” he says and Pink chuckles, hoping it’ll mask the jealousy he carries over other men being into you. He knew Wooderson would leave you alone, he wouldn’t dare mess with a girl he knew Pink cared for so much. It still didn’t change the fact it made his chest burn.

As if on cue you exit the liquor store, smile wide on your face, as you carry two cases of his favorite beer. Pink’s stomach flutters at the sight, watching as you cross the parking lot and dump both cases in the truck bed of his car. You’re so gorgeous, and you knew him better than anyone, a girl hand crafted for him. If only he wasn’t so afraid of losing you.

“Thirsty?” you ask, hands freeing two of the beers and holding them up for him to see.

“You got one for me doll?” Wooderson calls out and you laugh, shaking your head at your overly flirty friend.

“Depends on how much Pink likes you?” you call back and Wooderson pouts at Pink almost instantly. Your bestfriend just sighs and gives you a nod which makes you grab a third beer before approaching them both.

“Thanks” Pink says, arm coming to wrap around your shoulders and pull you against him. You don’t fight it, leaning into his embrace as you open your beer and take a swig.

“Can’t believe we’re officially seniors” you say as another load of classmates pull into the parking lot and hop out. Pink smiles, knowing all day he felt like a King about everything but one. You.

“Enjoy it” is all Wooderson says and you both nod, accepting these words and knowing there was only one shot to embrace this moment as it was. That’s why in your head, you’re certain you’ll tell Pink how you feel before the end of summer, hell maybe even tonight.

As always the chaos of the night ensues and without fail you manage to still find a way to party. You’re unsure how much alcohol you’ve consumed, you just know it was a lot. At least enough to give you the small buzz you were currently sporting. It was the very reason Pink had laid down a blanket in the bed of his truck and had laid you in it with the promise of returning. He holds up his end of the bargain when the suspension of the Camino dips down with him lifting his body weight into it.

“Sorry, had to say goodbye to Simone” and maybe it’s the alcohol, you want to blame the alcohol, when your face scrunches up with something he can only read as disgust.

“If you wanted to take her home you should’ve just left me with Cynthia, I can handle myself” you say, voice clipped and eyes cast on the bright stars of the Texas sky above you.

“I’m not leaving you, besides I didn’t want to take her home” Pink assures you, heart racing at the idea of you being jealous. If it wasn’t for the alcohol in your system he’d swear it was.

“Yeah okay” you snort, shaking your head and trying to ignore the cool night air on your skin. The sounds of engines starting and rumbling away surrounding you both.

“What’s your deal? I thought you liked Simone?” Pink finally asked, rolling to his side to face you and you smile despite not being amused.

“I do like Simone I just don’t like her for you” you say, a bit exasperated and a little tired of keeping all these feelings at bay when they’re begging to burst out of you.

“Why? Why not? She’s a good girl, just like the rest” he argues back and the fire ignites inside you, annoyance and anger bubbling over.

“Because Rand, because no one is good enough for you. No one would ever deserve to love you, not even me-” your mouth snaps shut, words moving faster than your mind and it reels as you try to comprehend what you just said to him. What you may of just admitted.

“What?” Pink says, blinking as the words you just said sinks in. You instantly start shaking your head, panic spreading over your entire body, realizing your plan came true without being planned.

“I didn’t mean, I- I’m sorry-” you blubber, words suddenly not coming to you or forming, much different than how they had just spit out of you. Yet it doesn’t matter because Pink’s hand is falling on your cheek, holding your head to face him. His expression is unreadable and the panic makes you want to flee.

“You deserve me, just as much as I deserve you” he says slowly, wanting you to understand what he’s saying. Your eyes are wide and when you can’t get your mouth to open and say anything, he’s leaning forwarding and pressing it against his own.

You gasp lightly but he keeps you close until you realize this is really happening. Slowly you kiss him back, realizing in this very moment you’re actually kissing your best friend. The excitement hits you all at once and you grasp at his shoulders tightly, kissing him feverishly. When Pink notices your eagerness he glides his tongue along the seam of your lips and you let him in without hesitation. The second his tongue curls against your own you find yourself climbing into his lap, searching for a better and more controlled angle to make out with him.

“Careful baby” he warns against your lips as you grind down on him. Yet the confidence from the alcohol and the desire for him is controlling your actions.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you muse as his lips travel along your jaw and down your neck. He smiles against your skin, grunting when you grind down on him again.

When his lips find that sensitive spot on your neck you trail your hand down his chest, fingers grazing his bare skin in his shirt that had been further and further unbuttoned throughout the entirety of the night. When you reach his abdomen his stomach jumps and finally he pulls away from you.

“Wait, is it true? You really have feelings for me?” he asks, wanting to make sure he hadn’t misinterpreted or worse taken advantage of you in your tipsy state. You smile as you admire the sparkly lip gloss that now covers his own lips shamelessly.

“Yes Pinky, for a long time. I just never had the courage to say anything” you tell him, hands stabilizing yourself on his chest. He grins wide, hands tightening on your hips and the action makes you grind against him again.

“Me too” he admits, a soft blush covering his cheeks and you don’t fight the urge to lean down and kiss each of them. Yet the new angle has you able to feel his length perfectly in those tight pants of his. You use the opportunity to kiss his lips as you grind against him again. His hands tighten somehow even more on your hips and you love the idea of being able to see where his hands had been tomorrow.

“I didn’t know you liked me this much Pinky” you say using the embarrassing nickname he hadn’t felt the need to correct with you above him like this.

“You have no idea” he mutters a little breathless and a little nervous. This is all he ever wanted and now he didn’t possibly want to screw it up.

“How have I never noticed?” you muttered, not looking particularly for an answer, before kissing him deeply again. You shiver when his hands push up your shirt, large palms gliding against your bare back. When he reaches the clasp of your bra you grind against him, indicating he had full permission to take it off. He doesn’t waste a second, the material loosening and slipping down your shoulders.

Realizing you don’t want to get caught without your shirt you slip the straps off your arms and pull it out of under your clothes. Pink watches as you toss it up by his head and he gulps, his hands moving from your back and under the fabric that laid over your chest. Your lips meet his own again when he finally grasps your breasts and you realize fairly quickly you need to get him out of his pants as soon as possible.

Pink lets out a small squeak, your mouth muffling the noise, as your hands reach down and start fumbling with the button of his pants. He grips tighter at your breasts and it makes you whimper against him. You’re both so lost in each other you can’t believe it’s taken you this long to ever admit your feelings for him. As soon as you slide his zipper down you feel his length twitch against your palm and you grin against his lips. Slowly you slide your fingers against him, dipping into the pants you hoped to get off of him.

“Hey we’re going to the 50 yard line to smoke, you guys in?!” Don’s voice bellows out, hands slapping against the bed of the truck. You jump off of Pink quickly, hand sliding out of his pants, as Don rounds the back of the vehicle. A sly grin cracks along his face as he notices the heavy breaths Pink lets out and the open fly of his pants. When he spots you with glazed eyes and swollen lips it only confirms his suspicions.

“Yeah we’ll come” Pink answers, eyes glancing at you and back at his buddy. Don chuckles, a finger pointing between you both.

“Best friends my ass” is all he says before he starts walking back the way he came, probably in search of Shavonne.

“We’ll meet you there” Pink calls out and Don waves a hand, amusement covered his features as he stalks away from you both.

“You think he knows?” you ask in a joking tone and Pink laughs as he falls back against the bed of the truck, eyes cast to the sky.

“Yeah, he knows” Pink confirms before turning his head and looking you in the eye. All he can think about is how beautiful you are, eyes full of adoration knowing he finally has you the way he has always wanted you.

“Guess we better go to the 50 yard line” you say softly, hand coming to brush some of the long hair out of his face and Pink smiles as he turns his head and kisses your palm.

“I guess so, sleepover at mine after?” he asks, a smile he struggles to hold back tugging on his face. You laugh as you remember the conversation from earlier and slowly nod.

“Yeah, I like that plan” you agree and he grins widely before capturing your lips in a kiss then hopping out the back of the truck. He holds a hand out for you to join him and you don’t hesitate in taking it as you both slide into the car.

In this moment, your life was everything you wanted it to be.

[slasherbvnnie]

Until We Found You | Part V

Part V is finally out!! I enjoyed writing this one a lot! I still have some more chapters in mind, especially for the big reveal. Not sure how many I can write out, but I don’t see it happening anytime soon.  Sorry it’s a bit short this time! The next part is going to be longer. As usual, heed the tags

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader, Eventual NSFW, All characters 18+

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

word count: 1836

“Don’t you know the trope of never having sex in horror films?” The other line asked you, making you laugh, “you didn’t kill me the first time, why would it be any different now?” You asked as you sat out on your front porch, taking a seat on the bench outside. “What if someone else made you star in their movie, huh? Wouldn’t you be part of their film instead,” they said as you laughed, “yeah, but then it could be some big cross over. Like alien versus predator or king kong and Godzilla, I would kinda like to see that, my two boys fighting for protecting me.” You teased as they chuckled. 

“I heard you wanted both of us there tonight,” they hummed, making you smile, “so you’re the one who makes the calls?” you asked before continuing, “I want you both here…alongside a new lingerie outfit too, you boys are really racking up a total. You two should take me shopping sometime.” You suggested playfully, wishing that you could go out in public with the two. “Maybe someday,” they said, sounding a little more somber now. “Will you two ever let me know who you are?” You asked, it had been on your mind lately, but the silence gave you your answer. “I guess you still can’t trust me, huh? It’s fine, I’ll find a way to prove it to you two.” You said, hearing another phone call coming in. “I have to let you go now, one of my friends is calling, I’ll see you two tonight, right?” You questioned, “we’ll be a little later tonight but don’t worry, we’ll be there.” They promised you before hanging up. Y

ou smiled, answering the new call coming in. “Hey! Me and Stu were gonna head out for lunch soon, did you wanna join? Sid’s gonna call Billy to see if he wanted to go,” Tatum’s voice said, you debated for a moment before agreeing. “Great! Me and Stu will pick you up, we can pick up Randy too afterwards,” she said as you hummed. “Sounds good, I’ll get ready now,” You said, hanging up after saying goodbye. Your eyes lingered out into the street, you couldn’t help but feel as if there was someone watching you, wondering if your secret stalker was watching over you right now. Part of you wished they’d just come out and reveal themselves to you, pull off their mask and show you their faces. You let out a sigh, getting up from the bench and heading back inside the house to get ready.By the time Stu’s car pulled up to your driveway you were ready, hair and outfit finished along with just the right amount of makeup for you. 

You could hear the music playing from outside, wondering at which point in time Stu would finally lose his hearing, you gave him another 10 good years. You texted your parents that you were going out with your group again, promising them to be home before curfew. Curfew had bummed you out recently, you made a mental note to tell your masked killers that you were mad at them for making Woodsboro go under a curfew, everything sucked now that nothing was open past 6. “Hey Macher, calm it with the stereo,” you said as Stu chuckled, “can’t help it, I like making my presence known,” he said as he turned up the music louder. You rolled your eyes, chatting with Tatum as you all headed to pick up the others. 

Sid and Billy met you at the restaurant, already sitting down at a booth when you all arrived. It was about an hour later, everyone finished with their food and just spending time chatting about whatever came up. “Did you guys hear about Oliver?” Randy asked as Tatum nodded, “Dewey said it was even worse than Casey and Steve, said you couldn’t recognize him at all,” she added in as your eyebrows furrowed. “Sid said the neighbors tried getting the killer, did Dewey say anything about that?” You questioned as Tatum shook her head, “no, he said the neighbor tried to shoot at them but they missed. Said they took off into the woods,” she said, you growing worried if they had been hurt. They didn’t mention anything on the phone so you assumed they weren’t, making you relax a bit. “Maybe it was your mystery date,” Randy teased, making you glare at him, “I mean we were talking about him yesterday, maybe your boyfriend got mad about him and decided to off him as some romantic present,” he added as you laughed. “Right, cause I totally want to be an accomplice,” you joked as you rolled your eyes, but you did wonder if that was true.

 Oliver had bullied others as well, so you didn’t put it past them to have also been one of his victims. Though, the thought that they did it for you made your heart beat faster. “I think you cracked the code Meeks,” Billy teased, noticing your reddening cheeks, “are you all forgetting she was almost killed by them?” Sidney brought up as Stu hummed, “well she is still alive, maybe Randy was right with them doing it to cover up their tracks,” he said as you scoffed. “Can you jackasses back off before I take my turn at you?” You said jokingly, waving the butterknife on your plate around playfully. 

Later that night you sat in bed, rewatching the Texas Chainsaw Massacre on your laptop with Irena purring and fast asleep on your lap. You snacked on some popcorn as you watched the movie, looking to your side as you saw Tatum calling you. You hit pause on the movie and answered as you ate another piece of popcorn, “whats up, Tate?” You asked as she quickly spoke, “holy shit! They almost got the killer!” she yelled into the phone, making you sit up. “What?” You questioned as she laughed. “The killer! They were going after some of Oliver’s friends. They were having a celebration for him and one of the guys actually fucking stabbed them! Dewey said they were chasing them down but lost them a few moments ago, they said the police are gonna be waiting at the hospital incase anyone comes in with a stab wound,” she said, you carefully moved Irena off your lap and set your laptop on your vanity as you looked out your window. You could see the black outfit moving and struggling to climb up, “shit, that’s awesome Tate, let me know if Dewey calls you again, I’m gonna go tell my parents,” You spoke, hanging up the phone and putting it down as you pushed your window open. 

“Seriously? Going after the whole fucking football team?” You asked angrily, putting your hand out to help them inside. You shut the window after they got in, seeing them collapse onto the floor. “Shit, hold on,” You said as you rushed to your bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit and rushing back to their side. You were about to lift up the robe before they grabbed your wrist, pushing your hand away. You felt a little hurt that they still didn’t trust you, but pointed in the direction of the restroom. “You can patch yourself up in there, my friend said the police are going to be at the hospital, you can’t go,” you said, seeing the flashing of police lights pass by outside. “Is the other one okay?” You questioned them, getting a nod as they hubbled to the bathroom. After half an hour they emerged from the bathroom, taking a seat on your desk chair. “Are you okay? Did the bleeding stop?” You fretted over them, getting a nod as they motioned you over. They grabbed your wrist, holding your hand up to their chest so you could feel their steady heartbeat. You relaxed before pushing on their chest, huffing at them. “The whole fucking football team, you’re actually fucking crazy,” you huffed out before gently rubbing where you had pushed them. “The other one, he got away okay?” You asked, smiling when you got another nod. “You can stay as long as you need tonight, the police are probably out searching for you,” you said, sighing softly as you looked to them. “Don’t think I forgot about that lingerie set either, it was pretty expensive,” you said jokingly, earning a laugh from behind their mask. “I’m gonna head to bed, I have an exam tomorrow,” you said, giving a little kiss to their mask. “If you wanna join at least take off your clothes, I won’t look, I promise. You can even blindfold me if you don’t trust me,” you offered, heading to bed. They followed after you, you laid down and closed your eyes, facing them so they could see that you weren’t looking. They began to shuffle out of the costume, going to your door and locking it before heading back to your bed. They laid down behind you, wrapping their arms around you and holding you close.

You fell asleep easily in their hold, relaxing in their arms throughout the night. A few hours later you woke up to muffled voices in the bathroom, you sat up and rubbed your eyes as you looked to see the morning sunlight lighting up your room. “I’m fine, just spent the night at her place,” you heard coming from the bathroom, your groggy mind a bit too slow to recognize they weren’t using the voice changer. You did your best to not pay attention, not wanting to betray their trust by finding out who they were too soon. You laid down again, closing your eyes when you heard the door open. You felt their hand tracing your face before they planted little kisses on your cheeks before planting a soft and loving one to your lips. They pulled away and pulled the mask on before tapping you, you pretended to stir awake, blinking up at them. “You’re leaving?” You asked as they nodded, “be safe, okay? I would rather prefer finding out who you are when you trust me and not through some Gale Weathers interview,” you said as you leaned up, planting a little kiss on their mask just like last night. “Be safe, both of you,” you said as they nodded and began to climb out your window. 

An hour later Tatum came to pick you up in her little red beetle, driving both of you to class. You met up with Sid and Stu, who had his arm wrapped around Tatum. “Where’s Billy at today?” Tatum asked as Sid sighed, “said he came down with a major stomach bug. He said he was sick all night and didn’t even sleep, his dad told him to head to the doctor instead of class,” she said as you turned towards Sidney. Stu became aware of your glance at her, his eyes widening in surprise when you made eye contact with him. 

[theminecraftbee]

Grian comes to again, flat on his back, and groans. Distantly, he hears Scar yelling an apology. It’s hard to tell if Scar had accidentally dropped sand, accidentally kicked one of the dragon eggs currently littering their bases (causing it to fall), or had missed concrete somewhere and caused that to drop, but the apology, this time, was at least sincere, so he’s fairly certain Scar didn’t intentionally knock Grian out. Doesn’t mean Grian hadn’t been knocked on his ass by, what, a pavlovian reaction to sand? But it means Scar hadn’t been intentionally exploiting it.

He’s rubbing his head when he hears them chittering distantly. He looks up, and then he Looks up, just to make sure he’s not imagining it, and… yep, they’re there. The Watchers. They’re busy happily chittering about the fact that Grian passes out when any block falls to the ground. Of course they are. He wonders if this is their fault. Probably not; Watchers may be annoying, but they can’t see the future, so it’s not like they’d have known about the egg thing ahead of time. No, they’re probably just amused at his suffering.

Joke’s on them. This is mostly just going to make cleaning up slower. And they’re going to have to deal with that too, on account of the fact Grian can’t do much else until it’s done.

He’s trying to hit another egg with a piston when he hears, distantly, “shoot, the beach!”, realizes what has happened, and then he’s waking up on the ground again. He stares at the sky for a moment.

“Trust Scar with sand, I thought. He terraforms all the time, I thought. He won’t keep messing me up with it, I thought.” He groans.

The chittering of the Watchers gets louder. He hears a lot of ‘Scar’ and ‘sand’ and ‘he can’t bear it’ and. Great. Grian’s pretty sure he knows what comment is coming next—

you’ve never left that desert.

“So this is your fault!” he says, accusingly. “Why! All it’s done is make my life more confusing!”

Indistinct noises. At one point, when Grian had been more one of them than he is now, he had been able to tell all of the voices apart easily. Now, the Watchers are somewhere between the wall of incomprehensible, horrible sound that they are to mortals and normal voices. He has to strain to pick out anything overly specific. He supposes if he chose to go all Watcher again he’d be able to tell what they’re saying, but frankly, they’re all annoying, so why would he bother? Better to stick to things as they are.

He messages Scar: If you drop sand one more time I am going to figure out how to add more dragon eggs to your base.

Scar messages back: its an accideet

Grian responds one more time: lol. accideet.

He takes a moment before standing up to check around himself. Scar does seem to have moved on from whatever he’d been doing with terraforming to keep dropping gravity blocks, so it’s probably safe to stand without passing out again. What had he been doing? Right. Eggs. Piston.

you never left that desert, Grian hears again from the wall of noise.

“Right. That’s me. Never left,” Grian says. Honestly.

can’t stand the sight of scar and sand.

“You know you guys are reaching, right?” Grian says.

never left—

“I would if you’d let me!” snaps Grian.

Indistinct chittering. Deep breaths. He’s fine. He's apparently developed sand-based epilepsy or something, and is trying to find the solution to that, but. Fine. He’s fine. It’s not like arguing with Watchers is ever actually worth it. They never change their mind. The thing is that they tend to think they know exactly how he works, and no matter how much he tries to refute their baseless assumptions, they still have a picture in their head, and they still keep working off of it.

A strange shudder runs down his back.

you never left that desert.

“Look, it’s not that I’m not over it,” Grian says. “I’m actually pretty over it. I’ve been over it since Last Life, really, even if none of you believe me.” He puts another egg in his inventory. “Scar’s my friend and he’s a weird guy and I like him, but it’s not like I’m not over that stupid game. Wouldn’t keep playing it if I weren’t over it, would I?”

Indistinct chittering about tragedy and deserts and dramatic final suicides and, look, Grian is good at telling stories. That’s the whole point. That’s why these guys won’t leave him alone. But sometimes, he swears…

“So you know, I would have left the desert by now. It’s just that you all haven’t. So guess who’s still stuck here? Believe me, it’s not me who’s not over it. If you wanted me out of the desert, you could let me leave any time you’d l—”

He has a second’s warning before he’s on the ground, dizzy, hoping he hasn’t gotten a concussion. He glances down at his communicator.

Mumbo says: that was me this time my bad

Shakily, Grian types: you have 10 seconds. start running.

The chittering gets more distant. Grian gets up. He checks to make sure his wings are on. He goes to light a rocket, but not before shouting: “Scar, if you do anything with gravity blocks while I am actively flying I will kill you dead!”

“Have fun buddy!” Scar shouts back. Grian’s not sure Scar actually heard a word he said. Well, hopefully there will be no sand falling from his hands while he goes to murder Mumbo, then. If there is, Grian’s—well, Grian’s going to have a broken bone at that rate, but he’s recovered from far worse falls. Some of those have even been Scar’s fault, by some measure or another.

He Looks back up at the mass he knows are the Watchers. “If this is you all’s fault because you never seem to have gotten over the whole desert thing, I’ll find a way to, I don’t know. Inconvenience you greatly. Not sure what I’ll do, but I’ll figure it out.”

The chittering gets way more fond, then. Pleased. They want him to do that. Can’t even threaten the assholes properly, they like it. Honestly, Grian doesn’t know why he bothers. It’s not like they’ll listen. No matter how many times he says he’s over it, it’s not like they’ll listen.

(Sometimes, he hates that he’s so good at stories.)

Right then. Time to wreak havoc on his friends for exploiting his very exploitable weakness, then. This sword’s got sharpness on it, right?

------

(originally written for @hermitcraftguesstheauthorevent, and posted on ao3 here; now that it's revealed, i figured i'd go ahead and post it here, since it really matches the cadence of one of my tumblr things more than an ao3-only fic. enjoy!)

[brnesblogposts]

sunday morning

pairing: steven grant x reader summary: you and your boyfriend Steven spend a lazy Sunday morning together.

reblogs appreciated if you liked it :))

—

The sun slowly breaks through the gaps in the curtains as you start to stir. Drifting in and out of a state of sleep as your body adjusts to the light seeping through. Looking over to your right your curly haired boyfriend looks peaceful as gentle snores escape his lips. Steven’s sleeping disorder didn’t allow for proper respite, but when he did get into a deep state of solace you left him be.

You watched him for a few minutes as his chest rose and fell, his curls awry, your love for him was stronger than any emotion you’ve ever known. Gently removing his arm from your waist he stirred and your breath got caught in your throat as you thought you’d accidentally woken the peaceful man up. To your relief he repositions himself into more of a star fish shape. Gently getting out of bed you head to the bathroom to shower before you were to decide what you would both be having for breakfast.

Stepping out of the shower you put one of Steven’ shirts on and a comfy pair of joggers. Today was Sunday and these days were for you and your boyfriend to spend quality time together. Coming out of the bathroom, to your dismay you see Steven at the stove preparing some of his famous vegan pancakes. You’d wished he’d slept a bit longer. Trying your best not to startle him you approach him from behind and carefully wrap your arms around his waist.

“Morning” you say softly, taking in his warmth.

“Morning, love” he replies as his hands meet where yours lay on his stomach.

“How’d you sleep?” you ask as he flips a pancake over.

“Yeah, pretty good actually, one of the better nights for me” he says with a smile. Oh his smile, you adored how his lips curled up and his eyes lit up.

You press a soft kiss to his lips, “I’m glad you slept well, you deserve to be able to rest peacefully.” you say as a tint of red creeps up his face. He pulls you into a hug, cutting it short..

“Oh bollocks this pancake is a bit burn’t.” he frowns a bit, but you quickly reassure him

“That’s okay I did distract you a bit. Don’t think we’ll miss one pancake, you make enough to feed a family!” he giggles at that.

“Always need to make sure I offer Gus some don’t I?” he turns to Gus swimming around in his tank.

“Speaking of, morning my little one finned wonder” he smiles. Oh he was the most adorable man in the world. You leave him to make the pancakes with no more distractions and set the table, syrup, chopped banana, vegan butter.. you weren’t a vegan before you met Steven, but at this point it was second nature.

You ate in silence, Steven’s pancakes piled with banana and a bit of syrup, he didn’t like too much or they’d go soggy.

“How are Marc and Jake?” you ask, you and his alters got a long well, Marc more so as Jake was the quiet type.

“No, yeah, they’re good, yeah. Marc bets he could make better pancakes than me, but I say that’s nonsense. Jake just nodded in approval to say he’s good, you know him.. not much of a conversationalist” he let out a little laugh at that. Once you’d both finished eating you cleared up while he showered and got dressed into a white t-shirt and fresh pajama bottoms.

“Darling” he calls out.

“Yeah?” you respond from your place at the sink.

“Want to watch a movie?” he asks shyly, you’ve been together a few months and knew everything about him and his alters, Konshu and everything. yet he was still shy around you. It was cute.

“Yeah i’d love to! anything in mind?” He paused for a second, tapping his index finger on his chin while deep in thought.

“AVATAR!” he bursts out excitedly. You hadn’t actually seen avatar before you met Steven, as soon as he found out he was quick to invite you over for a movie date.

“Sounds great! Love that film.” you emphasised, Steven tended to worry that you agreed to do things with him out of pity, he was very insecure about himself despite you, Marc and Jake reassuring him that he was an amazing man. It didn’t matter what you were watching, reading or doing, if Steven was with you and enjoying himself that’s all that mattered. You loved every minute with him.

He flicked on avatar as you finished the dishes and headed to the couch, where he patted the spot next to him. You cuddled into his side as he layed a blanket over the both of you, he wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on your head.

“Thank you.” he says out of the blue, which causes you to look up at him.

“For what love?” you asked softly as not to make him feel bad or anything.

“For loving me, accepting me for everything that I am. The mess that I am. Staying up with me and reading to and with me, you know people at work are rude to me, Donna’s a right knobhead towards me. I used to let her get to me, everytime she mocked me or put me on inventory, but now? with you. I don’t care what anyone thinks of me.. because I have the most amazing person who loves everything about me and that’s all that matters. I love you so much y/n.” he says with a softness in his features, you don’t say anything, you take him into the tightest hug which silently tells him what he already knows deep down. He strokes his hand through your hair as you embrace him.

“I love you, Steven.” you say as you sit back from the hug and look at him, taking his face into your hands. “Listening to you ramble about Egypt and Pharaoh’s, your work days and anything else. I could listen to you talk about anything for hours. You’re the funniest person i’ve ever met, the kindest, sweetest man who makes me feel like the only person in the world everyday. Donna doesn’t deserve you, the museum doesn’t deserve you. You’d be the BEST tour guide if they just let you. The way your face lights up when you talk about Egyptology, I can see the love for the topic in your eyes. There’s no one else more suited for the job than you.

Tears are welling up in his eyes and you wipe them away with your thumbs, landing a soft kiss on his nose. He really was the most intelligent man you’d ever met, intuitive and with a heart of gold. Steven would never hurt a fly, Marc and Jake are more of the fighter types, but Steven. He’s a lover, he wants to make people happy and to see them smile, that’s his gift. He saved your life that’s for sure, you’re the happiest you’ve ever been since meeting him.

Settling back into his chest you take his hand in yours and rub your thumb over his palm.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me” he says and with that he presses play. You squeeze his hand to silently tell him that you feel the same.

About halfway into the movie you felt his body relax, he was falling asleep. Good, you thought. He needs as much sleep as possible, you didn’t move, knowing if you did you’d disturb him, you watched the rest of the movie as he snored quietly from beneath you. Once the movie finished you switched the tv off, Steven started to wake up, causing you to sit up. He took your hand and took you to the bed, laying down he pulled you in front of him, wrapping his arms around your waist, an afternoon nap wasn’t a bad idea, it was Monday tomorrow, the beginning of another long tiring week, especially for Steven. you settled into him as his form engulfed you.

“You feel like home” is the last thing you hear before he drifts off, feeling safe enough to fall asleep knowing you’re right there with him. He hasn’t put his ankle restrains on this time, but he knows you’d notice if he got up. His words touch your heart, you’ve never been so in love.

“You are home” you respond, squeezing his arm that’s securely wrapped around you. With that, you both fall asleep. Feeling the safest you’ve ever felt, knowing you’ve found your other half in Steven.

[anonzentimes]

*guy who loves talking about despair disease voice* wait can we talk more about despair disease. i have so many thoughts on despair disease and esp how it pertains to nagito

i feel like when a lot of people first play/watch the games they see nagito as someone who lies to manipulate people, which while i can’t super blame them for thinking that way bc of how hajime tries to reconcile his conflicting feelings over nagito, i get SO frustrated when ppl call nagito a liar bc no!!! no he’s not!!! you’re falling for other characters’ perceptions of him!!! nagito almost never lies and when he does he’s either really bad at it (cough cough final FTE. “i got it all from a book” you are not slick buddy) or comes clean as soon as he’s achieved his desired outcome- it’s more bluffing than actual deception, and one thing he’s especially sincere in is his beliefs and admiration for the people around him. and the despair disease PROVES this without a doubt!!

ok. i know in-text the despair disease is described as “reversing people’s personalities,” but i’ve always interpreted it a little differently. ibuki isn’t the opposite of gullible, akane isn’t the opposite of a coward, and nagito isn’t the opposite of a liar. to me, it’s always seemed like the despair disease gives its host the trait they’d most hate to have— whatever trait would instill in them the deepest despair. ibuki hates conformity- stick her with a disease that makes her blindly follow whatever she’s told. akane hates showing weakness- force her into a state of constant crying. nagito hates the idea of deceiving his classmates- make him incapable of being sincere. this interpretation makes mikan’s disease make a little more sense too imo, since remembering her brainwashing isn’t exactly reversing her personality but instead literally filling her to the brim with despair. ANYWAYS.

nagito Actively Despises not being able to tell the truth. he hates the despair disease, he sees it as a complete waste. in the ult. luck and hope and despair mangas, we actually get to see some of his internal monologue right before he passes out, and he is In Hell. he’s pissed that he can’t serve as a proper stepping stone in his state, he thinks the whole disease is stupid, and he gets so frustrated about not being able to properly encourage the group that he Literally Starts Foaming At The Mouth ????? like if you EVER wanted undeniable proof that nagito is sincere look at the despair disease. it’s basically a roundabout truth serum for him and that’s a huge part of why it’s one of my favorite motives

sidenote i feel like the despair disease has a shit ton of analysis potential in general just bc of how it turns characters into what they hate the most!! i loveeee brainstorming what symptoms certain characters would have gotten were they to get infected. hajime especially. maybe he’d get a fawning disease where he starts praising everyone nagito-style (this would highlight their bystander parallels and also make hajime feel MISERABLE bc he fucking hates when nagito points out how similar they are lmao). or maybe he’d get an apathy disease that’d essentially izuru-fy him (wonderful foreshadowing potential there, not to imagine the incredible angst of izuru being the thing hajime would hate to be most in the world.) alas i am not a fanfic author so i will sit with my concepts but it is a wonderful daydream with any dangan characters i’d highly recommend it :]

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSS!!!!! I SCREAM IN UNISON WITH YOU I LOOOVEEE THE DESAIR DISEASE!!!!! MAN… I’M SO OBSESSED WITH HOW YOU INTERPRET AND ARTICULATED THE DESPAIR DISEASE💗💗💗 The Despair Disease is genuinely so good for analyzing I really do believe Danganronpa 2 Chapter 3 is the best Chapter 3 out of the franchise. I think the reserving of their personalities truly meaning the traits they would hate to have is soo good I’m eating up, sealing it in my heart, and using it forever such a delightful way to explain it. The interpretations on what disease Hajime would get is so fun, I’ve seen some people interpret him getting the honesty disease which is fun in concept but I don’t think it works as well as other ideas could, y’know? Your ideas for a potential apathy or fawning disease are really fun to me, I like the idea of the fawning disease tapping into how much of a realist he is and giving him the opposite attitude Lol. Thank you so much for sending this it’s so fun I’ll be thinking about this forever, I wish I was a fanfic writer aha! I really want to become a fanfic writer, soon with time I suppose. Thank you again for sharing your daydreams with me, you’re very right it does have a lot of analysis potential! :D

[whosmuts]

Okay I'm not gonna even lie to you this is like over 3k words of Raphael and Caedes smut with some cum inflation and breeding kink thrown in. And biting. And - well, anyway. Uh... enjoy?

Some would say that in a thin walled tent in the middle of a camp full of sharp eared companions was a bad place to do this. They would, most likely, be entirely right. But the desire had been building in Caedes for days, and the dragonborn’s body had certain needs that were most definitely not currently being fulfilled. Chalk it up to avoidance, an overabundance of caution, but he had been avoiding any kind of friendly company, nervous about what this urge burning inside him might end up doing… and that meant that any kind of romantic attraction had fallen by the wayside.

Hence the current scene.

It was late, dark, the fire long since banked and everyone retreated to their own bedrolls. Caedes squirmed; the fabrics had been laid out below them, and at some point he had been covered, but as time had gone on, they had thrown aside more and more. Now laying butt naked atop the blankets and pillows, legs spread wide and scales on full display, the dragonborn was pistoning two thick fingers in and out of his cunt. Body was trembling, tail thrashing, leaving furrows where it came into contact with ground. It felt like it had been hours, although truthfully he didn’t know how long they’d been at this – but no matter how close they came, riding the crest, knuckle to clit and fingers fucking hard, he couldn’t seem to climb up enough to actually hit the height of the crest.

A frustrated little whine escaped his lips, head tilting back, toes curling, so close, so damn close -

“Well, what do we have here?” the deep, buttery voice made the dragonborn jump just slightly, head snapping up, fingers curling just slightly, still buried deep inside him – careful with the claws, of course. Head swung around, seeing the shape that was currently shadowing their doorway. Caedes could see fairly well in the dark, but with the moonlight from behind, it took a moment – and perhaps that was at least partly due to how lost his brain was, still twitching as the coil loosened – to register just who he was looking at.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Caedes snapped out, as Raphael stepped into the tent fully. He was in the human disguise, dressed in the usual smart clothes, looking annoyingly clean and well put together for being out in the dirt of their messy camp. But, they had to admit, it wasn’t a place that they would have imagined him being. Pulling the fingers from their hole with a wet ‘shlk’ noise, Caedes sat up on their elbows. Honestly, he didn’t really give much of a damn about the other seeing him like this – because, staring at the cambion, Caedes’ thoughts had suddenly switched track. Raphael was a cocky asshole, caring about nothing more than himself and deals – and yet the mental image of his real form, horns, wings, claws – the thought made him twitch just slightly. And the dark eyes were drifting down slowly, making no secret of the way they were looking over the scaled form.

Caedes’ tail twitched, another furrow into the dirt. Their tongue darted out, licking over his teeth, not breaking eye contact with the devil. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat, just a tiny hint of something beyond the usual refinement in his tone, “I was coming to see if I might be able to make you reconsider your thoughts on the orphic hammer… but I see you are somewhat… distracted.” he let out a low chuckle, and Caedes’ legs twitched, just – ever so slightly. When he met their eyes again, for just a breath, Caedes wondered if Raphael could read his thoughts. Could see what Caedes was envisioning. “I don’t give a shit about any deals you want to offer me,” the dragonborn growled lowly, “If you have nothing to offer me, then get out. I’m busy.” he slid a hand down slowly, pressing it back against his clit and letting out a low moan, as quiet as he could manage.

Raphael took a half step forward, eyes fixated on the movements of the hand before he seemed to get control of himself again. Then his spine straightened, a hand lifting to gesture casually, “I’ve been told,” he said, slowly, “That there’s very little that can match in pleasure to the feeling of a demon’s forked tongue. The heat, the control… I wouldn’t know myself, of course, being rather differently equipped to yourself.” and he chuckled, low, dangerous. Caedes lifted their head again, twitching breathlessly – of course, it was a little different, having someone looking at him, but something about the cambion looking at him with raw hunger whilst they stroked their clit…

“Is there not something you could be doing that’s useful?” they growled out, “Ideally one that shuts you up.” and there was a low chuckle at that, Raphael moving closer, looking down at the spread form below him. “Now, now, dear, less of the attitude.” he tutted, shaking his head slowly, “But maybe there is something we can agree on. Something … mutually beneficial for us both.” he said, voice liquid, “After all, I’m a creature of deals, my dear. Nothing is without cost, but for this… how about just a mutual understanding? I can make a verbal deal as well as one without contract…” he paused, letting the words sink in. “Are you offering to f-” “Free you from that bind? Why, yes, I am,” Raphael whispered, “We shall have a perfectly balanced deal. Tit for tat, if you will.” he chuckled again, and it was still dangerous, but now a thrill ran down the dragonborn’s spine. “Shared pleasure, nothing more… a relief to both of us.”

Were they really considering it? That mental image of the cambion flashed in his head again, now envisioning sitting on that cock, riding it – and Caedes exhaled sharply. That dangerous grin got wider, Raphael clearly knowing he was on the right track - “Only if,” Caedes held up a sticky finger, “The others do not know. Not a word of this gets back to the camp.” “Mm, a vow of silence? Yes… that seems fair. Do we have a deal?” Raphael asked, head tilting slowly. Caedes hesitated – and then nodded. “Mutually assured pleasure,” he said. “And nobody knows.” “And nobody knows.” Caedes proffered a hand – and Raphael leant in, mouth opening, sucking the sticky fingers into his mouth, drawing back, jaw opening as he drew back, with a devilish grin. For all his human disguise, the tongue seemed to wrap unnaturally around his fingers, and Caedes moaned softly.

With a click of his fingers, he was suddenly not on his tent floor.

There was a thick, plush bed below him. Heat in the air, which spoke only of the hells; of course, he’d been transported to somewhere they could make as much noise as they wanted. It did send a tiny thrill through his chest. The fact this was a verbal contract, not a written one, that desire in the cambion’s eyes, the hunger, the twitching in his pants – yes, this was going to be mutually beneficial. The room was fairly dark, with heavy red curtains muffling noise, and there, in front of him, at the end of the bed…

“Oh, fuck.” Caedes whimpered, despite himself. Wings spread out as Raphael tilted his head backwards, a low laugh in the back of his throat. His horns curved up towards the ceiling, his tail whipped, and the dragonborn couldn’t help but look down to the hard cock that was standing to attention. It looked massive, ridged and textured in ways they were desperate to feel… but Raphael had other things in mind first, clearly. With his knees on the edge of the massive bed, the cambion pressed his hot hands into the white thighs. Slowly, he began to push. Caedes let out a deep growl – he was usually dominant, and it was strange to be pinned. But the hot hands pressed against the strong meat of his thighs, and the claws dug in, like a warning, and the sharp points of pain made Caedes let out another low, needy whine.

Mouth opened, showing off the sharp fangs. He could feel his hole drooling, desperate, as the tongue slowly slithered out. Just as forked as Raphael had said, and now it drifted, barely touching, over the achingly hot flesh of his spread lips. The tips seemed to have a mind all their own, as it began to stroke him, steadily getting deeper, until it flicked up, the deepest part of the fork catching either side and they groaned. Raphael laughed, a low rumble as the tongue kept up it’s movement, a little rougher…

It was so hot, the breath against him, mouth pressing closer and closer until suddenly the tongue was diving inside their tunnel. Legs twitched, drawing in around the head; his tail swung up, wrapping around one of the thicker horns, hanging on, and Raphael was laughing as he was working, finally drawing back for air. So close, so damn close, and Caedes snarled, desperately, but it was no good. He was inexorably drawing back, so much stronger than the dragonborn was, gently removing the tail. Hands settled either side of his hips, red on the red fabric, and the cambion made a point of licking the slick off his face.

“Delectable.” the voice was so much deeper, rough, rumbling right through his own broad chest, and sent a slight shiver down Caedes’ back. “But I think you can tolerate a little more, hm?” leaning back up, Raphael’s knees tucked under the backs of Caedes’, propping his hips up just a little – as if to see the twitching, drooling hole more clearly. One thick hand was stroking slowly up his cock, giving him a clearer look at it. Oh, fuck, it was incredible; as thick around as the dragonborn’s wrist, ridges rising up the length with an ever so slightly pointed tip, and a bulge at the base… the cambion was laughing at the hunger in Caedes’ eyes, now, leaning over. Reaching up, they pressed white clawed hands against the broad chest, trying to push him over, wanting to ride on it, but he wasn’t moving, no matter how much of their power was pushed against it.

“Tut tut, little mouse,” Raphael whispered, “Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn. But hasn’t anyone told you, that patience… is a virtue?” laughing at his own joke, he leant overhead, wings tenting, and Caedes arched his back now, jaw opening wider, legs twitching wider. “There we go, isn’t that so much easier?” he gently stroked one hand over the scaled jaw, tilting his head back slowly, baring the red toned neck. “Don’t worry. I’m going to take such excellent care of you…” he pressed the tip against their hole, slowly. The pre that drooled onto his lips was hot, already, against the naturally cooler dragonborn, but his cock, fuck. Oh, gods above and below, that was – incredible, twitching as he began to ease in. Caedes was definitely already a size queen; they had taken plenty of thick cocks, yes. But this felt like nothing before, as each ridge slid in, and he was so close, so fucking close, from the stretch and the push and whimpering, muttering, begging the other to please, please move. Their tail wrapped around Raphael’s, twitching erratically, as he chuckled – and then began to move.

A deep snarl of pleasure rocked out of their jaw. Arching, thrusting back up against him as hips moved excellently, as if Raphael was designed for nothing more than pleasure. The cambion’s jaw dipped, sharp teeth nipping against the bared neck, then getting rougher at the moans, Caedes’ claws digging into his back almost hard enough to break through the skin. The other got the message, it seemed, because now the teeth were properly biting into his neck flash, hanging on as he was fucked like an animal, the bed creaking as they bounced, the smell of woodsmoke and hot flesh and spices filling the air like an incense – Raphael’s motions were coming a little rougher too, now, a little more raw, as if he was close, and that cock was swelling, bulging, and it caught on his clit as Caedes stretched around it, his murmurs and whimpers getting louder, so close, so fucking close, the coil so tight inside him -

“Breed me,” he moaned, “Please, fuck, fill me, breed me, breed me --” he cried out, just as he was starting to crest – finally, finally about to cum – and then Raphael froze completely.

“No! No!” Caedes snarled out, grabbing the other’s shoulders, but he was laughing, wings twitching. “Please, fuck – Raphael -” he whined. But Raphael was looking away, to the corner of the room - “I think you heard that, didn’t you?” he said, chuckling lowly. “I most certainly did,” replied – Raphael? What? Caedes looked over, so lust addled he could barely think, body twitching around the stretched cock, clit aching, so fucking close – but there was the devil again, only in his human shape, still clothed, although his cock was hard enough to tent his pants.

“What?” the dragonborn mumbled, looking between them. “You’re – what?” “Ah, yes, how rude of me,” the human Raphael spoke. “Caedes, meet Harleep. My own dear incubus.” the other Raphael dipped his head, with a playful little giggle, sounding not a damn thing like the cambion, now. “He decided to give us a little hand tonight. But now, you… changing the terms of the agreement on the fly, hm? I must admit, I’m feeling somewhat generous today,” he chuckled, moving right to the edge of the bed now. “Did you mean it?” he whispered, leaning in.

“I -” Caedes’ was glad he couldn’t flush. The words had been unexpected, he hadn’t realised it himself until he’d felt the heat inside him, the aching burn of demon cock, and just how badly he wanted it. He should say no, he should – Harleep rolled his hips. Caedes cried out, arching his back, fuck, so close, “Yes! Yes, fuck, please, I need it – I need it -” he howled. Raphael chuckled, reaching out, pressing his hand against the dragonborn’s chest, trailing it down slowly, then pressing his palm flat against the lowest point of his belly. There was a sharp sear of raw heat, and then everything was on fire, all over – his whole body felt like it was balancing right on a knife edge, body twitching, clenching around that cock -

“You want to go first?” Harleep asked, head tilting slowly, and Raphael chuckled. He stepped back, shaking off the disguise, identical to the incubus’ mimicry now. As he slid out, Caedes whimpered, desperate – and then Raphael pushed inside him. The cock was exactly the same, if more slick with pre, only the movements were just a little less practiced – Caedes could feel himself drooling, lost in bliss. His hips were rough. The movements were ragged, wild. It felt almost better than the expert pushes of the incubus. Once, twice, and then on the third – Raphael grunted, a hand going around Caedes’ neck to pin him down as he bucked against that thick cock.

And Raphael was cumming. By the gods, he was cumming, his tip pressed as deep into Caedes as it could go. The mark on his lower belly glowed bright, but the dragonborn’s eyes were shut as he roared in pleasure, finally cumming himself. His body clenched down, feeling as each pulse of cum painted his deepest parts. Finally, Raphael began to draw away, claws scraping thin lines down the scaled chest as he eased out, a wet pop as the thickest part came loose. The cambion staggered back, sitting down heavily.

“Finish up for me, Harleep,” he said, voice casual, even if he was a little breathless, “Make sure they’re properly bred.” “Of course.” Harleep chuckled, dropping back into Raphael’s voice as he plugged Caedes’ back up. He squirmed, body over sensitive, as the incubus in disguise kept up a rough movement, battering the cum right into the deepest parts of him. His mind was lost in the fog, the utter pleasure of being used, being fucked… each thrust thrilled out over every inch of his body, nothing but raw orgasm. Bred. He was being bred. His mind flashed to a distant future, gravid with a hot, heavy egg, dragonborn tiefling, bhaalspawn devil, something that he didn’t think had ever existed before… he moaned as the mental image felt so fucking good, waddling around with the forbidden young inside him…

“Oh, little mouse,” ‘Raphael’ whispered, “Aren’t you going to look beautiful? Mm…” he bucked a few more times, too, and then he was cumming. It was far more than the first time – each spurt hot and thick, buried so far inside him, that Caedes was starting to feel the stretch. He fell into a stupor as Harleep worked him, and for every time he pulsed cum inside, they worked the dragonborn until he clenched and roared and finally began to beg for a rest…

“You asked for this.” he whispered, stroking a clawed fingertip over the steady growth on the white abdomen, muscles pushed away to a soft curve packed with hot cum. Just the sensation of the claw trailing over that bulge made Caedes cum, unexpectedly, twitching all over, tail limp now. “Oh, and look at that – now I have to give you another one. Remember, mouse…” he leant right in to Caedes’ ear. “Tit for tat. For everyone you have… Raphael gets another.” It wasn’t long before the dragonborn felt limp, brain lost in the soup of utter pleasure, whole body shuddering with the orgasm that didn’t seem to stop, and his belly bulging…

When he woke, it was slowly. His whole body was aching, still twitching spasmodically. He rolled over, pulling up a blanket from the bedroll… the smell of woodsmoke and the burble of voices dragged him towards reality. As Caedes opened his eyes, he took in the sight of his tent, warm light coming in through the gaps. A dream? Was that – another twisted dream, Bhaal’s idea of torment? Sighing, he started to sit up – then hesitated. Not only was he sore and twitchy… he slid down the blanket, looking at his previously ripped body. Hand trailing down too, he stroked it over the heavy swell of his belly, already looking pregnant with a clutch. The bottom half of the roll was soaked in sticky cum, clearly still leaking out of him… when he managed to waddle over to the mirror in the corner, he could see it all. Bite marks on his neck, scratches down his chest, blood on his claws…

And there, on the bottom of his belly, probably marking his womb – a softly pulsing mark he vaguely recognised.

Raphael’s mark, glowing with magic.

“Ah, fuck.”

[blaisenova]

a little drabble i shat out teehee. super experimental, super angsty, super shorter than usual. i wouldn't have it any other way.

as always, ao3 link is in the reblogs.

no warnings for this one other than the usual messed up relationship bs i don't think, but let me know if i missed anything and i'll tack it on

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

A heaving breath disturbs the dust that has gathered on the bright red scarf that hangs on a bent nail sticking out of the wall. Once, perhaps, it would have reminded you of someone else, but all you can see now is a warped version of yourself that clung to both it and all of the memories that it held despite how much it hurt him. 

And, that was the problem, wasn’t it? 

That he was too much like you, only broken in different ways. Like looking in a mirror that had been shattered, seeing a distorted reflection that might have been you if the light had shone at another angle, or if the ones that had broken you both had done so more similarly; if there weren’t parts that had been removed; replaced; rearranged. You were imperfect echoes of one another, simultaneously too alike and too different; warped by the way your sound bounced off of the walls.

In the end, it hadn’t really mattered that you both wanted the same thing; to be seen, and to be loved despite how ugly the view was.

You had always known that you weren’t something worth seeing – weren’t convinced that you could be seen – and he’d been convinced that not seeing every part of him all at once, all the time, meant that you didn’t see him at all. 

You’d feared him just as much as you’d adored him; he’d hated you almost as much as he’d loved you.

And, that was the problem, wasn’t it?

You both had held on to things that would only ever hurt you, and neither of you had known how to let it go until you were already so thoroughly intertwined with one another that you had to rip and tear at the thorns that bound you so that you just might have a chance at escaping. You’d thought, at some point, the bleeding might stop – now that his binds weren’t tearing open your body just to be certain that you’d still bleed at his command – but, even though your soul is no longer connected to his, the thorns remain, and you are an open wound; a bleeding heart; a walking haemorrhage.

Nightmare wouldn’t like that you were staining his carpets so.

You weren’t sure you could bring yourself to care.

Gently, you rub his scarf between your fingers. It’s thin and threadbare, and some part of you finds kinship in that fact. The feeling is rough – unpleasant – but familiar.

Does familiarity have to be a good thing?

“I miss you,” you confess to no one, because something about the admission makes you feel filthy. Thick tar falls from your sockets and stains your cheeks, and terror lances through you as you realise that maybe you never will be anything more than this ever again. 

Your breathing comes quick, and you hold your breath so as to not disturb his dusty remains any further than you already have; and, you wonder why you treat him with a reverence that he would never return.

You wonder if he could ever understand just how terrified he made you – of being nothing more than this; wonder why it matters so much to you that he understands; know he can’t possibly, when he is the one making you so afraid.

What were you, before? What are you, now?

Pieces and parts of yourself: removed, replaced, and rearranged. 

You think of a story you read, once, long ago. The books you managed to get your hands on before were worse for wear – yellowing pages that were putrid and warped from the journey they’d taken when they were discarded and forgotten; nothing like the pristine, well taken care of books that you had access to now, though something about that made them mean less – but you absorbed what they had to offer you with an appreciation you were sure they’d never been granted before. They spoke of gods, and humans, and monsters, and they wondered in ways you’d never wondered before; ways you wonder now.

You think of the story of the Ship of Theseus.

Pieces and parts: removed, replaced, rearranged.

Is it the same ship? Are you the same you? Now that you’ve been rebuilt – removed, replaced, and rearranged – are you still the person you once were? Can you be rebuilt again? Or, are you stuck like this, now that the one that was constructing you is no longer around to restore your weathered parts? Are you trapped, half-finished and without a purpose? A boat built with perforated wood? 

Water rushes in the gaps, and, through the same rifts, your blood pours out. Because, despite being free of his ties – the thorns are gone; you ripped them out; you tore out their roots, so they can’t possibly grow back, right? – you still tear yourself open just to be certain that you can still bleed, should he command it.

He’s not around to command you anymore.

Somehow, you feel you still need to be prepared for it.

“I miss you,” you confess to yourself, and something about the admission makes you feel vile. Thick tar falls from your sockets and drowns you, and you’re horrified because, even now, you’re still exactly how he reconstructed you – removed, replaced, rearranged. You fear you’ll never be anything more than this.

Can you be anything more than this?

You weren’t rebuilt to be a person. You weren’t remade to have desires or needs. You’re not sure he knew how you were meant to function, when his hands were deep within your very mind; your very soul. You’re not sure he knew how thoroughly he was stripping you of the programming that kept you alive. You’re not sure it matters whether he knew, when the result is the same.

His hands left you, coated in oil, or tar, or blood – whatever it was that flowed through you – and he’d wiped sweat from his brow – smeared you across his forehead – after a job well done.

Pieces and parts of you: removed, replaced, rearranged.

Refashioned to please a person that can no longer reap the rewards.

The fabric between your fingers grates on your bone and wears you away. The feeling is rough – unpleasant – but familiar.

You wonder if familiarity is ever a good thing.

“Killer,” a voice calls, and you numbly raise your head to meet a bright cyan eye with your own two empty ones. His sockets are half-lidded, and his expression is tight. When he speaks, his tone is harsh. “You serve no purpose, serving someone that no longer exists. Come back to me. Let him go.”

Again, your gaze falls back down to the red on your hands, and you wither at the sight. You feel light and heavy, all at the same time. “How?”

He sighs, and the sound makes you flinch; apologies taste bitter as you swallow them back down like bile. In a way that is certainly contrary, he kneels before you – pulls your chin up with his hand in a way you know is uncharacteristically gentle – and smiles; wider, when you smile back. His hand outstretches towards you, open and empty. “Let me help you.”

You stare at the offer, gripping your grief in closed fists, and, carefully, you allow your fingers to fall open. Uncertainty shakes you as you reach for his hand, and you’re careful not to make contact when you deposit your soul – heart-shaped; unstable; ugly – within his grasp. Your fingers dart away from the construct before you can change your mind.

“Good,” Nightmare praises, but you wince as he draws your soul up and away, right before his face. His eye watches its shifting form in fascination, and, this time, his smile almost feels real. He looks back at you, and you already feel the oncoming sting. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll fix you.”

“I miss him,” you confess, and the admission makes you mortified. Thick tar falls from your sockets, and you can’t breathe.

“I know,” he says, “but you won’t.”

He brings your soul to his teeth, and a choked sound of agony catches in your throat as he bites down and consumes you. For a moment, panic locks you in place – punctuated by the way your breath stutters with each excruciating soulbeat – but the feeling disappears as quickly as the rest, and you’re left with nothing but the pain that serves as the cost of numbness.

As you barrel towards apathy, laughter pouring from your chest – you’re not sure why you’re laughing. It’s not funny – you think that you can never be more than this.

Pieces and parts of yourself: removed, replaced, rearranged, always in someone else’s name.