#nicks bite sized fics

[chaotic-nick]

a/n: im writing this on my phone because it's one of those days of moving on *again*, and Nanami is just the perfect guy for it. warnings: unedited, rusty fic-writing, hurt/comfort

nanami kento x reader, friends to lover au

It's satoru's annoying habit of suddenly leaving them whenever they were out that directed Kento's eyes at (Y/n). No one hasn't pointed out how they'd become softer when he looked at her in silence, listening to her hum. Even talk about literature that he'd never read. Though today in the crowded streets of a shopping district, they sat on a bench, his back straightened when she said,

"I'm not meant for marriage, wonderful realisation last night, ken-chan." The casualness in her tone, surprising his mind.

"I am," he countered. He was often the one to worry in secret. Wondering if he'll find the love his parents found in each other. and before them, his grandfather finding love in a foreign land. "is the floor mine or yours?"

"I wanna hear yours after mine!" she gleamed. "my ex, there was this love that we shared, you know. you're in your 20s once and there's so many things happening. compared to him, I'm a very big dreamer–"

"ambitious?"

"YES! ambitious," she offered him the bag of chips she opened, "and well, I can only be his type for so long before he found someone softer ... someone who wasn't like me— and then I thought, men really are all the same. So I settled with just wanting companionship." She shrugged, "or perhaps he scared me enough out of marriage. I'll never really know. You know I kept my hair short around him— cause he liked short haired girls."

"You've grown fond to it then?" He asked, clenching him jaw.

"No, not really, I like being adventurous with my hair and you can only do so much. So, kento, why marriage?"

"I've grown up around love—" Suguru's tired body slumped beside (Y/n), in front of him Shoko who seemingly didn't care.

Their exchange of tiring him out enough when he hasn't even explored the second floor cut his and (Y/n)'s conversation. Yet his eyes stayed on her.

Always so bright and lips pulled to one side, he always wondered what was in her mind. ... and now, hearing about her ex, he wondered if the hurt he gave her was all it occupied.

Would there be any room to allow him to show her what love could be like— if he needed to wait, then how long?

"You like her?" Suguru asked cutting Kento's trance-like state as he watched (Y/n) and Shoko walk away from them.

With all the love he wished he could give her, Kento could only muster a weak, "I think it's beyond that now."

[baby-yongbok]

Sex Concept

Yang Jeongin x afab!Reader

✦Genre: smut [MDNI] - sub!Jeongin x dom!Reader ✦ WC: 1.8k ✦ Summary: You got your hands on the cute church boy. ✦ CW: Blasphemy, corruption kink, oral sex (f & m rec.), knife play [blood], edging, reader is wearing a scream mask, name used: baby, my dear, sweetie ✦A/N: I'm nervous asf to post this. I suppose that this will be my small contribution to kinktober. This is pure blasphemy, you have been warned. I love scream mask fics but I haven't come across one where reader wears the mask so I did this :)) I listened to Sex Concept by Sofia Isella while writing this. Enjoy!+ reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ Happy Halloween♡ ✦Masterlist✦

“Stop teasing, baby, c’mon” Jeongin sat in the front row of the messy pews. The muted sound of rain outside dripping through the cracked ceiling of the church only accentuated the tension pulsing in his veins.  

“Teasin’? Me?” You smile, one hand pressed firm against the soaked fabric of his shirt. “You want it that badly?” His eyes find yours but they lack control. His pupils shake with submission while his mouth waters with the remnant taste of your tongue.

“You know I do.” He smiles in a futile attempt to prompt you to take action. You climb into his lap, your fishnets stretching over the thick of your thighs. There’s a sinister grin tugging at the corner of your lips that the mask shields from Jeongin’s view. It was his idea for you to wear it. It was his idea for you to play the villain that his family paints you as while you drain his sanity from him. 

“Beg.” You tilt your head, leaning in so close that he can nearly kiss the mask.

“You really want me to beg?” He teases, trying to bite back at you with a smile that you swiftly swipe away when your fingers lock in his damp black strands. “Please.” He moans, falling into your desire. 

“Ah, Innie, you can do better than that.” You shift in his lap, your fingers tighten around the hilt of the knife in your hand. A dainty little thing, sharper than your tongue.

“Baby, please, do it. I wan’ you to.” You pull his head back further, exposing his neck to you. His adam’s apple bobs, spit pools in his mouth and he swallows it quickly, smoothly. “Use it.”

“Here? In front of all of them?” You point the knife behind you and Jeongin’s eyes follow, landing on the dimly lit statues of figures who would surely judge him for this. The saints watch him, judge him. “You wanna sin, sweetie?” You whisper and he whimpers, a fair exchange.

You run the tip of the knife up his arm oh so softly, he’d miss it if he didn’t want it so badly. His stomach does cartwheels while his fingers claw at the distressed wood beneath him in a desperate attempt to get a grip on something. Anything but himself, he’s a goner.

You bring the point to his shoulder and press in just a bit, just enough to nick that pretty skin you littered with deep purple a few hours ago. “Shit.” He hisses, groaning at the pinch of pain.

“You like this shit, don’t you?” He fights with himself, his fucked up dreams conflicting with his squeaky clean image. He’s a good boy, a man of God and moral actions and blah blah blah. “Tell me.”

“I like it.” He groans, his heavy lids fluttering shut with a trust he should not let you have. 

“Thought you were a good boy?” You laugh, the sound muffles behind the mask just a bit but echoes in the empty church. You grind into him ever so slightly, milking an unbecoming sound from his swollen lips. They’re stained red like yours, covered in the color of sin and it matches his skin better than that holy glow ever could. 

“I’m not.” He whimpers, trying to convince himself more than you. You let his hair go, allowing him lift his head but he keeps it tilted back, looking up at you like the angel you aren’t. “Please, one more time. Harder, deeper, something.”

“God, you’re pretty when you beg.” You scratch him with the knife, creating a crimson line from the curve of his shoulder down to his bicep. He shivers and groans, the tips of his fingers find your waist and dig in. 

“Ah, fuck, b-baby.” He’s putty, melting and stretching before your eyes. The blood starts running down his skin and you watch it. You admire it. So pretty, so pure and all fucking yours. You bring the knife up and catch the droplets and smear it over the silver, watching how it thins and collects. 

“This.” You point the knife to him. “Is a sacrifice, my dear.” You feel Jeongin shift under you as he watches you play with the blade. His breath hitches for just a second, one sweet second when you point the knife at him. “You’re mine, aren’t you?”

He nods, hypnotized by the forbidden nature of your actions. Entranced by the girl that his parents warned him about. “Yes... yours.” He breathes with a shake that you don’t miss. Your eyes run over his face, committing his pathetic blush to memory. 

You slip the mask up, revealing your pretty face decorated with running mascara and red stained lips. “I am the only God that you will ever believe in.” The look in your eyes could control a crowd but the hopeless wreck of a man beneath you will have to do for now. “Say it.”

You slither down and off of his lap, sinking onto your knees and into a puddle of rainwater that welcomes you with a stinging chill. Jeongin watches you with a reverence that he’s borrowed from every Saturday he sat in bible study worshiping gods who could never excite him how you do. 

His inhale is shaky, his exhale is heavy but every word that leaves his mouth is as light as a feather. “You are the only god that I will ever believe in.” His voice trembles with a guilt that’ll have him clutching those pretty blessed beads his momma gave him for a week. 

“Again” His belt is already undone for you, his button popped and his cock aching and waiting for your touch. The feeling of your palm massaging his pulsing length has him gasping before he can speak again. “Again, c’mon.”

“You are the only god I’ll ever believe in.” It’s a moan, a profession of his fucked up devotion. His chest is heaving with anticipation as your fingers sneak into his pants like a spider and wrap around his drooling length. “What do we say to that, baby?”

The squeak of the pews as he moves to the edge, holding onto the wood for dear life punctuates each whimpering moan that he lets pass his chapped lips. “H-hallelujah.” That’s it, you lean forward rewarding him for his manners. Your tongue runs up his cock, base to tip and his eyes go white as they roll back. A classic case of possession. 

“Again” Your tongue swirls around his drooling tip and he moans, louder this time, “Hallelujah.” You take more of him with each moan, rewarding him for letting you bend his morals into pretty origami animals you’ll rip apart in a week or two.

“God, look at you.” The laugh that vibrates through the air is sinister enough to make Jeongin blush. His weak knees shake and his spine shivers as you jerk his reddened cock. You turn around, smiling at the statues, “Look at him.” 

Jeongin, whines, digging the toe of his sneakers into the worn floor as his orgasm climbs up his spine. “You are so fucking…” You stop, taking your hands off of him and making the poor boy cry in protest. “Easy.” It’s quick but you swear that you see a tear fall. He wipes it away, pulling himself together only to fall apart as soon as his gaze meets yours. 

“This is a church.” You scoff, feigning disgust. “You’re supposed to be worshiping.” He watches as you rise to your feet before him, his core trembles, his cock jumps. He’s hooked. “Well? Go on.”

Water sloshes beneath your feet, Jeongin barely breathes and you look at him expectantly. There’s not a single word that leaves your mouth but the order is loud and clear. He pushes himself forward. His knees meet the floor and he sinks. Those pretty brown eyes are begging for validation in a den of a dragon. His hands ball in his lap as he fights the urge to wrap his long fingers around his drooling length. The kiss of the cold air makes it jump until you step forward and assume responsibility.

The pew squeaks when you prop your sneaker clad foot up on it. Your soiled panties are on full display under your skirt, peaking through your fishnets and Jeongin swears for a second that you really are God. The brittle beseech of ‘can I’ that he musters up makes you smile fondly. He repeats it when you don’t answer, begging into the damp air. 

“Go ahead.” You nudge, handing him the dainty blade. He takes it with trembling hands and cuts the strings to your tights in a messy pattern that grants him access to where you're dripping. He’s entranced by the slick that connects your cunt to the soaked gusset of your panties when he pulls them to the side but he only admires it for a second before his tongue is moving through your folds like a snake in water.

He traces prayers and memorized verses onto your clit, tangling his tongue in spit and arousal so fervently that he almost makes you chant to him. “Right there, right there.” Your fingers grab and tighten in his hair, pushing his firm against you. Your eyes roll back, the demon of desire climbs up your spine and you’re reeling; holding onto the whimpering mess below you to keep your balance. 

The taste of you is throwing Jeongin closer to the finish line with each messy swipe of his tongue over your cunt. His grip on the handle of that dainty blade tightens, the tip piercing his thigh with a bite that makes him keen.

“Innie.” The grind of your hips against his tongue makes him drool, it’s a sight to see. You run your hand through your hair and that long forgotten mask falls into a puddle behind you. 

Your orgasm shows itself to you in the stars of your pleasure and you welcome it, trembling and moaning loud and wild as you cum all over Jeongin’s tongue. He moans, pressing the tip of the knife just a smidge harder against his skin. He plants sloppy kisses against your clit, helping you ride out your high while his own climax rushes over him. His cock jumps, red and weeping with thick ropes of cum. You pull back, detaching him from your core to watch him wreath against the cold floor; coming undone on his knees in front of the angels while you stand and watch. 

“Look at me.” His eyes blink open, his pupils glazed over and glassy. He’s a vision - Lips swollen and slick with your cum, cock twitching and dripping onto the floor. “What do we say?”

He swallows hard, moving his tongue over his lips to collect your taste before he whispers. 

“Hallelujah”  

Divider made by @rookthornesartistry

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[thighzp]

In honor of Nick’s birthday & in lieu of Sunday Sentences (thank you for the early tags @onthewaytosomewhere @firstprincehornyramblings @tailsbeth-writes)… I'm doing something crazy and you can blame/thank @redlipstickandglitter because I got GOT

We're doing KINKTOBER!!!

The prompts I'm using come from extremesimp on twitter/x

Each day I will be posting exclusively firstprince fics/ficlets for the following prompts (below the cut in case you want to be surprised each day!)

Will be posted on AO3 (times may vary), but will make a post on tumblr with this graphic and the link when that day's is active! Won't be tagging people every day because that's a lot of extra work and some posts will be queued - so please check back here or subscribe on AO3 for updates!

Hope you'll follow along and enjoy me getting out of my comfort zone, flexing some different writing muscles, and trying to be fun, spooky, & silly in the process!

*as always, remember the back button is free and DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ

Day 1 - erotic pictures & shower sex Day 2 - dirty talk & phone sex Day 3 - mirror sex & overstimulation Day 4 - praise kink & desk sex Day 5 - office sex & sex on film Day 6 - car sex & inappropriate use of magic Day 7 - jealousy & friends with benefits Day 8 - public sex & breeding kink Day 9 - floor sex & body worship Day 10 - wet dream & mutual masturbation Day 11 - one night stand & late night sex Day 12 - face sitting & camboy Day 13 - age difference & deep throat Day 14 - costumes & oral fixation Day 15 - thigh riding & jewelry Day 16 - clothed sex & choking Day 17 - mask sex & hidden vibrator Day 18 - lipstick & sex toy Day 19 - hate sex & strip tease Day 20 - creampie & honeymoon sex Day 21 - mile high club & biting Day 22 - early morning sex & handcuffs  Day 23 - window sex & lingerie Day 24 - sugar daddy & size kink Day 25 - secret relationship & outdoor sex Day 26 - cockwarming & uniform sex Day 27 - formalwear & marking Day 28 - hunter/prey & first time Day 29 - messy sex & authority kink Day 30 - fingering & roleplay Day 31 - free for all

(Tagging those who might be interested in following along) @bitbybitwrites @judasofsuburbia @valeblue @handotcom @pinkamour1588 @porcelainmortal @nicholastitties @mylucayathoughts @almightaylor

[soft-persephone]

An Easily Avoidable Accident (But I Needed it so Bad)

Sub!Nick Miller x Black!Fem!Reader

I do write with Black Women in mind, but my fics can be read by any woman.

AN: Thank you to my friends that helped me with this fic! It means so much to me and I am so grateful for your generosity! I truly hope you all enjoy this final product!

MDNI // Rating: Explicit // WC 3.8k // Warnings: light Sub!Dom vibes, mild exhibition kink, biting, marking, thing for sounds, extra light hand kink // masterlist

Nick and You had the entire loft to yourselves.

That meant you two had time for anything. No prying eyes and no need to be quiet or fear of being caught by anyone.

Naturally, that meant they had a no pants day.

Nick could free ball it in his boxers and you could wear that little tank top you liked to sleep in and walk around in your underwear.

“I’m pretty sure you were a man in your past life.” Nick joked as you excitedly shimmied out of your sweats and threw them on the other side of the couch.

“There is nothing wrong with me wanting to do this as bad as you! This is normal for all human beings!” You defended yourself with a huff.

“Yes, lots of people enjoy wearing less clothes at home, but you are excited about it in a man way. I can’t explain how, I’m just saying. . . It takes one to know one.”

You smushed his face with a hand and walked past him to the kitchen.

“Fuck you,” you playfully scoffed, “what do you want for breakfast?”

The rest of the day was pleasantly uneventful. As the day went by and the evening wined down, Nick had put his loose sweats back on.

They were old, thin, and ratty. He definitely could not wear them in public anymore.

“You might as well just not wear any pants.” You smiled at him, more out of shock than anything else. You weren’t sure what to think about such a horrible piece of clothing.

“They’re house pants!”

“Your dick is right there!” You yelled back. “It’s like if boxers came in pants size!”

He threw a pillow at you and you threw one back before he wrestled you onto the couch.

Excitement aside.

He was in his favorite spot on the couch, but in an even better way! He could prop his legs up and lean back as comfortable as he wanted to be.

He was a fucking king on his throne and he couldn’t be happier.

You were still walking around in your skimpy underwear and tank top.

He would have wanted you to go throw some pants before the guys come back, but hopefully it was one of those nights where they all found some women to hook up with and stay the night, or just fuck off somewhere.

Instead, he was too comfortable with your ass on his lap and you laying the opposite way on top of him, on your stomach, typing away on your laptop and shifting a hoard of papers to and fro, taking the moment of spare time to get ahead on some work while he lazily watched the game.

Or at least tied to.

God bless them, but he didn’t give a fuck about the Lions and who they were playing.

On any other given day he would have, but it’s hard to remember his love for sports when your hips keep sliding back and forth on him whenever you sit up real quick to get a better look at a paper, your hips pushed forward, right over his dick. Once you finally highlight or read whatever you were trying to read carefully, your hips moved back toward his chest and over his dick once again, leaving him to think of nothing but of how sexy you were.

It wasn’t hard to imagine a more intimate setting.

Hell, even at this moment.

You two in this loft alone, on this very couch in this very moment, naked for no one but God to see, you riding him just like this giving him no choice but to take whatever you gave him.

He brought a hand to his mouth and bit his finger, hard. Willing himself to stay still and not thrust his hips up onto your clothed pussy.

He needed a distraction, but football wasn’t working. You moving your hips and shuffling every five minutes wasn’t working either. Why were you suddenly moving your hips up and down on him like that?.

You slid your hips forward before sighing in frustration and moving them back until his dick was crushed under the weight of your stomach.

Were you trying to kill him? Did you somehow not notice his growing erection?

You sat up, quickly dragging your hips forward, again! But this time it wasn’t where he needed it. This time he needed you on his cock, desperately at that.

“Nick, you okay?” You turned your head back, putting down a paper. The movement causes you to push your glasses back on your nose.

Fuck, you were cute. He hoped you ran out of your contacts forever.

He cleared his throat and rubbed at his chest to hide the sound of his moan.

“Nick?”

“Y—yeah.. yeah I’m good. . “ he managed to mumble out.

Solid cover dumbass.

He couldn’t help going back to the thought of you both naked. You turning around to look at him with a different look on your face.

“You got so tense all of a sudden.” You continued before turning around back to your work. “And I know you don’t care about the Lions losing, so I wanted to make sure it wasn’t anything serious.”

“N…no.”

Oh, he was just making it worse, but you were a bigger dumbass than him, apparently. He says it lovingly, but how did you not know?!?!? Were you that into your work?

“Well, just let me know if anything changes.”

You give a quick wink before you turn around, and he moans.

His hips cant up with such force you bounce up and back down on him, and he couldn’t stop the whimper in time.

He covered his face, letting the sounds come out.

“Nick?” Your voice was in a fucking panic and it was embarrassing to say the least.

You try to move but he quickly grasps your hips. His nails are almost digging into your skin.

“Nonodontmove!” He slurs, his voice rising at a higher octave that makes you throb. “Stay,” he was panting now, his chest rising and falling as you put your hands over his,” please,” he openly whined, not holding back or caring anymore,” stay.”

Oh fuck…

You licked your lips and fought against the panic. “Yeah?”

“Can you just wait a little bit longer for me? I Promise to do something as soon as i'm done.”

“Okay,” he licked his lips, his eyes growing full and watery in such a way you wanted to hold your breath.

He looked at you with such adoration and emotion you swore you would die if you didn't look away. They were softer now, much softer. He looked more calm. A stranger to how desperate and wild they were seconds ago, but you weren't fooled.

No, there was a deeper, more sinister side to this yearning gaze.

While he saved putting his heart on his sleeve for rare tender moments, it was also a fucking weapon. A weapon created for your own demise. You fought the urge to give in, to throw her papers aside and everything she’s been working on to give him whatever he wanted.

But you couldn't. No matter how bad you needed it, you couldn’t.

You were emailing back and forth with a client and Xaiviar was cc’d on it as well. He was the lead lawyer on a case and you were helping him with it. The client was about to drop the case altogether, but you managed to find some evidence that would ensure the jury was siding in her favor.

If she was patient and held out, she would get everything she deserved and the bastard that hurt her could pay.

You just needed some fucking time!

Nick found a documentary about gorillas.

Nice!

As much as he loved them and tried to bring up the essay he wrote on them one morning after doing a bunch of mystery pills that he took one night, he could care less about them right now. He loved you just a tiny bit more.

He bit his lip and tried to let his better nature take hold of him.

Nick's hands were gliding across your skin. Smoothing and kneading the plump flesh of your thighs before coming up to rest at your hips for while, but it didn’t last. He soon became antsy, needing to touch you.

Hoping that just the feel of you in his hands would be enough to distract him from how hard he was. That it wouldn’t make anything worse for him.

But it was making it worse for you.

You could hardly concentrate.

After rediscovering every curve and dip of your body. Every scar, bump, and blemish of your smooth supple skin. It always held a subtle glow, bringing attention to your more than lovely over and undertones. He wanted to put you on display so everyone could see this much of your skin.

The world deserve to know how beautiful your skin was. How beautiful you were.

He decided to test puting his hands on your thighs to see if that would help. His fingers gently graze against your inner thighs. Going up and up until he was too close to your center, daring not to get too close, and moving them back towards your knee. He couldn't stop.

It was mindless action, hypnotizing even.

“Nick,” your tone was bitter in your mouth, sounding harsh to your owne ears, “stop it.”

You snapped around to face him with a glare.

Where these emotions were coming from was a mystery to you, but the foreign feeling twisted your stomach with anticipation.

Nick's eyes were half lidded and struggling to stay open. He gurgled out a moan, the action making him cover his face with his hands.

“Nick. . .” You absentmindedly licked your lips, “let me see your face.”

Nick's chest had been moving up and down erratically since you turned around. His soft pants spurred you on.

Your mind was racing with what to possibly say or do next.

Nick slowly placed his hands on his chest, rubbing at it in circles with his left hand. A sign that usually meant he was anxious.

Every part of him was strained in concentration towards you as if the mere thought of looking away would hurt too much. His eyes were dark, wet, and needy.

Your mouth fell open in a silent o, and you ground your hips down in one fluid motion causing you both to moan.

You both were so fucked.

A wave of something was washing over you. It crashed and crashed against your entire being and the anxiety bubbled in fear of it taking you under, whatever this was. The foreign lightning of it all cracked and crackled in your veins.

Your laptop quipped out a short sound. Then, and only then, you notice how quiet the room was.

You momentarily turned, checking the message in your email.

Dear Ms, I am sorry for getting so indecisive at such a crucial time in the case. Everything has just been so stressful. I wanted it all to be over as quickly as possible, adn i got in the way of you adn your firm doing the job that I, myself hired you to do. I am so terribly sorry. I would liek to see this man put behind bars for good or worse.

Thank you again for everything. I leave my fate in your hands.

Thank, God!

You said a quick prayer, and emailed your client back, making sure to cc Xaiviar.

You closed your laptop and shuffled your papers back into a bifold, tossing them along the further end of the couch, but not so far that they’d fall.

Keeping your position, you turned slightly, moving Nicks shirt up as high as it could go. You eyed his chest, the wide expanse of hair there you’ve obsessed over from time to time, the happy trail that was also a favorite of yours.

Nick’s body moved with the flow of your hand.

“Please,” his voice was higher and strained as stuttered the words out, “please, I’ll be so good please. Just please.”

You ground your hips on his, masking are you were positioned in just the right spot. The feeling of him through your underwear just felt to good. Your movements were slow and steady. Just enough to drive you both crazy, but not nearly enough for either of you.

The anticipation of it was thrilling. Your heads grew headier and headier with each sound he made. With every stutter, pant, and moan he made

The door clicked and you both froze.

“What pray tell is going on in here?” A voice boomed.

Nick cleared his throat and put his hands in a more casual position at your waist. Squeezing lightly just to keep you still.

“Hey, Coach.” It came out gravely but natural.

You were surprised, thinking about how he sounded like he was going to explode just a few moments earlier.

“Don’t, “hey Coach me. You weirdo.” He scoffed. “Go have sex in your room like the rest of us! Just because you're having sex with the same girl every night doesn’t make it okay to play exhibitionist!”

“Nick and his girl is doing what!” Winston slammed the door. “That’s disgusting!”

“Mhmm.” Coach sassily added.

“Oh. My. God.” Nick covered his face with his hands.

Needless to say. All the sexual tension was sucked out of the room. Sitting like this on Nick‘’a lap was starting to make you feel overexposed and awkward.

He reached over and stretched to pull the blanket usually strown accross the couch to cover your body with. You silently thanked him, and avoided looking Coach or Winston in the eye.

“You,” Coach pointed at you,” I am very disappointed in.”

“But, Ernie—“ you pouted.

“—No!” He interrupted. “No Earnie! From now on you call me Coach just like everyone else!”

“Bu—“

“No buts! You have to earn your way back up to calling me my name! “ he shook his head at you with so much disgust it felt absurd.

He was really mad at you. . .

“Now you two go to your room and think about what you did!”

“Mh mh mh.” Winston shook his head with an equal amount of distaste.

Needless to say you both retreated into Nick's room for a very awkward and short walk of shame.

-

“Please. . . Oh, wait. . . Fuck.” Nick moaned before whimpering out your name.

You made him cum with your hand twice, then three times with your mouth, and one more time after that because you just couldn’t help yourself.

His hands were gripping the sheets so tight his knuckles were white.

You had your hands braced against his chest and you slowly sat on his cock. He was stretching you wide with how thick he was. In this new position, it felt even thicker, making it harder than normal.

“Please,” his voice several octaves higher, letting you know just how close he was. “Let me help. Let me touch you.” He strained out before gritting his teeth.

“I.. got it.” You had to fight your instinct to tense your whole body once you had finally taken all of him in. He was so big and thick you could just feel him pressing against your spot already, making you breathless in the process.

You massaged his chest. Starting with his shoulders, and moving down to his pecs. You squeezed them, reveling in the feeling of his pliant flesh in your hands. In another time or setting you would have liked to bend down and suck on one. Biting and relishing the feeling is him in your mouth, so hard he’d bruise for weeks, fading until stray marks of your teeth were implanted into his skin.

Keeping your hands there for balance, you slowly rose up until only his tip was inside before grinding down slowly until all of him was inside of you again.

“Your doing so good baby.”

His cock twitched inside of you at the praise, making your mouth fall open in a silent moan.

You quickened your pace ever so lightly. Nick’s hands fisting the sheets. Each one spurred you on further, filling you with an unbearable heat. It seers through every pore of your body. Opening up every space of your skin, consuming every part of Nick as possible.

His whines, his pants, and his moans. The way his skin turned an angry red all over. Proudly displaying the evidence that you both were on fire.

“Touch me” You moaned softly.

He was on you in an instant. He pushed himself up by his elbows. His hands, his massive warm hands roamed every inch of your skin. Burning you in their haste to feel your waist, the expense of your back, and the peaks of your breast. He pulled, squeezed, and tweaked them until you had to push his hands away.

“Not nice is it?” He huffed in your face with a short laugh. The warmth of his breath mingled with yours. Where his began and yours stopped was indistinguishable as you both panted in the sliver of space between one another.

He leaned in for a kiss, and you pulled your head back slightly out of his reach with similar amusement.

“I never gave you permission to kiss me.”

His eyes grew wide and blown out. His brown irises drowned in the pools of his pupils as he looked at you with such reverence.

He quickly pivoted and moved to mouthing at your neck, biting you hard as he whined into your flesh.

“You're such a good boy Nick,” his hips thrust up into yours, hard. “Oh, you're so so good.” He did it again this time before squeezing his fingers into you. His nails were sure to leave little moons into your skin for weeks.

You laughed. It was breath, trained, and cruel.

“Ah, ah, ah,” You grabbed his hair tightly, pulling his mouth off of you. “I wanna hear you baby. I thought you were my good boy?”

“I am! I am, please!” He whimpered into your skin, keeping his head underneath your chin, his mouth open and close to you. Because if he couldn’t keep his mouth on you, he’d find a way to get as close to it as possible without disobeying you.

“You gotta let me hear every sound that comes out of your mouth baby, okay?”

His fingers adjusted their grip on your hips, pulling and stretching at your skin as tight as it could go, making hissed in response. Even when his brain was fuzzy with arousal and he was overwhelmed with praise or reprimand from you, he could still do the little things that drove you wild. Whether he was in control or not, he could bite, mark, and rough you up in all the ways you loved.

He’s going to drive you mad. You're sure of it now.

“I need your help baby?” You moved so you both would be eye to eye with one another. “I need you fuck me now.” You cupped both sides of his face. “I can’t get us both where we need to be.” You kissed him all over. His cheeks, his forehead, up and down his neck, before you bit down in several places, sucking harder than you ever had. He let out a soft meek sound you didn’t think was possible. Almost gentle if his voice wasn’t such a low raspy thing. Almost gravely sometimes when it wasn’t smooth and addicting.

The closest thing you could describe it as would be a mewl of some kind. It was a sound only you could pull out of him. A side of him only you were privy to. No one else.

Your walls clenched around him at the sound. He did it again.

“Fuck, baby.” Your chest heaved. “I’m not gonna last much longer, I need you to fuck me, now.” You pulled his hair for emphasis.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

He rutted his hips into yours at a hard, brutal pace. And with every high pitched murmur of good boy, your so good, your so perfect for me, he thrust up into you harder.

“Love you baby,” you nibbled into his ear, “love how good you feel inside me. It's like you were made for me.” You kissed him as hard as you could without getting lost of how he was sliding in and out of you. The loud wet slaps of his hips hitting yours were filling the room, driving you both crazy. “You're mine. My baby boy, so good for me.”

He whimpered again, mewling into your ear as he cradled your neck with one final grip as he came. Filling you up. It was so so much. Your legs grew tight, your muscles squeezing past their limit before you followed him soon after.

He pulled out laying you down on your back. Peppering your skin with soft kisses.

“You're amazing!” His eyes sparkled.

“Was that really your first time doing something like that?” You grabbed at the sheets to hide your face. It was hot and burning even more so after the sex you just had. You did not want to talk about it.

“Hey, hey,” he uncovered your face and moved to straddle your lap. He grabbed your hands and put them over your head. “Please,” he looked into your eyes again,. “Don’t hide from me. I really want to know.”

It was what you two did.

When things were too tough to talk about. . . Or weird and embarrassing. Eye contact just worked. It made you both feel safer and calmer to see the other person wasn’t judging you. That they were genuine in whatever way they wanted to support you.

You nodded weakly. Not trusting your words.

“Well you're a natural.”

“Nick we gotta—“

“—Don’t worry. I will buy a planb for you tomorrow. We got a little carried away and forgot about condoms.” He waved his free hand in dismissal before smiling. “It’s okay. I got it handled.”

“I was going to ask if you could let me go now.”

“Let you go.” He tightened his grip on your hands. He still wore his charming smile, but his eyes were growing dark and cloudy, pooling with desire. “Now why would I let you go when I have to pay you back for every time you wouldn’t let me kiss or touch you.”

He suddenly thrust his thick very hard cock into you, still wet from both of you.

“I'm not done with you yet.”

Tags: @notapradagurl7 @megamindsecretlair @headcannonxgalore @cottonpuffmouse @crispysublimecupcake @jellyreblogs @blowmymbackout

Please let me know if you ever want to be tagged on my fics! It’s no trouble at all and I would be honored to do so!

[outtoshatter]

banner made by me but it is truly the fault of @robotcorsair that it exists. so. make of that what you will

HELLO DUNGEONS AND DADDIES FANDOM I'm back with another rec list! You want something quick to read, a little taste of your favorite ship? You want something to test out a ship you haven't decided on yet? Look no further, here's my bite-sized fics rec list!

by the stroke of midnight by misswhimsy/ @missanniewhimsy Rating: NR | Tags: Pre-slash, human sacrifice, bastardized Cinderella-AU | Word count: 200 | Summary: The bell rings out in the town square and Nick runs faster, he doesn't know if he can make it in time.

Apartment 17D by Cephalogod/ @cephalog0d Rating: T | Tags: Pre-relationship, Humor, fluff, meet ugly, remix | Word count: 300 | Summary: Lark is maybe possibly drunk and maybe definitely ready to just go home to his apartment. Which this definitely is. Right? An alternate POV remix of Gia's "Apartment 17C" Fondue by Cephalogod Rating: G | Tags: Bad cooking, can be read as shippy | Word count: 100 | Summary: Fluffcember 2024 Day 19 Featuring Nick, Lark and some unfortunate experiments in cooking.

kiss me, you fool by drabblecaster/ @stratfender Rating: T | Tags: Shut up kiss, double drabble | Word count: 200 | Summary: "You're not gonna kiss me goodbye?"

Watch Your Step by drabblecaster Rating: T | Tags: Hiking, bickering, triple drabble | Word count: 300 | Summary: Lark takes Nicky on a hiking trip.

(Dis)Missed Connection by Captain_Dogfish/ @supremely-unsupervised Rating: G | Tags: Drabble, Red string of fate, soulmates | Word count: 100 | Summary: Lark would like to opt out of having a soulmate, please.

Maintenance by Captain_Dogfish Rating: G | Tags: car repair, soulmates, red string of fate | Word count: 150 | Summary: You gotta put in the work to build a relationship (and take a car apart)

I can(t) explain by Zoynkzz / @zoynkzz Rating: T | Tags: Demon Nicky, Hunter Lark, meet ugly, open ending | Chapters: 2 | Word count: 371 | Summary: Lark Oak Garcia, demon hunting extraordinaire, catches a devil red handed.

Mechanisms for NOT Dealing With It by AnOctoberPepper/ @anoctoberpepper Rating: T | Tags: fluff, system Nicky, angst | Word count: 795 | Summary: Lark talks to Nicky about his smoking habits while Nicky tries not to burn breakfast.

Vessel by GiaSoFetch / @outtoshatter (me!) Rating: T | Tags: horror, demon Nick, at sea, supernatural bounty hunter Lark | Word count: 200 | Summary: Prompt words: cast, vessel, relevant Sacrifice by GiaSoFetch Rating: M | Tags: implied human sacrifice, blood drinking, established relationship | Word count: 300 | Series: The Game of Love and Fate | Summary: Every year, the village leaves a sacrifice for the devil in the woods.

Come to me by Kibbles423/ @2dents Rating: G | Tags: pirate AU, Siren!Nick | Word count: 300 | Summary: “Fifteen men on a dead man’s chest… yo-ho and a bottle of rum,” Nick sang, his eyes steeled on the small ship drifting closer and closer to his rocky cove. It wouldn’t be long now. His stomach rumbled at the thought. “Drink and the devil had done for the rest, yo-ho and a bottle of rum.” “They can’t hear you, Siren.”

Snack time by Kibbles423 Rating: T | Tags: blood drinking, drabble | Word count: 100 words | Summary: Nick wants a snack and thinks Lark's a good option.

[roseharpermaxwell]

do you have any shorter drarry fics that you would recommend to a new drarrier? under 10k and preferably explicit? thank you!!

Pausing my RWRB reading (I have an ask about firstprince fics too and I’m working on it!) to answer this, which is the nudge I’ve needed. I’ve done this for Dramione before (under 5k), but I especially love tempting readers to Drarry. 

Short works are the unsung heroes of fandom. They don’t get enough love, which makes me so sad, because you definitely don’t always need 100k to deliver a stunning story. These are your bedtime stories, your palate cleansers, your individual serving sizes of serotonin. It’s okay to enjoy these even if you only read slow burn 100k+ fics, I promise. Live a little! 

This is a sampling of some amazing favorites, but I’m always reading new things and will add to it regularly. If you find something you love, I know the author would love to hear it, and so would I! Take a deep dive into their work to find other gems. 

Bite-Size Drarry - Under 10k (Part One) below:

Draco Might Die by @ghaniblue. G, 515. Draco’s first day as Hogwarts’ new Charms professor was an unmitigated disaster.

This Heart on My Sleeve by @lou-isfake. M, 1.1k It’s a hopeless ordeal, all at once: I am never going to be rid of him; I am never going to have him; it is always, always going to hurt.

Nick of Time by @mosrael. M, 1.1k. Draco Malfoy is ready to sacrifice everything for the man he loves. Will he find what he's looking for in the nick of time?

Reaching out, reaching up by @softlystarstruck. M, 1.3k. Harry Potter is a good lay. Draco wishes that fact was all he had taken away from the situation.

Dicking Draco Down by @lqtraintracks. E, 1.3k. It’s not a tease. It’s all prep. It’s necessary. Harry is, to be unsubtle about it, hung.

Weakness Leaving by @p1013. E, 1.3k. He's nineteen the first time he asks Ginny to hurt him during sex, and he's a day older than that when she tells him this isn't working. He's twenty when he goes to his first kink club and finally gets what he needs.

RAPTURE CLOSE, FIND JESUS by softlystarstruck. G, 1.4k. “What’s rapture?”

“Huh?”

“What’s rapture?”

“Dunno. Why?”

“There was a sign a while back. You were messing with the radio. It said ‘RAPTURE CLOSE, FIND JESUS��. All caps.”

true things by @hogwartsfirebolt. M, 1.5k. All Draco's ever known is how to guard his heart. But Harry sneaks in, anyway. A love story.

Threshing by @academicdisasterfic. E, 1.5k. For Draco, following fate was the easy part.

I Knew You by @phoebe-delia. NR, 1.5k. A series of ficlets based on the songs "august," "cardigan" and "betty," from Taylor Swift's album folklore.

Like You a Latte by hogwartsfirebolt, @peachpety. M, 1.6k. Harry Potter has mastered the skill of creating latte art. Or so he thinks until his muse and crush—Instagram influencer Draco Malfoy—shows up at the Weasley’s caf.

Take that ride by @andithiel. T, 1.6k. It’s been three weeks, six days, 19 hours and 37 minutes since Draco fell into Harry’s bed the first time and they still haven’t talked about it.

Because You Called the Wrong Person, But He Was Into It Anyway by @gracerene. E, 1.7k. Draco has called the wrong number. Harry doesn't mind one bit.

Homebound by academicdisaster. M, 1.8k. After escaping England, Harry and Draco try to find a new home. 

The Dog and The Drunk Slytherin by academicdisaster. T, 1.8k. After learning Harry wants to get a dog, Draco gets very drunk and decides to do something about it. In a very normal way.

All Hues in His Controlling by @wolfpants. E, 1.8k. Harry’s gorgeous at thirty-five, but his beauty as a young man leans closer to pretty, almost strikingly so. “Eighth Year,” Draco murmurs in wonder. “This is you in Eighth Year.”  -   Harry caters to Draco's very particular set of kinks when he uses magic to de-age himself.

Truth’s Day-Star by wolfpants. E, 1.8k. Draco’s stares had started off curious but soon turned arch. He sometimes plays with Harry’s hair while he does it, his body spread out in his chair like liquid silver, all long, pliant lines. Harry, meanwhile, sneaks looks like they’re forbidden. Bless him. Doesn’t he know how much I want him to look at me like that? -  The world is miserable and so is Sirius. But is he really imagining all of this tension between Harry and Draco?

(you) find me when the lights go down by @beyondtheclose. T, 1.8k. Harry can hear footsteps on the stairs behind him but doesn't bother turning to look. There's only one person likely to follow him out here at this time of night.     "Potter," comes the crisp voice, easily recognisable as Draco. "You do know that most sane people, especially those who spend every waking moment complaining of being cold, would cast a warming charm. Or at the very least grab a sweater. Not spend every night attempting to turn into an icicle." - What makes someone a ghost? Because if it's dying, Harry's got that covered.

That life can change by @gallifrey1sburning. M, 1.9k. Maybe that’s why I started hanging out with Malfoy. Two major benefits: it pisses people off, and he doesn’t expect anything from me. We mostly just drink and lie around on the carpet listening to music. A story of two boys slowly and quietly falling together.

Game…Set…Malfoy by @nanneramma. M, 1.9k. Harry teaches Draco a new game. Draco plays dirty.

Pissing for England by @moonflower-rose. M, 2k. They're sharing a flat as part of an Auror training exercise, but if Ron can't learn to piss more quietly, they may not make it out alive.

Aching with Want by @nv-md. E, 2k. Draco loves Harry, and would do anything to make him happy. When the cold wakes Draco in the middle of the night, he gives Harry everything he wants...everything he's too scared to ask for.

Obliviously Ever After by @gloivy. M, 2k. Harry Potter isn’t gay. He just likes to shag Draco Malfoy now and again.  OR: Five times Harry obliviously denies the feelings blooming between himself and Draco, and the one time he admits it.

Fixation by @dorthyanndrarry. E, 2.1k. Harry was back to staring at Draco again.

“Harry’s just fixated,” Hermione said absently, “They do that, the two of them.”

“I’m not fixated,” Harry said, frowning faintly, “I’m just… enjoying the view, sort of thing.”

“When do you get tired of the view then?” Ron asked flatly, “Beeeeen a month now, mate.”

Willing Blood by lq_traintracks and @the-starryknight. E, 2k. Seven days together, years ago; seventy-four hours and thirty-eight minutes trapped in this house alone; and now one chance to stop himself from draining Potter dry. Will Draco take it? Will Harry let him?

Truth be told by @tenthousandyearsx. E, 2.3k. Playing Truth or Dare with the Slytherins had been a terrible idea. Being pinned against a wall by Malfoy while still on bloody Veritaserum was... well, hot as hell, and more than Harry thought he'd ever get, to be perfectly honest.

Drive, Draco by @Erebeus-roxy. M, 2.4k MCD. I got my driver license today, but you're not around to see.

You Can Make My Night by @devilrising. M, 2.4k. Draco has never been to a place like this; an underground, queer speakeasy. There are men everywhere, dancing, drinking, talking. He can't believe he gets to be a part of this.

Or: how Draco Malfoy meets Harry Potter in a bar in the 1920s

Rocking Rodeo by @coffeedrgn87. E, 2.5k. Draco loves the rocking rodeo...what else is there to say?

In a Jam by peachpety. T, 2.6k. When the boys go blackberrying at Michaelmas, Draco discovers that magic and berries don’t mix, and all Harry wants is to snog him. If only Ron would let him.

Just Talking by @cavendishbutterfly. T, 2.6k. Harry's been trying and failing to talk to Draco for ages. It's hard, since he fancies him. It's easier to text about it. Even when he's right across the table at pub night. Who knows? If Harry's funny enough, maybe someday Draco will like him back.

Unspoken Affection by @janieohio. E, 2.6k "Sometimes, when you smile, I swear I hear music, then I realise it’s just the beat of my heart in my ears...Come back so I can dance."

Harry finds a stack of post-its, and what starts as simply leaving Draco a reminder with a bit of romance turns into a lifetime of memories.

Fledgling by @tackytigerfic. G, 2.7k. Two young dads meet at a farmers market. They exchange parenting tips, longing looks, and root vegetables.

Feral by @drarrily-we-row-along. M, 2.8k. Of the two of them, people would say Draco was the scary one; he knew categorically more jinxes and hexes, and he was absolutely ruthless. Harry tended to hold back a bit, he chose spells that wouldn't permanently injure.

But in this moment, after Harry had covered Draco with the shield, Harry went absolutely feral.

At wand point by tenthousandyears. E, 2.8k. Harry should not be so turned on by being held at wand point by Draco Malfoy... yet here he is.

proven lands by @oknowkiss. E, 2.8k. The thing about circles is, they always end at the start.  OR: A story about falling in love at the end of the Earth.  (told in 31 microfics -- this is the "director's cut")

And the music plays bitter, plays sweet by Andithiel. M, 2.9k. He doesn’t know why he does this to her, why he can’t leave Draco Malfoy be. After the first time he promised himself it wouldn’t happen again. For a long time it didn’t. But Draco had become an itch he needed to scratch; the memory of him rutting against Harry all consuming, making him lose focus, making him want another taste. And another. And another. Until all he could taste was Draco, on his tongue, on his skin, all around him, ever present. Never leaving.

Life has a firm grip by @shealwaysreads. M, 2.9k. Harry and Draco don’t get older, but they do get wiser. (Vampire!Draco, Master of Death Harry)

takes one to know one by hogwartsfirebolt. M, 2.9k. I watched him go through many. Months after our groups merged, after I was forced to think of him when I thought of the word “friends”, I became used to it. I learned his moves, learned what desire looked like on his face.

Secretly, between the shadow and the soul by @teacup-tai. T, 2.9k. The thing about surrender is that once you accept the unavoidable rhythm of change, the surprising uncontrollability of life, and the astonishing inevitability of feelings, it is easy.

like the sun came out by academicdisaster. E, 3k. Harry realises that Draco loves him, and it's like waking up. 

the shape of memory by hogwartsfirebolt. T, 3k. Harry's brush with death has left consequences. Thankfully, Draco is there to help him navigate the uncertain waters of his mind.

Mens Rea by lq_traintracks. E, 3.1k. Mens Rea: the mental element of a person's intention to commit a crime; or knowledge that one's action or lack of action would cause a crime to be committed.

 “Draco Malfoy, how do you plead?”

 I’m super fucking guilty.

Together Like This by shealwaysreads. E, 3.1k. Draco attempts to prove to himself that he doesn’t deserve what he wants. Harry proves him wrong.

drape me in your warmth by softlystarstruck. M, 3.1k. Malfoy, even quiet as he is now, is the only thing that manages to shine through the fog of Harry's mind.

Nothing Compares by @maesterchill. T, 3.1k. Working in the International Auror division doesn't exactly lend itself to Harry finding love or having any sort of relationship, what with all the unsociable hours and catching bad guys and never being in one location for more than a few days. Not to mention the permanent fixture of his partner, Malfoy.

So, how does a song about lost love end up being the thing that helps Harry find love, in the location he least expected it?

Waited for This by @phdmama. E, 3.1k. Malfoy’s been working out, Harry ruminates, as he stands by the kitchen sink and drinks his first coffee of the day in preparation to go open the cafe. Probably doing his squats. Harry should ask him about his routine. Except then Malfoy might think Harry has been staring at his ass. Which he definitely has not been. It’s just… hard to miss when Malfoy is bent over the display case unloading his muffins and mini pies and cookies and whatnot.

Harry is only drooling over the croissants, not Malfoy and his posterior. And biceps. And eyes.

I Fall On Grass by tackytiger. T, 3.1k. Harry loves his garden, and he loves his sons, and he also loves— Well, he definitely feels something for Draco, who is currently distractingly topless under a pear tree. The language of flowers isn't much good when it comes to big declarations, though; Harry needs to find the words to tell Draco just exactly what he's been feeling all these years.

Market Saturdays by @iota. M, 3.2k. In which Harry is an accidental part-time cheesemonger, Draco is an organic farmer and they fall in love. Not an AU.

I Swear I'll Keep You With Me by @dodgerkedavra. E, 3.2k. Harry Potter doesn't mean to drop the Snitch in Malfoy Manor. In order to get it back, he makes an Unbreakable Vow to keep Draco Malfoy with him. It's the chandelier's fault, really.

emerald and lace by icarusinflight. E, 3.3k. They're expensive and elegant - like Draco - and Harry just wants to touch them. He gets to.

Salt and Sauce by @onbeinganangel. T, 3.3k. Sure, of course he knows how you take your tea. But does he know your chippy order?

Enjoy the Silence by shealwaysreads. M, 3.4k. Draco stops speaking, gets some tattoos, and discovers that Harry’s happy to be quiet with him.

Even the Night by tackytiger. M, 3.4k. I'm so bad at this. Two boys meet on a rooftop. Read and find out more. Featuring lots of cigarettes, a Midsummer sky, close encounters in a bath, and plenty of fireworks.

Countdown to a Life by tackytiger, E, 3.4k. A balcony, first kisses, December to December. A little story of building up a life together.

Half Awake by academicdisaster. E, 3.4k. Talking is hard, and kissing is easier. And so is everything that comes after kissing.

A Shorts Story About Love by onereader. E, 3.4k. House-sharing with Slytherins, student life, magic weed, and short shorts. Harry's life at university might be strange, but he wouldn't change it for the world.

Continued in Part Two!

Give the authors some love! I also adore hearing if you found a new favorite fic or author.

I’ll be regularly adding to this, so if you’re seeing this as a reblog, feel free to check my Master List of Recommendations for the most current list. If you see yourself and you’re not tagged, or I've got a broken or misdirected link, please let me know!

[penelopesbaby]

Asirel fic recs pls ANYTHING TO DO WITH PET

heh... bet 😼

Christmas wishlist

- Trying to convince Asirel to take a break + Christmas! -

|| use of nick names (obviously) / gender neutral (sort of) / vampire reader / pet x master trope / fluffy / CHRISTMAS!!! ||

12:30 already? You scoff.

Asirel had been busy all day, only speaking to you out of command. Of course he didn't mean to come off as rude, he was simply busier than usual, and you understood why.

Christmas was approaching. His staff were on longer breaks to spend time with family, leaving more work for him than usual. It was understandable, yet frustrating.

Knocking on his office door you wait for the 'ok' to come in, quietly entering the decent sized office. You walk to his desk and pull a chair in front of it while he eyes you, waiting for you to speak.

"Uhm, master?" You start.

"What is it pet? Do you need something or would you just like to keep me company?" He asks.

"No I.. Well.. I was just kinda wondering when you were going to go to bed? It's past midnight and you haven't really come out of your office much."

He sets the pen he was signing papers with down and sighs.

"I know, pet. I’m sorry you're lonely, I really am. But I need to finish this work, you know it's been busy-" you cut him off.

"No I know! But you've been nonstop all day I haven't even seen you eat anything, nor has anyone brought you any food."

"I have food."

"You have granola bars."

He doesn't speak for a moment, and it's quiet while he tries to figure out what to say.

You tap your fingers on his desk and watch him run his fingers through his hair before talking.

"Look. I know you know my staff have longer breaks because of the holiday season. Thats why I've been so busy. I can't take as much time off as I was last month because of I do nothing will get done."

"I know, master," you take your hand off the desk "but I haven't seen you take any breaks. At all. It's midnight and you haven't left this room once. Are you not tired?" You asked.

He gives you a look of annoyance because he knows you're right. He doesn't want to admit how tired he's been and how exhausted the work he's had to take on has made him. He can only imagine how you feel.

You have no one to talk to. Sure you have television, you have books and music to entertain you, but you want company. He knows that, and a part of him feels guilty for locking himself away and only talking to you when necessary.

"Give me your loyalty in return for attention"

You had given your loyalty, and he had only now realized that he was not giving you his attention.

Admitting defeat, he closes his folder and looks back up at you.

"I am." He spoke, "I am tired. And you're right. I haven't taken breaks even though I know I need to."

"Maybe you should take a day off, and i have the perfect idea of what we should do!" You suggest.

"And what is that?"

"We should watch The Polar Express first!" You squeal grabbing the remote.

"Ah- ah, wait, I thought you said we would watch that new movie first?"

Asirel grabs the remote from your hands while you snuggle under the blanket, basically taking up the whole thing while you watch him find the movie.

"Ok.. Well aren't you comfortable. Are you planning on sharing the blanket or should I get my own?" He teases.

You lift your arm and toss the fuzzy blanket over him, while also sneaking a bite of the popcorn from the bowl in his lap.

"Of course I’ll share with you! As long as you share some of that body heat.... And maybe the snacks as well."

He grabs the blanket and lifts it a bit, giving you space to crawl under his arm and rest your head in the crook of his neck, before putting it back down.

You let out a soft sigh of contentment as he runs his hand down your neck and back, soothing you a little bit as the movie starts. He felt nice. His body heat warm like the sun that had set hours ago, and his touch that felt gentle, almost like a mother calming her children.

You loved these little moments where you could cuddle together and actually enjoy it instead of just falling asleep right away because of the extreme work loads he had taken on. Listen to his quiet breathing, or his soft chuckles at stupid jokes in the movie. It made you feel happy just knowing he was there, with you. Not with his papers, not with his work or his computer or his phone calls. With you.

You only realize you're staring when a random loud noise from the movie catches you're attention. Playing with the fur on the blanket, you look back up at him, watching how concentrated he is on the TV.

"Master." Catches his attention.

"Merry Christmas." You whispered.

"Merry Christmas, pet." He whispered back.

I don’t know how to end this but I rly like this one 😝

I was so excited when I got this request I LOVE asirel thats my MYYYAAAANNNN

Sorry its so short I know its kinda rushed I’m just kinda trying to get these out right now lmao

[supervillain-smut]

Official Kinktober List + Details

Here are the characters, their prompts, and their days, the Yautja will be added once the poll is closed tomorrow. These will all be over on AO3 in one big fic updated daily for the entirety of October. I will be posting links to the chapters here as reminders!

Features ft. Morbius the Living Vampire

Oviposition ft Kar'niss

Size difference ft Charon

Texture ft Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard

Breeding ft Xenomorph

Tongue ft Injustice Scarecrow

Biting ft Lucien LaChance

Organs ft Syzoth aka Reptile

Blood ft Vicente Valtieri

Prey ft Scar (AVP)

Mind Games ft Ruben "Ruvik" Victoriano

Knives ft Stefano Valentini

Tentacles ft Albert Wesker

Eyes ft Remy "Gambit" LeBeau

Impalement ft Tarhos "The Knight" Kovacs

Spit-Roasting ft Lucanis Dellamorte + Spite

Tails ft Kurt "Nightcrawler" Wagner

Stomach Bulge ft Talbot "The Blight" Grimes

Degradation ft Vulpes Inculta

Knotting ft Keevan

Pheromones ft The Dredge

Leverage ft Mister Burke

Corruption ft Reaver

Restraints ft Karl Heisenberg

Sensory Overload ft Nick Valentine

Oxygen ft Markus

Command ft Recom! Miles Quaritch

Bounty ft Cad Bane

Godly ft Raiden

Mouthful ft Recom Lopez

Jealousy ft Eobard Thawne

[sabraeal]

Truth in Masquerade, Ch 9: Between These Wandering Hands

[Read on AO3]

Written as a late entry for day 1 of the Obiyuki Winter challenge (How It Started)...as well as part of a favor exchange with @claudeng80, who was perfectly happy to field a binding request for free, until I mentioned I could pay in fic 🤣 (and who could blame her)

With the lamps blown and her eyes still dark-blind, it’s impossible to tell when Obi joins her in the bed. The mattress may be eiderdown, dipping beneath the solid weight of muscle and bone— both of which Obi has in spades— but it’s also the size of a small country. What happens on one end hardly disrupts the other, unless there is a concerted attempt at an incursion.

And so the only sign of settling is his sigh; the smallest hitch of breath as the down catches him, cradling him in its cloud-like grasp. It had shocked her how soft a bed could be, that first night in the palace— years ago, now. The medical dormitory’s beds had been much like the one in her grandparents’ house: narrow, with a single rag-stuffed pallet intended to be sturdy and supportive, albeit newer than the one she left behind. But in Wistal’s guest chambers, enveloped between silk and velvet, the mattress holding her with all the gentle care of a babe in its mothers arms, well— Shirayuki finally understood how sleep might be seen as a luxury rather than a necessity.

The dark slowly fades to grays and blues, shapes resolving out from what had seemed to be unrelenting black. The washstand in the corner first, its linens taking an extra moment to settle; then the fluttering curtains by the window, left open to let in the breeze; followed by her own hands laid upon the silken sheets, the fine bones apparent even in the dim. And finally, Obi’s back, warm bronze turned to cool stone in the shadow of night, more statue than skin.

Pale scars bite into his flesh, ugly nicks and gashes so old they no longer pucker but lie flat, a fine tapestry darned like a sock beneath less skillful hands. Some might wear their hearts on their sleeve, or their thoughts written on their face, but Obi’s history cuts into him, carving him from flesh the way sculptors wrought wood or stone. Her fingers itch, desperate to reach out, to trace where not even time had healed.

If you’d been the one dressing the wound back then, he’d said once, his fingers wrapped like a whisper around her wrist. It probably wouldn’t have left behind such a nasty scar.

The knotty slash across his chest was always destined to silver and scar, and that gouge over his belly would have left something behind no matter how fine the technique, but those littler cuts just needed some care that didn’t come from the bottom of a bottle— or a ditch. An ointment could fade those slashes to slivers still; a nightly application, perhaps, though he’d need her help to reach more than a few of them. The handful between the blades of his shoulders, for instance, or maybe the pair of nicks at mid-back. The one just above his hip might even be—

That’s quite enough sight-seeing, Miss. Her whole body flushes from head to toe, so hot she could melt straight into the sheets. Experience has already shown that that’s not a place she should touch him. Not unless…

Her eyes narrow, adjusted to the dim light. Not unless she wants to spook him off the mattress entirely.

He’s hugging to the edge once again, one unwary roll from the floor. The carpet is soft enough to sleep on, she’ll grant him that, but that’s hardly the point. There’s more than enough mattress for the both of them, and even if there wasn’t, well— it defies the point of this to have him half-naked and still clinging to its farthest corners. Shirayuki may not have much experience with paramours behind closed doors, but even she knows they shouldn't seek to make space between them. Especially not on a bed as fine as this one.

“Shouldn’t you be”— she hesitates, the strange simmering beneath her skin making it hard to think, to keep her voice from sounding petulant— “closer?”

“W-what?” His yelp practically rattles the fixtures. If she weren’t in a different country, she might have even felt his shoulders clearing the mattress.

“We’re supposed to be i-intimate, aren’t we?” It’s silly the way she stumbles over the word, like she’s some apprentice pharmacist and not a master in her own right. “I don’t think we would be…I mean, that you would be”— her hand sweeps toward the edge of the mattress, and him with it— “You would want to be closer. If we were…”

Together, she fails to manage. Or maybe, like that. But certainly not, having sex, or, heavens forfend, making love. Not when he could just glance over and watch her make the words with her own mouth. The same one he’d kissed early, and she— she really should stop thinking about that.

Every muscle of his back stands out in relief, obvious without shirt or sheet to obscure it, practically stone-carved as he murmurs, “I wonder…”

An odd answer, even for him. “Obi?”

“You’ll have to excuse me, Miss,” he says, louder, voice rising and falling with its usual lilting sing-song. “I’ve never been what you’d call a post-coital cuddler.”

“Really?” She watches as each muscle loosens, not all at once, but a conscious relaxation of each group until he’s as languid and limber as a cat. “Then what did you do after, um…?”

A foolish thing to ask, far too personal, but Obi’s teeth flash in the dark as he flips to his back. “Look for an exit route, usually. I told you, Miss, I wasn’t the sticking-around type.”

Her mouth is too dry as he scoots toward her, the muscles of his stomach tensing and releasing with every sinuous scuttle. It’s a simple movement, silly even, and yet she still blurts out, “But you stuck around here.”

He stills, not even his breath lifting his chest— and then his smile widens to all teeth. “Well, you haven’t taken me to bed yet.”

“We’ve slept together,” she reminds him, those cold Lyrias nights a lifetime away from Tanbarun’s humid heat. “Plenty of times.”

“Th-that’s different, Miss,” he splutters, wide eyes darting toward her before he falls back on his pillow, the ceiling infinitely more interesting. “That’s just sleeping. Not…”

Participating in not-sleeping activities. The kind that often brought to young women to the pharmacy, for one reason or another. Ones she knew all too well, thanks in part to Garrack and her comprehensive lesson plan-- and another, much larger part to Suzu’s concerted effort in slithering out of any consult that might call for a professional recounting of both the birds and the bees.

“That’s still not very convincing,” she says, eyeing the gulf of silk between them. “The space I mean. If we’re supposed to have…ah, I mean if you had just been intimate with, um…” Lover is a whip crack of a word, a goad and a shock rather than a position, but partner is as sterile as the tools she keeps in her kit, not enough for what she means. “Someone…”

That’s worse; a withered flower in lieu of a bouquet. So bad, in fact, that Obi barks out a laugh, his whole chest shaking with the effort of keeping the rest from pouring out.

“I think you mean,” he hums, hands hooked behind his head, the molten gold of his eyes pouring towards her. “If we made love.”

Her hands flex against the mattress, and, ah, he didn’t need to— to make it sound like that. Like they were already skin-to-skin, the rough pads of his fingers catching on her spine, breath rasping in her ear as he—

“You would want to hold them closer, wouldn’t you?” The words squeak out of her, and she clears her throat before adding, “If you had just…just finished.”

There’s that glint of teeth, a knife’s edge in the moonlight. “Didn’t I just tell you, Miss? I wasn’t the sort to hang around after all was said and done. Always been the type to be more interested in the doing than the saying.”

*

(“Impossible.” Most people with a pedigree disdain the sort of noises that imply organs— or, ancestors forbid, mucus— but Miss Kiki snorts with relish, disdain saved solely for doubting him. It’s almost romantic, when Obi thinks about it. Makes a man feel special. “You’re in love with the sound of your own voice.”

It’s an ambush he doesn’t expect— a whole year talking up each notch on his bedpost to every uniform that would listen should have borne the sort of fruit that would make the dear Lady Seiren smirk over her glass and drive Sir choke on his. But instead it’s his tongue that gets tangled up, protest perched right at the precipice, flirting with the fall—

It’s not love, it’s that everyone’s too busy paying attention to your mouth to bother watching what the rest of you is up to—

Ah, damn. He’s had one too many tankards tonight if he’s already starting to reach for that top-shelf honesty. Obi sets down his own cup, too precise to be casual— a detail that won’t be escaping the iron trap of Miss Kiki’s mind, even if she saves him the trouble of calling him on it.

“I wonder,” he hums instead, smoothing the edges with his smile. “A man in my line of work learns to be silent, don’t you know?”

“I sure don’t,” Master mutters, fingers already pressed to his temples. “When does that happen?”

“I could be as quiet as a church mouse,” he insists, with all the gravity of a marquis. Well, at least the kind he’s had the displeasure of knowing.

“They squeak,” Sir offers, nursing yet another sip of his ale, and honestly, he might have taken offense, if only Miss Kiki didn’t add, “I’d bet he honks.”

“Honks?” Obi squawks— a noise at least a decibel nicer than honking. “You think I honk when—?”

“I think it would kill you to be quiet.” Miss Kiki’s tongue lashes him with the same unerring precision as her sword. “I’ve heard there are fishes who have to keep swimming to keep afloat. Maybe you have to keep talking in order to breathe.”

“I’ve been quiet loads of times,” he insists, even though he’s got to admit, there’s not many that come to mind. “I could probably be quiet all day, if I—”

“I think,” Master groans, drinking down the dregs of his own cup. “That I’d like to talk about anything else.”)

*

The night paints Obi in tiger stripes of light and shadow, the flex of muscles beneath skin giving them a hint of movement, like swaying stalks of long grass. Laying like this, a hint of his smirk still stalking the corner of his lips, it’s impossible to say whether he’s more a dangerous predator or indolent house cat— maybe both, in equal turns. He had played pet all too well the first time they had come here, only to shed his collar the moment her hand was out of reach, chasing her across half the country and out to sea. He’d cut a man down, right in front of her, but—

But he’d never turned his claws on her. Not since that arrow sunk itself into the wall, at least. If anything, he’d been too cautious about the way they touched, as if the barest brush of skin against skin might mark her, might leave her bruised.

Maybe he was right; even now the pressure of his lips still lingers, firm enough she’s sure she could lift her fingers and feel the dints where they had laid. His hands may settle softly onto silk sheets now, but the specter of them still burns over her cheeks and chin, scalded from where he cupped them. A whole handprint curving right around her jaw and up into her hair, tingling as if he still hovered there, just out of touch.

It’s distracting. Maddening. At least it must be, for her to say, “But you would, wouldn’t you? If it was me?”

There might be a gulf between them, a sea of silk it seems impossible to cross, but she’s still close enough to see the ripple of her stone’s throw, every muscle tensed into stark relief. It lasts for the length of a blink, the duration of one of her quick-caught breaths before easing, one by one, back to smoothness, his striped skin a still lake once again.

“I guess you have a point there, Miss,” he admits in his playful sing-song, but yet— his lilt is just out of key, too sharp in places and flat in others, like a piano fallen out of tune. “If it were you, I might hold on and never let go.”

It’s the same as that night, years ago— the way his fingers brushed over his chest, not bare as it is now, but covered in the unrelenting black of his formal dress. The way his voice lowered, not quite himself, to whisper, Will you hold onto it for me?

Why don’t I keep holding onto all of you, she’d decided, arms wrapping around a body that felt so much more solid than it ever had before. Just like this?

“Obi...” It's half a warning, half a wish, catching in her throat as he scoots along silk. He doesn't gently sweep of her into his arms, the way Yuzuri's books lived to linger on, but scoops— no, manhandles her until she’s half sprawled over him, head tucked into his shoulder and legs tangled together.

“There,” he huffs, chest expanding against the back of her fists, balled up between her sternum and his side. “That better?”

“Ah…” It’s certainly more convincing, but better made for a harder metric. Especially when there suddenly seemed to be so much more of Obi than she remembered. “Yes?”

“Good.” His head falls back on the pillow, every sharp angle of his face utterly spent, as if she were the one that manhandled him, and not the other way around. “I don’t think I can get much closer to you without Master asking me to draw swords at dawn.”

It’s such a simple excuse, one he’d used a half dozen times before. What would Master say, Obi would laugh, stepping out from under her hand, or, I think Master won’t be pleased when he finds out about this, when yet another lord took them for lovers. For years, she would tilt her head, trying to puzzle out which angle made them seem too close, what small gesture might be deemed too affectionate for friendship, but then—

Then Lord Eisetsu had found her in Obi’s room, looking between them with the wide eyes of a rumor well-proved and she— she blushed. “I don’t think Zen has any right to concern himself with how close we choose to be.”

“Ah…” The muscles of his abdomen jolt against her thigh, only a scrap of linen to obscure their sharp edges before they smooth once more. “Of course not, Miss. Must have drank more than I thought to forget…”

That he left her. That they’re only in this spot because Tanbarun’s ears are too sharp in Izana’s court.  “It’s all right. I don’t”— mind, she means to say, but the lie of it sticks to her teeth— “it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he grunts, the sound harsh against her knuckles. “If he was going to lay all this on you, he should have come north. Or at least let you go back there when it was all said and done.”

“It’s not Zen’s fault we’re here.” Her eyes angle up, fixing on the way his throat bobs as he swallows his anger. “Izana’s the one who sent us. And if we’re being fair, Raj is the one who sent the invitation.”

“What would have been fair is letting Yuzuri at him after—”

“Obi.” His stomach tenses beneath the press of her palm, the more thickly settled dark hair crinkling under her fingertips. “It’s fine. There was no good way for this to happen, but it had to. I’m only happy that everything was…civil, in the end.”

His laugh pulses against her hand, so low, so soft that her stomach churns, confused by the heat of it. “You might try being civil with me, Miss.”

“I…?”

His fingers wrap so gently around her wrist, guiding it from his stomach to his chest. She frowns, brow furrowing, nearly about to ask, how have I been anything but friendly—?

But then she feels the heady thrum of his pulse against her palm, and, ah, perhaps she'd been too friendly with that touch. Her fingers curl, catching in the sparse hairs on his chest—

(“Where’d you get those?” Yuzuri scoffs, sweeping past Shirayuki’s side to take a choice seat on the training yard’s rail. Makiri’s been working the trainees hard this summer— letting them sweat out the weakness, Jirou had laughed, the last time they’d been by— and even the officers are down to skin and trousers now, sweat pouring off them like snow down a mountainside. “I thought you couldn’t grow a single hair to save your life.”

Obi grinned, toweling off with the cloth she’d handed to him before taking one of their iced teas for good measure. “Try getting close to the wrong side of thirty. Couldn’t miss ‘em even if I wanted to.”

Her nose wrinkles, hiding a faint spray of summer freckles in their folds. “I think I’ll pass, thanks.” )

— and just barely resist the urge to drift lower. It would be a more natural sprawl, for one. And for two—

Obi’s palm presses her hand in place, fingers lacing them tight. “Good night, Miss.”

“Obi…” His eyes are already shut, the frantic tattoo of his heartbeat lulling into a more sedate hum.

Will you hold onto it for me? Her fingers squeeze his tight as she answers, if you'll let me. “Good night.”

*

Obi comes to consciousness the way leaves float downriver: meandering, mindless, and to the downright incessant song of the birds outside his window. Awareness only comes to him in dribs and drabs; first the smooth silk pressed into his back, then the scent of oleander and jasmine wafting on the warm breeze, then the strange sense of contentment brewing in his chest. A comfort he’s tempted to sink into— wallow in, until sleep finally deserts him.

Not the sort of thing that’s part of his usual morning routine, that’s for sure. Maybe he’s been drugged— they like that sort of thing here, don’t they? Putting things into drinks and letting it sort itself out the next day. He’s immune to most of the usual sedatives— at least the kind that weren’t applied by a firm whack to the back of the neck— but clearly someone’s done their research. Be a pity to ruin all their hard work by waking up.

He shifts, mind sloshing, and ah— seems he’s the culprit here. Or at least, the two or three bottles of fine Tanbarun red he’d polished off himself, trying to keep up with Prince Raj. Obi’s no lightweight; Kiki and Sir would have seen to that over the years, if his natural talents hadn’t already shined through, and Lyrias’s top brass had kept him honest when they couldn’t do the job, but well…he’s flirting a little close to thirty to be playing such a young man’s game. His knees ache now when he takes those hard landings, and sometimes he’s even got to stretch before—

Nails prickle over his chest, a small hand flexing right over his heart, and haah, he’d had quite a few last night, but he’s pretty sure he didn’t indulge in anything to put him out that pleasant. But the warmth pressed to his side begs to differ, soft curves snug against his ribs and a too-smooth thigh thrown over his hip, knee dangerously close to a part of his anatomy that’s already starting to get ideas.

His eyes slit open, catching bare shoulders and candy apple red spilling across his chest, and his heart near stops. Well, fuck.

Miss complains about the sudden jerk of her pillow, snorting and groaning and rolling to keep his shoulder pinned beneath her. It’s enough commotion to make the bird song outside the window stutter— just like his heart— and the covers shift, baring not more skin but linen. The last night comes barreling back at him; not just I don’t think the maid will be convinced by you wearing buckskins to bed, and you know I prefer to sleep in the nude, but, most devastatingly, I trust you—

He nearly misses the clatter by the door.

Obi’s not fool enough to crane his neck toward the slightest sound, but he does let his head tilt, just so. Enough to catch black-and-white from the corner of his eyes, and the silver spilled out across the floor. Ah, so that’s what really woke him: the maid’s come, breakfast in hand, to fill the basin and pull the blinds. And spy for His Majesty, of course.

Mischief curls at the corners of his mouth. Well, if His Majesty wants a show, then Obi would hate to disappoint.

The sheets he’d been so careful to tuck around Miss’s shoulders last night— after she’d fallen asleep, her kitten snore muffled in his side, and every inch of his skin had felt electric under her touch— ruck around his waist instead, leaving only the most interesting bits to the imagination. He makes a real production of it, groaning and stretching and letting every bit of the muscle seven days of weekly training carved into him have its day in the sun. By the catch of breath by the basin, it doesn’t go unappreciated.

Step one, complete. He doubts the king’ll be hearing about this part, but it’ll set the tone for the rest of the gossip this girl pours in his ear. Margravine Entaepode’s shameless lover makes for a more scandalous story than our guest’s living bedwarmer.

The next bit is harder— in more ways than one. There’s no natural way to roll up to his hip, for one, not when Miss is clinging to him like soil to a root, unwilling to cede a single inch to him unless he moves her first. She seeps into every space he manages to make with no more than a disgruntled huff, burrowing more tightly than before.

In the end, he has to half pull her on top of him first, then roll as single unit from flat to upright. From there he’s got to sling her leg over his hip; an easier proposition a few minutes ago, before he crushed all that soft girl flesh against his chest, and certain parts started to take notice. Now he’s got to negotiate that freckled thigh of hers around his cock, so hard it strains against the strict binding of his drawers, dying to bury itself somewhere, anywhere that resembles warm flesh.

He manages it, though. Gracefully, even. Almost natural, he’d say, until—

Until the much looser fabric of her chemise rides up, no longer nestled between her thighs but pulled taut across them, the rest of it trapped between her and the mattress. Her wet heat splits over the muscle of his thigh, only the thin linen of his drawers to keep them from being skin-to-skin, and he— he groans.

Between this and the kiss last night, it’s the closest he’s come to a good fuck in years. A mortifying thought-- made worse by how every lick of good sense in him scatters the moment Miss squirms closer, her heavy breath skittering over his neck. There’s already barely enough space for a breeze to pass between them, but one jerk of his arms traps her breasts against his chest-- all the encouragement his cock needs to test its restraints.

Really, all this following Miss around, playing at being a good knight has him strung tighter than he was at thirteen and just discovering what five minutes alone and some imagination could pull out of him. One hard twitch wins it enough play to jut right into her belly, which would be bad enough, really, if only—

If only she didn’t squirm into it. And he didn’t let out a noise more at home on a wounded mutt than a man.

There’s another clatter— trays being set down too hastily on the side board, by the sheer amount of jangling silver, setting his teeth on his edge— followed by hasty heels and the hurried slam of the door.

Haah, well— that's one way to complete step two. His Majesty will definitely be hearing about this one.

He just has to hope it's only the one on this side of the border.

*

It’s not the birdsong that rouses her— though it’s loud enough; a pair of nightingales scolding each other right outside the balcony doors. There’s a bunting there too, chattering as if it were only a friendly neighbor, come to mediate between another two, but the whole conversation takes place at a pitch that would cause dogs to howl and cats to pace. Shirayuki, however, simply turns over; it’s nothing compared to the jackdaw that’s taken up residence outside her room at Lyrias, arguing with every swallow and rock dove and crow that comes close enough.

No, what finally drives her from sleep is the empty space her hand finds when it splays out, searching for a place to perch. For the lack of warmth curled against her side, blankets smooth over the space where a body should be.

She lifts up her head, disoriented. This isn’t her room at Lyrias— she’s in Tanbarun now; Raj's guest of honor, complete with a set of chambers that would prove it. A carved bedstead with curtains, fashionable paper on the walls, and a balcony that looks out over the woods she’d run through that night, over half a decade ago. The only thing that’s missing from it is— “Obi?”

“Here, Miss.” He wheels out from the parlor door, toast in hand, one cheek bulging around what she assumes is the rest of it. “Seems they brought both our breakfasts to your room.”

“O-oh.” It’s too early for her to try to parse out all the layers of that, but at least it seems that the domestic staff have noticed their…cohabitation. Though whether it's made its way to the king’s ear is a different matter entirely. “I suppose I do have the bigger parlor.”

Obi snorts, sauntering out from the shadows to her bedside, bare chest a burnished bronze in the light from the balcony. “And the bigger bed.”

Her mouth is too dry when she says, “They looked about the same size when I was in there yesterday.”

“Right you are, Miss. Same size down to the sheets.” He slants her a hooked sort of grin, one that sets a simmer right beneath her skin. “But I think in these sorts of situations, it’s the knight who kneels for his lady, and not the other way around.”

It would be easier to talk, if her tongue didn’t have to be peeled from the roof of her mouth. “I don’t see…?”

“Let me put it this way, Miss,” he says, far too amused, and bare chest much too defined where he sits. “There’s only one of us who comes when they’re called.”

It’s terrible how quickly the heat fills her cheeks, hot enough to cook her own set of toast— and char it too. “I-I listen to you. When you call for me.”

He hums, taking another thickly buttered bite. Her own stomach grumbles with envy. “When it suits you.”

Hardly a fair assessment, when he’s the one that’s been leading her around these part few days, taking her to task when she extends too far past their plans, but—

Ah, hm. Her brow furrows. This is the sort of argument that shouldn’t be picked on an empty stomach. “Do you sleep well, at least?”

If she had blinked, she would have missed it— the flinch before Obi turns all smiles, playful lilt pitch-perfect as he says, “Like a baby.”

Shirayuki frowns. “Really?”

There’s a small hesitation, a flicker of his eyes to the doors, the windows, before he settles into a much more rueful grin. “Sleeping wasn’t the problem, Miss. Getting out of bed, though…”

*

(It’s a miracle that keeps Miss from waking as he slips out from the bed— and the tangle of their limbs. Ones she tightens as he begins to pull away, like the vines they’d grown in the hot house that one year, until they’d found one of the city’s stray cats mewling in its tendrils. Shidan hemmed and Suzu hawed and Kazaha dug in his heels, but eventually, Miss convinced them to forgo whatever medical advancements murderous vines might provide until the university board saw fit to provide them with a more secure location to cultivate them.

Which they hadn’t in the three years since they’d had him lug the things out with the other brush to be burned, but that’s neither here nor there. And hardly something he’s got time to think about, when Miss keeps growing two hands for every one he manages to pry off.

With one last gentle sweep of his wrist— and a disgruntled whimper from Miss— Obi finally disentangles himself, snatching his trousers from the floor before she can figure out a way to grow longer, stickier limbs to grasp him with. She’s always been a heavy sleeper, but from a safe distance; a lump wedged at his back when the braziers burned too low and only the heat of two bodies could keep out Lyrias’s chill. A belligerent hillock of blankets when Suzu flagged him down after a late night of celebrating, asking if he’d go check on their star pharmacist— or else she’d be late for her shift. But this…

Well, he’d have a whole new reason to keep her at arm’s length tonight. One that didn’t have to do with how much he’s struggling to button his trousers.)

*

“Don’t worry about it, Miss.” He waves her off before she can open her mouth to ask, popping the rest of his toast past his teeth. “You’ve got what they call ‘more pressing concerns.’”

Shirayuki squirms upright, settling her back along the pillows. “Do I?”

Both of Obi’s narrow brows hike right to his hairline. “At this point you’re made of them.”

“Well, I suppose Raj’s father is trying to make me queen.” An utterly strange sentence for a girl who, six years ago, barely knew anything of her country’s royalty besides a few names and the way the king's profile carved into her fingertips as she clutched every last penny. “But besides all that…”

Obi snorts. “And your cousins are trying to kill you.”

“No one has tried to—”

“Yet.” It’s impossible to miss the look he gives her, fond and frustrated all at once. “And that’s not even getting into your social schedule…”

She blinks. “My what?”

“The maid brought the post in with breakfast this morning. Seems like you’re a popular young lady, Miss.”

A shower of cards rains down onto her lap, the scent of rose and lilac and a dozen less overpowering scents wafting up from their envelopes. Her hands hover half-curled above them, uncertain; Shirayuki could compose protocols and troubleshoot pesky variables with the best of them, but she’d never had what she would call an analytic mind, the way Kazaha does. She might do well enough sifting through her own day-to-day data, or casually compare observations while wading waist deep in the morass of her own journals, but she could not sit surrounded by stacks of numbers and compose correlations the way he could. Strategy was a skill, and staring at this scattered array of invitations, she realizes— it’s not one she’s cultivated. Not in the way a woman born to this world would have. Not in the way she would need to navigate it.

“What am I supposed to do?” she murmurs, splaying her hands over the mess. “A real lady would be able to tell which card came from whose desk with just a glance and a whiff of the glue. But I…?”

Can’t. That’s what she meant to say. But she knows what she means is, don’t want to.

“Will have to open them one at a time.” She glances up, right into the same he’d worn that day outside Makiri’s office. It’ll be fun, he'd said, and it wasn't, not even a little, but she'd come out of it better a better ally than she'd gone in. For all that it had mattered, in the end “Good thing your trusty knight brought you the kind of blade that can cut through these things like Sir’s sword through Hisame’s shoulder.”

She doubts Mitsuhide would appreciate the comparison— not when he’s so adamant that it’s all water under the bridge at this point— but she barely gets the opportunity to muster an, “Obi!” before he brandishes said blade before her: a letter opener, silver and filigreed, and almost certainly not hers.

“Courtesy of the Little Highness,” he assures her in his most cultured tones, though she can’t possibly imagine when such a gift might have been tendered. Knowing Obi, it was probably best to not. “Now give one of those things over here. I think one of ‘em might be for a horse race, and I’ve—”

“We are not going to a horse race,” she informs him firmly. The last thing she needs is Obi trying to trade favors among Tanbarun’s nobles the way he did with Lyrias’s guards. “And I’m perfectly capable of opening my own mail, fancy opener or not.”

“Think of my reputation, Miss. If you scrape up those little fingers of yours, what would everyone say? That your knight wasn’t taking proper care of you, that’s what.” He doesn’t wait for her to hand him an envelope, instead seizing on a thick one faintly citrus smell before sliding the knife beneath the seal. “Ah, this is the one for the picnic Little Highness is putting on. Tomorrow, before all the ball claptrap. We’ll have to put on a good show.”

Shirayuki blinks. “Show?”

“Miss, haven’t you heard anything about the princess and her set?” He shakes his head, tongue clucking behind his teeth. “They run fast and loose, and if we want to convince them that there’s some...extra care going on behind closed doors, well…”

“T-that shouldn’t be a problem.” She doesn’t dare look at him when she says it, but she can feel it— the way his eyebrows raise, surprised. “We convinced Raj last night, didn’t we?”

“We did.” It’s careful, the way he says it, like the ice is too thin under his feet. “Though I don’t suppose we'll need to go that far. Unlike His Highness, that bunch can read between the lines.”

She nods, ignoring the strange swoop in her belly as she says, “I’ll tell her we’re going.”

“Doubt you would have had much of a choice.” His mouth hooked as he tore open the next envelope. “The Shenazards aren’t known for giving them. Ah, this one is from the Countess Katares—”

“Nereida?” Her nose wrinkles. “We just had lunch yesterday.”

“And she is inquiring after brunch today,” Obi informs her, “along with a post-meal ride around the grounds. I bet if you played your cards right, you might even get dinner out of it.”

If there had been one thing Raj had impressed upon Shirayuki during her visits to Tanbarun, it was that one must not appear desperate to make a person’s acquaintance. It was fine enough to seek out a morning stroll one day and perhaps dinner the next if you were eager to make friends, but lunch precluded an invitation the next day for all but the most bosom companions. For Nereida to ask her now— “Can I see that?”

“Sure thing, Miss.”

The letter folds over her hand as he passes it, but a quick flick sets it to rights. It’s just as he said: brunch with a fortifying ride after, and a heavy implication that it might run into the evening hours—

The exercise might help you keep up with your strapping young night, she adds, so helpful. I’ve heard the ones in Clarines are quite vigorous.

Heat slaps itself across her cheeks, so hot she must be giving her hair a run for its money— and though he’s too busy slicing open the next seal to look at her, the twitch at the corner of Obi’s mouth tells her he’s well aware why. “Ah…well, you don’t need to worry about this one, Miss. Nothing of note here—”

“It’s no use,” she tells him, “I can see Milan’s signature from here.”

Her cousin is hardly subtle. But neither is Obi, the way his mouth twists up, like he’s taken a hearty bite into a lemon, rind and all. “You already had dinner with him last night. He doesn’t need to get greedy. Listen, why don’t I handle tendering your most heartfelt regrets, Miss, and you can—”

“Read the invitation you’ve hidden in your pocket?”

His smirk stiffens with all the subtlety of rigor mortis. “Ah. So you noticed.”

“You did a good job trying to distract me.” Between the bare expanse of his chest and the suggestive contents of Nereida’s letter, he’d nearly managed it too. “But you’ve got a better memory than me for things like house crests…and personal seals. If you’d seen Milan’s in the pile, you would have already had it taken out with the trash. Unless there was an invitation you wanted me to see less.”

There’s not a shred of contrition in his star as he pulls out another envelope— nearly as fine as Rona’s, with a sweeping hand curled across the front— and hands it to her, offering her the opener handle-first. With a swipe, she opens it, and she doesn’t need to see it fully unfolded to know why he’d scurried it away before she could miss it.

Sincerely, that same steady hand writes, every loop precisely placed, Theodosia.

“Obi…”

There's no contrition in the way he shrugs, only resignation. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

[missacidburn928]

It's Tasty Tuesday! Who Wants a Sample...

A weekly sample of what I have to offer. Be it a WIP or a completed fic, I'm here to give you a taste.

Well enough to wet your appetite at least...

Hors d'oeuvres for the week of August 26th 😈

Moonlight & Fang Ch. 5 (The Rogue): Alpha!Ari Levison x x OC Omega!Selene/Red

Strings Attached: Mechanic!Biker!Sy x POC!Reader

You Were Finished Long Before We Had Even Seen The Start: Indie Rocker!Eddie Munson x POC!Indie Rocker!Reader “Sug” x Fuckboy!Steve Harrington

Bittersweet (Part I): POC!Reader “Lux” x Walter Marshall

LUNATIC III: Avengers x POC!Reader "Nyx"

As all of my samples are 18+ material they can be fun under the cut. MDNI

Happy Feasting Heathens

Ari

She wants to play with fire and tempt my wolf. Well, I’ll gladly watch her burn.

With a growl, I reach forward. Wrapping my hand around the back of her neck and pulling her forward into a bruising kiss. She tastes of wild magic and sin. Breaking the kiss, I leave her breathless. Hand placed on her heaving chest as she tries to regulate her intake of air.

“Dress. Gone. Now. Before I cut it to shreds.”

She pulls her dagger back out, turning it over with a flick of her wrist and cuts it off herself. Nicking her chest in the process. “It’s just fabric. Need further assistance with yours.” She innocently asks. Doe-eyed and sweet.

“Oh you’re dangerous, little one.”

“What better to challenge you with.” She giggles.

I kiss her once more as I unlace my pants and release my aching member into the chill night air. Gripping her thighs, I lift her up onto my naked chest. Walking forward, I allow my wolf to navigate us to the nearest tree and I slam her up against it. Affording me a nip to the lip in retaliation.

Her slick if making a mess of the thick hair trailing down my abdomen. She’s ripe and ready for me. So I notch my swollen head between her leaking folds and thrust inside her.

Only giving her a moment to adjust to the size of me splitting her open, I start a punishing pace. Slamming into her hard and deep. Hitting all of the sweet spots and grinding my pelvis down against her little bundle of nerves. As her back scratches against the bark, leaving its own mark behind. Our chests, still slick with blood, slide against one another as the very essence of our beings co mingle together.

I can feel her orgasm coming on quickly and with one more deep thrust, I watch her soar over the edge. Screaming my name to Gods, as she promised. 

This is not how I wish to claim her. No, I have something special in mind for that.

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“You’re a needy little one tonight.” He grits out. “Remember to stay quiet Peach. Wouldn't want to alert the neighbors now, would we?”

I have no chance of responding as he pulls his hips back and thrusts them forward. Gripping my waist tight, he sets a hardy pace. I bite my bottom lip to keep from screaming as his weight pushes me down against the leather and metal beneath me.

He slaps my ass, making me cry out, before clamping my mouth shut once more. “If your pussy keeps squeezing me like that Peach, this is going to be over sooner than I would like.”

So of course I purposely do exactly that. I clamp my walls around this girth and circle my hips as best I can in my current position. Rubbing my clit along the leather seat. I can feel a tingle begin to move up from my toes into my core. I’m right on the precipice of ecstasy and I want to take Sy along with me.

“So close.” I whisper out.

“I know, baby. I know.” He groans. “Be a good girl and come for me so I can fill you up. Wanna watch my cum drip out of you onto my seat.”

He picks up the pace and suddenly I feel like I’m flying. Goosebumps erupt along my skin, and I forget all about staying quiet as I come around his cock.

“That’s it, babygirl. Fuck you feel so good when you come on my dick baby.”

I lay there, riding the waves of pleasure as Sy fucks me through my orgasm. Just as the last pulses ring through my body, he thrusts in as deep as he can go. With his tip notched at my cervix, he growls and groans as he unloads inside of me. Hips twitching until the last drop is spent.

He slowly pulls out of me. Reaching forward, he spreads my cheeks. Admiring his seed leaking from my abused hole. “One of these days I’m going to have to film this. My mind never does it justice. And you really need to see just how damn sexy you look all swollen and dripping of me.”

“Why not just do it now? I won’t be moving without help thanks to that orgasm. Enjoy the fruits of your labor Beasty.”

I observe him reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. Taking his sweet time, he snaps pictures and even takes video from practically every angle.

Next thing I know his screen is before me with a video playing. My pussy, front and center, spasms. An aftershock most likely, and a fresh trickle of cream trails down my lips. I’m a mess, but I have to admit, he’s right. I do look sexy with his claim painted on me.

“Fucking perfection.” He whispers in my ear. “Now let’s get you inside and cleaned up, baby. I’m going to push my cum back where it belongs and pull your pants back up. Then I’m carrying you to bed.”

“Such a chivalrous beast.” I giggle.

“Only for you, Peach. What can I say. I’m attached. Strings and all.”

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Your mouth opens on a silent moan. Eyes rolling to the back of your head with the intrusion as you whisper a soft, “Oh fuck.”

“What is it Bunny?” Eddie, who has been watching with his own hand wrapped around his dick, asks.

“Big.” You moan out. “He’s so big. Sooo full.”

 Eddie gives a little sadistic chuckle. “Oh this is going to be even more fun than I originally thought.”

Steve turns his head. Having caught his breath from the initial shock of your tight pussy gripping him tight. Ready with a sassy reply on his tongue. A reply that never makes it past his throat, as Eddie takes his fingers coated in your slick and teases them against his hole.

With a little pressure, Eddie’s fingertip sinks in. He pushes it further past the ring of muscle until he is two knuckles deep. Pulling out he adds a second finger and begins scissoring them.

Steve groans at the intrusion. Hips grinding involuntarily from the sensations. His trimmed patch of hair along his pelvis rubbing against your sensitive pearl. Pulling quiet moans from your throat.

Eddie continues with his prep until he feels that Steve is ready to take his cock. Snapping the bottle of lube open, he applies a generous amount to his rigid length.

Pulling his fingers out, he grips Steve’s cheeks. Spreading him wide and spitting on his hole for good measure. With his dick firmly in hand he kisses the tip to Steve’s puckered hole and gently inches his way in.

Both men groan as Eddie bottoms out. Steve, overloaded with pleasurable sensations, is a panting mess.

“You gonna get those hips moving and satisfy my girl or am I going to have to fuck the both of you myself?” Eddie taunts.

“How the hell would you do that?” Steve ponders out loud.

“Like this.” Eddie pulls out almost to the tip and slams back forward. Thrusting so hard that he moves Steve’s hips. Pushing him deeper inside of you.

When he pulls back once more, Steve’s hips back out from you just a bit with them.

Than Eddies does it again. Choosing to stay still once he’s slammed home. “So again. Are you gonna fuck us yourself or am I going to be the one doing all the fucking?”

“Fuck. You. Eddie.” Steve grits out through pants.

“Maybe next time.” Eddie teases. “At least rub Bunny’s clit. Want to watch her come all over your dick before you lose it. With how taut your muscles are I expect this to go rather quickly.”

Steve turns to glare over his shoulder at Eddie. The subtle movement causes his hips to tilt in just a way that has his thickness grazing against your sweet spongy spot making you moan. Grabbing the attention of both men.

Your eyes are glazed over, and your bottom lip is being held hostage by your top teeth.

“Look at you little one. Laying here all patient like a good girl while we bicker like fools.” Steve coos. Mesmerized by how gorgeous you look underneath him.

“She’s the best girl.” Eddie says. Leaning over Steve’s shoulder to gaze down at you. “She deserves a reward for such good behavior don’t you think? How about a cream pie? Hmm. Stevie fills you up with a fat load while I do the same to him. Sound good to you Bunny?”

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Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand.

The smile that graced my face this morning when I received the text from Walt letting me know he closed the case and to come over for our usual post case dinner and decompression; was megawatt status. This case really took over his life. Even more so than usual. I barely heard a word from him for two weeks.

Receiving that text, knowing he was okay and that I would be seeing him, was a breath of fresh air.

I arrived to his house and let myself in.

It was eerily silent. I thought that maybe I beat Walt home. That is until I stumbled upon his sulking frame on the kitchen floor, slumped against the cabinets. A highball of whiskey clutched tight in his fingers.

“Walt, is everything okay?” I lower myself to the ground to get closer to him. Uncaring of the dress that took me hours to decide on.

“She didn’t survive.” He mumbles out.

“Who?”

“The wife.” He deadpans. “It was a home invasion. They did horrible things to this woman in front of her husband who fought back with everything he had. They both ended up in the hospital. Beds next to each other. Something went wrong. A bleed they didn’t catch, and she lost her life. He had to watch her die and could do nothing about it.”

“Oh, puppy. I’m so sorry. That poor man. Did you get the assholes responsible?”

“Yeah. Young idiots trying to make a name for themselves.”

“Good. Now justice can be served. So what has you so upset?”

He takes a sip of his whiskey. “The husband looked so hollow when I came to tell him we caught the ones responsible for his wife’s death. I’ve seen some horrible things but nothing that will haunt me as much as that look on his face did. It reminded me of what I have to lose. I don’t know why you even put up with me and all the shit I put you through, but I can’t lose you baby. I can’t.” He confesses with tears in his eyes.

On instinct I climb into his lap and begin kissing them away until I land on his downturned lips. Where I place the softest of kisses. Barely a graze.

He sets his whiskey down and places his hand loosely around my throat as he pulls me in for a deeper one.

It quickly turns desperate. His jeans are quickly unzipped, and my underwear are pushed to the side. Simultaneous groans ricochet off the walls as our pelvis’ connect and we being to grind in tortuous pleasure. Succumbing to the need to reenforce our bond to each other.

It’s both loving and painful. Raw and unfiltered. An emotional mess of our demons dancing together before we chase them away to their dark depths once more.

“I love you.” I pant out. “Demons and all.”

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“Have a look around. Make yourselves comfortable. Get acquainted with the space. I'm still a bit of a mess from my performance. Sticky with sweat, among other things. I’m just going to wash the night away so the fun can begin. I’ll leave the door open. You’re more than welcome to join.” You give your most innocent smile, mischievous eyes giving you away.

Nat wastes no time following you into the bathroom. “Here let me.” She runs her fingers up your arms, pushing the straps down as she reaches your shoulders, letting the dress fall to the floor. She looks down and quirks a brow. “Your panties seem to be missing. I distinctly remember you leaving the stage with them on.”

“Everything about August is large. Down to the size of his loads.” You state. “Not to mention, the viscosity. I didn't feel like walking around with it slowly trailing down my thighs, so I did a quick cleanup and decided to air dry.” 

You smile sweetly at her as she reaches around and unclasps your bra with one hand. “Let’s see if he left anything behind shall we.” Her dainty fingers traverse up your inner thigh, slapping each one to get you to spread them, before sinking her middle finger to the knuckle into your dampened folds. 

She pumps her hand a few times, crooking her finger to reach all the good spots, making you weak in the knees already. Pulling out she raises her wet hand between you. “Well would you look at that, it’s all you.” 

“Thor can’t stop talking about how amazing she tastes.” Bucky speaks from the door frame. “Is it true, doll?” 

Nat licks her finger clean, moaning as your essence coats her tongue. “Fuck that’s good.”

“Guess I’m going to have to find out for myself.” He steps into the bathroom. “Turn around. Hands on the counter and present that dripping little cunt for me, doll.”

You easily comply, bending over the counter, ass high in the air, weeping pussy on full display.

He stands behind you, catching your eyes in the mirror before lowering himself to his knees. Placing his hands on your hips, the cool of the metal soothing your heated skin, he leans forward and runs his thick tongue slowly from clit to slit and back again. “I don’t think his words did you justice, doll. If I’m not too careful, I could find myself addicted to your taste on my tongue. I think I may be ruined already.”

You remain in place and just whimper at his words. “Someone is feeling subby.” Nat mentions. “She hasn’t moved an inch since you commanded her to present for you.” She looks at Bucky.

“That what you need tonight, doll? To surrender? Feel that loss of control?” Bucky asks.

“Yes.” You whisper out. “Yes, I just want to float away.”

“We can provide that for you.” Nat states. “Let’s set some guidelines before we begin.” You and Bucky both nod. “Good. We can go over them while you shower if you still wish to do so.”

“I do. Muscles are still tense.” You reply.

Bucky starts the shower, checks the temp, lifts you up and places you inside. “Wash up, but leave your hair dry if possible please.” He hands you a hair tie from around his wrist for you to do so.

“Okay. Now. Let’s clarify what is happening here.” He starts. “You want to partake in a scene where Nat or I…”

“Both.” You quickly squeak out.

He chuckles. “Where Nat and I Dom you. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” You nod.

“Great.”

“Anything specific you would like to have happen? Safewords?” Nat asks.

“I use the traffic light system for scenes. Simplest for all parties to remember.” You lather up your body. “And I do have a certain kink in mind that I would love to have utilized if you're comfortable with it.”

“Which kink would that be, doll?”

“I think I have an inkling.” Nat teases.

“Knife play. If getting a little bloody isn't an issue for you.” You look at them. “I wouldn't be opposed to being tied down at your mercy either.”

You watch the tent rise further in Bucky’s jeans. “I can most certainly accommodate that for you.” He twirls his favorite knife around his fingers.

“This is going to be fun.” Nat responds. “Anything else?”

“No that’s pretty much it.”

“Great. Now hurry up and rinse off.” Bucky states as he goes to grab a towel. “You’re to dry off and wait for us to call you into the room.” He pulls you to him by the back of your head and kisses you for the first time, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. “Marks?”

“Nothing permanent please.”

“Understandable.” He kisses you once more and heads back into the room to set up. Nat places a light kiss to your lips then follows.

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[chaotic-nick]

New Ink: Miche Zacharias

a/n: yay another one written from my phone! I'm trying to end doom scrolling one drabble/mini fic at a time, and of course it's somewhat plucked from my life [if only I had an irl Miche by my side]

modern au, tattoo artist au - unedited

"I think ..." [Y/n] hugged her knees to her shoulders, watching Miche work on Erwin's car. That alone made him stop and look at her.

"Shit, you do that?"

She feigned a sigh, "Fine then, I'm never telling you anything."

A chuckle as Miche began wiping his hands, eyes inspecting the car. "I'm listening." Patiently. Always. And excited.

"Well, maybe it's too far to say it, but this month I haven't missed him. I think I'm successful moving on."

"That's good," crouching down, the anger he felt when she broke down crying in Erwin's living room made itself known. again. "It really is like that."

"I mean you guys help, too. Maybe I should get a tattoo ...."

"It's nice having you around, (Y/n)." He motioned at the keys on the table beside her, "I mean, you can help me start the car, too."

— Showered and dressed, Miche offered that he drive her around in Erwin's fixed car. Nothing more than a test drive, as Miche said. And in turn he'd listen to her blabber on.

This time about the tattoos she got, perfectly concealed under her clothes. "I mean, if you look at it, it's quite sad."

At the stop light, he dared look at her side, features perfectly illuminated by the afternoon sun. "Hmm? The matching tattoos part or?"

"OH no no no, the matching tattoos, I don't regret. I even forget I have it," she met his eyes, a pout, "He was one of the people who knew me before I had tattoos."

"A pleasure I'll never have," fatigue pulled honesty from him. "I'll bet all my worth and assume you were a wild one before getting inked."

"Oh my god, Miche."

"I've seen enough clients," he turned the car to drive to a familiar street. "It's the ink that makes them behave."

Parked in front of his studio, he looked at (Y/n) who's caught on. "How about you celebrate?"

Mouth agape, she looked at him, pursing her lips in concern, "I'm sorry, Miche, it's not in this month's budget and—"

He dared cup her face, "Woah woah, I'm not letting you pay anything, angel."

"I—" she looked between him and the tattoo shop, and then slumping down in her seat, "Alright, Miche. I'm putting my life on your chair."

"Thank you, Angel."

— "You're awfully happy," Zeke sneered when the two of them joined at the restaurant's table. "You two pulled shit somewhere?"

Smiling, (Y/n) rolled the sleeve of her left arm up, "Look! Miche drew me a flower band."

"HA?" Miche, tired from today's events yet content, acknowledged everyone's shocked stares at him.

Hange, who always teased him of his crush on their friend, now at a loss for words.

Levi only prayed that their would be displays of affection wouldn't come so soon.

Erwin and Zeke, his roommates, only shot him a look full of warning. Both hoping that he's serious with ... you.

All while (Y/n) looked lovingly at her new tattoo. One that Miche drew for her months ago, and hoped he could give her one day. "I can't stop looking at it, it's so pretty."

"It's not going anywhere," he chuckled. "But I'm glad, (Y/n)."

[butchwerewife]

Hiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!

You can call me Were, or Butch, she/he, and I'm a fanfic writer from Latin America!

I am completely obsessed with musical theathre and this will be mainly my fanblog, though I plan on someday crossposting my AO3 stuff here.

I'm still trying to familiarize myself with Tumblr fanfic etiquette, so if anyone has any tips, please just let me know!

Please tread with caution if you are not over 18. I'll try to always give a heads up and put all explicit content under a cut but: I do write porn!

<3<3<3<3

Currently, I have fics for Something Rotten, NBC's Smash and one for Sweeney Todd.

More about my work below the cut!

All my work is on Ao3! I write PWP oneshots, if your thing is mild kink and toxic pairings then I'm writing for you.

As of right now, I have:

- a Something Rotten series, "They All Want a Piece of This (Shakespeare is a slut)" focusing on Will being a certified bottom. Not focused on a specific pairing, one is Will/Nick and the other one is a gangbang with his backup dancers. Slutshaming, body worship and lots of praise kink!

- a Smash (NBC) series, Tom and Derek's Arrangement, portraying episodes of what would be a sexual queerplatonic secret relationship between the two. They still mainly hate each other but they often fuck about it with the occasional fluff. Internalized homophobia, sexual coercion and pet names!

- one single work (that might get more chapters in the future) on Pirelli x Sweeney from Sweeney Todd. There has never been any demand for this pairing, it's a gift for my partner. It's based on a clip of the concert cast in which Bryn Terfel playing Sweeney PICKS UP Cborle's Pirelli and we decided that was pretty hot. Noncon/dubcon and size difference.

You'll notice that the common denominator in most of my fics is CBorle. All his characters are such poor meowmeows, I'm sorry! Someone has got to write it!

Tags you'll find throughout my work are dubcon, rough sex, feminization, biting, objetification, dacryphilia.

I don't really take requests because everything I write is for me and my QP partner (they're also my beta reader!), sorry :(

All comments are incredibly appreciated, even the keysmashes and emojis! They're what give me the passion to continue!

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 219. brb x oc

a/n: no rooster in this one but for a good reason (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

/180/181/182/183/184/185/186/187/188/189/190/191/192/193/194/195/196/197/198/199/200/201/202/203/204/205/206/207/208/209

/210/211/212/213/214/215/216/217/218

(pls let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! )

taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @roosterschanelslut @wiipes @lcahwriter @novastories @gretagerwigsmuse @frenchtoastix @lizzie-rdj @fanboyluvr @atarmychick007 @comebacktoearthpls

@peachiicherries @mak-32 @lizziespidiepridie @roosterswifey @ollyoxenfrees @piceous21 @sqrlgrl22 @hofficoffi @lexhalstead3 @lorilane33 @legendarydreamersharkparty @luckyladycreator2

@emilybradshaw @j-6o @louisahale @leobabbyyy @booklover2sblog @winter-run @ktjmac @graciereads @bigpoppajes @taytaylala12

@caitsymichelle13 @becks-things @caatheeriinee07 @fanboyswhore9 @jesfreedark @katiemcrae @lilmonstrjedi @hobiismyhopeu @teacupsandtopgun @insominac23 @gh0stsgoodgirl @mygyn @chavivaelisheva @kmc1989 @enchantingharmonyalpaca

-

She missed the Hard Deck, truly, she really missed this place. She runs her palms over the wood, nicked because of drunk patrons or just her and Shells carrying heavy stuff inside only for Penny to sigh when she notices it. In reality, she knew her maternity leave was still going, but she’d love to return.

Maybe that’s why Penny asked her to come right?

To return?

Not that she’d mind waiting a bit longer, but her mind needed a bit of a break from the constant fear and anxiety that climbed up her brain like a spider monkey ready for a bite…weirdly specific. She left Nikki with Michael - ‘I’m going to take her bank robbing’ ‘Michael,no’- while she came over, hopefully it wouldn’t be long, Mike had no work and Hannah was going to show up later to check on him so her daughter was safe.

Beatrice looked up at the door, blinking when she noticed a camera looking down at her, the whirring of the zoom hitting her ears before it turned away. Beatrice then walked inside, inhaling the smell of known lemon scented products hitting her nose, she remember how that smell used to burn her nose when she started, “Hello?” she calls, placing her bag on one of the seats as she walks further.

She could hear the ice machine on the back,followed by a quiet - yet known - curse, “Shells?’ she calls, looking in the direction the voice came from, “You here?”

“Yeah!” her friend replied, “Can you help me with this? This ice machine is making me regret ever ordering it.”

She couldn’t lift heavy stuff and she voiced it to Shells, only for her friend to reply, “It’s nothing like that! Come on! Rooster won’t kill me because of it.” and so she went. There were new glasses on the shelves, new mugs - undoubtedly some were broken in her absence - and a brand new keg in the back. One she couldn’t help but admire it.

But as Beatrice approached the location where the ice machine was, she just stared at the thing…it was open, very open and Shells was crouched next to it, “...hi…” she points to it, “Are you…fixing it?”

Shells, crouched beside the open ice machine, looked up from her task when she heard Beatrice's voice. Her eyes widened in mild surprise, and a bright smile crossed her face. She wiped her hands on a nearby rag before standing up.

"Hey, you made it!" Shells exclaimed, her tone a mixture of genuine pleasure and slight relief. "Yeah, I'm trying to fix this contraption," she gestured to the open ice machine with a chuckle. "I mean, I didn't want to bother you, but I've been wrestling with it for a while now, and I thought maybe your expert eye could spot what's wrong."

“My…expert eye?’

“I also wanted to gossip,come on.”

Beatrice couldn't help but laugh at Shells' admission. She approached the ice machine, her hands instinctively moving to her hips,  "I’m not the best at this,Shells,I’m not sure what I’m looking at.," Beatrice said, her tone lighthearted. She bent down to peer into the machine, her fingers tracing over the exposed components. “In fact,I don’t even know why you called me when Penny could do it.”

Shells made a noise through her nose, lying down on the floor to unscrew something out of Beatrice’s sight, "Well," Shells began, her voice slightly muffled as she worked, "Penny's great with tech stuff, but she's been busy with some security upgrades around here. Plus, I want your company."

As Shells continued to tinker with the ice machine, Beatrice couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over her. The familiar scent of the bar, the sound of Shells cursing playfully, and the sight of the Hard Deck's interior all brought back memories of her time here.

"So, how's everything been going?" Beatrice asked, her tone casual. "While I've been... away."

Shells glanced over at Beatrice as she continued her work. "Oh, you know, the usual. We've had some rowdy patrons, a few broken glasses, and one memorable night when someone decided to try their hand at bartending, aunt Penny tossed him out. Let's just say it was an adventure."

Beatrice chuckled at the mental image of Rooster behind the bar. "I can only imagine. And what about you, Shells? How have you been holding up?"

Shells paused in her work, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Honestly, it's been a bit different without you around," she admitted. "But we've managed. Penny's been a huge help, and Jessie too but…It's not the same, though."

Beatrice smiled warmly, touched by Shells' words. "I've missed all of you too," she confessed. "But you know,” she shrugs, “I can’t come back so soon.”

“Yeah,I know.”

‘I thought Penny wanted to talk to me too?”

Shells made a face, then let out a ‘oh!’ “Yeah,something about,” and she tugs a wire from the outside, holds it in front of her eyes and mutters ‘eh,we won’t need it’ before tossing it away, “About something she saw? Not sure,she didn’t tell me.”

“Something she saw?’

“Yeah,’ she gestures around the bar, “I’m sure you noticed the amount of new cameras we got all over, aunt Penny is getting…a bit paran-well, not paranoid. I think she’s being careful, more than normal. Those corpo guys really fucked her mind up.”

"Yeah, I saw them," Beatrice said, her expression thoughtful. "I guess it makes sense, especially with everything that happened. But if Penny wants to talk to me about it, I'm all ears."

Shells nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I think she just wants to fill you in on what's been going on, get your perspective maybe." she shrugs, “Dunno.”

Beatrice considered this for a moment. She knew that her time away had created a gap in her knowledge about the bar's operations and the current state of affairs. It might be a good opportunity to catch up and see how she could help, even if she wasn't quite ready to return to work full-time.

Or how she could help in any way.

"Alright, I'll talk to Penny when I get the chance," Beatrice said with a determined nod. "In the meantime, let's see if we can figure out what's wrong with this ice machine. Two heads are better than one, right?"

Shells grinned. "Absolutely. And if all else fails, we can always call in the professionals."

Beatrice chuckled. "You mean Penny?”

“Yeah, of course.”

As Beatrice and Shells continued to work on the ice machine, the sounds of laughter and camaraderie filled the Hard Deck once more. It felt good to be back, even if it was just for a visit, and Beatrice couldn't help but feel a deep happiness in being around the same surroundings as before. 

She sits on one of the chairs and helps Shells by handing her over tools while watching - ‘you are not going to lie down or do anything, just stay put will you?-  hands on her knees and head tilted as she paid attention to what was going on, “So, besides that, how’s your life?’

“Wha?”

“You know, your life,” she smiles, “With Bob, how are you two?”

Shells whole demeanor appeared to change, which was odd because she never seemed nervous talking about Bob, “Well,” she laughs nervously, “He uh, mentioned kids a few weeks back?”

“Oh?”

“Yep.” Shells mutters, “I told him that,well,kids aren’t in my schedule right now and honestly I thought he felt the same way about it. Then we uh…had a bit of an argument? And now I’m just, staying with Penny for a little bit.” considering how much Shells loved Bob it was surprising how she wasn’t just breaking down and crying.

Even more surprising was that she didn’t call Bea! She parted her lips, “Shells! Why didn’t you tell me??”

Shells, still focused on the ice machine, sighed. "I didn't want to bother you with my problems, Bea. You've got enough on your plate with Nikki and the twins and  everything else."

Beatrice reached out and gently placed a hand on Shells' shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Shells, you're not bothering me. We're friends, remember? I want to know what's going on in your life, especially when it comes to something as important as this."

Shells finally turned to look at Beatrice, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and sadness. "I know, but I didn't want to add to your worries. And honestly, I didn't know what to do. I care about Bob a lot, but I'm not ready for kids, not yet."

Beatrice nodded in understanding. "It's okay to have different priorities and timelines," she said gently. "You and Bob just need to have an honest conversation about what you both want and where you see your future together."

Shells nodded, her shoulders sagging with relief. "I know you're right.I know that…we just,didn’t come to a consensus, per se.” she flexes she fingers, “Also…it’s kinda weird being the one friend without kids, yknow? I mean,I love being the crazy aunt, don’t get me wrong, but…I mean,holy fuck, it’s weird.”

“Oh,ah,” well, she didn’t know how to reply to that, “Well I–”

"Nah,Bea,” Shells waves her hand, ‘Don’t worry about it, we’ll resolve this one way or another.”

Beatrice nodded, understanding the complexities of the situation. "I get what you mean, Shells. It's a big decision, and it can feel like you're swimming against the tide when everyone around you is on a different path.”

“That’s kinda deep,huh?”

“ But you're right; you and Bob will find your way through this together. And don't worry about being the 'crazy aunt.' You're an amazing friend, and you've got plenty of time to figure out what's right for you."

Shells offered a small but genuine smile. "Thanks, Bea. Your support means a lot to me. And I know you've got your own challenges to deal with right now, so I didn't want to burden you."

Beatrice squeezed Shells' shoulder again. "You're never a burden, Shells. And besides, catching up with you and helping with this ice machine is a welcome break from my own worries."

Shells chuckled. "Fair enough. It's good to have you back, even if it's just for a little while."

"It's good to be back," Beatrice replied with a smile. "And who knows, maybe I'll be able to come around more often soon.”

“Really?”

“Well,” she sighs, her shoulders dropping, “I’m not sure…I want the twins to come home, you know?”

“...right…how are you and Rooster dealing with it?”

Beatrice purses her lips, “Well…” she smiles, ‘He’s just…amazing, you know?”

Shells looked at Beatrice with an knowing smile. "I can imagine he is.” she leans down to pick something from the ground, “You two are gross.”

Beatrice nodded, her eyes distant for a moment as she thought about Rooster. "He's been there for me through everything, especially during the pregnancy. It hasn't been easy, but he's made it a lot more manageable."

"That's love, Bea," Shells said softly. "Real love." and she sounded serious.

Beatrice's smile grew warm and affectionate. "Yeah, it is. I'm really lucky to have him in my life. And he's been amazing with Nikki and the twins. They adore their dad."

Shells chuckled. "Well, of course they do. He's a great guy. And you're a fantastic mom, Bea. You're doing an incredible job."

Beatrice's expression turned slightly wistful. "Thanks, Shells. It means a lot to hear that.”

“And,don’t forget I helped,” she points it out, “If it wasn’t for me and aunt Penny, you two would stay ages pining for each other.” she pauses, “Wanna know when I noticed he liked you?”

“...well...yes.”

-

She was bored, she took her time to drink some water when she was outside the Hard Deck. Beatrice was doing good, she’s been with them with a few months and she managed to get the hang of it. 

“Shells.”

She sips her water, nodding at the tall pilot, “Rooster.”

“Are they inside?”

“Yep, they never miss it do they?” she teases, nodding towards the bar, ‘Go on, my aunt is going to see you in a bit.”

Rooster nods, about to go in - his hand is on the door- but he stops and he’s looking at something, better yet, someone inside. Shells noticed his pause, then slowly turned to see where his gaze landed and she slowly lowered her bottle.

Was he looking at Bea?

Oh, ohohohohoho!!!

Shells looked like the cat that just found out the cream was chilled and had pieces of fruit in it, because her gaze moved from Rooster to Bea and vice versa, only to stop at Rooster. He was a statue, a living statue, his jaw was clenched a bit and even if his eyes were hidden by the caravans, it was still obvious where he was staring.

She clears her throat once, nothing, then twice, still nothing, only when she coughs right by his side is that the pilot moves - jumps,more likely. He gives her a confused stare and she smirks ,”Well,aren’t you going inside?”

Rooster blinked rapidly, as if snapping out of a trance, and cleared his throat nervously. "Yeah, yeah, of course," he stammered, taking a step back from the door as if he had been caught in the act of something he shouldn't be doing.

Shells couldn't help but chuckle at his reaction. It was clear as day that Rooster had been caught staring at Beatrice, and she was going to make sure he knew it. "You know, Rooster, you can go inside. I won't tell Bea that you were checking her out."

Rooster's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and he scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "I wasn't... I mean, I was just... um..."

Shells grinned mischievously, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Uh-huh. Go on,Chanticleer, go on.”

Rooster's embarrassment seemed to increase, but he managed a nod and a faint smile. "Yeah, I will. Thanks, Shells."

With that, Rooster finally entered the Hard Deck, leaving Shells outside with her victorious grin. She couldn't resist a little teasing now and then, and now…now she had something to work with.

“Ohhh,” she rubs her hands like a villain, “This will be great.”

-

“Wait.”

“Hm?’

Beatrice holds her hand, “Wait, when was that??”

“Like,what, three,four months before you two actually talked?” she shrugged, licking her lips as she sits up,smirking at Beatrice’s face,”You knew he looked at you then,Bea, why are you so surprised?”

"Three or four months? Seriously,?"

Shells shrugged nonchalantly, her smirk still firmly in place. "Well, I did tell you about some stuff but you didn’t want to hear it back then.."

Beatrice shook her head in mock exasperation. "Well,fine, you are right…I didn’t see it. I didn’t want to see he was looking or noticing me.”

Shells grinned. "Oh, he noticed you, alright. Couldn't take his eyes off you, in fact."

Beatrice chuckled, feeling a warm, happy glow inside. "Well, I'm glad he did. Otherwise, we might have missed out on something really special."

Shells nodded in agreement. "You two are a perfect match, no doubt about it. And it's about time you got some happiness in your life, Bea."

Beatrice smiled at her friend, feeling grateful for the support and love she had received from Shells and everyone else at the Hard Deck. "I couldn't have done it without all of you. You've been like family to me."

Shells leaned in and gave Beatrice a one-armed hug. "That's because you are family, Bea. And we're here for you, no matter what."

While the conversation was really sweet and thoughtful, it was Penny’s heavy footsteps that broke it, when she stood by the bar and saw the two her smile - while still present - was strained, ‘Girls,” she begins, clapping her hands together, “...can we talk in the office? Really quickly?”

“Wait,”Shells begins, “Us? Both of us?”

Penny inhales shakily, “...yeah, both of you.”

[cyberrat]

82nd Batch Of Fics: 6th Fill

Hanzo/Cassidy – hurt/comfort; body inspection – Hanzo letting himself relax and enjoy another Alpha's body.

---

He needs to touch. So he does it. While Cole’s mouth is still hanging open, Hanzo sticks his fingers in there, pressing down against the tip of one of the smaller lower canines just so he wouldn’t snap his jaw shut and bite him.

Cassidy’s eyes fly open when he feels it. He grunts softly, confused, glancing up toward Hanzo. He does not look like he has any idea what this is supposed to be. Hanzo feels the same.

He swallows thickly and pretends like this is something normal people do, as he lets his fingers slide along the row of Cassidy’s lower teeth, noting that one of them is missing.

When Cassidy’s tongue moves forward, lightly touching him as if out of pure instinct, Hanzo pinches the tip between his fingers and holds it. His ears feel… really warm.

He’s seen this Alpha in so many degrading positions, but this for some reason feels more intimate than anything else.

Cole grunts again softly. There is something in his eyes that looks… guarded. Worried. It is a rather vulnerable position to be in. Hanzo slowly touches Cassidy’s tongue, feeling how soft and warm it is; just a nice, wet cushion. One that he let his cock rest against on a few occasions already.

The longer he just pets him, playing with his tongue, the more Cassidy seems to relax. He slowly puts the weight of his head on Hanzo’s thigh, letting him play with whatever he wants to.

When he is more relaxed, Hanzo twists his hand and finally touches what he’s really been wanting to examine: those big, sharp looking fangs.

Now that he’s staring at them, he can’t believe that he let Cassidy suck his dick. Or that he knotted his damn mouth. Just a little wrong move from the old Alpha and the damage he would’ve done would have been… immense.

He pinches them between his fingers to feel how firmly they are in place, then slides his fingertip across the sharpest point. They are, in fact, so razor sharp that he can feel how he nicks his skin on them.

Hanzo hisses softly and pulls his hand back. They both look as a lazy drop of blood wells up from his finger. Cassidy reaches for Hanzo’s wrist and pulls his hand back, curling his lips around the fingertip and laving his tongue against the little wound.

As Cassidy is still suckling on his finger and the world has somehow shrunken down to the size of the bed they’re in, Hanzo finds himself just saying what is on his mind: “Why do you not defend yourself? Why do you keep staying in your lane?”

Cassidy’s gentle brown eyes flick up to him, bushy brows twitching into half a frown before relaxing again. He lets Hanzo’s finger slip out of his mouth.

“Pretty little privileged boys don’t get it,” he drawls. It does not sound as condescending or combative as it should have been. “Life’s tough.”

That’s all he says as an explanation. Nothing more. And Hanzo… doesn’t feel brave enough to ask for a clarification. He looks to the side, quietly stewing on those few words while Cassidy gets himself situated with a low, satisfied groan. He’s hugging Hanzo’s leg to his chest, curled up and comfortable looking.

And Hanzo, because he’s apparently a glutton for punishment tonight, just keeps on touching him. He simply can not stop it. Now that he’s somewhat satisfied his curiosity about Cole’s teeth, he starts to put his hand on his naked back, fingers seeking out the scars he had been able to see the other night.

He slides lower and lower, following the hard line of the other Alpha’s spine down to the small of his back where he can feel his ample body hair starting up again. The skin beneath is a little moist. Hanzo couldn’t say whether that is from his shower or something that got him sweating again.

He looks down at Cassidy. The old Alpha’s eyes are open, but he’s not looking up at Hanzo. He’s not looking at anything in particular, from what it looks like. He’s just got his head pillowed on Hanzo’s thigh and lets him do whatever the fuck he wants; just like he did earlier, letting him stick his fingers in his mouth…

“You’d let me do anything I want to you,” Hanzo murmurs out loud. He can’t deny that he likes the thought. Of having this powerful Alpha at his beck-and-call like this.

Cole neither stiffens, nor seems uncomfortable. He just hums softly in confirmation.

“Even if I wanted to…” Hanzo trails off, fingers moving lower and dipping into the crack of Cassidy’s hairy cheeks. It surprises him somehow how interested he is in his hole. He vaguely remembers being disgusted at the thought of touching it back in the hotel closet. He should be doubly so now, knowing how Cassidy spent his night, but…

“Sure,” Cole grunts. He shifts a little, pushing his upper knee over Hanzo’s legs and opening himself up for whatever he’d like to do. “Go for it.”

Hanzo feels warmth pooling low in his stomach, his heart beating faster. “Why, though?”

Cassidy sighs softly, though it does not sound all too exasperated. He pats Hanzo’s other thigh, his hand big and warm and heavy. “I know how ya are. Young Alphas, I mean. All so curious an’ nobody there to satisfy that curiosity. I don’t mind lettin’ you explore a little. Find out what ye’re comfortable with. What ya like.”

Hanzo feels the warmth from his belly crawling up into his cheeks. He turns his head away from the light source of his laptop so Cassidy wouldn’t see him flushing.

What he likes, apparently, is Cassidy acknowledging their age difference. Him patiently, calmly, without a speck of self-consciousness telling Hanzo that he can do whatever the fuck he wants and not needing to expect any ridicule in return.

Hanzo exhales. He puts his free hand on Cassidy’s head, fingers moving into his hair; not quite carding through it – it’s too tangled for that – but rubbing at his scalp while he lets his other hand creep further down the Alpha’s ass crack until his fingers touch his hole.

He can hear Cassidy softly exhaling. It’s not quite a gasp, but… a sigh, maybe.

Hanzo swallows thickly, fingertips brushing across the opening. The rim feels swollen and easily spreads for him as he tries to dip a fingertip inside Cole’s body. His ears grow warm, and his cock starts to feel heavy, swollen with interest, though he is not in the mood to get off at this moment.

What he is in the mood for is to explore Cassidy. Maybe… maybe get him off. Let him have an orgasm… just like that. If Hanzo can manage that.

Cassidy is breathing nice and deep. He turns his head a little, nose brushing against Hanzo’s fly; scenting his erection. Letting him know that he noticed his excitement.

He doesn’t try to open his pants, though, and Hanzo does not tell him to. Tonight is going to be… different.

[l56895]

For the Spotify wrapped fic game:

How about 24 (for maths reasons - it's a favourite of mine😄), or 42 (for Douglas Adams reasons, obvs).

You pick which - or both if you really fancy! 💚

We’ll try for both!

24. Screams Heartstopper for me

LOL that’s okay!!!

Something in Nick’s own reply tugs at something else deep inside. It doesn’t feel like enough, not really, when his friend has just spilled his pain out in bite size chunks. Nick bites his lip as he types out another.

If he ever comes near you again I’ll kick his ass

That feels better- like something he’s supposed to say. The sour guilt that arranged itself in the pit of his stomach when he finally begged Charlie to never speak to Ben again… it’s disappearing now. But not entirely gone. Gnawing. Like he’s asking for something he doesn’t have the right to.

But they’re friends, right? And friends ask for stuff. They banter, like kick-ass jokes, and they do stuff for one another, like never speaking to a crush again because it makes you feel funny. Not jealous… but wrong.

Maybe friends send heart icons to one another too. Kisses. Charlie seems to do that. Nick kind of likes it.

🖋✒️🖋✒️🖋✒️🖋✒️🖋

42. Got to be Schitt’s Creek!

“Come on, David. You can learn this.”

“I could, but should I? Do you really want this-“ He gestures up and down the sweater he has pulled on this morning, black in somehow four different ways, “-trying to produce any sort of music? You’ve heard my mother’s attempts to get me to sing at Christmas.”

“I swear, I could teach you in two hours. Tops. And then you can join in on open mic nights, it could be fun!”

“That is not the way to convince me, I can assure you,” he mutters sardonically, but prises the ukulele from Patrick’s grip regardless. He holds it the wrong way, and the strings ping dully under his touch, but it’s a start. There is an awkward, grimacing moment where man and ukulele battle for the last laugh, but then David is holding it in some vague semblance of upright.

“Okay,” Patrick laughs as he adjusts his elbows around the instrument. “First thing’s first, chords…”

[ao3feed-narlie]

Letters From War

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/wPxVGf5 by Zitronenhai At the front end of World War II, Nick is conscripted to war, leaving Charlie alone in London. These are their letters. Words: 1106, Chapters: 1/22, Language: English Fandoms: Heartstopper (TV), Heartstopper (Webcomic) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Nicholas "Nick" Nelson, Charles "Charlie" Spring (Heartstopper), Tara Jones, Darcy Olsson, Aled Last, Tao Xu, Christian McBride (Heartstopper), Otis Smith | Omar, Sai Verma, Harry Greene, Elle Argent, Victoria "Tori" Spring, Oliver "Olly" Spring, Michael Holden (Solitaire) Relationships: Nicholas "Nick" Nelson/Charles "Charlie" Spring Additional Tags: just what we all need: another shtooff angst fic, i hope you're reading the tags, War, World War II, letter writing, Minor Character Death, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief/Mourning, Based on a song, Mental Health Issues, bite sized chapters, Pining, Yearning, Lonliness, war is shit read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/wPxVGf5