#now to color and render (sigh)

[lilywave]

here, have some protag lucky student rantaro and antag traditional dancer shuichi from my v3 swap au

[aweina]

ᥫ᭡. good luck charm , mike schmidt ( fluff )

did you … did you just kiss me ?

tags major spoilers !! gn reader. tension. friends to ( ? ). mike being shy + awkward.

“do well for me, okay?”

mike blinks in surprise when your hands smooth over the noticeable wrinkles on his security vest — the comforting warmth of your palms melting through the black fabric.

all he’s ever done for the past few days was sleep heavily during his night shifts at the abandoned children's entertainment center, permanently haunted by the time loop of his younger brother — snatched from his youth and into the hands of a cruel stranger.

but he won’t tell you that, it’s more embarrassing to say he has slept through the only job willing to accept him.

“yeah, of course.” mike doesn’t elaborate further, much too flushed by your fleeting touches — every brush of your nimble fingers rendering his body hot and fuzzy.

you step away for a second until your eyes light up in realization. rummaging a quick hand through your pocket, a metal security badge glared over the warm ceiling light — the golden paint bruised in black blotches and dented from the grueling years of past security guards dropping it during their inevitable encounter with ghostly animatronics or even discarding it when they realize the horrors they would endured from keeping such a shitty, unfulfilling job.

mike won’t tell you that part either, for the sake of your sanity.

“don’t forget this too, you always seem to leave it at home.” your voice sounded so soft and quiet in his ear, too afraid to wake up abby down the dark hallway.

“r-right … sorry.” he nervously gulped when you gently tug at his vest. mike carefully gazed at the needle threading the cheap fabric that didn’t have his work title — all in effort to avoid looking at your pretty face. he tightly held his breath, unclenching his fists once in a while to ease his nerves. your breath fanned his face, the small details on your skin that were once blurry were much clearer with you so close — only he was too afraid to memorize them, in case you noticed his staring.

you pinned the badge into place and patted it down for safe measure, now completely satisfied with his more presentable look. mike huffs a deep, loud breath when you finally back away — eliciting a pleased brow at his adorable act to hold his breath. mike immediately sputtered at the embarrassingly loud gush that escaped his lips, quickly padding towards his backpack and keys — avoiding you as much as he could.

he darts towards the front door, his sweaty hand that gripped tightly around the backpack straps now hovered over the door handle. mike felt you linger behind him, much more distant and friendly to his own liking.

“i’ll see you in the morning?” mike mumbled with an ounce of hope, terrified that he made things awkward between the two of you.

you nodded enthusiastically, coming up to the door beside him to latch onto the door handle as well — soft fingers intertwining with his much more clammy ones.

“morning. with breakfast.” you quietly promised with a tooth aching smile. mike couldn’t help but sigh in relief, lazily smiling back at you.

the two you opened the door with a simple click on the lock, your hand still wrapped around his. the midnight air nip at his skin, calming the reddening blush that colored his cheeks and ears.

the heat flowed back to his face once again when he felt your balmy lips suddenly pressed against the corner of his mouth, your soft cheek grazing against his stubbled jaw. mike swore that his vision became hazy for a second.

“i’ll miss you mike.” you breathed, the frosty breeze passing through your lips like intoxicating smoke. before he could utter a reply, you closed the door with a loud click — your shadow filtering through the white curtains seemingly disappearing deeper into his home.

mike stood in front of his house in shock, lightly grazing his hand over the kiss mark that seemed to settle over his mouth — the ghostly touch of your lips now haunting his memory. still dazed in shock, he steadily makes his way towards his car — using his house key to unlock the damn thing all while dumbly missing the keyhole.

letting out a breath that he was holding onto, mike exhaled loudly as his consciousness slowly flooded back into his brain.

“shit.” he finally slurred out as he softly banged his fist onto the roof of his car, pressing his forehead defeatedly against the smudged window.

today he won’t use his pills. not when the feeling of your soft lips and your weirdly intimate farewell will keep him wide awake throughout his whole shift.

add. note : okay but why does everybody hate him in the movie ?! he deserves some love and fluff in his life (￣□￣」) …

[eiightysixbaby]

winter dreams

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

eddie really wants to give you a baby for christmas

cw: 18+ ONLY - SMUT. reader and eddie are actively trying to get pregnant, unprotected piv, creampie

The fire crackles in the fireplace beside you, orange embers licking at the logs below them. The carpet is plush beneath your bare back, skin pleasantly warm from the flames.

There’s a Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, its pretty colored lights partnering with the fire to cast the prettiest glow across the space. A Bing Crosby holiday album plays from the record player, volume turned low, making him sound far away; dreamlike.

Your eyes wander momentarily to the window, and you can see the snow falling down in slow, fluffy flakes. It’s like you’re inside of a snow globe, and someone just shook it upside down. You smile warmly, letting this moment wrap you up in its joy.

Eddie rocks slowly into you, hands braced on the floor beside your head. Every move he makes is entirely intentional, filling you completely full of him with each thrust. Despite his loving pace, it still knocks the breath out of you, feeling him all over you; everywhere.

You let out a satisfied hum, to which he grunts softly in response. His wide, beautiful brown eyes look down at you, twinkling with the reflection of the lights. Long lashes flutter before his eyelids close, face leaning into yours to press a kiss to your mouth, open in a sigh of his name.

"Fuck, baby," he groans. "Feel like fucking heaven." His voice is deep and husky, and it seems to wrap around you, enveloping you in the affection that pours from him.

You don't really respond, aside from another moan. He's turning you to mush, slowing down your brain, rendering you incapable of forming a sentence. Your fingers dig into his shoulder blades, nails digging in to his soft skin.

"Are you feeling good, sweetheart?" he asks, watching the way your eyes roll back as he delivers another deep thrust.

Typically, that question would come out a little cocky; smug. He'd be pounding you senseless, knowing damn well he's making you feel so good and also that you're in no state to respond to him. But right now, there's nothing but pure adoration behind his ask. This is love-making in its purest form, slow and steady and passionate, hands caressing tenderly and lips moving languid across searing skin.

"Yes," you gasp. "So good, baby," your brain manages to string the words together, leaving you breathily.

A pleased noise erupts from deep in his throat, and his mouth dips down to kiss the side of your face, trailing purposefully down to your neck.

"God, I love you," he murmurs into the crook of your neck, strands of his unruly curls tickling your neck.

It drags another high-pitched sound from you, and that's all the response he needs.

"Gonna get you pregnant, holy shit," he pants, statement enunciated by the slick, wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you.

And that was always the plan, but hearing him say it now, in the heat of the moment, has your walls clenching around him, your brain fuzzy with desire.

"That what you want, baby? Hm? Want me to give you a baby for Christmas?"

You whimper, back arching til your tits are pressed against his chest, eyes screwing shut.

“Need you to use your words, honey,” he coaxes, letting his mouth dip to your cleavage, pressing a kiss featherlight to the skin.

“Yes, Eddie,” you burn. “That’s what I want.”

It’s something you’d both been talking about for a while. A baby. You’d been less and less cautious during sex lately, rolling with the mindset of, ‘if it happens, it happens’. But this, tonight— this feels more intentional, more promising.

His tongue swirls around one of your nipples, hips unwavering in their steady rocking.

“Good, baby. ‘M gonna give it to you,” he rasps, bringing his mouth back up, bottom lip dragging hot up the column of your throat until he catches your own mouth.

His tongue slots between your lips, moving slow with yours, sending a shiver straight through you. The rough pad of his thumb carefully finds your clit, snagging on it, rubbing in soft circles. A moan catches in your throat, coming out strangled, head tipping back against the soft carpeting.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine, feeling that familiar swell of tension in the pit of your stomach.

“C’mon, baby. You gonna cum for me?”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, letting him play your body like an instrument, getting such pretty sounds out of you; working you up to your crescendo.

The weight of him on top of you is grounding, comforting as he sends you tipping over your edge. A few more swirls of his finger around your bud timed perfectly with his deep thrusts has you unraveling entirely. You moan unashamedly, hands desperately pulling him secure against your chest as your body shakes.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he pants, his voice wrecked. “I’m gonna cum, gonna cum inside you—”

And just like that, you can feel his cock twitching and his hips stilling, your insides coated with his release. He curses and groans, the noises dizzying, music to your ears. Two chests heave in unison, rising and falling, rising and falling as you both catch your breath. He doesn't pull out, in fact you think he might even push himself deeper, like he's really trying to make his seed stick.

He kisses you like it's his last moment on earth, like he's trying to breathe life into you and steal the life from you all at once. Bodies still entwined, still connected.

When he pulls away, everything feels still. The record player croons, dreams of white Christmases floating through the air. The look in Eddie's eyes says everything, no need for words.

If this were a dream, you'd never want to wake up. You're pretty certain it's real, though.

[tiredsmashbros]

SMG34: LIPBITE COMIC WIP UPDATE

oh boy... i know a bunch of folks are hyped for this comic... and boy oh boy are ya'll's prayers going to be heard... kind of... butt for the celebration milestone, and granted majority are from this comic, i thought it was best to give EVERYTHING that i have currently.

starting off STRONG with what you freaks most want: the completed pages. andddd yep that's it that all that i have done LMAO. i've been fixated on my own smg4 oc: tsb, and during the end of my summer was unfortunately fucked over by some personal issues that fortunately got resolved last minute good grief the anxiety prevented me from drawing the gays sigh... aNYWAYS LINEART WIPS!!!!

here are linearts i have completed / in the progress of!! want to aim like i did in the past by finishing up lineart first, and then speed through with color + minor rendering. the reason i have a few colored is to test out what it would look polished and my god... i have improved A LOT. THESE GAY PEOPLE GIVE POWER I AM NOT KIDDING BELIEVE ME IM NOT CRAY- anyways onto wip pages!

jumpscare: tsb stickman sketches. oh yeah. this is how i sketch and i blame sensei eiichiro oda /j. and in case anyone is unable to understand it {i don't blame u LMAO}, smg4 wakes up from the dream and is startled to see mario by his bed. they have a short convo before mario leaves, and we get a job to smg4 in the bathroom trying to put up a brave face. until the moment he leaves he's stunned due to seeing smg3 at his front door. will i elaborate more on specifics or unwritten dialogue? NOPE! gotta keep secrets to make it even more enjoyable at the end!!

currently at 13 sketched pages total, but this is probably gonna be reaching towards 20-ish pages, surpassing part two, but it will depend on how i come up with how to end it. additionally to confirm there will be a PART FOUR / chapter 3, to end this story. my goal is to have it done before i finish my senior year, or at least during the summer after i graduate bc good lord who knows whats gonna happen.

and lastly, before i end this crazy update, SCRAPPED PAGESSS!!!!!

CONTENT WARNING : NSFW SKETCHES !!!! PLEASE LOOK AWAY IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR DON'T LIKE THIS TYPE OF STUFF!!!

oh boy... dont draw comics while sleep-deprived at 6am... idek what i was even aiming with this ngl other than just for fun, but i scrapped it due to not being what i had in mind for the story. if it doesn't serve a purpose or narrative, its bye bye YEAH BYE BYE THIS IS THE CLOSEST NSFW UR GONNA GET FROM ME HAHAHAHAHA- i say that despite writing a nsfw jojo wattpad smh im only confident doing it in words good lord. btw not watermarking these bc i gen don't care since they're legit scrapped {left top part was kept and completed} so idk what to do with these. im just throwing it and walkin away

now to end with this update, i can hear your question, "when will this be done?" and to answer that question: i'm not entirely sure due to my heavy focus on my smg4 oc: tsb, but my best chance is postponing my oc lore a bit and complete this before november UOIYGJDSIUHJKDWSXYUGHJKCS but we shall have too see...

if you want to join the ping list comment on this post LMAO [click]

ignore below if you're not from the tsb birthday partydddjdhdhdjd

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thurs: smg34 is canon in the tsb universe / au. though most of their encounters are platonic or best-friendy-way, they eventually express their feelings to one another and start dating 3/4’s way of the tsb storyline arc. tsb is a supporter of his friend's relationship and admires and takes inspiration from their relationship heavily to input his future love life. yearning to be in a similar position... to learn what is to really love someone... or what it's truly like to be loved...

[yuomizuu]

♡ | open arms ── kinich x reader !

synopsis: a bit of kindness can go a long way. at least, that was what the elders in kinich’s clans would often say. though in a land where war with the abyss is at a constant, he finds it difficult to truly believe such a notion. perhaps meeting you simply had the sole purpose of erasing those doubts that shrouded his mind.

additional: w.c 899 ⸝⸝⸝ content includes . . .gn reader, implied friends to lovers, character study www

( 💌 ) yuomi’s note: slowly but surely reverting back to my musical kid phase ty mr. jorge for creating epic and what better way to commend that than doing some kinich brainrot ^w^

natlan — a nation of eternal oaths and converging fires. where the sacred flame burns brighter with each chant of the epic hymn that echoes from land to sea, bringing back valiant warriors, now deemed heroes, anew.

yet beyond those blazing flames of ardent also lies a resplendent nation full of color and life. made up of magnificent gorges and valleys that stretch as far as the eye can see, vibrant fields where the saurians roam free, and rejuvenating springs that ease the weary, you'll find a unique beauty reflected within it all.

for most of his life, kinich had often found it difficult to view his homeland through the lens of the latter. since a young age, misfortune has always seemed to follow him wherever he goes, like a relentless beast chasing down its prey that's slowly becoming more and more exhausted. where no matter how far he soars, the shackles of a brutal reality always drag him back down. eventually, such experiences would sometimes render the lone saurian hunter an austere individual, whether intended or not. in his eyes, the world was but a tapestry of unbridled battles.

it was only after meeting you that, slowly but surely, kinich would gradually learn to appreciate the more charming aspects of life and even gain a sense of tenderness towards it. however, that still doesn't cause him to lower his guard completely.

"kinich, you're doing it again," you mused, the lush grass below softening your footsteps as you and your companion tread through the forest. the occasional murmur of wild animals hidden within the trees or nestled away in burrows echoes throughout.

hearing this, the male ahead of you briefly stops in his tracks to glance back at you with a puzzled look. "doing.. what exactly?"

stopping beside him, you motion at the weapon held in his hand. "gripping onto your sword so tightly that the tips of your knuckles are turning white. i swear… it's like you're expecting us to get ambushed out here any minute."

in response to your sigh though, he simply shrugs. "perhaps we will be."

"kinich, we barely took on this commission not that long ago, and we aren't even at our intended destination yet. i doubt we'll find ourselves walking into trouble so soon."

"better to be prepared for catastrophe before it strikes when you least expect it."

an air of laughter escapes from you then. "catastrophe," you repeat to yourself, head shaking in slight amusement. "we aren't exactly tackling the abyss here you know."

"no, but if we were, your lack of attentiveness would surely lead us to such." in between his pause, you catch sight of the subtle curl of his lips. "not even ajaw would be so heedless, and that certainly says something."

"you little…!"

balling your hand up into a fist, you immediately go to throw a punch on his arm that ultimately does not land when the now chuckling male catches it effortlessly. not that such a punch would've hurt him in the first place, but kinich is all for finding the humor in evading your poor attempts at attacking him. plus, you've managed to land a good punch or two on him before, although he blames ajaw for distracting him during those moments.

before you can pull your hand away from his grasp and unwillingly accept defeat this time, kinich intertwines his fingers with yours, holding your hand firmly. without saying another word, he turns to continue walking along with you at his side now.

due to your good-natured sense of self, it's often left kinich to be roped up in more conflicts than he'd usually expect: said conflicts are getting you out of trouble.

but even in the face of danger, you never cease to look for the good in others. while many have considered this trait of yours to be a display of naive foolishness, it felt like a breath of fresh air for kinich. while he was also considered to be different from those of his tribe concerning certain viewpoints and beliefs, you were an oddity that transcended beyond his own novel ideals. if you had not been born and raised in natlan, kinich would've surely mistaken you for being an outlander. even you had once jokingly said that perhaps you were actually a child of the anemo god, barbatos, that the wind had accidentally blown too far from home.

because, unlike the fierce fires that dwelt within the spirit of every warrior in natlan, your flame was akin to that of a candle: a gentle yet comforting light that simply wished to share its warmth with the world around them and kinich would do anything to keep that light of yours burning for evermore.

he'll never admit to you aloud, but he secretly thanks the anemo archon every day for sending him a beautiful soul such as yourself. your presence alone was as calming as a gentle breeze, and his love for you a sweet, sweet melody.

"speaking of ajaw, where is the little rascal anyways?" you ask, breaking the silence as you look around to find the creature that has strangely gone quiet.

"i sent him to scout ahead for a bit. he'll be back soon enough."

a soft smile creeps onto your face. you spare the male one more glance before giving his hand a light squeeze.

"of course you did."

[izzabela]

Hear me out hear me out.

A make out sesh with the masked characters while they still have their masks on plus the female characters if you’d be so kind.

Please and thank you.

Off or On? - MK1 (2023) Roster x GN!reader (scenario fic)

in which you make out with some of the characters with their masks on

a/n: guys... ermac may be cool but they still a dead body...

ship[s]: bi han, tomas, kuai liang, kitana, mileena, rain, reptile, general shao, takeda x gn! reader (scenarios)

warning(s): suggestive endings, kanon and non-kanon

=====================

Bi Han - Coming Home

- You waited anxiously for Bi Han in the main courtyard, pacing in the snow as you limped on a crutch. The snow could be heard beneath your feet as you kept pacing

- Bi Han was away on another mission, taking your place since your injury rendered you unable to perform. It pissed you off, especially since Bi Han tasked his brothers to take care of you

- Now, you pace in circles as you wait for any signal that a portal would appear from thin air

-Suddenly, flickers and sparks appear in the air as they form in a circle. Fire borders the portal, and out walks the iconic blue uniform and black and silver mask of Bi Han

- He's got blood on the fabric, also on his pants, but his hands remain clean. His mask also has bits of blood on it, but it adds to the charm of it all. He sighs as he walks out, and his mask hides the little smile on his face as you limp over to him and throw yourself in his arms

- "Welcome home, grandmaster," you say as you dig your face in his chest. Bi Han looks down at your face as you meet his eyes up above

- "Yes, thank you beloved," Bi Han says. He brushes your hair out of your face, and his eyes flutter close as he initiates a kiss

- Your lips meet something cold, but your eyes are closed and refusing to open. You pepper the mask with many kisses, and Bi Han realizes that his mask is still on

- "Apologies, my dear," he says as he takes his mask off. However, you stop him from taking it off

- "Keep it on... I like it like that," you whisper, hiding your face as it turns a little pink

- Bi Han chuckles as he sweeps you off your feet, beelining for the bedroom to give himself a proper welcome home with you

=====================

Tomas - Stay Quiet

- You and Tomas stay well-hidden in a tree, stalking the enemy for anything related to information regarding a new Earthrealm threat

- Unfortunately, nothing noteworthy appeared, and the enemy retires for the night, but not you two

- You both sit on a thick branch to rest, stretching and moving your limbs in order to stay fit and ready. Once all done, you lay down and have your head in Tomas's lap

- "You can't be tired already," Tomas gently scolds, petting your head as you giggle

- "I'm only resting, love. It'll take a lot more to wear me down," you say. Tomas chuckles, pulling you up in his lap and your eyes level with his

- Your hand cups his masked cheek, the rough material littered with scratches and dents from years of use

- However, it was an integral part of his identity, and an integral part to your physical attachment to him

- The mask perfectly hugs his lower face, and your fingers trace the silhouette of his mask. Tomas catches your hand and gently pulls it down and away

- Yours and his eyes become hazy, lidded with desire at the fact that there was some downtime for one another on this perilous mission

- You kiss the mask, and Tomas's hands roam your clothed back to pull you close. His breathing is muffled and labored, and he pulls away from you quickly to take it off

- "Wait! Don't take it off..." you tell him in a semi-hushed tone

- "Why? It will get in the way." Tomas is perplexed by your adamant refusal to his mask being off

- "I, uh..." you don't finish your sentence as you look away and cover your face. However, your neck is growing more colored as the warmth of embarrassment floods you

- Tomas just chuckles, pulling you close before his hands begin to roam under your uniform and undershirt

=====================

Kuai Liang - Hard Day

- Kuai Liang's breath was hard and labored behind his mask, taking a break from training Shirai Ryu initiates

- He sat on the wooden platform of the compound, away from all the ruckus and yelling of the initiates. The wind was blowing perfectly, and the temperature outside was nice and cool

- What was not cool, though, was how you surprised him from behind. Still, he managed to move just in time to avoid your childish antics

- "Ah! So close..." you groan as your arms crossed over one another, missing his sides as he stands in front of you

- He chuckles, "That was a good attempt, but it appears you'll need more training." You sigh, and you both sit down together

- "Hard day?" you ask, and he nods as he removes his mask for a couple of minutes to drink some water

- You chuckle, taking his mask and help him to put it back on. He thanks you once you hook the ends of the mask to his ears

- Mistakenly, though, he kisses your forehead with the mask on. His eyes are wide, embarrassed as his eyes dart away from yours shyly. You don't mind though, and grab his face to meet your eyes

- "Don't turn away from me, dear," you say softly, planting a quick kiss on the cheek part of his mask

- You both lean in, and your lips collide with the metal of his mask. You can hear him breathing hard, and feel his hands exploring your body under your uniform

- "But my mask..." he whispers, voice drowned out by the thickness of his mask

- "I quite like it..." you say with a little blush

- He picks you up, and it seems Kuai Liang's hard day becomes easier with you in his arms, together in bed

=====================

Kitana - Post-tournament

- Kitana sits alone, only the hanging wisterias and the stars her company

- Her sister was receiving treatment for Tarkat, meaning she had to fight in her place during the kombat tournament

- However, she was beaten by an Earthrealm farmer. A humble one. While she was pleased with his humility and great patience, it made her feel...

- Disappointed. A failure. She let her mother, her sister, and her kingdom down

- She sighs again as she blinks away tears that begin to roll out of her eyes. Her mask catches them, but the fabric begins to grow just a bit damp

- "Your highness?" a voice calls. She knows it, and she turns around to find a worried expression on your face

- "Ah, hello my love," Kitana sniffles as she elegantly covers her face with a fan of hers

- "Don't hide from me, dear, I heard you as I was coming to meet you," you tut and gently nag her

- She sighs yet again, not hiding her feelings as she pats the empty spot on the bench. You sit by her and hear about her performance and how it affected her

- "My dear," you cup her mask face as she begins to hiccup and cry a little more freely. "My dear, you still did exceptionally well!"

- You wipe her tears, peppering her face with kisses around her eyes and the places where her tears fell

- You then plant a kiss on her mask. While it is sturdy, it is made of Edenian fabric, so you can feel the outline of her lips

- You giggle as you pull away, but in past the tears that lined her eyes, the makeup she wore, it was clear she liked that

- "Shall I continue, dearest Kitana?" you ask, and she wraps her arms around you to pull you closer

- Your lips find hers again, and the mask gets just a little damp at how deep you're kissing the princess. Her breath is ragged, and you can hear the squeaks and little moans she lets out behind her mask

- "Someone is feeling a little better now," you tease her as you wipe your mouth

- She chuckles, wiping her eyes as she gets up from her seat with your hand in hers

- "Perhaps you can make me feel even better, my love," she drawls out, eyes half-lidded as she swings your arm

- You pray that Argus gives you the strength to hold back tonight

=====================

Mileena - Imperial Duties

- Mileena stretched on her throne, moving her arms up and down and stretching her legs out

- Hell, she took her mask off to stretch both her human and Tarkatan jaw- she was that pooped from today

- Another day, another list of imperial chores, meetings, and items to get through. Honestly, how her mother did it was a question between her and the gods

- Mileena was relishing in her role as Empress, and doing well fitting in her mother's shoes, but it was still a job

- And whether you like it or not, even queens hate their jobs

- Just as she was about to blow off some steam with more training, a servant came in the throne room with an announcement you're coming through

- You bow as the servant moves out the way, and a soft exhale left her mouth at the sight of you

- "Hello, beloved," Mileena greets you. You smile as you walk closer

- "How are you faring with your duties?" you ask as you stop at the steps of the throne. Mileena growls, eyes sharpening a bit as she pats her lap for you to sit

- You're shocked, "A-are you sure? There are people..." Mileena just huffs as she sends everyone away

- Including the Umgadi

- "E-empress!" you're shocked as she takes you in her lap. She's tall enough already, her heels make her even taller

- Not only that, but from the constant kombat and sparring she did, her muscles were well-defined and formed

- "I despise the imperial politics," Mileena mumbles into your back. You giggle as you reach behind to pat her head

- "Imperial duties, my beloved," you sympathize

- Despite the mask she wore, you could feel the littlest breath come through. Seems that bits of her Tarkat were coming through, and she normally wore it when it got bad

- Funny, since everyone knows about her disease

- You turn in her lap and meet her eyes. Her eyes crease a bit as yours does, and you give her just a quick peck on the spot of her mask where her lips are

- "Feel better now?" you ask, stroking her face gently

- "Hm..." Mileena ponders a bit, before pulling you in close once more for another kiss

- You kiss at the same spot, and the mask becomes a little damp at how badly you want her actual lips to hit yours. Your moans become a little more apparent as her slender fingers stroke up and down on your side

- "E-empress!" you cry out as her fingers find your skin under your garments. Mileena chuckles lowly, taking you in her arms as she gets off the throne

- "Beg for more, dearest. You'll need the mercy of your empress in a few short moments."

- You gulp, "Delia, give me the strength..."

=====================

Rain - Hidden

- You wait patiently in a rundown shack on the outskirts of Sun Do

- Constables aren't everywhere, since it isn't the capital, but they are around. It worries you, but they're gone as you hear floorboards creaking in the shack

- You gasp as your head snaps behind you. Your eyes search the darkness, and you can hear the warbling of water swirling in the corner. Theres also a little light illuminating there

- "Zefferro? you call the hydromage's name. The water stops, and a figure emerges from the darkness

- "My pearl..." his voice draws from behind the mask. It's soft, almost distant, but he's here in the flesh

- You throw your arms around him as you catch him in a hug. His arms wrap around your waist as you breathe his scent in. He smells like the sea, mostly due to his magic, and he smells like the outside

- "I've come bearing gifts," he whispers, forehead on yours as he shows you a bag next to his staff

- "I told you to stop stealing for me," you scold him, pushing him away as you grab the bag of food. "You must stay hidden!"

- Inside the bag, all your favorite snacks stare you in the face. Sweet candies, salty chips, even fried street foods. You couldn't stay mad at him, and you look over your shoulder with a downturned smile

- "You cannot remain angry forever, my pearl," he teases you as he closes in on you again

- You sigh once again. Rolling your eyes as you meet him in the middle. On your side, a table stands in the middle of the room, and you place the bag there as Rain wraps his hands around your waist

- "You are right, but you cannot remain out here forever," you tell him, sobering him up at his current situation

- After the fall of Seido, he had to serve time in imperial prison, but he left you behind. You had no one to protect you, a normal Sun Do resident with no powers, and you lived in constant fear that you'd be run out of your home if people learned of your connection to the former high mage

- He wanted you safe, even if it meant at the expense of himself

- "Pearl, nothing else matters but your happiness and protection," he whispers as he looks you deep in your eyes.

- There is so much love and strength in them, but pain that he'd need to leave again. To make the most of it, you kiss his mask, in the place where his lips would be. Rain is a bit shocked (slightly weirded out), but it is welcome regardless

- "Zefferro..." you say in a voice barely above a whisper. Rain's exhale is shaky, almost like he's going to cry

- He leans in again, and your lips attack his mask. His breath is ragged as his hands climb up from under your shirt, roaming your upper chest area. You moan at the feeling of his fingers, moving fluidly like the magic he controlled

- "Let me remove this," he says, but you stop him and sit on the table, pushing the mask back on his face

- "You must stay hidden, right love?" you smile shyly, and Zefferro's gaze darkens at your innocent flirtation

- The table creaks as Zefferro towers over you, and you smile as he begins to undress you where you two were supposed to eat

=====================

Reptile/Syzoth - Spar Reward

- Syzoth is panting as his arms falter from the stress of holding them up against the blue-clad princes

- "I yield!" Syzoth yells, arms giving out as he falls onto his back

- Kitana chuckles, putting her fans away on her pants and removing her mask before coming to his aid

- "Good work, Syzoth," Kitana praises, "There is room for improvement, but you are on the right track"

- Syzoth gets up with Kitana's help, and he bows before grabbing some water

- As he takes many long drinks, his ears pick up on a new set of footprints. He can also smell a familiar, grassy and dewy, scent from behind him

- He turns his head and is met with your beautiful being, dressed in formal attire as you had come from a court meeting. You smile at him, quickly bow to Kitana, then make your way to Syzoth

- "How have you been, love? Is training going well?" you ask him as you wipe down his arms, a little gesture you do every time you see him

- He nods, "I find it difficult to train in human form. I do not understand how this form is so comfortable for you..."

- You roll your eyes, "You say that like I, too, can shift form."

- Kitana takes leave from the area, allowing you two a private couple moment. As you two talk, you massage Syzoth's shoulders

- "You train so hard, you deserve a break and reward," you giggle, kissing his masked cheek

- You don't see it, but his face is warm and slightly green. If he were mortal, he'd be queasy, but it was clear he was embarrassed and flushed with emotion

- "May I have a real kiss?" he asks shyly, and you chuckle as you move in front of him to kiss him

- The mask was tough, as it protected his mouth and lips. You kiss him where his lips would be, and Syzoth closes his eyes as you wrap your arms around his neck as he places his calloused human hands on your waist

- Syzoth's breathing is pitchy and uneven, almost like he was begging for it. His mask was slick with your saliva, and you pull away

- You giggle, "Is that reward enough, love?" Syzoth hums, thinking a little bit before the grip on your waist is tightened

- "I think I'll need more," he says with a low voice, in the process of removing his mask

- But you stop him

- "Can you... keep it on love?" you ask as you gently push the mask back on his face. You can feel something poking you from underneath, and you turn pink

- Syzoth took you over his shoulder, racing back to his bedroom to relish in his reward

=====================

General Shao - On the Run

- You knock three times on a shabby wooden door, the said door opening with Reiko behind it

- "Is he here?" you ask, pulling down your hood as he ushers you inside

- Reiko nods, "We cannot be here for too long. It won't be long before someone realizes a huge man with horns and a silver mask resides here..."

- You click your tongue angrily, scowling at the fact your beloved warrior would be leaving again

- Broken out of jail by Bi Han, Reiko and General Shao were on the constant run

- Which means constant moving

- Which means practically no chance on meeting your beloved warrior

- The only possible ways would be when they were near your village

- And by near, probably two cantons over, another village to make sure you would not he caught in the crossfire of this manhunt

- That's what you're doing now, meeting your warrior in a village two places over- all for... an unknown amount of time

- "Dragonfly...." a rumbling of a voice comes from the darkness, and you see the shine of metal and deep red eyes

- "My warrior..." your voice cracked as your hands wrapped around his neck. His strong, scaly arms grips your waist and back

- His breathing is deep, trying to remember your smell before you'd have to leave again

- "Dragonfly... How I've missed you..." he said softly, gently swaying in his spot with you in hand

- You look up at him, his silver skull mask covering a good portion of his face. The only things you could see were his eyes and mouth

- "How long are you here for? Reiko did not mention the length in which you'll be here," you caress his metal face, and his hand is on top of yours as he grabs it gently

- "I do not know, my little dragonfly, but what I do know is that you're here, with me," he whispers, voice so low that not even a fly could hear it

- "Then," you say as your other hand is on his covered cheek. "Just hold me here, until you have to go..."

- "Gladly"

- Your mouths mesh together perfectly, like a beautiful symphony. The mask over his face is cool, and the little teeth that cover his mouth just barely your lips as both of your tongues fight for dominance

- His hand go lower, resting on your plush bum as he kneads it like dough. You moan, letting go of his lips quickly as you grind into his hardened member

- "Shall I take off my mask?" he asks, already doing it. You stop him just in time though

- You shake your head vehemently, "No. I want to see the warrior you are, including the mask"

- He nods, and he picks you up in his arms as he walks to the "bedroom" in the back

- He'll show you a warrior, that's certain

=====================

Takeda Takahashi - Nightly Visits

- You stood on the balcony of your apartment in Shibuya (you are my special)

- The night was warm and breezy, and you looked over the scenery of the bright city awaiting a certain black and yellow ninja

- You look down at your watch, sighing, "Late again..."

- As you turn to head inside your flat, you're shocked by the said ninja. He's decked out in his tech armor, and his iconic black and yellow skull mask is on

- Despite his scary look, his eyes are soft and crinkled on the edges, indicating a smile

- "I don't think I'm tardy this time," he teases you, and you practically tackle him in a hug

- He laughs as he catches you, hoisting you up in the air as he swings you side to side. He smells like iron, sweat, and the Japanese wilderness- probably another mission

- "When did you sneak in here, you goof?" you noogie his head, bits of his hair misplaced despite the bandana that pushed it all back

- "A couple of minutes ago. Seriously, did you not hear me? I even cleaned up a plant I knocked over out here..."

- Your head turns to the direction his faces, and you can see the decently cleaned spot of one of your plants that had fallen off its pedestal. You whip your head back at him, glaring and removing your arms from around him

- He was mega strong. Carrying you while your arms were no longer around his neck is not for the faint of muscle

- "Aww... dearest, don't be angry..." he pleads, mask nuzzling into your neck. Despite the hard, shell-like exterior, it made you ticklish as the nose of the mask dug into the sensitive spot you had

- "How can I make it up to you?" he begs, eyes sparkling. How can a guy be so cute and deadly at the same time?

- "A kiss," you say, hands grabbing his face as you give him a peck at the teeth part of his skull mask. He chuckles as he pulls you in again for another

- "Of course, dearest," he says as your lips hit his mask again

- Your lips lick and suck at the place where his lips should be, and it clearly turns Takeda on as you can feel his growing member. You try to wiggle away from it, but his grip on you is strong as he forces you to grind on it

- When you pull away, you're red and hide your embarrassed face in his shoulder. He coos, patting your head as he teases you more.

- "So, am I forgiven now, dearest?" he asks, moving your hips for you as you whine

- "If you show me more moves inside, perhaps you are," you say, matching his energy with half-lidded eyes and a flirtatiously lazy smile

- He rushes inside your flat, slamming the balcony's sliding door shut as he climbs over you on the couch

- Let's just say that he earned more than forgiveness this nightly visit

=====================

GUYS GUYS GUYS MK1 DLC ANNOUNCEMENT AKHISDIJG

okay see y'all in the next fic! love you all for getting me to 50 followers! (at the time of this fics publishing)

[dduane]

Process for the new DEEP WIZARDRY International Edition cover

(rolls up sleeves) Right. Writing work (and recurring health issues) have repeatedly pushed these pieces of work to one side for the last year and a half. Time to take a brief break from ongoing work in other universes to rectify that.

Here's the template that I'm building on: the international edition cover for So You Want To Be A Wizard. (Available only outside North America, if you're wondering what makes it international. These paperbacks use the New Millennium Edition texts—except for the international edition of Games Wizards Play [when it comes out later this year], which was written to fit into the NME timeline to begin with, and will go into its international editions with that text.)

The cover concept's straightforward. Relatively dark, desaturated backgrounds: one glowy (or somewhat glowy) thing in the foreground, in a color that pops, or in lighting that makes it stand out.

For Deep Wizardry, things get slightly complicated by the fact that so much business happens underwater. But there are some things we can work with there. A scene in which two pivotal characters square off seems like a fair bet.

So: background first. Underwater lighting...

The sea floor: sand.

Sunlight from above the water.

But naturally that's not how the bottom would look, because there are ripples on the surface...

And naturally the sea bottom isn't going to be featureless, so we need some weeds and rocks.

The distribution's not ideal on these, but that comes under "fine tuning." That can happen over the weekend.

Now for the main attractions. Nita...

...and Ed. (ETA: There are some scale issues here. Properly speaking, Ed'rashtekaresket is significantly bigger, in comparison with Nita, than he's being framed in this shot. But Nita had to be big enough to actually show on the cover... So some liberties inevitably get taken.)

Now, while this is all promising enough so far, there's a bit of a problem. Nita's not terribly visible at this point. So, time to engage in some visual jiggerypokery that will both help with that problem and do something to hint at the connection between these two.

IIRC, Nita was wearing a wizardly forcefield in this scene to provide her with air and other necessities. So let's exploit that.

In the render, I can apply to her figure what in Daz Studio parlance is called a "geoshell": a kind of skintight digital overskin to which special effects can be applied: such as light emission. (And Nita's hair will get one too.) Since everything else in the scene is cool-colored, this light is going to need to be warmer, in (at the very least) a golden range. (Or rosy. May be playing with that for a bit.)

...But obviously we can't leave her looking like that. So what I get to do now is lose the rest of the scene and render Nita separately, in the same position but with different, less blued-out lighting...

...then add her figure back into the scene, over the geoshelled version (which can be clone-brushed out later).

...So when we slot that imagery into the paperback cover template, after some tweaking, this is what we get.

...Still some things to correct or refine here. (Such as the main body of back cover text, as I haven't written the new copy yet. And the quotes may want tweaking: the NYTimes review [which the WaPo picked up] had some lines that might work better.) Colors, composition, etc etc, can all use some final touches. But I think we're most of the way there.

With any kind of luck, this edition will be available online in paperback and ebook formats for the non-North American audience this time next week. (I'm still considering whether I want to offer hardcovers on these as well.)

(sigh) Now I want some tea. And then, tomorrow maybe, on to the int'l edition of High Wizardry...

ETA 2: off @softness-and-shattering's question:

If I may ask, is it not your publishers job to do this work? Is this a continuation of the thing where authors now seem to be expected to do their own marketing too, or are you doing the new millenium editions 'on your own' or similar?

I'm doing them on my own. While there are numerous foreign-language editions of the original YW books, the only publisher to use the NME texts so far (for books 1-3) has been Lumen éditions in France, and I'm not clear whether those editions are still in print.

Whatever their status, that still leaves me with a lot of countries where I can publish. And if that job's going to get done—lacking other publishers' interest, which my agents would handle—It falls to me to take the work forward. Such are the wonders of our age that I no longer have to wait for a publisher to turn up. And should something suddenly happen for publishers to get interested (like a TV series or whatever) then i can easily withdraw my own editions and let my agents do deals with them.

Meanwhile, why (as we say) leave money on the table? There are other English-speaking countries on the planet where the YW books can be marketed (and more countries still where—when there's cash to spare to hire the necessary creative talent—translations might not do too badly). So I might as well get on with it! I've got groceries to buy and bills to pay like everybody else... :)

(And just pausing here to point at the page pinned to the top of my feed. If you want to help with those groceries, there's a good place to start: the ebook bundles are still at their pre-holiday sale prices! ...Unless you're in the UK. [I'm so sorry about Brexit, folks, but there's nothing I can do about that...])

[urhoneycombwitch]

heated touch

Eddie Munson x Reader summer edition.

foreword: “but Lulu it’s not even summer yet how come you wrote a pool fic” okay first of all global warming. it’s absolutely summer rn. hush up and eat up. 👼

cw: R wears bikini top + skirt, Eddie is Down Bad™️, and is also touchstarved, brief use of the awkward miscommunication trope, R’s baby hairs mentioned but no color or texture, weed mention (Robin is a stoner canon change my mind u can’t), R uses sunscreen (no skin color mentioned), implied plus-sized reader

wc: 3.4k

___

It’s the first real, normal, non-apocalyptic summer that anyone can remember having in a long, long time. 

With the heat index at a sizzling 97 today, various members of the Party have taken over Steve’s half-shaded, half-pool extravaganza of a backyard. The kids are jumping in and out of the bright blue water, splashing and cackling, while you and Robin stretch out like house cats in a sunny patch of grass nearby.

You, mere yards away, in a swim top and sweet little pleated tennis skirt. All that lovely skin on display, glistening in the light. 

And Eddie is sulking, indoors, frozen with lovesickness. There’s condensation dripping from the forgotten can of beer in his left hand; through the window above the kitchen sink, Eddie observes the scene in mournful silence.

“Christ, you really are a pussy.”

Eddie whips around with a glare that would level a normal human being, shushing Steve with a panicked fierceness that only makes the guy chuckle harder at Eddie’s expense. 

“Y’know,” Steve continues with the insults, dipping into the fridge and reappearing with a Fanta and a shit-eating grin- “You might want to try leering like a creep from the garage window. That way no will hear you jack off-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Harrington.” Eddie interrupts with a grade-A scoff and eye roll combo, rivaling Steve’s own bitchiness. “Wasn’t your last successful date back in high school, like, six years ago when you had better hair?”

Steve doesn’t even flinch. With condescending sympathy, he sighs and shakes his head of (beautiful-even-when-wet, damn him) hair, snapping the soda can tab with a flourish. “Might wanna hurry up and make a move. Can’t suppress my charm forever just ‘cuz you’re too chicken to man up- it’s not natural to keep all of this hidden away.”

Steve gestures to the broad expanse of his golden chest, dark thicket of hair sitting proud, the scars that he seems to have no qualms over showing off criss-cross along the flex of muscle at his sides. 

Realistically, Eddie knows Steve wouldn’t go after you, not even as a joke. It would defy the honorable and unmentioned Bro Code they’ve lived by ever since Eddie almost died in an alternate hell dimension and Steve valiantly pulled him back topside. 

Teasing, though? It’s Harrington’s godgiven right- especially since Eddie’s so hopelessly in love. It’s almost too easy to get him riled up, to light a fire under his ass to maybe finally get the situation some forward movement. 

Flames lick at the kindling. Steve walks backwards, shooting Eddie one last finger gun and wink before rejoining the boisterous outdoors crowd. Through the crack Steve’s left in the sliding glass door, Eddie can hear that asshole’s cheery voice ring out- “Lookin’ good, ladies!”- and your subsequent peal of laughter. 

Eddie can feel the heat through the black denim at his ass, sweat rushing to prickle at his pits underneath the light layer of tanktop- the one with a high-necked collar and sides long enough to conceal most of his scars. 

Not that he’s trying to hide ‘em, perse... they’re just sensitive to the sun. Plus his black jeans have holes in them, so they totally count as summer attire. He’s basically wearing shorts right now. Steve can suck it.

“Suck it, Steve,” Eddie grits out to no one for good measure, before taking a steadying gulp of beer and stepping bravely out beyond the glass doors. 

It’s shockingly bright, sun bouncing off the surface of the pool and rendering Eddie momentarily blind; he shields his eyes with his free hand in time to catch the tail end of Sinclair’s mid-air somersault.

“Five,” Max calls out, lounging safely out of the splash zone, waves from Lucas’s cannonball lapping at her pink donut pool float. Thick black prescription sunglasses take up half her face, expression unmoved even as her boyfriend splutters in the deep end.

“Are you kidding?” Lucas is indignant as he huffs and treads water. “Gimme at least an eight. Did you even see the flip?” 

“I saw it.” Unimpressed, Max shrugs a freckled shoulder. While Lucas devolves into swearing out his complaints (already with one elbow planted on the concrete to get out and make another attempt at a higher score), Max zeros in on Eddie, one brow arched high in searing appraisal. “You gonna swim with your boots on, too?”

“I’m- shut up, Red. Nice donut.”

Max’s triumphant smirk confirms what Eddie already knows (he totally bombed that comeback), but if there’s one thing in the world Eddie’s good at, it’s Pretending. A trait forged and perfected over the years of being reigning Dungeon Master; it’s served him well during D&D sessions, and when running from the law. 

And it’s coming in handy now, too, as Eddie walks past Steve (half-snoozing in a lounger) and the table of Baby Byers and Wheeler Jr. (playing an intense game of Slapjack), pretending to be totally Normal and Chill as he approaches you and Robin, a ways off from the bustling pool.

Go with what you know, Eddie tells himself, because if he focuses for more than two seconds on the fact that you’re stretched prone, sunlight filtering through the big tree overhead and illuminating the soft curves of your thighs just visible under the Spandex hem of your skirt, he’s gonna have a pressing issue that will be anything but pretend.

Robin’s lying on her back on the beach towel next to yours, a tattered copy of Pride and Prejudice held up close, obscuring her field of vision. Using this to his advantage, Eddie crouches on his haunches, then leans in to press his cold can of beer to the tender arch of Robin’s bare foot.

She yelps, kicking out on instinct (which Eddie was expecting). He manages to take the brunt of the hit with a forearm block, but doesn’t see the paperback coming until it’s hitting the side of his face.

“Ow, christ, Buckley,” he moans, slumping to sit on Robin’s towel, hamming up the victim act for your sake and sympathy while Robin snatches up her book and gives him another solid thwack, pages fluttering.

At the commotion, you’d lifted your head from your arms, leaning into them now with the weight of your upper half. Eddie tries really, really valiantly to not stare at your swimsuit top (practically a bra), and instead distracts himself with the fact that you were giggling. At him. 

Give the boy an inch and he’ll take a mile, Wayne is wont to say of his nephew. Never been truer than now, as Eddie gets drunk off your attention and humors, crowding familiarly and rudely into Robin’s space just to piss her off more and to keep your twinkling-eyed focus.

“Yech.” Robin gags. “I’m not gonna sit here and watch you two flirt up close. I just ate lunch.”

Eddie’s worried that comment will embarrass you into pulling away but apparently, you’re not shying from the accusations of his affection anymore. 

A snort and a sardonic eye roll is what you dish back, and Eddie latches on, delighted to have a Shit Starter in Crime, pushing an honest hand to his chest in faux-shock- “Flirting? Me? I’d never. What an accusation. You’re getting crazier by the day, Buckley.”

The peal of laughter that ripples from you is like a song, vibrating the frequencies between Eddie’s ears, scrambling all the channels with its aching beauty.

Goddamn addictive, he thinks, as the white-out of his hearing fades back to normal. A light, warm wind rustles through the big oak overhead, leaves shushing together; allowing himself a glance at your stretched form, Eddie’s (un)luckily close enough to see the smattering of goosebumps rise on the skin of your arms. 

To observe the way sweat curls the baby hairs near your temple, at the nape of your neck. To see the little creases near the corner of your eyes as you close them, turning your face into the wind, a quiet expression of summer bliss on your face.

Eddie could sit here for hours like a (happy) creep just taking in every minute detail, but Robin starts bitching at him about the weed he still owes her from ages ago, poking her cold toes into the holes of his jeans, mischievous and irritating.

Eddie smacks at her ankles until she pulls them back, matching her argument point for point; it’s not about the weed, of which he’d gladly give- it’s about keeping that smile on your face even as you sit up to start digging through your nearby tote bag.

“And plus,” Robin’s saying, sticking a finger into the dimple of Eddie’s left cheek like the obnoxious little sister he never asked for, “You scratched the everliving hell out of my bike last month when you insisted you were sober enough to ride it home.”

“What’d you want me to do, drink and drive? Not very Just Say No Club of you.” Eddie is operating on autopilot with his responses, absorbed in the way your delicate fingers move inside the canvas of the bag. 

“I wanted the same thing that I currently. Want.” Two more ice-cold prods of her toes into the same spot of his exposed knee. “Three grams, pre-rolled, plus an apology.”

Eddie is about to give in with the promise of the rest of his sizable stash and a bike waxing regimine with his own spit thrown into the mix to get Robin off his case, when the sound of your voice cuts through the bickering. 

In your hand, held aloft and out between the three of you, is a bottle of sun lotion. Your focus is fixed on shaking displaced items back into your bag, not looking as you make a request:

“Babe, would you do my back?”

Eddie moves on instinct before he even has time to process the ask, reaching out towards the palm tree-printed plastic- but for some reason, Robin’s hand collides with his mid-air. Goddammit, Buckley. 

His annoyance at Robin quickly gives way to confusion, then roiling embarrassment as two sets of eyes whip to him, your mouth slightly parted in an o shape and Robin making a squeak of awkward alarm.

You were talking to Robin. Obviously, you were talking to your girl friend to rub you down with lotion. 

Jesus christ, Munson, get a grip.

Eddie lets go at the same time Robin and you draw back, the three of you stammering half-sentences over the thunk of the bottle hitting the ground.

“I meant- sorry, god, sorry, I meant Robin-”

“Fucking- jesus, of course you meant Robin, I’m sorry-”

“Oh god! I can do it! It’s fine!”

There’s a brief pause where all of you stare down at the bottle, as if it holds some great mystery of the world. Or is perhaps concealing a time-bending device that will let Eddie go back twenty seconds to kick himself in the head.

He’s just about to make some lame excuse to fuck off forever when Robin beats him to it, jumping up with a spastic, nervous energy. “Um. Steve’s calling me. So I gotta… see what that dingus wants. You’re good?”

This last part, directed at you; with a quick, reassuring nod, you say “I’m good.” 

Seemingly recouped from the whole debacle, you squint up at Robin- “Eddie’s got it,” and then fixing Eddie with a disarmingly beatific smile- “Right?”

It’s like looking into the sun. Eddie is pretty sure his neurons haven’t been firing properly ever since he caught a glimpse of your thighs earlier. By some miracle, he manages coherence- “Uh-huh. Yep. Right.”

“O-o-kay.” Robin lets the word expand, then gives a dorky two-finger salute and makes for the empty pool lounger next to a snoring Steve.

Then it’s just you and Eddie, blinking at each other from your seats on opposing towels, until you lean to pick up the bottle, this time handing it directly to him. 

An invitation, paired with a smile that still pulls at the corners of your mouth.

Someone jumps noisily into the pool, a few scattered cheers accompanying the crashing water. Red’s distant “Nine-five!” echoes through the backyard and this, of all things, spurs Eddie into unfreezing.

He takes the proffered lotion, shifting to kneel in the strip of grass not covered by either of your towels, waiting and watching for your approval. 

Like something out of a dream, you lower yourself face-down again, hands tucking themselves sweetly into the space between the hollows of your shoulders and the ground. Eyes half-lidded as Eddie scooches closer.

“Just on your back?” He asks, soft, like you’re a deer about to spook (although based on the way his hands are trembling, Eddie’s the more likely candidate for chickening out and running for the hills).

“Mhm. Please.”

Fumbling under your sidelong gaze, Eddie wiggles all the rings from his fingers, stuffing them into his pocket. 

“Too cold,” he explains, feeling fidgety from your eye contact, rubbing his hands together briskly to bring out the warmth and give them something to do other than shake.

Eddie pines for a cigarette, a quick burst of nicotine to steel his nerves. Instead, he picks up the sunscreen, squeezes a quarter-sized puddle into his left hand, and shifts to kneel close as he can without actually bumping his knees into your side.

The sunscreen is already warmed from being out in the heat of the day, so Eddie starts on your left shoulder. Dips his fingers into the puddle, spreads a thin layer on the blade of your shoulder, and rubs it in. 

At first, his touch is gentle and apprehensive, but when your eyes drift shut on the second pass of his fingers, Eddie gets a bit bolder. On your right shoulder, another layer of suncream goes on, but this time, Eddie lets his thumb slip into the grooves under your shoulder blade. 

He runs his thumb along the stripe of muscle next to your scapula, still with pressure light enough to feign keeping to his task, thrilled when you make a soft noise of satisfaction.

“I would’ve asked you, y’know.” 

Eddie pauses, hand resting at the top of your spine, the skin of your neck freshly glistening and tacky from his work. “Asked me what?”

“To do this.” You shrug a shoulder, pointing in a roundabout way at your back. “I just… I didn’t think you’d say yes.”

“Why the hell would I say no to this?” The words are out before Eddie can bite them back and find a much more cool and normal thing to say. He can feel your chuckle, the vibrations of it, the way it causes the muscles in your upper back to move.

Eddie tries to cover his lameness by refocusing on the mission he’s been given, like a heroic knight bestowed with a great honor by a fair maiden… on second thought, he’s got to cut out the fantasy metaphors. This situation is wild and tempting enough as-is without adding a potentially very horny layer to the mix.

“You can get under my top, if you want,” you murmur, lashes dark against your cheek in profile, voice all honeyed and fair-maiden-like. 

Eddie swallows hard. Distributes the rest of the lotion between two palms, rests them just below the black fabric, and then slides up. Underneath the top, your skin is the same- smooth and pliant and sweet. 

“Feels nice,” you whisper, eyes still closed in reverie, sounding sleepy and relaxed.

Eddie is entranced with the way your muscles move under his touch. He applies a bit more pressure to the mid-back area of your spine, dragging his thumbs down on either side. You make another noise, this one closer to a moan, and Eddie’s really glad he’s practiced at the skill of Boner Killer On Command because he wouldn’t dare sully the atmosphere with ill-timed arousal (though his limits are certainly being tested today).

“Sorry about the callouses,” he says, a bit of self-deprecation to fill the air because he’s gotta focus on something other than the way his hand fits perfectly in the center of your low back.

“S’okay. I like them, actually. You’re good with your hands.”

Not for the first time, Eddie is relieved that you’re not looking at him- his ears are burning, on their way to bright pink. Same with his cheeks. “Cool, yeah. That’s good. Um. I play guitar, y’know so… I get around.”

After cringing at himself, Eddie watches the apple of your cheek round upwards with a smile, a sharp flash of your teeth as you say, “I can tell.”

There’s an amiable quiet that falls over the two of you; in the background, splashes and chattering from the pool group float in the air, muted by the warm winds shushing through overhead branches. 

At one point, Eddie realizes he’s covered your whole back in sunscreen and is now just trailing his fingertips over the notches of your spine, starting low and ending near your neck, following the path down again in a loop. If you mind, you don’t say anything, seemingly sated by his touch. 

There’s an aching behind Eddie’s ribs. It squeezes at his heart, makes his next breath pinch- he wants to touch you like this all the time. He’s already hooked. 

All too soon, you’re peeling yourself from the blanket, sitting up with a sheepish smile. Eddie can’t tell if you’re getting shy on him from the touch alone, or if it’s the fact that he’s the one that’s been touching. 

Either way, if Eddie could find a more chill way to say “I’d like to do that every minute for the rest of my life if you’ll let me,” he’d say it to appease any worries you may have. 

Bare knees pulled to your chest, you gesture at the bottle still in Eddie’s hand. “I could… do you, if you wanted?”

Eddie scratches the back of his neck, through the heated curtain of curls. “Nah, that’s okay. My abs won’t be ready to debut until the end of summer. 1993.”

He’s expecting at least a chuckle out of you, but instead, he’s fixed with a kind, all-knowing look. 

The two of you are face to face, your shin close enough to brush Eddie’s ribs as you state, “Not a fan of the heat, are you.”

“What gave it away?” Eddie gestures animatedly at the humidity-fed frizz of his hair, then shakes his head like a wet dog. 

When you catch one of his curls between two fingers he freezes, heart slamming to a pause as you loop it around a knuckle.

“I have some deep conditioner at my place. Could help you out if you wanna come by some time.”

Mere inches from his cheek as you lean in, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying to memorize how you smell- coconutty from the lotion, a bit sweaty, a faint hint of deodorant and the vanilla perfume you spray in the mornings. 

He’s never been this close before. 

He feels electric. Or more accurately, like he’s been electrocuted, and he’s waiting for you to restart his heart. 

“Does that sound good, Eddie? You, me, some hair care… maybe a movie? I can steal some from Family Video. I know a guy.”

At his ear now, your voice is low as you wrap a hand around the inside of Eddie’s arm- it’s his turn to break into goosebumps. “Oh yeah? Willing to steal for me already?”

This earns him a stellar laugh, head tipped back to show the curve of your perfect neck. You shove at him playfully, and he’s about to snap up your hand to bite as payback when your name is yelled from across the yard.

“Come on, we need another unbiased judge!” Max waves urgently from the pool as Lucas and Dustin get into an increasingly loud argument over the Olympic grading system. 

“Goddamn kids.” This comes out much more growly than Eddie intended; you just chuckle and squeeze his arm before pulling away to stand.

Eddie mourns the loss of your body heat until you extend a hand towards him, saying, “Let’s go humor our goddamn kids, and we can talk about dinner afterwards.”

It’s like your hand is made to fit inside Eddie’s. He follows close on your heels, heart thudding a steady, overjoyed rhythm once more. 

[starhvney]

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐔𝐏

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mcd garroth, gene, laurance, travis

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff? literal hurt/comfort

𝐂𝐖: mentions of injuries but no in-depth descriptions

𝐀/𝐍: me when i spend more time finding the pictures for a good picture header than actually writing. i also did not proofread at all so i'm so sorry for any typos or hiccups in my writing

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇

the fight has long since been over, yet after searching every corner of the village, you still saw no sign of the head guard. as your last resort, you hurriedly rush across the ruined plaza, climbing over rubble as you descend into the village mines. 

you find him there, tucked back in the main tunnel and slumped over as he holds a cloth over a gash on his side. his gloved hand fumbles with some medic supplies, though his shaky hold renders himself useless as they tumble to the floor.

“garroth,” you sigh, relieved but also annoyed by his insistence on never asking for help.

he flinches, caught off guard by the blood loss dulling his senses. even now, he stoically has every layer of his armor on except for his chest plate, even his helmet stays firmly against his skull.

“i’ll be alright, my lady,” he starts, though the pained wince he lets out a moment later immediately discounts him for his claims. 

quietly, you approach him, kneeling in front of him and pulling the first aid items out of his grasp. while you can’t see his face, you hear him inhale sharply to protest against you. you silence him with a stern glare, to which he sinks back into the uncomfortable stone without a word. 

“you are much too stubborn,” you chastise, reaching to his other hand to remove it from his wound. “your pride will get you killed.”

you cringe as he peels away the blood-soaked cloth to reveal a deep gash along his side. it's a slash and not a stab, thankfully, but it would still need stitches.

it seems he already knew that, based on the thread and needle he had yet to even tie together. while maneuvering the stitching thread into the eye of the needle, you listen to his shallow and shaky breathing underneath his helm.

“aren’t you having trouble breathing with that?”

“…no.”

your eyes dart up, narrowing at the eye slits of the metal in front of you. 

“it's just me. i understand you want to hide your identity, but when it comes to your health—“

you lift your hands up to his helm, firmly placing them on each side before pausing, waiting to hear for any protests. when you hear none, you slowly lift the metal, sliding it off of his head and revealing what was underneath.

for just a moment you freeze, eyes locking onto his. his hair was a stunning sandy blonde that brushed over his brow line in soft curls. they stuck to his forehead, that had a sheen of sweat over it. you could tell his stunning eye color was dulled over by pain, eyelids drooping and his lips pale.

“…there,” you set the helm down, focusing back on his wound. “now you can breathe better, right?”

“…yes.” he winces, leaning back on your command and revealing his wound again.

carefully, you stitch the wound closed, lifting his linen shirt up enough to allow yourself to wrap the bandaging around his stomach. when you’re done you sit back, wiping your hands against your already dirtied clothes and releasing a deep sigh.

you look up, watching as his jaw clenches and his eyes dart to your feet. he still looks pale, but he at least looks more stable than before.

“garroth.” you call, voice barely above a whisper.

his eyes trail up to yours, hesitant and full of a strange sort of guilt.

“you did a good job protecting me. protecting the whole village. but even the strongest need help,” you take his hand in yours. “at least let one person take care of you in return. i was really worried about you.”

he doesn’t say anything, but you know he understands, swallowing down his deep-set need for independence to put himself in your shoes for a moment.

“there’s a cot down here. why don’t you rest, and i’ll bring you back some food and drink to help you regain your strength.”

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄

you knew something was strange, when the beginnings of the evening cricket chirps grew silent, a heavy feeling settling around your cottage. despite the uneasiness and natural instinct that told you to run, you instead looked around the area for the source.

despite the lack of night critters, you notice a strange fluttering of butterflies dispersing from the other side of some shrubbery. you push through the leaves and twigs, noticing the further you advanced the more wilted the plants became. 

on the other side was a man in strange armor you hadn’t seen before. the metal must’ve been smoldering hot, somehow, because the grass around it wilted and burned away from its touch. despite the strange sense of uneasiness in your chest, you take a few steps towards the man, his form slumped over a large stump.

“sir? are you alright?”

he flinches, hand moving unnaturally quick towards a large sword you didn’t realize he had by his side until now. you stumble back with a startled gasp, hands raising in surrender. dark circles line deep blue eyes, black hair stuck on his face where blood poured from a wound.

“i’m not an enemy!” you quickly say. “that injury looks bad, i can help. i’ll go get some bandages for you.”

you quickly run back to your cottage, retrieving your satchel of medical supplies before he could say a word. whoever he was, he seemed dangerous. and the faster you help him the quicker he’ll be on his way and the less likely anything else dangerous is led to you. when you return, he’s still there, though he’s propped himself up in a sitting position and leaning back against the stump.

“i don’t need any help.”

“well those wounds look pretty deep. and… you’re the one who ended up near my home, so,” you carefully approach him, heart beating erratically fast in your chest. it felt like you were approaching a predator—a wild animal pretending to be a man. “the faster i help you, the less likely whatever did this to you comes near my garden.”

his gaze stayed trained on you for a moment, piercing into you as you kneel next to him. his eyes were a beautiful shade, yet so strangely unsettling and dull. as you glance at them, it almost appears as no light shines from them at all. he smirks, a strangely amused laugh leaving his lips like he found your assistance to be completely entertaining.

“ah, there’s the motive.”

you ignore him, instead using a cloth to wipe away the blood from the side of his head.

“what’s your name?”

“what’s yours?”

you restrain a sigh, biting back the sarcastic quip you wanted to return and instead reciting your name back to him.

“…gene.”

“nice to meet you… gene. how did you get this hurt? are you…” you glance down at his strange armor and sword. “a guard, our some kind of soldier…?”

he says nothing.

“alright, then,” you clear your throat. “no more questions.”

you finish cleaning his head and neck, where another wound was, and carefully place the healing ointment you made from your own magicks herbs. trying to ignore the strange sense that you needed to run away, you finish up your work by placing bandages over the gashes… that seemed to already be healing pretty quickly. 

“there. you’re set.”

a small, “thanks,” leaves his lips, and the two of you met eyes. he seems to contemplate something, before another huffing out another amused laugh.

“you’re very…naive. you should be careful.”

“…what?”

his hand is suddenly in front of your face, cold fingers touching against the skin of your forehead and dragging down, brushing your eyelids closed. somehow your eyes grow impossibly heavy, your head too much to hold up as you slump over, landing in the arms of ge…

…of…who again?

the birds chirp the next morning as you groggily wake from what felt like a coma of slumber. you feel like there was something important you needed to take care of, but you must’ve fallen asleep early last night. you must’ve been exhausted… you don’t even remember carrying yourself into bed. 

oh, that’s right! you had to help… you had to… what was it you were up to last night?

your slump from where you sit, blinking at the floor in confusion.

it must not have been too important.

𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

it’s terrifying, looking into blood red eyes where iridescent pale blue ones had been before. it had only been a split moment—you two were ambushed, a thief’s sword grazing against your cheek and knocking you backwards in surprise as a whole gang of them emerged from the tree line.

laurance suffered an arrow wound, but before you could panic it wasn’t his blood that soaked the ground… but instead the whole dozen of men who tried to attack you.

you stare horrified as dark red drips from him, unsure if it was his own or from the bodies around him. he’s breathing, so heavily, face turned away from you as he stills in the center of his carnage. a few moments pass like this, your eyes trained cautiously on the dulled shade of caramel hair that lays messily on his head. 

“…laurance?” you call out quietly, your voice barely a timid whisper.

he turns to look at you, eyes red and glazed over as he begins to trudge towards you. something about the dark circles and his paled skin splattered with blood frightened you, your uncertainty heightened by his silence and now much taller frame. he towers over you, breaths heavy and sword still tightly gripped in his hand.

“it’s me!” you shakily yelp, regretting your reaction immediately when he flinches, eyes widening.

“…and i’m me.” he frowns, his larger hand brushing against your injured cheek. “you’re scared of me.”

“…no.”

he stares at you, eyebrows pinched together. he doesn’t call you out on your bluff with words, but the look he gives you is enough.

“i felt that something was off. i should’ve done something sooner.”

“it caught me off guard, too. we’re both tired, so—“

“i’m supposed to protect you. now you’re hurt.”

“it’s only a graze, laurance.” you silence his anger towards himself, your hands reaching up to cup his cheeks. “you’re hurt more than me.”

you reach in your satchel, pulling out some healing ointment and bandages you were sure to pack for the journey. he begins to shake his head, hand engulfing yours as he stops you.

“i’ll heal on my own. you know that shadow knights—“

“this will help you heal faster. and help with the pain.”

he sighs, taking a seat on a nearby rock and complying with your insistence despite the lack of need for it.

there were only a few gashes that were deep enough to not be sealed up immediately, dark red blood oozing from the lacerations. you put your focus on cleaning each one, swiping on the ointment and wrapping the bandages carefully onto his wounds.

when you look back up at his face those calm blue eyes have returned, staring back at you as they dart over your face. he takes the ointment from your hands, and with two fingers he motions for you to come closer.

you do so without much hesitation, allowing his finger to dip into the ointment and dab it across your injured cheek. he lingers his hand there for only a few moments longer, before looking away and putting your things back into your satchel.

“thank you, laurance.”

“stay right next to me,” he looks back up, tone and eyes insistent. “for the rest of the way. okay?”

it’s more of a demand than a request, but you simply nod in agreement, unable to refuse him.

“okay.”

𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒

“take your shirt off.” you sigh, sitting next to travis as you dig through your bag.

“woah!” he laughs, a cheeky smirk stretching across his face. “way to be direct.”

you pause, glaring over at him with an unimpressed stare.

“i will add to those injuries. just do it—“

“okay! okay!” he raises his hands up, wincing at the pull of his skin against his wounds. “ow…”

he begins to peel his bloodied tunic from his skin, wincing as he attempts to lift it over his shoulders. you restrain another sigh before you take a glance down at his injuries, instead feeling pitiful at the state he was in. standing in front of him, you help him slide the fabric over his head and off his arms, leaving his whole torso exposed. 

a few previous scars litter across the skin, dipping into different divots of chiseled muscles. he was well built—he had to be for the large claymore he wielded—yet he was still lean, muscles standing out due to the low body fat he had.

“like what you see?” he smirks, catching your gaze that lingered a bit too long on his bare skin. 

“no.”

he flinches at your quick refusal, jutting out his bottom lip.

“ouch, you’re so harsh.”

“why would i like seeing all of these wounds you’re covered in? you’re lucky it wasn’t any worse or you wouldn’t even be conscious right now,” you scold. “what were you thinking?”

“so you were worried about me…” he peeks up at you through his lashes, lips once again turning up in a satisfied smirk.

you roll your eyes, not saying anything as you begin to clean up his wounds. you can never catch a break with this guy, can you? despite his annoying flirtatious jokes, though, you really couldn’t help the worry and care you felt for him. 

he hisses between clenched teeth as you accidentally press against a laceration too harshly, one of his hands reaching up to clasp against your wrist.

“a little more gentle, sweetheart.”

“sorry,” you mutter, shaking your head as you realize what you were thinking.

he doesn’t say anything, instead going quiet as you continue to patch him up. it’s not until you’re dabbing on ointment and healing potions that he speaks up again, his voice strangely soft and unsure.

“you were worried about me, right?”

you pause, glancing down at him. his eyes are strangely… pleading, cool green shining as he searches for an answer on your face. 

you gently place your hand on the back of his head, running your fingers through the soft white strands and pulling him forward and pressing a kiss against his forehead.

“yes, i was. don’t be so reckless next time.”

when you pull away, his cheeks have turned a soft shade of red and his eyes have widened, practically bulging from their sockets. slowly, his jaw opens, mouth gaping as he starts to speak.

“you–”

“shut up.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[zvdvdlvr]

‘mama’ + Spencer Reid

Author’s note: This gif made me think of single dad!Spencer for some reason.

     “Whaddaya got, little love?” You ask Louisa as she runs over to where you were laying with Spencer on the couch. Spencer draws random equations and shapes on your back (it soothes you even though you don’t actually know what he’s tracing) as the television plays the movie ‘Interstellar’ quietly- a favorite of yours.

     Louisa brandishes a mildly crinkled paper and shoces it into your faces. “I drew us!” She points to a tall stick figure with a brown curly mop for hair, saying: “That’s you, daddy.” She points to the littlest stick figure on the paper with black lines (arms) connecting to the end of Soencer’s black line arm on the paper to another adult sized stick figure labeled ‘Mommy’. 

     “That’s me,” Louisa informs the two of you solemnly as she points to the littlest figure. She has her dad’s curly brown hair in the picture.

     You hold your breath. You had been dating Spencer for almost a year now. Louisa was his perfect baby girl from a pregnancy with a woman he’d gotten to comfortable with. The thing was, Louisa hadn’t called you ‘mom’ yet, always sticking with y/n/n- something she started saying after hearing Spencer call you that once. Truthfully, you were fine with little Lou calling you by your name. Even though she didn’t know her real mommy, you didn’t want to force her to call you mom. It was a whole mess of emotions, really, but you wanted Louisa to feel comfortable calling you her mother instead of feeling obligated.

     So when she did point at the smiling stick figure with (your colored hair) and a big smile and say, “That’s you, mama!” you felt your heart swell.

     “That’s beautiful, Lou,” you told her with a shaking voice. You reached over and brushed a curl behind her hair.

     Spencer felt a similar surge in his chest as he watched his little girl smile brightly at her ‘mama’. “Go put it on the fridge,” he told her. “Then come back and snuggle with us.”

     You waited until Louisa left the room to look up at Spencer with teary eyes. “Did you-? Are you-? I love that girl so much,” you whispered to him as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck and bury your nose into is chest. “She called me mama, Spence. You heard it right?”

     Spencer’s large hands came to settle on your waist. “I heard it, angel, I heard it. She was actually calling you that the other day.” At your disbelieving gasp, he laughed. “She said, ‘Daddy, is mama going to have dinner with us again?’ and I asked her who mama was and she rolls her eyes and goes ‘y/n, daddy. Who else?’”

     An embarrassingly tearful laugh escapes you. “I’m going to cry,” you state. 

     “You already are,” Spencer points out, making you sigh exasperatedly. “I’m just saying that you are!”

     “Louisa! Daddy’s being mean to me!” You shout loudly, hearing loud shrieks of laughter followed by giggling. “Hurry up so we can tickle him!”

     “Don’t be mean to mama, daddy!” Louisa screams as she barrels into the room. She takes a flying leap and you catch her in your arms. “You said the being mean is bad,” reprimanded the little girl. 

     You could see Spencer trying not to laugh as Louisa wags her finger at him. “I didn’t do anything, Lou-girl!”

     “Don’t listen to him, Louisa! He was saying how mama smelled bad!” You tell her, holding her close in your arms. “I think we should tickle him, Lou…”

     The little girl squirms in your arms as she giggles deviously. “I think we should tickle you, daddy,” she says. You don’t have a moment to think before she flies out of your arms and starts jabbing her fingers into Spencer’s torso.

     You almost fall backwords with laughter as Louisa immediately is rendered immobile when Spencer retaliates. The brown-haired, laughing blurs in fromt of you are your whole world and you couldn’t be more grateful for moments like these.

[solarisfortuneia]

alhaitham x reader. wc: 540. fluff. pt 3. of '—the scribe, in love.' pt. 2.

alhaitham always, always knows when something decides to worm its way into your mind. he can practically see it wiggle around, the gears in your skull turning and the cogs moving as you chew on your fingernail. the air around you almost buzzes with the energy of the idea bouncing in your head.

he watches you carefully throughout the day, one eye on his work and another on you. you keep stealing what he's sure you think are covert glances, and he bites back the urge to make a remark. instead, he decides to wait. 

when you approach him in the evening, two books tucked to your chest, he knows he'll find out soon enough. 

the countdown begins when you bring his head to your lap while he reads. with every page you flip above his head, he mentally marks another number.

three. two. one. 

“alhaitham?” 

there it is. he hums in response, eyes never parting from the words in his page.

“how do you feel about nicknames?”

now that, he did not expect. as he chooses his next words carefully, he carefully studies the glint in your eyes. idly, he wonders why you asked.

"i have no opinions about them," he says, after a few moments of silence. 

"so," you stretch out the 'o' sound, "can i call you my darling?"

"unexpected." he blinks. "but i don't see why not," odd, but a harmless request.

"can i call you sweetheart too, then?" 

"call me whatever you like," he sits up, deciding to get a drink of water. he only just takes a sip when you pipe up next.

"what about calling you my snookums?"

he chokes.  you and your timing. "does that word even exist in the dictionary?" he asks, attempting to nonchalantly distract you. 

goodness knows that if he let even a single moment of weakness show, you'd pick up on it and use the nickname on him for eternity. and if kaveh got wind of it?

the architect would haunt him with it for months.

you sigh, and that's when he knows you're nowhere near done. but you say nothing, so he assumes you're satisfied for the time being.

hours later, night blankets sumeru city, inky sky enveloping all. you've been suspiciously silent about your earlier topic of conversation. 

it is not until the two of you are comfortably settled in bed, your head resting on his outstretched arm as you face his chest, that he sees the gears turn once again. your eyes are soft, and your hand gently strokes his cheek. 

"can i call you hai-hai?" you ask, voice not louder than a breath next to his ear. 

color starts to dance on his cheeks, and he averts his eyes. he opens his mouth in protest, but words die in his throat.

who would've thought the acting grand sage, one who knows so, so many words, in so many languages, would be rendered speechless by a nickname, and such a silly one at that?

you do not wait for a response. a smile slowly spreads across your face and the hand on your face squishes, then pokes his cheek.

"hai-hai it is, then." you press a kiss to his nose. "goodnight, hai-hai."

you'd be the death of him.

[neiptune]

it’s valentine’s day, you clown

cw: 1.2k wc, blank blogs don't interact, something something your volleyball superstar boyfriend tooru flies home to surprise you only to pass out on your bed, this is my first ever hq fic and it's a complete coincidence that it's about him please be nice and don't make any assumptions

thank you @moondust-lore for reading this 🤍

His breathing stays regular and quiet as you crawl onto the mattress. Your bed is still somehow comically small and far from ideal to accomodate that unique ensemble of long limbs, sturdy muscles and swooping brown hair. Yet his sleep is serene, features relaxed that fill your chest with warmth that almost prompts your fingers to run through smooth locks. How have they not been rendered thicker or dry by the sea salt yet?

You’re careful as you snuggle closer to his broad back, not really wanting to wake him up. A small smile creeps onto your lips at the thought of how tired he must’ve been, couldn’t even bother to properly slip underneath the covers, knocked out in seconds. Flying all the way to Japan, travelling for almost 24 full hours to surprise someone must do that to a person.

The shock has worn out, the sensation of your heart being one second from bursting and exploding into a million golden confetti has dimmed. Now your head feels clear enough for your mind to be focusing on the important stuff, the mundane thoughts you didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on for months are a messy but colorful vortex. Would he like the usual for dinner? Does the uniform or any shirts need some ironing? Yes, yes, Tooru favors dry cleaners because they’re practical and he’s rich but you desperately want to contribute. You want proof that he’s home, actually home. With his big designer suitcases and wrinkled shirts and ridiculously expensive glasses and a smile that still shifts your world’s axis.

You allow yourself to scoot closer, until your nose brushes against his shoulder. He radiates a comforting  warmth and smells nice as always. Of sunscreen, beaches, the cologne you have bought for his birthday. As you shut your eyes, memories from the previous night start slowly blurring the edges of your consciousness and lull you to sleep.

“Shit! Fuck!” you jolt awake at the unexpected profanities, the last thing you remember dreaming about including tanned skin and a much more peaceful scenery made of rolling waves and golden, powdery sand.

“What… what’s wrong?!”

Oikawa Tooru is looking at your with what could be only defined as a glare. Eyes squinted, accusatory worry lines and all.

“You let me sleep? Why were you sleeping too instead of waking me up? It’s late!” his pitch gets higher with each word and by the end of the fully formed sentence you’re grimacing. The awfully old digital alarm clock on your nighstand flashes a red 11:05 PM.

“I’m sorry!” you panic “I didn’t mean to fall asleep! I know it’s late but I can probably put something together for dinner anyway? Are you that hungry? Wait, actually, let me get something delivered and…”

Now he’s staring with an openly outraged look on his pretty face, which makes you think finishing the thought probably isn’t the smartest idea.

“You… don’t want me to order in? I mean, fine, you can pick any local restaurant or takeaway, I don’t really ca-”

“Are you stupid?”

Ok, well. That feels unfair.

“I already apologized for falling asleep, no need to be a jerk” now you’re squinting your eyes at him. One eye. The other is being relentlessly rubbed.

“You’re right” he sighs and his massive shoulders slump, head hanging low like a wounded animal “it’s not your fault. I’m the dumb one. Couldn’t even set an alarm”

“I think you’re blowing this out of proportion, we can still eat something. If you’re worrying about your sleep schedule, I’m sure I can find some sleeping pills or…”

Oikawa looks at you, exasperated.

“That’s definitely not what I’m worried about”

“What the hell are you worried about, then?”

“It’s valentine’s day, you clown”

You blink back your surprise, his fond eye roll not easing the heat that takes over your face as realization finally dawns on you. “That’s… that’s why you flew here?”

Tooru leans forward to lightly flick your forehead. A car passes down the street, the light bleeding through your shades brightens the room for a moment and you catch the sincere amusement in his eyes.

“Yes, darling dearest. That’s exactly why I flew here. I was also supposed to make plans, take you out on a proper date, rob a flower shop from the inside out instead of passing out and drooling on your favorite duvet”

You stare back at his comical frown for a few seconds more before falling back into your pillows with a chuckle.

“Glad you think this is funny and not irredeemably gross. Stop giggling, let me think. I’m gonna go buy the most expensive champagne bottle and pick dandelions along the fucking sidewalk if I have to, and then-”

“Tooru”

“What?” he’s already swinging one leg over the edge of the bed “I’ll be quick”

“You’re here”

Oikawa snorts.

“Yes, I’m still here. Now, if you could kindly let go of my shirt…”

“I don’t want any of those things. You know I don’t want them”

He huffs and air comes out of his nose. “Yeah, I know. But I wanted it to be special” his tone is petulant but you recognize the real thing vibrating underneath, the genuine disappointment.

“It’s already special because you’re here. The only thing that could make it extra special is you filling this cold, empty spot next to me” you pat the covers with a lenient smile and Oikawa allows himself three seconds, three entire seconds to sulk and flash you those big, wet, sopping eyes with a pout that makes him less of a volleyball superstar and more of a kicked labrador puppy.

You welcome his painfully heavy body on top of yours, sharp angles and hard muscles that somehow melt perfectly in your embrace. He’s holding you so tight, head buried in the crook of your neck, soft hair tickling your cheek.

“I’m sorry” Tooru murmurs the apology quietly and seals it into your skin. You know he truly is, devastated as he always gets when something doesn’t go according to the plan. Always one for grandiose gestures and loud displays of affection, chasing whatever it takes to validate how he feels just in case the other person needs proof, always additional proof heaven forbid they feel neglected or get bored. His confidence wavering, his mind always running 100 miles an hour. Am I doing enough? Am I still enough?

“I love you” you reply for good measure and his arms tighten around your body.

But do I deserve it?

“Thank you for flying across the planet to get to me” you smile into his hair before kissing the side of his head “I missed you”

“I’d fly across the solar system to get to you” he’s smiling too, it’s in his voice.

“Corny” with a grin, you pinch his cheek until he looks up with an exaggerated, pained groan. But before he has the chance to protest, you take his disgustingly pretty face in your hands. 

“Wherever you fly from, I’ll be there to welcome you home”

Tooru smiles into the kiss, chases your lips when you relax back into the pillows.

And I’ll spend my life trying to deserve it.

Good thing he has at least five different Havanna Alfajores variety boxes somewhere in one of those suitcases. And two tickets to fly back to Argentina.

[gretavanlace]

Sleeping Beauty

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual contact, language, somnophilia (nothing drastic), subby jake, etc.

In response to this ask. I loved it so much and I’m terribly sorry for your wait, lovely anon. I hope you’ll forgive me ❤️

Jake should leave you in peace, and he knows it.

He’s melted into you twice already tonight, gently working you into a quiet euphoria…nails stinging into his back, soft moans and delicate sighs a song against the shell of his ear.

Yes, he knows he ought to let you rest - and don’t you sound so pretty resting? With your rhythmic breaths and gentle hint of a snore?

He should, but he won’t. Can’t.

You’re too warm, skin like satin bared to his hungry, wandering touch. Your hair, freshly washed and smelling of perfumed fruit. Your shoulder, of the loveliness that is so innately you.

If he could render it down, that intoxicating scent, he would inject it into his veins like an addict…let you swim inside him until he was buried under and lost. Comfortably numb.

Your thigh twitches. Just a blip of a movement, but it makes him smile. What is his girl dreaming about?

His grip has pulled you nearer now, tucked in close - a little spoon cradled safely in his love. His fingers, tender, yet insistent, kneading at the swell of your breasts, sweeping across your nipples, feather-light, until they begin to respond to him.

He wants them in his mouth, under his tongue, but he doesn’t want to disturb you any further than he already has, so this will do just fine.

A slight arch in your back tugs a tiny grin to life upon his lips, he wonders if his touch has made its way into whatever dreamworld you happen to be floating through. Do you search for him even while stumbling through strange and unfamiliar terrains?

He would like to think you do. He dreams of you more often than not.

Your nipples are drawn up tightly now, pebbled and peaked, as you press forward again, almost imperceptibly.

But on you slumber. His very own sleeping beauty.

With a slow pinch, he allows himself a bit more boldness. Perhaps, as he gives way to his need, he cares a little less about your rest.

All hope is lost when an airy sigh slips off your pretty tongue, and his hands begin traveling in languid earnest. Squeezing and tugging and pressing as his hips rock into you just barely.

He whispers your name as his mouth travels along your neck, and then groans into the crook of it when your hand reaches back, searching to bury into his tangled waves.

You hum a breathy, “Hi, baby,” into the night, eyes still closed.

”Hello, sleeping beauty,” he answers with a dreamy simper coloring his tone. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You sure about that?” Even with your toes still dipped into the ocean of drowsiness you can’t help but quietly tease him.

”You just feel so good,” he sounds like he is positively aching for you, and that’s because he is. He always is.

His tongue laps lightly over your shoulder just before his teeth find purchase, sinking in with a slow suck that brings a blushing bruise to life.

Admiring it in the moonlight, a lazy, satisfied warmth fills his chest, “Looks pretty on you, my love.”

Nose nuzzling into your tousled locks, he draws in a lungful of you, pressing your breasts together and running the pad of his thumb down the seam they create.

He’s imagining that perfect place, slick with sweat, and his cock - hard and desperate, sliding back and forth, pillowed and snug. How soft you would feel, how warm, how fucking perfect, how you might lick at the tip each time it slipped upwards to say hello.

”I really did want to let you sleep,” His words ghost over the shell of your ear and you long for him to whisper to you this way forever. “You snore, you know?”

The quietest giggle, hardly a sound at all, escapes you, “I don’t snore, Jacob Thomas, stop making things up.”

”Yes, you do,” it’s a sing-song argument, still but a whisper. “It’s adorable. And endearing. I like it.”

Confession too innocent for the way he’s making love to your breasts with his talented hands, you roll to face him…his arms wrapped around you all the while.

“Hi, liar,” you smile once you’re nose to nose.

“M’not a liar,” his voice is gravelly, and he’s a little thirsty with sleep, but not enough to leave your side in search of a glass of water. “You do snore. But it sounds dainty, and sweet. Everything you do is pretty.”

Your cheeks warm, ever the shy one under the spotlight of a compliment. Instead of enduring more - no matter how you secretly treasure them, you guide his mouth downward with a gentle grip fisted in his hair.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he nuzzles against you like a sleek and stunning house cat, and then curls the tip of his tongue over your nipple…sucking the bead of it into his kiss for just a moment. “Is this what you want?”

”I think this is what you want.” The challenge you’d hoped for in your tone drifts off into a shivering sigh when he nips at you.

“I do.” He nods, licking and lapping his tongue over them, suckling and biting. “My pretty girls…my exquisite, pretty girls.”

“Exquisite?” You smile, eyes drifting closed. He responds with a soft sound of confirmation, but can’t be bothered to stop.

A particularly nice flick of his tongue drags a shaky moan from your lungs and he hums right along with you, blissfully. “Feel good?”

”Really good,” your fist tightens in his hair, but your touch remains gentle in this languid and lazy moment. “Do it again?”

You offer it up as a question, which seems absurd to him…as if he would ever deny you. As if you don’t own him completely. As if you hadn’t stolen his heart the moment he laid eyes on you.

He does it again for you, because of course he does, and then again and again, until you’re pressing closer into him and whining so timidly it makes his heart ache and his cock throb.

It twitches against your thigh, hard and flushed hot, sweeping against your skin like velvet. You close your eyes and picture it resting between your bodies, so thick, and thrumming with his frantic pulse, cashmere skin stretched taught with his want, and all for you.

You suddenly need it more than you could ever put into words. Great scholars and poets alike couldn’t begin to describe your ache for him.

You burn and your stomach twists, somersaulting over itself for Jake. For everything he is. For everything he ever will or won’t be.

”Can I touch it?” You whisper, peppering kisses into his bed head as he contentedly licks and sucks away at you, kneading at the soft swell of your breasts carefully. Babying them as though he is tragically in love…and he is. God, how he loves them.

In lieu of tearing his mouth away to respond, he backs his hips away from you just far enough to allow your hand to slip down and wrap around the root of his cock.

You find him fiery to the touch and so hard as a breath huffs out of his nose with a palpable fever.

Thumbing over his head, you find it soaked and swollen as you press into the slit gingerly, just the way he likes. “Your cock is so wet, baby…” you’re trying to tease him, but the words tremble, sounding as needy as you feel, “So hard.”

Thick and pulsing, he strains and flexes in your grip, and then there are those beautiful words. Words no more than a whimper that is bordering upon shy, “Make me cum…”

”Yeah?” Your hand, slick with his need, begins a slow journey up and down the length of him, twisting off at the head before sliding back down. “Does Jakey need it with my tits in his mouth?”

A muffled ‘fuck’ is buried against you as he sucks harder with a nod.

“Are you sore?” He knows he’s already fucked you blind tonight, and he’d rather die than hurt you.

And maybe you are sore, but not enough to not want this, so you offer a soft ‘no’ and then there are his fingers, nudging between your thighs, slipping inside of you, curling and beckoning like a beacon into your favorite spot.

”Goddamn,” he groans, teeth clenched into the tip of your breast, “You’re so warm inside…pretty little pussy opens right up for me. Faster, sweetheart.”

He goes right back to making love to your tits with his gorgeous mouth as your tightened fist flies rapidly over his cock. Squeezing at the head, thumb paying close attention to his favorite spot.

Rolling into his touch, your clit, swollen and soaked, presses flush against the heel of his palm, and it earns a groan of lust-drenched gratitude from somewhere deep in his chest, “That’s my girl, fucking use me.”

Jerking wildly into your palm, he finally gives up and rests his cheek against your chest, panting into your glistening skin.

“Just like that,” he’s thrusting in time with you now, hunting down his release fervently “Fuck, please, just like that.”

”Come on, baby,” you coax quietly, kissing over the crown of his head, gentle demand falling hushed into his tangles, “Cum for me.”

Further into your breasts his face presses as his fingers fuck you closer and closer to the edge, “You, too, sweetheart. Give it to me… I need you to— fuck, please, please…”

The soft pads of his fingers are circling inside you like he sculpted your body with his very own hands. He knows every inch of you. Where to touch, Where to press and tease. Where to pinch and smack and bite when you ask for it to hurt a little.

But when he leans into a touch of submission, as he is now? That lights you up with a frenzied, crazed fire that only he can extinguish.

He feels you tightening, strangling his fingers so forcefully he absently wonders how he ever fits his cock inside the heaven that lives between your thighs, “That’s it…” his face is shoved between your breasts, rendering his praise muffled, “That’s my fucking girl. C’mon, you just relax and let me make you cum. Let me, sweetheart,” he’s babbling now, repeating himself, whining, betraying how close he is, “just wanna make you feel good, let me get you off, just— let me, come on, baby, please…”

Like some sort of twisted, subby bully, he’s shoving you closer and closer, until, with a wild sob of his name, you let go, spilling into his palm as he, in turn, spills over your fist.

A wandering stream of expletives tumbles off of his warm, pink tongue as he sucks and mouths at your overheated skin…fingers tucked up into that lovely place inside you until you can stand it no longer.

“It’s too much, Jake…” your voice is a mirage of itself, “too much.”

With a sound that says he’s sad to leave, he slips out of your fluttering grip, and then shudders with a gentle, sleepy laugh when you squeeze and tug at his softening, sensitive cock. “You’re an evil woman.”

”But I’m your evil woman.” You counter, pulling away, if only to lick at the milky white pearl of him that is rolling down your wrist.

”Yes,” he nods, watching in the darkness with rapt attention, “You’re mine.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @lvnterninthenight @paintmyhouse @sarakay-gvf @thewritingbeforesunrise @theweightofjake @joshsmama @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie @hugorobinson @jaketlove @josh-iamyour-mama @alwaysonthemend @moralmorbid @welllauragvf

[cevansbrat0007]

Back to Sleep

Summary: Ari has the perfect cure for your insomnia.

Warnings: Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Insomnia, Brat!Reader, Spanking, Unprotected Sex, Soft D/s themes, Hand Job (implied), Discussions of Punishments, Bondage (mentioned), Manhandling, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

“Could’ve sworn I had it in my hand when I walked out.” You mumble as you creep to the edge of your man’s bedroom. Using the flashlight feature on your phone, you scan the room, hoping to see where you’d left the charger for your Kindle.

You eventually spy it laying on the floor next to the nightstand. Holding your breath, you tiptoe back inside, taking special care not to make a sound. The last thing you wanted to do was wake up your bounty hunter. Especially since it had taken you so long to extricate yourself from him and that bed in the first place. 

As much as Ari Levinson said he wasn’t the cuddling type, his actions led you to believe otherwise. When that oversized menace wasn’t sleeping practically on top of you, he was taking up all the space - leaving you with hardly any. 

When you’d pointed that out the other day, he’d simply shrugged and mumbled something about sleeping better when he knew where you were. And then when you responded with it didn’t mean he had to take up the entire bed with you in it, he’d just shrugged again and said: “Well Bird, I reckon the safest place for you to sleep might be right here in my arms then, huh?” 

Stunned, you’d been left with virtually no other option except to agree with his logic. And the smug grin that slid across his handsome features let you know that you’d just lost a pretty major battle. 

But deep down, you really hadn’t cared as much as you might’ve let on. Maybe it was okay for you to like sleeping beside this sweet beast of a man. Especially since you seemed to be doing an awful lot of it lately.

However, that didn’t mean sharing a bed was without its downsides. In fact, you were in the midst of experiencing one right now. Because while Ari appeared dead to the world after a long day of chasing cold leads, you were wide awake. 

Which was unfortunate since you were the type of girl who loved her sleep. And now it looked like you’d be lucky if you got any at all tonight. Well, at least you’d had the forethought to bring along some reading material just in case. 

Maybe in the morning you would ask Ari if he was okay with you leaving a couple books at his place. While you suspected he wouldn’t be thrilled at the prospect of having a stack of romance novels taking up space on his nightstand, you also doubted he would say no. 

If anything, he would more than likely view it as a sign you planned to come back. You were too attached to your books to just abandon them with a man who would never be able to fully appreciate them.    

Once you manage to snag your charger, you quietly make your way back to your man’s sparsely furnished living room. Just the other night you’d brought up the fact that the cozy space could seriously benefit from a splash of color, along with a couple of throw pillows for the surprisingly comfy sofa. Ari’s response that time?  

“Have at it. Credit card is in my wallet. Take the silver, not the blue. Let me know if you wanna go to that one mall the next town over. I hear they’ve got better stores.” He’d said all of that without so much as batting an eye before returning his attention back to his laptop. 

Meanwhile, you'd been so shocked that somebody could’ve knocked you over with a feather. You were starting to find it annoying every time Ari Levinson rendered you speechless.       

You settle on the couch with a soft sigh, your body sinking into the plush cushions as you curl up with your beloved device. While it could never replace the feeling of holding a physical book in your hands, it did still serve a purpose. And right now that purpose was providing a healthy distraction from your anxiety-inducing bout of insomnia.

Powering on your Kindle, you immediately select the first book in Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander Series that also went by the same name. It was one of your favorites, which explained why you were currently in the middle of a much needed reread. 

Before you forgot, you make sure to lean over and hook up your charger. And then you clear your mind, allowing yourself to get lost in the magic of Gabaldon’s highlander epic, set in 1743 Scotland. You immediately pick up where you left off, with James Fraiser on a crusade to rescue his wife who was being held prisoner by the infamous Jonathan “Black Jack” Randall. 

And even though you’ve read this part multiple times, you find yourself getting swept up in the details of the dreamy highlander’s daring plan to save his Sassenach from her twisted captor’s clutches. 

You’re so engrossed in the chaos unfolding on the pages that you almost don’t hear Ari calling for you – your name fading into the chaotic background of the fictional raid on Black Jack’s stronghold. 

“Bird?” 

This time your head snaps up, your mind abandoning the antics of The Dunbonnet and his crew. You adjust your position on the couch, craning your neck as you listen out for whatever it was Ari needed.

“In here.” You reply, your teeth nibbling at your bottom lip. After a moment or two, you’re treated to the sight of a sleepy and disheveled Ari as he comes ambling around the corner sporting nothing but a pair of black silk boxers that left very little to the imagination.

He didn’t know this, but they were quickly becoming your favorite pair. 

“Got worried.” His voice comes out rough as he approaches, squinting as his eyes work overtime to adjust to the light. “Thought you might’ve left. Roads are dangerous this time of night.” He runs a hand through his tousled locks, attempting to brush them out of his face so that he can get a better look at your lounging form. 

Assuming that your oversized Harry Potter t-shirt and panties counted as pajamas. 

“Nope. I’m right here.” You tell him, offering up a sheepish smile. “Just me and Jamie Fraser. Doing our thing.”

“Who?” Ari levels you with a confused gaze, clearly not understanding the reference. “Sweetheart, I’m not gonna pretend to know who that is. But this Jamie guy needs to go find his own woman since it’s high time for mine to come back to bed where she belongs.” He informs you, scratching at an itch along his muscled abdomen.

“But I’m okay right here, Ari.” You do your best to reassure him. “Plus, I can’t sleep. Stupid insomnia. And the last thing I wanna do is keep you up after you’ve had a crazy long day.” You let out a yawn as you innocently stretch your arms overhead, missing just how quickly your bounty hunter’s attention shifts to your breasts as you arch your back.

“Bedtime, Duchess.” He holds out his hand to you, raising a tawny brow when you don’t immediately acquiesce. “Now, please.”

“But I just told you that I couldn’t sleep!” You protest when Ari plucks your e-reader from your grasp and sets it aside so that it can continue charging without interruption. Later, you would appreciate how gentle he always seemed to be with your things. But not right now. 

Right now, you wanted to pout.

“And I heard you, baby. Loud and clear.” He smiles indulgently before leaning down to lift you into his arms, his thick biceps curling around your body as he begins to carry you back to his bedroom. “But as your man, I happen to have the perfect cure for even the worst possible case of insomnia.” 

Winding your own arms around his neck, you decide to give into temptation and bury your face in the crook of his shoulder. Breathing him in, you find yourself reveling in the clean, masculine scent that was all uniquely him.

Ari presses a tender kiss to the top of your head, loving how it makes you giggle. You didn’t know this, but your sweet little laugh was easily becoming one of his favorite sounds. Almost to the point where he often found himself willing to do just about anything to hear it. 

Christ help him when you realized just how much of a sucker he was becoming for you. Some days he felt like he was falling hard and fast without a parachute. Which meant he was bound to be a goner. 

But until then, he was going to do everything in his power to bring you down with him.

Once you both have safely reentered the bedroom, he kicks the door shut with his foot without so much as a second look. He was a man on that mission. And nothing could be allowed to get in the way of seeing to his woman, who was apparently in desperate need of a good night’s sleep.

“I got you.” Ari gently places you down on the bed, ensuring that you don’t bounce too hard or anything like that. Once you’re settled, he makes quick work of relieving you of your top, freeing your breasts to his hungry gaze. 

His rapidly hardening cock twitches inside his boxers as he watches them bounce, your sweet nipples practically begging him to taste. But he stops short of giving-in when he gets a good look at what else you’ve got on beneath that damn shirt.

“What the hell is up with these?” He growls, his fingers finding their way into the waistband of your pink, cotton panties. “And why are you wearing them in my bed?” He cups your chin with his free hand, the pad of his thumb brushing across the softness of your lip. “Did you forget the rule, sweet Bird?”

You feel the blush rising to your cheeks, even as you bite your tongue. Because of course you hadn’t forgotten this particular rule. Although, it would serve him right if you had – especially since he always seemed to have so flipping many of them.

“Well?” Ari asks again, his grip tightening just a fraction. “What’s my rule?”

“No panties in bed unless they’re absolutely necessary.” You rasp in time with the goosebumps springing up along your heated flesh. 

“And are they necessary?” His commanding tone has your nipples pebbling with desire. Whether you liked it or not, your body was slowly training itself to respond to his special brand of dominance. “Or were you just feeling a little disobedient? Hm?”

“I…th–the second one, maybe.”

The look on your man’s face let you know that he’s far from pleased. But perhaps he might at least be willing to allow points for honesty.  

“Take them off and hand them to me.” He temporarily relinquishes his hold, giving you the chance to obey. 

You watch with baited breath as he graciously accepts them before bringing them to his nose and inhaling deeply. A strangled groan escapes his throat as his eyes threaten to roll back in his head, the erotic sound making your increasingly slick pussy flutter with need. 

You force yourself to remain silent as he repeats the action once more, before finally tossing them over his shoulder and returning his attention back to you. 

“Now, be a good girl and turn over on your belly.” 

Pulse hammering in your ears, you only briefly hesitate before doing as he asks. But it’s not until you’re finally in position that true understanding finally dawns. Less than a minute later, you feel Ari’s hand collide with your upturned ass.

“Ow!” You shiver as a delicious wave of heat blooms across your vulnerable cheeks, your hands fisting the covers in preparation for the next blow. Your hips jerk when his hand connects for a second time, your traitorous body growing more and more excited as the anticipation builds. 

And of course you knew what was expected to come next. Your handsome bounty hunter was waiting for an apology. Because it wasn’t enough for you to simply acknowledge your flagrant disregard for his no-panties policy. Oh no. Leave it to your Beast to take things a step farther.

“I’m not hearing anything, little Bird.” Ari lands another smack before pausing his sensual assault in favor of removing his boxers, allowing his heavy cock to spring free. A sight you would’ve been permitted to enjoy had your man not thought it was more prudent to punish you first. “Speak now, unless you’ve made your peace with having a sore ass.” 

Ari had no problem continuing on with your spanking. He could watch that sweet booty of yours dance for hours and still not get tired of it.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” You whimper, rising up to welcome the next slap. “It won’t happen again.” 

Except you both knew that it would. Maybe not necessarily in the form of you wearing certain undergarments when you shouldn’t, but Ari was convinced that it was only a matter of time before you decided to test him again. And when you did, he vowed he’d be ready.

Satisfied with your response, you only have to endure one final blow before he finally sees fit to end your punishment. “Thank you, sweetness. You think you’re finally ready for that special remedy I promised you?”

“Uh huh.” You breathe, feeling grateful when he helps you sit up. By now you can practically feel the sticky wetness seeping out from between your thighs as your core spasms - your empty walls clenching around nothing. You didn’t need to turn on the lights to know that you were making quite the mess. “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Of its own accord, your hand reaches out to grasp his straining cock, eliciting a sharp hiss from him. He was so fucking big that it was damn near impossible for you to wrap your hand around his impressive girth. Not that your man was complaining or anything. 

In fact, Ari was always so unbelievably patient whenever you took it upon yourself to satisfy him. A true gentleman in every sense of the word. Well…until he wasn’t. 

“You had better.” He grits out as you continue to work him up and down with unhurried, measured strokes. “Otherwise next time I might have to tie you up. Maybe teach you a lesson that way and see if it sticks.”

His head falls back onto his shoulders as you focus on tracing one of his manhood’s more prominent veins with the edge of your thumb, loving the way he shudders beneath your touch. He lets you have your way for a few more minutes, until his skin is flushed and a thin sheen of sweat dots his brow.

That’s when he puts a stop to things, if only because he’s not ready to cum yet. And even if he was, he was the kind of man who believed in putting his woman first. Brat or not. 

“I still think it’s a shame, but whatever you say, Ari.” You giggle, feeling more than a little playful when he gestures for you to get comfortable in the middle of the bed. He soon joins you, the pillow-soft mattress sinking under his weight. 

“Damn right, Duchess.”

Ari doesn’t stop until he’s looming above you, his big body blocking out the moonlight. Right now he looks every inch the predator – from the feral gleam in his eyes to the wolfish grin on his lips. There's little doubt that he plans to leave you deliciously sated by the time the sun comes up.

“Are you mine, Bird?” The question comes on the heels of a seductive purr. Before you can respond, his head dips to take your lips in a gentle kiss. You grant him full access to your mouth after the first brush of his skilled tongue, content to let him take the lead. 

You could be in charge another night.

“Yes.” There was no use in arguing that particular point anymore. You belonged to him for the foreseeable future. And you were okay with that. “But only if you’re mine too.” The unexpected phrase all but leaps out of your mouth before you can think better of it.

Ari immediately pulls away, his eyes darkening with a passion so intense it robs you of breath. “You want me to be yours?” The vicious sound rumbles out from somewhere deep in his chest. “You thinkin’ about keeping me like I am you?”

“Maybe.” You whisper as one of your legs hitches itself around his trim waist, pulling him down on top of you with a slight "oof". “That a problem?” You do everything in your power to keep your tone light, bordering on challenging.

But somewhere deep down you knew that if this moment didn’t go your way, it just might shatter that delicate thing inside you. That part of your spirit that was a little more fragile than you were actually willing to admit.        

“Nope.” Ari responds after a beat. “Perfectly fine by me.” And just like that, you can breathe again.

This time when his mouth finds yours there’s nothing sweet or soft about it. The kiss is a frenzied gnashing of teeth and tongue, with both of you fighting for dominance. One of Ari’s hands dives into your thick curls, wrenching your head back so that he can lavish attention along the curve of your throat, marking you up the way he’s been dreaming about since he walked through the doors of your shop that fateful day.

Ari Levinson was well aware that a woman of your caliber deserved fancy things like flowers and candy and fucking sappy poetry. All things that he was going to do his damnedest to give you. But until he calmed down enough to string a couple sentences together – or at the very least Google some Shakespeare and Bronte – you’d have to settle for a more savage kind of love.   

He grinds his cock against your drenched pussy, both of you groaning in unison as it slides through your messy folds. “Is all this honey for your man, baby?” You feel him smile against your neck before he goes back to gifting you with more love bites before moving on to toy with your pouting nipples. 

Thank goodness you owned a damn good concealer, otherwise you’d have a hell of a time explaining away your new, soon-to-be hickies to your nosey customers. 

“It’s all for you, Beast.” You gasp, as you buck and writhe beneath him. “Need you inside me, please. Want you to fuck me.” It was almost as if you couldn’t stand being without him for even a minute longer. 

That’s all your man needs to hear. Ari pulls away briefly, his breathing slightly labored as he lines himself up with your weeping entrance. “Well, since you asked so pretty.” One quick thrust is all it takes for you to welcome him home, your greedy walls clamping down around his shaft and refusing to let go. “Fuck!”

“That’s it.” You whimper, urging him to move as your heels dig into the small of his back. “Fuck me. Fuck your pussy, baby.” Your bounty hunter is all too eager to comply, pumping in and out of you with several shallow thrusts. 

Eventually, he decides to take pity on you and give you what you really need. Every single incredible inch of his thick, perfectly built cock.   

One of his hands reaches out to intertwine his fingers with yours. Meanwhile, he uses the other to maintain his balance so that he can go deep the way you need him to, letting you feel every sensual movement of his hips.

“Mine.” Ari snarls with each fevered stroke. “All mine, Bird. Just like this tight little cunt.” Your toes curl as he adjusts the angle so that his dick hits your spot just right. Fucking perfect. It’s so good you’ve got fireworks dancing behind your eyes.    

“Ooh!” You cry, raking your nails down his back. Because fuck it. It was only fair that your man bear your marks too. “Oh God, Beast!Please!Oh God, baby.Yes!”

“Never lettin’ you go.” Ari rears back slightly, but he doesn’t stop fucking you. He doesn’t even slow down. Instead he becomes hyper-focused on your connection, seemingly enthralled with the way you accept him every time surges in and out of your wet heat. “Always fuck that sweet ass back to sleep.” He slaps your flank hard, his bruising fingers digging into your thigh. 

“S’close, Ari.” You mewl as the pleasure continues to build, your mind slowly threatening to come undone. “Don’t–don’t stop!”

Thankfully, your man couldn’t…not even if he wanted to. And he really, really didn’t want to. But even as you feel that red hot coil tighten in your belly, you knew he was only just getting started. 

Honestly, you’d be lucky if either of you got any sleep before the night was through. But that was also fine by you. Because you were always ready to go a few more rounds with your man. 

And who knows? Maybe this next time, he’d even allow you to be on top. Or not. Although, you supposed it never hurt to dream. With or without a good night’s sleep.

END

Informal Tag List:

@daykrisr99

[bleuside97]

Redemption and Regression

paring: babydaddy!jungkook x exgirlfriend!reader

summary: even after five years there is not escaping of jeon jungkook.

warnings: reader has a four year old child, reader gets kidnapped by jjk, manhandling, harsh words, profanities, a bit of angst,

genre: yandere jungkook

"Hi mommy." A little voice called through the phone call. You hold the phone close to your ear. Relief filled your senses by hearing your son's voice. Looking both ways before crossing the empty street. "Hello mommy's baby." You replied to your son, U-Jin Y/L/N, smiling ear to ear. "How are you liking it at Grandma's house?" You asked the small boy. "I love it here, Grandma has lots of toys for me to play with and she cooked samgyupsal for dinner." You couldn't see him but you can tell that joy evident in his voice. In the background of the phone call the sound of toys clashing together. Clearly, submerged in his fun toys he stopped taking.

Your four year old baby, frequently stays at his grandparents house on nights you have to work overtime. This whole week has been filled with late shifts at the office. You are employed as a journalist, a struggling one if that, you are writing your newest article that could be your breakthrough. A female voice cuts in, "Y/n." "Hello Mom, thank you for taking U-Jin in again, I've been so busy at the office." Walking home from work alone in the dark of the night. Thankfully you're almost at home. Just a few more blocks from it. You walk through the patches of yellow lights given by the street lights, within every kilometer. A gust of wind flies past you and bites your nose and cheeks turning a bright rose color. Your cling onto your light jacket a little tighter with your free hand. It was cold but your pursed nonetheless pulling the hood over your head. Pushing your hands deeper into your jacket's pocket for warmth. You continue to walk to your destination.

"I can't neglect my responsibility as a Grandmother," She dismisses your gratitude, always selfless. You're grateful to have her in your life, the only person you trust right now. You smile gratefully, admitting, "I can't do this alone." Tears well up, clouding your vision. "I'm a struggling single mom, trying to keep my job." A compassionate sigh emanates from the other end of the phone. "Don't give up, Y/n. You've come so far from those so many years ago." Her encouraging words bring a smile to your face. The smile fades as you recall your life before five years ago. Swiftly changing the subject, you attempt to forget about it. "I'll pick up U-Jin tomorrow, it's my day off. See you then, please kiss U-Jin goodnight for me."

You conclude the call quick to tuck it in your purse. A shadow of a figure in the distance. A rather tall figure, with long brunette hair blowing in the wind. He wore a loose-fitting hoodie and baggy jeans. He walks, his gaze locked on the sidewalk ahead, his face obscured by a cap that renders him faceless in the dim light. In the midst of the crowded sidewalk, your shoulders accidentally collide. You're quick to offer an apology, but as you do, the faceless figure slowly turns to face you, and in that instant, you imprint a name on his featureless visage. A surge of instinctive fear jolts through your mind, urging your body into action. Your legs propel you into motion before rational thought can catch up.

In the darkness behind you, an iron grip suddenly clamps onto your arms, imprisoning them against your trembling frame. You instinctively struggle, desperately attempting to wriggle free from his unyielding hold, but he remains an immovable force. As fear courses through your veins, you open your mouth to scream, only to be violently yanked backward, stealing the very breath from your lungs and reducing your scream to a feeble gasp.

His fingers constrict around your waist and throat, the world narrowing to the thunderous pounding of your heart in your ears and the veins throbbing visibly in your throat. Panic surges within you, tears welling up in your eyes. Amidst the chaotic moment, your vision is reduced to a blur of blinding car headlights, the whizzing of the street, and a fraction of a car door frame as you're forcibly thrust into the passenger-side seat. Desperation fuels your efforts as you claw your nails against his arm, a frantic struggle to break free.

Having cornered you within the confines of the vehicle, your assailant steps back, allowing you a fleeting glimpse. Through your disheveled hair, the darkness, and the tears clouding your vision, you discern little more than the silhouette of a man. His head abruptly swivels in your direction, his hand lunging forward, and a noxious cloth slaps onto your face.

In your frantic struggle with all your might, you toss your head back, a desperate bid to evade him, your instincts screaming about the consequences of failure. You were forcibly shoved into the car, an unsettling sense of déjà vu washed over you, and you could have sworn that your faceless assailant wore a hauntingly familiar, triumphant grin. A haunting warning chills your soul, "I warned you, y/n, from the moment you left me, I told you I will always find you." The world dissolves into darkness as he steps back, sealing your fate with a resounding slam of the car door. Rendering you unconscious.

(Transition)

A cold shiver danced down your spine, and the chill of damp concrete beneath your scent a jolt of discomfort through her frail frame. Panic began to claw at the edges of your consciousness as her memory reluctantly unveiled the grim truth: she was trapped, imprisoned by the very person she had once called her own.

As her senses gradually sharpened, she became aware of the stale, musty air, tinged with the scent of old wood and mildew. The sound of distant water dripping echoed ominously, punctuating the silence that enveloped her. Her hands, trembling as she explored her immediate surroundings, brushed against rough walls and the coarse surface of a cot, revealing the stark minimalism of her prison. With every fleeting moment, the dreadful awareness of her predicament grew more poignant. Memories of their tumultuous history resurfaced, casting shadows on her thoughts, and the realization dawned that she was now at the mercy of her former captor. Tears welled up in her eyes as she grappled with the agonizing helplessness of her situation.

Amidst the dimly lit basement's gloom, your eyes gradually adjusted to the obscurity, revealing the harsh reality of her situation. As her disoriented senses sharpened, she could make out a silhouette lurking in the shadows. Her heart raced, and a tremor coursed through her frail form as the figure gradually materialized before her.

a/n: it's been a minute bro ik i said that i was going to post like five days a week naaa that was a lie. it's not that easy im currently in school and im tired and doing work all the time. im exhausted but ima try to post once a week. i will try. anyways, im still on my yandere shit and i have way more coming up. i really this one and i think it's a cool story. please let me know your feedback please this is only the first part of the story and i don't want this to flop 😭 please don't make it flop I beg! i really worked hard on it it took me days to do!! there's gonna be two more chapters and smut would be included in the next chapter so...

[crow-aeris]

"I don't know why you keep insisting on these flowers," Tim sighs, rolling his eyes as Kon gently yet reverently braided vines while Bernard stuck flowers into his wings.

"You look pretty like this," the fox sparrow says, a soft smile across his face as Kon nods vigorously, "Don't you agree, Kon?"

"He's right, y'know. You should just let us do this for you, Tim."

The falcon sighs, but allows himself to relax into his partners' hold.

"Where is Timothy?" he hears Damian's voice ask distantly.

"Frankly, that's none of your business," he hears Bernard snark, "He doesn't want to see you right now."

An annoyed growl rumbled through the air, but his dear yet dense boyfriend reciprocated with his own flimsy, sing-song-y growl characteristic of songbirds.

"Bear?" Tim mumbled sleepily, lifting his head as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

"He's handling it, Tim," Kon tried to assure him, stroking his hand over just the right spot to render Tim into a thoughtless puddle, "Roa knows you need the sleep, Jesus."

He grumbled, swatting at the purple martin's face before slumping into Kon's hold.

"Does this happen every year?"

"Yeah, just about. Tim usually lets everyone in except Damian and Bruce."

A soft hum, and Tim was out like a light.

When he wakes up, the apartment was dark.

Tim pushes himself upright to peer blearily into Kon's ever-shifting, slightly glowing too-blue eyes, "...Where did Bear go?"

"The kitchen," Kon smiled in amusement before hoisting Tim to his feet, accidentally knocking off the matching flower crown he was wearing. Nevertheless, the kryptonian picks it up, places it back on Tim's head, and they continue onwards.

Tim yawns, but when they resch the kitchen, he blinks in surprise at the two-layer rainbow cake.

"Happy gay month!" Bernard grinned with a smear of blue icing across his cheek and a proud expression upon his face.

Tim smiled, reaching forward to kiss his boyfriend's cheek while Kon shook his head and grabbed a rag to help clean the sparrow's face.

As Kon helped cut into the colorful cake, the sound of him and Bernard bickering good naturedly filling the air between them, Tim couldn't help but feel like this was an amazing start to the rest of summer.

-----

Happy pride month!!!