#on the other there's the horror to the dangers of it when looking back

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Miles Between, Heartbeats Close


Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader


Warnings: Long-distance relationship, angst, smut (kinda? I guess?), emotional intimacy, soft domestic moments, implied PTSD/nightmares, tender vulnerability, language


Author’s Note: IM BACK BABY!! Sorry I was visiting family and friends so here we are! Enjoy this!!


Summary: Loving a soldier means learning how to live in pieces—and how to put them back together when they come home.

Masterlist


MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

——

One Week Before Deployment

He didn't wear the mask around you. Not in bed, not at home, not when he was cooking you eggs at midnight in just a pair of sweats and his dog tags.

You were wrapped in one of his shirts, leaning on the counter with a mug of tea, watching him cook. He felt your eyes on him.

“What?” he said, glancing over his shoulder, spatula in hand.

“Just thinking,” you murmured.

“Dangerous,” he replied, smirking.

You walked up behind him and hugged his waist, pressing your cheek to the scarred expanse of his back. “I’m going to miss you.”

He stilled, just for a second.

“I’ll miss you more.” His hand came down to cover yours, squeezing gently. “Keep my shirt on. Sleep in it. That way, I’m there even when I’m not.”

You kissed his spine. “I love you.”

He turned, leaned down, and kissed you slow, with the kind of ache that meant he’d already started missing you too.

——

02:14 AM (Present Time)

The clock blinked 02:14 AM again. You hadn’t realized it had been an hour since you last looked. You were curled up on Simon’s side of the bed, his hoodie drowning your frame, your phone clutched tightly in your palm.

You wanted to hear his voice more than anything, but war didn’t cater to desire.

Still safe?

It wasn’t much, but it was honest. The response came five minutes later.

Simon:

Still safe. Tired. Thinking about you.
Want to be home. With you. In our bed.

You bit your lip and blinked away the sting in your eyes.

You:

I miss how you hold me like I’m the last warm thing in the world.
Come home, Simon.

Simon:

Trying.
Want to kiss you breathless.
Need to feel you under me. Soon.

Your breath hitched.

You remembered the way his voice sounded right against your ear, gravel and smoke when he let the mask slip — only for you.

——

Three Weeks Before Deployment

You were in the kitchen, standing on your tiptoes to reach a jar on the top shelf, when Simon came up behind you. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other snagged the jar easily before setting it down beside you.

“Too short for your own good,” he murmured into your hair, lips brushing your temple.

You rolled your eyes. “You love that I’m fun-sized.”

“Fun, yeah,” he said, spinning you around and lifting you onto the counter with ease. His hands spread over your thighs, thumbs brushing soft circles against bare skin beneath your shorts. “Size? Perfect.”

His forehead pressed to yours. That quiet moment burned itself into your soul — his gentle hands, the way his lips brushed yours like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“Tell me to stay,” he whispered. “I will.”

You shook your head then, cupping his cheek. “You’ll come back to me. You always do.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he breathed. “But I’m yours anyway.”

——

Present

Your fingers ghosted over the screen again, heart thudding.

You:

Remember when we fell asleep on the couch watching that terrible horror movie?
You kept waking me up because I was drooling on your shirt.

Simon:

That’s when I knew.
You, half-asleep, hogging the blanket.
Felt like peace.
Like home.

You pulled his pillow closer to your chest and inhaled. Faint traces of his scent still clung there: cedarwood, gun oil, and warmth.

You typed, slow and honest.

You:

I want you to kiss me like that again.
Like you mean it. Like you need it.
Like you did before you left.

A pause.

Simon:

When I get back, I’m not stopping at kissing.
I’m going to make you forget the time I was gone.
Going to have you under me until you’re shaking.

You shivered, eyes fluttering shut, thighs pressing together at the raw truth of his words.

——

The Reunion

You opened the door before he could knock.

Simon stood there, duffel bag on the ground, hair longer, scruffier than when he left. His eyes — those endlessly haunted eyes — locked onto yours like a man dying of thirst who’d finally found water.

You barely got his name out before his arms were around you, pulling you in, lifting you clean off the ground.

Your lips met fast and desperate, teeth and breath and the softest of whimpers escaping you. You tasted sand and sweat and Simon, and your whole body shook with it.

He kicked the door shut with one foot, walked you backward until your spine hit the wall, and kissed you again like he couldn’t breathe without you.

“I missed you,” you gasped, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Say it again,” he breathed into your neck.

“I missed you.”

His voice cracked. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Simon. I’ve always been yours.”

He crushed his mouth to yours and picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom. You barely made it to the bed — he didn’t want slow, not yet. Not until he'd burned off the desperation, the need to prove he was still real, still alive, still yours.

Clothes hit the floor in a trail. His hands were rough with calluses, but they moved over you like reverence. He whispered your name like a prayer. Apologies mixed with low moans, every thrust a wordless plea: I'm here. I'm home. I'm yours. Please don’t forget me.

And when you finally gasped his name like it was salvation, when you clawed at his back and pulled him tighter, he let go — not just of control, but of fear. Of the war. Of everything.

——

A little while later, you lay tangled in the sheets, his arm over your waist. His breath warm against your neck. He kissed your shoulder, soft and unhurried.

“Still with me?” he murmured.

You turned to face him. “Always.”

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Never leaving again unless I have to.”

“You’ll always come back.”

He kissed your temple. “Every time.”

——

Morning After

You woke tangled in each other — your legs wrapped around his waist, your cheek on his chest, your fingers laced over his heart.

He was already awake, watching you.

“You stayed,” you whispered, voice still husky from sleep — and the night before.

“I always will,” he murmured, brushing your hair back.

You kissed the underside of his jaw, smiled against his skin. “You’re warm. Heavy.”

“Don’t move,” he said. “Just stay like this. Let the world wait.”

And you did.

——

Later That Day

The day passed slow. Coffee in bed. Showers that turned into giggles and soft touches. He cooked breakfast shirtless, and you wore one of his old t-shirts with nothing else. He kissed syrup from your mouth and lifted you onto the counter to have another taste.

No war. No uniforms. No mask.

Just Simon. And you.

He didn’t need to say much. His hands said it all — the way he touched you like you were sacred. The way he reached for you even in silence.

And that night, when he laid you down again, it was slow. Worshipful. Not like he’d just come home — but like he finally was home.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[abbotjack]

So here’s the thing, I haven’t watched Animal Kingdom and I am also insane. But Pope reminds me a lot of the Minotaur from the labyrinth. Like before he was shaped into a “monster” he was someone’s baby and there was love there once. And he’s always trying to find his way back to that. The Minotaur had a name too, but no one ever called him that. I often find myself wondering if, when Thesus dragged him out of the labyrinth, if he finally got to see the stars for which he was named again? Is Andrew hoping to see the stars again? He wasn’t always a weapon or a threat. But being down there in a dark all alone would make monsters of us all.

And to go on a different tangent, there’s a line by Ocean Vuong that I’ve been turning over in my head for years and I think might be applicable to Pope:

“What I really wanted to say was that a monster is not such a terrible thing to be. From the Latin root monstrum, a divine messenger of catastrophe, then adapted by the Old French to mean an animal of myriad origins: centaur, griffin, satyr. To be a monster is to be a hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once.”

I didn’t have a point beyond needing to tell someone this. And also, your writing is incredible. I’m constantly looking to see what you’re up to while I’m rereading your work. Thank you!

God.

You don’t even know what you’ve done with this ask. I read it and just sat there. Staring. Because it didn’t just make sense—it shook something loose. Not because I hadn’t thought of Pope as a monster before—but because you reframed the word. You reminded me that the monster didn’t make the labyrinth. He was just left inside it.

And yeah. Pope is the Minotaur. Not the horror-movie version—blood-soaked and howling—but the tragedy. The cautionary tale no one ever finished reading. The part where the boy was born into a house that already saw him as wrong. Too much. Too dangerous. Too emotional. Too intense. Where people locked him away and then blamed him for what he became in the dark.

Because here’s what kills me—Andrew wasn’t always Pope.

He was a twin. He was somebody’s baby. He was Julia’s brother. And for a long time, he was just a kid trying to survive in a house where love came with strings attached and violence passed as loyalty. He was a boy who loved so deeply and so literally that when Smurf told him protecting the family meant hurting people, he didn’t even flinch. He just obeyed. Because what else do you do when the woman who gave you life also teaches you how to take it?

That’s the labyrinth.

It’s not some mythical stone maze—it’s Smurf’s house. It’s the way she shut the doors behind him. The way she turned him into a weapon and then acted like she had nothing to do with the blood on his hands. The way she gave him one job: Protect them. And how every time he tried to protect someone, he ended up hurting them instead.

And still—still—he wants out. Not out of the family, not really. But out of the story they wrote him into. The one where he’s the threat. The one where he’s always the one people warn each other about. “Pope’s crazy.” No—Pope is traumatized. Pope is exhausted. Pope is made of a love so feral and so misdirected it devours him from the inside out.

So your line—“I wonder if when Theseus dragged him out of the labyrinth, if he finally got to see the stars for which he was named”—it wrecked me. Because I don’t think anyone’s ever asked that. Not about the Minotaur. And definitely not about Andrew Cody. But yes. I think he’s still looking for them. I think every time he climbs onto that roof and stares out at Oceanside, he’s trying to find the stars again. Trying to remember that there was light before all this. That there was a boy before the monster. That he had a name before they took it from him and made it something to be feared.

And Ocean Vuong—don’t even get me started. That line has lived in the back of my brain for years like it was waiting for a name to attach itself to. “A hybrid signal, a lighthouse: both shelter and warning at once.” That’s it. That’s Pope. That’s the way he stands in front of J with a gun in one hand and grief in the other. That’s the way he holds Lena like she’s breakable, even after everything he’s done. That’s how he stands over Julia’s grave like a ghost. That’s what it means to be him. That’s the tension I’m always writing toward—the impossibility of being both danger and protection. Of being the knife and the hands that pull it out.

And maybe this is where I get too personal, but I don’t care. Writing Pope feels like standing in a house you built out of barbed wire and trying to convince yourself it’s safe. It’s exhausting. It’s cathartic. It’s holy. Because I’ve never written anyone who makes me ache the way he does. Who feels like a myth I want to rewrite from the inside out. He’s not clean. He’s not neat. He’s not the hero. But he never stopped trying to be something more than what they made of him. And that—that’s the part that kills me.

So no, your message wasn’t pointless. You gave me a whole new frame to write from. You reminded me that monsters didn’t name themselves. And more importantly, you reminded me that the Minotaur—like Andrew—was always trying to get home.

Thank you for that. And thank you for reading. For seeing the shape of the man beneath the myth. For tracing the outline of the boy in the dark. I promise, he’s still in there.

[theexaltedbride]

White Rabbit X Human Childhood Friend (GN)

Rabbit's first meeting with a real human, and his first time on Earth, had been a mistake. But one which would change the course of his life.

As one of the fastest member of his group, he tended to act as a runner, scout, and scavenger, scurrying through tunnels and across the surface of Makai where he could find tight spaces to hide from larger demons and avoid the noxious air.

Sometimes this would require him to run ahead of his people for days at a time, looking for safe places for them to hide and rest while they scavenged for supplies or things to trade. It was during one of these scouting trips that Rabbit found a curious grotto, like a spiral carved into stone, the eye of a storm, where the air was fresh and clean, hidden in a little cave where Rabbit could easily climb in and wondered at where the air was coming from. Until his fur stood on end, like static electricity coursing through his body, until with a loud crash and spark, he was pulled through and thrown into our world.

It was all such a shock to his senses that he couldn't handle it. Going from a world of darkness to seeing the sun for the first time, the sounds of nature, going from a toxic and polluted planet to one with actual fresh air, so many healthy colors he couldn't even imagine.

Rabbit broke down, tripping over himself, shouting and crying and running through the forest in disbelief. He didn't even have the words to describe what he saw all around him, his senses were unaccustomed to the alien atmosphere surrounding him and Rabbit simply couldn't cope. His life till then had been full of so much fear and horror that to see beauty and safety left him unable to understand anything around him.

That's how he first ran into you (quite literally). You were running through the woods behind your family home, enjoying the halcyon days of summer vacation from school without any summer programs. A time to run and play and pretend you were a knight or magic user vanquishing dragons and saving the day. A nicely shaped stick you found was your weapon and your magic wand.

You were busy in the midst of chasing down foul monsters when Rabbit slammed into you while running through the unfamiliar forests, so out of it with shock and terror he didn't see you while running away, and you both fell to the ground with a loud crash, though Rabbit fell much harder. You were left seeing stars for a moment, until your vision cleared and despite some bruising, you were left in astonishment of what you saw before you.

You found Rabbit trembling and cowering against a tree. He was dressed in tattered rags, cuts and bruises showing underneath his fur, and his snowy coat of fur was matted with dirt and mud. A single look at you and Rabbit held up his hands as if expecting you to hit him with your stick, as he begged for mercy. His words were hoarse and scratchy from the day he'd been having so far, and although you couldn't understand his speech, you did understand his body language.

Fear. So much fear. It made you feel bad. No matter how much you tried to calm him he still cowered away, so you waited and thought of how to get Rabbit to relax.

You had a lunchbox with you, your parents knew you loved running round the woods behind your house, so they at least made sure to have a sandwich and some juice boxes, so you opened up your lunchbox and unwrapped the sandwich, leaving it close to Rabbit and stepping back.

After a few moments Rabbit finally began to calm down, and after finally settling down he noticed the food you'd left for him, and finally began to realize he wasn't in any danger.

Rabbit ate the sandwich with a desperation you'd never seen from anyone or anything before. Food was never to be wasted, and being offered it was something he'd only experienced from the others of his caravan. But once he took the first bite of earth food, he was instantly hooked.

In his entire life he'd never tasted food so good or fresh before, and consumed the sandwich so fast he actually started choking, and after drinking down both of your juice boxes, he cleared his airway enough to finally offer his thanks.

Though you couldn't really understand him that well.

Rabbit could barely speak, as much from fear as from his poor state of health. But the two of you conversed for close to an hour, trading words with one another, he had no idea where he was, and you didn't know what 'Makai' was, but your young mind understood the basics of 'I'm a lost kid'.

So, you of course offered to bring him home with you. If he was lost then your parents would know what to do. They could help him return home and meet his rabbit family and then you could both be friends.

What innocent times they were.

You offered your hand to Rabbit, and he accepted it, allowing you to guide him back to your home and to where your parents received quite the shock at seeing you bring in a young rabbit person in tattered rags.

Just as Rabbit had been shocked at seeing our world, so were your parents at seeing a nonhuman creature being brought home like it was your friend. They were afraid to approach, and each time rabbit looked at them or made a move they would tense up in fear at what he was. Their minds couldn't process what they were seeing, and their main concern was you being so close, to the point of actually shouting for you to step away from Rabbit.

"Get away from that thing!" They'd yelled, and Rabbit's ears flinched at the sudden sound of the raised voices. But you wrapped your arms around Rabbit and told your parents he was your new friend.

But Rabbit was already at his breaking point. His mind was drowned in fear, and he was overwhelmed by the desire to flee.

Rabbit had already been nervous when he was first brought to your home, but upon seeing the reaction he triggered, he just couldn't stay. Nor did he want you to be in trouble for what he did, so he allowed himself to take the blame, by suddenly shoving you away and onto your back, before bolting out of the door and back towards the woods.

He'd actually pushed you too hard and you'd hit the kitchen table, pushing it back slightly and leaving you with a nasty bruise, but Rabbit was already on the move out the back door and running to the woods with the kind of speed rabbits were known for.

Your parents had been shocked and worried about you and this gave Rabbit a chance to slip away, and he hoped that the blame would be placed on him and not on you.

Rabbit ran away in pure fear, running faster. It was the kind of life he would have killed for, but...he was too afraid to stay. He felt as if he didn't belong, he felt filthy, monstrous, this wasn't his place, and so he ran...he ran all the way back to that portal in Makai, and for a solid week he failed to return.

Your parents told you not to go back into the woods, but you still found chances to sneak out and find him. Two weeks after he'd first found you, the two of you finally met once more, with you sitting and having a sandwich in the woods and noticing Rabbit slowly leaning his head around a tree and approaching you slowly before he sat near you.

"You're mean." You'd said to the Rabbit, "You didn't have to push me that hard."

"Sorry." Rabbit managed to squeak out, his throat rough and scratchy.

"I was scared. " Rabbit admitted, and shuffled closer to you, sitting near you but still out of arm's reach, his gaze on the ground as he did feel bad about hurting you.

"I know...I forgive you." You told Rabbit and gave him a hug. Rabbit's eyes went wide and his ears twitched at the sudden touch and forgiveness.

He reached his arms out and returned the hug to you.

For the rest of the day the two of you, a young human and a young Makaian demon sat and spoke, traded stories and again shared food. Though Rabbit didn't have much food to share with you.

He had been figuring out which plants were alright to eat, and which would make him sick. Some were not for eating but they looked pretty and those he gave to you as a gift, and you promised to give him a gift in return.

As the weeks went by and summer vacation turned to fall and neared Halloween, Rabbit still visited you at least once a week, and was always happy to spend time with you, playing games, eating strange earther foods, and learning about the world. You'd bring him homework and notes from school so that you could help him learn to read (even a few you'd stolen from the school library so he could keep and learn to sound out words) when he was back on Makai. But the one which enraptured Rabbit the most was Alice in Wonderland.

It wasn't hard to see why, to Rabbit this was his Wonderland, a strange place with rules that didn't make sense, and yet worked on its own logic. You even convinced your parents to give you a copy or two for your birthday so you could show him how different they could sometimes be.

You let him keep the copy of Alice in Wonderland that he liked best, as a gift, though Rabbit kept promising to return it each time you parted.

Eventually Rabbit stopped coming to see you. Days turned to weeks, months, then years, and decades without ever seeing Rabbit.

He just stopped showing up, and you were left wondering if the stories he shared about his homeworld were true, and it really was so dangerous that....maybe he'd been eaten. The thought of it terrified you, but there was no way to know for sure.

So you waited, and waited....and waited....

For years your family convinced you that you'd remembered it wrong. That it had just been some strange homeless child who you turned into an imaginary friend. After so long you started to believe it too.

Rabbit went to pains to hide the portal to Makai from you, saying his home was too dangerous, and despite your best efforts you weren't able to find it, nor could you find any sign of Rabbit.

You stopped going back into the woods eventually, starting to believe that maybe it was all in your head, especially as rabbit stopped coming, and eventually it just became a curious moment in your life.

Until the Rabbit returned.

You'd taken to sometimes looking out for your neighbors and watching over their kids when they were busy with work or needed an impromptu babysitter, and were watching over the kid of your neighbor from across the street. It was a nice way of making friends with neighbors.

It was during one of those days that you had a most unexpected visitor.

"It's the Easter Bunny!" The child said as they pointed out the window, towards the woods at the back of your home, and true to his word...you could see Rabbit strolling up the way to the backyard and casually hopping over the small picket fence there.

At first you didn't know what to think. A creature from your own dreams was walking up the backstep to your home, and looking up to the backdoor.

It was like a flood of memories came to you in that moment, and even through you knew you should have moved the kid somewhere else to stay out of this, but you just wanted to see Rabbit, after all this time.

He only knocked once on the back door before you opened it for him, and for the first time in years, you locked eyes with your best friend.

The moment he saw you, he knew who you were. There was fear in Rabbit's eyes, but it was slowly replaced with relief.

"I hope that I'm not intruding on you." Rabbit said with a respectful bow of his head. He held one hand behind his back, and a bundle of freshly picked flowers in the other hand, the same flowers he used to pick for you long ago.

"You've changed. But...you're still the same." Rabbit smiled, relief washing over him as his shoulders sank and it looked as if a great weight had been lifted off of him.

"You got taller, Rabbit. And dapper too!" You said to him, and he couldn't help but blush.

"I still have the old books. I'm afraid they're not in as good a condition as they were when you first lent them to me." He said and for a moment the two of you simply looked to one another, a silent thanks exchanged between the two of you, for still trying to find one another after all this time.

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

-Rabbit received quite a shock at seeing you had a kid with you, and had initially assumed you'd started a family in his absence, he tried to hide it but when you told him you were just babysitting for a neighbor there was clear relief written on his face.

-Despite the initial surprise, Rabbit is actually pretty good with kids, even if a lot of the things they talk about confuse him and make no sense. (Poor Rabbit is out of touch but you've been able to explain things to him. Even if a fair bit of it is just as strange to you as it is to him.)

-Rabbit is relieved to know that your parents actually moved out and left you the house, it means he can really visit as much as he likes and get to stay the night when he needs a break from Makai and spend more time with you.

-Rabbit reveals to you that he's actually been visiting Earth for some time now, but had no idea where exactly your home was located so he couldn't come back until the portal which led to your home was made secure again.

-Since you and Rabbit began meeting again, it has taken some work to keep the neighbor's kid from snitching that there's a real bunnyman walking around, but thankfully most don't actually believe him when he says it. Still, the kid keeps trying to bring his friends to see 'The Bunnyman', and both you and Rabbit have had to try and obscure the portal to Makai, as well as allow them to see glimpses of Rabbit going in a different direction to lead them away from it and think he lives in a burrow elsewhere.

You've had to run interference sometimes and the neighbors now think you have a boyfriend into some weird kinky roleplays who accidentally showed up at the wrong time. Honestly for as awkward as it makes things at least it's better than anyone thinking there's a real demon Rabbit walking around.

-Rabbit dislikes that it's turning him into a local legend (it has forced him to alter plans to use this portal as a way to hide Makaians on Earth in your region) and mostly because he allowed his own feelings to get the better of him. He knew he should have waited till night to see if you still lived in your own home. But he just needed to see you so badly, he needed to see if you were still there, and soothe his aching heart.

-Rabbit explained to you why he was unable to return to Earth. The other end of the portal went to his home of Makai, and in it the exact region where the rift between worlds was located, had been taken under the sway of a local demon lord, making it too dangerous to actually return. Rabbit's people had to flee lest they be captured, enslaved, or even killed.

But in truth, he also feared leading other demons to your home and getting you hurt again... So, rabbit tried to hide that portal until he was sure he'd secured that territory and the local portals so no unwanted guests would make use of it.

-Rabbit did try to find the way through, but it just wasn't safe for him yet, and he had to follow his people's caravan, while slowly planning how to return to Earth, and how to help his people escape the harshness of Makai.

-Rabbit is honest with you that in the years since you first met he did have other lovers, they didn't pan out for one reason or another, but when the time comes he wants to go slow with you and make it work as much as possible.

-Rabbit's first encounter with your parents had taught him a valuable lesson, that humans feared what they didn't understand. Other encounters with humans (and DarkCom) taught him that they would hate and attack that which was different. But you and the neighborhood kids who think he's the Easter Bunny have shown him that not every human is inherently a threat.

Some, can even be amazing and loving beyond anything he could have imagined.

-Rabbit and you have both had to go through a transition period and re-learning how to interact with one another. You both still remembered the other person as they were when you were young. You've both changed a lot since then. You have matured, and while you're not the same as you once were, the core of who you are, that little spark, is still there and it still pulls the two of you in like the gravity of a star.

-You and Rabbit both had to go through a phase of comparing memories and seeing how your tastes have changed. His palate no longer enjoys those old sandwiches you shared with him long ago, and he's set out to try and find a kind of tea you can enjoy with him.

-When its dark and no one is around, Rabbit likes to go on walks with you through the woods, and more than once you've both started playing the old games you used to when you were younger, hide and seek, tag, and more.

-By the end of your long walks, you always end up smiling, panting, and sitting just a little closer next to each other.

-Halloween very quickly becomes Rabbit's favorite time of year. He can walk out in the open without anyone thinking him weird or monstrous. He never got the chance to go trick or treating with you when you were little, but now gets to experience it by proxy when going with you and being a chaperone for the local kids you take care of.

The kids always insist that he's the real Easter Bunny, and Rabbit looks for other rabbits to compare himself to (From the March Hare to Bugs Bunny), and everyone just laughs it off.

Even if your neighbors only further think that you and your 'boyfriend' are kind of freaks for the weird games you two seem to play. (Though Martha from down the street a few houses down seems into it and makes Rabbit uncomfortable by trying to press him for information about what he and you get up to and why he wears a Rabbit mask, and what other kinds of masks he wears).

-Your parents have even begun hearing about your new boyfriend and started to press you to tell them more about him, and one surprise visit led to Rabbit having to jump out of an open window and make a mad dash to the woods so your parents wouldn't catch him and you in a compromising position. Maybe one day you'll tell them the truth, but not yet.

-Much as Rabbit would love to stay with you every second of every day, he has a duty to his people and he always has to return to them and help them. But he never fails to promise you that he will return, and by now you know he means it when he says it.

==========

Couple's Music.

"We'll be fine." Epic The Musical.

"A thousand years" Sting.

[beloveds-embrace]

)some graves love for graves enthusiasts like @nightunite & @grombs-blog <3 :3)

No one breathed too loudly in your court. You made sure of that.

The throne room was a thing of precision- cut glass chandeliers that dripped crystals like frozen tears, walls the color of spilled wine, and floors polished until they reflected the gleam of your wrath. Ministers spoke only when addressed, and courtiers knew better than to linger near the dais, and ladies flicked open their fans in practiced fashion so as not to raise your wrath and displeasure, for you were not kind nor were you warm, and you wore your reputation like a crown sharper than the one on your head.

But the moment the great doors creaked open and he entered, the air shifted.

Philip Graves walked with the quiet arrogance of a man who had never truly known fear- not the way others did. Shadows seemed to coil around his boots like old friends. He bowed as always- graceful, efficient, head low, almost theatrical- but those damned eyes found yours the moment he rose and a grin stretched across his face- even when yours curdled like milk.

“You’re late.” You said, voice cool enough to crack glass.

“Only by a few hours, Queen,” he replied, smiling just enough to test your patience. “And I brought you a gift.”

He held out a velvet pouch, and the court stiffened when the glint of a ring- plucked from some now-dead rebel prince-of-the-people, if you had to guess- shimmered inside. But it wasn’t the token that pleased you, for you had far more fancier rings and jewels.

It was him.

You leaned back, studying him like a particularly fine blade, and thus your finger curled to summon him close. “Come here.”

He obeyed, of course. Philip always obeyed you.

With a casualness that sent ripples of horror through the room, you pulled him to sit on the wide arm of your throne, letting one leg drape lazily over his lap. Your hand curled into his hair, tugging lightly- an unspoken warning and a familiar comfort. You felt him exhale, the only noise to be heard in the dead silence of the throne room.

This was your routine. A dance sharp as the knives he uses.

“My little pet,” you murmured, stroking his jaw with the back of your fingers, your cold rings brushing across his cheeks. “Did you make a mess?”

His lips curled, the barest echo of smug pride. “Nothing that can’t be cleaned up.”

You smiled, slow and dangerous. Ministers looked away. One of them- a particularly vocal noble from the southern isles- looked like he might be sick, but you didn’t care; you wanted them to see. Let them clutch their pearls and avert their eyes, for you and Philip were a sight unmatched.

Let them try to reconcile the brutal head of the infamous Shadow Group with the man now nuzzling into the crook of your neck like a favored pet.

They didn’t understand and they never would, because he was yours. Not just your assassin, not just your hound- yours. And no blade he carried was half as sharp as the softness he reserved only for you.

“You missed me, Queenie.” He said quietly, so only you could hear.

“I don’t miss things, much less belongings.” You replied, but your fingers still curled tighter into his shirt, digging like claws that would not let go.

Liar, he almost said. But he just smiled again for he fancied keeping his silver-tongue, eyes glinting like knives beneath silk.

The court watched, silent and stunned, as their cold, untouchable Queen cradled him with all the tenderness of someone holding a beloved cat.

Let them whisper and let them fear, for you had your throne and you had your blade.

And curled in your lap, purring like a devil in velvet, you had Philip Graves.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Pay the Piper (Leitmotif 3)

mdni

Chapter summary: You've left an impression, and pirates' greed isn't only for gold.

Master list <--- All chapters in order

Chapter warnings: none. (Holy shit)

Unconventional Use of Haki: I'm playing with haki by introducing D&D flavored bardic talents. I'll explain further as the story grows, but I thought fair warning was needed. Always happy to answer queries in my inbox!

A/N: I alternate "verses" (main story arc chapters) with "leitmotifs" (critical flashback chapters with contextual adventures). It's a play on One Piece's own style and a way to keep things fresh.

I do not curate tag lists, but I do reply to comments when the next chapter goes live!

Shanks hid behind the brim of his straw hat, kicking the side of the bar with his dangling feet, stewing.

A man played guitar in the corner, leading shanties the Roger Pirates joined with gusto, and the space pulsed with stomping feet and laughing voices while a watered-down ale grew warm between his hands.

It just didn’t feel right.

Pirates were all about action, but his thoughts trapped him like quicksand, locking him in a frustrating spiral where he tried to figure out what he should have done differently, or what he should say to make his captain change his mind. He was stuck. Had been since the last port when Gaban rowed the girl and her guitar to shore.

The music in the bar just made it worse. It didn’t sound like her playing at all. But she did more than perform. He’d felt it. Lower, sweeter, and subtler than any haki he’d felt before – even from her, considering the way she’d demanded her necklace back. It was like the music had touched his heart and pulled. He hadn’t imagined it, either. He saw the looks the grown-ups gave each other, Rayleigh and Captain Roger in particular.

She was special, and small, and alone – and they just left her behind like it was nothing.

He grit his teeth. Clenched his fists around his tankard.

He hadn’t told anyone about the nightmare she’d had as she’d slept, too deep in her exhaustion to surface from the horror. He didn’t tell anyone how he’d scrambled to the floor, trying to shake her awake, staining his sleeves with her tears in the process. She hadn’t called for anyone. Not her parents. Not a friend. Even unconscious, she’d bitten her lip and pulled into a ball like she could hide from her own memories.

Shaking, she’d whispered into the dark, “I don’t want to be brave anymore.”

He sat next to her, out of his depth, but determined to… stand guard? Keep her safe, maybe. Prove she didn’t have to brave if she didn’t want to. Buggy snored above, and she slowly moved from sobs to deep, even breaths. She was still asleep when he was called to help prepare breakfast.

The next thing he knew, Rayleigh was escorting her on deck, and the tender was prepped and lowered for her departure. He couldn’t contradict his captain, no matter how much he wanted to.

Waving and shouting – listening to her shout back – was the most he could do. It was a promise and a tether. He wanted to stay with her as she fought her way to her fancy music school, a spark kept banked in the back of her mind.

Now he wondered every time he laid down in his bunk, cleaned the deck, or heard the pluck of a string. What was she doing? Had she picked a fight with someone dangerous? Was she safe?

With a groan and creak of the barstool, Rayleigh plopped down beside him. He tapped the bar for a refill, and as his cup was refilled, he glanced down at the sullen apprentice. Shanks didn’t have to look up to know. He could feel it. Even when Rayleigh wasn’t using observation haki, Shanks felt like he was – peeling back time and intention and embarrassing things that could make a grown man squirm. But he refused to cringe away, holding his stoic silence and posture as he braced for a jab.

The first mate scoffed. “Hells.”

Rayleigh threw back half his drink.

“Your fruits haven’t even dropped yet and you’re hung up on a girl.”

Shanks flushed. He dropped his head even lower, hoping his hat’s brim would hide the worst of it as he tried to flip the humiliation back into the festering anger he couldn’t vent. What did Rayleigh not about it, anyway?

“No ordinary girl, I grant you,” Rayleigh said, leaning on his elbows. Settling in for a Real Talk. Shit. “A prodigy for sure. Never seen – or guess heard – haki used like that before. But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s moved on. And so should you.”

Without looking up, without showing the first mate any level of respect, Shanks grumbled, “It doesn’t feel right. She would’ve made a great pirate. And she was alone.”

Rayleigh grunted, the only acknowledgement he’d give Shank’s point. “You can’t keep every stray. Remember that cat Buggy wanted to keep? Could’ve been a good mouser. Would’ve fit on a ship. Not a bad idea. The cat had other ideas, though, and when he tried hauling it off the dock it scratched the shit out of him.”

“She wasn’t a cat.”

“No.” Rayleigh’s voice turned harder. Colder. “She may be a young person, but she’s still a person, and she gets to make her own choices. A school is hardly the worst place she could go. You grew up in this life, so your perspective’s skewed. Just because she can fight doesn’t mean that’s what she wants to do for the rest of her life. Take my advice: never get between someone you like and their dreams. It won’t end well.”

Every word weighed Shanks’ spirit down a little lower, letter by letter until he felt he could lick the spilled sake and peanut shells from the floor. Rayleigh was right. If she didn’t become a pirate by choice, she wasn’t really free, and that was the point. Mostly.

None of that changed what he wanted, though, and a hint of selfish greed that had nothing to do with piracy chafed, stuck in his throat.

He wouldn’t get her name. He wouldn’t get to show her how to string up a hammock so it looked steady until Buggy jumped in. He wouldn’t get to see how she played his favorite shanties. He wouldn’t get anything.

He sighed, letting his shoulders rise and fall with the force of it. And then he got busy burying those feelings. Rayleigh really wasn’t joking. She was really gone. And even if he could do something about it, he shouldn’t.

Putting together a smile, he finally looked up at the first mate. “Just miss her, I guess. She was fun.”

Rayleigh dropped a hand on his head, relaxing in turn. His own wicked smirk cracked his face, and he offered an answering shrug. “You never know with these things. As the captain likes to say, some connections are just meant to be. If you’re destined to see her again, you’ll cross paths somewhere out there.”

His smile stretched. The weight lifted. A new road to adventure opened where he thought he’d run into the Red Line.

“You think so?”

“Oh,” Rayleigh took up his tankard again, “if she’s half as much trouble as I think she is, I’d bet on it. Troublemakers tend to run into each other. Sooner or later.”

“Heh.” Fully grinning, Shanks chugged his own drink, heels kicking the barstool as fresh energy surged from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Rayleigh was never wrong.

Of course they’d meet again.

And maybe next time she’d join the crew.

Every great crew needed a musician.

[felixcloud6288]

I finished Made in Abyss Season 1 and here are my thoughts

Starting off, it's kinda crazy watching this while going through Dungeon Meshi. Both stories are about a party trying to reach the bottom of a subterranean location.

In Dungeon Meshi, we mostly follow the perspective of the main protagonist Laios who portrays the story as an action-adventure comedy. We also periodically follow the perspective of a secondary character named Kabru who instead portrays the story of Dungeon Meshi as a survival-horror. But even when we see the world through Kabru's perspective, we're expected to continue viewing the world as a comedy. Made in Abyss is what Kabru thinks Dungeon Meshi is.

Made in Abyss takes place in and around the titular Abyss. The Abyss is an impossibly deep cavern filled with relics and strange creatures. People make a living delving into the Abyss, discovering relics, and researching the Abyss. However, the further down you explore, the more dangerous it becomes to ascend back up. There are delvers of various ranks signified by the whistles they carry. White Whistles are the highest rank delvers and are permitted to travel as deep into the Abyss as possible.

The story revolves around Riko, an orphan girl training to be a delver. She's the daughter of a white whistle named Lyza who went down into the Abyss and hasn't returned in years. One day, Riko finds a robotic boy she names Reg and later, a delving team returns to the surface with Lyza's whistle and a set of notes. When Riko is permitted to look at the notes, she finds drawings of a boy who looks like Reg and a note saying "I'm waiting at the bottom of the Abyss". With these two things in mind, Riko and Reg decide to make a journey to the bottom of the Abyss, which they both admit is ultimately a one-way journey.

Made in Abyss is considered one of the best anime series of the 2010s by multiple sources and I understand why. It's both visually beautiful and has an amazing soundtrack. On several occasions, I thought I was watching a movie. The main reason I decided to watch Made in Abyss was because I had stumbled across the OST and couldn't stop listening to it.

The Abyss is a hauntingly beautiful land. It is nature unbound and allowed to grow as it sees fit. There is wonderment at every level. Ancient ruins dot the Abyss and only add to that wonderment. And the animation and music capture that sensation.

When I first listened to the OST, it gave me a sense akin to discovering something beautiful by accident that makes you realize how little you've truly experienced. And seeing the OST in its intended use made it even better. I'm looking forward to continuing just because some of my favorite tracks haven't actually appeared yet.

The series has a bit of a slow start. The first season is 13 episodes and the journey through the Abyss begins at the end of episode 3. More importantly, the series does not truly show you how graphic it is willing to get until episode 10. There are early signs to it not shying away from nauseating imagery, particularly the willingness to show characters vomiting or peeing in fear, but everything from episode 10 and beyond is a whole other beast.

I said at the beginning that Made in Abyss is what Kabru thinks Dungeon Meshi is, but the first 9 episodes are a mostly cheerful tale of two children exploring the unknown mixed with some periodic adrenaline-pumping moments where they encounter dangerous creatures. But we're constantly told that ascending back up the Abyss is dangerous. We get little snippets of what happens beforehand, but episode 10 is where we're shown that this is a survival-horror disguised as an adventure story.

If I could change anything about the pacing, I would just make sure the first episode shows us something just like what we see in episode 10 because it's not fair to a viewer to wait 10 episodes to realize they can't handle what can happen.

I can understand if a potential viewer is unable to watch this series because they can't handle the kinds of body horror Made in Abyss shows. But if you can endure it, this is a beautiful story. I ended up crying half way through the season finale.

There's one final thing I want to talk about but it delves into some spoilers for the end of season 1.

Just because I made the Dunmeshi comparisons, I want to point out that food in this series can look so gross.

On the left we have Riko's cooking where she tends to throw everything together which makes her dishes look gross, but she knows how to prepare everything. On the right, is Nanachi's cooking. Nanachi genuinely doesn't know what a good meal tastes like as he survived on dumpster scraps growing up.

The season ends with Riko, Reg, and Nanachi sitting together to have a meal and it looks like this.

It looks good and it tastes good. And it's the first good meal that Nanachi has ever had. He has this meal shortly after Reg fulfilled his wish of killing his friend Mitty, and it's a moment that let Nanachi know that there are wonderful things in the world.

The world is horrifying and beautiful. And exploring the world exposes you to both the horror and beauty of it. Nanachi has experienced mostly the horror but he got a taste of the beauty in this moment. And at the end of the season, he decided to join Riko and Reg on their journey because he's gained a new outlook that the world still has wonders despite the horrors.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

i wanna know what would break the skeles, especially the horror aus! while they.. well some calmed down from what they were in the past, like the horror! bros making a farm etc, i wanna see them snap what makes their patience run out

Horrortale Sans - For the longest time, Oak was not authorized to leave the farm because he couldn't stand how the humans looked at him. If one stared for too long, he would grow immediately defensive and growl angrily to discourage them. The times he actually snaps though, are really rare. He doesn't look for a fight naturally. It happened once when he fell asleep in a bus and a rude human touch the hole in his skull. Oak woke up, surprised, and immediately attacked to protect himself, sending huge bones everywhere and injuring two people in the process. Willow got really scared the humans might hold it against him, but they didn't and said it was self-defense, recognizing he didn't started it. Oak doesn't like to get mad or agitated, as it takes hours for him to calm down and he's just not feeling well the entire time.

Horrortale Papyrus - It happens a few times, mainly because of humans harassing him. Willow doesn't have a lot of self confidence to begin with, but he's extremely tall and visible added to that, which is a big problem when you want to make yourself as small as possible. It takes a lot to distress Willow, but a few managed to do that. There were this group of teens that thought it would be funny to follow him everywhere for two hours, and then started to insult him out of nowhere. Willow tried to ignore them, he really tried, but eventually he couldn't stand being call a human murderer. So he summoned a huge bone and slammed it into the ground with so much strength it cracked the floor. The kids pissed themselves and ran away. The rest of the time, Willow has mental breakdowns, mainly after seeing people look and whisper at him. He hates it, and after a few of them, he isolates himself in a quiet corner or in some random bathroom to cry and calm down.

Horrorswap Sans - Nugget is one of the very dangerous one. His LV is high, way higher than Chief or Copper, and that's a huge problem with his very small patience. A human talks to him and he's not in the mood? He's going to snap, and quickly become threatening if they keep pushing. Something doesn't work the way he wants? He gets frustrated really fast and if it's still not resolving, he turning the thing into ashes by blasting it repeatedly. Nugget doesn't do good with being scare either and has a bad habit of attacking first and then analyzing what's going on. Chief, having really high LV too, but more stable, is trying to help him to not react like that, but Nugget is extremely stubborn and doesn't want any help, rejecting him constantly. That guy is not ready to heal yet.

Horrorswap Papyrus - Pumpkin snapped only one time out of anger, and everyone still remembers it. It's the day his brother confessed he didn't come to fetch him Underground and let him rot for two bonus weeks because he thought he was already dead and didn't want to check to find his dust. Pumpkin then asked if he regretted it, and Nugget said that when he found him and saw his state, he envisaged putting him out of his misery because it would have been easier. That's when there was a long big huge silence, and suddenly Pumpkin jumped at his brother's throat and tried to strangle him. It took Oak, Willow, and Copper to pull him back, and they had to physically lock him up in his room because Pumpkin wouldn't stop trying to attack his brother. Chief eventually came in to talk with him, and Pumpkin completely broke down in his arms, asking what he had done wrong for his brother to not care enough to check if he was still alive. Let's just say it was a little awkward on the farm for a few days after that, especially when the brothers, you know, stopped talking to each other, like at all. But they managed to go through it eventually.

Horrorfell Sans - It's hard to see him angry as Copper hides his feelings well and usually prefers to get away than confronts things that are pissing him off. When he has no escape, though? That's when the survival instincts kick back in. It happens only once on the Surface, after a drunk man managed to trap him into an alley by following him, but he was too tired to shortcut out of here. Copper was scared and the man had a knife, so he tried to impress him a little with a big blaster. Since it didn't work and the man still walked on him, Copper started to panic and stabbed him from head to toes with a bone. Well, obviously, he didn't stay there and ran for his life after that, feeling guilty he had to kill yet another human to survive. Unlike Red though, Copper knows he can trust his brother with these things and immediately goes straight to him to ask for comfort as the guilt sinks in. He hates doing that. He's far from a fighter, but he knows how to defend himself.

Horrorfell Papyrus - Well, he still has his strong personality, that didn't change lol. But he's more appeased on the Surface and it's actually extremely rare to see him really angry (unlike Edge). Sure, he's sometimes complaining because he's an old man and doesn't have anything better to do, but getting angry? Only maybe once or twice. The first one being after Torpedo threw him out of his wheelchair for fun and kept harassing him until Chief literally blew up and used all he had to kill him. The second one is actually a human who refused him access to a restaurant because he's a monster, but used his disability to justify themselves, which triggered him twice in a short time. He screamed so loud on that human they actually called the cops in fear. The cops had to take him away to calm him down because he was so mad that he fought them. He got out with a fine, and he's still very salty about it.

Horrorswapfell Sans - Well, the Surface is still very new for Bear, and not being able to see for sure doesn't help to appreciate it a lot. It's not rare to see him completely freak out because a tree branch lightly brushes his back, and then he's attacking the tree because he has no idea what touched him. Happened with flowers too, and a bee once. Bear is not a big fan of nature in the first place and he will probably never be. He doesn't have much contact with the humans yet, he prefers to avoid them and hide, so there are no big problems with them. The angrier he got was at Copper for ruining his kitchen's organisation and yes, he might have blast him off and then they started fighting.

Horrorswapfell Papyrus - Tiger is not ready to move on from the Underground yet and is currently a big threat lol. He killed a few chickens already, forever traumatized a postman that he chased on almost 5 miles like the creepy bastard he is, and pretty much makes sure no stranger will ever intrude on the farm by being so scary to any newcomer that they never come back. Tiger doesn't like strangers and he goes full hunter mode every time he sees one. So far, the others always intervened before he injured someone, but they're a little worry about what could happen someday, they can't be there on time.

[superaliencake]

WIP Vegebul Bodyguard AU

Bulma huffed as she hurried down the stairs in her sweatpants and hoodie while tying her unwashed hair back into a messy bun. She glanced at her phone. 8:59 AM. Not great, but sufficient enough to scarf down her breakfast before her 100-meter dash to meet whoever her new middle-aged stalker slash bodyguard would be. A few minutes late wouldn’t be the end of the world.

She helped herself to a muffin and greedily bit into its center, humming as she chewed and swallowed before haphazardly throwing her book bag over her shoulder.

The Capsule Corp compound was already buzzing with energy. Interns and staff carrying messenger bags and clipboards weaved up and down the pathways. They returned Bulma’s polite waves with a lingering stare, but she was too focused on making it to her meeting on time to look too deeply into their reactions. With a dramatic sigh, she pushed open the heavy door to the lab’s private entrance as her chunky slides squeaked against the linoleum floor, announcing her arrival. She didn’t bother checking her reflection, nor did she give a shit that a hint of yesterday’s mascara was still on her face. She wasn’t here to impress her new bodyguard; it was the other way around. The bodyguard was here to make his first impression on her.

He wasn’t at her desk as she assumed. 

In fact, no one was here at all. There was probably an all-hands meeting in the auditorium. 

She didn’t like the quiet that filled the air in the lab; it unsettled her. The space was meant for collaboration, not solitude.

“Where is this asshole?” She muttered.

She gave her surroundings a quick once-over before eventually noticing a dark figure standing against the back wall. Arms crossed, black t-shirt stretched tight over broad shoulders, black cargo pants tucked into black combat boots, and an icy expression carved from stone.

She froze, eyes widening.

Who the fuck was this mercenary? Are we under attack?!

The man stepped forward, and Bulma took a step back. 

He was short. Armed. About her height. But his stature was well-built, every muscle looking equally lethal and efficient. He had a demanding presence about him. Sun-kissed skin, obsidian eyes, hair that defied gravity, and a jawline with no business looking as sculpted as it did.  She would have thought him attractive if he didn’t look like he wanted to skin her alive.

Bulma returned his scowl. This couldn’t be her new security guard. His attire was too casual—nothing like the others.

She didn’t know what possessed her, but in that moment, she abandoned all self-preservation and decided it would be a perfectly sane idea to interrogate the highly lethal, dangerous-looking man. A man who very clearly did not belong on the premises! 

“Uh, hello, this is private property. You can’t be here without clearance. Do you want to tell me who and what you’re doing here?”

He arched a brow and looked at her as if she was an idiot. His cocky attitude followed by his pompous silence was starting to piss her off.

“I see the tabloids weren’t that far off from calling you ‘hot mess’ of the year.” Bulma scoffed and placed her hands on her hips. “Excuse me??!!”

He smirked and took another step closer. “You have a little bit of jelly right here.” The man gestured toward his chin.

Bulma immediately lifted her fingers to her own chin and gasped when she realized they came in contact with a sticky substance. The strawberry jam filling from her muffin.

“Damn it.” She mumbled, avoiding his eyes. That explains all the looks I was getting…

“And… your hoodie too.” His smirk grew into a half grin, and she wanted to slap it right off his face.

Bulma reluctantly gazed down and saw, much to her horror, more strawberry jam peppered down the front of her hoodie in thick globs.

“Ugh, seriously?” Bulma lifted her hoodie up and over her shoulders. At least she was wearing a spaghetti strap top underneath. 

Her peaked nipples stood out prominently through her fabric, and if he was affected by the sight in any way, he didn’t show it—save for a momentary clenching in his jaw—he kept his eyes unbothered and distant.

Realizing just how much skin she was showing now, a rare sensation of self-consciousness crept in. She crossed her arms, less out of modesty, more as an attempt to reclaim control. “You never answered my question.”

“Your new bodyguard.” He looked her up and down, unimpressed. “But judging by what I just saw, I am starting to believe this will become more like a babysitting gig.”

Bulma bristled. Did he have any idea who he was talking to? She could have him fired for a comment like that!

This had to be a joke. A cruel, cruel cosmic joke wrapped up into a perfectly-muscled but thoroughly unpleasant package.

“First of all, buddy, let’s set a few things straight here.” She poked his chest with her index finger. Unsurprisingly, he felt as dense as a stone wall. “You work for me. And I could have you terminated if you so much as look at me the wrong way. So I suggest you work on your attitude. And second of all, wait… what? Why are you looking at me like that!?” If she could exhale steam in anger, she’d do so right about now, because this man was one smirk away from getting kicked in the nuts.

His jaw slackened. Right as he was about to begin his rebuttal, the doors abruptly opened, and in came a bustling crowd of chatty and jovial Capsule Corp. employees with Bulma’s father in tow.

[theoceanoasis]

Hot Rod gets turned into a spark eater by the Quintasons to be used hunt down his friends and put a end to their attempts to free their friends from the loop. While hiding the team quickly come up with a plan to trap and try and cure Hot Rod and Soundwave volunteers to be bait.

However their plan doesn't go exactly as they hoped, as Hot Rod quickly pounces on Soundwave pinning the mech down. Everyone watches on in horror expecting Roddy to try and tear Soundwave apart only to quickly become confused, then flustered as they watch Hot Rod open his panels purring as he tries to get Soundwave to open his own panels. All the team can do is wish Soundwave luck as he takes probably the wildest ride of his life.

The next morning Hot Rod wakes up fully cured and confused when he notices the blue paint transfers on his hips. Poor Soundwave is on the berth next to him sore, drained but satisfied. If that's Roddy as a spark eater he can only think how wild he is when is regularly charged up.

-🤭

"You don't think he can get in here... Right?"

Clobber looked at the entrance nervously, and Dead End crossed his arms.

"I don't want to find out."

"What are we going to do now that Hot Rod is a spark eater?"

"Kill him."

Everyone glared at Dead End, even Soundwav,e surprisingly.

"What? It's the only way to stop those things."

"It's not the only way. Give me a little time and I'll be able to make a cure."

Outside, they heard a spark eater shriek.

"I don't know how much time you have."

They all waited around anxiously as Perceptor came up with a cure. Hot Rod had been working on freeing the others when he ended up captured and turned into a spark eater by the Quintessons.

Whirl stood guard by the door, looking nervous.

"Perceptor, are you almost done with the cure?"

"I think so. Although I still need to test it."

"I don't think we have the time for that."

"What?"

"Hot Rods found us."

They all watched as the spark eater came closer. Dead End pulled Perceptor towards the elevator, not willing to risk being trapped in a room with one of those things.

"I don't think he'll be able to get in."

Clobber confidently said right before Hot Rod managed to get inside. Whirl jumped back, almost being grabbed, and ran towards the elevator along with everyone else.

"We need to get out of here."

"We need to use the cure."

Soundwave grabbed it, ordering the rest of them to get in the elevator and go down below.

"I'll stop him anyway I have to."

Turning away from the others, Soundwave threw the cure at Hot Rod, which ended up not working. Cursing, he knew there was only one option left, even if he didn't like it.

Before he could pull out his blaster, Hot Rod pounced on him. He knocked the blaster away, and Soundwave braced himself, expecting to be eaten.

He was surprised when Hot Rod opened his panel. His body practically vibrating as he whined and clawed at his panel, trying to get it to open. He gave him a confused look, wondering what was happening. Hot Rod's wet valve pressed against his interface panel. Causing him to groan as he felt his spark harden, despite the danger.

Hot Rod purred, giving him an eager look, and his panel opened with a snap. He looked down in surprise, not expecting that, and Hot Rod wasted no time.

Hot Rod woke up hours later, cured and having no memory of what happened. He looked around, confused and wondering why he was cuddling with Soundwave. Shifting in his spot he felt his valve twinge with pain and he looked down to find blue paint transfers on his interface array.

"What happened?"

He moaned subconsciously, cuddling closer to Soundwave. Still tired, he decided it was a future him problem and fell back asleep, wanting to get more sleep.

Soundwave lay awake, equally exhausted and satisfied. If that was what Hot Rod was like as a spark eater, he wondered what he was like as a normal mech. Looking at his comm, he needed to text the others and tell them that everything was alright. However, he decided to get them both cleaned up and at least somewhat presentable. He wasn't interested in receiving the shovel talk from Perceptor or Whirl.

Looking at Hot Rod, who was sleeping peacefully, he frowned, noticing his belly was slightly distended. He lightly put a hand against it, wondering if it was a side effect of being a spark eater. It was something he'd ask Perceptor later after he got some sleep and they got cleaned up.

[vm-haunts]

Ice Cream

Reasonable to think that the Fentons would have a freeze dryer to preserve samples and what not.

Also reasonable to think that they don't care about lab safety enough that they'll make astronaut ice cream with it.

[writeriguess]

neemaaa

can i request a katsuki x reader where they are secretly in a relationship? they get caught making out by their friends and then get teased the whole time

Unveiled

Your heart was pounding in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness thrumming through your veins as you pressed yourself against Katsuki Bakugo. His lips were hot against yours, moving with a fervor that sent a shiver down your spine. One of his hands was gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, while the other cradled the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, nails grazing the nape of his skin, earning a low groan from him that you felt reverberate through your entire body.

This was risky. So damn risky.

Your friends could walk in at any moment. Hell, they were supposed to be here already! But the adrenaline, the sheer thrill of sneaking around, made it impossible to care. You had been keeping your relationship with Bakugo a secret for months, slipping away in between training sessions, sneaking into each other’s rooms at odd hours, exchanging heated glances across the common area when no one was looking. It was exhilarating, having this little secret between just the two of you.

"Tch, you taste good," Bakugo muttered against your lips before diving back in, deepening the kiss. You couldn't help but melt into him, fingers tightening against his skin as you pulled him closer.

That was when it happened.

The door to the empty common room slammed open with a loud BANG.

"OH MY GOD!" Mina’s voice practically echoed through the room, followed by the distinct sound of Kaminari’s laughter and Kirishima’s deep chuckle. You barely had time to react before the two of you jerked apart, but it was too late.

You were caught.

Bakugo's face was a mix of horror and absolute rage, his entire body tensing as if he was about to explode—not figuratively, but literally. You, on the other hand, were frozen in place, eyes darting between your very smug-looking friends.

"YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" Kaminari wheezed, clutching his stomach as he doubled over with laughter. "I THOUGHT YOU HATED EVERYONE, BAKUGO!"

"Shut the hell up!" Bakugo barked, his face turning an alarming shade of red.

Mina smirked, her arms crossed as she leaned against the doorway. "Secret relationship, huh? Oh, this is juicy. You guys have been sneaking around this whole time? How long?!"

"None of your damn business!" Bakugo snapped, but his reaction only seemed to fuel their amusement.

Kirishima grinned, slinging an arm around Bakugo’s shoulder despite the clear and present danger of being blown to smithereens. "Man, this explains so much! You've been way less of an asshole lately."

"The hell I have!"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Can we just pretend you guys didn't see anything?"

Mina gasped dramatically. "Oh, absolutely not. This is the best thing that's happened all week!"

"Yeah, we're never letting you live this down," Kaminari added, grinning wickedly. "So, tell me, Bakugo, how long have you been secretly making out with our dear friend here?"

Bakugo twitched, his fists clenched, and for a moment, you genuinely feared for Kaminari’s safety. "You wanna die, Dunce Face?"

"Relax, man, I think it’s kinda cute!" Kirishima piped up, and Bakugo turned his death glare toward him instead.

Mina was practically vibrating with excitement. "Oh, I can’t wait to tell the others! You know this means the whole class is going to grill you, right?"

"Don’t you dare," you warned, but it was futile.

"Oh, I dare," she teased, winking. "I give it five minutes before everyone in 1-A knows."

Bakugo groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face. "I swear to god, I will kill all of you."

But the teasing didn't stop there. By the time the rest of your classmates found out, it was pure chaos. Sero and Kaminari wouldn't stop making exaggerated kissing noises every time you and Bakugo were in the same room. Todoroki, in his usual deadpan tone, commented, "I always assumed Bakugo was incapable of romance. This is surprising."

Momo and Iida, on the other hand, seemed genuinely happy for you both, though Iida did remind you that public displays of affection should be kept to a minimum.

It was insufferable. It was embarrassing. It was never-ending.

And yet, despite all the teasing, Bakugo still found ways to sneak you away, to press you against the walls of empty hallways, to steal quick, heated kisses when no one was looking.

"They can tease all they want," he muttered one night, his lips brushing against yours, "but that doesn't change a damn thing. You're mine."

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[speed-world]

Hello, im a fan of the self aware scenario you did with the coward y/n cookie, and I was wondering what their reactions would be of meeting the beast cookies

To be honest, you had no interest in going to Beast-Yeast, at all. After all, why would you? Whatever conflict the Ancients and other cookies had with each other didn’t concern you, not to mention that just the name - “Beast-Yeast” - already freaked you out.

If it weren’t for Pure Vanilla Cookie promising that your safety, due to the agreement between the Ancients and Dark Enchantress Cookie, you would’ve stayed comfortably in the Cookie Kingdom far away from the other continent.

You wish you never listened to Pure Vanilla now, because this beast - Shadow Milk Cookie - immediately wanted to make you run far, far away.

The jester scared you with his sinister and maniacal behavior. If you had a fear of clowns before entering the cookie world, then you’d pass out the more his actions continued.

After seeing the mental turmoil Pure Vanilla was experiencing, the loss of Elder Faerie Cookie, Shadow Milk’s terrifying powers and his “plays” that were mockeries of all the adversaries of the Beasts—the color blue might be your most hated now.

Yeah, you’d be completely fine and dandy if you never saw a hint of Shadow Milk’s Cookie ever again

However, he couldn’t stand to think of this meeting being your last…

How were you convinced to go back to Beast-Yeast a second time?? Suppose you can be grateful for that promise with the Ancients and Dark Enchantress Cookie.

You actually really liked the Ivory Pagoda. The atmosphere was so serene and otherworldly, and warmly inviting…or dangerously alluring.

The company of Dark Cacao Cookie, Caramel Arrow Cookie, Crunchy Chip Cookie, and the Cacao warriors made this trip a whole lot more comfortable and relaxing. However, their presence couldn’t make things better when you finally came face to face with the other Beast - Mystic Flour Cookie.

You thought the slow creepiness of Cloud Haetae Cookie would be the worst of your problems, but at least the story they told was directed to the Ancient instead of you.

The second you saw that spider pop out of that cocoon, your soul ascended to the crossroads. Your body went so pale that Dark Cacao thought you succumbed to the pale ailment.

You really couldn’t articulate how much Mystic Flour scared you. Shadow Milk was insane, but this?! She’s so uncaring, so unrelenting in her belief of apathy, is it too late to stay with Peach Blossom Cookie for the rest of this journey?

Let’s not even get started on that face. You hated any related horror stuff in the real world, and now you’re seeing that in front of your face!!

Yeah no, forget this. Awesome job on Dark Cacao awakening, time to get on the first airship outta this place.

As much as you wanted to be as far away from Mystic Flour Cookie as possible, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Stared at by a force that you couldn’t look back at, no matter how hard you tried….

Hell. To the freaking. NO

Naaaaaah Golden Cheese Cookie, she’s crazy if she thinks you’re going to accompany her to Beast-Yeast. Promise be damned, they clearly didn’t account for the mental pain that you’ve suffered through.

Smoked Cheese Cookie seemed dead serious on agreeing with you, but Golden Cheese wouldn’t take no for an answer. You decided to stick close to Smoked Cheese, because the Beast is only focused on Golden Cheese after all, right?

Had it not been for the presence of Golden Cheese and Smoked Cheese, you wouldn’t have even thought of coming to this place. It’s hotter than a truck engine in the summer, a lot of these Spice cookies are pretty hostile, and—Oh God the sandstorms are the crumbs of dead cookies?!?????!

And then, you met him-Burning Spice Cookie. He’s already scary to look at, so you just hid your face whenever you saw or heard him.

His power is also way too scary-he doesn’t care about any collateral damage caused, heck he probably loves if there’s more of it! Smoked Cheese spent his time making sure that not even a crumb of you were harmed during the fight of Golden Cheese and Burning Spice.

You weren’t sure what freaked you out more: Nutmeg Tiger Cookie’s unwavering devotion to such a being like Burning Spice, or the fact that Burning Spice Cookie does all that he does…for entertainment.

All the death, destruction, suffering he causes, everything, all for a cheap laugh?! Why-why again did you ever come here?!?

To make matters worse? Smoked Cheese and Golden Cheese were locked away in a cage. But you? No, Burning Spice didn’t want you in confinement.

He found it much more amusing to have you by his side, attached to his hip and sitting on his lap.

Your soul departs each time he speaks, your breath is taken away when he breaks something, because you’re scared that it might be you he breaks next. Seeing him be so casual and collected after crushing Cilantro Cobra Cookie in front of your face was what set you over the edge.

You were panicking, screaming, tossing around. You wanted to leave now, no ifs, ands, or buts. You can’t take this anymore and-…

He-he’s staring at you….he’s in the middle of his second round fight with Golden Cheese Cookie, and he’s staring. Right. At. You.

You were eternally grateful for Smoked Cheese Cookie being so understanding, and being so quick in trying to get you out of this God forsaken continent.

But even as you were getting away, you heard his laugh. You know Golden Cheese struck him down, but you heard his faint sinister laugh; virtually paralyzing you in place.

Please, for your sake, can you never come back to Beast-Yeast ever again?!?

…

…

Where did this ticket come from?

[roguishcat]

Fangs and Cheeks

Summary: Astarion is an ass man.

Excerpt:

“I don’t expect any physical intimacy. I love what we have. I love you,” you said truthfully. “But um… You being lost in the moment, being so feral about it… It felt nice.”

“My rutting against your ass like a hormonal hound would with a bitch in heat? I’m sure it was a magical moment,” he quipped sarcastically.

Word count: 4.3k

Rating: Exlicit (MNDI)

Tags: Dry humping, PinV sex, orgasm denial, somnophilia kink, Reader being a bit of a brat, brat taming (if you squint), Reader having a danger kink, Reader denying that she has a danger kink, oral (female receiving), soft dom Astarion, smut and fluff, Astarion is loved, smug Astarion

A/N: Please tell me if you notice typos and mistakes. ❤️ Constructive criticism is appreciated. Comments are always loved! ❤️

(dividers by @saradika)

Once you and Astarion were in what you would call a ‘proper relationship’, you quickly discovered that he was a very tactile person. Astarion hated being touched out of the blue, grimacing and stiffening if anyone got too near for his liking. Yet, he was rather partial to keeping his hands on you. He was especially fond of your derrière, making sure that it received plenty of attention from him.

In hindsight, it's been this way ever since you first slept together. An occasional brush here and there. His hand on the small of your back moving further south than was necessary. The little squeeze that could be nothing but your imagination. Just you being hopeful and wanting your feelings to be reciprocated. Because you were under no illusion that your romp was nothing but that.

Astarion was gorgeous, ethereal, and intoxicating. All sharp lines and velvety words. Words which time and time again affected you in a way that you'd not thought possible until you met him.

And you? As much as you wanted there to be more to your trysts, you were painfully aware of the fact that you were conveniently there at a time when he felt like blowing off some steam. 

Yet, as you fought your way through the Shadow-Cursed Lands, shared victories and supported each other through the horrors that awaited around every corner, you felt a change. Like something between you shifted just enough for Astarion to start looking at you in a way that had your heart fluttering like a caged bird.

His touches became softer. He lingered. Held you closer, spent more time with you than necessary. Instead of drinking from you when you were asleep, Astarion would find an excuse to be in your tent whilst you were still awake, as if wanting to hear you ask again and again if he was in the mood for a nibble.

Astarion started sharing more of himself with you, telling you of what he had been through over the past two centuries. And you realised that perhaps to Astarion you being there for him, standing up for him, seeing him as a person, was novel and very welcome.

When Astarion confessed, nervously telling you of his deception, his guilty conscience not allowing him to take advantage of your affection for him any longer, you assured him that being with him was enough.

More than enough.

With you agreeing to abstain until he felt ready to resume the sexual part of your relationship, Astarion seemed to come to enjoy just being with you, exploring intimacy that other forms of touch brought.

You felt giddy every time you asked for a kiss and Astarion agreed most enthusiastically. Kissing you deeply, both his hands squeezing your butt tightly, kneading the soft flesh in a way that had you both moaning into the kiss.

Lae’zel would roll her eyes and march past you with a huff, muttering something unsavoury under her breath about istiks and their peculiar mating rituals. Her words would go completely ignored.

Shadowheart would smirk and pretend to be annoyed, remarking that if they were to be subjected to seeing you be all over each other, at least some change in repertoire would be nice.

Gale would suggest that for the sake of the others he would be more than happy to teach you to cast Silence.

You were not really sure why everyone assumed that you and Astarion were doing more than share each other’s space. It never went past kissing. And perhaps a little under the shirt action. Just as you agreed, you gave Astarion space and time to figure out what he was comfortable with. The two of you would hold hands, cuddle up to each other, share heated looks and sweetest kisses that made your toes curl. And without fail Astarion’s hands would eventually be touching, patting, squeezing, playfully slapping, or pinching your ass.

So, it really was not that much of a surprise when you woke up one fine morning with Astarion rutting against your clothed backside. Now, whilst you had no issue with your vampire enjoying himself, having explicitly stated to him on several occasions that you were game for whatever he would come up with, you were not entirely sure what to do now.

Should you just stay still? Judging by how his pace was picking up and the way his gentle grunts were becoming more audible by the second, Astarion would be done soon. He was clearly so lost in the moment and eager to chase his release that he didn’t even pick up on the change in your heartbeat.

Most of the time you slept like a log. It would take wildebeest stampeding past your tent for you to stir. Which is probably why Astarion, having made plenty of quips and jokes about your almost impressive ability to fall asleep in any place as soon as your head touched the bedroll, was not being particularly careful about being quiet.

Yes, staying still was probably best. If you were entirely honest, Astarion wanting you so desperately was doing wonders for your confidence. And the moans and muffled grunts, his cool fingers on your hips, soft curls tickling the back of your neck, got you hot and bothered in seconds. You two weren’t intimate in... a while. And whilst this was not exactly how you thought you would next be intimate, you'd take it.

And then you felt your nose itch. What started as a just little itch that had you scrunching you nose in annoyance was becoming worse by the second. Oh, hells! You were going to sneeze!

You tried to turn your head ever so discreetly to the side and rub your nose against the bedroll. Surprisingly enough, even you moving got absolutely zero reaction from Astarion. And this would be the end of your predicament if you were anyone but the unluckiest woman in all the realms.

Your violent sneeze was like a clap of thunder on a still night.

As you blinked your watery, bleary eyes, you realised that Astarion stopped, the fingers gripping your hips no longer there. You gulped, not really sure what to do now that it was abundantly clear to the both of you that you were very awake and very aware of what was happening moments ago.

“Do you want to tal-”

“I’d rather not,” he interjected quickly, and you felt him moving away from you.

Panicking, you grabbed onto his sleeve, making him still.

“Are you really so adamant on prolonging this unbearable moment?” Astarion asked tersely, making you wince. Yet your fingers did not lose their vice-like grip on the fabric.

“Or do you want to tell me all about what you think of my disgusting, despicable behaviour?”

“I- I don’t think it was disgusting,” you cleared your throat, a blush blooming on your skin. “Not even a little.”

“I was kind of… into it,” you admitted with some reluctance. Because what kind of person did that make you? A very sexually frustrated one, that’s for sure and certain.

“Oh?” you heard the lilt in his voice as he lowered himself back onto the bedroll, settling beside you but not quite close enough for him to touch your back. Realising that you were still holding onto his sleeve, you let go, his arm moving out of your line of sight as soon as your fingers were no longer holding on.

“Why?”

The question caught you off-guard. You didn’t really want to tell him the truth. How embarrassing to admit that you would jump through hoops for his attention, even after him telling you explicitly that you were ‘well and truly taken’.

“Do I have to answer that?”

“No. But I would prefer it if you did, my sweet.”

The endearment made you relax a little. Picking up on it, Astarion drew your body closer, one hand settling back on your hip. You shivered as you felt that he was hard still.

Reigning in your raging libido, you reminded yourself that you were not to jump his bones and were to remain a perfectly well-functioning adult about this. You’d tell Astarion what you felt without giving yourself away so much that he’d feel pressured into anything.

“I don’t expect any physical intimacy. I love what we have. I love you,” you said truthfully. “But um… You being lost in the moment, being so feral about it… It felt nice.”

“My rutting against your ass like a hormonal hound would with a bitch in heat? I’m sure it was a magical moment,” he quipped sarcastically.

“Oh, you don’t have to make it sound that hot,” you laughed and put your hand on top of his cool fingers, running your fingers along his knuckles in soothing, comforting strokes.

“What I mean, it felt good to be desired, wanted by you.”

Your awkward confession and gentle touch got him to relax a little, you could feel it when he put his chin on your shoulder. You could also feel something else that you would very much wanted to press into. On top of. Around. You were not picky.

But you stayed very still. And that was pure, sweet torture.

“Make no mistake, I want you constantly.” Astarion’s cool breath tickled your skin and set it ablaze. “If it were up to me, there would be far less adventuring and helping out those pesky refugees, and far more time spent feverishly enjoying each other.”

He sighed and kissed your exposed shoulder. You grasped onto whatever restraint you had and pressed your lips together.

“But it seems that it is not up to me,” he went on. “So, when my trance was interrupted by you moaning my name in your sleep, I felt a stir. And I just- just went for it. I don’t know what I was thinking. I doubt that I was thinking at all. Not with you making those delicious sounds and you being so close. I apologise.”

“Astarion. I love you. And I did tell you on more than one occasion that I’d be happy to try anything. Consider this as us trying something new.”

“What happens now?” Astarion murmured.

“What do you want to happen?”

You didn’t get a reply. Licking your lips, you decided that perhaps a gentle suggestion would not hurt. Astarion knew that he could say no. That you would never hold it against him.

“If you like, we can pick up where you left off.”

“Meaning?”

Well, it definitely wasn’t a ‘no’. There was a distinct huskiness to his voice that made you feel that perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing to tell him exactly what you thought.

“I think that you should finish what you started.”

“Tsk, naughty. Who knew that you would be into something like that?”

“Who knew that you were so into my ass?”

He snorted and muttered something that sounded like ‘not yet’.

“Dearest, have you seen how leather lovingly cradles it? Nothing is left to the imagination. I can scarcely tear my eyes away long enough to fight whatever horror is sent after us!”

He was moving again and you bit your lip to stifle your moan, wondering if you could angle your body to get friction where you most needed it.

Astarion noticed. Of course he did.

With a breathy chuckle, you felt his fingers move fabric aside, sliding into your underwear.

“Allow me,” he grunted into your ear.

“Such a gentleman,” you sighed, spreading yourself a little wider to give him more to work with.

“Of course! How callous would it be to leave a lady… wanting,” he punctuated the last word with a thrust of his hips. “Although, one cannot help but wonder, what were you dreaming about that had you moaning my name, hm?”

“What was I doing to you, dearest?” Astarion asked and moved his clothed erection against the swell of your ass, his fingers circling your clit with light, unhurried movements. You bit your lip harder, not wanting to alert the whole camp to what was going on. Astarion adored the blush that overwhelmed your skin.

“Oh? Don't feel like talking right now? How about I guess. Let me see… was I gentle? Did I whisper sweet nothings into your ear as I took you slowly?” Astarion teased, lifting himself a little off the bedroll so he could see your face better.

Hm. No change in your heartbeat, no spike in arousal. Clearly, that wasn’t it.

“No,” you confirmed his suspicions, “you were not.”

“Naughty,” he clicked his tongue and gave a pleased chuckle. "How absolutely delightful.”

Astarion’s thrusts took on a different rhythm to match the increasing speed of his fingers working you.

“So, I was rough, wasn’t I?” He pressed a fang against the hot skin of your neck, biting down on sensitive flesh without breaking skin.

“Yes,” you squirmed and pushed back, making his eyes slam shut. You shivered as a strained groan tore itself from his lips.

"Fuck," he hissed, releasing your neck to put his lips on a pulse point.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Must have slipped," you said grinding yourself against the bulge beneath the leather. Because you were past the point of reasoning and definitely way past having any restraint. Astarion spoke of not wanting to be treated like he was made of porcelain. Perhaps pushing back just a little would be exactly the right way to show that you weren’t walking on eggshells around him.

Astarion’s ruby eyes narrowed dangerously, yet a smile curled his lips.

"Do you really think you can play me so easily?"

"Oh, no. I would never!" Your gasp was so theatrical it made him bark a delighted laugh.

"Ha! Trying to outplay me, dearest? Well, it is not going to be that simple.” Astarion purred and tilted your head, so you'd look him in the eyes. The expression on his face was as arrogant as it was tantalisingly attractive.  “I am always the one in charge when it comes to playtime, you'd do well to remember that, my sweet."

He nipped your shoulder blade, humming in satisfaction at the shiver this elicited.

"If I recall correctly, you were in the middle of telling me your dream."

Ah, yes. You did remember that he wanted you to talk. Talk whilst he was overwhelming you with sensations, his nearness, his scent, just his everything. Sure. You could probably manage to string some words together.

“You were rough.”

“We’ve already established that.”

 And perhaps to another, more merciful being, that would be enough to let you off the hook. Astarion was hardly known for being merciful.

His fingers slowed down, making you thrust your hips forward. Astarion clicked his tongue and nipped the exposed skin of your shoulder, “Go on, dearest.” 

“It was after a battle, you were still in your armour.”

“I’m glad that I am such a consummate lover I needn’t even strip.”

“Sex dreams don’t have to make sense, alright?”

“No, dear,” he chuckled. “I’m so very sorry, do continue.”

“There isn’t that much more to it. I woke up before we actually… well. But um-”

Oh, you might just as well go for it. Astarion knew full well that he was intoxicatingly handsome. What he didn’t know was when exactly you found him most attractive.

"I- I enjoy seeing you fight."

“Would that be a danger kink, per chance? Do you want me to take you in the middle of a battlefield? Or should I feel worried over your throwing looks at others, hm?”

"No, it’s you. Every move so precise and purposeful. Your muscles straining, metal singing against metal. You are beautiful, and sensual, and confident, and powerful."

“Go on,” he whispered with a quietness that was at odds with the possessive way he griped you. You felt Astarion grind against you. Slowly, indulgently. The hand not working you moving from your hip to your ass to give it a tight squeeze that would definitely leave a mark.

"I see you and I marvel at your tenacity, the stubborn set of your jaw as you refuse to give in. Your curls tainted red, your eyes set on your target as you strike with cruel precision."

“My, my, who knew you were harbouring such fantasies. Such deviousness under that sweet façade. Only you could care for such a monstrosity.”

“No,” you cut him off sharply. “You are not a monster.”

You licked your lips as you thought of how to make him understand.

“You are many things. My friend, my confidant, my lover, my protector. I’ve never had that before you. I trust you. And that-,” you whimpered, eyelashes fluttering, a tear rolling down a heated cheek.

“Yes?”

“And that makes me want you even more,” you admitted as you saw stars, Astarion’s fingers not breaking their rhythm, sending a wave after wave of pleasure rippling though your body. Finally, his hand stilled.

You panted, turning your head enough to the side to rest your cheek against his cool one. Closing your eyes, you let your body sag against his.

“I take it you enjoy dangerous things, darling?” Astarion whispered into your hair.

“Most pretty things are,” you forced out between breaths. “And you are the prettiest, handsomest rogue I’ve ever seen.”

"Love?" Astarion shifted and moved, and you felt his fangs graze the sensitive flesh of your neck.

"Yes."

Please.

He bit down to take long, greedy gulps, both his hands clutching you to his chest. Having been told that he could taste how you felt made you wonder, what secrets was your blood revealing? What sensations he drew into his own body from yours with every gulp?

"Clothes off. Now.” Astarion ripped himself away from you, not wanting to overindulge and leave you weak.

"But why? I thought you wanted-"

"Love, I don't always know what I want. But this is one of those times when I do."

Suddenly, Astarion was gone, making you whine in protest.

“Underwear off,” he commanded whilst fumbling with his clothes, his voice raspy because of the emotions he was struggling to contain.

You were more than ready for this. But you were feeling cheeky. So, with a smirk, you lifted yourself off the bedroll until your lips were an inch from his, your warm breath on his cool skin.

"A lady likes to be asked."

He gritted his teeth but relented. "Please, love."

"Tsk, don't pout, Star. Was it really so hard?"

"No. But this is,” he snatched your hand and put it on his length, giving himself a few strokes with his fingers clenched tightly around yours. “So be good and do as I say. Off."

You felt a shiver dance down your spine as he called you a good girl. He was playing dirty, and he knew it. This time you obeyed almost instantly, fingers shaking as you took off your smallclothes.

As soon as you discarded them, Astarion was behind you again, naked from the waist down. You turned your head to look over your shoulder, taking in his face.

Desire, need, lust.

He stared at you like he was desperate to have you. Perhaps in a way he was. You gulped, feeling giddy and excited, and also very pleased with yourself for choosing to wear a cotton slip to bed.

Angling your arm a little awkwardly, you reached for Astarion and your thumb flicked over the sensitive tip, making you gasp when his hips surged forward.

“Touch me again,” he ordered when your hand began to leave him.

“But I-I want to feel you inside.”

“Soon. Good girls who wait get fucked best, didn’t anyone tell you that?” Astarion taunted, though he knew that he was the one suffering.

His mind was clear, he was present, his eyes on the face of the one who loved him so tenderly and fiercely. He wanted to fuck you into the bedroll right there and then more than anything in his life. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to have a little fun with your first.

“Touch me, I know you want to.”

Perhaps you did, but that was beside the point.

“I need you, Astarion. Please.”

“Soon. Get to it, love.”

No matter how much he willed himself to stay still, Astarion’s hips jumped as your hand went up and down his length, moving to cup his balls and caress them with gentleness that had Astarion cursing himself for not just giving in.

“Astarion,” you whined, not quite recognising your own voice.

“Fine.” One arm wrapped around your waist, he pushed you back down against the bedroll. “Since you ask so nicely, I will indulge you.”

You were going to snap at him, but then whatever what you were going to say turned into whimper when you felt the tip of his dick rub against your entrance. You were still sensitive, and a shiver ran through your body at the slightest contact.

He gave a few shallow fucks before finally, finally giving you what you wanted.

Astarion dropped his head onto your shoulder as his hips began to grind and roll. His cock slid deeper, flexed against inner walls. He pulled out, slamming back into you and enjoying every soft hitch in your breath.

“You’re so tight. Fuck,” Astarion groaned out, nestling into your neck as he picked up pace.  “I won’t stop anymore, love. I can’t stop,” he admitted huskily. He no longer had the strength to control himself.

Astarion parted your legs to give himself better access and tore at the cloth still covering your body, the fabric tearing under his rough treatment to expose one of your breasts.

“Astarion!” Your protest turned into a whine.

“I’ll buy you a new one. I will buy ten,” he chuckled darkly and kissed your back.

“I’ll make sure to remind you,” you hissed and moaned, feeling a hand cup your breast and move to roll a nipple between long, dexterous fingers.

You were so, so close. It was maddening how well this man knew exactly where to touch you.

And then his hand was gone and you felt Astarion withdraw abruptly, leaving you concerned and panicking.

Was this too much? Was he- Oh! Oh.

Whatever thought you were about to have next died a swift death as Astarion’s tongue flicked between your folds, your throaty, desperate moan encouraging him to continue.

His tongue thrust forward, and then again, and again and-

“Astarion,” you half-sobbed, face falling forward. You held the pillow against your mouth to try to silence whatever obscene sounds you were about to make.

Legs shaking, fingers gripping the pillow so hard that your knuckles turned white, your second orgasm hit you hard, Astarion not stopping until he saw that you were finished.

Rising a little on shaking hands, you took a few steadying breaths.

“What happened to ‘I can’t stop’,” you managed.

“I slipped.”

You gave an inelegant snort and turned weakly to face him, legs and arms trembling. Astarion grinned at you cheekily, finding that he rather enjoyed how much of a mess you were. Hair mussed, clothes torn beyond repair, the red imprint from where you pressed the pillow into your skin, and the way you could barely hold yourself up.

He did all that. And he was not even done with you.

Astarion lay down onto the bedroll, pulling you down beside him, hands snaking round your middle and holding you close.

"I want that, you know," you felt him exhale. "I want to be the man you see," Astarion whispered, face hidden in your hair, as he entered you with utmost gentleness. Pausing briefly he just lay next to you and enjoyed the sound of your still ragged breath, the rapid heartbeat, the warmth of your skin. You felt his hand trace patterns on your waist as it moved down, settling on the swell of your hip.

And then Astarion was moving again. Slow, so toe-curlingly slow at first. Then a touch faster, settling into a rhythm.

"You already are. You are strong.”

“Yes.”

He was speeding up, this time ready for his own release.

“You are free."

He moaned and whimpered, hips stuttering, thrust turning desperate.

"I love the man that you are."

He bit down on your shoulder and you winced as fangs peirced skin, rivulets of blood staining what was left of the cloth that barely covered you.

"I love you, Astarion."

He thrust once, twice and then again and- oh. Astarion fucked you through his orgasm and then more still, until he felt himself grow soft, his spend trickling down between your bodies.

He drew in a breath he didn’t need and shuddered as the last wave of pleasure coursed through his body.

"That was amazing," you lifted his hand to your lips to kiss his knuckles.

“Well you have to say that now, after you had your way with me so thoroughly,” he said with an air of a virgin defiled by a rake.

“Are you saying that it was me that seduced you?” You turned your head to see him grin.

The nerve of that man!

“As if you didn’t know what you were doing to me when you wore that,” he pointed a finger what used to be your sleepwear, “to bed.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you huffed.

“Perhaps then I should give you-”

“Will you two fuckers stop fucking already, it’s too early for all this!” Karlach bellowed from her tent.

“Gale?” Shadowheart groaned in dismay, probably wishing she put her tent up further away from Astarion's.

“On it.”

“Did he just cast Silence on us?” Astarion heard your voice in his mind.

“I believe we were a little too loud.” The elf wiggled his eyebrows at you as you felt him make use of the tadpole.

“This is mortifying,” you groaned and tried to hide your face behind your hands.

“Well, if they needed their beauty sleep, should have told the wizard to cast the spell earlier,” Astarion shrugged, looking completely unapologetic, and slapped your ass, delighting in your surprised squeak. “Besides, we can be as loud as we want now.”

“You are kidding, right?”

“I do not kid.”

“Astarion! No!”

“Yes.”

He rolled you onto your back and started kissing from your collarbones down to your breasts.

“No,” your voice had a little less conviction, weak hands pushing back silvery curls and tracing the tips of his ears .

“Yes.” Astarion lifted his head for a moment, ruby eyes filled with adoration, only to continue his descent.

“Oh, fine,” you gave a happy sigh, feeling him hum against your skin in approval.

You knew that you should probably feel chastened now that you knew you cost your companions precious hours of sleep, but you felt floaty and content, and far too well-fucked to feel too guilty. You would deal with the inevitable looks and comments later.  And then Astarion did that thing you liked with his tongue and you did not give anyone another thought for quite a while.

💖 Tag list 💖:

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[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

a/n: this was a commissioned werewolf piece, it’s 1.2k words long!

Everyone warned you that being out late at night was dangerous, but you never listened… and that would end up costing you in the end.

You had trouble sleeping, and in your earlier years, you despised how long and lonely each night could be… but now that you lived on your own, that changed.

The night was special to you. It was a time where everyone else was asleep and you could really let loose. Some nights you’d listen to music until morning, or maybe binge a show you had been putting off for months.

Though, others you left the safety of your little home and wandered into the woods.

It was well past your usual bedtime when you decided to get some fresh air. You felt cooped up in your room, and even after pacing and trying to find something to do in your house, nothing caught your interest.

You already tried masturbating to help you sleep, but it didn’t work. Now your pussy was wet and aching, and you didn’t even get to cum. There was only one other way to get yourself to rest…

The forest was calling to you, luring you out with the promise of adventure and crisp air that could clear your mind and lull you to sleep.

Usually you wouldn’t mind being up all night, but tomorrow you had to be up early for work. Most days you went in after lunch at the earliest, but one of your coworkers was sick with the flu and asked you to cover his shift.

Although you wanted to decline and sleep in, he had saved your ass a few times already and you owed him.

So, you put on your sneakers and a coat before grabbing a flashlight and leaving the safety of your home.

Everything about the forest felt comfortable and familiar. The crunch of leaves under your feet, the soft sounds of creatures scurrying from tree to tree, and even the wind made your tension ease.

For a while, you felt at peace…

Then, you tended up. Something was watching you from afar, and you could feel someone’s stare burning into the back of your head.

When you turned to see who was there, you didn’t spot anyone. You waved your arm, your flashlight’s beam moving over rocks and trees… before something glinted in a bush about 20 feet away.

It was an animal’s eyes, and whatever it was, you could tell it was huge.

For a moment you gazed on in horror, your eyes wide and hand trembling. The creature met your gaze, and that’s when it stepped forward.

You didn’t even notice you dropped your flashlight until after you were sprinting through the dark forest, tripping over a branch and scrambling to get back up. Thorns scraped your knees and arms, making you cry out in fear.

You could hear it behind you, panting and letting out a low growl. You caught sight of its yellow eyes and sharp fangs.

It looked to be some kind of wolf standing on its hind legs, but you didn’t stop to examine it thoroughly, you were running for your life.

But you weren’t fast enough.

The creature could see in the dark, and you couldn’t. Every time you tripped or stumbled you were slowed down, and eventually it was on top of you.

You cried out as you felt its large claws circle around your arms, pinning you against the ground. It hovered over you, panting from either excitement or fatigue, you couldn’t tell which.

Now that it had you in its grasp, you were able to get a good look at its appearance.

The creature was nearly twice your size, his gray fur bristled and wolf ears twitching as drool dripped from its sharp toothed maw.

All you could do was tremble and cry. This was the end, you hadn’t listened to your loved ones’ advice and now you were looking death in the face.

Hopefully it would be over quickly…

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned your face away from it… but instead of it attacking, you felt something… hard and wet rubbing against your thigh.

For a few seconds you kept your eyes closed, but they shot open when you felt one of its large, paw-like hands roughly grope your clothed cunt as its tail thumped behind it.

It was sniffing you, licking at your neck where your scent was most prominent. His fluffy wolf ears were flicking as he kept pawing at your pussy, as if trying to arouse you so he could smell more of that delicious aroma.

His teeth weren’t used to tear your flesh and eat you alive… instead he bit your shirt and tore it off, his tongue lapping at your bare breasts.

This thing didn’t want to eat you… he wanted to mate! It must have smelled the slick still on your panties and cunt from earlier!

If you played along, maybe you’d get home safely after all!

You could tell the poor thing was struggling by the way he let out pathetic whines as his cock bobbed needily. To help it out, you guided his hands to your breasts.

“Play with these, okay?”

His ears perked up and his tail picked up speed as he groped and kneaded your tits, his yellow eyes following the way they bounced and squished together. While he did that, you pulled down your pants and panties.

Honestly, you were aroused, embarrassingly so. He could smell it, immediately going to bury his face into your cunt the second he caught your scent.

“Th-that’s it-“ you blubbered out. He was inexperienced and rough, but his tongue was so big that it rubbed against your clit every time anyway. It was clear that he was desperate to mate, but couldn’t stop himself from tasting you first.

Before you could cum, he pulled back, his fat cock shoving itself unceremoniously inside of you. Fortunately you were just wet enough so it didn’t break you, but the stretch was painful and uncomfortable.

His hips slapped against yours as he mounted you, his hands gripping your soft flesh so tightly you could hardly bear it. The feeling of his nails digging into your hips hurt… but also added to the pleasure.

He was hitting your gspot, making your pussy clench around him as you had your first orgasm of the night.

The thrusts were going at an animalistic pace, and when your knees gave out he lifted you up and bounced you on his cock.

You felt your belly bulge, he was absolutely huge and was bottoming out inside of you. Suddenly his cock began to expand, and you realized too late that he was knotting you.

Your womb was stuffed full of his cum, and he howled at the full moon as his thick ropes of cum spurted into you, painting your walls white.

The werewolf let out a sigh, his knot keeping you connected to him as he calmed down. He was so relaxed and happy after his orgasm, licking your head affectionately and curling up around you.

It looked like you weren’t going to be able to cover for your coworker tomorrow… not when the werewolf was following you home for round two.

“Don’t wolves mate for life..?” you questioned yourself aloud, looking back at the werewolf as he followed behind you like a loyal puppy.

You’d have to find that out later… all you wanted to do was sleep after that experience.

————————

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[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141 (pt. 4)

You thought it was a mistake when someone called in reserving a party of 14 for a birthday. The voice on the other line assures you it is not, and that they'll be arriving at 7pm. You inform everyone.

"Who wid want a birthday in this shithole?"

Johnny gaffaued, spraying down some dishes.

"Probably just a prank call."

Kyle replied, arms wrapped around your waist and head resting on your shoulders. But it wasn't a prank call. The first half of the party arrive and you and Gaz have to scramble to push tables together. It's overwhelming, everyone is talking all at once, demanding things left and right. Gaz swoops in to help deal with one half the table while you the other. The food comes out, leaving you to be able to sit in the back for a few minutes, talking to the guys about nothing. Walking back out, some older man was snapping his fingers at you, waving his arms as if they weren't the only fucking people in the joint.

"Steaks burnt to hell, remake it."

He slides the plate to you, making you catch it before it falls off the side of the table. You apologize profusely and send it back to the kitchen. Price raises an eyebrow,

"Looks fine to me."

He stares at the piece of charcoal on the plate.

"Fucks sake, lemme do it."

Simon grabs his shoulder and cooks another steak. You set it down infront of the old man, watching him take a bite. He throws his fork down,

"Still burnt. How hard is it to cook a fucking steak?"

You look at the plate, meats still pink in the middle. Apologize again and offer to remake it.

"No, don't bother. Jesus."

He stares daggers into you. You wring your hands nervously.

"Actually, everyone's food was shit. None of us should have to pay for this."

Your mouth goes dry. You look over your shoulder to meet eyes with Kyle at the bar. He immediately walks over.

"Everything alright?"

He puts on his nicest customer service voice and that charming smile that can melt anyone. Except this asshole apparently.

"No everything is not alright, this was the worst dining experience I've ever had! Everything came out wrong, and it all tastes like shit!"

Spit flies out from the mans mouth. Kyle stands between you and the customer, trying to diffuse the situation. And much to your horror, one by one, the table starts to leave. You try to say something but they ignore you.

"Go get Johnny."

You run back, trying to act casual in front of Simon and John while tugging Johnny by the sleeve. He looks down, concerned.

He's on the floor before you can finish telling him what happened,

"Ye'r gonnae have tae pay sir."

His tone is more firm than Gaz, arms crossed and looking down at the old man. You're almost in tears as you watch more of the table file out the door, you turn back to look at Gaz. He frowns, furious. There's a heated argument at the table, the old man is yelling now. Not at Kyle or Johnny, but the only person he wasn't afraid of; you. The commotion makes John and Simon step out. This idiot is gonna get himself killed. You can see the moment when the customer loses the fight in his eyes. Shuts right up as soon as Simon says,

"Problem?"

Like a fish out of water, all the old man does is open and close his mouth wordlessly.

"Grab the cheque."

You don't know who Simon said that to but you and Soap crash into each other turning around and walking to the POS system. Ghost gently grabs the bill from your shaky hands and shoves it into the customers chest,

"Cash only."

"I don't have cash."

"There's an ATM around the corner."

The old man nearly jumps out of his seat,

"Right. Be right back."

He rushes to the door, Kyle and John follow.

"Oh there's no need-"

"Making sure you don't get lost."

Kyle smiles, eyes dangerous. It's about five minutes when they're back, the old man placing some 20s down before complaining under his breath. Then he gets kicked out,

"I need my change!"

He looks over Johnny's shoulder, looking to you for help. You shrug, arms crossed. When the door closes you sigh, running fingers through your hair

"You alright, darling?"

Gaz asks, voice as sweet as ever, gentle hand on your face. You nod.

~

That evening was pleasant. More than that really. They pampered you, cooed and soothed you as you huffed and sniffled. Ran you a hot bath,

"Poor thing, dinnae deserve tha."

Johnny massaged shampoo into your hair.

"Won't let you stay around next time we deal with something like that again."

Kyle kneaded the tension out your shoulders. John sat you in his lap, brushing hair out of your face while saying sweet nothings. You really do enjoy milking this for all it's worth, sad eyes looking up and huffing like you didn't get over that bullshit as soon as that old man walked out the door.

"Pampered little princess, you know that?"

Simon's lips are pressed up to your neck, just under your ear. You just nod, his words rattling around your brain while you got fucked senseless. You're tired, but the boys promised to coax an orgasm out of you. From each one of them. Then another. Well, you're a trooper, so what's one more round? Showered with soft kisses and praise, a foolish smile is painted across your face in a pleasurable state of stupor; Gosh, aren't you just spoiled rotten?

**sorry if it's short! I am on holiday ( ╥ω╥ )**

[skzophreniic]

⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content, oral sex, overstimulation. pussydrunk!jisung, bestfriend!jisung

It’s almost 1 a.m. and you’re both still wide awake—half-slouched, half-curled on Jisung’s bed, the glow of his laptop screen flickering shadows across the room. The horror movie he picked is objectively terrible—low-budget effects, scream-heavy soundtrack, and a villain in a mask that looks like it was bought at a gas station. But he’s watching it like it’s peak cinema, one arm propped behind his head, the other busy fishing popcorn out of the massive bowl balanced between you.

“You cannot be serious,” you mutter as a girl on-screen runs straight into a shed full of clearly dangerous tools. “She just watched her boyfriend get blendered and thought, ‘Yeah, let me hide next to a wall of chainsaws.’”

“She’s resourceful,” Jisung says with a straight face.

You shoot him a look. “She’s an idiot.”

He shrugs, grinning like a little shit. “That’s what makes her relatable.”

You snort. “That’s what makes her a red smear on the floor in five minutes.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then a truly absurd scream echoes from the laptop speakers—over-the-top, guttural, too long to be taken seriously. You burst into laughter, nearly knocking over the popcorn as you double over.

“Was that supposed to be scary?” you gasp.

“It was art,” Jisung says, trying to sound offended, but he’s laughing too, his head dropping against your shoulder.

The two of you dissolve into giggles, your bodies leaning into each other like it’s instinct, like it always is. It’s comfortable—too comfortable. You've spent enough late nights like this to know the rhythm by heart. Banter. Touch. Teasing. But tonight it feels… off. Not in a bad way. Just different. Quieter, maybe. Slower.

The movie plays on, forgotten. The popcorn ends up on the floor somewhere between your third round of arguing about which horror tropes are the worst and the moment he lets out a dramatic sigh and flops sideways onto the mattress.

“Okay, real talk,” he says, staring up at the ceiling. “You’re trapped in a haunted house with a killer clown. What’s your move?”

You blink. “Why’s it a clown?”

He shrugs. “It’s always a clown.”

“I’d cry and accept my fate.”

Jisung laughs. “You wouldn’t even try to fight back?”

“I can’t fight a clown, Jisung.”

“What if I was the clown?”

You glance over at him. He’s lying on his side now, propped up on one elbow, watching you with that same dumb sparkle in his eyes that makes everything he says sound like a dare. You match his stare.

“Then I’d definitely accept my fate.”

His smile cracks wider, but he doesn’t say anything. Just watches you, that playful light in his eyes softening by degrees. The shift is subtle. Natural. You barely notice how the space between you gets smaller—how your knees brush under the blanket, how his fingers toy absently with the frayed edge of your hoodie.

His fingers are still fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie when the tension in the air snaps.

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s you. Maybe it’s him. Maybe the air between you just catches fire and you both lunge toward the spark.

One blink, one breath, and then his mouth is on yours.

No warning. No pause. Just heat and pressure and everything happening at once.

Your brain flatlines.

Jisung kisses you like he’s starving—like the silence cracked something open and he couldn’t hold it in a second longer. It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet. It’s clumsy and urgent and real, and you gasp into it, eyes flying wide before fluttering shut.

Your hand fists in his hoodie before you can even think about it.

And for a moment, it’s chaos. The kind that’s been building for weeks. Maybe longer.

His fingers are in your hair, your legs tangle under the blanket, and it’s impossible to tell who moves first, who deepens it—just that neither of you stop.

Jisung jerks back like he’s been burned, chest heaving, lips slick and red, eyes blown wide with panic.

“Shit—I—fuck, I didn’t mean—” He’s breathless, already pulling away, already regretting it, voice cracking. “That was stupid. I’m sorry, I—god, I shouldn’t’ve—”

You grab him by the collar and haul him back down.

No room for second thoughts. No space for guilt.

You kiss him like you want to erase whatever apology was about to fall from his mouth. Your fingers tangle in the back of his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him groan—and then he’s kissing you again, harder, like you flipped a switch he didn’t know existed.

His body presses flush against yours, hips slotting between your legs like it’s instinct, like he needs to be closer. His hand finds your waist under your hoodie, fingers trembling as they grip your skin.

You bite his bottom lip and he gasps—this desperate, broken sound that shoots straight down your spine—and then he’s grinding against you like he can’t help it, like he’s chasing the friction without thinking.

A shudder wracks through him the second his hips roll down, like the contact alone scrambles his thoughts. His hands flex on your waist—like he wants to stop, like he should stop—but then you rock up against him, and any restraint he had vanishes into thin air.

“Fuck,” Jisung chokes, voice rough, forehead dropping to rest against yours. His breath fans hot across your lips, shivering and uneven. “You—” He swallows hard, hips stuttering against yours. “You can’t just—”

“I can’t just what?” You whisper, tilting your head so your nose brushes his.

He groans—frustrated, desperate—and surges forward, capturing your mouth in another breath-stealing kiss. It’s messier this time, all lips and tongue and teeth, nothing careful about it. His hands slide up your waist under your hoodie, fingertips pressing into bare skin like he’s mapping out something sacred.

Your thighs tighten around his hips, and he hisses through his teeth, a whimper slipping free before he can stop it. “Oh, my god—”

The words break off into a moan as you rock up into him again, the friction making your head spin. He’s hard already—you can feel him, pressed thick and throbbing against the heat between your legs, barely separated by layers that feel more and more unbearable by the second.

“Fuck—fuck—” Jisung pants, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “I swear, I just needed—just for a second—” But he doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t stop grinding down against you, his entire body trembling like he’s strung too tight.

“You’re a liar,” you whisper, voice wrecked, hands scrambling at his hoodie.

Jisung nods against your skin, barely coherent. “I know—fuck, I know—” He gasps as you rock up against him again, hands spasming on your waist like he’s barely holding on.

You’re both a mess—panting, flushed, desperate, but it’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

Jisung pulls back just enough to look at you, lips swollen, pupils blown wide. His hands slide down, fingertips tracing the bare skin of your thighs under the hem of your hoodie. “Please,” he breathes. “Fuck, please let me—” His voice breaks off into a whimper as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, then another, dragging down toward your neck. “I need to taste you.”

Your stomach flips, a heat blooming low in your belly that makes you arch up into him. “Jisung—”

“I’ll be good,” he rushes out, mouth brushing your collarbone. “I’ll make you feel so fucking good—just—please.” His fingers dig into your thighs, thumbs stroking over sensitive skin like he’s trying to soothe you even as he trembles with need. “I—I need to—” He swallows hard, exhaling shakily against your skin. “I need to have you on my tongue, please.”

The way he begs—raw, unfiltered, desperate—it makes your head spin. He kisses his way down your throat, mouthing at your pulse, his breath heavy and uneven against your flushed skin. His desperation is palpable, pouring into every kiss, every trembling touch.

You can barely breathe, your fingers tangling in his hair as he trails lower, lips ghosting over the dip of your collarbone, then lower still. His hands push at the hem of your hoodie, shoving it up with an urgency that makes you dizzy.

“Please,” he whispers again, lips brushing just above your ribs. His voice is wrecked, hoarse with need. “Please, baby, let me.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, tongue flicking against your skin, and you swear you feel your pulse between your legs.

You whimper, arching into his touch, and his grip tightens. “Jisung—”

He groans at the sound of his name, like it’s unraveling him completely. “I wanna make you come on my tongue.” His voice is thick, slurred with need, hands sliding down to squeeze your thighs. “Wanna taste you—wanna feel you—” He nuzzles against your stomach, breath hot and uneven. “Need you so bad, baby, please.”

Your head tilts back, a shaky exhale slipping from your lips. The way he’s begging, pressing his need into your skin like a prayer, has you aching. “Then do it,” you breathe, fingers tugging at his hair. 

He lets out the filthiest sound, something between a moan and a whimper, before he’s slipping lower, hands dragging your thighs apart, lips trailing a burning path down your body.

Jisung doesn’t waste time. Doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t even pretend to think about what this means.

He just moves.

One second, he’s mouthing at your stomach, breath hot and uneven against your skin. The next, he’s yanking your shorts down in one rough motion, taking your panties with them, groaning the second you’re bare beneath him.

"Oh, fuck—" His voice is barely there, just a breathy rasp as his hands splay wide over your thighs, spreading you open like he needs to see, like he’s been dying for this longer than he even realizes.

And then his mouth is on you.

You barely have time to process before he licks a broad, desperate stripe up your slit, groaning so deep it vibrates against your skin. It’s not tentative. It’s not slow. It’s hungry—messy and uncoordinated, like he can’t pace himself, like the taste of you just wrecked him on the spot.

"Holy shit—" Your head slams back against the pillow, breath punching out of you. "Jisung—"

He doesn’t respond—doesn’t even slow down. He just moans into you, burying his face deeper, tongue flicking, lips sealing around your clit as he sucks with an obscene, wet sound.

He’s getting off on this.

You can feel it—the way he grinds into the mattress, rutting against it like he’s the one being touched, like eating you out is sending him to the fucking edge. His hands tighten on your thighs, fingers flexing like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel under him.

"God, you taste—" He cuts himself off with another groan, eyes fluttering shut as he laps at you, tongue dipping inside, drinking you in like he’s never going to get another chance. "So fucking good—so perfect—"

You gasp as his lips close around your clit again, sucking hard, the pressure making your entire body jolt. "Sungie—fuck, oh my god—"

He whimpers against you—actually whimpers—hips stuttering against the bed, getting himself off just from this, from the sounds you’re making, the way you’re trembling beneath him.

"Shit, you’re so wet," he groans, pulling back just enough to breathe, lips slick, pupils blown. "I can’t—fuck, I need—" He surges forward again, sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue in a way that makes your back arch.

You’re close. Too close.

"Jisung— I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—"

"Do it," he pants against you, voice wrecked. "Come for me, baby, please—please, wanna taste it—wanna feel you—"

That’s all it takes.

Pleasure slams into you like a live wire, your body tensing before shattering completely. You come with a sharp cry, thighs shaking against his grip, head tilting back against the pillow as waves of heat crash over you.

But Jisung—he doesn’t stop.

"Oh my god—" You jolt as his tongue keeps moving, dragging over your oversensitive clit, his lips sealing around it like he’s determined to wring every last drop from you. "Ji—fuck, I—”

He just moans against you, messy and desperate, tongue fucking into you, one hand slipping down between his own legs to press against his cock, grinding into his palm like he needs the friction.

"Too much," you gasp, trying to push at his head, but he just shakes his head, groaning against you like he’s lost in it, like he can’t stop himself.

"Can’t," he breathes, barely pulling away. His lips are red, wet, eyes completely dazed. "I can’t stop—fuck, I don’t wanna stop—" He licks another filthy stripe up your slit, groaning like he’s savoring it, like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

His fingers press into your thighs, dragging you closer, keeping you spread for him as his tongue flicks over your clit again—relentless, messy, focused like he’s on a fucking mission.

"Fuck—fuck— Jisung—" Your legs shake, hips jerking against his mouth, overstimulation hitting you hard, but he loves it. Soaks it in. Feeds off it.

He’s panting against you, his own hips grinding down into the mattress, chasing relief he’s not even fully aware of. "Please—please, again—" His voice is wrecked, lips dragging over your slick skin. "Just one more—wanna feel you come again, please—"

He drags two fingers through your folds, groaning when he feels how fucking wet you are, before pressing them inside—curling just right, working in sync with his tongue, pushing you toward a second orgasm so fast it makes your head spin.

"Come on, baby," he begs, eyes wild, desperate. "Please—please, I need it—wanna taste it—"

And then you’re gone again.

The second orgasm rips through you, even harder than the first, your whole body shaking, breath punching out of you as your back arches off the bed.

Jisung moans as you come, tongue lapping up every last drop, fingers still fucking into you, hips still grinding into the mattress like he’s about to come just from this.

Only when you physically push at his head does he finally—finally—pull away, panting, lips swollen, chin dripping.

"Fuck," he breathes, voice ruined, eyes hazy. "That was—" He swallows hard, shaking his head. "—so fucking hot, holy shit."

You can barely move. Barely think.

And Jisung—he looks wrecked. Completely undone. His hoodie is bunched up around his waist, his sweatpants pulled tight over what is definitely a very hard, very leaky problem.

He licks his lips, still catching his breath, and then—

"Shit." His expression shifts. Clears. Reality slams back into him all at once. His eyes dart up to meet yours, and you both realize—fuck.

This just changed everything.