#organization takes a rough blow

[inavagrant-a]

Tactical wise it’s wise of the harbingers to mobilize their top ranking harbingers (1-4) because they lost two harbingers at the same time and that, from the outside, looks absolutely atrocious. Capitano, in the harbinger trailer, says that the loss won’t hinder their progress and it’s true but it does hinder their image, it looks bad. To have a harbinger die and then another one abandon them and turn their back on them.

With Dottore being number two and we see him now in Sumeru. Capitano is number four and he’s been mentioned already and we’ve been told he’s been told to start acting. I wouldn’t be surprised if we see and/or hear of Columbina soon as well.

It’s a good move, tactical wise, because harbingers 1-4 are literally the strongest harbingers they got (5 can also count since “6″ is kind of like the middle I guess). It’s intimidating to hear “yeah so harbingers 2 through 4 are on the move right now.” It’ll have the authority powers in each nation on edge because 1-4 are no joke.

[g0thsoojin]

life shouldnt be this fucking hard

[dirtysvthoughts]

mafia boss! wonwoo x reader headcanons

tags/warnings: smut, female! reader, reader is shorter than wonwoo, some pwp, some worldbuilding before the smut (you know how i do), pet names (pretty girl, little one, etc.), mentions of love languages, mentions of lingerie, fingering, lots of kissing and making out, mentions of a dinner, apartment sex, kitchen sex into bedroom sex, make sure they wrap it up before you unwrap it! i’m actually highly upset i can’t have wonwoo blow my back out on a regular

author’s note: first of all, HEY BESTIES! i know i’ve been kinda silent, but i’m slowly getting back my will and motivation to write (do NOT take 3 classes during the summer). i’ve been dying to get my thoughts out on this after the lalali mv, and who knows - this may end up as a full length fic sometime soon 👀 let’s get into it!

———

-mafia boss! wonwoo whose gang started off small, and now he runs one of the largest mafia organizations in the country. he’s cunning, smart, sly, intimidating, even ruthless. those under him respect and admire him, from his vice-leader to the newer members. he strikes fear into several and he is not to be taken lightly or crossed. several groups have been eliminated with just a few words from his lips (like he said, he’s a monster).

-then enter you, his lover, whose entire lifestyle is the opposite of the one he leads. you’re just a simple office worker, but you’re fortunate enough to have some extra pleasures, like a lavish apartment and a decent social life. wonwoo has had his share of women and previous relationships, but you were different. you keep him level headed and grounded. your calm demeanor and intelligence are so very, very attractive to him. and of course, your looks and natural beauty were stunning. he’s protective of you and would prefer you rather not get involved in any of his business endeavors.

-even though he insists on not bringing you into his craziness, he wants to help you out and provide for you as much as he can. his acts of service have ranged from his captains running errands for you to even giving you large monetary gifts every few months.

smut under the cut!! minors DO NOT INTERACT FROM HERE!

-good god, sex with mafia boss! wonwoo would go two ways: rough sex with you screaming and begging for mercy or soft sex with you whimpering and moaning his name, telling you to hold your cum in until he says you can release it. either way, his dominance will be asserted.

-has multiple pet names for you, but absolutely loves calling you: “little one,” “princess,” “my darling,” and “pretty girl.”

-mafia boss! wonwoo has an OBSESSION with you in lingerie. he. can’t. get. enough. he’s bought you multiple sets, and of course has his favorites. absolutely loves it when you dress up for him, he will roam his calloused hands up and down your body, kissing your stomach as he toys with the hem of your panties.

-one of your sexual encounters was in his gang’s warehouse (before the group’s weekly meeting, so it was empty). he looked so dashing in his green gucci suit, hair pulled back into a bun - the wetness gushing in your panties making it clear you needed him. when he closes and locks the warehouse garage door, he crashes his lips onto yours while his hands grab your ass. he grunted something about missing you and how he needed to feel your tight cunt around him. at the moment, you’re unable to form words, but you feel the exact same way, all you could think about was him while you were working and the last time he fucked you silly. he walks you over to a table, lips still on yours and his hands now moving to take off your blouse. he tosses the white garment to the side, leaving you in your bra and work pants. once the back of your knees hit the edge of the table, he guides you to lay on top, clearing off everything in your way - objects loudly crashing to the floor. he caresses your face as his right hand works the clasps and the zipper on your pants, fingers slowly trailing inside your panties, and lightly touching your clit from the outside. you can help but bite your lip and moan his name, wonwoo smirking in response and he rubs the pad of his fingers around your part. “think you can finish before junghoon (his vice leader) gets here, little one?”

-another wonderful sexual encounter brought out his soft dom side. he wanted to spend some time with you, so you two set a date where he can come over to your place, have some food, and enjoy your company. on the day of, he rings the doorbell to your apartment, bringing with him a bottle of champagne, dressed in a white mock turtleneck with black pants. when you open the door, a smile appears on his face and you take his hand, leading him through the door. you just put him at ease, and he feels so comfortable around you. “i missed you my darling,” he whispers as he kisses your hand, a blush creeping on your cheeks.

-some time passes after dinner, and the two of you are talking in the kitchen with champagne still in your glasses. as you sit on the counter, wonwoo finishes washing the dishes, thanking you for the meal. you shrug and say it was nothing and you didn’t mind, but wonwoo insists that it was something more. “i know i don’t say this a lot, but i want to let you know that i do love you, and you mean a lot to me.” your heart melts at his words and you give wonwoo a hug as he comes back to your side. “i love you too, baby,” you whisper. a few moments later, you delicately press your lips on his, and he seals the deal. your tongues dance together as you continue to kiss, this time your hands are the first to move and they tug at the hem of his turtleneck, pulling it up to reveal some of his abs. he helps you out as his shirt goes higher, and it’s quickly tossed to the other side of the room. he returns the favor by taking off your crop top, revealing the bra that beautifully accentuates your breasts. he licks his lips as he kisses your neck, his hands moving slowly up your thighs. “w-wonwoo,” you whine, “i need you!” “i know, darling, i know,” he responds. “you’ll have everything you want and more tonight.” he carries you bridal style to your bedroom, lips still locked together as gently tosses you onto the bed.

-you’re pretty sure by now your neighbors can hear you moan for your partner, but you could care less right now - wonwoo was thrusting into so deliciously that you body pinged with each movement. he knew your body and he knew how to please you, and tonight he wanted to make sure just how much you meant to him. filthy phrases leave his mouth, calling you his baby girl, how perfect your pussy was for him, and all he wanted was to see your legs covered in his juices. you grasp onto your hotel-like white sheets, your face contorting as his deep voice and dick send you over the edge when he hits your spot and releases his load in you. you breathe heavily as you come too, saying his name over and over as if it was the only thing you knew.

“i love you little one,” he kisses your cheek as he pulls out, embracing you as you cuddle up to his side.

“mmm, i love you too.”

[tender-rosiey]

MORE HUSBAND!SUKUNA PLSSSS (not forcing TvT) (not modern-)

tough love — ryomen sukuna x gn!reader

a/n: okay but like imagine living in a palace with this guy

your husband is sweet, but not in the traditional sense.

when you think of sweet, you think of nights spent with hushed whispers and mutual giggles, you think of flowers at your doorstep every single day.

you don’t think of a 7 foot something man, with the biggest scowl on his face, staring at you in the early morning and scaring the heebie-jeebies out of you.

but he is still sweet.

despite the blood staining his hands and his manic grin doing such acts, the same hands have the ability to hold you as gently as one would stroke a flower’s petal.

they’re able to cradle you and carry you to bed and tuck you in. sure, there is no goodnight kiss, but that’s because he doesn’t leave. when you rest, your husband stays awake on the look to make sure that no harm comes to you.

he is rough with what he does. still, you feel happiness about to overflow when, for example, he gets you jewelry he believes would suit you.

add to that, the fact that he personally puts them on you. you remember that one time he got back from his endeavor—terrorizing yet another village—and he greeted you with a box painted with gold and wrapped in velvet.

you took the box from his hands and opened. it revealed a very exquisite anklet with jewels of your favorite color. they are organized in a matter that you distinctly remember telling your husband about and how pretty that is to you.

you looked up to him giddily, “so you do pay attention!”

he takes the anklet from the box, grumbling, “shut up,” and despite his harsh tone and words, he kneels and puts the anklet on you. it’s a bit hard, considering his big hands and long nails, but he manages. he pulls back with a smirk, and you examine the anklet on your leg.

“I like it.”

“of course, you do; I chose it.”

he is an ass, but that same guy takes care of you when you’re sick—somehow. when news had spread that you’ve fallen ill, you expected that your husband would simply send the maids to your aid and the doctors to ensure your rapid and swift recovery.

instead, what you saw was the figure of your—scary—husband stood at your door. you peek from under the covers, a cough escaping your lips, “how can I help you, husband?”

he frowns down at you, “you look like shit.”

you start laughing, but it quickly turns into a coughing fit—his frown deepens—, “well—obviously! I am sick,” you try to get a look of what’s behind him, “where are the maids and doctors?”

he sits on the bed, right by your side, and rests a hand on your forehead, “I am not letting their filthy hands touch you,” a sigh threatens to escape him, when he feels your temperature, “you’re foolish.”

you huff, “I can’t control how sick I get, you know!”

“well, you could’ve avoided this, if you had listened to me when I told you not to play in the rain.”

the memory brings a dopey smile to your face.

the rain was falling freely but gently. the wind was blowing just right. and your husband was watching you, under the door frames so he doesn’t get wet. he called for you, of course, but you’re a free spirit and wanted to enjoy the outdoors a bit more.

you’re never confided in the walls of the palace, but it’s nice to feel like a rebel every once in a while even if it ends up with you being sick in bed.

he sees the little kick of your feet, “but, it was fun, right? I even managed to get you to stand in the rain with me!”

yes, he did, in the end and after much whining, go in the rain with you. he was simply standing there, but it’s the thought that counts, right? and because he is the king of curses, he didn’t get sick, but he did get stuck taking care of you.

it’s a win in his book—even if he hates seeing you all frail like that—but he would never tell you that.

he shoves a cup of water to your lips, and grumbles, “shut up and drink.”

your goes up to hold the cup, but his glare makes you slowly lower them back down. you get the memo that he wants to take care of you, to the fullest. he slowly helps you drink all of the water.

so you relax the entire night, letting him nurse you back to health. he is a bit clumsy throughout it, and you understand it’s because he never truly cared for someone before nor did someone care for him in a way so tender and gentle.

you think it’s cute: his determination mixed with a hint of roughness and cluelessness.

you want to giggle and chuckle at some of the things he does like how he was confused about which medicine you were supposed to take and at what hour.

or like how—despite his enormous strength—he was unable to take the cover of the bottle of herbs off, but you’re sure he would either glare at you or leave you to suffer alone for an hour.

so yeah, he stays with you the entire time you’re sick, night and day, never leaving your chambers. even when he needed something like medicine or a wet cloth, he would send the maids.

he stays by your side till you’re back to your feet with a smile on your face.

and when you’re dinning on the very long and gigantic table, you look intently at your husband’s face. he reminds you of something with his permanent scowl and grumpily attitude.

he notices your gaze and groans, “what is it now?”

you gasp as you finally come to the long awaited realization.

a tiger.

your husband is a tiger, one hell of a grumpy tiger.

“your face looks stupider than usual; what’s up with you now?”

an asshole tiger.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @wemma67 @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[moonstruckme]

James Potter or tasm!peter parker fluff or comfort?? I dont mind whatever you write ill love 🙏🙏

Thanks for requesting :)

cw: implied past abuse

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Peter’s having a rough week. These things always seem to happen to him. He’s got a big presentation at work on Friday, by which time the project he’s been underfunded and understaffed for has to be finished. His Aunt May has been busy with work, too, so either you or Peter is at her place most nights trying to help out, except she seems to think when it’s Peter it’s familial responsibility but when it’s you it's an unfair burden, so it’s mostly been Peter. There’s also an impressively organized cell of criminals he’s been trying to investigate before they blow up a bank or something. So of course, he’s sleep deprived to boot. 

And while you know the rough edge of frustration in his voice isn’t meant for you, hearing it makes your skin tighten nonetheless. 

“How does a person run out of salt?” Peter stalks through the front door and straight into the kitchen. “Or maybe the better question is, why does it take going to three bodegas to find one with salt in stock?”  

He’s soaked from the rain, and you feel guilty for being all cozied up on the couch while he’s been running around the city. Maybe it’s irrational, but you feel sort of like you should have been stressed out and cold all night, too. In solidarity. 

“May didn’t have salt?” you guess as Peter opens the fridge, stooping low to peer inside. 

“You should see her pantry, babe. It’s like everything either expired at the turn of the century or got bugs in it. Hey, did you make anything for dinner?” 

“No.” You hesitate. “You told me you wanted to eat at May’s, so I had the leftovers from last night.” 

“Shit.” He closes the fridge, resting his forehead on the door. “You’re right. I totally forgot, I only made enough for her.” 

“I’ll make something now.” You stand. Peter gives you a look that conveys both apology and gratitude as you join him in your small kitchen. “You feel like pasta?” 

“Thank you,” he says, kissing the top of your head lightly. 

“Course,” you murmur. Really, it feels like the least you can do. “Would you mind chopping up some basil?” 

“For my own dinner?” Peter teases. The levity in his voice is obviously forced, and the air between you heavies as he realizes you’ve heard it too. 

You almost don’t want to ask, but you do want to be a supportive girlfriend. You can lend him a compassionate ear. “How was work today?” 

He sighs, grabbing the cutting board from a cabinet near your feet and shutting the door with perhaps a tad too much force. 

“It was…ahh.” He scrubs a hand through his hair, stooping again into the white fridge light to find the basil. It casts dark shadows underneath his eyes. “You’ve gotta be sick of hearing about this.” 

“It’s okay. Unless you don’t feel like talking about it.” 

“No, it’s just, how do they expect us to stick to their tight schedule when half of my lab is being pulled away to other projects all the time?” Peter’s knife slices through the basil, hitting the cutting board with a sharp thunk. “Today, we were down one intern who caught the stomach flu, and it set us way back. One intern shouldn’t be that crucial to a big project like this!” 

You hum, ignoring the way the back of your neck prickles. The tension emanating from Peter is completely valid, your reaction a bothersome, purposeless souvenir from an old life. You find yourself staring into the pot of water and waiting for it to boil. 

“And it’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, but all the rest of us are working extra hours to try and get this done in time.” 

Small bubbles in the bottom of the pot, rising tentatively to the surface. Peter’s knife thunks a quickening rhythm on the cutting board. 

“If they’d given us the money we asked for, we could have hired more people, been working with better equipment, but instead—” The water starts to rumble, steam warming your face. It’s thick in your throat. “—it’s like we don’t even work for a top-notch lab. Like, do they think we really believe they don’t have any resources to spare?”

Peter’s voice is rising, irritation sharpening his words. You reach to turn down the stove when big bubbles reach the surface, splattering hot onto your wrist. You ignore the sting. 

“My boss keeps talking about how important this presentation is,” Peter goes on, opening the cabinet next to your head and reaching inside, “but if it were really important, he’d have—” He slams the cabinet door. 

You both freeze. 

To anyone else, it would look like nothing—the way your expression stays perfectly still, your muscles stiffening just slightly, the invisible pause in your heartbeat. But Peter knows you. 

“Sorry.” He sounds as breathless as you feel. “I’m sorry. You okay?” 

“Mhm.” Despite your best intentions, your voice comes out pitchy. You can’t make yourself move in a way that feels natural, so you stay not moving at all. Steam wafting warm up onto your face. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Peter says, tone softer than you’ve heard it in days. “I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to yell.” The roiling pot has calmed to a gurgle. You can see him swallow in your peripheral vision. “Can you look at me?” 

You take in what you hope is a subtle breath, turning to your boyfriend with a wan smile. “Sorry,” you manage. “I don’t know why I did that.” 

“It’s okay,” he says, brows bunched in the middle. Brown eyes like a puppy’s. 

He shifts his arms, a question, and you step into them. You do it more for him than for you, but the second Peter’s arms wrap around your back the last of the tension shudders out of you. You hug him back, rubbing between his shoulder blades reassuringly. 

“I scared you?” he asks, still in that soft voice like he’s afraid of startling you. It’s not really a question. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to get so mad.” 

“You’re allowed to be mad,” you argue weakly. There’s an embarrassing blockage in your throat. “It’s not your fault if I freak out, you should still be allowed to vent.” 

“No, but I know how you are.” Peter squeezes your shoulders. “I can vent without slamming things. It’s not nice.” 

You don’t have much of an argument for that. Still, “You really shouldn’t be the one comforting me right now,” you point out. 

A light hum. “Says who? I’m feeling a lot better already.” His hand climbs up to cup the back of your neck, his face turning down so his lips rest on your head. “Should’a just gone straight for the hug when I got home. Might have saved us both a lot of ranting.” 

You push your face into his sweatshirt, mindless of its dampness. He smells like rainwater. You don’t know how you could ever have thought, even for a second, that someone like this could be capable of hurting you. 

“I’ll make a note of that,” you murmur. 

“Yeah, please do,” Peter teases, pressing a kiss to your head. He pulls away and sets two still-chilled hands on your face. “Are you really okay?” he asks sincerely. “I know how scared you get, sweetheart. I’m so sorry I did that to you.” 

“You didn’t mean to,” you tell him, “and it wouldn’t be your fault anyways. I’m really okay.” 

Your boyfriend nods, but he still looks troubled. “Another hug for good measure?” 

“For you or for me?” 

A corner of his mouth kicks up. “Does it matter?” 

It doesn’t really.

[oceantornadoo]

(simon riley x f!reader, same rank!)

violence, cod inaccuracies, reader is a badass

simon riley never calls you baby

until he does.

you tell him it has to stay hidden. you can't be known as "the girl fucking the lieutenant", no matter if you're the same rank as him, the same sweat and tears put into the job. it scares you, the thought of losing decades of hard work over some stupid fling with a man they call ghost. a man who brings you tea on your sick days, a man with soft eyes and a listening ear, the only man who's ever brought you to orgasm. the push and pull of your autonomy and your love is ever growing, that bone deep fear rooted in your marrow.

simon's scared too. scared of waking up and it's all a dream. scared that his enemies will find out, scared that it'll show he isn't so dead after all. he's been a rotting thing on earth for nearly four decades and he's comfortable with it; no matter how alive you make him feel. his hand on your waist feels right, but he can't bring his heart into the light.

so you call each other "lieutenant." maybe "riley" when he pisses you off, just to get under his skin. "dove" is rare, but it warms you up just the same, gives you an unbidden vision of hot chocolate and snow days. mainly its "l.t.", remnant of johnny, the respect and friendliness woven together sweetly. you murmured "babe" to him once, in the early morning when he sneaks out, and felt his shoulders bunch, the weight of it too much to bear. that was the end of pet names, or so you thought.

--

it's a foggy day on what becomes the worst night of your life. the mission is at a standstill, the intel outdated. you were supposed to be taking out a terrorist organization, blowing up the base of their operations, but instead the building is damp and abandoned, echoes of life the only sign they were here. price is in your ear, telling you to clear one last room and retreat, simon already on his way out. you nudge your way into the room with caution, years of practiced steps coming to you on instinct. for some reason, you don't catch the glint of a stranger's eye in a hidden corner. you don't see the rope in his hands, the knife between his teeth. the next thing you see is the floor, fog seeping over concrete as rough hands gag you and mutter promises of ungodly harm.

something's wrong. "price." simon murmurs soft and low, crossing out of the building to the tree cover below. "where is she? s'pposed t' be out by now." he's scanning the building through his scope, looking for that figure he knows so well, could find blind. "copy. 'er tracker says she's still in the buildin'. let's-" there's a piercing scream in the air. the ravens take flight from the trees. dark wings, dark words. "ghost-" "goin' in." a sigh on the other end. he can practically feel price's hesistancy but he doesn't care, heavy feet already moving back into the building. "you're goin' in blind, radar's jus' gone out." he swears under his breath, clearing hallway after hallway as the building falls back into silence. just as he comes upon a 4-way split, you scream again, the sound far away and to his left. "'m comin' dove, hold on." there's no gunfire, no sounds of fight. it's so eerie he thinks he might have dreamed it, his worst nightmare come true. his instincts lead the way, some knowledge of your location hidden in his blood. pop. finally a gunshot, and if he squints hard, he tries to imagine it being from your weapon. he's close, nostrils expanding at the scent of you, memorized even without your favored perfume.

there were four of them. you still can't believe you missed them, the thought in the back of your head as you fight for your life. scrambling from the rope one tries to force on you, becoming an eel as you slip out of their grasps. this is what you do, what you're trained for. until someone stomps down hard on your ankle, the force of it cracking straight through. you scream, can't help it, searing pain blinding your vision for precious seconds. they take advantage of it, gloved hands tying your own behind your back in a tight knot. you can't reach your comms so you scream again, this one out of frustration, desperation that your team, that simon, might not find you.

the big one shuts you up with a hand to your throat, a bruising grip that leaves you unable to speak. they aren't well trained, fumbling hands and shaky grips, and you're finally able to reach your holster, shooting the first between the eyes before you can even glimpse his face. now you're in your element, adrenaline covering the pain of your ankle as you fight back, shooting one after the other, digging out your knife for close combat. it's over in a blink, the men no match for your skills, and once you double check they're dead, you collapse in the corner, the pain of your ankle roaring. that's when you hear it.

"baby?" it's him (but it can't be). he's never called you that. you pretend not to see when he whispers it into your neck as you feign sleep, when he murmurs it in a grunt as he's deep in your cunt. he's never said it to your face. "baby!" it's definitely him, that gruff voice cutting across the fog. you whine out of frustration, your throat too sore from your attacker to call out. instead, you limp to the door, almost running into simon as he comes crashing into your own personal hell. he sweeps you into his arms and you let him, grabbing his shoulders to make sure he's real.

"y' hurt?" he takes a look around the room, at the carnage in your wake. "my brave girl." you're sobbing, unsure whether its from frustration or relief. still can't believe you got caught, feeling like such a stereotype to have your knight in shining armor rescue you. "handled them all y'rself, hm, baby?" he's all sweetness and it hurts, seeing his eyes swell in pride as he takes in the four dead men, gunshots and a knife sticking out of one's eye. "why- why are you calling me that, simon?" he's ushering you out, your arm around his neck as you limp towards freedom. "proud of you." he says it simply, eyes trained on potential threats, not watching your reaction.

"aye, i told you, gaz. ye owe me a drink." soap's voice crackles through the comms. they were on. which meant your team heard the whole thing, heard simon practically claim you, knew you were together, thought you were a slu- "she's too good for him. i don't believe it." gaz's voice replied. "bugger off." simon grumbled into the mic, the sounds of them snickering loud and clear. "good?" he turned back at you, stopping you before you approached the clearing where your team waited. his eyes told you something different, that he'd walk out of here right now if you wanted. the cock of his head meant he'd follow you anywhere, live off the lamb for decades if you wanted. that was all you needed to know. you nodded and pushed forward. "yeah, i'm good, baby."

--

this is SO CRINGE but it's been in my drafts forever and needed to start paying rent

[erodasfishtacos]

Digging A Deeper Hole || MLB ||

Prompt: Harry is going through a rough adjustment to his new life. At twenty-one, he was the face of a massive franchise, a father, and a husband with millions watching his every mood. He starts to feel it. Word Count: 7.8k Warnings: Depression, Anxiety, Angst - please keep in mind H is young here so he’s a bit more immature than one shots where he’s older. He’s still figuring stuff out

AUTHORS NOTES:

There is 5 more part to this up on patreon (17k words, a 25.1k fic overall)

I upload a piece of writing every 1-3 days (usually two) consistently// currently updating abo!roommates

All writings are accurately and always added to the organized folders in the collections feature

There are currently 300 + pieces available to read

It only cost $3USD —— thanks for any support and check me out here!

========================= Harry had the weight on the world on his shoulders.

The past year had been the best but most stressful time that he has ever had in his life.

He hadn’t had a break, it was go, go, go.

At the age of twenty-one, it felt like he had responsibilities that most people never had this amount of.

He had expectations from every side, especially from work, though it sounded like a dream to be the new face of Major League Baseball, to be the highest paid rookie to start, or the fact that he was a projected to be one of the best players of all time.

It came at a cost.

A really fucking big cost.

It took Harry a while to realize that he was experiencing some depression, the pressure of his coaches, the team, the public, and on top of that, he was navigating being newly married with a baby.

++

”Styles, get off the phone!” His assistant coach shouted from the field, he should be jogging onto the mound because practice was nearly over, and everyone was ready to head back to the hotels.

“Hold the fuck on!” Harry shouts back without looking up, waiting for the FaceTime call to connect, he had thought he had more time before they started up again.

Harry’s heart leaps when it connects, his perfect baby in the camera view, blowing raspberries between chewing on teether that looked like car keys, “Say ‘hi’ to your daddy!”

Easton is too little to quite comprehend the phone but he blinks in confusion at the screen before blowing another wet raspberry towards his father.

”Hi East, look at how handsome you look,” Harry croons, trying to memorize every little feature because he’s only going to be this small for a little while, “Your daddy misses you so much.”

YN pulls the phone to her face for a moment, “I took him on a walk around Central Park earlier today and he saw a group of pigeons. He squealed so loudly that they all flew away in a flock and he started giggling. I wish I would have gotten it on video.”

”He really does love the pigeons-“ Harry begins but is cut off.

”Styles, final warning. Get off your phone or I’m locking it up! Now,” The other coach yells, starting to actually get pissed, and Harry has to resist the urge to flip them off.

”H,” YN says knowingly, it was pretty common that he was getting yelled at, “Go practice.”

“I want to be home with you,” Harry frowns, he truly means it.

”I know,” YN agrees with kind understanding on her face, “Go kick some ass for us.”

++

He didn’t get to spend the time he wanted at home with his family, the away games caused him to panic, and he was starting to have anxiety attacks as he steps onto the private jet.

Harry was blowing YN’s phone up at any free moment he got, asking to FaceTime to see her and Easton, and YN had noticed how much more he was asking for reassurance, it was frequent.

++

”He’s sleepy. He just fed for almost an hour,” YN murmurs, tired herself and her eyes were heavy, it was undeniable that she had a lot on her plate with taking care of Easton by herself.

YN did see Anne once or twice a week but she was adamant that she did not need help raising her own baby, that she was fully capable of taking care of Easton by herself when Harry wasn’t home.

Easton was ten-months at this point, splayed on his mother’s chest with a milk-drunk little smile as he laid his small fist on her neck, easily starting to drift to sleep.

Harry feels a pang of disgusting, gnarly guilt and disappointment that he’s not there to lay in bed with them, and he felt like a piece of shit for sitting in this swanky hotel room by himself.

”Harry?” YN asks after he doesn’t respond, he was just watching the screen as his wife ran her fingers through Easton’s soft baby curls, silky smooth.

Harry swallows harshly to avoid the tears prickling, “I love you so much. You know that?”

YN smiles at him, soft and warm, “We love you so much. We miss you and cannot wait for you to get home. We both want so many cuddles with you.”

Harry’s jaw clenches, scrunching his nose, and feel the pit in his stomach get deeper, darker, rawer, and it felt overwhelming as he sat alone with his family on the other side of the country.

It felt suffocating that he wanted to go home but he couldn’t because he had a contract, a job, he had to provide, and he worked his whole life to be where he’s at.

He’s in a position that billions would want to be in but all he can think about is being with his family, he would give up everything he’d ever accomplished to cuddle with them every night.

But he couldn’t, deep down, he knew that it was his emotions getting the best of him, and it’s disappointing that he’s not enjoying baseball like he thought he would right now.

“I…I’m sorry,” Harry sniffles, rubbing his eye roughly to catch the tears before they fall any further.

YN’s smile falls which makes him feel even worse, “Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you apologizing?”

”I’m not there to help you,” Harry presses his face into his forearm to try to stop the tears, “I’m just sittin’ here in a hotel room, I’m fuckin’ useless to you.”

”Hey,” YN says firmly, lips going into a straight line, “Harry, you are not useless. How could you think that? You’re providing for us. You make it possible for me to stay at home, in this beautiful home, with everything we’d ever need, and spend every moment with Easton. That’s because of you.”

It makes Harry feel a bit better, that perspective on the situation because he hadn’t looked at it like that, “I’ll always provide for you two.”

”You’re the best provider. We love you so much. We are so proud of you. Easton is going to be so so proud of his daddy and what a good man you are to us,” YN tells him confidently, thter’s no wavering in her voice as she watches Harry’s reaction.

Harry hangs his head, done trying to stop the tears, he didn’t feel good.

He had felt depression a few times in his life, the most when he was going through his struggles with his sexuality, and it was starting to feel like that again.

”Harry,” YN’s voice is soft, careful, “Are you okay, baby? What made you so upset?”

Harry wipes his face with the back of his hand, he didn’t want to worry YN.

She had so much on her plate right now that the last thing she needed to worry about was his mental health because he needed to pull it together and stop being so emotional.

”I just miss you,” Harry tells her, it wasn’t a lie but it really wasn’t the full truth, there was so much more to it than what he was letting on but he could handle it on his own.

Lord knows he had enough time while he was sitting in this hotel room alone or had a flight on the private jet.

++

Harry felt like a car ran him over, twice, and then backed up over him.

He did as good as everyone expected him to do during the games in San Diego, he won all three of the games with too many strikeouts to count, and two home runs to get them scores.

Harry was able to shut his mind off during the games, all he was thinking about was his job, and what he needed to do to make sure that they won the games - that was it.

Afterwards, the creeping feelings that had been haunting him especially hard this past month or so wouldn’t wait very long to pop up again after the games.

He started demanding a flight home the night of the last game, everyone else always waited until the next day because traveling right after playing was near torture with the exhaustion.

Harry felt like death as he landed in New York City, his bones were heavy as if they weighed a thousand pounds each, his arm was sore from how many pitches he had to throw, and he hadn’t been sleeping well when he was away from YN and the baby.

His heart was a bit lighter as he opened the front door to their home, the smell of his favorite brownies hitting his nose, and a peel of bubbly, angelic baby giggles echoed through the hallway.

Harry needed to see them, he dropped his bag and didn’t care that his cologne bottle most likely just shattered inside because of how careless he was being.

No, he was making his way toward the smell and sounds, and when he found what he waas looking for - his stomach untwisted just the slightest and everything didn’t seem so bleak for a moment.

YN turns around, having been alerted to his entrance by his bag dropping, Easton was on her hip and had a spatula in his hand, gnawing on it happily.

”Who is that, East?” YN bounces him up and down, “Is that your daddy?”

Harry wants to cry tears of relief when Easton drops the spatula, letting it clatter onto the tile, and starts to cry.

He was the cutest little thing.

Whenever Harry got home from work, Easton would start to cry because he wanted him, and was sad like he just realized that he had been missing him all day and he was finally home with him.

”Oh my goodness,” YN hums as Easton wiggles, starting to reach out for him with grabbing hands, dramatic tears running down his face as his pouty bottom lip wobbles.

”No tears, bub,” Harry coos as he steps forward, taking Easton out of her arms, and giving him the biggest hug he can manage as he presses kisses to the side of his face, his hair, his nose, “I missed you so much. I hate being away from you, East, miss you every moment.”

YN is watching with a content smile, patiently waiting her turn as he blinks over at her, his voice still soft and raspy, “Hi mama.”

”Hi H,” YN whispers back, stepping forward to cup his jaw and bring their lips together in a kiss, her thumb rubbing the stubble of his jawline and her other squeezing his hip, “I missed you.”

Harry hates that he feels the lump in his throat, “I fuckin’ missed you so much. I can’t explain how much I hate being away from you and him. I am so grateful that you’re so good to me and East. You know that?”

One of YN’s love languages was definitely words of affirmation so to hear such nice compliments really did mean a lot to her because she didn’t always feel the most secure either.

It was a lot to have her husband traveling all the time, where if he wanted, there would be unlimited opportunities for him to make bad choices because there was not a shortage of men and women who would bed him without a second thought.

YN had complete and utter trust in him.

It wasn’t ever a real concern but when Harry was as gorgeous as he was, it was hard not to feel a bit of insecurity when people often let it be known how much they found him attractive.

”Thank you, H,” YN brings him in for another kiss, “Dinner is almost ready. Brownies are also baking in the oven. Easton was my little helper but was trying to get his chunky fingers in the raw batter which he had an attitude about when I told him ‘no’.”

”You better listen to your mama,” Harry hums at his son, munching at his neck until Easton is giggling and pulling at his curls to keep him close, he loved his father so much, “Be nice to mama, Easton Robin.”

YN reaches forward, “Go get a shower. Settle in a little bit.”

Harry passes Easton back but frowns, “Darling, I can take him and manage. You have had him for the last week.”

YN waves him off, “I got him for a few minutes longer. Get showered, dressed, then we can eat dinner, and cuddle. Okay?”

”Sounds like a dream,” Harry replies because it really does, all that he wants is to be able to hold them in his arms, and start filling this hole that starts to eat away at him every time he has to leave.`

++

After Harry showers, he tugs on his briefs, and sits on the edge of the bed.

He doesn’t know how he fell asleep like that but it seemed to happen nearly as soon as he plopped down on the plush of their bed because he hadn’t slept in nearly twenty-four hours, after an exhausting game and seven hours of travel.

The next time he wakes up, it’s completely dark in the bedroom, and he blinks his eyes open to see the alarm clock reading that it was three in the morning.

YN was fast asleep on her side of the bed, baby monitor on the side table, and Easton was sleeping in his nursery on his back with a binky halfway out of his mouth.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, putting his fists to them for a moment as he grits his teeth, “Fuck fuck fuck.”

He gets out of bed, not wanting to disturb YN, she looked so fucking pretty while she slept and Harry was in disbelief of what a fucking idiot he was.

YN not only watched Easton for the past week, she managed everything else for their household, made Harry dinner and dessert, all for him to fall asleep.

She needs a break from the baby, YN should have gotten one last night after all her hard work, and Harry just went and fell asleep like a bloody teenager with no responsibilities.

He grabs the baby monitor so that YN won’t be woken up, hoping that she will sleep in for as long as possible in the morning, and Harry can take on baby duties.

Harry’s plan was to clean the house, the least he could do as an apology but everything was near spotless thanks to his wife, and when he went into the kitchen to clean the dishes from dinner.

There were none, YN had put all the leftovers away, wrapped the brownies, and cleaned all the pots and pans - as well as all of Easton’s bottles.

”Fuck me,” Harry grunts as he resists the urge to hit something, instead slamming his fists on the countertop, and staring at nothing as he feels the deep hole become bigger, “Such a fuck-up.”

Harry doesn’t even know what he can do to repay her, to make it up to her, and the mixture of his anxiety and depression had to be the gnarliest combination because they were kicking his ass.

His anxiety starts taking over and an intrusive thought starts to pop into his brain and he can’t shake it.

What if she leaves you?

What if she doesn’t think you’re a good enough father?

She does all this for you and you treat her like shit the moment you come home?

You don’t deserve her.

Harry’s throat tightens up, it feels hard to breathe for a few minutes as he tries taking slow, deep inhales before repeating the process to help try to regulate his breathing.

He had to make this up to her.

++

Harry manages Easton by himself, that wasn’t an issue, and he was even able to run out to grab YN’s favorite donuts from a few blocks down before she was up.

Harry was currently in the living room, laying on the floor with Easton as he played with these soft, big blocks, and smiled at his father with only two little teeth showing on his bottom gums.

”Morning, well afternoon,” YN laughs as she looks at the clock on the wall, it was nearly twelve and she was able to catch up on all the sleep she desperately needs, “You didn’t need to let me sleep for that long, H. I appreciate it though, felt super nice to be able to get re-energized.”

”It’s the least I could do,” Harry replies, the enthusiasm that was usually in his voice was missing, and he struggled to meet her eye because he was embarassed.

YN knows something is off as she sits down next to them, scooping Easton up and tucking him under her big shirt where he can excitedly start to nurse - he very begrudgingly used a bottle but it was always a bit more difficult to get him to eat with one.

”Are you sure you’re okay?” YN frowns as she rubs his knee, “You seem down. Did something happen?”

”I’m a piece of shit,” Harry chuckles without humor, throwing his hands up, “Isn’t it obvious? I leave you at home with the baby and then the minute I get home, I fall asleep and don’t do shit to help you. On top of that, you made dinner and I didn’t even eat it.”

YN’s frown turns into more of a scowl, “Harry, what has you talking like this? Did someone say something to you? I don’t like when you talk like that. You were exhausted! You were just away for a week, training and playing, and have so much other than that going on. Do you really think that I’m mad about that?”

“I’m mad about how I acted because it effects you,” Harry grits back, his anxiety and depression had a tendency to make him cranky in a way that he normally wouldn’t be, “It’s no excuse. You get no excuses. I need to do better.”

”You need to stop talking like that,” YN retorts as she stares back at him with a twitch of her brow, “Everything is fine. We are fine. Nothing is wrong. This is how our life looks sometimes and that’s okay. You are doing this to take care of us.”

“It feels pretty fuckin’ selfish right now,” Harry shakes his head, standing up and trying to hide the wince from how achey his muscles were, he should do a cold plunge but he’s not going to take anymore time for himself - he dosn’t deserve it.

“How is it selfish?” YN is getting frustrated, her leg shaking slightly but then she stops when she realizes that it’s jostling Easton and he whines in displeasure.

”I get to get a full night’s sleep in a luxury hotel room, you’re here.”

YN scoffs, licking over her teeth, “Yeah, Harry. It’s a massive hardship, living in a three million dollar home in the middle of the Upper East Side. I think I’ll survive.”

“That’s not the fuckin’ point,” Harry cracks his neck, his anxiety made his heart rate feel like he was constantly running a marathon, it was hard for him to keep his composure.

”Don’t talk to me like that,” YN raises her voice, moving to get up with Easton still suckling away, “This isn’t how you show appreciation, Harry. I’m just trying to have a conversation and you have an attitude.”

Harry knows that he’s just going to continue to dig himself a deeper pit than he’s already in if he keeps talking.

Most of the time, he did not feel like like a twenty-one year old despite his boyish looks but right now, he felt like he was acting his age and it wasn’t a good thing.

”Why don’t you take Easton and see your mom today,” YN offers, her voice is still tight but trying to keep it cordial as she brings Easton out from under her shirt.

He was blinking languidly, his lips smacking in satisfaction as his belly was full, and YN hands him over to Harry to take, “Yeah, I’ll get him ready and go.”

It was a good opportunity to give YN a break but he was honestly a bit surprised that she took him up on it or that she didn’t want to come with because when Harry came home, they tried to stay together as much as possible.

He does know that he’s acting like a complete dickhead which makes sense why she wasn’t dying to spend time with him right night, still it was just odd because it’s unlike her.

”Sounds good,” YN pulls out her phone, looking down and fingers flitting across the screen which was also a bit odd, how she was a distracted by it because it was unlike her just like her letting him go alone.

God, Harry was making a fucking mess, wasn’t he? +++++++++++++++++

It stuck out like a sore thumb when Harry was off.

Normally, he was the most easy-going, bubbly, funny person who stole most of the attention when he wasn’t even trying.

It was how he captured everyone’s interest whether it was his big grin that had his dimples showing deep in the pockets of his cheeks, the way he threw his head back and let out these low raspy chuckles, or just how he nodded attentively when someone else was talking.

So when he wasn’t feeling like himself, all those things that lit up rooms disappeared, and it was hard for him to socialize.

Harry was still beating himself up the entire ride outside of the city to his mother’s house, Easton was napping in the back and this would be a nice sleep before the excitement of Nana’s house.

Harry was replaying everything with YN, from the way he was sharp with her to get short with her when she did absolutely nothing to deserve that from him because she was so fucking good to him - all the time.

YN never complained about anything.

She never complained about being at home with the baby alone.

YN never tied to guilt Harry because he was away during the season so much.

It makes it so much worse that he’s not able to hold his shit together even just for YN, he didn’t want her to worry about his mental health, that’s the last thing she needed on her plate.

He was going to figure this out himself.

It wasn’t that he didn’t feel like he couldn’t talk to her, it was more that he knew she cares so much that it might upset her or make her worry when he’s on the road, all he wants for her is to focus on Easton and herself.

Harry normally loves going up to his mom’s, a little lake house that he had bought her with one of his first paychecks, despite how much she huffed and puffed, he knew that it was a dream of hers to live on the water.

It was the least he could do after she did so much to make his dreams come true.

However, despite Harry getting a decent amount of sleep, he felt bone tired and just drained was the best way to explain it - he felt like all the energy that he normally feels has been sucked clean out of him.

He wanted to turn the car around, go home, crawl into bed with YN and Easton, and not have to interact with anyone else for at least a week but that wasn’t possible with his schedule.

Harry should be enjoying his time right now.

They have an off week which meant that he had nearly two and a half weeks at home because the following week were games at their home stadium so he could be home every night.

Harry just couldn’t wait for this season to be over.

And that thought alone alarmed him because he fucking loved baseball, he loved being the best of the best, he loved all the recognition he got but right now his desire was lower than it’s been in a really long time.

When he pulls down the long driveway, a house sat back off the residential road where she had neighbors but there was a good amount of distance between the them to give privacy and seclusion.

He sees that there are multiple cars in the driveway which makes Harry groan because he didn’t realize that his mom was going to call over friends and family since he was coming to visit.

Anne did that sometimes, when Harry called saying that he’d be up, she would call aunts, uncles, relatives, and close friends to come for a barbecue, and it was the last thing he wanted right now.

He was already a bit peeved that his mother didn’t ask him first because he would have very clearly told her that he wasn’t in the mood to entertain people, to answer questions, and talk about baseball for a good five hours.

When Harry opens the back door, Easton’s already awake and smiling at his father with a gummy smile, his two bottom baby teeth made him look so adorable but he knew that more were going to popping through soon.

”Hi, sweetheart,” Harry hums softly as he unbuckles his baby, bringing him up into his arms and into a hug, kissing his temple, “I love you so much, you know that? M’only away so that you have everythin’ you’d ever want. Miss you every second-“

A smack comes heartily on his back, right on his throwing shoulder where the soreness is radiating like a motherfucker, and he has to grit his teeth to not curse and startle Easton.

”Buddy, how much did this ride cost ya?” His Uncle Chuck, his mom’s brother asks obnoxiously, “Saw these things were going for a hundred and some change?”

Harry takes a deep breath, his patience was wearing thin, and he had barely made it out of the car, “I don’t remember how much it cost.”

“That’s what being rich gets you, huh? Twenty-one with a fat bank account and no responsibilities. I would have loved to have a life like yours,” Chuck chortles as he leans up against said expensive SUV, beer in his hand.

“I have plenty of fuckin’ responsibilities,” Harry bites back, scolding himself for cursing in from of Easton, even if he was too young to understand, he tried not to make it a habit.

“Sure you do, bud,” His uncle laughs, clearly not catching onto Harry’s mood, “Last thing I’d want is a baby with everything that you have going on. Growing up too fast.”

“Luckily, it’s not your life,” Harry brushes him off, picking up Easton’s diaper bag on his free shoulder and hikes him up, “We’ll be in soon. Give us a minute.”

His uncle shrugs before staggering off, a drunken sway in his step as he stumbles back towards the house.

Harry buries his nose in Easton’s downy, fresh smelling wispy curls to steady his breathing, he feels a bit emotional as he talks to his son.

“M’sorry, East. Daddy doesn’t feel good right now,” Harry swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut, “I just have to pull it together. God, I love you. My baby.”

Harry gives himself another minute of grounding before taking a deep exhale and shutting the door, walking towards the house.

Everyone was on the back patio, sipping on drinks, and cheering when they saw him.

Dread settles heavy in Harry’s stomach as his family members as they start asking him about his games, wanting to recap every play he’s made, his sponsorships and his much he’s getting paid.

Harry’s trying to keep up the conversation but all he can think about is how much he didn’t want to be there, and he should have just taken Easton to the park or something more low-key.

When he bumps into his mom in the kitchen, Anne is prepping a salad and smiles back at her son - unaware of his mood.

“Isn’t this fun, hun?” Anne asks happily, sprinkling in some spices as she hums.

“Why couldn’t it have just been us? I have to be around people all the time and I thought it was just going to be you. Now I have to entertain all of them,” Harry’s tone definitely takes her aback as she puts down the tongs she was using.

“Usually you love when everyone’s here, I don’t understand,” Anne’s smile drops, wiping her hands on the dishrag.

“Does anybody ever consider that I don’t love talking about baseball every second of the day or how much money is in my bank account?” Harry’s tone is venomous and resentful, unfairly harsh on his mom when she hadn’t tried to upset him.

“Harr-“ Anne begins to apologize, albeit, a bit confused.

“Easton’s almost ready for a nap,” He cuts her off as he checks his watch, it didn’t really matter what time it was, he was done.

“My bedroom-“

“No, I’m going home,” Harry shakes his head, turning on his heel. He has the decency to look back and say, “Sorry, mom. I just can’t be here.”

Easton was currently being held by his Aunt Jane, he was starting to fuss because he had a bottle not too long ago and he was starting to get cranky.

“Alright, we’re going to head out. East needs his nap,” Harry announces, hiking on the diaper bag, and starting to walk over.

“Oh, we barely see him! Just a few more minutes with this little one. You can hold off his nap for a little!” His Aunt Jane jokingly holds him tighter for a minute and nothing right now is funny to Harry.

Harry doesn’t get loud but his voice gets steely as he reaches down and scoops Easton up from her lap, “Don’t tell me how to take care of my baby, understood?”

His poor aunt is taken aback, just like his mom, and nods.

Harry storms out without another glance back, ignoring the whispers about how odd he was acting and rude.

When he straps Easton in, the dark bubble in belly subsides for a moment- like sun breaking through storm clouds.

“Daaa,” Easton coos, happy but tired, tucking his binky back between his lips.

“Good job, baby,” Harry sniffles, blinking up towards the sky to keep the tears away, “Fuck, get it together.”

Harry had to pepper at least ten kisses on Easton’s warm, sleepy face before he’s able to close the door and get in the driver’s seat.

Harry presses on the console touch screen, calling YN, and he frowns when it goes straight to voicemail which was very unlike her.

He tries again.

Voicemail.

He pulls out his phone, trying to check her location, and it hasn’t updated in the past hour - it was just unusual for her phone to die, always on standby but he tries not to worry.

YN was probably still very pissed off at him, if he was to bet, she put her phone on ‘do not disturb’ so that she could take a well deserved nap and not be bothered.

Harry squeezes the steering wheel, reminding himself once again, “Pull yourself together.”

But in the back of his mind, an anxious thought pops in, well multiple.

What is YN is leaving you?

What if she’s sick of not having you around as much as other wives have their husbands?

First time you see her in a week and you treat her like shit. You really think she’ll stay?

Harry has never once thought like that, even when they’ve gotten in serious fights but god damn, he couldn’t stop his mind from going a million miles a minute, and it felt like shit.

Nothing was wrong.

Everything felt like it’s crumbling.

[ancuninfiles]

Your Peace

Screenshot: @cheekylittlepupp GIF: @astarionposting

M/F Astarion x Female Tav - 9.8K words

Warning: Graphic depictions of violence

Summary: Astarion is tactful and precise, while Tav fights like a brute with no decorum, which leaves her badly injured after every battle. Astarion teaches barbaric Tav a lesson by besting her in hand-to-hand combat, but Tav wants Astarion's hands on her in more ways than one.

Tags: predator/prey, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, choking, oral sex (female receiving), play-fighting, rough sex, feral Astarion, feral Tav, light bondage, smut and fluff, 2 sex scenes, realization of feelings, mildly dubious consent, aftercare, soft Astarion, blood loss, vampire bites, creampie

Read on AO3 (Recommended)

It had been another uneventful day, each one bleeding into the next; another goblin-overrun village to loot, another set of monsters to bargain with - this time, a surprisingly intelligent gaggle of ogres; and one more day without a solution in sight for the damned tadpoles invading their brains.

The sun setting on the camp, the group began to shed their armour. Astarion heard the clinking of mail and breastplates reverberate throughout the clearing; but not a sound from Tav's tent, who often opted to go without. Preferring close combat, she always felt it somehow hindered her ability to fight well - she insisted on her preference for lightweight leather and linen, at the cost of returning to camp covered head-to-toe in not only the blood of their enemies but her own as well - a perpetual caul of intermingled ichor.

This never seemed to bother Tav, however. If anything, she viewed battle scars as an honour, never complaining about a wound that didn’t reach her internal organs. But Astarion didn’t match her cavalier attitude, eyeing her scored skin with unease. 

His approach was in stark contrast to hers, talented with a bow and arrow as he was, and nearly invisible when striking from the shadows. He followed a simple rule: to strike and to not be struck. The signs were subtle when he initiated a battle - not a cry or shout from an enemy spotting him - but by a foe falling to the ground with a punctured jugular, or tumbling to the ground with an arrow between their eyes that they hadn’t even seen coming.

His technique and precision earned him an unspoken right to first blow in most of their assaults, whereas Tav's methods in battle were the opposite; though sloppy and uncalculated, she was a hard hitter. While he struck the first blow silently, she oft landed the finishing blow with a bang - finishing what he started. Astarion was never one to blanche at the sight of blood, but not every one of their companions were so jaded to seeing crushed skulls with brains spilling out; Gale could often be found emptying his stomach after the more gruesome of the massacres Tav created. 

While their symbiosis was effective, Astarion had bitten his tongue for weeks to keep from chiding Tav’s tactless strategy - or lack thereof. Despite her rugged constitution, she could not be infallible forever, and he did not want to be caught mid-battle with their best fighter downed on the day she learned that lesson the hard way. Tav was going to end up in the enemy's hands, or dead. As his travel-mates relaxed, he fretted over this thought and realized unsettlingly that the thought of her bloodied and limp turned his stomach infinitely more than the sight of a hundred of the skulls that she crushed like old fruit. 

It was then that an idea came to him. He’d show Tav how easily he could best her in a fight - then she would start taking her self-preservation more seriously. Having gone a full day with barely a speck of trouble, he knew they both had stamina for sparring. He could challenge her to hand-to-hand combat, proposing it as a game. 

And from what he knew of Tav, impulsive and brutish as she was, there was no way she would turn down his proposition.

__________

The sun had begun to fall, only a sliver of daylight colouring the sky in purple and amber hues. Astarion was washed up and in fresh night clothes, and Tav sat by the fire, warming her hands. Astarion approached from across the tall flames, standing in front of her with his hands on his hips.

"Hey Astarion," she said dully, before gazing back down at the fire and hugging her knees.

"Hi, dear." He eyed her inquisitively. "Bored?"

Tav looked back up at him with wide eyes. "Yeah, well - we didn't even get to murder any evil bastards today." She averted her gaze downwards before mindlessly rubbing the scars on her forearm. “It helps take my mind off of things. The pain, I mean. It gives me something else to focus on.” She let out a heavy sigh. 

Astarion paused before responding. Her words were befuddling to him, planting a seed of worry in his mind. He had plenty of things to keep his mind from drifting to, whether that be his inevitable clash with Cazador or the ever-looming threat of illithid transformation; so he would sew or read, like a normal person. Pain was something to be avoided, not sought after in some hapless attempt at distraction. 

”Are you aware that you're a bit self-destructive?" He asked, crossing his arms and clicking his tongue. He shook his head at her. "My dear, we all need you alive. You can't keep throwing yourself to the lions at every opportunity."

"Well, it’s worked for me so far." She frowned pensively, gazing into the flames and continuing to stroke the bumps of scar tissue across her forearms.

Astarion knelt to her level, tilting his head from side to side and lifting his shoulders in a gesture of indifference. "Eh - that’s correct, so far. You’ve managed to keep all your limbs attached, but I would be remiss if I didn’t insist that it’s not . . . sustainable behaviour." He offered her a smile to soften the blow of his criticism, which she returned with a withering stare.

Tav rolled her eyes. "Hmm,” she said, finally looking up at him, “you think you're stronger than me? Is that it?"

"Well, no,” he said, standing again, “but I don’t think it’s a matter of opinion that I leave the battlefield with the same amount of casualties, yet far fewer scars.” He held out his hand. "I have a, er, proposition of sorts."

Tav looked up at him quizzically as the wind blew the fire smoke sideways. "What kind of proposition?"

"Well," he began, "I suggest we find a spot in the woods and play a game. No weapons, no tools. Hand-to-hand combat, just you and I. If I win, you’ll let me teach you how to complete a battle without becoming horribly mangled each and every time. If you win, I’ll leave it, and you can keep on fighting like a rabid animal with no further complaint on my end." His eyes held a devious twinkle despite his nonchalant tone. "So, what do you say?"

Astarion knew he had succeeded in appealing to her competitive nature when she grinned like a child challenged to a footrace. "Well that’s not fair - you challenge me on a day like today, when I sit here craving bloodshed? How could I say no? Let's do it!"

He smiled with satisfaction. Insatiable, he thought.

As she stood, he was already pinpointing her weakness. Today, she would learn the downside of fighting mindlessly. She would learn, one way or another, to keep her head on a swivel - so he wouldn’t have to fret every time she left his sight. 

He held out his hand. "We're going to have so much fun, darling," he said, smiling his scoundrel’s smile.

This was going to be easy.

__________

The last light from the sun disappeared from the horizon as they waltzed to a clearing in the woods.

When they arrived at a suitable glade, Astarion placed his hands on either side of Tav's shoulders and carefully repositioned her. "You stand here." He said.

She obliged and nodded her head, unable to bite back her giddiness

He fought the urge to praise her for being such an obedient pup, at the risk of incurring her contrarian nature. But he loved how much trust she put in him - a foreign and welcome feeling. It was a strange swell of pride in his diaphragm that had only grown since she first let him drink her lifeblood; a feeling that he had begun to grow attached to. Every stirring and sound from her caused a mirrored reaction in his chest - self-preservation on his part, surely, and nothing else; his body, simply securing the safety of its self-replenishing food source.

Astarion stalked 10 feet away from Tav before wheeling around to face her. Tav was already crouched, tense and savage.

He groaned internally. How helpless she is, he thought. She’s already given it all away, every move announced before we’ve even started. 

But this wasn't a lesson yet - it was still a game. He would give her one practice round, before driving his lesson home.

"Alright, listen up." He cleared his throat. "Ground rules: No weapons, as you already know. And we fight til one of us is prone - no killing one another, if you please; I would hate to waste more coin on that stingy skeleton's magic." With a coy glance, he added, "Oh - and I'm not going to go easy, dear. I’d expect the same from you." He smirked and stood in an upright position, examining his nails.

He could see without even glancing up that she was practically frothing at the mouth. She looked like a fragile doe, practicing its most menacing and barbaric battle stance. Astarion’s undead heart fluttered. If it were not so pathetic, it might be hopelessly endearing. He wondered if the others ever noticed that duality of natures in Tav - secretly, he hoped they hadn’t. Some dark corner of his heart whispered that her nature ought only to be his to see. The others could cringe and wince at her animality as they liked; and only he would see the beauty that lay under the butchery.

She nodded her head and readied herself further, teetering from left to right. 

"Ready?" Astarion asked. 

Tav simply nodded again as she swayed back and forth, holding his gaze..

"Set."

Her pupils widened, and her heels dug into the ground, which delighted Astarion to no end, though he dared not show it.

"Go."

Tav charged Astarion, kicking up dirt and sticks in her wake. Astarion readied himself and bent his knees. He could see plain as day not only that she was preparing to tackle him, but the angle she aimed for; the direction of her gaze and lack of any grace or guise gave away every move, long before she made it. 

All he had to do was step aside.

She looked behind her, rage in her eyes fueled further by adrenaline, but Astarion was nowhere to be seen. She stood there in her battle stance, with breath heaving, head whipping around in a panic.

Not but 5 seconds later, Astarion had kicked the backs of Tav's knees with his shin and grabbed her ponytail. He ripped her to the ground by her hair with his left hand, and her knees folded beneath her completely. He gained further purchase, clasping his fingers at the nape of her hairline and scraping his nails against her scalp. He sat astride her thighs, locking her under his weight. 

Quick and precise, he snaked his right hand up to grasp her neck with crushing pressure before letting go of her scalp. His fingers could nearly wrap completely around the meagre girth of her swan-like neck. But he had promised not to hold back - so he pulled her head about a foot off of the ground by her throat. 

This all happened so fast that Tav had not even caught a breath before she registered she was caught in his chokehold.  She startled, attempting to plant a right hook on the square of his jaw but he dodged and then lunged his head forward to bite deeply into her wrist with his whole maw. He didn't try to drain her, but the gesture let her know that he could have; the taste of her in his mouth, warm and heady, was only an additional perk.

Tav yanked at her arm, which affected nothing but the width of the wounds as her skin tore further under his fangs.. Tav groaned at the pain and Astarion smiled into the bite, the red of her blood dripping down his face marking victory. Tav used her left hand to try and pry herself away from Astarion's strangling grasp but she was significantly weaker from the lack of oxygen supply to her brain.

She continued to wince and squirm to no avail under his blood-red sneer, but it seemed to only egg him on further. His pupils blew wide, and he finally resembled the predator he was.  His jaw tightened on her wrist while his hand mercilessly squeezed her throat,  a boa constrictor toying with its prey

Her ferocity only spurred the flame within him. Only when her face began to go purple did he bring his unoccupied wrist to her mouth, a mocking offering of  a chew toy.

If she would not tap out to end their game, he would win when she would inevitably faint away. But she bit anyway - a final fuck-you salute before she drifted into unconsciousness, of blunt teeth pressing pathetically with a slackening jaw.

Astarion laughed at her with a mouth full of flesh as he moved his wrist back and forth, watching her fight her losing battle to the last breath. His eyebrows canted upwards. Adorable, he thought. As if she still stands a chance. 

He leaned forward and lifted her head further until they were only inches apart, but  Tav continued to look back at him with unfaltering determination. Tav’s bleeding wrist nestled in his mouth, dripping beads of crimson onto her paling cheeks. Astarion screwed up his face, letting loose a deep, guttural growl, scarlet fluid bubbling and spattering from his lips to her face.  Her lashes fluttered as she drifted away. The last sound she made before the world went black was a soft whimper, her feeble attempt to mimic his growl. 

Astarion let go of her throat and her wrist gently then, softly lowering her to the ground. He removed the heel of his palm from her moist lips, a string of saliva connecting them. 

He knew he had to act fast - he guessed he had ten seconds or less before she would regain consciousness,  with perhaps another ten before she logged what was going on. 

He tore her shirt into a long strip with his teeth, leaving her upper body in nothing but her small clothes, discarding the spare scraps of her shirt beneath her. He dismounted,  moving to tie her wrists together above her head, quickly and tightly. Tav convulsed back to consciousness as the blood made its way back to her brain. He then tied the rest of the fabric around the base of a tree that was a foot behind her, fastening her to it. 

Tav’s eyes opened slowly as she lay in the dirt, unmoving and silent. Astarion knelt beside her head and swiped her bleeding arm with his finger before inserting it into his mouth. He removed his digit with a pop before placing a gentle hand on her bloody cheek. He slowly caressed her with the backs of his fingers.

He had lately begun to experience a creeping paranoia that she was on to him - he had been spending more time around her. Was she aware of his burgeoning adoration? How he wanted the best for her, and how he hoped that would be him? The feeling gnawed at his cold heart. A lovesick puppy, he chided himself internally, all because she had shared her blood with me. 

But no - it was more than that. For once in his life, someone listened to him; made him feel like he mattered. While the other companions were resistant to Astarion’s suggestions, Tav was attentive, thoughtful even.. Even when she didn’t agree, she never hesitated to take his opinion into careful consideration; To make him feel that his thoughts held weight.

Her skin, now spattered black and red with drying blood, felt so soft as he brushed his fingers on her supple cheek with painstaking tenderness. He let the adoration he felt pour through his gaze as her eyes began to flit open. 

“Hi, darling.” He smiled.

Her eyes locked with his adulatory stare. “H- hi.” 

“It looks like you’ll be taking tact lessons with yours truly. Are you ready for your first lesson?”

Her cheeks began to flush and her skin suddenly felt hotter. He had hoped that his affection would disarm her; and judging by the flush on her cheekbones, he had been right.

Tav scrunched her eyes and wriggled her arms. She realized that her hands were bound. 

She spoke softly. “I’m not upset, but why the bindings?” 

“Just a precautionary measure,” he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “I wasn’t sure if you would accept defeat or not, charmingly stubborn as you are.”

Astarion removed his hand from Tav’s face, and he looked her up and down. He noticed that her legs were pressed together and her toes were wiggling.

Tav let out an enormous sigh and looked up at him with half-lidded eyes. Her knees came off the ground and her soles pressed to the earth. Her legs swayed anxiously and an endearing smile crept across her lips. 

Astarion could sense that Tav had gotten excited. It wasn’t odd to him that the elation of battle sparked a desire within her - he had seen it happen before; often times, particularly after an exceptionally gruesome battle, leaving Tav dripping from head to toe in gore, he had found it difficult to resist propositioning her right then and there. He held back out of respect, but he could see now that she wanted him as he had wanted her, unmistakeably.

“Now what?” Tav asked, her restless limbs tugging and wrestling her bindings futilely.

Astarion traced a line down the side of her ribcage down to her hip, watching her face all the while as her breathing hitched and a small shudder ran through her. 

“What would you like, dear? You suddenly seem so needy . . .” he teased.

“Astarion I - you were amazing,” she started, “If we can duel more often, I think - I think I would like that. There are other games we can play to pass the time, too. Like hide-and-seek or, uhm . . . other things?” She bit her lip and her hips gave an adorable wiggle. 

So, a hands-on learner who likes to have my hands on her, he thinks to himself. Got it. 

“Other things?” he breathed, leaning in closer to her face. He placed an arm on either side of her head and bent his elbows, lowering his lips to brush against her ear. “What did you have in mind?” he whispered in a low voice.

She choked out a sigh. Astarion placed a chaste kiss on her cheek beside her ear. He came to rest on his elbows as he stroked her fringe back with his left hand, caressing her head repeatedly. 

Tav gulped before saying, “You could keep touching me if you want. You could touch me all over.” 

“Is that what you want, my love?” Astarion removed the hand from her hair and snuck it to her breast under her small clothes. He teased her nipple with his thumb before pinching it sensually. He grasped her mound firmly.

Tav squeaked, and the pace of her breath quickened, adding to the appeal of her flushed cheeks and parted lips.

“Yea,” she moaned with abandon, “please. Touch me, bite me. I need you. I want you - ah -” she groaned as he continued to tease her, her beet-red face twisting in desperation, “inside me - please!” 

Astarion growled in her ear. Tav's words went straight to his groin, which was now uncomfortably straining against his pants. Tav looked mortified on top of needy. It must've taken more courage for her to admit what she wanted than it took for her to fight a hoard of goblins solo.

Astarion kissed up Tav's cheek until he found her lips. He kissed her softly before seeking entrance to her mouth with his tongue. She moaned and opened her mouth for him, and he brought her into a fervent kiss.

Their lips remained locked passionately as Astarion snaked his left hand from her breast to her back. His arm hooked around her and he squeezed her tight against his chest. He broke the kiss and Tav whimpered softly. His lips trailed down to her neck, where two puncture marks were healing over from a week ago. He kissed and sucked her flesh in and around the spot where he had bitten before, causing beautiful red welts to decorate her throat.

Astarion used his knee to pry Tav's legs open where he would rest his own pelvis against hers, pressing his hardened length against her core. His right arm came around her back to hold the back of her head tenderly. His lips searched for hers again and he pressed his entire face and body into her, hugging her tightly against him as her legs wrapped around his torso. 

Their kiss was bruising, and Astarion groaned noisily into Tav's mouth. He took her lip into his teeth and pierced the flesh shallowly. Tav moaned longingly before Astarion began to suck on her bottom lip with indignation. He brushed his fingers through the hair on the back of her head and grasped it as he had before. 

His hips came forward to press firmly against Tav's heat, and a whimper escaped her throat.

Astarion repeatedly rutted into her, her wetness soaking through both her pants and his. She whined indigently at the loss of contact when he pulled away, letting go of her hair and lifting himself from her. 

He sat back on his heels and placed a hand on either of her knees before rubbing both hands down her thighs, and up to her waist. She squirmed, and he grabbed her waistband. Her feet pressed into the dirt as she lifted her pelvis cooperatively from the ground to help ease the bottoms off. He took her pants and her underwear off in one motion, exposing her soaking folds to the cool night air.

He pried her trembling knees apart and lowered his face to her cunt. He licked a thick stripe through her folds, hooking his arms under her thighs. Astarion gripped her flesh and pulled himself into her, sucking vehemently on her clit. Tav writhed and cried in his grasp, but he locked her in place as he played with her nub mercilessly. Astarion's wet mouth growled into her cunt as it began to spasm and clench emptily.

Astarion sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. Tav was flushed and panting, her tits heaving with every breath. Astarion stood up to fully remove his top, and then his pants. His cock sprang free, pre-cum already soaking the tip. He stared down at Tav admiringly and watched her squirm about, pressing her legs together helplessly. She continued to struggle with her fastenings, her wrists beginning to turn as red as her cheeks as she looked up at him with glossy, pleading eyes.

The unfettered heat of her gaze made his chest tighten. It wasn't until then that he had begun to admit that his besetting and ceaseless thoughts towards Tav truly bordered on obsession. 

The space he granted her was out of propriety alone, but within him lay a deep and unyielding desire to be with her wholly, body and soul; he wanted to consume her, and to let her consume him. He wanted to welcome her thorns with open arms and bleed out into her. He wanted to bite her until he covered her body so thoroughly in cuts that her blood rendered her supple skin unviewable, behind a shimmering scarlet mask of sacred ambrosia.

He knelt and climbed atop her. His hard cock came to rest between her hot, wet folds as her legs opened and wrapped around him once again. She was squirming eagerly beneath him, arching her back and using the strength of her legs to pull him closer. 

He growled at her grinning wickedly, and grabbed her face to roughly pry her mouth open. She relaxed under him and closed her eyes. His tongue invaded her mouth, licking her lips and searching for her tongue. He let go of her face and rested his left elbow beside her head. He used his right hand to fist her hair and planted a violent kiss on her already kiss-swollen lips. Her eyes watered with pleasure as her lashes flickered shut.

She breathed tiny quiet groans into his wanting mouth as he took complete control of her lips. He tugged her head back and to the side, her hair tie falling out, and then aligned himself with her drenched core with his free hand. His teeth grazed her pulse point teasingly. He sunk both his fangs and his cock fully into her at the same time, entirely inside of her as he latched onto her throat. 

She cried in pleasure as he devoured her. Her blood coated his tongue and throat while he took generous gulps, his cock twitching and growing inside her with every gulp. Tav could no longer fight back her instinct to writhe, fully expecting to receive Astarion's wrath for not keeping still - but it never came. He simply gripped her hip with his other hand and then pulled almost fully out of her before snapping his hips into her, hard. 

Tav let out a needy whine and Astarion groaned in a beastly tenor into her throat. He tore his head away from her, face messy with her blood. Astarion clutched her knees and watched her as he thrust into her at a punishing pace. He slithered his left hand down to her waist and his right hand reached up to apply pressure to her fresh puncture wounds with his fingers. He wrapped his hand around her throat gently as her bleeding slowed, while he rutted into her continuously. Tav’s pussy clenched around him.

He pulled his blood-soaked hand off of her throat and stuck a bloody finger into her mouth. She obliged and sucked on his digit obediently. His cock twitched, and he pulled his finger out of her with a pop. He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder and then leaned down into her to kiss her hungrily. 

Astarion tasted her blood in her mouth, and the feeling that it gave him engulfed him. He ran his hand down her body with his nails, gently scraping her skin in his wake. He reached for her clit and started rubbing it mercilessly with his fingers. She was sopping wet, and the sound of their bodies echoed through the woods.

Tav's cunt clenched, seeming to pull Astarion into her further. She groaned needily into his violent mouth before their lips came apart. Tav's face, still an abstract painting of the spattering of her own life fluid, bunched itself in pleasure as she bore into his eyes. Shamelessly, he licked a stripe on her face, lapping the combined saliva and blood. 

"Hmm,” Tav hummed delightedly, a smile spreading across her face. “You're - so good -  to me, Astarion," she barely managed through her shallow panting breaths. He gazed at her devotedly. His undead heart skipped a beat at her words, and he felt a fluttering feeling in his stomach; but it was coloured with an undertone of conflict. In an existence defined for centuries by the imperative for safety and solitude, the yearning and aching feelings he had for Tav were unlike anything he had ever felt; They could neither be rationalized nor ignored - they ate at him naggingly and incessantly.  Something about their coupling felt alien, as if it was something not of this world. He felt an overwhelming need to merge with her, to pass through her body as if they were one and the same. 

He couldn't speak, he couldn't find the words - all he could do was growl from his stomach and slam into her faster and faster, smashing his body into hers. His thoughts and feelings overcame him, and his instincts took over. He continued rubbing her clit clumsily, and her cunt fluttered around his large member, milking him and crying in pleasure. 

He lost himself in her. She was everything. Astarion unhooked his arm from her leg and removed his hand from her swollen bud. He wrapped both arms fully around her torso and slammed into her aggressively. He held her crushingly once again and nudged her chin up and to the side with his head. Astarion sunk his teeth into the untouched side of her neck, drinking greedily once more. Wet slapping sounds and feral groans filled the air. 

Her blood flowed into him as if it were crimson ivy, channelling pathways through the ruined stone of a long-forgotten temple, latching onto every crevasse and crumbling the structure in its wake.

Astarion stiffly snapped his hips into her one last time, reaching into her deeper than ever before as he came. He unlatched his teeth and then licked Tav's throat. A small whimper escaped her. Astarion moved inside of her, pressing his cum into her hole with his cock and then slowly pulling out. He unlatched a hand from her torso to grab his member and place it between her folds to rub on her clit. She twitched and whined at the feeling.

He unhooked his other arm from her torso and simply sandwiched his hand between her ribcage and the ground. When he saw her face, her lips were pale and she wasn't able to hold her head up. 

"Shit." 

Finally able to think straight,  he looked down with horror at the scene - he had gotten so carried away that he’d left her drained almost entirely. Her pulse was slowing, and he surely only had a matter of minutes before it stopped completely.

In a frenzy, he ripped her bindings free with his teeth, leaving them to dangle like a bracelet off her wrist. He pulled his own shirt over her head, putting on his pants in such a hurry that he neglected to put his shoes back on at all.

He scooped Tav up bridal style, rushing back to camp, directly to Shadowheart’s tent, lest he spend the few extra moments rummaging for a scroll only to look down and find her dead on arrival. The situation was dire.

"Pst!,” he rushed, standing outside the cleric’s tent. “Shadowheart, it's Astarion - I need your help, it's - it’s an emergency!" His voice trembled as he spoke.

Shadowheart groaned as she opened her tent flap. Astarion crawled into her tent with Tav in his arms while Shadowheart yawned and rubbed her eyes. She sat cross-legged across from Astarion. It took a moment for her eyes to focus, and to realize what lay in front of her.

Astarion sat on his heels, mouth still messily covered in blood - Shirtless, covered in dirt, sweat, and utterly damning evidence.

Tav lay completely limp in his arms, face and neck equally bloodied. Her throat was adorned with multitudinous hickies, and her lips were pale. Tav wore a piece of fabric around her wrist that dangled downwards about 6 inches, and her other wrist had a friction burn all around it as well as a bite covered with crusty blood. And, most ruinously, she wore nothing aside from the apologetic afterthought of Astarion’s shirt to hide her modesty.

It hadn't occurred to Astarion how bad this looked on him until now. Still, it was more important that Tav get the help she needed.

"Gods! What have you done to her, Astarion!?" Shadowheart raised her voice.

"Shh, we don't need everyone in camp bringing pitchforks to your tent right now - just please help Tav. I can explain," he said sincerely. His brows pinched up in a frown as he hung his head, mortified.

"Alright, but you’d better have a good excuse,” Shadowheart scolded.  “I swear - if she wakes and tells me that your abuse was unwelcome, I will not hesitate to incinerate you."

"Ignis" a small flame appeared on her finger and she lit 2 candles in her tent.

She channelled bright blue energy into her body. The tent glowed cobalt and a sound similar to wind chimes filled the air. Shadowheart closed her eyes and raised one hand to face herself before chanting her incantation.

"Te absolvo."

The blue light encased Tav and her body twitched. The light faded and the colour slowly started coming back to her face.

Astarion let out a sigh of relief and he pulled Tav tightly into his arms, giving her a desperate hug. He rocked her back and forth in his arms and closed his eyes when he placed his chin over her shoulder and snuggled it into her.

Tav came to slowly and began to hug him back, squeezing him weakly and nudging her head towards his.

"Ahem," Shadowheart cleared her throat, "I hate to break up your reunion after Astarion nearly murdered you, but I do feel as if I am owed an explanation."

Astarion placed a firm kiss on Tav's head and he lowered her down. He held her under her armpits like a doll while he moved his legs to sit cross-legged, using his free arm to maintain balance. He then sat Tav upon his lap, facing Shadowheart.

Tav yawned, rubbed her eyes, and lolled her head back to his shoulder with closed eyes.

Astarion had hooked his arm around her waist to hold her steady. He hesitantly began to explain.

"Well, we decided to duel - for innocent fun - and got a bit carried away. Are you satisfied?"

"It seems as though you were the one that got carried away, Astarion. I don't see any bindings around your wrists. And where are her . . . garments? Actually, never mind; I don’t think I want to know." Shadowheart frowned deeply. "But Tav is riddled with bites, blood, and hickies. Gods, Astarion! If it wasn’t for her looking so comfortable with you, I would have killed you already."

"You could try, but I'll have you know I don't die easily these days," he said, screwing his face up defensively.

Tav winced. "Stop fighting, please." She clenched her right fist, grimacing as the wound left by the bite mark twinged. She looked up at Shadowheart. "Astarion and I made love. He tied me up because he thought I was going to be a sore loser after he won our fight, and then we made love on the forest floor."

The tent was blanketed in an awkward silence.

"Oh, don't tell me you've never been tied up and fucked before, Shadowheart. I know how Sharrans are."

Shadowheart's mouth fell agape and she paused. Her brows knitted together in a downwards cant.

"Just go."

Tav and Astarion shared a glance. They nodded at one another and then got up to exit Shadowheart's tent. Astarion offered Tav a hand and she obliged. She stumbled out of the tent like a newborn doe.

Tav offered him her wrist with the tie on it. “Help, please.” She smiled.

“Oh - yes.” He took her wrist gently and then expertly untied the knot before dropping the fabric on the ground.

‘Made love.’ Astarion reflected on Tav’s words. An electric feeling spread across his body and Tav’s blood rushed to his face. He suddenly found himself unable to breathe, not that he needed to anyway. He stood eerily still while zoning out into the embers of the snuffed fire pit. The full moon’s light wrapped around them like a veil.

“Astarion.” Tav grabbed his hand gently and stood between him and the embers. “Shall we go bathe in the river?” She smiled, searching for his eyes.

He paused and his mouth fell agape, and his brows angled downwards. He gazed back up at her before painting a disingenuous smile on his lips.

“Yes, of course.” He squeezed her hand.

“Come on.” Tav cheered as she led him towards the river.

‘Made love.’ The word replayed in his head over and over. ‘Is that,- is this what love is?’ The thoughts overwhelmed him. ‘Does she love me? Do I love her?’

He walked behind Tav with his head to the ground all the way to the riverside. When they had finally reached the water, he looked up to see the dark silhouette of Tav in front of the slow-moving water where the moonlight danced.

Tav lifted his shirt off of herself and plopped it on the large rock beside her, facing the water while taking a deep breath of the cool night air, her shoulders rising and falling. She stepped forward to dip her toes in the water, and then she slowly walked until she was waist-deep before looking back to Astarion who was standing there, watching her.

Astarion briefly witnessed Tav’s back, which was adorned with some sort of abstract pattern, not much unlike Astarion’s. He couldn’t quite make out if it was a tattoo pertaining to her heritage, or perhaps a birthmark. Tav’s hair dropped onto her back, covering most of it.

Astarions stomach tied a knot, and his heart felt as if it were about to burst out of his chest. His eyes were round and his lips were slightly parted. He felt frozen, like a deer in the headlights. 

“The water is surprisingly warm compared to usual. Maybe it’s just because I’m so cold,” she giggled. She made a few more steps into the water and then submerged her wrists, causing her to wince in pain once more.

Astarion blinked himself back into the present when he heard her inhaling sharply through her teeth. He rushed his bottoms off and then hastily strode to catch up to her in the water, trailing white bubbles behind him. 

“We should get you some healing potions after we’re done here.” He came up to rest a hand on her shoulder.

“No, I’m fine. I don’t want it,” she retorted.

This again. Tav’s ludicrous notion that pain would bring her peace, and somehow rest her mind. But Astarion knew pain; and he knew that wasn’t right. 

“Tav,” he murmured, tilting his head to her and placing a tender hand on her cheek. “Please - let me help you.”

Tav simply frowned and looked away. She turned and plunged into the river, leaving Astarion with his hand in the air.

She disappeared under the water, but Astarion could hear her heart beating. He grinned and then sunk into the water slowly. He swam towards the sound of her thumping pulse, holding his unnecessary breath. He opened his eyes underwater and Tav swam to where her toes could barely touch the rocks at the bottom before she came up for a gasp of air.

She scrubbed the blood off of her face with her hands and then ran her fingers through her soaking hair.

Astarion sunk as low as possible in the water with empty lungs, swimming towards Tav. In one quick motion, he gained purchase on her ankle and pulled her below the surface. 

He pulled her body under him with his tricep and grasped at her waist, forcing her lower. The water bubbled violently around her, obscuring her vision. 

Astarion positioned them so they were upright underwater and facing one another. It was then that he pulled her in for a closed-mouth smooch, to which she reciprocated.

He swam them up to the surface and Tav gasped for air. They both grinned widely, and Tav’s brows raised.

“You little shit!” She splashed him in the face and he scrunched his features in response. 

“It’s not my fault you’re such easy prey,” Astarion smirked, tilting his head down at her.

“You’re too fun. It’s becoming surprisingly harder for me to keep my guard up around you,” she stated. 

Astarion blinked at her for a moment. Is that what this feeling is? 

Her eyes closed and her face softened as she leaned in for a kiss. Their lips locked and they kissed slowly; strikingly different from their coupling in the forest, this was nice - comforting and peaceful.

Tav brought her legs up to straddle Astarion under the water. He held her with one hand on her bum and the other on the small of her back. Their embrace was languid and passionate.

When the kiss broke, their foreheads leaned on one another’s. Astarion closed his eyes. Within him was a burning chapel, crumbling to ash and set ablaze by the very person in his arms. He couldn’t speak even if he tried.

Tav placed her hand on his cheek, snaking it below his ear and rubbing her thumb on his cheekbone affectionately. They breathed in each other as they held one another in blissful silence.

Astarion felt his eyes begin to water, unbidden. He could feel Tav’s eyes on him, so he quickly dipped his head to her shoulder.

There was nothing about this that felt wrong - everything about this felt right, but within that there was discomfort. Astarion wanted to drown himself in his tears. Perhaps, he thought, this is what Tav feels when she seeks peace in her own pain.

Astarion couldn’t help but choke out a sob into Tav’s shoulder. She replied by squeezing him so tight that it pushed the air out of his lungs. She didn’t demand an explanation; she didn’t reject him; she simply held him, and held space for him. 

The space between them was inconceivable. They couldn’t feel where one of them began and the other ended. Their bodies alloyed together like copper and iron.

Astarion wept into Tav, and Tav enveloped Astarion.

“Shh, you’re okay. I’m here.” Tav cooed, caressing the back of Astarion’s head. “I’m here.”

Astarion sighed and pulled his head back from Tav. He looked at her with a deep frown. She brought her thumb up and wiped his tears away.

“Hey,” she exclaimed, “you’re always safe to be like this around me. I hope you know that.” 

Astarion paused, looking up at Tav with round eyes. 

Tav started, “I - I’m not the best at this. I’m sorry. Just anytime you want to talk, or if you just want someone to be with you. You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

Astarion felt the cool, shallow waves wash over him. “I want to be the same for you.” He looked down, his brows canted upwards desperately. “I - I don’t know what this means, and I don’t understand what I’m feeling, but I do know that I want you by my side,” he said as his gaze shifted upwards to meet hers.

Tav smiled. “I want to be by your side as well.”

The water trickled through the canal and chimed on the shoreline. The light of the moon glistened on the water peaks. And there was Tav. Someone to rely on, perhaps even someone to trust. 

“We should wash up, there’s still a bit of blood on your face.” Tav scrunched her brows and brought a wet hand to swipe the last bits of blood off of Astarion’s lips.

Astarion nodded in agreement and he splashed water onto the sides of Tav’s neck. Her flesh had been ravished, she adorned a necklace of purple and red bruises.

“You must drink a healing potion,” Astarion spoke softly.

“Astarion, I’ll be okay. I’ll explain to the others like I explained to Shadowheart, and everything will be fine.”

Astarion laughed in her face. “Firstly, I doubt they will take it as well as Shadowheart did, and that’s saying something. Secondly, it’s not about the other’s, darling, it’s about you. You must heal.”

“I’m sure I’ll feel better by tomorrow,” she said, downturning her lips.

“Is that what you want? To feel better?” Astarion spoke gently. “A health potion would make you feel better. You’re not fooling me, dear.” 

“Well I just don’t want to waste supplies - and I can handle pain better than everyone in camp, I’m sure.” She gleamed, glazing herself up.

His face screwed up, “You are not a waste!” he growled at her. “I will not be speaking on this any further. Come, let’s go.” 

She huffed in defeat as he carried her in his arms back to shore.

Her feet planted on the ground and she squeezed the water out of her hair. Astarion did the same by brushing his hair back with his fingers and shaking the water droplets off of his hand. He grabbed his pants and Tav threw his shirt over her head. 

They held hands as they made their way back to Tav’s tent so that she could first grab her blankets and pillows before heading to Astarion’s tent for the night.

Tav led the way to Astarion’s tent. When they arrived, Astarion started organizing their things.

“Ignis.” he chanted, lighting a couple of candles with a small flame on his finger. 

They worked together to carefully lay the blankets out, and Astarion searched his pack for a spare set of night clothes and a towel or two for him and Tav to share. He felt around his pack, hearing the clinking of bottles. Astarion pulled bottles out of his bag, examining each one before putting them back, until he found a red bottle with a cork enclosure. He set it aside and pulled his night clothes and towels from his bag.

Astarion handed a towel to Tav and she patted her hair dry with it. Astarion followed and ran his towel down his legs and over his shoulders before changing into his camp clothes. He then continued tidying up his pack as he sat on his heels.

“Your scars,” Tav started, “Do they mean something?”

Astarion turned his head from his pack to face Tav and he cringed. 

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’m sorry.” Tav hung her head in shame.

Astarion took a deep breath and sighed. “It’s alright, your concern for me is adorable. In due time, my sweet. Tonight, I am more concerned about you.” 

Astarion fisted a health potion and turned around completely to face Tav.

“You must drink this,” he ordered, shifting towards her and handing her the bottle.

Tav shimmied uncomfortably and sat with straight legs atop their blankets. “I told you already that I don’t need it.” Her face scrunched in annoyance.

“Fine,” he said. “If you want to make things difficult, then so be it.”

Tav watched with intrigue as Astarion uncorked the bottle and then poured half of it into his mouth. He set the bottle down and crawled over to her. The heels of her hands moved from her lap to press into the ground behind her as Astarion proceeded to mount her. Tav’s face and ears turned a deep shade of crimson and she stared up at Astarion as his face hovered above hers.

Astarion wrapped his arm around her torso, locking her arms to her ribcage. With his free hand, he grabbed Tav’s cheeks and pressed on her mandible with his fingers and thumb to pry her maw open. Tav’s eyes were wide as she watched him come closer. 

Tav’s lip came apart and Astarion connected his mouth with her’s. The warm healing liquid poured from his mouth into hers. Tav closed her eyes and accepted her fate as she started swallowing the sweet liquid. Astarion could hear her heart racing - Gods, she was perfect.

He loosened his grip and started rubbing large, soothing circles on her back. Her lips were so warm and wet, that Astarion found it challenging to let go, but he did. Their noses folded against one another and their foreheads pressed together. Astarion tilted her head with a knuckle and placed a chaste kiss on her lips.

Astarion pulled away. “Good girl. Now will you finish the bottle or am I going to have to be creative again?” He smirked.

Tav squirmed under him and her nipples hardened visibly through the shirt that she was wearing.

Astarion reached back to grasp the bottle. “Open,” he commanded.

Tav’s eyelids were heavy with lust. She obeyed. She tilted her head back, and softly stuck out her tongue.

“That’s it,” he praised. 

He started to slowly pour the liquid into her mouth. “Good girl. I’m so proud of you.” 

Tav suddenly closed her mouth and swallowed. Astarion accidentally spilled some potion on her face and chest. His pants began to tighten.

Her eyes were wet and her chest was heaving. Her wounds looked almost entirely healed, other than some red dry skin where the puncture marks used to be.

Astarion mindlessly nudged the neckline of her shirt with a finger and it fell off of one shoulder, exposing the curve of her breast. He hastily placed the bottle down and leaned over to lick the spilled potion off of her chest. He grasped her ribcage with his left hand, and the back of her head with his right. He then licked up her neck to her face and mouth, making sure to clean all the leftover potion from her skin. 

Tav’s mouth flew open and Astarion pulled her into a smouldering kiss. He lifted himself without breaking the kiss so that he could reposition himself between her legs before having her lie back on the pillow behind her. He reached his right arm down to her exposed heat and he searched through her folds with needy digits. She was remarkably wet.

Tav moaned deeply and bucked her hips forward, searching for more, but Astarion simply teased her folds with his fingers.

He broke the kiss and caressed her damp hair with his left hand. Tav’s lips were kiss-swollen and her skin glistened in the candlelight. 

Astarion pulled back from her and grabbed the potion once again. This time, without having to ask, Tav opened her mouth as she did before. He poured the rest of the potion into her mouth and she swallowed eagerly. Astarion placed the empty bottle on the side of the bedrolls.

Tav’s legs were spread wide and her feet dangled in the air. She sat back on her elbows as she stared at Astarion with parted lips and knitted brows. 

Astarion rewarded her by plunging two fingers inside her wanting hole. Tav’s mouth opened in a sensual “O,” her wet eyes and wet cunt both fluttering as she began grinding into Astarion’s hand. 

Astarion groaned and then pulled his fingers out, leaving Tav empty and whining. He lifted his shirt over his head and threw it to the side. Astarion stood up and pulled his pants down. He threw his pants where his shirt had been thrown, and then he kneeled to Tav. His cock was already wet with precum dripping from the tip. 

Tav reached down to play with her clit. She was rubbing firm circles on herself and she threw her head back. Astarion felt heat pooling in his lower abdomen at the sight of Tav. He threw his head back as well and then placed the head of his cock at the entrance of her hole. He stroked himself as his tip teased her folds.

Astarion groaned and grabbed the back of Tav’s thigh with his left hand. He stuck the whole of his tip into her and continued pleasuring himself. He looked down to where their bodies connected and his girth grew incredibly hard.

Tav was panting and Astarion was covered in sweat. Tav arched her hips into Astarion and captured his full length inside of her in one quick movement.

Astarion let out a deep sigh and he let go of his shaft. He reached to her clit and nudged her hand away before beginning to stroke her clit persistently. 

Tav contorted and whined but Astarion did not stop playing with her. Her cunt clenched around him and her breath sped up to a dangerous pace.

“Astarion - I’m cumming!” She screamed, her body tensing like a longbow. 

Tav’s cunt contracted around Astarion and he growled at the feeling, her pussy milking him. Her body went limp on the bedroll and her hole gushed spend down his shaft.

He reached for a pillow and placed it under her bum, The new angle allowing him to reach deeper than before.

Astarion glanced down and spat on Tav’s swollen bud. He pulled out and ran his cock along her saliva-covered clit, causing her to whine desperately before thrusting back inside her fully.

Tav hummed and wiggled her hips. Her body had completely relaxed. 

Astarion began to thrust into her at an invariable pace. His grasp on her hips was tight, making indentations in her flesh. Lewd wet sounds echoed through the camp.

He stuffed her so deeply that his tip hugged her cervix with every snap of his hips. He used his grasp on her hips to cinch her onto his length, Tav’s tits bounced under her shirt at each pump. Her face was contorted in pleasure and her breath picked up again.

She lay like a precious doll, letting him fuck her hole to his heart’s content. Their juices seeped out the sides of his penetrating cock. The sight pulled Astarion deeper into his fuck drunken stupor. 

Astarion's pace quickened and he fucked Tav hard, slamming into her punishingly. 

A raging coil built within him. His hips faltered and then snapped into her, sheathing himself to the hilt. His breath stuttered as pleasure erupted from his chest and reverberated throughout his body. Thick, hot ropes of spend shot into Tav, coating her plush walls. He groaned needily and came forward, hanging his head. His whole body was moist with sweat. He stayed connected with Tav as he leaned into her, hovering over her on his elbows.

Tav’s cheeks were rosy. ‘The picture of health,’ Astarion thought. The pair took a moment to deeply gaze into one another’s eyes, searching, panting. Within Tav’s iris lay the storms of Saturn, violently rippling. Destruction and rebirth in every fleeting moment. On the surface, he saw nothing. There was no reflection gazing back at him, only the hypnotizing depths of her pupils which bloomed like chrysanthemums.

He wished he could see what she saw. He wanted to understand why she wanted him. After Cazador, he felt like an empty shell. Could one love a being so hollow? Love. Astarion didn’t know love. He had read about it in books, and had his victims sob to him drunkenly about husbands or wives. Love sounded painful and finite. Love sounded like a pool of crimson to drown in until your lungs fill as you inevitably succumb to your folly. The way he had seen it described was as if love were in every being, or that the universe itself were made of love.

‘Does Bhaal love his children? Did Cazador love his spawn? Am I loved? Am I capable of love?’ 

Another wave of overwhelming vibrations surged through his body. These thoughts made his stomach knot and his shoulders stiffen.

He rested his head on the pillow beside Tav as he completely collapsed on her, sighing on his decline. He fully embraced Tav in his arms, and she weakly hugged him back, running her hands gently along his mountainous scars.

The intimacy made him feel so whole, but so pathetic. He wanted to look into Tav’s soul without crumbling, as she did his. In times like these, he didn’t know when she could be ripped from him. It felt as if at any moment, she could decide she didn’t want to be around a snivelling mess like him anymore,  and decide to up and leave him in the woods for the Gur to find. 

She could choose Gale, or Shadowheart, or anyone else, and he couldn’t stop her. She had him in the palm of her hand and could destroy him, but for now, she chose to cherish him. Him - the hollow and hungry vampire who simultaneously knew only what it meant to give and what it meant to take; a transaction. That’s what he’d been for two hundred years, leaving a paper trail of victims in his wake. Forced to be a monster, and to do the bidding of an even more sinister monster. 

There was a light, a single star. One final glimmer of hope. The tadpoles. The thing that granted him the ability to walk in the sun, to defy Cazador, and the thing that led him to Tav in the first place.

Tav, who was slowly drifting to sleep beneath him. Her breathing was restful and her arms held him softly. 

Astarion pulled out of Tav and grabbed one of their towels from earlier. They were still damp and had to be hung outside, but he used it to clean Tav’s weeping core. She rested peacefully with open legs as he gently wiped their combined spend from her supple skin. Tav hummed happily.

He took the same towel and wiped himself thoroughly. He stalked outside of his tent and hung the towel on a line beside his other garments. He returned to the tent and Tav had rolled to her side and was looking at him. One of her hands was between her thighs for warmth, and the other was under her pillow. Her eyes were sleepy and wet.

Tav yawned and then patted the spot on the bed beside her, inviting Astarion to join her in respite. 

“Let’s get you under the blankets, darling.” He frowned.

Tav sat up near her pillow, and then pulled the covers over herself, air bubbled under the sheets as they settled around her form. Astarion climbed in next to her and used a silver snuffer to snuff the candles out. Tav laid to face the back of his tent, and her back faced him. 

Astarion shuffled in beside her, gazing at her back. Recalling what he’d seen down by the river, he noticed a collection of large scars that ran from either shoulder and crisscrossed in the centre. He tenderly ran his fingers down the scars, and Tav didn’t budge. They felt larger and more raised than his. These were no battle scars. Somebody had done this to her. 

Red rage filled his mind. Her situation was worse than he thought. Pain was a tool for her, and a tool that was used on her, many times. To make her docile? To punish her? To bring others peace? 

He wondered if the reason for the scars was the same reason why Tav felt comfort in her pain. Perhaps it was something used against her so frequently that it left a void when it was taken away. A void like the one within him.

Astarion wanted answers to his questions, he wanted to know who hurt her, and he wanted to make them pay. 

But for now, she rests, and Astarion will embrace her until the sun gleams over the horizon.

‘I want to be your peace.’

___________

Notes: Oof, that was a doozy. I did get very carried away with this one. Now I know why other writers say that on here LOL. I know it seems like I've set this up to have more chapters, but I don't think I am ready to create muti-chaptered works yet. Also, I hate goodbyes and endings so I will just edge everyone for now. LOVE YOU! SMOOCHIES!

[dark-konohagakure2]

Alucard and Integra noncon reader together as a bonding activity 🫣 (ft. spit kink n humiliation pls)

tw: noncon, age difference, threesome, spit, power imbalance, size difference, humiliation, human ashtray, strap-ons, gunplay, fuck or die, sir kink

All characters depicted are 18+

Integra is very particular about who she allows into the Hellsing Organization, not wanting to have any weak links in her perfect chain of command, so when a new, very young (and very underpaid) employee of hers is shown to be very incompetent at her job, Integra decides that she's found a perfect new chew toy for Alucard.

Of course Alucard us more than eager to obey his Master's orders, especially if it means he gets to let loose and really show his sadistic side. The huge vampire is easily able to snatch up the little intern and drag her to Integra's quarters, her struggles barely even registering to the immortal being as he reaches his destination and Integra patiently awaits his arrival.

The blonde woman, smoking a cigar as usual, will beckon the nervous girl over, saying that she has an important task for her. But as soon as the intern gets close enough, Integra will put her cigarette out on the girl's tongue, making the girl squeal in pain while Integra orders Alucard to undress the girl, to which the vampire ravenously complies, tearing her uniform right off her trembling body as Integra herself gets ready as well.

Once Integra puts on her strap, she'll force it in front of the frightened girl's face and order her to suck it, to get it nice and wet since its going to be inside her sooner rather than later, and she can't exactly refuse with Alucard holding her head in place in front of Integra's cock.

"Now then, I want you to use that useless mouth of yours to get this little toy here nice and wet for me. Understood? That's 'Yes Sir' to you, harlot. Remember that..."

If Integra is rough, then Alucard is savage. He is huge, even by supernatural standards, and his cock is huge as well, and he's not going to be gentle when he shoves his thick meat into her untouched pussy, and Alucard can just barely control the urge to sink his fangs into her neck and suck her dry of all her sweet blood.

As Integra fucks the girl's mouth with her strap, Alucard decides to 'help' the struggling and gagging girl out, by spitting directly into her mouth. When she rightfully shows her disgust at his actions, Alucard will just tell her to shut up, snidely saying that he was just giving her some extra lubricant.

The girl doesn't get any reprieve from either end, not when Integra is blowing smoke in her face while fucking it with her strap and Alucard is violating her womb with his huge vampiric cock and his hands digging into her skin, but there's nothing she can do under the combined forces of her mistresses' loyal dog and the head of the Hellsing Organization.

Integra doesn't bother to reign Alucard in, even when the sadistic vampire is holding his gun to the girl's head as pounds into her relentlessly, his much bigger thighs against hers as he ravages her, and he's not pulling any punches either, because his gun is fully loaded and he is not bluffing about using it.

"Stop your bitching and just take my cock, or I'll blow your brains out... do you even have any brains? Why don't we find out? On that sounds so fun!"

This isn't the first time that Integra and Alucard have taken advantage of a helpless subordinate together as a form of master-servant bonding, and it most certainly won't be the last time, but now the duo knows that they've just found their new favorite toy.

[venuiscmind]

Forgiveless.

nasty backshots brainrot and blurb!! w.c 0.8K

smoking, spit play, sub and dom dynamics, rough sex, mean dom!ellie, strap on sex (r! recieving), strap sucking, spanking overstimulation, multiple orgasms, weed, degradation, praise, hair pulling, snapchat recording on ellie's phone.

read this, and this, this too, this as well.

Ellie thinks she sometimes forgets to be gentle with you.

She feels it and thinks about it in the back of her mind as she pulls on your wrist leading you through the crowd of a party or to a seat. She thinks about it when she pulls out a joint for you both to smoke.

Gentle this time Ellie, she says watching with red eyes as she sees you blow a ring of smoke in her face before taking another hit.

Thirty minutes later she's leaning her body against the headboard, one arm behind her head, the other is pushing your head down the clear, dark blue tinted silicone attached to her hips by dark, shiny leather, watching you choke slightly and slobber over her cock.

Moments ago she had warned you to "watch your fuckin' hands" as you hummed and pressed yourself closer to her, palming at the bulge on her crotch.

You hadn't listened and that was how you found yourself on your knees sucking on the strap. You pulled yourself up, onto your elbows to take a deep gasp and close your eyes bracing yourself for what you knew was coming.

You felt Ellie reach and grasp at the locks on top of your head, gripping them to form a makeshift ponytail, push you back and spit directly into your pursed lips.

"Get back on my fucking dick. Right now."

You looked up at her, her spit running down your lips, some on your cheeks from your previous breaks. Eyes red, pupils blown but focused on you and chest rising and falling quickly in her black wifebeater.

You looked at the phone in her hand, filming everything on snapchat.

When you don't move she clicks her tongue, slapping her cock agaisnt your cheeks making you close your eyes on instinct until she stops to smear her mess all alomg your lips and face. She stopped, releasing the silicone and letting it fall against your forehead.

You were confused as to why she had stopped.

"Els?

She looked down at you, stroking your cheeks with her thumb, letting you kiss her hand and place wet sloppy smooches against her palm.

"I've got an idea."

</3

You sobbed, gripping the sheets in front of you as you felt Ellie grip your hips and tug you back closer to her. She kneeled down kisses your neck as she slowed her thrusts to speak into your ear.

"Where are you running off to? Hm?" Ellie kissed the shell of your ears as she pressed herself into your body, pinning you down.

She kept her pace, pulling out fully beofre slamming herself into you. She pushed herself up, brushing the hairs that were falling down her face back, raking her fingers through her hair.

You squeal as you feel her starting again, hitting that spongy spot that caused your toes to curl and your thoughts to melt. She was stretching you open, you could hear the slick bubbles that had been squealching since she had first pushed in.

You're taking it, barely up on your knees with your eyes in your skull, and mouth rolling open as she pulls youir hair into a ponytail to listen to you as you groan with each bruise she adds to your organs and cervix.

She presses a hand to your lower back as she feels you trying to get away again. "Nope. No running. You were beggin' for this earlier so you can take it now."

You could feel the ring of cum building around the base of her strap and could feel yourself leaking all aroound it to as she bumped against you. This made the sloppiest, and filthiest sounds which bounced against the walls of Ellie's dorm and would result in another noise complaint.

Ellie, who had been fucking into you for the past hours had been on the same level as you. She could feel her slick dripping past the hem of her briefs. She huffed into the air, looking up at the ceiling for a minute. It was too much. Hearing the noises you and your pussy had been making as well as all the friction. She swore she could feel you around her and nothing would convince her otherwise.

You mewled as she stopped and you started pushing back against her. She felt you reach around to find her hand, which she gripped back.

Fuck she loved you.

She pulled you back and forth watching as that familiar feeling gripped your stomch and made you shake as you fucked yourself against her strap.

"Yeah? You gonna get yourself off on me baby?" Ellie asked, picking up her phone again to capture her smacking and gripping your ass and watching your pussy and eyes flutter as you came around her.

"Yeah- yes, fuck i'm cummin' Ellie" You whimpered as you shivered while moving your hips as you felt the warmth spread to the rest of your body.

"Good fucking girl, keep fucking yourself for me, jus' like that baby.

She watched as the tears dripped down your face and you came on Ellie's strap. She huffed and groaned as she felt herself tighten and clamp around nothing as she felt her orgasm wash over her.

Your knees gave out at that point and you slumped onto your tummy and elbows. Ellie, put the phone down, slipping out of you as she curled up next to you.

"Wanna smoke again?"

You paused at the question before letting out an airy and light giggle.

You took in her flushed face, grin on her face and hairs sticking to her forehead.

"Yeah, I do."

[luffington]

hello author!! your doflamingo smut is how i found you. its very well written!!

could i request a smut with either crocodile or kami enel? my two favorites 💞

i dont have much to request on plot (go crazy!!), but could the reader be transmale and have a personality similar to the one in the doffy smut?

thank you~!

➤ pairing: sir crocodile x afab!reader

➤ word count: 1.7k

➤ warnings: PWP, light bondage, oral (m receiving), degradation, mild pain kink, overstimulation

aww i'm so glad you like my work!! i hope this lives up to your expectations <3 the reader isn't explicitly transmasc but they're only briefly mentioned to be afab!

and i love enel too!! he's more laidback than doffy and croc so i feel like he'd be a little more normal about dealing with a confident partner? or maybe i just wanna bully croc idk

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

“You’re getting on my fucking nerves.” Crocodile growled, glaring down at your naked body sprawled out on his obscenely large and luxurious bed.

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” With a sly grin, you added, “Maybe a second pair of handcuffs would get the message across.” You rattled the Sea Prism Stone cuffs digging into your wrists. 

He had carefully slipped them on using the tip of his hook, temporarily sacrificing his own strength to immobilize you and drain your powers. As expected, he didn’t ask for your consent, but you never protested. You felt honored to have pissed him off that much, and equally amused by the fact that even his cold, fleshless hook was affected by Sea Prism Stone – something you could tease him about later.

“A tempting suggestion, darling, but I need your ankles as far apart as possible,” he replied smoothly, taking a puff of his cigar and leaning down to blow the pungent smoke in your face. You tried your best not to cough but your lungs gave in and he chuckled in satisfaction. You could verbally provoke him all you wanted, but your body’s natural reactions were out of your control. 

The two of you had an… interesting relationship. You were a high-ranking Baroque Works agent who got a little too curious and dug deep enough into the organization to discover Mr. 0’s true identity. When you marched into Rain Dinners several months ago and demanded to see your boss in person, he almost shoved you into a Bananawani’s jaws.

But you were undeniably good at your job, and you tracked down his identity out of purely selfish interest. You had no desire to reveal his identity to the public or other agents and no ulterior motive. So now you spent half of your time carrying out his orders swiftly and cleanly, and the other half lounging in his lavish Rainbase mansion. Your punishment for your insolence was to become his ‘stress relief toy’. Ironic, considering he never seemed stressed, just mildly annoyed at best. You actually enjoyed your current situation – he was an incredible fuck, rough and unrelenting just the way you liked it. And with all of his luxuries at your disposal, you were certain you made at least double Mr. 1’s salary.

Crocodile’s broad, scarred torso was on full display for you but he still looked perfectly composed, not a strand of hair out of place or a single crease in his expensive tailored pants. In contrast, you were coated in a thin layer of sweat, covered in blooming bruises and hickeys and still panting softly from your third orgasm of the night. You would think he was completely unaffected if not for the massive tent in his slacks.

You nodded your chin at his erection. “You want any help with that or do you get off on blue-balling yourself?”

“Unlike you, I actually have stamina,” he drawled, but began undoing his belt buckle with slow and calculated movements. “However, I do need a break from your annoying commentary.” 

Why the hell would you stop annoying him? He loved punishing you just as much as you loved getting under his skin. Gags always seemed to be a part of your fuck sessions, usually in the form of his scarf tied around your head or ring-adorned fingers shoved down your throat. But his cock was definitely your favorite way of being silenced. You salivated at what was to come, watching with bright eyes as he let his pants fall to the floor and his boxers followed soon after. 

“What a needy little slut.” He chuckled, knowing your dazed expression poured gasoline on his flaming ego. “You can act as confident as you like but we both know you get weak in the knees as soon as I whip my cock out.”

“Well, now you’ve ruined it.” You pouted prettily. “I was gonna be good, but now I might bite.”

“You’d get a mouthful of sand, and I would make sure you choked on it.” Certainly not a pleasant thought, so you kept quiet. He tapped your cheek firmly. “Lift your head.” 

You did as he asked and he slid a second large pillow underneath you, making your neck rest at an awkward, half-upright angle. You knew that dull ache would linger for hours, much like the upwards strain in your shoulders from your arms pulled taut. 

Crocodile climbed on the bed and straddled your torso with his muscular thighs, weight pressing down on your chest just enough to make it uncomfortable. His dick was less than an inch away from your lips. Looking as doe-eyed and innocent as possible, you stared into his cold, dark eyes as you stuck your tongue out. Tenderly licking the tip with feather-light swipes of your tongue, relishing the salty taste of his precum and how easily you coaxed out more of it.

“Very cute,” he snickered. “But you know I hate teasing.”

Pouting, you responded, “You like teasing me.”

He grabbed the base of his thick cock and slapped it against your face repeatedly, smushing your cheeks with the head and smearing a few drops of precum into your skin. “You’re still putting up this arrogant front?” He chided you with a click of his tongue. “I know those cuffs are sapping away your energy. I, however, am raring to go.”

“So stop talking and stick your dick in my mouth.”

Not wasting a moment, he swiftly smacked you with the back of his hand, his heavy jeweled rings biting into your skin. You yelped at the delicious mix of pain and pleasure. No blood was drawn, but you knew from experience that your skin was imprinted. “Masochistic whore,” he said with a delighted and depraved grin. “One more word and I’ll use my hook instead.”

He grabbed the roots of your hair and yanked at your scalp harshly, causing you to cry out in pain, and used that opportunity to finally shove his cock inside your wet cavern. It only got halfway inside before it met resistance as you choked and sputtered around the massive intrusion. Your mouth was gloriously warm and wet and always took his dick so well. The dark-haired man’s head fell back and he let out a deep, satisfied groan at the feeling of your throat constricting around him. 

Crocodile looked down at you demeaningly, grin growing when he noticed tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. As much as he would love to train your troublesome gag reflex away completely, you always looked so lovely when you struggled to swallow his whole length. “C’mon, darling, I know you can take it all.”

You took a deep breath through your nose and relaxed your throat as best as you could, letting his girthy cock penetrate your mouth even further. The dark-haired man sighed when he finally bottomed out, his heavy balls slapping against your chin. He was kind enough to let you adjust to the sensation for a minute before he pulled out halfway and roughly pushed back in, knocking the air out of your lungs. 

He braced his hook on the wall behind your head and began fucking your face in earnest. Delighting in the obscene, wet gagging sounds that tore from you. He wrapped his sturdy hand around your throat to feel the outline of his cock moving in and out. You tried your best to swirl your tongue around his length and contribute to his pleasure, but there was hardly any space unoccupied by his dick. Drool pooled in your mouth and dripped down your chin, creating the perfect little mess for him to gaze down upon. You were such a good cocksleeve for him when you put your mind to it – or rather, when you shut your mind off. 

His cigar never left his lips even as he told you how pretty you look with your cheeks bulging and your mouth stuffed full, and how much his dick missed the warmth of your holes when you were gone. You didn’t dare to read between the lines and mistakenly interpret that comment as him missing you. 

Crocodile suddenly shoved his hips forward, forcing his cock down your throat all the way to the base, your nose buried in his dark pubes. As you choked and desperately tried to inhale, head trapped between his pelvis and the stack of pillows behind you, he leaned back and ran a finger through your slit. Your body jerked at the contact with your abused pussy. He smiled, pleased at the wetness that coated his fingers and steadily dripped out of your hole. “You really love my cock, huh?” In response, you clinked your handcuffs together, trying to signal that you were feeling a little too lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that hole soon.”

He finally pulled his hips back and his saliva-coated dick popped out of your mouth. You coughed and gasped for air, letting more tears and drool drip down your face.

“Stay just like that.” Crocodile commanded and grabbed the base of his cock, using long, hard strokes to push him to the edge. Letting out unbelievably sexy groans and shaky sighs. Your eyes flitted between watching him jerk off and taking in his pleasured expression, the slight blush on his gray-toned face and sweat beading on his forehead. This was your favorite side of Crocodile – his calm exterior cracking to reveal his insatiable true nature. 

A few more strokes until he came with a depraved moan, releasing warm and thick strings of cum all over your face, coating your lips and cheeks and sticking to your eyelashes. You made eye contact with him as you stuck out your tongue and licked your lips clean of the salty substance, leaving the rest to dry into lewd white streaks. 

“This is how you should always look.” His chest still heaved from the exertion of his orgasm. “Covered in my cum, permanently marked as mine.”

“Yours?” You laughed, voice raspy from the previous assault on your throat. “I dunno, Croc, you seem a little too desperate to have me. Why else would you chain me up and pin me down like this?”

Crocodile took one more puff of his almost fully-burned out cigar and snubbed the rest out on the ashtray on his nightstand. He looked possessed by desire as a wicked smile split his scarred face. “Every snide comment you make from now on equals another orgasm tonight. You should consider your body’s limits, darling.”

You mimicked his grin. He was such a fun toy to play with.

[f1nalboys]

Night-Time Worship ; Bo Sinclair

Bo Sinclair x Fem!AFAB!Reader

WORD COUNT: 1959

WARNINGS: nsfw, dub/non-con just to be sure and because its bo, somnophilia, oral (fem recieving), fingering (fem recieving), pussy worship, softish bo, the slightest bit of daddy kink at the end (bo calls himself daddy), bo cant be nice to you when youre awake, bo mocks reader, bo knows the reader isn't really in love with him, possessiveness, kinda sorta proofread but i suck so...

Bo keeps his blue eyes trained on you as he slides down the length of the bed, pulling the cover off of you as he does so. Everything he does is deliberate, careful, trying not to wake you from your peaceful sleep, though he can't help but drag his fingers along your bare skin, your body warm under his unsettlingly gentle touch. Last night had been rough, a common occurrence with him, but you had fallen asleep in bed before he had gotten out of the shower. He tried sleeping beside you but something was stirring under his ribcage, a rat burrowing its way through his organs away from the heat of his heart, and he couldn’t stop glancing over at you. And now here he was. 

Bo can still taste the remnants of last night on his tongue, the cigarettes and the liquor and your sweetness all mixing together to make him dizzy as he settles in between your legs. You were in just a t-shirt and underwear, laid out on your side, sound asleep. You’re pliable under his touch, his rough and calloused hands grazing across the flesh of your hips as he turns you on your back. You stir slightly but settle back down, your legs closed together. 

He wets his bottom lip as he pushes your knees apart, his thick fingers hooking around the cotton underwear you wore, pulling it to the side. He leans forwards, his eyes fluttering closed as he breathes in your scent, a shudder going through his body, letting himself get lost in you. It was rare for Bo to pay attention like this, his mind and hands focused solely on you and not his own cock. The quiet and darkness that surrounded him gave him the confidence to take his time with you. His movements were slow, gentle, a grace you were never granted when you were awake. 

In the dead of the night, when you were too tired or fucked up to pay him any mind, Bo allowed himself to treat you the way he wished he could in the morning light. 

He slips the fabric down your legs, leaving it hanging from one of your ankles as he settles onto his stomach, his lower half hanging off of the bed, his face level with your cunt. Reaching his hand towards you, he uses two fingers to spread your lips for him, revealing your already wet core. “Fuck, darlin’,” he whispers, mostly to himself, his eyes trained on your pussy. “All wet for me still, huh? In your dreams, thinking of me down here like this…” He trails off as he carefully blows against your core, watching your body squirm at the coldness of his breath.

“Bo?” You murmur, stirring in your sleep, but he shushes you gently, quieting you down with a press of his fingers against your thigh.

“Go on back to sleep. M’not doing nothing, baby.” He grins when he sees your hole clench and he stays there like this, his face mere inches from your cunt, his fingers keeping your lips spread wide for him, until your breathing evens back out. “Gonna make you feel good, promise,” he whispers, brushing his nose along your inner thigh, his eyes closing. “Just give me a minute, baby.” 

He presses a gentle kiss against your thigh where a few bruises were beginning to form. He knew they were his fingerprints and he grins at the thought of his mark being on you for a few days later, the pain of brushing against them reminding you of the time you two shared. Bo’s eyes open and he shifts his focus back to your pussy, his other hand coming down to lightly press against your clit. Your body reacts as it does when you are awake, your hips twitching, your legs attempting to close. You were still asleep, your head back on the pillow, and Bo brings his fingertips to his mouth, coating them in a generous amount of spit before returning them to your clit.

With him positioned between your legs, it was impossible for them to close, your knees pressing against his shoulders as he begins to rub deliberately slow circles. “How’s that feel, darlin’?” He whispers, not expecting an answer. He doesn’t want one, either; he was in his own head now, imagining a day long from now where the two of you were in love, not whatever it was you felt for him now. A day where you craved his touch instead of allowing it to happen. A day where the first flicker of emotion in your eyes when you saw him was affection and not fear. Bo would never admit that to you, to anyone, not even himself, but he felt it.

His very bones craved to be loved, cracking under the pressure of his own inability to give it. 

Your pussy reacts to his fingers exactly how he hopes, your hole clenching pathetically around nothing, begging him to fill you. He chuckles lowly as your hips squirm against him, not away from his touch, but into it. You let out a small whimper and Bo decides it’s time to reward your body for its patience. He shushes you as he pushes in two fingers, letting out a satisfied groan when he gets to the third knuckle with ease.

“So much easier when you ain’t fightin’ it,” he says, his eyes flicking up to your face displayed in moonlight. Your eyes are still closed and, besides the crease in between your eyebrows, there’s no sign of you waking up just yet. He remembers how much you had drank with him, laughing and telling him you could easily keep up with him and becoming a sloppy mess after a few beers. You had held onto him, your nails digging into his arms, as he fucked you, and despite the fog in your mind, it felt like the first time you had allowed him to see the real you. The one desperate for his touch, for his cock, his cum, his pain and pleasure, in whatever way he’d give it to you. “Still so tight for me, Y/N. I gotta fuck you more, don’t I? Yeah, I do. Gotta stretch my girl out.”

The lack of degradation from himself isn’t lost on Bo, but he buries that down deep, focusing on the task at hand. His fingers begin to pump inside you, curling with each thrust, hitting the part inside you that, when you were awake, had you crying out in pleasure. For now, though, Bo was satisfied with the small squeaks and sighs you were letting out; you couldn’t hide how you felt now. When you were awake you could try to; turning your face away from his never-ending stare and biting your lip until it bled, but here? Now? All you could do was listen to your body.

“Prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen, you know that, sweetheart?” He croons, swallowing back a moan. His hips had begun to move on their own, grinding his cock, which was held back only by his underwear, against the mattress. He hisses at the friction, the sound of your wetness filling the room as he fucks the length of his fingers inside you. “So tight, suckin’ my fuckin’ fingers in, can barely pull out. Greedy little pussy, ain’t it?” He laughs at his own comment, drunk off of the feeling of you. 

Bo adds another finger, speeding up, and he leans forwards to lick at your clit. The added pleasure makes your entire body jolt, a low moan pouring from your throat like a wound. He grins, lapping at your cunt as his fingers pump inside your tight pussy. “Fuck,” he grunts against you, closing his eyes and losing himself in the taste and feel of you. “Your pussy tastes so good, baby, come on.” He wraps his pink lips around your clit, sucking gently, humming around it. You tasted better than any liquor he could find and you fucked him up just as much.

“Cum for me, baby, show me you love me.”

You do. You wake up as you cum, half asleep and delirious as the rug is pulled out from under you, your body convulsing, hand reaching out to tangle into his hair. “Holy shit!” You pant, your hips grinding down against his fingers and tongue, prolonging the pleasure. Bo lets you ride out your orgasm, pulling away with a satisfied and smug smile, pulling his fingers out of your cunt before popping them into his mouth. “Bo? Did… did you just…?” You look down at him, your face hot, blinking away your grogginess.

“Make you cum? Yeah,” he says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He sits up on the bed, towering over your frame. “Your poor little pussy was soaked before I even started touching you, darlin’. Clenching, calling out to be, begging for my tongue and my fingers.” His grin turns a touch darker, the shadows of the room casting an eerie appearance on his handsome face. “And you let me. Stayed asleep and let me make you feel real good.”

You swallow thickly, your brain still foggy from the alcohol of last night and the sleep you had just been in. He grins, seeing how confused you look, and he leans forward, his hand resting beside you, his body in between your legs. His fingers press against your lips, gently at first. ”Open up. See how sweet you taste when you don’t hold back for me.” When your lips don’t part you see his jaw clench before his fingers press down harder. “C’mon now. Don’t be fuckin’ difficult.” Anger simmers behind his eyes. “Oh, I get it. Maybe you liked that you were asleep. Liked that you didn’t have to pretend to hate it this time ‘round.”

“Bo-” You say, gagging when he shoves his fingers into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. He smirks, staring down at you as you hesitantly wrap your lips around his thick fingers, your eyes flicking up to meet his gaze.

“Bo.” He mocks, a wave of shame washing over you as you squirm underneath him. He pulls his fingers from your mouth and wipes the spit onto your cheek, grabbing your chin roughly. Any restraint or gentleness he had shown you while you were asleep was gone now, not that you had a clue. “No, please don’t eat my pussy while I sleep, Bo. Don’t make me cum, don’t make me feel good, don’t give me what I fuckin’ want when I’m too fuckin’ bitchy to ask.” His voice is higher pitched now, making fun of you. His voice returns to its gruff and angry tone as he leans in, his face inches from yours. “You’re mine, Y/N. When you’re awake, when you’re asleep, when you’re fucking dreaming; you are fucking mine. Forever. You know that, don’t you, sweetheart?” 

Bo tilts his head at you as he asks, letting out a satisfied hum when you give him a slow nod. “Good. Now, thank me for making you cum without you havin’ to fuckin’ beg for it.”

Swallowing back your shame, your rage, you force a smile up at him, the wetness and heat between your thighs evident. “Thank you, Bo. That was… thank you. I don’t deserve you.” You say, forcing the words out, feeling yourself clench as he pulls his underwear down enough to pull his cock out, swiping it through your folds. You hate to admit it, but you knew it was the truth. You were his, forever.

“You’re welcome sweetheart. Now just lay still, alright? Let daddy cum and we can go back to bed.”

[locallixie]

give me a kiss — mark

> summary . your boyfriend is a little shy to love you sometimes.

> genre . fluff, established relationship, boyfriend!mark, gn!reader

> warnings . minor language

(wc) > 1.9k

(sunny’s note) ☆ had a dream about this, almost cry when i woke up ‘cause it was just too cute.

Mark didn’t want any attention on him, none at all. He was laying low about your relationship, not saying too much or even anything about it to anyone. He didn’t go public, he didn’t want to go public. If someone were to find out, his response depended on how close he was to that person in question. If it was his friends, he would tell them that you and him were going out and refuse to farther elaborate. However if it was just an acquaintance, he would either straight-up deny the existence of your relationship or come up with an excuse to flee.

Of course, you were upset at him hiding you from people. Saying that you two were just friends, or making people forget that you and him were a ‘thing’ in the first place. Mark treated you like another one of his homeboy outside of the privacy of your own home. He did not initiate affection, he was too shy to hold your hand with the eyes of people looking left and right.

He would dap you up instead of kissing you when there were still people around, no hugs, no nothing. But you understood, if that was what your boyfriend want, then you’d act along with him. You didn’t want to force him into giving you affection, especially when it was outside and in the open for a bunch of strangers to stare at. You were touch-starved as hell, but you would always try your best to pull through for Mark.

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you nuzzled yourself into his chest. Your cheeks brushing against the rough fabric of his sweatshirt, his heart was already picking up its pace as soon as you touched him. No wonder he didn’t want you to be affectionate in public, he would most definitely explode or have an episode. If this was already how his body response to you being touchy in private, what would happen out in public then?

“Oh-um—do you need something, babe?” Mark asked, not too sure how to react to your behavior. He could feel himself starting to sweat, even though the air was blowing coldness through the AC unit. It was a mere feeling, he wasn’t going to actually sweat. But it was not any better though! He felt nauseous too, this weird sensation stirring up his internal organs. Was it excitement or embarrassment?

"No, I just feel like cuddling." You pulled him closer, hands rubbing against his abdomen. The sweatshirt as a barrier still didn't help with making him react neither negatively or positively. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel this type of way, he desperately wanted to feel comfortable with you too. However, it seemed that he could never when you touch him like that.

Choosing to love you was a dangerous idea, you were bad, bad for his poor heart. Mark sure did love you, though he didn’t express it too often, but he was head over heels. Sometimes it was all about the subtle things, how your hot fingers grazed against his coldness. Your soft lips brushing the skin on his neck, gently kissing the mole he has. It was the sparkles in your eyes that hooked him completely, they told him that you were happy to have him.

Mark began, "Hey, uh, you still want to come over to Jaemin's with me tonight? It's okay if you change your mind."

"Yeah, of course I still want to go. Why? Do you not want me to go?" You looked up at him, your brows furrowed a bit in confusion.

Turning his gaze to elsewhere, the guilt in him was stirring up as your eyes fixed on him. "No, it's just that we would be drinking a lot. And I don't want to be a burden, you know?" Mark was fairly well with handling his liquor, but in the unfortunate case of him getting drunk, you would have to be the one to take care of him. And that would be the biggest embarrassment in his life.

“Mark, it’s fine.” You held his hand, reassuring him that letting loose was okay. “I want you to have fun.”

You knew your boyfriend’s friends well enough to ask them for assistance if you needed, and you also knew your limit to stop. If he could let go of himself tonight and trust you, getting drunk would not be a problem. The worst case scenario was crashing at Jaemin’s place, which would be a bit of a hassle, but at least it was not out on the road under the influence of alcohol.

You already got dressed—in the same outfit you went out for coffee this morning. It was just going to Jaemin's for a fun night and not some crazy elaborate house party, there was no point of getting all dressed up in nice clothing than a fit of t-shirt and baggy jeans. Talking about being dressed up, there was a possibility of getting vomit on you if any of the others got too drunk, try negotiating with the dry-cleaners.

You arrived at Jaemin's place a tad later than expected, he lived farther into the city and it took around half an hour to unstuck your car from terrible traffics. How the hell was the traffics so bad on a Saturday night? Was there a social gathering that everyone was invited to but you?

One, two, or three cars parked in front of the driveway. Getting into lines with the others, Mark turned off the engine. Walking out with you to the front door, he didn't hold your hand but you could feel his fingers brushing against your palm. He wanted to, he wanted to oh-so badly but he could not bring himself into doing it.

“You made it! Come quick, Chenle brought this really fancy imported wine and we are getting fucked-up tonight!” Jaemin came out before the two of you could ring the bell on his door, scared you with all the energy that exuded from his voice.

He turned his eyes to you, “Hey, [Y/N], Mark finally have the balls to bring you along to one of our hangouts. Glad to have you!”

You knew already that Mark and his friends held hangouts and parties from time to time, he always left with the same old reason and never offered to bring you with him before. Hearing that coming from one of his friends, sounded like he had been talking about you to them for a while. It was a nice feeling, maybe even got your heart kicking around in your ribcage a bit.

“Mark, what took you so long? We’re starving and it’s all your fault.” Donghyuck blamed from his place on the couch.

“I told you idiots to eat without me, and we were stuck in traffics.” Mark replied, sitting down with you on a different couch. They probably waited for him, that was nice of them, but the food wouldn’t be as hot as it used to be a couple while ago.

The salmon was cooked fairly good for a guy who lived alone, it was juicy and well-seasoned—and it had been sitting out for some time. Plus, it went amazing with the wine that Chenle brought to the table. Mark seemed to love the dinner too, you saw his eyebrows lifting up a few centimeters each time he took another bite. You were going to one-up Jaemin, how could he have the audacity to cook better food for your boyfriend? Unacceptable, you shall declare war.

It must’ve been the alcohol in your system that got you all relaxed. It also fueled the touch-starved behavior in you, with your head almost in the clouds. you went to find your boyfriend in the other room. His back towards you, busy talking with the others. You wanted a kiss, just one kiss and you would be set for the night. Just one kiss and you promised to behave.

His body jumped slightly when he felt arms, from the corners of his eyes saw you hanging on his shoulders. His friends turned their attention to you too, stopping them mid-conversation. Mark was worried you might have accidentally hurt yourself or something, worse, begging for his attention! His heart was weak, and he known full-well you would take advantage of it.

Your voice, in a low enough volume to not be screaming but to only be heard by the circle of people you two were surrounded with. The moment you just said ‘fuck it’, “Babe, give me a kiss.”

He thought he would have the upper-hand since he foreseen you being affectionate as a way to get attention, but he guessed he miscalculated things. Plan A had failed, and no plan B to be expected. No! No mouth-to-mouth action could be done at a place like this, you were the cause of his downfall. Your persistence controlled you, your lips lingering around his sensitive skins, whining and almost crying to him for a single kiss.

"[Y/N], are you alright? Why are you acting like that? Are you drunk?" Tugging on his shirt, you refused to give up. You were getting a kiss and that was it, you weren't asking for too much, only one kiss from your boyfriend. He placed his hands behind your back, trying his best to hold you up so you wouldn't come crashing down and hurt yourself—though, you were the problem, you were technically pulling on him to get him closer to your lips.

The others offered no help, assholes, standing there and rooting with their big mouths. With you in his arms, both falling over backward onto the hard wooden flooring beneath. As a habit—or even a natural instinct—one of his hand flew to your head, shielding you from the wall behind.

"Babe, babe, babe! Answer me, are you okay?!" Mark panicked, calling out for you in a desperate manner. He shook your limp body in his hold, it reacted like a rag doll from how light-headed that dammed wine got you.

You were not okay, and a kiss would do the trick! Holding his face, feeling how hot and blushing you made him become. He felt like a heat pack, a warmth that you wanted to do nothing but stay in forever. Tears sliding from your eyes and off your face, lips pouting to manipulate him more.

"Can you kiss me? Please, Mark, just one kiss." You solicited.

In front of all his friends, wouldn't it be embarrassing? But, yes, he wished he had enough confidence to outwardly show you his love. And in a hard situation like this, he loved you too much to not not make you happy. You got what you want, he gave in. Pressing his lips against yours, calming down your cries. You heard faint cheers in the background, but you were too focused on his soft, sweet lips that made nothing audible.

You passed out soon after, but he was holding you in his arms the whole time you were unconscious. Of course, his friends teased him and telling him to get a room. But even if he tried, you would not let him go. You were all snuggled on his laps, leaving him with no chance of escape. You, on his laps, peacefully sleeping while he thought about how he was going to survive this cuteness. Oh, you were going to kill him someday.

“Shh, shut up, my baby’s sleeping.”

[604to647]

Skittles

3.8K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: You catch Detective Tim Rockford in a compromising position.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please) - but it's all fluff (things start to move towards spicy near the end)!  Talk of prostitution (sex work is work!), nicknames (Shutterbug, baby), feather light dusting of angst, soft!Tim as usual 💕

A/N: Another instalment of The Rockford Portfolio! Because the collection of one-shots is non-linear, they can all be read as standalone - though there is a reference to something that happened when they first met in Marine Attraction. This one can take place anytime, but I imagine it to be earlier on when Tim and Shutterbug have started dating for a few months/they're in a newish established relationship. Graffiti Alley is a real place! There might be others, but the one I frequented (and where the moodboard pics were taken is in Toronto, behind Queens Street).

Series Masterlist

Photography themed dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

“Thanks for your help, Darlene.”

“Sure thing, boss.  Sorry no one showed.”

“Not your fault.  You sure it’s this alley though?”

Darlene, seasoned pro at the world’s oldest profession and one of Detective Tim Rockford’s longest standing and most trustworthy informants, gives him a withering stare, “I think I can remember where I gave the guy a blow job, Timothy.”

“Geez Louise, Darlene, alright – I’m sorry,” Tim throws his hands up in mock surrender.  Over the years, Darlene has provided him countless pieces of good intel – usually regarding the comings and goings of suspects or other persons of interest in his cases; her information always panned out - he didn’t have any reason to doubt her.

Theirs was a mutually beneficial arrangement, as most cop-informant relationships were.  He never busted her for soliciting, and to be honest, he probably wouldn’t have even if she didn’t help him.  In Tim’s mind, sex work was work and Darlene and her fellow sex-workers had the right to make a living, as long as everyone was being safe and no one got hurt.  He had a tendency to emphasize the safety part – Darlene and a few of her closer friends knew that if a client were to ever get rough or out of hand, a call to Detective Rockford would bring about an appropriate response. 

That Darlene had once tried to use Tim’s business card as a get-out-of-jail-free card was another story.

Early on in their arrangement, Darlene had offered to include some additional ‘perks’, but Tim had never taken her up on it; the power imbalance didn’t sit well with him and she eventually stopped offering, the possibility of their relationship being anything other than strictly professional evaporating years ago.   He knew other cops that didn’t object to mixing business with pleasure, and while Tim didn’t judge, it wasn’t for him. He saw it as his responsibility to take care of his informants, and he did so by paying Darlene one of his higher informant rates and providing her with some security in the knowledge that he was but one phone call away if she ever needed help; in return, Darlene kept an eye out for information that could help with his cases and she nearly always delivered.

Unfortunately, today was not one of those times.  Darlene had called and said that she had it on very "good authority" that a few of Mr. Pie’s men had been hanging out a lot in Graffiti Alley.  Darlene had overhead the men in question talking about Mr. Pie’s distribution network – an area of the Pie organization that Tim had been heavily investigating.  And as a result, Tim’s spend the better part of his Saturday sitting in his car with Darlene, parked in an inconspicuous alcove in said alley waiting for her to identify any of the men should they turn up.  No dice – during the daytime, Graffiti Alley is almost welcoming: people walk their dogs here, photographers and artists with sketch books come to be inspired by the ever changing graffiti art, even tourists wander through to admire the colourful murals. Apparently, the less than savoury characters only emerge at night.

Tim hands Darlene the envelope with her informant pay, which she accepts eagerly, “And do you have the other stuff?” 

“Of course.  Not my first rodeo, Darlene,” Tim reaches his long arm into the back seat of his car and grabs a small plastic grocery bag and hands it to her as well.

“Yesssss… you got Skittles this time,” Darlene digs into the bag, eyes eagerly looking over the selection of candy that Tim's given her as part of their agreement.  She selects the package of Skittles and starts to tear it open – eager for her sugary reward.

“In the car? Be carefu-,” starts Tim, but it’s too late.  Darlene pulls apart the wrapper just a bit too aggressively and the bag of candy explodes, scattering the little sugary rainbow orbs all over the front seats and floor of Tim’s department issued Crown Vic.

Darlene shrieks with laughter, “Sorry, boss!! I’ll clean it up!” and starts scooping up all the candy she can see.  Tim helps as much as he can, but he’s already groaning at the near guaranteed prospect that they won’t be able to find every spilled Skittle and days, weeks and even months down the line, he’s going to periodically find candy in his car – crushed, melted and sticky. 

Darlene leans over the centre console, hands groping around the floor of the driver’s side, feeling for errant candy.  Tim closes his eyes and sighs, “Don’t bother, Darlene.  And don’t eat candy that’s been on the floor, okay?”

“Tim?”

Tim’s eyes snap open at the sound of your voice coming from somewhere outside the car, not too far away.  He turns his head and looks out the window to you standing across the alley, a small smile of surprise on your pretty face – clearly not expecting to see him in Graffiti Alley where you had come to shoot photos.  Tim’s about to roll down his window to greet you when Darlene chooses this exact moment to pop her head up so it’s now visible to you from outside the car and Tim watches as your face goes from bemused to shocked.

---

You love Graffiti Alley.  It runs behind one of the city’s busier, more fashionable streets downtown. An alley in every sense of the word: dirty and lined with the bins and refuse discarded by businesses that only cared to maintain a posh appearance for their front of house.  But what the back walls lining the alley way lacked in cleanliness and refinement, it made up for in vibrant and exciting graffiti art.  You’ve come to admire and shoot the murals in Graffiti Alley many times before, but you returned often – the street artists frequently paint over, around, and even collaborate with each other so there’s always something new to see.  After a delightful brunch with your friends in the same part of town, you made your way over to Graffiti Alley with the intention of trying out a new lens you had downloaded which you suspected would pick up on the saturation of spray paint colour rather prettily.

Noticing several new murals you’ve never seen before, you had happily snapped pic after pic, rather pleased with the results when you checked your camera roll.  You’re looking through your latest set of photos, thinking that Tim might particularly enjoy a few of the bolder, stylized tags, when, almost as if you manifested him, you look up from your phone and see him sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, partially hidden in a shady alcove along a wider part of the alley way.

Tim's eyes are closed and he looks like he’s sighing – you knew he was working this afternoon, but looking around, there’s no one in this alley save him and you; thinking perhaps he’s taking a quick break, you call out his name.

Spying the look of recognition on his face when Tim turns to face you, you’re about to start walking over when the head of a woman pops up into view and based on the angle at which she appears, the only place her face could have been prior to surfacing had to be Tim’s lap.

You’re not sure what your facial expression conveys upon realizing that you've just caught the man you’ve been dating in the middle of receiving a blow job in a dingy back alley, but internally, you’re stifling a nervous type of laughter – this is awkward and mortifying.  Maybe later, you’ll remember to be hurt, but right now your confusion and embarrassment for the situation are protecting your heart.

Your instinct is to run away.  To put as much distance between you and Tim’s daytime dalliance as possible, as soon as possible.  The instant you spin on your heel, you hear the car door opening and Tim call out your name.

Only able to take two steps before you hear, “Shutterbug! Please don’t go!” accompanied by Tim’s hurried footsteps catching up to you, stopping you in your tracks - it'll be impossible for you to outrun him if he insists on chasing after you with those stupid long legs of his.

Did he even have time to zip up his pants?! You cover your eyes before turning around, not sure if you can choke down what would undoubtedly be a sign of hysteria if you have to come face to face with Detective Tim Rockford being caught with his literal pants down.

Tim puts his large, warm hands firmly over yours, gently pulling them down before he says softly, trying to catch his breath, “Baby, I promise it’s not what it looks like.”

Still afraid to look, you keep your eyes closed, and say in a rather sarcastic voice, “I’m not sure what you mean, Tim.  What does it look like?”

You hear Tim give a low chuckle, and your eyes fly open, Does he think this is funny?!  You’re ready to give Tim a piece of your mind but your outburst dies in your throat as soon as you see the desperate, near panicked expression on the big, strong detective’s face.  Normally so stoic and formidable (save with you), you don’t think you’ve ever seen Tim look quite so vulnerable.

He must register the change in your attitude, because Tim gently takes your hand in his and makes to lead you back to his car; the driver’s side door is still flung open and through it you can see the pretty, though tired looking woman sitting in the passenger seat looking at the two of you rather sheepishly. Softly, Tim pleads, “Come with me please, Shutterbug.  I’ll explain everything.”

When you arrive next to the car, the woman gives you a small nod when Tim introduces you to one another.

“Baby, Darlene is an informant who’s helping me with the Pie case.  She’s actually helped me with many cases over the years.  We have a long-standing professional relationship,” he hopes he's properly emphasizing the strictly business nature of his and Darlene’s relationship, “… part of which includes her exchanging information for diabetes.”

Tim makes a sweeping motion with his hand and for the first time you notice that the car floor mats, driver’s seat and all the little nooks and crannies of the centre console are all positively littered with Skittles.

You giggle, “There’s so much candy.”

“Yeah, well, I splurged for the family pack to be nice,” Tim rolls his eyes, but his shoulders release a little of their tension at the sound of your laughter.

Darlene comically holds up her hands to show you both of her fists, clenched full of candy, “The bag exploded and I was just trying to salvage what candy I could from the floor – Skittles are my favourite.  I promise I didn’t have your boyfriend’s dick in my mouth.”

You laugh loud and true at Darlene’s frankness – any and all uncertainty or insecurity you've been feeling evaporating in an instant.  When you feel Tim’s arm wrap around your waist, you lean into the firmness of his hold.  Looking up, you find him already gazing at you with look of devotion; he whispers, “Promise.”

Studying the earnestness in his eyes and the softening of his normally steely countenance, you believe him and whisper back, “Okay.”  The smile that breaks out across Tim’s face is nothing short of mesmerizing, warming you through and through – though you see it only for a moment before his mouth descends upon yours.  Lightly brushing your lips repeatedly, Tim nuzzles your nose and presses his forehead to yours – anything to stay close enough to feel the soft fan of your breath; he expresses his relief, his contentment and his desires, all without words.

“Dammmmnnn boss, you’re soft for her.”

“Darlene,” Tim’s voice stern, signaling an end to today’s stakeout.

“Right, got it.  Me and my bag of candy will be going now – sorry for the mess and … yeah, well, you know.  Anyways, I’ll call you if I see those guys again,” and with a wave of her rainbow colour stained hand, Darlene exits Tim’s car and saunters down Graffiti Alley.

Finally alone, Tim cups your chin with one of his paw-like hands, the other cradling the back of your head, and in a tender tone he pledges, “Baby, I would never, okay? Never with Darlene or any informant.  And now, not with anyone but you.  There’s only you.”

You kiss him softly to match the promise of his words before deepening the kiss, licking behind Tim’s teeth and letting his tongue tangle with yours so he knows you believe in him.

When you break apart, you’re in a teasing, jovial mood about the whole situation, “Not even with Darlene?  She seems fun.”

“She’s a handful is what she is,” Tim grimaces.

“But you still make sure she’s okay and take care of her,” you suspect that it’s no small deal to your gentle giant when people make the effort to help him; you look at him lovingly, appreciating that while he may not broadcast his kind and considerate nature, it likely drives all his decisions and actions.

“Well, I try,” Tim looks bashful under your admiring gaze.  He gestures to the mess in his car, “And look where it gets me.”

Giggling, you offer, “Want me to help you clean up the car?”

“Nah, there’s a car wash place nearby that has those vacuums.  I’ll take it there.  You wanna come, Shutterbug?”

Nodding, you go help Tim brush off what candy you can from his seat before rounding the Crown Vic and doing the same to the passenger seat.  Tim insists on putting down his jacket for you, and although you don’t think it’s necessary, you made yourself a promise when you first started dating Tim that you would never pass up an opportunity to see him wearing his gun holster.

As luck would have it, a high school soccer team is running a fundraiser at the car wash today, so you and Tim don’t have to do anything but sit on a bench and wait for the car to be cleaned.  You stifle a laugh as you watch Tim give a nervous, pimply teenager his keys after flashing his badge. Only when he returns do you tell him that he’s had a green Skittle stuck to the back of his slacks the entire time.

Tim sighs, with no actual air of annoyance, as you turn him around where he stands and take your time unsticking the candy from the fabric, making sure to run your palms unnecessarily over the swell of his ass, pretending to look for other rogue Skittles.

Tim looks back over his shoulder down at you, “You just about done there, Shutterbug?”

“Nope,” you chuckle, giving his butt another once over with your grabby hands before lightly slapping each cheek, watching in satisfaction at your boyfriend’s cute booty dancing a little. “Now I'm done,” you announce cheekily to Tim’s amused silent mouthing of 'Finally' to the sky.

Wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling your legs into his lap, Tim presses a soft kiss to your temple as you snuggle into his soft embrace.

“You know, I thought I might lose you today,” Tim confesses into your hair.

Tilting your head up, you meet his tired eyes, the rich browns deep and swirling, “Like if I hadn’t believed you and Darlene, and just left?”

Tim sighs and looks pained, reliving the flash of fear that ran through him earlier that you might want nothing more to do with him, “I would have understood.”

Cupping his distressed face in your hands and running your thumbs soothingly over Tim’s facial scruff, you hope he feels your sincerity when you assure him, “It’ll take more than that to get rid of me, Detective.”

“Don’t want to get rid of you.  Wanna keep you always,” murmurs Tim, closing the distance between your faces.  Mouth pressing to yours sweetly, unhurried but full of feeling – Tim drinks in your returned affections, thirsty for your reassuring and calm touch.

After your affectionate display attracts the hoot and hollers of the carwash teens, the two of you break apart, smiles goofy.  Still a ways to go before the car is finished, Tim asks if you shot any good photos in Graffiti Alley and you happily take out your phone and walk him through today’s captures. 

You’re nearly done showing him the colourful murals that caught your eye today when Tim suddenly straightens, “Wait, go back please, baby.”  You swipe back a few pictures until Tim points at a bright stylized tag and you give him your phone so he can study the screen.  After a minute or two, he resumes scrolling slowly through today's street graffiti pics, pausing only to take retrieve his case notepad from his jacket pocket – flipping to a page of notes and using it for reference while he intently scrutinizes your photos.

Silently, you watch the cogs in Tim’s mind turn, lost in his theories and the problem solving nature of detective work that he loves so much. You're always fascinated seeing him like this: in his element, where his brilliant mind and the shrewdness of his instinct meet, and he can seemingly conjure solutions to problems you don’t even understand out of thin air.

When he gets to the end of today’s camera roll, a brilliant, heart stopping smile illuminates the detective’s entire face, the type that if you weren’t already sitting would make your knees buckle.  He looks at you, roguish grin on full display, “Shutterbug, I have good news and bad news.”

Your shout of “Noooooooooooooooo!! Not again!” carries across the carwash, causing the teenagers to furiously debate amongst themselves who's to be the poor soul who has to come over to tell the two of you that Tim's car is clean.

You're incredulous. Your boyfriend really has to stop confiscating your phone for police work.

---

It’s a little past midnight when a persistent knocking wakes you up.  When you open the door to a sheepish looking Tim, he apologies but you don’t mind the late hour – not when you spy the glow of success stamped all over his handsome face and the spring in his step when he enters your apartment.

It’s clear that Tim, having gone straight to the precinct after dropping you at home this afternoon, hasn't gone home.  You pull him towards you for a tender kiss, concerned for the long hours he keeps, “You’ve been at work this whole time, detective?”

Taking off his jacket and shoes, Tim nods but looks the opposite of tired.  He’s excited and elated at the way the puzzle pieces of this case have started to fall nicely into place today, in large part thanks to you.

“Special home delivery,” Tim holds out your phone, voice full of gratitude.

“So my photos helped?”

Did they ever.  Tim eagerly shares with you the fruits of your joint labour – when you showed him your snapshots earlier, he had recognized some symbols discreetly painted into the graffiti art in a few of the photos.  The same symbols appeared over and over in coded messages that the police had intercepted between Mr. Pie and his distribution network.  The messages were unreadable and a source of great frustration for the detective squad until today, when Tim realized that the code breaking key was hidden in plain sight all over Graffiti Alley.  Tim had spent the rest of the day with the LAPD Cipher Team, decoding the messages they had on hand and setting up stings and operations necessitated by the freshly revealed information.

It had been a good day.  Tim grins at you and thanks you earnestly for your contributions. 

Slipping your fingers under the smooth leather of Tim’s holster straps, you give them a little pull – instead of pulling him towards you, Tim’s solid frame remains unmoved and your actions cause you to tip into his space.  Eyes all innocent, you blink at Tim, “I want to be paid in candy too”

Detective Rockford is on you in an instant, hungry and eager to reward you - for your help, your understanding of the nature of his work, your understanding of him.  Mouth never leaving yours, his hands roam expertly over your lithe body, slipping under the soft silk material of your lace trimmed sleep set.  Meanwhile, your delicate hands are decidedly less gentle as you tug and pull at Tim’s belt, pants, dress shirt buttons, undershirt – breathy whimpers of victory attempt to escape your occupied mouth every time your fingers relieve Tim of another piece of clothing. No patience for order, you litter your floor with his clothes to create a telltale trail leading to your waiting bed. 

A shirtless Detective Rockford rests his head on your fluffy pillows as you climb on top of him, worshiping you with his eyes, still unable to believe his incredible luck that such a goddess would allow him to worship at her alter.  You worship him right back – tracing soft shapes over his hard chest as you marvel at the goodness housed within and the quiet strength of his broad shoulders and muscles.  Though your touch gives him nothing but pleasure, Tim removes your hands from his chest by your wrists and brings them to his lips, gently kissing them before raising them over your head so he can remove your camisole.

With you straddling his hips, bare and gorgeous only for him, Tim hardens fast under the plush globes of your ass. Willing himself to slow down, he slowly skates his thick, rough fingers over your delicious curves, bringing his large palms to a rest just under your breasts.  You're just beginning to tremble with arousal from Tim thumbing your nipples, pretty peaks already pert and hard from his attention, when a frightening thought enters your mind, 

“Wait, Tim!  Wait!”

Sitting up at your urgent tone, Tim wraps his arms around your waist, lightly running his commanding hands up and down your spine in a soothing manner – eyes full of concern.

“If you used my photos in your investigation, does that mean we have to break up?” you remember the conflict-of-interest protocol that separated you from your handsome detective for seven months the last time he used your photos in his casework.  The idea that you’ll have to part from him again threatens to break your heart.

Happily, Tim would never let that happen.  “Don’t worry, baby.  We went and shot our own photos today to enter into the file - we won’t use yours as evidence,” he presses his plush lips against the sweet spot on your neck that he discovered the first time he slept with you, “Never breaking up with you, Shutterbug.”

“Good,” you breath, grinning before pushing him back onto the bed, your body falling on top of his.  Ghosting your open, wanting mouth over Tim's lips and inhaling the intoxicating, woodsy scent that always leaves you dizzy, you murmur, “Wanna keep you always, Detective Rockford.”  And then you kiss him.

[slime-sandwhich-nom]

Don’t suppose you have any headcanons for Cosmo’s parents are their dynamics? I saw your post earlier and felt kinda bad for Mama Cosma (until she got toxic with Cosmo lol)

Also, I don’t mean to make u uncomfortable but I keep thinking about Cosmo blowing up half of Fairy World when he was born so I imagine how rough the pregnancy was.

ALRIGHT SO!

let's see ...

To be honest, in my head Cosmo parents were like those super sappy couples, kind of like Cosmo and Wanda are right now. Or like parents in a sitcom during the 90s.

Then schnozmo came in, and everything was still super great. No toxicity nor abuse, nothing.

Just a family of three in fairy world ( + personally I don't think any of them had any thoughts on godparenting.)

Then Cosmo came in.

I haven't really thought of it but it's kind of like this

happy family + new member of the family + somehow inherited powerful powers from jorgen side of the family and this is where shit goes downhill.

it's a whole series of events where they wanted to take Cosmo away because he was too dangerous (and strong), then the abolition of new babies, then assuming papa cosmo died (in my head it was because of a failing organ after getting turned into a fly, the same cosmo had a surgery on in the og series or something like that) then schnozmo went off and it was just mama Cosma all alone with this power baby she ended up attached on in a very unhealthy way.

it's like if the entire family slowly, very slowly crumbled and she held onto the first and only thing that was left of it, becoming clingy, toxic and neglective of cosmo actual needs.

also I do imagine her being sort of a boy mom in general.

for the pregnancy part I assume it was easier than Cosmo's only because they at least knew what to do.

Cosmo struggled so much because it's been thousand of years since the last baby, and he didn't even know what to do when he went to labor.

also by the baby flashback he seems pretty big for a normal sized fairy (taking poof as a comparison.) so..that was something !

I guess that was because of the jorgan genes.

(it can always be that poof was just odd shaped, though.)

But back to the dynamics (and headcanons)

- papa cosmo was generally a very calm guy, he's the true malewife staying at home taking care of the kids while mama Cosma goes to work.

- always cold for some reason (thank God mama Cosma is a living furnace, much like Cosmo.)

- he always had health problems, which lead inevitably to his death. (Organ failure.)

- there's a tiny bit of size difference between him and mama Cosma, she's taller and bulkier while he is more shorter and skinny.

(if you have seen the design post, you'll get a better idea of the size difference.)

- he gets extremely flustered and very easily too with mama cosma

- he died kind of..WHILE he was a fly because he was kind of already dealing with his organ failing.

To put it short, the organ fairies have that makes them shapeshift (which I don't remember the name for the life of me) was already failing, and when he got turned into a fly he..got stuck like that. leading to him to die because of it.

This means Cosmo failing organ that he replaced with surgery is inherited!

- it's clear Cosmo took the majority of his traits from his father, and this meant mama Cosma was always more attached to Cosmo than to schnozmo (who was also pretty similar but because of his big nose it didn't do the same effect) because she just..saw her husband in Cosmo.

- papa cosmo liked to knit and cook :]

- he probably had those nerd jobs like scientist or something. I remember seeing somewhere someone saying that papa Cosmo's job had to do with researching about humans which would help for the future god parents (assuming they need to learn how a human works, talks and behaves for future disguises and to make sure your god child doesn't die immediately) and its really cool so I took it. So whoever had this idea, credit to them.

- mama Cosma job was probably pretty simple, like a maid.

- in my head, despite mama Cosma putting all of her attention on Cosmo, she was still super clingy to schnozmo too just not as much and this lead to schnozmo desperately looking for a way to get away (since we saw in the show cosmo was like trapped in his own house at that point, assuming schnozmo had the same treatment.) and that's how he ended up in the crime world.

^^^ always assuming that she was starting to get too clingy with her own kids because of papa cosmo dying

- super straight thin hair papa cosmo x super thick curly hair mama Cosma (which lead to wavy hair Cosmo and schnozmo)

- this is a general headcanon for fairies, but I enjoy a lot how in the tinkle bell movie (1953) whenever she gets mad she turns all red, so now all fairies in FOP do.

- also, another headcanon but it's more Cosmo centered.

As much as I enjoy Cosmo, the og show brutally butchered him and since I can't go against canon that he's now an idiot and has a high pitched voice, I present to you these two headcanons.

(more theories than anything but I embrace them as my headcanons.)

vvv for context they're talking about pilot Cosmo and specifically the line "I gotta get this thing (wand) fixed."

And! The scene where Timmy eats part of Cosmo brain, which is also a reason why later on he gets slow and more incompetent.

+ after Timmy they retired and got their very earned vacation, which helped Cosmo a TON as we can see how in a new wish he's back being an actual decent person and competent again, but still has some side effects like the high pitched voice and being rather slow to get things.

Credit to the original commenter of course.

And yes, this doesn't change that he sucked in school. Cosmo was never academic smart, he was always street smart, I can see him sucking ass in school still.

Also with this hc we can have the trope that Cosmo went from awkward shy guy > smug happily married man because I love that trope.

I think that's it, from what I remember at least.

[alectoperdita]

What you can't bury

Part 18 of Lure

Rated: E Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters Pairing: Jounouchi Katsuya/Kaiba Seto Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Tags: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Organized Crime, Internal Conflict, Power Imbalance, Power Dynamics, Blood and Torture, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Sex as Coping Mechanism, Unhealthy Relationships, Trauma Bonding, Codependency, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Explicit Sexual Content, Degradation, Masochism, Impact Play, Asshole Spanking, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Breeding Kink, Sex Toys, Rough Sex, Painful Sex, Mild Painplay, Punishment, Cock & Ball Torture, Mild Breathplay, Come Feeding, Praise Kink, Under-negotiated Kink, Somnophilia, Sexting, Dick Pics, Semi-Public Sex, Workplace Sex, Light Bondage, Nipple Play, Nipple Clamps, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sounding, Misogyny, Public Blow Jobs, Choking, Ass to Mouth, Urethral Play

As discontent swells amongst the Aoryu-kai's ranks, those wishing to seize power for themselves emerge. They threaten everything—Kaiba's leadership position, the tiny sliver of peace Jounouchi's managed to carve out for himself, and whatever tenuous bond exists between the two of them. Will saving Kaiba's hide save Jounouchi too? Or is this finally his chance to escape from under the kumicho's thumb?

Read Chapter 7 on AO3 Series Masterlist

---

You must take what you want, Gozaburo lectured repeatedly. It had been one of his earliest lessons. No one will give anything to you.

It all belonged rightfully to Seto, the presumptive heir. The Aoryu-kai, the power, the house, the cars, the kowtowing sycophants—it was his by blood price.

The tanto sank into flesh like it was butter. Gozaburo jerked beneath him. His eyes flew open as his mouth rounded, but only a wet gurgle escaped. Slowly, Seto drew the blade out, letting the man feel every centimeter of the steel leaving his body along with his lifeblood.

Seto, Gozaburo mouthed silently, his eyes glistening like the moon sunken in the pit of a sake cup. His feeble hands, fat from complacency, scrambled across Seto’s shoulders. They lacked even the strength to ruffle his yukata.

Lurching forward, he struck again, plunging the tip straight into the gut and slicing sideways.

A fountain spilled from the twitching body, soaking into his yukata. It burned hot and slick between his inner thighs, bathed, no, baptized for his ascension.

Seto hacked.

Stabbed.

Sliced.

He ignored his screaming muscles and the white-hot sensation in his chest and took.