#quite literally splitting normal in half

[strangerstilinski]

𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: eddie in blue jeans. eddie leaking in blue jeans. eddie cumming in blue jeans. that's it, that's the fic. [ 2.9k ]

𝗰𝘄: reader with a vagina & breasts, 1 occurrence where reader refers to themselves as a girl, overuse of italics probably, other than that we just have heaping doses of heavy petting, grinding, and kissing. oh! and a certain someone cumming in his pants ofc

𝗮/𝗻: imo the second half of this is where i reaaally shined, ok? there's just... something so *clenches fist* about eddie who's so turned on by you that he's stupid with it. anyway, thank you for reading! xx and remember to reblog to make eddie cum <3

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖𝟏𝟖+ 𝙚𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

The curls at the nape of Eddie's neck are damp where they tangle around your fingers. His breath rolls out in hot waves against your tongue, full, split-slick lips moving eagerly against your own. Eddie is kissing you like he thinks he might die without the taste of you, fervent and hungry and seemingly determined to stake some sort of claim on your mouth. 

You've only been at it for five minutes but, seriously, how in the hell did normal people ever make it through an entire evening without devouring their date? Either they are far stronger than you, or it's the power of something you'd simply dubbed The Eddie Munson Effect.

Regardless, you're feeling beyond desperate. 

Because you'd had to watch every single stumbling step Eddie made throughout the evening as he quite literally tripped over his own feet in a rush to open doors for you. He'd done so with all of his usual awkward charm, arm extended with gentlemanly grandeur — and on one occasion, he'd even bent at the waist into an adorably courteous little bow as he'd waited for you to step through. Each time, his hand found the small of your waist, and while he would linger a second longer than was strictly necessary, his touch always remained polite and comforting, never bleeding into the possessive brand that you'd noticed beneath the hands of men in the past.

Then again, every brush of Eddie's fingers over the course of the evening had sent sparks down your spine. 

There'd been one moment, when the wind had caught the hem of your skirt and sent it billowing up — you'd felt the cool air rush all the way up to the sliver of tummy above your underwear — but Eddie's hands had been quick to find your waist, smoothing the fabric back down over your thighs and holding it there for a beat. Thick fingers and clunky silver rings had hesitated on your hips until the breeze died down, and then Eddie's face had gone red in a way that had little to do with the chill in the air, and entirely more to do with the sudden realization of how close you were, how intimate the brush of his pinky was against the warm skin at the back of your thigh. 

And you absolutely had to take into account the condition in which he'd showed up on your doorstep. With a crisp white tshirt tucked neatly into the waistband of light-wash jeans. His hair shining lightly with gel, curls coiled in slightly neater than usual ringlets. With his jaw shaved smooth, and his skin smelling sharply of a rich, woodsy aftershave or cologne that gave you butterflies every time you breathed in.

Then there was the way each and every hearty chuckle that he'd let out over the course of the evening had curled in your ears and proceeded to pool pleasantly in your gut. The way every dramatic story retelling had left you fully enraptured right from the start. The way  every dimpled grin had practically sucked the air straight from your lungs. And your ever-deepening feelings for him had only solidified with each of his stuttered attempts to accept your compliments.

All evening long, you'd been eager to fast-forward, to get right here. Home, on your couch, thighs splayed wide over the cradle of Eddie's lap, skin flushed with heat, with your skirt rucked up and your sweater steadily slipping down your shoulder. 

And now that you're here, Eddie's hands have undertaken the impossible task of clutching at every part of you at once. Ringed fingers rake down your back only to grab ahold of your ass to drag you more heavily into his lap. Your teeth catch on his lower lip when he forces your hips to roll in a staggered rhythm, shaky thrusts driving his own hips up and slotting the bulge in his jeans just where you needed it to relieve some of the pressure between your thighs. 

You both gasp into the kiss at the friction that the poorly-synchronized movements are making. The rough chafe of his zipper and denim against the cotton of your panties is only just shy of being too much. It's delicious. 

"Y-your roommate-" Eddie pulls away to stutter against your cheek. 

"Out." You supply in a rush before your mouths are crashing together again like magnets. 

Eddie makes a small noise in the back of his throat, a satisfied sort of drawn-out groan that has your head spinning. You can still taste the lingering traces of the cigarette he'd smoked during the short walk back to his van, and the breath mint that he'd popped into his mouth immediately after. The mingling flavors are enough to give you a headrush. As if the combination of mint and nicotine were absorbing straight into your bloodstream merely from licking it from his mouth. But, maybe that has more to do with the way Eddie is kissing you-

Eddie seems to approach kissing with the same over-abundance of heart and enthusiasm that he does with literally everything else. Plush lips work against your own, smoothly encouraging your mouth open for him every time you dare to draw back for a quick breath. It's a perfect give and take, an intoxicating push and pull that you had zero qualms about getting lost in. 

This has always been your favorite part of foreplay. The slow-building desperation. The shared breaths. The wandering hands. The heated teasing that you felt pulsing in your clit and all the way down to your toes. It's something you normally relish in drawing out as long as possible, until your panties are soaked through and your lips are sore, but, fuck-

You can feel how hard Eddie is growing beneath you. The warmth of his cock burns all the way through his jeans until you swear you can feel it against your cunt and inner thighs— Until you swear you can nearly distinguish the sheer heat of the blood swelling his erection from the less-oppressive warmth emanating from his legs. And when his mouth trails down the line of your jaw to kiss and nip at your throat, you can't help but attempt to sneak a peek at the arousal you've drawn out of him.

The sight doesn't disappoint. 

His bulge stretches all the way from the bottom of the zip on his jeans and across the crease of his thigh. The obvious curve of his shaft straining against its tight confines stretches across his left thigh and then tapers out at the head of his cock—Jesus, he’s huge—and if you squint, you think you might even be able to make out a small spot, no more than the size of pea, where the light wash denim looks just a bit, well, wet. And, holy shit. 

It's drool-worthy. It's so hot. Your mouth might genuinely be watering just looking at it-

Oh, god. You really needed to kiss him just a little longer. You were certainly not about to be the girl who drops to their knees to suck a guy's dick within ten measly minutes of getting through the front door on a first goddamn date. That would be ridiculous. 

You'd make it at least twenty, surely — Maybe fifteen. 

In the meantime, more kissing. And that would be all too easy with the way Eddie's hands slip lower along the curve of your ass as he finds your mouth again. His fingers burying deeper into your flesh, rings biting with a sharp pinch that makes you keen and release an encouraging moan. 

There's a fire building behind your clit with every drag of your hips. You feel deranged beneath the haze of your lust, but Eddie only seems to be matching your need every step of the way. 

You've never seen him quite so out of control. So desperate, and God it's a beautiful sight. 

Eddie's spine arches forward from the back of the couch to push his chest to your own. Your hips stutter, driving down against the bulge in his jeans. The hard line of his cock wedges neatly at your center, fighting against the oppressive barrier of your underwear and his jeans. Dull as it is, it gives the barest hint as to what it would be like to have him actually pressing into your aching cunt, stretching you out. 

Just the thought makes your hips buck, little rolls of your hips re-doubling in effort. The pressure against your entrance has you whining pitifully as Eddie's tongue strokes over yours. One of those gorgeous, wide palms of his moves up to your jaw to hold your face steady as he attempts to swallow up your sounds. 

"Eddie." You pant brokenly, a plea. Because you're trying, really, but fuck. If you didn't get him inside of you — in one way or another — in the next few minutes, you very well might lose your mind.

Your fingers wind tighter into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp in that soft way that makes Eddie's cock jump in his pants. 

The noises you're making.. 

They're better than any song Eddie has ever heard in his entire life, high and needy and so fucking hot. Every little sound has Eddie's thighs flexing beneath you in an attempt to keep his erection pressed snug to your cunt, to push the intoxicating ebb and flow that the two of you have going over into something more. Into a constant, blissful friction. 

Another minute of the heavy grind of your pussy over his lap has Eddie's cock twitching again, his balls tightening up and his brain growing too foggy to hold back the needy whimpers that rise in his own throat. 

“Shit-” Eddie gasps, his voice gone raspy with need. 

You murmur something in response that gets muffled by Eddie's lips and tongue. Something about wanting his cock on your tongue but also possibly inside your pussy — The details are unclear. Eddie has no idea which exactly you're angling toward, but he's ready to bust already and you're both still fully-clothed, so. He's just praying to Ozzy that he'll even make it that far. 

He probably needs to take a breather, and really he's going to, but then your hips stutter and you let out the sweetest little moan and Eddie kind of goes dumb with it.

He's too far gone to hear the telltale rattle of keys against your front door, or the click of the lock that has your own head snapping up toward the doorway in surprise. You stiffen above him, your ass driving down against his cock as your movements come to a halt and your weight drops heavily into his lap. 

And shit, he'd already been fucking throbbing in his jeans. The new pressure on his erection is just too much. 

A small noise of shock and pleasure tears from Eddie's throat, a pathetic sounding thing that makes your cunt clench around absolutely nothing and a rush of arousal soak the cotton of your panties. His lips part beneath your own unmoving ones, his jaw gone slack around the broken moan that falls into the heat of your mouth. 

Eddie's hips buck up sharply, fingers biting meanly into your hips as warmth floods his briefs, cock twitching and eyes rolling back as he shakes through the quick waves of his orgasm. His brain is pure static, ears ringing with such strength that your nervous laugh and stammered greeting sound far off despite you being pressed so close to him. Everything sounded just a bit like he was underwater. 

His head clears a little as you brace your hands on his shoulders and push yourself up, his eyes popping open as the distance between you grows and the warmth of your body disappears altogether. You're smiling awkwardly, laughing despite yourself, with your gaze locked somewhere over his shoulder as you attempt to smooth out the wrinkles in your skirt — and then Eddie finally processes the sound of Robin's voice in the entryway behind him. 

Oh. Oh, fuck. 

Eddie's heart had already been beating heavily, but suddenly he swears he can feel each and every rhythmic pump of the blood in his veins. The strength of it makes his pulse thump so violently in the hollow of his throat that his eye might've been twitching in time with each beat. 

His gaze drops to his lap, where, to his horror, light blue denim is already a few shades darker. His cum is already soaking through his underwear and very, very quickly spreading into a wider, far more noticeable wet patch, and Jesus fucking Christ, this cannot be happening to him-

He tugs at his pant-leg desperately in an attempt to draw the fabric away from where the cum had pooled in the crease of his pelvis and then dripped steadily down the length of his thigh, but it's too late. 

He'd come.. so hard. And so much. His pants are stretched too fucking tight because he's sitting and you'd just rung out every last fucking drop of cum from his balls with your pretty pussy rubbing over his lap again and again and-

Robin's muffled curse breaks through his inner-turmoil, followed by the loud thud of something heavy landing on the kitchen counter behind him. Eddie turns sideways in his seat to find Robin with flushed cheeks and sweat beading on her brow, her arms draped limply around a large television set. She's panting exaggeratedly, mouth running a mile a minute as she regales the story of the older couple on the first floor who had upgraded to a 35-inch and offered up their old console for, quote: “Twenty bucks! A goddamn steal, you guys-!”

The two of you are babbling excitedly back and forth, the front door to your apartment still hanging slightly ajar all the while. Eddie realizes, belatedly, that Robin must've carried the behemoth of a thing all the way upstairs by herself — How the hell had she even managed that? 

“Eddie, would you mind giving her a hand with that while I clear a spot for it over here?” You delegate gleefully as you flutter back into the living room to do just that.

You rush to the console table against the far wall and quickly begin shuffling things around to make space for your new possession, stacking books and knickknacks and sliding the clunky record player as close to the edge as you can manage. 

“Oh, uh..” 

Eddie smacks his lips once, eyes dropping from you to the gargantuan fucking wet patch stretched across his thigh. While he's reluctant to dig his own grave, he fears he has no other choice. 

“-Well.. To that 'm gonna have'ta say..” 

He swallows and gives a nod to himself in resolve, a burst of air pushing past his nose as he snatches his jacket from the floor beside the couch and uses it to shield the focal point of his embarrassment, avoiding looking back toward Robin completely. 

“Shit, uh.. Nope. No, sorry." 

Your movements falter at his response, an amused little smile tugging at the corners of your eyes as you regard him, “No?” 

You laugh, like you're waiting for Eddie to clue you in on the joke.   

Of fucking course Eddie had opted to wear a pair of light wash Levis for your date tonight instead of black. Because now? There is no way in hell you and Robin won't see the evidence of his predicament the moment it's no longer hidden behind his leather jacket. 

If you see the way he'd shot off in his pants like a horny teenager from nothing but a little bit of kissing, Eddie is certain he'll never get a second date — Not to mention the constant ribbing he'd be destined to get for the rest of his Goddamned life from everyone else.

There's no way that Buckley won’t tell Harrington — with the weird and questionably platonic friendship the two of them had fallen into at some point around the time they'd graduated high school. And Harrington will, of course, inevitably spill the beans to Dustin. And then Dustin's loud mouth would manage to somehow tell absolutely everybody else in Eddie's life. 

He is so fucked. 

“Yeah, sorry, I gotta bounce, actually-” Eddie fights back a cringe, bounce-? What the fuck is he even saying? “I, uh, I forgot I have a.. A thing.” 

He can't quite hold back a wince then, at the sound of his own excuse in his ears. He's usually a lot better on his toes than this, but he's fucking floundering all of a sudden. 

It's because of you — it has to be because of you. You and your pretty eyes that are slowly narrowing in confusion and maybe a little bit of hurt. You and your angelic little voice, pushing out with a soft, “Oh.” 

But then you're nodding, a weak smile pasting on your lips to cover that flash of sadness he'd seen. You tell Robin you'll be back to help her in a moment and walk Eddie to the door, arms brushing as your gaze remains focussed on the scuffed floorboards. 

You're being sweet, because of course you are. You thank him for a wonderful date, tell him you'll call him, even lean in to press a delicate little kiss to his cheek that Eddie definitely doesn't feel like he deserves. 

When the door closes behind him, it sends a rush of air hurtling toward Eddie smelling distinctly of you. Like your perfume, and the spice of the candle sitting on your kitchen counter, and the sweetness of your shampoo. The scent makes Eddie's head swim with regret and his cock twitch weakly in his pants. 

Yeah, he's definitely fucked. 

[nariism]

a place to call home — k. shinsuke

one bed + childhood rivals/friends to lovers

synopsis. "be kind, shinsuke." that's what yumie always told her grandson. and he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

wc. ~2k

— for @mastering-procrastinating & an anon bff! 🫶 | event masterlist ✉️

The day after Kita Shinsuke turns six years old, the vacant house across the street suddenly springs to life with occupants.

His life spirals from being humble and quiet to chaotic in 24 hours. Suddenly, he's responsible for taking care of the bratty kid next door even though they're his age. His bedtime gets thrown out the window because he needs to chase them down to get them to brush their teeth, and his dinner always has some suspiciously missing elements that he never finds.

You become the centerpiece of his entire existence—a floating memory in every crevice of his mind.

Kita hears your laughter in the songs of his childhood; feels your hands roughly pushing him and dragging him around by the wrist; smells the minty toothpaste he forcefully shoved into your mouth after finally catching up to you. 

It seems as though you and him were born to be polar opposites. Where he climbs you stumble. Where he sits quietly at the dinner table, you have a never-ending stream of anecdotes to tell Granny (even though half of them are greatly exaggerated—he was literally there to witness it). Where he behaves like a normal child, you can't even sit still during storytime in class.

However, your differences do little to remove you from his life. Where he goes, you go.

It's a consequence of growing up thirty meters from your front door and having you over when your parents suddenly uproot to go on week-long business trips.

And he wouldn't care so much, really, if it weren't for the fact that Granny had equal amounts of love to go around. That, and he would have to sleep on the floor whenever you came around.

For someone so disciplined and grounded, Kita Shinsuke was an envious child. He hated having you in his home, because it meant that his beloved Granny had to split her attention between the two of you. Because she would always tuck you in before him. Because you were louder, more needy, more everything. Because he often woke up with back pains at the ripe age of six years old.

When Kita turns eight, he finally bubbles over.

You're on the swings behind one of your friends, standing on the back of the seat and clinging to the chains. You're being careless, and he would be remiss if you were to hurt yourself.

"Get down from there," he scolds, standing in front of the swing set to stop you from continuing.

"Make me!" You exclaim back, childishly sticking out your tongue and rocking the swing back and forth, gesturing to your friend to keep going.

"Stop."

He comes up behind you and tugs at your shirt, making you wobble.

"Quit it, Shin!"

"You'll hurt yourself!"

He convinces himself that he only cares so much because Granny would have to spend more time with you to patch you up if you fell, and not because he would hate to see your snotty, crying face.

No, it doesn't make his heart squeeze. Not even a little.

Eventually, you end up face first in the wood chips anyway, with Kita hovering over you looking guilty as ever. He hadn't meant to pull you off so roughly, nor had he meant for you to land on the ground like that.

Oh. Why does it hurt him so much?

That night, you don't sleep in his room.

You end up tucked into Granny's bed instead, down the hall. He misses your presence—he even ends up on the floor though the bed is empty for him to take.

He blinks up at the space where you should be and feels bitterness swelling in his throat. 

"Shin." His Granny calls softly when she eventually comes into his room. She doesn't sound the least bit angry, but he still aches with nothing but guilt.

"M'sorry." He knows the apology should be for you, but you couldn’t even look him in the eye over dinner.

His Granny only sighs, kneeling down beside his futon with a tired huff. A reminder of her age. He only feels worse.

"Be kind, Shinsuke."

"I'm tryin'," he argues weakly.

She's silent for a pause before she carefully tucks the silver hair from his eyes.

"You'd be lonely too if I were gone all the time, eh?"

"..."

Kita pulls the covers closer to his chin. Yes, he was aware there was a reason you were always here. There was a reason your house was devoid of life despite being filled with furniture. There was a reason you wanted Granny to love you so much, cementing in the gaps where your parents were always absent.

Did you ever want him to love you like that, too?

The next night, he sits you down on the edge of the tub with no complaints. And he's surprised that you accept the toothbrush into your mouth so easily, no resistance and no qualms like you usually have.

He sees the tired defeat in your eyes, feels the awkward tension in the bathroom, and guides your hand to the end of the brush so you can do it yourself.

"I'm sorry," he tells you without elaborating. You never need him to. (When you reminisce about this day, you sometimes laugh to yourself. You always did love how straightforward he was.)

His words are followed by a tense hug, his hands holding your head against his tummy. The brush stops moving in your mouth as you hug him back.

It dawns on him then: he's just as much of a kid as you are—feeling something as petty as jealousy when all you needed was a hug.

One day, he swears, he'll make it up to you. And he'll be nicer, too. It's the least he can do if he's all the company you have until your parents return.

Be kind, Shinsuke. That's what Yumie always told her grandson. And he would live by those words—even if it meant sleeping on the floor every weekend.

The day after Kita Shinsuke turns twenty-two years old, your apartment floods.

Of course he's the first one there, helping you move what you could salvage from the apartment into suitcases and onto the back of his truck. Of course he's the one to offer a place to stay, because if not him, then who else? And of course he's the one who holds you when you're stressing about what to do and where to go, hand firmly on your back as he lets you snot on his shirt like you've done since you were six.

For a brief moment, it feels as though he's just a little kid again with you making a mess of the home he grew up in.

Well, mess is a stretch—you've infinitely matured since starting food wars with him over dinner, but the point stands when he ends up helping you with an assignment. It had been pushed to the backburner with everything going on, whilst you were moving essentially everything you owned into his house as if you paid rent there.

He should have known that some things never change.

"I can't believe you kicked me out onto the floor."

Kita shuffles in the comfort of his duvet, resting atop his mattress. He stares at you with honey brown eyes swimming in conflict from the bed.

You curl tighter into a ball on the futon. And he knows this ploy—knows that you're trying to guilt trip him into swapping places with you. You've always been manipulative when it came to him, and god-forbid he be anything but an angel to you. (Because his Granny told him to, not for any other reason at all.)

"M'not the one who made a bet they couldn't win."

Words straight and cutting as ever, like a blade through your heart. You pout childishly, rolling over so that your back is turned to him.

It was your idea to challenge him when he said you were on your phone too much while working. It was your idea to be a brat and defiantly say that you could finish your assignment by midnight. It was your idea to bet this all on the most beloved yet war-inducing place in the entire house: Kita's bed.

It's hardly his fault that you got distracted with YouTube.

"I hate you, Shin."

"No y’don't."

"I do."

"No. You don't."

"Okay fine, I don't, but can we please swap now? It's freezin’ down here."

He can practically hear the pout still engraved into your face right now. And it takes every ounce of fight in him not to give into you with the snap of a finger. To argue back and list a million reasons why he should be allowed in his own bed.

Yet here he is, slipping out of the sheets almost instantly and crouching down beside the futon. He shakes your shoulder.

"Fine. Get goin' before I change my mind."

Any resolve left in his body melts away when you shoot upright with a bright smile, victorious as ever.

Sometimes you made it hard for him to imagine why he cared about you at all. You were too sly for your own good. How could he ever deny such a smile? It's not fair.

You scurry into his bed instantly, making yourself comfortable where you have hundreds of times before. "You should make sure I'm comfy. I am a guest in your house, y’know?"

Yes, Kita knows this all too well. You're trying to provoke him, to see how far you can push him until he breaks. Stubborn and obedient, he reaches down to slowly pull the blanket over your body.

There's a pause from you as he drapes you in warmth, blinking up at him dumbly as if you weren’t expecting him to do so without complaint.

"I'm..." You seem to choke on your own words, silently contemplating whether or not you should push further. "My face is still cold."

His hands hold your face instantly, warming your cheeks skin-to-skin. You stare at him with wide eyes, looking so surprised that he wonders if what he's doing is a mistake. But then your hands gently cover his, and you tug him closer until his knee is sinking down on the mattress beside you.

"M'super cold."

"It's twenty-two degrees in here," he informs you flatly.

You make a face, nose slightly scrunched in thought and brows pinched. It's such a troubled expression that he can't help but scoot a little closer.

He's being kind, that's all. He's just making sure you're okay as a friend. No, not even a friend—an obligatory companion. The lifelong thorn in his side. The reason why his back still aches some days.

Be kind, Shinsuke.

When did being kind turn into this? Into moving involuntarily, into having a second nature response to you? Into a stubborn body only movable by one soul, one voice, one pair of hands?

"Keep me warm, Shin."

He gives in to your whims without reason, without logic or hesitation. You are the sole person able to break down any semblance of routine that's been methodically coded into his muscles.

He doesn't get you, perhaps he never would. He would never completely understand your wishes, or how your cheeks were so cold yet burning hot at the same time, or why he was submitting to you so easily.

The only thing he knows is that you are still somehow the centerpiece of his life, dancing in the middle of it all like a black hole sucking in everything else; the whirlpool swirling in the center of calm waters; the supernova of his galaxy.

"...'Kay."

Maybe he doesn't need a reason to care about you. Maybe your very existence is reason enough. And he’s okay with that for once in his life. He had never been the type to go with the flow, but your hands are dragging up his neck and pulling his body onto the mattress.

That night, you both fall asleep in the bed.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[simpjaes]

mtl to be pussy drunk?

MTL: hyung line + being pussy drunk

most

★ jake: the obvious first choice. his eyes go crossed when your pussy hugs him just right. whether it be hugging his fingers, tongue, or cock. and when those eyes are crossing and rolling back, he's gonna be babbling the most insane, incoherent dirty words you could possibly think of. the only words you'd really be able to comprehend through all of the choked back curses would be "wanna be deeper, please, let me go deeper" despite already being in as far as he can go, and "feels so good when you just take it", reminding you that he literally renders you incapable of moving with that death grip he keeps on you. honestly, jake would get off entirely untouched if you simply sat in front of him and spread your legs. he is constantly pussy drunk.

☆ jay: normally he can keep his composure. normally, he's just a soft boyfriend willing to wrestle the goddamn moon down for you if you so much as blink at it. honestly, he's always in control of his emotions til he's got both hands holding your thighs open, rubbing his cock up and down the slippery folds. you see him lose all sense of control every time, that little flicker in his eye, the tensing of his jaw, and the intentionally slow and near painful slide into you all so he can fucking savor the last bit of his sanity before he's quite literally breaking the bed with the two of you in it. the words he gives you through his drunken stupor of your dripping cunt is more than likely to be heard right up against your lips. a half-hearted chuckle with a drawn out moan, words of "right there, right? this is what you wanted?" not at all admitting that he's just about as fucking insane as you are when it comes to this. not at all admitting that this control he pretends to have while absolutely losing himself in you? oh, it could break entirely, all you'd have to do is shove him back and fucking take him.

★ sunghoon: more than likely to keep his control solely because well, sweet in the streets, freak in the sheets right? someone has to be of sound mind given the uh, bedroom life the two of you live. but man is it hard for him to keep himself stable-minded when you wrap your legs around him and refuse to let him thrust back more than an inch or two. you're the one who drives him into the drunken state. hearing his level moans break the second your legs lock around his waist with a small "fuck, don't do this again," as if it's some sort of warning. "you know you can't stop me if you--" you'd just squeeze your legs around him harder, forcing him as deep as he can go. A guttural grunt would fall from his lips, he'd break entirely, thrusting his hips into you so hard that your legs immediately loosen and fall from around his waist. He wouldn't let up either. Those hard thrusts are tight, intentional, and deep. It's what you want, of course, to see your lovely level-headed boyfriend absolutely fucking lose it.

☆ heeseung: oh, of course he gets pussy drunk but i think he's far more inclined to see you be cock-drunk for him. messy blow jobs until you're whining and begging for more. just wanting it inside of you no matter where. honestly, he fucks your throat so good it could make you cum without anything being put inside of you. Ah, but he's such a good fuck. You know that as long as you lose your mind for him, he'll return the favor. only after you prove your worthy mouth to him will he do the same for you, lapping and lapping at your folds until his mind can only think of fucking you. always so quick with it too. one second you're gripping his hair and rolling your eyes back, the next you feel a split second of nothing before, ah, he's sliding in rough and hard, causing you to yelp loudly. "Yeah, just like that, squeeze it." that's all you'd hear before your ears start ringing. especially when you glance up and see how hard he's staring at the way his cock disappears inside of you. a feral man, totally obsessed with the image.

least

[diddybok]

Run to You | Minsung part II

all characters depicted in my writing are from my own imagination and do NOT in any way represent nor reflect the people in real life :)

➩pairing: ex!minsung x gn!reader

➩genre(s): angst, split pov

➩warnings: swearing

➩wc: 1.4k (1418)

➩author’s note: yous wanted a happy ending? heh…heh heh…not on my watch :| jk it’s up for interpretation

➩part(s): previous

See you don’t think it was foolish of you to still hold on to hope. Hold on to the fact that maybe, just maybe, you could get closure from all that happened.

Which is exactly why you didn’t block their numbers. For some silly little reason, you had hoped they’d at least send you a message asking where you went.

Nothing.

It has been nothing for a painful two months.

How you went from the apple of their eye to the forgotten apple core in the trash in a span of a week is truly uncanny.

It’s ridiculous and it still makes your right eye twitch if you think about it too long. Though, you have found many ways to divert your attention away from those two boys.

At least you thought you did.

Minho blinks once, twice, rubs his eyes then refocuses them on the spot in which you stand browsing through the clothes on the shelves.

He can feel the bile travelling up his throat and threatening to make an extravagant exit out of his mouth.

The colour drains from his face as he watches your delicate hands pick up a shirt and assess it. You’re probably thinking of ways you could style yourself in the outfit, the scrunch of your nose and furrow of your eyebrows suggest just as much.

His tongue feels heavy with the unspoken words he longs to say ever since he woke up that morning to you gone.

It confused him at first, seeing you not in bed. Thinking that you had just woken up early and was making yourself breakfast. But as he went downstairs and was met by the monotonous ticking of the clock and the hum of the fridge in the kitchen, he swore his heart skipped a beat.

It felt hard to swallow. It was as if something was lodged in his throat.

Guilt.

Seeing your key upon the kitchen island made him viscerally recoil and race upstairs to tell Jisung.

Frantically checking the wardrobe, dresser and bathroom for your things that were no longer stored in their rightful place.

Safe to say he broke down crying. Literally. He fell to his knees once he noticed the empty cup that used to hold your toothbrush and poor Jisung had to not only deal with the reality of which you had left them, but the sorrowful sight of Minho and the impending heartbreak that was to crush his delicate organ.

He wanted to message you. He really did. But there was a constant nagging in the back of his mind. “Leave Y/n be.” “They clearly want space away from you.” “You probably drove them away, you don’t deserve them anyway.”

Jisung tells him that maybe you just needed a break. That you would come back once you had calmed down, give them a call and things could go back to normal. “Give them a week,” Jisung said, “Maybe it all got too much for Y/n” He said.

Well…Jisung said that a month and a half ago. Now he stands in the clothing store, holding his head down as he hides behind a clothing rack; sparingly glancing over at you.

His feet ache to walk him over to where you stand. His hand reaches out to touch you. His mouth falls open to call your name.

He pretends to be busy with looking through the women’s sleepwear as his mind runs a thousand miles a minute.

“Minho?”

The way he could hear your voice so clearly in his head. It is like no memory was forgotten. Even as he looks down at the floor, he notices shoes that look akin to yours. Even having the little red stain on the top of your shoe from when you were pretending to paint like Bob Ross.

“Minho.”

His eyes widen as his neck almost snaps with the way he spins around so fast to see you. Just you.

He doesn’t know what to say. He hadn’t quite prepared what he was going to say in the time he was hiding behind the rack to you appearing behind him.

“Y/n…hey-hi. Hello.”

You look at him. No, you look straight through him. It’s as if your eyes are devoid of any emotion that you once had reserved for him and Jisung. When once he could feel the love from a longing gaze, he now feels goosebumps rise on his skin.

He can’t even hold back the way his eyes start to shimmer in the poorly lit store. Yet you aren’t a fool, you were always good at knowing whenever he got emotional. You would comfort him immediately. But you just stand there, your head tilting slightly.

He’s perturbed by your lack of reaction, but can he blame you? He made no effort to contact you once you had left. He is lucky he even gets you staring at him albeit like you just witnessed him kick a puppy.

All it took was one inhale. One inhale before you were rinsing into him. “You treated me like the shit on your shoe!” You would yell. An accusatory finger jabbing at his chest. The tears that threatened to fall from the corner of your eyes.

Boy oh boy did you let him know just how badly he and Jisung fucked up. How he used you, took you for granted. How he never gave back the love you were so generously going above and beyond to give to them.

The more you said, the more examples you shared of when he and Jisung made you feel like the third wheel. He couldn’t help himself as he started to sob. His tears fell down his cheeks and into his mouth.

Poor thing, you started to outright shake with anger as you just ripped him apart. And he stood there and let you. It’s the least he can do.

It wasn’t long until his confrontation with you alerted the casual consumers and an extremely bored store clerk who ushered the two of you out of the store.

The fresh air seemed to help you calm your erratic nerves. You couldn’t even look at him. Minho is almost regretful that he said to Jisung he didn’t have to join him with his errands today because he feels as if he is ready to break down any moment now and he needs the support from Jisung.

Oh.

Oh.

It’s like he was slapped in the face by your words, but he has now just been backhanded with realisation. He gets it now.

You needed them. You needed their support and they weren’t giving it to you. It’s as if it was muscle memory, to just gravitate to Jisung because it always was him until it was you and him.

The fact that it took him this long to realise. It took him seeing you sniffle and frustratedly wipe your tears that race down your cheeks to finally understand that you were calling out to them.

His hand instinctively reaches out to clasp your hand in his, but he acquiesces. He chooses to let it fall by his side, balling up into a fist.

“I’m sorry.” He said, his voice breaking into a choke. He hangs his head down in shame, remorse, cowardice.

“So am I.” You would say before ultimately leaving him. Figuratively and literally.

He isn’t sure how long he stands there frozen. Maybe seven minutes, perhaps thirty seconds.

All he knows is that it was too long. Too long to let you walk out of his life again without doing something to stop it.

He promised himself that night that he would never make that mistake again. So he lifts his head, looking frantically to figure out where you would’ve gone.

It’s as if the universe has granted him a second chance as he sees you in the distance. Just visible before he loses sight of you within the horizon.

Of course he doesn’t think as his feet start to move before his brain can process what he is doing.

As he runs he can hear the beating of his heart as it pumps for you. The blood rushing through his veins as it gives him energy to catch you.

Lest he lose the chance to fight for your heart and soul again, he runs like his life depends upon it. For you were never the missing piece of a puzzle, but the whole picture they longed to seek.

And now he can see it clearly.

ʚ hope you enjoyed ^.^ you can support me by liking, commenting and reblogging! it is heavily appreciated ᵕ̈ ɞ

i do not permit my work to be translated or reposted in any way, thank you.

© 2023 diddybok

general taglist: @spacegirlstuff @chengmeiauau

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Team Building

TW: Kidnapping

"Remember, bag on, hands zipped and go. Zero hesitation. If we take a split second too long, he'll get away."

"Affirmative."

"Shhh... he's coming."

The men grab you, neutralizing you before you can even get a glimpse of who they are. Your kicks hit well, but there are too many of them. They toss you into something soft, putting more on top of you before wheeling you away. A laundry bin full of sheets you realize. You'd seen it next to the Captain's door you were told to report to today.

The next thing you know, you're dumped into a trunk, sheets, and all. The trunk slams shut, taking the little light you could see through the fabric bag with it. You hear the vehicle start up and music blast at a ridiculously high level. Working your wrists, you fight to break loose for a few moments before realizing that is a dead end, recognizing the feel of the cuffs as the ones you have used on much bigger and stronger men. You shift to removing your hood. If you can see around you, maybe you can find a weakness. You have the hood about half off when the vehicle comes to a stop and turns off. Freezing, you hope they don't open the trunk and see you trying to escape. Your luck holds, and you hear multiple pairs of footsteps walking away, laughing and joking.

Hood sliding off, you check around you, rolling over to see the back of the seats as well. Luck is with you, and you see there is a small access hatch through the back seat. You turn slightly and kick it hard several times before it breaks loose. You shove your feet through and use your legs to pull you through in small sections. You duck down, listening hard for voices, and hear several to the left of the car. Sliding slowly to the right, you position yourself carefully. You pull the handle on the door, barely unlatching it and take several deep breaths. Shoving it open, you break into a dead sprint, running for the nearby treeline. Voices sound off almost immediately behind you, sounding surprised and confused.

You reach the trees, hearing footsteps gaining on you quickly. You don't chance a look back, worried about tripping over a root. Your feet are nimble, and you manage to stay ahead, blood pounding in your ears and lungs gasping for every bit of oxygen they can get.

Your downfall quite literally is a stream. Your foot slips, rolling the ankle as you go to jump, falling short of the other side in pain. A man grabs you from behind, picking you up far more gently than you would have expected. You fight to break free, but he angles you out, so you can't kick him easily. In frustration, you turn your head and bite his face. He drops you in shock, and you land in the rocks alongside the stream. You sit up, trying to get your feet under you and ignoring the gash on your face.

When you look up, you see you're surrounded by men. You start laughing in frustration and embarrassment when you see their uniforms and patches. They all look on nervously. One steps forward, a mohawk on his head.

"We're so sorry! We thought you were-"

"Captain Price? That is who I was supposed to be meeting."

"Yeah, sorry, doll. That must have been terrifying. Let us untie you, and we will get you back to the medics."

"No need. I'm a medic. Your medic, in fact." You feel your hands freed and pull them forward, inspecting the wounds there. "Did you grab my bag when you dumped me in the laundry?" At their headshake, you curse quietly. You turn toward the man that you bit. "Sorry, mate. Normally, I reserve my biting for people I know well." You wink as you try to stand up, the rolled ankle trying to buckle.

Ghost, you recognize him by his mask, chuckles. "Well, I hope I don't get to know you too well then. Gonna have a scar for sure." He winks at you, blood slowly staining his uniform, dripping down from the balaclava he is wearing.

You take a step gingerly and force your ankle to work, but the men notice all the same. "Here, I'll carry ye back, Stoater. Least I can dae for ye. I'm Soap, by the by. Ghost is behind ye, Gaz is there and over yonder, the pasty one is Roach." Each man waves shyly as they are named, and you nod back. Soap scoops you up and begins the trek back out of the forest. You wrap your arms around his neck to keep from getting jostled too much.

"So, who do I owe for repairs on the car? 'Fraid I may have done a bit of damage to it, gettin' out." You're a bit sheepish about the whole thing now that your adrenaline isn't pumping.

"Nothing and no one. It's a junker. We expected the Captain to do much the same, honestly. Just didn't expect our hostage not to recognize us and take off into the woods." Gaz sounds almost annoyed, but you think it is with them and not you.

Roach pipes up, "You're fast. Never seen anyone outrun Ghost."

"I was catching up. Though it woulda been a lot longer if you hadn't fallen."

"Spent more time in the woods than in school as a kid, so doin' a runner through the forest comes natural. If it had been open field, you would have caught me before I got another hundred feet." You fall into a comfortable silence the rest of the way, though you think it is likely less comfortable for them as they contemplate what comes next.

Reaching the car, Soap sets you down on the trunk instead of in it this time. You see an old truck parked nearby, otherwise the lot is empty. Ghost walks over to the truck and drags out a large first aid kit from behind the seat. He sets it next to you, giving you free range over it. You grab his arm and tug him between your legs, locking them around his waist.

"I have heard your reputation for fighting off medics, Ghost. I'll have none of that. Mask off or at least out of the way." You dig out some supplies as he grumbles and pulls the mask up to reveal a perfect set of teeth marks in his cheek. You wince and set to work, carefully cleaning and bandaging it. "You will need antibiotics. I've got a dirty mouth, after all." You wink at him as you press a plaster over it gently, letting him go.

Ghost takes a long moment to move away, watching you closely as he tugs down his mask. Your attention has already shifted to your own wounds, and you slide off the trunk onto your good leg. You hop your way to the front of the car and use the mirror to inspect the damage to your face. The cut is across the cheekbone on the same side as Ghost's bite wound.

"Yer twins, aye?" Soap jokes as he looks between you and Ghost. Your twin rolls his eyes as you laugh and nod in agreement. Soap gestures for you to get in once you are done, moving to the driver seat. Ghost lopes to his truck while the other two pile in the back seat.

"Nobody rides with Ghost?" You ask, curious if he is possessive of his vehicle.

"Nae, he drives like a weapon. Not worth the risk to life and limb." The chuckles from the backseat clue you in that this is a long-standing argument.

Back at base, the men walk you to Captain Price's office. He is pacing the room when you enter, supported by Soap. The others hover near the door, and you salute the Captain. "Medic reporting for assignment, sir." His eyes widen as he looks you over, then narrow on his men.

"What the fuck happened to her?" You feel Soap open his mouth, but before he can say a word, you chime in.

"Team building exercise, sir." You look him in the eyes with an almost bored expression. He hides his shock well at the boldfaced lie.

"Bullshit. None of these fucks got hurt."

"I tripped over my own feet," you chuckle. "But me n Ghost are twins, see?" You jab your thumb back at him, forgetting that his mask hides the bandage, but the bloodstain is evident. The Captain does not seem mollified by any of this, but he drops the issue.

"Yes, well. Sit, and we will go over your responsibilities here for the team, which do not include lying for them." You sit, and he promptly shoos them out. "So, they kidnapped you and dunked you in a stream to build comraderie. Do you want a transfer off the team?" He is short and to the point.

"No. I'm perfectly fine working with them." He nods and moves on to welcoming you on board.

"We're glad to have you, then."

When you walk out, braced on Captain Price's arm, Ghost is there waiting. He waves the Captain off, taking your weight easily. "To the med bay, Luv. We need to get you mobile."

Captain Price watches the two of you leave with a smirk, team building indeed.

[faeryarchives]

when your hopeless streamer gets a girlfriend (ace trappola x f!reader)

summary: the rising streamer ace trappola has always been teased by his friends and fans about his failed relationships - that is until one certain stream where each and everyone of them were proven wrong.

note: ok i had this idea at 1 in the morning i was like 'hmmm what if we make a streamer series for twst?' and its just full of fluff and crack like no magic au + everyone is just normal

recent fics: happy birthday (malleus x reader) & so what are we? & in sickness and in health

it was around saturday midnight when everyone should be asleep, but ace trappola decided it was a good time to stream a horror game out of all possible games he could play with his friends. they all started as friends before starting the game but i fear he might have none after the stream.

"crabby, where are you~?" the sound of floyd humming through the mic sent shivers down the boy's back as he tried hiding from the hunter. "it's so funny to see floyd just have this tunnel vision to kill ace." jamil's smooth voice rang out, obviously amuse how the scene was unfolding. 

"oh flooooyd! ace is hiding in the house with the telephone!"

"i hate all of you, after this game i am blocking everyone!" seeing him become the victim in the game and everyone turning on against him, his fans flood the live stream chat with laughing emojis and 'take the l'.

"ace, become a good bait while we fix the car." he heard ruggie and deuce laugh at his misery before their characters ran opposite his direction.

"okay who is the one that said floyd should be the hunter this round? hey, hey, hey! stop chasing after me- am i the only player in this game?! epel is right here!" in an act of desperation, ace tried to hide behind epel's character instead but only to receive massive damage when the attack hit him instead.

"eh... but guppy-chan isn't even trying to run away, which is boring!"

"wait, really?" he then stopped running. ace turned to face the hunter's character, trying to see if floyd would actually kill him, only to notice something wrong a little too late. "heh, gotcha,"  ace screamed into his mic, watching his character gets stuck in the tree and meet his demise as floyd split him into half literally. the words 'you died' appeared on the streamer's screen. 

gloomurai: wow you are so great in this game 🤣

"i see you idia-senpai! it's not my fault they all turned against me!"

wani-sama🔧: it's your karma for selling them out to ruggie last game

"yeah, yeah... well, i'm always the last one to get caught, so this can be pretty relaxing." the streamer smirked as he watched from deuce's point of view where he is currently lost in the woods. 

"i get to watch them die but knowing floyd he might quit mid-game." to used to being the first one out, ace sighed, switching from one point of view to another. bored ou of his mind, he looked at the corner of his screen, ace looked at the comments curiously as they try suggesting things.

muscle-red: why don't you do a q and a while waiting then?

"question and answer? don't you guys basically know me already?" ace looked at the screen intently, contemplating whether he should do it.

"fucking viper i swear!" suddenly someone joined the call causing ace to jump in surprised, only to realize it was ruggie. 

"how did you die?"

"jamil betrayed me because we thought it was a four-seater car. it turns out it was only two!" hearing this, ace turned to jamil's point of view and snickered about how he and epel got chased by the sneaky eel. "welcome to the dead club."

as if he could imagine his senior rolling his eyes at his words, he smirked smugly - karma does bite back hard. "hardy har... what were you doing? i heard something about a question and answer?"

"chat wants me to have another q and a portion, what more do i have to tell you guys?"

cowabunga: how is the search for your beloved mwishxr: there is no use in asking that 

"search for my beloved? hey!"

"shishishi! even your viewers are against you!"

it's a running joke in ace's community on how he was immediately dump by his ex girlfriend one week after dating. it wasn't like he wanted to share the story - he shared it as a batsu game after losing a round of uno. usually, when asked about his search for a girlfriend, ace would get all red and try to defend himself from the single until he became old allegations.

but today was surprising because not only did he not become all flustered and defensive - ace trappola looked smug even as he leaned his head into his palm and laughed.

"hmm, i wonder about that?" from behind, ace could hear approaching footsteps stopping next to him, and the live stream chat went wild and even ruggie who was looking at ace's stream right now watched with wide eyes as someone who was wearing the streamer's well-known sweater stood beside him.

"what the fuck?!"

gloomurai: ?!?!? muscle-red: what is with the sudden plot twist wani-sama🔧: WAIT wani-sama🔧: IS THAT-?!

"heya (nickname)~" ace hummed, turning his gaming chair facing your direction, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist as he grinned at you ever so cheekily. "you're late!"

"what are you five? i don't even know why you want me to come over." you rolled your eyes, trying to push him away playfully, only to run your fingers through his hair and chuckle.

seeing him lazily smiling at you causes you to succumb to your urge to pinch his cheeks - hard, making ace cry out in pain. before you could even ask another question, you saw something flash at the corner of your eye causing you to look at his monitor - realizing that he is still streaming. while holding onto you. and he not even on mute!

"this is all your plan, wasn't..." holding his face in your hands, ace could only laugh and nod, his hand quickly pulling you down, making you sit on his lap as he proudly present you to everyone. "as you can see, i am not hopeless anymore!"

wani-sama🔧: WHAT ARE YOU DOING SIS?!

"how is it possible i could hear sebek through the screen..." you sigh, leaning your back on ace and waved at the camera so casually as if the chat and ruggie weren't surprised at all.

"i just want to say to chat that ace didn't have my family in hostage." with you hand wrapped around his, you put up up and showed it to the camera. "and he is stuck with me."

hearing at just what you said made everyone in the chat go insane erupting into numerous emoji and something with the lines of 'oh my god he is not lying!' or just exclamation but nothing beats the reaction of your friends.

"(name) you settled for a guy like him?!" you could hear ruggie's surprised voice through your boyfriend's headset and honestly, you were contemplating if you would agree or just laugh it off.

"what can i say? sometimes, idiots have their charms."

jamil-viper: i can't believe you got (name) of all people... deuce-spade: oh thank god i don't have to keep it a secret anymore. wani-sama🔧: YOU KNEW?! epel-felmier: i think that's the effect of not our gc !!

the stream goes on with ace finally having his bragging rights and the twitter stans going crazy about the sudden girlfriend reveal. oh well, karma does hit back hard doesn't it?

[08melancholie]

Heyy i know u don't usually write about Kieran but i literally cannot stop thinking abt him rip..... if u want to i'd be absolutely overjoyed to see ur take on some sweet stuff with him, like how he'd react to the reader taking him out for a date night and essentially spoiling the shit out of him. I'm talking fancy restaurant, nice bath, warm bed, a massage and lots of praise (maybe even a .. "special reward" if u wanna write that 🤭) . Might even be fun to see how you'd write other characters in this scenario! Especially Arthur and maybe even Micah :3

thank you so much!

-🥐

omgomg yes. i literally love kieran like a little brother ive never had. he is all too precious to me and i miss him dearly </3

I absolutely can do Kieran and Micah.... got a long night ahead of me so I have the time🫦 (doing gn!reader btw)

wasn't gonna include "special reward" related hcs at first butttt.... i couldn't help myself. ill put a little marking for when the nsfw part comes up. was gonna do arthur but id totally write him ooc, sorry :(

Kieran

SFW

Definitely assumes you're trying to tease him at first, telling him the entire plan of pampering the life out of him just to laugh in his face. Wouldn't be the first time someone's teased him this way, so he'd be quite wary about who he trusts and whatnot in camp.

Realises you're being serious after you get agitated with him and tell him you're serious for the millionth time, then gets mildly nervous about going out alone with you. He's very appreciative of the thought, and will thank you more times than generally necessary.

"What? You.. you serious? Oh, naw.. I couldn't possibly—well, it's rude to turn it down..."

First stop; General store. You get him much better quality boots and he thanks you profusely. He feels bad about asking, but simply can't leave without buying Branwen a little treat; an apple or rice cake, nothing too much. Splits it in half when you exit the store and let's you feed your half to his horse, who is definitely a fan of the chin scratches you offer afterwards.

Followed up by a few quick drinks, some hope that a little alcohol in your bodies will help you both loosen up a bit, more-so Kieran who is still skittish.

Beers to start with a shot whiskey both.

Kieran scrunches his face slightly and you call him a wimp. This has him pouting at you; Which is adorable.

He's somewhere between a lightweight and a 'normal' drinker, but four beers seems to already make him a bit giddy and much more relaxed, much to your liking

Next, you're dragging him across the street to get yourselves both a room in the hotel and a bath. Instant flashback to John calling him a stinky O'Driscoll. </3

Minimal protest from Kieran, but he lets you do your thing.

You buy the bath for yourselves first and the room for later. You pay and lead Kieran to the reserved room. Locking the door after him and yourself, you lean on the door and wait for him to get in.

"What—in.. in front of you? You... can't exit for a minute.?"

You can't tell if he's getting red in the face from the alcohol consumption or current situation he's in. Either way, you think it's cute.

NSFW

He doesn't know if it's smarter to quickly strip and jump into the water, or to go slowly; you're staring at him either way.

He opts for a medium pace, very carefully handling his new boots and peeling his shirt off first. He's a bit scrawny and more pinkish than tan, light strawberry skin. He has minimal scarring on his body, nothing too serious.

His pants follow and he starts to nervously fumble with the restrains by now, feeling you still looking at him and eyeing every action he takes. He lets his trousers drop and follows with his drawls. You've probably never seen someone drop their underwear so quickly. He instantly jumps into the bath to keep himself at least partially decent—even after you've seen everything already.

He really enjoys higher temperature water since you can't much afford warm baths like these, so he's being very thankful as he basks in the soapy, hot water in front of you.

You lean off the door and walk to the bath. You fold and put his clothes away before rolling your sleeves up and sitting on the edge of the the tub behind him; like the bath girls do it. You've seen it enough times to know what to do.

You purposefully dip your hands very close to his thighs, sides and arms, throughly enjoying each and every time he squirms or grumbles a little whiny noise from inside his chest.

You rub his entire body, no crevice left untouched by your hands. It might be the hot water he's been soaking inside of, but you can feel just how much warmer his skin is with every touch of your hands caressing his whole frame.

You work your way from his shoulders down his torso, ask him to lift his legs and do those—all up to his stomach where you instead stand up, walk a few steps and lean over the tub.

You make sure to brush just barely out of reach when going over his stomach. He can't help throatily whining again, his head leaning back in frustration. This goes on for a few more minutes until you've physically touched every part of him—all but one very active part.

You got him a mess in the bathtub; sweating, whining, giving you pleading eyes. It's a goddamn sight that has you wanting to sling him over your shoulder and carry to your reserved room instantly.

"You can't just do all'a that... Don't be mean.."

You let him soak in his uncomfortableness for a good few minutes, watching him switch between pleased from the nice bath water to squirmy from lack of caring for his little problem.

"Please, don't leave me like this..."

God, those eyes could get you to do anything. You've never stumbled into a hotel room so quickly, having instantly gotten him decent and practically dragged him out of the baths.

Focused on him the rest of the night, doing anything he (silently) asked for and just putting your own, aching need aside for the time being

Micah bonus <3

SFW

Instantly declined at first, grumbling something about not needing your charity. Instantly agreed when you mentioned drinks at the saloon.

"Guess it wouldn't hurt, would it?"

You get him into town and start off in the gun store, obviously. You let him pick out three upgrades to his revolvers since you know he won't buy any new ones, he only ever really uses his own guns.

He's very satisfied, turning his guns in his hands and inspecting them with the new additions you got him.

You lead him towards the saloon next, for the promised drinks.

He drinks your wallet out with ease, shot after shot and he isn't even near drunk yet, comfortably tipsy at most.

You settle for two beers for yourself, and he teased you about the situation again.

"I'm on my fifth whiskey and you're still only drinking beers? Hah!"

You slap his shoulder and continue to drink, wanting to get to the best part rather quickly.

He downs his last whiskey and his empty glass settles next to your empty bottles, both of you leaving.

"What, a bath? That what you think I'll like?"

He's skeptical but agrees, might be nice to enjoy himself a bit more. And he probably stinks.

You get him inside and watch the smirk on his face when you buy a bath—and a room for later.

"Getting bold on me, are 'ya?"

You lock the two of you inside the bathroom and gesture for him to strip. You're still looking, and it just makes him laugh while slipping his coat off and placing his hat on a nearby table.

He doesn't mind you watching, it just grows the sly smile on his face furthermore.

He gets his naked body into the water and lets out a little "oooh" noise, his white eyelashes fluttering with his eyes as he takes in the bordering perfect temperature, relaxing into the tub behind him.

You watch him get in, blissful look on his usually grumpy face. He watches you with a smirk, asking if you'll be joining—joking about it, obviously.

NSFW

You leave him to enjoy the water for.. maybe three minutes, before you can't help yourself anymore.

His eyes go from lidded and content to wide and surprised, lips parted as he watched your undershirt get unbuttoned, revealing skin little by little.

He's very quick to compose himself, comfortably watching you strip yourself fully bare.

You manage to surprise him a second time by dipping yourself down on his abdomen, and the grin on his face just widens, his chuckle echoing through the bathroom.

"You're reeeally going all out on me tonight, huh?"

His hands quickly find your sides and, assuming consent, he starts touching up your entire form; waist, hips, thighs. He rubs his fingers up to the underside of your chest, your lower and upper back.

"'Ya know, you've taken real good care of me tonight, and I'm feelin' generous; let's return the favour, yeah?"

And that he without a doubt did; officially having no use for the room you bought anymore.

The tables get turned on you and he's quick to initiate some good ole bathtub intimacy.

That's the story of how you got banned from the hotel in Valentine because of a noise complaint. Multiple noise complaints. And a high water bill.

i love cowboys <3

[audreyscribes]

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:💀 PERSEPHONE: QUEEN OF THE UNDERWORLD, GODDESS OF SPRING, THE DEAD, THE UNDERWORLD, GRAIN, AND NATURE 💐 (PART 1)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is PART 1 of the Persephone Demigod Headcanons. Due to the size limit of Tumblr, I had to split the entire work into two. [LINK TO PART 2 HERE] Hi everyone! It took me a bit to figure it out but here's what everyone has been waiting for! Persephone is just 1 out of the 4 works I have planned and written for, and these works will be categorized as the MISCELLANEOUS GODS due to not the fact these gods are minor or anything, but because I did mention this in an ask before and it's easier to think about due to the canon PJO world building. These works will be a bit more loose since I'm taking a shot in the wild so hopefully you guys like it. Thanks for reading!!

*Disclaimer: mentions of unusual births, life and death*

People have been wondering if Persephone would have a demigod of her own, considering Hades has his own children, but also it’s slightly more believable if people know about the story of Adonis. However, there are very limited ways that the goddess would give birth to a demigod, since she’s very loyal and in love with Hades, and vise-versa.  

How you could’ve been born:

You really could’ve been born normally where Persephone’s eyes fell upon a mortal, when it was during Spring or Summer, or when the autumn and winter months have been delayed. 

Honestly, I can see this going for either gender of mortal: If your mortal parent is male, Hades couldn’t have done much because he knows Persephone’s preferences are strict and the last human she fell in love was Adonis, that Aphrodhite herself loved as well, so, Hades worrying about her being (repeatedly) unfaithful is very rare so your mortal male parent is the exception. So don’t expect any or more demigod siblings of Persephone. Not totally out of Hades’ ire, but given how many demigod children he has, he really doesn’t say anything. If your mortal parent is female, I can see it being this unusual birthing process where some sort of guidance is required: maybe Persephone offered a seed that your female mortal parent swallowed and boom, you were born. 

You’re a cabbage patch baby or a rose baby. or you’re born from a Peach. Turnip baby. Any plant based births. Quite literally. Don’t ask how this exactly works, but it involves the blood, sweat, and tears of your mortal parent planting the seed that Persephone gave/helped and raised you together. 

There’s a story where a woman ate a red and white rose to give birth, and I don't think that's not off the books for Persephone to do. Offering the flowers or something for your mortal parent to eat and boom, here you are-

You were either or an orphan, a completely child/baby that was near earth or had died, and you underwent the same process that (Zagreus)  Dionysus underwent with the weird death-rebirth thing; where you were (SOMEHOW) taken in by Persephone physically then reborn as a child of Perseophone when she gave birth to you. Since you technically died, you lost half of your mortal self because of the whole dying thing, but was replaced with Persephone’s godly portion.

That said, you’re not probably a double demigod if you went through the whole rebirth thing: where before you were a demigod child that died before Persephone gave you a new life. If you are however, oh boy, the Fates have something planned for you and it will not be an easy/happy life for you; doomed or tortured by the narrative. Your happy ending will have to be earned and fought with blood and tears. Afterall, the more powerful the demigod, the less easy it is for them.

 Either way, I don’t really see Hades targeting you on the level Hera does to the children of Zeus; though you still might want to refer to Hades (very) politely as Lord Hades or Godly Step Father. Just good manners, you know.

Regardless, everyone at camp is very confused and looking at you in a mixture of wonder, uncertainty, fear, amongst a few. When you get claimed, it’s like Spring has arrived, even when it’s Autumn or Winter. Nature blooms all around you with such vitality no one has seen before, with flowers, grains, and crops sprouting underneath your feet and all around you. Once the claim is over, if it’s Autumn/Winter, the world reverts back and everyone can see the rot that surrounds them except for you as you walk. 

Everyone expects you to be either a “Flower prince[ss]”, a soft person like Spring, or “A Prince[ss] of the Underworld”, terrifying like your mother. However, while you may lean one than the other, you can be both. Afterall, Persephone may be one to bring growth and fertility to the earth, and everything, she is also just as much as Kore that lends to herself being the Goddess of the Underworld and the dead where destruction follows. On the other hand, it’s a pretty cool thought where you’re wearing a crown of flowers and being all soft looking but switch to something darker with the flower petals falling off, to reveal a crown of thorns with the shadows curling around you to almost seem like your face is a skull, and vise-versa. You do you.

When you walk on the earth, you’ll sprout flowers and plants underneath your feet but as soon as you raise your foot to step away, the plants will wither and die, leaving rot behind. Sort of like the God of the Forest walking in Studio Ghibli’s “Princess Mononoke” .

[PART 2 TO PERSEPHONE DEMIGOD HEADCANONS HERE]

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The Tragedy of Love, Death and Maggots part 10

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9

This time, I didn't protest. My foolishness had cost us enough. Between the pillars and our running, I caught only glimpses of the thing wearing Athena's body. It stretched lasciviously, throwing uneven arms back and grinning ear to ear, quite literally. The foul worms that made up her flesh multiplied, spreading and growing like a miasma, until she was the height of two men.

The Lady, or whatever I was to call this abomination, was beautiful like a statue, all elegant and evocative and ethereal, if statues writhed and crawled upon itself and wore a smile that split its face ear to ear. It looked nothing like the girl I knew. And it was gazing down at where I knew Brett to be.

“Shit,” Mrin snarled, forcing us both to a halt behind a crumbling wall. “They're blocking us.”

Indeed, there were hundreds of cultists standing around her, watching their goddess in blind ecstasy. A few had their hooks in Brett, baring him before her like her very first sacrifice. 

I wanted to scream, to beg him to cut loose and run, but Brett stood there steadily, light ringing his golden hair like an angel's halo.

Athena, or the thing wearing her face, grabbed his wrists, claws the size of knives digging into the open wounds. “Brett,” she cooed, swaying with delight. “You came looking for me.” The maggots churned and coursed, making her facade of a woman ripple.

He nodded unsteadily. “'thena, I know this isn't you, alright? Snap out of it,” he said, not a trace of fear in his voice. “We're here for you, me and Doc and Mrin. I'm here for you. We believe in you.”

For a moment, she froze. I thought- I hoped, against all hope, that it had worked, that the power of love would triumph.

Then that horrible mass of writhing rot grinned. “How cute. How darling. Why, I could just eat you up, dearie,” she exclaimed. 

Then she did, her swarm bending down towards his face. Brett's scream was cut off abruptly as she pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeper than she ever had. He squirmed in her grip as wave after wave of larvae poured down his throat, gnawing and gulping down his innards. I caught flashes of red as he was engulfed, each quickly overwhelmed by the swarm.

It was too much, just too much, and I bent over, heaving my guts onto the floor. It tasted like Brett's screams, wet and sour and horrified.

I would have sat there retching my wretched lunchless guts out until she found me, had Mrin not dragged me back. She might have been smaller than me by a half, but she made up for it with her sheer persistence. 

“Doc, don't do this. We need to get out of here, and we need to do it now.” Her voice, normally so calm, was tinged with panic. “Come on, be a dear. Get up. Keep moving.”

I lurched along with her, leaning on her shoulder, leaving behind the two people who had been a staple of our lives.

Fun fact! This was the scene that the entire story is written around. This means I'm approximately half done. We have another 5 thousand words to go. This frightens me :/

Taglist: @coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch

@tragedycoded, @finickyfelix, @urnumber1star, @ratedn, @ramwritblr

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west, @differentnighttale

@evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms, @xenascribbles

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, @the-golden-comet, @rascaronii, @trippingpossum, @real-fragments

@unrepentantcheeseaddict, @the-inkwell-variable, @paeliae-occasionally, @an-indecisive-nerd, @thecomfywriter

@seastarblue, @wyked-ao3

(Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[indigo-constellation]

Your changeling!Daniil is amazing. Your Clara Burakh is amazing. Your totally-normal-scientist (who totally didn't do anything like Jack the Ripper and Victor Frankenstein in the capital! only ethically sourced bodies here!) Artemiy is amazing.

Clara as Haruspex is breaking my heart especially! The way you wrote her being friends with the kids - how Artemiy was once with Stakh, Grief and Lara - and how she has a foreboding feeling she won't belong with them once it is all over, because her role is to protect them, not be one of them! Rat man still found a way to be mean my girl 😭 Also she and Grace are so sweet. Wanted to say that Grace's name (Ласка) in Russian has double meaning: 1) weasel (animal); 2) tenderness. Do with that as you will~

Also Daniil (both of them) is so good as a changeling. I loved that quiet moment he had with Clara on the stage, where they say how odd it is to play like that. Love the eyes of the "twins" being what sets them apart, too! Raven feels like he wants to be a bad guy, but can't quite bring himself. Regretful plague that is also a dead man who is alive but only because the sickness is. Snake being so gentle and kind and seemingly having some sort of planning he doesn't fully share even with the reader. Also Daniil speaking Hebrew! I gasped when I realised. It's also a fun contrast to him only speaking in Latin in the game, especially if we still to see him as Jewish. Makes me really want to see how you'd write bachelor!Daniil! Want to take a look inside his head! I know what I shall read next.

Artemiy having a worst imposter syndrome out of all of them because of coming back home where he was supposed to take on his father's role and finding the man who was a founder of a project that could be called Artemiy's life work is comedy gold. Also his little sister literally living the life he refused! 10/10 no notes. Artemiy and his unfun coming-home-to-steppe party! 🥳 Roots, Rain and Reflection is secretly a comedy.

Thank you for writing this amazing role reversal, don't think I will be able to get it out of my head.

tumblr is so annoying bc I had a whole response and then it got deleted roijepigjetiuheoigj let me try to write what I can remember and hopefully do it better

I literally screamed when I read this ask btw thank you so much

the healers in this fic are so incredibly dear to me and I love them so much, I love getting to focus on them, yes Artemy's organs and cadavers as ethically sourced and fresh as he can get them :D

Haruclara truly deserves so much, she doesn't fit into the Termites despite being a kid herself, half because of the way she was raised and half because of the nature of the story and the separation of Healers and Bound. While also having messy connections with the other two Healers. I really wish I could have more Grara but this is primarily p1 focused so the Bound's role is limited (the amount of Yulia/Rubin/Lara/Aspity I had to cut- istg I was so excited to have an Aspity and Artemy interaction on day 6 but it would've been too long) I will keep what you said in mind though! thank you ^^

Changeniil has been so write, he keeps so much of himself hidden, so getting to reveal those small bits of him like in that theatre bit are great. The hands and the eyes being the main things to distinguish the twins Dankovsky is fun because those are two things Pathologic focuses on a lot, though I will say that there might be more later on. The Raven is a miserable wet beast, the idea behind the twins has been that different bits of Daniil are split up, so and what's fun about that is that it's Plagueniil that has the idealism. He's a fucked up guy held together only by spite and disease but he cares so much it hurts him. The Snake is also a creature, truly, he knows his plan, Raven knows his plan (and doesn't like it at all), and I know how it will fail, the narrators being unreliable is such a fun part of patho. I always write Daniil as Jewish (because he is to me lol) but specifically Daniil I think fits with Hebrew because it is a revived language and as a guy who is trying to defeat death I think it would suit him (also revived language and revived Daniil was an intentional choice) I will say though, idk how well my old writing holds up bc my writing got a lot better while writing roleswap so go at your own risk lol

Finally, Bachtemy, a dearly beloved fool <3 he used to have a much bigger conflict with Daniil about Daniil not being who Artemy expected him to be and that being a lot more angsty but then I started writing that scene and it turned out gay so nice. There's a lot about Artemy I'm planning to go into in chapter 7 so look out for that. Artemy is also 100% the character I get to make the funniest, truly the comedian of the cast, I am putting him in the blender as I write this.

thank you again for this!! sorry with inflicting you with the thinking about it curse lol, it's happened to a few people as I've seen and idk how to fix that (I am also infected I cannot stop thinking abt this au) but this long ask really made me so happy to see and I'm so glad you're enjoying it!!

[chasedbyatlantic]

beach baby, joel miller

summary: IN WHICH — while driving out along the coast, joel miller decides to surprise you with one of your favourite things - a visit to the beach.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson era!joel, gender neutral!reader, implied/established relationship, love dovey joel, literally joel being husband material, relationship things, stripping, swearing. lmk if i missed anything!

wordcount: 2.5k

a/n: this and puppy love are tied for my fav fics rn. i am genuinely obsessed w this like i can imagine him doing this so vividly ugh. also! i opened my requests so gogogo and request any sort of fics! remember to reblog, comment, like and follow for updates on new fics. love u all xoxo

—

It had been years since the two of you had travelled together, outside of the walls. Of course, you weren't complaining about the safety that the walls had provided you and Joel, but you missed it. You missed the thrill, the always-on-edge feeling you got when travelling hundreds of miles from safety. Plus, to be quite honest, you missed when it was just you and Joel. Of course you had loved Ellie with everything in you, but there was just something that happened with you when you were by yourself with him; a euphoric feeling- a feeling you only got when you were with the man you loved.

Joel had gotten clearance (like he needed it, he would've just left anyway) from Tommy weeks prior to your departure from Jackson. Though you would only be gone for a month or two, Tommy had to reschedule people into your shifts at work and what not. When he had asked Joel on where he was going, he got no answer. Joel didn't know himself, usually he was a 'prepare for everything' type of person, but lately he has been more of a 'i'll go wherever the road takes me' guy.

The last time you were awake, it had to be hours ago at this point, the window was rolled far down and some sort of song by The Beach Boys was playing on the stereo (Joel had installed one just for you, as you proclaimed your undying love for music more times than he could keep track of). This time of the year was your favourite - it was summer. The days were long, the sun was out, and your hair grew a shade lighter. Joel, on the other hand, hated summer. He hated the way his clothes would cling onto him, and the way sweat would roll down his neck the second he stepped outside.

Joel had told you that you guys were going to head to California. Apparently there was a trader that he knew from a while back that he needed to pay a visit to, and had asked you if you were in for the ride. Without a doubt, you were. This lead you to the current moment.

You had moved around a little bit in the passenger seat of Joel's pickup truck, it wasn't the most comfortable. Although, you hadn't minded. Wind was still blowing in your face and through your hair, which had muted out the sounds of the familiar song you had fallen asleep to. As you attempt to stretch your leg and shift around, you can feel pressure holding it down. You had opened your eyes and glanced down, blurred vision, to observe Joel's hand resting upon your thigh.

You had exhaled as you sunk back further into your seat, life felt good- it felt normal. Joel's hand had reached up off your thigh for a split second to turn down the stereo a bit, but his hand took his returning place on the open of your skin. "You were out for hours, darlin'." You had only hummed in response (since you were only half awake, not completely aware of where you were).

"We're in California, crossed the border 'bout'n hour ago." This caused you to glance over at Joel driving. One hand on the wheel, sleeves rolled up, focused- god, if he wasn't driving you'd tell him to get in the back seat. "How long 'til we're at this place you're takin' me to?" You had to rip yourself out of the depths of your imagination after seeing him like this.

Joel had hummed to himself, attempting to mental math his way through the question you asked. "Don't know baby, before sun fall I'm guessin'." That was a good enough answer for you. You had brought your hand to rest on top of his over your thigh, and you could feel his grip loosen a bit once you did this. Joel always had to have a part of his body on yours, his love language most definitely being physical touch. In reality, though, he was afraid that if he let go of you- you'd disappear with the blink of an eye.

With the next few hours of just you and him talking about anything and everything, you had finally noticed the sun start to set. You hadn't even realized the day was almost gone. Being deep in thought with the hunk of a man right beside you had its cons, you had guessed. Right before you had opened your mouth, Joel beat you to it, "Gonna pull over here, I'll finish the drive tomorrow."

He did just as he said and took a right into an open field, the car ride became about fifty times bumpier than previously which you weren't a fan of. Though, it was over soon, Joel had found a nice place tucked just after the tree line for you guys to spend the night in. "Backseat?" He had questioned, glancing over at you.

"Jesus Christ, at least take me out to dinner first!" Had escaped your lips, followed with a bunch of laughs. Joel couldn't help but turn his neutral look into a happy one, a few chuckles in sync with yours. He loved you, but he loved you even more when you were like this. To say you being cocky and arrogant in a joking way turned him on was an understatement.

"The car'll get a flat if we do anythin' in that sorts, ya' know that." He had (sort of, not really) scolded you once both of your laughs had calmed down. A fake frown was now plastered on top of the beaming smile, sighing with a small 'fine'. All jokes aside, you had gotten out of the truck to hop in the backseat. Not for any funny business (unfortunately), but for actual sleep. Joel had beaten you there by just (in a bad fashion) crawling through the middle piece.

The seats had already been down from the nights previous, with the sheets and pillows already in place. Joel had already taken his shirt off and was laying down, stomach side up. You couldn't help but admire him as you switched what you were wearing to become more comfortable. "Starin' ain't well-mannered, doll." This resulted in you laying down beside him, stomach side down.

"You love it, don't lie." Joel could only chuckle in response as he drooped his arm around your waist. Sweet nothings were whispered to each other for the next while before one or the other fell asleep, you couldn't really remember. Nights like this were the most uncomfortable thing, but you found comfort in the man beside you every time.

You woke up without the feeling of your man wrapped around you, which wasn't a good start to your day. You had only figured that he had probably gotten an early start to his day (once again), in the driver's seat was the new normal for Joel, at least for the last month.

You felt the sun beaming in your face- it was blinding, even with your eyes tightly shut. This had indicated to you that you were no longer in the forest, and for sure on the road. "Joel." You had hummed, moving around a tad bit.

There wasn't a response, he had to have been concentrated on the road- or you were just quieter than you thought. "Joel." You hummed once again, a yawn soon following suit. The only sound that had returned was the sounds of birds chirping, and- a sound you couldn't recognize. You brain was going about a hundred miles an hour, but you couldn't place what it was.

Now pissed off with him, you sat up and looking around. Your eyes were glossy at it was too bright to properly see anything- but you could see the empty driver's seat. "This isn't fucking funny!" You began to panic. Why didn't he wake you, why didn't he tell you where he was going, was he safe?

The thoughts were emptied out of your head when you heard him call your name, you immediately turn your head left and look out the window. It was Joel, thank god, but was that- it couldn't be, there was no way.

A beach.

"Holy fuckin' shi-" You were interrupted by the back door quickly opening, and Joel reaching his hand out. "Surprise." Surprise? This was more than just a surprise, to you. This was heaven. You thought you had already met heaven when you met Joel Miller, but this? This came to a close second.

You grabbed his hand and he pulled you out (carefully and what not). This man had the biggest smile on his face, ever. He knew this would make you happy, you always told him stories about when you were younger. Your grandparents had owned a little cottage on the water before they had passed, years and years ago.

"I cannot fuckin' believe it, Joel!" You sounded like you were going to bawl. You were, to be honest. Why was he so good to you- he didn't need to be, you felt as if you didn't deserve it. If anyone deserved surprises like this, it was Joel.

"Well ya' better start to, I ain't goin' swimmin' by myself." If anyone had a bigger smile than you right now, it was him (and it was a genuine one, too). You had brought your lips to him in a quick, but hungry, fashion. He didn't hesitate to kiss you back, there was nobody around to worry about seeing you two like this.

After a moment, you pulled back. You had immediately turned around and stripped, just leaving your undergarments on. Joel had adverted his eyes, despite seeing you with less on millions of times. After the last shoe was pulled off your foot, you turned back around. He had tried his hardest to keep his eyes on yours, not to trail them down your curved body. You had to do the same, Joel was just in his boxers and- well, it was a sight, to say the least.

You grab Joel's hand, intertwining your fingers between each other. He glances down, another small smile raising to his lips. This didn't last for long, though. Within the blink of an eye, you were racing down the burning hot sand toward the water with Joel following suit (not by choice, he would've loved to take his time).

It feels like a thousand needles are piercing you - the water is so cold, but you don't care. All you wanted was to swim. You had let go of Joel's hand before you completely dived into the water (once deep enough, of course). You were fully submerged and swimming for what felt like forever. You loved this, you craved it.

You remerged a couple yards away from Joel, who was still standing on the shore looking absolutely breathtaking, to say the least. "What're you waiting for? Get your fine ass in here!" You had called out to him. Joel took some baby steps in, but not past his ankle. You had shook your head, before an idea hit you.

You had swam over to Joel, eventually standing up when it was shallow enough. You had opened your arms as you approached him, giving him the hint you were going to give him a hug. "You do that darlin', an' I ain't drivin' your pretty ass back home." Joel sounded serious, but you knew he would never leave you.

"Yes you will." You argued to him, still approaching. The man in front took a hesitant step back, not trusting you. Quickly, before Joel could do anything else, you ambush. You jumped full force at him and wrap your arms around his neck, he cringes. He cringes so hard that he almost dropped you. Almost.

Joel had let out a moan, now freezing cold. With you in his arms, practically in tears from laughter, he finds a way to get payback at you. Now that he was wet, he decided to charge deeper in the water (you still in his arms). You let out a squeal once Joel was shoulder deep, both syncing your laughs shortly after.

Joel had let go of you, and now you were treading. Since it was up to his shoulders, it was above your head. "You're perfect, ya' know." His hand had found yours under the water, you let him hold it. "I am? Baby, ya' did all this for me. If anyone's perfect-" You brought your free hand to Joel's cheek, cupping it, "-It's you." He couldn't help but let a smile shine through his face.

It was true, if you searched up "perfect" in the dictionary Joel Miller would come up. He brought out the best of you, even on days where you couldn't get out of bed. He made your world, even if it was nearing the end of everyone else's.

Hours later, once you two were completely red from too much sun and heat-tired, you lay in the back of Joel's pickup truck. It was night, pitch black. The waves were crashing alongside the waterline, and the birds had gone to rest. It was warm outside, but due to too much sun, the both of you were freezing. You were cuddled underneath a spare blanket that Joel had packed away before you guys left Jackson, bodies tangled with each other.

Today was the best day you had in a while- no, the best day you had period. Granted, anyday with Joel was a blessing, but today was different. You didn't have to survive, you got to take life for granted for a few hours.

You weren't the only one who enjoyed the day, Joel did too (if it wasn't clear). He needed both a mental and physical break after driving for hours and hours for weeks. When finding this beach while you were asleep, he knew it was perfect. Granted, he went and checked it out while you were sleeping to make sure everything was safe for you guys (it was), and that just added to his mood.

Light pollution wasn't a thing anymore, at least not in rural California, so you got to see the stars. Not just one or two, every star. "Joel," You spoke, squeezing his hand that was wrapped around your shoulder. He hummed in response, too tired for words. "The brightest stars in the sky, the one on the left is Spica, and the one on the right is Arcturus."

He looked up, almost surprised you knew this. He didn't take you to be an astronomy girl. "You're too smart for ya' own good." His finger rubbed up and down on top of your shoulder. You had leaned farther back into him, so carefree.

"I'm happy I got to be your beach baby." You blurt out, not really thinking about what you had said. This earned a quiet chuckle to escape from the man's lips. "You can be my beach baby any day ya' want." Joel's grip tightened around you, the pressure of his head was now felt on top of yours.

Everyday spent with this man was a good day- no, a great day. Being alive was luck, but being alive with your best friend was fate. You will never forget today, the day Joel Miller took you to a beach for the first time. You will never forget the look he had when he watched you being the happiest you've been in so long. For as long as you live, you'll never forget that you're Joel Miller's beach baby.

—

beach baby, bon iver

[anon-sect]

Eric has ten employees he supervised in his department at work. He had a level of respect for each of them. The only thing he required was the same level of respect back. But there was one employee who was a major thorn in his side. He did enough to keep himself employed, but every time he had to be corrected, he showed a lack of respect to his position. He really wanted to fix this issue to make life at work much easier.

Eric had heard of a guy named Genie who was solving financial issues but helped in other ways. He had to see if he could help solve his disrespectful employee problem. He called and set up a meeting on the next day.

Eric met Genie at his office. "How can I help you, since you aren't interested in money? Most of my clients are usually here for those partucular reasons." He asked Eric.

Money wasn't an issue currently, but an employee was. "I have this one employee that is really annoying, but I have no grounds on which to fire him. And he won't quit. I just want him dealt with where he is no longer an issue or concern for me." Eric explained his slightly strange request, wondering how a guy named Genie can solve it.

Genie snapped his fingers and a magical contract instantly appeared before him. He looked it over before turning it around for Eric to sign it.

Eric was amazed how an old looking form of paper instantly appeared out of nowhere. "Are you some kind of magician?" He asked as Genie turned the paper for him to read. "Let's just say my magic is far more ancient than some magician. Just sign and initial the highlighted areas. Also, on the bottom in the fine print, I need you to write in a name, it has to be a close friend or a close acquaintance you know well." Genie responded to his question.

Eric read and signed at the same time. He understood what was on the old parchment looking paper. The wish would be permanent with no reversal. But what confused him was that he had to provide a name at the bottom. And it had to be a close friend or acquaintance. "Why do I need to write a name down here if I have already signed?" He asked him curiously.

"You see, I don't grant wishes for free. I require something in exchange. The name you provide will belong to me as my possession. Otherwise, I won't grant it." Genie spoke his response, waiting on Eric to finish signing it.

Eric thought of who he should write in. He didn't want to put in the name of someone close to him he cared about. That would be cruel. He then had the perfect name. It was someone he knew by acquaintance really good, but was also annoying. He honestly wouldn't care what Genie did with him. He wrote in Jake on the line and handed the paper back over to Genie.

Genie looked it over one more time and saw everything was in order. He snapped his fingers, and the parchment vanished just as suddenly as it appeared. "Your wish will be granted in the morning. Just remember, it's permanent. It will not be reversed. I think that concludes our business." Genie motioned him toward his office door.

Eric left wondering how his annoying employee situation would be dealt with. He was told it would be handled by the morning. He couldn't wait to see what would happen.

The next morning, Eric took his shower as normal, but when he came out, he saw a pair of white AND1 socks with a small note beside it. He read the note: here is Malcolm. He is now your pair of socks, enjoy them as you please. Sign, Genie. P.S. there is no reversal if you should happen to feel any remorse.

Malcolm was just having breakfast when suddenly he found himself laid out in a strange place. His body was split in half, and he couldn't move at all. Nor could he physically speak or utter any sound. It was like being trapped in your own mind with no escape. He hated this feeling. He then heard a familiar voice approach. "Wow, he really did solve my Malcolm issue. He made him into my personal pair of socks. I literally get to wear him." He heard as the familiar voice laughed afterward. He knew exactly whose voice it was. It was his supervisor, Eric. Did he hear right? Was he turned into a pair of socks? He quickly realized it was his current reality when he felt Eric picked him up and slid his foot into his sock body. Even though Eric's foot was clean with no odor, it still sickened him at the thought that he was now wrapped around his supervisor's foot. He then experienced it a second time as the other sock was put on. He felt Eric wiggling his toes in him. He screamed so many curses at him and realized Eric didn't hear a single one. He was a powerless pair of socks, and Eric was his owner.

Eric loved the way Malcolm felt on his feet. He would make him his favorite pair of socks. The thought that Malcolm would be at work but providing support for his feet made him smile. The annoying employee became useful to him. The best part was that his socks couldn't speak. No more disrespectful tone coming from him, nothing but bliss silence from the only employee he had that got on his nerves. He then thought about the one whom he gave up to get his wish granted. He wondered what Genie would do with him, even though he honestly didn't have any concern for his well-being.

Jake felt strange. The last thing he remembered was being in his bed. Now he felt like he was somewhere else. He was in a dark place and wrapped around something that felt familiar. He tried to speak but found he no longer had the ability. He tried to move, but his motion was minimal at best. All the most he could accomplish was squirming motion.

Genie felt his underwear moving. He laughed at the futile attempt to escape his current fate. The wish was granted, which meant Jake was permanently his. The good thing was the guy that gave him Jake didn't even care what happened to him. But he would let Jake know of his fate. Suddenly, he had the urge to fart. He let out a long five second fart. He laughed as he finished because he remembered making the guy's face be in the ass part of the underwear. He literally just farted in his face. He really felt the underwear squirm like crazy. He laughed even more.

Jake tried to get away from the smell as an almost toxic gaseous smell bombarded his face. It was so ranchid that he would have gagged or vomited if he had an actual mouth. He realized his reality. He was underwear, and his face was at the rear end of the underwear. He was looking directly at another guy's ass and there was no escape from it. He himself was a straight guy, loves the ladies. But to literally end up on a guy's ass was the worst thought he could ever imagine, let alone it be his reality.

Genie unzipped his pants to speak with his underwear for the first and last time. "Your friend or associate Eric offered you to me in exchange for his wish being granted. So I decided you would be my underwear. The last guy given to me was turned into my favorite pair of socks. I have to tell you, you do make an excellent pair of underwear. And you absorb my fart gas well. I don't smell any of it." Genie paused and laughed at Jake as he farted again, this time it was almost eight seconds long. "This is permanent for you." He finished as he zipped his pants back up. He went and sat down to watch television. He rubbed his butt in his underwear for a bit, enjoying the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing as the underwear squirmed like crazy.

Jake knew of Eric, but for him to trade him off like that was cruel and unforgivable. That last fart was worse than the first one. Then the guy sits down and rubs his ass in his face. He would never wish this fate on any straight guy. A gay guy might be loving this, but he was hating every last moment.

At the end of the day, Eric arrived home from work. His socks had a little sweat in them. He sniffed his shoes and found his strong foot odor in them. He shook his head. He was glad he wasn't trapped in that smell all day. The thought that Malcolm was trapped in that all day amused him. That must have been torture, he thought to himself. But Malcolm's day wasn't over yet. There was one more thing he wanted his former employee to experience.

Malcolm was literally praying for death. The weight of Eric constantly bearing down on him was torture enough. It was just made worse by being trapped and surrounded by an intense foot odor that made him wish he could commit suicide. Add in tasting Eric's feet the entire day. All of this combined was a pit of hell that he would not even wish on someone he hated. Eric only spoke to him that morning. All the rest of the day, he was completely ignored. He was just treated as normal socks. He mentally tried to reach out to his friends at work when he heard their voices, but all attempts were futile. Even if Eric had let them see his socks, no one would come to his rescue. All they would see is normal socks. Only Eric knew the truth, and he wasn't telling anyone about what happened to him.

Eric put on a porn video on the TV. He removed one sock and placed it over his dick. As the video action intensified, so did his dick. Next he was shoot hot cum straight into his sock. "How does that taste, Malcolm?" He laughed as he cleaned off his dick. There was still some cum left on his cock, so he took the other sock to wipe it off. "You also make an excellent cum rag." He added. "Just to let you know, this is permanent. You will never be human again. You only exist to support my feet and be my cum rag forever. I can't reverse what's been done to you, and neither do I want to." He laughed as he placed the socks on the couch. He would wash them later so that he could wear Malcolm again tomorrow. He would wear him to work every day just to torture him, knowing he would never see his old life ever again. And no one to come change his fate. This was the best way to handle my annoying employee issue, he thought. He would have to thank Genie later on. As for Jake, he didn't care what Genie did with him. They weren't close friends anyway.

Malcolm mentally cried as he tasted hot cum that would soon dry up in his sock body. His humanity was reduced to servitude to his former boss's feet and for sexual pleasure. And there was nothing he could do to change it.

[silentium-symphony]

Work of Art Modern AU (Link x Reader) II

(a/n) hooray i'm finally done w the second chapter! thank you for being patient <3 i'm hoping to wrap up this lil series in the next chapter, so please stay tuned! i also left the hair/makeup/clothes rather vague so you can imagine what you usually wear :)

i do plan to open up requests soon, but i want to finish some other fics beforehand! i need a lil break from this series, so i'll post a few one-shots before picking it up again, okay? i have a general idea of where i wanna go, but i need time to sit on it some more. hope you understand :)

as always, i hope you enjoy!!!

read the first chapter here!

cw: fluff, some swearing, afab!photographer!reader, kinda made groose a villain sorry, also link and zelda went to jail lmao (specific crime not mentioned), may/may not have proofread this half asleep so there might be some typos lol

wc: 3.2k

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

The aggravating, strangling chorus of cars sounding the start of their day blended oddly with the melodious, persistent whispers of the few songbirds residing in your city's park. You groaned, splitting your eyes open to meet the beam of sun pouring through your windows and stretching across your ceiling. You sat up with a huff, staring blankly at the wall in front of you as your half-slumbering senses slowly began loading in your surroundings. The familiar parchedness of arousal pecked and prodded at your throat and you blindly grabbed for the water bottle by your nightstand, relishing the clarity the aqua elixir breathed into you.

After setting down your water bottle, you reached for your phone to check the time only to be greeted with the silhouette of an empty battery cell. You groaned, ducking under your nightstand and glaring at the charger that had popped out of your socket (which you shoved right back in). As you sat right-side up, a rather... noxious smell pervaded your nostrils and you grimaced, eyes flashing to the trashcan brimming with old leftover containers and scraps of food skins that have darkened past recognition. You swung yourself out of bed, waddled to the bathroom, and came out shortly after brushing your teeth and doing your business. You silenced your retching thoughts as you neared your trashcan, swiftly tying the biohazardous thing and hauling ass to your door.

As your hand wrapped around the doorknob, the yellow-creme of a folded note tucked almost inconspicuously by your doormat harkened for your attention. Brows knitting, you stooped over and scooped the thing into your palm, inspecting it briefly; you placed it on your countertop and picked up the trash bag. Whatever it was, it could wait.

Fortunately (and unfortunately sometimes), you lived right by the garbage room, so disposing of your trash took literally seconds. You bid adieu to the squishy bag as it tumbled into the deep, dark abyss of the garbage chute and headed back inside, beelining for your sink before turning your eyes to the folded note. Your eyes bore into the tiny thing as you dried your hands, not picking up anything that could be considered threatening. If it wasn't your landlord making passive-aggressive comments about your ability to pay rent, what could it be? You unfolded the note, mentally bracing yourself.

Good morning! Wanna grab some coffee?

— Link, your neighbor :)

Oh...

You could physically feel your heart swoon (was that normal?) and it took quite a bit of effort to not start maniacally giggling in the center of your room. Your body was not made to process so much energy first thing in the morning, so your feet began pacing in circles as you read the note over and over.

Okay... Calm down, (F/N). It's not as if it's a love letter or anything. Just a... friend. Who wants to grab coffee with you... Wait a minute, what time was it?

Your head whipped to the digital clock carved into your stove, the numbers '11:45' blinking in dull, green flashes. Your head swiveled back to the note and clock, your zeal transfiguring to horror. A screech of sorts ripped out of your throat and you tumbled towards the bathroom, slipping on your apartment's waxed wooden floors and flumping into a drawer with a clattery thud. You hissed, rubbing the part of your arm that collided with the wood and hobbled to the bathroom, wary of its slick tiles.

When in the world did you wake up?! Gods, by the time you’re done preparing it won’t even be morning! You did your best to channel your anxious energy into something productive as you styled your hair how you liked it and popped some color on your lips.

You tumbled out the bathroom and skidded to your wardrobe, throwing some tried and true outfits onto your bed and pressing others flush against your frame. You heard the gentle ding of your phone coming to life and you dove for it, fingers gliding across the smooth screen and opening the weather app.

It was… a bit chilly, but nothing you couldn’t handle. You filed through your top contenders, and ultimately decided on one of your favorite outfits! You twirled around in front of your mirror, pressing one hand to your chest and smoothing out the wrinkles with the other. After adjusting your hair for the final time, you threw a peace sign and puckered your lips before speed walking to the door, slipping your essentials into a purse and forcing on your shoes.

You zoomed out your apartment, turning on your heels in a dime and rasping a few quick knocks against his door. A couple seconds ticked by before you heard the metal ka-chink! of the lock; out peered Link, who hid half his trembling?? reddened?? face behind his palm. Your half-baked (but still very genuine) apology lodged in your throat as a million and one thoughts raced through your brain.

“… W-What?” You carded your fingers through your hair and fiddled with the edge of your clothes. “Is there something on me?”

“You made…” He cleared his throat, rubbing his chest. “Quite the noise earlier.”

… Noi—?

Oh.

Oh.

You had forgotten just how thin your walls are.

“Oh gods, you heard that...?!” Mortification enfeebled your voice into a wavery cry. You buried your face in your palms, your skin melting from shame.

“It’s okay! I-It was funny, I swear!”

Panic wrought your frame into a quiver and Link hurriedly changed the subject.

“So, uh, d-do you still wanna get coffee?"

"Y-Yeah!" You piped, distress vaporizing into bashfulness. "Sorry for waking up so late."

"Not at all," he smiled, slipping past his door, "it's Saturday after all."

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

The bright, ringing ting of the bell hanging by the door preluded the cozy murmurs of a slow, cozy Saturday afternoon and the grinding, hissing machinery of coffee grinders and milk frothers. The robust, earthy notes of coffee streaked with airy hints of creme and vanilla wrapped you in a sense of warm nostalgia only coffee shops seemed to hold.

Hints of faded brick peeked out from bouquets of hanging dried flowers and the junction where wall met floor was littered with legions of potted plants, many of which you had never seen before. The look of awe on your face filled Link's heart with enthusiastic amusement; the chatter of the next stream of patrons sounded in his ears and he quietly beckoned you a little ways past the counter with a graze on your arm.

"I've tried pretty much everything on the menu, so let me know if you need any recommendations." He breathed close to your ear, wedging his body between you and the newly formed crowd congregating behind you. Your heart lurched to the base of your throat, his baritone voice rumbling in your ear; a shuddering, imperceptible breath left your lips.

"What do you usually get?" You hummed, turning your head to look back at him and almost teasing the tip of your nose along his cheek. A flit of blue met your (E/C)s; you got front-row seats to his color-changing cheeks.

"S-Sorry... It's a bit crowded here, so..."

"No worries." You beamed, hoping to laugh off some of the tension. You wrought your fingers into tight balls and turned your gaze towards the menu.

"I usually get black coffee." He mumbled, his voice dropping a little ways past a whisper. "Wakes me right up."

"Damn, really?" You choked out, scowling at him as if he had three heads.

"Yes! Gods, it's really not that bad once you get used to it." He bellowed heartily, a toothy grin splitting his lips.

After some more mental deliberation, you both slipped into line. The barista greeted you with a smile as warm as her coffee.

"Hey there, it's nice to see you again. The usual?" She motioned to Link, who just nodded with a smile of his own. Her hands flew across her screen, logging in his order before turning to you. "And what can I get you, hun?"

You relayed your order, but not without raising your voice past the prepubescent squeals of the rowdy teenage boys circusing behind you. As she confirmed your order, your digits sifted through your wallet to pull out your card, and during the second you spent looking at your hands you heard the card reader beep a confirmation. Your head whipped up just in time to see the waxy receipt churn out of the printer before being handed over to Link.

"Oh Link, I could have paid!" You exclaimed, watching him crease the receipt into a neat rectangle and shoving it in his pocket. He waved you off and stepped to the side, allowing the couple behind you to order.

"Don't worry, I got it."

"Thank you..." (E/C) eyes cast downward and honed in on the way your shoes scuttled the wood. A faint, rosy blush powdered your cheeks and warm, fuzzy timidness hooked your lips just enough to crinkle your nose most softly; Link mentally clutched his chest. You were just too cute!!!

A sudden force jammed between his shoulders knocked the breath out of his lungs. His body blurred towards you; a guttural grunt echoed in your ear before you felt something firm tighten about your waist. Link's frantic corrections caught you both just before you fell. He snapped his head at his aggressor.

The snickering simpers of those obnoxious boys peeked past his shoulders, crestfalling at the young man's deathly glower. His heart rumbled in your ears as his arms tensed you further into him. The idle, leisurely air fractured into something cold, calculated fury licking past the cracks of the broken peace. Everyone's attention was lasered in on you and the boys.

One of the boys at the back of the pack tapped the larger boys' elbows and, with a stammer of an apology, scrambled out of the cafe. Link watched their fleeing figures in total silence until the last of them disappeared past a street corner. Everyone creaked back to their own conversations, hushed whispers about what happened leaking into your ears. Link slowly glimpsed down at you, eyes softening.

"Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah..." You murmured, your heart palpitating to the faint smell of pine and amber wafting to your nose. "Thanks for catching us."

He nodded and slowly unhooked his arm from your waist, taking a few steps back with a lovely red tinting his pearly skin. Before he could say anything, the velvety purr of the barista buttered the air.

"Order for Link!"

He met your gaze with a small smile before taking a few steps back and collecting your drinks. With a confident crook on her lips, she slipped a thin paper bag along with your drinks. Link eyed it, head tilting and brows crinkling.

"My treat. As thanks for taking care of those goons for me."

Link's eyes brightened, slipping a gleeful 'thank you' before nabbing the drinks and free snacks. He handed you your drink and turned to his friend, bowing his head in thanks.

"Come again, Mr. Hero. You too, (F/N)."

Was the last thing you heard before the door-mounted chime silenced the idyllic cafe setting. You stared at the string of cars that jived down the road; the whole city was teeming with the bit-back enthusiasm that awaited release the moment the sun dipped past the hills. It was Saturday, you supposed.

"... sorry..."

"Huh?"

"Sorry our da— hang out didn't go quite as expected..." He breathed out, just barely louder than the passing cars.

"What? Don't apologize!" You turned to him fully. "What happened back there wasn't your fault. To be honest, I think you handled it pretty well."

"Really...?"

"Yeah! I could tell those boys were getting on everyone's nerves. You made everyone's day just a little bit better, Link."

"Ah..." His eyes caught the sun rays that flickered off the nearby buildings. "Thanks..."

"And plus, the day is hardly over. We can still hang out iif you'd like!"

"Yeah," a stiff chuckle, "I was hoping we could chat in the cafe, but I wasn't very comfortable staying there any longer than necessary after what happened... Sorry about that."

"Not at all." You slotted his arm between your fingers and gave it a squeeze. "Let's just find a nice park or something, yeah?"

He eyed your hand almost long enough to regret your decision to touch him, but his gentle disposition and even softer voice answered,

"Let's go to the one by the apartment."

♤♢ ~~ ♡♧

"Holy shit, and then what?!" You wheezed, smacking a hand on his knee as you fought for your next breath. Link's hearty laughs ruffled through the trees, the setting sun and falling leaves traipsing through scattered branches.

"Zel and I got caught, of course. Imagine how furious my dad was when he got called into the station—on his day off—to see his son and his best friend sitting in jail."

"Christ, I can't believe you pulled that shit." You sputtered, thumbing a tear from the corner of your eye.

"I was... a wild child, for sure." He abashed, a hand rubbing the back of his neck with boyish glee. "Totally worth it though. Groose was giving Zelda a hard time after she rejected him, so of course we had to do something about it."

"Gods..." You exhaled, giggles fringing your breath. "Is your dad a cop?"

"Yeah. I guess that's what inspired me to do what I'm doing now, y'know?"

"For sure," you thumbed your cup, fingers slicked with thick condensation, "what does your mom do?"

"She was a civil servant." His lips crooked up, tilted in a manner that tugged at your heart. "She cared about the city and our family deeply."

A breeze blew through the two of you, one that bordered refreshing and chilling. You turned your head up and filled your lungs with air that crisped your lungs.

"She..." You began, eyes focused on the insignificant happenings that usually caught one's attention during such moments. "Sounds like a wonderful person."

"Yeah," he chuckled, "she was."

A serene, reflective somberness filled the air; for a moment you both relished in the silence. A family of robins twittered softly overhead, the mother singing hushed whistles to her rowdy chicks and soothing the ringing in your ears caused by constant traffic.

"What about you?" He turned. "What do you do?"

"I'm a photographer." You met his gaze with a grin that thinly veiled the excitement you had when talking about your livelihood.

"That's so cool!" Link's lips widened into a broad smile. "Do you work for a company or...?"

"Nope! I'm a freelancer. It can be tough finding gigs at times, but there's always something happening in the city."

"Yeah, I can imagine. What events do you do?"

"Anything really--concerts, weddings, corporate events... But weddings are pretty popular. Actually, I got a wedding gig tomorrow!"

"Nice! So what got you into photography?" He leaned in, his blue pools reflecting the nearby streetlights. The way his eyes sparkled as he listened to you talk about your passions made your heart melt.

"Well, back in middle and high school I competed in a bunch of school competitions and realized that not only did I love taking pictures, but I was pretty good at it too! There's just something so... intimate about capturing small, seemingly insignificant passages in time, y'know? I think sometimes we get so caught up waiting for our lives to begin when really, life happens in the small, fleeting moments of our existence. Or... something like that."

You mumbled through the last bit, heat rising in your cheeks. Darkened sapphires stared back at you, storming with thoughts you couldn't quite decipher; panic started settling in your gut and you opened your mouth to apolo—

"You're absolutely right." His head cocked slightly, eyes crinkling lovingly slowly. "I never thought about it that way."

You mentally breathed a sigh of relief for not ruining this moment with your innermost thoughts.

"Do you enjoy your job at the art museum?"

"I mean, it's a pretty easy job, so no complaints there." His laugh failed to reach his chest. "But... It isn't why I became an officer. Don't get me wrong, I love helping Zelda, and seeing her succeed in her dreams makes me really happy, but... I became a cop so I could help people. And sometimes, I don't really feel like I'm doing that by standing guard over a painting all day."

"That's valid," you kicked the space under the park bench to abate the prickly feeling in your lower half, "what would you rather do?"

Link kicked the pebble he had been dribbling between his shoes, the little stone skittering away, forgotten, after a long kick; his eyes rested on an arbitrary crack in the path.

"Honestly?" He began, "I wanna become a detective."

"A detective?"

"Yeah. Bringing peace to a family who lost a loved one, who never got the closure they needed to heal... Spending hours solving a cold case, one that everyone has given up on... That's what I wanna do."

"It's sweet of you to think of the family first," you smiled softly, "I think most people would be focused on locking up criminals, and justice served to the families is just a bonus."

"Yeah... We can't forget the families. Their lives have been turned into a living nightmare and they're just expected to continue living as if nothing had happened. It's cruel."

"Oh, absolutely. I think--"

You felt your phone buzz in your lap and your eyes habitually met the lit screen, scanning the text your bridal client had sent. Your internal, guttural groan came out as a curt huff, eyeing the word 'early?' with a tired bitterness.

"Everything okay?"

"Oh yeah, uh..." You shuffled your phone back into your pocket and met his concerned gaze. "Sorry. My client wants me to come in earlier than I expected and it's getting late so..."

"No worries! We can head back if you want. Grab some takeout on the way." He popped right up, tossing his empty cup in the trash and swinging his arms above his head, a satisfied groan lapsing out of him wow that was kinda hot.

"I'd love that." You followed his previous actions and stretched too, feeling... well, feeling return to your sore butt and limbs.

"Wanna head back to that Gerudo restaurant?"

"Yeah!" You joined him in wide strides, barely keeping yourself from booking it to your now-favorite restaurant. Your babbling self hardly noticed the slowing male until a gentle voice pulled you out of your culinary rambles.

"(F/N)?" He called a few steps behind you.

"Mm?"

"Thanks for today... It was a lot of fun." His gloved hand scratched the side of his scarved neck, unintentionally bunching the fabric into little fistfuls. The flickering park light tricked your brain into thinking his cheeks were... pinker than usual. His gaze shifted from the ground to the bush to the tree and back--anywhere but you, really. That fluttery, buttery feeling in your gut alighted your cheeks a similar color and your eyes undertook a similar trip of avoidance.

"Of course. Thanks for inviting me... I had a lot of fun today."

His tight, slightly flustered expression loosened, his lips turning up into a gentle curve. In a few short steps he was by your side again, commencing your journey to 3rd Street.

"Let's grab some poultry pilaf."

[brineoffire]

Uuuuuuh hi, hi howdy! I've been super possessed by the need to see more male centered fics with the poly!141 soooo here's a bit. I honestly haven't played the games, but I've been looking into the lore because I'm so hyper fixed on the 141 rn. Bare with me, I haven't posted fics here before and definitely never written army anything. Please please please lemme know if you like it even a lil and I'll type up some more.

Fic notes!

So I saw someone talking about a reader who's in it for the money and I liked that idea- tweaked it a little but the basic jist? Mc loves vidio games so much they went to school for it, can't pay, joins the military to pay it all off. I'm writing this chapter ambiguous on gender so far, but I'm writing with a trans!masc reader here because fuck. I can't find much so better make it myself.

-Edit I forgot to put the title here rip

The Right Price

You can't help but stop to think about how you needed to stop biting off more then you can chew. It's been a few months since your recruiter told you all about the joys, wonder, and honor that comes with serving. You where in the second she told you about the pay. Too many student loans, too much microwave ramen, the list went on, but fuck it yeah? You where the one that said that in the first place when you signed up for your courses. The basics, programming, coding, digital design a bit of physiology because of personal interest. You where over the top when it came to studies. Didn't bother you none when you couldn't have a social life. If you weren't busy studying you where quite literally inhaling any game you could get your hands on. But now when you had to fork over the bill money? You started singing another tune.

So here you are. On the training grounds with the rest of the folks recruited at the same time as you.Your sargent was barking out orders for you all to start your runs one by one, but some smart ass was holding up the line. You actually agreed with half the shit he barked back at the your troop leader, but damn it, you didn't want the consequences.

"That's it! You wanna run your mouth? You can all run double to catch up with Marco's mouth! Now!" He yelled white fisted. The remaining lot of your groan and grumble, starting the run together now at double time to hopefully finish before lunch call. Seven miles was what you had all gotten used to. Seven miles of uneven terrain, hurdles and dives, inclines and ramps now lengthened to fourteen.

"Oh fuck off Marco!" One of the recruit remarks, smacking said recuit behind the head before taking off on a spint. Several others join in on mocking the guy before bolting trying to get it over with. You shake your head as you catch up to him and clap him on the shoulder.

"They'll chill out later man just gotta grit and bare it more y'know?" Marco yanks was shoulder away from you, giving you a nasty glare before taking off too. You raise your brow at that, curious to what set him off before shrugging, taking the course at your normal pace with a hand full of the others. Better late then fatiged. The little spat dosn't bother you anyway. You'll all be split into your first teams in less then a week. You doubt he'd even be grouped with you anyways.

Oh how wrong you where. How very. Very. Wrong. It was actually laughable at this point, because you where either grouped together because your Sargent knew you got under Marco's skin for some reason or because fate wanted to see the drama unfold. You took that as a personal challenge either way. Snapping back snarky retorts anytime Marco decided to fuck around, until one day he had you cornered with a handful of others, in your face yelling about how "your kind" didn't belong in the military let alone the states. You let him finish his rant. Something, something, something, God damned, something, something, blight all the good christians, something, something, belong in the kitchen like a proper bitch.

Oh. Okay. There it was. You laugh in your head. No. Outloud. You flip the positions, getting uncomfortably close to the fuckers so they back off some and spout of some tibits you learned in your phycology classes about the brain being easy to manipulate. Quiet anger radiating from your low tone, keeping it quiet to force them to listen harder. You throw in some extra bs about how you could probably "turn" the lot of them given enough time. That them speaking more shit would be an agreement for him to test his theory. They back off after that, but report you all at once for "harassment". There being no evidence for anything you're transfered to one of the other split groups. Half made up of people you didn't enlist with. Mabey this crop would yeild better results yeah?

Nah. You jinxed it. You know you did. Oh well. This time it's just one guy though. And all it takes is a bit of reverse phycology to have the guy questioning his own damn identity so bad he's sent to the on duty therapist. You're transfered out this time by a different woman. Laswell. She heard out your full story of your transfers and unlike your last transfer she gave you a garentee that she'd make sure to find a good fit for you. You shrug and thank her. No matter what you had to tough it out anyways, you needed that pay check after all. Had no where else to go.

It goes sour when you head with her to a base near Wales. You where supposed to go talk to her about setting up here overseas for a while. Something about spreading out more newbies anyways. You really don't understand half of it so you just agree and you're off to training on this base. As long as you're here you're expected to keep up with basics and the routine set by the Sargents and that's fine by you, whatever to pass the time at this point. They run a drill with half the team ment to run a faux attack on half the base and the rest made to counter. You're getting prepared to counter the fake attack when alarm bells are ringing. That's definitely a little over the top. Usually they just yell over the loudspeakers and... You kinda blink a few times before you realize your group of rookies is being pressed to the armory. It's not a fucking drill at this point. This is NOT what you came here for but, oh fuck here you go! You've played too many games for sure. Mabey it's time to cut back. Because you're immediately focused. Immediately setting up the scene in your head to get you in a headspace where it's all a game. It helps you focus and damn you really need help with that right now.

There's active rounds being fired a ways away from the base as you all are suited with gear and munitions. You've trained for this but damn if you ever thought you'd ACTUALLY use any of that shit. You always imagined it was for show, like how you never use any of the fucking math they taught you anywhere.

You're moving on a sort of autopilot, moving out to a defensive manuver outside, staying under cover like you're told until your unit arrives halfway out, between the fighting and the base. It's impossible to see much past a thick smoke blanketing half the scene but you all move out, groups of three fanning out for any injuries and more importantly, any hostiles. You and your group are about to get to your second vantage point when you catch something they don't, you call out a group of several hostiles over what looks like a member of the base before realizing there's radio static.

Fuck it. Risking your life might score you some bonus merit, some extra cash somewhere along the line, you don't know. You're just trying to rationalize why the hell you bolt for the man, keeping low, keeping quiet until your almost upon them all. You get close enough to make out the British insignia on the man's arm. You've definitely seen him on the base before, and now here he is, no weapon in sight, surrounded by four hostiles. You slow your approach and aim carefully, making sure to get the kill shot on one of them, the spray of bullets catching another in the arm gives you enough time to aim for one of the other ones. You've definitely played too many vidio games but you're damn sure that's what kept you from being shot on your first unofficial day of active duty. You roll. Fucking barrel roll on the ground, with enough force to get you away from the spray of bullets from the last uninjured hostile as you stop yourself and make the shot on him. Dumb luck is what you chalk it up to as the fourth guy falls, letting you finish off the second man as he scrambles to retrieve his weapon.

"Up! Up! UP!" You yell to the man on the ground. You don't notice the look of utter confusion from the guy as you rush to help him to his feet. You've gotta get him back to base or at least the rest of the team and out of harms way. So you sprint as fast as you can as soon as the man's up, keeping to your side as you keep an eye out for anyone else hostile or otherwise. You try your radio again, but nothing you backtrack enough to find the spot you last saw your little team and find them under fire, one covering a wound on the others arm, panicking. You're quick to take over, playing out the scene in the same mind set you started out with. Mission in mind. Quest line to follow. You snap the other guy out of it enough to instruct him on how to stop the bleeding properly and grab the injured mans weapon from him, shoving it into the man's hands and directing him to cover you. Again, your oblivious to the look of pure confusion from the man and your uninjured teammate as you work to bandage up your fellow recruit.

You all make it out in one peice, the base being cleared of the small force that attempted to overtake the base. What you don't learn, and no one bothers to tell you. Is that the man you "saved", Captain John Price, has been talking with Laswell. Not so much talking with her as TO her. Your in it for money? Perfect you'd definitely agree to join the 141 with the pay difference.

"John you can't fucking do that. This kid is green. Way too fucking green! They weren't even supposed to be pulled into active duty! They should have been benched with the newer recuits, not out with their seniors!"

Price laughs and shakes his head. "No. This one's got potential and I wana see how far it'll take em." He was impressed by how some rookie was able to show enough guts to help him when the odds looked bad. He had everything under control, but damn if your actions weren't something interesting. Rolling out of line of fire and still keeping a steady aim? That's quite the task, he boasts for you. Hell, you didn't even think twice about Price's rank or authority, your focused was on recovery and living while taking out the hostiles. As much as Laswell regrets to say there's not much reason to deny Price. His eye for talent really was spot on. What could go wrong in all actuality? She trusted Price, and hasn't let her down yet.

"Fine. But I'm keeping a close eye on this set up."

Price grins as he looks down at your small folder, thanking her and flipping through the pages again. Tomorrow you'd be flying out with him to your new base. Joining the 141 as a tech specialist.

[galeorderbride]

Hey lovely!

I have a fluff / angst fic request if that’s OK.

Orin targets a companion at the Elfsong Tavern but luckily, it’s not Gale. F! Tav’s emotions are all over the place and Gale comforts her.

It’s pretty much a “What if she got you?” scenario.

Hope that’s OK 😊

Love this idea! Ask and you shall receive! I hope you like what I’ve put together for this request :)

Rating: T (Angst/fluff; Tav has a panic attack due to crowd claustrophobia + Orin’s antics)

Coupling: Gale x F!Tav

Words: 2.1k

Fic below the cut:

Orin’s Fourth Torment

Crowds are best for villains. Anonymous and clustered, both sheltered in the safety of many and isolated when targeted. Normally, the Elfsong Tavern was busy, but never crowded. Nights full of shouting regulars and barstools scraping against aged hardwood. Such a frequent occurrence that Tav grew used to the sounds after several stays in that shared room on the second floor.

Tonight was different. Tav, Gale, Karlach and Wyll returned from a long day of being harassed by Orin and her doppelgängers, drowning in stress and trying to hide their fear. All of them wanted a good, long rest. But upon arrival, Elfsong was flooded with city dwellers. Pouring all the way out the front entrance, throwing around coloured ribbons, the same ones hanging above doors and windows. A festival of some kind, a celebration important enough to attract a wider audience rather than the drunken faces that had grown familiar.

Tav would’ve just navigated the crowd and climbed the stairs to their room in any other circumstance. But after being tricked by Orin and assaulted by doppelgängers at a wine tasting, she was nothing short of anxious, impatient and irritated. Ready to cry at a moment’s notice as all the traumatic experiences of this months-long journey bubbled up from the pit of her stomach.

Gale, the saving grace to calm her soul at every turn, hooked his arm around hers. He inched close, saying in her ear, “Worry not, love. I’ve seen even bigger crowds than this at the Yawning Portal during Elient festivals. Gods, the cooking competitions are the worst for it! All we have to do is push through, it never lasts for as long as you may think.”

He was a beacon of light at the worst of times, quite literally as he illuminated the Shadow Cursed Lands on their first night together. When he confessed his love for her, they spent an evening shrouded in a poetic tapestry of stars, fresh air and intimacy. Tav locked into those thoughts, using them as a crutch to get through the bumbling crowd and up to their shared room.

“Come on soldiers!” Karlach exclaimed, “Follow me, I’ll break through the mob with these shoulders no problem. Nothin’ a little heat won't fix!”

Wyll’s brow raised in amusement before he followed her into the crowd. Gale went next, with Tav at the back, their hands entwined together to stay close. Left with standing room only, pushing through the flood of bodies who didn’t notice or care about them. The bar wasn’t all that large, Tav thought, she could see the top half of the steps from where they all stood.

Some steps in, a drunken man fell between Tav and Gale, splitting them up. Tav stumbled around for a moment, giving the man an obvious stink eye as they pushed past him with hard elbows. This frustration didn’t last long, though. In the corner of her eye was a woman, the familiar bloody, blonde braid swaying behind her as she slid the blade of a curved knife around her jaw. A malicious smile crept across her face, shifting from one part of the room to the next, like no one else noticed her but Tav. Panic and fear set in, her heartbeat loud in her ears, and time felt slow. None of her companions were close, all lost in the crowd, and Tav grew frantic.

Orin’s maniacal laugh boomed in Tav’s ears as she began to run, mumbling Gale’s name under her breath. The tavern felt miles long, impeded by the pilgrimage of party goers all trying to find the best place to enjoy the raucous music. Tav felt herself nearly float between bodies, hitching her ankle weirdly and falling backward. Vision tunnelled with panic and apprehension. Hardwood hit her back, head hitting the floor and looking up to see Karlach and Wyll hovering above.

“Hellsfire, Tav, are you alright?!” Wyll asked as he lowered his hand to her, helping her up. Upon standing, she realised she was at the steps, leading to the upper level.

“Gods, Tav, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Karlach pointed out.

“I’m not sure I haven’t,” Tav said, searching around the room for Orin to find nothing. Just the same crowd of party goers, blood red Bhaalspawn now nothing but a figment. Until she realised there was still a missing piece.

“Wait,” Tav continued, “Where’s Gale?”

He wasn’t standing with them, no poetic and lilted voice to lecture them on the importance of cohesion in a crowd. What frightened Tav the most was that, upon looking into the barrage of people, his glowing staff didn’t stick out. Charged with lightning magic that could be spotted from a mile away. Nothing. Tav stood on her toes, craning her neck to try and see across the entire room, but still, no Gale.

None of them saw him, Karlach using her height advantage but still came up with nothing. Tav felt the drum of her heartbeat once again, faster this time. Enough to kickstart a heart attack as the image of Orin’s violent smile fought back to the front of her mind. The last few times they saw her, she appeared in the body of her victim. Was this the final taunt from her? Taking the one Tav cared for most?

No, not today. Not ever. Tav killed the avatars of gods. Slain shadow cursed monsters a century into their torment. That Bhaalist was nothing, and Tav promised to make her death slow when she caught up to her. Chosen or not, clearly she and her companions made short work of another. With those thoughts, Tav’s anger fuelled alongside anxiety. Driven to push herself back into the crowd and search for Gale, or Orin. Wyll and Karlach called for her to stop, but she ignored them.

Shoulders bumped and rutted into Tav’s upper body, from rib cage to neck depending on height. Bobbing back and forth between people, Tav became too small for the crowd. Trying to ignore her heavy breathing and tightening chest as she gazed into the crowd, calling for Gale. Every face in front of her blurring into one, large feature melting into one another. Loud voices shouting into her ears, some chiding at her in flirtatious drunk-talk that made things all the more overwhelming. But finding Gale was at the forefront, Tav had to push away all other discomfort.

She found her strength a little, adrenaline coursing through her system as she began to push forward. Hard, fast, using the entirety of her strength to get a look at every face that crossed her path.

“Gale?!” Tav called, turning her head back and forth. Nothing in that corner.

She moved to another corner, and cried out again, voice cracking with tears. “Gale?!”

Nothing.

“Gale?!” Tav screamed this time, carrying over the heads of the crowd.

Still nothing.

The entire tavern must’ve been covered, and Tav began to let the worst sink in. Her back hit the wall, close to the front doors. Tears fell down her face, following the nauseating sound of Orin’s laugh echoing in her ears. She was there, permeating the room with touchless torture.

Tav let her body slide down the wall, weakening in the fluctuation between rage and terror. Stuck in the little, empty corner of misery as the endless song of Orin slammed into her ears. Her face fell into her palms, wet tears staining skin, salty and humiliating. Images of what might happen to Gale under Orin’s capture spiralled in their mind. Forms of bleak, guttural violence that would deeply harm but never kill. Leverage, a way to lure Tav further into her clutches. Visions of blood and viscera, and the faded nightmare of his agonising screams, so vivid that Orin had to be putting that in her head.

In her state of dread, a hand wrapped around her wrist. Large and tight, Tav jumped out of panic and poised to strike the assailant. Fist up and ready to smack the arsehole who decided to grab her in a dumb, drunken stupor. Until she heard that voice.

“Tav, my dear, it’s me! Are you alright?”

Gale’s face appeared before her, big, brown eyes wide open with concern. Tav was frozen in place, questioning if she’d passed out and was hallucinating him in a hazy dream. Tears staining her face, the feeling of his grip on her wrist, the details of his expression. Orin’s laugh had ceased. This had to be real, he had to be there in front of her.

“G-Gale? Is that really you?” Tav asked, voice shaking with suspicion and social exhaustion.

“Yes, why wouldn’t it be me? I’m sorry we got separated, my love. When that man fell between us, I was pushed toward the kitchen. I couldn’t find you in the crowd so I went around the outside and came in through here,” Gale explained.

Tav didn’t speak, she just jumped into a full hug. Arms wrapped around Gale as they both sat on the floor, in the midst of a wild crowd. Cracking beer bottles and shouting voices. Words weren’t enough, Tav needed to be in his embrace. To remind herself that her one shelter from the horrid world was still with her. Gale could see she was struggling, locked in fear for his safety. His heart swelled with worry, wondering what happened for one of the strongest people he’d met to fall to the ground and cry.

“Come, love. Let’s go outside and take some air. Get some quiet,” he said, lifting her up and leading them outside of the tavern.

Moonlight softened the blow of chaos within the bar. Passersby still swayed in joyous excitement, chatting and running about. But compared to the inside of Elfsong, this was complete silence. Crickets chirped in the background, and Gale moved her to an empty bench just beside the entrance. He held her close, arm wrapped around her waist and free hand playing with the loose hairs around her neck.

“Tell me what happened, Tav. You’re safe with me, I promise,” he said, planting a small kiss on her cheek. Tav’s eyes closed, forcing back more tears filled with a mix of relief and upset.

Tav explained Orin appearing in the crowd, taunting her as she lost sight of their companions. Calling out for Gale, almost passing out from panic as Orin’s laugh vibrated through her. Gale listened intently, increasing horror in his eyes as he let Tav admit how afraid she was that he’d been taken somewhere horrible. The entire time, they held hands, Gale squeezing on and off to remind her he was still there, alive and well.

“I’m sorry,” Tav said, sniffling as a few tears lined her eyelids again, “I thought she’d taken you away. And I felt so powerless to do anything. If she had grabbed you, I wouldn’t even know where you’d be! And the awful things that would happen…gods, why am I even saying that?!”

Gale pulled her closer, rocking her back and forth as he peppered little kisses at the top of her head. “Shh, it’s alright, Tav. I’m here. None of that happened, I’m safe with you. And even if she had tried to take me away, I trust with my entire heart that you’d have rescued me in time. With the same zeal and ferociousness I’ve seen you be since the beginning of this journey.”

Fear began to settle into calm, Gale’s comfortable embrace like a warm drink on a cold, wintery day. Seated on that bench, hidden from the coarse noise of the inner tavern. Eventually, they’d have to go back in, but not now. For the moment, they could just enjoy each other’s presence. Taste the early night air and smell the salty brine from the nearby dockyard. Gale thought to himself that this was almost like Waterdeep. Near enough to memories of sitting outside the Yawning Portal and taking in the breeze, preparing to return home. One day, he hoped to bring Tav with him there. To experience all the beauty of his home city, danger free. To be as boring and overly affectionate as every other couple.

Gale lifted Tav’s chin up with his index finger, hovering his lips against hers with baited breath. They kissed softly, cuddled up together. Welcoming each other back to that safe space where, for a moment, no one could hurt them. Fingers locked together, the taste of spearmint lining the tip of Tav’s tongue. All the panic fading away, replaced by the desire to fall asleep in his arms.

He left the kiss to say, “You’ll have to try a lot harder to get rid of me. Not even a Bhaalspawn could pull me away from you.”

Tav chuckled, rubbing their nose against his flirtatiously. “I’d like to see her try.”

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Sweet Little Treats

The tadpoled adventurers meet Harleep, and it goes a little different than expected...

Warnings: graphic description of sex, M/M, F/F, M/F, switching, orgy, incubus sex magic, spell-bound, non-consensual sex, Depraved Carnal Lust, Gale's creaking knees

"Ah. The House of Hope, nestled amidst the Nine Hells. Fascinating," proclaimed Gale with his arms akimbo.

"Ugh, why's the decor in these places always so gaudy? It's hideous!?" complained Astarion.

"Gods, it's hot in here," groaned Shadowheart.

"We're in the Hells. What did you expect?" Lae'zel retorted dryly and the cleric glared at her.

"I hate it here," muttered Karlach. "Brings back shitty memories."

"I understand your feelings," Halsin spoke warmly. "I too couldn't bear the memories of what happened while we were in the Shadow-Cursed Lands."

"Heh, he said 'bear'", snickered Shadowheart.

"Focus on the important part," rebuked Lae'zel irritated.

"Easy now. There's no need for hostility between us," Wyll chimed in concerned. The githyanki shot him a look, crossing her arms.

"Rich coming from you. If my memory doesn't deceive me, I remember how you tried to kill Karlach without asking questions first because of your devil mistress."

"Exactly!" Shadowheart agreed haughtily.

"That's all water under the bridge now," beamed Karlach, putting an arm around Wyll and pulling him closer despite his yelp of protest. "We're all good now."

"Of course," replied Lae'zel sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Uhm, folks? I'm afraid we have company," Gale told them, pointing towards a spacious bed where an almost naked Raphael in BDSM gear was spread out like a buffet.

"Oh, hello, sweet things," he moaned while stroking his own chest. "Are you here to play?"

"What the fuck happened to you, mate?" Karlach asked, eloquent as ever.

"I'm Harleep, Raphael's personal incubus, and I think you little treats got lost."

"Having a sex slave who disguises themself as you, is rather... mentally ill," remarked Galin.

"I don't know, darling. I'd fuck myself if I could," noted Astarion. "I'd love to see this handsome face twisted in pleasure."

"Please, keep that to yourself," sighed Gale, tired of all the tadpoled idiots around him.

"There seems to be a lot to unpack," Halsin said. "Maybe, you'd like to talk about your insecurities later."

The vampire spawn huffed offended.

"I do not have any insecurities, druid! You're positively demented!"

"So, what you're saying is this bloke's a sex demon?" Karlach yelled concerned. "Oh, hells no! Fuck that shite! I'm going to split him in half!"

"Oh, please do, sweet thing," moaned Harleep, spreading his legs.

"What the fuck?" Karlach stared at the incubus with her axe raised, too puzzled to move.

"Hm, I kind of like him," mused Shadowheart with a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Those shapeshifting abilities can come in handy in the bedroom..."

"Oh, Gods," Wyll muttered under his breath, suppressing a gag.

"It seems like you have quite an exquisite taste regarding your mating preferences," Halsin noted. "That's quite... resourceful."

"Are we just going to ignore the literal incubus in the room?" Gale asked miffed.

"Shut up and put that mouth to better use," Astarion told him.

"Thank the Gods Jaheira's on camp-watching duty," muttered Wyll.

Harleep's melodic laughter silenced them.

"You're such wonderful little treats. Little mice walking right into the lion's den."

"Oh, man! Even you spew shitty poetry?" groused Karlach. "Can't villains just be normal for once?"

"They wouldn't be villains then," replied Astarion, dryly.

"The bantering. The dynamic. – The tension." Harleep's voice fell to a deep purr as he rolled onto his stomach, unfolding his wings while poking his bottom lip with a sharp fingernail. "What to do with my sweet little treats? There are so many options..."

"How about we talk this out?" suggested Gale. "I'm sure we could come to an agreement."

"Oh, you will 'come', little mouse," purred the incubus, and before the party knew what happened, Harleep had snapped his fingers. A pink mist filled the air in the boudoir, accompanied by the sweet heavy smell of roses and cherries.

"What -" Gale coughed. "What - kind of magic is -"

He couldn't finish the sentence as another cough rattled his lungs. When he could breathe again, he straightened up, frantically looking for any caused damage. Nothing out of the ordinary. Strange... Except for the fact that Astarion stood way too close and eyed him way too predatorily.

"You know you can't consume my blood," Gale reminded him. The vampire spawn bit his lower lip.

"I'm aware, but I might be able to consume other fluids."

"Uhm, what?"

And with that, Astarion pounced on the confused wizard, kissing him stupid before ripping his robes apart, dropping to his knees, and swallowing down Gale's cock. The later squeaked high-pitched and would have been embarrassed if his brain wouldn't have stopped working. Instead, Gale held onto Astarion's shoulders like a lifeline as his mouth dropped open on a loud, guttural moan.

What's going in on? the wizard thought while he watched hell break loose around him. It must be the incubus' magic. Something potent that can't be broken easily. With the right spell, I might -

His brain got scrambled when he reached his orgasm and spilled into Astarion's mouth. It died just a tad more when he felt the vampire spawn swallow his load with a moan. Then, the latter looked up at him with pleading eyes. Those red rubies clouded with lust and incubus magic.

"Gale, darling, please get me off," Astarion whined. "I can't take much more. I think I'm dying again."

For a moment, Gale fought against the brain fog, trying to think clearly. He took a look around and saw how Wyll was ploughing into Karlach and Lae'zel was eating out Shadowheart like it was a battle strategy while Halsin kissed the cleric's face with a hand around his own cock.

Well, they seemed occupied, Gale thought. And Elminster wasn't around either, so, he might as well...

Without further ado, the wizard dropped onto his creaking knees and pulled down Astarion's trousers, revealing a lovely pale cock.

Astarion was trembling, sweat beading along his temples and neck, and Gale marvelled about the vampire spawn's ability to produce sweat.

"Gale... please..."

Oh, his name sounded so sweet and like a prayer on Astarion's tongue. Gale couldn't help himself and kissed the pale elf who moaned into it. Then, the wizard had mercy and took Astarion's cock in his mouth.

Meanwhile, the others had switched positions and while Wyll was bent over Karlach's lap, Halsin ate him out enthusiastically, making the younger man squirm and moan. At the same time, Lae'zel was fucking Shadowheart with a strap-on.

Harleep observed his little treats that were helplessly under his spell with a satisfied grin. Giggling, he stuck out his tongue to taste their combined lust in the air, feasting on its energy. How considerate of his master to let him play with these sweet little treats.

Harleep watched amused how Shadowheart and Lae'zel switched positions and the cleric started fucking into the githyanki. Halsin took Wyll slowly and gently while Karlach fucked the druid from behind, fast and hard. Meanwhile, Astarion - who'd come down the wizard's throat - and Gale were kissing tenderly and rubbing up against each other.

It all was rather sweet, Harleep mused, surprised. Usually, his targets would fuck each other roughly until they'd bleed and die of exhaustion, but these sweet little treats seem to actually care about each other. Harleep hesitated, pursing his lips. These little treats were special, he realised. They were different, not only driven by lust but also love. He watched, almost wistfully, how his little playthings kissed each other over and over again, their touches desperate but also gentle and reverent. It deserved a reward. With a deep sigh, Harleep plucked the rest of their sexual energy from the air with his forked tongue before dispelling his enchantment.

Immediately, the party members came to their senses.

"Chk! I cannot believe I had your mouth on me!" Lae'zel sneered as she donned her armour quickly.

"You had yours on me first!" Shadowheart countered. "I was just being polite."

“It was polite,” agreed the githyanki, surprised about her own answer. She eyed the cleric suspiciously and noticed the slight blush on her cheeks.

"It was awesome!" beamed Karlach. "After a decade, my dry spell has finally ended!"

"I - I was deflowered. In the Hells. By a druid," muttered Wyll, pressing his hands against his head and rocking back and forth. "Where's the romance in that? The chivalry?"

"It was a pleasure to pleasure you. We did as Nature intended. If you're curious, don't be shy and ask for more. I'm always here for you," Halsin told him, smiling, and patted Wyll's shoulder who whimpered lowly.

"Get off me!"

Astarion shoved Gale aside and hastily got onto his feet, pulling up his trousers. Slightly hurt, the wizard followed suit.

"I deeply apologise for making you uncomfortable," he said earnestly. "Under different circumstances, I'd have never done anything without your explicit consent, especially considering your past. But we all were under an incubus' spell, alas, I had no control over my action. None of us had."

Astarion huffed, straightening his armour, and mumbled: "As if you'd ever touch me under different circumstances..."

"I would if you wished," Gale replied sheepishly, averting his gaze as the vampire spawn's eyes bored into him.

"Are you making fun of me, wizard?"

"No, I'm dead serious."

That stunned Astarion into silence, then, he walked over and pulled Gale into a surprisingly tender kiss.

"You idiot. I can't stand you one bit." The pale elf smiled at the wizard. "When we're back at camp, find me and ask me. I'll be waiting."

Dazed, Gale blinked at him dumbly before blushing.

"Noted," he answered, smiling bashfully.

"Oy, lovebirds! What about this one?" yelled Karlach pointing at Harleep.

"Nothing you can do about me, little mouse," snickered the incubus. "I'm done playing with you. You can go annoy my master now, toodeloo."

He wiggled his fingers at them and then sent them flying through the air, through the door, and firmly closed the boudoir. They were his master's problem now. He'd had his fun and it was boring to play with the same little treats twice. - Well, he might made an exception with these ones, but oh, well... With a yawn, Harleep sprawled out on the silk sheets as he closed his eyes to savour the taste of the sweet little treats' lust and love on his tongue. Oh, it was so very sweet.