#rotten memory card

[death4myluv]

"merry cutmas!!" I giggled.

[antimonyandthyme]

Wouldn't it be crazy...if carcar in the situational prompt list no. 60... one/both of them being hit with truth spell/serum

They’ve all been through it. Oscar isn’t special, or any more special than the nineteen other people who share a track with him. On the cusp of breaking into Formula 1, every one of them had someone who sat them down, acted all nice, like a friend they hadn’t seen in years, then pried them open to get a glimpse of anything rotten. Oscar’s just thankful it was Mark. Someone who Oscar knew cared for him, for real, and this way he could look past the interrogation and assign it some form of kindness. In true form, Mark had gone about it in the most awkward way possible, as only someone who hated doing the questioning as much as he hated doing the answering could, and that at least hadn’t made Oscar’s skin crawl.

Hey, uh, kid. Is there anything you think I should know? Uh, romantic, or otherwise?

Even then, he’d been defensive. His past life wasn’t for sale, newly minted F1 driver or not. The girl he dated for longer than he should have, the guy he kissed in maybe too public of a place. Even in the face of Mark’s sincerity, he’d been torn between honesty and mortification.

He doesn’t know why the memory’s popping up right now. It’s Vegas, and so many things happen in Vegas that outside of the race, not a single other thing bears significance anymore. Oscar doesn’t question it when she gestures him over, or when she points to a deck of cards, laid out on a low table like a trap. Something in the air here shakes out his sensibilities, loosens his tongue.

“Will you tell me who will win?” He pauses, backtracks. She might not even know who he is. There are no cameras around. “I could place a bet if you help me.”

“You aren’t a gambling man.” Her voice is strong, rich like an anchorwoman, completely unlike how he’d expected her to sound. “And anyway, you’ll live it out, tomorrow.”

Oh. So she does know.

The furrow between his eyebrows he cancels out with a bland smile. He gets the impression he should leave.

“I could tell you other things.”

“What other things?” It’s good to keep his mind distracted on the eve of a race. He’s always said that. Has he always said that? Well. He’s saying it now.

She draws a card. “The Fool.”

“Not a good start,” Oscar says. “I think I’m gonna—”

“Inexperience and improvisation,” she says. Her teeth are wondrously bright, straight like gravestones lined up in a row. “Not bad, all things considering.”

All things considering, being how this season is going? What does she know.

“I’ve read this somewhere before,” Oscar says. If it’s a fight she wants.

“The Suit of Swords,” she continues, as if she hasn’t heard him. “A logical mind and a spoken word.”

“You have a preplanned deck, for anyone who walks pass.”

“The Tower. Misery, distress. Unseen catastrophe.”

Oscar grits his teeth. “And then you use the same cards, in the same order, for every person. You’re purposely vague.”

“The Three of Wands. Stepping outside of comfort. Persevering.”

“Everything you say can apply to anyone,” Oscar says. This is as combative as he gets. “It’s all a trick.”

“Ah,” she says, and for a second, Oscar thinks he’s broken through, that she’ll snap at him, shoo him away. “But the Seven of Swords, reversed. A turning point. Starting anew.”

“I’m leaving,” Oscar says. Getting distracted on the eve of a race is folly. He’s always said that. Said that to Carlos, only a month or so ago.

“Only one remedy, for someone as recalcitrant as yourself.”

“I’m leaving,” Oscar says again, tongue like cotton. His feet stay right where they are.

She presses the last card into his hands. That video that had gotten viral years ago, the one where you could hand literally any item off to someone who was speaking on the phone. A shoe, a burger, a baby. This feels weightier than a baby. Oscar’s fingers open and close around the card, a wind-up doll dancing along to someone else's tune.

“Norris is winning tomorrow,” she says.

“Oh, fuck off.”

--

They both went into it with the exact same intentions: to come out of it perfectly intact. It was such a foolish notion from the beginning that they were unwilling to allow any heartbreak over it. So stubbornly, wholeheartedly, they worked their damnedest to come out of it perfectly intact.

If he can look past the way his heart wobbles in his chest whenever Carlos so much as looks his way, Oscar will say it’s been a success. He goes to bed, wakes up, races, while forgetting the intimate press of Carlos’s lips against his. They have a renegotiated new normal, the distance between them adjusted to a boring meter. Just close enough so as not to appear frosty, but far away enough that their shoulders can’t possibly accidentally bump.

“Oscar,” George greets cordially. “Feeling good about today?”

“Like hell I am,” Oscar says, with all the earnestness of a puppy still learning how to use its paws.

Multiple calculations flicker across George’s face. Like how much he actually wants to get into it, and how best to weave his way out of it.

“Chin up,” George says, then turns to Alex.

Oscar rolls his eyes. Catches himself doing it, and makes a concerted effort to pull his eyeballs back down into place. It isn’t like him to be so careless with expression. People act like honesty’s a virtue, then jump back like it could scald the moment it pops up in conversation. He sidles away, and finds himself waving at the crowd, a painless armlength from Carlos.

He suddenly, fervently, hates night races. He’s exhausted. It must be why. When Carlos opens his mouth, says something entirely cordial and normal, like How are you, Oscar’s tongue wriggles itself and lets loose.

“I miss you,” he says. The words are out before Oscar can clap a hand over his mouth. “I feel like shit and I miss you.”

“Right,” Carlos says. Still waving at the crowd, but with his shoulders pushed all the way up to his ears. “And I’m Cleopatra.”

“You’re more beautiful than—aw fuck.” He actually bites his tongue. To stop himself from talking. He needs to stop talking.

“Oscar,” Carlos says. He looks a second away from bolting, except there’s not much place to go, being on a moving bus. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Recalcitrance,” Oscar recites. “And an inability to be honest. Fuck. Fuckkkkk.”

“I’m serious, Oscar. If this is some mind game, you can drop it, yeah? We’re both adults. We can be adults about this.”

“I can’t,” Oscar says pleadingly. “I can’t stop thinking about you and I can’t stop wishing it could be different even though I know I was the one who—”

“Enough,” Carlos says, more hurt than Oscar’s ever heard him. This is what honesty does? Oscar should have burned those cards in front of that woman. “You can’t do this now, it’s not fair. After all you said before, you don’t remember that?”

“I lied, I’ve been lying,” Oscar says. “But I can’t now, apparently, you have to believe me.”

“I don’t have to believe anything,” Carlos says. “I don’t need you fucking up my race.”

“Lando’s going to win,” Oscar says miserably.

“You’re an asshole,” Carlos says, then goes to shoulder his way into some other group, and return to waving at the fans, leaving Oscar now a very painful one, two, three, four, five meters away.

--

Lando—wins? Then gets his win stripped away because of some penalty, moving Max up into first, Oscar into second, and Carlos into third.

She’s right, but only on a technicality. Oscar doesn’t want to give her that. And anyway, second place is pretty damn euphoric. He also gets to spray Carlos with champagne. Soak Carlos with it. Pretend the crinkles on Carlos’s face are for him.

He’s not thinking about his lack of filter when there’s a mic shoved up into his face.

“Obviously, I feel for Lando. It’s never a nice experience when you think you have something, but you don’t.”

Behind him, Carlos is waiting to give his interview. In front of him, the reporter’s face is suitably sympathetic.

“I mean, obviously, sometimes. It’s not even your fault. But sometimes—it is?”

“Right,” she says. “About the penalty, right?”

“Uh huh, the penalty. Sometimes it’s totally your fault. When you push people away.”

“You mean off the track?”

“Yeah, off the track,” Oscar nods fervently. He needs to buy this lady a bottle of wine, bless her. “But Lando will recover, the team will come back stronger.”

“Are you happy with your podium today?”

“Of course,” Oscar says. “I’m happy Carlos was up there with me. He deserves it. I’m happy he’s getting these podiums with Ferrari, so they can see—”

What they’ve given away, what they’ve pushed away.

Carlos is suddenly closer, behind him. Hand on Oscar’s lower back, subtle enough that no one else can see. Chiding, but gentle.

“—see him celebrate with this team.” Safer, but no less true. “I’m. Uh, very happy.”

“Right,” she says. “Just one more thing.”

“Ay,” Carlos says, in that lovely, good-natured way of his. “Is my turn now, no?”

“Of course,” she laughs, utterly charmed. “Oscar, thank you for your time.”

Carlos’s hand on his hip feels almost protective, the way he nudges Oscar away from the pen. Go, go. Button it up. You’re not for sale. Go.

--

Carlos examines the card under the neon glow of the strip. The waxy paper’s almost see through when he holds it up. You stare too long and in the end, you find you’re just looking directly at the lights, hurting your eyes. Unsurprisingly, when Oscar took him to where the woman had her little table set up, she wasn’t there.

“I think you got sold some snake oil.”

“I didn’t buy anything,” Oscar says.

“But you’re being made to pay,” Carlos says, grinning. “I’ve never heard you like that before. I’m happy for Carlos, just like that! To the media too. Impressive.”

“Go on,” Oscar says. “Kick a guy when he’s down.”

“Sorry,” Carlos says, sounding like he means it. Oscar’s heart does that pathetic quiver before it rightens itself. Carlos is always so quick to retract his claws, the moment he thinks he’s drawn blood. “It’s just, you know, kinda nice, having you like this. You’re never like this.”

“You could.” Oscar swallows. Prays that he has it in him to be brave. “Ask me anything now. I wouldn’t be able to lie.”

Carlos looks at him, before looking down at his feet. “That’s cheating, no?”

“For you?”

“No,” Carlos says. “For you. You’re cheating, like this.”

Ah. If Carlos had been anyone else, maybe he could have just asked and spared them both the trouble. Something like, Hey, hey. Be honest. Do you have feelings for me? Instead, Carlos hands the card back. Unwilling to go for the jugular. Classic Carlos.

Oscar wants so much to take his hand.

He clears his throat. “Do you remember. Uh. Before you started in F1. Did you ever have to. Like. Go through all of your past with anyone? Tell them who you dated and stuff?”

“Ah,” Carlos says. “Eh. Well. My Dad mostly already knew everything.”

“I think Mark wanted the ground to swallow him up, asking me.”

Carlos giggles. “I bet you were very embarrassing.”

“I, uh. Wasn’t very honest with him.”

“Good,” Carlos says.

“Good?” Oscar says, like some lost puppy.

“Yes, good,” Carlos says seriously. “It’s not for anyone else.”

Oscar waits for Carlos to ask, even while knowing Carlos never would. Not like that. Ball’s in Oscar’s court, as they’d say. For when he finally works through his recalcitrance and inability to be honest. I don’t want to reveal you to the world. Risk you in the slightest, Oscar wants to tell Carlos. That’s why I said all that I said. That’s why.

The card’s not strong enough for that. Not when Carlos, who’s equally as stubborn, refuses to invoke its magic. He’s protective like that, Carlos. Oscar offers him a wobbly smile, an olive branch. All that he can give right now. Generous that he is, Carlos allows the distance between them to shrink to something almost friendly, almost enough to bump shoulders.

--

Just for the fun of it, Oscar goes back, a couple of hours before he’s due at the airport.

She’s there now, of course.

“I don’t need this anymore,” he says, placing the card back onto her table.

She tuts at him like she’s disappointed, but shuffles the card back into her deck anyway.

“Also, Lando didn’t win.”

“Boy,” she says. “Do you think I actually watch Formula 1? Run along now. Do this your own way.”

“I will,” he says. “Thanks, I guess?”

She laughs. Grins at him in a way that’s both sinister and encouraging. Were her teeth always gleaming gold? “Your flight’s going to be late,” she says.

“Oh, fuck off.”

[concreteangel92]

Noah on your birthday Headcanon

Noah Sebastian x female reader

Warnings: fluff in the beginning and slight smut towards the end but nothing too detailed

MASTERLIST

Just a little something I wrote as it’s my birthday on Monday (grand old age of 32 ahaha 🤣) and I’m out celebrating this weekend and had this floating around in my head

•Noah knowing it’s your birthday would go all out

•Even if you asked him not to spend too much money, he’d definitely get you the best gifts that were personal to you

•He’d wake you up with breakfast in bed

•”happy birthday beautiful”

•He’d have your card on the breakfast tray and bring in flowers and your presents not long after

•Of course he would sing happy birthday to you

•He’d want to spoil you rotten, it’s your day after all

•”today is all about you angel”

•If you hadn’t already made prior plans, he’d take you out to your favourite restaurant/place/location

•If he was on tour at the time, he’d definitely make sure the crowd sang happy birthday to you!

•Noah would probably be the kind of boyfriend who would throw you a surprise party (unless you really hated them of course)

•He would take loads of photos of you having fun wherever you are, of you two together, you with your friends, etc so you had the memories forever

Bonus

•If Noah isn’t waking you up with breakfast, he’ll wake you up by having ‘breakfast’ himself 😏

•”Got to start the day right baby”

•All night he’d make sure you were 100% satisfied

•Would have made a joke about giving you one orgasm for each year you’ve been alive

•”you can’t be serious Noah”

•”try me”

•You probably can’t handle that many in one night but you’ll have the most incredible time trying 🫢

[pompadourpink]

Literal French expressions

À deux - at two

À la + n. - in the style of

À la carte - at the menu

À la mode - in fashion

Amateur - lover

Après-ski - after skying

À propos - about

Armoire - wardrobe

Art nouveau - new art

Au naturel - plain

Au pair - at the peer

Auteur - author

Avant-garde - before guard

Bête noire - black beast

Blasé - jaded

Bon appétit - good appetite

Bon voyage - good journey

Boutique - shop

Buffet - credenza

Bureau - office

Canapé - couch

Carte blanche - white card

C'est la vie - that's life

Chauffeur - warmer (n.)

Chef - leader

Cliché - picture

Clique - gang

Connaisseur - "knower"

Coup d'état - blow of state

Coup de grâce - blow of mercy

Coup de foudre - blow of lightning

Couture - sewing (n.)

Cul-de-sac - ass of the bag

Début - beginning

Débutante - beginner

Déjà-vu - already seen

Dénouement - untying

Dossier - file

Double entendre - double hear

... du jour - of the day

Eau de toilette - washing water

Eau de vie - life water

Encore - again

Ennui - boredom

En route - in road

Ensemble - together

Entourage - people surrounding you

Entrepreneur - starter (n.)

Essai - attempt

Esprit de l'escalier - spirit of the stairs

Étiquette - label

Exposé - exposed

Façade - frontage

Faux pas - fake step

Femme fatale - deadly woman

Film noir - black movie

Fin de siècle - end of century

Flâneur - "stroller"

Femme - woman

Folie à deux - madness at two

Foyer - fireplace, home

Gamine - female kid (casual)

Gauche - left

Gendarme - person of weapons

Je ne sais quoi - I don't know what

Laissez-faire - let (someone) do (imperative)

Laissez-passer - let (someone) pass

L'appel du vide - the call of the void

Lingerie - underwear

Maître d' - master o'

Mardi gras - fat Tuesday

Matinée - morning

Ménage à trois - household at three

Mon/ma chéri-e - my cherished

Montage - mounting

Motif - pattern

Mural - on the wall (adj.)

Né-e - born

Négligé - neglected

Nom de plume - feather name

Parole - word

Petite - small (adj.)

Pied-à-terre - foot on land

Poilu - hairy

Pot pourri - rotten pot

Pourboire - for drink

Première - first

Prêt-à-manger - ready to eat

Protégé - protected

Renaissance - rebirth

Rendez-vous - appointment

Répertoire - directory

Résumé - summary

Risqué - risked

Robe - dress

Rouge - red

RSVP - answer please

Sans-culottes - without pantaloons

Savant - "knower" (n.)

Savoir-faire - know how to do (v.)

Savoir-vivre - know how to live

Séance - session

Soirée - evening

Souvenir - memory

Suite - sequel, development

Surveillance - careful watching

Tête-à-tête - head to head

Touché - touched

Tour - circuit

Trompe-l'oeil - cheats the eye

Venue - came

Vignette - sticker, label

Vis-à-vis - face to face

Voyeur - "seer"

Ballet vocabulary:

Allongé - laid down

Balancé - swinged

Balançoire - swing (n.)

Battu - battered

Brisé - broken

Chassé - chased

Chaînés - chained

Ciseaux - scissors

Coupé - cut

Dégagé - cleared

Développé - developed

Échappé - escaped

En cloche - in bell

En croix - in cross

Entrechat - between braid

En pointe - in tip

Failli - almost did

Fouetté - whipped

Glissade - sliding

Plié - bent

Jeté - thrown

Manège - carousel

Pas de bourrée - drunk step

Pas de chat - cat step

Pas de cheval - horse step

Pas de deux - step of two

Pas de valse - waltz step

Penché - leaned

Piqué - pricked

Port de bras - carry of arms

Relevé - lifted back up

Renversé - titled, bent backwards

Retiré - removed

Rond de jambe - leg circle

Temps de flèche - arrow time Tendu - stretched

Temps lié - linked time

Tombé - fallen

Tour en l'air - turn in the air

Kitchen vocabulary:

Amuse-bouche - mouth entertainer

Bain-Marie - Mary bath

Café au lait - milky coffee

Casserole - pot

Cordon bleu - blue ribbon

Crème brûlée - burnt cream

Crème de la crème - cream of the cream

Crème fraîche - fresh cream

Croissant - crescent

Éclair - lightning

Entrée - entrance

Filet mignon - cute net

Flambé - blazed

Foie gras - fat liver

Fondant - melting

Fondue - melted

Gourmet - foodie

Hors d'oeuvre - out of the work

Légume - vegetable

Liqueur - liquid

Mille-feuille - thousand leaf

Mousse - foam

Pâté - pasted

Roux - redhead(ed)

Sauté - jumped

Sautoir - "jumper"

Soufflé - blown

Velouté - velvety

Fanmail - masterlist (2016-) - archives - hire me - reviews (2020-) - Drive

[shadowhearts-ponytail]

christmas with abby anderson!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist ˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

a/n: I love winter so so much! and I love abby, so here you go!

warnings: this is just fluffy Christmas activities. there is a bit of a suggestive joke. but nothing too bad. let me know if I missed anything!

words: 1,066

abby is a Christmas girly. for sure. she loves Christmas. it is the most wonderful time of the year for her. by far. her favorite holiday. she goes all out.

abby has one of those mistletoe hats. the ones that hang mistletoe over you and another person. she wears it all the time as an excuse to pull you into a kiss. her hands on your hips as she leans down to plant a long kiss on your lips.

she has mistletoe all over your shared apartment. for extra kisses. in every single doorway. she keeps some mistletoe in her pockets to pull it out when you both are out so she can hold it over your head and pout for a kiss.

making Christmas cookies. she's a sugar cookie girl. simple. easy to make. plus, she likes decorating them with frosting after but will complain that the frosting "makes them overly sweet" when she's the one that drenched it in red and green icing and snowflake sprinkles.

she always makes cookies to give to her dad. she always makes him a big tin full of different kinds. chocolate chip, sugar cookies, oatmeal cookies, snickerdoodles, gingerbread men.

she's actually quite a skilled baker. old family recipes she knows by heart. muscle memory usually kicks in when she kneads the dough. she hums when she bakes. while she waits for the oven, she'll do a little dance if she thinks you aren't looking.

she makes fresh bread and cakes and so many sweets around the holidays. she's not one to eat sweets, but she loves making them for friends or family.

she makes enough to feed a damn army of 5,000 gren men and then sends them with you to work for your coworkers or to your family.

"no, baby. you know I hate cookies and cake. just give it to your family. or I'm sure your boss would love 200 cookies, right?"

"sure, abs. sure. whatever you say." you playfully roll your eyes at your girlfriend as she has once again gone overboard with the Christmas cookies, just like last year and the year before that. it's tradition at this point.

getting custom Christmas stockings with your names on them. the stockings mean a lot to her. getting to fill your stocking with little gifts, candies, and love notes would bring the purest smile to her face. and seeing her stocking next to yours. she loves seeing it. she's always wanted that. wanted someone to make her a stocking with her name on it.

she would get alice one and put it next to both of yours. full it with dog treats and chew toys. she says it makes you three a family.

abby buys alice a new collar every year and gets those doggy Christmas sweaters. she gets alice bones to chew on and toys and clothes to wear. that dog is spoiled rotten.

abby would want to take "family photos" with you and alice. she has alice wear one of the shirts in the photos.

she like hires a photographer, and everything. you go out to some field or somewhere nice to take professional pictures. she hangs them in your apartment and makes a Christmas card with them to send to both her family and yours from "The Anderson Family."

"I hope it's okay I used my last name. I'm sure you'll end up taking it anyway."

when she says this, you about choke on your water. "i-" cough, cough, "Yeah, that's fine, baby. I'm sure you're right." you tease with a little wink.

abby gets you small gifts every day of December up until Christmas. a small bouquet of flowers, a little handwritten note, candies. simple things. she sees it as an extra excuse to spoil you. not that she ever needs one. but she's just a sappy romantic like that.

she always wants to come home to you as soon as she gets off work to cuddle up and watch some Christmas movies, and warm up the apartment by cooking you dinner or baking.

abby probably isn't one of those people who's crazy particular about the ornaments on the tree. like they don't have to be all the same colors and shit. she would like handmade ones more. ones that were passed down in the family. sentimental ones.

she always puts the same star on the tree every year. one her dad got her as a gift. it'd very important to her. she packs it in a metal box wrapped in bubble wrap and blankets to keep it safe.

but she refuses to get on the ladder and out it on the tree. she's too scared of heights. she won't get further than the first step on the ladder.

"abby, cmon. just put the star on the tree. I'll get the ladder."

"No! I can't. what if I fall and break my neck?" she asks with puppy eyes and a big pout.

"abs are you serious? the chances of that are, like, zero!" you argue back to the muscled woman before you, "besides you're taller than me."

instead of arguing back, she picks you up in her massive arms and hoists you to sit on her shoulder.

"abby!"

"there. now you're taller. now you have to do it"

she wears boxers with Christmas prints on them. snowmen, reindeer, santa, snowflakes.

you guys are bickering about something meaningless, and to lighten the mood, she just unbutton her pants and push them down to her knees to reveal boxers with a mistletoe print on them then yell, "kiss it then!"

you can't help but burst into laughter and clutch your stomach as you double over in a fit of laughter.

abby looks at you with a cheeky grin, "still mad at me, baby?"

abby is a fanatic about Christmas lights. she likes going to the park closer to Christmas to see all the lights at night. she'd be so excited. begging to go every night until they take them down.

she brings you to the annual anderson family dinner. the first time she brought you, she was so excited, but you were so nervous.

she was practically bouncing with joy when her dad brought you into a tight hug the moment he met you. he immediately started to talk your ear off. making you feel welcome.

you are definitely invited to next year's dinner.

a/n: feedback is always welcome!

[frostbitebakery]

filled prompts for @codywansleepbingo :D we got: spooning, deep sleeper, insomnia! nothing particularly to warn for, though this is set sometime in the HEA phase of I Got My Head Checked, the Sithywan AU. Rest of the ficlet and bingo card under the cut!

Soft Sick Underbelly

“Major or long-lasting stress can lead to chronic insomnia.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Obi-Wan mutters to himself.

It has been… a while since sleep turned away from him in such a snit. He’s not unfamiliar with insomnia. For a long time he had been too afraid to sleep, catching naps here and there during his training—

“Abuse,” Cody would correct him.

His unconventional youth.

Sleep was for doomed prey until he was shaped enough into a predator to grab the luxury and take advantage of it. To take and take until the sleep deprivation was a fond, silly memory of the weak.

To sleep soundly, arrogantly, next to an enemy until the blaster was pressed against his forehead like birdsong. Nothing to concern himself with because he was made to be just that good.

Cody, Obi-Wan mourns to think of their first morning, isn’t anything special in that regard. What made him special, and continues to do so, is that Obi-Wan came back into his arms to sleep, to rest, over and over.

With Cody, he could wake up slow and unafraid. How Cody manages the same is a mystery to Obi-Wan still, on some days. Possibly the insomnia talking him into the spiral of fear, hate…

He doesn’t bother to remember what came after hate in Qui-Gon’s little speech. Cody said it was something to do with toasters.

Cody isn’t naïve. Perhaps he’s still lacking a bit of life experience, down to the few years he’s existed and how, but he’s not going into situations without a plan. Admittedly, he had lost his sight for a tiny bit there when Obi-Wan slithered into his life like the snake he was. Nevermind that it all had backfired on Obi-Wan rather spectacularly, the blind spot for himself Obi-Wan had started to cultivate in Cody had turned out to be mutually beneficial.

Obi-Wan snorts to himself and goes back to reading treatments for insomnia in hopes the irony alone will put him to sleep.

The small data pad is balanced on Cody’s upper arm in front of him, angled away so no light shines into Cody’s face. Obi-Wan is nothing but courteous.

Cody is a deep sleeper, here. In their space, their home, with Obi-Wan. Endearing and humbling. Not naïve. Not even with his back, his neck, to Obi-Wan like a lamb.

It’s trust like a soldier shows. Endearing and humbling, indeed.

Obi-Wan desperately wants to hold his hand, suddenly. The urge rising in his chest. The back of his fingers brush over Cody in substitute, careful not to disturb.

Cody wakes up anyway.

Slow for a minute, then all at once with a jaw-breaking yawn. One of his hands flaps over and behind him, and Obi-Wan offers his own. Like Cody knows.

His hand is guided around Cody, cradled into his chest.

“Bad night?” Cody asks in a murmur.

Obi-Wan fits himself closer into Cody’s warmth, not exactly hiding from the world.

Sleepy eyes turn to him. “Still blue.”

He feels his eyes are blue but it’s a relief to have the confirmation. Sometimes he can’t tell the difference, insides feeling breakable and rotten.

Cody shuffles back into him, a barrier between Obi-Wan and everything else that is not in his head only.

The early morning sun shines on the windows, sneaks through the glass, and plays with Cody’s skin. It's mesmerizing. Charming, in its own way.

The tiredness, the pulling at his eyelids and thoughts, is sudden and unwelcome. It’s morning. They should get up. Routine is good for both of them, after everything. A bit of predictability to stabilize them. They still get up to too many fun adventures. They're somewhat the personified headache of the Jedi Order, especially after their vacation. But this is home. Home is where the masks fall.

Cody latches onto more of his arm, lays his cheek into Obi-Wan's palm. “I’m awake now. Do you want to sleep?”

“Keeping watch for me?” Obi-Wan teases and his wrist is kissed.

“If you want.”

He sighs into Cody’s neck. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Never.”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes. Inserts the details into himself, of Cody watching over him like Obi-Wan watches in return. The light behind his eyelids, no suffocating darkness. Cody's stubble scratching over callouses.

Sleep doesn't come immediately. It takes its time. But eventually it's there, welcomes him like Cody's warmth.

[boydepartment]

･:*: 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝𓇼 enhypen masterlist ⋆꙳• °‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

page two

Jungwon boyfie texts

spilled milk (oneshot- requested 💓)

pastry (oneshot- comfort)

type of guy who…

Heeseung boyfie texts

type of guy who…

charity work (oneshot- fluff?? i dunno tbh ahha)

boring draining tedious company party (oneshot- fluff)

Jay canteen (oneshot- fluff)

boyfie texts

you’re smiling (oneshot- fluff(grumpy x sunshine)- requested💗

type of guy who... - requested💗

boyfriend(oneshot- jealous jay)

spoiled rotten (headcanons) - requested 💗

cherry(oneshot- pg-14) - requested💗

Jake Condensation(oneshot- fluff) requested💓 boyfie texts masks off? (oneshot- fluff)

speak now(oneshot- fluff)

why couldn’t i be(oneshot- comfort)

my only love(smau- ONGOING)

family card(oneshot- angst) requested 💗

type of guy who...

what a coincidence(oneshot- fluff)

Sunghoon broken skate(oneshot- fluff)-requested💓

missed performances(oneshot- fluff)- requested💓

your voice baby!(oneshot- fluff)- requested💓

tell me baby!(oneshot- fluff) -requested💓

dog walker (oneshot- fluff- feat. yang jungwon)- requested💓

boyfie texts

when he misses you(headcanons-fluff) - requested 💓

knee pads(oneshot- fluff)- requested💓

Sunoo bittersweet (smau, COMPLETED)

past memories(oneshot- angst to fluff) -requested💓

boyfie texts

Ni-Ki RIKI SHUT UP(oneshot- fluff) -requested💓

Turn around(oneshot- fluff) -requested💓

the view(oneshot- fluff) -requested 💓

boyfie texts

come up with lies(oneshot- angst) -requested 💓

type of guy who… -requested 💓

time (oneshot- angst/fluff)

three strikes (oneshot- fluff) - requested 💓

@ iluvmygf (series/smau- ONGOING)

All Members (mostly text-fics)

boyfie texts -> pt 2

boyfie texts after an argument -requested 💓

boyfies after a long day - requested 💓

when you’re jealous - requested💓

when you simp over the background dancers- requested💓

when you're insecure

rich headcanons -requested 💓

when you take your promise ring off -requested💓 -> PT TWO

accidental text confessions -requested💓

enha as animal crossing villagers

enha as stardew valley characters

enha as disney characters

enha as taylor swift songs

enha roadtrip headcanons

calling enha pretty

enha as sad songs

enha texts when your parents are arguing

enha as texts -> pt 2 -> pt 3 -> pt 4

enha as cars characters

enha as middle school songs

“i’m in love with you.”

“i love you in every universe.”

enha texts when you shut down

enha texts when you’re a christmas nut

enha texts + scénario when you ask them to call

enha texts when their christmas présent gets spoiled

enha texts + scenario when you call them in danger - requested 💓

enha texts + scenario when you’re failing a class- requested 💓

enha texts + scenario comfort - requested 💓

enha texts being down BAAAD - requested 💓

enha texts being WHIPPED - requested 💓

Asks

who runs up and hugs you all goofy

who’s clingy in the morning

games with sunghoon :)

goofy ass

boxing match gf

you are so pretty

themed bandaids

barbie

ur so pretty :(

oOooOoooOO

old man

blushing

i like it when you sleep for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it

karaoke king

mr fanfiction

😙 kiss

emphasis on lol

skirt protectors 3000

i’m eating concrete

[nishayuro]

I don’t know if you still take requests (especially for Stanley) but I’m a very thirsty girl and I miss my men (and I really like your writing) so I ask anyway!

So, if possible, can I have the fluffiest of fluff ? Like the more tooth rotting stuff you can think about that men ? I’ve been having specially hard days and I’d love to have some comfort.

Thanks a lot even for just reading this ! <3

Dr. Stone Stanley Snyder Fluff Headcanons

A/N: Hii! I’m so sorry this took so long T.T I saw this request back then and just started daydreaming but didn’t have energy to write. But here it is!!! I too, miss my man sooooo much

Genre: FLUFF AS FUCK

Warning: You’ll get cavities

GN!Reader

Stanley is an extremely loyal boyfriend. He’s in the military, he knows loyalty by heart. 

During his downtime in the military, he comes home to you and takes you on lots of dates

Be it indoors or outdoors, he’s got you covered

I feel like Stan is the type to bring you to a laser tag arena or an airsoft arena. He wants you to experience what a “battlefield” feels like. (He will let you win because the smile and laugh you make is enough of a win for him) 

He’s paid GOOD money, being a marine commander for an elite force, he’s the type to spoil you rotten. You want a new wardrobe? Go use his card. Want a new gadget, you already know his pin. Want to go dine at an expensive restaurant, you know where his card is. He will give you everything you want. 

I think Stanley LOVES cuddles, he’s away a lot and is rarely with you, so for the times that he is, he will just lay in bed with you in his arms as you both talk about everything you two wanna talk about.

Stanley is someone who will listen to everything you say, his attention to detail and memory is so good. You mentioned this one thing in passing and you’re shocked when he brings it up months later. 

If you’re not comfortable with his smoking, he won’t smoke when with you. He’s addicted to it, sure, but he won’t risk getting you sick. If he really needs to, he might use chewing tobacco instead. 

I think you both would get a matching tattoo together. It would be something you both designed and is meaningful to you both. 

Whenever he’s on his break, he will take you travelling for vacation. 

He’ll take you to beaches, resorts, tourist spots, and to other perfect vacation places. 

You have definitely met Xeno, Stanley introduced you to his childhood friend when he was sure that he was serious with your relationship. You would get along really well with Xeno and you both tease Stanley a lot.

Stanley would be down to wear matching outfits! You both slay so much.

We all know how attractive Stanley is, and he knows it as well. 

There will be times when someone would come up to him and flirt, he will tell them that he is in a committed relationship or will just straight up ignore them.

One time someone was getting really annoying with their flirting while you and Stanley were on a date and you went to use the bathroom. 

As soon as you arrived, he wasted no time to pull you into a deep kiss in front of the other person, making them go away from embarrassment. 

Speaking of kissing, Stanley loves kissing you! 

Be it small pecks or straight out make out sessions

Stanley also really likes skinship, mostly in private. But he doesn’t have a problem with some PDA.

Whenever he’s deployed overseas, he regularly messages and calls or video calls you whenever he has time or has access to his phone. 

He loves when you fall asleep on call with one another

Or when he’s getting ready while you fall asleep and vice versa

Overall, Stanley knows that he’s not present a lot and he wishes he could be with you more. But he loves you so much and he’s dead set to prove that to you in anyway he can. 

“C’mon babe, the movie is gonna start!” You pulled him towards the cinema, popcorn in hand and his hand in the other. “Alright love, chill. You might trip.” He replies, slowing you down. You both got in your seats and waited for the advertisements to end. You would both whisper to each other during the movie, commenting about the scenes quiet enough to not disturb the others. When the movie ended and the lights turned on, Stanley turned towards you. “You have something there” He said, pointing near your lip. “Huh?” you asked, wiping at said place. “Let me.” he said, surprising you as he leaned in and gave you a kiss on the lips while holding your chin, pulling back with a smirk on his face as he got up. “Oi! Stann, what was that for?!” you exclaimed, blood pooling to your cheeks from being flustered. “Nothin’, you were just being cute.” he answered with a smile. He took your hand in his and led you both out of the cinema. As you were walking back to the parking lot, you decided to surprise him yourself. “I love you, Stanley.” You said, looking at him and squeezing your intertwined hands. His eyes widened, ears and cheeks a light shade of pink, “heh, I love you more, y/n.” He answered back with a smile.

masterlist

navigation

[buttsmasher]

The Time Vinny came to the Pharmacy

Tags/Warnings: Face Farting, Gay Face Farting, Willing Victim, Underwear Farting, Semi-Public

You lay across the counter, another boring day at the pharmacy. You’re scrolling through Instagram when you have to stop and stare at a picture your high school crush, Vinnie, posted. It’s a side view of him lifting a barbell and it highlights his arms, and that ass that you always wanted to be near in high school. The caption read, “It looks like leg day has been really paying off.” You, of course, double tap the photo.

“Yeah, that was a pretty good photo.” You look up to see Vinnie standing in front of you giving you his signature smile. All of your high school memories come rushing back and you quickly remember why he was your crush. 6’3”, charming smile, hot body, and he was honestly one of the nicest guys in town. “Not to brag or anything.” His smile disarms any awkwardness you might have felt. 

“What brings you in?” You ask putting your phone away, giving him your full attention.

“I’m here for a prescription.” 

“Gotcha.” You go ahead and enter his name into the system and quickly grab his prescription. “So how’s life going?” You make small talk as you scan the barcode of the prescription bag.

“Oh you know, just trying to survive the end of the world.” You both chuckle. “But my girlfriend broke up with me so... trying to get over that.” 

“Sorry to hear it man. It’s $15.12.”

“Yeah, she said I was going to the gym too much. And she said I was too gassy for her.” He pulls out a credit card and hands it to you. 

“Gassy?” You raise your eyebrow as you take his card.

“Yeah. It’s probably the protein shakes because they go right through me. But imagine being broken up with because you’re too gassy.” You shake your head, not able to imagine it. 

“Sounds like to me you need someone who’d appreciate your gassiness.” You give him a wink as you hand him his card back and prescription. You then go back to leaning onto the counter, elbows on the counter with your head being cradled by your heads.

“Is that so?” He looks you up and down briefly before leaning onto the counter himself.  “Do you know anyone, within a, oh I don’t know, one minute radius because I got some big ones brewing.” 

“Hmm,” You pretend to think about it. “Carla I’m going on break!” You yell to the pharmacist on duty. You walk out from the employee section and gesture towards Vinnie to follow you into the exam room. 

He doesn’t miss a beat, he follows and you close the door and lock it. Before he even says anything you are on your knees pulling at his gym shorts. His boxer briefs are a bit sweaty, most likely he came straight from the gym.It doesn’t stop you from smashing your nose into his musky crack and taking a deep whiff. It’s intoxicating, and you let out this small moan that just makes Vinnie laugh. 

“I haven’t even farted yet.” He jokes as he lets you inhale his scent. 

“Sorry, sorry, you just smell…”

PFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT

He lets a harsh fart that interrupts your sentence. You don’t even try to finish the sentence, instead you just focus your energy on inhaling the toxic air. It’s bad, and you kind of understand why his girlfriend broke up with him.The smell reminds you of a skunk and it’s just pure rotten ass fumes. You can’t help the fact that you’re so painfully erect.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Vinnie chuckles. “I just couldn’t hol’ it in anymore.”

“It’s good.” Your voice is strained but you give him a thumbs up. 

“Man, you must of inhaled all of it, because I didn’t get a whiff of it up here.” He wiggles his body a little bit bouncing you in between his butt cheeks. “Shit I just may need to keep you around as my fart vacuum.” 

“No complaints here.” You pull your nose out his ass and begin to stand up causing him to push you back down.

“I didn’t say I was finished.” He wraps his hand in your hair before pulling you back against his sweaty undies. 

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTT

This one was even worse than the previous. It was horrid and you honestly kind of wanted to pull your face away. But before you even get a chance to appreciate that last bomb, he’s hitting you with more gas.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF PFFFFFFFFTTTT PFFFFFFBBRRFFFFFFFFTTTT

He wasn’t joking when his girlfriend said he was gassy. You did your best to keep up with his butt bombs, but you feel yourself starting to get dizzy from only being able to breathe in his rotten egg smelling farts. You forcibly pull away from his ass and take a deep breath in before you push your nose back in against his clothed hole.

PFFFFFFFF PFFFFFTT

He lifts his leg as two squeakers expel from his nasty ass. “Fuck.” You groan as you keep taking loud huffs. “Jesus christ, how do you have so much gas?” You pant as you pull away from his ass again.

“I’m telling ya, it’s gotta be the protein shakes.” You try to catch your breath.

“Fuck man.” You wipe your forehead where there’s sweat beading on your face. 

“You want more?” He’s biting his lip like he’s holding a big one in.

“Hell yeah!” You don’t waste any time getting back into position.

“It’s a big one, do you think you can take it?” He warns.

“Take your best shot, big guy.” You give a playful smack against his ass.

“Your funeral.” He starts grunting, and for a moment you’re honestly worried that he’s about to shit himself.

PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTT

He lets out the loudest and nastiest fart you’ve ever heard. And the smell is god awful. Somehow mixing all sorts of horrid scents that you didn’t think were possible. At first you smelled rotten eggs, but then somewhere around the 5 second mark it went to old garbage, and then another few seconds and it was sewage. There wasn’t any way you couldn’t pull away from that.

You are hacking up a lung as Vinnie laughs at you. “I warned you man.”

“Fuck. I didn’t know you were that brutal.” You gag, somehow getting a taste of his nasty brew. “I-I don’t think I can take anymore.”

“That’s fine.” He reaches down and pulls his shorts up. “It’s not every day I get to bomb someone.”

“Well if you were dating me, that wouldn’t be a problem.” You try to turn the situation in your favor, but you’re still trying to catch your breath.

“Hm, how bout we get coffee first.” 

“Deal.” You say as he helps you get back on your feet. 

“You think you can go back to work?” You give a thumbs up as he helps walk back to the employee area.

“What did you do to him?” Clara takes you from Vinnie and then scrunches her face. “God you stink.” She moves her face as far away as she can. “God, that’s awful, you need to go home.” She kind of pushes you away and Vinnie catches you again. You both kind of laugh before Vinnie helps you out to your car.

“You free tomorrow?” You ask nervously.

“Yeah, meet me at the Piñata Cafe at 10:00.” 

“Cool.” You give him a small wave. 

When your door is closed and his back is to you, you start dancing. You’ve got a date with Vinnie, your high school dream almost fulfilled.

[tmntforeverinmyheart]

I unironically love the mutant apocalypse, and really wish there was more content of it. I mean it paved the way for rises future that fans seem to worship. It’s unfortunate that the designs kinda sucked (looking at you leo) and how the bridge between the mutagen bomb and 50 years into the further is basically unknown. Like how did leo of all people become a cruel wasteland king? What tragic accident befell casey, april and karai for them to be nonexistent? What did raph and donnie do for 50 years? What happened to mikey to make him go crazy? So many questions left unanswered, so im gonna make content of my version of the mutant apocalypse for awhile cause i love them, it feeds my angsty soul lol

Leo retains bits and pieces of his past life. Unfortunately most of his memories have become disconnected from each other. He remembers a man or a mutant? Spikes of metal and skin, silver armour encasing his whole body, the man’s heart, pulsing with green. Green what? Leo didn’t know. He remembers colours, red, purple and orange. One radiating warmth and a fiery temper, one cold and calculating but with a softness, one filled with love and brightness. What do they mean? He thought back to the man (mutant?) how monstrous he looked. looking down at himself he could see the resemblance between the memory and his reality. The man felt most familiar, and unlike the colours was more in focus. He carried an air of superiority and held himself with pride. Leo wanted to be like him. A path has been chosen for him and he will follow it.

Note: Leo does not actually remember his name, I just wanted to make it obvious who the character was.

Tw blood

Donnie and Raph stayed together. Raph had to be his younger brothers protector, in this strange new world their ninja skills wouldn’t be enough, not in the state they were in. They wandered together, searching for their missing family members. Surviving on through the ever changing climate on scraps, raw meat, mutant flesh, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was staying alive and finding their brothers.

Mikey was separated from his brothers in the aftermath of the mutagen bomb, Eventually finding his way back to the sewer. His home was in disarray. Luckily he still had one friend he could count on. Ice cream kitty practically hug-attacked mikey when he opened the freezer. Mikey stayed in his home, finishing off the food in the fridge and cupboard. There wasn’t much to do really. He played cards with kitty. Failed to meditate, and looked at old photos. 10 years passed by and eventually the fridge and freezer stopped working and he had to go searching for another safe haven to keep his friend from melting. He found a still working pizza place and hunkered down. This pattern continued for a number of years. He traveled all over New York to different grocery, ice cream and pizza stores to keep kitty alive. Mikey became sickly from eating so much outdated and even moldy food. Mikey had to resort to eating his infinite ice cream friend. He grew hair at some point, which was odd (he didn’t even know that was possible), it was curly and unkept. He would braid his hair into different shapes to pass the time. The world around him was crumbling, seeming more and more out of a sci-fi movie everyday. He stayed in his head a lot, imagining a whole new reality where he still had his family. But he couldn’t completely discount his reality, after all he had ice cream kitty.

Until he didn’t…

During his travels, Leo met many mutants. One in particular just wouldn’t leave him alone. Their first encounter was a battle over a rotten carcass. She attacked, wrapping her long body around his lower leg, cutting off his circulation. He attacked her back, swiping at her with his claws. He remembered the man with the spikes, and manipulated the skin of his arm, forming two hard spikes, he swiped at her again. She backed off with a haunted look in her eyes. “Shredder” she said quietly, before slithering away.

[vampirememory]

PAC | Your Love Story in Song

Someone who received a reading from me once said that I tend to write scenarios as if I'm writing a whole fanfic. While I'm not a fanfic writer, I do love writing so... This pick-a-card is about your future love story based on songs!

This can apply to your future spouse, for your future partner, etc, although it is intended to be the most impactful relationship you have. I will be using shufflemancy and intuition, plus there is a bonus moodboard/image section!

♢ There are three piles to choose from, all are CDs with writing on them/quotes. Pile one is "Songs to listen to when you're in love", pile two is "You're the only thing in life that I got right", and pile three is "Everything I could never tell you." ♢

Pile One ♢ "Songs to listen to when you're in love"

Walking on a Dream by Empire of the Sun

C'mon - Single Version by Panic! At The Disco & fun.

Capsize by FRENSHIP & Emily Warren

A heaviness. Two people who refuse to believe that they're in love, but rather continue to wallow in their own problems until they realize that there was someone there all along. Youth. They both take baby steps until they realize that someone has been there alongside them the whole time and together they bring themselves up. Unfortunately, the highs are high and the lows are low, and sometimes it leads to explosive fights, crying, and the neverending cycle of breakups.

It's blue. It's in the dark, two lovers holding hands as you both sob over the destruction you have caused together. You both think to yourselves "Maybe this is why we are meant to be?" A combination of hail and rain, the worst thunderstorms, and the brightest sunny days after them, but mostly because you know that others would not be able to handle your violence (not literal).

On the worst days, you almost melt into each other. On the best days, you blend and ebb with each other's flows. There is no fear in either of your depths. They can get terrifying, yes, and from an outside perspective it can be seen as a toxic, violent cycle, but it is far from the truth. It's bittersweet, it's growth, it's pulling out hair like pulling weeds and sharpening knives to cut out rotten flesh. It's painful, yes, but it's the most invigorating ride you both have ever been on, and it's the most growth you've ever had. You trigger each other in the best and worst way possible.

It's pain and ascension. Growing your wings, pulling out the flightless feathers. Scratching away dead scales, shedding and spitting up venom. Like an animal learning how to breathe again. Poetic misery.

Pile Two ♢ You're the only thing in life that I got right."

Nineteen by Dylan

Joan of Arc by Arcade Fire

Stop Making This Hurt by Bleachers

Good morning kisses and back hugs. Shared memories and shared coffee mugs, cuddles, and long movie marathons, but something is changing.

The love you shared is changing. Neither of you has gotten this far, you have no idea how to react. The passionate morning kisses become awkward side steps, the cuddles become awkward and suddenly you hate the color of the walls. You still love them, yes of course, but it's changing it's hue. Your chameleon lover is changing its colors and you haven't adjusted to the change in saturation. The giddiness goes away and becomes...comfortable. You fear that the passion is gone, you've never felt this way before. You're afraid they'll leave you.

You both lay on the duvet, staring above at the ceiling fan. Suddenly, you're both older. "How did we get here? Where has the time gone?" You both look at each other with a somewhat sad, but tender smile. The love hasn't gone away, it's just changed forms, and you're finally adjusted to the slower love you always deserved. You kiss, it's awkward and cheeky, but it brings a warmness to your body you've never felt before, a warmness you want to keep forever, and so you both do.

BONUS: While looking for images, Boreas by the Oh Hellos was playing in my head, it definitely matches the warm energy of this pile.

Pile Three ♢ "Everything I could never tell you"

East of Eden by Zella Day

Oh No! by MARINA

Mine Forever by Lord Huron

It was a hook-up, it was a fling. You never pictured that you'd actually love your goofy lover. You couldn't imagine them being serious about anyone until one night you looked into their eyes and realized it wasn't lust. Out of fear, you left, and you were terrified.

This wasn't the type of person you would bring home to your family, but rather show off to your friends and your Instagram stories, but now things are changing. They aren't the person you expected to be, and you're slowly falling in love with their dopey smile and messy hair. "Nothing can get better than this," they say with a smile, and fall asleep in your arms. You feel the same way and it scares you.

You run from it, you ghost them and break their heart just for a moment until you look at yourself in the mirror and see the person you've never wanted to become. You take off your mask and realize you're just a scared child who never knew you were worthy of love or desired love. You put in the work, you change your face, and break your old mask.

You show up to their house to apologize and try to start fresh again, and whether or not they accept your apology is up to them, but you'll never forget them regardless.

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to check out my masterpost with more readings, or you can support me by purchasing a reading by clicking here. Thanks for the support, let me know which pile you picked and if it resonated or not :)!

[death4myluv]

u ask 4 a shirt and I give u my blood soaking shirt... wyd

[littlejuicebox]

Midnight Chimes 3 / Luck

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader Warlock.

Word Count: 1,910

Summary/Setting: You and Astarion have met before, though you think it meant more to you than it did to him. You are an apothecary shop owner that has recently gained some mysterious Warlock powers; Astarion is, in your eyes, a rake that you wouldn’t trust as far as you can throw him. You two run into one another again after the nautiloid crash.

Preview:

The vampire couldn’t remember anything about you, at first. It was as if the parasite had unlocked the recollection, delving into some subconscious vault of memories Astarion could not access himself. He hadn’t remembered you, prior to the parasite’s assistance, but had held onto pieces of information he'd learned from the conversation. The prickled texture of the grass underneath his palm distracts Astarion as he vaguely listens to his two human traveling companions discuss healing potions – you needed to find a cauldron and distillery set to start concocting things for the journey ahead.  As his two campmates chat, Astarion has more flashes from the conversation he'd had with you in the Drunken Dragon. Everything about that night returns to him in a hazy film, almost like recalling bits of a dream.

Warnings: eventual smut and gore 18+ / in game spoilers / angst, trauma, fluff / GUYS THIS CHAPTER HAS GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF ABUSE AND S-CIDE IDEATION DO NOT READ IF IT'S TRIGGERING TO YOU OR YOU ARE NOT IN THE RIGHT HEADSPACE

Notes: This chapter was hard for me to write; I teared up and had to take a break for a few days because I am quite sensitive. If you are sensitive like me, please proceed with caution.

“You are late, Astarion.”

“Master, I’m sorry, I—“

“I do not have time, nor patience for your excuses, boy!” Cazador hisses, snatching the younger vampire up by his flounced collar.

Astarion hears the fabric of his shirt tear as his master shakes him repeatedly. Cazador is shouting; from this proximity, Astarion can smell the rotten blood on his breath. The Vampire Lord is berating him ferociously, causing sprays of putrid spittle to hit the spawn’s face with every word.

But Astarion isn’t there anymore. He’s retreated into the confines of his own mind. He’s replaying the conversation he’d had with you, before the bell tower chimed midnight and he’d fled from the Drunken Dragon.

“DO YOU HEAR ME, BOY?!” Cazador is roaring now, lifting Astarion up to the tips of his toes with unhinged fury. The gap in the spawn’s shirt rips open further. 

He’s a ragdoll in his master’s grip, flopping about almost lifelessly with deadened eyes and a blank visage. The pale elf learned long ago that expending his energy fighting, begging, or crying always lead to the same result. It was useless.

So why bother with it at all? It was easier to retreat within himself, hide, and hope he wouldn’t remember most of his encounters with Cazador, in the end.

The lack of response from Astarion enrages Cazador further, and in one swift motion he hurls the silver-haired elf onto the floor. The younger vampire lands with a resounding crack of bone – something inside the elf, apart from his spirit, has broken. Astarion would wince or cry, if he’d noticed it at all.

The vial and business card combination from earlier this evening tumbled out of the pale elf’s pocket during the commotion. Cazador snatches the small token up immediately; nothing that came home with the spawn had ever been allowed to stay with them.

Everything they found while outside of the palace became his; Cazador claimed this was his right as their master. The spawn did not even have rights to the clothes on their back. Astarion’s shirt had been torn by his master, restitched by his own hands, and then torn yet again more times than he could be bothered to count.

The Vampire Lord doesn’t bother to read the card; he simply crushes the vial in his hand and throws the resulting shards of glass at Astarion. The card is thrown into the flames of the fireplace without a thought.

Cazador is bellowing insults again, but the silver-haired elf barely acknowledges the venom spewing from the Vampire Lord’s mouth. He’s focusing on the perfumed residue that’s been scattered across his face along with tiny shards of glass, which have now embedded themselves in his cheeks and forehead.

The fragrance is positively ambrosial, and Astarion just now realizes that you had been wearing this very scent in the tavern. It was what had caught his attention in the first place. The smell proved to be an almost irresistible combination; he’d never smelt anything else quite like it.

The spawn thinks his face is bleeding, and glass might have gotten in his eye. Every time he blinks, there is a sharp, grating feeling, and so eventually he stops blinking altogether. He doesn’t need to, anyway. Instead, his visage turns into a thousand-yard stare.

Bergamot, rosemary… and what else? Astarion can’t place it.

Bergamot. Rosemary. Bergamot. Rosemary.

Cut. Slice. Stab. Whip. Blood. Bile. Scream.

Bergamot. Rosemary. Bergamot. Rosemary.

Cut. Slice. Stab. Whip. Blood. Bile. Scream.

Bergamot. Rosemary. Bergamot. Rosemary.

Astarion jerks awake, shocked by the sharp, resounding clang of metal upon metal. He’s shirtless, it’s freezing. The pale elf soon realizes he’s in the kennels, lying on the cold, damp cobblestone. The rough, slimy rock is poking into his torn back at all angles. Rats chitter about in the walls, causing his skin to crawl in revulsion. 

He hates those disgusting vermin.

It was always cold and wet down here in the kennels. The stone would often sweat from humidity. As it did, it released the rotten scent caused by hundreds of years of torture performed on all Cazador’s spawn.

Piss, shit, bile, and blood.

A disgusting bouquet of misery. 

The kennels always reeked of vile filth, but the silver-haired elf swore he’d caught a whiff of something simultaneously citrusy and earthy, accompanied by the tinkling sound of a woman’s laughter just before he woke.

Bergamot and rosemary? 

But there’s no one else here. Just Astarion and the skeletal form of Godey, currently preoccupied with clanking metal and grumbling to himself.

By the time the vampire spawn fully returns his consciousness to his mind and body, he’s too late to avoid the rough metal chain swinging to smack his head. Astarion grunts at the impact and instinctively clutches his face with his now-freed hand. So that was the metal clanging… Godey was releasing him from his chains today.

His throat is absolutely raw. His mouth is dry. Every swallow sends sharp, stabbing pains through his nerves. 

Had he been screaming?

He can tell he is starving, but that isn’t exactly new… that particular ache was always present.

Had it been hours? Days? Weeks? Astarion couldn’t be sure. There are hundreds of slashes of varying sizes and depths across his body; he reeks of blood, bile, and dried sweat. What he can see of his arms, in the parts not entirely caked in grime and congealed blood, looks to be a strange blend of purple and green. 

“Are you dumb and deaf, spawn?! Out with you, boy!” Godey shrieks, ripping open the cell door and flailing the chain threateningly, “Lord Cazador says you are to get ready for the Greengrass Gala! All spawn are to attend!”

Greengrass? Hadn’t it been a few weeks past Midwinter when he was thrown down here?

He’d been left there and sliced to ribbons by Godey for months.

Why had he been locked in the kennels in the first place? He couldn’t remember. All he could remember was the smell of bergamot and rosemary and blurred bits of conversation in a tavern. He could almost recall that scent combination now. 

Had he been trancing or sleeping? Was that a memory or a dream?

Godey is shouting, rushing Astarion out of the kennel with another haphazardly placed whip of metal, singeing the spawn’s already shredded back. He’s sent to see Dalyria for mending; she begs him to just behave himself next time.

But what had he done, besides nothing at all?

Astarion enters the dormitory to prepare for the Gala. By the looks of his forearms, Dalyria has already done all the hard work. His bruises and cuts are almost gone, and he is certain the rest will disappear prior to the party.

He thinks it’s strange how he can be torn to shreds and restored a thousand times over; an unwilling phoenix risen from the ashes. How much easier it would be to simply crumble and fall with one step into the sun or one vial of positoxin. 

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. 

If only he could be that lucky.

But luck hadn’t been in his favor for over two hundred years, and he was certain it would never be on his side again. He’d prayed to Tymora, the goddess of luck, and every other god and goddess he could remember while locked in that tomb all those years ago. He’d promised to pledge his undead life to their service, if only one of the beings would answer him. Tymora had ignored him then, like all the others.

They were surely ignoring him now.

Astarion doesn’t know why, but he bathes himself in a combination of bergamot and rosemary oils while he prepares for the Greengrass Gala. He doesn’t know why, but something about the smell tricks him into feeling comfort… if only for a moment.

-----

After 200 years of misery, the tides of luck may have finally turned for the vampire.

Astarion is basking in the warmth of a campfire, out in the wilds, breathing in the freshness of the countryside.

It’s the first night in camp. Every sensation out here is new. The breeze dances across his skin, causing the curls around his ears to tickle the sensitive flesh around his pinna. He shudders at the sensation and shifts closer to the fire. Warmth is almost entirely foreign to him; all he truly knows is cold kennels and the iciness of his own skin.

He doesn’t remember if he’s been outside of Baldur’s Gate before; he can’t recall a single moment prior to Cazador. Astarion's undead existence had been filled with the scents of decay and despair, found all over the city and especially inside the palace.

Until now.

The vampire couldn’t remember anything about you, at first. It was as if the parasite had unlocked the recollection, delving into some subconscious vault of memories Astarion could not access himself. He hadn’t remembered you, prior to the parasite’s assistance, but had held onto pieces of information he'd learned from the conversation.

The prickled texture of the grass underneath his palm distracts Astarion as he vaguely listens to his two human traveling companions discuss healing potions. You needed to find a cauldron and distillery set to start concocting things for the journey ahead. The wizard was wondering where something like that would be found out here in the wilds.

As his two campmates chat, Astarion sees more flashes from the conversation he'd had with you in the Drunken Dragon. Everything about that night returns to him in a hazy film, almost like recalling bits of a dream.

Until today, the pale elf believed the concept of positoxins was something he'd always known somehow. In the same way he knew his own name or understood Elvish. But he'd learned that from you. You were an apothecary. You'd given him a business card. You'd asked him to write, and the business card had a vial attached to it, which contained a sample of…

Shit.

Bergamot and rosemary.

Astarion stiffens, and his head jerks to take in your profile. Inky black hair falling just past narrow shoulders in soft waves; warm, olive skin, and purple irises. He crinkles his brow, thinking the eye color is a bit unusual for a human and trying to recall what you looked like in his memory.

Surely, he would have remembered an attractive human woman with purple eyes, wouldn't he? Had you changed, somehow? Is that why he didn't remember you at all?

Though, he did see a lot of faces. And intentionally chose to forget almost all of them. He didn't want to remember the faces of his victims, didn’t want to know their names, didn’t want to remember the way they screamed in agony after he lured them to their deaths.

You don't notice him staring; in truth, you had practically been ignoring him all this time and only focusing your attention on Gale. 

The fragrance you'd given him had wormed its way so deeply into his subconscious that he’d been borderline obsessed with it. He’d tried his best to recreate the scent with what was offered at the palace, but of course it paled in comparison to the one held within his mind.

You had somehow escaped being his victim. Luck may never have been on his side, but it apparently had been on yours.

Why, then, had he forgotten everything else about that interaction? Forgotten you? 

The pale elf doesn’t understand that his own mind had chosen to hide the memory of that night in the tavern. It was a protective measure, constructed by his own shattered psyche. The memory had to be concealed because it held the subtle sensation of hope. Hope was a dangerous thing for him to have. Misery was familiar. 

Hope would convince him to take risks that he couldn’t afford.

[popawritter12]

I loved your yandere rain! Would I be able to request a yandere havik with a male reader?

Author's Notes: Let's not say that I do not paid a lot of attention to Havik during my "stay" in MK1, but after digging a little into his lore, I was very attracted to this idea, I hope you like it!

Yandere! Havik x Male! Reader

Yandere character: Havik From the videogame/anime/manga/movie/serie: Mortal Kombat 1 Case: Kidnapping, chilhood friendship, agression to the reader. Warning: Mention of rape, SA and physical and mental abuse on the reader. Part:1 of 1 Finished:Yes

Where had he gone?

That question, short and simple, that could be answered in two or even a single paragraph, had run through your mind for so long that it seemed like it already knew where each nerve was, where your darkest sorrows were hidden, or where the heart lay. memory of that man whom you admired so much at the time.

Havik was his name; You still had the memory of when you saw him for the first time, someone quite tall, hair that gave off strands that barely followed an order, a stupid smile on his face - which, it should be noted, his lack of emotions when he walked away from you - and acting nervous when talking to you.

That's how he was, as stupid as a king in love, as kind as a vase when manipulating the stems of a flower, and as sweet in simple acts as company was on a fearful afternoon, or help in moments of crisis. .

It was because of that—or perhaps, because of the change of letters on each card—that, when you saw him again, with that mask covering his jaw, there was only one question running through your head.

Where had he gone? Who was this strange being that had the audacity to invade the body of your loved one? Of all the people in the world, why specifically him? And his face, fearful and even aggressive at the moment your hands appeared between his two cheeks, only showed a feature that you were lucky enough to see at the moment of his departure; the horror.

Whether it be to the unknown, or to how horrific the journey that he was forced to undertake was going to be when he left his hometown, or even to this moment, where the emotions have such an overwhelming size that it is frightening, that it causes such feeling in his heart—which seemed to have turned to stone after so many months away—that softens his soul, but that generates earthquakes in his mind.

He felt rotten, after so much time alone, after so much pain without being shared, and from such burns that it makes one believe that they would never heal, he felt as if throughout the trip, he had suffered a metamorphosis, one such that At this point, it caused everything to go to hell.

He never wanted to allow himself to love, but with you everything was different, with you it always had to be different, perhaps because the gods wanted it that way, or perhaps because fate, always cruel and cold, decided to condemn his soul to this torment. . The torment of seeing you from afar, of knowing that he had become a monster, a strange creature and that he had no place in his town, and, going even further, that he changed both his physical appearance and his soul, as well as his thinking. , like his belief that, even in the darkest moments, there was a way out.

But. that light never seemed to exist, or at least when that witch, so vile and deceitful, ruined all his hopes to nothing, submerged all his innocent thoughts of keeping you safe in an ocean of pain, from which there seemed to be no escape.

So ugly and cruel was the reality that he had to take days to accept that the path was the most difficult, however, that was never mentioned in the letters. The same ones, so sweet and tender they were, that it seemed like he was playing with your mind, that he was tricking your head, that he was writing a fairy tale so that you wouldn't escape from his grasp, much less from the reach of his arms.

However, Havik also learned to be cruel, so cruel that, more than one night, he happily fantasized about destroying those suitors who dared to touch what was his, longing to steal a heart that belonged to him, and seeking to generate in you a feeling of apathy for him.

But, in poetic words he was expert; so many days dedicated just to writing to you, so many spelling mistakes fixed, and so many papers thrown into the trash solely because they did not meet his expectations of expressing his growing and throbbing love in every drop of his blood for you.

Maybe it was his eccentricity to deceive you, or his professionalism when it came to expressing his affection for you in every letter that you fell into the trap of his arms, in the obsessive ties tied to his soul, and in the eccentric loves that decided to torment everyone. and each of your thoughts.

It was exceedingly painful for you to see how different it was when he saw you again; the look in his eyes when he simply saw your figure again in the darkness made you foolishly believe that he was the same as he was when he was gone. However, it was when his arms trapped you in an immovable grip that you noticed something was wrong.

He had that pleasure of wrapping his arms around you, of laying his head against your hair or simply allowing him, so desperate and eager to free people from him, to receive even a token of affection, a small sign that he was doing everything right, a piece of reality, which was that you were with him, that you were there to receive him with a hug, and that, above all, the relationship that for years was seen as tender, continued to lie. same love that they felt for each other, that affection still existed, that energy of showing love, that joy that generates in the heart of the other to be in the presence of the one whom they considered was the destiny of their life.

“They are going to be freed,” he had whispered to you, “finally, the bastards will be gone.” he assures you, as if it were a wish that had finally come true. And as he joyfully intoned and highlighted how far he had come to fulfill his goal of freedom, your happy grimace twisted, protesting and alert to each of his words.

“What bastards?” You asked him “Are you talking about the wizard you had helped or…?”, you tried to continue questioning, but your mind clicked quickly.

You weren't exactly known for being smart, let alone being able to fully understand Havik. Even with all the time of friendship, or all the years of affection and sweet moments that you shared between the two of you, there was something that you always tried to ignore; that black stain which seemed to expand with the passing of the years, that sign of corruption which was only a small sign that maybe, and just maybe, the thoughts that lay on his mind were not as sweet and kind as you. you believed for so many years of stubbornness and lies. And of course, when seeing the reality, it was already too late.

Your screams were heard only by him and by Rain, who was the direct cause of so much blood and corpses scattered across the well-built terrain of your city, your town, your people, your beloved people whose lives had been so important to you how to breathe and release the air from your lungs. Your sobs, useless and exasperating, were the cause of Havik's anger, who seemed not to understand your desperation and anger.

The screams turned to pushing, pulling, and too soon, hitting you to try to subdue you, and it was soon when you ripped the mask from his jaw. His burned face, his angry countenance that could only be noticed by the tilt and expression of his eyebrows and the color that formed around his eyelids, only provoked even more terror in your soul.

This wasn't Havik, you repeated over and over in your mind. This is not my man, you screamed at your heart as he punches you in anger. Each spank against your skin was like a direct stab to your feelings. “I did this for us!” he shouted at you, but you couldn't hear him clearly, your sobs of pain and desperate attempts to try to escape him were as useless as a lamb's attempt to escape from a hunting wolf.

Again and again, the blows and expressions extended to reality by his lips caused your soul to tremble in horror. Something had happened to your much-loved man, whom you called the love of your life, the man who you had so claimed that he was going to be yours for eternity, and that you would belong to him until the end of time.

Of course there was a reality in those words; You were going to belong to this cruel man, even with all the horror, the screams and the storm that hit the city and the corpses that lay beneath the depths of the magic-tinged water, along with the screams of horror of the people who were victims. During the dark night where no one could return to their bed and rest as they deserved, you were going to be an object, a small, manipulable and weak object, whose openings caused by so many blows had to be covered by countless bandages.

But before everything escalated, the tan-skinned man's magic forced him away from you with a crash.

Even with all the damage already caused, and all the deaths that occurred during the few minutes that your “punishment” lasted for the futile attempt to make that man understand the mistake he was making, he had quickly reached the state of repentance.

Even with your attempt to speak, it was difficult for the man whose name you didn't know to try to understand your speech, and only Havik's aggressive and understandable reaction reminded Rain how dangerous it was to try to prevent you from being hurt further. The fight, inevitable even at such a crucial moment in the people's “liberation” from the forcibly established order, spread, but it was obvious that it was already useless to try to reason at such an important moment.

It was the first and last time Havik forgave Rain for anything, and it even took him a few hours to realize how much he had gone too far when it came to hitting your face. But at that point, his mind, having the room of rottenness so normalized, just decided to “let it go.”

It was painful to remember that you were about to faint as buildings fell on your friends, where your family searched for you all over the city even on the brink of collapse and so close to death, and knowing that, even if you had tried, you wouldn't have managed to even move a hair on the man who looked so hurt by the experiences he gained after such a long trip, much less knocking down his companion.

The only memory you had after such savage blows was hearing his voice, that voice that had made you crazy with love for so long, and that now only caused terror in your heart.

Days passed until your eyes opened again, and the bed, the worn walls, the sheet that covered your skin and the bandages so poorly fitted that they seemed to have been hastily made were not part of your room, nor of your house, or anywhere in your house. And the rough footsteps in the distance reminded you of that man, no, that monster who had ruined what meant so much to you.

Disgusting, was what you thought when he treated you with all the kindness he could, and your serious expression demonstrated the obviousness of your anger, and even in your crude attempt to pretend that you were just looking to “get used” to your new life, there was only a look of anger on your face.

No, of course Havik was not easy to fool —or at least that was what you believed during your first days in your new home—, much less when he was able to weaken you and generate a trauma in your mind, one such that it could reduce your mind to nothing if he shown even a little cruelty.

It was horrible knowing that you had been deceived, so many hours, days, months dedicating yourself to knowing if he was alive, if he still loved you, if he still planned to return to your arms and whisper in your ear how much he loved you. All thrown down the drain the moment you realized his horrendous cruelty.

For countless nights you planned the escape of your life, but each attempt was worse than the last, and it was even more difficult when he seemed so calm when you simply didn't say anything or beg to be released. Of course, when something was wrong, he had to force himself on you through fear, and obviously, you were too manipulable for him at that point.

Without daily exercise in those four walls you lost your strength, there was no room for magic, much less a measly attempt to stab him. Everything was so useless at that point that it seemed impossible to escape.

But a ray of light crossed your life when the chains managed to soften his overwhelming grip after resisting your struggles for so long, and by then, you managed to escape during that time. Your feet against the twigs on the ground, and your gaze fixed on various animals that crossed your path as you hurriedly fled from that home of terror, everything was even like a fairy tale for you.

But reality hits much harder than it embraces, and in this case, it hit you with Havik's cruelty when he managed to find you. And of course, at the time of the encounter, his anger was so thunderous that he seemed to be unstoppable at this point. Every second in which you were dragged by his powerful arms along with threatening promises of how cruel he would be from now on was overwhelming.

The cries of pain still terrorize your mind during the first few nights he had the nerve to force himself on you again, but now in the worst way possible. You still tremble as you remember all the nights in which you were barely able to get a little rest; Whether it was because of how cruel he was to your poor, weak body, like the bite marks on your neck and neck, or the pain after the forced acts, or the crying that you were forced to suppress after so much agony, everything was so horrible that to this day is traumatic.

Day in which, even with the hope that those stormy nights were only generated by his temporary anger over your miserable escape, it was only a small beginning of what was to come in the rest of your life, the suffering that was going to twist your life. mind and shatter it only to cause a pleasurable twist in the mind of such a macabre man, and a minimal taste of the pain that awaited you until the end of your days, for the man you once called the love of your life.

[futureplayboibunnie]

‘Sincere’

Dr Strange x fem! reader

- OH MY FUCKING GOD. this is the longest smut fic i’ve ever done and i think it’ll remain my fav forevermore. dom!Stephen has me feral no joke. enemies to lovers is my niche. it’s my baby and i’m feeding y’all bc i spent so damn long on this one. enjoy u sluts x

he’s so fine i just wanna bake for him

Who's fault was it?

No one really knew.

It was simply one of those things the universe designed even though it was completely manufactured by you and Stephen alone. Resentment is a funny thing, it was a hilarious thing when you and Doctor fucking Strange were involved - how can two people who work together hate each other on such a cellular level? You weren't even sure how he even had the grounds to hate you, to be so sure of something when you couldn't even place how he even got to this conclusion. Well...that's a lie. It was something that you couldn't even get into. It wasn't even about petty insults or arguments anymore. Stephen was seriously messing with your head in ways you simply didn't have the time to comprehend.

Stephen was always so fast. Obnoxious. Relentless and an aphrodesiac.

He honestly thinks he has the skill set to fuck every woman he sees, it wasn't unheard of. Stephen Strange believed himself to be this sauve master of pulling women, knowing what makes them tick, knowing how to get them down and dirty for him. Prince fucking Charming...well…without the sunny personality and gentlemanly persona. Did he even know what object permanence was? Stephen was never one for relationships, this was something everyone knew and believed. His work, his duties always came first but he was prone to entertaining sometimes. Everyone knew he wasn’t one for relationships.

He literally believed that himself. Relationships were never really on the cards for a guy like him. But now, you were the card counter, skewing his game, cheating the game he himself made up.

You were stubborn. A tick under his skin. Born to hang on, born to win, born to never give up or change your opinion and the one he's come to expect the most from you- you were born to never finish an argument. Arguments between you and Stephen can brew out of lot of things, stupid things, casual things- anything. Mission plans. Choice of weapon. Coffee. Fucking laundry. You would bicker like an old married couple and it was becoming distracting to the point where it would make people talk- at Kamar Taj, the Sanctum and the Avengers Compound. You both weren't safe anywhere. The last time he fucked you over it had gone too far, he exploited his photographic memory to point out every single thing you did wrong on the battlefield. Stephen can mock you, judge you for your rotten personality but he could never ever insult the way you carried out your work- he couldn't take that away from you. What made it worse is that he literally did it infront of everyone, your friends, peers and the people you respected.

The whole situation made you frustrated. And when the frustration builds and you think you could explode- you take a deep breath. You want to shout at his face, have a tantrum and beat your hands on the ground like a spoiled brat or rich kid that always get what they want. You want to vent, find the softest parts of him and just twist the knife. But do you really want to stoop to his level? It's just so easy to be cruel in the moment and then after that the damage is done- but that's the pussy way out, something someone with better judgement would obviously do. You weren't feeling warm and fuzzy about him at all, it was time to turn the tables on Stephen.

It was your turn to do your own sleuthing. It was more than he deserved.

Stephen was out of the Sanctum and you had nothing better to do...so you decided to do some snooping. A man always hides his secrets in his room and Stephen was no ordinary man so whatever he's hiding will defintely be worth your while.

Angry isn't a rational look on Stephen. He felt that there was a ghostly cord hanging upon his spine and pulling him back like a puppet on a string. You were the puppetmaster. As with most primitive emotions, when anger is directed by the logic, empathy and creativity of the higher brain, it becomes an element of the hero personality. Stephen often questioned if he was a hero sometimes, he definitely wasn't the hero in your story...he couldn't be after everything you've both been through. Women weren't a mystery to him. You weren't a mystery, you were a whole goddamn conspiracy. It's weird and it's like you took a small bite out of his brain and it sent him in a permanent zombie state. Stephen was at his wits end.

The Sanctum was like a barren landscape, no one was there and a sigh of relief escaped you. You were at Stephen's bedroom door and you actually felt a twinge of anxiety sever your nerve endings. He was so cunning, you were sure he could jump out at you at any moment.

The door was fucking solid, etched in ancient oak and runic markings. You were surprised when you tried for the door handle and it opened, creaking it open you were happy to see that he wasn't there. Your first thought when you viewed his room that it was so fucking Stephen. Perhaps you had paid a little more attention to him than you had realised. The thought was startling. Spellbooks were strewn all over the room, did he even take care of his sacred relics? They were priceless. The walls were artifact adorned and priceless paintings were hung and championed like trophies, you couldn't stifle your eye rolling at his pompous nature. It was like he was dedicated to being pretentious. Other than his books, his room was immaculate. He was such a clean freak and it obviously it had to come out in a place that he was supposed to be the most comfortable in. Stephen's bed was massive, it was so regal and royal. You wondered how many women he fucked in this very bed. The kind of positions he put them in, how many times he made them cum. You frowned at the thought.

Why should you even care?

Your legs instantly gravitated towards his bedside table. Men hide all sorts of things in their bedside table. You had to be quick, you had a mission briefing in like twenty minutes and you were sure the rest wouldn't be happy if you showed up late. Stephen's bedside was neat but it was freakishly neat, too neat- you knew he was hiding something. You opened it up and you damn near stopped breathing.

Your heart stopped. Full throttle.

The drawer was full of sex toys? You scoffed, eyes paling at the sight. Your fingers traced over the velveteen and you had to bite your lip to conceal your shit eating grin- now this was interesting. You pulled out and examined the silk blindfold. Blindfold? Jesus Christ. Stephen was into kink? Of course he was, it was glaring, clear as day but you couldn't really contain the extent of your surprise. Why was this pleasing you so goddamn much?

It's so telling.

What really caught your attention was these silver metal balls that were strung together by a thick woven string. Oh? You were curious as to what these did...how did Stephen- what did he….? Absolved in your own thoughts that you simply couldn't bridle, you couldn't even hear that Stephen was at the door.

He was stood there, bewildered at first to see you in his space, in his room. Stephen should've been mad- seething actually especially at you but he just let you do your snooping. You were such a curious little thing, curiosity was your on button and he honestly thought it could get you killed. But in this case he'd allow it, considering that look. He was pleased.

Very pleased indeed.

Why isn't he angry with you right now? Why isn't he screaming and yelling at you to get out? He was gawking at you like a fool but he was enjoying it, seeing you come to so many new revelations about him and what he was really like and what he really wanted.

‘’What are you looking for?’’ Stephen finally cracked through the silence with a condescending question. He knew what you were doing and you felt like you were being scolded by the principle for cheating.

‘’Uhm…dirt.’’ You said with a fake plastic dazzling smile.

‘’You find anything?’’ He raised a quizzical brow, already knowing what you were looking at.

‘’I'm finding out things about you that you'd rather go unseen.’’

‘’Are you blackmailing me?’’ Stephen asked as he was treading over to you, hoping to intimidate you slightly but you weren't backing down.

‘’No. I'm threatening you.’’

‘’Oh you're cold.’’ He smirked down at you, attempting to pysche you out to make you feel off your game but you were at your wits end, you were simply not prone to his mind games anymore.

‘’And you're a masochist. You get off on this?’’ You smirked at him as you dangle the silver balls inbetween your faces.

Stephen scoffed. ‘’You're probing on my private life and now you're morally policing me?’’

You had a puzzled look on your face and Stephen revelled in it. He took the time to look at you in this resolve and he simply couldn't resist applying a label on you- stunning- when you weren't pelting him with insults and ransacking his room, but it did build his adrenaline when you finally saw the real him. Passionate. Rageful. Intimate. You had a pretty face, a banging body...why not make you squirm and have fun in the process.

‘’What even are these?’’ You recoiled as you held them, genuinely confused as to what they did. How did you even wear them? What did they even do?

A devious idea was mentally forming in his head, although he wasn't sure if you'd agree to it, especially considering your feud. But you were here, peacefully discussing the use of sex toys. You'd definitely leave if you didn't want to be here. You were smirking up at him and he let a sly smile form on his face. God. He wanted to fuck that stupid smirk off of you. It'll happen soon enough.

‘’What, you want me to give you a crash course or something?'’ Stephen stared down at your glassy eyes, so unclear of what you were thinking.

Come on, you needed to give him some sort of direction, you were awfully distracting. He didn't have the time to bend you over now.

Your mouth was running itself before your brain could even check it.

‘’Yes. Actually.’’ You confirmed and Stephen couldn't really fathom you saying those words. Yes! ‘’Surprise me.’’ You chided, you seemed way too chipper about this idea.

Fucking hell. You felt the density of the air changed immintently, it thrummed against your brainwaves. Flirting? With Stephen Strange? Now he was going to show you...whatever those balls do.

Shit. He could make or break you right now.

‘’Open your mouth.’’ Stephen ordered softly. Your face paralysed in shock at his request and you found yourself mindlessly obeying his command-your curiosity outwon you again.

Your mouth popped open and Stephen was satisfied that you actually did what you were told for once.

Fuck, that mouth of yours. Your lips. Your body. He had blinders on it before but now you were flaunting yourself off for him, only him- even if you were disguising it at as an educational opportunity.

Stephen thought that you were as dirty a he was. He slipped the balls in that sweet wet mouth.

‘’We need to get them wet. Suck.’’ Stephen hummed, completely satisfied with himself. Although that was shaken when your eyes just widened and you weren't actually doing anything.

‘’I'm not gonna ask again.’’ His head tilted down, eyes darkening as he warned you again. He didn't have time to. You actually took his warning though, wich he was equally as surprised by.

You began suckling on it, they were smooth and cool and your mouth had a bizarre reaction to it. Jesus Christ. Images of you down on your knees sucking him off, choking and gagging around him made his dick twitch in his pants. What was he, fourteen? You flashed him a brazen look, giving him those fuck-me eyes, batting your lashes as if you were this innocent little thing- all lies. Sweet lies. Stephen dragged them out of your mouth and you let them go with a pop, letting out a shaky exhale afterwards.

‘’What was that for?’’ You asked and blinked up at him dumbly. You didn't even realise how pathetic you sounded.

‘’You'll see.’’ He quipped and that just made you even more nervous. ‘’Now turn. Bend over.’’ He said under his breath, attempting to conceal his obvious smile. You tensed yourself when he thought of you as that breakable. You were not breakable. Hell no.

Stephen Strange asked you to bend over. Fucking bend over. What was he going to do? What did he want to do? You never once imagined yourself doing what he asked, but once again you did. Lust can be fun, not trustworthy, but you didn't have time to think it through properly, no time under that dark deceptive gaze.

You bit your lip and perched yourself on his bed, arms holding you up. Wiggling your ass too to show that you can flirt. You shot him a teasing look and Stephen just wanted to take you now but you both had a mission briefing in about ten minutes.

Watching in pure disbelief, Stephen lowered to his knees and it was such an unexpected sight- you were sure you were dreaming. He had this stupid smug look on his face and it was so irritating, the anticipation and suspense was killing you. It was driving you mad. You shivered when Stephen pulled down your pants, it was fairly easy- you had no objections. He was face to face with your sweet ass, your underwear was cute, black, simple. Stephen wondered what you would look like in fine lingerie and sky scraper Louboutins. Nothing but Louboutins.

"Stephen... what-?’’ You were shaking, you couldn't even get out what you were trying to say without stammering like a jittering fool.

‘’Shh…Keep still for me.'’He cooed at you as he brought the balls up against your skin and it made goosebumps break out in hives.

Stephen pulled your underwear to the side with one finger and positioned the balls on your clit. You let out a breathy gasp as you felt him put them there, it was such a different sensation. It felt so heavy. So good. Your eyes widened at the feeling, mouth agape like a pathetic idiot. Any other day you would've reprimanded yourself for acting like this...but today was different. He was basking in the glory of the sounds you made, whimpering and whining even though you were trying to bite them back.

Stephen smiled when you let out a dry chuckle, he planted a kiss on your asscheek to show his appreciation. He pulled your pants back up and you were honestly feeling faint, the sensation of those metal balls on you finally showing up.

‘’Stand and turn around.’’ He demanded again.

You swallowed as you picked yourself back up and turned around. The look painted on his face told all, sly smile, bright eyes- he was up to no good. He hasn't even told you what they do yet. You let out a shaky exhale as the proximity between you was growing smaller and smaller.

"So Dr Masochist...floor me.’’ You teased.

‘’Oh just you wait and see.’’ He taunted and you frowned.

What the fuck? Was he seriously about to hold out on you? You had a fucking mission briefing in five minutes.

‘’Are you kidding?’’

‘’Let's see how you feel after the meeting's over.’’ You wanted to bash his face in.

You let the words settle in you and even then it never fully registered. this had to be some sort of practical joke, just another way to embarrass you. Now that was something he got off on. When you stared back into his eyes, it only confirmed he was deadly serious- but then again when was he not serious? Even when he was trying to flirt he was all serious and hard features.

There's no way this could end well...but you wouldn't be you without taking a few risks.

‘’Stephen, you can be so obtuse sometimes but I didn't think you'd be actually fucking crazy. For all I know, maybe this thing you put on my pussy is actually a fucking bomb or something.’’ You said breathlessly, contemplating whether or not this toy was actually a secret torture device- it would just twist the knife within you and you wouldn't be able to live it down.

Stephen would be able to hold this against you forever.

‘’A bomb? I haven't reached that level of kink yet but I'm sure we'll get there eventually.’’ He bit his lip as his eyes thinned down on you, completely enjoying himself and how these events may actually unfold.

Stephen grabbed your arm after conjuring a portal to the Compound and his touch made you shiver, your body had a viceral reaction to his touch and it honestly just left you confused as he pushed you through the portal alongside him.

‘’We?’’ You questioned as you raised an intense brow. The gall. The cheek he had to say we. It surprised you- in the best way.

‘’Mhm. Let's see how you fare.’’ Stephen muttered as the balls of your feet hit the Compound marble, trodding your way to the meeting room to be briefed for tomorrow.

‘’You really have no faith in me and I think that's the main reason why we don't get along.‘’

‘’That confidence is going to shatter soon. See, I'm being nice and I'm warning you about it.’’ He scoffed and you honestly felt everything within you shaken up.

Stephen couldn't wait to see the look of excrutiating arousal on your face during this whole debacle; he'd simply treasure the moment and taunt you for it later but for now he just wanted an outline of what your beautiful face looked like when you came. Just a morsel of what's to come, this switch in dynamic was...different. Heavier than hate. He liked it. A lot. When other people and other agents in the Compound saw that you and Stephen were walking together. You weren't arguing or having a screaming match you were both just walking. Their mouths were agape in shock and any other day you would have been joining them in their disbelief, he was smirking and smiling at you like an idiot and that was more than enough to make other people think and question.

‘’Stop smiling at me. You look like a psycho.’’ You mumbled at him under your breath but you couldn't say anything either, you were smiling too. You let out a giggle and your pussy started clenching, a gasp fell through when you felt the balls actually on you. You swallowed and Stephen obviously caught onto it.

You entered the room and you were met with Tony's incredibly unsatisfied frown- you were both late and you felt like you were being scolded at by the principle for your tardy behaviour but Stephen didn't find it in himself to care. However, Tony's frown dropped and his mouth popped open in shock: you and Stephen were sitting next to each other. Like, actually next to each other without clawing each other's faces off. How fucking high are you two right now? Tony had a rule for this shit- no drugs before meetings, get high later preferably with him. He wondered if you had been smoking a fat blunt or took some shrooms or something- there's no way this could possibly be happening, it was simply one of these things that shouldn't be happening.

‘’Oh thank you for finally showing those cheery faces, we all missed you. Now pay attention: this is important.’’ Tony reprimanded but you genuinely couldn't pay attention. Perhaps you had underestimated Stephen's word, the thought was startling.

Throught the meeting, you were just in this zombie like trance, all hypnotized, you couldn't pay attention to any word uttered by Tony or Steve, Natasha or whoever. Your eyes were just fixated on the plain beige wall, lips parted as you gazed off into the distance like you've just been hit in the head with a baseball bat. Stephen stole a few glances at you, you were finally beginning to crack and he had to pretend to be devastated even though it was something he was expectant of. He could barely contain his delight; Stephen was right, he was always right and this was just another example of that- he didn't like the way you always doubted him, he'd show you soon enough. He just had to keep a straight face, but he let himself slip up a little: the corners of his mouth were tugging up slightly and he was trying his hardest to surpress it. You looked so whistful, so pretty, so restless and he was enjoying every second of it; Stephen had never felt himself be lazer focused on any woman but it was always different with you. Always. His eyes widened slightly when your perfect lips parted and you let out a shaky exhale, your breathing was becoming heavier and you obviously tried to hide it by the way your head was darting off to the side, your palm met with the back of your neck and it was heating up so quickly, so rapidly.

Stephen watched intently as you ran your hands along your thighs, he didn't think you'd break apart so quickly. What really did him in though was when you bit your lip to conceal your shallow breaths. It pleased him to an immeasurable degree, although he could read your body, he wished he could read your mind.

You couldn't hide your shaking. You were actually giving in and you hated it, you couldn't embarrass yourself like this. Especially infront of everyone.

You were so damn horny. So fucking wet and tense. Aching for a release.

What exasterbated things though was the way Stephen was looking at you, it was like he was waiting for you to slip up, to catch you out and prove that you were weak. Impatient wasn't even in the ballpark of what you were feeling, so many emotions and sensations were coursing through you, thighs clamped and feet thrumming on the ground. Your leg was jolting up and down and you couldn't control the way your body was reacting.

So that's what those silver balls did.

Washes of arousal throbbed at your pussy and all you could think about was Stephen fucking Strange. You couldn't lie to yourself any longer, you'd be cheating yourself if didn't want him so bad right now. So so impossibly bad. Pain stakingly bad. So bad it's good.

You knew you were done for when Stephen put his large hand on yout jittering leg. His hands were actually on you. In that moment that's when you knew you wanted him to fuck you dumb. Fuck you dizzy. Fast. Hot. Rough. Intimate. Crazy. You were seriously about to lose your mind.

Shooting Stephen a startled look, he knew he got through you and with that in mind he clamped onto your thigh harder. You darted your face away and then you met Natasha's cool and inquisitive expression. Shit. She was onto you. You stifled an agreeable smile but it made her raise an eyebrow, though she finally looked away. Stephen was amused by it all, mostly with the fact he got you like this. So uptight. So tense.

Stephen leaned into your ear and mumbled at you. ‘’Relax. You're going to give yourself away.’’

You wanted to scream a very needed 'Fuck you! I know!' but you couldn't.

When you looked at the clock, only seven minutes have passed. Seven measly minutes. Fucking seven. This fucking meeting was fourty-five fucking minutes fucking long.

It was like fucking was the only word in your vocabulary. You couldn't help yourself, all you could think about was fucking. Preferably fucking Stephen.

Time went on. Time ticked by, it's clicking becoming louder and louder as it pounded through your eardrums. Focus wasn't on the cards for you, but that was a good thing- you didn't realise that the meeting was over. You were thanking the God you didn't even believe in, praising the lucky stars above you for this heavenly moment of mercy. You were about to explode. It wasn't healthy. Heart hammering beneath your heated skin.

Everybody scattered out and now you had Stephen all to yourself, you'll deal with the confused looks and the tangled web of outside judgement later, needing him was the only thing you felt. Stephen made you hang back from the others when you exited the room, his hand on your forearm as he gave you a cunning calculated look. Tingles electrified your body and your heat pulsated at the minor touch- God you felt so pathetic but it was all his fault.

You sighed in relief when he twirled his fingers and made a portal back to his room; Lord, the yearning was impenetrable, unbreakable. It was all so secretive and provacative. Sexy and desperate. Stephen tugged you through the portal as if to hide you away from the rest of the world, shield you from wandering eyes and gazes from men who didn't deserve to even look at you. After finally getting you through safely and closing the portal back up, Stephen loosened his grip on you and let you stand alone as he leaned on his bed frame.

Now. What to say to you? What to do to you? Stephen had you all to himself now and he felt like a kid at Christmas. What a shame, you were so confident you could get through this but yet again he proved you wrong.

He always wondered what you looked like all fucked out and desperate and on days like this, he was so goddamn grateful to have a photographic memory. You stood there, breath shallow and heavy all at once and you were waiting for him to do anything but Stephen's eyes bore into yours intently. Waiting. Watching. Observing. Imagining the array of things he simply could do to make you cum- which wouldn't be too hard to do after what you were experiencing. Stephen got the hard bit out of the way, getting you all horny for him but now he was overthinking the easiest bit: what to actually do.

‘’So. How'd you feel?’’ Stephen's face brightened and you weren't happy. He was just pandering now and you were way too impatient for that- it was clear enough.

‘’Restless.’’

‘’Expected.’’

‘’Impatient.’’

‘’Getting closer.’’

‘’Hot.’’

‘’And?’’

‘’Wet.’’

You gave in, you gave him what he wanted: the cracking, the breaking, the realisation that he shattered you, Stephen was trying to draw this out and it finally dawned on you. Although, you began to question that fact when he made his way over to you, you beat him to it however when you charged at him like a raging bull and just wanting to feel his hands on you. Stephen smirked when he caught onto your wrist in your trajectory and tugged you into him. Your breathless gasp was palpable.

‘’Very determined to fuck aren't you?’’ Stephen pointed out the obvious and it made you roll your eyes.

He gripped onto your jaw to make you realise how serious he was. What kind of man would that make him if he tolerated such rude behaviour! Absolutely not.

‘’Don't be dumb. You're smarter than that. Being dumb won't get you anywhere. So if you want me to put you out of your misery don't be callous and hard-hearted.’’

‘’Are you hard?’’ You asked sensually, already knowing the answer, eyes big and wide and so desperate.

Stephen scoffed down at you.

‘’I said don't be dumb. You're asking the obvious.’’

‘’Don't patronize me.’’

‘’Don't make me punish you for that snotty little attitude’’

‘’I'm not impressed.’’ You scolded even though you were simply on no grounds to.

‘’You're not impressed? Really?’’ You were shocked to see that he was offended.

You nodded at him and it made Stephen's jaw tick, you could hear the bones crunching and grinding together like grit and sandpaper.

‘’Your body tells me otherwise.’’ His voice was low and husky- as if he had never been sure of anything else in his entire life.

‘’You cheated that's why.’’ You stepped closer to him and his grip on your wrist tightened.

‘’Touche.’’ A keen and entirely true obsevation, disarming as always and but he couldn't even care. ‘’You want me to take those balls off or keep them on and edge you?’’

The latter scared you. Him fucking you with them on would make you hornier than ever and to edge you as well? Out of the question- you weren't in the mood for glute jokes.

Your mouth shattered into his, lips capturing lips to capture each other's essence and to say it was bliding and heady was an understatement- you tasted bountiful, fruitful and excessive. There was too much of you, too much sweetness to comprehend, too much sweetness to taste. You were rotting his teeth beautifully. Your distinct taste was making him drunk and it only reinforced that when your tongue tangled with his. Stephen's arm loopholed and travelled around your body when he let go of your wrist, you smirked against his lips when his hands were wandering down the planes of your back to the curve of you ass. You fit his hand perfectly it was insane, like you were designed just for him.

‘’I wanna know what kind of torture you've been going through this evening. You really held your own during the meeting.’’ Stephen was mocking you when you ripped your lips away from his.

‘’You know exactly what.’’ You breathed tirelessly.

‘’Tell me or I'll go slow.’’ Stephen's threat made you pout slightly. ‘’I don't think that'll be fun for either of us.’’ He smiled and you just had to give into his incessant requests.

‘’You. Stuffing me full. Making me leak for you.’’ You exhaled before you leaned in and bit his lower lip and tugged it back. Hard. Stephen was surprised by your gall, you were so desperate to get in his pants you were actually doing what you're told. ‘’ That explicit enough?’’

Fuck this.

Stephen thew you on the bed careless of where you landed, so rough and hasty with his movements; like the need outweighed the practicalities. His body dominated against yours as he fawned over you, he looked like a God. He quite literally felt like a God: omnipotent and omnipresent in his stance. His mouth instantly went to your jaw and he bit down on it so hard you were sure he left teeth marks on you, it made wildfire zip down your core. Fucking hell. This man.

Now… what to do with you.

Stephen grabbed at your shirt and ripped it in two, the fabric tearing apart in both hands and he was happy to see you weren't wearing a bra. Your tits spilled from your top and he threw the discarded remanents to the other side of the room. You clawed and barbed at his back to get his shirt off and for once, he took you by law and did as you motioned. You relentless, tireless thing. Unyielding. Remorseless. He pinned your arms above your head and he ducked down to ghost at your lips.

You were at his beck and call. Under his mercy.

‘’You know what? I never really got the chance to scold you for rummaging through my things. Going into this very room, being perspicacious and then having the gall to threaten me.’ ‘

‘’If it get's you like this then maybe I should do it more often.’’ You bit your lip as you whispered against him.

Stephen didn't like that. At all.

No, no baby.

He had to put you in your place.

Stephen let go of one of your arms and his thick fingers clamped around your neck.

‘’You do not disrespect me, okay? I've been lenient today but you were actually being very impolite. I can't have that.’’ His voice was heavy, gruff and severe.

‘’An astute observation.’’ You sneered up at him. ‘’So you expect me to be under your thumb?’’

‘’Yes.’’ Stephen stated simply, so casually.

‘’You're so brainy Stephen. You're right all the time. I'll wake you up with breakfast and a blowjob. But right now I need you to fuck me. Hard.’’ You vilified and it made time stop in his palm. How dare you? He was livid. He was indignant. Stephen clamped onto your waist and he suddenly flipped you onto your stomach and spanked you.

‘’I don't think that was very sincere.’’ Stephen rebuked as he straddled your ass, his dick pressing into you and it made those silver balls act up again. ‘’You wanna try again?’’ He gave you the chance to redeem yourself and be polite.

You turned your head and looked him dead in the eye as you mouthed the words that would set your course. ‘’No.’’

Stephen's face contorted into an exasperated scowl, you bit your lip trying to be cute and flirt but he simply wasn't in the mood anymore. As a response he just shoved your face back into the pillow as he worked your pants off and discarded them to the floor. Your skin was flawless. Not a single fault on that perfect body.

‘’Stephen…’’You whined as you wiggled your ass against his clothed crotch.

He didn't respond, he just ripped your underwear off and you gasped at the feeling.

Fucking hell, the feel of his hands on you were too much to bare; your brows tensed when he finally pulled those silver balls off of you, your sigh of relief wasn't even one of relief- it was of pure freedom and unbridled bliss. The amount of wetness he had to work with was making him so insanely happy, you were soaked and so ready for him. He smacked your ass again and it was becoming difficult to control the direction of your whimpers and whines- you didn't even know what you were begging for.

The sound of him undoing his zipper made an absurd amount of electricity fall through you, like a number of concrete blocks falling upon you. The air was so heavy and dense- all you could do was wait for him.

‘’You look...pretty almost...like this.’’ Stephen chuckled to himself and head around and you shot him and angry glare.

‘’Fuck you!’ You screamed, voice going hoarse in the process of forming

‘’Isn't that what you've wanted me to do all day?’’ He cocked his head to the side as you smirked at his depravity. You opened your mouth to speak but you genuinely couldn't get the words out.

Stephen registered your silence as a response and he couldn't help but laugh down at you. How cute. He shoved your face back down again and it made you whine into the pillow.

He tugged his cock out and you felt him slap against you...and...uhm. Wow. You didn't even have to look at it to feel how big he was, you were actually worried he would split you in half with something like that and you wondered how you'd be able to walk after he was done with you. Stephen was pleased with your reaction: it was clear you were excited.

‘’Show me how much you missed something you never had.’’ You lifted yourself up again to challenge him and he was more than willing to oblige.

‘’You're dangerous.’’ He whistled and you honestly took that as a compliment. It made you blush.

Stephen was rock solid and he slid into your pussy with an ease he was hoping and striving for. You clenched around him so perfectly, so tight, so well fitted. You felt as good as you looked. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, moaning as he tugged you back into his torso- it was like he was a wall of pure muscle. He liked that you squirmed beneath him, to make you clench around him harder he bite down on your shoulder blade and peppered delicious kisses on that unimpaired skin.

He rutted into you relentlessly, with passion, with a hunger and ferocity you'd only wish other men would have. You were feral for him, a wild cat under him as you arched against him, he clenched his teeth as he saw beads of sweat fall down your back. A symphony of sounds erupted in the dense air surrounding you both, you felt so lewd and naughty- you could only imagine what the others would think if they walked in on you like this. You smirked at the insane thought.

The hopeless amount of pleasure you were feeling was insurmountable and overwhelming, a cyclone of desire began building within you and it was idomitable to bear. Unconquerable. Stephen felt invincible, of course all this hate had to lead to this- fucking you crazy. It was such an intense realisation. With that thought, he pinned your arms behind your back. Shit. He was going faster, brutal, he was unbeatable and it made you whine like a lunatic. How did he do that? How could he do that?

‘’Come on, baby. Be sincere, no one else can see you break...just me.’’ He cooed.

‘’S-Stephen…..Please...I can't h-hold on any longer.’’ You stammered like a jittering fool.

‘’Oh, you can't? Didn't think that was in your vocabulary.’’

"You're w-wrong! Just shut up!'’

‘’Come on rocks, buy my silence. Cum for me.’’ The baritones of his voice sent you into overdrive- his voice alone could make you cum.

The sheer grip in which he held you was enough to drag you to the edge, you couldn't keep it in anymore, your body had given out. Stephen felt your warmth coat him entirely, you were so wet and slick and it made him so happy that he was the cause of that- well, with the help of those balls of course. And with that delighful sound you made as you came undone, he filled you up entirely in thick white ribbons. Jesus Christ, this was the fastest he'd ever came; he was embarrassed by the way he felt like a teenager- he was really questioning his stamina, you wore him out and he wasn't sure if it was for good.

He panted as he rolled off of you and tumbled next to you, completely spent and done for in a matter of sheer moments. You went limp as your body lay flat against the bed, trying to bridle the thoughts swirling in your head.

‘’Did I buy your silence? Was that sincere enough for you?’’ Your mouth was running itself a whole goddamn marathon, honestly just trying to keep up with the brutal pace he set beforehand.

‘’Yes. But be snippy with me like that again and I'll keep those silver balls on you for months.’’ Although he was completely serious of his threat, he did have to admit, he loved your smart mouth- it was so disarming and incredibly charming. He liked this flirtatious banter, he wanted it to continue.

‘’They did all the work for you it seems.’’ You insulted with a bashful smile and a blushed face, already going against his threat.

‘’Oh…that mouth. What am I going to do with that?’’

[kyndredravenstories]

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 12

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/149739049

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, Dark!Xavier, Intense!Rafayel, Foreseer!Zayne, typical game violence, battle and combat, PTSD

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6 / Ch 7 / Ch 8 / Ch 9 / Ch 10 / Ch 11

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Though he holds the woman he loves in his embrace, Sylus is far from relaxed.

He keeps her close, sharing his strength with her, staying still as she leans on him and closes her eyes. He gives her the shelter and support she needs in the moment, but as he does so he takes his phone out of his pocket and makes a few calls.

Directions to Luke and Kieran, first and foremost. His bloodhounds must stay on the trail while it's fresh. Sniff out the rat and bring him to N109 alive. At this point, a quick death is not a mercy Sylus is willing to grant. In conversation, he restrains his anger as much as he can. It's tricky to speak softly and avoid saying exactly what he means. He takes care, highly aware that Ellara is likely listening to every word.

The second call is for his car. As it pulls up at a nearby curb, Ellara tugs shyly on his hand. An argument is coming. He recognizes the adorable pout to her lips, finding himself staring at her supple mouth much longer than he intends.

"Could we walk home?" she pleads.

"It's cold," he frowns.

"Don't you like the cold?" she pokes his chest.

"I'm not the problem. You'll catch a chill."

"I won't. Please?"

Sylus gives a weary sigh. He's really not in the mood to walk all the way to her apartment, but when she wraps her arms around his waist and looks up at him with her big doe eyes, he finds himself caving rather readily to her silly whim. Seeing her through Mephisto's eyes and stolen photographs is vastly different from having her close where he can smell her, feel her presence, and sense her warmth. When such things tease at his senses, he can hardly control himself around her. Affection and tenderness fills him. Relaxing his shoulders in defeat, he tousles her messy dark hair.

"Fine. You're spoiled rotten, that's for sure."

"Walking helps me think," she defends. There must be a lot on her mind now after all that's happened and all that's been unveiled this night. She doesn't like him teasing her, but her playful anger is better than weeping or mourning a dead man. She still seems dazed after the explosion, and he doesn't press her for any updates or answers. Even if this calm is temporary, he isn't willing to break it. Besides, there are worse ways to spend time than to walk with her holding his arm and sharing an umbrella.

Sylus leaves her to grab a spare winter jacket from the vehicle, dismissing his driver with a wave of his hand. Draping the black and grey garment around her shoulders, he smiles as he notes how large it is on her petite frame. She puts her arms into the sleeves, but they're much too long. The broad shoulders sag on her, too. Despite all this, she is breathtakingly beautiful in the unfamiliar moonlight. The silver glow accentuates her onyx hair and makes her skin gleam. For a moment, he ponders his fascination with her.

This small, unknowable, strange creature of his.

His to touch.

His to love.

His to protect.

It's a curse in any other name. Yet, it is one he bears gladly.

As they cruise at a lazy pace across streets and roads moist from the snow and rain, he finds himself enjoying the quiet moments with her. She tells him about her training and how hard its been to live without her Evol. She's so relieved when he tells her that what she drank earlier was an antidote. She's looking forward to the moment when her power comes back so she can seize her life again. Run missions. Use her favorite weapons. Feel like a productive member of society.

Sylus listens to her ramble, stroking the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb. Her excitement is soothing, yet bittersweet. If only she knew that the current state of her power is so far diminished from what it could be. Would she be saddened? Angry? He doesn't have the heart to tell her that she'd been used as a sacrifice -- again and again -- and that there are still those out there who would continue to do so. Fate hasn't been a kind mistress, not to either of them.

She's safe now in this time and in this iteration. Safe with him. But, he's not ready to make that claim out loud. Not yet.

There are tasks still left undone.

Despite the pleasure of her company, his temper remains unsettled.

Noxis isn't dead. That much is certain.

This night, Sylus came to the Destiny Café to claim a life, but he'd been thwarted. He's not sure what makes him angrier: the fact that Malakai escaped or the fact that he believed an explosion of such low caliber could harm the leader of Onychinus. Either way, he was being underestimated, and that simply wouldn't do. If word got out that this was the second time Sylus had failed to break this upstart's neck, his reputation would be jeopardized. In the short term, that meant more challengers and nuisances to fight. But, in the long term, it meant more danger to Ellara and more interference in their lives together. 

These last few weeks had been a game of attrition, a strategy to lure out Malakai into the open so that Sylus could kill him and end this circus with Noxis once and for all. Malakai had his eyes on Ellara, and Sylus used that to his advantage. He'd backed away from his contact with her, retreating into the shadows and banking on Malakai's impatience. Sure enough, when Noxis grew tired of waiting for Sylus to make a move, he positioned Ellara in harm's way in the hopes of forcing his hand.

What a pathetic fool.

She'd never really been in any danger. Kieran and Luke had been her silent and invisible guardians all of these weeks, filling in the blanks where Mephisto's communications left information out of regular reports. When she told the crow she was going to meet Noxis in person, Sylus was already prepared to intercept them. The goals for the rendezvous had been simple enough. Kill Noxis and take the antidote to LUMINIS off his corpse. So, how had so many lines become blurred in such a short amount of time?

Ellara was a wild card, that's how.

Sylus was prepared for Noxis to reveal his identity as her adopted brother, but he hadn't expected for her to defend him. Nor had he expected for the encounter to affect her so strongly. The revelation of her brother's betrayal must have been too much for her mind to process.

Initially, he isn't certain, but as the evening unwinds, Sylus begins to understand what's happened with more clarity. Based on her behavior on the walk home and all the questions she asks, she'd suppressed the events of this night, shutting the truth behind a series of mental barriers. Unexpected, but no matter. If that's what she needs to do to cope for now, then he would play along. In fact, it might be easier if she still believes her brother to be dead. He soon truly would be, after all.

One thing was absolutely certain. 

There will not be a third failure.

"Well, we're here," Ellara says, breaking Sylus's train of thought. He glances at the six story building next to them. A shabby thing. Old and derelict with peeling paint and water stains. Despite its owners' attempt to market it as a luxury apartment complex, he wouldn't even label it a motel. Yet, he's curious. Luke and Kieran sent him photos of the inside, but he wants to see it for himself. The place where she lives, sleeps, and spends the free hours of her day; where she unwinds and feels the freedom to be herself.

Sylus looks at his Hunter, so small and delicate. She's thinner than he remembers, and still so pale. Had this last month taken such a toll on her? If he was honest, it hadn't been easy for him either. When her partner had taken her from him, it felt as though half his heart had vanished with her. Sylus had buried his yearning and his need for her in his hunt for Noxis and search for an antidote. But, now that he was faced with the object of his desire directly, he could hardly resist her magnetic pull.

"Then, is this where we say good night?" Sylus asks, ready to pull back if she wills it. He hopes she doesn't; wonders if he actually would be able to listen if she tries to push him away.

"Do you want to...come up?" she asks, as though reading his thoughts. Relief. Excitement. He smirks in amusement, tucking a strand or two of flyaways back behind her ear. He makes sure to graze his fingertip against her skin in passing, gauging the level of her interest, reading every one of her minute expressions. To his delight, she shivers at his touch and covers his hand with hers.

"Is that what you want, kitten?" he smiles, wondering if he should take the high road. She's just been through something of an ordeal. She's likely exhausted. He should leave her be. Let her rest. Recover in mind and body. But, where's the fun in that? Especially when she's looking at him with such raw yearning, barely contained by the silly notion of what she calls "propriety".

If anyone asked him for his not so humble opinion, she was far from proper. Nothing about her was. Her eyes were pools of verdant ocean, light in places and dark in others. It was that darkness that now called to him and tempted, like a vast unknown crying out to be discovered. She was molded like a tempting little morsel, too. Firm and shapely with a slim waist and flaring hips, soft thighs he was dying to bite into, and perky breasts just begging for his affection. A bite-sized feminine package that he wanted to --

"I'd like that. For you to come up that is..." Her eyes skitter away from his. She deigns to blush. The little minx. Never honest and always so prideful. As if she could hide her thirst from him; as if he would ever leave her unsated.

"And what are you expecting me to do once you have me there?" He licks his lips, running his fingers through her hair then moving his hand down to the small of her back. Her breath hitches. The air between them grows charged and heavy.

"Well..." she still doesn't meet his eyes. "Your clothes are torn. And dirty."

"Mhmm..." He leans in, wrapping his arm tighter around her so their chests are flush. "And...do you have some spare shirts up there for me?" Her breasts rise and fall against him, her nipples already hard and pebbled. "Do you have so many men stop by that you keep such things on hand?"

"W-What?" she blinks up at him, and he finds comfort in the confused expression on her lovely face. Still, a flare of jealousy bites at him. Like a taser to the gut. He knows his words ring hollow, but just the thought is enough to sting. Sylus allows her blue-eyed partner a spot in her vicinity. For now. Out of necessity. Even then, the nuisance shows far too much interest in what is his.

Her phone rings out with an irritating and unfamiliar melody, breaking the moment. Sylus doesn't appreciate her rush to answer it.

"Xavier," she says, her brow furrowing.

Well. Well. Speak of the devil.

"I'm sorry. I know my message earlier was out of the blue. Everything is OK now."

A voice speaks on the other end, muffled by her ear.

"No, honestly I can't tell you what happened. Everything is a blur at the moment. I think I'm just in shock. There was a fire, and I think Malakai was involved. I'm safe, though."

More useless words and questions on the other end.

Impatient, Sylus reaches for her, but she pushes gently at his hand. He raises a brow. She doesn't meet his gaze. Irritation flares like a sparking firecracker in his chest. Really, now? What is this subtle body language? Does she have the audacity to ignore him? To command him to wait?

Ridiculous.

His Evol wraps around her wrist and hand, keeping both still as he pushes her up against the wall of the building behind a decorative set of trees. His jacket slips off of her onto the ground. She doesn't have time to be shocked before his lips press against hers. His tongue pushes into her mouth, breaking through a resistance so feeble its almost laughable. Slipping and dipping. Hands aggressively lifting her shirt and sliding beneath; caressing soft skin. In moments, she's writhing against him, gasping when he presses her other hand against the bulge in his pants.

"Ellara? Are you there?" the voice asks over the phone.

Sylus moves her thumb to push the "speaker" button. He lets her break the kiss, far too amused by the rising flush in her cheeks and the angry glint in her eye. She looks like she might hit him; he kind of wishes she would try. It would thrill him to watch her struggle, to tame his little vixen into writhing, wanton, and panting submission. Let her scratch at him with her little claws, too. Oh how he loves when she does that.

"I-I'm here," she says breathlessly. "Sorry, trying to find my keys so I can get inside."

"So you're at home now? You're safe?"

"Y-Yes. Everything is --mnn---" She bites her lip as Sylus's hand slips under her bra and cups her breast, rubbing against a hardened nipple with his finger. "---Everything is fine."

"You sound weird. Are you sure you're OK?"

She glares at Sylus again, but his smile only widens.

"Xavier, I promise I'm OK." She hesitates. A few emotions cross her face at blinding speed. She bites her lip and grimaces. "The truth is...I'm...not alone."

The voice over the phone goes silent.

Check mate.

Sylus can't help how his eyes grow wide in surprise at her admission. Truly, she is entirely unpredictable. Yet, so naïve. He's certain that she's completely oblivious to how the man on the phone feels about her, but despite that ignorance, his first guess would have been that she would shy away from revealing their connection. Yet, here she is. Being honest. And not in a subtle way either.

Despite this bold admission, the fire in her body doesn't abate. She's trembling against him, her pupils blown wide with lust and her lips swollen from his kisses. Should he make her moan louder? Until she can't talk at all anymore? She turns to him. Sees his intent. And the fear that widens her lovely eyes is just so delicious. That exquisite cocktail of anxiety, anticipation, embarrassment, and want makes his body grow hard and tight.

"Um...I'll call you first thing in the morning, OK? A lot's happened tonight, and I need to make sense of it all."

"As long as you're safe..." the voice says in a controlled monotone, the underlying anger there somehow satisfying.

Sylus pulls back his Evol and lets her end the call. As soon as its over, he grabs her by the hips and turns her towards the wall. As her soft ass presses against him, he can't help but make a sound of arousal. He ignores her when she whispers his name, rubbing against her, driving himself crazy at the thought of rucking up her skirt, ripping off her panties, and --

"No...Sylus...someone will see..."

He presses his nose against her ear, taking a deep breath of her scent, letting her soft hair tickle his jaw and send shivers down his core.

"Is that your only complaint?" he growls. "If so, then..." he grinds against her.

"Please..someone will see us..." she breathes, arching her back. 

"You're not doing yourself any favors by begging me like that, sweetie," he warns. "One more word and I'll have you right here..." he drops to a whisper, relishing her helpless whimper as he sucks on her earlobe. "Unless that's what you wanted me to do from the beginning."

Ellara bites her lip. Through the haze in his thoughts, he feels how cold her skin is, and some rationale returns. Wasn't he the one who was concerned about her moving through the winter chill?

"Please," she whispers. "Let's go inside."

He sighs. Gathering her against him, he Jumps to the third floor then through the wall until they're standing in her dark entryway. Her apartment smells as sweet as he imagined. Strawberries, perhaps. Or cherry blossoms. It's a subtle scent; not purposeful. Something gathered over time rather than forced with candles or oils. It's soothing, though at the moment there isn't much that can be done to quench the fire in his blood.

She wanders off to put on her slippers. Or tries to. Sylus doesn't wait until she's taken off her shoes; he can't. The phone call set off something feral in him. Territorial. As soon as possible, he wants to ensure that he is the only one occupying her thoughts and worries. Ignoring her weak and shy protests, he roughly pulls her up against him and into his arms.

Shower first. To get the smell of that fire off of her. Get her warm and comfortable. Help her relax in the steam with his hands and fingers. Check her skin for burns and injuries with his mouth and tongue. A noble pursuit, one should think. Look at him taking the high road after all.

I missed you.

I've needed you.

I've longed for you.

In all the ways he can, he tells her this without words. Through mind-numbing frantic kisses. Through bold caresses and touches. He tries to be mindful of his strength, but she tests his self-control. He bites. His fingers hold too tight. He's so hard it hurts, but he refuses to take her. Not yet. First, he wants to hear her scream his name. Moan and whimper and beg him to come.

He shoves her back up against the shower wall and kneels down, holding her hands and wrists in place with his Evol so his own are free to wreak havoc on her senses.

"Spread your legs," Sylus tells her, pressing his lips against the flat of her belly. He rubs his jaw against her skin. Up and down. Letting her feel him and gasp in anticipation. His lips ghost downwards, hands running over her thighs and to her calves. Down then up again until she's squirming. "More," he croons, pressing a kiss to the apex of her thighs. She throws her head back and shudders. Even under the hot water, goosebumps run across her skin.

In the end, she proves too shy. Or maybe the sensations are simply too intense.

He grabs the back of her knee, nudging her leg up.

"Wait...Sylus..."

"You know I won't," he chuckles, placing her knee against his muscular shoulder and spreading her wide open to his burning gaze and eager touch. When she fights, he steadies her with more of his Evol, unwilling to entertain her shyness in this moment. With his hands, he smoothes her legs apart, easing her open even more, baring the glistening petals of her sex to his blazing red eyes.

"Are you ready for this, sweetie?" he rasps, nearly delirious with his need to taste her. He doesn't wait for a coherent reply. Slowly -- torturously so -- he nudges her clit with his nose, blowing a faint stream of air over the hypersensitive flesh. She jerks against his restraints. Above his head, she gives a broken sigh. He looks up, staring into her wide lust-filled eyes, the color darker than he's ever seen it.

Unable to wait any longer, he laps at her, his tongue moving in darting, twisting circles against her folds. His eyes close at the euphoric taste of her. She shudders, her head shaking back and forth as her hips dance against his mouth. He moans against her core, intentional with the vibrations of his rumbling voice. She cries out wordlessly, her voice raw,  straining so much against his Evol that her whole body shakes. Her knee quivers on his shoulder, toes curling.

Squeezing the thigh resting on him, he brings his free hand up to her opening and eases a finger inside to his knuckle. She rewards him with a squeal, and he starts moving it in and out of her. He pulls against her shivering walls then pushes back inside. Again and again as she wails and thrashes in ecstasy. Honeyed juices rush out against his lips and tongue, and he adds another finger.

"Yes!" she whimpers desperately. "Yes...yes, please!"

He hums against her, her excitement driving his own. Still pumping his fingers in and out of her, he pulls her clit into his mouth and starts sucking. Her insides quiver and tighten around his fingers, flesh swelling under his ministrations.

"Don't stop," she begs, tears running down her cheeks. "Don't stop, please!"

He groans as she shudders wildly against him, her orgasm catching them both off guard. It's sharp and intense, and she's clearly overstimulated. He eases her down, maintaining steady soft motions against her with his tongue. Gradually, she softens against him. Sated, silky. He backs away from her sensitive bud, pressing a soft kiss to her folds and then her thigh. With a stray thought, he releases his Evol from around her body.

Small, delicate hands weave into his hair. Nails graze at his scalp. He hooks his hand around the back of her knee. This time, as he stands, he lifts her leg up and presses himself between her folds. She's still coming down, still dazed, and its in this half delirium that he finally surges into her. She's so tight that he nearly comes on the spot, but he reigns himself in. Not now. Not yet. It's been too long and he needs to be joined with her, to rail her until there's no room for anyone in her thoughts but him.

Both of them groan loudly when Sylus finally settles himself all the way inside, so deep that the head of his cock pushes right up against the opening of her cervix. Despite his vicious and desperate train of thought, he's careful with her. Gentle. Slow. Lost in his love for her. Bewildered, as he thrills at hearing her chant his name in soft cadence to each thrust. Like she's claiming him. Like he's hers just as she is his. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he lets out a ragged breath of pleasure as she brushes her lips across his jaw and ear. Surrendering. Accepting him. Urging him to go faster without saying a word.

She explodes right as he does. He groans as his orgasm washes over him. He spills his passion inside her, spearing into her tight passage over and over as the madness holds him in a vice. His body tightens, muscles quivering as instinct has him thrust once more as deep as he can possibly go. Her nails rake down the back of his neck, and he sees white at the euphoric pain. 

Piece by piece, the haze falls away. He grows aware of her silence and slow breathing. Concerned, Sylus brings an unsteady hand to the back of her head, stroking through her wet hair.

"Sweetie," he calls. "Are you alright?"

She makes a little sound of agreement, but doesn't move. Carefully, he lowers her leg to the ground. When she's steady, she hugs him tight. He turns off the water and snags a nearby fluffy pink towel, wrapping it around her. 

Their bodies are slick and wet. As she moves against him, the friction of her silky skin slipping against his abs sets his heart racing for a moment. It's an unfamiliar and dizzying sensation, and she is the only one who can trigger the phenomenon. He feels himself swelling against her belly, already hungry again. 

She inhales sharply when she realizes, her fingers exploring him. He grips the hair at the back of her head, suddenly fantasizing about how her mouth would feel wrapped around him. Perhaps soon, he can find out. 

"Sylus..." Her brilliant green eyes meet his. She's blushing, still shy despite everything thats happened between them. Just as earlier that day, he's helpless to refuse what she's about to ask. "Please, will you stay tonight?"

Strange. Unknowable. Wonderful. Terrible little creature.

His weakness.

If she wanted, she could completely and utterly destroy him.

She'd done it before, after all. Many a time.

"What is it? Have I not satisfied you enough?" he teases, tracing the lines of her back.

"It's not that," she burrows her flushed face against his shoulder. "I just...I've missed you..."

"Hmm...such honeyed words for me."

"I mean it," she hugs him tighter. 

He makes a sound, half sigh half chuckle. It's his turn to surrender. 

"Alright. I'll stay." He presses a kiss against her forehead. "But, I doubt you'll be getting any sleep."