#smut adjacent

[itiswormtimebaby]

Here’s what I’m thinking about:

Biker!Bucky (who also happens to be your brother’s best friend) comforting you when you accidentally get way too high and think you’re going to die. 

TW: Recreational drug use (weed), talks of death (reader feels like they’re dying), virgin reader, suggestive

The illicit baked goods were handed over with very clear instructions, only eat HALF. But you were so hungry, and the brownie was surprisingly good, and what would really be the harm in eating a whole instead of a half? Death. Inevitable death would be the harm. 

There’d been a very pleasant twenty-five minutes where it felt as if you were dancing on air, now you could barely get any- breathing shallow, chest tight, head heavy. This was it. Goodbye, cruel world. You knew there was little to be done so you decided to embrace the inevitable, if you acted quickly maybe you could go in your sleep. So you filled your cats food bowl, pressed a quick kiss to her head, and crawled into your hammock to await the end- but wait, wait you couldn’t go with regrets, that was a sure fire way to come back as a ghost and you did not want to haunt your crappy walk up forever. No, no regrets. 

So you called James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky, your brother’s Bucky. Bucky who lived only a few blocks away, Bucky who could send you off without regret. He picked up on the third ring, and didn’t get much in edgewise after a hesitant “Hello?” 

“Bucky! Bucky I’m dying and I need you to come over right now. The doors unlocked.” You’d hung up before he could ask any questions, best to save your breath, you reasoned. For his part Bucky had politely but firmly asked the girl currently occupying his bed to leave, and made for the door, tugging on gray sweats as he went. While he was positive your dumb ass wasn’t dying he wasn’t willing to leave you in a distressed state. 

When he kicked off his bike and made it inside he’d found you curled up in your hammock, clinging to your cat, eyes squeezed shut; he’d grabbed your attention with a gruff “Bug?” You’d shot up, furry feline friend taking off with a displeased hiss at the sudden rocking motion; “Thank God, Bucky! Get over here, I don’t have much time.” He’d crouched down next to your hammock, bringing his cool metal hand to your cheek, brushing away some stray hairs and taking note of your blown out pupils; “What the fuck are you on?”

“It- it was supposed to only be half the brownie, but I ate it all, I’m such an idiot and now-” He bit back a laugh realizing you were just stoned off your ass, not wanting to add insult to injury as your eyes welled with tears “-now I’m dying but I can’t go yet, Buck, I can’t, because if I die full of regrets I’ll have to haunt this stupid place forever.” 

“For Christ’ sake, Bug, you’re not dying, you’re just stoned.” 

With an adamant shake of your head you reached down and grabbed his flesh hand, pressing the palm of it flat to your chest as the tears in your eyes finally spilled over with a warbling hiccup; “I- I’m not, I am but I’m not- I know what death feels like.”

His mouth popped open in mock surprise; “Oh, you do? Because you’ve experienced it so many times?” 

Your bottom lip quivered as you glowered pathetically at him, “D-don’t be mean to me. Not right now.” Torn between pushing the issue and humoring you he chose to go with the latter. 

“Okay then, Bug, no regrets. How can I help?” 

With a small watery smile you turned in the hammock to fully face his kneeling form; “We’ve got to have sex-”

“Jesus fuck!” Your sincere expression, tear stained cheeks, and glassy eyes awakened something dark within him, pleasure spiking within his groin and pulling him to half mass even as he adamantly shook his head no. Seeing his refusal you began teetering on the brink of tears again; “Please Bucky, please, you have to fuck me, it has to be you. I don’t want to die a virgin and I love y-” 

Quicker than your sluggish brain could process the cool fingers of his left hand wrapped around your mouth, silencing you as his other hand smoothed across the top of your head and down to cup your cheek, thumb stroking it in small even passes. He took three steadying breaths, eyes clenched shut, before he met your gaze; “Shut up. We are not having this conversation right now.” You whined behind the gag of his hand, but he just shook his head firmly in return, so much for humoring you. “Bug, you are high as a fucking kite. So here’s what’s going to happen; I’m going to go get you a drink, and then you’re going to sleep. End of.”

He stood abruptly, moving towards the door of the bedroom as you pleaded with him to come back and take you, promising he could do whatever he wanted as long as he was inside you. You didn’t stop rambling until he stormed back in with a glass of water, towering over your prone form. “Listen to me,” he hissed “when I finally fuck you the only thing you’ll be high on is my cock, so do me a favor and shut the fuck up about it so I can take care of you until then.” 

AN: In hindsight I’ve taken some liberties with the use of the word “comforting.” 

[greenishghostey]

Prompt lol

"Are you humping me?" "...maybe."

The good shit right here 👌

///

Most people would look at Eddie and assume that he was a slob. The town’s running theory about how he lived was close to that of a feral raccoon in a restaurant dumpster.

However, that could not be further from the truth. Eddie was messy - who wasn’t at the best of times. But he was never dirty. He always made sure to do the dishes, hang up laundry and vacuum when needed.

Eddie “domestic goddess” Munson. That’s what you liked to call him while he dashed around doing chores because you showed up to his trailer too early.

There was something oddly attractive, almost sexy, about watching Eddie clean. He usually changed into comfortable clothes that he didn’t mind getting wet. An old Slayer t-shirt and navy pyjama pants with one of the back pockets missing. The pyjamas hung low on his hips and shifted perfectly when he walked.

After a magnificent spaghetti and meatball dinner, Eddie insisted on doing the dishes because you were the guest. He always seemed to forget just how much time you actually spent at his.

With his back to you, Eddie hunched over the soap-filled sink. The muscles in his back moved as he scrubbed at the dried tomato sauce on the bowls. His hair was loosely tied back so he wouldn’t need to keep shaking it out of his face.

The guy was obscene. And he was doing the dishes. It amazed you just how effortlessly alluring he was. Even in the most mundane moments, there were little flecks of saccharine intimacy.

The sweetness of the situation was comforting, and calming too. But you had a much better method of expressing just how much you appreciated his domestic efforts.

“Babe, can you bring the glasses over too?” Eddie asked, gesturing behind his back at you and the dinner table. You were already silently on the prowl towards him. He wouldn’t suspect a thing.

“I’m gonna leave mine out. Need more lemonade.” You replied, keeping your voice quiet to imply distance as you closed in on your target.

“You've had two glasses already! I only got like half of one because you had to take a leak-" Eddie was just about to turn around to point a soapy finger at you, but it was too late. You had launched your attack.

Your arms snaked around his waist as you pulled yourself impossibly close to his back. You reeled your hips back and started humping Eddie like some feral animal in heat. Exaggerated moans and groans were also included - it added an element of dramatic flare that he would no doubt appreciate.

"Are you humping me?" Eddie laughed, standing still and peering over his shoulder at you. He was glad that you could be such a little weirdo with him.

"...maybe." You did your best to imitate his sex noises - groans and a wonderful amount of whimpering. "You're so wet, couldn't help it." It wasn't a lie, his hands were dripping, and some of the water had gotten on his t-shirt.

"Uh-huh, all for you," Eddie whined, trying his best to imitate your sex noises. Douchebag that he was. "You wanna feel how wet I am?" was he actually getting off on this? He couldn't be.

Eddie wasn't getting turned on - well, at least not entirely. He had about a half-boner going. The moment that you started to slow down in your thrusts against his ass was when he struck. A pile of dish soap bubbles were pressed into your chest as Eddie cackled like some mischievous gremlin thing.

"God, you bitch!" You shrieked, swatting at Eddie as he continued to basically massage your boobs. The ulterior motives were all too clear.

"Yeah, call me that again. Fuck, I'm gonna cuuuuuum." He moaned and giggled, now humping at your thigh with a firm grip around your waist - you weren't going anywhere.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

Thinking about running into Iida at the community gym and you two are the only ones in there.

He throws words around like "written warning", "curfew" and "class representative responsibilities".

If only he knew you were staking the place out, waiting for him to be the last one working out.

Just hoping he'd give your bare ass a little reprimanding.

Taglist ::: @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82 @millennialmagicalgirl

[briarberrythornedhart]

Aperture

A 1413 word Meet Cute from Eddie’s POV

His uncle had asked for one favor this weekend - just the one - to fix an awning on the trailer. It had fallen down during a bad storm over the summer and Eddie had sorta half-noticed but kept putting it off and putting it off and you know how it is...

He knew that awning and a ratty vinyl deck chair made Uncle Wayne’s favorite place to drink a beer and smoke and relax and see some actual goddam sunlight once and a while despite the vampire shift he worked.

He also knew Uncle Wayne shouldn’t be climbing up on any ladders and trying to fix things that Eddie could easily help with.

Anyway - it was Sunday afternoon and that meant he had to take care of it now or he would let his Uncle down and that would feel shitty.

The weekend was slipping away like weekends do.

Eddie got out the tool chest and he moved one of the sturdier chairs underneath the awning supports so he could look up and see where the problem lay. It wasn’t a complicated mechanism- a yard of dirty white vinyl attached by aluminum railing and held up on two sides by rusty poles. Ah! The grommet had torn out from one corner. This problem called for duct tape.

The air was heavy today with promised rain later - and the birds were quieter than usual. Everything was quieter than usual. The sound of Eddie tearing a strip of tape with his teeth carried far in the stillness of Forest hills park.

As Eddie stretched upwards to reattach the vinyl with his newly improvised duct tape fake grommet, he suddenly felt as though he was being watched. He scanned the trailer park from his chair-perch and saw the newest addition to the neighborhood staring (up) at him.

Eddie knew fuck-all about her except that she lived in a small silver airstream all by herself and had nice legs, usually shown off in some be-devilingly short sundress. Today it was cut-offs and just a tank top despite the crisp wind.

She was near his van. Her head cocked to the side and her thumb receiving a bite from between pretty lips.

He was used to being stared at at school but not here.

Eddie snapped out, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” before he could stop his mouth.

He was generally used to staring being a prelude to aggression. Detention, jock-posturing, someone calling the cops - anything along those lines.

“Sensible suggestion.” She agreed, nodding, “I’ll go get my camera, if you take off your shirt.” She pursed her lips in a little amused grin.

Eddie blinked in surprise. He was unusually at a loss for a clever retort.

She walked a few steps closer. “Film would be better - you in motion - you know? If only I had a super-8 hand-held or something...” She sighed this, and held up her hands - fingers forming a square so she was putting him in the frame.

Eddie got carefully down from the chair and shoved his hands down in his jean pockets, leaning towards her. “You want to film me? Does it look like I’m about to do something idiotic or slapstick?”

She walked around him, eying him up and down. “No - I’m just saying the camera would love you.”

“You’re fucking with me.” Eddie accused, he licked his upper lip and crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t you have anything better to do of a Sunday afternoon?”

“I’m not. I do not. But I bet it would be nice to... fuck....” Her eyes met his and her cheeks were redder than before, he saw her swallow, and she whispered. “... with you.”

She started to walk away.

“Wait.” Eddie jogged after her. “You can’t just... I mean you can, clearly - but why would you just say something like that and then walk off??”

She turned towards him but kept walking... backwards, “Maybe I am going to get my camera.” Then turned back towards her home.

Eddie stumbled in his stride, stopped to consider if she would come back- then followed her closer. “Hey... I didn’t say I would take my shirt off.”

“Won’t you?” She was wistful, she leaned towards him and brushed her shoulder against his.

“It’s kinda chilly today, I don’t know if you noticed?” Eddie looked pointedly at her clothes. Small, tight, summer weather clothes.

“Want something warm to drink? Warm you all up?” She asked, her tone all honeyed. They were almost at her door.

“Sure??”

She let him in and Eddie was immediately hit by a great smell. Apples and cinnamon. “Want cider or hot cocoa?” She asked.

“I’ll have what you’re having” Eddie was quick to say - because those are both delicious and he didn’t want to be greedy and say can I have some of both eventually(not together) - which was his initial thought.

The small cooktop had a pot on it, she lit the burner beneath it and the cinnamon smell intensified.

And Eddie looked around the interior of her home curious about everything. It was all fall leaf colors from the deep yellow shag carpet to the dark red curtains. He could see her bed - a nest of fluffy pillows and rumpled sheets and blankets. He considered taking a running jump into it to see what would happen.

She used a dipper to fill a big mug with the hot cider. “Do you want a splash of cinnamon whiskey in this?”

“Absolutely.” Eddie put her book back and took the mug, he sat on the long bench couch across from her kitchenette, He took an immediate swig and slightly burned his tongue. “Thank you. S’delicious.”

“Soooo... May I take your picture?” She asked and then sipped her own drink.

“I guess so? If you really want to? Weirdo.” He taunted.

She smiled over her mug. “Stand up.”

Eddie did so - getting into the center of the trailer. He watched her lift the couch seat - under was some storage space out of which she pulled a polaroid instamatic. She turned and aimed it up at him from a crouching position. She snapped a picture and then moved behind him, Eddie looked at her over his shoulder. “Are you done?”

“Are you?” She challenged.

Eddie started to take off his Hellfire Club shirt.

“Slower?” She asked. He could see her biting her smiling lips under the camera until she snapped another picture and placed the photo in the pile with the other one.

“You sure I don’t look...stupid?” Eddie asked - he was trying to take off his shirt slower but once it was up around his neck he just pulled it off and balled it up - wondering where to put it -feeling even more self-conscious. Eddies go to move for pictures is to pull a funny face. Including school picture day to his Uncle and the photographers combined chagrin. Eddie doesn’t do serious picture posing. Or whatever this is.

“You look hot.”

Eddie looked down. Shit - his underwear was showing. He tugged up on his jean waist to hide the pale blue cotton of underwear that needed a wash probably.

“I love your tattoos.”

Eddie looked down at his arms and made fists - flexed his forearms. Hear the camera click again. “Yeah? You don’t think they’re super scary or … trashy?”

“Nope.” She backed away from him towards her bed. “Throw your shirt at me. Overhand. Or curveball.” *snap* another picture of Eddie joined the others. And then another.

Eddie laughed “I have no idea how to throw a curveball for real. Like... is it sideways??” He chucked the shirt at her and she snapped another pic of him when the shirt landed at her feet. He picked one of the photos up and looked at his face. In the picture his brows were knit and his hands were on his shirt hem. “Did you want pictures of me looking very confused?”

“Am I confusing you terribly?” She asked. Pouting comically at him.

Eddie shrugged. He rubbed his arm over his bat tattoos. “I’m just wondering what you’re gonna do with all these pictures of me.”

“Oh - they’ll go in my bedside drawer.” She was sitting on her bed now - cross-legged. She beckoned to him.

Snap - and - snap - and another - snap. She documented Eddie approaching her. His nervousness was falling away. She was clearly into him. This was going somewhere.

He undid his belt - slowly. Half waiting for her to put the breaks on. But she didn’t.

She took more pictures and laid them beside her.

Eddie hesitated, touching the silver button of his jeans. “Is the camera gonna keep being... between us?”

She shook her head ‘no’, tossed her camera to the side, and tugged him by his belt loop into the bed.

[specialinterestshows]

Last chapter of my 3-part Finn Balor x jealous!Damian Priest fic, based on an anonymous request. Next fic I post will be a continuation of Absolute Smokeshow!

Warnings for this section: Biting, dirty talk, hickies

-

My M.O. (Missed Opportunity) (Part 3/3): Hell (In A Cell) And Back

"I did, because I do," Damian wasn't used to feeling so exposed and his face was getting warmer, but now wasn't the time to back out, "Te amo."

To his surprise, Finn started blushing and immediately asked, "For how long?"

“Truth is, I've been into you since you stomped on my chest during Hell in a Cell," Damian chuckled at the memory, "At first I thought that’s why my heart was racing" - he had a wistful expression on his face as he continued - "You kept impressing me during that match. Y cuando uniste a nuestro grupo... I was beyond happy. It wasn’t like the color in the world was dull before, pero cuando entraste en mi vida…”

“It was like everything was brighter, more vivid,” Finn said, catching Damian off-guard, “Just like it was for me when I first started talking to you."

Damian sat in a stunned silence for a moment. Somehow he hadn't fully prepared himself for his feelings to be reciprocated and everything felt a bit surreal.

"You never said anything," Damian finally spoke - not yet looking up or giving into the happiness that threatened to swell in his chest.

"I wasn't sure you were interested in men, to be honest," Finn laughed at himself, "I usually have a good gauge on that sort of thing, but it all goes out the window when I'm interested in someone; I get too wrapped up wondering if I'm just seeing what I want to see" - he gently placed his hand on Damian's, making Damian look up - "Happy to see that's not the case here."

The soft affection in the way Finn was grinning at him broke through Damian's instinct to close himself off, and he smiled back.

Damian closed his hand around Finn’s and looked deep into his eyes before asking, "Can I call you mine?"

"Thought you'd never ask," Finn replied, letting go of Damian’s hand to pull him in by his face for a kiss. The moment Finn’s lips touched his own was better than any other victory Damian had experienced. Finn pulled away to look at Damian lovingly, pale blue eyes glinting in the low light, before kissing him again. Smiling into the kiss, Damian felt Finn’s beard rubbing up against his own stubble and it ignited something in him.

Gripping the back of Finn's head with one hand, he bit Finn's lip, making him moan.

"Eres todo mio, lindo," Damian pulled away to growl in his ear, "Solo mio. Say it."

"I'm all yours, Papi," Finn breathed, blushing when he heard himself, "Only yours."

"Papi, huh?" Damian chuckled, watching Finn adjust the bulge in his pants before Damian's hand moved to gently wrap around Finn's throat, "What else are you into, cariño?"

Damian rubbed his free hand on the outside of Finn's pants and gave his throat a gentle squeeze, laughing when he felt it make Finn harder.

“In the parking lot?" Finn managed to ask between moans and gasps as Damian continued to play with him, "What are we, teenagers?”

"You really want to walk in on Rhea using Dom for "stress relief"?" Damian asked, gripping Finn's hair and kissing down his neck.

"Dunno - could be hot," Finn admitted, letting out a moan and squirming when Damian sunk his teeth into Finn's shoulder and started sucking.

"Dirty boy," Damian smirked as soon as his mouth was free, moving his hand to cradle Finn’s face, "Tell Papi what else you’re into.”

“How much time have you got?” Finn joked.

“For you, mi amor?” Damian answered, tracing Finn’s lips with his thumb, “Todo el tiempo en el mundo.”

[end part three of three]

[gayphob1a]

November 6th, Getting High

It’s a hard day every year. The anniversary effect, Joyce tells him. It’s been six years since the day Will went missing and set off the chain of events that changed Steve’s life forever. He wasn’t even there for that part of it, but getting to know Will, adopting him into his little troup of kids, and watching him fall silent on this day every year sets them all on edge. But this year feels different.

The anxiety is still there, and Steve thinks it always will be, but this time there are no tingles on the back of necks, no chill in the air that alights every sense into fight or fight mode (Steve is almost certain he has no flight or freeze reactions anymore). Plus, now he has Robin, and Eddie, and to the shock and awe of everyone involved, Jonathan and Nancy too. So this year, they get to celebrate.

Steve spends all day in the kitchen making Will’s favorite foods. Mac and cheese with a baked top of breadcrumbs, rotisserie chicken because Will loves the drumsticks, green bean casserole, which Steve isn’t a fan of personally, but it reminds Will of the dish Joyce makes on thanksgiving from cans they get at the foodbank, and he wants to spoil them with a version using fresh ingredients from the farmers market. There’s even a cake cooling on the counter and homemade cream cheese frosting, which Steve has had to swat Eddie’s sneaky fingers out of at least three times now. Eddie sits on the kitchen counter the whole time, keeping Steve company with a fondness in his expression that softens Steve to letting him lick the beaters he used to whip up the frosting. He’s a mess, and Steve loves him.

When evening rolls around, their apartment fills with the whole party. Even Argyle made the trip back to Hawkins to celebrate. He brings a bag of Cali weed with him, stronger shit than they can get out here, and Steve is completely fucked when it hits his bloodstream and looks at Eddie because Argyle’s weed always has a way of putting him in horny bitch mode, and Eddie with smoke streaming from his nostrils, giggling about how it makes him look like a dragon doesn’t help.

When the kids are full of food and piled up in front of the TV to watch Never Ending Story and mock Dustin mercilessly, Steve drags Eddie into their bedroom, unable to keep his hands off of him for another minute.

“Steve. Steve, oh my god.” Eddie pants as their hips roll together in a clumsy rhythm. “If you keep doing that you’re going to lose, baby boy.”

“Don’t care,” Steve pants into Eddie’s skin, intoxicated by the weed and the scent of his cheap cologne. “Just want you. Eddie… god I can’t believe I agreed to this being the word. Let me nut?”

“Fuck, okay.” And Steve can tell Eddie is just as desperate as he is after almost a week without making him cum. Eddie reaches a hand between them, cupping his hand around Steve’s cock to give him more friction to grind against, relishing in the wanton moans it draws out of him. Steve never thought the sounds of children screaming from his living room while he’s trying to get off would be a good thing, but well, he’s not exactly being quiet, and he’s dreading a lull in their shrieks that will inevitably get him caught.

He keeps moving his hips, his hands gripping at every inch of Eddie’s skin, squeezing his hip bones and digging his nails into the exposed skin of his shoulders. They keep the apartment hot just so Steve can see his boyfriend in those slutty tank tops he cuts down to his navel. And yeah, they’ve been playing, but not finishing for a full week is sending Steve teetering towards the edge faster than he expected. When Eddie’s hand flexes around him, he nearly cries, nearly cums on the spot.

But then there’s a knock at the door.

“Steve? Eddie? Are you guys okay in there?”

Will. Shit. Steve comes crashing back down to Earth in an instant. The worry in his voice is clear, and Steve is filled with guilt for worrying the kid today of all days. He reaches down and stills Eddie’s palm, giving it a squeeze in apology before opening the door a crack and leaning out to see the kid… smirking?

“We’re fine. Are you okay?” Steve adjusts himself behind the door and smacks Eddie’s shoulder for laughing silently.

“I’m fine. Eddie told me to check up on you guys when you snuck off. Do you guys… need anything?”

“No,” Steve says, shooting Eddie a glare that would make him drop dead if looks could kill. “No, we don’t need anything. We’ll be out in a minute, okay?”

“Okay.” Will says, slinking away with a look on his face that is far too knowledgeable about their escapades.

Steve closes the door quietly behind him and rounds on Eddie. “You enlisted a CHILD to keep me from coming?”

Eddie shrugs. “Sorry baby, I didn’t know you were going to actually back out. I couldn’t let you lose this early on.”

“You know I hate you, right?”

“Aw, that’s not true. You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

“I’m proud of you for telling me what you need, Stevie, and if you really want it we can end this later tonight after everyone leaves.”

There’s no debate, Steve wants it, but competition has pumped through him like ice in his veins since his very first basketball game. And, okay, maybe Eddie had a point about the build up, the anticipation, because so far the play has been like nothing he’s ever experienced before and as much as he’d love to paint Eddie’s chest in thick stripes of warm cum and play with it like a finger painting, he wants to see how this month ends more.

“No! I-I mean, it’s okay. I want to keep going, really.” Steve sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face, and goes into the ensuite to calm himself down. There’s no way he would be able to walk away from Eddie’s evil smirk and he promised the kid they were done.

For now, at least.

@steddievember

[sulky-valkyrie]

Andres/fenris/nathaniel prompt: grey warden sandwich which Nate starts with “Hey, Fenris, did you know that Anders finds tattoos on elves absolutely irresistible?”

Hullo my beloved, and happy Friday welllll past your bedtime 💜 that's a direct continuation of this. for @dadrunkwriting

When Fenris asked him to stay, Nate was hesitant, but that worried defiance on Anders’ face as he approached them made it an easy decision.  Fenris was right: he couldn’t just leave him again.  Not that he really did the leaving seven years ago so much as watch Anders do it.

I’m not the man I was, Nate.  

Maker, what had happened to him after that day in the forest?  How was he so different, yet exactly the same?  You wouldn’t like this one as much anyway.  It was clear Anders believed it too.  Believed whatever he’d been through had made him unloveable.  

“What Andraste’s oversized bloomers are you doing?” Anders demanded as he closed in on them.  “Not telling him about all the dumb shit I did in Vigil’s Keep, are you?”

“Haven’t had the time.”  Now, before I lose my nerve.  Anders had pushed him away before, but it had been with regret, not rejection.  A fear of hurting Fenris.  And now Fenris had invited him to their home and their bed.  Anders’ bed, at least.  Nate stood quickly, dragging Fenris up behind him, and looped an arm around Anders’ waist as he cupped his jaw.  “But I’ll make it later.”

Anders’ eyes bounced from Nate to Fenris with a mixture of shock and confusion, and Nate could feel his heart racing under his skin.  “I don’t - what?”

Fenris’ arm joined his against Anders’ back, and a breath ghosted across Nate’s knuckles as he kissed the side of Anders’ chin.  “If you wish it, he’ll be returning home with us.”

“I -” Anders started shaking, so much that Nate worried he might fall over.  Or pass out.  Cracks of blue appeared, then Justice was there instead, looking at Fenris curiously.  “Why?”

The sudden reappearance of the spirit while Nate’s arms were around him was unsettling, but Fenris barely reacted.  As if this was a normal thing.  Perhaps it was.  “No justice is served in denying him this.”  Fenris stroked the spirit’s face with his thumb.  “He’s lost enough.  And too many times over.”

Justice swayed toward Fenris, eye’s fluttering like his touch was pure bliss, then rested his head on his shoulder for a moment.  “He would like that.”  Then he twisted slightly to fix Nate with a piercing gaze.  “You will not hurt him again.”

What could Nate say to that?  ‘Don’t host any more spirits and it won’t be an issue?’  He swallowed and shook his head.  “I never meant -”

“Nathaniel.”  Justice’s voice was low.  Not quite a threat, but a promise.  “I have safeguarded him from much, and at great cost.  You will swear not to hurt him or you will leave now.”

He couldn’t bear to walk away.  Not with Anders so close.  “I swear.  I won’t be able to stay, but I won’t - it won’t be like last time.”

The light faded, and Nate was holding a mostly-mortal man again.  Anders blinked and squinted, then reached up to touch his face.  “Justice confirmed this isn’t the Fade.”  His voice had that same edge to it that it did when he’d asked the Commander why he hadn’t just handed him over to Rylock all those years ago.  Like he didn’t believe his good fortune, either that he deserved it or that it was happening at all.

“It’s not,” Nate said quietly, resisting the urge to pull him out of Fenris’ arms and into his own.  “I’m here.”

“We both are,” Fenris murmured.  

They didn’t all share a tent that night: Anders slept in Fenris’ arms, if his spooning sleep habits hadn’t changed, and Nate tossed and turned in a bedroll outside.  He was glad for it: Fenris may have suggested the whole thing, but Anders was obviously worried, and Nate didn’t want to sow any more chaos in his life that he already had.  And the tents they had were too small for three grown men, anyway.

Breakfast was a quick casual affair.  Anders made tea, Hawke passed out a few chunks of bread, and Isabela and Fenris put away the tents.  The air had a strange tension to it; nothing bad, but expectant.  Hawke eyed Nate suspiciously, and leaned down to whisper something in Anders’ ear.  He shook his head, and patted their shoulder.

Hawke didn’t look entirely satisfied, but shrugged, kissed his cheek, then grabbed their bag and headed out with Bela.  “Be good, boys!”

Fenris snorted softly as he pulled his pack over his shoulder and helped him up.  “Did you tell them?”

Anders leaned against him with a fond exasperated sigh.  “You know how Bela is - probably was peeking out the tent flap all last night.”

Their easy chatter made Nate’s heart hurt.  Who was he to get in the middle of that?  An ex-lover who’d functionally left him for dead.  I should go.  Now, before I hurt him again.  He’d promised Justice he wouldn’t, but what did that mean?  Certainly, he’d never intentionally do anything to him, but he’d never meant to hurt him before either.    

“Nate?”  Anders' voice was right next to him, and concerned.  Fenris was scattering the remainder of the fire, giving them some illusion of privacy, but Nate had no doubt he was listening.  Anders chewed at his lip.  “You don’t - I mean, if this all is just some kind of fucked up apology, I don’t want it.  There’s - you did the best you could.”

What could he say to that?  “Justice doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Justice is still irritated that Sigrun stole his dagger.”  He smiled shakily.  “How is she?”

Gone with Velanna, looking for her sister.  “I haven’t heard from her in a while.”  He took a deep breath and nodded toward Fenris.  “You love him?”  

He swallowed and looked away.  “We’ve been through . . . a lot together.”  

Too serious a question to get a serious answer.  Nate tried another tactic.  “You like him,” he teased softly, taking the same tone that Sigrun has always used to get him out of his head when he was compulsively reorganizing the infirmary.

It worked.  The looming storm clouds of worry scattered and suddenly Anders, the real Anders, the man he’d loved for years was back, standing next to him and elbowing him playfully.  “Who told?”

“So you’re not staring at him like you’re thinking about licking him like a frozen dessert?”  he asked dryly. 

“Who wouldn’t?”  Anders shrugged and grinned.  “And you’re staring too, so put up or shut up.”  

He had a point.  Several.  Fenris was extremely attractive, and moved with a leonine grace and control that Nate couldn’t help but admire.  And those marks, whatever they were, simply accentuated his beauty and made him almost otherworldly.  

In fact . . .

Nate raised his voice.  “Hey, Fenris, did you know that Anders finds tattoos on elves absolutely irresistible?”

Anders went white then pink as Fenris turned around.  “Does he now?”  His gaze swept up them both, And it wasn’t just Anders who shivered.  “He’s never mentioned it before.”

“D-didn’t want to give Merrill the wrong idea,” Anders stuttered, elbowing him in the gut and starting to babble in the delightfully flustered way Nate had always found so charming.  

“No, these are much better simple decorations.”  He cocked his head at Nate.  “What do you propose?”

“What do you have time for?”  He reached up to press a thumb against Anders’ lips.  

Anders sucked on it greedily as he pawed at Nate’s belt, then whined as Fenris was suddenly behind him, grabbing his wrists and tugging them behind his back.  “I have all the time in the world,” Fenris murmured, “But I’d like to hear your proposal first.  Indoors.  By a fire.  And with him already naked and begging.”  

[deepspacedukat]

Begin Again - Part 4

Alright, things are beginning to heat up! I’ve got an outline now, and I think this’ll be nine chapters if all goes according to plan. Enjoy!

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Koss (ST:ENT) x Reader

[A/N: This is smut adjacent, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Interspecies attraction, Human/Vulcan attraction, mentions of sexual thoughts, innuendo, mutual pining, they both believe their attraction is one-sided but it’s mutual, they’re just idiots experiencing sexual tension, also made-up Vulcan food.

~*~

Nearly another week passed before I gave in to the urge to go down to the underground spring. After Koss mentioned that Vulcans swim au naturel, I found myself both intrigued and nervous about the possibility of going down there and finding my handsome neighbor unclothed. Such a state would do nothing but stir unnecessarily improper mental images.

Eventually, though, my discomfort and frustration with the heat forced me to swallow my reservations. Donning a red one-piece swimsuit, the only one I currently owned, I wrapped a thin robe around my shoulders to wander down into the caverns. Surely it was late enough at night that Koss would be asleep? The thought of enduring the heat for another moment was repugnant, though, so I’d just have to risk it.

As I rounded the corner to the cavern’s opening, I almost didn’t see him at first. Koss was seated amidst a small cluster of lit candles with his legs crossed. He wore only a thin pair of pants, and despite how much I knew I shouldn’t, I paused to silently admire his figure.

His broad shoulders really were just that broad, and the rest of his torso was equally as muscular and solid. I wondered vaguely if his job as an architect intersected with actual construction work, because his skin was sunkissed enough for it to be a possibility. His posture was perfect, and the only expression on his face was one of complete serenity and calm.

Had I been skilled in the medium, I would’ve been inclined to carve his likeness in marble.

“The benefit of the spring is much more substantial when you are submerged in it, Ensign.” Steady but gentle, his voice called out to me. My breath caught in my throat when I suddenly found his gaze locked with mine. There was some question in his eyes - not accusing but curious - about whether I would turn and flee since I’d been discovered or if I would summon my courage and enter despite his presence.

Who was I to disappoint him? Lifting my chin very slightly to at least give the semblance of confidence, I made my way over to the small cabinet at the side and untied my robe. I could feel his gaze burning into me as I slipped the cloth from my arms and laid it across the top of the cabinet.

“Is that a bathing suit?” Glancing over at his question, I noted a faint green blush on his cheeks as if he hadn’t truly intended to ask it aloud - perhaps he hadn’t even meant to reveal that he’d been watching. Now that it was out in the open, however, he couldn’t take it back any more than I could take back the small smile that played over my lips.

“Yes, it is,” I murmured as I struck a pose in jest. Seemingly giving up on his meditation, Koss stood and made his way to me. Had he always been that tall? “It must look odd to you.”

“No, not odd. Different, of course, but...the garment suits you,” Koss stated as his eyes floated back up to my face after his inspection. “Would you join me for a swim?”

“But what about your meditation?”

“What I completed prior to your arrival will be sufficient for tonight,” he said offering me his arm. Koss’s voice was weighted, but surely that was just my imagination.

How odd for a Vulcan to offer physical touch so openly. They weren’t very tactile under normal circumstances, not that I had been overly successful in coaxing Soval into telling me the reason for their aversion.

Grasping his forearm lightly, I walked with him to the water’s edge. I assumed he would pause to remove the last of his clothing before we got in, but he stepped into the water without hesitation.

When he was immersed to his waist, he turned and offered me his hands. Twice in one day? Very strange for a Vulcan. Laying my palms in his upturned ones, I walked slowly forward, descending the three carved steps into the water until I was practically standing in his arms. The heat radiating off his chest made my cheeks burn as I looked up into his eyes.

Koss swallowed before taking a slow step back in the water and releasing my hands. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said he looked as flustered as I felt.

“I thought Vulcans didn’t wear clothes to go swimming?” My voice was shakier than I’d hoped it would be when I finally spoke, but he didn’t seem to notice. He glanced down at his doused pants.

“Normally I wouldn’t, but I wasn’t certain that you would be comfortable with that,” he explained, and I couldn’t help but blink in surprise.

“Koss, that’s really thoughtful of you, and I appreciate you taking my feelings into account, but I don’t want you to sacrifice your comfort just to satisfy what you believe mine to be,” I said as I stepped a little deeper into the pool and the water level finally rose above my chest. The crisp, cool water felt heavenly swirling around my skin. “I’m quite capable of adapting to changes.”

“I do not doubt that.” The wry humor in his tone made me smile. “You had adapted to the Forge rather well prior to your lirpa injuries, and you seem to be taking to your change in residence with ease.”

Oh. He’d meant it logically. Of course. How had I thought I’d heard humor? My wishful thinking was going to end up making an idiot out of me.

Shaking off my momentary lapse, I changed the subject to Vulcan literature - a topic which allowed us to talk and swim for several hours that night. When my new friend tossed me a towel and we both returned to our respective homes for the night, the sight of Koss stepping out of the spring with water droplets clinging to his bare torso was seared into my memory. For the next several days, that damnable image popped into my head at the most inopportune times, plaguing me with inappropriate thoughts and distractions.

Even Soval noticed my preoccupation. He was kind enough not to ask what was on my mind more than once - my reluctance proved to be an effective deterrent for once - and he even saw fit to teach me a Vulcan technique that helped me clear my mind.

Just when I thought I’d forced my imagination back into safe territory regarding Koss, that’s when it all fell apart. I ventured back down to the spring under the foolish, arrogant assumption that I had my mind firmly under control. The siren call of the cold water promised a nice, calm, relaxing night and relief from the unrelenting heat of Vulcan’s suns.

Too bad Koss had other plans. When I descended into the cavern once more, my jaw dropped. My Vulcan neighbor was meditating again, but this time he was entirely without clothing. Biting my lower lip, I tried to behave as I normally would, hoping he hadn’t noticed how long I’d been lingering in the doorway. Without saying a word, I removed my robe, laid it over the cabinet as I had before, and used all my focus to walk toward the water without sneaking a peek at Koss’s...endowment.

As I neared the edge, however, a quiet call of my name forced me to turn toward him. I looked down where he’d been sitting, but my eyes ended up where they shouldn’t, and–

Oh.

Koss had stood up, and he was very well-equipped. My eyes flicked quickly back up to his, and I hoped he couldn’t tell how hard I was biting the inside of my cheek.

“Shall I lay out a towel for you?” How could he sound so casual when he’d just caught me checking him out?

“I-I...Yes, please. Thank you, that’s very thoughtful of you.” I mentally cringed at how breathy I sounded. Blessedly, he didn’t comment on how brightly my cheeks were burning. On shaky legs, I made my way down the steps and dove under the water. I hoped that the low temperature would help cool me down in more ways than one.

Alas, it was a futile effort.

Coming up for air near the spring’s side, I flicked my wet hair out of my eyes and grasped the smooth stone of the outer rim as I drew a deep breath. There Koss stood with his back to me, putting two towels aside for us. He had a few scars here and there which only added to my curiosity about him. I knew I should look away, but he was so handsome. Surely it was logical to admire beauty when one found it in another...wasn’t it?

Oh, who was I kidding? Anyone would have scowled at my absurd justification for such an emotional reaction to seeing a bit of skin, especially a Vulcan like him. After all, this wasn’t anything sexual to Koss. What I saw as swimming nude was simply swimming to him. It was normal for his people, and I shouldn’t have allowed my hormones to control my thoughts for as long as I did. Taking a deep breath, I tried to behave more calmly as my companion joined me.

“How was your day?” I didn’t dare look over at him until I was certain the water was high enough to cover his modesty. Koss sounded so matter-of-fact.

“It went well. Soval and I have been working with an Andorian diplomat about establishing a trade agreement. My experience with Commander Shran and his crewmates from the Kumari have given me a baseline for establishing the Ambassador’s mood, so our discussions have been mostly cordial.” I didn’t want to ramble too much, so I gave Koss a smile and reciprocated his interest. “What about you? Design any new architectural masterpieces?”

“Not yet, but I was commissioned to design a new wing for the Earth Embassy today. I was told that it should be suitable for Andorian residents. Presumably, the Andorian Ambassador whom you mentioned sees the potential for a positive outcome if he wishes to remain. Logically, it stands to reason that he has recommended his government assign a more permanent delegation,” Koss explained as he swam to my side. “You have obviously made quite an impression.”

His arm brushed against mine just beneath the surface of the water, and something electric passed between us. Had Koss felt that too, or was I just going insane?

“That’s kind of you to say, but I’m sure it was Ambassador Soval who swayed him. I was just there to smooth out a few rough edges, that’s all.”

“Then why would the Andorians request a residence for their diplomats inside the Earth Embassy? If the Ambassador truly thought nothing of your own involvement, it would be more logical to request a separate space.” Koss’s logic was sound. I hadn’t considered it that way.

I thanked him quietly, and we moved onto different topics. Over the two months that followed, our evening swims became an almost nightly ritual. Our conversations flowed more smoothly as we grew more comfortable around each other. Pretty soon, Koss was able to read me like a book, and I’d gotten better at doing the same for him.

Our banter became more casual and frequently entertained us well past our respective bedtimes. Well, at least past my own bedtime. Vulcans didn’t need as much sleep as Humans, so usually when I left for the night, Koss settled in to meditate before heading to his bed. He’d pretty much given up on attempting the practice beforehand.

Tonight, I hadn’t intended to come back down after I’d bid Koss a good night, but I’d gotten up to my living area to find it storming. I’d been through several storms on Vulcan before, but none had been quite as loud as this. Making sure the rooftop garden was covered, I got into a pair of pajamas, grabbed a blanket, and wandered back down to the spring.

It was so blessedly quiet down there. The reverberations of the much-louder-than-Earth’s thunderclaps were entirely silenced in the caverns, so it was the logical place for me to go.

Koss looked up from his meditation at the sound of my feet against the stone.

“Ensign? You should be resting. Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s just storming pretty loudly, and I figured I’d have a calmer night down here,” I explained, and Koss tilted his head curiously. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Not at all, but...does Earth not have storms?” If he hadn’t asked it with such earnest innocence, I’d have guessed that Koss was messing with me.

“We do, but they tend to be quieter. Normally, I can sleep through thunderstorms just fine, but the ones here on Vulcan are somewhat more vocal,” I said walking over to the large pile of cushions. As I’d discovered a few weeks prior, they were all massed atop a large, silk-sheet-covered mattress to form an absolutely luxuriant sleeping area. I moved a few of the pillows out of the way and propped myself up with one. Just as I draped my blanket over my legs, Koss extinguished his candles and came to join me. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It is of no consequence. Tonight, I lacked the necessary concentration, so I would not have accomplished much anyway. I will repeat the attempt in the morning,” he stated simply as he moved a few cushions as well and reclined beside me. He’d donned only his pants since I’d attempted to go to bed earlier. His robe still lay over the cabinet where he’d placed it. “As it stands, I would much rather take this opportunity to speak further with you.”

“You always know just what to say, don’t you?”

“Only when I am conversing with you, it seems,” he murmured, and I couldn’t stop the little huff of laughter that bubbled out of me. Over the duration of our friendship, I’d worked out that Koss enjoyed seeing me flustered. Tonight was obviously no exception.

We talked for a while longer before I started drifting off. I mumbled an apology, but Koss just convinced me to lie down and tugged my blanket a little farther up my body. He lounged on his side next to me and gave me an almost-smile that made my fuzzy little brain melt even further as I struggled to keep my eyelids open. “Sleep. I’ll make sure you wake up in time to get ready for your shift at the Embassy.”

How could I argue with that? Nodding my head silently, I snuggled into the veritable pile of pillows and let myself glide slowly into unconsciousness. Koss said something in Vuhlkansu, but it eluded the feeble grasp of my sleep-addled mind. It could wait. So could the gentle fingertips that brushed over the apple of my cheek as dreamland took me.

--

Low, gentle words wafted over my ears, but all I could do was let out a sleepy little sound.

“I apologize, ashalik, but it is morning. You need to wake up.” I knew that voice. It was such a nice one...soft, warm...safe...

“Koss?” Even half-asleep I was aware enough to recognize that I sounded at least as disheveled as I probably looked. Blinking slowly, I looked up to see Koss kneeling beside me, not one iota more dressed than he had been before we’d slept with the exception of mussed hair.

“Good morning. I apologize for keeping you up so late,” he said as he looked into my eyes almost sheepishly.

“Oh hush. I always enjoy spending time with you. I’m surprised we haven’t stayed up that late before now,” I said as I forced myself to sit up. As soon as I did, he turned and grabbed a tray. “You made breakfast?”

A slight blush colored his cheeks as he set the tray between us and passed me one of the bowls.

“I did. It was logical to assume that you would be hungry when you awoke,” he stated as he handed me a spoon. “Besides, you made a meal for me. I thought it fitting that I should return the favor. The gespar are freshly picked, so they should still taste their best.”

I looked up at him slightly alarmed when I processed what he’d said.

“Did you go out in the storm to pick them?” He held up a hand calmly and shook his head.

“The storm’s cycle came to an end before I went to make the morning meal. I assure you, I did not risk my safety, though I do appreciate your concern,” he explained, and I turned my gaze down to my food so I wouldn’t embarrass myself further. Koss had made what looked like something similar to oatmeal only it was blue with sliced fruit - gespar, I should say - laid in a semi-circle over the top.

“This looks delicious, Koss. Thank you.” When I moved into this home, I never thought I’d have breakfast with a shirtless Vulcan in an underground cave. Yet there I was. By the time we went our separate ways to begin the day, I was more content than I had been since my transfer.

~*~*~

Vulcan words:

ashalik = darling

[sparkles-and-trash]

That Adam and Eric plot from sex education where they have a miscommunication and both except to be the bottom is such a dabihawks thing my god I have to write it someday

[itiswormtimebaby]

Here’s what I’m thinking about: Bug’s self esteem and Bucky’s thoughts on her body

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Bug (+Brother’s best friend Bucky, plus sized fem reader)  CW: Struggles with physical self esteem (younger Bug), talks about comparing bodies and societal beauty standards, past fat phobia and bullying, language, references to sex, oral sex and fooling around, switches from 3rd person to 2nd person POV at the sex part. 

By the time we meet Bug as an adult we aren’t going to see a lot of physical self-esteem issues, in fact she carries herself with a lot of confidence. She wears whatever the fuck she wants, styles her hair and makeup however she wants, and carries the mindset of “I don’t owe it to anyone to be pretty or palatable.” This is because in her 20s she’s really started to unpack how much bullshit comes with a. existing as a woman in society and b. existing as a plus size woman in society. So if she doesn’t want to shave her legs she’s not going to, but you bet your ass she’ll still be in shorts if it’s hot, humans have body hair get the fuck over it. 

I’d say this turning point for her really came around the time that Bucky got arrested for kicking the shit out of her ex (as referenced here). It had been devastating at the time, and even though Bucky swore up and down he’d happily do it again consequences be damned, she realized someone she cared about who clearly cared way more about her than said shit head ex was being inconvenienced for something at the end of the day didn’t really matter all that much. Like who was her ex to even say that? And why would she care about some loser’s opinion? 

That was not the case when they were growing up, however. If we were to purely just focus on younger Bug we’d see a lot more insecurity born from her experiences with bullies and the fact that the token actresses chosen to play the “fat friend” in movies and TV were still significantly smaller than her. It also didn’t help that Bucky’s on again off again girlfriend throughout high school was tiny so she’d look at her as the gold standard for what Bucky must want and spend tearful nights comparing her thigh size to her, her waist size, etc. 

That, that attention to Bucky’s “type,” comes into play later on because as discussed , Bucky ends up sleeping around a lot. Which ends up revealing that Bug is in fact not the exception- we’re not going to see that trope of “would you date a plus size girl?” “Of course, it’s what’s inside that counts.” Bucky isn’t looking past Bug’s appearance to date her.  Because yes of course what’s inside matters but Bucky wasn’t sleeping around based on personality, and his choice of partners revealed that he has an appreciation for all different bodies. So does he find Bug beautiful on the inside? Absolutely. Does he also just find her incredibly fucking hot? Full send. And if he suddenly finds himself sleeping with more people that bare a resemblance to her leading up to him realizing his feelings surely that’s just a coincidence...

Speaking of sex; Bucky will dick you down six ways to Sunday and talk about how incredibly sexy your body is the entire time, how receptive it is, how welcoming. Bucky already found you desirable but that desire only increases in intensity the more he spends getting to know you and your body. He wants your plush thighs wrapped around his head, wants the full weight of you on him as you sit on his dick, wants to lick every single stretch mark, bite and mark the dimpled skin of your ass, press wet open mouthed kisses to the ample swell of your stomach, he wants to worship you. 

TLDR:

Bug is the type to say “If I’m too heavy to lift you better work out.”

and Bucky is the type to be in the gym because he needs to drag you down the bed, throw you across the room, fuck you up against the wall...

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

I want to smear strawberries all over his body and get them off with my mouth and teeth. Then get him off with whatever part of me he chooses.

[ozwriterchick]

Tag list: @cjand10 @angstysebfan @psychictazzy76 @lovely-geek @samanthaneedsanap @kentokaze @iheartsebastianstanstuff @yourmumsluke @void-imaginations

[itiswormtimebaby]

Here’s what I’m thinking about; The biker boys and their…kick stands?

CW: Dick discussion below the cut, references to sex (m/f)

Biker!Ari is large. Not, “just force it in, I love the burn” large. “If you don’t stretch me out on at least four fingers it ain’t fucking happening” large. The head of his cock is best friends with your cervix because not only is the man girthy, he’s long too. Ari wants you to feel him as deep as possible every single time, and for days afterwards. At some point you’d think he’d ask himself why it’s so important to him that he stay on the mind of a woman he only claims as a fuck buddy but self reflection isn’t his strong suit.

Biker!Bucky is around six and a half inches long, making his the shortest of the boys. That said, he is incredibly girthy, offering a sinful and fulfilling stretch every time. He has one very prominent vein that runs from root to tip and no curve to speak of. Bucky takes immense pleasure in fucking you open on his fingers in preparation for him, but will also bottom out in one go if a rough fuck is what you need. Loves seeing your lipstick smeared around the base of his cock.

Biker!Steve is the least girthy but is rather long at around eight inches. He’s also got the nicest mushroom tip you’ve ever seen and it flushes such a pretty pink when he’s aroused. Curves to the left and the man knows his fucking (pun intended) angles, he wants to hit your g-spot at every thrust. Will lay his cock across your lower stomach to see just how far in he will reach. Deep throat him as you play with his balls and he’ll see stars (and stripes).

[llamamamarisen92]

All of His Fury and Rage

Setting: Defending the portal at Last Light Inn as Halsin retrieve's Thaniel.

Warning: violence, smut adjacent, angst, really intense fluff(?)

Basically Johim is at a bit of a breaking point.

Karlach x Named Dark Urge

Just a short little blip to stir the writing juices.

Creatures came at them from the shadows as Halsin retrieved Thaniel. All of Johim's rage. The despair. Struggling to puzzle out his identity. This retched urge. Everything inside him grew into a deadly frenzy as he flew across the battle ground. Roaring as he sliced through as many creatures as possible.

The others in their strategic places as he rushed head long with Minthara in tow. The beauty of their fury painted crimson across the ground. Tears sprang forth and all of his composure was lost. Letting all of his wild instincts finally rise to the surface. This wasn't their calm charismatic leader. Not the unhurried, salacious man who arrogantly approached his foes as one does to swat a fly.

They were watching a tiger unleashed after being starved for far to long. They had seen small moments of his temper, but nothing to this extent. The battle was over and he stood above a dead Githyanki warrior. Bringing his blade down over and over. Karlach walked over and placed her hand on his shoulder to steady him. He whirled around and nearly took her head off. But as he stared at her, eyes glazed with murderous rage she leaned in and cupped his face in her hands. Kissing him deeply. Providing him a path back to them. He dropped his sword and wrapped his arms around her. Drawing her roughly against his body, letting her feel all of his hot blooded hunger. He tripped her so that she was on the ground beneath him.

"The rest of you have three seconds to find somewhere else to be lest I take more heads tonight." Gravel lacing his rich velvety voice.

"You heard our mighty general." He didn't wait for their response. Driven by the full force of his passion as he kissed Karlach slinging her leg onto his shoulder.

The rest of them were long gone and he didn't hesitate as he claimed her over and over deep into the night.

Johim's demeanor changed. All he wanted to do was strip Ketheric of his flesh. The rest of the group kept a careful eye on him. There were no jokes. No casual comments. Just Johim staring intensely into the fire each night as he imagined all the ways he would have Ketheric crying out for mercy by the end of all this. Sanity holding on by a thread.

Side Note: I CAN'T wait to write out a snippet with the full fury of my angst as He and Karlach show up at Gortash's coronation. Because in my world they were lovers before Orin took him out.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: Got a whole new respect for you out there that work AND still manage to fucking write anything at all. I'm 3 days in and my training hasn't even really started and I'm so goddamn braindead that I'm actually yelling about it to anyone who'll listen.

That being said, I hope anyone reads and enjoys this because my God I've never gone so long without writing something. I guess I was a pretty little princess sitting on my butt for 3 or 4 years. Living the good life, free of responsibilities. THAT sure bit me in the ass, didn't it. Tch.

When you fight with them :::

F.reader x Draken, Kazutora, Chifuyu, Mitsuya, Baji, Mikey

Draken

Can hold a mean ass grudge, too. You thought you were bad but damn.

Says things sometimes he doesn't mean and will apologize to you later.

Will admit when he's wrong, but it takes a little while.

Thinks it's a teeny bit funny when you're mad at him over something really stupid and he has to butter you up to make you stop being so pissy with him.

Kazutora

Sometimes pretends to be mad at you to see if you'll confess any weird random shit you might have done (baby boy loves and trusts you but he only trusts himself 50% of the time - and even that wavers). *You never do because you love him too and wouldn't hurt him like that.

Apologizes to you for no reason - literally, NO REASON.

Always says things he doesn't mean but will immediately retract his statement.

Cries.

Has thrown shit across the room before.

Chifuyu

Fights so rarely with you it's almost boring.

But he's just not like that with you.

Doesn't like fighting when you are mad at him so he'll just skip right to the making up part.

(Has cried during make-up sex when he really pissed you off).

Mitsuya

BUYS FLOWERS

He sometimes doesn't know what he did that pissed you off, but he knows you like (kind of flower) so he wastes no time in procuring some.

Has made you things as an apology before.

Cried once or twice but you don't know about it (Hakkai does though! Better watch out, girl.)

Baji

Doesn't understand what the hell your problem is.

Says he's sorry anyway just to get you to calm down so you'll actually talk to him instead of just screaming/hitting/throwing shit at him.

Turns on his fucking out of this world charm factor and smiles at you with that face.

Can literally document the moment when you go weak in the knees.

Can smell when your pheromones change and he knows he can walk up to you without getting hit but kissed (or more - probably more. It's Baji. C'mon.)

Mikey

Will list off all the shit he's done that he thinks you might be pissed off about.

Doesn't apologize unless he thinks he's ultimately in the wrong here.

HAS repeatedly gotten turned on when you're slapping him (and will do it again).

Thrown your ass down on the bed (yeah, you ended up letting him dick you down so good but you were mad about that after the fact because he got you to forget about the initial anger).

Jerks off sometimes if you're yelling at him over the phone and you'll die before you ever admit this but you have heard him, gotten turned on yourself and done that at the same time he was while you chewed him out.

@kazutora-kurokawa @darkstarlight82 @katshimizuu @viburnt @southside-otaku @arlerts-angel

[strangereads]

god, you just.. you write him so soft yet masculine, and so shy yet eddie. he's a million beautiful little contradictions rolled into one little guy and you always manage to capture all of them.

actual pic of me watching eddie try on his tight little trunks ^^

i feel like eddie doesn’t seem himself as “hot” but obviously you do. you’re on your way to a pool party and steve’s and he walks out in just swim trunks asking if he looks okay (they were thrifted and he’s just making sure they fit correctly okay 🥹). y’all barely even make it to steve’s because you can’t get over how GOOD this man looks.

you're so real for this anon. ty for requesting :D — the one where eddie munson has no idea how pretty he is (established relationship, hurt/comfort, cw for mentions of body insecurity and allusions to smut 18+ | 1.1k)

Eddie stands in the corner of your bedroom, before the full-length mirror propped against the wall, and pokes himself once in the stomach. The pale, pudgy skin there dips under his pointer finger before bouncing back in place. He can’t stop looking at his tummy, which sits just barely over the hem of his swim trunks. 

It’s hardly noticeable. Nothing anyone else would bother looking twice at. But to him, it’s so distressingly obvious that the sight alone makes his chest ache.

“Do these look okay?” Eddie mumbles absentmindedly, not looking back at you as he runs his ringed fingers under the elastic edge of the plain black shorts. The gesture is obviously an anxious one — like, if he does it enough times, maybe he can stretch it out a bit. (It hasn’t quite worked for him yet.)

Your silence is palpable and hardly encouraging. 

Eddie looks at you over his shoulder, deep brown eyes glimmering with melted chocolate and distant worry, half-hidden behind his wild curls. He finds you lying in the middle of your bed — with your head in your palms and your feet kicked up behind you — staring right at him.

Your eyes meet. You blink hard, face burning as your glazed-over gaze regains its life once more. “Hm?” you hum, then clear your throat.

Eddie’s lips quirk faintly upward. A mere flicker of a smile at your coyness. “I asked if these looked okay.”

You look him up and down to admire his form, (which you’d been doing the entire time, in truth, only now you’ve got the go-ahead for your unabashed leering.) 

Your boy is a tower of milky white quartz — full of lanky limbs, fading tattoos, and dustings of sparse hair. As far as you’re concerned, Eddie Munson was carved by Michaelangelo himself. A hand-crafted sculpture lost to time who somehow wormed his way into your heart and Forest Hills trailer park alike. 

Your eyes trail from his pretty face, to his long neck, to the black widow tattooed on his collarbone. They land finally on the happy trail below his belly button that disappears into his swim shorts. 

Your breath catches in your throat. You swallow hard and try to come up with something to say as your brain short-circuits.

“Yeah. Yeah, they look— they look great, Eds,” you stammer, rising from your lounged position on the bed to sit along the edge of it. You squeeze your thighs together when a dull throbbing settles suddenly between them. “Do they fit okay?”

Eddie, unaware of your blossoming desire, turns away. He looks back at his reflection, and his eyes fall immediately to his stomach. He runs his pointer fingers under the hem of the shorts and pretends it does something. Though, it doesn’t change how much of his torso is on display just now. Or how pale his lanky legs are after being hidden all summer season.

“I think so,” he murmurs with an unconvincing waver to his voice. He shifts his weight on his bare feet and caves. “I don’t know— I think I’m just gonna change.” 

You rise from the squeaking mattress. The oversized tee you’re using as a makeshift cover-up floods your smaller form. You catch the boy’s wrist before he can reach for the clothes he left in a pile on your floor. 

“You promised you weren’t gonna wear jeans!” you protest in a playful whine.

Eddie meets your pout with a more exaggerated one — brows twisted, nose scrunched, mouth snarled.  “I know, but I hate these,” he says with a louder whine.

“I don’t want you to get heat stroke and die,” you confess, mousy and obviously sarcastic, as you fall into the boy’s bare chest. 

You wrap both arms around his waist and rest your chin on his sternum, blinking up at him with pretty, glittering eyes. You can smell the floral shampoo in his hair from here, and the musky cologne on his neck you bought for him last Christmas.

Eddie cups your cheeks with softly calloused palms. “Good to know,” he quips with a lopsided smile that he then kisses you with. The crooked grin tastes faintly of nicotine and boy — a nostalgic feeling more than a real flavor.

“I’m serious, Eds,” you tell him with a stern glint in your eyes, chin bobbing against his chest with every word. “They look great on you, okay? Cross my heart.”

His chest sparkles at the compliment. Warms so much it starts to hurt all over again. 

And it’s not that he thinks you’re lying, he just wishes he believed you more. Or that he could see himself through your eyes or something. They always get so squishy around the edges when you look at him — with an adoration he doesn’t know he deserves.

“You’d tell me if I look like an idiot, though, right?” he wonders, half-joking.

“I tell you you look like an idiot all the time,” you deadpan, equally half-joking.

That gets a laugh out of him. “Fair enough,” the boy nods with a quiet chuckle.

“But I like these. Seriously. You should wear them,” you advise firmly and step back from him. Eddie mourns the warmth of your body when only your hands reach out to touch him. “And you can blame them for making us late…”

Eddie’s brows furrow at the mischievous lilt in your voice. “We don’t have to be at Steve’s for another, like, fifteen minutes,” he insists with a breathy laugh that gets caught in his throat when your hand dips under the hem of his swim trunks. “Oh?” he hums with a crooked smile.

You nod with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. The fuzzy hair of his happy trail tickles the soft skin of your fingertips. His skin is soft and warm and inviting. Your hand starts to ache with the longing to feel him completely.

Eddie forgets how to breathe when you cup his stiffening cock in your supple palm. His eyes go heavy as his pink mouth falls softly agape. “Oh…” he repeats, deeper and more far away this time.

You grin in the face of his distant pleasure, which you seem to give him with little effort now (like a total fucking minx.) Eddie’s chest twists at the roguish twinkle in your eye. He knows he’s surely in for it now, but he doesn’t mind it. He yearns for it, really.

He only hopes that Steve won’t mind either — when the two of you show up at his place a half hour or more late, mussed with an obvious pleasure and reeking of it just the same.