#so I got an ask that i will be answering in a bit once i get some gifs of it

[seungfl0wer]

*𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨*

Pairing: Jisung x Reader (Smut)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Aphrodisiac, Oral (M), Choking/Hair Pulling(M), Multiple: Rounds/Orgams/Creampies, Riding, Unprotected sex. Sorry for any mistakes or missing warnings.

Find Request Here

-🖤

Jisung had just came home from the store. He had gotten some new chocolates he said tasted really good. When he showed them to you, you couldn’t help but laugh “Ji you know what these are right?” You asked.

“Uhm- good chocolate?” He said.

“These are aphrodisiac chocolate, they’re supposed to make you super horny” you said laughing even harder.

He rolled his eyes “those don’t work”

“Whatever you say, we still going into the studio?” You asked.

“Yeah I gotta get that song done” he replied back.

A little bit later you both headed to the studio. He sat down to work zoning in on his song while you sat on the couch playing on your laptop. It had only been about an hour since he had eaten those chocolates but boy were they hitting him hard now. He felt hot, his cock painfully hard for no reason. He could see the little spot on his pants from the precum. Any movement he made his cock rubbed against his pants making him bite back a moan. He was so so sensitive.

In his clouded thoughts you had gotten up to see how the song was coming along. Your hand brushing over his back making his body even hotter. “Y/n” he whispered.

When you answered back with a hum he turned his chair around. His eyes were hazy, face a bit red. You could see the outline of his cock in his sweats. “Oh- thought those didn’t work hmm?” You said with a grin.

“I’m so hard it almost hurts” he whimpered. “Help me please” he said those big doe eyes looking up at you.

You wanted to have a little fun with this. Jisung was a pretty needy person as it was however this was next level. You wanted to see how much he’d beg “tell me how much you want me, tell me what you want me to do” as you said straddled him. The pure pressure of your body against him was enough to have him drooling. “I want you so badly please- I fuck- do anything I just need you baby” he whined. He grabbed ahold of your hips rolling himself against you. “Please anything y/n fuck-“ he groaned out.

When you got up from him making him whine loudly. Hands chasing after you, you couldn’t help but feel turned on. Jisung was begging so nicely. “Gotta take your pants off Ji” you said getting down on your knees to pull them down. When his cock was finally free he let out a sigh of relief, his cock was so hard. The amount of precum leaking from the tip had your body moving before you could think. You quickly licked over the head his eyes going wide as his hips bucked up. “S-sensitive” he mustered out.

His words only driving you more as you took him back your throat. His head falling back hands frantically gripping at your head. He pushed his hips up to meet your movement letting out the most desperate moans. “I’m already so fucking close-“ he said.

He gripped your head rougher before pushing into your mouth faster. Fucking into your mouth with such need. His cock head hitting the back of your throat. You swirled your tongue around his cock as he used your mouth. You could feel the drool dripping from the sides of your mouth, eyes blinking as tears pricked at them. When you brought your hand up to massage his heavy balls his body stuttered. “Shit- shit!” He moaned out before pushing harshly back your throat. Streams of cum pouring down your throat.

You swallows around him before his hands came to cup your face. He moved quickly pulling your body up to him, slipping your sweats down. He groaned seeing you had no panties on “since when did you not wear panties?” He said.

“Since my dummy of a boyfriend took aphrodisiacs” you said with a chuckle.

You positioned your body on top of him his hands gripping at your hips once more. When you aligned him with your cunt he gave no warnings before pushing into you. He bottomed out quickly his long thick cock hitting your cervix almost instantly. He pulled your body to him fucking up into you ruthlessly. His pace was fast and deep his already overstimulated cock pounding into you.

His nails were digging ever so nicely into your skin, his head in the crook of your neck. His moans were full of need and desperation. “Ji- fuck you feel so good- gonna have to get you more of those” you teased.

He nipped at your neck in response “you’re gonna take them with me next time” he said. He wrapped his arms around you lifting you up. He wrapped your legs around him moving you to the couch. Laying you back down against the couch he pushed your legs up to your chest. His hand came down to toy with your clit before his movements continued.

The new angle made him feel even deeper. His balls smacked against your skin as his pace became quicker. “Fuck- fuck- y/n you feel- fuck you feel to good- m’close” he whined out. Your hand came up to his head gripping at his hair before tugging on it slightly. He liked his hair being pulled almost more than he liked being choked.

The tug was enough to send him over the edge, his cock twitching as it painted your walls. He didn’t stop though oh no. If anything it made him more desperate to do it again. To have you cum with him this time. His hand that was on your clit moved down swiping the cum that dared to fall. He brought his fingers up to you and you happily sucked them clean. Jisung may have a bit of an oral fixation cause when you kept sucking on his fingers he let out the most pornagraphic moan you’ve ever heard from him.

His body was becoming a bit limp from already cuming so much. You took the opportunity of his jello like body to push him back on his back. You straddled him once more before bouncing on his cock. He moaned loudly hands digging back into your sock ass. “Gonna cum again for me ji? Gonna fill me full and let me cum all over your sensitive cock hmm?” You said.

He nodded “y-yes, please- fuck- cum baby” he said. Your hand quickly came down wrapping perfectly around his throat. You rode him relentlessly. His cock bullying its way against your cervix. Your head falling back in the pleasure. You jumped feeling Jisungs hand playing with your clit again. The way your cunt clenched around him had him seeing stars. He dug his feet into the couch before thrusting into you.

His thrusts met yours “gonna-“ you said softly before Jisung thrusted up once more. “Cumming!” You almost screamed as your high flooded over you. Waves of pleasure head your cunt squeezing him hard. His mouth hung open as he came once more. Both of your bodies shaking. You let go of jisung throat laying your body against his.

Both of you tried to regain your breathing. It was only when you went to move did you notice. Jisung was still hard. “How much of that chocolate did you eat?” You asked.

“Uhm.. like 3 bars” he said softly.

“Jisung- are you serious? You’re probably gonna be hard for like 2 hours” you said with a chuckle.

“Let’s go home and I’ll fuck you on every surface” he said.

“How about we get a drink first and then go home” he smiled.

He nodded. When you got home he kept his promise. He fucked you in every room and any place he could. His cock only softening after almost the 10th orgasm. He was so raw by that point his poor cock red and way over sensitive. You were no better though. You had cum about half that amount however the last orgasm had you squirting all over him.

You both laid on the floor breathing heavily before he got up. He ran you both a warm bath grabbing water and some snacks. With no words he pulled you to the bathroom. Snuggled up in the bath he kissed you softly. “Remind me to read labels next time” he chucked.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget

[k0mmari]

SYSTEM! SHEN YUAN PT.3

Too tired to do my obligations, but too stressed out to sleep, so here we find ourselves again.

This, once again, got horribly long- so long, in fact, I think this is the longest post in this 'trilogy'-, so I apologize in advance (╥ᆺ╥;) I also apologize for the lack of doodles, but dont worry! Im preparing a special one for later <33

After that night where SY offered Binghe an umbrella, things have certainly… changed. Unlike before, where SY spent most of his time mapping away at the ridiculously complex castle hallways and carefully marking away which times it was most likely for SY to be able to get close to Xin Mo, alongside doing his ‘servant’ duties of gathering dirty laundry and cleaning a room here and there, his routine had been suddenly adjusted; now, while he still needed to do everything he was doing before, his servant duties consisted of accompanying the chosen Wife Of The Day.

Or, well, that’s how one of the higher ranking staff had put it, that he was to attend to whatever wife Lord Luo decided to entertain for the day, but honestly, SY was starting to suspect that that had been a convoluted way for Binghe to have SY around whenever he wanted, which…. Was frankly quite worrying! To have the golden protagonist keep his eyes glued on his back almost every second they were in the same room, which - if SY looked back- usually led to Binghe looking away in a (bad) attempt to pretend he wasn’t glaring daggers at SY was more than enough for SY to think the Emperor was probably plotting his demise.

What else could it be? Specially with the way Binghe’s hand seemed to always be lightly tugging at the tassel on his hair every time SY caught him looking, he suspects Binghe had caught onto SY not actually being a servant, and instead that weird guy he saw before he fell into hell that one time. What if Binghe thought SY was somehow involved into the Abyss Incident?? Lord Luo, please have mercy on this servant!

Though, maybe the strangest part of it all, was that sometimes Binghe and SY would just… talk. Usually when the Wife Of The Day was doing something else (e.g. playing music for her husband, or practicing archery, or doing anything that didn’t involve LBH 100% at her side), Binghe would just start musing out loud about the strangest things. It started with questions that were all fair to ask, like ‘How come this servant is a human in the demon realm’, or ‘How come this servant has such short hair’ (SY bullshitted something about being a former slave) but eventually it shifted to questions that were a bit more… random. Or, well, not even questions, musings that Binghe muttered out loud but clearly wanted SY’s input.

It started with minimal things, like Binghe wondering about some type of monster he wanted to fight but he forgot how to do it without damaging the fur too much, which, after a minute of silence and a not-so-subtle look at SY, led to SY nerding out and saying not only the monsters weakness, but what could be done with every important part of the body. Though, the day after that SY realized how strange it was that Binghe was wondering that out loud, since he only fought that monster well into his time as an Emperor, and he swore he remembered one of the wives gushing about her new bracelet that was made from the rare bones of that creature just a few days ago…

Anyways, it continued with questions of similar nature: musings on how to kill a monster Binghe would have no problem killing, to what he should eat for dinner, to what gift should he get for Wife Of The Day. Of course, SY answered all the ‘questions’, and sometimes they even made it to having an actual conversation! Sure, it was a little stilted, SY could not figure out for the life of him why the great Lord Luo was interacting with a random servant, but one day it all finally clicked to him. Binghe had been in the middle of ‘musing’ about hair oils(??), when SY couldn’t help but interrupt him:

“Ah…. Apologies if this lowly servant is overstepping, My Lord, but does My Lord just want someone to talk to?”

A few emotions flashed through Binghe's face quickly enough for SY to not be able to decifer any of them, but eventually landing on a sheepish smile. "This Lord has been found out."

Oh, how cute! And how sad! SY had noticed when SQH was just showing him his shitty story how sad that LBH, even after getting the world to bow at his feet, never really had friendships. Sure, he still had all the love he could want, but sometimes people need friends to talk to, not lovers!

While he knew that he shouldn't interact with characters in world overlooked by the System unless they were transmigrators, SY couldn't help but feel that the situation was dire enough that LBH would turn to a no-name servant in this time of desperation. And it would be a great opportunity to study Xin Mo more closely as well! If SY showed LBH the wonders of friendship, maybe he could pass by his supervisor that he only had to do what was necessary for this world to not implode on itself.

Besides, who could even say no to such a handsome man such as LBH? Is as the old saying goes: what the protagonist wants, he shall have.

*

SY's friendship plan has been going great! After figuring out Binghe's intentions, it seems all of the protagonists reservations flew out the window, and SY was now responsible for being Binghe's personal retainer. Not that that meant too much, since Binghe liked to bend the rules to his liking, and some tasks that should be SY's responsability sometimes were pushed to another servant or Binghe himself made them (which, ???)

Mostly, SY stood at Binghe's side, served tea, was used so Binghe could bounce ideas off of someone, and tended to finer details. All of that very much manageable, if not for the weird mood swings LBH would have sometimes. Yuan, as he has told Binghe was his name after being too scared of the repercutions of using 'Shen', was to accompany him all the time, but sometimes not all the time, or else LBH would get moody; Yuan was to listen to LBH's ideas and plans, and should always comment back or else Binghe would feel neglected, but not too much or else, as LBH had put it, could 'bring back bad memories'; Yuan was to tend to LBH's night routine, even as far as to brush his hair, and if he refused LBH (again) get all moody, but he couldn't brush too much, and he had to do at least one braid but NEVER touch the old, frizzy braid that still had that damn tassle-

Honestly, it was a careful game of balance, which reminded SY more often than not of a child that got mad when their older sibling didn't quite understand the redundant rules they made for a make-believe. Any other person would get fed up, and probably scared of Binghe's constant mood swings, but SY had him all figured out, and his resilience proved to be useful time and time again, since most of the time after his sour mood passed, Binghe would come crawling back with the most pitiful face ever, and what was SY to do? As LBH's friend, it was his duty to hug him and pat his head! (And no one could judge him for that, since if he didn't pat Binghe's head, his mood would plummet all over again.)

Though... SY did feel kind of bad. He wouldn't be able to stay with Binghe forever, and would even need to potentially steal his all-powerful sword for a little bit so everything wouldn't get corrupted. Honestly, the only thing keeping SY from worrying about being labled as a traitor and potentially getting killed was that he would just go back to the System's office and go on with his life.

*

LBH, eventually, caught onto SY's plan on leaving - really, it was only a matter of time. After that fateful encounter with that other SQQ, LBH had found himself in rather pitiful state, questioning everything he knew until that moment and wondering why he couldn't achieve that happiness, and desperately trying to search for a SQQ of his own. He had contemplated going back to that first world, but what would it even matter? Even if he took SQQ by force, his heart would still be with that other LBH, and Binghe couldn't bear the thought that he wouldn't be everything in SQQ's world, as he had become for LBH.

Specially after Meng Mo had one day interupted his carefully crafted dream of an idelic world and pointed out some curious memories he'd almost forgotten about. That day, when back in his childhood, when he'd been beaten up by a buch of older kids and hallucinated a man in strange clothes before passing out and waking up protected from the rain. Or when he thought he'd lost his jade pendant forever, only to magically appear in the cabin later.

Or the strange man in the Immortal Alliance Conference.

After SQQ- SJ , that good-for-nothing scum- pushed him to the Abyss, he tried his best to never think about that day again, too scared by how weak he'd been, pleading to man that would sell his soul for one more night at that brothel of his if he could, but now... Now that he could mold his dreamscape any way he wanted, he could look back with a clear mind, which eventually led to the conclusion: It must have been the same person. The same strangely dressed man that helped him in his childhood somehow appeared at the Immortal Alliance again, and even had left provisions right next to where Binghe had fallen.

He'd convinced himself, after many, many years of wishing for a miracle, that he's simply imagined the man, one last thread to keep himself from going insane, but after meeting the other SQQ...

And then Yuan came in. A new servant that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

It took some observation, and a lot preparing himself to face dissapointment that maybe he was just projecting, putting the image of someone else onto a random man, but that day, when LBH was wondering if he was just wasting time, that that beautiful dream of having his version of SQQ would not happen any time in this world, that maybe he really should just go look at other worlds; after all, if it happened once, it had to happen again, right? Not that it mattered in the end, since while he spireled, much to Xin Mo's pleasure, an umbrella was put over his head, and all his doubts had washed away.

Yuan had to be his version of SQQ, it had to be. And after all his effort of getting close to him, after going so far to keep Yuan at his side, even if he still battled with that his perception of SJ and the other SQQ sometimes overlapping with Yuan's image, even if he still wasn't ready to let go of that one braid, he was becoming more and more sure in his assumption that his SQQ had come to him. Everything was going as planned, and LBH was in track to finally begin to properly court him, and yet-

He was sure Yuan wanted to leave. He wasn't sure why, not how he would do that, maybe just dissapear like he had all those years ago and either only appear again 5, 10, 100 years in the future or go back to wherever he came from in the first place. But LBH knew Yuan wanted to leave, that he needed to complete whatever mission he had (after LBH managed to pry that out of his dreams, which where another source of confusion, with how absurdly difficult they were to even get a grasp of), and that, under any circumstances, he could let Yuan escape his sight.

Not again. Never again.

Binghe had become even stickier in the last few weeks. Not that SY minded, it was very cute to see such a different side from the cool, badass Lord Luo, but SY was running out of time. Since Binghe became stickier, his mood swings had worsened even more, now not wanting SY to be anywhere that Binghe wasn't, and Xin Mo seemed to be thriving off of whatever was making Binghe extra protective, though it was becoming a genuine problem now, since Binghe suddenly refused to see any of his wive's to deal with the Xin Mo problem, and he seemed to be on the verge of qi deviation at all times.

In fact, the only reason Binghe hadn't already qi deviated was because SY was abusing his Personal System and chipping away at the qi deviation in Binghe's night routine, since it was the only time where he was physically very close to Binghe and could spend long periods of time manually coding away at the System screen without it looking suspicious.

But, as if that wasn't enough of a problem, since Xin Mo was having the time of it's life recently, the virus clinging to the sword was also getting stronger, leaving even more residuals all along the castle and bordering on infecting Binghe himself.

His Scissors where thankfully, repaired, and his sweet, sweet manager was even kind enough to send him some extra energy supplies, but at the rate the virus was spreading, he was worrying that he would have to deal with the source as soon as possible or else it would become to strong to deal with it in a non-destructive way.

He... Didn't want to leave Binghe just yet, specially since he wanted SY's attention more than ever recently, but...

No, he needed to do this; their time together was never supposed to be eternal anyways, and if he let the virus spread, he would only be putting LBH's life in danger, and he couldn't continue living with himself after that. He decided he would fix the virus at night, while Binghe slept, and by the next morning he would be gone - he would have, after all, just enough energy to go back to the office.

He just hoped Binghe would be able to forgive him later.

When night came, and SY got to doing the usual night preparations, it just felt like an extra needle being stabbed in his heart when, while brushing Binghe's hair, Binghe looks back uncharacteristicly anxious, and asks if SY can undo the braid and remake it. SY does, and if Binghe notices SY takes extra long to pamper him that night, he says nothing.

When SY is sure Binghe is asleep, he sneaks out of his room and heads to back to Binghe's. Yeah, maybe he stalls a bit with snipping off every piece of the residual virus he came across, but one could argue he was just being extra thorough with his job.

The excuse, unfortunately, didn't last long and eventually he found himself in front of Binghe's room, staring at the door as if he was about to be sentenced to death. After a few minutes of reminding himself that he needed to do this, he took a deep breath and slowly opened the doors. Binghe usually slept with the sword perched right beside his bed, so SY would probably have to use the System and put Binghe in an extra deep sleep if he wanted to make sure the other didn't wake-

The moment he places a foot inside, though, he realizes something is wrong; the room is empty, Binghe is not asleep in his bed and Xin Mo is not besides the bed. Oh, oh no, had Binghe-

"A-Yuan." Binghe says, and SY nearly jumps as he turns around. There LBH stands in the middle of the hallway, not even in his sleeping robes, with a hand clutched tightly on Xin Mo's handle. His eyes are watery but no tears spill.

SY tries to speak but finds he doesn't even know what to say, he can't even try to deny that he's up to something, since his gigantic Scissors are just out an about. Still, he tries to make Binghe understand, say that he needs to do this, and after this Binghe won't have to worry about anything anymore. Though it barely seems like Binghe is listening, and eventually just cuts in when SY starts to say anything in his panic.

"This is what A-Yuan wants, right?" He asks, extending one arm and presenting the glitched out Xin Mo. SY doesn't even have the chance to find an excuse, as Binghe immediately continues. "Than take it."

"Wh- Huh?" "Take it."

He's so shocked he almost drops his Scissors. What does he mean 'take it'??? Binghe has to know everything that's at stake here! He doesn't even know what SY wants to do with it! He tries to say that, how Binghe shouldn't just hand the sword to anyone like that, but a sudden burst of energy set his priorities straight. Shit- The virus! It's growing by the second, at this point SY will have to cut Xin Mo-

"...Binghe, I-" "I don't care what A-Yuan wants with Xin Mo! Take it, use it, break it if you want, I don't care! But if A-Yuan takes it, than he will have to stay." "Binghe, that's not..." "Why not?! That's your goal, right? Do whatever it is that you want to do with Xin Mo? Than here you go, A-Yuan can do it, but I won't let you leave me again."

SY can't even mask when his eyes dart towards the tassle on Binghe's new braid. Binghe just clenched his jaw, but it feels like confirmation enough.

He adjusts his grip on the Scissors, and, as he has nothing else to hide, dispels the System's illusion, his simple clothes glitching out to reveal the System's uniform. Binghe's eyes fill even more with tears, but none fall."

"I... I'll have to go back, Binghe." "No." "Binghe, listen to me, I-" "No. No! A-Yuan will get Xin Mo, and then he will stay." "I-" "You will stay! I can't-" Binghe can't even finish his sentence before he has to choke out a sob.

The virus starts warping the air around it, and slowly crawling up Binghe's arm. SY's decision has practically been made for him. He lifts the Scissors. Binghe pushes Xin Mo forward.

"...I'll come back." "A-Yuan-" "I'll come back, Binghe." One single tear falls and his arm jerks, not knowing if he trusts SY's words or not. He still his arm as the Scissor blades encircle Xin Mo.

"A-Yuan..." "I'll come back, I promise." "..." "I promise."

"......Okay."

Shen Yuan cuts Xin Mo.

[quitesins]

Pro Hero!Bakugou x Criminal!Reader

Masterlist

Tags: Sfw, Drabble?, Female!reader, Reader is implied to be younger and homeless, dialogue heavy, ooc?

This happens a right after the events of vol 42/the epilogue, this is sort of a snapshot of an already established dynamic in my head

“You look miserable.”

He seems surprised to see you. Which is weird. Dynamight has always been so hyper aware of his surroundings, especially when you, half-criminal, half-comrade, show up.

“Piss off.” Dynamight grunts, locking the doors to his car and turning away from you. His expression is as frustrated as ever, but there’s something solemn underneath.

“You get rejected?” It’s just a joke, but he stiffens like you’ve hit the mark. “Holy shit, you did?” You can’t let him go, not with this in your pocket now.

He pushes past, albeit gentler than the times you’ve felt him body check you before. He grumbles something, uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” He’s at his door now, and though you’ve already trespassed far into his front garden, it feels a bit invasive to peer into his home. “I just never expected you to be interested in that stuff.”

Dynamight’s keys jingle in the silence where he doesn’t answer, his door opens and as always you look away. He stands too still for a second too long, then sighs, turning to invite you in.

You tilt your head, eyeing him warily. He doesn’t let you ruminate or even ask, his hand on yours, tugging you in himself.

You’ve only ever been in the doorway, so following him past the foyer, taking your shoes off like you’re about to get comfortable, feels strange and unnerving.

Dynamight slumps onto his couch, head tilted back and eyes scrunched closed. You stand there awkwardly, suddenly aware of how different his life is to yours.

His house is nice. Decorated like a magazine, tidier than you’d expect from a bachelor. His tv looks expensive and even the open kitchen you can see in your peripheral, is stocked top to bottom in gadgets you know cost more than anything you own.

“Stop gawking.” Dynamight’s voice, for the first time, startles you. “‘M not offering you tea.”

“I wasn’t— shut up!” You like bothering him, but this time you become defensive. “Why am I here?”

“Yeah?” Dynamight snorts, an eye winking open to look you over. “Why are you?”

It must be something psychological, to have you in his space for once. You like to spook him when he’s on missions, at stores you could only steal from, and even at the cafe by his agency he likes to frequent. But this is his home. His living room. This isn’t the no man’s land of public space. Where it’s easy for you to dominate, since he’s got a reputation (barely) and all sorts of hero rules to follow.

You straighten your back, pulling a usb out your pocket and throwing it at him, without force but in the direction of his head. “You wanted intel.”

“And you couldn’t have waited till the morning?” He scoffs, catching the thing before it hits his face. “Gone to the agency?”

“Unless you grant me full immunity.” You shrug, knowing he won’t.

“Fat chance.” Dynamight inspects the usb. “This not gonna brick up my entire computer?”

“I don’t know.” He looks at you like you’re stupid. “I just took it.”

Dynamight frowns, then pulls out a case from under his coffee table. You’re still standing there uncomfortably, so he rolls his eyes and prompts you to get close. You don’t like following his order, and you can tell he isn’t used to it either. Normally you’re the one openly pushing past his personal space, listening to nothing he says. You lean on the back of his sofa, peering over his shoulder.

The case opens to a laptop, one that uses his fingerprint to unlock. You watch curiously as he taps away at something you don’t understand, before pushing the usb in and lighting up the screen in new colours.

Dynamight becomes quiet, focussed as he sifts through files and documents you still don’t get. You had wanted to continue on your prodding and ask why he looked like such a misery tonight, but his intensity makes it difficult to interrupt.

“Fucking hell.” Dynamight sounds almost in awe. “Where the hell did you get this.”

“I just took it.” You’re petulant. “I said.

“[Name].” The hero’s body turns, and he stares with new authority. “Don’t piss me off.”

You feel small. Even with you standing over him, in his casual wear, a black top and some joggers, you’re reminded he’s a hero. One that lets you get away with a lot, but still a man of power you could never fight.

“Who rejected you?” You’re brattish. “You didn’t say.”

The non sequitur pisses him off, but he doesn’t want to have you running. “It wasn’t— Deku. I asked him to join my agency.”

That somehow makes you feel better. And equal. Like you’ve both just had terrible days.

“I saw him once. A friend, from when I was little, goes to UA.” You almost distract Dynamight with your reminiscing, but he catches it, frowning and prompting you to answer his original question.

“That guy you were tailing.” You remember a few months ago, recognising Dynamight in stealth gear, in a place where you hadn’t expected him to be. “The one with the red hair.” The descriptor makes something click in Dynamight’s head. His eyes go wide and wider with your next words. “He left a window open.” You shrug. “I snuck in.”

“Alone?” Dynamight wipes his head with his hands, frustrated. You think you’ve done something wrong. “Do you have any idea how—”

“I can take it back!” Interrupting him, you reach out to snatch the usb. You feel scolded and it stings.

He grabs your wrist before you can, you look at him with such sourness and he sighs. “Just… don’t do it again. Leave the hero work to me.”

You’re still pouting, embarrassed.

“You did good. Okay?” His hands give yours a squeeze. “You did really fucking good.” A part of you wants that, his approval, but you pull away anyways.

“I have to go.” You’re already walking backwards to his corridor. He follows you though he knows can’t keep you any longer, he’s never been able to pin you down.

You shove your shoes on haphazardly, not caring about creasing or scuffing. He has to unlock the door for you, but before he does he pulls his wallet out.

“How much?” There’s a few large notes in his hand. It’s jarring that he can walk around with so much cash in his pockets.

“Wait.” You stop him with your hands, shaking your head. “Can’t— not tonight— can’t have that much on me.”

Dynamight gives you a look, there’s pity in his eyes. He hesitates letting you go, shoving a 2000 yen note into your hands. “At least.”

The winter air hits you both when the door finally opens. It’s the kind that makes your muscles ache. You step out quickly, already making your way to the fence you hopped over to bother him in the first place.

Before you can lift yourself up, Bakugou calls out, voice uncomfortably gentle. “You got a place to sleep?”

“…No.”

Cut out of a second, there’s a moment where you think he’s wants to say something. But he doesn’t. Instead he just nods, letting you jump over his gate and run off. Back into the night.

Because in my head there’s an already established dynamic, I can’t tell if this whole thing only makes sense to me since I don’t need it to be expressed in the details… I did try to add contextualising details but idkkkk eughhhh

[hai7ani]

i know you may have been busy lately, more so considering you got a job and congratulations on that!!

but i reallyyy need to ask for a fluff rindou one crying bc of how utterly gorgeous his wife looked on their wedding day and getting all shy around her after the wedding for days because he’s got a like crush on his own wife

you don’t HAVEEEE TOOO, it’s on you to do it:33and if you’ll do it then take your time bbg, no worries here :b

Rindou hasn't always been a very vocal person.

He's reserved and he doesn't speak a lot unless he's pissed or he just has to answer a question directed at him. It's not that he's selective when it comes to talking 一 he just doesn't know what to say and what even is there to say. But he speaks smoothly to you when he calls you at work in the middle of the day, he speaks clear with his family to plan for cake and coffee, he speaks mumbling to your cat sometimes when she's magically made her way onto his shoulder and sitting there while watching him prep her meal like a curious little bird.

He's weird in a way that you find endearing all the time. He likes collecting Legos that he proudly displays in one little corner of the house even though he's almost 35 and he enjoys giving unsolicited commentary on how stupid and blinded by love the main lead is (who happens to be your favourite) on the sappy romcoms you like watching on Friday nights after work just to see your nostrils flare before chewing his ear off on why the main lead just did what they did. He eats his food like he's just trying to get it over with and he lets hamburger sauce drip all over the table, yet he always wipes your mouth when he sees steak sauce leaking out the corner of your mouth.

Lately his new weird habit is following you around the house. He likes to stand behind you quietly and you'd knock into his chest or step on his toes after giving you a shock. It pisses you off because you don't want to accidentally hurt him if you were in the kitchen handling hot water or is holding something sharp. But he kisses your frown away and continues doing it until you slowly get used to him showing up behind you all of a sudden.

He's also been really annoying about his appearance lately. He keeps getting you to dye his hair black again and again (like, every end of the week when the black fades because he keeps washing his hair everyday) over the sink because his greys are coming out and he makes you trim his hair too while you're at it. He's been spending a lot of time shopping for cologne and browsing through Zara Men because you mentioned once the Jo Malone sample he sprayed on a few weeks ago when he ran out of other perfumes smelled really nice on him and wow, this K-Pop idol's fashion sense is so neat.

Today the ring on your finger feels a little bit heavier than usual and you phone him sobbing to come back as soon as he can. He comes home with fried chicken and heat pads and he drops it all on the ground when he finds you cocooned in your blanket on the ground watching Corpse Bride. "I feel so bad for Emily." You're crying to him the minute he takes off his shoes and he sighs in exasperation when you keep replaying the same scene where Victor was yelling at Emily. "Fucking Victor again." He joins you in your cocoon shortly after showering really quickly and switches the movie to The Notebook instead because he knows you still haven't cried enough today. The fried chicken is soggy and your tears won't stop and he's nothing but patient and sweet when he pats on your back and letting you wet his shirt with what even you can recognise as hearts in his eyes.

"I just missed you a lot today." You blow your nose, noisy and hiccuping into your handkerchief. "Me too." It's really soft when it's murmured into your neck and it's almost as if he is the one who'd phoned for you to cone home and hug with him.

"You see me everyday." You jab a finger into his chest and he flinches. "What? I can't miss you but you can?"

"You can, yes." The scene pops up in your head again and you laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"Remember? You were crying just like me on our wedding一"

"Oh, shut up. That was months ago一 ages ago."

"Me shut up? Look at you, you're still acting like we got married yesterday. Look at how tight you're hugging me. You're like 29 again at our first date following me around the DVD store. What was it again? You liked my perfume? I asked if you liked me too and you got so red. And, as if you don't always look at me now like you wanna一"

You see YouTube appearing on screen and he's typing in Thai advertisements一

"Stop!" You try snatching the remote away from his hand but he's quicker and a video is already playing.

"You're less annoying when you cry."

Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?

Oh, well. Your husband's weird like that anyway. And you match him just fine.

Wrote something a little different than what was asked but here it isssssss he's more of a loser husband than a shy husband here ☹️☹️☹️ i love him so much

[spxllcxstxr]

Viktor Getting into a Relationship with a Male S/O • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: I was wondering if you could do some Viktor x male!reader headcannons? Like establishing/getting into a relationship with him. Thank you for your consideration. :) — anon

Warnings: m/m pairing, lowkey kinda academy vik/a wee bit before season 1? Kinda short I’m sorry!!!!!

A.N: these are short I’m sorry!! I don’t think I used any pronouns but the reader and vik are referred to as gay, I hope these are ok! I’ve never really written m/m so it was a little outside of my own box!

•

At the time of your first meeting, Viktor was already quite comfortable in his sexuality. It wasn’t a well known fact about him though, only Jayce knew (and let’s be honest, Heimer knows what’s up)

It certainly wasn’t love at first sight for Viktor when he first saw you, head buried in a research paper, but you did in fact catch his eye. You were quite handsome and obviously smart, your red scribbles in the margin of the paper indicated that you at least understood the topic. Unfortunately, Viktor reasoned that he had more important things to focus on and had no time for extracurriculars

That was until you started strolling into his lab, notebook in hand, asking so many questions and jotting his answers down before strolling back out. It was an assignment from some professor Viktor never really liked but damn were they doing him a favor now

Viktor is the one that starts finding you outside the lab—sometimes he would see you in the library or walking through the corridors, and he musters up enough courage to actually ask you about yourself. He starts off small, knowing that not only is he a bit of an introvert, but you are too (at least in front of him you are)

You, on the other hand, were smitten with Viktor almost immediately. You loved his passion and curiosity, especially when it came to science and his own experiments. Viktor was dedicated to helping others as well. In front of him you acted like a tittering school girl with a crush--you fumbled over your words and your cheeks got hot--it was embarrassing

When your professor gave you the opportunity to note down the goings on in the labs, you were ecstatic. (Not just because of Viktor, you told yourself; you loved science as well...interacting with Viktor was quite the bonus though)

Every day you would enter his lab to take note of his progress, and you would practically swoon over the man. The way he would concentrate when experimenting and how passionate he spoke of his findings. (His accent was a plus too). You looked forward to seeing Viktor, not just because you liked him, but because he was becoming a wonderful friend.

It's late at night a few months later when Viktor admits his feelings. You're scribbling down equations in your notebook, trying to help Viktor figure out a component of his work when the slender man stops mid sentence, amber eyes gazing at your frame. Viktor first nervously admits that he likes men, flinching at your sudden laugh at the confession. He was gay, you were gay...that school girl crush had hope after all. Viktor then rests a shaky hand on your own, thumb lightly tapping against the bad of your hand

“I…I must confess something else, (Y/n). You much know that I have grown fond of you, no? That for once in my life I actively search someone out? I fancy you, and I believe you…feel the same?”

Viktor easily melts your heart with that. You both lean in for a kiss—soft and filled with emotion

Establishing your relationship is pretty easy at the start. It starts out the same just with added kisses in the corner of the lab, dates at small, hole in the wall restaurants. He’s very easy to love and care for…and he is very happily in love with you too

•

[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Eight - Reunion Discoveries

Part Seven

———

Lightweight transportation craft of Cybertron were designed to hold the weight of well over twenty cybertronian’s. Sometimes more depending on the need for military uses, they ranged from the utilitarian to the down right plush. Typically had a few seats and hand rails where you could magnetize with ease, for the humans, they were reminiscent of subway cars.

There were the usual express lines that traveled from local cities to others, the direct lines which could take you to neighboring city states, and the free standing ones which did not travel along a select route and could be programmed with specific location. Typically those transports were reserved well in advance of use or for those selected by the Prime, as free to access for emergencies. 

A well functioning public transportation system was not only greatly appreciated by the populace, but a practical use of public funds. 

—

There was an awkwardness hanging in the air, the humans sitting together on one side of the transport with the cybertronians on the other. Sideswipe was lightly picking at the dried pink on his armor, frowning as it flecked off, across the transport Mirage winced. 

Hound shifted and sat up a bit once it got moving, he cleared his throat lightly and turned on his comm, looking to Prowl, “Our ship was around 93 miles away from the warehouse and we will need to have access to it over the coming days.” Sunstreaker snorted, “No kidding.” It took a moment for Prowl to answer, clearly trying to translate what was said, “We will send a crew out to salvage it. I understand why it would be important to you.” He slowly looked back to the strange pad he was holding, frown only deepening. Hound nodded slowly and turned to the others, motioning briefly to change their comms channel before speaking, “For now, we go along with them and find Jazz.” Sideswipe nodded lightly, holding a fleck of the pink gore in between his fingers, “You think you can ask them what this stuff is?” Hound sighed and shook his head, rolling his eyes behind the visor, “We’ll find out later, I’m sure.” “It’s toxic, whatever it is.” Sunstreaker spoke up, rubbing his hands together to get the worst of it off, the flecks falling to the floor.

”Toxic?” Leaning forward, Hound ran a brief scan on it and grabbed one of the flakes lightly, grinding it between his fingers, “Yeah, so don’t get it near your vents, even if we are still using the tanks, that is a risk not worth taking.” Nodding slowly, even Breakdown took a piece lightly and stared intently at it, “It’s congealed and dried, like blood.” Sunstreaker froze and made a noise that was painful on the ears, starting to rub at his arms quickly to get the rest of it off.

While Sunstreaker panicked, Hound sat back and glanced out the windows of the transport, staring with wide eyes at the surface of this strange planet. Now away from the haze and the damp ground, he could see effectively what they’d been walking through. A sea, a sea of rust at least in appearance. Glancing over to the other mechs in the shuttle, to Prowl and his companion, he watched them talk together. Their voices were quiet, but he was still calibrating his translator. The tech was experimental at best and had been limited to a handful of languages on Earth, but Hound had a lot of faith in Preceptor, the man was smart enough to make some of the most advanced mech tech in the world, what was a translator to a genius?

They were rocketing across the planet and after a few minutes, the blue and white mech stood, saying something to Prowl before going towards the entrance. With a nod, Prowl looks to them all, “Mirage is going to bail out above the battle, do any of you wish to join him?” Immediately, Sideswipe’s hand shot up, “Oh, me! I want to fall to the surface of this weird planet too.” Prowl stared in confusion before Hound stood, resting a hand on Sideswipe’s shoulder, “A long story, I’ll go with them though.” Nodding slowly, Prowl seemed deeply confused as the two shuffled towards the doorway.

Breakdown sighed deeply and stood, stretching lightly as Sunstreaker did the same, “Out of one fight and into the next.” Sunstreaker’s voice was almost enthusiastic, “Haven’t kicked alien butt since before they prepped my mech for space.” He hops up and down at the same time as Sideswipe, Mirage’s eyes sliding over them slowly, letting out a slow breath. 

The transport is rocked with an explosion and the doors open, pulling the pressure with it. Hound took a deep breath before leaping out after Mirage, Sideswipe falling backwards out of the transport, his sword expended from its spot in his arm plating as he fell. Hound brought his gun up, eyes widening as he saw the same bastards he’d spent the last several years fight on a moral familiar surface. Mirage hit one hard and effectively took it to the ground, using it to break his landing, seeing that Hound did the same and Sideswipe followed his lead.

It was easy to spot Jazz in the fight, though there were other mechs with visors on the field, he was the only one with numbers across his chest. Hound’s breath caught lightly in his throat even as the shot from his gun hit the so-called Quint just behind Jazz. Their eyes met, for a moment before Hound had an additional face on his visual feel, the bright smile was one he didn’t think he’d ever see again. Other than maybe on a skull, “You sure know how to make an entrance Hound,” He grinned as he turned and fired on the tentacled aliens, “I was just following that guys lead,” Jazz glanced over and laughed, “Oh, Mirage is a hoot. You’ll come to really love the guy.” “If you say so.” Hound continued firing.

—

In the distance, two large figures were fighting back to back, cleaving through the enemy with a certain amount of struggle. One of them, tall and grey, saw the red and green visored mechs fall from the sky and watched for a click as they each killed several Quintessons with limited hassle. His break caught, “Optimus, there truly are more like Jazz.” “What do you mean Megatron?” Optimus grunted with effort, throwing one off himself, before his face was forcefully turned towards Hound and Sideswipe, “Ah. That would explain Prowl’s message.” Megatron growled for a moment before blasting another encroacher. 

—

Breakdown and Sunstreaker landed with Prowl in the now disabled transport, less of a landing and more of a crash, they both bailed out with ease and took off onto the battlefield, Breakdown taking up position as his cannon hummed to life and Sunstreaker took off in the direction of Sideswipe. Several mechs were staring at them, mostly at the energon covered Sunstreaker, as he almost collided with his brother to cover his back. 

“Stay on comms people, stay focused.” Hound was calm, as he had been in every fight and would continue to be, “God, have you been like that this whole time?” Jazz’s voice was truly music to all their ears, bringing smiles and relief to their faces, “Welcome back, Commander. Ha! You’ve got more seniority than Hound!” Sideswipe slides past the pair, cleaving a Quintessons drone in half with ease. There was a moment of pause, Jazz clearly thinking before clearing his throat, “I’ll follow whatever Hound orders, he’s primary for, uh, whatever your mission is called.” “Thank you.” Hound shoots the head off a Quintessons nearest to Jazz with a light smile.

Most of the cybertronians that were there had fallen back to a more defensive position as the humans went after the Quintessons, not noticing the slight retreat of their counterparts. Even as their plating got torn and gouged, lines splitting open and getting concussed with covering fire. It was clear, they were more built for this fight than the average citizen of Cybertron. 

The twins were moving together in near synch, bracers moving through the air and Sideswipe’s sword coming through the enemy by its near perfect design. 

Breakdown was blowing up the land between the line and the enemy, blasting apart the drones with ease, his cannon locking onto the familiar enemy and eliminating it.

Hound was near Jazz, gun up and firing rapidly, focused on the scope of his visual feed and unable to speak.

Together they made a near perfect team, the twins were bickering across the comms and moving as if they’d always fought together, Hound was covering the angles they couldn’t see and Breakdown was covering them all. Maybe that’s why they’d been paired together, because they all were adaptable and capable. Jazz was just the missing piece of this puzzle as he was able to provide information from the other side of the field, listening into the cybertronian comms with five years of practiced ease. Hound glances towards his old friend, still not entirely convinced that this was all real. 

Prowl slid up near Jazz and Hound, flanked by Mirage towards the end of the fight, his servo resting lightly on Jazz’s back. They moved almost as one, even better paired than the twins in a way that shocked Hound. Jazz had been loved back home, there was no doubt about that but this, this was something else and unexpected. They clearly were speaking quietly to each other, still in a language that Hound couldn’t understand though the translator was still clicking away.

— 

When there was nothing left but broken armor, spilt energon, and gore from the Quintessons, Jazz took Hound’s elbow lightly, “Breath Hound, it’s over for now.” It was so different from back home, one or two of these things would attack entire cities, not a battle field of them. Hound at that moment wasn’t sure how long they’d been fighting for, whether it was the same day or even the same week, being in his suit and filled with adrenaline kept him in focus. Kept them all in focus. It was evident in the stance of the others as well, from potentially that morning leaving to Odyssey till now, who knew how long it had been and when you were in a suit you could stretch things a lot further than without it. 

With a nod, Hound takes a break and rests his hand on Jazz’s shoulder, “I still can’t believe it’s actually you.” Jazz’s smile was evident even without the visual feed, “It’s been a long five years. I hope you brought some good food from home.” Sunstreaker sighed dramatically, “If you think protein bars are good, then yes, he did.” Sideswipe, draped over his brother, snorted and covered his face. Hound rolled his eyes lightly, “There is more than that on the Odyssey.” “The Odyssey, like Apollo 13?” Breakdown was the next to speak up, “Ironic, yes?” They moved together, away from the main area that seemed to be a camp, only one following for the moment was Prowl. Silently listening to them talk, “You could say that, except they never stepped on the moon. You guys are standing on an entirely different planet.” “Don’t remind me.” Sunstreaker nearly whined, grabbing at the sides of his head to more laughter from his brother.

Jazz brought them over to some sort of heater, standing near it to keep warm after the fight, when their heart rates would slow and cool them off to an uncomfortable point, “You know you two, you’ll uh, want to hose off with some solvent. It makes some mechs uncomfortable to see others covered in dried blood.” Sunstreaker almost howled as Breakdown pointed at him, “I knew it! I said it.” Prowl gives Jazz a very long and hard look, at which Jazz just shrugs, “They’ll be a lot like me when I first got here Prowler.” 

Someone cleared their throat behind the six of them, Prowl stood stock straight and turned, if a mech could go pale that is what Hound would have described it as, suddenly there was a quiet click in Hound’s ear and the next words said in their strange language flowed through the transmitter and adjusted to fit the tones before spreading out into well understandable English, “Well Jazz, are you going to introduced us to your friends?” A big red and blue mech stood with another equally large grey bot, shoulder to shoulder, covered in soot and the same pink stuff Sunstreaker had been splattered with, “Uh, yes sir, well, these are other pilots from Earth.” His voice almost got timid, that’s when Hound knew that these were likely who was really in charge, especially considering how few other mechs were now around them.

Having been around a few other mechs in the battle have given Hound a bit of perspective, it made their suits feel huge, especially when they often felt small in Vortex’s, now First Aid’s, shadow. These mecha though, they were big just for the sake of being big. Hound didn’t have to stare too far up, but still his head was tilted back to meet this one’s eye line. He stood still for a long moment before standing at parade rest, clearing his throat, “Sir, uh. We apologize for the, uh, heh, invasion.” Hound paused as the translator quickly worked its magic. Thank god for Preceptor and his bizarre ideas. Jazz’s head whipped to him, as did the others, all staring at the strange translation that came from his external speakers. 

“Where in the hell did you learn that?” Sideswipe leaned forward slightly, whispering as if those around them wouldn’t be able to hear, “Turn on the translator Preceptor installed, I’ve been running it all day so it could learn.” Hound whispered back, but seemingly kept eye contact with the two large mechs. One shifted and crossed his arms before speaking, “What brought you all here? Your comrade, or something else?” Hound tilted his head ever so slightly and glanced at Jazz, who had slunk to almost hide behind Prowl, he looked back to the grey mech and shook his head, “It’s complicated.” “Then uncomplicated it.” He opened his mouth again but the blue and red mech rested his hand on the others shoulder, “Let’s give them time to reacquaint with Jazz, you forget that five solar cycles seems much longer for them then for us.” The other grunted before turning and walking towards a group of mechs, all ranging in shades of purple, blue, and green. The one left smiled with his eyes, if a mech could do that, “He means no harm, he’s just, curious is all. Go refuel, take a moment to rest, then we can discuss how you arrive here.” Nodding, Hound turned to the crew, and motioned for them to go back.

Jazz was the first to speak up, “Come on, we’ve got a place to sit and fuel over here.” He points and slowly, they make their way off the decimated battlefield. 

———

A/N

Wow, alright. I had an entirely different ending written for this part, but in all actuality that is now the ending of part nine I guess.

I was going to give myself 30 minutes to write today, and 2 and a half hours later I finished part eight. Of course, it never fails. 

At least I’ll have about half of part 9 done when I go to post this, so there is that. Also, I wrote this part from 8 till 10:30 at night so if there are major errors or any errors that you see, please let me know. 

Tags!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u

And once again thank you to @keferon for this amazing AU.

[peachhcs]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachhcs/768315021606469633/httpswwwtumblrcompeachhcs768260981215330304

oh my god. i love them so much and im so glad they are doing better!

mack is so fucking funny… wait till he sees all the scratch and hickeys all over will…

part 12/slight bonus! writing macklin's dialogue and banter is my favorite thing to do bc he obviously loves will and samy and loves to poke fun at will about every single thing

au masterlist

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

"sooo, tell us about your weekend," thomas asked as soon as he got the chance once practice was over for the day on monday. the others circled in around him and the blonde just as curious to know too.

will flushed from where he sat at his stall cleaning himself up and preparing for a shower, "it was really good. we had a lot of fun."

"you gotta bring her to one of our parties. we're dying to meet her after hearing so much," eklund cut in with a little smirk.

the sharks players had been itching to meet samy since they found out she was their rookie's longtime best friend and girlfriend. they'd only heard stories and seen the photos.

"yeah, maybe next time or when she comes to a game," will hummed, glad his teammates were eager to meet her. it reminded him of boston and his linemates who were also just as excited to meet samy when they moved to plymouth.

"how much fun did you guys really have?" thomas poked some more obviously just in good fun, but also to tease the blonde.

"let's just say will's passenger seat was not in the right position when i got into it," macklin cut in before will could answer.

the bonde's face quickly burned in embarrassment as he eyed his friend to shut up.

"woah..did you guys go at it?" thomas continued along with a few snickers from the others around them.

"maybe," will tried playing it off. he didn't mind the teasing, but he did kind of mind telling them about his sex life because obviously, that was a pretty intimate and private topic that he wasn't going to willingly share with everyone.

"aw, come on. don't be shy. you totally did," ecklund roughed up will's arm in a teasing manner. all the hockey player did was shake his head slightly and play it off with a smile.

they seemed to lay off for now which will was grateful for. he escaped back into the showers to clean himself off and get out of the rink before anyone else wanted to poke at him about his weekend.

by the time him and macklin got back into his car, most of the guys were gone already so the blonde evaded any more questions they had. the two threw their stuff into the back and then got themselves situated in the front seats.

as will messed around with some things before starting the car, he didn't realize his shirt had ridden up and exposed a bit of his back. macklin was adjusting himself and snapping his seatbelt into place when his eyes caught sight of will's exposed skin and then the slight red.

"woah, you take too hot of a shower or something?" the brunette wondered to which will grew confused.

"huh?"

"your back is like red. you good?"

still, will was confused so he reached around to touch his back where the skin was exposed. he felt around, not feeling anything tender, but his fingers did brush over a line of raised skin.

"just let me see for a second," macklin offered, wanting to make sure his friend was okay. he helped will lift his shirt up more and that's when he saw more red marks running up and down will's back like someone attacked him.

"holy fuck, why is your back all scratched up?"

as soon as the question left his lips, macklin immediately knew and will remembered at the same time. the brunette scrunched his nose up, "dude, what the fuck. this too? jesus, how hard did you go this weekend?"

the blonde's face flushed in more embarrassment as he quickly pulled his shirt all the way down. "what? we didn't go that hard," will defended himself.

"how many times did you even fuck? i know the car was 1," macklin raised his eyebrow and will seriously couldn't believe he was having this conversation again.

"i guess 3. the other 2 were in my room," he admitted a bit sheepishly.

"oh my god. you're disgusting. remind me to never be in the same house as you two.," macklin shook his head like he was some disappointed dad hearing all of this.

"hey. if you had a girlfriend right now, i know you'd be the exact same, so i don't wanna hear it," will rolled his eyes.

"please tell me that's it. please tell me i'm not gonna discover anything else remaining from this weekend that has to do with that," macklin made a circular motion with his hand towards will, a look of disgust still on his features.

"there's hickeys on my chest, but that's it. swear it," will watched macklin roll his eyes hearing that.

"jesus christ, smitty. you guys are hornyyy, wow. i gotta go home and drink bleach so i never think of this again," the brunette shook his head which earned him the middle finger as will finally pulled out of the parking lot.

"you're so over dramatic. what happens when you get a girlfriend?"

"we won't be as horny as you two," macklin shot right back without mssing a beat.

"and what happens if you guys end up having to do long distance and don't see one another for weeks on end?" will raised his eyebrow.

"that will be none of your business," the younger boy crossed his arms.

"right. can't wait to see the hickeys on you then. i'll tease you all about it," the blonde grinned and macklin shoved him.

it was safe to say neither of them talked about the occurrences in will's car ever again. or at least until samy came back to visit. the younger brunette made sure to stay far, far away while she was in town again.

[ggreactionsandscenarios]

Hi can you do a smut with CEO! Karina and female! reader who is her secretary ?

Karina x Reader

Chinese couch

Late nights.

It was starting to feel a little bit too usual for Jimin to work until night lately. Being the CEO of a worldwide renowned company for sure comes with the prerogative but it was slowly messing with her sleep schedule and nothing good happens when Jimin is sleep deprived.

As her assistant you witnessed it all, her temper slowly getting worst and worst, the number of people getting fired slowly rising up.

Usually you wouldn't say anything, afraid to loose your job and even more afraid to face an angry Karina but it's been days and you're slowly feeling responsible.

It might be a tiny bit because of the S.O.S. looks from all the people getting kicked out that pass by your desk everyday.

Anyway you figured out you might as well try to calm your boss down before becoming the very last person employed here.

So when the clock hit nine, you made your way to her office. Stopping right in front of the door, contemplating whether you should enter or not. After building up the courage, you finally decided to knock.

But of course the door opened wide right when you were about to, revealing your boss in all of her intimidating self. Her face only a few inches away from yours.

"Please tell me you weren't coming to tell me some bad news, because I swear I'm gonna kill myself if anything goes sideways again."

You couldn't help but chuckle a bit at her frown but were fast to remember she was your boss.

"No actually I was coming to ask you if you'd like to eat with me, I'm ordering."

For a second there Jimin was bewildered, not expecting the offer but she was fast to put on her serious face.

"I don't have time to eat I have better things to do."

She was about to go back to her office when you suddenly grabbed the door keeping it opened.

"Chinese it is."

You don't know what's gotten into you, it's like you're trying to get fired.

Karina stared right at you for a minute, probably waiting for you to back down but you didn't.

"Fine."

And with those words she went back inside letting you choose what to order. You settled for a restaurant that was just down the street, hoping it would be delivered faster.

Sadly it didn't, you waited for almost an hour at your desk before the delivery guy came up.

You went to Karina's door knocking on it carefully, not wanting to interrupt a phone call.

Even though you got no answer you pushed the door opened, after all you did warned her you'll be treating her food.

When you entered the room you were surprised not to find your boss in her chair where she would always sit.

She was laying down on her luxurious couch, she probably got too tired to notice she was falling asleep before it was too late.

You set the food on the table before shaking her shoulder to wake her up but it didn't work.

She did not move nor did she said anything. She actually remained so still that for a second you wondered if she might have passed out of exhaustion.

It's only when you got close to her face to see if she was breathing that she suddenly opened her eyes.

"Getting comfortable there I see, you should have told me you weren't talking about food when you ask me for dinner."

You frowned not knowing what she meant until you took a closer look at your position noticing how you were pretty much all over her.

You took a step back and an other just to be sure.

"Excuse me for checking if my boss is still alive."

You tried to play it cool but you knew you were blushing at this point so you turned your back at her to hide your embarrassment.

Her face closed up, the movement upsetting her. She took a hold of your waist, turning you around and getting insanely close to you.

"Don't ever turn your back on me like that."

Once again you don't know what went on your mind because for some reason you couldn't help but to provoke her.

"Thought you liked my backside."

She stare at you before answering.

"Careful sweetheart, I don't like brats."

As you were about to argue back she shut you up, kissing you hard, her teeth sinking into your bottom lip so she could have access to your tongue.

As much as you'd like to resist her, you've been waiting for her to make a move on you forever so you weren't going to back down now.

So you kissed her back, pushing her back to the couch where she has been sleeping except now you were on top of her, kissing her neck.

You would've continued if it wasn't for her switching positions.

"I'm on top."

You couldn't careless all you wanted to do was for her to kiss you right now.

"Stop talking and start kissing."

And so she did, trailing her kisses down your neck to your breast, getting rid of your top on the way.

She cupped your mount, tasting them and playing with your nipples as you tugged on her hair asking for more.

You might have marks of her lips tomorrow because of how hungrily she was kissing every inch of your skin.

As she was kissing your lips again you decided to stop her.

"Wait, let's eat."

Jimin looked at you with confusion in her eyes.

"What do you mean 'let's eat' ? What do you think I was about to do ?"

She was now clearly frustrated as you sat up on the couch ans started unpacking your order.

"You need to eat, you haven't even eaten lunch today."

"Who cares ?"

Seeing her frustration wasn't getting to you she changed tactics, brushing her hand on your thigh and kissing your neck.

It was indeed tempting but as you let out a content sigh, you broke contact.

"Eat your food and maybe you'll have dessert."

Not really a smut but here is a little something -Ael

[conkers-thecosy]

It needs some serious revisions and some bloody good edits, but I just finished writing “Backs To The Wall” at last 😭

Once I’ve got things edited to a way I’m happy with (see: fixed the continuity errors I knew would happen, which was the reason for the hiatus in the first place) I’ll start posting again!

The results of the poll I did last month asking if folks wanted chapters still posted at intervals or all at once was surprisingly conclusive, so I’ll be sure to honour that and space the chapters out a bit. I will post the next two together though, just as a thank you for everyone who has been so patient while I worked on the final chapters.

Seriously. It means the world to me how many folks have been so kind about the big gap between updates. I know it’s not ideal to make folks wait like that, but I just really wanted to make sure I could post something worthwhile and finish the fic in a way that I could be happy with 💛

I know I got upset last month, but the majority of readers have truly been wonderful, and frankly, the only thing that has kept me going some days. I can’t thank you enough for that, and I’m sorry I let a few miserable butt-heads make me forget how lucky I’ve been to have such wonderful support and friendship the past year of working on this fic.

So yeah! Watch this space! New chapters are incoming! I’m going to take a week off, then I’ll be back at it again! Hope to have 34 and 35 ready to post on the first week of January!

(I will be answering all your outstanding messages soon, too! I’m so sorry for the delays - I’ve just been so focused on trying to get to the end!)

~ Conkers 🌰

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

hi! so I saw a reddit post a few days ago about a dead aasimar (Omar) who can be found in the House of Healing - but what was interesting is that they said it was *his* wings Balthazar took for Marcus. I always thought they were Aylin's wings; isn't there a line about how Balthazar experimented on her early on, or Isobel reacting to the wings/realizing what Balthazar did, something like that? or did I imagine that? I would love to hear your take on this! (I don't know if I can send links in asks, but it's r BaldursGate3/comments/1gxo0tm/)

Oh, hey! It's Olam the Dead Aasimar Harper, my own personal favourite basically nonexistent NPC to shower with utterly disproportionate levels of attention! He's the guy I brought up in the final part of Moon-chosen, Moon-guided, who Aylin hears about and then really wants to retrieve and give a proper burial to. Entirely because of my aasimar fixation and because I love playing around with Aylin being an aasimar but also absolutely not being a regular aasimar, and how she'd feel about others both like and unlike her.

Olam is indeed the only other aasimar in the game. I love the little story we get told there, via one journal and one note, and one fight against a special animated armour.

The full text of his journal aka "a chilling account of an aasimar Harper's final tendays in the cursed lands" is here, and I find it a really nice bit of writing and an insight into that period - piecing together all these little bits and pieces about what happened to the Thorms and Reithwin and the armies on both sides is my favourite part of the game. Act 2 my beloved.

'All beings should walk free of fear', I was taught. Oh, if only were I granted such a fine fate.

So, Olam is a Harper who fought against Ketheric a century ago, and was there when the curse first happened. He was some kind of spellcaster (his insistence on research and experimentation screams wizard, to me) and he had an affectionate bird familiar called Corvin, presumably a raven. In his experimentation and efforts to lift the shadow curse, he accidentally animated his own armour, which you can fight in that acid pit area. But he ultimately failed, and then he succumbed to the shadows, alone. Tragic stuff, right?

You've activated my trap card! By which I mean I saw that post, saw videos of "you won't believe this NPC you missed!!!" go viral, saw people take it as gospel and start parroting misinformation about a very specific fandom interest of mine again, and got so frustrated I almost started posting WELL ACTUALLY Reddit comments. Horrifying.

Instead I get to ramble here! Thank you so much for providing an excuse (genuinely). It's kind of like the oathbreaker/disowned by her mother nonsense, people just can't seem to leave Aylin alone and let her have any of her actual damn story beats and themes and it grinds my gears. And just like the Child of the Moonmaiden stuff, someone has already added it to the BG3 wiki with zero sources, and now it's spreading like wildfire based on absolutely nothing. What a glorious microcosm of our reality.

Salt aside, thank you for the question! Let me actually answer it, and dig out exactly what is in the game itself.

TL;DR: While nobody looks at the camera and says as much, I'm convinced the wings are Aylin's, and that Balthazar had nothing to do with this guy.

First of all, and my simplest point: regular 5e aasimar don't actually have physical wings. One subtype of them (or, more recently, one of their three once-per-day "transformation" options) gives you this:

You can use your action to unleash the divine energy within yourself, causing your eyes to glimmer and two luminous, incorporeal wings to sprout from your back.

Two luminous, spectral wings sprout from your back temporarily.

This lasts for a whole minute, and then you have to long rest to do it again. Of course, BG3 plays around with 5e rules and adapts them as needed, and there's no actual BG3 aasimar set of racial abilities implemented in the game. There's only Aylin who has the wings on by default, and there's our wingless boy of the hour, Olam - who is a corpse statted as "Human" if you right-click inspect him, so no help there. The only actual mention that he is supposed to be an aasimar comes from the description of his journal I quoted up there, and from the inspiration popup that some character backgrounds get when you find him (Sage and Acolyte, to be specific).

On a personal note, as a player of aasimar characters who've died by being thrown from great heights after having used up their wings for the day, believe me when I say I am deeply envious of whatever Aylin has going on in the wings department. She makes them appear and disappear in a flash at will and it's very cool. I love it. There's a special graphical overlay of feathers fluttering down all over your screen sometimes when she's around. I am enamoured.

Next, in the Marcus confrontation, Isobel doesn't give any signs of recognising the wings, nor does she comment on them specifically - she's shocked by Marcus' betrayal as he's been with them for a long time and nobody ever suspected a thing. I checked the dialogues/devnotes to see if there's anything else there, and there isn't. It's delicious angst material, certainly, the implications are deeply horrifying, and several people have written about it, me included, in tumblr posts and in fics, so you've probably seen the idea around a bunch. Not in the game itself, though.

Moving on, here's the full text of Balthazar's note you can find in Moonrise, titled "A Little Gift":

Marcus - I assume no explanation is needed for just how rare these appendages are, and I trust you shall make good use of them. You have a golden opportunity to please the General. Do not squander it. Access to the unwilling donor has proven difficult since the harvesting, but if I am afforded the opportunity, I shall pass along your gratitude. B.

This is pretty much it with regards to the wings explicitly. Speak With Dead on Marcus doesn't give anything related to the wings either. The only other thing is a little exchange between Z'rell and Marcus at Moonrise if his mission was a success, part of a series of little dialogues where she keeps rebuffing him and his efforts to get his hard-earned "audience with the General":

Marcus: I am free to do more for the Absolute, Disciple. Anything. Z'rell: Would you cast yourself from the tower-top? Marcus: Of course. I have the Absolute's wings to catch me. Z'rell: Off you go, then. I've always wanted to try those ballistas.

Ah, Z'rell, always a delight.

Now, let's look at the relevant final line in Balthazar's note.

Access to the unwilling donor has proven difficult since the harvesting - Balthazar, the necromancer who makes dead pixie moonlanterns, does not have big problems navigating the shadow curse like the Harpers do. Thus, getting to a corpse in the House of Healing morgue a little ways away from Moonrise is not the access problem he's having, nor is it the bunch of zombies that stalk the place. Rather, it is that Shar is angry at Ketheric who betrayed her for Myrkul and is keeping him and his out of the Shadowfell. I've so often seen people rather bafflingly confused by why Balthazar needs the player's help getting to the Nightsong prison when he's the one who imprisoned Aylin there in the first place, and this is why. He tells you as much himself - for instance when you actually enter the Shadowfell:

Balthazar: It seems Shar bears a grudge against my master, General Thorm, and so sought to prevent me from entering in his name. Luckily, you were the perfect agent in helping me slip past her defences. Now the Nightsong is within reach.

As for the unwilling donor bit, and your question of whether there is a line about how Balthazar experimented on Aylin early on - not really? He calls her "his masterpiece" a bunch and loves objectifying her in very specific and gross ways. There's again no mention of wings specifically, but what they do say is he cut out her tongue at least once before:

Nightsong: Ramblings most unsane. Poor Balthazar, for maggots ate his brain long ago. Balthazar: Hold your tongue, Aylin. Or I'll take it away from you again.

They make it so very easy to hate the guy - and agree with Aylin when she says her "heart lit like a full moon when you struck down that cadaver". Here is all the overworld banter you can hear from them, which fleshes out their relationship a bit more. Shocking spoiler: Balthazar is revolting.

Balthazar: As much as I savour our conversations, it's high time we got started. Nightsong: Do what you will. I cannot prevent you. But you know as well as I, I will come for you. One day. Balthazar: Poor child, so enthralled by gory revenge fantasies. You may find yourself disappointed by reality. Nightsong: Let us find out.

Nightsong: Someone's coming. Another Justiciar, I presume. Balthazar: Do you hunger for more company? Am I not enough to keep you sated? Nightsong: I'd [rather] live a thousand years in solitude than lay my eyes [upon] thy putrid visage again. Balthazar: Only a thousand?

Nightsong: Hatred makes you so hideous, Balthazar. Balthazar: Unkind, Aylin. Unkind and incorrect - I could never hate my masterwork. Nightsong: Perhaps you're right - perhaps you're incapable of feeling at all. Balthazar: Please, Aylin - spare me. Your insults grew tired and shopworn years ago.

Balthazar: How long has it been so far? With my work, time just slips away from me. Nightsong: A hundred years. Balthazar: A mere interlude for the likes of you and I. But nevertheless, perhaps it is time for a new chapter. Nightsong: Do as you will. You can pierce my flesh, but my heart beats on, forever.

There's also a tidbit if you ask Aylin how come all it took to release her from the prison was a friendly hand on her shoulder, and she'll tell you Balthazar "taunted and cajoled" her about how easy it would be to break the spell, if anyone just thought to try. So considering all of this, you bet he'd just love to "pass along gratitude" to Aylin and tell her alllll about how they used her own stolen wings to kidnap Isobel, of all people.

So basically, yeah, Balthazar is the one who's been in the Shadowfell prison most often, before Ketheric's relatively recent turn to Myrkul and Shar barring the way in response. We're given the above general vibes and implications of what he was doing there, and the rest is left up to our own gory imaginations. As Gale put it:

A dismal place for an aasimar to spend her existence. Especially with that necrotic toad for company.

There is no connection between Olam and Balthazar at all in the game, but there is one connection between Balthazar and the House of Healing - a negative one, notably.

You find Olam in the morgue of the House of Healing, which is Malus Thorm's stomping ground. It is his laboratory and research notes you find there, not Balthazar's. Malus complains in those very same notes found there that he gets the dregs of cadavers to experiment and mess around with because his nephew Ketheric is letting his Evil Chancellor Traytor Balthazar get first pick and keep the best for himself.

So no, Balthazar did not experiment on this guy or "harvest" anything. Olam is a fairly regular Harper who we can imagine may have lasted a bit longer in the necrotic curse because as an aasimar he'd presumably have necrotic damage resistance and the ability to cast light. He's been dead for about a century, and that's about it.

Aylin is the one the note clearly points to, and, setting aside all the crunchy mechanical and nitpicky details about who does or doesn't have wings and for how long, on every meta and storytelling and textual and subtextual and thematic and classically tropey level, Aylin is the only relevant person those wings could (and should) have come from. It is evocative, it is part of the chilling tale of her betrayal and captivity and serves to paint a vivid picture of the depths Ketheric and Balthazar have sunk to, as well as make Aylin's immense rage and desire for vengeance all the more visceral - and ultimately satisfying.

[adrift-in-thyme]

May I request Fairy Time and Hyrule doing some wing care or teaching the others how to help them take care of their wings?

Yes you absolutely may! Tysm anon!! I hope you don’t mind a bit of angst with all the softness

CW for one mention of blood

———————————————————————-

“How long has it been since you did this?”

Hyrule runs gentle fingers over Time’s wings. They spread grandly on either side, hues of soft greens and delicate blue-violets reflecting the sun’s smiling rays. Usually, they are colored in bold crimson and royal blue, which clash like swords on a battlefield. But today they take on a more tired appearance. Faded, they have begun to droop discouragingly.

Time has never admitted it, but Hyrule has eyes. It doesn’t take a genius to realize that his wings change when something is wrong. More often than not, they herald the disturbance before it can truly become known. A flash of forest green and the next thing he knows Time is fading into the mist in search of solitude.

…or collapsing in the middle of the trail.

Now, Time hums, sounding distracted. His hands lie in his lap. Absently, he twists his wedding band back and forth so quickly it is liable to rub a rash into his skin.

(Another nervous habit of his Hyrule has picked up on.)

“I’m not certain,” he admits, after a moment of quiet contemplation. The words are spoken with an air of something so desperate to be flippant. “I’ve been occupied with other matters.”

Hyrule blows out a weary sigh.

Other matters like worrying about all of us.

True, things have been strained amongst the heroes since Twilight’s injury. And as unofficial leader — and the rancher’s ancestor — Time has borne the brunt of it all. But still….

Malon had warned him about this.

“Oh, he just doesn’t take care of himself.” She had whispered during a visit to the ranch months ago after Time had fallen asleep at the dinner table. Head resting on her shoulder, he slept far deeper than he had in days.

“I’m not askin’ y’all to hover or anything. Heaven knows you’ve got enough on your plates as it is. But…just check in once in a while, will ya, loves? I don’t want him to lose himself while trying to take care of everyone else.”

Hyrule can’t help but feel that he has failed. The events of the past weeks have left their mark upon him too. Exhaustion has hounded him at every turn, dragging him down so heavily that he has nearly collapsed beneath it. And yet, he had noticed the signs. The quietness, the reservation, the increase in snappishness…the fear. But he had done nothing about them.

It wasn’t until Time had asked if he had taken the time to care for his own wings that he realized he hadn’t seen the older hero settle down to tend to his own lately.

He winces as he weaves the spell into some of the worse areas, mainly gathered around a large scar. These large wings, normally so bright with magic and life, have begun to lose their glimmer. Frightened, they shrivel, curling in one themselves to shield from the light.

With wings like this, flying will soon become agonizing.

Would he have tried to anyway? Hyrule doesn’t want to know the answer to that question.

Solitude can be harmful. He knows that far too well. But sometimes he wonders just how much of his life Time has spent alone to end up believing it is the only way to get by. Even after this family they have formed along the paths of hardship, even after Malon, it seems to be the road most familiar to the hero.

“You can always ask me, you know.”

He has been gentle this entire time, even more so than he is with his own wings. But with this part, he is extra cautious. He threads the healing magic into Time’s veins with the delicacy of one handling glass.

“I know it’s hard to take care of your wings yourself. And I know it’s even harder to trust others to do it for you. But…” He swallows as his fingertips graze the scar.

What had occurred to create such a chasm? To his knowledge, Time has never spoken of the event. Sometimes, he wonders if he ever will.

“You trust me…right, old man?”

Time looks up, fingers stilling at last.

“Of course, I do, traveler,” he says, softly. “I don’t mean to make it seem like I don’t.”

“Then, let me help you. Please?”

“I’m allowing you to now, aren’t I?”

The traveler huffs. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. It doesn’t mean I can’t tease.”

There is a smile in his voice, and Hyrule is glad of it. Even still, if the hero believes he’s going to escape without a proper reply, he is sorely mistaken. If Hyrule is known for anything, it’s his infinite stubbornness.

“Come on, old man,” he urges, softly. “Promise me you’ll ask someone to help tend to your wings when you need it. It doesn’t even have to be me. Just ask someone, please.”

Time’s wings are beginning to improve now. Threads of vibrant red glow from beneath the green. Like blood on new cloth, they spread, engulfing the other colors. He watches, slightly awed.

“I love you, Time,” he murmurs. “I don’t want you enduring pain just cause you don’t want to be a burden.”

For a long moment, Time says nothing. The only sounds are the subdued jingles of the spell twined about Hyrule’s fingers and the harmony of their breaths. It is peaceful in a pensive sort of way.

Then, “alright,” he says in a voice taut with emotion. “But only if you allow me to help you when you need it. Don’t think I don’t see how you struggle to remember your own welfare. You are too selfless for your own good.”

Hyrule chuckles. “Well, I could say the same about you.”

A small smile lifts Time’s lips. “Such is the path of the hero, I suppose.”

“Yeah.” The traveler’s gaze goes to the scar once more. “I guess.”

Silence pads in on soft, silken paws and settles down cozily. Time goes back to rotating his ring, though the motions are slower, calmer this time. Hyrule turns his full attention to finishing his task. Above them, the sun smiles, and Time’s wings transfer it in panes of pale red upon the blades of grass.

“Traveler?” Time’s voice is so quiet it is hardly above a whisper. It nudges aside the quiet, murmurs with the wind.

When the hero is in his fairy form, it is as though he is of the nature that surrounds them; as at home amongst the towering trees and great sky, stones and moss and gurgling streams, as the fleet-footed deer or furtive foxes.

Hyrule looks up, head cocked in question. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. And…” Time smiles, so soft it erases years of anguished hardship from his visage. “I love you too.”

The traveler smiles.

[milykins]

*sticks nose in your inbox* hello!

I heard from a pair of bloomers waiting to be put out to dry that you were looking for fluffy bayverse raph prompts? Maybe something set at the farmhouse? Raph getting to wake up with the sun streaming through the window for once, cuddling close with his s/o, as soft and sweet as you want to make it please ❤️.

Final ask answered! I am such a sucker for soft romance... this was so nice to write. Also it's very funny that I'm giving off the vibe that I'd like to write for Bayverse Raph. Honestly, I love writing for him. He's my second favourite turtle next to Mikey.

I hope this is what you envisioned. Thank you for sending the prompt, these asks have been great for helping me to become a better writer.

Thanks to @sophiacloud28 for checking it over for me!

TW: A tiny bit spicy at the end with Raph getting a little handsy with his SO.

Raph x female reader, aged up characters of course.

Golden Mornings

There was something so indescribably intimate about the mornings. Waking up slow, wrapped in his warm embrace. The soft, sleepy puffs of air on your neck. Deep, even motions of his chest, rising and falling with each breath. Strategically placed hands, and oh, those magnificent arms of his. Holding you like you were the most precious thing he owned. You were special to him in a way he couldn’t even express.

So, he showed you. Pressing tender kisses to your palms, knuckles, whatever he could reach really. Any expanse of skin was begging to have his mouth on it. Hugs from behind, especially when you were least expecting it. He didn’t care what you’re doing, you were not in his arms and that needed to be rectified. His arms belonged around you. He needed to feel the press of your body against his because it had just been too long since he felt it. He was addicted to you. Your scent, your softness, he loved it all.

He especially loved packing you up and taking you out for adventures on his bike. No responsibilities, no stress, just the two of you on the open road. He often liked taking you to the old, yet refurbished farmhouse. There was just something about that place that you couldn’t describe. It was many things that made this place special. The house itself, nestled in secluded acres of farmland and forestry. The feeling of being wrapped in the solitude of the sounds and smells of nature. Watching him walk around freely outdoors with no fear of anyone looking at him like he’s anything less than the incredible creature he is. Your unsung hero in red.

Oh, and waking up with him in this place. That was something else. Golden sunlight streaming in through tiny cracks in the blinds. His soft murmuring in your hair as you shift slightly and inhale deeply upon waking. Not yet… he wanted to stay in bed and hold you just a little longer. His arms tightening to keep you there, afraid to let you go. You’re quick to reassure him that you’re not going anywhere and feel his arms relax a little. He’s still somewhere between sleep and waking but coherent enough to press a soft kiss at the nape of your neck and slide his hand over your hip.

That’s when you felt rather than heard just how relaxed and content he really was. A sound reserved only for you. Soft, rumbling vibrations that radiated from his body to yours. Permeating your entire being. He only ever churred around you and it was both humbling and gratifying to know how safe and happy he felt to do it so freely. The rumbling alone could be enough to lull you back into the sweet embrace of sleep but you had other things on your mind.

You feel his grip tighten a little with the very purposeful push of your backside to his lower body. Oh, he was more awake now. The rumbling intensifies and you feel more soft kisses, spanning the expanse between your neck and shoulder. His hands, no longer still, began exploring the remainder of your uncovered skin. He didn’t like any barriers between his body and your own and made a point of removing them. Sometimes things got torn from you in heated moments of passion. Occasionally though, he removed things slowly like you were his own personal birthday present and he was taking his time unwrapping you. You weren’t sure which you preferred honestly. He could turn you into a puddle of need either way.

Currently, he was doing just that as his large hands smoothed their way across your body. The lazy beams of sunlight painting the walls only served to add warmth to the slow burn growing between the two of you. He can smell how much you want him. The sharp intake of breath and the squeeze of his hand on your hip was evidence enough. Your arousal was near impossible for him to resist, sweet, heady, and just you. If you were willing, he never hesitated in giving you exactly what you needed.

A plea from your lips has his hand travelling up to your breast for a squeeze and a gently brushing of his fingers across the peaks. A gasp escaped your lips, coupled with a now involuntary push of your hips. Then he growled, the sound sending an absolute rush of need straight to your core.

“Good way to wake up…” he husked; his voice rough with want.

“Best way to wake up…” was your quick, yet breathless reply.

He couldn’t agree more. He may not be great with words, but he was going to show you just how much he loved and appreciated you. Right at that moment, in that perfect golden morning. Just the two of you.

Until the next ask!

@danceingfae @thelaundrybitch @iridescentflamingo @redsrooftopprincess @ninnosaurus

@the-cauldron-witch @thepinkpanther83 @avery73 @adebauchedsloth @sophiacloud28

@definitely-canon @scholastic-dragon @truffle-reblogs @fyreball66 @yorshie

Please ask if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

[localplaguenurse]

Falling Head over Heels (Pantalone X Male Reader) pt 9

More fic! More fanart! A meme! Thank you once again @your-local-furby, yes I AM going to link back to your art every time. Get appreciated loser (affectionate).

Also, all future chapters are going to link back to the masterlist for this fic! You'll also find the ao3 link there, and I'm going to link the art made for the fic there as well once I've got everything posted.

@thedeimoshimself @eli-chris

“You’re honest to god hopeless,” Alik says, “I hate to say it, but you are.”

You hear Tartaglia, number Eleven, laugh at your attempt to hide your embarrassment in your hands. “Twice, twice, how did I do this twice?”

“Didn’t you almost trip on Pulcinella forever ago?”

“That was Pavel, and he was drunk at the time.”

“So you haven’t tripped over him yet, gotcha.”

You groan in irritation before finally lifting your head up out of your hands. Straight ahead is Alik, who is taking delight in your newfound tendency to trip into members of the Fatui. In the corner of your vision, you can make out a partial profile of Tartaglia, your latest victim, sitting next to you. In front of him is the drink you bought him as an apology. You cannot see his face fully, and you are so embarrassed that you’re actually very thankful for that fact.

“Does your friend do that a lot?” Tartaglia asks.

“Running into people, or specifically Harbingers?” Alik asks in turn.

“Harbingers.”

“More than the average person should, I think.”

Tartaglia laughs. “You said twice, right? I would say it’s more than average for sure, especially if you’re still alive to tell the tale!” 

“Oh come on, the others can’t be that bad, can they?” Alik jests.

“Depends on the Harbinger,” Tartaglia says, “and depends more on their mood. I would say the Knave, the Captain, and Mayor Pulcinella would be the most forgiving, though honestly, it feels like Arlecchino can be fifty-fifty some days.”

You catch Alik’s sly smirk. “What about the Regrator? Is he forgiving at all?”

“Well, yes and no,” Tartaglia answers. “He’ll forgive you if you can make it up to him in some way.”

Alik turns their smile to you. “Lucky you.”

You see the Harbinger turn his head towards you, and you turn your head so you can see his face. “Wait, you…?” Suddenly, his dull blue eyes widen in recognition, and he grins. “It was you! You’re the one who spilled wine all over his new suit!”

“... I see my reputation precedes me,” is all you can muster.

Tartaglia continues. “It was all he talked about for the next week, how he hadn’t even owned it that long and already it was ruined, how much of a pain getting the stains out would be, and a lot of figuring out how much he should bill you for it. I was surprised he didn’t bill you for the whole suit!”

“The shirt was fairly expensive,” you say.

“Still, with how annoyed he was all week, I thought making you pay the entire dry cleaning bill was the least he would do. He’ll also tack on what some of the lower ranking agents have dubbed ‘the asshole tax,’ or the ‘inconvenience fee,’ as he would rather people call it.”

That actually gets a bit of a chuckle out of you.

Tartaglia leans props his head up in his gloved hands, giving you an inquisitive look and a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “So, do tell, what made him take pity on you?”

“It was an accident.”

This makes the Harbinger laugh. “No, no seriously, why?”

“... It was an accident.”

He shakes his head. “Pantalone doesn’t believe in accidents, he says they’re the result of negligence from people who should know better.”

“Just tell him you’re blind already,” Alik blurts out.

Tartaglia blinks. “What?”

“I’m legally blind,” you explain, “I have no peripheral vision, so I bumped into Pantalone and spilled wine on him because he wasn’t in my direct line of sight. I think he only made me pay for the shirt because he went on a rant about how foolish I am before my mother explained my condition to him.”

“Well, that’s certainly a new one,” Tartaglia comments, “he rarely takes pity on people, save for extreme cases.”

You take a swig of your beer instead of replying.

“Say, Tartaglia,” Alik says, prompting the young man to turn his attention away from you, “what else can you tell us about Pantalone?”

You shoot Alik a look. Tartaglia doesn’t see it, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “While I’m enjoying this little chat with you two, I’m afraid I can’t disclose too much about my more high ranking coworkers to anyone.”

“I’m not asking about his big plans for the bank or anything,” Alik says, “we just want to, I don’t know, learn some general information? Like what are some of his hobbies, or his favourite foods. Things to know if you want to get closer to him.”

“And why do you want to get to know him?”

“Oh, I don’t.” Alik points at you. “He does.”

You feel heat spread across your face, and it gets worse when Tartaglia looks your way, very intrigued. “Is that so?”

“I-I think I’m okay,” you state, “he and I, I mean I don’t know if we’re friends, b-but we get along fairly well! He’s partnered w-with my father, so I tend to run into him a lot, and we actually had tea the other day. Or, we were supposed to, but my parents decided to show up, so then after they left h-he and I had dinner so–”

“Pause,” Alik says, “you did not mention having dinner with him.”

“I didn’t?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I told you we still spent time after the ruined tea party,” you say, “does it matter if it was over dinner?”

“Pantalone doesn’t usually invite people to stay for dinner,” Tartaglia states, “I of all people should know.”

“He only did it because he wanted to discuss my book with me,” you explain, “but my parents’ intrusion hindered that. So he invited me to stay later.”

When Alik and Tartaglia look at you, they are both equally skeptical. You feel your face get hotter, and take another swig of your cold drink to cool yourself down. Then you remember it’s alcohol, so if anything it’s going to warm your face up even more. You stand up. “I’m going to the washroom,” you state, intending to splash water on your face and get out of the awkward situation you’ve put yourself in.

“Try not to bump into anyone else,” Tartaglia jokes, making your face burn hotter. When you walk away, you bump into a table, but that could just be the alcohol. When you disappear into the men’s washroom, Tartaglia turns back to Alik. “Pantalone certainly keeps interesting company when he wants to.”

Alik shrugs their shoulders. “I’ve only met him once, but I’ve known my poor sighted friend for years now, so I believe that.”

Tartaglia hums. He glances over his shoulder, seeing who and who isn’t listening. Most of the patrons are minding their business, and some are currently leaving the bar. Seeing the coast is clear, he turns back to Alik and lowers his voice to a whisper. “I assume your friend is happy about that, isn’t he?”

Alik chuckles. “What, ah, what gives you that impression?” 

“He’s not that subtle,” Tartaglia says, “and I might have overheard a little bit of your conversation before he ran into me.”

Alik lowers their voice so only the Harbinger can hear them. “Look, I’m not going to confirm anything, but true or not, it’s really important that we not let that sort of talk get around. As far as I’m aware, the Regrator might be fine with it, but his business partner, my friend’s father, is not.”

“Ah, I see.” Tartaglia takes a drink. “I can understand that. Rest assured, his secret is safe with me.”

Alik raises their brow. “That’s it? No blackmail or anything?”

Tartaglia chuckles. “No, that’s not how I do things. Ironically, that’s more the Regrator’s style, but he clearly likes your little friend.”

“Wait, do you mean ‘likes him’ in a friendly way, or…?”

Tartaglia smirks. “Who’s to say?” He takes another swig. “In all honesty, for someone who tends to drone on and on, he’s careful about his life outside the Fatui, or the bank. Though, I will say that even if I knew, Pantalone could and would have bought my silence.”

“Eh, it was worth a shot. You’d at least barter for a higher price, right?”

“I think he’d give me a satisfying amount on his first offer,” Tartaglia replies, “enough that I’d be smart enough not to push it.”

Alik tips their head back and pours the last bit of their drink into their mouth. They glance back at the bathroom, wondering when you’re going to come back. They jump a bit when Tartaglia places a hand on their shoulder, and motions for them to move in closer. Curious, they lean over a bit. Tartaglia cups his hands over their ear, and Alik shivers uncomfortably at the warmth of his breath.

“I’m not going to confirm anything,” he whispers, “but if your friend likes how things are progressing with Pantalone, I think you should let him keep doing whatever it is he’s doing.”

Alik pulls back a bit so Tartaglia isn’t whispering right in their ear. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. From what I hear, your friend is a ‘refreshing change’ compared to most,” Tartaglia continues, “so if he’s trying to get closer, he’s already on the way there if you catch my drift.”

The sound of a thud, a chair scraping, and a hissed curse is all Alik needs to hear to know you’re out of the bathroom. They look up and see you rubbing your knee, before you straighten up and begin making your way back to the table. Before you sit down, you look at the two and give them an odd look at their suspicious proximity.

“What’s all this?” you ask.

“Gossiping about your book,” Alik says.

“All the raunchy, lewd details,” Tartaglia adds.

You blush. “I told you I’m not adding that scene in.”

Tartaglia laughs. “I was just messing with you! You’re actually a smut writer?”

“No! Romance! Romance does not mean smut!”

“Not that he could write it, anyways,” Alik teases.

You sit down. “I wish I was blind already so I wouldn’t have to look at you.”

“Isn’t that a bit harsh?” Tartaglia comments.

“No, that’s pretty normal when he’s grouchy,” Alik says.

You throw back the rest of your drink, your now empty glass clacking on the table. “Well, this has been… one of the outings of all time. I think I’d better get going soon.”

“We haven’t been out that long,” Alik says.

“No, but if I stay out later, I’m probably going to have a couple more drinks,” you say, “and I don’t want to be writing hungover tomorrow. Plus, my mother will have a conniption if I’m out later than ten and the more I avoid that headache, the better.”

Alik sighs. “Fair enough. I have an afternoon meeting tomorrow. It won’t do me any favours if I’m groggy during it.”

“I suppose this is goodbye, then,” Tartaglia remarks. He offers you a hand, and you awkwardly take it. His grip is firm when he shakes your hand. “Thanks again for the drink, comrade! And for keeping me entertained for the evening.”

“M-My pleasure,” you say, “and, on that note, sorry again for bumping into you.”

Tartaglia watches as you and Alik put your coats back on and pay for your drinks. Alik trails behind you, and waves at him before stepping through the door and disappearing into the night. In the quiet bar, he takes his time finishing his drink before he bids the bartender a warm goodbye.

His cheeks and nose are a warm red, contrasting his white foggy breath. Soft snow crunches under his boot, the clusters of flakes falling around him glowing in the moonlight. Eventually, his feet bring him to a building he is all too familiar with by now. The doors are locked now, but he has been given a key to the back door, which he has been told time and time again to only use in case of emergencies. He knocks the snow off his boots as best as he can before he enters the bank properly.

With one of the only other people in the building being a heavily armed guard, Tartaglia’s movements are practically broadcasted throughout the bank as he makes his way upstairs. He’s loud enough that he doesn’t need to0 knock on the Regrator’s door. He makes it to the door and lifts his hand up and is told to “come in.”

He’s polite enough to shut the door behind him when he enters. He gives his superior Harbinger a smile. “Good evening, Regrator.”

“You’re late,” Pantalone states, keeping his eyes on the paperwork he’s scribbling away at.

“My apologies,” Tartaglia states, “I had a little run in earlier.”

“And that’s the third time I’ve heard you use that as an excuse for being late.”

“You make it sound like I’ve made tardiness a habit!”

“I can also smell the alcohol on you.”

Tartaglia takes a seat. “Now you’re making it sound like I’m a drunk. Besides, it’s not as if this is an official meeting.”

Finally, the Regrator sets his pen down and looks up at Tartaglia, shimmering stony eyes meeting dull baby blues. “I don’t care if this is a casual outing or a serious business deal, you know my expectations, Eleven.”

“I wish you were as forgiving to me as you are with that writer fellow,” Tartaglia comments, watching Pantalone’s reactions like a hawk.

Pantalone stills for a moment, and though his expression remains mostly unchanged, the inquisitive tilt and slight arch of an eyebrow is enough to satiate Tartaglia. “The writer? Why are you bringing him up?”

“Who do you think I had a run in with?”

Pantalone’s lips finally curl, and he just chuckles. “Ah, you’d think he’d learn after our first encounter. You’ve met him now?”

Tartaglia nods. “He bought me a drink as an apology, and we talked a little bit about you.”

“Good things, I hope?” Pantalone remarks, and while it’s easy to tell when he’s fishing for information, his intentions are currently hard to read.

“His friend and I were mostly teasing him about the suit,” Tartaglia replies, “but other than that, it was just small talk.”

“I see, I see…”

“Better than he does.”

“Mm, it’s funnier when he makes the joke.” Pantalone opens a drawer and pulls out couple documents stapled together, reading them as he shuts the drawer. “I received your latest proposal, and after doing the math, I found that for once you actually deserve more mora as opposed to less. Not as much as you would have gotten before your time in Liyue, but I think you’re wise enough to be happy about that.” With his eyes still on the paper, he reaches into another drawer and pulls out a jingling pouch. Without looking up, he hands it to Tartaglia, who accepts it graciously. “Don’t let this get to your head, and please don’t mention it to Dottore. Specifically Segment Kappa, he’s still upset I only gave him half the funding for his latest project, but I told him I needed a functional prototype by the end of the month if he wanted the rest of it.”

“I know the drill,” Tartaglia replies, “and isn’t Kappa in Fontaine right now?”

“Something about studying scuba gear, I don’t know, all I know is he’s not bothering me right now and quite frankly, it’s all I really care about. Now, do you have anything else to say or ask before I send you on your way?”

“I take it your four-thirty meeting went poorly?”

“Why do you ask?”

“There’s some blood splatter still above your left eyebrow.”

Pantalone stops and lifts his hand up to his forehead. He rubs at the spot above his eyebrow, and when he pulls his fingers back, he can see his finger tips have slightly tacky red residue on them. 

He clears his throat. “Goodnight, Eleven.”

“Goodnight, Regrator.”

[harrywavycurly]

Worth the Fight Part 2: City of Love

Masterlist: Here

CW: Mentions of pregnancy, language, bit of light arguing, brief details of the hook up in the bathroom, miscommunication and a touch of panic attack symptoms mentioned.

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022

A/N: I know it’s not Thursday but I just wanted to get this up because this week is a busy one for me! Hope yall enjoy it!!✨

Summary: Harry gets the confirmation he needs but wasn’t really expecting while you try to be as nice as possible to him, oh and Harry meets your cat! So enjoy getting a little look at the way your personalities work/clash together✨

“So uh-you’re actually pregnant.” Harry says with a heavy sigh as he watches you dig around in your purse for your car keys. You pause your search so you can look up at him just in time to see him run a hand over his face. “I just really thought maybe your tests were wrong? Like maybe you got a bad batch or something and-”

“A bad batch? Harry I took four different kinds of tests.”

“Well yeah but still I just don’t know how this happened?”

“Did your parents not have the talk with you about how babies are made? Surely you know how this happened.” Harry ignores your snippy remark as you resume your search for your keys as he presses the down button for the elevator.

The two of you just got done visiting with your doctor who confirmed you are in fact pregnant and suggested a well known obstetrician and gynecologist, Dr. Andrews that could take over and do the paternity test once you call and set up an initial appointment with his office and see exactly how far along you are. You weren’t shocked by the news, but Harry on the other hand sat there with his mouth hung open as if he didn’t expect it at all and you aren’t sure why considering you told him how many tests you took and how they all said pregnant in different ways. You know he had to be reminded of how the two of you met, seeing as he meets so many people and all but you just assumed that once he had his moment of clarity and remembered meeting you that the memory of the rest of the evening would also begin to not be as fuzzy for him but he’s proving that theory very wrong with every confused glance and silly question he tosses your way.

“I thought we were careful?” He questions once the elevator doors open up allowing the two of you to step inside, you let out a chuckle as he moves to stand next to you crossing his arms over his chest while he shoots you a glare. “Are you giggling? What’s so funny about this?” You just shake your head as you finally feel your keys on the bottom of your purse.

“Oh you-you’re being serious?” You ask as you look over at him with a raised brow making him nod his head in response. “I wasn’t aware that the pull out method was really even considered a form of being careful?” Harry’s eyes go wide as his arms fall to his sides and that’s how you figure out he really is struggling to put the pieces together of what exactly happened in that bathroom so you decide to give him just one more detail to help him understand how the two of you really ended up in this situation.

“And by the way in order for that method to work you actually have to pull out.” You add casually as you reach over and press the button for the lobby while Harry’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink as he looks down at the floor in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.

“So are you going to want to be at all the appointments?” You ask a few minutes later as the two of you enter the lobby of the medical building your doctor’s office is in. Harry looks around and brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck while you adjust the strap of your purse on your shoulder as you wait for him to answer.

“I don’t know? I just-this is a lot.” He finally replies a few moments later making you purse your lips and slowly nod your head before you turn and head for the front entrance of the building. Harry doesn’t know what to do but he knows the two of you have things to discuss so he just quickly rushes to catch up to you and when he finds you heading for a small beat up looking car that’s parked in a very obvious no parking zone his eyebrows pinch together while his hand reaches out to grab your elbow causing you to stop walking and look at him over your shoulder.

“Look I’ll tell you how my next appointment goes and when they can do the paternity test-”

“Is this your car?” Harry asks interrupting your little rant, you watch his eyes go from your face to the car directly behind you.

“Yes. She’s very reliable even though she looks a bit rough.” You say in your car’s defense as you take a step away from him making his hand fall from its hold on your elbow as he stares at you in almost disbelief as you take your car key and unlock the passenger side door and toss your purse inside before closing it so you can turn and face Harry with your arms loosely crossed over your chest.

“This can’t be safe for you to be driving around in.” You roll your eyes at his statement as he takes a step to the side so he can give your car a proper once over and when he sees a dent on the front bumper he raises an eyebrow while pointing at it. “You run into things a lot?” He asks as he looks over at you from where he’s now stood near the front of your car.

“Leave Melanie alone okay she’s nice and gets me where I need to go.” You snap at him as you turn and place a hand on top of your car so you can give it a little pat. “I’ve had her since I was seventeen so yeah she’s got a few bumps-”

“Melanie? You named your car? Have you really had this thing since you were seventeen?”

“Yes Melanie just fits her and yeah Harry I’ve had this thing since I was seventeen because most people keep their cars for a while since we can’t all have a driver to take us places or have a fancy collection of cars we don’t use.” Harry doesn’t say anything in response so after a few moments of silence you take that as a sign the conversation is over so you just turn to round the front of the car and get into the driver’s seat.

“You’re in a no parking zone you know that right?” Harry says breaking the silence just as you open your door, you look at the sign that’s posted on the sidewalk right above where you’re parked and just shrug making Harry let out a huff as he rolls his eyes.

“I was in a hurry.”

“You mean you were running late?”

“No I mean I was in a hurry.”

“Are you late to a lot of things? Is that something I should get used to?”

“I don’t know Harry do you want to get used to me?”

“What? That’s not-not what I meant I just want to know if you’re late a lot?”

“I wasn’t late today was I?”

“No but clearly you were worried about it since you were rushing enough to just park in a no parking zone-what if your car would’ve gotten towed? What would you have done?” While he’s speaking you take the time to look him over and that’s when you notice it, his hands are clenching and unclenching fists by his sides and his cheeks are slightly flushed and his eyes are a bit wide, he looks like he’s on the verge of a panic attack of some sort and him asking you these pointless questions is his attempt at holding it off.

You ignore his eyes that dart to various parts of your face and upper half of your body as if his mind can’t decide where it wants to focus as you close the driver’s side door with a bit of force making sure it stays closed and round the front of your car so you’re standing in front of him. You wonder for a moment as you stare at him if it’s your hormones already kicking in that makes you feel the need to make him feel better or if it’s just Harry who has this extremely annoying power to drive you to the brink of wanting to smack him a few time with your purse and leave him standing on the sidewalk alone and confused to all of a sudden switching it up to were you’re wanting to make sure he’s okay when he shows you any signs of distress. He watches your hands as they reach out and grab his and when you fill the gaps between his fingers with your own and give his hands a nice solid squeeze you watch his chest fall as he lets out a deep breath and his shoulders slump a bit. You look him in his eyes and give him a small smile while still giving his hands little reassuring squeezes.

“Would you like to come over? Have some tea?” Your question not only shocks Harry but you as well, not sure what came over you to even let the words slip out of your mouth, surely it’s just the hormones. Harry chews on his bottom lip for a moment before he looks down at his watch on his right wrist, checking the time before he looks back up at you.

“Uh sure yeah-yeah I can come over for a bit.” He answers with a nod. You just let go of his hands and reach over for the passenger side door handle so you can open it for him. Harry quickly looks at you with worried eyes and begins shaking his head and backing away from you while trying to reach into the front pocket of his jeans for his phone.

“Oh no I’ll just call my-”

“Harry.” You say with a sigh as you continue to hold the door open for him, he stops fumbling for his phone and stares at you making you roll your eyes as you gesture to the passenger seat with a tilt of your head.

“Just get in the car.” With that Harry just lets out a groan as he reluctantly takes a step towards the open door and bends down so he can pick up your purse off the seat. You bite back a laugh as you watch him have to duck down a bit to get into your car and he makes a show of buckling himself in nice and tightly once he’s sat in the seat. You give him a smile as he places your purse in his lap just as you close the door for him so you can go and get into the driver’s seat and take the two of you to your apartment.

“Do you have a cat?” You look at Harry over your shoulder from where you’re making yourself a cup of herbal tea in the kitchen and smile when you see him messing with a random stuffed mouse that somehow ended up on your table.

As if on queue Harry looks down as he feels something rub against his shin and you see a small smile tug at the corners of his lips when he sees your orange cat greeting him with a few purrs but it’s when you see him rub his head against Harry’s ankles that you feel obligated to warn him about something.

“Oh but watch out he might-” your words get cut off by a tiny squeal from Harry as he takes a step towards you with his eyes set in a glare aimed at the orange cat that’s decided to now head into the living room since Harry didn’t allow him to fully chomp down on his ankle like he wanted.

“He just bit me.” Harry states as he watches your cat jump onto your sofa and quickly flop down into a comfortable laying position. “He bit my ankle.” He explains while turning to now give you his full attention making you just shrug as you reach for the honey to add to your mug.

“Yeah well his name is Paris so he kinda has a thing for ankles.” Harry stares at the side of your face as you go about making your tea while explaining why your cat just bit his ankle and he rolls his eyes at how casual you are about it, but that’s something Harry is learning about you, you don’t seem to take a lot of things that seriously.

“What’s the city of love have to do with ankles?” He asks as you give the liquid in your mug a nice stir, he watches the way his question makes your brows pinch together and when you turn to look at him he sees your face looks almost concerned and he can’t imagine why considering the two of you are just talking about your cat.

“He’s named after Paris as in the one who killed Achilles.” When Harry just raises an eyebrow in response to your explanation you let out a long sigh as you pick up your mug. “Have you heard of Troy?”

“The Brad Pitt movie?” You have to fight off the urge to reach over and flick him in the ear at his answer but you just shake your head and walk past him and into your living room.

“No not the Brad Pitt movie I mean the actual story of Troy? With Achilles and Hector? The Trojan horse and all that?” Harry follows you into the living room and makes a mindful choice not to sit on the couch with the orange cat that just tried to make a meal out of his ankle, opting for the loveseat that’s placed across from the couch with a little coffee table in between the two pieces of furniture.

“Hector and the little horse thing are in the Brad Pitt movie though.” Harry explains as you get comfortable on the couch making Paris lift his head and look around to see who has come into the room and disturbed his peace.

“Little horse thing? Are you-you know what it’s not important.” You take a sip of your tea to help calm yourself down before placing it on the coffee table, Harry takes the opportunity to glance down and he quirks an eyebrow when he sees the name of the tea on the little tag hanging out of the mug.

“Paris shot Achilles in the ankle so that’s why I named him Paris…because he attacks the ankles of people he doesn’t like.” You smile as the orange cat stretches out next to you placing a paw on your thigh while Harry just lets out a scoff at the idea of your cat not liking him.

“You drink peppermint tea with honey? That’s criminal. And also there’s no way he doesn’t like me considering he just met me.” You laugh as you reach over and run your hand over Paris’s back making him purr while still keeping his eyes closed.

“Oh and it’s so hard to imagine someone not liking you after just meeting you?”

“Well yeah because he doesn’t know me so how can he not like me?”

“He knows enough to want to bite your ankle the first chance he got.”

“That’s because you’ve probably poisoned him against me.” You laugh and roll your eyes as Harry leans over and grabs your mug of tea off the table and brings it to his lips so he can taste it. “And that’s disgusting by the way.” He states with a face of disgust making you glare at him as you lean over and grab the mug from his hand before he can set it back down on the table.

“And I remember you being taller.” You mumble while Harry just glares at you from his spot on the loveseat. “What? You insulted my tea so I’m allowed to insult your-”

“I can’t really do anything about my height but you can and absolutely should fix the way you make tea because no one should be mixing honey with peppermint.” He argues as he watches you with a narrowed glare as you take a sip of your tea, you watch as he leans forward and rests his forearms on his knees and clasps his hands together.

“Is this how you always act when someone invites you into their home as a way of calming you down when you’re on the verge of a panic attack? You just insult them and-”

“I wasn’t having a panic attack.”

“You were maybe two minutes away from one and please stop interrupting me it’s so rude and isn’t your whole thing about treating people with-”

“How are you not panicking? You’re having a baby possibly my baby and you’re just sat there with your nasty tea and-”

“That’s it.” You say with a huff and Harry flinches slightly as you all but slam your mug down onto the table before standing up causing Paris to jolt awake at your sudden outburst. “You’ve insulted my car and my tea today and I was going to let it slide because that’s fine we can have differences in opinions on tea and cars but that’s on top of the fact you don’t even remember what happened between us that night and you think the story of Troy is just a Brad Pitt movie and I just-I think you should leave now.” Harry blinks up at you as your hands fall to your sides in what he almost thinks is a sign of defeat, as if you lost the internal battle you were having with yourself on trying to keep your cool with him and that makes his mouth droop a bit into a small frown.

“I remember plenty about what happened that night.” He counters as he slowly stands up while you grab your mug and turn towards the kitchen. Harry reaches for his phone in his front pocket so he can text his driver your address and a message to please come get him as soon as possible.

“If that were true then today wouldn’t have been such a shock for you.” You explain before you disappear from Harry’s sight, he can’t really put a finger on the exact feeling that comes over him as he stands there in your living room knowing that everything you said is true. He doesn’t remember exactly what went on between the two of you, at least not very clearly.

He knows that the two of you had an intimate moment in the bathroom because the evidence was shown to him this afternoon when the doctor handed him a piece of paper that told him you are truly pregnant and this is all really happening. Since then he hasn’t been able to think straight or focus on much of anything and if he’s being honest he really isn’t good in stressful situations in general, he tends to either overreact or just panic and this by far is one of the most stressful situations he’s ever found himself in and he knows he isn’t handling himself the way he should be. And your calm and relaxed demeanor just seems to make him even more unnerved because he doesn’t get how you’re not in the same panic riddled boat as him.

Harry runs a hand through his hair, giving a tug at his roots as he glances down to your couch, he catches Paris do a lengthy stretch before he sits up briefly just to look at Harry and decide that even he is fed up with him so he jumps off the couch and walks off into the kitchen. Now in that moment Harry knows he should do that as well, follow your cat’s lead and walk into your cramped kitchen so he can at least attempt to apologize for a few things but he doesn’t. Instead he just runs a knuckle under his nose as he sniffles a bit and when he feels his phone vibrate and sees a text letting him know his driver is on his way he lets out a heavy sigh. He takes one last look at your kitchen entryway, hoping that maybe you’ll come back and sit down on the couch and he thinks that he wouldn’t even mind if you didn’t say anything but just sat there not looking at him so that way he would at least be able to tell you goodbye and prove to you that he’s capable of being polite but the sound of the sink being turned on quickly wash away any traces of hope he might’ve had.

“This is so fucked.” He mumbles to himself as he walks towards your front door, he knows better than to leave the two of you like this, with certain things needing to be spoken and unkind words being the last ones said but he doesn’t have much of a choice since you won’t come out of the kitchen. So Harry opens your front door and walks out into the hallway making sure to close it as quietly as possible deciding that maybe this is for the best and at least he’s giving you exactly what you asked for, him leaving.

You watch the last bits of your tea go down the drain as the sound of your front door opening and then closing hits your ears, you take a few steps back from the sink so you can poke your head out into the living room and when you see it’s empty you just let out a sigh and go back to cleaning your mug. You didn’t want to end your afternoon like this, standing alone in your kitchen because your patience was worn too thin for the man who somehow managed to charm you into agreeing to a quickie in a bar bathroom over a month ago.

You almost don’t even know how that man and the one who was sat in your living room not even five minutes ago are the same person. The Harry you met at the bar was fun and flirty and even though he teased you throughout the night it was never with any real intention to hurt your feelings while this Harry can’t help but take every chance he can get to insult you or toss a jab your way about something. You don’t know why the corners of your mouth turn downwards at the idea of the night you two met never really meaning anything to him aside from being the night he got you pregnant. You don’t get to think about it for too much longer as Paris jumps onto the counter and makes his way over to sit next to the sink momentarily taking your mind off the curly haired boy.

“We can do this right? We’ll be fine won’t we?” You ask him while he sits there looking at you with his big green yellow-ish eyes that all of a sudden remind you a bit too much of the man who just left your apartment without even saying goodbye. “Next time bite him a bit harder okay?”

[lost-inthemeadow]

Till I have no choice but to do us part - Agathario

Summary: A 4 part rewrite of episode 9 of Agatha All Along because we deserved so much better than what we got

Features Agatha Harkness and Rio Vidal

Chapter one: I stray not from the path, I hold Death's hand in mine

Word count: 2691

Alone in the woods, accompanied only by the corpses of the women who were once her family, Agatha Harkness trembled in the cold of the night.

After her coven had attempted to execute her—having nowhere else to go—she settled down under a tree by the river and tried her best for her sobs not to be too loud, afraid of any nearby animals hearing her.

She was supposed to be dead, gone, forgotten; her power—the one her coven was so scared of—had once again made her the villain. It was not her fault nobody ever bothered to teach her how to control it. From the moment she was born, her mother had been convinced that her existence was a mistake, a sin; all she knew she learned by herself, relying on books and ancient spells.

Now she was all alone, without a coven or anyone to care for her, and it was nobody's fault but her own. Still, under all the guilt, Agatha could not stop thinking about how good the other witches' magic had felt and how unsatiable her need for more was, being now more powerful than she ever had. It was a feeling that terrified her tremendously, but with the recent events, she swore not to let herself near another witch again.

As the sun rose once more, painting her dress with its yellow light, a nearby bush alerted her that she was no longer alone in the vast woods. Agatha sat down immediately, dreading the idea of fighting a wild animal, but instead, she saw a human figure emerge from the receding darkness. As the person approached, the sunlight lit them more and more, first revealing a long and beautiful green dress, then a pair of delicate hands, and then a face. The young witch had to shake her head, for the first thing she saw was a mere skull, but as she looked again and her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she found herself admiring a beautiful lady, with eyes as bright as the moon that looked at her lit with curiosity.

Lady Death herself—the mysterious figure—was hesitant at first, not wanting to scare the young woman away. But there was a certain pull, a certain need in her chest that urged her to get close and investigate why this young witch was alone in the woods, surrounded by so many corpses.

"Hello, little one." Death spoke her first words directed at someone who still breathed in decades. Her voice was soft, and her lips curved into a smile. "Say, what reason could you have to be alone in these woods at this early hour?"

“I could ask you the same."

"I've come for them, of course," she said, glancing at Agatha's breathless companions.

"For them?"

“It's my job to take them to the other side," Lady Death concluded. "Are you responsible for this mess?"

Agatha nodded, unable to look the woman in the eye as she did, ashamed of her actions.

"I like it. It suits you," she said with a complicit smile. Agatha couldn't help but look back at her, expecting everything but the answer she had received.

Lady Death had lost her heartbeat centuries ago—when the duty of death was bestowed upon her—but the moment she saw Agatha's big blue eyes staring at her, the faint feeling of the blood-pumping vessel appeared in her chest again, making it impossible for her to stay any longer.

As Death walked towards the shadows again, ready to collect the souls of the coven, Agatha stood up, quickly cleaning the dirt off her dress.

"Wait!" she called out.

"Yes?" Lady Death stopped for her.

"Will I see you again?" Agatha also felt that same pull in her chest.

"Eventually, everyone will," was the last thing Death said before disappearing into the last bit of night.

After tending to the corpses, Agatha moved deeper into the forest, for the leaves and the dirt were now her home. Try as hard as she did, she could not stray too far from the clearing where she had met Lady Death, afraid she would miss her when she returned.

But a week went by, and she found herself alone every night, sitting under the same tree by the river, waiting for the bushes to alert her of the enchanting presence again. She understood then that Death would only come if she were needed.

Initially, she tried with a decaying owl she found while scavenging, but quickly realized the victim had to be freshly dead, so the next night she offered a skunk she had extinguished that afternoon. Both nights she perked up her ears and squinted her eyes, waiting for the figure to emerge from the bushes, but, once again, she never did.

That's when the young witch finally understood that, if she wanted to see Lady Death a second time, she'd have to offer a human for her to take. The idea brought chills down her spine, but still, she made her way to the nearest settlement and found herself a victim. A simple potion was all she needed, having lured the man to the forest with her beauty.

Under the tree, as the river sang its usual song—with the stiff corpse waiting—Agatha waited impatiently, almost wanting to scream to the moon to call Lady Death to her. It was not until the sun started its trip in the sky that the bushes again rustled, making Agatha shake like the cold of the night never had.

Lady Death was intrigued, wondering what kind of impossible favor the young witch would ask of her, so she approached again. "Is this for me?" she asked, pointing at the dead man.

"Yes. You are Death, are you not?".

"I am. What is it you wish in exchange for this gesture?" she asked.

"Only to see you, m'lady."

"To see me?"

"I figured you needed the company as much as I do."

Lady Death smiled faintly, getting even closer to Agatha. "Speak your name, girl," she ordered.

"Agatha. Agatha Harkness."

"Well, Agatha, I thank you for this offering," she said, removing her hands from her dark green cape. Lady Death offered an empty hand, from which sprouted a beautiful Bearded Iris. "Can I?" she asked, and when Agatha nodded, Death's gentle hands placed the blossom in her hair.

"You are a witch, too!" squealed the young woman.

Seeing Agatha's bright smile warmed Lady Death's newly placed heart, so she made a bed of flowers for her, filled with astounding shapes and colors. They sat down together as Death told the young witch about each and every kind—having never had the chance to discuss her love for them before—until the sun tinted the whole forest alight. By then, her neverending task called for her again, and she disappeared into the bushes like she had that first night. This time, Agatha did not dare to ask if they would meet again, for she would make sure they would.

Every day she would slip into the town at dusk, determined to find a new gift for Death. First, it was the man who dared put his hands on his wife, the woman who tried to poison her daughter, and the two siblings who benefited from the poor's ingenuity. But then she took the old lady who sat alone in her house, the town's widow, and the farmer with only his crops to keep him company. With each kill, Agatha became increasingly enchanted with the art of taking lives, and her daily hunts became not only a treat for Death, but for her as well. Every night Lady Death would come to collect her gifts—each time earlier than the one before—and they would spend their time together laying in a freshly made bed of flowers by the river, where they would talk each other's ears off for hours. They bonded over their wrongdoings and deepest desires, enjoying the opportunity to be fully themselves in each other's company. Agatha told her all about her coven, her awful mother, and that surprisingly good feeling she got every time she claimed a life. Death would talk about her victims, the way she enjoyed staying for a little while when a widow wailed at the corpse of her husband, and the flowers she loved creating.

Lady Death grew fond of Agatha's curiosity, tending her queries with detail and care. She adored looking at the stars while letting the young witch into her secrets, appreciating the attentiveness she was given in return.

"Do you take animals?"

"They don't need it. Only humans have trouble crossing."

"Can you bring people back to life?"

"No. My job is the exact opposite."

"But you can create life," said Agatha, signalling at the flowers around them.

"I can, but only for you," Death replied, causing Agatha's cheeks to burn.

It was not until seven sunsets later that Agatha had been brave enough to ask for Lady Death's name.

"I don't suppose I was ever given one," replied the green witch with a furrowed brow.

"Whatever do you mean? Everyone has a name!"

"I must be the exception. I've had many nicknames, but never a name of my own."

"Well, we cannot allow that to be."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"Why, we find you a name, of course."

And so she did. Agatha named her companion after the river that sang its symphony for them every night. From that moment on, Lady Death was not defined only by her duty. She was now Rio Vidal. She was someone. She belonged to someone.

That night, after Agatha made the name official by carving their initials in the tree they both so loved, Rio decided it was time to show herself, to reveal the form she feared Agatha would despise. Lit by only the moonlight, the skull Agatha thought was just her eyes tricking her that first night was in front of her again. Even without skin or muscle, the young witch could see Rio was nervous, so she took the time to trace every bit of bone with her fingers with the utmost care, offering a bright smile.

"Beautiful," Agatha said, taking Rio's face into both hands. Rio went back to her human form just in time for Agatha to join their lips together in a kiss that felt a thousand times better than taking a life ever would. The river beside their flower bed sang its song as they both gave in to each other, and the forest became the first witness of the time Death fell in love with a mortal.

Though the corpses were no longer needed, Agatha still took a life for her lover each day. Eventually, she had to move to a different settlement to find her victims, for her usual one had run dry. And find new victims she did, as a coven of seven witches dwelled near the next settlement she wanted to torment. She remembered her promise not to get near another sister in the craft again but was still overjoyed when she told Rio how the screams of the youngest member filled the air of the autumn afternoon as she took her power for herself.

“Does power feel as good as it looks on you, my love?" asked Rio, running her finger up and down Agatha's bare arm.

"It feels amazing," replied Agatha, her eyes closed as she enjoyed her lover's touch.

"Tell me more about this coven you found. Do they know it was you that took their sister?"

"They do not. She had been sent to gather in the forest, they did not see me take her."

"In that case, we will take their power for you, tomorrow after dawn."

"Will you stay the whole night this time?" asked the young witch, hope mixed with moonlight lighting her eyes.

"Not only this time. My duty is important, but I have no home besides your arms."

"We will have each other. We will be okay," replied Agatha.

The following morning—hands joined—they made the trek down their beloved river—stopping every few minutes so Agatha could pick the flowers Rio grew for her—until they found the witches' encampment. Before splitting up, Rio put all the blossoms together in a beautiful crown that Agatha made sure to wear, then she watched as her lover ran to the other witches—panting and huffing—to start with her deceivement. As the witches inquired about the reason for her troubled state, she apprised them about her coven having been murdered right in front of her eyes by a horde of angry townspeople, and her miraculous escape. The fellow craft practitioners clothed and fed her, offering her all their empathy and comfort.

Rio appeared after Agatha finished her broth, bony form deployed, and all the witches fell to their knees at the sight of her. They dared not look into her eyes and instead rested their foreheads on the dirt, so Agatha followed their lead.

"Fear not, for I have come not to take, but to notify," Rio announced. "Your youngest sister, with hair like corn and skin like syrup, is now with me. Her fret for her coven was so strong that I had no alternative but to come and bear the news to you."

She allowed them a few seconds of shock before she attempted to leave.

"Oh, almighty lady," called the eldest member, not daring to remove her face from the soil. "Is there anything we can offer in exchange for her life? Is there any deal you will take to bring our sister back where she belongs?"

"What is done is done. She is now mine," stated Rio.

"Please, ma'am. We will do anything."

"Look at me," Rio ordered, and all six witches obeyed. "The only way to bring your sister back is to trade her life for another. The balance must be maintained," she stated, her head tilted slightly.

The ruse worked perfectly, for all six of them took only a few seconds of exchanged looks before deciding that the life of the new, stray witch that had only just arrived mattered the least among them, and they all blasted Agatha simultaneously. The young witch received their magic with open arms, ensuring to take every last bit of it.

As their bodies decayed and their magic was drained, Rio's cackle filled the forest, enjoying the view as much as Agatha enjoyed the magic. "Yes, my love! Take it all!" she screamed with a malicious grin.

When Agatha's knees gave out, weak from the blast, Rio was there to catch her. The young witch's hands trembled, but her lips were curved in the biggest smile.

"How did you like that?" asked Agatha.

"I've never seen anything better," Rio replied, lost in the trance of her lover's beauty.

"Take care of this mess," Agatha ordered. Rio obeyed instantly, leaving to guide the witches to the other side.

From then on, Agatha and Rio spent their days hunting for witches to trick, finding new ways to give in to their lust, and loving each other like no other couple in history ever had. It was not every day they were together, for Rio's duty called for her every few days, but they cherished and made use of every second in which they were.

When autumn came to an end and the weather started to cool—despite witches usually living in open settlements—Rio grew the biggest willows, and with them, shaping them to her will, she built a crooked cabin for the two to spend the winter in. However, when the snow melted and spring came, they could not part from it. Death and love danced in harmony as they turned the place into their home, making it a sanctuary for all things they held dear. Unable to rip herself from her lover's embrace, Rio stayed longer each time, even if it meant more days absent, and she gifted Agatha the most beautiful garden to tend to while she was away.

[bazpire]

When you give a mouse a cookie

(or when you give a mutt your hole)

Cw: filthy smut w/ little to no plot, dom/sub dynamic, bottom Baaabe, top Asher, gender neutral Baaabe, puppy play (-ish), slight degradation, praise, breeding, edging.

(Edited in cause I forgot lmao sorry) Taglist: Both: @indigo-greer-collins @ch3zzz @kxemii @darlin-collins @plutocries @ambrose-mp4 @elles-roses

"Do you promise to be good?" Baaabe asked harshly, tugging their mate's leash.

Asher whined and pawed at their thigh. "Yes, yes, yes! I promise, I swear, please..."

"Hm," they tilted their head. "Really? Cause last time you were a dick."

"I promise, babe, please!" He borderline shouted. His cruel, beautiful partner had been teasing him all week with letting him top, alongside edging him and leaving him to take care of himself, never allowing him to even cum on their hand. He felt like his brain was on fire, and he'd probably cry if they didn't let him fuck them, or at least make him cum with their body.

They giggled while looking down at him. "Alright, alright, no need to get all fuzzy." They laid down on the bed, guiding him with the leash to get on top of them. "You wanna please your mate, don't you? You wanna make me feel good?"

Asher was salivating at the thought. "Yes, yes, I do. Please, babe."

"Mhm? You gonna fill me up and make me cum?" They asked lasciviously, looking up at him through their eyelashes. Even when below him, they were in full control, toying with his leash and moving him around exactly like they wanted him to.

"Yes, I will, babe, please, let me..." he pressed himself against their entrance.

"Go right on ahead, puppy. You've earned it." He pushed inside of them as soon as he was allowed to, gaining a low groan out of them, himself whining in relief.

"Fuck, yes, finally. Fuck, you feel so good, feel so good, babe, God!" He started moving, hugging around their shoulders and trying to get deeper.

"Oh fuck, Ash, gentle, gentle, gentle, fuck!" They tugged on his leash, pulling him away. He cried out. "What the royal fuck did I just said? Do you want me to put you in a cage the next week? Jesus..."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, babe, did I hurt you?" He rushed over to them, alarmed and worried.

"I'm fine, just... God damn it, Ash, what did I just say? Fucking gentle."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, I got carried away."

They sighed, laying back down and guiding him back on top of them. "Do you... do you still want to?" He asked them, still fussing over them.

"Of course I do, that's why I'm putting you back in, but this time I'm guiding. Plus, God knows what bullshit you pull if I make you wait another week." They didn't let him answer, as their fingers were immediately on his dick, guiding him into them.

Once fully inside, he started grinding, waiting for them to say that it was okay to move.

"Ah, Ash, fuck, you're so deep, go slow."

And so he did.

For about five seconds.

"Ah, ah, baaabe, can I go faster? Please? Please?" He licked and sucked all over their neck and chest, coating them with his drool and making them sigh in pleasure. "Please, please, pleaaaase let me speed up, I wanna make you feel good, wanna fuck you so so good."

"Fuck, fuck, Ash, you can go a little bit faster."

And that was them basically signing up for their demise, because as soon as he was allowed, he was drilling into them.

"Fuck, yes! Feels so good, you feel so good, babe, wanna fuck you so good, wanna breed, breed, I wanna breed you so badly"

"Ah, ah, ah, Asher- Ash! Oh my fucking god, it's so much, so good, fuck!"

He grabbed them by the back of their knees, pushing their legs up into their chest and thrusting even deeper, the quick pace never faltering. The pleasure was too much, their mind was in a haze where all they could see, all they could smell, all they could feel was their lover hitting every sensitive spot inside them. It was so much. They dropped the leash and grabbed onto him, wrapping their arms around him and clawing at his back.

"Ah- ah, Ash, please, slow down, I'm getting close."

"I can't, I can't, I can't, babe, I need to breed you, I need you to cum all over my dick, I need your scent all over me, please, please, please, I'll do anything, I'll make you cum as many times as you want, just let me fill you up, baby." He panted against their ear, licking and biting their sensitive earlobe, making them tighten around him.

Baaabe arched their back off of the bed, clawing at the bedsheets and shouting as they raptured. "Ash, Ash, yes, I'm cumming, cumming all over you." They grabbed his shoulders, pulling him in as close as possible with their legs on the way. "Cum, cum, cum in me, breed me, fucking claim your mate."

And without letting them wait for too long, Asher spilt inside them, coating their insides white and whining out in pleasure.

They stayed like that, panting and basking in their afterglow, enjoying each other's closeness.

That is, until Baaabe came back to their senses.

"Ash, you fucking asshole, I'm never letting you top again."