#HIS eyes when he does the ‘dice in her eyes’ line

[jimgandolfini]

Waylon Jennings u will always be so sexy 2me

[a99jazzybean]

HIIIII! I just binge read your date everything fics and I love them! May i ask for yet another Chance fic, where y/n is familiar with g&g and used to play with their friends from time to time - using his dice of course! And... y/n used to kiss the piece for the "lucky shot", doesn't matter if it worked or not. So now, with Skylars help, y/n can speak with him and even play a session or two and it is so much fun! But she is completely oblivious to the fact that he remembers every time y/ns lips touched his dice-y form and each time he silently yearns for her lips to touch him once again... The rest is up to you, lots of love!

I love this prompt so much! Thank you for the request!

With a Taste of Your Lips...

Part 2

synop: You and Chance decide to play another session of G&G. Little do you know, a special tradition of yours has him feeling all sorts of hot and bothered. i.e. You discover Chance can feel when you kiss his die.

words: 4.7K

includes: chancexfem!reader, ttrpg playing, making out, fondling an object?, cumming untouched kinda, smut

a/n: I might make a part 2 to this one, thoughts? Also, its got smut. No minors!

“You feel yourself growing weaker. The spell the lich cast on you drains your life force. All of your comrades are downed. You are their final hope.” Your GM stares you down, brow raised. “What would you like to do?”

Looking around the table you see all of your friends' faces are grim. All eyes are on you. Taking a look at the battlemap before you, your eyes widened. 

“Past the cliff, it’s the Abysmal Pit, correct?” You asked the GM. 

“Correct.”

“And anyone who falls in is erased from existence, right?

“Correct.”

“No!” Sam shouted. “I know what you’re thinking. You can’t do it!”

You give her a solemn look, eyes filled with sadness. 

“I’m sorry.” You pick up your red D20. “But you can’t stop me. I’m going for a grapple on the lich, then I’m dragging him over the edge with me.” 

A chorus of gasps erupts from your party members. Some are getting teary-eyed. 

Two years of a campaign filled with adventure, friendship, romance, and tears. This is how it ends. Perhaps it was destined to be. 

“Make your roll.” Your GM feels tears prick in their own eyes. Not knowing whether they want you to succeed on this or not. 

As is tradition on major rolls, you bring your trusty die to your lips. Pecking it softly, you pray that this works. 

“Lucky shot,” you hear Sam say under their breath. 

Cupping the die in your hands, you give a good shake. Then you release it onto the table. Everyone in the room is holding their breath as it rolls. Finally, it stops. Natural 20. 

Normally, the table would erupt with cheers. This time, it wasn’t proper to celebrate. 

“Prim,” your GM took in a shaky breath as he spoke your character’s name. Trying to hold back tears. “You muster up the final dregs of strength within you. Pulling yourself up with a groan. Everything hurts, but your mind has been made up. Pushing through it all, you start to run. Taking one final look at your fallen teammates. This is the last time you will see them. Tell me how this ends.” Their voice wavered. 

“As I run toward the lich, I let out a final ‘goodbye’. I grab it around the waist, then throw both of us off of the ledge. No matter what it does I keep ahold of it. It’s coming with me.” Your own eyes fill with tears. 

“As you fall, the lich tries to get you off of it, but to no avail. For a brief moment you can see a flash of its past humanity. Fear filling its face as it realizes the one thing that it tried to run from has finally arrived. Death in the shape of a half-elf rogue who risked it all to defeat it.”

Chance sighed dreamily, remembering your great sacrifice. Seemed like you frequently played characters that laid their life on the line. No wonder he was absolutely smitten.

While you weren’t able to see his personified form at the moment, he was able to see you. Back hunched over as you typed on Mac. The computer feeling pretty good about themselves as you cranked out your latest self-insert fanfic. What else were you supposed to do when an AI took over your job? 

Chance wasn’t able to see what you were writing, but could see Mac occasionally blush and chuckle at the words you were typing onto them. 

“Care to share?” He asked the computer. 

Mac glanced over at him, then back to one of the screens in front of them. 

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. She’s kind of mortified that I’ve even read this stuff.” Mac turned back to read what you had just typed out, red blooming on their face. “Yeah, no. You don’t need to know about this.” 

Chance grumbled to himself. It didn’t feel fair that Mac got to see the sexiest innermost thoughts of yours. Actually, he was kind of jealous of many of your objects. Betty slept with you every night, witnessing the limited sexual exploits of yours. Johnny, he wouldn’t talk about it, too much of a gentleman. But the massage setting on his shower head? He might have alluded to activities you had accomplished with that. 

It was frustrating to say the least. Seeing how much better the other beings in the home got to know you intimately. All Chance wanted was a taste of that knowledge. 

He hoped you’d put your Dateviators back on again. Now that you had been able to see him, all he wanted was your attention. It didn’t help that you enthusiastically offered to play G&G with him. Only feeding into the ever-growing obsession with you. 

It didn’t start when you put those glasses on, no. It started when you came up with that damned tradition. Kissing the 20 side of his die body. You didn’t know, couldn’t know, really. But he felt it, every single time. It was special, something you only did when making a major roll. And you always picked him. Your “lucky shot” for your “lucky die”. 

The thing was, you hadn’t ended that tradition. When you began playing with Chance, you continued to make your lucky shots. Not realizing that although the personified version was sitting in front of you, Chance was still very much connected to the object he was. He would have you roll on something difficult, and as if it were instinct, you pressed your soft lips right on the20 side. Thankfully, Chance had been able to maintain his composure as you watched the die roll. However, it was beginning to become too much. 

Each press of your lips to the die had him falling for you harder and harder. 

With a sigh, you pushed away from your computer. Eyeing the die beside you with a smirk. Tapping on the desk, your gaze flitted over to your glasses. It had been a few hours since you had them on, couldn’t hurt to say hi to your office. And there might have been a specific object that held your affections.

“You know. I can feel you looking at me, right?” You teased the die before putting on the Dateviators. 

Chance’s face was ruddy when you looked at him, caught red handed. Rubbing his neck sheepishly, he gave you an apologetic look.

“What can I say? You’re nice to look at.” 

Now it was your turn to blush. The damned man always seemed to fluster you in such innocuous ways. Somehow always polite with his flirting. 

There were times he could be fairly forward, but he never pushed. It was sweet. 

Thinking about it, you could go for something sweet now. But nothing that was consumable. 

“Do you have a session prepped?” You asked.

Immediately, he perked up. A bright smile on his face complimented by an enthused flush. 

“Of course! Ever since you’ve come along, I’m like ten sessions ahead!” He leaned toward you, bouncing on his toes. 

“I’m glad that you’ve been so inspired. I love your stories.” You gave him a soft smile. 

His eyes widen, practically sparkling at your words.

“Y-you love my stories?” He held his hand to his heart, feeling the muscle pump faster at your compliment.

“Why do you think I want to play with you so often?” You pulled his die over with a finger, rolling it around. “I have a lot of fun with you.” 

“We could have more fun.” He raised a brow suggestively, looking over his glasses at you.

Red in the face, you waved him off with a giggle.

“Do you have time to play now?”

“I always have time for you.” 

You were sure you heard Timothy scoff somewhere in the distance. That was no matter though, for now you had the full attention of your favorite die. 

“Shall we play, then?” 

Chance nodded enthusiastically, then proceeded to get his GM station set up. When his screen and notes were all in place, he gave an approved nod. Looking up, he beamed at you again. Feeling his heart squeeze at the content smile on your face as you sat on the other end of the table from him. Oh how he wished to always keep you happy. He would play forever with you just to make sure that smile never fell from your lips. 

“Alright, where did we leave off?” He glanced over his notes.

“I managed to talk myself out of being eaten by a giant.” You had your own notes pulled out. 

Chance felt his heart swell again. You took notes! Oh, you truly were the perfect player. 

“That’s right! My charismatic girl!” He chuckled as your face grew red. 

He was glad that he managed to make you as flustered as you made him. Equal opportunity flirting to make the other squirm. Again, perfect. 

“You’ve gotten away from the giant, but you still have yet to find the gilded egg laying hen.” 

“Thankfully, you have quite the wise girl as well!” You let out a satisfied huff. “Can I make a perception check to see where the chicken is?” 

“You may.” He motioned for you to continue.

Shaking the die in your hands you urged it to roll well. 

“C’mon D20, show me what you’re made of!” 

You released the die, it clattered into your dice tray. After a moment of circling, it landed on a 16. 

“Nice! And that’s a plus four to my perception!” 

“Wonderful!” He cleared his throat, continuing his tale. “As you look around the foyer of the giant’s castle, you aren’t finding any indications of where a hen might be roosting. However, after a moment of hearing silence, there’s a new sound filtering down the hallway to the north.”

“What’s the sound?” You ask with a knowing smirk.

“It’s soft harp music, almost dreamlike.” 

After your previous character died valiantly saving a village from a dragon, Chance asked if you would mind experimenting with a fairytale themed game. Of course, you agreed, excited to see what he would come up with. While some of the quests you have been on so far were a bit predictable, he had many twists and turns added in. 

Like Cinderella’s slipper turning out to be a baby mimic. When you had managed to aid the prince in finding his lost love, the mimic revealed itself, chomping down on her foot. However, she didn’t scream. It turned out, Cinderella’s ballgown had already consumed her and was using her head and limbs to blend in. The fairy godmother revealed herself as a demon looking to collect on the souls of the kingdom. All she needed was the prince to disappear so she could take his place. 

It was a lovely twist that ended with a fairly hard battle. Thankfully the prince that accompanied you turned out to be part of the bloodline of very powerful sorcerers, so he was able to aid in the defeat of the fairy godmother. 

The prince tried asking for your hand in marriage, but you had other adventures to go on. Instead, you left with a hefty amount of gold. A token of appreciation for saving the kingdom. The engagement ring hidden amongst the coins didn’t go unnoticed, Chance giving you a cheeky wink when he mentioned it. 

You had noticed the man had been throwing romance options at you throughout each of the fairy tales. Many of them were love stories, sure, but it seemed like he really wanted you to get with someone. Little Red Riding Hood, growing smitten with you after you saved her from the belly of a wolf. A huntsman asking for your hand after you aided him in saving the kingdom from a corrupt king. Snow White practically begged you to marry her after you turned out to be her “true love's kiss”. He was laying it on pretty thick, so to speak.  

Truthfully, the reason why you never accepted was because you wanted Chance to stop hiding his affections behind characters in your game. The two of you had constant flirty banter, but it felt like he could only speak through innuendo when hinting at wanting anything more. While it was endearing, it was starting to become tiring. 

Though admittedly, you were a coward too. It would be hypocritical to judge the man considering you couldn’t muster up the courage to do anything either. Instead, you sat in a flirtatious purgatory. Something that could be viewed as a comfortable platonic relationship, but in reality had very, very heavy overtones of desire. 

Neither you or Chance could be subtle. There were times where you could feel the hunger in his eyes as he ran your game. Usually when you did something quite clever. 

That time when you answered his Latin riddle? The man was very glad he had baggy pants on. 

Then there was you. Easily bending to his dominating whims when he was GMing. Something about him having that kind of authority over you often had you clenching your thighs and squirming in your chair. And don’t even get started on the villain monologues. He pulled one of those out, you left the gaming table with your panties soaked. Giving Betty quite the show when you couldn’t get to sleep. 

Back to your current game, Chance asked for your next move.

“I follow the sound of the harp.”

“You feel almost entranced at the music. Your steps pulling you to the north hallway. After about an hour of walking (remember, this is a GIANT’S castle) you made it to the room the music was coming from. Peering inside, you see a giant sitting on a bed. She appears to be much shorter than the one you first encountered, but still clearly a giant. You can tell she is related to the other giant, both sporting the same nose shape. The giant girl is playing the harp, her fingers delicately plucking at the strings. You look across from her and see what you’ve been looking for. A hen nestled in a nest of straw. Its body swaying side to side with the music. Below it you see a peek of gold. What would you like to do?”

“I’m not going to try and hide.”

Chance looked at you with wide eyes, surprised at your blatant move.

“I handled the other giant with my words, I can easily do the same again.”

Oh, he loved your confidence. Your willingness to dive in despite the consequences. He just hoped that it wouldn’t end with your bones ground up to make bread. Quite the horrific way to depart this mortal realm.

“If you say so. You stride inside with confidence. Hyping yourself up from your previous encounter with a giant.” He rolled a die, giving a grimace. “The giant girl doesn’t appear to see you. She’s looking right at the hen, swaying side to side as she continues to play the harp.”

“I try to catch her attention by clearing my throat loudly.” 

“You clear your throat, and she stops playing. A sour look grows on her face as she looks for the source of the sound. Looking down, she finally spots you. Crossing her arms, she gives you a pout.”

“You know, it’s quite rude to interrupt a performance.” Chance put on the voice of a little girl, making you chuckle. “What’s so funny?”

“Chance, you know that wasn’t in-game.” You gave him a stern look. 

“I know, I’m just messin. Anyways… she looks at you, waiting for you to respond.”

“I apologize, your music is lovely.” 

“Then why did you interrupt me?”

“Well, I have some important matters to discuss.”

“Important matters? What’s important is that Bailey gets her proper rest.” Chance returns to his normal voice. “You follow her gaze to the hen in the nest.”

“Is Bailey your hen?” 

“Obviously!” The character voice returned. “And she won’t lay eggs unless I play for her.” 

“I see.” You ponder on that information for a moment, then ask. “Is the harp huge?”

“It’s giant, so is the hen.”

“Didn’t the asshole who hired me say he had been here before? Why send me up if there’s no way to bring the items down?” You huffed in frustration at the quest-giver.

“Who said there wasn’t a way to bring them down?” He clicked his tongue at you, admonishingly.

“Hmmm. I think I'll talk to the girl some more.” He motioned for you to continue. “I’m sure Bailey loves your music.”

“She does, she always lays an egg when I play! My daddy says I’m gettin just as good as my mama!” Chance goes back to narrating. “After she says that she goes quiet. Her eyes widening as if she’s just realized you were here. There’s a darkness in them that surprises you for a girl so young.”

“I don’t have a good feeling about this.” You bit your lip nervously.

“You’re a human. Humans aren’t allowed here!”

“Um, you’re dad let me go. At least I think it was your dad.” You give Chance a nervous glance.

“Roll on persuasion.”

Shaking the dice, you let it drop. Watching in fear as it lands on a three. Chance’s gaze grows dark.

“You only think you know? How can I know if you’re telling the truth?” Chance narrates again. “The giant girl stands up, towering high over you. A glare on her face as her eyes narrow. But you spot something odd, her eyes are watering.” The little girl voice is put back on. “All humans lie! I bet you’re no different!”

“I decide to stay quiet, letting her speak.” You say to Chance. Again, he’s surprised at your action.

“Your people killed my mom!” He switches back to normal. “You now see tears falling from her eyes. She’s going to reach for you.” He rolls a die, eyeing you expectantly. “Would you like to do anything to stop it?”

“No. I let her.” 

“A large hand grabs you with a crushing squeeze. You feel the air forced out of your body by the strong grip of her hand. She lifts you to her head.” He clears his throat, going back to the girl voice. “I should just eat you, show you how it feels.” He gives you another expectant look. “Are you going to try and do anything?”

“Nope. I’m gonna close my eyes and accept my fate.” 

Impressed, Chance sits back with his arms crossed. Pondering on what to do next. While you had managed to talk your way out of the last giant encounter, he thought you would at least try to fight your way out of this one. The giant child’s stat block was something that you could manage on your own. 

“Okay. I want you to roll persuasion, and I’ll be nice and give you advantage for what you’ve managed to do so far.”

Pumping your fist in the air, you reached for the die. This time, you brought the D20 to your lips, giving it a light peck. This was a roll that was gonna need it. 

“C’mon lucky shot, don’t let me down now.” 

The first roll landed on a 6. Again, you brought the die to your lips. The kiss to the dice slightly lingering, just for good luck. You shook it in your hand and released, crossing your fingers for a good roll. Slowly, it spun to land on a 20.

“Nat 20 babee! Let’s gooooo!” You stood up and cheered, your character saved.

Chance remained seated, face beet red. His breathing had become labored. For some reason, he couldn’t get himself to calm down. Maybe it was the fact that you had kissed the die in succession. Something he could feel burning through his body. 

Coming down from your high, you realized Chance hadn’t continued. Turning, you gave him a concerned look. Walking over, you eyed the state he was in. Face still extremely flushed. 

“Are you okay?” You leaned toward him, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“I-I’m fine. We can continue!” He rubbed his neck nervously.

“Are you sure? Your face is really red.”

“What did you expect after kissing me like that!” He clamped his hands over his mouth, face turning another shade darker. 

“What? I didn’t kiss…” You looked over to the die, feeling a heat crawl up your neck. “C-can you feel that?”

Hands still over his mouth, he nodded. You realized you had been performing your luck ritual the entire time you had been playing with Chance. He could feel it. Every. Single. Time. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You felt terrible, doing that to him without asking.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He said softly.

“But then I kept making you uncomfortable! Kissing you without your consent, ugh. I’m so sorry, Chance.” You gave him a sad look that pierced his heart. That wasn’t what he meant at all!

“I never said I was uncomfortable.” He composed himself somewhat.

“Huh?” 

“I might have liked it…” He trailed quietly. 

“What was that?” You couldn’t make out what he said.

“I like it!” He blurted. “I really like it when you kiss me.” His face grew red again as he waited for your response.

“Y-you do?” 

He nodded sheepishly. 

“Yeah. It feels… nice. Really nice.” He bit his lip nervously. “You’re always so soft and sweet.” 

“Oh.” Your face was burning.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” He gave you an apologetic look. 

“Chance…” This time you were nervous.

“Yes?” 

You leaned down toward his face. Arms planted on the headrest of his chair.

“Can I actually kiss you?”

“I-I mean technically you are ‘actually’ kissing me…” He stuttered out, eyes flitting between your eyes and lips.

You gave him an unamused pout.

“You know what I mean. How’s about this? Can I give you a reciprocated kiss? One that you also participate in?”

“Yes. Please.” 

With that, you pressed your lips to his. Chance froze up at first, eyes wide at the fact that this was happening. Leaning into the kiss, his eyes fluttered shut. You let out a content sigh at the feel of his lips against yours. Soft and plush, perfectly meldable with your own. 

With your tongue, you teased at his bottom lip. Gladly, he slightly opened his mouth for your tongues to intertwine. A low groan left him as he tasted you. So fucking perfect.

The man pushed the chair away from the table, letting you sink onto his lap. Your hand trailed up his neck, fingers lightly scratching at his scalp. He moaned against you at the action. His own hands trailed over your body, mapping out your slopes and curves. Ultimately they landed on your ass, giving it a quick squeeze. You giggled against his lips, pulling away to get a good look at him.

Face still flushed with kiss bitten lips and blown out pupils. He stared up at you like you were a goddess that was granting him a blessing. That was sure how this encounter was feeling. Something that he had only dreamed of. 

“You’re so handsome.” You pressed kisses against his jaw and down his throat, making him shiver. 

“And you’re beautiful. So perfect.” He pressed a kiss to your lips. 

Leaning your forehead against his, you smiled. Then an idea came to you. Biting your lip, you wondered if the man beneath you would oblige to your whims. 

“Chance…”

“Hmm?”

“When I kiss your die, where do you feel it?”

“Oh, um, I guess on my face? Like a whisper against my cheeks and the corner of my lips.” He let out an awkward chuckle. 

You shifted off of him to grab the die, then returned to his lap. Holding the die in front of you, you looked over the numbers.

“So what would happen if I kissed the other numbers?” You asked, gaze hungry.

Oh, oh, this was hot. So fucking hot. Chance thought just kissing you was a dream come true. You wanting more from him? That was merely a fantasy.

“I suppose I would feel you kissing me on other parts of my body.” He answered. Truthfully, he had no idea what would happen. You only ever kissed the 20.

“So if I kiss the one.” You brought the dice to your lips, pecking the side.

Chance giggled at the feeling. Right on the bottom of his foot. 

“I take it that was your foot?”

He nodded, excited to see where this was going. Already feeling himself growing semi-hard in his pants as  he watched you in anticipation.

You pressed a kiss to the five, eyeing Chance’s response. He twitched under you with a whimper. 

“Where was that?”

“My left thigh.” 

Okay, so if five was the left thigh then… you pressed a kiss to the six.

“R-right thigh.” He groaned out. Having your lips on him like this was something else. 

It was probably a good thing you never kissed the other numbers. He was sure you would make him cum from just kissing him alone. 

“So if six is your other thigh then that must mean seven or eight is likely your-”

“What if we avoided that area?” He cut you off, a nervous sheen of sweat on his forehead. 

“Why’s that?” You leaned in, giving him a deep kiss.

“I-I just…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. 

“Chance, would me kissing the dice equivalent of your crotch make you cum?” Wow, just right out with it. 

“Y-yeah, yeah. It would. I’m gonna be honest. With the way that you’re already going at it, I’d probably cum just from you kissing me.” 

“Really?” You sat upright, eyes sparkling. 

He nodded, blushing furiously. 

“Could we try it?” You bit your lip. 

The thought of having the man fall apart just from you kissing him had you riled up. You could feel yourself growing wetter at the thought. Seeing him squirm from your kisses before coming undone. Oh, that was very appealing. 

“You want to?” He was surprised.

“Yeah, I do. Only if you want to.” 

“You don’t have to ask twice.” He wrapped a hand around your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. Your tongues tangled with each other as you moaned. 

Pulling away, you brought the dice back up to your face. Eyeing the numbers, you decided to go for the 19. You gave it a slow kiss, watching Chance as he shivered and moaned. The feeling reached a sweet spot on his neck that had him keening. He was pretty sure he was addicted to your lips now. 

You continued to press kisses to various numbers. Loving every whimper and moan you managed to get out of the man. Occasionally you would lean back in to give him a proper kiss on the lips, only to return to tease him with the die. 

Chance could tell you were avoiding the seven and eight. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“P-please.” He groaned through gritted teeth as he felt your lips on his chest. “I need you…”

“Need me to what?” You teased with a smirk.

“Kiss the seven and eight. Please.” He begged, squirming beneath you.

“Hmm. Good boy.” Oh fuck. That had his dick throbbing. 

Slowly, you brought the die to your lips. You pecked all over it, then finally pressed a kiss to the seven. Chance cried out at the feeling. Your lips right where he needed them. Feeling them press against his throbbing length. He was sure the next one would be the last he needed. You gave another slow kiss to the eight. It was his undoing. Cock twitching in his pants, releasing a sticky load into his boxers. His hands gripped at your hips as he rutted against the feeling of your lips. 

“Oh f-fuck.” He stuttered out. 

You pressed your lips to his, then kissed all over his face. The man melting into your affection. 

“How was that?” You asked softly.

“Amazing. Perfect. Wonderful. Perfect. Did I mention perfect?” He chuckled.

“I’m glad I could give you that.” You picked up the die again, giving it a peck on the 20. 

“Guess I’ll be keeping my lucky shot tradition for our other games.” You gave him a sweet smile. 

“Oh sweetheart,” Chance pulled you back to him, “did you think playtime was over?”

[rawme-price]

Types of DND players i think the 141 are....

Ghost is 100% the serious, in character all the times player. This man literally wears a costume to work, he is NOT failing rp even if soap is determined to make it happen. Definitely has multiple pairs of dice that match his characters aesthetic, but his version of "dice jail" is an empty taco bell cup. (Ghost insists its the best jail bc it makes his dice break the aesthetic) Also he calls out when people are meta-gaming.

Soap is the guy who makes a joke character but will stick to the joke no matter the situation. Ghosts teifling paladin will be waxing on and on to soaps bard about tragic backstories, only for soap to respond with "Aye, that's sad. Wanna fuck about it?". Soap is super disorganized with character sheets all over the place, but he has every single detail and fine print of his cantrips/spells memorized. (Also hes the one who eats snacks the whole time)

Price is the guy who plays the same character in a different font for every single campaign hes in. Always some old guy with a tragic past, usually a sorcerer or fighter. People think the others are bad at staying on task, but price is the worst about focusing on throwaway comments. Does not give a fuck if the DM mentioned the bartender once in passing for atmospheric setting, price wants to know all about the npc and how to save them. (Absolutely kills it in tense RP tho, pulls out insane one-liners)

Gaz is, unfortunately, the biggest metagamer. Sees the campaign like a puzzle that needs to be solved, and as such has been banned from ever using home-brew characters. Very much has little custom models for his characters. Gaz tends towards talking to fix a problem over fighting to fix a problem, and is probably the only reason the party stays focused on the main story line. (Also he has definitely gotten into a fight with ghost over metagaming that resulted in a black eye lol)

Bonus:

Laswell is the DM who is about ready to kill her players at any moment. Yes, gaz is the favourite bc he pays attention to her carefully crafted story. Shes got the whole setup too. a custom blinder so her players dont see her notebook. A box of doom. Entire sets and props for the specialized table that folds out to reveal a grid. (Her wife built it for her <3)

Nikolai isnt that interested in DND, but laswells commissions him for miniatures. Hes damn good at it too; sculpts, prints, and paints each one himself. Definitely bonds with soap and ghost over them whenever he drops by.

[thinemoonshine]

⋆𐙚₊ 𝓹𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 (𝓻𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜)˚⊹♡

—⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ when platonic becomes romantic

bestfriend!enhypen hyung line x fem reader content(s): fluff, enhypen being down bad, hints of yearning, reader's oblivious, jay malfunctions, bit suggestive in jake's, sunghoon's already thinking wedding vows type: imagine

⋆˙𐙚 L.HEESEUNG 𐙚˙⋆

it’s weird. they’ve always been touchy with one another. sure, it may not be to the point of clingy but touchy enough that hand-holding and cuddling are normal in their friendship.

so why is it that heeseung feels so shy and flustered with (y/n)’s simple affection now?

her fingers pinch his chin softly as she gently tends his small cut with a cotton swab. their faces close but far enough so heeseung can comfortably admire her features while she stands between his spread knees.

“it’s not deep enough so it shouldn’t leave too much of a scar,” she says calmly—too casually for heeseung who’s literally having trouble making a single coherent thought without thinking about their proximity.

he swallows and it only makes his throat feel drier. “you sure?”

(y/n) lifts her gaze to see his round, bambi eyes searching hers for reassurance and she chuckles. “don’t worry, hee. you’ll still be handsome.”

still? he echoes internally. she thinks i’m handsome.

the thought itself is dumb considering how she’s never held back her admiration for his looks but for some reason, it was clearer to him this time, significant.

her hand shifts to cup his cheek and he fights himself from practically melting into her touch with his fists clenching by his side.

but his will is weaker than he thought.

(y/n)’s brows raise when he leans into her palm with eyes shutting while his own arms wrap around her waist to pull her in. “hee?”

the way that everyday nickname fell from her lips has his heart lurching and ears ringing, desperate for her to say it again.

“i like it when you say my name,” he murmurs into her shoulder and she’s silenced, flustered and confused, even more so when she can literally feel him jolting ever so slightly from his rapid, passionate heartbeat.

(y/n) slowly reciprocates the touch—her arms moving to encircle his slim waist and he sighs at the warmth that envelopes.

“is there something going on?” she asks, unsure of what transpired for her bestfriend to act so intimate all of a sudden but all heeseung does is shake his head—sneakily burying his nose into the crook of it and breathing her in.

“i just want you here,” he confesses, warm breath heating her skin as he subtly stamps little pecks before having to bite his own tongue to hold back from pressing a long, lasting kiss.

oh, if only he could.

heeseung smiles as he lifts a hand to cradle the back of her head, combing through her hair as his lips pull to a grin.

well, no one said he couldn’t.

⋆˙𐙚 P.JONGSEONG 𐙚˙⋆

it should be casual. a norm. a routine, even, to have (y/n) clinging onto his back as he cooks. it’s what she always does whenever he makes their meals—her ‘contribution’ she says, since jay won’t let her do anything.

and he doesn’t mind. he welcomes it, in fact. but something about today, makes it a lot harder for him to focus on his cooking with her wrapped around him.

“i thought you wanted them diced,” (y/n) reminds when jay was about to shove in the messily sliced carrots into a pot of hazardously seasoned soup(he’s pretty sure he poured in sugar instead of salt).

jay blinks rapidly, frantic, as he laid down the cutting board again and starts dicing… if cutting them in criss-crossed shapes into atoms is another method of it. “y-yeah. i did.”

but it doesn’t stop there.

“jay, that’s not salt.”

“black pepper, not white.”

“that fire’s too high!”

jay’s a second away from giving himself a concussion with the frying pan and even then, he grabbed the ladle instead.

"is something wrong?" his bestfriend asks when she turns him around and the way her fingers ghost over his waist makes him shudder.

he shakes his head with his signature smirk-ish smile before clearing his throat. “nothing. just thinking about some stuff.”

his hand lands on her crown and rests there for a moment before he pats gently. then he turns back around to cook, scoffing in amusement at the skeptical hum from the girl clinging onto his back.

“i’ll make you talk one way or another,” she threatens and jay’s about to toss a witty remark but he’s cut by a gasp when her palms drag up to his chest—heart going overdrive and nearly bursting through until her grip curls around his neck. “tell me!”

he’s shaken back and forth by the throat and it works in distracting him from blasting off through the roof like a rocket. exaggerated laughter escapes him as he tries to pretend everything’s fine before he gently holds her wrists and pulls them away—spinning to face her with a bright grin on his ruddy face.

“if you keep this up, i might not be able to get this done,” he chides but with a playful undertone as he clicks his tongue with a sharp inhale. his eyes sharpen to squint ‘menacingly’ and the girl mirrors.

“fine. i’ll relent,” she shrugs and pulls her arms back but just when jay thinks she’ll leave, she reaches to gently stroke his throat and that has his eyes widening and breaths hitching. “sorry, was i too rough?”

his gears are frozen and ears muffled from the pounding, passionate beats of his heart. “i—uh, no! not at all.”

and when her eyes lift to meet his, he nearly buckles at the knees—having to reach behind and grip the edge of the counter until his knuckles turn white to keep himself up.

there’s a pregnant pause between them and with every second, jay’s mind is unraveling little by little.

“i knew it,” she scoffs and for a moment, he thinks it’s over for him. (y/n)’s gonna see through him and she’s gonna leave him and—

“i’ll use a rope next time. thanks for the advice!” she chirps and spins before skipping out the kitchen, leaving him dumbfounded and speechless.

the moment she’s out, he crashes against the counter behind him—skin flushed to his ears and neck and eyes wide as saucers as his hand cups the lower half of his face in disbelief.

oh, he’s done for.

⋆˙𐙚 S.JAEYUN 𐙚˙⋆

jake thinks there’s no such thing as a friendship touchier, sweeter and cheesier than his with (y/n). it’s their love language: physical touch. even if it’s as small as poking or as big as a whole cuddle session, they’re all a portrayal of their perfectly platonic affections.

they’ve even kissed each other’s cheeks for goodbyes and caused confusion all around whether they were dating or not. of course, they’d always deny it—saying that that’s one of the perks from being friends for so long. nothing affects them anymore since they’ve seen nearly everything of each other.

but now, from the way jake’s breaking a sweat and losing his breaths as he cuddles with (y/n) for another one of their movie marathon nights, he’s not sure he can live up to that belief.

he’s trying his hardest to calm his nerves, scared that she’s going to be able to feel his racing heart or notice his shaky breaths.

it’s like he’s suddenly conscious of everything.

the way her hands feel against him, the softness of her figure compared to his solid body, her sweet warmth that seeps into his pores as he holds her close and the way she whines and grunts unconsciously whenever he shifts like she hates to be apart.

everything, every single thing about her is driving him crazy and the fact that she’s literally using him as a human mattress and plushie isn’t helping.

of all days, did (y/n) have to fall asleep on him today—when he can’t make sense of his feelings??

he gulps thickly as his pretty, slender fingers hover her back before ultimately combing through her locks as she slumbers.

slowly, cautiously, undoing the knots and tidying stray strands as he does breathing exercises to calm himself down. but when she groans a complaint of him “being too loud,” he realizes maybe he’s been hyperventilating instead.

he clears his throat as he slowly tries to sit up. it’s a custom between them. when one of them falls asleep mid movie marathon, they’d take care of one another—(y/n) would put a blanket over him and fix his pillow while jake usually tucks her to bed.

but with how much he’s trembling, he might not be able to today.

“(y/n),” he starts softly, just wanting to stir her enough so she’d at least free his legs from being all tangled up with hers but she only nuzzles further—face now buried in the crook of his neck with her lips brushing his skin.

BOOM!

he thinks his heart just exploded.

jake’s overheating, red all over with fingers twitching as he bites the back of his hand to quieten the soft sounds threatening to escape. it’s all too much yet too little, so near yet so far. she’s fogging up all his senses and he can barely even think.

his hand patting her back is near robotic now as he stares at the ceiling blankly, like every single thought he conjures fizzles up and leaves his brain completely empty as he battles with himself from scooping her up and kissing her right then and there.

wait, what?

he chokes on a breath and coughs violently—forcing (y/n) awake and he panics. with eyes wide, he quickly wraps his arms around her, hushing and lulling her back to sleep, guilty for even waking her up while at the same time hiding his face into her hair.

“sorry! sorry, i woke you just—just go back to sleep,” he coos as he cradles her form in his lap and stands to lift her up to bed—only to be stopped when she rubs her face against his chest with a small protest.

“stay…” she slurs sleepily and it’s like a love arrow struck him in the heart as he drops back onto the couch, breathless and awestruck. he looks down at her who’s back to snoring and sleeping, oblivious to the frazzled, flustered state of jake sim who presses a long, lasting kiss onto her forehead in place of her lips.

would it be too weird to buy a diamond ring as a friendship item?

⋆˙𐙚 P.SUNGHOON 𐙚˙⋆

sunghoon isn’t as nonchalant as he aims to be. but people think he is. with his gentle yet distant disposition and random silly little antics, he’s a living contradiction. a man of mystery. and it’s difficult to understand him at times, hard to reach.

especially when he doesn’t bother to since he has someone he sticks to every breathing moment of his day: (y/n). even now, on a sweet, sunny saturday, sunghoon’s sitting on the sofa of her living room as she meticulously puts pretty clips on his fluffy, raven hair.

they just came back from a shopping spree and she bought some cute butterfly clips that apparently flap their wings when the wearer moves or wind blows. it’s up to (y/n) to test that hypothesis herself.

“last one,” she says without even looking at her bestfriend who’s been admiring her nonstop with heart-shaped eyes. “done!”

sunghoon’s jolted back to reality and he smiles softly. “can i see?”

“yeah,” the girl casually replies as she tidies up the torn packages from unboxing her new clips. hoon stands and goes to her standing mirror only for his lips to part in surprise? maybe dismay?? he expected to look cool, or cute, at least, but now he looks like an experiment gone wrong with how his hair’s clipped standing like uneven cut grass frazzled in all directions.

and it’s even slightly disturbing to see the fake butterflies bobbing side to side while being clumped together like an infestation.

he spins, brows knit and takes a deep breath to complai—

“see! cute, right?” (y/n) chirps, the biggest toothy grin on her face as cheeks bunch up and eyes twinkle with pure expectation. suddenly, sunghoon’s words crumble and furrow softens.

“yeah,” he agrees before he can even deny and it leaves himself confused. not for long though, because his bestfriend’s quick to squeal and take a picture with their cheeks pressed together and the proximity has him reeling.

it doesn’t matter that he looks goofy and it would ruin his entire nonchalant image, it doesn’t matter that she practically yanked him down and almost sent him falling face first, it doesn’t matter that his scalp is practically ripping off from the tension of the clips.

because she’s happy—because of him.

and honestly, he’d put his life at stake just to be able to give that to her every single day. to be with her at every single point of her life and make her smile without fail.

in sickness and in health—

wedding vows already??

he mentally slaps himself.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

𝜗𝜚 hi, it’s romi here!! thank you so much for reading to the end!! if you enjoyed it, don’t forget to leave a heart and reblog— they give me some motivation, ya know? but please do not spam like!! X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

copyright © 2024 thinemoonshine all rights reserved

[coolemmasulivan2]

A Beautiful Mess | 1

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Two neighbors who can’t stand each other, until an accidental kiss changes everything.

Word count: 2846

You can read part 2 here, part 3 here and part 4 here.

But close ain't close enough 'Till we cross the line So name a game to play And I'll roll the dice, hey

You and Lando Norris had a problem with each other. There was no denying it. Something about the other person made your skin prickle with irritation, like an itch you couldn't scratch.

You were a Monegasque kindergarten teacher, a job that suited you perfectly. You adored kids. Their joy and innocence made your life simpler.

Monaco had always been your sanctuary: peaceful, elegant, yours. But that changed the moment Lando moved in next door a few years back.

You got along with everyone. It was just who you were. Friendly, patient, easygoing. But him? He was the exception. Loud, cocky, and an absolute menace of a neighbor. Even if he spent most of the year traveling, when he was home, he made sure you knew. The roaring engines, the late-night laughter, the endless stream of people coming and going. It was chaos wrapped in luxury.

He could've lived anywhere. He had the money. But somehow, out of all the places in Monaco, he chose your building.

"I guess Lando's back?" Your sister said, raising an eyebrow as loud music blasted from the apartment next door.

You let out a deep sigh, chopping vegetables with more force than necessary. "He's been back for a while… unfortunately."

A smirk tugged at her lips. "Let me guess, he did something already?"

"Oh, just parked in my spot today. Again." You shot her an exasperated look before slamming the knife against the cutting board. "Someday I'll kill him. I swear."

She chuckled. "Maybe he's running out of places to park his collection."

"I don't care!" You huffed. "He's a billionaire, he can buy a garage. Or better yet, move to a bigger place and stop being my problem."

"You know he does all of this just to piss you off, right?" Your sister said as she sat at the dining table, watching you set down the salad. "You should just ignore him."

"I know!" You groaned, sinking into the chair across from her. "But I can't. He's impossible to ignore. He knows exactly how to push my buttons."

Lando and Max were deep into a racing simulator session, music blasting through the apartment as they waited for their food to be ready.

It was Max's turn on the sim, but the pounding music was messing with his concentration. "Dude, the music... turn it down." He grumbled, eyes locked on the screen.

Lando barely glanced up from his phone. "Why?"

"Because I can't focus! It's too damn loud." Max tried to keep his attention on the race. "Someone's going to complaine about the noise." Then a thought struck him. He paused the race and shot Lando a knowing look. "Wait a second… You want this, don't you?"

Lando shrugged. "No idea what you're talking about."

Max scoffed. "Bullshit. You're trying to piss her off. You want her to came here. That's why the music's so loud. What's your problem with her?"

Lando smirked, eyes flicking back to his phone. "It's fun watching her all worked up."

Max shook his head, half amused, half exasperated. "You know, she's actually really nice."

Lando snorted. "To you and everyone else. Not to me."

"Yeah, because you're an asshole."

Lando finally dropped his phone onto the desk and leaned back in his chair. "She's been like that since day one. She started it."

"And instead of finding out why, you just decided to make things worse." Max said, shaking his head. "Classic you!"

Before Lando could fire back, a knock on the door echoed through the apartment.

His smirk widened. "Told you, she can't stay away." He pushed up from his seat, heading for the door.

Max groaned, calling after him, "Dude, be nice, please!"

You bit your nails, pacing as you waited for Lando to answer his door. Normally, you were a calm and patient person. But Lando Norris had a talent for bringing out the absolute worst in you. And the worst part? He enjoyed it. You knew he did.

Inside your apartment you heard the door finally open.

"Hi!" Your sister's voice rang out, soft and sweet, just like she always was. Unlike you, she had never raised her voice in frustration, not even to assholes like Lando.

"Oh, hi!" Lando's voice dripped with warmth, and you immediately rolled your eyes. Of course, he could turn on the charm when he wanted to.

"Sorry to bother you…"

"No problem!" He said. You nearly gagged.

"Could you turn the music down a little?" Your sister asked politely.

"Yeah, of course. Sorry about that, I didn't even realize it was that loud. Really, I'm so sorry."

Your jaw nearly hit the floor.

You had stood at his door countless times, asking the same thing, and every single time, he would gave you a cocky remark, or worst of all, he'd turned the music up louder just to spite you. But with your sister? He was suddenly the picture of politeness.

You were seconds away from storming out of your apartment to tell him exactly what you thought of his two-faced behavior, but your sister's voice stopped you.

"I appreciate it. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" Lando replied smoothly. You let out a deep breath, leaning your head against the wall in frustration. Your sister had just started pushing the door open when Lando added: "Oh, and say hi to your sister for me."

That was it. You clenched your fists, shoving past your sister, ready to wipe that smug grin off his face, but before you could get a single word out, his door clicked shut.

"I hate him so much."

From the other side of the door, Lando grinned like an idiot, watching you through the peephole as you stomped away in frustration.

"There's just something special about pissing her off." He mused, clearly enjoying himself.

Max, standing behind him with his arms crossed, let out a sigh. "You're an idiot."

Two days had passed since your sister left for Rome, where she lived with her boyfriend. You were alone again, not that it bothered you. Your parents still lived in Monaco, in the house you grew up in, and you saw them almost every day.

One of the things you loved most about Monaco was being so close to the ocean. Every morning, as soon as you opened your bedroom window, you would close your eyes and breathe it in—the salty air, the gentle breeze, the familiar scent that made you feel at home. It was the perfect way to start the day, making your morning run that much easier.

Like always, before heading to work, you laced up your shoes and stepped outside. Today was no exception.

You had been running for a while, sweat clinging to your skin as your breath fell into a steady rhythm. The music playing softly in your ears didn't drown out the sounds of the city.

Lost in thought, you instinctively turned toward your building, crossing the road without a second glance.

The loud sound of tires screeching against the asphalt snapped you out of your trance. A rush of air whooshed past as a sleek car came to a sudden stop just inches from you. Your heart leaped into your throat, your body reacting before your mind caught up. You stumbled back and before you could stop yourself, you were on the ground.

The driver's side door swung open, and before you even looked up, you knew exactly who it was.

Lando stepped out, his expression a mix of worry and frustration, but before he could speak, you were already pushing yourself to your feet, your hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

"Are you insane?" You snapped, ripping your airpods out. "You almost ran me over!"

His brows shot up. "Me? You're the one who ran straight into the road without looking!"

You opened your mouth to argue, but the truth of his words sank in. Still, there was no way you were letting him win this. "Maybe if you weren't driving like a lunatic--"

Lando scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Driving like a lunatic? I was literally pulling out of the garage."

You huffed, brushing the dirt off your leggings. "What if it was a kid crossing instead of me?"

"Then I would've stopped, just like I did now." He shot back. "But you... You didn't even look before stepping onto the road! What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I wouldn't have to worry about being flattened by my obnoxious neighbor before eight in the morning!"

Lando shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You're unbelievable."

"You're infuriating."

"You're dramatic."

"You're--"

"Y/n?" A new voice cut through the tension, making both of you turn. Standing a few feet away was your kindergarten director. Dressed in his usual grey suit, he raised an eyebrow at the two of you. "Is everything alright?" He asked.

You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of how ridiculous this must have looked, standing in the middle of the street, flustered, sweaty, and arguing with a F1 driver.

"Yes, everything's fine!" You said quickly, forcing a polite smile.

Monsieur Bernard nodded, then glanced at Lando. "I didn't realize you knew such a famous driver, Y/n!" He stretched his hand and Lando shook it.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "We're just neighbors."

Lando grinned. "Very close neighbors."

You shot him a glare, but before you could say anything, Monsieur Bernard continued. "You know, our little ones love racing. It would be wonderful if you could visit the school sometime, talk to the kids about it."

"Oh!" You forced a polite chuckle. "I'm sure Lando is far too busy. I wouldn't want to take up his time."

Lando, to your absolute horror, shrugged. "Actually, I think it's a great idea." You snapped your head toward him, eyes wide. "Yeah, why not? I've got some time before the season starts again. I'd love to come by."

Monsieur Bernard smiled. "That's wonderful! Y/n, can you please set everything up?" You smiled and nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Norris. It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise." As Monsieur Bernard walked away, you groaned, rubbing your temples. Lando chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. "See? I can be a good neighbor."

You exhaled sharply, turning on your heel toward your building. "I hope the kids throw paint at you."

Lando chuckled, watching you storm off, clearly frustrated with how the day had started. His gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary and not even he could deny that your ass looked good on those leggings.

"Stop it, Lando!" He muttered to himself, shaking his head as if it would physically shake the thoughts away. "Don't go there."

With a deep breath, he slid back into his car, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary. Without another glance at the building, he drove off.

You lay in bed, scrolling through your phone, hoping to lull yourself to sleep. The soft glow of the screen was the only light in the room, your thumb moving lazily over the screen, until something in your feed made you pause.

Your eyes narrowed as you clicked on the reel. A fan edit of your annoying neighbor filled your screen, all set to a song that did nothing to make him look innocent. Quite the opposite.

Your breath hitched slightly, your eyes locked on the video as if trapped in some kind of trance. The way he carried himself, the confidence, the effortless charm-- No. Absolutely not.

The reel restarted, snapping you out of whatever trance had just taken over you. With a horrified gasp, you jolted upright, tossing your phone onto the bed like it had burned you.

"Ugh-- no. What the hell?" You threw a pillow at your phone, like the device was alive. "Even on my phone?" You groaned, burying your face in your hands.

This man was infiltrating every corner of your life. And you hated it.

The day had arrived.

The kids had been buzzing with excitement all week, their energy doubling ever since they learned that Lando Norris was coming to visit. It didn't matter that half of them were too young to understand F1, but the mere idea of someone fast and famous coming to their school had them bouncing off the walls. You, on the other hand, were bracing yourself for chaos.

You had done your best to keep the kids calm, but by the time the morning rolled around, they were practically vibrating with anticipation. What car does he drive? Will he let us race? Can he do drive in the playground?

And then, Lando arrived. Dressed in his McLaren clothes, sunglasses and wearing that signature smile.

The kids lost their minds. "Landoooooo!" The group rushed toward him, bombarding him with questions before he could even say a word.

"Whoa, whoa, one at a time!" Lando laughed, crouching down to be at their level.

You stood at a distance, arms crossed, watching as he handled the chaos with surprising ease.

"Can you drive faster than Batman?"

"Can we race you?"

"Do you get scared when you go super fast?"

Lando hesitated for a second, then grinned. "Sometimes! But that's what makes it exciting."

You rolled your eyes. Still, you couldn't deny that the kids adored him. They hung onto their seats, eyes wide with fascination as he described what it felt like to race at over 300 km/h, how he trained, and even how he sometimes got nervous before big races.

Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, you realized that Lando was actually good at this. He had their full attention, something you usually had to work twice as hard for.

And then, as if sensing your thoughts, he caught your eye from across the room and winked, making you gag.

Unfortunately for Lando, someone else caught the moment.

A little girl sitting nearby tilted her head curiously, her big eyes flicking between the two of you. "Is Miss Y/n your girlfriend?" She asked innocently.

Lando, who had just taken a sip of water, immediately started coughing. He nearly choked, hand flying to his chest as he struggled to recover. "What?"

You, on the other hand, wanted the earth to swallow you whole. The rest of the kids, now very interested, turned toward you both with excited expressions.

"Is that why you're here?" Another girl asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Do you live together?" A boy asked before Lando could even recover from the first question.

Lando, still slightly choking, looked horrified.

"Nope!" You cut in quickly, clapping your hands together in a desperate attempt to redirect the conversation. "Who wants to show Lando their artwork?"

A chorus of Me! Me! Me! erupted, and just like that, the kids forgot all about their matchmaking attempts, eagerly rushing to grab their drawings.

You let out a slow breath, glancing at Lando, who was still lightly hitting his chest.

"What the hell just happened?" He asked, his voice still uneven.

You crossing your arms. "They're kids, Lando! If you wink at their teacher, this is what you get."

"A vision of a nightmare?"

You shot him a glare. "Asshole!"

He smirked. "Such a dirty mouth for a kindergarten teacher."

Your jaw clenched. You took a deep breath, forcing a smile as sweet as honey. "And yet, still more mature than a F1 driver."

Lando grinned, leaning in just a little. "Debatable."

Before you could walk away from Lando, chaos erupted.

"Me first!"

"No, me!"

Two of the kids appeared out of nowhere, each clutching their artwork, too focused on their battle to notice where they were going. Straight into you.

You barely had time to react before they crashed into your legs, making you lose balance.

"Oh--"

Lando was sat in a chair right in front of you, and before you could steady yourself, you stumbled forward and fell right into him.

His hands instinctively came up to catch you, but it was too late. Your lips brushed against his. It was barely a touch, but enough to make the world stop.

The kids were still yelling, the classroom still buzzing with energy, completely unaware of what had just happened, but all you could register was the way your lips were still touching.

You quickly pulled back, eyes wide, heart racing. Lando blinked up at you, looking just as stunned, his lips slightly parted as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

You straightened, feeling warmth creeping up your neck,

"This is my drawing." One of the kids said, tugging at Lando's sleeve. "It's a boat and this is my dad."

That snapped Lando out of it. He cleared his throat and looked away from you. "Wow, that's amazing! You're so talented."

You turned away quickly, your pulse still hammering as you focused on the children, pretending like nothing had happened.

Lando rubbed the back of his neck, still looking anywhere but at you.

For once, there were no smirks, no teasing, just the feeling that something between you had just shifted.

[therealslimshakespeare]

IM SO FUCKING EXCITED

🫨����🥳🎉🫶🫰🤯🫨🫣🤭🤠

Benny n’ Lu - Touch

Smutty af stand alone future scene

Lu’s legs have gone from swinging against the cabinets to splaying askew of her body on the counter, bronzed and freshly washed feet all too close to the vegetables but Benny scoots his cutting board away and chooses something else besides aggravation, because he is tired of that feeling, and he is down here to feel -no, to do…something else.

“We add the tomato at the end. The end, Lu.” he had to stalk her helping handfull of freshly diced ruby red goodness earlier before she plopped it into his sizzling garlic. And it reminds him of his Ma, when he plays cook like this for her, the passion it brings out that is all to be expected at home but here Lu giggles and bumps his back, chastised grin on her face.

He hands her a towel and rolls his eyes, like this is his kitchen not hers. She’s been violating a lotta rules for “his” kitchen but Benny is choosing not to be aggravated tonight. He takes a breath and remembers that. “What is this about your mama?” she brings up his introductory line when he first arrived here the other day, there never was a good time to pick it back up. Not until now.

Now’s not a good time but Benny’s found that outrunning it isn’t doing a great deal of good. “Ma thinks another baby’s a good idea.”

Lu’s face creases in mild confusion. “She wants you to start before finding a wife?”

Benny finds himself choking on his spit instead of laughing, he oughta be laughing but she looks so earnest. “Nah, nah.”

“Didn’t sound like her.” Lu mutters.

He waves his hand to clear away the misconception, “Nah. Her. Thinks another baby, at her age, AT MY AGE, thinks another baby’s swell. -Sweet, precious, won’t he be a darling Benny.” by the feminine mimicry in his voice Lu gets the general impression and her eyes widen, “I’m thirty years old.” he points at his chest, “And I’m gonna have a kid sibling.”

“She’s the one having a baby?” Lu gasps, cheeks pink and for once since she pulled up in his drive months ago, there’s the little girl he remembers.

“Yeah.”

“Oh Benny.”

“Yeah.”

“Does your father know?”

“Better, it’s his.”

“It’s his?”

“Course it’s his, Lu!”

“Benny, my, my my.”

“Thought about shacking up with Jack but the guest room’s full. Like usual.” Demarco stirs round his garlic with finesse that only barely tempers his frustration and realizes he has not succeeded at being less than aggravated but Lu doesn’t seem to mind.

“Who’s in the guest room?” she asks innocently.

“Bucky.” she has got to know by now that Bucky hasn’t fucking left and never will at this rate, Bucky doesn’t visit the place, he lives there. They’d have to burn the room down to get his smell out by now.

Lu just smiles, pleased by something. Maybe that Bucky’s found a place to land in his subordinate’s back yard. “So you came down here.” she says instead and Benny’s heart skips a beat at her contented sigh.

“Worked out with the dates ya sent.” he shrugs and it’s time for the onions.

He feels the distinct warmth in his cheeks of someone studying him as he pours them in. He’s getting used to that around her, even under the Texas sun he knows what’s what, which is heat stroke and which is the heady beam of Tallulah Smith’s attention. He’s very diligent with his onions and the basil and thyme, he’s never anything less than diligent at this stage of the cooking and it wouldn’t do to glance up right now and get a swooping feeling from her staring at him when this could all caramelize too fast and become crispy and charred.

“It really throws ya, huh?” she says after awhile.

His eyes stay glued to his task. “What?”

“This baby.”

“Just- little screwy. S’not like I ain’t happy for Ma.” he mutters, because it’s not so bad. Some boys are getting word their moms are dying or their dads have left, all this does is make home feel a little less like the hermitage it’s been for these past four years. A little less like the place where he could hole up and say he was doing alright, all things considered for a man living with his mother at age thirty. He scrapes at the pan like it’s offended him, regrets it right away when browned residue mixes with his precious sautée.

He is trying to formulate an apology for his bad mood and poor manners when he feels a tug in his waistband. She’s still sat on the counter, there’s no dogs jumping up on him, and Benny doesn’t really go for believing in ghosts. It makes him freeze as he tries to understand it. What’s tugging at his belt. He glances over and Lu has her knuckle between her teeth, trying to hide a huge grin, her leg extended out to its farthest and very lengthy abilities, toes snagged in his belt loop; tugging him near.

Benny irrationally thinks of nothing but clutching his spatula as he stumbles closer, a sideways gait as she tugs, his sizzling concoction left to the mercy of the element. He looks utterly befuddled by the time he's truly between the v of her legs. “You look so cute all miffed about this,” she sighs, like she’s holding it against him, “didn’t take you to be bashful about babies.”

“M’not.” he frowns at her hand on his shoulder and his hips so near to the countertop and- and to hers.

“You’re pink.” she torments with a little giggle and his frown deepens. “You do know how they’re made, yes, Captain? When folks don’t use their balloons right.” the old joke takes a few seconds to land but he snorts, half hearted, when it does.

He seems to be waiting for something, almost like he’s expecting a dressing down when finally he drags his eyes from his surroundings to meet hers, a little timid, frustration etched onto his forehead, “Why’d ya pull me’like this?” he asks, apparently distressed by it, by her toes in his belt and curled on his belly, by the way her thigh is bent up to her chest and her dress falls away around her; any other man would have taken the invitation and been near his culmination by now. Benny just holds his spatula and looks ready to be punished or to punish in return.

“Because you look precious when your miffed about babies.” Lu returns to her original point and that wary look crosses his face once more and its shuttering and cloudy and foreign to such a nice face, it breaks her heart a little when he does.

“Lu.” There’s a heap of admonition and more than a little aggravation in the single syllable.

It’s almost strong enough to dissuade her, but it’s been dulled after weeks of it being said wanting, teasingly, pleasingly, affectionately. “Benny.” she begs softly, “Kiss me again.”

It’s been a full day and they’ve not done it again, not even acknowledged it happened the once. And Lu aches for it. The way his body seems to expand at her request suggests he does too, Benny looks utterly ravenous for a split second before grief takes over. “Nah, nah don’t be askin’ that Lu, ya don’t wanna be askin that.”

He’s no tease. He pulls away as he denies her and he’d make it back to his place by the stove if her toes hadn't gotten such a hold in his belt loops.

“Lu!” it comes out a breathy laugh and he’s trying, she can see that, the mirthful attempt to shrug her off. Before he kissed her she might’ve taken it as genuine discouragement, but since that hungry moment of joy she can’t again see him as indifferent. She digs in and flexes her foot, pulls again. “Lu.”

“I am askin’ Benny.”

“You don’t wanna-“ he reminds, stronger and he’s got the spatula pointed at her and he reaches to turn down his burner and she’s glad of it because he’s going to be distracted for some time if she gets her way.

“I do, want to. I want to. I want you to.” it sounds far more like an argument coming out of her mouth than she had expected, and that was relieving, the confident voice of a girl luring him in, she wasn’t sure how she would manage it when she first decided she must tonight. “I don’t sleep any more, Benny, my work is suffering and it’s all because I stare at the ceiling and think about you. You and your shoulders and the tuck of your mouth and the way you grabbed me and how nice you tasted when you kissed me and how I want to—“ in his shock at her admission he lets her tug him closer, stiff necked and wide eyed though he remains, and she slips a hand back onto his tremendous shoulder and squeezes, “-and do this.” she emphasizes with another grip of the meat near his neck and his large brown eyes give a pleading little SOS before becoming glittery, heavy and succumbed. “Benny won’t you kiss me?” she begs so close, “Kiss me and put me to sleep, it’s been days since I caught a wink. You could fix it, I know you could.”

He stares at her lips as she speaks like a drunken man, then up to her eyes, then back down. He straightens his posture suddenly and Lu fears he may reject her and then she watches as he turns and pushes his pan off the burner entirely before turning back to her and placing his spatula on the counter by her hip. He takes the dish towel from her hands and places it beside his utensil. That done he looks her in the eyes and cups her face. Benny Demarco’s kisses are intoxicatingly smooth as Lu remembers, unlike any she’s ever had before and the way he holds her cheeks and tips her chin and carries out little side quests to lick the corner of her lips and kiss along her cheeks down to her jaw, how the sounds really make the noise of smooching, the way he is lazy but sure. Lu moans in relief into his mouth and his other hand, one she had not even known to miss that must have been idle before, moves from the back of her head to her waist and pulls her closer to the edge, nearer his hips, tipping her backwards, giving him back the leverage of his height. She dangles against the steadying support of his palm and lets him devour her.

When she bucks her hips up, against his own, that alone makes him pause. He mumbles against her lips, eyelashes fluttering in a tickle against her cheek, “Can ya not take care of yourself?” it’s almost pleading, as if he’s found her out with a poor argument.

Lu feels her cheeks burn and she has a lie, a quip, a flirt right at hand for this sort of question, but this isn’t Spencer who would recoil at her mentioning her impediments, and it’s not one of the sweet army boys, each a fresh well that she poisoned bitter by the white lies she told so she didn’t have to feel less with them. So they didn’t go from hungry to sorry, admiring to pitious. Something in her squeezes and aches at the idea of tainting this moment with a fib, no matter how silly or complimentary.

Benny knows enough, he knows enough about more than her. Benny knows.

“I- I don’t actually.” she admits, can tell her voice has gone shy again and it was her worst fear earlier tonight but right now, as Benny stays close and quite obviously does some serious thinking with his nose pressed alongside hers and his body very still as it gets sometimes when he’s trying to solve his thoughts, it’s nothing at all alarming.

She can see down the slope of his cheek when Benny licks his lips, in preparation for a well thought out question that is stuttered in delivery all the same. “Ya don’t…wanna? Or ya don’t. Don’t take care- yourself.”

It’s a bit of both that results in the latter. There is something genuinely disturbing and utterly clinical to her about feeling down there. A lover’s touch is welcome but her own seems remote in the extreme. “It never has the desired effect.” she admits, voice very thin.

Benny’s nod is almost imperceptible if he wasn’t so near and she was so desperate for it. “So ya wanted me, want me,” he corrects, “ -to take care of ya?”

“Please.” she begs instantly.

Benny shakes his head again, this time it feels different, like denial and less like understanding. She wants to panic. “That’s a tall order, Tallulah.” he gets out a shaky laugh that’s no laugh at all and it ghosts against her mouth, “Girl like you.” he sounds marveling when he says it and she wonders if he really means that being here after she shouldn’t be anymore is wonderful, if the way she keeps pushing her luck with him is at all wonderful, if having been so utterly rearranged down there she can hardly call it her own any more makes her wonderful.

“Please.” is all she’s got and she feels Benny’s intake of breath beneath her hands as they rest on his shoulders.

“Ya sure?” he asks, soft.

“I’m close to dying here, Benny.” She croaks, she’s been dying for him for months, and when he kisses her again, sure and promising; the panic flees.

His hand around her wrist follows, and it’s confusing but steady so she lets him as he draws it between her own legs, his fingers wrapped around her most dainty bones and ligaments an intimate thing, drawn between her warm thighs and her dress shifts further to allow it.

This feels more virginal than even those first groping forays with Spencer. It feels far more than the good natured reciprocity with Donny, the mutual exchange with Steve, a hand for a hand, something to be waved off the next day. Last night's kiss proved that much already, Lu wanted something from this man this time, and unlike the others, she was the chaser now. The sight of the ever correct Benny Demarco caving to her influence melted the tight string drawn up inside her, buzzing like a live wire, and made it pool low and slick where he was taking her fingers.

Her own fingers.

It was only some age old deference and the feeling of it being Benny, and that Benny never made a bad call, Benny got his back laid open to spare her once, to spare them all, Benny shouldered everything so well. Whatever he intended to do now would be the best way the thing could be done.

She told herself that again and again as she watched, as if in slow motion, her hand be led between her thighs, to the nylon patch of blue silk covering where she was dripping into the fabric despite her flinching flesh.

She wanted him to touch her. Not this. She’d told him it didn’t work. She was almost scared it would this time, under the spell of whatever heady peacefulness he brought around with him, only for it to go back to being broken in his absence. Not this. “Benny, please-“

“Hey look at me,” he interjected instead, soft and utterly compelling, she did, she couldn’t not obey, and their fingers hovered there as their eyes connected, wet nylons just beyond the graze of their touch, “do I make you this wet?” their noses almost touched they’d swayed so close, there was no way she could cover her flinch. The words were too reminiscent, evoking the worst bits of shame, the worst doubts about herself and her broken enjoyment of what should appall her, it was the guards and her blood all over again, it was Spencer and making her beg for it. “There’s not a reason on earth,” Benny’s low accent was cutting through, she needed him to keep talking, maybe he knew, he had to know he made her wet, she should tell him he did—“that a pretty girl like you shouldn’t feel how lovely she is like this. Close to steamin’ you’re so revved up, feel that? Feel that, pretty baby?”

She needed him to keep talking. She needed him too. That alike was different. That alone made this ok, that-

“I’m here, I’ll keep talkin’ you through it.” Benny mumbled, soothing- had she said that aloud? “But I know you’re brave enough to try, cmon Lu, press a little, lemme make you feel baby.”

Guided by his hand she felt her folds and slopes beneath the fabric, a double sensation along fingertips and corresponding along genitals. Something removed about it still but nearer than it had ever been, feeling closer to touching herself than she had in awhile. His kisses had awoken that taut bud at the apex of her womanhood, it caught on the upward drag of her fingers and she felt her breath gust against his lips and back on her own, “Jesus you’re perfect.” Benny let the words be punched out of him in gruff awe as they rolled her bud between them and the ever more obnoxious scrap of underwear between them.

“Fingers-“ she panted, nose knocking his, “inside, I need-“ she’d die from his kisses, she’d die without them and he was so generous with lathing at her lips, “get these off!” she finished, utterly lost for patience with the nylons. Nothing about him suggested he needed to be begged but something prompted her all the same to add on a small “please?”

The look Benny gave her was reward enough for that. “We can do anything you damn well like, Tallulah.” he observed and was hooking his fingers into her waistband before she could manage herself.

The rush of cool air and the freedom of sensation was just satisfying enough to outweigh the nervousness of being so utterly exposed, bare and propped up on the countertop, such a mistreated bit of herself on full display, duskier and different than most men had ever seen. She shouldn’t have even bothered with insecurities, for all his confidence in ridding her of her underwear, Benny seemed to have lost it, or his brains or his power of movement at least, at the sight of her.

“Something was said about whatever I pleased?” she teased with a nervous chuckle and he genuinely seemed to startle, his hand going to his mouth and wringing it, like he’d gotten such a rush his tongue had gone prickly from it. He finally let the price of clothing fall there beside the stove, catching her extended foot in his large, calloused hand this time and dragging a path up her leg on the way back to her this time, her fluttering dress hem making a makeshift peekaboo tease of what he’d just uncovered.

“What would please you?” he asked, and something about it was so low and full of promise she shuddered on her perch against the cabinets.

She couldn’t choose something first. She knew so much of what she didn’t want but even that when done with him was proving not so bad. And the old gut feeling of trust for him made her want to defer, not like how it had been with Spencer but like she trusted a better decision to be made for her then by her. “Whatever you…” honesty had been a rewarded course of action these last few months, it had led to this, it had led to him holding her bare thighs apart with tanned hands and offering to pleasure her any way she wanted. “Whatever you think I…” it was humiliating honestly but- “need.” she got it out.

The way his eyes blazed like she’d tossed a log on the fire by her words made her feel close to climaxing from the visceral intensity of that alone. The kiss he forced on her the next instant knocked the wind out of her and the giddy rush it sent though Lu had her writhing against him, fingers digging into his shirt and the firm pecs beneath its starched white propriety, her legs alight with the feeling his grip keeping them apart and her weeping womanhood ground against the front of his tented slacks until she quivered all over from it. “I’ll make it better.” he muttered thickly into her left ear, having excavated it and the bronze pillar of her neck beneath the curtain of back hair he was running his hands though like it was liable to drown him. “I’ll take care of you.”

There was only want left in her, no room for embarrassment or the feel of being patronized. Only want and it being solved. Only Benny and his fingers mercifully taking the place of her own and his kisses. And his talk. He didn’t stop talking, not once, talking about how beautiful she was and how crazy and he’d die for this or might die for this and it didn’t make much sense but she got the impression he was going through some fit of passion equal to hers, maybe even complimentary, and didn’t bother with clarifications. She listened and she clenched helplessly around two long fingers pumping in and out of her with the most clever thumb in existence doing a terrifying and magical swipe of her clitoris at every plunge.

“Tell me you can feel that.” he demanded and she felt her head jerk in acknowledgment before the words fully caught up to her. “You feel yourself? You feel allllll that? This is what you were made for, to lose your goddamn mind with happiness, that’s what. Feel it baby, gush all over my damn hand, that’s it, that’s it all over it, baby come on, I feel you, you feel me?”

She was hoarse from choked breaths, “I feel you.” she swore as her hips bucked and the hand behind her head tightened almost painfully and caused a new wave of fireworks to go off behind her eyelids.

“Gimme your hand.” he didn’t sound done even as she writhed against the continued ministrations, “Lu baby, put your hand on mine, just follow what I do, come on that’s it, that’s it. Follow my hand, I want you to keep doin’ that, we’ll get ya there.”

She’d honestly already gotten there a few times. But somehow she knew he didn’t mean just that. Somehow she was sure he knew somehow that she craved being overwhelmed from it. That somewhere about ten miles past unbearable is where she needed to be taken to be stated.

“Benny-“ she slurred half dumb, half numb from now having his warm and real fingers replaced with her own distasteful ones. The arousal he’d stoked with his own help ease the motion a little, she was slick and swollen and mimicking the teasing circles around her bud that he’d tasked her with continuing even sent up little shocks of pleasure. “Benny what are you-“ she tried to understand as he smooched her lips as if in parting once more, then got on his knees between her spread legs, kitchen mat a poor padding between him and the cold tile.

“Shh, shh I’ll kiss you, don’t stop touchin’ yourself like that, I just gotta kiss you.”

And then he did. Kiss her. Right there where she least expected, where she’d never been kissed, where she’d guarded from an act so utterly intimate. And there was Benny Demarco, with his soft hair and familiar eyes peering up at her over the little hill of her public bone, diminutive nose nestled deep, tongue somewhere she blushed to even consider… oh god, he really meant it.

She’d forgotten to keep swirling her fingers.

“I’m going to die.” She choked out as soon as she inhaled a breath not wasted immediately on letting out the loudest, most pathetic sort of whines. She didn’t know she was capable of whining like this. But then again, Lu had never felt a man dragging his tongue deep inside her and molding her folds with his plush lips like it was some genuine caress. “I can’t take how, this…Benny it’s so much. It’s so-“

-So good she was going to die. She felt herself spasm and dribble. He didn’t stop. He just moaned like he himself were being throated and fondled, sent to the edge of sanity by the first taste of her.

The noises he made, the heavy eyed look on his face, the way he hooked a thumb into each side of her folds and spread her wide just to prolong his talented attack- it sent Lu vibrating on her perch, the oddest feeling taking up its place in her heart alongside the dizzying satisfaction building in the out of her stomach. “Keep them open for me.” he comes up for air to tut, face shiny from her slick but voice as softly commanding as always and Lu spreads her once closing jello legs wide again, “Be a good girl and tell me.”

“I-I’ll keep my legs open…for you.” it feels like a s orgasm in itself just to say it back and get his nod of approval in return.

“That’s my girl.” he commends and rewards her with a fresh wave of something dangerously strong building in the dance between his tongue and her swollen hole. “Keep those fingers going.” he reminds and she tries, it’s distracting if anything, and chafing more than arousing. “Here, spread them a lil, lemme-“ he instructs and she does as he says, spreads her fingers apart and watches in entranced and girlish disbelief and he hovers over them and puckers his lips. The warm, weighty, bizarrely erotic feeling of his spit landing on her swollen clit is enough to tear an obscene moan from Lu’s dry lips.

She genuinely cannot believe her eyes. But her body believes and reacts; Benny arranges her fingers on either side of her bud again and coaxes them back into that sliding rhythm before ducking his face to lick at her swollen flesh between them, working in close collaboration with them to rob her of her sanity.

He made good on his promise to make her feel.

She’s fully alive and fully here, she cannot drift away and imagine anything else, nothing more intense or more consuming. She feels her fingers and she responds to them, she feels his tongue and she cannot get away. She gushes and writhes and locks his head nearer to her with her trembling thighs and Benny’s arms lock around her waist, a ride to the death. He’s moaning like a madman, like he’s drowning in honey, like he’s seen god.

“You’re too much, you’re too much” she accuses with utter gratitude as a kind thing takes her under for once, none of that harsh bullying of pleasure she’d become so addicted to with Spencer. It’s a tongue, soft and wet and used to say nice things that makes her forget everything except how badly she wants Benny Demarco and this and his tongue and his everything always like this. “You belong with your face wet” she swears and his shoulders shake like a shudder has torn through him unallowed, “don’t know about me but you were made for this” she has to conclude and he whines like a kicked dog into her wet heat. “God given, this sorta talent, god Benny, GOD! Oh god I’m going to again-“

“Come on.”

She thinks she hears him, it’s garbled. His hips are rocking below them into thin air. She cums once from that alone: the realization he’s getting off on pleasuring her like this. The stronger her struggle grows, the more she shakes and thrashes, the more pressure he applies. His hand rests around her hips to hold her in place as he sucks on her clit, ardent as if it’ll give him some nourishment. It’s bizarre, she’s losing her mind.

“I said keep them open, Lu.”

He’s making her lose her mind. She hopes she never finds it again. He’s making her lose her mind, he wants her to keep her legs open. She promised. He wants her legs open, he’s not stopping. He’s going to make her lose her mind. She promised. He promised.

“Benny, Benny, Benny-“

Their hands entering, he’s reached his up, it sits in the cradle of thigh, on her tensing belly, fingers woven together, his watch glinting. She stares at the roughened knuckles and feels an old love come back. These have always been good hands. Why did he ever forget how perfectly good he was?

“Benny-“

“I’m here.”

“Benny you’re so good to me.”

“You been s’good for me baby, gimme another, I know you got another, give it to me, give it to me, shit!- you even taste pretty.”

[halkyona]

FOR ALL YOUR ATTENTION

tsu’tey x gn!reader

includes: na’vi!reader. mate tsu’tey. teasing reader. tsu’tey is literally whipped. probably ooc oh well. suggestive. re-upload.

If there is one thing you know about Tsu’tey, it is that he is attentive. Whether that be in the sense of categorizing and keeping tabs on his people, or the doting he does on those he holds dear in private; he is always watching, waiting, basking in the shadows to make sure he knows every detail. You think it partially to be his position as future Olo’eyktan that makes him that way. But you also know it to be just how he is in nature—even if he’d struggle to openly admit that. 

A fatal flaw on his part, maybe. The way he is so devoted to the lives of those around him; how he is so willing to double stack his duties to take care of the needs of his people. Bearing more stress and burden than he should (or more inside knowledge than he has any right to know) because he is simply so keen on ensuring he is not out of the loop with anyone, ever. 

He’s being attentive even now, at this very moment. If that is what you could call spying on Jake and Neytiri from his perch of raised tree roots, partially shielded by the overgrown flora in front of him. It is sweet and terribly endearing how he cares for her, loves her; his want to protect knows no limits. 

Someone else might stir up a smidgen of jealousy at that, but not you. See, even if he had been betrothed to her, you’re conscious of what resides in his heart; what always has. You know that his feelings never crossed that one fine line, no matter how much he’d try to pretend that they did. How much he was willing to sacrifice for the sake of his clan to have strong leaders—willing leaders. It’s commendable. 

Such an admirable act of a man of his caliber, one must admit. 

And it isn’t that he does not trust Jake—because if asked he would have to be honest and begrudgingly attest that he has grown quite fond of the uniltìranyu—but he is just.. wary. Rightfully so. That is a well suited sentiment for these types of situations. Relationships with tawtute, no matter how docile and complaisant they may seem, should always be handled with a lingering sense of fragility. So you understand his urge to leer, his need to observe when he is alone with one of your people. 

It doesn’t mean you don’t find it the slightest bit amusing, though. How he’ll stress and strain over maintaining glimpses. Hearing him scoff when you tease of his meddling is humorous. You enjoy getting to tug on his leg. 

“You are lurking again,” you state, stepping up beside Tsu’tey’s still form on the root, peering through the clearing of brush right along with him. 

And he must have been far more engrossed in his couple watching than you thought (it’s not like you were trying to sneak up on him after all, your steps were not even close to quiet) because he flinches the tiniest, minute bit at the sound of your voice. His head snaps to you and you turn your own to meet his gaze. 

“I am not lurking,” he rebuts, lips dipping downward in a scowl. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes just by the tone of his voice, but he won’t. He’s aware that that gives you satisfaction. 

Little does he know you get satisfaction from that fact alone. 

“Ah, right. Then what would you choose to call this? Spying?” You tip your head, a seemingly innocent gesture but it is nothing of the sort. Playing Tsu’tey is quite effortless when the dice fall into your practiced hands so routinely. “Snooping?”

“That is—” Absurd? Foolish? Whatever word was going to punctuate the end of his sentence dies before it reaches the tip of his tongue. His mouth screws up for a moment, along with the ridges of his brows, and you can tell something about him that is so painfully easy to pick up on. “I do not snoop.”

“Sure you don’t.” 

Your words tilt with a shrug of your shoulders, the leveling of your head. Swiveling back around to look through the brush once again, you have to bite your cheek to fight the smile threatening your lips as Tsu’tey still stays locked on you. It’s a pleasing feeling, knowing you have riled him up so much in less than a minute.

“I do not snoop. Nor do I spy.” He reiterates, says it with authority now. In the same stern voice he uses to talk to the children of the clan and warn them about venturing too far into the depths of the forest without parental supervision. But you are an excessive amount of familiar with him for it to work on you; for it to sway you in the slightest.

If anything it eggs you on. Maybe a small personality flaw; most definitely a little boorish of you. Nevertheless you enjoy it, you think you always will. Because you are the only one who gets to see Tsu'tey like this. Who gets to poke and preen and tease, without worrying if your head might end up on a pike afterwards. (Not that he could stomach ever doing such a thing without a monsoon of reasons, truly, because even behind his ostensibly permanent glower he is just a big hearted fool deep down). 

“I see,” you hum, and his gaze is still boring holes into the side of your skull, “Then you’re just nosy.”

“I am nothing of the sort.” And there it is, the scoff that always comes when you begin to make sport of his tendencies trailing after his detest. You’ve finally got him—successfully sunk your teeth into his throat and dragged him right into your claw toothed trap. 

“Great,” you denounce, then flick your gaze back to that of the agitated man beside you. “Then it will not matter to you to know that Jake and Neytiri snuck out of your sight five minutes ago.”

“What?” Head whirling, eyes shooting wide, he turns back instantly to his break in the brush to confirm your statement.

Your statement that was in fact laced in nothing but falsity and had the sole purpose of exposing him for just how intrusive he is; which worked like a charm, you must add. Jake and Neytiri are still there, of course. Still talking and collecting herbs like they were before. Still enjoying their innocent—albeit sickeningly flirtatious—time together. 

Tsu’tey whips back around to look at you, this time squaring his shoulders to glare at you properly.

“Wiya!” He hisses, but it holds no threat. Just his annoyance, the baseline of frustration. (Probably out of embarrassment for being caught, if the sharp flick of his tail is any indication at all). “What is it that you need?”

You consider him, hold his gaze. There are one of two ways you could go about this and you’re trying to decide which route would be the most entertaining. It becomes clear with each tick of his jaw what option you’re going to settle on, so you begin to pick up the puzzle pieces and place them down methodically. 

“Oh, nothing.” Shrugging as you lace your fingers behind your back, you count your breaths. “Was just seeing what you were up to.”

Tsu’tey, expectedly, does not waver still. “I am busy tending to things.”

“You mean spying?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

After your hum you let another pause take place. Another beat of silence between the two of you. There’s a faint rustling to your right and out of the corner of your eye you see Jake and Neytiri actually gathering their things to leave this time. You wonder if it’s because they heard the two of you or perhaps on their own whim. Regardless, you don’t miss the twitch of Tsu’tey’s ears as he picks up on it too. You’re almost certain his brows knit tighter together, if that is even possible. 

“What do you need, yawne?” He repeats himself, presses once more. 

Yet even on edge, his tongue strikes lovingly. How enthralling of him, how compelling. How can he expect you not to want to toy with him? When he is just so yielding? 

You shake your head. “Nothing.”

Another pass. The noises of the forest fill in your lull. 

“Well,” he huffs, straightening himself out. “If there is nothing you need then you should be going. Like I said, I am busy.”

And you’ve been plotting, scheming, for this perfect time to swing the hatchet down. Tsu’tey has set you up beautifully, honestly. It’s almost like he’s in on it himself. He should know better by now, you think.

“Right, you’re busy.” This time, your words drift off with a deep sigh. Shoulders rising up and dropping theatrically like they’re being controlled by a puppeteer's strings, you turn to leave the same way that you came. You mumble under your breath, but not low enough that the man in your presence cannot hear you as you take your first steps away, “Always so busy. Looking out for everyone. Leaving me be..”

Tsu’tey’s sharp intake of breath might be stifled, but you hear it without a single shred of strain. In less than a second wide strides are being made to close the short gap you’ve created between the two of you. And just as soon as they stop, the unreserved grip of a calloused hand is clutching onto the ridge of your hip bone, pivoting you back around to beset the (now slightly less annoyed) warrior before you.

“Leaving you be?” His voice is tainted with something endearing, something unfiltered. Concern flitters across his strong features and it’s riveting; telling. 

You’ve got him. Right in the palm of your hand. 

“Mhm.” Angling your chin with a nod you turn your eyes downward. Relaxing your shoulders into a defeated slump, posturing yourself to be despondent. “It’s fine, really. I know you are an important man. I should not expect your undivided attention.”

“My attention?” He quirks, and his hand is leaving your hip only to take place on your jaw. He tips your head up but you still keep your gaze averted. It is not time to give in yet. “You have all of my attention, always. Oeyä txe’lan, why would you believe that you do not?”

You bite your tongue. Attentive, heeding; earnest is his expression as he deciphers every twitch across your face. You’d think for a man that is so good at reading you he would be able to tell when you are presenting faux emotions. Yet it’s like his worriment outweighs his fluency of you.

Somehow that’s even more touching.

“Ma (Y/n),” he hearkens, veering into your line of sight until you’re forced to meet his gaze, now. The intensity of his focus has your stomach fluttering, your hands behind your back ringing together. Oh, how you love him. “Tell me, am I being neglectful of you? What is it I have failed to do?”

“I—” His thumb is rubbing against the plane of your jaw. The curve of his lips pushes them out in an adoring pout as he inspects every quiver and crease of your features. 

This was supposed to be a fun little game, one you are used to playing and one you are always in control of. So why does it suddenly feel like Tsu’tey has wiped the gameboard clean and tossed out all the cards? How has he flipped this on you, by simply cracking open his chest and laying his bleeding heart atop the deck? How has he become the game master, with a simple cradle of his palm and the dripping of devoted professions off his tongue?

How is this fair at all?

“Oeyä tìyawn.” My love, my heart; he holds you with such firm care like you are the very muscle that pumps life into his body. Like you are the very essence of his soul, all in all. Like you are his lifeblood—and aren’t you, really? “Do you crave for my attention? Have I not awarded you enough?”

“No.” It’s instant, no hesitation in your deliverance and, somehow, this is not about teasing your lover anymore. Your lungs burn, your internal clock ticks like the time frame of minutes has been cut short. “No, it is not enough.”

Contrition trickles down Tsu’tey’s face like watercolor pathos coating concern by the brush of your velvet tongue. His grip on your jaw softens, his free hand slides across the hollow of your throat until his fingertips bracket the braid encasing your kuru. He steps close; impossibly closer than he was until the beads of his neck piece scrape delicately against your sternum, until his breath fights to contrast the already growing warmth of your blood rushed cheeks. 

You swallow, but it is not enough to stomach the tension clawing up your ribcage. His forehead is just a mere breadth from yours, his nose twitching millimeters from your own. With his ears pressed back and his tail flicking lowly, he envelops every sense a Na’vi can use. 

He debilitates you, wholly and unquestionably. 

“Forgive me,” he presses, and his lips seal yours before you can respond. “Forgive me, paskalin,” he longs as he steals your breath once more, presses his thumb against your pulse point. “Ngaytxoa, Ma (Y/n). May you never want for my attention again. I will grant you anything to prove as such. What do you wish of me?”

“I wish…” It is tasking, trying to catch your breath. He is just so close and just so consuming and adhering. “I wish for you.”

“Me?” He ticks his head, drops a hand in order to slide it down to the base of your spine. “You have me, all of me. Do not be foolish and believe otherwise.”

You blink, regain yourself. Yes, you suppose he is right. You suppose you do have him—all of him—that his actions now prove to supplement that statement. So what is it you really want? What is it you crave of a man who has given you everything even if you bait that he does not? What is the desire that you harbor in your heart, that he has not already graced you with forthright, at the any shallow utterance you muster?

“The day,” you wager, “Spend the rest of this day with me.”

Tsu’tey’s lips cinch to the side for a moment—his duties listing off on the blackboard of his mind, you are sure—but a moment is all he tenses before his foundation gives. He nods, cleaves to your wish. 

“Of course. What would you plan? A hunt? A harvest?”

A fang hooks the corner of your lip and you shake your head. So willing to heed to you but it is not quite right, not quite on script. He has mistaken your petition for something far more innocent than you thought he would; but you suppose you cannot fault the conservativeness of a warrior that holds such merit as he. 

“You mistake me,” you correct, snaking your hands up until they reside over the ridges of his protruding collarbones. “I wish to spend the day with you. Alone. As my mate. Doing that of which only mates are permitted.”

At this, Tsu’tey’s ears flicker; his pupils expand against his will and you take that as your sign of agreement before he even murmurs as such. And his compliance does not run verbal—not fully—other than a gruff rumble of his chest as the hand on his spine drifts to drag against the back of your thigh and hoist you up. Instinctive is the way your legs find themselves winding around his cinched waist. The woven ridges of his cummerbund brush against the insides of your thighs, and it is not an unfamiliar feeling.

Funny, how as lips sear against your own, drift and smear along your jaw and down the curve of your throat until they find refuge on your pulsepoint at which his thumb now retreats, you feel far more innocent than tainted. Perhaps love does that to someone; hides guilt or shame and breeds only purity. Perhaps attention can surely prove to be a cure all, in certain sentiments. 

Whatever it is, you embrace it fully and relish in it with all of your being.

And maybe it distracts you, just slightly, because your tongue grows dangerously loose as you give up your will. You really do prove to be your own betrayer, truly.

“Sau,” you sigh as you tip your head to the side to allow virtuous lips room to roam, “I should tempt you with plight more often.”

Kisses halt and hands tighten where they grip onto you. You realize your mistake just as soon as the last word rolls off your tongue, but you cannot swallow down things already spoken. Fingers still sifted into Tsu’tey’s braids, you peer down as he leans back enough to look up at you. 

“How kawng of you,” he aims, but he grants you no tell of expression.

“And even so?” You ponder, hum as you scratch the base of his scalp. “Will you revoke my request from me? Will you be so cruel as to deny me this?”

“Do not be foolish,” he hearkens, and something twinkles in his eyes as he says it—something twitches at the tilt of his lips. “You will have your day with me, just as you wish.”

“How merciful of you.” And you cannot help the simper that plays at your mouth. Even after fumbling, giving up your original position, you have still seemingly gotten your way. How delightful, this has proven to be.

But Tsu’tey’s fingers delve into the meat of your thigh with a little more pressure. His kisses find their way back to the juncture between your throat and jaw with a little more fervent. His tail brushes against your hooked ankles and you are not foreign to this rhythm of flicks.

“Do not deem me merciful yet, yawne,” he apprises with a nip of your skin. “You wish for my attention? I will grant it. But remember—”

A deep chuckle rumbles against your skin and the heat of his laugh has your stomach boiling with fire-licked butterflies. Your heart skitters, your inhales hitch before they slip out of your throat, as his lips find their way to the shell of your feverish ear. You find yourself bated, waiting, on whatever is to come.

“You asked for all of my attention. So now, you must take it.”

And if there is one thing you know about Tsu’tey, it is that he is attentive. And that is what you are banking on as he carries you further into the forest.

[svt-kiki]

( 🖇️ ) RELATIONSHIPS WITH HYUNG LINE ⌅ .

기키 + 승철　／　KICHEOL

🍒 ── 99% ... old married couple *for real*

everyone can see they love each other

he can be the sea and she’ll be the ship that floating on it

every time he needs to play the 'scary eldest' role, she always felt sorry bc she knew she can’t do it ( she’s too pacifist for that )

kiki is his no.1 listner for whatever his thoughts are

they basically tie the knot already *blinks*

his parents basically adopts her lol

the reason why they have such a strong bond is not only they share the most trainee days with another

but they keep fighting to protect the group and members before and after the debut

seungcheol: *being sulky*

kiki: *judging side eye*

honestly she wasn’t totally sweetheart for him from the beginning ( not in the public eye i mean )

more like teased and pretended like judging him

but after he got into hiatus in 2019 ( it was HER darkest time too ) she just went like “f*ck that, i won’t stop expressing my love for him anymore”

well it’s always appearant that he goes down on her knees like-

not only within the group but recognized as one of the strongest ships among the kpop industry

the ‘knights line’ 1/3 - such a protective of her all the time

기키 + 정한　／　KIHANI

🐰 ── 80% ... devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

kiki in the most of gose : IM WATCHING U YOON JEONGHAN *in mute*

she pretends like she was offended by his cheating in the contents

but she’s the one who always cheers him and giving compliments

“u got this jeonghanna!” “u did so well~ i’m proud of u :)”

she always trust him through the trainee era, support him for both dancing and mentally

she knew he’s kinda type to get nervous often

so she always has his back, says something nice, holds his hands

and is she his soft spot? OBVIOUSLY

he always treats her meals and little gifts like sweets, cosmetics and accessories

she really takes care of his long hair bc if she doesn’t who does

late night walks, hanging out at the park

mostly she’s kinda ‘good girl’ type but when with him, her ‘devil mode’ would be activate ( and seungcheol would cry at the end )

jeonghan: *speaks japanese*

kiki: *proud mom*

personal space [ 404-not-found ]

well he kisses to her cheecks ... and forehead ... and top of the head ... and back of the hand ... ( and list continues )

when he turns low buttery mode, he goes towards her and either leans on her shoulder or rests his head on her lap ( mostly be witnessed in the concerts )

sometimes they are the completely opposite, but the other time share the same energy

기키 + 조슈아　／　KISHUA

🦌 ── 85% ... the mf soulmates

like i said, SOULMATES. that’s it, that’s the tweet

they’re like puzzle pieces ⸺ get along well bc it’s different

he brings out her active energy

she learned the guitar from him

and handles his silent chaotic energy pretty well lol

they always make plans and daydream abt trips they want to go

sometimes josh stans confirm he’s alive through her social media

joshua: *planning something crazy*

kiki, whispering: DON’T ( he’ll do it anyway 🤷🏻 )

cafe dates, drive dates, movie nights

his mom lowkey hopes for kiki to be a daughter-in-law which is never gonna happen lmao

he came up with ‘kit kat’ as her nickname

and yes, the treatment is sweet as the treat ;)

he normally acts like a twin but never forgets the gentle behavior as the gentleman should

especially in the beginning, she prefers not to be treated exceptional cuz she’s the only female member, but his manner and considerate changed it slowly ( and surely in a good way )

he’s kind of the friend who doesn’t say the words such as “oh r u okay” “i’m worried about u” out loud often but always there for her and take her to the night driving when she got stuck

기키 + 준　／　KIJUN

🐱 ── 70% ... the cat and the lion ( aka the owner )

they have the most pure kind of love

he has always been her protector in the airports and clouds

THE VISUAL

she really looking forward to go to shenzhen one day and visit all the places he wants to take them

she’s always so proud abt his acting career and calls him the movie star, now she’s too

and her secret dream is to costar with him one day

he never forgets to escorts her in the award shows and concerts, helping her in stairs, no hesitation to do arm in arm, lends her jacket if he worries she’s revealing too much of her bare skin for gowns ( in his eyes )

many skinships !!

they always share a bite to the other, both LOVE to have tasty foods and willing to let the one try

his little brother always wanna talk to her when he was a kid ( lowkey childhood crush ) then now he’s totally shy about that past and tries to avoide her when jun did the facetime and let the lil bro talk to her just to tease him

he won’t say anything until she went too far and overwork through days, but once he felt okay that’s enough he’ll just kidnapp her to the bedroom and tuck her in bed and like SLEEP

the ‘knights line’ 2/3 - he behaves like a cat playing with dearest owner and sending a nonverbal message to people around them like “ don’t look at her like that she’s OURS ”

기키 + 순영　／　KISOON

🐯 ── 70% ... conqurer of the stage

everybody clear the way, the MAIN DANCERS are coming thru

but they really are THE all rounder, multi talented, just good at everything

they created their own handshake

she’s a secret no.1 supporter of horanghae

but she also LOVES his hamster pelsona, enjoys silently when it popped out randomly

in fact he is the reason that she determinded to be an idol for sure ⸺ she entered to pledis without firm belief about her future profession, but after his entry she was so impressed by his skills despite the gap of dance training experience. moreover, he was so sure about his future, to becoming the idol as his dream, and she just woke up as if she’d been slapped on the cheek like “what the hell i was thinking, of course i’ll be the idol too”

and he always admires her as a dancer and the respective person. he dreamed of not just being an idol, but standing on stage next to her since they met

surprisingly they quarrel most among the ship of kiki and members, but all of them are professional argument as they are in charge of choreographing and stage creation

and they always made up at the end of a day by eating ice pop side by side

he’s the one who encouraged her to do it when the other idol group reached out to her for their choreography production cos he believes in her talent more than anyone just as she does

both have hUGE gap between on and off stage, when they go hard it’s HARD 🔥🔥🔥 but otherwise they can be softest marshmallows

기키 + 원우　／　KINWOO

🐈‍⬛ ── 85% ... the book fairies

he’s nearly worshipping her *ships tea*

it’s not a big secret that she’s his first love ( at first sight )

and after all these years, she’s still the woman of his dreams

yall know wonwoo wasn’t really talkable person at first but more shy and quiet

well same things can say to her

so she understood his silent and calm yet passionate personality

and kiki really stood by his side and just being his comfort space

she listens to him well, even he express his thoughts into words not that much

she always recommends his glasses and he’ll buy her choice without HESITATION lol

they can spend whole time together without chattng, just reading or sleeping alnogside

and it’s so CUTE

he gave the camera to her for the birthday present, and it made her enjoying to take photos more than ever and he loves the influence he made on her

art museum date, hanging out in the night town and ww just keeps taking photo of her

they have a ritual as they go to the night walk when the group is off to the overseas in tours, strolling the town and find the cozy cafes

she can notice whenever he is stressed or gets nervous and so does he, she often pats his back in those situation and it comforts him really well

u can see ww stares her a LOT in behind contents or gose ( he literally gave up to hide his affection at this point )

tries to teach her how to play pc games but fails everytime

기키 + 지훈　／　KIHOON

🍚 ── 55% ... the vocal boss and the dance queen

trust me, they ARE strong. it’s just not as aloud as others

woozi found japanese beatuful at first bc it’s the language she spoke

and kiki loves the words and lyrics he weaves, his korean is like a poet to her

he doesn’t wanna admits outspokenly but it’s hard to say she hasn’t owned the special ( and soft ) place in his heart

even makes him to do slightest physical contacts: pinches her sleeves, fiddles with her hair, plays with her earrings... and the list continues

kiki’s the one takes care him when he starts to get stuck in the studio for the work

takes him to the short walk, late night drives, make him foods and be sure he gets rest

sometimes they just sit together in the universe factory and chats about the song, anime and composing stuffs, eats takeouts and sessions or duets randomly

she joins as a recording direction besides him time to time, esp in the jp songs recording: she’s the lyricist of the jp songs is one of the reasons but also she has the good ears and able to hear the subtle difference like he does

woozi: *points out the differences* others: okay but WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE kiki: ??? wasn’t it obvious...???

well apparently she’s the closest female to him on the planet ( except his family ofc )

he rarely calls her noona but mostly just calls her kiki, there’s no paticular reason it’s just what it is

(    📁    )   :   NAVI   :  MASTER LIST     

( tag list / open ) : @smh-anon

[swanlakebaby]

our little secret | pjm

prompt: a short scenario about you and jimin sneaking around together as step-siblings

♡ pairing: bts!jimin x fem!reader

⸝⸝ warnings: smut, bts jimin, fem reader, bf jimin, kissing, passionate, sneaking around, risky, step siblings, sex, teasing night,

♡ word count: 890

⸝⸝ note: happy new years! i've been too busy, but i'm gonna try to do better at writing whenever i have free time. this is something that i wrote on a whim, when i had the vision. there's no specific story line. it's kind of just one-off.

• nsfw/18+

-

 she noticed the way he would look at her, catching glimpses of his eyes concentrated on her when she walked past. the look in his eyes every time they made eye contact, or the soft tone of voice he used with her when they chatted. so it’s no shock that when he brother introduced the idea of making out after classes, that she agreed.

it was just supposed to be that. makeout, kisses, and that’s it. they’d wait until their parents left the house to go to work or the store, then he’d sneak into her room and sit on her bed, cradling her in his lap as he rubbed on her body. they began moving this secret relationship to other parts of the house. the kitchen, sneaking quick kisses when the parents were in the living room. the living room, having a small makeout sesh late at night when everyone else has gone to bed. even on the bus, she’d sit in his lap, way in the back of the bus so nobody noticed her on him with his hands firmly gripping her hips.

but then, overtime, something changed. they wanted more, craved more. they needed to be closer to each other. one day, they agree to play a board game when the parents leave to spend the evening out in the city for a date night. perfect. the game goes, you roll your dice and either receive, or give to the other person. it can be as simple as a kiss on the cheek, or a full-blown blowjob.

they quickly set up and begin to play. things start off innocent, kisses here and there. as the game goes on, they have to take the pants and shirt off the other, kiss their neck area & rub on each others thighs. she hadn’t seen jimin's cock at this point. yet now, he was sitting his boxers in front of her, his hard bulge begging for release.

he was firm and thick. her mouth watered when he took off his pants. she needed him. and finally, the game says to enter the tip only, but with a condom. so, he does. it’s slow, he groans due to how tight she is and begins fucking her, following the games prompt. its sticky and wet inside of her, but also warm. she bends over the couch on all fours, he looks down at her plump ass, her butt cheeks rubbing against his cock with each stroke.

as he fucks her with the tip, she closes her eyes and enjoys the feeling, but wants more. she eventually pushes him out, wanting to continue and get deeper into the game. when she looks down at him, his cock is stiff and hard, the condom on his dick. he puts his cock back into his boxers & they continue the game. now, she has to give him head for 1 minute and 30 seconds. he removes the condom, and she wastes no time. she stuffs his cock into his mouth, sucking him off and stroking him. he groans and grabs at her hair, strings of saliva spilling out of her mouth and coating his cock as he pushes her head farther down onto him. he enjoys it a lot, almost too much, and is annoyed when the minute and a half quickly comes and goes.

she grins at him and stands up, wiping her mouth. next, he has to fuck her for 3 minutes. they're excited now and they go back to the original position on the couch. she waits as he puts on a new condom. he slides into her with ease, pounding at her as he knows time is limited. her wet pussy makes him angry. wishing he could feel it, the thin plastic barrier between them being a major inconvience.

when the timer goes off, he sucks in his breath. fuck it, he goes, swiping the dice off the table and the cards that go along with it. he tells her he wants to fuck, do what he wants to her, instead of listening to a game. she nods excitedly, ready to do whatever jimin says. he takes off the condom, grabbing onto her hips and slowly sliding into her. the feeling was electric, her warm pussy caved in his penis, her plump ass rubbing against his cock like before.

she fucked herself onto him, his cock coated in her juices. they fucked for a while, she came onto him a few times. he pulled her hair and smacked her ass until it was beaming red. when he felt himself about to cum, he whispered dirty profanities at her. looking down, he saw the way his girthy cock effortlessly fucked her, her cum all over him. strings of stickiness stretching and melting with each stroke. he finally pulled out, hot ropes of cum spraying out onto her plump ass. he groaned, some of his cum landing on her lower back. at last, they finally had released the intense craving that was setting them back for weeks. they would continue to fuck. in private, in restrooms, dressing rooms, even when their family was in the next room, or sometimes he'd sneak into her bedroom late at night, quietly fucking under the covers. they both agreed it would just be their own little secret.

[fruitcoops]

O'Dear

Day two! A little bit of pre-O'Knutzy Finn, at his most Sad Baby Deer despite his best efforts to be otherwise. Luckily he's got a good herd around him. Thank you to @lumosinlove for your characters and @oknutzy-week-2025 for the fest!

Prompt B1: Winter

TW mild illness

Wind sheared around the corner of the house and dug fine claws into the gaps in old wood. Finn could feel it on his face, trailing along his sweaty forehead in a cold, cold line. He blinked against the gray light seeping in through his window. Like concrete. Or metal. Or something flat, with no blue in it at all, just a solid block of color across the whole sky. The street below would have color, but his head was too heavy to lift. He balled the covers up tighter in his fists and drew them to his chin.

A dark green awning with white letters for the deli on the corner; yellow and red marking places straight down where nobody was allowed to put their cars. Neon signs that cast rainbows on his ceiling at night. The woman in the next building over wore a green coat in the winter, but it wasn’t like the deli. More like peas. Ha, Finn thought. Pea-green peacoat. Alex thought peacoat was the funniest word in the world.

Mr. K’s restaurant had a blue sign out front with spiky black letters and a pegasus his wife painted. All the houses across the street were brown, like theirs, but the curtains changed color now and then when people moved away. Finn liked the cream-colored ones the best. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he might be able to smell if the café down the street had started putting their bread out.

He gave it a shot—no dice. Perhaps sticking his nose out of the blankets would work better.

A light knock interrupted him, followed by the creak of the door opening. “Finn, it’s almost seven-fifteen.”

“ ‘m stuffy.”

“What?”

“I’m stuffy,” Finn repeated, shuffling around until his mouth was free, too. The wind cooled his whole face, now.

“You’re stuffy?” His dad frowned. “Since when?”

“Since now.”

Dad didn’t have his glasses on; he was going into the office today. His hand was warm and careful when he laid it across Finn’s forehead. “You’re a little warm. How’s your tummy?”

Finn thought for a moment. He was more tired than anything else. His face felt puffy and his body weighed down. “Meh.”

“Does it hurt to swallow?”

“Kinda.”

The corners of his dad’s mouth turned down slightly. “Were you feeling sick last night?”

Finn shook his head.

“Hop up and try to have some breakfast. We’ll see how you’re feeling after that, okay?”

A disappointing answer. Staying in bed and picturing their block sounded much better.

“Come on, kid, you gotta give it a shot.”

And so Finn dragged himself out of bed, all the way past the bathroom and into the kitchen, but made sure his dad saw how much of a trial it was the entire time. The wood floor was sticky with the cold weather. Alex was already talking by the time he got there.

“My project is on Neptune,” he was saying to their mother between bites of oatmeal. Or, less between, and more around. “It’s one of the grey ones.”

“It’s blue.”

Alex scrunched his nose at him without missing a beat. “It’s grey.”

“NASA says it’s blue.”

“NASA uses filters on their cameras ‘cause they’re 4 million miles away, space boy.”

A hand came to rest on top of Finn’s head, ruffling his hair gently. “Finn’s not feeling well today. Stuffy nose, the works.”

His mother hummed, scraping the last of her oatmeal onto her spoon. “Not too sick to duke it out at 7:24 in the morning, I see. Thanks for putting the coffee on, hon.”

“Dad says I have to try breakfast first,” Finn informed her.

“He’s right.”

“I don’t—” Pressure rushed to the front of his face. Half a second after he got his elbow up, his nose exploded harder than a jet engine.

“Eugh,” was the collective response of his entire family.

--

Someone knocked on the bathroom door while he was in the middle of brushing his teeth and trying to get his wet hair to stand straight up in the middle. “Huh?” he called.

“Dad’s taking you to Grandma’s in fifteen, okay?”

Yes. Finn pumped his fist. “Is Al meeting me there after school?”

“Oh, nuh-uh,” his mother laughed. “If you’re too sick for school, you’re too sick for hockey. Alex can get to the piers just fine.”

“How come I can’t ever go by myself, then?”

“Because he’s twelve and you’re not.”

Finn scowled at himself in the mirror and rinsed his mouth. So unfair. He could walk to Chelsea Piers in his sleep. Who knew? Maybe playing hockey would jostle the last of the gunk out of him and make him better. But with that logic, there was no way he was going to go to grandma’s instead of getting dropped off late at school. First period started in ten minutes—he’d never make it. He’d never live it down if he showed up late with the sniffles as an excuse.

Most of the time, Grandma came to their house if anyone was sick. But Finn apparently looked well enough to make the subway trip, tucked next to his dad in his winter coat with a backpack full of books and schoolwork if he felt up to it. His beanie was itching his forehead. Finn liked the 6. They took it to the art museum if they weren’t going to Grandma’s. He still felt like he was moving through a world of gelatin, but he figured they could go in the afternoon if he felt better.

He sneezed again when they got to their stop, this time in a series of fast ones that made his eyes water and itch. It got him a sympathetic noise as his dad passed the pack of tissues back to him. Finn was rarely trusted not to lose the things he put in his pockets, which he couldn’t really argue.

He got tired in the time it took to walk from the subway stop to her building. Winter wasn’t any fun: too windy, too cold, and full of too many tourists who didn’t know how to walk right. It made his nose run too fast to catch, and every inhale dried his mouth until his lips felt tight. He spent the last three blocks hiding his face from the chill in his dad’s scarf and answering any questions in single syllables.

The doorbell echoed inside as Finn was set down onto the doormat’s faded letters. He had only just taken his backpack from his dad when the door opened, spilling warmth across his face. “Good morning, you two,” his grandma said. The back of her hand was soft when she brushed it down his cheek. “Oh, you poor thing, you’re all pink. I’ll get some tea going. Do you want some, Ramsey?”

“Always, but I gotta get to work.” His hand was big and solid on the back of Finn’s head. Finn wished they’d stop talking so he could go inside and lay down already.

“Well, you give me that, then.” Grandma took the backpack from him and ushered Finn inside. “And give me a call when you’re done, but not a minute before.”

Finn tuned out their goodbyes for the most part, giving a dutiful wave when he was told to be good and call if he needed anything. There was a new puzzle on the dining room table. Grandpa had fixed the glass lamp by his favorite armchair at last. Best of all, Finn’s favorite blanket was already waiting on the couch.

“Alright,” his grandma began briskly once the door was shut. “Tea. Shoes off, comfy clothes on, Bob’s on in ten minutes.”

“I’m already in my comfy clothes,” Finn said proudly.

“Ah!” She took his coat and hung it on the rack before pinching his chin between her thumb and first finger, gentle and affectionate. “My smart boy. Get a wiggle on, then, you know the drill.”

Finding the remote was always a challenge, but Finn knew its usual haunts. It was in the china hutch this time, probably left there when grandpa was listening to the game. It’s like playing hide and seek with myself, was the exasperated excuse. Fifty years and I’m still keeping myself on my toes. He made it back to the couch by the time the kettle whistled and burrowed deep into his half with the blanket pulled him. After a moment’s thought, he shuffled around until the cotton-soft edge could reach the other cushion, too.

“How are we looking?”

“Infomercial for bad knives,” he answered.

“Good, I have time for a cookie.”

Finn struggled upright in his cocoon. “There’s cookies?”

Grandma’s eyebrow arched up. “Not for sick kids, there aren’t.”

“I’m not that sick.”

“Your mother says you detonated a snot bomb in the kitchen, and I wouldn’t trust you to lift a penny right now.”

She wasn’t wrong. Finn fought back an involuntary shiver and cuddled deeper into the blanket. “It’s just a cold.”

“Mhm.”

Trumpets saved him; rippling orange and yellow took the place of a pulsing 1-800 number like they had a thousand times before, framing a crowd of the luckiest people in the world.

“Here it comes, from the Bob Barker studio at CBS in Hollywood—”

“Can you believe they’re thinking of replacing him?” Grandma shook her head with a scoff. “Whoever’s running the place doesn’t know a darn thing.”

“Totally,” Finn agreed.

“If it’s not Bob, then who the hell is it, you know?” She took a pointed sip of her tea while tugging the loose blanket over her lap. “I’m looking for a boxed set so we can keep watching when he’s done. You can’t find anything more reliable than a good VHS player. The discs are fine until you get butterfingers.”

It was important information. Nobody knew more about TV than his grandma; she could name any actor from any show she’d ever seen. If her advice was anything to go by, a radio and a VHS were what made a house a home. Finn wanted a blue one when he got his own place. It would be fun to have an old-fashioned radio like they did, too. He’d leave one or the other on all the time, just like them, and nobody would ever be worried that they were coming back to an empty house.

He held his tea under his nose while they called down the newest batch of contestants. By the time they reached the mystery item, it was starting to drip again. He felt worse the more he woke up, but this part wasn’t so bad at all. Grandma didn’t seem to mind letting him stay quieter than usual to rest his raspy throat. She had enough jokes for the both of them.

Finn must have fallen asleep at some point, because he opened his eyes to Burt Reynolds on TV and his grandmother in the other room. She had the phone to her ear, but she smiled and gave a little wave when she saw him looking back. “I’m home today, yes. One of the boys got sick, so I’m keeping an eye on him while Haley and Ramsey are at work. No, he’s out helping Charlie until five. Not a stomach bug, I don’t think, but a nasty cold. Low fever and everything. Yeah. Oh, you don’t have to do that. You are too sweet. Are you sure?”

She turned back toward the kitchen with her hand on her hip.

“Only if you have extra,” she said at last. “I can come pick it up any time. You’re—Nneka, you are too good to us. Are you sure I can’t be helpful?”

The TV guide had been left open on the table. Finn stretched one arm out of his blanket bundle and pulled it to the edge of the table, then shifted himself to the edge of the couch for a better view. He tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes and was met with blurriness that could only be chased away by the heel of his hand. He knew CBS played divorce court and the news between their shows. If Grandma was watching Magnum PI, she must have ventured out to a different channel.

Finn scanned his options, but nobody was showing cartoons yet. His head didn’t have any space for news channels around the pressure in his nose and ears. It would’ve been nice if they were playing I Love Lucy, though Magnum was an okay runner-up. He liked the old cars and mustaches.

Cool fingers combed through the front of his hair. She smelled like apple cider from her candles. “How’re you feeling, baby?”

“A little better.” Finn cleared his throat around the grit and tilted his head up. The throw pillow took the weight off his aching neck and shoulders. “Grandpa’s gone ‘til five?”

“Yeah, Charlie needed a hand with some things. Your folks will probably pick you up around five -thirty, so you’ll see him.”

“Oh, good.” She pulled the edge of the blanket back up over his shoulder where it had slipped. Finn felt his eyelids try to shut again and blinked a few times to wake them up. “Who’re you talking to?”

“Mrs. Egonu offered to bring some soup for you.”

“That’s nice.”

“It is. I’m going to go pick it up in a few. You can go back to sleep if you want.”

Finn pushed his forehead into the flat of her palm and nodded.

“Gonna be okay with Magnum?”

“Mhm.”

“Days starts after if you want to watch with me.”

“I always do,” he said, affronted by the very idea that he wouldn’t.

“Alright.” She was smiling. He could hear it. “Sleep tight, I’ll be home in five minutes.”

Finn let himself drift in the space between the TV buzz and the flutter of gauzy ivory curtains above the radiator. The day had grown no brighter since the sun came up, still steel-grey with bursts of wind that peeled signs off corkboards and plywood storefront covers. It was a good day to be sick. He watched a candle burn in its cloudy jar, light flickering off marbled glass and melting the wax to an orange pool. The cuckoo clock ticked in the kitchen.

Mrs. Egonu’s soup was his favorite thing, he thought. Peppery and spicy and easy on his stomach—or maybe it just bullied any stomachaches away. She lived two doors down and in the summer he could smell her whole spice cabinet through the open windows. She wore billowy dresses in patterns and colors Finn had never seen anywhere else in his life, and was altogether one of the most interesting people he had ever met. Plus, she was one of Grandma’s best friends. It didn’t get better than that.

He managed to sit up and fit the folding tray across his lap just in time for Days to begin. Grandma ladled them each a bowl before settling down next to him once more and cracking open a new box of tissues. “If it’s too spicy, you don’t have to finish it all,” she reminded him.

“Don’t worry, I can’t really taste anything right now,” Finn assured her.

But he could taste the pepper, or at least feel the tingle of it across his tongue and down his throat, all the way until it warmed his belly from the inside out. Steam curled across his face in waves and his stiff knuckles loosened up as he wrapped them around the sides of the bowl. If he was extra good, she might let him take some home. Alex was going to be so jealous.

They finished Days of Our Lives in mostly silence, channel-surfed until they found a re-run of Family Feud, and made it all the way to three o’clock before Grandma started giving him the kind of sideways look that meant he would be coerced into napping again. His attempts to convince her he was feeling well enough for the museum failed outright. With some bargaining, though, he talked her down into staying awake through General Hospital if he promised to go to sleep after that.

He made it 25 minutes. When he woke, the sun was setting, the dishes had been cleared, and he had new company on the couch. “Rags are up two.”

“Hi, Grandpa,” he mumbled.

“How’s the head, champ?”

“Ugh.”

“Well, we’ll just have to get you a new one.”

“Noooo,” Finn protested pitifully.

“You’re not attached to this one, are you?” His grandpa leaned back with a frown. “Hey, honey, we gotta pick up a new noggin for the kid at the store tomorrow!”

“Got it!” Grandma answered from their bedroom.

He gave Finn and his blanket ball a reassuring pat. “See? Don’t you worry about it.”

Finn buried his smile in the blanket and stretched his legs out until his ankles were tucked behind his grandpa’s back. His knees were sore after being curled up for so long, even after the five laps around the living room he had had to walk after lunch.

“Your dad’s coming to get you in half an hour.”

“Mm.” Finn could stay here forever.

“Got everything you need?”

“Can I have a sleepover?”

“If it were up to me, sure.” Finn could feel every one of his deep, slow breaths. There was a knowing look in his dark eyes when Finn turned to look at him. “Can’t skip two days of school in a row, though, can you?”

“I got some of my stuff in my bag.”

“Hockey gear, too? One helluva bag.”

Finn pulled a face and burrowed down. “No.”

“Next time,” Grandpa assured him. “When you’re feeling better and you two are out of school, how’s that?”

He supposed that was alright for now. “Grandpa?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m feeling better. If I can’t have a sleepover, can I stay for Jeopardy?”

“Finn Callahan, you could bargain your way out of a murder charge.”

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 13

part 1, prev part

There’s this feeling at the top of a roller coaster that is meant to excite, to look forward to. Where the exhilaration and adrenaline kicks in and everyone feels like the top of the world. Only for the calm to set in when the ride is over, and the line keeps growing to feel it all again.

If life were a rollercoaster, Dustin’s would be a fucked up one. Where just as the drop finishes, and everything seems to calm down, the machine starts to clink and bring you back up to the top again. Over. And Over. And Over again.

Dustin’s scared that this calm won’t be so calm tomorrow. Or in a year when life gets back to normal again, and the people in hospital are out and better, like it does. Just for it all to go to a burning pile of shitty hell. For Dustin to end up sitting in the hospital chairs again.

Never the bed.

It’s not that he’s upset that he’s healthy. It’s not that he’s upset that he’s never had to stay in the hospital for a night. It’s just the fact that while everyone else seems to get hurt, he stays perfectly fine. And he doesn’t know why.

He’s put himself in dangerous situations. Fights, tunnels, right in front of a fucking demogorgon. In all the scenarios, he should have gotten hurt. There wasn’t a book that he read where everyone walked away perfectly fine.

Frodo walked to Mordor and wasn’t fine. Neither was Samwise. Dustin’s not a Frodo or a Samwise, maybe he’s a Mary or Pippin. They didn’t walk away without a scratch either. His DnD character can’t even get out of a battle without dying.

Why is he so okay? Why have his dice always rolled so high?

And why does he seem to be more bothered that this than the people in the hospital beds?

Max is smiling and laughing right now. She’s almost like she was last summer. Making fun of them in a way that kinda stung sometimes but mostly was out of love. Not thinking about the fact that she might never ride a skateboard again. Not thinking about the fact that she won’t see the way their faces change as they grow. The way her own face will change as she grows.

Her life has changed in a way that can’t be changed back. How is she not having a bigger reaction to this?

“Hey,” Max calls out in Dustin’s direction. “Come here, I want to feel your face.”

“Huh?”

Mike groans from across the room. “She’s been doing it with everyone. It’s just an excuse to mess with you.”

Max rolls her clouded eyes. “The blind girl wants to make sure he friends are ok. There are no other ulterior motive here.”

“You’re just going to poke him in the eye or some shit.”

“My hands are my eyes now, Michael.”

Mike rolls his eyes, giving Dustin a look like “I warned you.”

Lucas gets up from the chair closest to Max to let Dustin get closer. He leans closer to the bed as Max reaches out her hands to find his face. She pokes around, finding the brim of his hat and pulls it down to his nose.

“Idiot,” Max snorts.

“Told you,” Mike says. Will smacks him in the arm.

Dustin makes a face while fixing his hat, switching seats with Lucas. And then again when El comes in. The room sounding anything like a hospital. Like Mike’s basement while they are watching movies or hanging out. Like the worst didn’t happen and just a week ago, where Max wasn’t just told she would be blind forever.

He walks out of the room and heads to Eddie’s. Eddie who’s awake, but not really. Who opens his eyes and it makes Dustin so happy. Just to see something that resembles him, but isn’t just quite it.

Happiness comes and goes so fast that Dustin almost misses it. Overshadowed by this feeling of knowing that nothing is going back to the way it was. He’ll never be the person he was before. None of them will.

That’s the worst part of this all. He’s seen the way that Will became quieter. Different in a way that none of them will really understand. Saw the way that Max shut down after Billy died. Overcome by her grief. How Steve pushes himself so hard he breaks, and Robin tries to forget it all even happened. Saw how pain can cause a person to die.

The doctors still don’t know what’s going to happen when Eddie finishes waking up. They won’t know how long he’ll still be here, or what damage is in his body. To his brain. His nerves. If he’ll be able to play guitar again. Dustin never even got to see him play a real concert. He wanted to see that.

Time keeps passing and Eddie’s missing it. Classes have restarted and he won’t catch up. Not when he’ll still be in recovery for months. He won’t be walking across that stage to get his diploma. He might not even get it at all.

Dustin takes his seat next to Wayne and just looks at Eddie. Can’t bring himself to take the book out of his bag and read. Wanting to find any sign that this was all worth it. That the painful hope that Dustin is clinging to isn’t dragging him to the bottom. That Eddie will continue to wake up tomorrow.

“You ok, Dustin?”

“Every day I come in here and wish he would say something. Anything.”

Wayne nods, as solemn as he always is. “Me too.”

“You’re back in school now, right? How’s that going?”

School is a completely different battle. The Hellfire shirt that he wore with pride is now an endless target. The insults that would already be slung his way amplified. Walking through the halls feels like shooting range. Another reminder that he knows a truth that none of them will.

“As good as you’d expect it to.”

Another nod. It’s nice to have someone listen to him without trying to fix it. Just let him talk at his own pace without trying to make it better. Make him feel any differently than he does. It brings a comfort to Dustin that he never really knew, or understands.

“Where’s that book of yours, I was starting to get invested.”

“I’m not sure I’m up for reading it today.”

Wayne shrugs. “Why don’t I then? I can’t do the voices like you or Ed do, but I can read.”

It’s like Wayne knows the real reason why Dustin’s reading the book. Makes him feel weirdly seen. Like for a moment, someone understood him more than he wanted them too.

Still, he takes the book out of his bag and hands it to Wayne. Watches as he turns to the page and messes up the character names. Take a breath each time one of the weirder ones comes up and sounds it out. Trying his best to get it all right, even though he’s still doing it a little wrong.

Next part

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[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

PEI COUNTY, 190 BCE, A WINE SHOP - EVENING

We open in the busy interior of a wine shop. Outside, snow is drifting gently down from an indigo sky. Inside, the atmosphere is hot, raucous, and chaotic. One might imagine this is what the vegetables in a stir-fry feel inside their wok. All those reds, greens and yellows being jostled about, coating each other with steam and grease. Where the various echelons of society mingle but do not quite coalesce. A place where the star anise rubs shoulders with the common onion and blue-collared scholars get sauced one table away from road-menders with salt still drying under their armpits. Everyone enters through the courtyard but once inside, they are quickly sorted and ranked. The distinguished are escorted to tables further inside. The rabble are left to find seats near the drafty windows and doors. There is a brief moment of integration, and then separation. 

Located near the kitchen entrance is a very large table-–to be precise; it is actually two regular-sized tables that had been pushed together by an innovative waiter–-and seated around it are a crowd of cheerful layabouts, bachelors, and ne'er’ do wells. They were not seated further outside because they spent money like it grew on trees. They were not seated further inside because they lacked breeding. The establishment had compromised by putting them somewhere prestigious enough to soothe their egos, but well out of ear-shot of anyone of status. 

Social species instinctively gather around a charismatic individual. A troupe of macaques have a head monkey.The circus has a ringleader. The chieftain of this party is thirty-year-old Liu Bang, a minor patrol officer serving the county magistrate. He is wearing his elder brother’s second-best coat, he had rolled out of bed that morning without combing his hair, he has the air of a king. Liu Bang and his lackeys are drinking and gambling uproariously, the game is similar to pai gow which is played with dominos and dice. One might assume that given their high spirits, they must have been celebrating some momentous occasion, but that would be incorrect. This was a perfectly ordinary day, descended from a long line of unremarkable months, each identical to the one preceding it and indistinguishable to the one following it. But what did it matter? When Liu Bang sits at your table, every day feels like a festival. 

At intervals the noise dies down–-usually when a plate of food arrives--and a faint tinkling of music can be heard. It comes from a musician sitting unobtrusively in a corner, plucking a zheng. She is singing Scholar in Blue .  

ZHENG PLAYER Blue-collared lad, my heart yearns for you. Although I cannot go to you, couldn’t you write to me?

Musicians such as her are commonly known as “brothel girls,” they’re hired as general entertainers and although they’re not always sex workers, their proximity to ignominy still stains them. When the men speak to her at all, it is to leer and make crude remarks. The girl is only fifteen but she is used to life on the streets and their remarks roll off her like water off a duck’s back. As the fingers can grow calloused from constant playing, so too can the soul from receiving abuse. She might have even answered coquettishly in order to earn more tips, but tonight she has eyes for no-one except for Liu Bang. She keeps smiling bashfully while trying to catch his eye. How long had she been waiting there? How often had she returned to haunt this spot, hoping to meet Liu Bang? Was she just after a bit of extra coin, or did she have something more ambitious in mind--a chance to secure a future for herself? The truth is far worse, the poor girl had been stricken with a terrible contagion; she was in love. Had she entered with a clear mind, she might have profited from the opportunity. In coming here with her heart in her hands, she was only setting herself up for exploitation and disappointment. A thief who steals a purse does not care about how prettily it is embroidered, he is only after the money inside. The musician must know that to a man like Liu Bang, she could never be anything more than a concubine. She would have been overjoyed to have that much. 

ZHENG PLAYER (CONT’D) Blue-belted lad, you’re in my loving thoughts Although I cannot go to you, couldn’t you visit me? 

After what seems like an age, Liu Bang finally notices and gives her a polite, bland smile. Galvanized, the musician starts fluttering her eyelashes with enough strength to start a breeze–she is clearly not very artful or experienced. Liu Bang finds her clumsiness amusing, and his smile becomes warmer. He has a soft spot for gutsy people who bite off more than they can chew. 

Fan Kuai, who is sitting to Liu Bang’s right and getting a front-row view to this one-sided attempt at courtship, rolls his eyes. 

FAN KUAI Quit leading her on, Sanlang. You don’t know what stupid ideas these brothel girls get. 

LIU BANG I’m just being polite, you grouch. Go on, lighten up. The girls will like you just as much if you smile once in a while.

FAN KUAI Whatever. 

Fan Kuai feels strangely disgruntled that this hussie could be bold enough to commandeer Liu Bang’s attention, as if she could possibly be worthy of it. He is confused by the churlishness of his own feelings. If pressed, he might have grumbled something about it being a gentleman’s night, and how stupid little girls should stay out of their business. It had been nearly a fortnight since he had last seen Liu Bang, who had been sent to deliver a wagon full of presents to the new governor– a Qin lackey sent from Xianyang– and once Liu Bang returned, Fan Kuai had barely had a shichen alone with him. In fact, he was slightly annoyed about Liu Bang attending all of these crowded, noisy dinners. Fan Kuai barely knew a quarter of these yahoos, and he’d bet his last coin that even Liu Bang could scarcely name half, although you wouldn’t know it to look at him, laughing and shouting at the top of his lungs, grabbing shoulders and thumping backs heartily. Liu Bang never seemed to run out of energy, his strength grew in proportion to the people surrounding him. Fan Kuai could not boast of the same skill. He felt exhausted just looking at him. Why couldn’t the two of them just eat at his house? The Fan’s raised the best pork in the district, there could not be two opinions about it. And their wine wasn’t half bad either! Wouldn’t it be nicer to spend a quiet evening all by themselves? When night fell they could huddle together on the cosy, heated kang, laughing and drinking deep into the night, just like old times. 

This wasn’t the only thing bothering Fan Kuai. Liu Bang had turned down another marriage proposal yesterday. He’d been doing it more and more often of late. He was in his prime and extremely eligible. Money was the only thing he lacked, he had every other quality in spades; looks, charisma, a willingness to fight for the things he wanted. Although not strictly scrupulous, he had an undeniable strength about him. Dinner invitations flew at him like arrows. The patriarchs of Pei County were not content to let such a fine young stag roam free for long. Liu Bang would have a wife, it was not a matter of if but when . He’d have some naggy shrew foisted onto him soon enough, someone who would force him to come home early and keep him under lock and key. She’d weasel into his heart, chase his friends out of his house, and use up all of his hard-earned cash. When that happened, they really wouldn’t be able to be together like old times. 

ZHENG PLAYER (CONT’D) I keep pacing and climbing the lookout tower, one day without seeing you feels like three autumns. 

The musician plays a particularly clever rift, her fingers fly across the strings and the notes rush out, bubbling and dancing like water from a fresh spring. Liu Bang doesn’t look up–-he has already forgotten about her–-but he bobs his head appreciatively, his fingers tapping along on the greasy surface of the table. The sight makes Fan Kuai ball his hand into an angry fist. He glares daggers at the hapless girl and tosses back his wine so roughly the clay rim of the bowl rasps against his teeth. Whore, he thinks snidely. She’s not even pretty.

keep reading

[cherryfcola]

Title: Roll for Obedience: Part Two

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog

Pairing: Shadow x Reader x Sonic

Word Count: 6k

Rating: Explicit / 18+ Only

Warnings: This fic contains extreme NSFW content, including degradation, praise, cum play, spit play, oral fixation, deepthroating, orgasm denial, magic restraints, double penetration, and mirror play (katoptronophilia). Includes noncon/dubcon themes in a fantasy setting, breath play, and heavy erotic humiliation. Reader does not climax in this part. Proceed only if you’re comfortable with intense, explicit content.

Summary: Weeks after her first visit to the Emperor’s throne room, Y/N is dragged back—only this time, Shadow brings Sonic to help remind her who’s in control.

It had been weeks since the last time Y/N had woken on the cold obsidian floor of the Chaos Emperor's throne room, gasping and trembling, skin slick and marked with a shameful mixture of sweat and cum. Weeks since she had fallen asleep at her desk mid-boss fight and woken up in that impossible other world, bound and helpless under Shadow's gaze. Weeks since he'd made her kneel and fail, over and over, until she'd learned the meaning of obedience.

But she hadn't forgotten.

No amount of late-night gaming or staring at the sterile safety of her computer monitor could erase the feel of him: the heat of his body pressed against her, the harsh grip of his gloved hands in her hair, the taste of him on her tongue. She swore she could still hear his voice sometimes—low, commanding, purring in her bones—like he'd never really let her go.

And then, one night, it happened again.

Her vision blurred mid-dungeon, her dice rolling across the desk as fatigue pulled her down into sleep. When she opened her eyes, the real world was gone. The heavy scent of stone and smoke filled her nose. Her palms pressed against cold obsidian tile. Magic hummed around her wrists and ankles. Her body was already bent in a humiliating arch, bound by glowing energy, offered up like a feast.

"Ah... There she is."

Shadow's voice was silk and fire, curling through the cavernous throne room. He stepped out from behind his massive throne, eyes glinting red in the dim light. Even after all this time, he was more breathtaking and terrifying in person than the game's render could ever capture. His stride was slow, deliberate, predatory, and his smirk deepened as he drank in the sight of her.

"I was wondering when fate would bring you back to me," he said, crouching beside her, one gloved hand tracing the line of her spine as though reacquainting himself with his favorite toy. "I've missed this view."

Before Y/N could catch her breath, another voice cut in—bright, cocky, and sharp enough to make her flinch.

"Well, well... this is the girl you've been telling me about?"

Her head snapped up. Sonic descended from the second throne opposite Shadow's, the same throne she'd barely noticed the first time she was here. He was gorgeous in a dangerous way, cobalt fur gleaming, eyes bright with mischief and cruelty. He looked her over with an unhurried, hungry curiosity, and then grinned at Shadow.

"Gotta admit, I thought you were exaggerating. But she does look like fun."

Shadow chuckled low in his throat, glancing at Y/N with a heat that made her shiver. "I told you. Perfect little thing. Obedient... eventually. I said next time she wandered into our world, I'd let you have a taste."

Sonic's smirk widened as he crouched in front of her, his gloved fingers gripping her chin and tilting her face up. "Oh, I like her already. Bet she's real sweet when she begs."

Her reflection in the polished black floor showed her own wide, humiliated eyes, the way her chest rose and fell, already trembling under their gaze. Shadow circled behind her, one hand brushing over her bound ass, the other ghosting up her side until his fingers toyed idly with her nipple through the faint hum of the magical restraint.

"Let's see if she remembers the rules," Shadow said, voice smooth as he summoned a glowing d20 into existence, spinning lazily in the air before her face. "High rolls, rewards. Low rolls..." He leaned closer, his heat coiling against her back, his voice a dark promise against her ear. "...we use you however we want. And now, there's two of us."

Sonic's grin turned wolfish. "Better hope you get lucky, sweetheart."

The die spun in the air before Y/N's face, each facet glowing with molten light, casting fractured patterns over her skin. Her pulse thudded in her ears as it slowed, tipped once, twice, and finally stopped—landing on a five.

"Ohhh, rough start," Sonic purred, crouching low in front of her, his eyes bright with amusement and hunger. "Looks like you lose, sweetheart."

Shadow's low chuckle rolled over her back like thunder. "Tsk. Some things never change."

Magic pulsed around her, the restraints tugging her wrists higher and pulling her legs open wider until she was on full display, bent forward in a humiliating arch. The hum of the energy vibrated against her nipples and along the cleft of her ass, teasing and taunting her even as her face burned. She squirmed, but it only made the magic tighten, locking her in place, trembling and helpless.

Shadow crouched behind her, gloved hands sliding over her bound thighs, spreading her wider as his breath ghosted hot over her skin. "Mmm. You remember the rules, don't you, little rogue?" He dragged a single finger through her slick folds, slow and deliberate, making her gasp. "Low rolls... we enjoy ourselves first."

Sonic tilted his head with a sharp grin, leaning forward to grip her jaw. "You're dripping already, and we haven't even started. Pathetic." He forced her to look at herself in the polished obsidian floor—her flushed, wide-eyed reflection staring back, bound and open, two predators closing in on her. "Look at you. Bet you never thought a game would make you a little slut on your knees."

Shadow hummed in agreement, spreading her slick with a lazy swirl of his fingers. "Begging to be used, even if you don't know it yet." His voice was low, reverent, like a dark prayer. "Open your mouth."

The command was instinctive, unavoidable. Y/N's lips parted, and Sonic's grin sharpened as he gathered spit in his mouth and let it fall in a long, slow string onto her tongue.

"Swallow."

She obeyed without thinking, the taste of him hot and intimate. Sonic's fingers gripped her chin harder, making her meet his eyes. "Good girl."

Behind her, Shadow's hand cracked lightly across her ass, the sound echoing in the cavernous room. "Eyes on the mirror. Watch yourself while we break you in."

Magic pulsed again, the bonds teasing her nipples and ass with faint, electric licks, and she couldn't stop the moan that spilled from her lips. Sonic leaned close, his breath hot against her face. "She's gonna be a mess before we even start."

"Oh, we're starting," Shadow said, and pressed the thick heat of his erection against her slick entrance, teasing without mercy. Her entire body jolted, trembling in the restraints, every nerve alight with anticipation and shame.

Sonic crouched lower, his face level with hers, watching her in the mirror. "You feel that? He's just toying with you, and you're already soaking." He reached down, dragging his fingers over her clit in a lazy circle that made her buck helplessly against the bonds. "God, she's so wet, Shads. Bet she'll squeeze you like a vice."

Shadow's low growl rumbled against her spine. "Only one way to find out."

With one hard thrust, he buried himself inside her. Y/N cried out, the sound bouncing off the high obsidian walls, her reflection showing every flicker of shock and helpless pleasure. The magic bonds pulsed with her heartbeat, the teasing on her nipples and ass increasing with every roll of Shadow's hips.

Sonic's grin widened as he watched her fall apart. "Oh yeah... she's perfect. I'm gonna have so much fun with you, sweetheart." He leaned closer, his hand around her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her vision spark in the mirror. "You're gonna beg for both of us before the night's over."

The room pulsed with dark energy, the hum of magic thrumming deep in the stone until it vibrated through Y/N's bones. Then, with a sudden flare of light, the obsidian tiles rippled like liquid. The walls melted into mirrored glass, floor to ceiling, and the ceiling itself reflected it all back.

She froze, her breath catching in her throat, because now there was no escape from the sight of herself. Dozens of Y/Ns—bound, spread, trembling, and flushed—stared back at her from every angle. Every curve of her body, every drop of slick glistening between her thighs, every tiny quiver under Shadow's slow, deliberate thrusts was thrown back at her tenfold.

"Ahhh, much better," Sonic drawled, walking a lazy circle around her, his grin spreading as he admired the endless reflections. "Look at this. Look at you. Our pretty little toy, wrapped up like a present."

Shadow's gloved hands gripped her hips, forcing her to arch deeper. His voice was low and rich, curling around her like smoke. "I want you to see every filthy thing we do to you. Every angle. Every shameful little twitch you can't hide from us anymore."

The magic bonds pulsed, tightening around her wrists and legs, and the teasing current along her nipples and ass grew sharper. She whined, the sound muffled by Sonic's hand sliding up to grip her throat. He leaned down, his chest brushing her back, and spoke against her ear.

"Moaning already? We haven't even started."

Shadow's hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt, and her reflection jerked in a dozen mirrors, mouth open in a silent cry. He withdrew slowly, the wet sound obscene in the quiet room, before slamming back in.

"Fuck," Shadow groaned, head tipping back. "Tight. So tight. She's dripping down my cock already, Sonic."

Sonic knelt in front of her, his reflection grinning up from the mirrored floor. "I can see that." He dragged his finger through the slick mess gathering at her entrance, coating it before lifting it to her lips. "Open."

Her lips parted automatically. He pushed the finger in, smearing her own taste on her tongue.

"Good girl. Swallow it. Watch yourself do it."

The humiliation hit her like a wave, seeing herself obey from so many angles, her tongue curling around Sonic's finger while Shadow drove into her from behind. Her nipples peaked against the air and magic alike, her hips trembling in their restraints.

"You see that, Sonic?" Shadow's voice dipped into a dark purr. "She loves this. Loves being used." He emphasized his point with a sharp thrust that made her cry out, the sound raw and sweet.

"Let's make her show us just how much," Sonic said, snapping his fingers.

The magic responded instantly. The bonds pulsed, and her own reflection in the mirrors cried out as teasing jolts licked over her nipples and ass, while a sudden, insistent vibration thrummed against her clit. Her legs shook, but the magic held her immobile, forcing her to take it all.

Shadow's thrusts became harder, rougher, the wet sound of him moving inside her filling the mirrored chamber. He reached forward, pressing a hand between her shoulder blades and pushing her face closer to the mirrored floor.

"Look," he ordered. "Look how messy you are. Dripping everywhere. Just a slut for the dice to play with."

Sonic crouched to her level again, his grin sharp and hungry. "God, I love seeing her like this. Bet she'll cum if I just—" He leaned down, letting a thick string of spit drip directly onto her clit, where the magic hummed and teased. The combined sensation made her jolt, her whole body shuddering in the restraints.

"Not yet," Shadow growled, gripping her hips tight enough to bruise. "She hasn't earned it."

He pounded into her, each thrust pushing a high, broken sound out of her throat, Sonic's hand tightening on her jaw to keep her facing her own reflection. Cum and spit smeared on her lips, her own wetness coating her inner thighs, and in the endless mirrors, there was nowhere to hide from the picture she made.

"You're ours now, little rogue," Sonic whispered against her ear, his tongue tracing the shell before nipping lightly. "And you're gonna learn to love every filthy second."

Sonic's smirk deepened as he crouched in front of Y/N, his reflection repeating endlessly across the mirrored room, capturing every obscene detail from every angle. She was on her knees, back arched from Shadow's relentless thrusts, her arms bound tightly behind her by shimmering magical restraints that glowed faintly with every pulse. Her legs were spread wide and held in place, leaving her helpless and open, while her breasts jiggled with each impact, nipples hard and glistening where the magic licked and teased them. Drool already clung to her lips from the sounds she couldn't hold back, and Sonic's gaze burned hot as it trailed from her flushed face to the mess Shadow was making between her thighs.

"You're not even using this pretty little mouth," he said, his voice silk over steel, mockingly soft but dripping with hunger. He reached out and ran his thumb over her lower lip, pulling it down slightly to see the glint of her teeth and the soft pink of her tongue. "Guess I'll put it to use for you."

Behind her, Shadow's cock drove deep again, making her jerk forward into Sonic's hand with a cry that turned into a sharp gasp. Shadow was thick and heavy, each deep thrust dragging along her soaked walls, the ridges and veins of his erection sending shocks of molten pleasure through her belly. He growled low in his chest, the sound vibrating against her back as he leaned over her, hips snapping with brutal rhythm.

"She's so wet for us," Shadow rumbled, his voice a husky threat in her ear. "You feel how hot she is, Sonic? I'm buried in her and she's clenching like she's trying to keep me in forever."

Sonic's grin widened, his own cock twitching as he gripped it and lazily stroked himself for a moment, letting her see the thick length and the slick bead of precum glistening at the tip. His skin was velvety soft over the steel-hard heat beneath, pulsing in his hand, and he angled it toward her lips.

"Open," he ordered, voice dropping to a growl.

Y/N obeyed, dazed and flushed, her mouth falling open with a soft, needy whimper. Sonic immediately pressed the swollen tip against her tongue, smearing precum over the wet surface before sliding into her mouth with agonizing slowness. The taste of him was salty and musky, rich and heady, filling her senses completely.

"Ahhh, fuck..." Sonic hissed, tilting his head back slightly as he pushed deeper. "Warm... soft... perfect."

Her lips stretched around him, the mirror reflecting every obscene angle—her hollowed cheeks, her wide eyes, the tears that started to prick as the head of his cock nudged the back of her throat. Shadow's hips bucked behind her, his thick length plunging into her over and over, and the force shoved her forward until Sonic hit deeper, making her gag softly around him.

"Choke on it," Sonic murmured, fingers threading in her hair as his hips gave a sharp thrust forward. "C'mon, make it messy."

She gurgled around him, her throat convulsing as saliva spilled from the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin and onto her bouncing chest. Shadow groaned, his grip on her hips tightening.

"Fuck... every time she gags on you, she squeezes me harder," Shadow said, voice rough with lust. "She likes it. Look at her in the mirror—she's dripping all over me."

Sonic's eyes flicked to the reflection, drinking in the sight of her debauched and helpless, spit and arousal coating her thighs and chin in glistening strands. He started to move faster, shallow thrusts at first, then longer, deeper plunges, using her mouth as if it belonged to him. Each time he bottomed out, she choked, her throat bulging visibly, and the lewd wet sounds filled the mirrored room.

"Good girl," Sonic groaned, smearing her own saliva across her cheek with his thumb before gripping her hair tighter. "Take it. All of it. Don't waste a drop."

Shadow shifted his angle, his cock grinding against that sensitive spot inside her, making her moan around Sonic, the vibrations sending a shiver up his spine. "Mmm... I could fuck this tight little pussy all night... she was made for this," Shadow growled, his thrusts relentless. "Go on, Sonic—make her cry for us."

And she did. Her eyes were wet, mascara smudged, her mouth stretched wide around Sonic's throbbing length as he began to truly fuck her face, his pace merciless and exacting. Her drool and his precum coated her lips and chin, slick and shiny in every mirror, and her muffled moans only spurred them on.

Shadow's crimson eyes glittered in the mirrored room, catching the fractured reflections of Y/N's utterly ruined state as she gagged and choked around Sonic's cock. Her bound body trembled, sweat and spit and slick gleaming across every surface, and Shadow slowed his hips deliberately, savoring the sight of his thick length disappearing into her dripping heat with wet, obscene sounds. He leaned back slightly to watch her take Sonic deeper, the bulge in her throat visible in a dozen angles around the mirrored walls.

Sonic's breath was ragged, his fingers knotted in her hair, holding her firmly against him as he pumped into her mouth with increasing urgency. His hips snapped forward in quick, desperate thrusts, the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat again and again until her moans turned into helpless gurgles.

"Shit... Shadow—" Sonic grunted, throwing his head back briefly before looking down at her with a wicked smirk, "—I'm close. I'm gonna paint her fucking face."

Shadow's own pace faltered, and he finally pulled out of Y/N's soaked pussy with a wet, lewd pop, a thick strand of arousal connecting him to her trembling entrance. He rose smoothly to his feet, looming over her bound form, his slick erection twitching in the cool air. His hand tangled in her hair alongside Sonic's, forcing her head back slightly to meet both their gazes in the mirror.

"You hear that, little rogue?" Shadow's voice dripped with amusement and threat in equal measure. "You're about to get exactly what you deserve."

Sonic hissed through his teeth as he gave a few rough, shallow thrusts into her mouth, then abruptly pulled free with a wet, sticky sound. Strings of saliva and precum clung between her lips and his glistening length, breaking only when he stroked himself quickly, aiming at her flushed, tear-streaked face.

"Open wide, sweetheart," Sonic said with a cruel smirk, his tone both mocking and indulgent. "Show us that pretty little mouth one more time."

Y/N obeyed, dazed and pliant, her lips parting just as Shadow stepped forward beside Sonic. Together, they loomed over her in perfect mirrored symmetry, their cocks slick and throbbing as they stroked themselves in tandem.

"Fuck, look at her," Sonic muttered, his voice tight. "Begging without saying a word."

Shadow's smirk curved sharper. "Good girl... hold still."

The first thick rope of cum landed across her cheek, warm and sticky, quickly followed by another that spattered across her lips and chin. Sonic groaned loudly as he came, covering her face in streaks of hot, pearly mess, a few drops landing in her open mouth. Her tongue instinctively flicked out to taste them, earning a throaty chuckle from him.

Shadow's control snapped a second later, his release painting the other side of her face, some of it dripping down her nose and over her chest, glistening in the mirror's reflection. He leaned down, eyes burning with feral satisfaction, and used his thumb to smear the mess across her cheek before spitting sharply onto her face, the wet slap echoing in the mirrored room.

"Filthy little toy," Shadow purred, his tone low and dangerous, "look at you... covered in our cum like you were made for it."

Sonic's fingers gripped her jaw, forcing her to look up at him as he smeared the remaining mess over her lips with his cock. "Mm... you like this, don't you?" he drawled. "Our cum dripping down your face... down your perfect little body..."

Y/N's breath came in trembling pants, the mirrors around her reflecting a thousand angles of her degradation—spit-slick, cum-streaked, eyes hazy with tears and lust. Both males watched her with matching predatory satisfaction, and yet, even as they degraded her, their words curled with praise.

"That's it," Shadow murmured, using two fingers to smear his release down her throat. "Good girl. Taking everything we give you..."

"Perfect little mess," Sonic added, giving one final, sharp slap of spit onto her cheek before stepping back slightly. "I think she's ready for round two."

Sonic crouched in front of Y/N, his gloved fingers gripping her slick jaw, forcing her head up to meet his electric green eyes. Her face was a mess of their combined release, streaks of white dripping down her cheeks and chin, her lips wet and trembling. Behind him, Shadow's dark, velvety chuckle rolled through the mirrored room, each reflection showing her ruined state in cruel clarity.

"Y'know, Shadow..." Sonic mused, his thumb rubbing over her cum-smeared lips before shoving it between them to make her suck. "I don't think we need the dice anymore. She's a natural little sub, isn't she? Just look at her—on her knees, covered in our mess, taking whatever we give her like she was born for it."

Shadow's smirk was sharp enough to cut. He crouched beside Sonic, his crimson eyes dragging over Y/N's bound, trembling body. The magic still held her hands behind her back, forcing her chest forward, her legs spread in a humiliating display. The soft, spectral tendrils of Shadow's power occasionally teased her nipples and slick entrance, sending tremors through her muscles.

"Agreed," Shadow purred, running the tip of his finger down her throat, smearing cum along her collarbone. "From now on, we reward her when we feel like it. And today... isn't one of those days."

Before Y/N could even whimper a response, a shimmer of dark chaos energy rippled in the air, and suddenly, two more figures emerged from the shadows—perfect clones of Shadow and Sonic, their erect cocks already glistening with anticipation. The mirrored room multiplied them endlessly, making it look as though she were surrounded on all sides by predators ready to use her.

Sonic's grin turned feral as he tilted her head, making her face the nearest clone. "See that? You're lucky, sweetheart. Twice the fun!"

The mirrored room pulsed with soft, ominous light, every reflection of Y/N a lewd, glistening display of surrender. Her body trembled under the magical restraints, hands pinned behind her back by Shadow's power, legs bent and spread wide, leaving her helplessly exposed to the four towering figures that circled her like predators closing in on a feast. Her skin shone with sweat and their cum, every drop glinting in the mirrors, making the endless room look like an altar to her degradation.

Sonic's grin was positively feral as he knelt between her spread thighs, one hand gripping her hip, the other teasing the slick folds of her pussy before lining himself up. "Mmm, already soaked," he murmured, running the head of his thick erection through her wetness, smearing it over her swollen clit just to make her squirm. "Guess your body knows exactly what it's here for."

Behind her, Shadow's clone crouched low, his gloved fingers spreading her ass cheeks apart with slow, deliberate cruelty. The cool air made her twitch, and he smirked before pressing the blunt tip of his cock against her tighter hole, teasing it with small, steady circles. "Relax for me... little pet," he purred, voice a perfect match to the real Shadow's deep velvet tone. "I'm going to fill this one up..."

To her left, the Sonic clone grabbed her bound hands and guided them down to his throbbing erection. "Even tied up, you're useful," he said with a wicked laugh. He slid his length along her palms, forcing her fingers to curl, using her hand like his own personal toy. "Squeeze, sweet thing. I know you can."

And then, in front of her, the real Shadow crouched to meet her glassy, fucked-out eyes. He was already hard, precum glistening at the tip, his cock long and intimidating so close to her face. He grabbed her chin in one firm, commanding hand, tilting her head back. "Open," he ordered, and when she obeyed, he rewarded her with the hot weight of his erection pressing against her tongue, sliding in slow and thick until her lips stretched around him.

The mirrored room showed it all: Sonic burying himself in her dripping pussy, his hips snapping forward with deep, relentless thrusts; Shadow's clone easing into her ass, making her gasp and moan around the cock in her mouth; Sonic's clone pumping himself with her bound hands, using her as a living toy; and Shadow himself, one hand fisted in her hair, groaning low as her tongue and throat worked over him.

Every sound echoed in the mirrored chamber—the wet squelch of Sonic's thrusts, the lewd pop each time Shadow's clone pushed deeper into her tight back hole, the sticky slide of her hand jerking the clone off, and her own choked, garbled moans as Shadow fucked her mouth.

"Fuck, she's perfect like this," Sonic grunted, his pace growing faster, his hips slamming into her with wet, obscene smacks. "Taking us all... fuck, look at her."

Shadow glanced at the reflections all around them, his dark smirk curling against the curve of his cock as he thrust deep into her throat, loving the way her eyes watered. "A perfect little toy," he agreed, voice dark and low. "Made to be used... and she loves every second of it."

The magic bonds pulsed against her nipples and clit, teasing her mercilessly, making her body spasm and arch as if begging for more. Each mirrored wall threw back a thousand images of her helplessness—stuffed, used, and on display for her own humiliation.

Sonic's hips snapped forward in brutal, wet slaps that echoed off the mirrored walls, each thrust burying his thick cock deep into Y/N's slick, twitching heat. The sensation was overwhelming—he stretched her completely, filling her in a way that bordered on painful, but her body clung greedily to him, slick and tight. Behind her, Shadow's clone drove into her ass in ruthless, unrelenting strokes, the smaller but still heavy length prying her open and making her twitch with every wet, lewd sound of her body being used. The two moved in a vicious rhythm, perfectly in sync, fucking her like she was nothing more than a toy built for their pleasure.

Her face was buried against Shadow's cock, his hand tangled in her hair as he held her still. He used her mouth mercilessly, driving deep until she gagged around him, spit and drool running in glossy ropes down her chin and chest. The tip of his erection hit the back of her throat again and again, each thrust making her vision blur with tears. She could hear herself choking, hear the filthy wet squelch of her holes being filled, and it all echoed back at her from every mirrored surface, surrounding her in the sight and sound of her own debauchery.

Sonic's clone grunted above her, her bound hands wrapped tight around his cock as he used them like a toy, forcing her fingers to slide up and down his slick length. He pumped against her palms hard, her helpless hands coated in his pre, while the real Sonic groaned into her ear.

"Fuck, look at you... all stretched and stuffed, every hole full... and you still can't do a damn thing but drool," Sonic mocked, his voice low and rough with arousal. He slammed into her harder, forcing a whimper from her throat that vibrated around Shadow's cock. "Damn little rogue does actually make noise, huh? Bet there's not a single thought in that pretty little head right now. Just cock."

Shadow's laugh was dark and approving as he thrust into her mouth, slow and cruel. "She's perfect like this. Dumb and obedient." He pulled back enough for her to gasp a wet, choking breath before shoving her back down, groaning when her throat clenched around him.

Her body trembled violently, on the knife's edge of orgasm, but every time her walls clenched too hard, Sonic slowed, smirking when she whined around Shadow's cock. "Ah-ah... not yet, little toy. You don't get to come today," he hissed in her ear, punctuating his words with a savage snap of his hips that made her scream against Shadow.

Sonic's clone was the first to finish, groaning as he painted her hands and arms with hot, sticky ropes of cum, jerking her bound hands through it until she was coated. Shadow's clone followed, burying himself deep in her ass and spilling thick heat inside, the sensation of being filled making her squirm helplessly—but still she wasn't allowed to find release.

Sonic snarled as he drove into her one last time and came hard, filling her pussy with thick spurts that leaked immediately, dripping down her thighs onto the mirror floor. He pulled out, letting the cum smear against her trembling folds.

Shadow was last, yanking her head back and pulling free from her raw mouth just in time to coat her face with hot ropes of cum. He smeared it into her cheeks and lips with rough fingers, then spat directly in her face, his spit mingling with the mess. "Look at yourself," he growled, tilting her head so she had to see the cum-dripping reflection in every mirror. "Used. Marked. Perfect."

She quivered, overstimulated and unsatisfied, her core clenching desperately for a release that never came.

Sonic crouched low, gripping her chin, smearing some of the mess across her lips. "Our perfect little sub. No dice this time. No rewards. We'll give you what you want when we feel like it... and today isn't that day."

The clones dissolved into shimmering wisps of magic, their heat and weight gone in an instant, leaving Y/N trembling on the cold mirrored floor. Her whole body ached, raw and overstimulated, every nerve on fire from the relentless use. She could feel the mess dripping down her thighs, smeared across her face and chest, glistening in the reflection of the mirrored walls. Her lungs struggled for air, every breath wet and ragged, her lips parted and shiny with spit and cum. She was a vision of ruin, and both Shadow and Sonic looked down at her like they had crafted a masterpiece.

Shadow knelt first, his crimson eyes softening as he conjured a dark, smoky magic in his palm that warmed against her skin. The residue of cum and spit began to dissolve under his touch, wiped gently from her cheeks and chin as he tilted her head up to look at him. His fingers trailed along her jaw, deliberately smearing the last of it into her lips before he cleaned it away, the faintest smirk curling his mouth.

"You did well, little rogue," Shadow murmured, his tone lower now, almost tender beneath the weight of satisfaction. "So obedient... you let us use every part of you without a single complaint." He pressed his thumb against her lower lip, rubbing in lazy circles, a final teasing gesture before withdrawing.

Sonic moved behind her, his hands warm and careful as he lifted her into his lap, her legs still trembling from the bonds that had held them apart for so long. He brushed a hand over her stomach, cleaning the slick evidence of their use with practiced ease, his chest rumbling with quiet approval.

"Look at you... all worn out and pretty," Sonic murmured against her ear, his voice a soft rasp. "Took everything we gave you and didn't even fight it. I told Shadow you were a natural, and damn, you proved me right." He kissed the side of her neck, slow and lingering, before tilting her forward enough for Shadow to finish wiping away the last of the mess from her inner thighs.

The air around her felt warmer now, humming faintly with their magic as the last of the mirrored floor gleamed clean beneath her. Her reflection was no longer filthy and ruined, but soft and spent, her body slack and trusting between them.

Shadow cupped her chin again, forcing her to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed over her lip once more as he leaned in close, his voice dipping to a dark purr.

"Next time you stumble into our little world... we'll give you what you're craving. We'll let you come for us. Again and again." His smile was wicked, promising both mercy and more torment in the same breath.

Sonic's arms tightened around her from behind, his nose nuzzling her damp hair. "But not tonight," he added, voice rich with amusement. "Tonight, you just get to remember how good we made you feel... and how badly you want more."

The last thing Y/N saw as her vision began to blur—warm, heavy, and content—was the shared look between the two rulers, sharp and knowing, as if they already knew she'd be back. Whether by accident... or because she couldn't stay away.

The mirrored chamber had fallen into silence, the magic that had bound and teased her gone, leaving Y/N sprawled on the cool reflective floor. Her skin still glistened faintly from the careful cleanup Shadow and Sonic had given her, though the faint scent of them lingered on her lips, her throat, her flushed skin. Her breathing was deep, slow, the kind that only came from complete exhaustion. She was out cold, body slack and boneless, a pretty little doll laid out for them, a soft afterglow clinging to her despite never having been allowed the release she so desperately needed.

Shadow crouched beside her, eyes drinking her in with quiet satisfaction, while Sonic leaned lazily against the nearest mirrored wall, arms crossed and a smirk tugging at his mouth.

"She took it well," Sonic said, voice low, amusement curling in every syllable. "Didn't even get her reward. Poor thing didn't stand a chance."

Shadow's gloved fingers brushed a damp strand of hair from Y/N's cheek, slow and deliberate. "She doesn't need a reward yet. She needs to learn patience."

As if responding to his voice in her dreams, Y/N stirred, a tiny sound escaping her lips. Her head twitched faintly against the mirrored floor, and then, in a whisper so soft it barely reached their ears, she breathed out a single, broken word.

"...please..."

Sonic tilted his head, his smirk widening. "Even in her sleep, huh? She's hooked."

The air shifted, magic rippling across the walls like a shiver. A new presence filled the room, calm but commanding, and both hedgehogs turned as Silver stepped into the mirrored chamber. His silver fur caught the dim light, but it was his golden eyes that glowed, locking immediately onto Y/N's helpless form on the floor. He took his time approaching, boots silent, gaze drinking her in from head to toe.

"So," he said finally, his voice smooth and unhurried, "this is the little rogue you've been keeping to yourselves." He crouched at her other side, close enough to feel the soft warmth radiating from her exhausted body, and let a single finger trace the air above her lips, not quite touching. "She's beautiful like this. Completely spent... and still begging for more."

Sonic chuckled darkly. "Told you she's a natural."

Shadow's gaze didn't waver. "She'll be ready for you soon enough."

Silver's golden eyes flicked between them before settling back on Y/N, and he let the corner of his mouth curl in a slow, dangerous smile.

"Does she know," he asked softly, the question heavy with promise, "that she can't leave the next time she comes here?"

[janeyseymour]

La Cosa Nostra- pt 3

Cowritten with @schemmentis

Part 1. Part 2.

Summary: You're interrogated... meanwhile, Melissa worries and heads to the one place that she can usually find comfort.

WC: ~2.85k

You step into the dark and solemn offices that you’re sure you’ll be stuck in for hours on end, and you sigh when you see the two agents from the night before.

“Glad to see you decided to show up,” Danik says coldly. “Almost out of time too.”

“I have two minutes to spare,” you reply cheekily. “And if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to take those two minutes to call my mother-in-law to arrange to pick up my daughters from school today. Since I couldn’t be home last night, my wife had to stay home with the girls instead of prep for her restaurant, and I promised her I’d get coverage for pickup duty.”

“Go with her,” Danik instructs Shaw. The agent follows you down the hall as you dial your wife’s mother.

“Y/N?” the older woman picks up.

“Hey Ma,” you sigh into the phone, speaking English instead of Italian like you usually would. If you had gone into your mother-in-law’s native tongue, that would only look more suspicious to the FBI. “Listen, I have a favor to ask of you... I need you to pick up the girls from school today.”

You silently pray that she responds to your English in English, and for once she does. “I always love an excuse to see my grandbabies, but why can’t you or Lissa?”

“I have some things to take care of with the salon while Mel is handling her restaurant today,” you explain vaguely. “Please, Ma.”

“Okay, okay,” your mother in law chuckles into the phone. “God, you two are such workaholics.”

“It’s all for our girls,” you laugh softly as you think of them. “It’s all for the girls.”

“What time are they done with school again?”

“3:15, but the lines start to get long and the girls don’t like to wait, so Mel and I usually try to get there around 2:50,” you explain.

“2:50, got it,” Melissa’s mother notes softly. “Okay. Take care of yourself, Y/N. I don’t need you overworking yourself to the point of a heart attack and leaving my daughter to take care of those two rascals on her own.”

It’s funny that she says that, because if you die in the near future, it most certainly won’t be because of a heart attack. You let out a laugh that only you know the meaning of. “I’ll do my best, Ma. Thank you.”

“Anything for the four of you,” the woman on the other end of the phone smiles into the phone before hanging up.

You look at the agent who was listening to your phone call. “Was it really necessary that you be here for that?”

“We have every right to be tracing you right now, Mrs. Schemmenti,” Shaw states. Then he lowers his voice. “But I also found it a bit overkill for me to follow you.”

He leads you back down to where you had entered, and then he and Danik lead you and Sammy into the back room.

Try as Melissa might, she’s allowing her worry for you to consume her at work. She’s made a few mistakes in terms of scheduling already today that thankfully her manager on duty caught before the final schedule went out to her employees, her stock inventory was almost entirely all wrong, she almost didn’t balance the checkbook correctly (and that would have only made your family look all the more suspicious), and she nicked her fingers while dicing various vegetables.

“Boss?” Valentina, the manager on duty asks quietly as the redhead curses in Italian under her breath. “If you don’t mind my asking, is everything alright?”

“Just peachy,” your wife replies rather snippily. “Just peachy.”

“If you need to take the day off to regroup,” the meek and mild woman tries to offer. “You know the restaurant is okay in my hands. I handled it all last night, and I can do it again today if you need it.”

“And why would you suggest that?” Green eyes glare into brown ones.

Valentina twists her fingers together nervously. “You just don’t seem to be here mentally today, and I totally understand.”

“You could never,” Melissa grumbles.

“I have off days too, and it’s okay to admit that you need the day,” the sweet woman says. And when she knows that her boss will retort something about being the owner, she quickly adds on, “even if you are the owner of this restaurant.”

Melissa blows out a breath as she expertly wraps the fingers that she had almost sliced off (and thank God she hadn’t. Not only would it be terrible to have to call you and explain that she was in the ER and she would be out of commission for a bit, it would look like someone was targeting her and had her fingers cut off).

“You could have a day to yourself to relax without those little cuties of yours climbing all over you, I know your wife is working at the salon right now... just a nice relaxing day to laze on the couch and do nothing.”

Melissa toys with the idea of leaving the restaurant for the day- she knows Valentina could handle it, and she did handle it last night. She knows too though that the picture perfect afternoon Valentina is painting isn’t at all the one she would have. As nice as it is to imagine returning to your home, and curling up on the couch- maybe with that book she’s been meaning to read; it wouldn’t happen.

She sighs, slowly nodding. “A’right, a’right. You talked me into it, Val.” She mutters, stepping past the other woman. “But you need anythin’, even somethin’ small, you call me, hey?” 

Melissa waits until Valentina has confirmed thoroughly that she’ll call at even the smallest inconvenience before she leaves out the back of the restaurant. Her eyes take a last sweep over everything in the kitchen and storeroom before she fully leaves. She won’t be able to have the relaxing day Valentina convinced her of, but she has more important business she can take care of instead.

She makes the short drive from her restaurant, pulling the car you share into a different parking lot. She puts it into park, taking a deep breath. She hopes Sammy is at least doing his job and protecting you. If he isn’t, she’s going to make sure he learns. She doesn’t care how high up in the family he is. Shaking the thought of Sammy, or you, as much as she can, Melissa steps out of the car and locks it as she makes her way across the asphalt.

She carefully ascends the few concrete steps outside, tugging the glass door open to step into the small atrium. She steps up another short set of stairs before she tugs the heavier wooden door open. The previously muffled sound of the church organ plays fully in the air once the door is open, the scent of incense filling her nose. Melissa steps into the back of the church, her late entrance to this morning’s service lost beneath the noise of music and parishioner’s singing. 

She dips her fingers into the font of holy water affixed to the wall. Her hand makes the sign of the cross over her upper half as she, mostly, genuflects at the side of the last pew. Melissa slips into the seat at the aisle, patiently waiting as the hymn plays out. After another few moments, the organ’s music lowers and slows as the singing ceases. The audience of the mass takes their seats once more. 

“Mornin’, Babs.” She greets softly the woman that reclaims the seat next to her. The priest is summarizing the mass’ lesson for today and giving one last prayer up at the pulpit. 

“Good morning, Melissa.” Barbara returns amicably, though she doesn’t hide her surprise at seeing the redhead. “I can’t recall when you last attended a Thursday service. Even just at the end of it.”

The redhead looks sheepish at being caught out at being present only for the end of this mass; that and the fact she certainly doesn’t attend as often as Barbara does. “Well.” Melissa sighs. “Sometimes a little extra prayer is needed, huh?”

“Is everything alright, dear? With Y/N? The girls?” Barbara questions, glancing at her friend worriedly. 

“As much as it can be.” Melissa hedges. “More, huhm, business problems, guess you could say.” She confides quietly as the final procession begins. The priest and the altar servants making their way down the main aisle beneath another hymn.

Normally, Barbara would be back on her feet. Participating in the procession and singing the closing hymn loud and proud. Melissa and her had had plenty of conversations like this. Paused between hymns and pieces of the Mass. Today, Barb stays sitting. She sees the worry on the redhead’s face. 

“I hope not with the restaurant.” She says as her hand gently grips one of Melissa’s. “I know how much that place means to you. I think you were happier the day you opened than when you married Y/N.” Barbara teases with a half smile, attempting to lighten the mood.

Melissa shakes her head, returning the squeeze of Barbara’s hand and smiling just a little at her tease. “No, the only day I might have been happier than my weddin’ day was the day my two babies were born without complication, an’ you know it. But uh, it’s the salon. I know it’s sort of…our second thing, yeah? I know it wasn’t a dream of Y/N’s like the restaurant is for me but it still means a lot, y’know? Without the salon we would've never met, had the twins…The restaurant would have never happened without it. I just…I dunno, Barb. I don’t know what to do. Y/N is in trouble and…my hands are tied. I hate it.”

Barb pulls Melissa’s hand to her lap, gripping it between both of her own now. She holds it there for a long silent moment. Melissa doesn’t question, having experienced this before. The last time had been when you were pregnant and she was worried something would go wrong with how at risk you were. Barb had held her hand and prayed. For Melissa and you both. She does the same now. The day that she had prayed for you and your unborn babies was over five years ago now, but it all feels so familiar- the sneaking into a Thursday mass late into the service, the back pew, the soft tone that the other woman had used. It takes her back to that day just briefly before she too closes her eyes and prays; she prays for your safety and for you to come home to her tonight alive and in one piece, for your girls to never have their innocence ripped from them and never have to become a part of the side hustle to stay alive. 

Melissa isn’t sure how much or what exactly she believes in anymore. Of course she was raised religious. She’d never speak the doubts she has anywhere where her mother or nonna could hear. Still, with the life she’s found herself in, it’s hard to find much faith. She might not be a man on the streets, a member of the family with more…messy assignments. Even so, she’s seen plenty. Just like she knows you have. Faith is hard to be strong in when you’ve witnessed the darkest parts of the world. 

When you’re in the life; you’re in. Melissa doesn’t need to be a contract killer or a capo or consigliere. She’s family. When you’re family, you’re privy to every side of it and just like blood family; you pick your battles. You pick what is worth really lending your voice to because if it isn’t actually worth it you’re risking much more than an argument over dinner or estrangement at holidays. You’re risking your life along with everyone you love’s lives. Just like blood family; there are things you pretend you don’t see- things that are never spoken about but simply are. 

Melissa sighs, a soft and quiet thank you when Barbara pats her knuckles. A silent sign that she’s finished praying and is here if Melissa wants to talk more. She lightly squeezes Barb’s hand before she’s pulling her arm back to her own space. “I’ll still see ya Sunday. Just figured a check in might help.”

“You know where to find me.” Barbara assures. “You don’t have to wait to meet me at Mass either, you know.”

“I know, it’s just one of the few free times I get.” Melissa answers. She squeezes the other woman in a quick hug before she steps out of the church the way she came. 

Once she’s shutting the car door behind her again, she’s anxiously checking her phone. Nothing. It’s only been a couple hours but she had hoped with Sammy with you he’d manage to get you through the process much faster. She turns the key in the ignition to start the car once more. If she’s stuck waiting hours again, and doesn’t need to worry about your girls, she’s going to do the next best thing she can. Get whatever information she can from each and every one of her contacts.

“No comment.” You mumble, crossing your legs as you attempt to get comfortable in the metal chair. You glance at Sammy, sitting to your right. He’d instructed you to say nothing else so long as agents were in the room with you. Though you both know the room is being recorded even at the moments you’re left alone. 

By now, you’ve rolled through both Agent Shaw and Agent Danik being both good cop and bad cop. They’ve practically given themselves whiplash with each being your friend one moment and then tag teaming with the other to switch sides to being an enemy. They claim they have evidence that you were directly involved with Bobby’s murder- irrefutable evidence.

The only problem with that is you’re not a hitman. You’re not one of the people anyone of the family would call for a kill. You knew the hit was coming; that much is true. Though you don’t admit to that, of course. Yet you had nothing beyond knowledge to do with it. If you didn’t have Sammy sitting next to you, you’d have likely laughed the fifth time they claimed you were the one that killed Bobby. 

You remember the night well. It was near Christmas. The twins were only two years old. You and Melissa had taken them to her mother’s and had watched your large family, both blood-related and otherwise, coo and aw over them both. The girls absolutely ate up the attention, acting as if you and Melissa didn’t always fawn and fuss over them. At the time Bobby was killed, you were on the way to passing out with Mel on her mom’s couch; grateful that there were so many other eyes watching your girls that meant you both could sneak a little rest. And once the two of you had joined the world around you again, Uncle Dominic had informed the two of you lowly that business had been taken care of. At the time, you just nodded sleepily into your wife’s chest, thinking that all of your issues dealing with that man had melted away and you would just be able to enjoy this little life that you’ve built with your wife and two girls. How wrong you had been.

You know you had nothing to do with Bobby. Still, you stick to what Sammy told you. You repeat ‘no comment’ until the two words start to sound like gibberish to you. Finally, the agents step out once again. They play nice, offering water or food for both you and Sammy. You both decline. 

You try to stretch out your legs beneath the table, annoyed by the knot between your shoulder blades. “Sammy,” You say the man’s name, dragging out the syllables to show your annoyance.

“They got nothin’, kid.” He answers. “They’re throwin’ shit to the wall and seein’ what sticks.”

“If I’m here until three am again, I ain’t payin’ you.” You grumble.

“You don’t pay me anyhow.” Sammy shoots back.

“You and I both know that even if my wife and I don’t pay you monetarily, you get paid in something better,” you roll your eyes. “Melissa’s branzino. You’re about two steps away from really pissin’ me off, Gaetano.” You warn lowly. 

His hands raise, both palms outward as if showing he is unarmed. “Ay, don’t bite my head off. I’m here to help you, huh? Just stay patient a little longer. I’m tellin’ ya, they got nothin’.”

What feels like ages later both Agents you can now easily recognize return. They each reclaim their seats across the table from you. A folder of papers set down in the middle. Shaw pushes them across the table to you, flipping the folder covering the papers over.

You glance at the forms, your brow furrowing. “What’s this?”

“Search warrants.” Shaw answers. “For the salon and your home.”

TAGS, and let us know if you want to be added!: @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @dvrkhcld

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Warm Blood

Gale / Astarion x F! Tav

(Warm Water part 3, can be read alone)

18+ miscommunication, misplaced anger, sex as a tool, yearning, confessed feelings, urgent sex, restraint, dom Gale, oral (f!), fingering (f!), masturbation (m!), marking, a little silliness

With a sanguine competitor now circling with the large druid, Gale can no longer put off his advances...

Masterlist, Prev Chapter

-

She hissed gently as he readjusted his hold. He would have to find a new vein it seemed. Even with him closing her wounds, their nightly feeding sessions left her skin tender to touch.

Her generosity staggered him. His body feeling far better in these last few weeks than it had in centuries. Lithe and strong. The bone aching cold he had resigned himself to thawed by her warm blood, her molten body pressed against his when he fed. Her rich blood nourishing him to his core.

Though, their arrangement made him uncomfortable on a fundamental level. She not only didn't gain anything in this exchange, she actively lost something. It was too unbalanced, and he'd be a fool if he thought the other shoe wasn't poised to drop. She would want something in return eventually, and there was only one thing he could offer.

Taking slow mouthfuls, he wound his hands around her waist. Kneading the flesh languidly.

It had baffled him when she had politely turned him down at the tiefling party. She was so handsy and touch driven, he was sure seducing her would have been rather easy. Though, there was still time. As far as he could tell she wasn't tied to anyone yet, though there were several circling already.

He slid the movements of his mouth from purely practical to sensual. Kissing and suckling gently as he drank.

She hummed, stroking his hair through her fingers.

Finding that encouraging, he slid one hand around her hip. The other rising to her ribcage, heading north.

She froze then. "Astarion, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He purred, licking her wound closed with far more tongue than needed. Dragging a flat line up her neck. "Tasting you, darling."

"Why?" Her tone genuinely curious.

He scoffed, pulling back. "What do you mean why? You're beautiful."

"I am, but that doesn't answer my question."

Gods she was aggravating. Heat rose to his neck, her blood fueling the rush.

"Is it so unbelievable that I would want you? You must know your company is highly sought after." He tried for more compliments to loosen her up. But no dice.

"Huh, interesting." She narrowed her eyes slightly at him, lips pursing in thought. "So it's out of obligation."

He threw his hands up, eyes rising to the roof of his tent. His frustration breaking his mask.

"Of course it's out of obligation!"

Far too late, he realized what he said. Eyes lowering to hers slowly. Anxiety throttling his spine.

She only tilted her head at him slightly.

"It's okay. You don't have to, Astarion." She held her hand palm up. "Are you still hungry?"

He blinked at her. Anger flaring through him again. Though for what he couldn't pinpoint.

"So I just drink you dry every night, and you get nothing in return?" He retorted.

"How do you figure I get nothing out of this?" She asked in that aggravating curious tone, not matching his anger at all.

"Gods, don't give me that." His voice rose, standing and starting to pace. "That's not how the world works! There is give and take, and all I've done is take!"

She watched him continue to tirade quietly, appearing to just be listening. Somehow, that made him more heated.

Soon he slowed, his rant winding down. She watched patiently, open and waiting for him.

"Are you ready to hear what I think?" The question genuine and not rhetorical.

He huffed, breath still hard from his efforts.

"Fine. What?" He sniped, aware that he was being childish but too wound up to stop.

"I think you and I have a lot more in common than you realize, and I think I understand more than you give me credit for."

She paused, gathering her thoughts. "When all you get from people is pain, that's what you come to find in them. Even when it's not there. And when you don't get it, it's frightening. Yes?"

The air vanished from his lungs. Her eyebrows raised slightly, seeing that she had gotten through to him.

"In the Underdark, the only hand that reached for you was painful." She pulled up her sleeve, the tapestry of scars criss-crossing her dark skin revealed to him. "So that's what you naturally associate touch with. Anger. Fear of the flesh is survival."

She smoothed her fingers in a self soothing arc across the deep tissue. "You think I seek out touch because I'm naive, or even easy."

She looked up at him, those topaz eyes cutting straight through him. "But I know pain, Astarion. Intimately. I understand deeply why you have come to where you are, why you need to push others away. It's safe that way, yeah?"

He could only nod.

"You're right. It is safer." She conceded, smiling. Pulling her sleeve down. "Can't fault you for that. But I'm greedy, I want more than just safe. And touch is so much more than pain when you let it be."

His jaw clenched, biting back the lump that had risen in his throat. Wanting to retort, but finding no words that could validate him.

His hand shot forward, pulling her into him. Her soft lips sliding against his. Pulsing out his frustration into her plush mouth, needing so much more than he had taken.

She kissed him back tenderly, saying her piece. Not falling into his angry pit for a moment. Her soft touch in clear defiance to his inciting.

He pulled away, hearing footsteps approaching.

"Everything alright? I heard shouting." Gale lifted the flap of his tent. Making eye contact with her punctured throat with clear distaste.

"It's okay, thank you for checking." She responded warmly.

Astarion glared at him over her shoulder, the wizard giving him an equally leveling look.

"I think we could use some space, actually." She said impartially, turning to him. "Are you okay to stop for the night? I could give you a few bottles."

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "I think I can manage not withering away without this copious doting, darling."

She patted his arm, nodding. "I'll bring the bottles."

"Has anyone ever told you you're infuriating?"

She only smiled at him, turning to take Gale's upturned hand. Rising out of his tent. The flap falling closed on him alone again.

He flopped face down, groaning.

-

After she quietly dropped off two bottles of blood at the entrance to the crimson tent, Gale took her small warm hand in his. Leading her to the view overlooking the edge of the city. They were so close, the precipice at their fingertips.

She sighed wistfully, pulling him to sit with her on the grass.

"Baldur's Gate." She mused dreamily. "I wonder if it's as awful as I've heard."

He barked out a laugh. "Oh, I'm sure it's just atrocious. We're sure to hate it."

She laughed too, then gave a little thoughtful wince. "Ooh, Halsin is definitely going to hate it."

He was sure the druid was a fine person, but given his leanings, Gale was less concerned.

"Well, he can always stay outside. Who knows how much room our new camp will have anyway..."

She rolled her eyes at him, knocking her knee against his.

He caught her knee in his hand before she could pull it back. Rubbing his thumb in slow circles.

She slid up flush to him easily, leaning her head into the curve his shoulder.

"How are you feeling?" She whispered, the backs of her knuckles gently knocking on his chest.

"Ah, that." He chuckled, slightly embarrassed at her concern. "Oh, you know. Heartache is nothing new to me."

She leaned her head back and sighed dramatically at his joke, the edge of a smile on her lips.

"Just awful. I'm never asking again." She shook her head in solemn jest.

"Oh, please do. The healing touch of your disdain is tantamount to mending my heart."

He paused then, nerves fraying. The smell of his lavender in her hair bolstering him in a soft smile.

"I have been meaning to speak to you. About matters of the heart."

She turned to him, topaz eyes bright in the moonlight. Thick spirals of dark hair cascading down her back. Gods, she was so beautiful it made him dizzy.

He turned his gaze to the ground, picking up a smooth stone and turning it over in his palm. Having something to touch always helped him think.

"I've come to fancy you. Quite a lot. Though this is not the proper way I would have preferred to court you. In the dirt and blood." He sighed, wishing things were different.

"You must know you're... you're very special to me. I hope I'm special to you too, but if I'm misguided just say the word and I'll back off."

The words tumbled out of him, a vexing blush rising to his cheeks. Feeling like a school boy confessing a crush.

Her body shifted, standing on knees. In one fluid motion she hooked her leg around and straddled his lap. Bringing his eyes to hers in a hand tenderly cupping his face.

His breath was entirely taken, dropping the stone he had been holding with a soft thunk.

"Took you long enough." She teased, her dimpled smile making his heart rush.

"I fancy you too, Gale. And I'd like to show you that, if you'll let me." She hushed, her body heat radiating into his torso.

He could only nod, all blood rushing away from unimportant higher functions. Hands gripping her wide hips in a groan, the sensation far better than he ever could have imagined.

Her hands wound into his hair, pushing a heady kiss into him with a little whimper.

His eyes rolled up into his lids, just the kiss sending him under. Hand rising to the small of her back. Her lips pulsing into his with slick need. Tongue dancing along the seam of his lips in question.

He opened happily, a hungry moan leaving him when their tongues twisted. Both hands palming her ass greedily. The ample globes of flesh kneading in his fingers, her smothered mewl sending impossibly more blood to his already straining cock.

All of her touch spun around him in a lustful haze, far too much and not nearly enough.

He pulled his shirt over his head in a whip, only leaving her lips for a single moment. Her hands finding his trousers, palming him over his sleep pants.

"Fuck," He hissed, it felt too good already. Precum pooling far too soon for his liking. His body touch starved and hungrier than it had any right to be. Trying to force the tunnel vision of promised release open again.

He pushed forward, twisting her down onto her back. His hands rising under her sleep shirt to caress the unbearably soft curve of her waist.

"By the Weave..." He muttered, her body far too intoxicating. Cock throbbing insistently.

He felt completely lost, head nothing but liquid desire. Leaning down to kiss sloppily along her waist. Pushing her shirt up to her clavicle.

She squirmed under him, breath fast pants. Pulling his hair back in a fist, watching him with lust blown eyes and kiss swollen lips.

Gods, how was he already close. He couldn't be this down bad, could he?

Oh who was he kidding, of course he was.

He pulled her bralette down, her breasts springing free. A growl vibrated in his chest at the sight, gripping the front of the band, pulling it down onto her ribs.

He pulled back to slip her leggings off of her, revealing her arching hips, hip bones sliding underneath. Thighs wide and plush, dipping into her hips. Her legs falling back open, the curve of her ass teasing under her. Slick pooling from her gleaming cunt.

"Oh, come on..." He huffed, just the sight stroking down his cock in a rush. "That's not fair."

"You're one to talk. Why do you look like that wizard?" She scoffed. "All those muscles, for what? Seducing poor quivering maidens in the grass..."

"Oh, we'll get to the quivering." He smiled dangerously, leaning down to lick a stripe up her hip bone.

She whined, arching her hips up more into his mouth. The heat coming off of her cunt soaking his clavicle.

Gods below and above spare him.

Trailing his mouth down, his cock twitched in anticipation. His practiced mouth about to be seated where it longed to be. Where it belonged.

He breathed in a deep pull of her, nose nuzzling into her curls. Gods, she was divine. Her sweet musk making his mouth salivate. Truly he had been deprived before this moment.

Her hips starting rolling impatiently, and he pushed a forceful hand flat to her lower belly in response. No, he was going to savor this.

She moaned under his hold, bringing a smile to his lips. So she liked it like that...

He breathed a warm wave of air on her cunt, watching it twitch in what he knew was a clench in a devious smile.

"You bastard..." She groaned, the need apparent in her voice sending a shiver down his back.

"Language..." He chuckled. The lack of touch making her writhe deliciously under his hold.

"I'll show you language." She scoffed.

Grabbing both sides of his face she pulled his eyes up to hers.

"Bite me, choke me. Hold me down and spit in my mouth. Tongue fuck me like a whore, wizard."

His pelvis clenched, eyes rolling up into the back of his head. Hand clawing into her thigh.

"Oh Gods." He groaned, finally diving on her cunt.

He lapped his tongue in undulating waves, slurping her clit into his lips.

"Fuck!" She cried out, gripping his hair hard in her fist.

He suckled down hard, suctioning his lips around the bundle. Tongue pulsing wet curved pulls. Hands keeping her thighs forced open as they tried to clamp shut around his head.

Her high keening whines melded beautifully with the slurping sounds of his hungry mouth.

Her hips bucked helplessly against his hands, ribs arching up. Only the underside of her jaw visible above him.

He smiled into her cunt, releasing one thigh and pushing his forearm into the apex of her thighs. A bar holding her open still, his two fingers sliding slowly into her. Humming into her clit in pleasure, fingers spreading eagerly into the velvet slick pouring up into his palm.

Her head shot up, staring down at him almost in disbelief. Hand bracing her at her side.

When he began strong and slow thrusts of his fingers, her head fell back sharply. Voice only mewling calls. Thoroughly tamed, warm and pliant under his devotion.

He knew this was as close to the heavens as he had ever gotten. Harnessing all of his senses to bottle this into his everlasting memory. Though he imagined it would be very hard to forget.

He curved his fingers up, stroking that ridged bump in hard thrusts. Clamping down on her clit again, lapping his tongue in hollow pulls, like slurping soup.

"Oh Gods," She whined.

He groaned hot into her, chasing her hips up as they tried to squirm away. Free hand grabbing her waist and pulling her back down hard. He was not even close to done.

Fingers arcing into her in vicious thrusts, unrestrained. He wrenched his head quickly side to side, sucking down in popping wet pulses of his lips.

She cried out, her pelvis tremoring hard. Unable to hold her thighs open anymore as they arched up and clenched down around his head. Muffling around his ears. Cunt clenching in hard flutters around his fingers. He looked up, drinking in her arching ribcage and scrambling hands. A strike of fluid striking his jaw. Sending his eyes up into his skull.

His hips fucked into the ground, unable to still them any longer. Removing his fingers to slurp her cum into his mouth uninhibited. Pushing out of her in creamy pulses. Greedily lapping all he could catch, rubbing into her clit to encourage more.

She let out indignant pleading whines, but he wasn't done yet. His cunt slicked fingers gripping around his cock. Drinking her cum as he fucked into his fist.

Only two or three thrusts and he was gone, wrenching ropes up his belly. Pelvis clenching in vicious pulses, shooting pleasure through his body in teeth gritting waves. The endless ache behind his navel firing out in tortuous strikes. Hand bracing next to her hip in the dirt desperately.

His mouth slowed then stopped, panting hard into her thigh. Resting his head into the seam of her hip, thoroughly spent.

"That good huh?" She teased, her own breath telling of equal pleasure.

Head still down, he held his finger up in a signal to give him a minute.

She giggled, thoroughly pleased. "My, my, Gale at a loss for words. Wait until camp hears about this..."

He looked up, glaring at her in jest. "Don't you dare."

She smiled wide. "Hmm, I dont know... It's a pretty monumental thing to go unnoted. It would be a shame to keep to myself."

He trailed up her body, balancing on elbows above her. She gave him a pout, eyes wide in mock pleading.

"How else is everyone suppose to know I'm yours?"

His cock stirred again, huffing out a groan.

"Tav, you're killing me." He admonished. She only bit her lip in a smile at him.

"Well, if you don't want me telling everyone, you better leave your mark on me." She purred, turning her chin up. Eyes sparkling mischievously.

"Oh, that I can do." He smiled, angling his head down to her neck. Pulling the soft flesh between his teeth.

She laughed then moaned, that little whimper he was already addicted to in her throat again.

Oh, it was hopeless. They were going to be here all night.

~

~

~

[dykedvonte]

Silly ask incoming: what video games would the crew enjoy, in your opinion? Especialy, multiplayer games they can play together on their rare breaks? I think Anya eats everyone up in mario cart (she is picking princess peach probably)

-💀

Okay so I know everyone always tries to do cop out answers with saying "They wouldn't play video games yadda yadda" but I'm giving everyone something:

Curly

I think he likes those mindless sort of games. Not like easy but ones where they are a bit methodical.

Likes games with options but also set rules/restrictions. Endless creativity would overwhelm him and make him frustrated as he wouldn't know what to do and when

Honestly? Sims, minecraft, stardew, terria, games where there's options but at the end its like an inverted funnel. Start the same each time but you make it what you want in the end.

I also think he'd love VR type games like Super Hot and Beat saber just for the physicalness and kinda not having to be in reality.

Not into multiplayer too much mainly cause he's actually not that competitive but because he always drags out matches by being the worst

Will happily join a server or world in the games he does play even if it gets abandoned. He's the type to log on for notalgia

Daisuke

We know he's a gamer already. QnA said he likes to go to the arcade and waste time losing.

Also has his little handheld so I think he's into retro games, no specific type just likes how creative they are for how simple they tend to look

Def likes management games. I see him as being into figuring out pro strats and gamer shit like that.

Pikmin, Katamari, Resident Evil, Crash Bandicoot, Spyro, etc... He likes the older stuff with a challenge, but proponent in wanting games to be mean to you again.

Gamer rage but in a sulky way like he misses a jump and just turns off the entire TV

A Mario Party instead of Mario Kart guy. Like the random chance of it all and to get aggressive and hype over like line tracing the mini game

Anya

And if I said Anya is like a strict multiplayer competitive like COD lobby girl then what?

Honestly I think she likes games with a lot of story and depth but has guilty pleasures in FPS and competitive games.

Like those RPG maker games a lot Mermaids Swamp, The Crooked Man, Ai Oni. Not for the horror, its a bit cliche but often time its the real people monsters or tragedy that captivates her.

Me thinks she's the type to scroll like Itchio or Game Jolt and plays whatever's free and looks interesting, gamer in the way she's just played games.

Ofc she's competitive, likes any game where she can show off or win, so she's always upset during chance games. Sorry girl, Daisuke won the draw no mario kart for you

Though I think her favorite would be like fighting games just to have subtle shit talk like "Are you sure you're not just button mashing?" Tekken Girlie

Swansea

This was hard cause like I genuinely think he wouldn't care about games and just plays them in the way like parents beat levels for their kids.

Platformers. Idk why but I think its just like its good hand eye coordination, keeps him feeling spry mentally.

Rhythm games honestly but in the sense of like how like piano tiles is a rhythm game.

He's like basic older man who plays like bejweled, solitaire, maybe even penguin diner.

I know this is almost a cop out but like I can't imagine him like being into gaming even if he was young, like I think he'd like card games, jacks and dice.

Honestly he plays online dominos vs the computer online and complains to his family or the crew (depends on where he is) about it cheating whenever he loses.

Jimmy

For real he's harder than Swansea's cause man doesn't even have hobbies like I don't know what he would actually like and it scares me

I think he's somewhat elitist with his gaming views because he just always thinks he's write but I know he plays everything the bad way

Honestly I think he likes games like Borderlands for the humor and the like fantasy power. Like Handsome Jack's humor a bit too much

Played Halo and Cod but either is so mid it's just not enjoyable enough for him to continue. Like he needs the instant gratification from gaming or he's not playing it anymore

Maybe GTA but again he annoys too many people and gets banned from servers and doesn't care about story mode.

LIkes the sims but in the fucked up girl way where he makes all the sims like live in his basement and paint for him while he get mad over storylines he made up.

I like think they all play monopoly like my family where it takes days because we treat it like real investments and alliances are formed and relationships ruined.