#both options are meant to suck

[ohno-the-sun]

I met to press the “Help Sun kill Moon” option but like…after seeing the results I don't think it would have made a difference lmao. Poor Sunny boy. It was a really hard choice, to be honest. What a wonderful, funny, but also very sad au you have made

Pfppft I actually haven’t seen the results of the poll yet to motivate me to finish both route comics

Giving plenty of time for everyone to mull it over

[perilegs]

i hate slow damage so much there are tears in my eyes i am not joking

[stareaterau]

Chapter 1 episode 5

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(special thanks to @bucket-of-cheese for this episode cover art!, as well as @karkatwaddles @chip-the-dip @scrambledlikeeggs @kairamuwu with editing)

---

Our favourites cross paths

CW: threats made with a weapon, mentions of injuries

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Time passes, though horribly slower in the desert heat.

Grian and Scar both spend their morning groggy and aching from the phantom fight the previous evening. Not to mention the little rest they were able to get during the relatively short night that this planet provides.

Now that they feel rested enough, Grian shoots up high above the canyon with a few strong beats of his wings. Scar watches him from the ground as he makes a few circles in the sky before he dives down back to join him. With a greater bearing on his surroundings, thanks to the high vantage point, Grian picks a direction that seems most prominent to head towards. He returns grumbling about how he could see something in the distance, but it looked like nothing more than a bunch of junk to him. Not much of the optimist it seems, but Scar prides himself on being able to make the most of any situation. He pats Grian's back, giving a small speech about how 'that a bunch of junk was better than nothing after all'. Grian blinks slowly, reluctantly agreeing. They have a destination now!

Grian consistently finds himself needing to catch up with Scar, occasionally mumbling about how the ground is too flat and something about bird feet. It’s obvious by how he’s fidgeting that he’d rather be flying, even though that option means either leaving Scar behind or carrying him there. And as much as Scar wants to ask, he’s also scared he might lose an eye as a result.

He leaves the slightly personal question unasked, the conversation instead being filled with Grian complaining about walking. He hesitates when their passage opens up to the blaring, exposed sun. Holding his hand up to shield himself from the harsh light, he scrunches his face, occasionally wincing when his hot metal limbs hit his skin with his heavy, tired steps.

Scar himself isn’t having much of a fun time either. The leg braces he uses aren’t meant to be put under a lot of strain for such a long time. It’s only a matter of time before they might snap. The grains of sand grating against them are probably hastening the unit's deterioration. He'll have to use Grian as support if they do break.. and go through the laborious task of requesting a new pair from the Vindicators.

Occasionally they have to take a break, with Scar trying to brush as much dust and sand from the joints of the braces, doing the most he can to slow down any decay it might have caused them. On the other hand, Grian uses the opportunity to rest, immediately slumping against the nearest wall and fanning himself with his tail.

Scar has long since taken off his jacket and tied it around his waist, relieved by the fact he'd been wearing a tank top underneath. The lack of sleeves feels like a world of difference in the heat, not that he wouldn't take it off completely if need be, despite his company. Every so often, he catches Grian's lingering looks when he thinks Scar isn't watching, his expression weirdly guarded and lost in thought. One time, when he notices he’s being examined, Scar flexes jokingly in response, receiving a roll of the eyes and quiet mutterings about indecency.

Despite how hot it is and how much his company seems to fidget and scratch at the uncomfortable feathers underneath, Grian seems insistent on keeping his layers on.

Finally, they reenter the shade, and the winged man groans, flinging around his stiff arms.

”What's wrong?” Scar turns around, watching as the strange man shakes out his feathers. Sand rains down as he does as if the sunlight has been caking him in the sand.

"I lost my helmet and, therefore, my visor. It sucks."

“Sucks how?"

"The light hurts my eyes." Grian rubs at his temples, scrunching his eyes closed.

Scar tilts his head in response, confused. It’s bright, not enough to be painful yet, but it’s clearly bothering Grian more somehow.

When he’s met with a lack of a retort, Grian glances up at Scar, quickly taking note of his confused expression. He rolls his eyes like he knows what Scar is thinking.

"I'm a glare," he says so simply, answering the unspoken question.

"Not… glare-leaning? Or an avian?" Scar, not so subtly, looks Grian up and down, the other tensing uncomfortably with a weird look to match.

"No."

"But…" Scar trails off, not quite being sure how to ask respectfully.

"I have wings?" Grian finishes for him, like he’s heard it all before. Tucking his wings behind his back on reflex, he takes in a deep breath, as if psyching himself up for a speech.

A series of looks flash across his face. Scar waits patiently, only for Grian to breathe out a quiet "Yeah," with no further elaboration.

"Glares can have wings?"

"This one can. It's complicated." Grian walks past Scar, losing eye contact deliberately as he strolls ahead. He doesn’t appear upset at least, bored is the closest to how Scar could describe it.

"But… How?" Scar asks cautiously, against his better judgment.

"Family curse from hitting a magical bird with a ship centuries ago." Grian holds his hands out, imitating piloting, before hitting his hands together with a metal clank. "BAM! Wings for all your firstborns."

"Wait, really?" Scar exclaims. Genuinely believing Grian’s story. He catches up to him with a quick jog, looking to the glare in an attempt to get a read of his face only to be met with a smirk. Oh.

"Nah-" Grian chuckles to himself, patting Scar on the shoulder.

Scar watches as he continues up ahead, looking at the feathered tail with a new perspective. A glare. That explains why his feathers look so real — they’re a feature all Glares possess to varying degrees – and his deep inky eyes that never seem to shrink, even in the harsh light. Maybe the wings are just artificial add-ons, but that doesn’t feel right — they’re far too realistic and fluid. He shakes the thought out of his head. It probably isn’t polite to dwell on it, the subject is obviously something Grian doesn’t want to talk about.

But no, Scar isn’t about to be done with this conversation completely.

"Prove you’re a glare, then."

Grian, who had walked slightly ahead, stops and turns around to give Scar an almost offended look before he shrugs, replacing it with an amused, yet tired one.

“Sure,” he says with a resigned sigh.

Without warning, everything in Scar’s sight goes dark, like an all-encompassing shadow out of nowhere, the murky nothingness only just reaching his toes. He sticks his hands out in front of him, looking at them as they become outlined by a dark void.

He knows what this is. Most glares possess this skill, it’s the baseline ability tied to their magic. ‘Darkness’ he thinks he remembers it being called. Scar has never experienced it first hand though, and he can’t help but ogle the slightly frightening power.

“Whoah-”

As quickly as it appeared, the gloom flees, leaving him with the less-than-friendly, hot reflective sands.

Grian looks at him curiously, his arms crossed.

“Okay, so believe me now?”

Scar smiles, nodding vigorously.

“That was sooo cool!!”

Grian very hesitantly smiles back, turning away before Scar can process it completely.

Despite his wary demeanour, he secretly revels in the reaction, not quite being able to help but grin to himself.

“Can you do illusion magic too?” Scar asks, making Grian's steps hesitate for just a second, the mood in the air changing quickly. His back is still facing Scar, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing the slight shudder in Grian’s shoulders, and the subtle flicks of his feathers.

“…No,” is all he says in slow response… too slowly.

Ah, so another sour subject, it feels like Scar is collecting them all. As much as he wants to pry, he feels like he has asked enough.

There’s a lapse in their conversation as Scar's eyes wander. They both continue walking, albeit slowly, probably due to Grian's obvious intent to savour the shade when passing through it.

"If the sun's bothering you that much, why don't you just do the darkness thing to yourself?" Scar inquires, filling the silence.

"That's not how it works. It's only a perception, I don't actually switch off the sun," Grian replies, his voice back with some light, the previous question forgotten.

"Oh."

"And trust me, oh how I want to switch off this sun." He holds his long claws up to the sky, imitating crushing the light that peeks from the shade touching the tips of his claws.

“I'll still get the painful headache even if I make everything dark for me.”

Scar glances down to his waist, where his own helmet has been clipped. He once again catches up to Grian, leg braces creaking slightly.

"… I could give you my helmet." He hands it to him.

Grian looks down at the poor thing with a gentle look on his face.

"It's got a huge crack in it, so it's pretty much useless. Sorry about that, by the way." He flicks a guilty look at Scar before settling back into stride ahead of him.

"I wouldn't call it useless-'' Scar looks down at it with a frown. He hopes he can repair it, it’s dear to him.

"Even if it wasn't, I would never put that thing on."

"What’s wrong with the cat ears?" Scar questions, a smile evident in his voice. He knows well that it isn’t his cute accessories that’s deterring Grian from putting the helmet on, he just thinks it’s amusing to indicate so.

He holds up the helmet up in front of Grian, closing one eye and envisioning him wearing it with a smirk.

Grian squawks out a laugh and pushes the helmet aside, "Hah. Ironically, I don’t have a problem with that, though I wouldn’t break the dress code just to put cat ears on a helmet."

"You know about the codes?"

"Sorta. I mean, I've unfortunately become very familiar with them – know your enemy or whatever."

"You really don't like vindicators, then," Scar says, with no malice in his voice. He’s more curious than anything.

"I feel like that much should be obvious."

Scar hops ahead of Grian, stepping slightly in front of him so that Grian has no choice but to look at him. "Well, I'm okay, right?" Scar smiles tilting his head.

He watches the bird’s gaze shift from the dust on Scar’s boots up to meet his eye, a brow raised.

And with a genuine smile and quiet laugh, Grian answers "Yeah, you're alright".

—

"Be careful they might be dangerous."

While navigating through a particularly maze-like part of the ravine. Grian had stopped abruptly, and grabbed Scar by the shirt mid-conversation, pulling him around a corner.

Scar attempted to ask what was wrong only for Grian to shush him, hissing about how he’d seen two figures deeper in.

Wiggling slightly out of Grian's hold, Scar popped his head around briefly, catching a glance at their new company.

There were, in fact, two figures who sat up against a stony wall as the passage opened up, connecting to another, larger passage. Scar and Grian had an advantage, as the corner shielded them from view. One figure had their back to them, their large silhouette obscuring the other figure from view. The only indication there was even two, being the distinct overlap of a conversation that could barely be heard from where Grian and Scar were hidden.

And that brings them to the present, with Scar tapping his chin, debating different ideas of how to approach them. Grian listens as he impatiently claws at the ground, grumbling at each suggestion that leaves the other's mouth.

There’s a quiet shift in the sand to Scar's side and he turns to watch as Grian shifts closer to him, his shoulders hunched slightly and wings puffed up.

Scar finds himself suppressing the urge to compare him to a pinecone.

"Why would they be dangerous?" Scar asks, tilting his head slightly. Confused about the other's comment.

Grian splutters, mouth working but not making noises aside from baffled squeaks before he eventually coughs.

"… I mean, I was a stranger a mere hours ago and I had a blade to your heart, dude." His voice pitches up at the end, causing him to flinch when it echoes slightly against the walls. He ducks as if that would stop the sound, scooting closer to Scar, further from the stranger's direction.

"….Well, you're not doing that right now." Scar smiles a wide grin, hushing his voice pointedly before shrugging.

Grian just stares at him, almost as if testing Scar’s smile, before he rolls his eyes and scoffs,

"… Can't argue with that logic."

Scar's smile grows slowly, bright and excited at Grian's agreement. He watches all of Grian's feathers stand up even more somehow, catching on to Scar's enthusiasm.

“Don't-”

"Glad you trust me!" Scar beams.

"I wouldn't go that far, trust is a strong word," Grian pulls a dubious look before grumbling and looking away. He shakes his shoulders as if trying to suppress the stress that’s putting him and his feathers on edge.

“I honestly don't think it's a good idea to even approach them– People are almost always bad news in these situations. We could just work our way around them…” he trails off mumbling to himself.

“But that's no fun!” Scar hums lightly, nudging the bird out of his strategizing. “Besides, they could help us!”

Grian doesn’t reply, just huffs with a scowl that squishes his face comically.

Scar absently scratches at his chin before he leans up against the wall pressing his forearm high above Grian, leaning over, the other doing a double take, clearly taken back by how much Scar is leaning over into his space. He'll have to put on his charm to try and convince the bird, his most effective tactic.

"You're nervous but I can assure you this, I can gain any advantage in a situation, just by talking" He gives him a cheesy lopsided grin.

"What- do you possess the ability to talk someone to death? Boredom? Into sleep, perhaps?" Grian replies in the most mocking and deadpan tone, meeting his energy.

"All of the above!!! Depending on the weather of course," He says, leaning in slightly with a whisper before bouncing back to that quietish tone of his, "and then I steal their stuff!!" Scar grins with more eagerness than Grian has seen in quite some time, causing the glare to let out a slight wheeze of laughter, raising an incredulous brow.

"Wow, you're really starting to sound more like a criminal." He veers his head to the side, grinning widely up at Scar, and bearing his sharp teeth.

Scar retracts his arm from the wall, an unsure look spoiling his smile. He can’t help darting his eyes to the side, almost taken aback by the former statement. "I mean … not if they're the bad guy, right?"

“That's a very rudimentary way of thinking.” Grian's grin falters slightly, that cold look flickering over him briefly, as his eyes narrow. He shakes away whatever thought he had, bringing the prior conversation back.

“Fine, you do you're talking thing then,” the bird swats at the air absently.

“And you'll be my hype man?” Scar bounces on his toes excitedly.

Grian gives too blank of an expression before pushing up his shoulders. “I'll do something,”

“AHA! Be amazed, small friend! At my infectious likeableness,” Scar stands up straighter and puffs out his chest, before moving to turn around the corner between them and the strangers only for sharp claws to gently grab his arm.

“Wait-”

“Oh oh! W-what?” Scar looks around shocked, but nothing is amiss, just the surprisingly warm touch of metal talons.

“You're intending to make a good impression, right?”

Scar splutters awkwardly as Grian doesn’t give him time to answer the obvious question.

“My advice? I'd hide that you're a Vindicator."

“…why?”

“Ah–” Grian awkwardly chuckles, retracting his grip and scratching at his head. “I thought I’d already established that the general public isn't too fond–” he loosely gestures Scar up and down.

Scar raises a brow, leaning on his hip and looking down at the bird. “Really? Are you the general public?” He smirks at his own witty remark.

“Just take my word for it, this definitely isn't Spawn, and I bet you haven't even travelled off planet before. You have that sparkly dumb innocent look in your eyes–”

Scar gasps and clutches his hand to his chest in false offence.

“I’m just saying, if you wanna do the whole friendly talking thing, I'd recommend not immediately making it known that you're a Vindicator.” Grian huffs.

Scar looks down dumbly at the bright blue jacket tied around his waist. Grian follows his line of sight and muffles a laugh, noticing Scar's mild panic at the glaring obvious beacon of his faction, taunting him along with a bright stitched ‘V’ clearly visible even with it tied at his waist.

“Just– turn it inside out or something–”

“Oh! Smart!” Scar claps his hands, wincing as the noise echoed against the walls. Grian glares at him.

He fumbles with the jacket, taking it off and turning it inside out before tying it back around his waist, and nodding with satisfaction. He looks back towards Grian, the glare watching him slightly amused. “Now, Bird friend, watch as I charm these members of the ‘general public’ with my insatiable charisma!”

“… You already said that. There's only so much ‘impressed’ I can hand out, I'm afraid.”

Scar ignores him as he brushes off as much dust as he can to look somewhat presentable. He leans forward with a step but stops as quickly as he started when his company doesn't make a move with him.

“You're not… coming with??”

“I am, I just want to linger back, for safety reasons– you know?” Grian still stands with his arms crossed but his face has morphed into something far more neutral, clawed feet firmly digging into their place in the sand.

“Oh! Smart!” Scar replies. He continues, but not before catching the faint flicker of a smile from his companion.

Scar confidently marches towards the strangers, too distracted by his plan to notice the quiet whoosh of feathers behind him.

“Why, hello there!”

“EEEEK!”

“OH MY GOSH–” both of the strangers scream at Scar, frantically scrambling back in the sand up to a stand.

The shorter one gawks at Scar, their left arm held stiffly as their right tugs on the other's sleeve pulling them both back further. They push themselves in front in an act that almost could have been intimidating if the other wasn't practically two times their size.

Now, up close, Scar takes the two in. The shorter one appears to be a blazeborn, fuzzy and yellow with clothes that looked like they weren't originally suited for the heat, evident by the thick winter coat tied around their waist, mirroring Scar’s, and the torn-off sleeves of their shirt. The other stands several heads taller, also strangely cradling their right arm. They’re far less identifiable, but the several neat feathers that frame their face and shoulders definitely imply that they’re probably at least glare adjacent, even with their height. They’re wearing what can be described as cowboy attire, sans a hat, and look far more in place in this setting.

“Oh, you're just a guy…” the taller one eventually speaks out after their initial panic.

“Yup, just a guy!” Scar stands up straighter, suppressing a wince as his leg braces squeak obnoxiously. “Sorry to cause a fright,” he smiles apologetically.

The two of them glance at each other, then back to Scar with bewildered expressions.

“I think I might be lost! And maybe you are too? We were wondering if you could help”.

“We?” One of them asks.

“OH! Well! I'm Scar and this here is my lackey.” He turns to look for Grian only to be met with the empty, dusty ground and no bird in sight.

“They're …not here?”

“Who-” Scar hears one of them ask. He doesn’t even have time to turn to identify who before a flurry of feathers swoops down and blocks his view.

The two figures scream for a second time as the taller one is pushed roughly aside by brown wings, falling clumsy in the sand and landing in a way that causes them to choke out a yelp.

“OW OW OW, I CAN'T SEE!” They sit up quickly with one arm hanging loosely over their chest, the other grasping and rubbing at their face and eyes in confusion. They continue to yell in panic, “WHAT HAPPENED I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING-”

“Drop whatever weapons you have,” Grian turns, holding the blaze in his grasp. He holds his wings wrapped around them, keeping their arms pinned. He uses one of his clawed hands to cover their mouth, the other holding a blue, glowing blade to their neck.

“What- what happened to the talking plan?” Scar sways on his feet. Too much is happening in such a brief moment, and all his plans for conversations are useless, blown to the wind.

“Too slow,” Grian replies bluntly.

The figure in Grian’s grasp desperately tries to muster out a muffled scream against Grian's hand, only causing the bird to tighten his hold and sword to their neck.

Scar feels lost. He looks to the other who is still on the ground, using one hand to touch the sand.

“I can't see!- It's all dark- Tango?!-”

The pure distress in their voices, mixed with the muffled yelping of the other, makes Scar falter, his mind short-circuiting in the chaos. He weirdly feels scared, that same fear of Grian and his cold look is all too familiar to barely a day ago. A fear that he apparently didn't realise still has a frightful hold on him, his shoulder pulsing passively with pain on cue with the memory.

Despite the fear, he can’t help but step forward, reaching out to diffuse the situation.

Strangely enough, Grian flinches back. He stares up at Scar like he had completely forgotten he was there, his confused look immediately being chased away as the trapped stranger shifts in his hold. His expression quickly returning to an unreadable one.

“Let them talk… maybe? Please?” Scar asks slowly. Grian looks up at him with those deep dark eyes, cold and empty before a nearly embarrassed look crosses his face. He lowers the hand that had held the stranger's mouth, but the blade, however, is still pinned to their throat.

Immediately the blaze gasps and begins yelling “Please we're injured, we mean no harm- please-”

“…. Huh,” Grian squeezes tighter subconsciously, as they kick in his grasp.

“Our arms- OW! QUIT IT- LET GO!”

They shove against Grian, his grip loosening just enough for them to push out as he moves his blade. All of a sudden the bird looks incredibly guilty.

“What the hell man!” The shorter man scrambles to their partner's side, leaning down and giving them their arm to grab onto. They keep their eyes on Grian, scowling as the other weakly uses their hold to stand up.

In an almost too cheery voice for the situation, the taller one speaks, “I can see again! What was that?”

Their gaze immediately lands on Grian, who tenses under it.

“You’re a bird?” They mutter dumbly after rubbing their eyes and squinting at him.

Grian steps back, still holding his weapon by his side. He gives the tall man a look up and down his expression twisting into something uncomfortable.

“Not one of yours,” he mumbles back.

“Sorry, sorry?” the taller coughs, completely confused, but Grian ignores them.

“You're hurt, both of you?” Grian hums, pointing the end of his sword in their direction as he makes a move to stand by Scar's side, who stands, silently wringing his hands, considering his next steps.

They both nod, fear and anger plain on their faces, each holding an arm tightly to their chests.

A quiet sort of relief washes over Grian as he puts away his sword. His expression morphing into amusement, with a tinge of sheepishness.

“Wow, that's inconvenient! You don't pose much of a threat then, huh?” He tries to joke and smile, the expression faulting only when their company makes no indication of finding that comment funny, at all.

Scar shifts awkwardly to his side, considering many different options on what to do next moves through his head before he steps in front of Grian, a goofy grin being plastered across his lips.

“So… maybe we should start over?”

“You think?” The blaze spits, their shimmering flame-like hair sparking in reaction.

“We were only taking precautions, there are dangerous people in this big universe, you know!” Scar tries to lessen the anger with that same cheesy grin.

“I'd argue, you're one of them! Or at least they are,” They point towards the bird, who does nothing but look away, crossing his arms.

“Just a common misunderstanding, we apologise. Let me reintroduce myself-” Scar tries to step forward with a handshake, but both of them move away from him pointedly. Instead, he retreats to Grian’s side, putting his hands up defensively, giving them more space to feel safe.

“Well, I'm Scar! Like I- already mentioned-” he nervously chuckles the last bit, then gestures to the glare. “-and this is Grian”

“Ah, so we're giving them our names- cool,” the other grumbles, his back practically turned to them, appearing like he’s given up on the exchange.

A tense atmosphere falls heavily on the four as awkward silence fills the air. Scar's eyes glance to the taller of the duo, who meets his gaze with a similar, nervous expression, unlike the blazeborn who stands next to them, festering with an anger that seems to almost crackle off of them in flames.

The tall one eventually finds the courage to speak, unsure and hesitant, without the anger and murderous look that their companion seems to have.

"Well, I'm Jimmy! And this is Tango!" Jimmy speaks with a similar cheer and charisma to Scar.

"Yup," the blaze, Tango, snaps with a slight snarl on his lips. His injured arm tightly held against his body, crossing over his chest as he stares daggers in the direction of Scar and Grian. There’s another pause of quiet that only causes the air to grow more uneasy, so thick with awkwardness that it can be cut with a knife. Tango and Grian stand their ground while Jimmy begins to kick at the sand absent-mindedly and an awkward cough escapes from Scar.

The former can't help but wring his hands once again, standing unsure in the moment before he decides to speak once again, "You seem tense,"

"YOU THINK?" Tango barks out, that snarl only growing angrier as he drops his hand to his side and balls it into raging fists.

Jimmy quickly tries to hop to some sort of defence, "We haven't seen anybody yet- we didn't really expect anyone to-" he’s cut off by Tango's eyes whipping over to look at him, the blazeborn pointing a finger to his neck,

"A KNIFE. TO MY THROAT." He speaks loud and clear making it obvious, if anyone can't tell, why he’s angry.

At that, Grian turns to the conversation, his tail flicking behind him. “Ah- Well, I didn't break your skin and, you know, I apologised.”

“Actually, you haven’t-” Jimmy points out, frowning.

“Oh… sorry?” Grian shrugs.

“I already dislike you-”

He ignores Jimmy turning to Scar with a neutral expression, “Right, Scar, ready to go?“

“What?”

“YOU'RE GOING TO JUST LEAVE US?” Jimmy shouts whilst Tango just looks unsurprised.

“Well, you're both injured so-” Grian says nonchalantly, not bothering to finish his sentence like it’s obvious.

“THAT'S CRIMINAL-” Jimmy squawkes.

Grian doesn’t reply, instead, lightly reaching for Scar, a weird sort of hesitance to his grasp, looking as if he’s going to grab Scar's arm, only to move to pull at his shirt. Scar doesn't move.

“We could- help them?”

Grian looks at him with a troubled look but doesn't say anything in response.

“You know?” He, in fact, makes no indication of knowing. “We have medical supplies, remember?”

Tango's eyebrow shoots up, his angry scowl morphing into intrigue. “Healing?”

“SCAR- Cool now they know our names and our resources-” the bird grumbles, Eying the two with a cold glare. He crunches up his nose, then looks back to Scar. “We're not giving them anything for free.”

“…Well I mean, we could always offer a trade.” Scar tries to smile, trying his best to appeal to Grian with a warm grin.

Grian takes in a deep breath, contemplating for a couple of seconds before he points at the strangers and clicks his tongue. “What do you two have to offer?”

“Do you have an ender chest?” Scar pipes in quickly.

“…No.”

“We don't really have anything-”

Grian hums in acknowledgement then smirks at Scar. “There you go, shall we leave then-”

Tango interrupts quickly as the winged man once again tries to pull Scar away. “We have some knowledge! You said you’re lost! I know some things to help! About this game-”

“Game?” Scar repeats.

“No thank you-” Grian now switches from pulling at Scar to pushing him.

“But aren't you curious? We have theories!”

“All good, we have our own plans, thank you.” He huffs in an effort to try and move Scar, but for once Scar has an advantage over him in height and strength. He barely moves.

“Okay! Deal!” Scar finally replies.

“SCAR!” Grian stops pushing Scar, instead staring at him like an angry feathered hedgehog. It takes all of Scar’s willpower not to laugh at him.

“We'll only tell you anything once you heal us,” Tango adds.

“Hah! As if that wasn't already a bad deal-” Grian mumbles mostly to himself.

“-What about during?”

“Okay, during.” Tango agrees to Scar.

Grian finally acknowledges the blaze, as he holds a hand to his chest and baps at Scar with the other. He scowles between them all. “Hey, hey. I'm the one with the supplies, you should be negotiating with me-”

He cuts himself off at the look Scar gives him. His lips press into a tight frown as he crosses his arms and taps his claws, the processing of his thoughts buried deep in his brow.

Scar tilts his head at him slightly.

“Ugh fine,” Grian finally relents, before huffing off to the side and making an upset display of sitting down and disrupting the dusty sand with a flap of his wings, the others coughing slightly.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Take a seat. Let me heal your stupid bones,” he finally spits when the others don’t make any motion, prompting the pair to finally move.

“Oh, it's really rich of you to think I'd let you get anywhere near to my arm again-” Tango replies, unamused.

“Well you're going to just have to deal with it,” Grian replies to Tango with a sardonic grin, “These are my supplies and I'd like to keep some autonomy in this situation.”

“If it makes you feel any better he healed me pretty well,” Scar chimes in, pulling his tank top aside, to show off the slightly bloody gauze. Tango scrutinises the wound, hissing sympathetically, looking towards Grian who’s trying and failing to look not guilty.

“… I suppose.” Jimmy hums, next to Tango.

Both he and Tango awkwardly shuffle towards the winged man, within arms reach of each other, they sit down in unison, Tango’s tail hooking onto Jimmy's ankle.

“You! Beanpole! Give me your arm” Grian moves closer, sitting up on his knees.

“Me?” Jimmy replies confused.

“Yes you, I don't see any actual bean poles around here do you? I'm talking to your daft mug.”

“You don't have to insult me so much, man-” Jimmy grumbles as he complies, as Grian makes a start on assessing his injuries.

There’s a couple of minutes of uncomfortable quiet, occasionally interrupted by grumbles and yelps. Scar stands, watching his company. He looks towards Tango, who it keeping a calculated watch on what Grian is doing.

“You didn't expect to be here…” Scar slowly sits in front of Tango. His eyes bright with intrigue.

Tango just turns to look at him confused. “What?”

“Those clothes-” Scar points at the thick coat, cushioning the blaze as he sits crossed-legged.

“Oh! OH, that's actually pretty intuitive.” He smiles at Scar and scoots closer indicating for him to listen.

“Yeah I'm not from here, I was working on a pretty cold planet, before …uh.”

“Waking up with no memories of how you got here?” Scar finishes, beaming.

Tango leans back, his grin faltering slightly. “…Yeah.”

“How'd you know that!?” Jimmy asks from behind them, apparently having been listening in.

“We're the same! Actually! We don't remember at all how we got here.”

“Even him?” Tango gestures coldly over his shoulders, not even looking in Grian's direction.

“Even him!”

“Interesting,” Tango appears to drift into his thoughts before Grian coughs loudly.

“Alright then, if you want me to do this, well, you better start to tell your story.”

Tango shoots him an angry look, then dusts off his trousers before sitting up straight, getting comfortable. He looks at Scar, coughs, and smiles.

“Well, first you gotta know some of my history.”

Scar watches Grian roll his eyes from over Tango's shoulder.

“I worked as… hmmm sorta freelance. I'm an architect, redstoner- weird lil’ guy with a nac for bizarre contraptions. I take all and any kind of jobs I can find across the universe, a travelling mechanic if you will,” Tango grins, pleased. “I'm actually- saving up so I can own a hermit settlement, start a small self-sustaining industry, build all kinds of wacky farms! Just work for me, you know?”

He pauses, waiting for a response only to be met with puzzled looks.

“Uhhh that's beside the point. What I’m getting at is that owning the land to make a hermit settlement is a lot of money and prep. And as it goes, the jobs that pay the most tend to be the most…. questionable. I like to believe I'm a good judge of character when it comes to my clients, I know when the people who are giving me a tempting offer are bad news, and I usually decline. I'm not about putting myself in trouble for a pretty price.”

Tango inhales, his thumb worrying over his knuckle, and continues.

“But there was this one job- These very mysterious individuals offered me a job to create a game! It honestly was a very tempting offer, because they were giving me so much free range with what I built. The only requirement was that any number of people could enter the game and there could only be one winner. And they offered me a lot of money for it.”

Scar clocks Grian making a small sneer.

“So I took it, I took the deal and started designing my game. I uhhh- I sort of made, think like… dungeon crawler type deal.”

“Wait but you said you didn't make dungeons,” Jimmy interrupts.

“Going to be honest, I didn't expect you to hit that nail on the head.” Tango turns to Jimmy, giving him a small smile, before patting him gently on his shoulder. “Pretty impressive.”

Jimmy splutters, his expressions flip flopping between being offended and proud.

“Anyway… as I was saying, the more I worked for them, the more I started to suspect a few things. They kept insisting on things in my design to be more…”

He swirled his hand around “Let's say lethal. And that was before I started noticing how much resources and wealth my employer owned. They kept giving me things with ease, I started even asking for stuff I knew was hard to find like enchantments and whatnot. And they didn't even sweat.”

He cuts himself off, a conflicted look shadowing his face.

“When I put my energy into a project, I put my whole heart in. This dungeon was my… my child! I’d been working on it for months! Almost years! I didn't like how they were twisting it. They kept taking away the things I included to make the game fair. And that was my last straw.”

“I ran, and I tried to take all the important endgame design prints with me. I couldn't let them use my work to hurt people in the gruesome ways that they so clearly wanted to do. And now I'm here.”

“…Oh, that's rough,” Scar replies.

Nodding Tango stares down at his lap, rubbing at the worn pads of his hands. He looks genuinely sad for a minute before he shakes that look away and carries on.

“Yeah, so what I'm saying is- I got to see enough of the kind of work these people were doing to notice a pattern.”

“The people I worked for were definitely Enders, and I believe they're probably pretty high up considering rather than taking planets and trading pearls, they were employing people to take their enemies and put them into ‘games' for their entertainment.”

“And I think we're in one of those games right now,”

Tango grins wildly, holding a finger up to emphasise his conclusion.

“WHOA, what really?”

“Ugh,” Grian grumbles.

“And if my assumption is correct, I think we've all wronged an Ender before, right?”

He shuffles so that all four of them were sat in a circle.

“I mean- me! Clearly, with leaving the job.” He points to himself and then to Jimmy. “You said something about Enders secretly operating in the town you were sheriffing.”

Grian’s gloomy expression immediately gets replaced with intrigue as he looks up from his lap for the first time during the conversation with Jimmy.

“You're a sheriff?” Scar asks.

“YES, I am for a matter of fact, from a small town on the Nether.” Jimmy smiles widely, adjusting his hair confidently.

“Now that's surprising…” Grian remarks to himself.

Jimmy either doesn't hear or ignores him as he continues. “Well it's more a self-proclaimed title, not much goes on in my town and I mostly just… give directions to the elderly and get bullied by local kids,”

“Nevermind.”

Jimmy shoots Grian a dirty look, the latter smirking back before he goes back to working on the supplies in his lap.

“But yes! Recently I tried to uncover a mystery and encountered Enders,”

“And that's the last thing you remember doing right?” Tango inquires.

“… Yeah, actually.”

He looks towards Scar “And you… what about you?”

“Oh.”

Everyone looks at Scar with intrigue. Grian has his head dipped down still, his gaze, though, points, staring straight at him.

Ah, right, not-a-Vindicator time.

“Well, I'm a mayor, as a matter of fact.”

Everyone looks at him like it was the last thing they expected him to say, including Grian.

Scar coughs, chasing off the nervous wobble in his voice and he sits up straight ready to prove his charm.

“For a pretty unknown-” Scar awkwardly trails off, not really familiar enough with space life for his own lie. “…hermit settlement! A beloved staple of the community, birds and children sing when I roam the streets.”

The others look at him speechless, he can feel them doubting him. Alright then, maybe he should learn to be more believable.

“The last thing I remember doing, actually, was chasing a criminal down an alley!” He settles on. He sees Grian go still. “It was epic and had glorious explosions and everything, a truly action-filled adventure-”

He stops when he feels Grian subtly thump him with his tail. Hiding the movement by sitting up, done with dressing Jimmy's wounds and moving on to Tango.

Tango ignores him, too interested in Scar’s story. “Was this criminal an Ender by chance?”

“Oh! Yes!” He very almost forgot that was what Tango was asking to begin with.

Tango sits up straighter with a look of triumph and excitement on his face.“That makes three out of four.”

“…Not a chance,” Grian says coldly.

Tango finally turns to him, Grian looking up whilst sorting out the supplies he has left.

“What?”

“I'm not telling you my story like we're all sat around a campfire-”

“We're trying to help, isn't that what you asked for?” Tango argues.

“This isn't helpful information, it's just a lot of assumptions and guesses.”

“Calculated guesses! And besides, what else could you possibly know about what's going on? Enlighten me,” Tango challenges him.

“I don't… but I also don't see how knowing all this even helps us in our current situation.”

Grian leans back from where he had been hunched over, closes his eyes, and flings his hand around in an almost smug way. “Yada yada, scary rich people put a bunch of losers into a death game. That doesn't help me whilst we're supposedly in one.”

“You find yourself in a lot of death games then?” Tango grins bitterly.

“I- '' Somehow that waveres Grian’s response briefly, he clears his throat before resuming. “I like information that helps. This doesn't- this doesn't fix a broken arm or get us any closer to escaping.”

“Well maybe it can- we can go ahead knowing that there's probably traps or trials set for us.” Scar says. The two look at Jimmy and Scar who had been quietly observing their conversation.

“Like the beeping!” Jimmy responds.

“Yeah-”

“OH, THE PHANTOMS!” Scar exclaims.

“Phantoms?”

Scar wiggles in the dust with delight. “Yeah! We encountered phantoms on our journey, which is a pretty odd place to find them,”

“Stole my helmet,” Grian grumbles, less happy.

“Yeah… they were definitely placed here intentionally, we almost got killed by them!” Scar exclaims. He sits up straighter and puffs out his chest. “But I fought them off valiantly.”

Tango and Jimmy share a doubtful look.

“And what about you two- did you guys encounter anything strange?” Scar claps his hands together, intrigued.

Grian rests on his arm and gestures loosely to them. “Strange enough to break both your arms?”

At that both Jimmy and Tango look at each other, coming to a realisation that makes them both grin wildly at each other.

“OH and THAT'S another thing,” Jimmy says far too gleefully.

“The game makers must have included this other mechanic to make it difficult for us!” Tango injects, matching his energy. He and Jimmy talk in slightly hushed yet excited voices to one another, Tango playfully pushing at Jimmy and whispering something about how it all made sense now.

Scar and Grian just blink blankly, clearly missing something. When neither of the two gives them context, instead excitedly making noises at each other over a discovery, Scar coughs.

“What mechanic?” He leans closer, curiously.

“We are linked! Somehow!” Jimmy exclaims loudly.

“It's probably a curse and enchantment related. But we feel and suffer the same wounds, hence… broken arms'' Tango adds.

“So you both broke your arm?” Scar hums still confused.

“No no just Jimmy, he fell.”

“Gracefully!” Jimmy interrupts with too much enthusiasm.

“Gracefully… from the top of the ravine. I was just walking nearby and received the injury too,” Tango sits back a little and loosely holds up his injured arm.

Scar hums to himself, gaze jumping between his company and their injuries. “So it's a proximity thing?”

Tango sits up fast with a gasp of excitement. “That's a good point! I don't know.”

He leans forward cautiously, still holding his bad arm to his chest as he beckons Scar to come closer.

Both Jimmy and Grian look at each other confused before Tango flicks Scar hard on the nose. Causing him to make a startled yelp noise.

With how they lean over, neither manages to notice as Grian also flinches, hand briefly touching his own nose, before he notices Jimmy watching him and stops.

“Nope didn't feel that,” Tango says, veering back to his previously comfortable position.

Scar reclines back too, leg braces creaking slightly as he rubs his nose and makes a small sad noise.

“Did you?” Tango turns to Jimmy who’s looking weirdly at Grian.

Tango nudges him, the taller shaking out of whatever thought he was having.

“Oh- no I didn't.”

He looks back to Grian who’s in the process of not so subtly shifting further from the others.

“Maybe… Are you two together?” Jimmy prompts, pinning Grian specifically with a look.

Obliviously, Scar says, “We just met,” still holding his nose.

“No, he meant the weird pain link thing,” Tango responds with a slight laugh.

“Oh!! Hold on-” Scar excitedly lifts his head up, his sore nose quickly forgotten. He turns to Grian who had been trying his best to not be noticed the whole exchange.

Moving too fast and suddenly, Scar goes to pinch his arm, only to hit his hand against metal. The realisation hits him dumbly, but not before he watches Grian cry out and pull back fearfully with an expression Scar doesn’t think he's ever seen on the man's face before.

Grian regains his composure quicker than Scar. He shakes off the scared look on his face but keeps his arms held close to his chest protectively.

Scar goes to apologise but Grian's voice interprets him. His attention directed away from Scar.

“No, we're not linked.”

Tango shrugs, titling his head at Jimmy and smiling.

“Well, maybe it's a thing specific to us,”

Jimmy pulls a slightly unconvinced face before agreeing. “Yeah probably.”

Grian finishes patching up Tango, ignoring the three as they descend into rambles and theories about it all.

He packs away his remaining supplies, looking pleased with his two patients' bandaged and slung arms, even as they pay him no mind.

He stands up, Scar is the first to look at him with a questioning expression.

“Welp! Considering I'm done… and you've given your less-than-useful information, I think it's our time to leave,” Grian brushes the dust off his trousers and holds out a hand for Scar.

“Scar?”

Scar doesn't move, he looks at the others and back to Grian, a guilty look on his face. “I actually think we should all stick together–”

Grian doesn't respond, instead pulling his hand away slowly. Scar continues.

“There’s clearly something much bigger going on here and I think teaming up is a safer option,”

The bird remains silent, his feathers betraying his blank face as they all pin. He blinks at Scar.

“I agree,” Jimmy speaks up awkwardly after a prolonged quiet.

Tango grins. “You're more than free to go off on your own,” he says snidely.

“Ah, well…” Scar splutters, standing up and holding his hands out, that's not what he meant at all, but Grian beats him to a response.

“No.”

“Wow… what a change of heart, you're scared of being alone?” Tango teases.

Grian pays no mind to the comments, his hurt look settling on Scar instead.

“Scar please, I can protect us both we don't need…” he loses his confidence, the end of his sentence teetering off.

Scar lets his arms hang at his side, as he looks at Tango and Jimmy, still sitting by each other's side. Now with both their arms in slings and, despite Tango's intimating expression, looking slightly pathetic in the hot sun.

“… they're hurting, Grian, I need to help,” he gives Grian a pleading look.

The glare stares at Scar, he seems to take in all of him, annoyed and confused. When suddenly, a brief flicker of understanding fills his features.

“… Grian?” Grian doesn’t look at him, instead, he stares at the dust to his side. Tail flicking at his side in frustration.

“I'm not leaving you,” he says simply. Refusing to elaborate.

A small part of Scar is surprised by Grian's response, his weird protectiveness over Scar, especially in context to how he’d acted towards the others. Scar can’t help but smile softly, even if Grian isn’t looking at him.

“So you'll agree to be a group?”

The bird turns to him with a hard look on his face, a disruption on his tongue before he cuts himself off, face flushing red when he realises Scar is smiling at him with a completely different energy. He bows his head slightly. “I'm staying with you, but I do not trust them.”

—

Scar sits down, explaining their travel plan, which honestly wasn't much since all they had done was travel in the direction of supposed man-made structures that had been spotted, hoping to not die in the process.

Grian positions himself slightly behind Scar as they all start laying out all their possessions. Comparing their resources with each other.

Out of everyone, Jimmy still has the most on him, carrying one container of water, which he apparently had forgotten about, he lets Grian and Scar take a swig, Tango insisting he doesn’t need it as much with being a blaze. They also have Grian's healing supplies, which at this point aren't very much, just a few alcohol wipes and gauze. Then also some dried meat Jimmy had and one package of dried cat treats that Scar had been carrying, and no one seems stoked about potentially eating.

Besides that, all they have is some random useless items in people’s pockets, all laid out in front of them. Anxious, taking in the unfortunate sight of what they have to survive on. Scar sits on his knees, ignoring how the braces creak as he leans on them.

Tango is watching Grian closely, mumbling under his voice like he’s trying to get Grian's attention, but the latter knows and deliberately ignores him.

Tango finally clears his throat and speaks up, tapping the sand in front of Grian to ensure he has his attention. “You have your weapon with you,” he says like it isn’t a question.

“Yes.” Grian doesn’t look at him, instead rewrapping a rope they had found in one of Jimmy's pockets. The rope rings slightly against his metal digits as he pulls the thread between them.

“So we all have our comms, storage, and defensive tools missing except for you,” Tango states snarkily.

“Well, I also have my comms and other stuff missing. Guess they accidentally skipped out on the knife.”

“How convenient for you,”

Grian deliberately disregards Tango's biting word, looking up at the other two. “We might have enough for a day or two more of travel? Could even hunt along the way… if there are even any animals.”

“The knife will be handy then.” Scar tries, looking at Tango with a cheery smile.

“Could also… maybe… find plants?” Jimmy says, They all look around at the dry, sandy landscape, only occupied by the occasional dead shrub, with dismay.

“How much collective knowledge do we have with foraging?”

“I used to be a baker!” Scar interjects excitedly.

“Cool!- But I don't see any flour or water, don't know how that's going to help us in this situation, bud,” Grian pats Scar on the back.

“Unless you are secretly an enderian and can just … teleport bread to us or something,” Tango adds jokingly.

“I'm not-”

“Are you?” Grian cuts in, the others realising quickly that he’s addressing Jimmy with a weird look.

Jimmy looks up confused, apparently not paying attention to where the conversation had drifted. “What?”

“You’re very tall… thought maybe-”

“Oh no, I'm a glare!” he replies.

Grian goes strangely still, that cold look filling his face. He looks like he wants to say something, but chooses against it, going back to meaninglessly fiddling with a rope.

“Well, it would have been super convenient to be an enderian with y’know …the lack of water,” Tango hums next to Jimmy.

“It might rain!” Jimmy notes gleefully.

“Rain? Here?”

“I mean maybe? These kinds of canyons get formed by water, so there's a real chance a flash flood might happen!” At the last statement, he looks nervous. ”Which depending on where we are, could help us or … be bad.”

“How do you know that?” Tango looks up at Jimmy with a gleam of curiosity.

“Well I get bored, and there's this neat little library in the Nether with a lot of unique landscapes and… “

Jimmy and Tango titter off into their own conversation about various formations of rocks and caverns in desert-like terrain. Scar's mind drifts aside as he watches billows of sand blow above them on the top of the ravine. He catches movement out the sides of his eye as Grian shifts.

The sun has moved more in the sky, the shade they had hidden in changing direction. The hot sun finally reaching them, first hitting the feathers on the Grian tail. He must have just noticed as he pushes himself away from it, a scowl on his face while he creeps away and bumps into Scar in the process.

They look up at each other, Grian jumping slightly when he notices he’s being watched, his ears pulling back as he looks away.

“We should get going. You guys rested enough?” He cuts the other two off, Tango drawing in the sand with his claws with Jimmy instructing him.

“Oh sure-” Jimmy replies. He stands, using his large tail to help push him up, before lending a hand to Tango.

Grian stumbles up into a stand on the sandy ground, hissing to himself and mumbling something along the lines of “dumb bird feet”. He looks at Scar who changed to sit with his legs in front of him, inspecting his leg braces and sighing.

“Those aren't meant for the desert, are they?” He holds out a hand which Scar takes, pulling himself to stand.

“Nope! Not really, more like indoor use.”

Grian frowns, opening his mouth to say something, but Tango cuts him off.

“Actually…” The blaze moves towards them, holding a hand behind his back, a snarky look crossing his face.

His gaze is glued directly on Grian as he pulls his uninjured hand out, holding it towards them. Grian's hands are still in Scar’s, he feels Grian's grip tighten subconsciously before he pulls his hand away in favour of crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Tango.

“You want this temporary alliance to go well right?”

“I mean… it would be convenient,” Grian frowns, confused about where Tango is going with this.

“Give me your knife,” Tango flicks his claws beckoning.

“… What?”

“I feel like it's very justified.”

“I'm not giving you my weapon,” Grian snaps, his hand moving to his side subconsciously.

Tango pulls his arm back, crossing it over with the other. “I still don't trust you, our minds would be more at ease if you didn't have that.” He looks up to Jimmy who’s looking over his shoulder, nodding slightly.

Scar looks at Grian whose back is turned to him, but regardless he can see the anger physically welling up, as his feathers stand up and his tail starts to flick back and forth. His claws hovering right above where the blade sits, ready.

“HAH, what do you think I care, there is no way I'd give it to you.” Grian spits.

Scar hears him take in a deep breath, sensing the start of something terrible happening. He takes a slightly stumbling step between them.

“I could take it,” Scar says simply. Both of them look up at him.

“I mean- you both seem to trust me more, so maybe I could carry it for now?” Scar tries, putting on his most easygoing smile. Tango's frown softens slightly, but that isn't who Scar is worried about most. The bird is now looking at him, a lot less spiked up with his mouth slightly open, his eyes searching Scar for something. He looks back to Tango, who just nods to Scar.

“Fine.”

Almost everyone lets out a breath of relief.

Grian pulls out his weapon, quickly, and grins to himself as he watches Jimmy and Tango flinch.

He hands it to Scar and gives him a weird look only he can see before his face morphs into a generally upset pout. Striding past them all, he barks “Follow,” and doesn't wait for them to catch up.

Scar looks at the weapon in his hands, remembering its hold before wedging it into his belt.

—

They continue with their walking, Grian at the front out of frustration over the loss of his weapons. Tango's prying eyes watch him from behind, insisting on being on the lookout for any funny behaviour.

The mood is off. Tango and Grian holding their weird rivalry and Jimmy and Scar lagging behind, looking at each other confused but not quite wanting to start small talk out of fear of getting on the other two nerves. They both opt instead to stare at the ground and savour as much of the shade as they can.

Tango is the first to break the silence.

“I don't think I trust you.”

He has his head facing forward, the anger in his voice enough to indicate he’s talking to Grian.

“I bet you’re one of them.”

“Them?” Grian almost laughs.

“Explains why you have your weapon and not us, why you're so reluctant to share why you might be here. And don't even think I forgot about your oh-so-welcoming greeting,” Tango responds with no amusement in his voice.

“What is your problem with me?”

“I think you're an Ender, a man from the inside sent down to watch us.” He says simply, pushing up his shoulders.

Grian snorts, drawing out his words. “Literally all you have against me is that I have a weapon and I’m a bit of an introvert, that's barely anything,”

“That's not all I have. What about your wings?”

The mood changes instantly, from bickering to an icy, quiet cold.

With that Scar finally looks up at the conversation, they have since all slowed down from walking to a standstill. Grian being the one to stop first as he scowls in Tango's direction.

He doesn't say a word. Tango continues with a malicious look on his face.

“And the arms, they're enchanted, right? I can basically smell it from here. You don't come across enchantments like that in the wild. And that's not even mentioning the level of skill that must have gone into those base robotics, for some random stranger– You'd have to be a part of a pretty powerful faction to get robotics like those and I definitely doubt you're a Vindicator.”

Scar watches Grian flash him a very brief glance at that name. Tango continues unaware.

“I've been around Ender technology enough to recognize its signatures, I used to work with it-”

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Grian cuts in coldly with a flat tone.

“I think I do.” Tango challenges, bearing his sharp teeth.

“Hey, hey, what about we uhh, calm down a bit?” Scar interrupts, shrugging his shoulders slightly with an open demeanour.

Tango's wild gaze jumps to him and sticks.

“I think you guys might have all come off on the wrong foot! Ahah,” Scar laughs painedly.

He stalls slightly, almost feeling the heat from Tango start to concentrate on him instead.

“I promise you, Grian is not as stabby as he seems.”

“Oh yeah?” Tango responds incredulously. “Is that why you have a stab wound on your shoulder?” He jabs his finger in the direction of Scar's shoulder, the gauze and tank top stained lightly red.

Scar shoots Grian a look, the other's eyes blown slightly more wide knowingly.

“…Unrelated circumstances,” Scar says simply.

Tango steps closer to Scar, causing him to stumble back slightly, Jimmy awkwardly drifting over his shoulder placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder briefly. “Why are you even sticking up for this guy? Didn't you say you only just met?” Tango all but growls at Scar.

“Well… We're friends.”

“No, there's something else. Something you're not telling us,”

Scar's mouth finds itself ajar, as he tries to think of what to say. Grian is painfully quiet over his shoulder.

Tango takes another step towards Scar, his mind spinning trying to figure out a believable story.

“…We made a deal!” He settles on.

“A deal?” That seems to genuinely take Tango by surprise, his imposing façade faltering.

“Yeah.”

Tango pulls a weird expression before it changes quickly as if struck by an idea. “If you made a deal maybe we could fulfil it instead, then we won't need this guy. I have the contacts, I know my loopholes. If this deal is so much more important, that you'd associate with this guy then choose what I can offer you instead. What even would it be? to you to find yourself associated with someone like him? What was it?”

“I-…” Scar hesitates and turns his gaze to where Grian is standing. The three of them have moved a considerable distance away from him during their argument, but he still stands within audible range, watching quietly.

The bird looks uncomfortable and small, he thinks. His feathers pinning and fingers flicking at his side, right where his blade would have been.

His expression looks complicated, Scar observes, like he’s expecting this situation but still feels a sense of hurt or pain. Weirdly, his gaze is fixed on the blaze rather than Scar, but he can see him fidget and glare as if he knows he’s being looked at, trying his best to avoid eye contact.

Tango coughs shuffling forward in the sand to bring Scar's attention back to him.

Scar had almost forgotten what they had asked. The deal. He wants to know what their deal was. Technically the deal wasn't even that specific, it’s just protection. That's all Grian had promised and even with a weapon, which he no longer had, in comparison to both Tango and Jimmy his usefulness might be matched.

Grian's expression makes sense now, he’s fully expecting Scar to take this deal.

Scar looks back at Grian, catching him looking at Scar before he darts his eyes away.

He doesn’t like this. He doesn’t understand why Tango is so hostile, it feels unjustified. Like he’s missing something, which is impossible. He's known Grian longer than Tango. Grian is barely a threat, yeah awkward, maybe a little impulsive and snide. But Scar doesn’t believe that justifies leaving him behind. Why is there so much bitterness between his newly acquainted companions? Why is Tango so insistent on Grian being a bad person? These questions circle around in Scar's head as he tries to think of some way he can defend Grian.

“We were going to start up a very specific business.” Scar grins.

“… What?”

“Trading goods. See, I need him because he’s got those fancy wings,” he gestures towards Grian, who’s badly concealing his bewilderment, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly, no sound escaping.

“What are you trading?”

Scar mulls it over before looking at the ground and shrugging. “….sand.”

Despite everything, Grian laughs at that. Coughing and suppressing giggles when the blazeborn shoots him a look.

“Sand?” Jimmy almost yells.

Tango taps at his chin in thought. “I- I mean I could maybe…”

Scar interrupts him. “No no no, I'm a dignified salesman. I made a deal and stayed true to my word. I'm sorry but I'll have to decline the offer,” he replies with an easy-going demeanour.

“We're now a package deal now,” he walks up to stand by Grian's side, patting his shoulder roughly.

Grian's only response is to make an awkward noise and to lean away from Scar, but not enough to actually break the space they share.

Tango looks at them both, an angry look directed at the two. Suddenly, Jimmy places a hand on his shoulder.

“I think we should just play along, even if we're suspicious of someone. I think we need all the help we can get.” The taller man says down to him, smiling slightly.

Tango takes in Jimmy's look, his frown smoothing out for a brief second before he looks back at Scar.

“Maybe I don't trust you now Scar, you've clearly also got secrets you're not telling us,”

“You're getting too caught up on secrets and mysteries, and supposed ‘them’s,” Scar puts on a wide smile, waving at the air with a nonchalant attitude.

“How about… G!” He slings his arm around Grian and pushes him in closer to the other two, while the bird sputters slightly at the new nickname.

“Promise you won't stab any of us in the back until we're free from this …game?” Scar holds him by his shoulders. Grian flinches slightly as he tries to look up at Scar only to get a face full of sun. The glare looks back at the other two, not saying a word, his ears flicking absently.

“Grian!” Scar nudges him.

“Yes, sure,” he says flatly. He crosses his arms. “I promise.”

Scar beams, looking at Tango and Jimmy. “Annddddd do you guys promise not to belittle my friend here for being a bit creepy?”

The both of them hesitate, looking up at each other, exchanging looks.

“I feel creepy is an understatement…” Tango scoffs.

“We promise,” Jimmy says at the same time.

Scar claps his hands together, Grian flinching and holding his ears at the noise. “See! Solved! We're now a team!”

No one celebrates, they all look at each other with uncomfortable hesitation, not at all meeting Scar's enthusiasm. He hops on his toes, ushering the others forward, getting them to start walking again.

“Team… yellow.” Scar looks around at his company, all pulling different forms of confused faces. “Why are you all blond?”

—

After several hours of walking, the sun had begun to dip over the horizon. They were all able to confirm the revelation that this planet has a pretty short day cycle.

The journey had been painfully awkward. Tango and Jimmy spent most of it talking between themselves, sometimes hushed, which Grian pretended not to notice. He’d closed off slightly despite Scar trying to start a conversation with him several times. It was a stark contrast to how they were in the morning. Scar missed their smallest interactions deeply.

At one point Tango had instructed Scar not to walk so close to Grian, mumbling that he could take his weapon back so easily with how close they were walking. Scar tried to argue, but Grian complied, closing himself off even more as he walked ahead of them.

They’re now settling in for sleep, taking turns in pairs, Tango not trusting Grian to be lookout alone.

Tango and Jimmy lay backed up into the shelter of an overhang, while Scar and Grian sit at the entrance, a considerable distance away.

“Wow- it got dark quicker. Darker than yesterday even,” Scar hums. The sky’s a deep, dark blue rather than the red of last night. Scar shivers, it’s also considerably colder.

“Yeah,” Grian murmurs.

“I bet this is really comforting for you, gloomy dim light,” Scar leans back looking towards where he assumes Grian is sitting, it’s pretty hard to tell.

“Yeah.”

Scar turns back and frowns to himself. It seems Grian is still acting distant, even with Tango and Jimmy snoring peacefully behind them.

“Hmm … wish I could see in the dark though, can't find-”

With far too much force Scar reaches forward, ramming his wrist into a rock wall. He winces. “Ow…”

“Are you okay?” Grian asks from his side, genuine concern lacing his voice.

“Yeah… just, there's a wall there.”

Scar continues to blindly stumble in the dark, searching for his jacket. Suddenly there’s a warm glow, illuminating his surroundings. Scar's mind is slow to process as small flickers of light drift into his peripheral vision, like some combination of fire embers and little lightning bugs.

He jumps backwards, his knee slipping out from under him. “Oh oh oh– what is that!?”

He looks around in shock at the small fiery creatures, before his eyes make contact with Grian who looks completely unconcerned about them. Scar then realises the glare is actually slightly amused at Scars' fright.

“Oh, are you doing that?”

“Yeah… lights to see what you're doing,” Grian mutters somewhat shyly, looking at the space between them. Scar sits back down, reaching for his jacket now that the dim glow has lit up the area.

“Oh! Thanks!” He puts the jacket on, grumbling about the discovery that it isn’t as comfortable inside out. But at least it still keeps the cold at bay so he isn’t about to complain too much.

He watches the tiny lights float in the air. They spin and twirl into themselves, dancing around one another. Scar slowly recognizes the shapes of tiny phantoms, just like the ones from yesterday but smaller and made out of sunlight.

“… Aren't these technically illusion magic?” Scar thinks, not even realising he’s saying it out loud.

He looks to Grian when he hears a shuddered breath, “…oh I guess so,” Grian wraps his arms around his knees, pressing his face into them with a soulful expression.

Unlike the tired apathy he has been carrying, this look is pained and hurt, the little illusions dimming as if in response.

Scar holds his hand out catching one between his fingers. It flutters and whirls in his palm, never quite touching his skin. Scar can swear he can feel its warmth, even though he knows he’s most likely imagining it.

“Well …I like them. They're very cute,” Scar smiles, looking at Grian as he holds one of the tiny beasts in between his hands.

Grian looks up at him, half his face obscured, and that sad look still in his eyes.

“You’re very talented,” Scar pokes at the illusion in his hand, feeling nothing as his finger phases through it. The illusion still dancing and spinning as if it was affected by the force.

“…Thanks,” Grian responds, muffled. A small smile creeps into his features at Scar's compliment.

They fall back into a still quiet state. Scar pushes the illusion back into the air with the others, leaning against the wall as he watches them dance.

“A game huh? I wonder why I'm here…” He muses. Not really expecting an answer from the glare, more filling the air.

“Tango said that we all must have wronged an Ender in our past… But I don't think I have- aside from being a Vindicator… I wonder…” He mulls over ideas in his mind, but there honestly isn't much he can think of. He's never been that involved in the field, and he barely even knows if he'd recognize an Ender if he saw one.

Naturally, Scar's gaze drifts to his company. Grian seems to be as deep in thought as him, his brows deep and ears pinned back, upset.

“Are you… okay?” Scar asks.

Grian looks up at him, his eyes following each line on Scar's face before responding. “Have you decided if I'm a good guy or bad guy yet?”

Scar tilts his head, that’s a very particular kind of question. He leans his head back, taking in the sandy walls striped with different warm shades of colour.

“I don't…” he sighs. “I think I'm starting to realise it's a lot more complex than I thought it all was.”

“Yeah,” Grian mumbles.

“What do you think you are?”

That oh-so-familiar quiet rears its head again. Scar starts to think he isn't going to answer him until, finally, he’s proven wrong.

“… I don't think I'm either, I don't think there really are good guys and bad guys, at least that it's not so black and white most of the time.”

Scar tilts his head down to look at Grian. The bird has now wrapped his tail around his feet, he's almost perfectly wound, aside from his wings that lay out behind him, tired. He's not looking at Scar, but instead at his own illusions that continue to float in the space between them.

Scar looks at them as well. “… I think you're good.”

Grian shifts uncomfortably, raising his head high enough that Scar can see the pained grin he wears.

“Haha god–” he pulls one arm out from being wrapped around his leg and pushes it hard into one side of his face. “You really need to pick better alliances, you really don't know me…”

Scar tilts his head from side to side.

“Well then tell me… do you think you're bad?” He asks simply.

Grian doesn't answer straight away. Instead, he digs his nails slightly into his scalp and looks to his side, very quietly hissing in a breath.

“… I’m trying to be a better person than I was,” he says, almost below a whisper.

“Well, that's something! Bad people don't tend to want to change,” Scar smiles reassuringly. Catching Grian’s eyes and putting on the most friendly expression he can muster.

Grian doesn't seem to buy it though, he pushes his head back into his knees. This time leaning his face away from Scar.

They both sit there, not uttering another word for a few minutes. Scar looks again at the illusions. He wonders what it was like to summon them, and then to keep concentrating on them. Grian doesn't even seem to be paying them much mind, his head buried in his metal limbs. Yet they still dance softly in the air. Maybe it was a soothing thing to conjure and maintain. Grian's feathers certainly imply he's a lot less stressed compared to how they’ve been most of the day.

Scar watches as Grian taps his long taloned fingers against his arm in boredom, the sound resonating in their small space. Metal against metal. Scar stares absently at them, Grian’s head is turned away, so he doesn't feel so bad about picking up on the smaller details he can see now he's this close.

They look slightly scratched, the deep black of the metal is scuffed in places, turning a dark grey. Up this close Scar notices how the robotics look, unfinished. Like they’re just a frame, the mechanisms, and wires open to the world, no protective shell. He can see some of the wires have tape around them, stuck haphazardly to the inside as if they had been snagged and pushed in deeper to avoid being torn again. It strikes Scar as odd. They look incomplete, yet when Grian taps his fingers they move with the fluidity of an organic limb, the small mechanisms barely even make a sound.

“Is it true what he said about enchanted robotics?” Scar asks spontaneously.

Grian lifts his head, that cold look returning once again. He pulls his arms from being wrapped around his legs into his lap, still curled up in his position.

“So, you do think I'm an Ender,” he says plainly.

“Well– I mean– You're not doing much to refute being one,” Scar tries, chuckling under his breath.

“I'm not an Ender,” Grian responds coldly, the least bit amused.

Moving uncomfortably, Scar breaths in, dropping his smile for a genuine look. “And I choose to believe you.”

Grian looks unconvinced. “But you still think I am,” he says slowly.

“… I don't think anything.” Scar argues, interrupted by a surprising chuckle.

“Well, I knew that much already.”

“I– hey!”

Grian giggles to himself, it lays bittersweet on his face when he falls off into silence.

Scar finishes what he’d been saying. “I don't like to assume things.”

With that Grian looks at Scar, really looks at him. The deep dark pools of his eyes squint and scrutinise him. Scar thinks the reflections of the illusions in his eyes look like stars.

“You liked to assume I'm a good person.”

“That's different, I have evidence,” Scar responds cheerfully.

“And what Tango stated wasn't?” He squeaks, baffled, unwinding from his ball more to throw his arms out.

“It didn't feel fair.”

“Fair–” Grian parrots back in disbelief, almost sneering to himself.

“Besides, I feel like it might be hypocritical of me to be upset that you're hiding who you are.”

Grian folds his arms back over himself looking away. “But that's different, I know what you're hiding– I was the one to even suggest it–” He says bitterly.

“Well– maybe I also have my own secrets,” Scar winks.

With a slightly more light in his voice, Grian leans his chin on his knees. “I doubt that– you like talking too much.”

Scar laughs at that, then sits forward holding a finger up as the little illusions swim around him. “You truly underestimate the power of talking, my friend. You can know anything and be given anything by talking, whereas violence enlists the opposite. It cuts you off from ever knowing more. People love talking, and I love secrets. It's an art, really.”

“Why did you become a Vindicator then? If anything they're very for violence and anti-information,” Grian mumbles, looking up at him with a raised brow.

Scar winks again, but this time taps his nose, “For secrets,” he says simply.

Grian rolls his eyes and laughs. “Ah,” He smiles, slipping slightly at the edges. He taps at his arm again. “You sort of concern me,” he huffs. “I don't get you.”

“Well I mean secrets—” Scar starts.

Grian cuts him off, waving a hand. “No no, that's not what I'm talking about…” He rests his hand back down onto his knee looking straight at Scar. “You have this inexplicable blind faith in me and I don't understand why,” his nose scrunches up. “Now, either you're really dumb or …”

Scar splutters trying to defend himself, but Grian continues, closing his eyes.

“I don't know…” He titters.

“I'm just very curious.”

“… about me?”

“Yeah! If you're not going to tell me who you are, then I guess I'll have to get to know you,” Scar grins.

“Usually when people are investigating someone, they don't straight up tell them to their face,” Grian bobs his head smirking.

“And I'm not investigating you,” Scar argues, “it's called companionship— becoming friends. You do have those don't you?” Scar tilts his head.

Grian grins up at him. “Well, you see—” Leaning forward, beckons Scar to follow his movement, before pulling back suddenly.

“That! Was obviously an investigation,” he laughs unfooled.

“Worth a try,” Scar shrugs, also leaning back.

They both become quiet. A cool breeze blows at the feathers on Grian's tail. The little light illusions move through the air slowly, unbothered by the physical realm. Grian holds his hands out, as they all drift over to him, curling up neatly in his hands.

He looks at Scar who’s watching, intrigued, and flashes his teeth in a smile, before closing his hands together, extinguishing the light. Only slight shimmers make it out past his fingers, as Scar watches him push his palms hard against each other still looking at him.

He opens his hands to reveal one creature, slightly bigger than the ones from earlier curled up in his hands. Its form is slightly more detailed, its warm light shimmering with blues and pink at the tips. It bares its tiny teeth as if yawning, and stretches out from its sleepy curl. Grian pushes it up into the air, the small creature imitating catching air in its wings and drifting off into the space in front of them.

“I uh—” Grian interrupts nervously, pulling Scars' gaze away from the illusion. “Thank you! For sticking up for me back there.” He holds a small smile, pained at the edges.

“I honestly wouldn't have held it against you if you took their offer and ran… but—” He coughs and shakes his head. “I guess what I'm saying is it was nice, very foolish… we literally have so many lies to navigate now, it’s a walking nightmare… but it was very kind of you.”

Scar beams, almost wiggling in excitement. “Hey! We're a package deal now!”

The bird rolls his eyes but keeps his smile. “Ugh.”

He pulls his legs out in front of him, his wings lifting off the dusty floor. He shakes them off from the dust before folding them behind his back neatly. He gives Scar a tired look.

Scar shuffles forward waving his hands out, not done with the conversation just yet.

“Seriously! I like you!” Grian flicks him a nervous look, making a confused noise that almost sounds like a chirp. Scar itches his head and elaborates. “I'm glad we've gotten to meet each other again. Under different circumstances.”

Grian's wide grin falters. His eyes drift to the left side of Scar's face, darting away and looking at the ground instead.

“And let’s hope we leave this one better then, aye?” His hesitant grimaces switch to a small but genuine smile.

“I owe at least that to you,” he adds.

Scar nods.

It never occurred to him that they’ll have to part ways at some point, for some reason that thought never crossed his mind, and it makes him sad. He’s a Vindicator and Grian was, probably still is, a criminal. It would be hard to meet up with someone actively imprisoned, and that’s even if Grian cares enough to risk that. Considering he said the words leave, he must have assumed they'll likely never meet again.

It makes Scar feel a little sour, he was having the most fun time here, even with the lingering death and tense energy directed at his new friend. He'd had more fun being kidnapped and disregarded on some random planet than he ever had on a shift.

Scar watches the illusion spin, he doesn't need to dwell on it too much, this adventure is starting to appear long and treacherous, he should just enjoy what he has left of it and Grian’s company.

Scar puts light into his voice, eyes still set on the glowing creature.

“Now shall we discuss at length about our sand trader backstory?”

Grian snorts.

He looks at him to watch Grian fake an obvious yawn. “Wow! I'm suddenly very tired.”

Scar smiles more genuinely this time.

“I’ll be called ‘Scorn’ and you'll be my faithful lackey ‘Giran’”

“They already know our names why-” Grian wheezes, before holding his palms up. ”You know what- nah, actually I'm asleep right now- and actively not engaging” He lays down closing his eyes.

“Best friends,” Scar continues. “Found abandoned as children together in a sandbox, oh that could be where the trading started!”

Grian rolls over away from Scar, pulling his wings pointedly over his head.

“I'M SLEEPING! Can't hear you over how loudly I'm sleeping right now-” he says slightly muffled, starting to laugh. Before he chuckles loudly to himself.

He suddenly sits up quickly and holds his hands tight over his mouth, Scar noticing the noise of someone grumbling tiredly.

He sees a shadow of Tango toss in his sleep before settling again.

Scar and Grian both exchange a look, Grian trying his hardest to hold onto a laugh before he coughs one into his hands, hushing him. Scar joins in wheezing.

They both sit, in a warm glow, laughing quietly between themselves as the night continues.

[tinyspringtrap]

man. having a game you used to really really love and be basically addicted to reach such a state where you look at it and just... don't want to play, because it isn't fun like it used to be

I've got probably more than 3k hours invested into overwatch... and I don't even want to look at it anymore because of how they destroyed it. it just isn't fun to play anymore. I miss overwatch.

[spacedace]

It was the final hour. Doomsday at their door, with only hours left before the world was consumed entirely and every last living thing was devoured right along with it.

Summoning the High King of the Infinite Realms was the only option left, and even then felt more like choosing a firing squad rather than a noose at the end of the day. Pariah Dark might - might - accept the task of destroying the foe they faced, but tmit would come at a cost that was near equal to doing nothing at all. Provided the tyrannical ruler simply didn't let them all die, an entire planet dead was an entire planet to add to his endless armies.

They had to try. Stupid and suicidal as it was.

Zantanna and John worked in silence as they created the summoning circle, hands shaking and stomachs cramping as they worked under the apprehensive eyes of the rest of the League. They all understood that no matter what happened, they would all likely end up dead by the end of it. That the best case scenario meant that death was only the beginning of their problems.

Candles were lit. Insense burned. Blood spilled. Words spoken.

Nothing.

Nothing.

It failed, not so much as a flicker of magic. Which was impossible, they'd checked and confirmed a dozen times that they had the right ritual, that they were following the steps, they had done everything right way wasn't it working? What had they done wr-

"Ugh, gross is that blood?"

Elle Phantom, fifteen minuted late to the site of the ritual with both the boys Super, the most murderous Robin and a sugary abomination of an iced coffee from Starbucks, scrunched her nose in disgust as she looked at the summoning circle.

"This ritual is so out of date, where did you even find it? Wait is that Latin? Who tries to summon someone from the Ghost Zone in Latin?"

John had burned through every drop of alcohol and cigarette he owned hours ago while trying to find this bloody damn ritual and was very much not in the mood for the little hellspawn's color commentary on the process.

"I don't bloody well seeing you providing with any alternatives for summoning the Ghost King." He swore, turning away from the gremlin to tear through the ancient book he and Zantanna had discovered with the ritual inside.

There was a loud slurping noise as the undead hero sucked the last remnants of her drink through the straw. John's brow twitched, even Zantanna - who usually seemed endeared by the chaos goblin - looked at the end of her rope.

Then - "Oh, is that who you wanted to summon? Why didn't you say so?" She drifted over, handing her empty drink off to a disgruntled looking Batman, and began rummaging through the unused magival supplies left over from the - failed - summoning circle. "Here, give me like, five minutes."

John was fairly certain his head was about to explode.

"You know how to summon the Ghost King? You?"

Phantom rolled her eyes at him. "Duh, obviously."

"Obviously." Zantanna repeated, looking like she was half a moment away from having a breakdown. She didn't try to stop the ghostly girl, though, and to be fair neither was John. They were already fucked, might as well let the gremlin try her hand at it.

It took less than the five minutes Phantom had claimed she needed.

When she was done there was a significantly smaller circle on the ground. At the cardinal directions of the circle, written clockwise she'd drawn not any magical runes but instead what appeared to be the Roman Numerals for one, then two, then something akin to a sideways T with an additional mark rising upward from the long horizontal bar, then the letter L.

It had to have some kind of ancient magical significance John didn't know as Shazam made a noise like a dying goose and squeaked out the word Loss like it was a question. Phantom gave the Champion of Magic a sharp toothed grin before adding some words in a language John didn't know before she finally allowed gravity to pull her back to earth and plant her feet on the ground.

She wiped her hands together a bit dramatically, looking pleased with herself, but at that point John didn't care. He could feel the building magic, heavy and oppressive as she had begun her task. Unlike the circle he and Zantanna had attempted, this one was working.

He couldn't help thr nervous swallow he gave as Phantom then declared, with a strange amount of seriousness. "All that’s left are the words."

She took a deep breath, eyes closing for a moment, and the world went utterly silent around them. This, John could feel, this was the real deal. Fuck him sideways the hellspawn was actually doing it.

Phantom's eyes opened, glowing with that bright eerie green light of her power. Another deep breath and then -

"You are my dad! You're my dad!" He watched, any scraps of hope she'd instilled in him dying an undignified death as she gave a terrible little wiggle dance while she sang(?) Off key, "Boogie woogie woogie!"

Every last person on Earth was going to die and one of John's last moments was going to be spent watching the little undead shit do the Macarena. Well fuck him, he guessed.

Then there was the sound of the veil between the world's tearing in two and the fucking Ghost King was standing in Phantom's summoning circle screaming in a screeching falsetto:

"When will you learn? When will you learn that your actions have consequences!"

You know what actually at this point John would rather the apocalypse kill him.

[moamidzyism]

locked out (c.yj)

☆。.:*·ﾟwc 1468 smut ౨ৎ minors DNI ˚⁺。˚ ୨୧ resident assistant!yeonjun x fem!reader, making out, hand job [masterlist • reblogs + feedback appreciated]

event masterlist

the knock on his door pulled yeonjun out of his desk chair. he sighed and reluctantly shuffled across the room. as he opened the door, he was met with the familiar sight of you, the shy resident that looked up at him with wide eyes when he held open the elevator doors for you on move-in day. now you stood in front of him with the same nervous energy.

he turned on his “on the lock voice” as he asked you what brought you to his door. you smiled bashfully, stumbling over your words as you explained that you got locked out of your room. he glanced down at his phone to check the time. 10:34pm flashed on the screen. he looked back at you apologetically. “the resource office is closed and i’m not sure who is on night duty today.” he explained to you.

“oh,” disappointment filled your face as your smile faltered.

“have you tried reaching your roommate?” he suggested.

you nodded, slumping your shoulders. “yeah, but she isn’t home and she says she might not be back for another hour or so.” your gaze drifted past yeonjun, lingering on the warmth of his room behind. “can i stay here?”

yeonjun looked back at his room for a moment and reminisced about the peaceful night he thought he was going to have. he turned back to you, eying you up and down. you were wearing a black mini skirt paired with a matching leather jacket. your arms were behind you, trying (and failing) to conceal the brown paper bag that you clutched in your hands.

he hesitated, sighing and massaging his temple, weighing his options. he couldn’t really deny support to one of his residents, especially when you were smiling at him so expectantly and coyly. “why not?” he finally relented, pushing the door open wider for you to walk in.

he watched you step inside and remove your jacket. you took a seat on the couch and also took in his room. his studio was a lot larger than yours, even though it was meant for one person, but those are just the perks of his job. the soft lighting of his desk lamp cast a gentle glow across the walls and his meticulously made bed that was tucked neatly against the back wall. he watched your face as your mind contorted trying to place his room in file of the character you have made of him. 

yeonjun walked in after you, but towards his desk instead. he glanced at the waiting room of his video game that had just loaded as soon as you knocked on his door. he sighed wistfully, shutting down the game and closing his computer. with a resigned air, he moved to join you on the couch. “so, how has your semester been so far?” he asked.

“it’s been okay,” you bit your bottom lip.

“made any friends?”

“i thought i did, but they ditched me tonight.” you admitted. you tried to mask your disappointment but he saw right through it.

“oh, that sucks.” he tapped your hand in support. “but it’s just the beginning of the year so you’re going to make new friends in no time.”

“yeah, true. at least i get to be here with you.” you tried to joke in a pathetic attempt to lighten the mood. yeonjun gave you a pity laugh and the conversation quickly dwindled from there.

you scanned the wall of his room, eyeing the posters, trying to find something that you could make into a conversation. yeonjun opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. he too looked around the room, racking his brain on what he could say to fill the void. your eyes met and you exchanged a tight lipped smile before immediately averting eye contact.

the silence stretched, filled only by the ambient hum of the room and the voices on the street outside.

“i’m sorry,” you laughed nervously after a while. “this is so awkward.”

“no, it’s not–” he started, but then he laughed too. “actually, yeah it is.”

“i’m usually better at talking to people, but this is just different, i guess,” you confessed, both of you turning to face each other.

“why would this be different?”

“this is so embarrassing. i shouldn’t have said anything,” you hid your hands in your face. he insisted you have to tell him, prying your hands off your face, a playful grin spreading across his face. you groaned but he promised that he wouldn’t laugh and so you told him all about the little crush on him that you had developed since the moment you met him.

you couldn’t stop the word vomit from rushing out of your mouth and yeonjun looked at you with amused eyes as you rambled on and on about how interesting and funny and cool and kind you think he is.

yeonjun reached out to gently take your hand. he squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing against your skin to comfort you. you inched closer and closer to him, trying to close the gap between the two of you. before he could process, your lips were on his, your hands cupping his face.

he pulled away and you were quick to rush into apologies and gather your things from the floor. yeonjun pulled you back into the kiss. without breaking the kiss, he pulled you onto his lap and you straddled him.

you wrapped your hands around his neck, your fingers threading through his hair in a way that makes him moan into the kiss. his hands roamed your back, pushing your chest closer to his. he had to admit, you’re a really good actress – the way you walked into his room, giving him your pathetic story about locking yourself out. but now he was the pathetic one underneath you. 

he broke apart from the kiss briefly. your foreheads rested against each other, your warm breath on his lips as you panted softly. “we really shouldn’t be doing this.” he groaned when you grinded against him. your hands made their way to the waistband of his gray sweatpants.

“i wouldn’t tell, if you don’t.” you pressed a series of tender kisses along his jawline.

yeonjun let out a low ok and you slid your hand inside his pants, your fingers brushing against his growing cock. his head fell back against the couch at the contact. you wrapped your hand around him, feeling his hardness as you began to stroke him slowly, deliberately, and gently.

yeonjun could feel himself quickly going insane with your every teasing touch, his breathing growing heavier. “that feels so good.” you watched him whisper with his eyes half-closed in pleasure. you watched intently at the way his expression shifted with each movement, the way his body responded to your touch.

as your hand moved faster, his breathing became more ragged, his moans loader. each stroke brought him closer to the edge, his body tense and trembling under your touch. he could feel the power you held over him and how his need for you grew with every passing second.

yeonjun’s hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer. he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss again. the room felt like it was spinning and the only thing that was keeping him grounded was his hands that gripped your hips, guiding your movements against him.

just as he was about to reach his orgasm, your phone rang. the sound jolted you both out of your haze. yeonjun let out a frustrated groan, his head falling back against the couch. “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” he muttered.

a string of curses fell from your lips as you reluctantly pulled away from him. your hand slipped out of his sweatpants, and you dug through your purse looking for your phone. the caller id showed your roommate’s name.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered as you answered the phone.

you tried to regain your composure and hoped that your roommate couldn’t sense your heart rate skyrocketing as yeonjun reattached his lips to your neck, biting and sucking ever so gently while your roommate tells you that she just got back to the dorm and she was making her way upstairs.

“okay, i’ll– i’ll see you soon.” you hung up the phone. “i have to go. my roommate is coming up now.” you told yeonjun, who whined in protest but still allowed you to collect your things and orient yourself before you left.

he walked you over to his door, and you turned around to pull him into a long, lingering kiss, your fingers gently curling into his hair. his lips met yours with fervor, but you quickly pulled away and opened the door.

“i’ll see you around, yeah?”

taglist: @naomiarai @dearlyjun @atinyniki @boba-beom @bunnie-hq @isabellah29 @pluviophile-xxx @wolfytae-exe @yutacchin @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @tinyelfperson @nikilvrfvr @wccycc @ryunjin0 @tyunzonlystar @thejadeazalea @mong-mong-seungmin @jjklvr9 @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @snghoonluv @itzzz-yerin @ujisworld @milanco @gyulinoo @nounouzzn @enhaslxt @tenleeluvr @everythingboutkpop @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @yawnzsof @sthwaaberry @meowiejuns

comment below or send an ask to be included in the taglist for this event! fill out this form to join my permanent taglist! author's note :: this was definitely not a fantasy i had about one of the r.a.s that lived in my building last year. this one is a doozy but i hope you guys enjoy it lol

[wol-fica]

Tara giving reader head while gaming (gip)

summary - ^ (added some more stuff to make it spicier)

an - now i wanna go to my gfs house

—————————

“Babe?” You called, eyes focused on the screen in front of you, “Can you bring me my water bottle?”

It was a boring Monday afternoon, school being out due to the aggressive snow storm happening outside. You lived off campus, meaning it would be way too dangerous to drive on the icy and slippery streets of New York.

Conveniently, you had your gaming setup at your apartment, which meant you had entertainment for at least a little while instead of just sulking around bored.

Oh, and your girlfriend lives with you, what a plus!

Tara moved in with you about a year after your relationship started, being that she needed time to recover from ghost face and her older sister was not keen on you and her baby sister screwing around all alone.

Sam eventually caved though, and Tara was quick to pack up all of her belongings and move right into your space. Her decoration and tastes were soon mixed with yours, and you both fell into an easy rhythm of living with each other. It was nice to be able to wake up to her, and even nicer having her around whenever you needed her to be.

“Here baby.” Tara said, placing the water bottle on your desk and planting a kiss to your cheek, “How’s the game going?”

“Meh, this quest isn’t that fun.” You murmured, aggressively shooting down an enemy attempting to attack you, “Thank you for bringing me that.”

“No problem.” She replied, resting her hands on your shoulders and rubbing, “Do you know when you’ll be done?”

“Not sure, I don’t know how long this storyline will last.” You said, zoning in on hitting headshots on enemies, “Why? Do you need me for something.”

Tara hummed, leaning down so her mouth was by your ear. Her breath fanned out over your neck, tingling your skin with a warm sting.

“I do need you for…something.” Tara purred, licking along your jugular, “But you seem busy so I’ll just help myself.”

You shuddered, clicking to the pause menu before turning to her, “What do you mean?”

She smirked, walking around until she stood in front of your desk, and kneeled down. She grabbed the legs of your chair, yanking it forward until it was close enough for her chin to rest against your knee. She kissed the exposed skin of your thigh before scooching forward until she was face to face with your crotch.

“Play your game baby, don’t mind me.” Tara said, gazing up at you innocently while waiting for you to unpause your game.

You stared back at her for a moment, weighing your options before slowly bringing your eyes up to the screen and returning to the quest. Once the sound of your game resuming hit Tara’s ears, she eagerly undid the tie of your shorts and pulled the hem down enough to reveal your boxers.

You felt her fingers slip under the waistband of your underwear, and sucked in a breath when she pulled those down as well. She pressed a chaste yet calming kiss to your hipbone before leaning back and taking your tip in between her lips.

“Jesus.” You breathed, gritting your teeth at the small suction she was making with her mouth.

Your hands slid off of your keyboard, wanting to tangle into her hair, but she immediately slapped you away, sinking her teeth into your sensitive skin.

“FUCK!” You winced, looking down at her with wide eyes, “Tara!”

She gave you a look of warning that said “don’t do that again” before opening her jaw wider and taking a few more inches into her mouth. You watched with wide eyes as she hollowed her cheeks and began to suck rhythmically.

The feeling was incredible, being that Tara was an experienced girl and you haven’t had your dick sucked in such a long time that you almost forgot about how good it felt. She made sure to do it just how you liked though, running her tongue along your length and eagerly slurping you down.

She was soon deep throating you, the swollen head of your cock buried in the back of her throat. Your size caused her to gag a bit, but that didn’t stop her from swallowing.

Your orgasm came way faster than expected, building up quite quickly and causing you to loose your senses for a moment.

“Shit.” You groaned, letting the hot knot snap, your cum shooting down her throat, “F-fuck…Tara…”

“Shhh.” Tara murmured, giving your tip a gentle kiss before climbing up into your lap, “Let me take care of you.”

You gulped, inhaling sharply when she positioned herself above your saliva covered cock. She gave you a look, licking her lips before carefully yet swiftly dropping herself onto you.

Your eyes squeezed shut, mouth falling open with a guttural moan. She responded, grinding her hips down into you to feel your full length. Her breath was ragged, drawing in and out heavily while she adjusted.

“Keep playing.” She murmured, walls pulsing around you, “Finish your quest.”

“Tara.” You whined, wanting to hold her hips and help her ride you, but she glared at up at you, proceeded to lift herself up, and slam herself on your length.

“Keep. Playing.” She growled, rolling her hips left and right while you whimpered, “Or you’ll be in a lot of trouble later.”

You nodded with a bit lip, picking up your controller with shaking hands and proceeding on with your game. Once Tara was satisfied with your progression, she began to slowly ride you.

Her hips would rock back and forth on you, occasionally jerking forward and up to get a reaction out of you. A few small moans would slip past your lips, but her hand slid up to choke you, so you did your best to keep quiet.

“Good girl.” Tara panted, teeth clenched while she rode you, “Doing everythingI I say.”

You froze up, suddenly coming to your senses. Tara was a lot smaller than you, and you could easily pick her up and turn the tables on her, so why were you just sitting here and letting her ruin you? Should you just let her have her fun?

Nah.

You paused your game, setting your controller down on your desk. Tara stopped moving, raising her eyebrows at you and opening her mouth to scold you for not continuing to play, but before she could even get a syllable out, you flipped her around and bent her over your desk.

She gasped, a throaty moan following suit when you quickly reentered her. Her walls gave way to you, her pussy stretching open for your immense size while you forced her legs apart.

“MMM FUCK!” She moaned, gripping onto the edge of your desk while your hips drove into hers, “Y/N!”

“Shhh.” You cooed, nudging her knees farther apart, “Let me ruin you.”

She whined pathetically, eyes squeezing shut and mouth dropped open while you fucked her. One of your hands was in her hair, pulling and yanking at the fluffy locks, while the other was torturing her already abused clit.

Tara was being manhandled.

And she loved it.

“I know you’re close sweet girl, hold it just a little longer.” You whispered to her, planting a soft kiss to her cheek when she let out a cry of pleasure.

You drove your hips a little harder, grunting softly in her ear while you chased your own high. You reached the peak faster than expected, and pushed yourself as deep as you could go when your orgasm came.

“Go ahead, relax.” You coaxed to Tara, rubbing her hip when she let out a shaky moan from her own release.

You both were unmoving for a moment, breathing heavily in sync before you broke the silence.

“Thanks for riling me up.” You joked, pressing a gentle kiss to the nape of her neck, “Really got me going on you.”

“That was the goal.” She mumbled sarcastically, wiggling her hips against you in a teasing manner.

“Was it now?” You replied, holding back a moan when she purposefully clenched down hard on your cock.

“Yeah…wanted you to fuck me.” She turned her head back to you, still clenching and wiggling her hips, “You should keep going.”

You stared at her, weighing your options, before standing up and taking her hips in your hands. You drew your pelvis back, before letting loose and pounding yourself into her.

Her screams could be heard throughout your apartment the whole night, echoing down the halls and filling the space with sounds of arousal.

The neighbors weren’t happy, but who cares.

You still got some pussy.

——————————

surprise

taglist: @cartierdreamx@tundra1029@red1culous@vorsdany@andsoigotabutterfly@theafterofnevermore@yomomisgay@house-of-lovin@slvt4lanadelrey@thenextdawn@nepobaby08@dunohilly@somekindofpoet@alexkolax@cinffy23@pedrosprincess@amberfreemansburntface@myfturn

[kissenturine]

𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 tartaglia x m!reader — 3.8k words, not proofread, minors do not interact

TO NOTE: amab reader, reader is a dom at first then switches halfway through, reader is mentioned to be wearing lingerie, light feminization (childe says pussy once), use of good boy amongst other pet names, light degradation, praise (for both reader and childe), childe sucks reader's dick, childe also eats reader's ass, cockwarming (childe can't take it LMAO), no aftercare written but it is given, childe licks ur fingers to clean them, mating press, dirty talk. lmk if i missed any!

KAI SAYS: almost 4k words of pure smut haha but like omg i wrote this so late at night with my tip so pls spare me AND!!! this is my return post so...

Tartaglia knows you’re doing it on purpose now, because how can you not be? He whimpers, his cheeks flushing a rosy pink as he feels you clench around him. “Baby, please.” He whines out, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I-I can’t—baby, it’s been thirty minutes.” Thirty minutes he’d been buried to the hilt in you; his dick hard and twitching as it stuffes you full.

Tartaglia whines. He could faintly hear the sound of you taking a deep breath, but that’s not what he was focusing on. No, he was focusing more on the way you squeeze him as you inhale. It was on purpose, he knew you couldn’t just be faking this.

With a deep breath, doing his best to steel his nerves, Tartaglia pressed his thumbs into the joysticks of his console again. “I…” He murmurs softly into the skin of your neck. “I don’ think I can beat this level.”

“No.” You coo in that sickeningly sweet voice of yours. “You can.”

Tartaglia nods his head, your encouragement helping lift his mood somewhat. But, true to his word, he dies yet again. Tartaglia lets out a pathetic whine when he’s greeted with the ‘You Died!’ Screen for the nth time tonight. This bet was made specifically with his torture in mind. You knew he would never beat this level, so to “motivate” him, as you put it, you would sit nice and still on his sensitive cock until he beat it.

“Can’t you move just a little, please.” Tartaglia begs, his dignity long gone. You’re evil for this, he thinks, but all of that is lost when you shift your hips slightly, his mind going blank at just the smallest friction.

He feels his tip bump your prostate, and Tartaglia knows he’s hit it when you moan out, your mouth right by his ear as his fingers press harshly against the buttons of his game console. “P-please!” He whines again. “I-I need you t’move, just a little, just a little, please.”

“Maybe, if you last another thirty minutes, I’ll consider it.” You hum, and Archons Tartaglia thinks he's losing his mind with the way your breath trickles over his ear. “But, if you make it through the level…” Your voice trails off, but Tartaglia knows what you meant.

If he makes it through the level, Tartaglia could finally fuck you. Push you against the bed, wipe that stupid smirk off your face, maybe make you sit on his face until you cry. The options, at least to him, are endless.

You trail your hand over the neck of his shirt, and Tartaglia’s eyes dart from the screen to you. You, all dressed up in your white lace panties and thigh highs, with your chest arched against his chest and here he was, still fully clothed.

Well, only thanks to you.

You, like the cruel man you are, wouldn’t let Tartaglia strip. You’d forced him to watch as you changed, stripping off your pyjamas and slipping on the lace lingerie while he sat there, half sure he was drooling. And then you’d gone and pressed him to the edge of the bed, forcing him to sit as you pulled out his leaking dick, not even bothering to pull his sweats all the way down. Then you sat your pretty hole on his dick, and Tartaglia couldn’t pull his eyes away from the way your ass practically swallowed him whole.

And then, began this whole ordeal of pure torture.

You’re sat on his lap, facing Tartaglia as his arms wrap around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder as he looks over your body and behind you to the console gripped tightly in his hands.

Tartaglia’s eyes dart to you, and they widen as he watches you shift on his dick, your tip forcing its way over the hem of your panties, now drooling pre all over his shirt. Tartaglia squeezes his eyes shut. You press a kiss right under his ear and Tartaglia twitches inside you. You let out a lewd moan and he doesn’t think he can take it anymore.

Not another thirty minutes, or another five.

Tartaglia’s hands shake, and he’s forced to watch his in-game character die again. “Fuck…” He whispers, trying not to roll his hips into your heat. “I… You’re torturing me. Can’t take this.” He whines.

You shake your head. “C’mon, baby.” You coo, using the nickname Tartaglia always uses for you. It sounds almost mocking the way it slips from your pretty lips, but he doesn’t dwell on it. “You might wanna hurry up, or I’ll have to pull out my old dildo to help me…”

No! Tartaglia thinks, and he voices such thoughts with the aggressive shake of his head against you. I can do better than a stupid dildo!

“P-Please don’t.” he says weakly. “I’m trying, I’m trying.” Tartaglia starts to concentrate on his console once again, doing his best to ignore the squeeze of your ass and the warmth of your walls.

Your tip drools pre across his shirt, twitching gently against the fabric. Tartaglia’s mouth waters. He wants to taste you, wants to bury his face between your thighs and lick every drop up. It’s an indulgence he wants to become reality more than anything.

“Can I at least touch you, please?" he asks desperately, gaze not leaving your tip. Tartaglia wants to be closer to you, to have a hand on your soft skin, to play with your dick that was so close to the cumming. He’s ready to do anything in order to make you cum, to feel you pulse around his dick. He’s losing his mind, and the game was the least of his worries. Tartaglia wants you.

"Touch me before you finish the level, and there'll be consequences." You hum. "And trust me, if you think this is bad, just wait until you see what I have in mind." you press your lips gently against Tartaglia’s neck, trailing from his adam's apple to that sweet spot right under his ear. "I'm sure you'd deprive some sick form of enjoyment from that, though."

Tartaglia whimpers at the threat. He doesn’t know what would be worse: the current situation or the punishment you offer. Sick form of enjoyment… His mind echoes. He would most likely enjoy anything you gave him right now.

And like an answer to his prayers, you shift on his dick again. Tartaglia watches as your tip pokes above the fabric of your lace panties, even higher than before. The used-to-be white was now a dark grey with the way your pre had stained and wet through the fabric. Your panties were completely soaked through, the bulge from your dick covered in pre from your leaking tip, poking just above the hem.

Slowly, you tug your dick out of the panties, making sure to slather your fingers in your precum before pressing them against Tartaglia’s lips. "Clean them up." You whisper, and the sound of your voice almost makes him melt.

The instant your fingers press against his lips, Tartaglia is eagerly licking them into his mouth, his tongue swirling your digits around and coating them in his spit. He didn’t hesitate to continue sucking on your fingers, despite knowing they were already clean enough.

“Such an eager boy,” You murmur as you yank your fingers from Tartaglia's lips. There’s a string of drool that connects your hand to his pouty lips as he gives you another pleading look.

“Will you let me touch you now?” He begs, “Please, I’ve been so good for you!” Tartaglia licks his lips, savouring the faint taste of you. He wants more, he wants to grab you by the waist and bury his face between your thighs and suck you off until you’re nothing but a mess inside his mouth.

You bring your fingers back down to your dick, swiping them over your tip and harshly pressing them against Tartaglia’s mouth. “Suck.” You command in a harsh voice, completely ignoring his previous question.

Tartaglia’s lips go back around your fingers again. He doesn’t need to be told twice when you’re the one telling him. He easterly laps at your fingers, ignoring the drool that threatens to spill from the corner of his lips. You press your fingers down against his tongue and he chokes lightly, lifting his blue eyes to meet yours,

When you finally pull your fingers out of his mouth, Tartaglia buries his head into your neck about to ask to touch you again—only for you to beat him to it. “You get two minutes to touch me, but you can only use your hands.” You start. “And, we have to stay in this position. No pulling out or thrusting." You press a kiss against Tartaglia’s lips. "Think of it as... encouragement to finish the level faster."

Tartaglia nods happily at your words, pulling off your neck to get a better view of you. “Thank you—thank you, baby, needed this.” He slurs as his eyes rake down your exposed body before honing in on your sensitive cock. He wishes you’d let him lick that instead of your fingers, but you were clear on your rules for the two minutes.

Tartaglia has two minutes, a whole two minutes to make you feel good. There’s no way he’s let them go to waste.

He wastes no time when the game is finally paused. Tartaglia cups your balls gently, feeling the weight of them in his palm. He massages them slowly, his thumb rubbing up and down the underside of your dick, feeling the warmth and the leaking pre that slipps down your shaft. Tartaglia knows nothing can make you cum in this position, but he can make you squirm, he can tease you.

His other hand wanders up, his fingers ghosting over your skin, drawing circles around your nipples before pinching them gently. He wants to hear you moan, to see you writhe. Tartaglia needs to know he was pleasing you. He gazes at your face, waiting to see a reaction, anything to show that he’s making you feel good.

Your eyes roll back and your dick twitches hard against Tartaglia’s hand. “T-Tartaglia…!” You moan out, your back arching into his chest. Tartaglia’s fingers pull gently at you nipples, tweaking and twisting the nubs between his thumb and pointer finger. Your eyes roll back and Tartaglia whines at the sight, sliding his thumb faster up and down your dick, rolling it over your tip before sliding it against your slit.

He feels your hole clench around his dick, and Tartaglia has to squeeze his eyes shut in concentration to stop himself from bucking into you. He’s about to roll his hand again when it’s suddenly pushed away from your leaking dick. You yank his hands off your nipples too, panting as you do. “Two minutes have passed.” You mumble.

Tartaglia knows you were close from the way you sounded to the way you jerked your hips into his hand. “I’m sorry.” He whines, sounding like he’s carrying the weight of the world in his heart.

With a deep breath, Tartaglia focuses back on the game again, he hopes that this time he’ll finally beat the level. He’s determined, he wants to make you cum, to please you. He needs to win.

You slump against his shoulder, clearly needy. Tartaglia sucks in a breath. You were so close. He thinks. His focus turns back to the game, moving the joystick and pressing the rounded buttons as skillfully as he can manage with you taking his cock to the hilt,

Tartaglia feels you lean forward, your hands dipping under the hem of his shirt. “I wanna see you…” You whine and his face flushes. Tartaglia doesn’t have time to respond before the game console is slipping from his hands and you’re tugging his shirt off his figure.

Another eternity passes as Tartaglia picks up the console once again, doing his best to beat the level. He closes his eyes—just about to give up when the victory music blasts throughout the bedroom. “Finally—fuck, fuck, baby.” Tartaglia groans, tossing the console and pouncing on you.

His lips press against yours, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip before pushing into your mouth. Tartaglia is kissing you harshly, his lips flush against yours as your tongue gently swirls with his.

He pulls away after a minute, both of your faces flushed and panting. “I-I’m sorry it took me so long.” Tartaglia apologizes. He wants to please you, make you cum, see you lose control just because of him. He was desperate to feel you squirm against him, he wants to see the way your face would twist in pleasure when he fucks you just right.

Tartaglia slowly pulls out, hissing as he leaves your comforting warmth and is met with the harsh, cold outside air.

“Let me take you, please…” He begs, his eyes filled with desire and the need to have you. Tartaglia wanted you—no, needed you. His hand wanders back to your dick, wrapping his palm around your shaft and quickly jerking you up and down at a messy pace.

Tartaglia would do anything to have you come undone on his dick.

“Uh-huh.” You whine, and Tartaglia thinks it’s cute how all your confidence diminishes the instant you're offered some dick.

He watches you twist your body to lay flat against the bed on your back. Slowly, your legs splay into the air before you pull them back and bend them at your knees. Your ass, all empty and clenching around nothing, is now fully exposed to Tartaglia. Your hole is stretched already, from the much too long of a time you spent just sitting on his dick. Your own cock lays across your tummy, twitching and drooling uselessly,

Tartaglia sucks in a breath at the sight of your hole. His dick is throbbing at the sight, pressing angrily against his tummy, so hard and needy. He wants to do nothing more than bury himself inside you, to feel your warm muscle clench around him once more.

Slowly, he lowers himself into a kneeling position right in front of you. Tartaglia dips his head to your ass, pressing light kisses across the curve of your thighs. He trails his mouth down to your dick, taking the tip into his mouth. His eyes roll back at the feeling of finally having you in his mouth. Tartaglia sucks harshly, bobbing his head up and down your length. He runs his tongue over the underside of your shaft.

Tartaglia swirls his tongue around your overly sensitive tip, watching and depriving pure enjoyment of the way your hips buck into his mouth messily. You throw an arm over your face, trying to muffle your breathless moans and flushed face. Tartaglia gives you a harsh suck for warning, letting you know that if you don’t remove your hand now, things would get worse.

You, of course, comply, pushing your hand to the sheets and clenching them in your fist.

Tartaglia hums happily, the vibrations travelling across your shaft. He feels you twitch in his mouth and your legs thrash beside his head, squeezing and pulsing by his ears as he goes faster, making sure to let the drool spill from his lips as he moves his head.

Tartaglia pushes his lips down to your base bringing a hand to fondle your balls gently and you whine, your back arching off the bed. Your hand goes to tangle itself into Tartaglia’s hair, pushing your dick deeper down his throat. “I—holy shit—I’m c-close!” You whine, and that was enough of a signal to pull off your dick.

Tartaglia smears kisses across your ass, ignoring your desperate whines and cries, before eventually leading to your puffy hole, all nice and stretched for him. He’s quick to bury his mouth against you, already feeling his brain go mushy at the feeling. His tongue slips into you easily, and you whine at the feeling.

Tartaglia fucks his tongue into you with great fervour, not even caring for his hard dick. All he can think about is the taste of you on his tongue, the way your hole clenches down so nicely against his mouth and those sweet, sweet moans of: “M-More, please, need you so bad!” That slip from your lips and get his hips rocking his dick into the side of the mattress.

Tartaglia’s tongue pushes and prods into you, again and again until he hears you moan loudly. His eyes dart up, barely able to catch the way your back arches. Your legs shake around him yet again, your thighs squeezing around his ears, which only drives him to thrust his tongue into you further. Drool slips down his chin, but he doesn’t care, all he wants is to taste you again, and again, because, fuck, if he died right here, between your thighs, he would die a happy man.

“Right there!” You cry, Your legs threatening to squeeze tightly on Tartaglia’s head. He pushes his tongue in again, thrusting it in and out of your hole with a scary precision, making sure he hits your prostate every time.

“O-Oh, my—fuck, can’t take it!” You whine and he smirks against your tightening hole. “I need you, please, please, please, pleasepleaseplease!” You’re a complete mess, babbling nonsense as he eats you out, eyes rolling back and legs shaking in ecstasy,

All it took was him shoving a finger in, curling it in time with his tongue, for you to cum. Tartaglia eagerly pulls off your ass, watching as your dick twitches against your tummy and ropes of cum shoot from your member. He waits until you're finished before pressing his face against the mess you just made and licking it clean.

Tartaglia looks up at you from his position against your belly. “I….” He whines. “I’m still hard.” He gives an apologetic smile before going back to his first position in front of the bed, this time standing up. He lifts your collapsed legs, throwing them over his shoulders as he slaps his cock beside your limp one.

As quickly as he can, Tartaglia grabs the bottle of lube from the nightstand and smears it all over his shaft. “Help me out, pretty boy.” He whines and you whimper at the nickname. Slowly, you push yourself onto your elbows just enough to push your hand to his dick and help him spread the lube.

Tartaglia doesn’t even bother to continue once you start, only throwing his head back with a loud groan. “That’s it, o-oh, archons you’re good at this.” His eyes squeeze shut and Tartaglia has to stop himself from cumming on the spot for the nth time tonight. He doesn’t even bother to lube your hole, only murmuring a sweet, “This pussies wet enough for me, right?” before he’s pressing a messy kiss to your neck.

“Not a pussy.” You slur, but he doesn't take any mind.

“D-Don’t worry, baby.” Tartaglia coos as he presses his thick tip against your weak hole. “Promise it’ll feel so good…” He wants to be inside you, to make you come again and again.

And suddenly, he’s halfway in, the thick of Tartaglia’s shaft being swallowed almost whole by your pretty ass was almost enough to make him cum right then and there. You whine lowly, back instinctively arching into him, forcing yourself deeper onto his dick.

“Fuck, baby, look what you do t’me.” He groans, pulling out so it’s just his tip stuck in your pretty, clenching hole. Tartaglia fucks his tip into you, watching it messily slide out then in, then out then in, over and over again until he can’t take it anymore and can’t help but want more.

Tartaglia—like the pathetic man he knows he is—can’t take it anymore. He pushes in fully, but just before he does, spits a large glob of drool from his lips to the tip of your spent cock watching it twitch under the feeling. He laughs, watching your dick twitch back to life. “And to think you get off to me spitting on you.” He murmurs, before finally thrusting in fully, in one, harsh movement.

The moan you let out is so pretty and high, and Tartaglia can feel his balls grow heavy at the sound. Your voice isn’t nearly as loud as the lewd squelch of his dick pressing in, in, in and against your prostate, his tip knocking easily at it.

Tartaglia pistons his hips into you, basking in the moans and pleas for “more, more, more!” that slipped from your pretty lips. He’s pounding into you, and Tartaglia watches your head fall back against the pillow. Your hands shake as you desperately reach out to grab onto the sheets for leverage as he pushes your legs up, leaning down onto your body as he forces you into a mating press.

And, oh, Tartaglia feels like he just slipped so much deeper into you, and with the way your walls squeeze and clench and you moan his name like a mantra—Tartaglia is sure he’s just died and reached heaven.

His thrusts start to lose their rhythm, but they still manage to fill you up so much that, before Tartaglia can process what’s happening, you're crying out, your ass clenching so tightly against him he thinks he sees stars.

“I—I’m close, ‘m so close!” You cry and Tartaglia can’t help but bury his face into your neck as he thrust into your ass.

“Me too, baby.” He whimpers out. Tartaglia reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his much larger ones, before letting out a loud moan. “Together, please, baby, cum together.”

And you’re eagerly nodding your head, a mix of “yes” and “please” leaving your lips. Tartaglia isn’t even pulling out anymore, just knocking his hips against yours—no rhythm or pattern, just instinct as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Cummin’ o-oh—fuck!” You whine and Tartaglia instantly does too, feeling the way your dick spurts thick ropes of white onto your chest and his only drives him to the edge. He buries himself as deep as he can before collapsing onto you, pressing his full weight onto his hips. Tartaglia shoots a thick load of his seed into your awaiting hole, whining in content as he feels you milk his cock, squeezing down on him.

You’re panting, laying on the bed with Tartaglia pressed on top of you. His arms snake around your waist, tugging and twisting your connected bodies so that he’s spooning you, his chin resting on top of you’re head.

After a minute of rest, Tartaglia’s arms squeeze around your waist. “Love you, so much.” He murmurs tiredly.

“Promise?” You giggle back, despite the feeling of your exhaustion weighing heavy on your eyelids.

“Always an’ forever.” Tartaglia whispers sweetly. His arms encircle your waist, pulling you closer as the two of you bask in the afterglow in each other’s arms. “I’ll love you, always and forever.”

© KISSENTURINE. do not translate, plagiarize, edit, or repost

[alexiroflife]

"fix your tone"

MDNI, you're a brat & eren has anger problems, sexual content

Synopsis: Eren pisses you off, and when you're still giving him a hard time, he decides he's had enough

to sum it up: you should have known that Eren wouldn't let you get away with your sass

WC: 4,790

Warning(s): literally just smut, vulgar language, slight manhandling, spanking, soft/hard dom

You really did believe that you hated your boyfriend sometimes.

While he was mostly attentive and caring, showering you with his love and affection, there resided his stubborn arrogance whenever the two of you were arguing. 

It hadn’t even been a big deal to you before Eren’s reaction made you angry. You swore that at times he just didn’t understand how his tone impacted the things that he said and how they made you feel. He was so quick to make faces, to snap with some snarky remark when he didn’t see the same fault in his actions that you did.

And it drove you crazy.

Granted, what you had been upset about was a very small matter. You had asked Eren to help you pick out an outfit for the weekend since you both were going to be spending time out with your friends. You showed him the choices between a skirt and some jeans. 

Eren furrowed his eyebrows at the options, picking the jeans rather quickly because he knew of the upcoming weather. Now he had not meant to offend you when his brows furrowed and his lips tightened upon looking at your skirt. He was simply concerned over the drop in the temperature and confused as to why you would pick something so revealing if it was going to be chilly. 

He could have been nicer about it, but he had been tired and instead said: “I don’t know why you’d wear that skirt in the first place,” with a bored tone.

You lowered your clothes, staring at him skeptically with hard eyes. “What are you talking about?” you asked, attitude dripping into your tone.

Eren’s eyes cut over to you with hard confusion. “I just mean you should be more aware of the right time and place to dress a certain way.”

Now you were getting annoyed. “Oh, so you have a problem with the way I dress now?”

“What? Baby, I didn’t say that. I just mean that if it’s going to be fifty out, you shouldn’t go prancing around without your legs being covered,” he explained.

You rolled your eyes, dropping your clothes back onto your bed with force. “Then just say that next time, Eren.”

 Eren watched the motion closely then dragged his eyes back up to you, suspicion bubbling in his gaze. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I just think you need to be mindful of how you talk to me sometimes,” you hissed, narrowing your eyes and turning away. “You can sound so rude.”

“How is it rude that I don’t want you catching a cold?”

“It’s not that, it’s the way you make things sound.”

Eren tilted his head back with a groan. “For god’s sake, (Y/n), I was just trying to help you.”

You sucked your teeth, clearly unable to get your boyfriend to understand where you were coming from. “Whatever,” you grumbled, turning on your heel and storming out of your own room. 

Eren watched you leave, perplexed, completely unaware of how he could have possibly pissed you off this time around.

He thought that you just needed a few hours to blow off some steam, but that night when he asked you what you wanted for dinner, you coldly told him to fuck off from where you sat in the corner of the couch. 

He stared at you, eying your closed off position from where he stood in your kitchen with his phone in hand. When he tried again and mentioned that he was ordering food, you ignored him this time, keeping your eyes glued to your phone screen with a blank face.

He took a deep breath to himself, shaking his head as he put in your order anyway. He knew you would have been even angrier if he didn’t get you something to eat.

But then, when the food came, you took it off into your room and ate behind your closed door. When you finished and came back out, you hadn’t even thanked Eren or acknowledged his presence at the dining table. You simply walked past him to throw away your trash and disappeared wordlessly into the bathroom to shower.

That’s when he started getting pissed.

You had always harbored such awful attitude issues, but in turn, so did Eren. It was one of the many things that brought you two together and simultaneously had you butting heads every now and then. Eren was stubborn and blunt while you were easily irritated and cheeky. Your personality traits worked to destroy each other at the worst of times, but it was nothing Eren didn’t know how to fix. After all, he knew you and your body like the back of his hand.

And when you got mouthy with him, well, he just was not the man to tolerate it. After all, he had a big ego and a tendency to react aggressively when he felt he was being attacked. He was nothing if not perfectly capable of handling you the way you needed to be handled when you got like this. 

Eren was sitting on the edge of your bed with his legs sprawled out when you stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your damp body as steam enveloped your figure. He looked up at you through his brown locks, watching you scoff at his presence and move around him like he wasn’t there.

“(Y/n), I wanna talk to you for a sec.”

“No. I’m busy.”

You were so quick to shut him down, rifling angrily through your drawers for your pajamas. Eren turned over his shoulder, twisting his body so that he could look at you. “I wasn’t asking.”

“That’s too bad, maybe you should ask next time and see if you have any luck.”

Oh. You were really testing your limits today. 

“(Y/n),” he called your name again, more firmly. This time you stop and turn around, passing on your deadly glare.

“What?”

Eren was not having it, not one bit. 

“You wanna fix your tone?” he lifted his brows, anger swimming in his aqua eyes. 

“No, I think I’m good,” you smiled tightly.

With that, Eren rose to his feet, rounding your bed to approach you. You watched him with hard eyes and arms crossed over your chest, expression tense and frustrated. “Try that again, baby,” he warned, hand closing gently around your throat as he leaned into you. “Check that attitude before I have to do something about it.”

Your gaze didn’t falter, for you were far too determined to make Eren see just how angry with him you were. “Fuck. Off.”

Eren’s eyes went cold, lust and impatience clouding his gaze. His large fingers tightened around the plush of your neck, pulling you further toward him. He could see that flicker of vulnerability flash in your eyes as his grip tightened, your legs shifting under you. 

“Wrong answer.”

Eren didn’t waste any time in ripping your towel from your damp body, picking you up, and tossing you onto your bed. You watched as Eren’s eyes went red, shivering under his build as he lifted his shirt over his head to reveal his mouth watering build. 

You had found yourself in this position far too many times. You would catch an attitude, Eren would get riled up, and the next thing you knew, he was fucking the shit out of you. You couldn’t deny the fact that you loved the way he handled you, but at the same time, you still couldn’t let go of why you were angry with him, especially if he didn’t apologize. He expected not to be held accountable, and it pissed you off. 

“Flip over.” he ordered.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

That was fine with him. 

He took it upon himself to maneuver you into the position he desired. He flipped you onto your stomach, then forced your bare ass into the air and arched your back downward, pressing your head into the blankets. You could feel the wind get knocked out of you with the motion, for he had done so with no hesitation and with impressive speed. 

You heard him undoing his belt and tossing his shirt off into the corner. He pulled your arms up from the bed and pinned them to your lower back, encouraging a whine to slide from your throat. “I don’t wanna fucking hear it,” he growled, using his belt to bind your wrists together tightly. You hissed when he tugged at the leather, ensuring that he had secured your arms tight enough.

Eren was quick to give extra attention to your bum. He hummed, grabbing handfuls of your ass and digging his fingers into the plush flesh eagerly. A string of arousal drooled from your pussy as he did so, and he scoffed. He sent a harsh slap to your backside, your body jumping forward and a cry ripping into the air.

“You must like pissing me off,” he slid his hand up your spine and leaned over to whisper into your ear. “I haven’t even touched you and you're already wet for me…”

You groaned, grumbling angrily to yourself through the mess of your pillows. 

“You’re gonna take this shit and you're not gonna complain, you got me?”

“Shut the fuck up, Eren,” you muttered weakly.

Eren slapped your ass again, then once more. You groaned, scrunching your eyes closed and fidgeting against your constraints. “What the fuck did I just say? Come on.”

He moved back down to your ass, kissing across the quickly reddening hand prints that decorating your brown skin. He smoothed his hands downward to your thighs, gently pressing a kiss from your inner leg to the lips of your pussy. Your breath hitched in your throat at the sensation as your lower half squirmed in anticipation. He kept a hand on your bound wrists, pinning them down harshly.

“Don’t squirm,” he ordered, ducking down to press a soft kiss to your sopping clit. A hoarse whine broke from your mouth, your body aching for Eren’s touch.

“Please,” you begged softly. “Just hurry up and touch me, please.”

“Cute of you to think you can make demands after acting so pissy with me all day,” he grumbled darkly. “Don’t start begging now, mama,” Eren landed another sharp smack to your ass. You jumped and cried out before Eren stabilized you again. “You're gonna be patient and take what I give when I give it.”

“‘Ren, please,” you continued to beg pitifully, knowing the nickname you used would get you whatever you wanted. Eren clenched his jaw tightly, prying your legs open further by pushing your thighs apart. He said nothing more as he dove face first into your soaking cunt, licking a long strip from your folds to your clit. 

The moan that ripped from your lips sent the blood straight down to Eren’s dick, encouraging him to proceed despite his agitation with you.

His tongue flattened around your clit as he licked it gently, wrapping his lips carefully around it and sucking generously. Your body began quivering already as his tongue swirled around your lips, slurping your arousal into the warm cavern of his mouth. He hummed, savoring the taste of your juices against his tongue and sending vibrations through your sex. He worked his way down, flicking his tongue around excitedly before plunging it inside of your walls. 

“Shit,” Your jaw fell open, moans muffled by the pillows below Eren slurped your greedy pussy loudly. You could feel your resolved crumbling, his tongue too good for you to think straight. 

Your wrists started to fight against his hold, but he kept his word and his grip on them tight. The more you wriggled around, the tighter his hold became and the harder he sucked. Eren shifted the pace as his tongue moved quicker, flicking up and down, inside and out.

“Fuckkk,” You whined. “Oh god, Eren, please…”

The said man made a noise similar to no and shook his head back and forth, eating out your cunt for all he was worth. You dripped into his mouth pathetically, legs trembling around his head while he relished in his meal. 

He moved his free hand in between your legs to rub circles over your puffy clit as he proceeded to devour your fluids. Your toes curled tightly and your wails grew louder, desperate pleas flooding the atmosphere and making you forget that you were ever angry with him in the first place.

“Shit, I’m so close,” you moaned, turning your head to the side so that your cheek was squished against the bed. 

“You want me to make you cum, pretty girl? Is that it?” Eren lifted his head to coo breathlessly, his fingers picking up pace in rubbing vigorously against your drenched clit. You squealed, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“Yes, please, please, please,” you begged, your sweet release the only thing occupying your brain as it built up to the point where you were about to break.

Right before your orgasm could crash over you, Eren ripped his hand away, leaving the cold air to nip at your wetness. You whined in retaliation and dismay, wriggling around more though it was helpless for you to do so. 

“That’s too bad,” he tsked, running his palms over the flesh of your ass once again. “Wish you could be this sweet all the time, but pretty girls with bad attitudes don’t get to cum.”

“Eren, I swear to god.”

“You apologize, you get to cum.”

“I fucking hate you.”

A fire lit in Eren’s eyes as the words reached his ears. “Do you, now? You hate me? That’s what we’re doing?” 

Your heart dropped in your ass at the sound of his voice sinking into something dangerous, something primal, something indisputably pissed off. You knew you fucked up.

Eren was quick to grab you by the waist and pull you onto his lap once he had shifted into a seated position comfortably. He kept your tied wrists pinned to your back, which he arched deeply over his lap, leaving your ass laying directly in front of him. “Count to ten.”

“Wh-”

You yelped when another sharp sting hit your cheeks, eyes watering at the sensation. “Count,” Edward ordered.

“O-One.”

Another slap, harder than the last. You attempted to suppress your cry, sinking your teeth violently into your lip.

“Two…”

And again, then again, and again.

“Do you I’m playing with you, (Y/n)?” Slap. “You think you can just talk to me however you want?” Slap. “You like when I get angry with you? You like me having to put you in your fucking place? Huh?”

“No, Eren!” You sobbed out.

“Then why do you keep slinging that attitude around with me? Haven’t I told you to reel it in before?”

“I’m sorry!”

Slap!

“It’s too late now, baby, gotta take this punishment. Then I’ll know if you really mean it.”

You were reduced to a teary eyed, quivering mess by the time Eren number nine. He noticed that you were gone when you were no longer fighting against him but simply begging him to stop, your voice shaking with your cries. 

The brunette could feel his heart ache at the sound of your pleas, deciding that you had enough and learned your lesson.

Eren hushed you softly and leaned over behind your ear, listening to your sniffle and whimper for him. “It’s okay, baby, you’re okay. You got one more, okay? You think you can take one more for me?”

You whined for a moment, completely unable to process his question, though found yourself responding to the warmth in his tone and nodding in agreement in a daze. You felt his lips meet your back in a soft kiss. 

“Good girl, baby. Alright, just one more. You got it.”

You winced and tensed up your body as you prepared yourself for the last smack. Eren sat back up straight and raised his hand, then landed his final strike upon your ass. You jumped, before finally relaxing, having realized that it was over.

“You did so good, (Y/n). Look at you. Such a good girl, for me, you know that? You always have been,” Eren praised, his cold facade having completely disappeared. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist gently and pulled you up, moving you to lay on your back carefully. You cringed as the sting in your butt met the cool sheets, but you eventually relaxed when Eren’s hands came to caress your skin lovingly. 

You were then reminded of Eren’s passion and tenderness despite his flaws, reminded of why you loved him. Your mind was fuzzy and your vision was blurred with tears, and you didn’t have it in your heart to still be mad.

“M’sorry,” you murmured over and over. “Sorry, Eren. I’m sorry.”

“Shhh, it’s okay. Calm down,” his thumb glided carefully over your eyelashes, wiping away the tears that had collected in them. He pressed warm, soft kisses to your cheek, then to your neck, chest, and stomach whilst his hands slid up and down your arms. He carefully removed his belt from your wrists as he kissed you then tossed it onto the floor. “You did real good, mama. You did such a good job. Let me take care of you, okay? Just calm down for me.”

You responded with a mute nod and hazy eyes. 

Eren stripped his lower body naked before climbing directly over top of your. You watched with blown pupils as he pressed his body down against you, keeping you protected and secure by the warmth of his skin. Your arms moved to cage him to you, your hands running over his bare back as he kissed you softly, sweetly. 

Your lips moved in a gentle fluid motion, Eren’s hands finding your hair, your cheek, your waist, your thigh. He carefully guided the latter over his torso, to which it subconsciously hooked around. Eren continued to whisper sweet nothings into your ear as his hand moved to stroke his length. You took notice and looked down, unwinding one arm from around Eren’s frame to reach down and assist. 

Eren’s brows furrowed slightly and his jaw fell slack at the heavenly sensation of your soft hand gliding up and down his girth. He took the opportunity to guide his length toward your entrance, dick aching with anticipation. “Open your legs up a little more for me,” he breathed out softly. You obeyed, wrapping your other thigh around his torso and bending your knees so that he had proper access. “There you go.”

Eren pressed himself slowly into your entrance, a string of curses falling from his mouth as he slid through your gummy walls. The two of you watched as he disappeared inside of you with gaping mouths, your head falling back when he bottomed out.

“Just like that, there it is,” Eren began babbling to himself, keeping his eyes trained downward as he watched his dick slide out of your pussy slowly then back into it with a squelch. “There's my favorite pussy…”

“Eren,” you moaned, wrapping your arms back around his broad shoulders. The said man began to adjust to a rhythm, rocking his hips back and forth, pushing himself deeper into your guts with each slow thrust. You groaned, brows curling upward and eyes blurring over. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, the sound of your fluid gushing around his cock falling like a symphony upon his ears. “Fucking…” he trailed off, losing himself in the feeling of your tight walls dragging him back in with each push. 

“Oh, fuckkkk,” you moaned, pushing your forehead against Eren’s. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he guided himself back into you over and over again. 

“You like that, pretty girl?”

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“Fuck, you’s sucking me in, baby,” Eren strained out through a heavy breath, picking up the pace gradually. He moved skillfully, thrusting himself in and stilling momentarily, deep within you so that you could feel every inch of him occupy your greedy cunt. You cried, dragging your nails down his back as he pulled out and thrusted in faster, deeper.

The sound of skin slapping against skin lifted into the air, cream drooling from the space in which the two were connected as he fucked into you passionately. Your moans jumped with the jerk of Eren’s hips slamming repeatedly into yours, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist. 

“You like when I fuck you like this?”

“Yes, ‘Ren,” you cried. “Love it so much!”

“You’re gonna be good, baby? Gonna behave for me now?”

“Yes…” you sighed out. 

“Can’t hear you doll, speak up for me like I know you can. Lemme hear that pretty voice.”

“Yes, Eren, I’m yours! I’m all yours,” you gave in, legs trembling around his waist as he kissed sloppily down the base of your neck. His pace quickened once more as he pounded into you relentlessly, holding you down so that you had nowhere to run. You could feel your eyes cross as his dick speared into your soaking sex, your moans growing louder by the second.

“That’s a good girl, see?” he breathed into your ear. “That’s all you had to say baby. Coulda been done with this so long ago if you would have been nicer.”

Eren pulled you up by your waist, keeping the two connected, and sat back on his haunches with your legs still wrapped around his waist. He lifted you up into the air and sank your back down onto his dick, making you feel every inch of him slide through your gut. You cried, clinging to his neck desperately as you fucked yourself on him up and down. 

Eren assisted you by guiding your hips and keeping you upright, watching as you bounced on his length and swallowed all of him without hesitation. 

“Shit,” Eren groaned. “Fuck, (Y/n), keep moving just like that.”

He tilted his chin to look up at you as you moved, your tits bouncing excitedly. His eyes were half lidded as he gazed at you, sweat dripping from his forehead and sticking loose strands of hair to his skin. His mouth hung open, completely whipped.

“Who does this pussy belong to, baby?” he breathed out raggedly, tongue swiping over his wet lips. 

“Ngh, you, Eren, only youuuu!”

“You gonna catch an attitude with me again?”

“No, I won’t, I promise, I promise- fuck!” you wailed.

“Yeah,” he moaned, eyes roaming over your damp skin in amazement. “This dick belongs to you, baby, you know that? Look at me.”

You slowed your movements slightly to meet his gaze, eyes watery and face red. Eren slid one hand up your back to meet your hair as he looked at your and grinded up into your slowly. 

“It’s only yours, mama. S’all yours, I’m sorry about today. I didn’t mean to make you mad. I’ll try to be more patient with you, baby, I’ll try to watch how I say things. I promise, ‘cause I love you. You’re the only one who can treat this dick right. You hear me?”

You nodded slowly, moving your hands to his shoulders as you mimicked his movements, lowered yourself, and grinded your pelvis against his hips. Eren groaned out. “Say it.”

“I’m the only one who can treat this dick right,” you whispered, eyes glazing over.

“And who does it belong to?”

“Me.”

“That’s right. That’s right,” he ducked his head into the crook over your shoulder and kissed you softly. “I’m all yours, baby. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, ‘m’sorry.”

You moaned softly, overwhelmed by pleasure and your love for your partner. You continued to roll your hips back and forth, your head rolling over your shoulders as you soaked in the feeling of Eren’s dick nudging your insides. Eren shifted so that his legs were splayed out in front of him and moved his hands to grab your ass. He momentarily forgot that it was still sore from his punishment, and kissed you apologetically when you hissed at the contact. He cradled you softly, guiding your back up and down on his cock.

“Fuck, Eren, you fill me up so good,” you whimpered, burying your face into his neck.

“Lemme see you. Lemme see your face while you bounce on my dick, baby.”

You mustered as much energy as you could to lift your head from his neck and look down at him as you proceeded to bounce, his length reaching your g-spot suddenly. You gasped and paused, leading Eren to grab your waist tightly and guide your back down.

“Don’t run away from it, baby, take it,” he whispered, securing his grip around your hips to fuck up into you, rubbing continuously against your sweet spot. You cried out, gripping his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin.

“Oh god,” you drooled, the sensation of his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust making you clench around him. He wrapped his strong arms around your frame tightly and kept your body pressed against him, watching your face contort with pleasure. “I’m close, Eren, I’m so close.”

“You gonna cum for me, baby? You gonna cum on this dick, huh?”

He thrusted into you harder, chasing your tightening walls as his own release built in his gut. He gritted his teeth, eyes glowering with animalistic passion whilst fucking you mercilessly. 

You couldn’t hold it any longer. You were falling apart before you could give a warning. Within seconds, Eren was pushed out by a gush of your orgasm. He lifted you up over his dick by your waist and watched you squirt all over his abdomen. Your legs shook violently as you moaned helplessly, eyes disappearing into your skull once more. 

“God damn,” Eren murmured as he watched your pussy leak like a broken pipe. It was filthy.

Knowing that you were practically drained of all energy you once had, Eren lifted you up and placed your back onto your stomach. Your face sank into the pillows and your ass arched into the air again subconsciously.

“Such a good girl, so fucking pretty,” Eren marveled as he guided his length back into your gaping, dripping hole. You whimpered and whined, completely overstimulated by the sensation. Eren pressed his palm against your shoulder and he thrusted back up into your walls, discovering his pace once again as he chased his high. He watched your fluid jump out against his skin with each thrust and felt himself getting closer as your walls dragged him deeper, tighter.

“Fuck, yeah, look at this perfect fucking pussy,” he blabbered as you tried to squirm away. “Uh uh, lemme feel you for a little bit longer,” he coaxed as he held you to him by your waist. 

Beads of sweat flew from his face and his brows arched, strangled moans leaving his mouth with each slam of his pelvis to your ass and you could do nothing but take it.

You grabbed a fistfull of the sheets and screamed into them, the knot in your gut building once more, so quickly after your last release.

“C’mon, pretty baby, give that shit to me,” Eren mumbled, plowing into your. “Fuck, I’m close.”

“Cum for me, Eren, please,” You cried, tears dripping down your face. 

You were drenched, your juices dripping down your inner thighs as Eren and yourself approached your releases. 

“I’m cumming, baby. Fuck-” Eren pulled out hastily and spurted his warm seed all over your back. A long, hoarse groan slid from his throat as his thumb smoothed over the fat of your reddened ass and pumped himself dry. You could feel the last of your release slip down your thighs and onto your bed before your body gave out and you slumped flat against the comforter. 

Eren took a moment to breathe before realizing that he had cum all over your skin. He looked around and spotted your discarded towel on the floor. He guided the fabric over your body and cleaned you properly, tossing it into the corner when he was done and pulling your limp body into him as he lay down to catch his breath.

You curled into him and rested your head on his chest as his arms embraced you warmly. “You did so good for me,” Eren muttered into your hair, pressing kisses into it as his hand smoothed over the individual braids. “Feel so good, always do. Just rest now, baby.”

You hummed, melting into him, your body completely spent. “You still piss me off,” you mumbled suddenly, and Een’s chest jumped with a laugh.

“I know, baby, so do you.”

[elliespassagerprincess]

super confident!ellie x really bold and forward reader at a party and they’re both just bored and the more ellie talks to reader the more shes stumbling over her words by how quickly she responds to ellie’s lines and ellie knows she’s fucked bc she cant stop thinking about the girl that she fucked at the party yayyyyy

Rose - (ellie williams x reader)

hi anon! i had so many ideas for this, i might make a part 2 because yes or ill make a different version ughhhh...i hope you enjoy it<3

Pairing: ellie x fem!reader

requests are open! send me your silly thoughts

warnings: sexual themes

Summary: in which she cant forget you

authors note: i submitted my application, lets see if i get accepted because i will lose my mind if i don't

masterlist

The smell of weed was the first thing that reached Ellie's nose when she walked into the house.

Mid term exams has had her stressed and she's barley been out. Whoever said college would be easy, lied because she's never been this stressed.

She needed to blow off some steam and what better way is there than to get blackout out drunk and to fuck a random girl she'll never talk to again.

It was too early in the night to make a move. She need to wait for the straight girls to get drunk, and for the overly emotional girls to come her way.

She sat on a couch scanning the room. So many victims, so many options.

Who will be the lucky girl tonight?

"You know its gross to eye fuck innocent people?" she heard a voice talk next to her.

A small frown appeared on Ellie's face when she turned to you.

Holy shit, who are you?

Her eyes scanned your body.... fuck

Maybe you'd be the lucky one

You noticed her staring and you rolled your eyes before saying: "Take your pervert eyes off me"

Oh you were feisty.

Ellie never had a problem with women. Most of them threw themselves at her, all she needed to do was say a few words and give them a small smile and they'd be moaning her name minutes later.

She was confident that she'll get you too. She just needed to pull out all the stops when it came to you.

Ellie chuckled at your comment "I'm not a pervert, I'm just checking to make sure you don't have a weapon on you?" she joked.

"What weapon? My strap on?" You snorted.

oh.

Ellie wasn't expecting that.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" you teased at her sudden silence.

Ellie shook her head quickly gaining her composure.

"Has anyone ever told you that you were pretty?" She quickly tried changing the subject.

You hummed "quite a few... has anyone ever told you that you suck at flirting?"

Now this made her jaw drop.

You didn't giggle like she expected, you didn't give her a shy smile.

What the fuck is happening?

"You're boring" you state, you got up and left.

You left the Ellie Williams speechless.

The longer the night went on the more her mind drifted to you. Her mission of finding someone to fuck ended as soon as you came into the picture.

She wanted you. She was on a mission to find you. But between all the people grinding up against each other she thought that would be impossible.

"Hey there loser" she heard your voice she immediately turned to you.

"h-hey" did she just fucking stutter?

"Did you find someone to fuck yet?" you asked she shook her head.

"Maybe we can..." Ellie went silent, too shy to finish her sentence.

She made two scissors with her hands and she made a scissoring motion "you k-know.... me and you"

You laugh at her. You fucking laugh at her.

"Don't be pathetic, use your words"

Ellie felt humiliated. Why were you telling her what to do? Normally she was the one giving orders. Ellie decided that its time to switch roles. She wanted to be in charge.

"Well lets go to the bathroom and ill show you what i can do"

"so you're saying im some kind of cheap fuck?"

"N-no i mean... i meant like-"

"see fucking pathetic"

Ellie was sweating, her cheeks were tinted in a dark shade of pink.

What were you doing to her?

You gently took her hand "show me where your dorm is" was all you said.

The rest was a blur to her.

Lips passionately touching each other, clothes flying off, your fingers in her. A tiny rose tattoo on your left shoulder. She's never cum so hard in her life.

After tonight she knew you fucked her over.

No one had made her this nervous, no one has ever made her finish this hard, no one had ever made her this submissive.

Who are you?

Ellie groaned when she heard her alarm go off. She rolled over to the side of the bed you were laying on, but you weren't there.

She opened her eyes to a cold empty bed.

"Fuck" she sighed.

She never got your name, she doesn't have your number, she doesn't know anything about you.

The memory of you on top of her, you moaning was all she could think about.

Fuck, how she just forget that? How could she forget you?

The only thing she remembered was the rose tattoo on your left shoulder.

"Fuck rose who are you?"

<3

[magicalmanhattanproject]

okay so like. it's important to me that fit's prosthetic arm Fucking Sucks. there are prosthetics in mcyt settings that function almost identically to the limbs that they replace and his is Not One Of Them. it's a simple design he came up with himself that he usually makes out of diamond and wool painted grey to look like more durable steel models but he can make it out of wood and leaves if he has to (and he has)

it's important to me that it's ruthlessly practical. it has exactly two purposes. 1) keep people from realizing he's actually disabled by his disability and 2) hold totem. he's lucky that in 2b that's not much cause to be doing anything else with your offhand so the illusion doesn't need to stand up to much scrutiny

it's important to me that fit's prosthetic arm is dangerous. not in the sexy way, pac. it has two functions. hold and release. on and off. it's not made for holding a child or a lover. it's meant to hold a totem that can only be broken by death. the only two pressure options are nothing or bone-shattering.

it's important to me that this is a realistic fear he has. it's important to me that he teaches ramón and ramón teaches the other eggs to always approach him from the right side. it's important to me that phil already knows to. it's important to me that bad always positions himself between fit's arm and any eggs and fit notices and fit is more grateful than hurt because better two lines of defense than one.

it's important to me that he refuses any new prosthetics. the one he has works. it does its job. he does his job. he doesn't want a prosthetic he doesn't know how to service himself. he loves ramón. he trusts ramón. it's him and ramón against the world. and it's important to me that for all the long, bitter fights ramón had about how he could make fit an arm that's a thousand times better than the one he has, there's part of ramón that's grateful he knows fit has both his arms to deal with whatever comes after him when they're separated. fit certainly wouldn't accept an arm from any of the other genius engineers around him.

it's important to me that fit has genuine and well grounded reasons to be afraid of trying to touch someone without the intention of hurting them. he's lucky that ramón isn't a touchy kid (it's important to me that ramón could have been a touchy kid) but he has no idea how to go about touching a lover.

it's important to me that pac can't even touch the metal hand without fit flinching away like he's been burned. its important to me that fit doesn't think he's capable of anything except destruction. it's important to me that fit is trying to take baby steps and the whole time all he can think about is the part of his body that's physically unable to do that.

it's important to me that fit builds good things anyway

[tossawary]

Something I found surprising when revisiting the prequel trilogy is how much the clones aren't full characters in the movies. They're props. They're devices. The films give them the same weight and attention as they give the Separatist droids, really. The only two clone troopers I can easily name off the top of my head who get "named" in any way are Oddball and Cody, who are both just barely in "Revenge of the Sith", and interchangeable in their roles with any other background clone.

It's interesting when held up against "The Clone Wars" and other extension material, which had the time and inclination to say more directly, "Hey, these are people and what's happening to them is wrong." Like, obviously what's happening in Ep2&3 is wrong, the audience can draw that conclusion on their own, growing people as cannon fodder is a clear part of the greater tragedy if you take about five seconds to think about the situation here. Even without the element of the entire war being constructed and controlled by the main villain, the clones are a tragedy.

But, oh man, the movies themselves don't really care to focus on that. It's SUCH a background element. I had a "oh, yeah, Order 66 being programmed into a control chip was a later addition to / clarification of canon" moment while watching, because as far as Ep3 actually shows us (as was the initial intention by some, I know), Cody apparently knew the entire time that he might be called to fire on Obi-Wan Kenobi and was just waiting on the call. The "homogenous evil army" trope is... very much present and even more identical than usual here.

By the films alone, you can easily assume that the clone troopers have no love for any of the Jedi (whom we're meant to believe are relatively decent people) for a variety of reasons. Their upbringing and training on Kamino was presumably cold and brutal. They're (possibly enslaved) soldiers in an even more brutal war. This army is offered no development or individuality that makes the appalling Jedi Temple massacre out of character for any of them.

But when the various Clone Wars shows first turned the clones into individual characters and even protagonists, many of whom are shown to be good people and become friendly with the Jedi through years of teamwork in life-or-death situations, Order 66 became weird. "Wait, why would the majority of clones (all the clones we see in the movies, at least) just go along with this? What went wrong here?"

I get why TCW and SW canon settled on the control chips option and I find it interesting enough. The tragedy of it all makes me want to lie facedown on the floor. Darth Sidious is really winning at sheer evilness here.

On the other hand, there are some really fun and interesting "Order 66 was taught, not programmed" AUs to revisit here. Especially when some of the other (Legends canon now) contingency orders include what to do if the Supreme Chancellor is incapacitated or declared unfit, or even getting rid of the Supreme Chancellor and assuming control by lethal force if necessary. Presumably these orders existed as a back-up in case Palpatine wasn't elected to the seat in time for the war or didn't manage to get rid of term limits and was replaced as Chancellor at any point.

That really sounds like Palpatine's evil army of ruthless Jedi-Killers (unchipped) could have easily backfired on him if they'd ever decided all of these non-clones were unfit and organized to take power for themselves. I love any scenario where Palpatine's arrogant and overly complicated plans get him in trouble. The "homogenous evil army" often gets treated as a mindless mob, but while the clones may have some degree of emotional suppression, they're clearly very capable and not unintelligent, and they're not given many (if any) reasons to be loyal to the Republic. And it is FUNNY to imagine any Dark Lord's created army deciding that he fucking sucks at war (there's obviously a leak, why the FUCK are they losing so much ground to fucking droids) and they're overthrowing him for better benefits, so that they can create and run a more efficient Evil Empire themselves.

You could make this angsty as hell or a comedy, or both. I'm imagining the clones at the eleventh hour murdering Chancellor Palpatine with such brutal efficiency that it feels like its own kind of prejudice. And he gets revealed as a Sith Lord in the process (this was taken into account as a potential problem when planning the assassination), so there's an initial moment of: "I can't believe it! He was the Sith Lord in the Senate all along! How did you know?"

Cody: "Didn't."

Obi-Wan: "...Pardon?"

Cody: "This is a coup, sir."

Like, if we're going by what's shown in the movies alone, there's a clear Emperor Cody AU to be had here. Which can be played as a temporary (years long) measure to reinstall a Republic with proper checks and balances, while a bemused Jedi Order and Senate are held hostage, or the First Galactic Empire is established as per canon just with the clones running it and reaping the benefits. I'm currently enjoying thinking about the latter scenario as a dark comedy, in which Future Emperor Cody (or the clone of your choice) has to negotiate in his spare time with the various demands of his fellow clones. (Who are, let us remember due to the horror that is the accelerated aging, a bunch of teenagers at the oldest here.)

Rex: "I want Tatooine."

Cody: "The whole planet?"

Rex: "Yeah."

Cody: "It's a shithole."

Rex: "Yeah, but it'll make Skywalker so kriffing mad, so I'm calling dibs."

Cody: "Noted."

And if you want to write shipfic, there's always the AU of various Evil Army Clones meeting their love interest and then going, "Not evil anymore! Sorry, guys." Which could be angsty or another dark-ish comedy.

Cody @ the clone commander group chat: "WE'RE NOT GIVING UP ON THE 3-YEAR IMPERIAL COUP PLAN JUST BECAUSE YOU HORNY ASSHOLES WANT TO FUCK JEDI!!! STOP TALKING ABOUT THE POWER OF LOVE!!! STOP IT!!!"

[sacharinee]

pairing: bf!peter x fem!reader

synopsis: you tend to peter’s needs with your friends down the hall**

w/c: 1k+

warnings: smut! hj + grinding, cursing, sneaky sex?? minors dni X

a/n: this is my first smut so pls bare w me. like two office references. this wasnt meant to be that smutty but here we are. i hope u like it - feedback always appreciated!

peter is really testing your patience.

he’s been restless the entire evening, shifting and fidgeting on the couch with you. he’s tried laying his head on your lap, tried leaning against the arm of the sofa with his heavy legs on top of you, then decided against everything and sat up straight beside you. 

the only thing keeping peter from his ultimate desires was the splatter film rolling on harry’s massive flat screen tv that entertained you and your friends. 

harry and mj are cuddled on the loveseat together, fully engrossed in the movie as ned and betty make comfortable on the makeshift bed scattered on the floor in front of you.

it was peter’s idea to have a movie night with his girlfriend and closest friends, but it certainly wasn’t his idea to have the most unbearable boner, right now, at the worst time possible. 

“this movie is so gross, who chose this bag of ass?” ned quips. 

“i think it was mj, babe” betty whispers.

“yup, it was me.” 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about, this movie is amazing,” harry shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth as yet another character screams and dies an excruciating death on the screen.

ned rolls his eyes at him, “you two deserve each other.”

“hey, you know what? if you don’t like it, there’s the door,” the brunette responds, “i don’t know what’s the cause of all this attitude.” 

“it’s be-cause i hate you right now” ned fires back.

“oh, so our entire friendship is a lie, i see how it is.”

“you guys wanna hear another lie?” you chirp, both turning to your attention, “i think you’re both great. seriously. you guys are my best friends and not annoying at all.” 

harry crosses his arms and shakes his head in disbelief, “wow.”

“now shut up and watch the movie.”

your attempts are rendered futile, ned and harry continue to argue while mj watches the gory film with contentment and betty covers her eyes.

your attention turns to peter when he’s tugging on your sleeve. “yes, baby?” you peer down at him with sweet eyes, your pretty face makes his crotch ache. 

he can’t help but look away, “i need help.” he answers your confusion  by bringing your hand down to feel his hard length through his sweatpants.

“are you kidding me, peter?” you whisper. his forehead drops to your shoulder defeated, “i can’t help it, you’re hot when you’re mean, and it really hurts”

peter’s begging makes you feel for him, and you consider your options, “please?”

he’s giving you desperate eyes, and you decide you can’t focus on the movie with your friend’s bickering anyways, so you stand abruptly.

“i’m gonna use the bathroom.”

peter watched you make your way out of the living room, following suit, “m-me too.”

nobody hears or pays attention to the both of you, unaware of the risky events that are to take place down the hall. 

your boyfriend catches you slipping into the nearest bedroom, which he realizes is harry’s. he goes to protest on entering but is dismissed when your soft lips passionately capture his by surprise. peter stumbles to kick the door shut as you bring him closer by his shirt, walking him backward till his leg meets the bed. you’re on top of him, lips sliding over each other as you lay him down.

he feels your hot heat press against his crotch and over his throbbing cock. 

“y/n/n,” peter whines, “holy shit.” his head tips, and his eyes roll back when he feels you grind on his thick length. he grabs your hips, helping you move fervently against him. 

your lips attach to his neck and suck, pleased with your effect on him. peter is so easy to please. you’re glad you wore a skirt tonight, your arousal floods his senses and it’s all he can think about. he’s high on you, and only ever wants to be intoxicated by you. 

“s’it feel good, baby?” peter’s heavy breathing and rushed nod gives you your answer when he fails to give you a more coherent response.

you decide to tease, gently grabbing his hands and bringing them beside him. you push your weight further onto his hard on but move languidly; you enjoy torturing peter.

“god, baby, please.” he’s desperate for more. “what’s that, petey?” 

“i need,” his eyes are screwed tight, he loses his train of thought when you particularly grind on him roughly.

“use your words, pete. you can do it,” you encourage. 

“i- i need more, need to cum.” his raspy whine is what gets you. 

you lift yourself further down a bit, eyes fixated on peter as his eyes follow your hands. you slowly undress his bottoms to reveal his pulsating cock, it’s flushed a bright red, almost painful-like.

you don’t do much right away. you glaze your fingers over his member, tracing the prominent veins that run up and down the shaft.

“y/n,” he begs, “do something.”

your fingers slide to the red tip, circling it. peter shudders against your cool touch. his eyes make contact with yours and he leans up to give you a long tender kiss. your hand wraps around his cock, jerking him off.

peter breaks from your sweet lips, “oh fuck.” 

you don’t pull back from him. his face, centimeters from yours, looks so pretty, clearly entranced by your magic. you’re breathing into each other’s mouth, and his needy hands pull at your bare thighs. he’s desperate to cum after an evening full of uncomfortable fidgeting and hiding his hard-on from everyone. 

he’s lucky to have you, he doesn’t know what he did to deserve an angel sent from heaven, giving him a handjob, in someone else’s bedroom, while his friends are sitting down the hall, unbeknownst to your secret rendezvous. 

he’s panting against you, watching your face while you’re watching his cock, twitching under your hand, ready to spill. it’s almost like he’s asking for your approval. “baby? baby, im- im gonna-”

“yo, parker! y/n! did you get lost on your way to the bath-”

unfortunately, you and peter aren’t quick enough to conceal the mess you’ve made on his very bed when he swings the door open.

“are you fucking shitting me?!” and harry’s running down the hall gagging and clawing at his face.

“oops.” 

“ugh he’s so dramatic. you know how many times i’ve walked in on him-”

“god, my fucking eyes!”

“he’ll be fine.”

“you’re lying again!”

[haruchi-slit]

"WHAT GOES AROUND

COMES AROUND"

synopsis: you're a strong love curse who loves to manipulate her opponents mind and emotions and satoru and suguru who was meant to take you out for good but things change..

warnings: p in v, mouth fucking, cunnilingus, threesome, geto never defected, suguru and satoru as teachers

the two men were supposed to be in their vacation but no, no, no, the higher ups said: "fuck your vacation, exorcize this curse instead" and they had to do it.

satoru and suguru were called and got assigned to take you down by end of the day, for you wreak havoc and disturbance to the civilians and other exorcists around japan, you were jumping city by city in order to not be caught but, they got tipped by a civilian that you're near their location after you had been seen fighting a sorcerer, the two men took the mission with no other options left, they took the folder containing your information...and your weakness.

you were feared by many for your ability to manipulate your opponents minds. you were known for your skills not only in combat but also in reading and exploiting your opponents thoughts and emotions.

one of your favorite techniques was to make your opponents sexually aroused. It was a simple yet effective way to distract and weaken your foes.

by using seductive words and gestures to make them lose control of their desires, yeah it was one to make your opponents lose.

however, there were consequences...it was your weakness, everytime you overuse your curse technique the effect of your power reflects to you.

you might be powerful, but luck isn't always on your side.

"fuck-!" you huff as you clenched your hands into a fist. you have just knocked out an above average sorcer, you pulled your hair back and started to catch your breath, you were preparing for your escape until you heard cackling voices and distant murmuring, it made your ears perk up, before roaming your eyes to your surrounding,

"show your self, fool!" you shout, which only made the chuckling voices louder, you feel your sweat trickling down your spine as you shout, you were nervous and definitely vulnerable right now, you knew you should've not overused your curse technique.

as you huff heavily, two figures stepped out off the bushes near you, you tried to stand properly but to no avail you dropped on your knees. they were there the whole time, watching you fight their kind, they emerge with a annoying smirk plastered on their stupid faces.

"no need to stress, babe" the man with snowy locks teased, which made you cringe "how long have you been there?" you struggled, with your voice shaking almost uncontrollably, "long enough to see you struggle with your own curse technique" the raven haired man shrugs, still smirking like an idiot while your body was getting hotter and hotter while the interaction flows thru, you knew you couldn't fight right now but there was no choice.

you need to escape,

so you punched their guts to make a distraction and ran for your dear life, you tried to run as fast as you can but only to be cornered by them, "what the fuck do you want!" you shout, "you've been literally causing disturbance and sucking souls from our sorcerers" the long haired guy sassed with furrowed brows "and you're telling us what do we want?" the white haired man adds,

"I'll kill you both" you threaten, "but you can't your powers are useless" the man with white hair spoke once more, "let me go, can you? i r-really need to go" you used your cursed technique as your last resort and it's the worst idea you've done, I can't blame you though you didn't have any choice.

you flicked your eyelashes at them, as your irises formed into a whirlpool, trying to control their mind- but they remained unfazed. They could see through your every move and were not affected by your words or actions. your curse technique reflected back to you, making you much vulnerable than before, you dropped down to your knees as you feel your cursed technique effect your body badly and there's only one way to get out off this and it's a really bad idea.

you are fucked, literally.

some moments past...

"anghn~ fuck! " you'd stammer as the two men nibble on the valleys of your neck, leaving passionate marks, while the atmosphere gets thicker and thicker with your arousal,

"no more actin' though?" the long haired man laughs, "could've told us you're feeling some..." the white haired man pauses, "things earlier instead of trying to suck our souls" he continues, with attitude, continuing to nibble on your plump skin.

"you fuck-ing! humans-ack!" you winced, once you felt someone bite your neck, "we have a name, you horny little curse." the long haired man stated, "he's suguru, I'm satoru. I'm sure you already heard of us" the white haired man said, yanking your skirt up, "you're so fucking wet..." he grumbles, tugging your panties off, your breathing became uneven, while your pussy pulsed and gripped around nothing, your eyes became hazy and you felt your head almost spinning.

your body shivered as soon as satoru laid his tongue on your cunt,

"ahghh-!" you squeaked, barely standing on the ground, satoru notices it, and quickly placed your thigh on his shoulder. it feels so good, it felt so deadly, your body tingled everytime suguru trails kisses on your neck, it was electric, it felt unreal.

"mgh- don't! don't stop!" you'd wept, as you subconsciously jerk and buck your hips on the bridge of his nose-

"enjoying it?" suguru teased, drawing his calloused fingers on your perked nipples, earning a satisfied moaned from you, "d-don't stop- please.." you begged desperately. satoru gripped your shivering thigh on his shoulder before lifting it up and adjusting his mouth to your clit, once he was satisfied, he drew tight little circles and made sure he never missed a spot, your eyes flutter shut, as your eyeballs falls deep- deep in your skull, "so-" satoru pauses, sucking your juices dry, "fucking-" he pauses again, letting his tongue feast on your luscious cunt, "sweet.." he closed his eyes looking like the luckiest man on earth, as you came. hard. your juices dripped so appetizing, he looked so appetizing.

suguru reaches down on your sopped pussy scooping every cum he can gather on his finger tips, you flinched on his touch, he then placed his finger tips that's dripping with your cum in his mouth, swirling his tongue on his finger tips making sure he savors every last bit of it, "you're right. she's sweet" suguru agrees.

"bend over, curse" suguru commands with a smooth and suave tone as your body quickly moved on it's own, it felt good, too good even.

you placed your hands in a tree nearby before spreading your legs evenly, "good girl.." he purrs before unbuttoning his pants off, revealing his raging pale pink tip, he lets his pants pool down on his knees before he grabbed a handful of your ass, he slides his cock up and down, painfully slow as your body jerked on it's own before he finally aligned his member on your entrance, slowly sliding his cock gently in your gummy walls, "hmff!-" you'd try to suppress your moans as suguru continues to slide his thick cock in, "goodness" he huffs "you're so fucking tight" his face contorts into a pleased emotion, as you feel him fill your cervix, you felt satoru come to your side with his leaking tip out, his uniform tugged between his mouth, revealing his chiseled abs, "don't forgewt mfh", he teased, but you barely understood what he said, you glide your free hand to his cock, palming his cock back and forth, while suguru pounds you with no remorse, that you struggled to stand properly, "ahm!" suguru pounds hard and again and again and again that you've lost count.

you can see satoru's face contort into a fucked out state, his abs flexing and bulging as your hand moved up and down, "k-keep goin'" he struggled to talk, his eyes fluttering shut, damn he's so fucking gorgeous.

as suguru feels your walls clench harder and harder he grips your waist, supporting your body as he pounds deep, so deep in your hungry cunt, "fuck, fuck- ahmn!" you moaned as suguru lifts your leg in the air placing it in his waist, "fuck- you're soo fucking deep- ahg!" you wailed, as suguru reaches the deepest spots of your pussy, as satoru took the opportunity to shove his cock in your mouth,

"mmn! -nnm!" you gawked as satoru pushes his hips with caution, "breathe, baby- fuck your mouth feels so good.."

suguru places your leg down gently before grabbing both of your arms behind your back before pounding once more, "I'm gonna come", "I'm gonna come" was all you can chant in your pretty head as you clenched suguru's dick, you can feel your abdomen move and clench and with suguru's final thrust you came, cum gushes down to your leg as both men continued to thrusts in sync, "you're so cute.." suguru murmurs, "wonder if curses can get pregnant" he banters, with satoru responding with a chuckle, "i hope s-so", and with satoru's last trust he came, inside your mouth, "mhmmnn-!" he hums in pleasure, letting his cock rest in you for a while, while suguru cums soon after, "s-shit.." he grunts, before thrusting in you again pushing back his cum in you, satoru takes his member out your mouth, the three of you catched breaths, before satoru kneeled down to kiss you.

... moments later after satoru and suguru arrived in the school...

"WHAT?! YOU LET HER GET AWAY!?" principal yaga shouts, "we'll catch them, don't worry" satoru assures, chuckling

[mj2606k]

Cockwarming

Kinkmas Day 1

Pairing: So’lek x fem!Sarentu!reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI 🔞, P in V, raw sex, semi!dirty talk, praise, cockwarming, (technically) breeding

A/N: I decided at literally last minute that I wanted to join in on Kinkmas, so this might seem a bit rushed. Hope y’all still enjoy it though! :)

Summary: So’lek took the Sarentu he had grow closest to on an overnight trip to observe a nearby RDA site, but they get stuck in a cave during a heavy storm. They build a small fire but they’re both still freezing, so they come up with another way to keep each other warm.

So’lek grunts in annoyance as he climbs further up the steep hill, rain pelting him in the face and nearly making him lose his hold on the outcropping rock he had been holding onto. He regains his hold quickly before glancing behind himself at the other Na'vi with him — one of the female Sarentu. She was the one that escaped alone when he was helping Alma rescue her and the other remaining members of her clan from TAP.

She’s right behind him as they climb the rock, and only a few minutes later So’lek reaches the top of the hill and the foot of the cave, reaching down to grab the Sarentu’s hand before lifting her up into the cave beside him. They both just rest there for a moment, catching their breaths as they watch the middle of the storm finally reach them, the rain pouring down outside the cave nearly enough to form a small waterfall.

After a few moments the girl Na’vi stands and heads deeper into the cave, finding a few dry branches and setting them up to make a fire. So’lek does his best to scout the area around their cave without getting himself drenched by the rain, then he makes his way over to her just as she lights the fire.

She adds a few more sticks and small branches to the fire before carefully stripping off most of her coverings, leaving herself only in her tewng, chest covering, and her chest plate. So’lek watches her silently, his eyes trailing over her body here and there, pausing over the small bruises on her hips and the occasional bite spread out over her inner thighs from one of their most recent endeavors.

Hours later the pair are huddled together as far back in the cave as they can get, the Sarentu visibly shivering even as So’lek adds more wood to the small fire. He’s more discreet about his lack of warmth, but he’s quick to huddle back up behind her once he’s finished adding the remainder of the wood to the fire. So’lek takes a moment to consider his options before leaning in and wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his forehead against the back of her neck as he gently pulls her closer in an attempt to share their body heat with one another. The Sarentu smiles as he leans in close, resting one of her hands over his even as she continues to shiver, her teeth chattering quietly.

Both of them try desperately to sleep but even as So’lek begins warming slightly, the girl’s chattering teeth and insistent backing up to get closer to him does nothing but keep him awake. This goes on for another ten minutes before So’lek thinks of something new to try and begins softly pressing kisses to the back of her neck, his tail curling gently around her’s when she gasps softly.

Only minutes later the Sarentu had given him verbal consent and now So'lek had pulled her tewng to the side, lazily thrusting two of his own fingers inside her, groaning softly at the quiet moans she let out as he stretched her gently. As if she wasn't already practically putty beneath his hands, he was also finding amusement in whispering little comments, whether he meant for her to hear them or not she wasn't sure. "Nìtxan 'ekxin...tswìk oe nemfa nìtxan nìltsan. (So tight...sucking me in so well.)" So'lek murmured right beside her ear, chuckling softly as her cunt fluttered around his digits.

The Sarentu whimpered needily, bucking her hips against his hand before grinding her hips back against him through his tewng, “Please, So’lek.. Oe nìtxan mek, kin nga mìfa. (I’m so empty, need you inside.)” So’lek coos softly, nuzzling his cheek against her shoulder as he gently pulls his fingers from her before moving his own tewng to the side. He used her juices on his fingers as lube as he stroked his cock once, twice, before lining it up to her entrance and slowly pushing into her.

It seemed that they both held their breaths until he was fully bottomed out inside her, a soft whimper falling from her lips as So’lek muffled a groan against her shoulder. He allowed her a few moments to adjust before he began slowly pulling out until only the tip remained, then slowly but deeply thrusting back in, repeating his movements until little moans were spilling from her on each thrust in.

As he steadily rocked against her, soft groans and quiet curses continuously slipped out of So’lek’s mouth, little murmurs of “O-oh, fuck-” or comments muffled against her shoulder that make her stomach flutter and her cunt clench around So’lek’s cock. “Tsä’ pxaw oe.. nafì’u sìltsan ‘evenge. (Gushing around me..such a good girl.)” the words were whispered right against her ear and her inner walls gave another flutter around him, a choked moan falling from her lips as his tip grazed her g-spot, “Nga kop txukx… (You're too deep…)” So’lek groaned again before pressing a soft kiss against her shoulder in response to her words and her tone.

She could tell when So’lek was close to his release by how his cock twitched inside her, how he wet a few fingers on his free hand before reaching around and beginning to rub quick steady circles against her clit to mask the way his thrusts were starting to get sloppy and uncoordinated. “Lu nga tstu si? (Are you close?)” he asked her, his voice pitching up slightly at the end as he swallowed down a soft whimper at the way her walls were beginning to milk him, bringing him dangerously close to the edge that he was desperate to push her over before him.

The Sarentu was about to answer him when she suddenly felt his tip brush against her cervix. A loud gasp left her mouth before her inner walls spasmed around him, properly milking him as her arousal squirted out and partially soaking both their thighs. So’lek let out a quiet broken moan, thrusting hard into her a few more times before pushing as deep in as he could go and stilling, panting quietly as Sarentu shivered slightly from the feeling of his cum painting her walls white.

A few more minutes passed as they both just relaxed, panting quietly until So’lek gently adjusted their position, returning to properly spooning her while letting her warm his cock, both of them purring softly while he pressed light kisses up her jaw, his hips lazily grinding against her. “Lu nga sang set? (Are you warm yet?)” So’lek broke the silence after a while and the Sarentu couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that left her until they were both laughing quietly, the loud but calming sound of the rain outside the cave eventually sending them both to sleep.

[cevansbrat0007]

Creep

Summary: You sneak out of the house to go on a midnight supply run, which inadvertently sends Ari into panic mode.

Warnings: Ari Being A Menace, Mentions of Periods, Discussions of PTSD, Harassment, Slight Manhandling, Light D/s Overtones, Ass Slapping, Punishments (mentioned), Handcuffs (mentioned), Hair Pulling, Fun in the Shower, Discussions of Religion, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt suggested by my darling @writer84. This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s House – 11:47pm

You stare down at the crumpled piece of toilet tissue in your hand. Of all the nights Aunt Flow could’ve picked to come calling, she’d chosen the only night you’d decided to sleepover at Ari’s place this week. Which sucked because you were also completely unprepared since it had arrived ahead of schedule. 

Fuck! Sometimes you really did have the most awful luck. 

Heaving a dramatic sigh, you quickly pull up your shorts and flush before washing your hands and heading back towards your man’s bedroom. After racking your brain, you were pretty sure that you didn’t have a spare in your glovebox either. 

Which meant that you would need to make a special trip to the store. At this point, it was either that or sleeping on a towel. And the last thing you wanted to do was ruin one of Ari’s towels or, worse yet, his sheets. 

Mind made up, you quietly gather up your things so as not to disturb your slumbering lawman before going off in search of your flip flops. Feeling uncomfortable walking out in just a tank top that you normally reserved for sleeping, you decide to help yourself to one of your man’s freshly laundered t-shirts he’d left folded on the counter. 

Smiling, you slip it over your head and then you grab a random piece of scratch paper and pen so that you can leave your overprotective bounty hunter a brief note. In a few words, you let him know that you were leaving for the night and that you’d call him in the morning. 

Once that’s done you grab your phone off the charger, as well as your purse and keys, before exiting through the front door and then locking it behind you. You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to Ari because of your carelessness.

You hustle to your car, engaging the locks the moment you climb inside. From there, you waste almost no time turning on the vehicle and putting it in reverse before slowly backing out of the driveway. 

Hopefully you hadn’t woken Ari. Because even if the man did manage to drive you up the wall from time to time, it didn’t mean he didn’t deserve a good night’s sleep. Which was why you were so hell bent on not bothering him with any of this.

Sure, he’d probably grump and growl about it tomorrow. But he’d get over it eventually, especially once he realized that he hadn’t signed up to deal with you while you danced with the red devil in your belly.  

At just after midnight you knew your only option for your late night supply run was going to be Wilson’s Drugmart. While you usually preferred to do all your shopping at Herb & Twine, they weren’t open late. Not even on the weekends. 

So, while Wilson’s wasn’t ideal, it would simply have to do. Your hands clench around the steering wheel as you find yourself questioning your decision to just up and leave without waking Ari. If you were being honest, you probably should’ve at least had the decency to say goodbye. 

Biting your lip, you make a mental note to apologize to the gruff bounty hunter first thing in the morning. Maybe you'd even stop by Stella’s Coffee House to pick up some breakfast for you both. Assuming you could manage to haul your ass out of bed early enough to catch your man before he hit the road. 

Yep. That was officially the plan. A carefully worded apology with a side of fresh baked apple strudel and a cup of coffee.

It’s not long before you finally find yourself pulling into the convenience store’s parking lot, which is virtually empty. This doesn’t come as much of a surprise, however, especially since the hour was growing increasingly late. 

The way you saw it, being the only one in the store had its perks. It meant that you’d be able to get in and get out with minimal hassle. Which was exactly what you’d been hoping for. 

Shutting off your car, you sling your purse over your shoulder before stepping out into the warm summer night once again. You hustle across the lot all the while battling a particularly persistent swarm of gnats.   

“Gross!” You hiss, praying that none of them got stuck in your curls. Otherwise you were liable to have a fit. 

As you reach the double doors, you notice an old, withered man sitting off to the side. His head is bowed as he rocks back and forth from his perch on the concrete, his faded green coat looking oddly out of place due to the season. 

He looks up as you pass by, muttering something that you can’t quite make out. Not wanting to be rude, you offer him a smile. And when he holds out a dirty cup, you find yourself feeling compelled to dig some spare change out of your purse and hand it over. 

His eyes narrow at the clinking of the coins, but he doesn’t say anything. Which you take as your cue to continue on with your plans to locate some tampons and then get your butt home. 

You welcome the blast of air conditioning that hits you the moment you step into the store. 

You spend a minute or two looking around for an associate, but when your search comes up empty, you decide you’d rather go it alone insteading of wasting any more time. All you had to do was scan the aisles until you found the section that housed their selection of feminine products. 

As you make your way around you can’t help but hum along to James Taylor’s version of “How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved by You)”. The lyrics made you think of the man you’d left behind a few miles down the road. More often than not, being with him tended to conjure up all kinds of confusing emotions. 

But for some reason you simply couldn’t get enough of him. It was actually starting to become a bit of a problem.    

Hanging a left you finally find the aisle you need. You were almost at the finish line. Just a couple more minutes and you’d be headed home. To your pleasant surprise, you’re thrilled to see that they’ve actually got quite a few options to choose from. 

You allow yourself to stand there for a few minutes as you debate over whether or not to stick with your tried and true brand or try their competitor. You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice that someone has joined you in the aisle until you hear them speak.

“Jezebel.” 

“Excuse me?” You reply, turning your head in the direction of the voice. The last person you expect to see is the homeless man who’d been loitering outside. 

What the hell was he doing in this aisle? Surely he’d be better off scraping together what little change he’d managed to collect in favor of buying himself a sandwich. Maybe he didn’t have enough so he came to ask you for more. 

If that was the case, then you’d be more than happy to purchase it for him when you paid for the rest of your items. 

You open up your mouth to make him an offer, only to be cut off when he speaks again. “I know what you are. I might be old, but I’m not easily fooled.” He points a bony finger in your direction. “I can smell you.”

“Oookay.” You mumble under your breath before quickly returning your attention to the rows of tampons and pads. While you were confident that you smelled just fine, you were now officially anxious to get your shit and get out. 

“You go by many names.” He continues, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “Many. Many. Many names. I’m familiar with them all.” He takes a step towards you, his unfocused eyes filled with an emotion you don’t quite recognize.

But you can certainly tell that it isn’t friendly. Time to get far away from this creep.   

“Pretty sure I’ve just got the one though.” Sensing that you’ve run out of time you decide to snag a couple boxes of your preferred brand and keep it moving. You’d try the other guys next time. Right now, what mattered was putting some distance between yourself and this would-be dollar store prophet. “Is there something I can help you with?”

He shakes his head “no” as he takes another step. “They call you Jezebel. Delilah. Herodia. Athaliah. I recognize you as a direct descendant of Eve. The Mother of all that is evil.”

“Nope. That is definitely not me.” Spinning on your heel, you go to exit the aisle. Only to stop short when you realize your path is blocked by a stack of boxes that were in the process of being stocked.

Shit! Why hadn’t your dumbass been paying better attention? 

“Your beauty betrays you. It’s impossible to hide the stench of the impure. Of the unclean.”

Duly noted.      

“You tried to tempt me outside. Tempt me with 30 pieces of silver!” His voice rises with each word. And coincidentally, so does your blood pressure. “But I am no Judas, you witch. And I will not betray my Lord and Master!” He dumps his cup of change onto the ground, making you jump back as coins go scattering this way and that. 

Okey dokey, pal. Time to get lost.  

“Look, I didn’t mean any harm earlier.” Your gaze strays to the pile of boxes in your way. Maybe you could throw one if you had to. Perhaps you could scare him into leaving you alone. “I–I wasn’t trying to, uh, tempt you. I was trying to help you, that’s all.” 

Alright, new plan. You’d scream your head off while assaulting him with pads and tampons until help arrived. 

“Lies. All honeyed lies of my enemy. I will not fall prey to your charms, Delilah. I am not as weak as my brother Samson!” His mottled face appears to be almost vibrating with rage. 

But thankfully, just as you’re about to scream for your life, a Wilson’s employee appears holding a walkie talkie as well as something that looks akin to pepper spray. You’re so grateful you could kiss him. Although you’d settle for throwing a $20 bill at him and dashing out the store. 

And he could keep the fucking change.

“Everything okay here, Ma’am?” The associate is young, possibly in his early to mid-twenties. But his body is packed with lean muscle which hopefully signals that he could handle himself should a skirmish happen ensue. 

He moves to insert himself between you and the assumed threat. And even though he’s talking to you his eyes remain trained to the man in your path. 

“Be careful. Don’t you see?” The disheveled vagrant goes to grab the worker’s arm, attempting to pull him closer to his own body and away from you. This time, the clerk has the sense to appear just as unsettled as you feel. “When a woman has a discharge and it is of blood, she shall continue in her menstrual impurity for seven days; and whoever touches her shall be unclean.” His wide eyes glimmer as he speaks, drops of spittle flying from his mouth. “Leviticus 15:19. She taints this space just by existing within it.”

“Right.” You mumble, taking a hesitant step back while maintaining your grip on your box of tampons. “I–In that case, I think I’m ready to check out now. Please.” You feel yourself beginning to sweat as you watch the clerk attempt to dislodge the disturbed man’s grasp. 

“Go on, Ma’am. I’ll meet you at the front.” He grunts as he breaks free, shoving the older man backwards. “Just need a moment to have a word with our good buddy, Julius, here.”

“See? She’s already corrupting you, young man. Using her wicked femininity to seduce you as Eve did Adam. Soon she’ll have you worshiping at the shrine of Baal and then…”

You don’t bother sticking around to hear the rest. While it had been a long time since you’d been in Sunday school, it didn’t take a theological scholar to deduce that all of those names he’d mentioned had come straight from the darkest chapters of the Bible. And you were pretty damn sure that none of those women were known for their charming wit or sparkling personality. 

Oh well. Guess you’d have to chalk it up to another Thursday night in the town of Bell’s Creek. 

After a few moments, another associate comes from somewhere in the back to ring you out. You don’t say much, instead offering a strained smile as he proceeds to quickly bag the tampons as well as a couple of chocolate bars. 

You all but snatch the receipt before concluding that it probably wouldn’t hurt to request an escort to your car. So you do. Which does absolute wonders for your anxiety. And it’s only once you’re safely back in your vehicle do you finally allow yourself to let out the breath you’d been holding. 

You peel out the lot a few seconds later, your body remaining tense behind the wheel for what feels like much of the entire drive. All fifteen minutes of it.

Fifteen Minutes Later…

Relief fills you when you finally spy your house coming up in the distance. However, your celebration proves to be short-lived when you notice a familiar black Nissan Titan parked on the street out front. 

Fuck! What the hell was Ari doing here at this hour?

You throw your car in park and kill the engine. You even manage to undo the belt before Ari opens the door and drags you out of the seat and into his arms, leaving you momentarily speechless

“God, I’m so sorry, baby.” He murmurs, the sound of his voice partially muffled by your curls. “So sorry.” One of his large hands begins rubbing soothing circles along your back. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Huh?” 

Seriously. Nothing about tonight was going the way you thought it would. Perhaps Mercury was in retrograde or something. That was a thing…right?

“What happened?” Ari presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “What’d I do?” He pulls away after a beat, holding you at arms length so that he can look you over, his worried blue eyes scanning your body from head to toe. “D–did I say something?” He swallows thickly as his hands drop to his sides. “Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Sensing your bounty hunter was in distress, you reach up to cup his bearded cheek, smoothing your thumb along his ticking jaw. “Why on earth would you think that?”

Instead of responding, Ari continues to stare blankly ahead. His gaze trained on some unknown point just behind you. Rising on your toes, you place your other hand on his face, willing him to look at you. But for some reason he still refuses to meet your eyes.

“What makes you think you hurt me?” You try, keeping your tone light as you attempt to coax some answers out of him. “Talk to me, Beast.” You’d already had your fill of cryptic and crazy for the night.

“Woke up and you were gone.” Comes his quiet rasp, his voice sounding hollow. “Bed was cold. Empty. Got nothing when I called your phone.” 

You wince when you recall that the damned thing was probably on silent. But even still, there was something about all this that just wasn’t making any sense. 

“Okay…” Although you’re quick to point out that you left him a note, he’s just as quick to brush it off. Almost as if he’s not actually hearing you. “But that doesn’t explain why you thought you might’ve hurt me.” 

There was an uneasy feeling forming in the pit of your stomach. 

“Did two tours in Afghanistan a while back. I’m man enough to admit I came back a little fucked up. The nightmares have been quiet lately but, uh –” He cuts himself off before taking a deep breath. “But sometimes I say things. An ex said I used to cry. Mostly.” He takes another shuddering breath. “Except one time when I…”

“When you what?” Your teeth begin to worry your bottom lip as you wait for him to get on with it. But you refuse to rush him, your own impatience be damned. 

“I woke up screaming. Except it was like I couldn’t leave the dream behind. For a moment I was…back there and…and I shoved my ex hard enough to send her crashing onto the bedroom floor. Left her with a pretty gnarly bruise.”

“Jesus Christ.” You didn’t know what else to say. Clearly whatever had taken place that night had left a mark on the man who stood before you today.

No wonder he looked so…haunted. 

“We parted ways soon after that. Said I was too unpredictable. That she was afraid I might hurt her even worse next time.” He finishes with a shrug, looking more lost than perhaps he actually cared to admit.

“That’s not – it was an accident, honey.” You mean every word, all the while wishing you could do more to get him to understand that he hadn’t done anything wrong tonight. Or any other night for that matter.

Had you known the way things were going to unfold this evening, you would’ve woken him up and told him about your plans. You would’ve let him see that you were okay. Made sure he was fully conscious when you said goodbye. 

But instead you’d gone and crept out of his house like a thief in the night.

Again, your gentle giant shakes his head. “But she was right though, Bird. So, I got myself a counselor for a time. Thought maybe I’d win her back, or at the very least prove to myself that I was stable enough to deserve another chance. If not with her, then maybe with somebody else.”   

Someone like you. The unspoken words hang in the air, buzzing around your head like an overzealous bumblebee.

“And did it help?” As soon as the question leaves your mouth, you find yourself swiftly rephrasing so that he doesn’t think you’re asking about his former lover. “The therapy, I mean.”

“Some.” In truth, he hadn’t had a single night terror since he’d met you. But at the time he’d been too afraid to question anything. “Hasn’t happened in a while.” However, he also wasn’t the type to believe in coincidences either.

“Progress is progress, Ari. If you say it helped, then I believe it did.” You move to grab one of his hands with both of yours. “But I promise you didn’t hurt me.” You bring your clasped hands up to your lips for a kiss. “And I’m so sorry I worried you tonight.”

All you receive is a grunt for your trouble. Which lets you know that he doesn’t quite believe you. 

“Doesn’t change the fact that you left. Snuck out in the middle of the goddamned night without so much as a goodbye.” His free hand comes up to lightly grip the back of your neck, hauling you forward. “You’ve never done that. In all the time we’ve been building whatever the fuck this is, you’ve never pulled that shit. Which means something happened. So forgive me if I don’t readily believe the sweet lies coming out of your pretty little mouth.”

Little did he know that he was actually the second man to accuse you of being a liar in the span of less than thirty minutes. One was a lover, and the other, a creep. You were certainly racking ‘em up tonight.  

Unsure of what else to say – and not wanting to risk upsetting him further – you decide to go with the truth and let the chips fall where they may. 

“I…I got my period.” You tell him, wincing as the words spill out. “It came a couple days early.” Now it’s your turn to offer up your own lame shrug, all the while still holding his hand. “I didn’t notice until after you fell asleep and I didn’t have my stuff with me…”

You watch as his eyes narrow, his brain working overtime to make sense of the story you’re telling him. Quite honestly, you felt horrible that the man had spent even a minute thinking he had caused you harm when, in all reality, you’d just dipped out to go on an embarrassing supply run.

“Bullshit.” He scoffs as he rocks back on his heels, effectively dislodging your grip. 

“I–I’m serious, Ari.” Wanting to prove you were telling the truth, you reach inside the car to procure the plastic bag that contained your goodies. “I mean I’m usually better prepared, but for once I didn’t have anything with me, so I had to run out and buy some tampons. Which turned out to be a literal flipping nightmare. But once I was done, I figured I’d head on home.”

“Is that right?” He shoves his hands in his pockets. And that’s when you notice that tick in his jaw is back. “Just like that?” 

Why did you all of the sudden get the feeling that you’d fucked up?

“Well, I didn’t think it would be overly kind of me to risk your sheets like that.” You press on as he snatches the bag from you and peers inside. “And not only that, but I also figured you probably wouldn’t be up for dealing with me during my time, so I–”

“So you just waltzed the fuck out my front door in the middle of the night?” There’s no mistaking the dangerous edge in his tone and your casual admission of being on your period does nothing to satisfy him.

“I left you a note, honey.”

“Fuck your note!” Ari all but snarls, scrubbing a hand over his beard. “I grew up with sisters. I don’t give a shit about you being on the rag.” He tosses the bag back at you. “It ain’t nothin’ but a little blood, baby. It’s not like you’ve got the goddamned plague.”

“There’s no need to be crass.” You mutter, lightly rubbing your hands up and down your arms. “Although I take your meaning well enough. I suppose I shouldn’t have run out like that. But if you were in my shoes you might’ve done the same.”

“Bird.” Your tall bounty hunter huffs before taking a step towards you. It’s followed by another. And then another. Until he has you almost pinned against the side of your car. “I’m gonna tell you something. And I really want you to hear me when I do. So, you let me know when you’ve got your listening ears on, alright?”

A hand fists its way into your curls, wrenching your head back just enough so that you can look into his eyes. Right now, your man required your full attention. And if you knew what was good for you, you’d make sure he got it. 

“I…I’m listening.” Your spine stiffens as your breasts heave.

“Good. Because the way I see it, you and me…we’re building something here.” He leans in to brush his lips over yours. Once. Twice. “Which means I care about you. Your wants, your needs. Whether you had a good day or a bad one. What you had for lunch, right along with what you’re thinking about for dinner. I wanna be the one who loves you to sleep. And if I can’t be there in person, then I at least wanna be the last voice you hear before you drift off at night.”

The bag you’ve been holding drops to the ground in a forgotten heap as your hands fly to his chest. You grip the front of his shirt, your legs turning into jelly. But Ari doesn’t mind. He’s determined to finish what he’s started here.        

“I wanna be the guy who takes care of you. Not just because you need it, sweetheart. But because you deserve it. Which means that from here on out, your solo midnight tampon runs are officially a thing of the past.” Ari releases your hair in favor of grasping your chin, dragging the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip. 

“Ari…” You breathe as your eyes flutter closed. 

“I wanna keep exploring what’s between us, little Bird. So in the meantime, as your man, I’m asking you not to fly away on me.” 

“I–I’m right here.” You assure him as you move to loop your arms around his neck so that you can bring him down to your level. “I won’t…I won’t fly away on you again.”

“Thank you.” He murmurs before allowing his forehead to rest against your own, nuzzling your nose with his. You only break apart when a nearby porch light comes on. 

Apparently you’d woken Ms. Evelyn. The last thing the two of you needed was an audience, especially with your nosy nextdoor neighbor. It’s clear Ari agrees with you as he bends down to pick up the fallen bag before motioning you in the direction of the house. 

Guess it was finally time to take the party inside. 

“You, uh…” You begin as you busy yourself with fishing your keys out of your purse. “Are you coming in? Wait. Dumb question. I meant to ask whether you were intending to stay the night.” 

“I reckon so.” Ari grunts as he brings up the rear. He keeps a watchful eye on your surroundings as you unlock the front door. “Especially since you and I still have a few more things to sort out.” You know without requiring further explanation that your man’s not asking so much as he is telling. 

“If you say so. But can we maybe table it until after my shower?” You toe off your shoes and leave them by the door, satisfied when Ari follows suit. “If it were any other time I’d ask if you wanted to join.” You pull your t-shirt over your head as you walk farther into the house before draping it over the arm of your couch. “But given the circumstances it’s probably best if I wash up alone.”

By the time you reach the bedroom you’re already undoing the zipper on your shorts. Ari is hot on your heels of course. And when you finally spare him a glance you see he’s sporting a pretty heavy frown. 

“And what circumstances might those be?” He growls, cocking his hip against your dresser. 

“Um. Could’ve sworn we just established that I started my period, big guy.” You toss him a playfully exasperated look over your shoulder. Only to be taken aback by the seriousness written all over his features. “I mean, surely you wouldn’t want to…” You trail off, confused by the bounty hunter’s renewed wave of annoyance. 

“What?” Ari snaps, running an agitated hand through his hair. “What else have you decided on my behalf, Duchess? I love learning about myself like this.” 

Oof. You really weren’t a fan of that tone he was using. Apparently you’d somehow gone and pricked his temper once again.

“I just meant…” You lose your train of thought as you watch him remove a pair of what looks a lot like handcuffs from his back pocket. “W–what do you plan on doing with those?” 

“Not a damn thing.” Ari huffs before removing his shirt and tossing it to the side. “Unless you plan on leaving me to wake up alone all over again. Because if that’s the case we can start thinking of ‘em as an insurance policy.” And while he chuckles, you don’t believe he’s joking for a second.    

“I already told you I’m not gonna run. If you’re really that damn paranoid you can wait outside the bathroom door.” You slide your shorts down your legs before kicking them into the corner. As far as you were concerned you’d worry about cleaning up later. 

“I’ll do you one better, sweetness.” Comes your man’s answering grunt. He suddenly lunges forward without warning, throwing you over his shoulder before striding off in the direction of the shower. “My nerves are shot thanks to you. So we’re simply gonna shower together and call it a day.”

He delivers a sharp blow to your ass, delighting in your responding growl. In fact he’s glad you’re frustrated. Because so was he. 

“Put me down you Beast!” You cry, snagging the box of tampons on your way out of the room. 

“In a minute.” He gifts you with another smack. 

Once you reach the bathroom he finally sets you back on the floor. In a flash, he tears panties from your body. “Add it to my tab, baby.” Is all he says when he notices your pursed lips. 

“You owe me a trip to Victoria’s Secret, cowboy.” You sniff, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Your Beast has already made a significant dent in the size of your underwear drawer. Which meant he owed you a shopping spree. And he was going to pay up before you were forced to do something drastic and uncomfortable like going commando.

“Can’t wait.”

An indulgent smile flits across Ari’s lips as he helps you inside the shower before joining you. You shiver when he gives you his back so that he can adjust the temperature of the water. You take a moment to drink him in, marveling at the sight of his sinewy muscles moving and bunching beneath his smooth, lightly freckled skin. 

Once he’s got it just how he knows you like it he turns around to reach for a cloth as well as your favorite body wash. “You still okay with letting me take care of you, sweet Bird?” He asks while he lathers up, his patient smile easing your own nerves.

You give him a silent nod. But even as you do, you find yourself feeling shy when Ari beckons you closer. How could you not be? This was all brand new territory for you. And now that you found yourself sharing a shower with your strapping beast of a man, it made for tight quarters. 

“Relax for me, sweetheart.” He purrs as he pulls you under the warm spray before dragging the soapy cloth down between the valley of your breasts. “I got you.”

A tiny whimper escapes as he takes his time lavishing attention on your chest, teasing each of your pebbled nipples as he does. And then he dips lower, trailing the suds down your belly. Again he takes his time doting on you. There would be no rushing things tonight. 

In Ari’s mind, this was your punishment for sneaking out the way you had. Your punishment for making him feel things he never thought he would again. Your punishment for making him fall in love with you. 

And while he couldn’t give you those words tonight, he knew without a doubt he was capable of loving you soft and sweet. He was going to earn you. Prove to you that he was deserving of your trust. 

Of you.

Because tonight he knew without a doubt that he wanted to keep you for good. Now, all he had to do was convince you to allow yourself to be kept. His beautifully stubborn little Bird. He couldn’t possibly allow you to fly away from him again. 

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle that. 

“You’re so gorgeous, baby.” Ari rasps as he pulls you flush against his big body so that he can wash your back, scrubbing the cloth across the blades of your shoulders and then along the curve of your spine. “It’s like you don’t even see it. But I do. I see all of it. And I’ll be damned if I don’t admit that I want it all for myself.”

You rise on your toes when he reaches the globes of your ass. He continues gentle ministrations without fail, only pausing to give into temptation long enough to squeeze your cheeks with both hands. 

“I–you’re very sweet, Ari.” Comes your unsure reply. Your man had quite a knack getting you off balance.

“If you let me, I’ll make it my mission to tell you every day. Remind you how I feel about all these delectable curves.” Ari offers you a warm smile as he drops you to his knees right there in the shower, eliciting a surprised sound from you. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, your fingers sinking into the damp strands of his chestnut brown hair. 

“Worshiping you.” He responds without missing a beat. “The way you deserve.” And then he begins to wash your feet, gently working his way up along your calves before moving even higher, stopping just short of the delicate juncture between your thighs. “And I want you to let me.”

“There isn’t a single part of you that I don’t cherish, down to the very marks that adorn your hips.” He trails the pads of his thumbs across your skin as he marvels at the faint stripes. “I can’t wait to learn all of you.”

Tears blur your vision as his quiet plea resounds in your head. Because you couldn’t ever recall a time where someone had treated you with so much care or tenderness. It’s enough to overwhelm you, but at the same time, you also can’t bring yourself to ask him to stop. 

“Swear to God, you have the most divine pussy, baby.” Your eyes meet as he presses the cloth against your core. Not a word is spoken as he tends to his task of washing you. And when he’s finished, he bestows a reverent kiss on your mound before rising to his feet once again.

“See?” Ari murmurs, holding the lightly soiled rag under the water before ringing it out so that you can watch the pink rivulets go down the drain. “Ain’t nothing but a little bit of blood. That’s literally all it is.” 

Now it’s your turn to smile as you reach for another cloth. You wet it under the spray you then reach for your body wash, squirting a generous amount on the fabric before sudsing it up. 

“My turn, please.” You whisper, placing it against his hard chest. “I wanna…” You force yourself to pause, swallowing to get rid of the lump in your throat. “You matter to me too.” 

Ari’s vibrant blue eyes shine with emotion as he opens his arms to you, effectively giving you permission to do as you wish. Which is something you take full advantage of, regardless of your trembling hands. 

By the time you’re through, your bounty hunter is both squeaky clean and also painfully hard. However, he makes no move to remedy the situation. In fact, he even playfully swats you away the moment your attentions become a little too much for him to handle. 

You didn’t know it, but tonight Ari wanted to show you that he was capable of intimacy outside the realm of sex. Even if it left him with the worst case of blue balls he’s experienced in recent memory.

“Not tonight, Bird.” Comes his gentle purr. “Aw, don’t pout now. I want to, believe me. But it can wait.” He places a soft, sweet kiss on your lips before shutting off the water. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he leans out of the shower to hand you a towel before finding one for himself. 

“Thank you.” With that, you’re back to feeling shy again. 

After patting himself dry, he drapes the towel across his shoulders. “I’ll leave you to take care of your feminine business.” And then he saunters out the room, gifting you with a nice long look at his shapely ass. 

Damn Ari Levinson was one handsome hunk of man.

“Quit staring and hurry up already. The longer I’m left alone, the stronger the urge to make use of my cuffs.”

And with that, the spell is broken. Argh! Him and those damned things. You already knew he traveled with two pairs. If he kept this shit up you were liable to swipe one of them for when your oversized menace finally managed to push you too far. But for now, you’d settle for handling your so-called “feminine business” so that you could rejoin your man in your bedroom.

A few minutes later, you find Ari lounging on your bed. You also notice that he has laid out a pair of panties, sleep shorts, and a cami for you as well. His thoughtfulness is enough to leave you feeling warm and tingly all over as you hastily dress.

“Come to bed, Bird.” Your bounty hunter holds out his hand, beckoning you forward with his outstretched palm. “You’ve deprived me of your sweet body for long enough.” 

“Yes Sir.” That makes you giggle even as your cheeks heat. Ari just had this way about him. He was so good at making you feel wanted. Cherished. Desired. Loved.

Loved? Oh God. Is that what this was? Is this what it felt like to actually be in love? 

Deciding you’d be better off sorting through those confusing emotions in private, you climb into bed with Ari. Frankly, you’d had enough excitement for one night. You’d much rather spend the remainder of the evening curled up in the arms of this beautifully complex man. 

Only once he’s got you settled on top of him does he finally relax. “I’m not too heavy, am I?” Of course you already knew what he would say, but his typical response always seemed to give you butterflies when you heard it. And tonight was no exception. 

“You ain’t nothing but a feather, little Bird.”

Feeling content, the two of you allow yourselves to fall into a comfortable silence that’s only broken by the occasional whispered caress of his lips along your brow.

“Ari?”

“Hm?” He grunts, his deep voice growing heavy with sleep.

“Maybe…would you mind if I kept a few things at your place?” You ask once you’ve gathered up your nerve. “Nothing too crazy. Just some clothes. And maybe an emergency stash of tampons.” You offer him a cheeky grin, loving the warmth and affection you see in his eyes as he gazes down at you.

“Baby, I already memorized the details on the box sitting on the vanity. You’ll have a new supply of the brand you like under my sink by sundown tomorrow, okay?”

He hoped to God that your preferred brand had a variety pack. But if not, he’d play it safe and buy his girl a box in every size. 

“I can buy them if –”

“If what?” Ari playfully interrupts as his hand wanders down to grab a chunk of your ass. “If I decide I’m not secure enough in my masculinity to purchase a box of tampons on my own? Nah. I’ll be fine, you just worry about packing a bag to leave at my place and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Well…” You brush your lips across his pec. “If you’re sure.” You snuggle even deeper into his chest, draping a leg over his hips. “Good night, my handsome Beast.” 

“Sweet dreams, my beautiful Bird.”

Eventually you doze off with James Taylor’s “How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved by You)” playing on loop in your mind. But you decide not to question it. You’d deal with the man who was currently creeping his way into your heart first thing in the morning… 

And not a moment before.

END

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